The Price of Blood

Chapter 12: Vengeance

TW: Blood, death, discussion of physical and emotional trauma, violence

"Please! Mercy! I'll tell you what you want!"

Victoria blinked twice as her vision came into focus. The man she was currently strangling with one hand was sobbing hysterically on the ground for mercy. She was covered head to toe in vampire's blood, so fresh it was still hot on her skin, dripping down her face and onto her victim's. How she had gotten into this situation was a mystery to her. But she was still alive, and that was all that mattered.

"Start talking," Victoria said, tightening her grip on his neck ever so slightly. There was no point in wasting this perfect opportunity, even if she had absolutely no idea what was happening anymore. "My patience is wearing thin."

"He's in Alize! I don't know where to look, I just know he's there surveilling the Labelle Manor. I swear that's all I know."

"And how do I know you're not lying to me?" Victoria snarled.

"I swear to you, Antone is in Alize. You can take me with you until you find him, and you can kill me if we don't." He looked up at her, revealing the mutilated side of his face that had undoubtedly been carved with the knife Victoria was holding in her other hand.

"I appreciate the honesty. Unfortunately for you, I work alone." Before he could utter another cry, Victoria slit his throat. She staggered up to her feet, swaying this way and that as the whole world spun. Once she'd regained balance, she took in her surroundings. For nearly a half mile in all directions, the grassland had been torched to nothing but ashes. Scattered about were the charred remnants of body parts. As she looked down at herself and tried to shake some of the blood and gore off of herself, she knew that she was responsible for the carnage all around her.

"Oh, thank heavens; you've snapped out of it." Klen came zipping out of the tall grass outside the burn zone in his usual form—an orb of blue light.

"What happened?" Victoria asked him, unable to tear her eyes away from the carnage. It looked as though some great wild beast had ripped the vampires limb from limb, feasting upon the carnage.

"You... transformed. One minute you were you, and then you were a beast, lightning-fast and bloodthirsty."

"I did all this...?"

"I'm afraid so. Your wrath seemed unending, for a moment. I was worried you wouldn't turn back."

"Do you think that was the spirit's doing?"

"That was not the work of a spirit. Those vampires are right; you harbor the soul of an old god—they've been dormant for centuries and woke up confined in a mortal body. These undead must have really incensed it by trapping it within you." Klen spun a circle around her, checking her over for injuries. "You seem uninjured, but it's hard to tell with all the blood and gore. You really should wash off in the river before getting in the saddle."

"Is Riven okay?"

"Yes, I kept him steady while you did what you do best." Klen took the form of a young man dressed in a white robe—court mage robes like those worn in Halaafin. She half wondered what made him choose that specific form, and if the face he wore was truly that of his own, or one he'd conjured from memory. Klen whistled. Riven came trotting out of the grass. He greeted Victoria warmly, nudging her with his nose in his best attempt to knock her over. "I wonder if he also harbors an old god's spirit. He was trying to charge into the fray with you."

"It's what he's trained to do." Victoria shook her head, glad to know her steed hadn't lost faith in her yet. She scratched his nose and under his chin, which made him shake his head. "Thank you for watching after him. And I'm sorry about... all this. I've never... felt that way before. To know I lost control like that is terrifying, to say the least."