Walk Into The Light - Shadows of the Night 6

Chapter 41

Hey,

I'm back in town and I did manage to get some writing done!! Please let me know if you like this one. I enjoyed writing this part a lot :-)

PS: This week's song is "Become the Beast" by Karliene. I hope you like it!

Lara

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Chapter 41

Shinji was back on his feet liquid fast and moved – a blur of red drilling into dark pockets of space. He was too fast for me to follow, even now that I was a vamp. He reappeared behind Alexander like a second shadow. A crack and a bang echoed through the quarter and Alexander flew through the air, feet facing the ground, as if pushed back by giant invisible hand.

The power of the grave bristled and leaped up like a small horde of wild horses, ready to rise and bolt out of the square's confining boundaries. My eyes zeroed in on Alexander, who had reappeared on the other side of the square – yet another switch of places in this dance.

Shinji was on the other side, flaming red hair swinging in his high ponytail, feet and body poised and ready for his opponent's next move. I couldn't see it with my eyes, but the power of the grave that surrounded him was like a dark cotton swab sucking the life force out of its surroundings.

His stance, his power – both spoke of years and years of training and survival. I had seen him once before, without the red hair – a shrill feature he seemed to carry only these days.

The memory resurfaced. It was when I was inside Alexander's head, when I'd seen what I believed to be his past. If the glimpse I caught about Alexander's past had shown me what really happened, it meant that Shinji was far older than Alexander.

Shit.

"You are unfit to rule, Alexander. Hand over your territory and kneel in front of me and none of your followers will see true death." Shinji's voice slithered over the asphalt, echoing with the softness of a pack of snakes hissing.

My eyes drifted back to Alexander, watching his every move. He smiled.

"I have never enjoyed submission, you should know best, Shinji."

He lifted his hands and the power of the grave moved to him, creeping to Alexander like particles of a storm in the making. For a second time seemed to still, the square caught up in the strain of two opposing magnetic poles with Alexander on the one side and Shinji on the other.

The currents surged, pulled and attracted, then repelled all of a sudden. The bang echoed through the square as the system tipped over and the strain burst. The two vamps clashed, a wave of power hurtling outwards like a palpable sonic boom.

I held up my hands, protecting my head, as if the power of the grave might truly hurt me. It was all I could do to just stop inching backwards and stand my ground. I shook myself, letting my hands fall to my sides, trying to see past-

I gasped. Alexander was kneeling above Shinji, hand buried in his shoulder.

Joyful shouts erupted from Alexander's vamps as he drew out his bloody hand. Alexander's enforcer, George, stepped forward, facing Shinji's silent congregation of vamps.

"Alexander has drawn first blood. Thereby he is the winner of the duel and may rightfully remain head vampire of New York until-"

Whatever else George was about to say was drowned out by the stilting, invisible explosion running over the square like a vertical waterfall. The taste of things that died and withered, all that no longer existed and lived, spread in my mouth, settling on the tip of my tongue – traces of his presence, there before I even realized it was him and that he was finally showing himself.

Vladislav.

Alexander stilled, eyes drifting through the space behind the ring of vamps. Methodically. Meticulously.

"Adorján, you shame me even now that you claim you no longer share a bond with me, or call me your maker."

Vladislav's disembodied voice echoed through the square, swished around house facades and corners like pieces of discarded paper.

My eyes did a frantic search as I tried to reach for that pull I had felt before, that feeling that had convinced me Vladislav was still in the city.

There.

The echoes seemed to change direction, coming all of a sudden from one place. They heralded Vladislav's approach as Alexander's vampires parted for him like the sea supposedly had for Moses. Out he stepped from the fence of shadows behind Shinji.

The vamps remained quiet, seemed to know instinctively what he truly was: more than just a bad omen or a silent harbinger of death to come. He was death walking. He was death that wasn't impartial, but bloodthirsty, vengeful and cruel.

Alexander turned to face him and in that small moment before he did, I caught a glimpse of his expression: his chiseled cheek bones might have belonged on the hollow face of a Roman statue, his blue eyes void and lost in indefinable, murky waters belonging to lifeless parts of the deep sea.

For the first time I truly understood what that change of expression equaled – why Alexander repeatedly used this complete shutdown of emotions. How much could you lose by giving too much away? How much more to lose in war, if you truly, deeply cared, like a human would?

Vladislav moved into the square with the slow grace of a versatile dictator, armed with the knowledge of hundreds of years of regiment and suppression. The boot-dressed feet didn't make any sound in the pin-drop-quiet of the square – no humans there to cover the silence with a nervous cough or the clumsy shuffle of feet.

His onyx-black eyes drifted through the scene like a giant scythe going back and forth, as if weighing possibilities carefully before choosing the next target. His long black hair seemed to stick to his back like some unnatural texture that didn't move or flutter.

He wore a black war uniform with gold embroideries on its front and sleeves, walking with the pride and arrogance of a worshipped king, before he slowly came to a halt.

Alexander didn't step back or drift into vamp speed, to put more than just a few feet between him and his former maker. One look was enough to spot the differences between him and Vladislav.

At first glance Alexander seemed to be dressed like a businessman that had shed his jacket to appear more trusting, or casual. There was nothing vaguely trusting or casual about the head vampire of New York. Alexander had mastered the art of taking things, forming them to his own liking and transcend beyond them.

With the top two buttons open, the gray shirt, combined with his tailored black pants, made him look like the head of a high-class criminal syndicate, about to step into the fight himself.

Chin high, blue eyes trained on his opponent, he held his own ground – perhaps an equal to Vladislav in arrogance and confidence.

Vladislav's eyes latched onto Shinji, lying on the ground.

"Such a shame. So promising. Now gone to waste." Time seemed to leap forward and his eyes were on Alexander again. "Why did you not simply kill Shinji?"

"Perhaps I do still have use for him," Alexander said slowly. "But that is not why you are here. Let us not wallow in old habits, I am tired of them. State your business in my city and my territory, or have the grace to leave. Instantly."

The air in the square seemed to turn colder, whatever nightly warmth had been left sucked out within the blink of an eye.

Vladislav lifted his hands and clapped. Once. Twice.

"Bravo. Spoken like the small, pretentious boy you were back then," he said. "You do want me to state my business in this territory? I will Adorján. If only simply because it does provide amusement."