Page 62 of Bloodgrove

Will cut the head from one vampire and shoved another aside. With his free hand, he dragged one to the floor and kept moving. He forced his way between the bodies until he found Saint’s clenched hand.

Then a vampire seized it and sank its teeth into the flesh.

For a fraction of a second, the bodies parted, and moonlight flooded the scene. Vampires tore the clothes from Saint’s body and broke apart the protective clasp around his throat. One monster’s jaws opened and plunged toward his exposed side. Another tore a mouthful of muscle from Saint’s belly.

They were eating him alive.

“Saint!”

Someone seized Will from behind and dragged him away, out of the chaos of the blood-frenzied vampires. They were so consumed by Saint that they ignored Will for the moment.

With inhuman strength, a vampire hauled Will toward a staircase. When others tried to follow, it roared at them, and they recoiled. Fingers tore at his coat, trying to reach his skin. Will slashed at the creature with his rapier, but it caught the blade. With one wrench, the weapon went flying and skidded across the tiles into a dark corner.

Will kicked and struck out in panic, but it was useless. He did not dare to scream. He did not want Saint to lose hope during the final minutes of his life.

Frustrated by Will’s tightly fastened leather armor, the vampire shrieked and reared back once more before its teeth came down.

They sank into Will’s cheek, breaking through the skin like small daggers while an iron grip pinned him to the floor.

It hurt.

Burned like fire.

Blood ran into Will’s eye, and decaying breath washed over his skin as the vampire licked and sucked. Will kicked at it, freed one hand, and drove his fist into the monster’s throat.

The angle was poor, but it was enough to make the vampire release him. Half blinded, Will staggered backward and barely managed to rise before fleeing.

A hand buried itself in his hair and jerked him back.

“Your blood sings,” a fractured voice whispered into his ear. The vampire dragged him farther into the darkness, and Will clung to its arm to keep his scalp from being torn off. His boots found no purchase on the tiled floor, and the vampire hauled him relentlessly up the stairs.

Again and again, they paused so the monster could lick his cheek. When Will tried to strike it in the face, it seized his other hand as well.

Above him, his moonlight flickered.

Then went out.

“Patience.”

The voice sounded like the stones of a sarcophagus grinding together after decades of disuse. A blurred thought formed amid the roar of panic.

He had found an elder.

“What rescue are you hoping for?”

Will reached inward, searching for his magic. He had shed enough blood to offer a sacrifice. Yet where he normally felt the winter storm and the dangerous currents of his power, there was only silence.

Now he screamed from the depths of his soul. It tore him apart to find nothing but emptiness inside.

Why now?

Why had his magic abandoned him now, of all moments?

Where was his god when he needed him?

The vampire chuckled and threw him to the floor. “Is the little mage trying to summon his magic? Did you think your light would frighten us? You forget—the moon is our friend.”

Tears mingled with the blood, running in long trails down Will’s cheeks and burning inside the wound. He braced himself against the dusty floorboards and struggled onto all fours. He could not surrender. He had to keep fighting. He had to save Saint. The boy had no one else who would help him.