Count Bela watched as Jock dove for his sword.
Tensing, he almost shot into the clearing himself. Only Elder Amir's hand on his wrist reminded him why they were here.
He nodded softly as the elder's fingers tightened on him.
While Elder Miklos' assurances were helpful, the count wanted to see for himself what the young fledgling could do. The speed with which he'd disposed of the first dog had been almost too much for even the count to catch, and he found his heart thundering in his chest with an emotion he hadn't felt in so long.
Elder Amir bared his teeth suddenly as a sickly yellow light bathed the clearing.
Count Bela squinted.
This might be tricky. It wouldn't do for Vlad to be killed just yet.
He tensed again but, once more, Elder Amir shook his head.
We will need to move fast if it looks like he will die, the count sent to his old friend via a secret method which could send his thoughts like a whisper to whomever was sensitive enough to hear.
I will go, Elder Amir responded calmly.
The count nodded. He trusted him.
For a moment, it looked like Vlad would be cut down. He seemed frozen in shock.
Then he snarled and brought his own sword in a sweeping uppercut to block Jock's blade. The count winced, expecting Jock's reinforced blade to cut through Vlad's steel.
But then had to repress a gasp as crimson flame roared up Vlad's sword. It crackled and hissed as though filled with hate.
And, given Vlad's expression, that seemed easily believable.
The two swords met with an explosive clang which sent Jock staggering back while Vlad remained set in his pose.
Ilica scrambled out of the way, reaching for the blonde's arm. "Tilla!"
Tilla snatched her friend and dragged her out of the way as the explosive energies whooshed past and made their hair and skirts flutter as though in a rough wind.
The other girl stood gawping, her gaze transfixed by Vlad's glowing sword.
"God," she croaked. "Such awesome power!"
"Rux!" Tilla cried. "Step away! Rux! Ruxandra!"
Ruxandra blinked, then realised where she was.
"Eep!" She skipped back, diving under the wagon with the others as they crouched down behind the wheel. "Did you see that?"
"I saw it, you idiot," Tilla scowled, batting her friend on the head. "And Ilica felt it! Didn't you, Ilica? Honestly, Rux. How could you be so selfish? You left her all alone out there. You could have helped."
Ruxandra's ears flushed red. "I'm sorry… I just… It was so bright!"
Tilla rolled her eyes. Ilica was still clinging to her arm, fear causing her to shiver and shake. "Sometimes, Rux, you're so empty-headed."
"I know." Rux sighed. It wasn't the first time she'd heard this, so she'd long since given up being offended by it. Sometimes she even believed it. "He has nice shoulders, though, doesn't he?"
Tilla stared at Rux's dreamy expression in disbelief.
Then glanced to where Vlad was lifting himself from his crouch. He slowly stretched his arms toward Jock, the long blade held firmly and steadily in his hands.
She felt a shiver go through her belly.
"Yeah," she said at last. "He kind of does…"
Ilica shook her head at both of them. "How can you think that at this time?"
"Come on, Ilica," Rux giggled. "If they're all like him, this might be fun!"
"You're crazy! What if he loses? That bastard's going to kill us!"
"Lose?" Tilla breathed, watching the muscles in Vlad's forearms bunch. "He's not going to lose."
"A dog like you dares to steal our technique," Vlad said coldly to Jock. He'd heard the women talking but ignored them. He was focused entirely on the dog in front of him.
Jock wiped blood from his nose.
Having the yellow energy disrupted so violently had given him backlash.
"Steal?" He spat a thick globule of red spit. "What bullshit is that? It is the Black Dragon Court who stole our technique. Everyone knows this is true."
"You are a funny dog," Vlad said, his tone not matching his words. "Funny dogs need to be beaten. Come, dog. I will thrash you before you die."
"You got lucky," Jock hissed, moving unsteadily back into the same stance. "This time, I'll gut you."
"Funny dog." Vlad bared his fangs in a mirthless grin. "But I don't think your skill is as good as your tongue says it is."
Jock charged again.
First step again.
Vlad felt his shock wither into disappointment. Did the dog think he might succeed with the same step?
This time, Vlad stepped to one side at the last second, bringing the flat of his blade slamming down onto the back of Jock's head as he lunged past.
"Your footwork is shit," Vlad said clinically. "Your hands are positioned too low. Your head is hanging to your right. How can you expect to perform this step properly with such useless technique?"
"You don't know what you're talking about!" Jock snarled, dropping back into the first step's opening pose.
"Are you truly going to do the same thing again? Can't you do the second step? How far can you go? Show me what you can do, dog."
Jock's cheeks flushed. "I don't need anything more to kill you. I'm the fasted in my pack!"
He lunged again.
In truth, he was quick.
Vlad recognised that much in him.
But speed wasn't everything. Poor technique caused drag, and to achieve the speed he wanted, he had to overcompensate for that poor technique. It meant he lunged with too much strength in his torso.
It unbalanced him and he stumbled past Vlad one more time as the vampire simply dodged.
And rapped him on the back of the head again.
"Tch." Vlad wrinkled his nose. "Pathetic. If this is the skill of the Full Moon Clan, then I don't know what the Court feared all these years."
"I'll kill you!" Jock tried again, blood running freely down his nose.
This time, he couldn't reinforce the blade.
Clearly, he'd run out of energy to use.
"I've seen enough," Vlad growled. Disappointed, he didn't dodge. This time he brought his sword up with a lazy swipe. The two blades met.
Vlad's, sheathed in red flame, howled as it cut the air.
Then cut the steel as easily as if it was cutting through butter.
Jock's blade burst like glass, sending shards in all directions.
Dumbfounded, the werewolf stared at his broken blade. Then at Vlad, who was sneering down at him.
"How?" Jock rasped.
"You were weak," Vlad shrugged.
"What? Wait!"
But Vlad wasn't waiting. He brought the blade over his head in a long arcing cut which sliced neatly through Jock's outstretched right arm. The limb dropped with a wet thud and blood hissed from the open wound.
Screaming, Jock reeled away. He staggered back on his heels.
I have to get away! I have to tell the clan about this monster!
Turning, he started shifting into his wolf form. In that form his regeneration would increase. He might survive.
He'd also be able to outrun the vampire.
No vampire could hope to keep pace with a wolf!
His bones popped and cracked. His muscle shifted.
Shrieking in pain, he kept stumbling towards the trees. Forcing himself to run through the transformation. He could feel the bristle-like hairs growing through his skin as the skin grew thicker like leather.
The blood gushing from his wound became a soft flow which was cut off as skin grew over the top of it, sealing the severed limb.
His eyes blurred as they changed, his vision improving tenfold.
Despite the missing arm, he felt stronger.
More powerful.
Long taloned claws emerged from his remaining fingers and he flexed his left hand, ready to tear the vampire in two if he had to. His jaw hurt, but the sharp teeth which had grown there were a comfort.
He was no longer a man.
He was a weapon.
A part of him wanted to turn and face the vampire behind him. But he reminded himself he was a scout. This information was valuable!
It was proof the Black Dragon Court was planning something stupid.
He began to pick up pace.
Bounding through the trees.
His confidence soaring as he raced through the forest. No way that bastard could follow him now. He let out a muffled howl.
Wait for me, fledgling! I will return and kill you! I'll-
"Did I say you could leave?"
The words made him tumble to a halt and he turned to find Vlad standing right behind him!
"How did you-?"
"Funny dog," Vlad chuckled. "There was a time when your kind crawled under our tables begging for scraps. Your little whines and pitiful eyes were so funny then, too. Look at you. Where are you running to, dog? And who are you running from? Don't you know what to do for your Master?"
Jock gulped as Vlad lifted the sword.
"Please… don't…"
"Funny to the end," Vlad said.
And slashed through Jock's other arm. The werewolf shrieked as the limb was cut free. "What? Why? Why are you doing this?"
"It is your punishment," Vlad told him evenly. "For daring to steal the Black Dragon Great Sword Art!"
"But we didn't…"
Vlad raised the sword again. Crimson fire danced along the razor sharp edge. "This is your punishment for twisting the truth and believing your lies."
"No!"
Jock's last scream shook the forest as the sword split him cleanly down the middle. So clean that, for a moment, the werewolf thought the vampire had completely missed him. Or the sword was a ghost.
But then a thin red line appeared.
"I don't understand," he breathed.
Then died as his body fell in two pieces at Vlad's feet.
"Tch," Vlad said, watching the blood soak into the ground. "Such a waste."
He wouldn't drink it, though.
The dog's blood was filth in his mouth. And he'd learned enough to know there were three women who wanted to be Dolls waiting for him. The thought made him grin as a familiar lustful fire was lit in his heart.
I shouldn't disappoint them…
He quickly stripped the corpse of its valuables and then turned to leave.
Took one step into the forest.
Paused.
Looked up.
Saw the shadow perched on a high tree limb and squinted at it.
"If you don't come down right now," he said slowly. "I will cut off your arm and beat you to death with it."