"Yes," Madrid says, looking down. "Yes. Only a nickname."
I study Tavian. This man who is so much more than he seems. "Who are you?" I ask.
For a moment, he says nothing. Then he looks at me, his green eyes deep and mesmerizing. "Kayla, I—"
An arrow streaks through the sky.
It hits one of the dancers in the chest, and they collapse in the snow. People scream. The children cry.
"Raiders," I call out. "Get everyone inside. Bar the doors. Grab anything that can be used as a weapon."
Madrid nods and stands, moving swiftly despite her walking staff. "Everyone, follow me! Come, children." She glances at Tavian, before moving on, and he nods. Why?
Arrows begin to rain from the sky, hitting a woman in the shoulder. One lands near my foot. Tavian and I duck behind a cart.
He grabs my arm. "Kayla. Follow them inside. Now. You need to trust me."
"No. I’m staying. I can fight."
"Trust me," he growls.
Something in his tone, in his eyes, sways me. "Fine. I’ll hide." I touch his hand. "Be careful." He nods, and I run, dodging arrows until I reach the forge. My breath turns to smoke in the air. My limbs tremble with cold. Thunder roars above, lightning streaks the sky. The storm Tavian spoke of. I find an old rusty sword and hide behind a wall, searching for attackers. I see none yet, but they will come. I turn my gaze to Tavian.
He steps out from behind the cart, out into the snow and rain of arrows. Over the hill, a company of dozens descends. Vampires wielding torches and swords and spears. They howl like beasts and laugh like madmen.
Tavian does not waver. He unfastens his cloak. He pulls off his shirt. And then he changes.
He leaps forward, and midair his skin turns to fur, his hands to claws. When he lands, it is on top of a man, and he tears him in half, spraying the snow with blood. This is not what Tavian was before. He is not white. But black with silver stripes.
The tiger, black, echo Madrid’s words.
He is larger than any natural beast and far more fierce. As he fights, smoke curls around him, covering the battlefield in darkness. The raiders who choose to attack him soon find themselves maimed or dead, and those who flee are caught quickly, their bodies turned to shreds.
This isn’t a battle.
It’s a massacre.
It’s the reason Metsi wouldn’t face Tavian. The reason she let us go.
This is the Darkness Tavian spoke of. The power of life and death.
Someone screams. Not one of the raiders. Closer. The nearby hut. Someone found their way inside. I clutch my sword and run forward, jumping into the building.
It can’t be…
Salzar stands inside, his dagger at the throat of a little girl. He yells at Madrid in the corner. "Call off your dog, or I kill the child!"
"Please," pleads Madrid. "I can’t control him. It is too late for that."
"Then the girl—"
"Let her go," I roar, raising my sword.
Salzar notices me for the first time, and his eyes go wide. "You survived?"
"Let her go!" I repeat.
Salzar laughs, licking his lips compulsively. "Or what? You strike at me, and I kill her."
He’s right. There has to be some other way. I step forward, holding out my hand, an idea coming to mind. "Salzar let her go now, and you can leave. Now one will follow you."
He tilts his head, thinking.
I continue. "Your men are dead. This raid is over. Save yourself while you can."
He glances out the door, where Tavian slaughters all who remain.
"My men!" he roars. "I need them. They’re mine. Mine." I see the madness in his eyes. This is a man who has just lost the power he so cherishes. The man who has nothing unless he takes it.
"Salzar, please…"
"No," he says. "You brought this upon her." And then he squeezes his blade into the girl’s throat.
I think of Daison. I think of all that has been lost.
And I throw up my hand.
Silver flame blazes from my fingertips. Bright and immense. It hits Salzar and nothing else, lighting his clothing on fire. He falls back, letting the girl go, her throat only slightly injured. "How?" he screams, running outside. He falls into the snow, rolling, trying to put out the fire, but the flames only burn brighter. And then his screams no longer resemble words. They turn primal and full of pain.
I follow him outside, my steps light, the snow around me turning to steam. My movements are not my own. My words are not my own. I raise my sword. "You have been witnessed. And you have been judged. And you will never hurt a soul again."
Silver flame covers my blade.
And I swing down, cleaving Salzar’s head from his body. It rolls in the snow, leaving no blood, the wound cauterized already.
Something stirs in the darkness.
I look up and see the black tiger before me. Its eyes so green. It stares at me for a moment, then turns and disappears into the forest.
Whatever compelled me begins to fade, and I drop my sword and turn around. The hut. It burns. But how? I only hit Salzar.
I look at my hands, trembling at what I have done. Then I take a deep breath, calming myself, and as I calm, so do the flames. They fade, until only wisps of smoke remain.
Madrid emerges from inside, the children at her heel. "You have returned," she says, reaching for me. "Riku. You have returned."
Chapter 12
DARKNESS AND MOONLIGHT