The Dark Arts of Blood Read Free Page B

this time seizing her around the waist and the back of her neck.
    Her eyes glazed, and she struck.
    His skin tasted foul with alcohol-tainted sweat but she buried her face in his throat, heard him grunt with pain as her fangs pierced his veins. His body went into a spasm, arms flapping as he tried to push her off. He cursed, still fighting – that was unusual. Victims usually went still and pliant under her spell…
    This one went berserk.
    She needed so much force to hold on to him, she could barely keep her fangs in his neck, let alone draw blood. From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash.
    The glint of a steel blade.
    The drunk’s elbow hooked back and plunged forward. Charlotte felt the blade go hilt-deep into her abdomen. The sensation was like a punch. Then a terrible throbbing discomfort began to spread from the wound.
    He slurred angry words that she could hardly understand.
    She gasped, lost hold of him and staggered backwards, clutching at the dagger hilt. It had passed between the edges of her coat and straight through her dress as if through paper. Vampires could be injured and suffer agonies, but they usually healed swiftly, able to ignore pain for long enough to kill their attacker.
    This was different. She’d never felt pain like it. The stab-wound felt cold, pulsing as though it was releasing poison through her whole body. She doubled over, trying to pull the knife free. It stuck fast as if held in her flesh by barbs.
    Her attacker staggered sideways, pressing one hand to the wound in his neck. Blood oozed through his fingers to soak his shirt collar. Face contorted with shock and rage, he snarled, “
Strigoi!
”
    That was the last word he uttered before Stefan caught him.
    She wasn’t sure what happened next. Her head swam and her sight went dark. She was aware of lying face down on the wet cobbles. There were noises above her: scuffling, footsteps, gruff curses… then silence.
    Charlotte half sat up and looked down to see her coat hanging open, the yellowish handle of the knife sticking out of her stomach and her slow, crimson blood staining the pale silk crepe of her dress. She couldn’t breathe or think for shock.
    “Charlotte, my God.” Stefan was crouching at her side, looking horrified. “Can you walk? Don’t try to pull out the…”
    Knife
, he was about to say, when the blade fell free at last. He caught it before it hit the ground, immediately dropped it with a cry.
    “It
burns
,” he said.
    “Yes,” she gasped. “Like ice. God, it hurts. I can’t…”
    “Charlotte? Dearest, I’m sorry, if I’d known what that rogue intended…”
    The blade shone, luminous to her sensitive eyes.
    “Did you kill him?”
    Stefan shook his head. “Couldn’t hold him. He ran. Never mind him, you’re more important. Can you stand up?”
    “I’ll try.” The dark street whirled around her. Everything was unreal, as if she were slipping in and out of consciousness. It took a far more drastic injury than this to destroy a vampire: decapitation, at least. She knew this was serious, but her mind wouldn’t accept it.
    “Charlotte?” Stefan sounded panicky now. “Stay with me. What the hell did he do to you?”
    “I don’t know.” She tried to force a smile. “Humans are supposed to succumb, not to fight back.”
    “I know. How dare they defend themselves?” Stefan tried to joke but he looked as grey and deathly as she felt. “Hold on to me. Niklas and I will take you home.”
    “Bring the knife.”
    Grimacing, Stefan picked up the weapon, using his coat sleeve to protect his fingers. Swiftly he wiped off the blood and slipped the blade into his coat pocket. “I have it.”
    She was shivering violently as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll be all right in a moment,” she said through chattering teeth. She felt she’d split in two, half of her looking down on the scene from above.
    “Of course you will,” said Stefan. His horrified expression belied his words.
    “But tell