Bloodshed in the Streets

ALEXANDER

I found myself perched on the disheveled bed, my gaze locked on the lifeless bodies sprawled on the floor. I’d drained them dry. My injuries were mended, my body robust, my mind in a whirl.

The room still held her scent, our scent. It clung to the bed, the air, as if she were right there beside me.

But she wasn’t. The trail had led down the opposite side of the mountain. And I couldn’t sense her.

She was too far away. The sun was still high, and the lengthy summer days were testing my patience. I twirled the sword I’d picked up, its blade etching into the wooden floor.

The Shahalias had a knack for crafting weapons. My grandfather had equipped our entire guard with their creations. The swords the Shahalia goons had been wielding felt eerily familiar.

I’d discarded the tattered, blood-soaked clothes I’d worn the previous night. Now, I was clad entirely in black.

Black belts crisscrossed over my chest, two sheaths strapped to my back, each housing a small sword. A dagger was tucked into my boot, and I wore a new pair of boots.

I’d also lined my jacket with mountain herbs, in the hopes of concealing my scent. But I was skeptical about its effectiveness against the relentless Shahalia men. They’d be on my trail again as soon as the sun set.

It felt strange to be heavily armed again. It had been centuries since I’d last fought in a car, since my family had to defend ourselves from an attack.

Yet, the weapons felt familiar. And I needed them. I could fight barehanded; my fangs and fists were lethal enough, but with the swarm of vampires hunting us, I needed the additional blades for quicker kills.

A bitter realization hit me as I stared at the ceiling—I’d never taught Aya to fight. When we met, we weren’t at war; I didn’t need weapons; they would have only drawn attention after the human war.

And being a servant in the manor, I doubted anyone else had trained her. She could bite, and she could run. But she didn’t know how to fight.

That would have to change. The sunlight was a deep gold, seeping through the floorboards above. I tightened my grip on the blade I was holding, stood, and sheathed it.

I couldn’t wait another second. I flung open the trap door and climbed up into the cabin. The sun’s heat was scorching, but the blood of the vampires I’d drained accelerated my healing.

I stepped outside and headed back to the clearing. Aya’s blood had soaked into the parched mud. I knelt, pressing my hand against the ground.

She’d been so bewildered, so wounded, so concerned for me. I could detect the scent of the Shahalia goons and the overpowering smell of the other vampires, but none that I recognized.

Aya’s scent trailed down the mountain, but it was faint, only detectable from the droplets of blood. She’d been carried, likely still unconscious.

I began sprinting down the mountain, following her scent. The sun’s last rays glimmered on the horizon, each step a searing pain.

Her blood trail dried up quickly, right about when I reached the plains, leaving the mountains behind. That meant she’d healed.

But they hadn’t let her walk. Her scent was extremely faint, but the scent of those who’d carried her was still potent. They hadn’t bothered to hide their tracks.

I pursued them, the cool night air invigorating. The path curved, leading north, the same direction I’d been heading the day before.

I cursed. It only confirmed my suspicion—it was the Shahalia goons who’d taken her, and they’d deliberately kept us far enough apart so I couldn’t sense her.

Had I unknowingly passed her location last night, in my haste to get back to her? Was she already imprisoned?

I cursed again, pushing myself to run faster. If I had let them capture me, I would have her in my arms again.

The trail led me straight into town. It was late, and the streets were deserted. Only a few inebriated foreign students darted across the main square, their laughter echoing like children’s.

I traced the trail through the narrow streets. Aya had been set down. She’d walked through the streets, her fingers brushing the side of the wall as she moved.

Had she done that intentionally for me to follow? I ran my fingers over the hard, cool stone. My nose twitched as I stepped over the tram lines.

The scent of her blood was potent. I halted, my eyes catching sight of two dried blood spots on the iron, baked by the sun. Her blood.

They’d hurt her again. Was she fighting back? My hands clenched into fists, my mind whirling with thoughts of a brutal end for anyone who dared harm her.

A familiar scent wafted toward me from downwind, masked heavily by herbs, but unmistakable. He wasn’t alone.

I cursed under my breath. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a sudden movement, the strong aroma of herbs, and a pair of eyes observing me.

“Show yourself before I tear your head off,” I growled.

The shadowy figure moved, and a vampire emerged into the yellow glow of the streetlight. He was clad in a sharp dark green suit, his black hair impeccably styled. His dark eyes locked onto mine.

“Alexander,” his patronizing voice echoed through the deserted streets.

“Jahan,” I muttered. The pureblood stopped a few meters away from me. He was twice my age, and while not the leader of the Shahalia clan, he was the most violent.

The last time I saw him, he was supposed to join my great-aunt Elizabeth in a battle against the Mcnoxnoctis clan. But as soon as the tide of the battle turned in their favor, he vanished.

Now he stood, arrogantly aligning himself with the new queen and enforcing her laws. He was as unpredictable as the wind, but he never forgot a single insult. That made him extremely dangerous in the pureblood world.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he taunted.

I glared at him. “Return her to me, Jahan, or I’ll annihilate your entire clan.”

He laughed, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Behind him, the shadows shifted, revealing a group of his armed henchmen.

My hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of my sword.

“In this new world, Alexander, you’ll find you’re quite powerless,” he mused. “I can only imagine how satisfying it must be for you to be put back in your rightful place.”

Jahan always enjoyed his games, but I was in no mood for them.

He paced, not coming any closer to me. “I heard about the girl a century ago,” he confessed. “Your grandfather shared his worries about your loyalties with me. I was quite surprised when my men reported seeing you with a turned vampire. I thought to myself, it must be her. So I instructed my men to capture her and bring her to me, knowing you would follow.”

He grinned at me. “It seems my plan worked perfectly. Catching a prince has never been so easy.”

“I won’t bargain with you over her life, Jahan,” I retorted, tilting my head to one side as his henchmen shuffled behind him. “But I’ll warn you again—return her to me immediately, or I’ll slaughter your entire clan.”

Jahan frowned, clearly unhappy with my refusal to play his game.

“I don’t take pleasure in torturing women,” he stated. “But I have no intention of giving her back to you unless you agree to serve me. I could use your…skills.”

He smirked, his fingers interlaced in front of his chest.

I lifted my chin, maintaining eye contact. To serve him would be the ultimate humiliation. He didn’t want to turn me into the queen; he wanted to use me. To degrade me. I knew what skills he was referring to. I’d heard about the fighting rings he ran, which were banned by the new queen. But that wouldn’t stop him.

He wanted me to do what I did best—pick fights and kill.

I shuddered to think what he had planned for Aya. His family had been supplying the best turned-vampire prostitutes for centuries, quickly earning my grandfather’s favor. It wasn’t hard to imagine that he still ran his underground prostitution ring.

She was beautiful, and I wasn’t sure that he would grant her freedom, no matter how much he wanted to humiliate the fallen prince.

And he probably had similar plans for my sister as soon as he got his hands on her. That would be the ultimate victory for him—two fallen royals, fighting against the vilest turned vampires, sold to the highest bidders.

I could feel my teeth grinding. Caroline was a spoiled brat, and I planned to punish her severely the moment I found her, but I would rather die than see her in Jahan’s grasp. The Naples manor had felt like a jail, but at least we were safe there.

“Jahan, there’s no reason for us to fight,” I whispered, knowing he could hear me perfectly. “You don’t need to put your family in danger.”

He laughed lightly. “~My~ family isn’t in danger.”

I felt a surge of anger at his veiled threat. He was planning to harm Aya, to harm Caroline if he got the chance, just because he could. Hell no.

I raised my sword, my voice a hiss. “Then you’ll have to go through me.”

His smile broadened. “I was hoping you’d say that!” He snapped his fingers. “Get him. I want him alive, but just barely.”

His goons appeared from behind him, jumping from the shadows, from the rooftops. I spun around, both blades drawn, cutting through the necks and bellies of the nearest goons. Their blood sprayed onto my chest, soaking my shirt. Suddenly, a body landed on me, fangs sinking into my neck.

I let out a roar, reached up, and ripped the vampires off my back. I swung his body around and slammed it onto the cobblestones, crushing his face with my boot. The crunching sound told me he wouldn’t be getting up again.

I looked for Jahan, but he was gone. Typical of him, the coward.

My neck stung, blood flowing freely as the goons kept coming at me. I spun around, cutting through them, carving a path through their bodies. I felt their bodies crash into mine, their fangs trying to latch on, but I was faster, stronger.

One of my swords got stuck in a rib cage as I kicked a choking vampire away. Another one swooped in from below, aiming his sword at my stomach. I grabbed his wrist, yanked him up, dislocating his arm. The vampire screamed in pain as I sank my fangs into his neck and tore it out. Before he collapsed at my feet, I beheaded the goon trying to grab me from behind.

Bodies dropped around me, blood splattering the cobblestone streets, the screams of the goons starting to rouse the humans nearby. I swung my sword, kicked, sliced, and bit anyone who got too close.

I tried to track Jahan, but he was already far away, his scent barely detectable over the overpowering smell of blood.

My muscles ached, and my throat was on fire with the urge to drain everyone I had killed. The number of goons was dwindling, and some, I noticed, had chosen to flee rather than fight.

My hatred for them intensified. They were servants, essentially slaves of the Shahalia family, but they had laid hands on Aya, and that was unforgivable.

I chased after them, moving faster than they could. I grabbed one and dragged him to the ground, tearing out his throat with my fangs.

The last goon let out a cry as he collapsed at my feet. I looked down at his limp body, my chest heaving, drenched in blood—both mine and theirs. My fangs felt heavy against my lip, my mouth filled with their blood.

“Jahan!” I bellowed into the night. “Come back and face me, you coward!”

There was no response. I could barely smell him anymore.

I cursed.

A movement behind me had me spinning around, locking eyes with a Shahalia goon—a dagger just inches from my face. But he was frozen, and when he squealed and fell forward, I saw the knife lodged in the back of his head.

“You’re welcome,” a voice called from above.

I looked up to see a vampire standing on a balcony above me. He was dressed in simple, modern clothes that blended perfectly with the local fashion. He was big—almost as big as me—and clearly deadly. His green eyes met mine. There was something familiar about him.

He jumped off the roof and landed in front of me. He reached for his knife and started wiping the blood off on his shirt.

“Alexander,” he said, his voice carrying an American accent.

“You missed a spot,” I retorted, pointing at the hilt of the knife.

He grinned at me and cleaned it off, eyeing my blood-soaked clothes.

“That was a lot of Shahalia goons,” he commented, gesturing to the bodies I’d left in the streets.

As he turned, the wind blew against him, carrying a new scent, one he’d tried to conceal.

I hissed, my eyes flashing red, my hand tightening around my sword. “Where could she be?” I questioned, my voice barely above a whisper.

His emerald eyes tracked my every move.

“Look, I’m not here to hurt you,” he assured me, his hands held up in surrender. “I just pulled you out of a tight spot.”

“Rescued me?” I retorted, disbelief lacing my words. “I was handling things just fine. You tossed a small blade. Where’s my sister? I can detect her scent on you.”

A smirk played on his lips. “She’s safe. Not here, though,” he clarified. “I was out hunting. It would have been risky to bring her here; the place was swarming with Shahalia’s goons.”

I could sense my body mending itself, the tension in my muscles easing. I straightened up, my gaze fixed on the vampire.

There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Although I could clearly smell my sister on him, her blood was absent from his scent, indicating he hadn’t harmed her.

“Where is she?” I repeated my question.

“She’s in a safe place,” he assured me, his lips pressed together as he gave me a firm nod. “She’s been asking about you. Maybe you could help me persuade her not to—”

“No, damn it,” I interrupted, my voice a low growl. Caroline was so close, the naïve girl I’d been trailing across Europe, the reason I was putting my life and Aya’s on the line, was within my grasp. “You can ensure her safety,” I retorted.

His eyes widened in surprise as I sheathed my remaining sword. I locked eyes with him.

“If she’s harmed in any way, I’ll make you pay,” I threatened.

Caroline would have to manage on her own for a bit longer. I had a woman I loved to rescue.