A Glimmer of Hope (The Avalon Chronicles #1)(2)
He looked at Liz; her already pale face appeared ashen. She didn’t have long left. The silver in the blade had made sure of it. Even so, he needed to ensure that the fight to survive was extinguished. “I realize if we take you back, you’ll either escape again, or kill someone. So you really do get your wish.”
“You should not play with your prey,” a male said from behind Elias.
Elias turned to the newcomer and dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “My Lord Nergal.”
Nergal was a head taller than Elias’s own five feet nine inches, with broader shoulders and dark skin. A smooth bald head and deep brown eyes that looked almost black gave him the appearance of someone who was not to be crossed. Several thousand years earlier, Nergal had been considered a god by the Mesopotamian people, and it was easy to see why—just being near him made people nervous. To Elias’s knowledge, there were few people who possessed Nergal’s level of power; it practically came off him in waves.
“Get up. It’s cold and wet and you’ve already gotten yourself filthy fighting this one.” Nergal walked over to Liz and bent down, slapping her across the face to get her attention. “She’s almost done. End it. We need to talk.”
Elias wanted to tell him that was exactly what he’d intended to do, but there was no point in angering the man. Instead, he nodded, and used his foot to push Liz over onto her front. He placed a knee on her back and pressed the tip of the dagger up against her throat. He pushed it in without comment, removed it, and stepped off her to avoid the arterial spray.
He removed the black trilby from his head and dropped it into Liz’s blood, wiping the knife on his expensive suit trousers before replacing it in the sheath at his back.
“Are you quite done?” his lord asked.
“I did not know you were coming,” Elias said, turning around. “We had some issues with escapees. First in a few years. She was good too. Shame about how it ended up. Not to change the subject, but I’ll have to recharge soon.”
“Well, that will have to wait. We found her, Elias. I need you to go to England. To Southampton. I’ll have all of the details e-mailed to you.”
Elias didn’t want to question his lord, but he’d been here before. “Are we sure she’s there?” He made sure to say we too.
Nergal smiled. “We’ve been searching for so long, Elias. Yes, I’m sure she’s there.”
Elias picked up his hat from the ground; it had absorbed all of the blood that had once been inside Liz. Despite the amount of liquid it had taken, it was completely dry. To all outward appearances, the hat remained black and nothing had changed. In the few minutes since he’d killed her, Liz’s corpse had turned into a mummified husk.
Elias placed the hat on his head and a slight trickle of blood slid down his pale skin. He caught it with a finger, leaving a smear, and licked the digit clean.
“Picked it up too early,” Elias said, by way of explanation. “You want me to go now?”
“Yes, Elias. Take whoever you need. Just find the woman, and bring her back here. Alive. And do it quickly.”
“Not a problem, my lord.”
Nergal turned and walked away as the three creatures arrived once more, looking hungrily at Liz’s corpse.
“Make it quick, leave no trace.” Elias knew he didn’t have to say that to them—they were always quick and clean—but sometimes he liked to tell them anyway. Just in case they ever forgot who was in charge.
He walked back to the compound, his mind ablaze with possibilities. He had a lot to think on, and a lot to achieve in a short time. Going back to his ancestral home would have to wait until the job was done. Find a human girl and bring her back to Nergal. Easy.
2
Southampton, England.
Layla Cassidy landed back first on the padded mat in the gym. She looked up at her friend, Chloe Range, who stood above her with a grin fixed to her face. “Ouch,” Layla said.
“Don’t be a baby. Just get up so I can do it again,” Chloe said with a barely concealed chuckle.
Layla got back to her feet and removed the hairband that had been holding her shoulder-length, dark blue hair in a ponytail. She retied it and got back into a fighting stance.
“You know, attackers don’t wait for you to do your hair,” Chloe pointed out.
Layla mouthed Chloe’s words in a mocking fashion.
“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Chloe responded, a stern look on her face, but Layla could see the twinkle of laughter in her friend’s eyes.
Layla winked, causing Chloe to break her expression and smile. An instant later, the smile vanished, and she lunged forward, lurching for Layla, who avoided her grasp and managed to get hold of Chloe’s t-shirt under her bicep. She snapped forward, using her free hand to grab Chloe’s lapel, and planting her knee on Chloe’s hip, she launched herself up, wrapping her legs around Chloe’s neck and putting her in a flying arm lock.
Layla dragged Chloe to the floor in an instant, locking the arm in place. The entire move took a fraction of a second, and although it had taken a lot of practice to master effectively, the look of surprise in Chloe’s eyes was worth the work.
“That’s it, people. It was a good practice.” The instructor, a South African woman by the name of Mosa, clapped her hands twice, signaling the end of the session. She was a giant of a woman, and looked like she could crush people between her hands if she so wished. Layla liked going to her classes because of the endless patience and good spirits she exuded. She hoped that she’d learned more than her fair share of patience and control while under her tutelage.