David McAfee - After, Taras and Theron - Beyond Jerusalem

In all, a very nice catch.

Theron approached her from behind, swaying just a little, and plastered a lopsided smile on his face, hoping she would take him for a drunk. “Hello,” he said, a bit slurred.

She turned to face him, a smile on her dark, lovely face. “Good evening, sir. Do you like what you see?” Her lips were stained red and smelled of berries, and her eyes shone a deep sapphire blue even in the moonlight. This close, he could see the curve of her breasts as her thin, filmy blouse struggled to cover them. A flowery smell surrounded her. Jasmine, perhaps. Or maybe Lavender. She was beautiful. Perhaps too beautiful for her profession, but that was not his concern. He nodded.

“I do, Lady,” he replied. “The street is hardly a place for one such as you. May I escort you somewhere more…comfortable?”

“Yes, provided you show me the coin first.”

Theron reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold shekel. It was an ungodly sum for one night’s pleasure, but he didn’t have anything smaller. In any case, she would only be in possession of it long enough for him to kill her, then he intended to take it back. He placed it in her palm, grinning, and wished he’d taken the time to moisten his mouth with wine so he would smell like a drunk, as well. “Here, Lady,” he said. “Will this do?”

She took the coin and brought it to her eye, inspecting it in the weak light. To his surprise, her eyes did not grow at the glint of gold in her fingers. She shook her head and handed it back to him. “This is not enough. A pity.”

Theron’s smile faltered. Not enough? He scanned her face, looking for some sign of a jest, but her expression remained guarded and distant. He removed another gold shekel from his pouch and placed both in her hands. What did it matter, anyway? Two gold would be enough to buy a horse in any city in the world, it should be enough for her.

“If that is not enough, Lady,” he said. “Then you can keep walking.” He had more gold, but it would look better if he seemed angry.

She looked at the two coins in her hand, smiled, and put them in a pouch between her breasts. “This will do,” she said. “You must have a powerful need tonight.”

“For two gold shekels, you had better be able to satisfy it,” he replied.

“Don’t worry,” she said, turning her back to him and walking down the street. She waggled her finger at him, indicating he should follow.“You will not be disappointed.”

Theron looked at the olive skin of her neck, and the graceful curve of her skin as her veins pulsed just beneath the surface. “I’m sure I won’t,” he said.

She led him to a modest two story building near the market district. As they climbed the stairs to her door, he watched her skirt sway back and forth. Several times it moved to the side just enough for him to see everything underneath, and he realized it had been a very long time since he’d lain with a woman.

She opened her door and stepped aside. “Please come in.”

Theron walked into the room and noted the lavish settee, the thick rugs on the floor, and the many cushions scattered around the main room. In the center was an oaken table flanked by a pair of red-cushioned chairs. In the far corner sat a large bed, with thick mattresses and sheets of red silk. Half a dozen pillows covered the bed. Elegant tapestries hung from three of the four walls, depicting various scenes in nature. On the left wall was a thick wooden door, which probably led to the rest of her dwelling.

She obviously did quite well, as evidenced by the fact that gold was not enough. Theron started to wonder if perhaps she might be missed, after all. If her customers were so affluent, odds were good her disappearance would not go unnoticed, which would be very bad for him. Perhaps he should leave now and find other prey.

He turned around just in time to duck her clawed hand. He fell to the floor and rolled to his right as she aimed another blow at his head. Once he bumped into the far wall, he shot to his feet and turned to face his adversary.

The woman he’d thought was a whore advanced on him with her claws and fangs extended to their full length. Her eyes glowed red, casting her face in a fiery hue.

“You’re a Bachiyr,” Theron said stupidly. Now he understood why such a woman was wandering the area around the taverns. She must have been looking for victims, too.

“Very astute, Theron of Macedonia,” she replied, circling.

“You know me?”

“All Bachiyr know you. The Council has promised a position in the Halls to anyone who brings you to justice. I mean to claim it for myself.” She stepped forward, waving her claws in the air in an obvious attempt to distract him. “Tonight I will leave Athens forever and carry your head to the Council as a trophy.”

Theron watched her claws and smiled. The trick was so basic, it barely merited his attention. “You overestimate yourself,” he replied, allowing his own claws to extend. He would get to feed tonight, after all.

“We shall see,” she replied. She sprang forward, fast as a cobra, her claws extended in a straightforward thrust that would have impaled him if he hadn’t seen the move a thousand times before. Theron stepped to the right and brought the claws of his right hand down in a swipe intended to remove her hand from her arm, but she dodged aside just in time, twisting her body as she passed so that his claws cut only air.

Before she could right heself, Theron planted a boot in the small of her back and launched her into the wall. She hit with a thud, tearing one of the tapestries and knocking it to the floor. It fell over her like a net, but she ripped her way free in seconds and shot to her feet, a look of pure fury on her face and a thin line of blood leaking from a cut in her head.

By the time she freed herself he was already on her. His clawed left hand punched through her belly while his right caught her arm and pinned it to the wall. He turned his body to the side, pinning her other arm with his shoulder and dodging a kick at the same time.

“The Council will never know what happened to you,” he promised, a wicked grin on his face. “They will never find your ashes, if they bother to look at all.” Knowing the Council, they probably wouldn’t. This vampire was no one special. The council most likely didn’t even know she existed, which made her a good choice for feeding, as well.

But instead of asking for mercy or cowering in fear, she laughed at him. Theron stared at her amused expression, wondering what was happening. He had all the leverage. He was stronger, faster, and far more experienced. By rights, she should be pleading for her life, not laughing in his face.

When a hand clamped around his shoulder and threw him backwards into another wall, he figured it out.

He hit the wall hard enough to crack it, and then sank to the floor. His head spun, and a touch of nausea threatened to drop him back to the ground, but he forced his body upright just in time to catch a blow to the chin that slammed his head back into the wall. Stars exploded in his field of vision, but he retained enough presence of mind to duck.

Above his head, part of the wall cracked under another blow. He’d gotten out of the way just in time. Acting on instinct, he thrust his hand forward and was rewarded as his claws sank into a seeming wall of flesh, which shuddered at the blow. A grunt of pain sounded above his head and he pulled his bloodied claws out and stabbed them forward a second time, spraying bright red ichor all over the walls and his face.

The mountain of flesh retreated half a step, giving Theron time to move aside and reorient his thoughts. Now that he could focus, he noted the largest Bachiyr he’d ever seen standing a few feet away. The giant stood at least seven and a half feet tall, and probably weighed as many as three Therons. His bushy eyebrows sprang from a hairless forehead, and sat atop glittering black eyes set deep within his face. A sparse, shaggy beard hung halfway down his chest, but Theron could clearly see the fangs jutting from his upper lip.