Mariel followed their struggling forms with the gun, terror making the barrel shake. She was sure the second vampire was Vellum. She glimpsed his face every so often as the two of them fought, but he looked different to her—savage and hurting, alien and bearing little resemblance to the vampire she and Clay had partnered with.
He was also weaker than she expected, and she wondered if the blood loss on display was to blame. The straggly vampire whom Vellum had come to fight was currently winning and that made no sense unless Vellum was injured. How long could he hold out?
She watched as Vellum was thrown to his back, the other vampire climbing over him. Clawed fingers slashed. Fangs flashed, sharp with firelight. A gasp of pain. A snarl. Vellum coughed up blood.
Mariel look from the fight to the gun she held. One bullet. She had one shot left. She could end this fight or at least even out the odds. She'd killed three crawlups, the last with a single shot. Surely she could hit a larger target?
Oh, please, let me do this. Let me help him.
She took a deep breath, steadied her aim.
She fired…
…and watched the dirt kick up beside Vellum's shoulder.
She had missed.
~~~~~
Vellum was dying and it infuriated him.
His entire life had come down to this moment of revenge, yet he was failing. Vengeance for his family burned hot, but his body grew icy. He thought of the humanity he had lost, hoping rage would revive him, but it couldn't lift the deathly exhaustion that weighed him down.
He had been cocky and had been ambushed on the trail. His sire had been waiting for him, maybe for years, knowing this reckoning was due.
Vellum had paid the price for overconfidence. His abdomen was slashed open, leaking blood he couldn't afford to lose. He fought now not for himself, for the end was too near, but for Mariel and Clay. This vampire would rip them apart and drain them dry unless Vellum could stop him. But as his life rapidly ebbed from him, he couldn’t envision a scenario in which he triumphed.
Mariel screamed a strange, tribal cry of anger. Vellum thought of her torn apart and an anguished sob ripped from his lips. He loved her. He knew that now. He loved them both. But they would never know it, and he was the fool for leading them both to their deaths.
"Die," his sire hissed above him. The madness in his eyes told Vellum what he'd suspected all along: the older vampire had never been sane. The initial transition that all vampires had to endure had warped his brain and he'd never fully recovered from it.
Vellum had fallen victim to a madman. He had been robbed of his humanity not because of sexual desire or his sire's need for companionship, but for pettiness. For amusement.
Sharp fingernails dug into the tender skin of Vellum's neck. Whatever entertainment he had provided the other vampire had waned. His sire seemed intent on tearing Vellum's throat out just as he'd attempted to tear out his guts. And he would succeed, because Vellum's strength was draining as rapidly as his hope…
He reared back as the blade of a knife burst through the front of his sire's throat, spraying Vellum's face with hot blood. Behind, Mariel staggered back, her face deathly pale with shock at what she'd done. Vellum didn't second-guess it. As the older vampire gurgled around the bubbling blood, Vellum seized his chance. He grabbed the jutting handle of the blade and finished what Mariel had begun.
Seconds later, the older vampire's head hit the ground and rolled toward the fire.
Vellum collapsed to his back on the ground and watched the stars grow fainter.
"How did you know…that's one of the ways to…kill a vampire?" he panted.
Mariel burst out with a hysterical laugh. "I was aiming for his heart!" Dirt kicked over his arm as she skidded to her knees by his side. "Oh, Vellum, you're dying," she cried, horror filling her voice.
"Doesn't matter," he whispered, and he wished he believed that. It might make the pain of losing her and Clay hurt less. But perhaps he deserved this. He was a monster, after all. He'd heard what his sire had told her. Vellum had been the one to slaughter Clay's friend. It didn't matter that he didn't recall doing it. He was a murderer.
"It does matter, you jerk!"
He grunted when Mariel punched him in the chest. She immediately gasped and apologized. Vellum had to smile.
"Take good care of Clay," he said. He closed his eyes and stopped fighting the cold fingers of death that crawled across his skin. This would be a slow and painful death, but he would try his best not to let Mariel know that.
"Stop talking like we're going to let you die, dammit!" she yelled.
"Don't curse, Mariel," murmured a pained voice from Vellum's right.
Vellum grimaced as he listened to Clay slide closer. He didn't want to, but he opened his eyes to look up at the former Marshal.
"It seems I owe you a blood debt," Vellum whispered, holding Clay's gaze. "I took your friend's life." The words burned like bile in his throat.
"Did you intend to?"