A Beautiful Sacrifice

Chapter Twenty Nine

Growling was loud in his ears, a guttural sound, deep and throaty it echoed throughout what was now the battlefield. His beautiful front garden was now a blackened floor. His felled trees were up in flames and the vampire cries were hurting his ears even as he himself let one loose. Long gone was his own deep toned voice of authority, a vampire had his own way of communicating and it was catlike. Feline almost. A series of shrieks told everyone not only his position but his pain and his anger. At different pitches he was able call aid to him. Or send it away. He could direct his troops and he could frighten his enemy. To sensitive ears it hurt them. To human ears, it burst them.

                To the hounds it merely irritated them, until faced with the shrieking vampire in front of them. Then they feared it. For they did not understand what each high pitched cry that was sounded meant. It was either a cry of defeat, or a cry to call aid but either way it meant the vampire would attack. No vampire lay down to die.

                Crouched low with the heavy pad of a hound’s leg about to come down at his face, Perttu reached up and with his quick reflexes caught at the leg; and crushed. It was a good sound to hear when the hound howled in agony at the breaking of his bones. Perttu was hated himself for taking such pleasure in the destruction of live but he still bent over the hound neck and looked into its fearful eyes as he bit it’s neck and took every last drop of blood the hound held. His victory was sort lasted though for a blow to his side knocked him sideways and he felt the wind lash at his face as he was airborne.

                Landing heavy on the floor he stayed silent. He wanted no aid. Not yet. The moon was out. It was bright and orb like. The white light that came from it tickled his skin and he was reminding of what the sun did. Of the burning sensation and the weakness. Of the pain that coursed through his body when light singed his skin. The moon was too high. The clouds had uncovered it. He was now at his weakest and he felt every stone digging into his back as he lay on that ground.

                The sounds of his comrades filled the air. Shouts of warning, and denial. Of annoyance as they felt themselves weaken that bit more. And all the while the hounds had moved inwards, circled their prey like sharks would a fish. It looked like the vampires were cornered but Perttu knew they weren’t. He saw some flurry of motion on his rooftops and he knew Joseph was far from a straight forward fighter. His cousin always looked for weak spot. His upbringing had been anything other than conventional, so his fighting skills had taken on that elusive air and predatory stalking that his life mirrored. Joseph was always a good comrade to have. And a deadly enemy to dread.

                But Perttu found that while he knew he was not alone, that they were not totally cornered yet, he could see the flexing of the muscles on the hounds. Their skin looked ready to rip as their muscles bulged. He looked up to see who now surrounded him. Laid on the ground his anger meant very little now. His blood was boiled but it would only run red when he was cut with those vicious teeth. He wondered if he would be torn into shreds unrecognisable to Lily when she walked away from the safe house at the end of all this.

                Pain. Teeth sank deep into his calf biting hard and holding onto his bone. He screamed. Another set of teeth took a hold of his shoulder and his eyes lolled back as the pain took from him the fight. He shook his head and let his mouth fall open as he tried to cling to breath. But he was finding it hard to breathe it hurt so much. He gasped once. Twice. And looked at the sky. The moon bore down on him, a burden now to his existence. Nothing but a curse. It was a bane of his life this denial of light. The clouds were so slow uncaring that he lay dying on his own property. They crawled across that sky with so much ease he felt angry watching them.

                Pulling at his shoulder, trying to free it from the teeth he screamed only more when the hounds shook their heads from side to side. His flesh weakened and he felt it starting to rip. They were trying to break him apart piece by brutal piece and he felt an ounce of fear creep in. What a terrible death to have. He had no strength to do anything. It had been drained from him with every slow inch the moon had appeared and the pain had made it so even the shards of strength and power in him were but a distant memory. A memory of what a great creature he had once been.