Death After Death-Chapter 222: Break Out

It was only when they tried to use words of power rather than minor words of power that he noticed any real difference between the girls. Emma, the younger girl, didn’t seem to be able to do it. The effects of her spells came out with such little force that she might as well have been casting lesser words.

She complained about that, but Simon dismissed it. “These skills take time, and right now, we do not have time for more practice,” he said, relying on her older sister to do the work, which was a problem.

He’d anticipated both girls breaking free fairly easily, but with Ara having to sever both of their chains and then handle the door, she was practically used up by the time she succeeded in lifting the bar, and Simon had to give her the words of lesser healing just to fix her throat.

“Can you see the auras around people?” Simon asked her as she took a moment to rest and recover. It was only a suspicion, and truthfully, he should have waited until later to ask the question, but there might not be a later.

“I—” she said, catching herself as she gave him a look of surprise that told him all he needed to know. “Mother said to ignore them and never mention them to anyone.”

Simon nodded and dropped the subject, wondering whether that was enough to explain the difference between the two girls’ levels of ability. She wasn’t ready for this, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t either. When they finally opened the door, he could barely stagger through it. He wasn’t a person or a warrior, he was a dried-up, desiccated corpse that had a bit more control over itself than a zombie.

Than a zombie, huh? He wondered as his mind flashed over the differences in the two terrible forms of undeath as a spectrum more than anything else.

He dismissed it, though. As interesting as it was, he couldn’t afford to let himself get distracted by that any more than he could by the neatly sliced piece of wood that had barred his door until recently. It was even protruding from the bracket at the right angle. If he fell just right, he could end his life like that.

Then the girls wouldn’t get away, though, he reminded himself. First, they would get free, then the sun would get him, and everything would be fine.

They moved through the darkness quickly and quietly, determined to escape without raising an alarm or doing more fighting than they had to. That was a fine plan until they found the first guard, or more accurately, he found them. When that happened, everyone froze, uncertain of what to do. That was the moment that Ara should have taken off the man’s head with a word of force, but she didn’t. She didn’t have that killing instinct.

Instead, Simon shuddered to life, moving forward in an attempt to disarm the guard as he drew his short sword. It wasn’t Simon’s preferred weapon, but it made more sense for the tight corridors of this area. That was doubly true when the man impaled Simon on it without too much difficulty.

He gasped in pain as the blade went right through where his liver and stomach were. It would be a mortal wound for anyone else, but he’d probably be fine in a few minutes. Still, he resisted the urge to scream, and instead, he rasped, “Ara! Finish him.”

One look at the girl told him that she couldn’t, though. She didn’t have a killing blow in her body and stepped back as she mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

Simon was at a loss for what to do then, so he gave in to his darker impulses. He had no choice. Rather than let this asshole push him to the ground and go after the girls or raise the alarm, Simon finally barred his fangs and embedded them into the neck of the man.

He told himself it was to save the girls or that it was to stifle his scream. Simon told himself a lot at that moment, but he knew it was a lie. The truth was that he was so hungry that he could no longer stand it. He’d been almost out of resistance before Freya had chained Emma and Ara up in his room, and the last two days, he’d resisted out of spite as much as anything else. He simply could not let her win.

So he drank deeply and felt a thrill go through him that was more powerful than any he’d known before. Not even drinking the swarm of vampiric locusts was as intoxicating as drinking this man’s lifeblood directly from its source.

The man struggled for a brief moment, but there was no way he could dislodge Simon. He might be dead weight, but he was firmly attached now, and the man lacked the strength to tear out his own throat to dislodge him. He fell to the ground a few seconds later, but Simon still didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. All excuses were gone now. He needed this, and when he finally drank the guard dry and looked up at the girls, it was all he could do not to pounce on them as well.

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“I—” he gasped. “Help me take off his armor. I… We’re going to see if we can’t bluff our way through this.”

Simon was having a lot of trouble holding himself together at that moment. The power of a human life was flowing through him, and for the first moment since Freya had turned him, he felt himself coming alive. His internal organs were expanding, his muscles were swelling, and though he would never again be able to use a mirror to look at his face in the mirror, he was sure he looked only half as haggard as he had moments ago.

Part of him hated that he’d done it at all, but the rest of him knew it was the only way. He reminded himself of that several times as he donned the dead man’s armor. Then, as he escorted the girls at sword point up and out of the dungeon, he reminded them. “You have magic. Don’t be afraid to use it at the critical moment. It could mean the difference between life and death!”

“One of us has magic,” Emma sighed as they headed up the stairs, but Simon ignored her.

“A spark of fire or a gust of wind can make all the difference in a fight if used at the right moment,” Simon reiterated. “I’ll do what I can, but we’re running out of time, and if Freya finds us…”

He let that last part linger, as much because there were men nearby when they reached the courtyard as because he couldn’t bear to finish it. If Freya finds us, she could make me turn on you, he thought. It was a dark thought but a likely outcome. She’d let Simon resist for so long only because it was enjoyable for her to drag this out, but with a glance and a few words, she could leave him utterly unable to disobey her. He knew that, and he hated it.

Still, his disguise worked, and they reached the gate almost without incident. It was there he saw that they still hadn’t repaired the portcullis, which made sense. Even for a good blacksmith, that would be a hell of a job. For now, they just had a few boards nailed across the gap, and with the inhuman strength flowing through him, Simon was sure that he could make short work of those.

When they reached the gate, though, all of that changed. The guard on duty chuckled and asked, “Where are you taking these beauties off to? Ain't they supposed to be vampire food or something?”

“The Mistress changed her mind,” Simon said, gesturing at the girls as he cringed at how rough his voice still sounded. “He turned his nose up at this feast if you can believe it. She decided to lock him in a coffin for a century and see how he enjoyed starving instead.”

The guard laughed at that and said, “Well, if they want to come work as maids in her ladyship's service, I’m sure they’ll be very popular with the boys. They…”

His words trailed off as Simon got close enough for the man to get a good look at his face. He wasn’t sure what tipped the man off, but something in his face made the guard shrink back in horror, and he started drawing his sword as he opened his mouth to shout an alarm.

Simon was faster, though. This time, instead of drinking the man’s blood, which he sorely wanted to do, he whipped his short sword out with shocking speed and embedded it in the other man’s throat, leaving it there as he took the guard’s longsword.

The attack was so sudden and so quiet that no one noticed, but they would soon. He was sure of it. Simon dragged the guard into the gate house’s shadow and then turned to the girls and said, “When I rip the boards off, you walk away like you don’t have a care in the world. Don’t start running until you hear a commotion. I don’t want anyone on watch to think you’re the reason to sound the alarm. I only want them looking at me.”

“But what about—” Ara started to ask.

“Forget about me,” Simon repeated as he started pulling the boards free. “I’ll be okay, but this is your only chance.”

They wanted to linger and talk, but Simon practically shoved them out the gate. His skin was starting to itch. Dawn was coming, and they had to get away from what was going to happen next.

You don’t need to fight, his mind told him. You need to die and get the fuck out of here. Simon couldn’t argue with that.

No matter how much he wanted to take vengeance on Freya, he knew that he shouldn't. She was far more powerful than he was, and via their bond of blood, he felt some perverse sort of loyalty to her. He needed to be ready, though. The alarm would sound, the men would search, and he needed to be that distraction, at least until the last moment. If he was wrong, and they escaped clean, then he could greet the sunrise and be swept away by it. It would be a fitting way to purge his stained soul.

Simon ignored that cowardly urge to suicide and ran up the stairs to the catwalk, taking them two at a time. Then, he walked to the closest guard he could find up there and devoured him, taking the man completely by surprise, too. Simon didn’t feel as bad about this one. He told himself he needed to be stronger for the fight to come.

That was true, but it was also true that the sensation of devouring his enemy's blood was the single most intoxicating moment of his life, and he craved to do it again like a junkie. This time, the moment wasn’t as intense. He allowed it to linger. He indulged in the darkness of his new nature, practically savoring the terrible moment. He knew that he shouldn't. It would make trying to kick this habit that much harder in the future, but he couldn't help it. It was only when the heart had stopped, and the taste had turned bitter, that Simon stopped and picked up the man's shield.

“Let’s do this,” he told himself. He was overflowing with strength now and as ready as he’d ever be for what was going to happen next.

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