Free Vampire Down (Blood Skies, Book 7) by Steven Montano

proximity.  Eyes like pools of frozen milk, teeth filed to points.  Her breath smelled of frozen spices and things recently dead.
    “We want to know what they can do,” she said.  “There is one Maloj on this world, and it’s still out there.  We know it fears the blades, but we don’t know why.  You’re going to help us.”
    Cross swallowed hard.  It felt like ice had lodged in his throat.  All he kept thinking about were Ronan and Shiv, probably dead out there in the fire.  Danica would help them – if she could save them, she would.  Just like she’d save him.
    “If you refuse, she dies,” Hasker said slowly.  “If I think you’re going to refuse, she dies.”  Hasker nodded at the Raza.  “Show him.”
    The vision returned, not as overwhelming this time, just Danica, at the top of the rise, hiding in the thin trees, gathering herself, nursing her wounds, her thick red hair washed with sweat, her golem arm faintly glowing with power, the blades across her back, Claw and Scar, the siblings to his fused weapon.
    Terror washed through his body.  From what he’d glimpsed in those visions the Coalition was as bad as the Ebon Kingdoms, if not worse.  He couldn’t give these monsters access to that kind of power.  Without him the blades were useless – he didn’t understand why, and likely never would, but it was the only advantage he had.  They wouldn’t torture him, because he’d known torture.  They wouldn’t torture her, because then he’d never do what they wanted.
    But they’ve got me.  They know they do.
    The right thing to do – what Danica would have done – would be to let her go.  To let her die.  The needs of the many.  By protecting her he might have been dooming everyone’s future.
    But I can’t do that.
    The only solace he could take was that she was still alive, and that she had the other two swords.  Maybe they didn’t know about them.  Maybe they just didn’t care.
    They have me.  But so long as she’s alive, there has to be hope.
    “She won’t just give up, you know,” he said.  “She’ll come after me.”
    “ So you’re the damsel in distress, eh?” the chain-wielder asked.
    “ Quiet,” the Raza said. 
    “ She saw an explosion,” Hasker said.  “All she’ll find is bodies ruined beyond repair.  One of them will look remarkably like you.”
    He remembered the illusion, the trap that got him captured, and his blood boiled.  The room snapped into clarity, and suddenly Cross sensed the blades, knew their exact location there in the soiled chamber.  He reached out, and his fingers brushed the edge of the meteor steel before a wave of force threw him back against the wall.  He felt something crack, and blood ran down the side of his face.
    “I should kill her now, just out of principal!” Hasker yelled, but Cross threw up his hands in surrender.
    “ Don’t hurt her,” he said.  “I’ll...I’ll do what you want.”
    Silence.  He couldn’t see through the blurriness in his vision, the throbbing pain that made the room unclear.
    “If you defy us,” the Raza whispered, her voice so close he felt her rancid and frosted breath on his ear, “then the next time you see her she’ll be dead.  You belong to us.  Don’t test our patience.  We let her live and leave her free to prove to you our power.  We can find her anywhere, and will.  If she seeks solace in a band of tribesmen or with the White Children we’ll have warships ready to fly out and destroy their camp.  If she takes asylum in Meldoar, rest assured we have many spies and assassins there, and she’ll never see them coming.”
    Silence again.  Cross’s vision bled back into view.  They were clearing the room, preparing to move out.  He heard the groan of an airship up above. 
    “Do we have an understanding, Cross?” Hasker asked quietly.  “Your obedience, in exchange for her life.”
    Cross wished he had the strength to fight it.  Or, better yet, the strength