Free Underworld: Blood Enemy by Greg Cox Page B

struck the lady, knocking her off her horse even as yet more humans came pouring out of the tower itself. Strings of garlic were draped around the attackers’ necks, along with numerous rosaries and crucifixes. Burly peasants and villagers, armed with pitchforks, axes, and other weapons, charged the caravan, screaming in rage.
    “Death to the demons!”
    Flaming arrows jutted from the flailing bodies of vampires and lycans alike. Steam rose from the latters’ wounds, proclaiming that the mortal horde had added silver to their arsenal as well.
    Outnumbered and caught unaware, the skewered Death Dealers tumbled from their horses in disarray. Soren’s steed landed on top of him, trapping the overseer beneath the weight of the husky charger. Lucian felt a searing pain in his side, where a burning shaft jabbed between his ribs.
    “Well done, lads!” a familiar voice called out from high above the bailey. Lucian looked up to see a black-robed figure standing on the roof of the tower. “You have my blessing—and the Church’s holy silver. Suffer not a single demon to live!”
    It is just as I feared! Lucian thought. He wished that his suspicions had not proven quite so well founded. Apparently, Brother Ambrose has not fled the Continent after all…
    Fire scorched his palm as Lucian grabbed on to the arrow, breaking the shaft and hurling it away from him. The flames continued to lick at his clothing, however, and he tore off his jacket in a rush.
    Steam rose from the silver arrowhead lodged in his flesh, but Lucian ignored the pain. Looking for Sonja, he saw her struggle to control her frightened mount while calling out in fear.
    “Mother, beware!”
    The mob descended on Lady Fiona almost as soon as she hit the ground. A sharpened ashwood lance pinned the fallen noblewoman to the earth. A gleaming sickle flashed in the moonlight.
    The lady’s severed head rolled across the yard. Cold vampiric blood gushed from the stump between her shoulders, while her leather-clad arms and legs twitched spasmodically.
    “Mother!” Sonja cried out. The hood of her cloak fell away from her face, exposing her horrified visage.
    “Success!” Brother Ambrose crowed. “The she-devil is no more!”
    An arrow pierced one of Clio’s forelegs, and the horse collapsed to the ground. Sonja was thrown from her saddle, landing in the yard not far from her mother’s decapitated corpse. She lay sprawled in the dirt, while Lady Ilona’s blood turned the packed earth to mud beneath her. A piteous moan escaped Sonja’s lips as she stared in shock at her mother’s head, which lay faceup in the gory muck, only a few feet away.
    “Get the stregoica!” a human ruffian snarled, using a crude mortal term for a vampiress. Rough hands seized hold of Sonja, who seemed too stunned by her mother’s grisly demise to fight back.
    Blood-spattered peasants threw her onto her back, holding her spread-eagled upon the ground. Her cloak fanned out beneath her like the wings of a fallen angel. “Chop off her head!”
    “No!” Lucian shouted from across the bailey. To his dismay, he saw that all of Sonja’s Death Dealer bodyguards were either fallen or caught up in battle against multiple foes. Slashing madly with his dagger, he fought his way through the chaos toward Sonja, stepping over the bodies of wounded lycans and Death Dealers while tossing mortals aside in his frantic attempt to get to Sonja in time.
    Even in his human form, he still possessed the strength and speed of several mortals, but for one of the few times in his immortal existence, he wished that he could transform into a werewolf at will, if only to be able to defend Sonja with bestial fangs and claws.
    “You are all God’s soldiers!” Brother Ambrose cried from the tower, egging the butchers on.
    “Send the wanton succubus to hell where she belongs!”
    The deadly sickle was raised once more, ready to commence its fatal descent. Lucian threw himself at the would-be executioner, slamming