Free Highland Vampire by Hannah Howell, Deborah Raleigh, Adrienne Basso

abruptly. Peering around him, she almost cried out and ran past him. Jankyn was fighting with three men. Another man was already sprawled upon the floor and it looked as if he was dead, or would be soon. They all had the look of hired swords, and Efrica had little doubt in her mind as to who had hired them. When she realized that Jankyn was fighting them in the manner any man would do, using few of the skills the MacNachton blood gifted him with, she nearly cursed. Even his expression, though feral in many ways, was controlled. He obviously feared being caught doing what MacNachtons did so well—putting the fear of God into their enemies. And that, she suddenly understood, was why David had halted, and still hesitated.
    "Go," she hissed. "Do what ye do best and free your father to do the same. I will warn ye if anyone approaches."
    "Can ye do that?"
    "Aye. If I but set my mind to it, I can tell ye who just belched in the great hall. Go."
    Efrica nearly missed David's attack, so swiftly did he move. Although that ever-curious part of her wanted to watch the battle, she turned her mind to protecting the MacNachtons' backs. Better than anyone in her family, she was able to ignore sounds she recognized as no threat to her, and listen for the others. Her boast to David had been an exaggeration, but not by very much. She did not expect the battle to last much longer anyway. Once David and his father turned the full MacNachton ferocity upon their foes, those men who did not die would run screaming into the night.
    Silence alerted her to the end of the battle. Since she stood at the only way out of this corridor and no one had run past her, Efrica decided that two MacNachtons in their full glory were more than enough to defeat four mercenaries. When she turned to join the victors, she saw David crouched by Jankyn, who sat upon the floor with his back against the wall. She suddenly recalled her sister telling her that the MacNachtons were not actually immortal, that they just lived so long it was easy to think they were. Bridget had also told her that the MacNachtons were very hard to kill, but that it could be done, and had told her how. The loss of too much blood, too rapidly, was one, Efrica recalled and ran to Jankyn's side.
    "Curse it, Father, when did ye become so particular?" snapped David as she knelt next to Jankyn.
    Efrica was appalled by the number of wounds Jankyn had suffered. David had bared Jankyn's chest and she counted three wounds there. There was blood upon his leggings as well, and the slow drip of blood sounding from behind him indicated there was at least one wound upon his back. What truly alarmed her, however, was that the wounds showed no sign of closing. His Pureblood body should have already been starting to heal itself. Efrica could even recall Bridget telling her of how she had once badly scored Jankyn's face with her nails when he had startled her and had watched those wounds close right before her eyes. Efrica saw no hint of this miracle.
    Then, suddenly, she understood what the problem was. Jankyn had lost too much blood to heal himself. He needed blood, and by the looks of the bodies strewn around them, neither he nor David had taken any from the men. Except for the man who had been felled by Jankyn's sword and barely clung to life, the other three men had been killed very cleanly. Efrica suspected it was done that way to avoid any chance someone might see the bodies and talk. As she stood up, she wondered why she felt no qualms about what she was going to suggest, then realized that it was because these mercenaries had intended to murder Jankyn. The least the barely surviving mercenary could do before he died was give Jankyn back the life he had been so eager to take away.
    "That one still lives," she said calmly, pointing to the man Jankyn had defeated with his sword and ignoring the wary looks both father and son gave her. "I can hear the death rattle building in his throat so I wouldnae dither