blades. “Shall we dance, ladies?” The Vampire snarled.
Clotho smacked her cane against the ground, crossing her wrists and folding her hands over the cane’s head. “Go help your little sister, Lachesis, I’ll handle this.”
The middle sister nodded curtly, “Yes, ma’am.” She started to move past Vlad, challenging him with her eyes.
Vlad quickly looked down, watching the feet of the divinities. “You think you will catch me in a Gaze? Ha.” He darted to the side, swiping deadly claws at Lachesis.
Bound by mortal law while on the physical plane, Lachesis couldn’t let herself be hit with those claws. Pirouetting in place, she spun in a low circle that matched the trajectory of his attack, lightly raising a hand to deflect the claws. Lightning arced from the brief touch between Vampire and Goddess.
Vlad ducked to the side, dodging an attack from Clotho, rolling quickly out of the way as a knitting needle slashed through the air where his head would have been. The tricky bitch of a crone had attacked him from behind. Planting one hand on the ground, he flipped out of the roll and stomped down on Lachesis’s knee. They were fast, but he was faster.
The Goddess screamed as her knee smashed into the sidewalk. Both knee and concrete slab shattered. Vlad spun around and caught the needle Clotho was slashing at his back with. “Bitch. You can’t fight in the real world. Go back to your smoke-and-mirrors house in the stars.”
Struggling against his iron grip, trying to free the needle, Clotho gasped. “There is something you are forgetting about old women who knit, Vladimyr Tepes.”
He stomped down again on Lachesis, breaking her femur with a loud crack. The Goddess sobbed, immobile in the face of physical pain, a sensation she had never before felt. “And what is that, crone?” Vlad taunted Lachesis.
Clotho flicked the fingers of her right hand and jabbed forward at the Vampire’s wrist. “We tend to carry two needles to knit with, deary.”
Vlad screamed in horrified agony as the second needle pierced his wrist. Fire erupted from the wound, gouting around the impaling knitting needle. She jerked the needle out and jabbed forward again, catching him in the forearm. Jacket and limb aflame, Vlad cradled his useless left arm. “Bitch!” he spat.
Clotho froze in shock, her body stiffening. Vlad hunched back, watching her suspiciously. The crone gasped, weakly slamming her cane once in the ground. “To safety with you,” she gasped. Robert, Lachesis, and the light behind her vanished. The old woman, suddenly showing her eons of age, stumbled forward.
Elizabeth Bathory, sans one eye and with her skull showing through the ravaged right side of her face, rose from behind the stumbling Goddess. Clotho fell forward to the ground.
Bathory swung pair of scissors around her finger, droplets of golden blood flying off the blades used to cut the Threads of Fate. “Well, lover. Looks like we have a new toy.” She kicked the body.
Lightning began to spark from the prone form, mini arcs of electricity that jumped from body to surrounding shrubs and lamp posts. The Vampires looked at each other and simultaneously backed up. They watched the body between them with fascination. The wound in the center of her back, where Bathory had shanked her with the scissors, spat bursts of golden light which intensified into a fusillade of lightning bolts.
The air began to hum. Lightning sparked. And the fiery radiance grew, enveloping Lachesis’s body. In a flash of fire the dead Goddess vanished, leaving only a burnt outline on the cracked sidewalk. The two blinked in surprise.
Injured beyond the abilities of a mortal to survive, the two just stared at each other for a moment. Vlad broke the silence first, laughing. Had Fate still been alive to guide the story of the universe, it would have been an evil laugh of triumph. Instead, it was just the laugh of someone too hurt, too tired, and too surprised that they were
Clotho smacked her cane against the ground, crossing her wrists and folding her hands over the cane’s head. “Go help your little sister, Lachesis, I’ll handle this.”
The middle sister nodded curtly, “Yes, ma’am.” She started to move past Vlad, challenging him with her eyes.
Vlad quickly looked down, watching the feet of the divinities. “You think you will catch me in a Gaze? Ha.” He darted to the side, swiping deadly claws at Lachesis.
Bound by mortal law while on the physical plane, Lachesis couldn’t let herself be hit with those claws. Pirouetting in place, she spun in a low circle that matched the trajectory of his attack, lightly raising a hand to deflect the claws. Lightning arced from the brief touch between Vampire and Goddess.
Vlad ducked to the side, dodging an attack from Clotho, rolling quickly out of the way as a knitting needle slashed through the air where his head would have been. The tricky bitch of a crone had attacked him from behind. Planting one hand on the ground, he flipped out of the roll and stomped down on Lachesis’s knee. They were fast, but he was faster.
The Goddess screamed as her knee smashed into the sidewalk. Both knee and concrete slab shattered. Vlad spun around and caught the needle Clotho was slashing at his back with. “Bitch. You can’t fight in the real world. Go back to your smoke-and-mirrors house in the stars.”
Struggling against his iron grip, trying to free the needle, Clotho gasped. “There is something you are forgetting about old women who knit, Vladimyr Tepes.”
He stomped down again on Lachesis, breaking her femur with a loud crack. The Goddess sobbed, immobile in the face of physical pain, a sensation she had never before felt. “And what is that, crone?” Vlad taunted Lachesis.
Clotho flicked the fingers of her right hand and jabbed forward at the Vampire’s wrist. “We tend to carry two needles to knit with, deary.”
Vlad screamed in horrified agony as the second needle pierced his wrist. Fire erupted from the wound, gouting around the impaling knitting needle. She jerked the needle out and jabbed forward again, catching him in the forearm. Jacket and limb aflame, Vlad cradled his useless left arm. “Bitch!” he spat.
Clotho froze in shock, her body stiffening. Vlad hunched back, watching her suspiciously. The crone gasped, weakly slamming her cane once in the ground. “To safety with you,” she gasped. Robert, Lachesis, and the light behind her vanished. The old woman, suddenly showing her eons of age, stumbled forward.
Elizabeth Bathory, sans one eye and with her skull showing through the ravaged right side of her face, rose from behind the stumbling Goddess. Clotho fell forward to the ground.
Bathory swung pair of scissors around her finger, droplets of golden blood flying off the blades used to cut the Threads of Fate. “Well, lover. Looks like we have a new toy.” She kicked the body.
Lightning began to spark from the prone form, mini arcs of electricity that jumped from body to surrounding shrubs and lamp posts. The Vampires looked at each other and simultaneously backed up. They watched the body between them with fascination. The wound in the center of her back, where Bathory had shanked her with the scissors, spat bursts of golden light which intensified into a fusillade of lightning bolts.
The air began to hum. Lightning sparked. And the fiery radiance grew, enveloping Lachesis’s body. In a flash of fire the dead Goddess vanished, leaving only a burnt outline on the cracked sidewalk. The two blinked in surprise.
Injured beyond the abilities of a mortal to survive, the two just stared at each other for a moment. Vlad broke the silence first, laughing. Had Fate still been alive to guide the story of the universe, it would have been an evil laugh of triumph. Instead, it was just the laugh of someone too hurt, too tired, and too surprised that they were
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