The Blood of the Soul

Mutual Destruction

A/N: Quick note that I changed how long Liam's father has been dead from 25 years to 15 years in chapter 1. It's not super vital for this chapter, but it'll affect upcoming plot lines.

Dunbar wielded the stake with lethal precision, each movement slicing through the air. He was lithe, graceful, and Theo might have admired if he weren't terrified for his unlife.

Thankfully, Theo's body moved quickly—dodging blows before his mind could catch up—and narrowly avoiding his attacks.

"You're the reason five of us are dead," Theo exclaimed, side stepping and aiming a carefully timed shove that had Dunbar rolling into a low crouch.

"Soon to be six."

Theo clenched his jaw and tapped into that immortal power humming beneath the surface. Despite the weakness seeping into his muscles and weighting his bones, Theo was still stronger than some stupid human with a piece of scrap wood.

He lashed out with his fists and feet, landing several blows until Dunbar's stake sliced through the delicate flesh above his collarbones. For a human, he was strong.

"You missed," Theo snarled.

"Did I?" That infuriating smile had returned.

Theo's backpack fell to the ground, the contents bursting from the seams. The four blood bags scattered across the grass, but as Theo lunged for them, a ray of sunlight streamed through the mausoleums. He yanked his hand away from the searing pain. Even from that split second of exposure, his skin was sizzling.

"Go ahead, Raeken," Dunbar said. "Lead me back to your nest."

Theo couldn't leave the blood bags. Couldn't leave his things, but he had no choice. Sunshine was about to warm the frozen earth reduce him to ashes. Maybe that's what the slayer wanted. Maybe that's what Doug wanted if it meant he could eliminate the threat. If it meant that his clan could walk the night freely again, taking what they wanted from whoever they wanted.

But if he came home empty handed, Doug might throw him out anyway.

Theo couldn't waste time deliberating. He yanked his leather jacket up over his head and dove through the ray of sunlight, snatching up one of the blood bags and sprinting for the nearest man hole cover in the center of the dead street.

He yanked it from the ground in a single smooth movement and with one last look back at the slayer, his cheeks pink from their fight, his blue eyes burning into him as brightly as the sun, Theo dropped into its depths.

...

Theo had a love hate relationship with the sewers. One on hand, it allowed him to walk across town in the daylight and without the temptation of drinking from an unsuspecting human. On the other hand, part of being an undead supernatural creature was heightened senses, and the only thing that Theo had to mute the stench was Dunbar's scrubs.

The slayer's scrubs.

At least part of his problem was solved. As long as he could make it home, he could relay this newfound information to Doug and when the sun set, they would rally to hunt the slayer.

An unfamiliar emotion drudged up from the depths of his soul at the thought, and nausea swept through him. It was probably just the smell.

When he climbed the slick metal rungs into the harsh sunlight, Mari was waiting for him with a dark umbrella.

"What happened to you?" she asked, her nose crinkling against the foul stench. The only perk of the sewer is that it had overpowered all traces of musk and citrus.