Chapter Eight

Those who want to live, let them fight, and those who do not want to fight in this world of eternal struggle do not deserve to live. – Adolf Hitler

Silence stretched between them for a long moment before Heinkel began to laugh. Not the smartest move, but the entire situation was so ridiculous that it was impossible to keep a straight face. Missions were always fraught with danger, but they were rarely funny; she'd have to enjoy it while it lasted. Hadn't this psycho ever heard of a blood bank? It would have saved them both a lot of trouble.

Aside from a slight furrowing of her brow, the witch didn't react to Heinkel's amusement; she was probably used to people laughing at her. Maybe none of her other victims had taken her seriously, either—until it was too late, of course.

"I suppose it is an odd request. I could have performed the procedure while you were unconscious, but that would have been rather inconsiderate of me."

Finally sobering, Heinkel made one last attempt at diplomacy. "Let me go, and no one has to get hurt."

That was a lie—she wasn't about to let this bitch walk away after making a fool out of her and couldn't even if she'd wanted to, given the other woman's extracurricular activities—but she didn't need to know that. After all, the barrier between them only needed to vanish for a moment, just long enough for Heinkel to deliver a blow to her opponent's solar plexus…

As she plotted, Heinkel tried to keep her thoughts muted (if that was even possible). No sense in sabotaging herself before she'd even begun. When the witch's smug expression didn't waver, she felt a faint flickering of hope. Maybe she wasn't completely screwed, after all.

The witch smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're not in a position to be making demands, dear. By the way, that was a nice glamour you were wearing earlier: an amateurish attempt, but amusing nonetheless. And with a face like yours, I suppose anything is an improvement…"

Battling a sense of rising panic, Heinkel barely heard the insult. Although she'd defeated countless opponents, few had unnerved her so much as this woman. Of course, none of them had possessed magical abilities—but it wasn't the presence of witchcraft that so unsettled her. Rather, it was the sensation of powerlessness, the knowledge that even blessed bullets couldn't help her that filled her with dread; for the first time in her life, Heinkel regretted being human. If she were a vampire, this hag would be no threat—but as a mere mortal, there was nothing she could do but pray.

Lord, Thy will be done…

Heinkel waited, but the peace she usually felt while praying failed to materialize. Heart fluttering against her ribs like a trapped bird, she scanned the room once more for a weapon, an escape route, anything at all that might help her—but there was nothing. Not that it would have mattered, given that she was trapped like a sheep in its pen, waiting for slaughter. Where was Seras when you needed her?

Clasping the cross she'd worn since childhood, she closed her eyes, begging God to deliver her from this evildoer, or, if her time had come, to welcome her into His kingdom. The afterlife had always been an abstract concept, an obscure theological detail, but now it loomed, an abyss about to devour her.

Someone cleared their throat, jolting her out of her prayer-induced trance. "Nice place you have here."

Seras?

Heinkel whirled around to see the vampire standing with her hands on her hips, an unfamiliar gleam in her eye. If she didn't know better, she'd say the draculina was angry—but that was ridiculous. Why would Seras care about her well-being? Surely she would be relieved to replace Heinkel with a more tractable partner.

Scowling to hide her relief, she snapped, "Took you long enough."

To her credit, Seras had the grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry about that; I had a bit of trouble finding this place." For the first time, Heinkel noticed that her uniform was singed and there was a blood smear on one cheek; her eyes had reverted to their usual hue.

The witch smirked at this. "You haven't the slightest chance of defeating me, even if you are a vampire. Better go home while your limbs are still intact."

Seras' eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Not only did you kidnap my friend, but you're the one who's been snatching girls off the streets, aren't you?"

Friend? Heinkel started to point out that they were merely reluctant acquaintances but decided now wasn't the time.

"Oh, dear. It seems I've been found out."

The witch snapped her fingers and a ball of fire appeared, hovering beside her like a gargantuan firefly. It hurled towards Seras, moving so quickly that Heinkel's eyes couldn't keep up. But the draculina dodged the attack; and the missile struck the wall behind her, exploding in a shower of sparks.

The witch's eyes narrowed; and she studied Seras as though seeing her for the first time. "You aren't as stupid as you seem. No matter; I enjoy a challenge every now and then."

The shadows around Seras thickened; and Heinkel swallowed hard, remembering the last time they'd appeared. To her relief, the vampire's eyes remained focused, though the temperature in the room dropped, causing Heinkel's breath to billow in front of her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to keep her teeth from chattering.

The witch arched a brow. "You still insist on staying? Very well."

As the others glared at each other, their bodies tense and ready for combat, Heinkel let out a growl of frustration. The entire situation was maddening, and not just because of her humiliating capture. Seras' actions didn't make any sense; and Heinkel hated things she didn't understand.

It would have been so easy for the vampire to abandon her. Nothing bound them: not friendship, respect, or even understanding. They were simply two people who'd been thrown together under the most undesirable of circumstances. So why was Seras here, defending a person who meant nothing to her, someone who hated her and everything she stood for?

Stupid! She gave her head a shake, willing herself to concentrate. The vampire is here because it's her job—not because of me.

"This is your last chance." Seras warned. "Let her go."

The woman laughed…and then the ground beneath Seras vanished and she tumbled into the darkness, the blackness swallowing her before Heinkel could so much as blink. The witch turned to Heinkel with a smirk. "Now, where were we?"

Without thinking, Heinkel flung herself against the barrier. Blinded by fury, she struck it again and again until, almost imperceptibly, the wall began to weaken…and then she was staggering forward, her fingers meeting only empty air. The witch only stared, gaping at this unexpected turn of events.

Heinkel grinned, reveling in the feeling of being in control once more. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline your generous offer."

Before her opponent could react, Heinkel sprang towards her, slamming the woman against the wall; her head smashed against the stone. The witch watched through unfocused eyes as Heinkel's hands encircled her throat. She wouldn't kill the other woman—not yet, anyway—but Andersen had taught her the art of inflicting excruciating pain.

First, I'll make her beg for death.

Heinkel watched with grim satisfaction as the witch's face darkened, hands scrabbling at the fingers encircling her neck. This bitch deserved to experience agony, discover the terror of staring death in the face. God knew how many she'd murdered...

Her face purpling from lack of oxygen, the witch let out a wheezing half-laugh—and then she vanished. Fingers grasping at empty air, Heinkel spun around, thinking it was a trap, but the room remained empty. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she let out a volley of curses that would have made even Alucard blush. She'd been so close…

And where the hell was Seras? After the vampire had come back for her, Heinkel couldn't abandon her; no matter how tempting it might be, such a decision would reflect poorly on her as a warrior. Besides, Seras had saved her life; and until Heinkel could repay her, she was in the other woman's debt. The thought of owing anything to a Protestant left a sour taste in her mouth.

But before Heinkel could start searching for her errant partner, the witch's cat struggled to its feet, meowing pitifully at her. She half-expected the animal to spew fire or sprout a second head, but it only began to lick its wounds. As Heinkel approached, the animal paused in its ministrations, watching with wary eyes.

"Don't worry." Heinkel coaxed. "I won't hurt you." As she stroked it, the cat began to purr.