He moved slowly, easing Henry's body to the ground. The blade pressed deeper, drawing blood.
William's gums began to burn, his teeth began to grow.
He rose slowly, his gaze lifting to meet the burning red stare of the man before him.
His brother Geoffrey smiled at him, revealing gleaming fangs. “Surprised, brother? Did you think you were the only one worthy of the dark gift?»
Horror rolled through William. “Geoffrey! Dear God, what have you done?” He could still see his father's body, see the blood that stained the ground.
Geoffrey's eyes narrowed and the blade bit deeper into William's throat. “What have I done? I have fulfilled my destiny. I have taken the power that I was always meant to have!” His gaze fell to Henry's still body. “The question, brother, is what have you done?»
William blanched. “I tried to save him, I tried, but I was too late. He was already—»
«Henry was the only one I cared about,” Geoffrey said softly. “My true brother. My blood.»
«He was my brother, too! I tried to save him!” He'd done everything he could to save Henry.
«You killed him,” Geoffrey raged. “You killed Henry!»
William wanted to deny the words. He'd tried so hard to save Henry. He'd sought out the vampire. He'd taken the dark gift. He'd done everything, but … Henry was dead.
«You were never the strong one, despite what Father thought.” Geoffrey's lip curved into a snarl. “I should have been sent first. If Father had sent me, Henry would be alive now!»
A dark suspicion grew in William as he stared into his brother's hate-filled gaze. “Did you know what Father was doing to Henry?»
Geoffrey didn't answer him.
«Did you know that Father was torturing him?” William roared, impervious to the feel of steel cutting into his throat.
«I knew what the bastard was doing. I always knew.»
Geoffrey and his father had been alike in so many ways. They shared the same dark lust for power, for blood. William's gaze fell as he stared at the sword before him. It was Guy's sword. “You killed Father, didn't you?»
«Of course, I killed him. I should have killed the bastard long ago! I was never good enough for him. Never strong enough. Not like his precious William!” Geoffrey spat. “He always thought you were so strong. ‘His only real son!'” He quoted with a look of disgust.
«Geoffrey—»
His brother didn't appear to even hear him. “I should have been the firstborn son, the favored one, not you! I was the one meant for greatness. Not you!»
William slowly moved his right hand toward the hilt of his sword.
«You should have died long ago.” Geoffrey's face was a mask of rage. “You should have died in that cursed river. Then I would have been the next de Montfort. I would have been the next leader!»
You should have died in that cursed river. A chill swept through William. He remembered that day. The water had felt like ice. He'd struggled, fighting desperately to stay afloat. He'd screamed for help, he'd begged Geoffrey to help him.
He'd always thought that Geoffrey had gone to get his father's soldiers. That Geoffrey had tried to save him. But his brother had just wanted to kill him.
William's fingers locked around his sword hilt.
«You did not die then,” Geoffrey said. “But you will die now!»
William drew his sword in a silent, deadly rush. Their swords hit with a jarring impact.
«Do not be too certain of that, brother!»
He'd spent his entire life training for battle. Since he'd been given the dark kiss, William was even stronger, more powerful. But Geoffrey was a perfect match for him.
Blade sang against blade as the weapons clashed.
They had trained together, from the moment they were old enough to walk onto the field of battle. They had learned, side-by-side, the ways to strike, to attack, to kill.
Now, they fought each other.
Geoffrey's sword slashed down, catching William along his arm. Blood poured, soaking his garments.
Geoffrey laughed, his eyes alight with the thrill of battle. “Do you know what the peasants call me, brother? Do you?»
William had heard the talk. The whispers. He swung his sword, blocking Geoffrey's attack. His brother was a strong fighter, a dirty fighter. He could not afford to let his guard down.
«You may be the Dark One to them,” Geoffrey said, grunting as he dodged William's sword, “but I am the one they truly fear. I am called the Butcher!»
Geoffrey's weapon flashed toward William's chest. William swung, blocking the blade a second before it would have plunged into his heart.
Geoffrey twisted, lunging up with a knife that he'd concealed in his left hand. The knife sank into William's shoulder.
William groaned as agony lanced through him.
«I am called the Butcher because I do not just kill my enemies.” Geoffrey laughed, the sound maniacal. “I slaughter them. As I will slaughter you!»
«Not … if … I … kill … you … first…” William lunged, swinging his broadsword with all his strength. Metal screamed as his brother's sword broke beneath the force of his blade.
Geoffrey fell to the ground, stunned by William's strength.
William grunted, pulling the knife from his shoulder. He stared at the bloody blade and then looked down at Geoffrey.
Geoffrey moved, crouching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
William dropped his sword and gripped the knife. He lunged for his brother.
Geoffrey met him head on.
William slammed his fist into Geoffrey's jaw.
Geoffrey stumbled back, and then he turned, lashing out with his booted foot. William jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding his brother's attack.
His fingers were slick with blood as they gripped the knife.
«You cannot kill me,” Geoffrey snapped. “You're not strong enough!»
William threw the knife. It sank, hilt deep, into his brother's chest. Geoffrey stared at him, stunned. Then he fell to the ground.
William stared at Geoffrey's prone body. He knew Geoffrey wasn't dead. He couldn't be. It would take more than a steel blade to kill one such as him.
Geoffrey began to laugh. Rich, deep laughter spilled from his throat even as his blood spilled onto the ground.
William took a step toward his brother. One, then another. He moved cautiously, knowing that Geoffrey could attack at any moment.
He stared down at Geoffrey. Moonlight spilled down upon his brother's visage. Blood trickled from his mouth.
«It will take more … than this … to kill me.” Geoffrey's lips twisted into his familiar mocking smile.