Billy the Kid & the Vampyres of Vegas (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #5.5) by Michael Scott

shoulder. Only then did they know you were dead.”
    “I died because you were not there,” Cuchulain whispered, walking close to Scathach, pointing an accusing finger. The anger was now almost palpable in every word. “You are as responsible as they are for my death.” He was behind her now, and as he spoke, he lifted a huge broadsword from behind a pillar, gripped it in both hands and swung.
    Lost in her grief, the Shadow smelled the metal only at the very last moment. She heard it part the air. Instinct sent her forward and down, and the razor-sharp blade took just the tips of her spiked hair. She rolled to her feet, bringing her swords up as Cuchulain attacked.
    “I blame you, Shadow. You. You. You.” He hacked and slashed, the ferocity of his attack driving her back across the room.
    Scathach defended herself but made no move to attack.
    Cuchulain slashed at her with the huge broadsword. “The Morrigan rescued me before I breathed my last and brought me to the Tir na nOg Shadowrealm. The Elder Crom Cruach made me immortal, but in return I was bound to him for a millennium of servitude. A thousand years in the service of that monster. You have no idea of the things he made me do, and for every world I’ve destroyed, I blamed you.” He swung again, the heavy blade striking sparks off Scathach’s swords. “For every death I’ve caused, I cursed your name.” He cut again, and the Shadow jerked her head back. She actually felt the whisper of air as the edge keened past her throat.
    “Cuchulain,” she breathed.
    “Setanta!” he roared. “Cuchulain died on that Irish mountainside when you betrayed me.”
    A surge of anger roused Scathach. “I never betrayed you. Because of you, my sister and I haven’t spoken in centuries. I loved you. I have always loved you. I still love you,” she added in a raw whisper.
    “I don’t love you.” He thrust with the sword. Scathach sidestepped and the blade punched straight through what was meant to be shatterproof glass. When he jerked the sword free, the entire window dissolved into glass pebbles.
    Cuchulain pressed home his attack, hacking and cutting. He had been trained by the best—Scathach herself—and she struggled to parry and block. It was like fighting her mirror image. The force of the blows almost drove her to her knees, and the edges of her own swords were chipping and denting.
    “I took you into my home, Cuchulain,” Scathach said sadly. “I trained you to be the finest warrior in the known world. And I broke my own vow—never to fall in love with a human. I loved you, Cuchulain, with all my heart. There was nothing you couldn’t do. Nothing couldn’t do. But you betrayed and fell in love with my sister,” she added bitterly, and her anger flowed through her sword. Suddenly she attacked in a blur of metal. Cuchulain’s sword was ripped from his grasp and went clattering across the room.
    Scathach sheathed her swords and turned to face the broken window, breathing in the crisp morning air. “The phone call was nothing more than a ruse to get me here, I take it?” she asked coolly.
    “You’re the one who taught me to bring my enemies to my ground, to fight them on my terms. I’ve been hunting you for a thousand years.”
    “I did teach you that.” Gripping the window frame, the Shadow looked out over the wakening city. She could hear car horns now, and the first white contrails from the early-morning flights were visible in the skies over Nevada. “Did I ever mean anything to you?” she asked.
    Setanta hesitated a fraction before responding. “Once, perhaps, when I was young and knew no better.”
    “And now?”
    “Now, you mean nothing to me,” he said cruelly.
    “I don’t believe that,” she said wistfully.
    “It’s true, Shadow. You failed me and I became an immortal slave to a monster. In time, I too became a monster, a master of blood drinkers and flesh eaters.”
    “You became what you were meant to be,” Scathach murmured.