Reality Bites by Nicola Rhodes Page A

the air around him.  He recognised it as an Athame, from the word Anathema meaning a thing dedicated to evil (or possibly from the Greek Athéos – without God).  A ceremonial knife usually used by demons, often to kill other demons, in theory.  It was undoubtedly a magical weapon, so, not the sort of thing usually found a prisoner’s cell.  Denny was, therefore, immediately suspicious; somebody had left him this little present then.  The only question was, why?  So that he could fight his way out?  But that was insane!  If you want to help somebody escape from prison you give them a key and maybe a disguise.  In Denny’s experience wielding a weapon, especially when you are likely to be outnumbered, is a good way to get yourself killed.  Denny did not believe for a minute that any friend of his had left this here for him, and he did not doubt that it had been left for him, he had never believed in coincidences.  He dropped the Athame.As it fell, it sliced neatly through the metal frame of the bed.  Denny stared; he picked it up and examined it.  Maybe there was something he could use it for.
    * * *
    ‘What do you mean, he escaped?’
    The smaller vampire shook with terror.  ‘Sir, we left him the Athame, as you instructed, sir.  But he did not use it to attack Haleb as we anticipated.’
    The large beefy vampire in charge interrupted him.  ‘Haleb?’ 
    The smaller one pointed at a vampire behind him. ‘The food server sir.  The boy was supposed to attack him to try to escape – so that Haleb could have an excuse for our lord when Haleb killed him.  But, when Haleb arrived, the boy was not there.’ The smaller vampire closed his eyes and flinched, but the beefy captain held his peace.
    ‘And where?’ he asked.
    ‘Well sir, it seems he used the Athame to, er – cut his way through the bars of the window instead.’
    ‘WHAT?’  The captain grabbed the other by the collar.  ‘Did you know he could do that?’
    ‘Technically, yes sir.  But – how did he know?’
    The captain let the other go and rubbed a weary claw over his eyes. ‘You couldn’t have just given him an ordinary knife?  He was supposed to die anyway.’
    ‘Sorry sir.’
    ‘Ah well, he has outmanoeuvred us, it takes a seasoned fighter to know when to retreat. We underestimated him; that’s all.’
    ‘Perhaps we should have just killed him sir.’
    ‘And how would we have explained that to our lord?  Our orders …’
    ‘How are we going to explain this to our lord?’
     

~ Chapter Eleven ~
     
    ‘W e’re not in Scotland at all, are we?’ said Stiles as the howling drew nearer. ‘Where the hell are we, really?’
    ‘Um, perhaps now’s not the time.’  She was rummaging for weapons in her backpack.
    ‘I just want a straight answer – you’re not going to use that?’
    She had brought out a fairly large axe in three pieces, which she screwed together.
    ‘No, you are.’  She threw it to him.  ‘I’m using this one.’  And she drew out an even bigger axe, making Stiles wonder if her backpack was some kind of portable TARDIS.  He made a mental note to ask her later (one of many such notes – soon there would not be any room left in his head for worrying).  Right now, however, the animal rights question was uppermost in his mind.  ‘They’re just animals,’ he said.  ‘Just doing what they do – I can’t kill them.’
    ‘Well you can’t outrun them.  Look I know it’s rough, but look at where you are.’ There were four slavering wolves emerging from the trees.  ‘It’s them or us.’
    He could see her point.  ‘I see your point,’ he said. ‘But I still don’t think I can do it.’
    ‘You have to.’
    ‘No, I mean I don’t think I can do it.  I don’t know how to use one of these things.’
    ‘Like this.’ She swung the axe at the nearest wolf and neatly (apart from all the blood) sliced its head off. ‘See?’
    The remaining three wolves all leaped as one at her