Empire of the Vampire (Empire of the Vampire, #1)

by Jay Kristoff

“HERE’S A TRUTH about sword fighting, coldblood: Even if you’re bad at it, when the person you’re fighting doesn’t have one? You’re still going to be pretty good.

Aim your heart at the fucking world.’

that’s the way names work, why isn’t yours Annoying-the-Fuck-Out-of-Gabriel?’

But in truth, we weep not for those departed, but for we who remain. And it’s ever best to take the time to say good-bye. All too often, fate robs us of the chance.

That’s the awful part about it: the worst days of your life start out just like any other.

That’s all it takes for your world to turn upside down, you know. A second’s distraction. A single moment that haunts you every moment for the rest of your life.

“Two little words.

me. I looked at the man in the mirror and saw the scars within and without. I wondered if he would ever find peace. If he would ever forgive himself. If it would ever be over.

embrace. In those few moments I had them, and if only then, I was immortal. Because they were immaculate. And they were mine.

But it’s a fool who looks with more fondness to the days behind than the ones ahead. And it’s a man drenched in defeat who sings that sad refrain; that things were better then.

“I felt myself falling. “And as the wind filled my ears, as I began that long tumbling drop down into the mother’s arms, as I closed my eyes and the tears came at the thought that finally, finally, I might see them again,

‘Heroes die unpleasant deaths, far from home and hearth.’ “I grabbed his hand in one bloody fist, keeping it locked on the hilt. Drooling blood, I dragged myself forward on his sword until the crossguard was pressed against my belly, and with my other hand, I seized his throat. “‘Who the fuck told you I was a hero?’

“‘N-no…’ she gasped. ‘All the w-work of his hand is in ac-ccord with his p-plan…’ “I leaned in close, whispered through bared fangs. ‘Fuck his plan.’