Bonds of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 7)

by Bella Klaus

  “Once we’ve dealt with Kresnik, his preternaturals will die, won’t they?” I asked.

  Valentine inclined his head. “Has anyone heard from the Demon King?”

  I glanced at Corporal Drukor, who shook her head, as did the other enforcers standing around the monitors.

  “Didn’t any of that team return to the bus or check in?” I asked.

  “We’ve lost contact with them,” said a male enforcer.

  I turned to Valentine, whose features stilled into a mask of calm. He stepped into the bus, his power billowing off his body the way steam rose around a volcano about to erupt. I bit down on my lip. This wasn’t a good sign.

  “Explain,” Valentine said in an eerily calm voice.

  The enforcer was a tall man with textured brown horns that curled back from his head like a ram. From the awkward way he positioned his legs, he could have been a satyr. Anxiety crackled off his body, making me wonder if he had something to hide.

  “Your Majesty.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Every demon who left with our king to fight Kresnik is no longer in this dimension.”

  “They fell to Kresnik?” Valentine asked.

  I gulped. That was the thing with demons—they never really died. If one of them received a fatal injury, he or she would lose power and revert to a lower-level demon. It’s what happened to Captain Theodore, when Kresnik had captured and tortured him, and reduced him to a wraith.

  Even Hades had suffered a similar fate when he’d started off as a middle-aged man, gotten burned by Kresnik, lost a fifth of his ashes, and I’d resurrected him as a handsome young man.

  My pulse beat a panicked thrum between my ears as I waited for the male enforcer to answer Valentine’s question.

  He raised his shoulders. “We don’t know if they went to Hell voluntarily or were sent there after losing in battle.”

  “Can you at least tell if the equipment is damaged?” Valentine growled.

  The enforcer paled. “Our technology only functions in this realm, Your Majesty. Inter-dimensional summons communications is the domain of higher level demons.”

  A crowd of stricken faces formed outside around the double-decker’s door, and my own emotions mirrored those of the vampires and mercenaries.

  “It’s hard to believe that all those trained demons and their king could have died at the hands of Kresnik and his people,” said Caiman.

  “The Flame has defeated them in the past,” Valentine said in a low voice.

  Caiman’s brows furrowed. It was a subtle movement in his unlined face, but I could tell he was concerned. “Your Majesty?”

  “Demon enforcers attacked one of Kresnik’s strongholds, and his people fought back with fire,” I said. “There were all kinds of fire-based creatures, even dragons. Now that Kresnik also stole a large quantity of firestone, who knows what he could have done to those demons.”

  Valentine turned to the troops. “We will continue, regardless of the fate of our comrades. Kresnik’s power over the humans must end tonight.”

  The vampires and mercenaries nodded, and Valentine turned to me with that same stoic expression. “No matter what happens during the battle, I want you to remain in your shifted form, understood?”

  I nodded.

  He turned to Caiman. “Bring the containers. The moment Kresnik falls, we will banish him into the containers.”

  Caiman inclined his head. “A sound plan, Your Majesty, but how will we find him?”

  Valentine’s hands curled into fists. “I spent the past month training to detect his subtle magical signature.”

  A shocked gasp lodged in the back of my throat. It sounded like Valentine was trying to track me with his magic during the time I went missing.

  The crowd parted, and Valentine turned toward the exit. Caiman swept out his hand, gesturing for me to follow. With a nod, I pushed out my power, shifted back into an ifrit, and tried not to worry about the implications of losing my phoenix.

  Valentine paused with his head raised, turning his gaze from left to right as though examining every window overlooking the courtyard for signs of Kresnik. The last time we’d searched for Captain Theodore, Valentine had mentioned Kresnik’s temporal distortion. Perhaps that was what he was trying to sense.

  “Over there.” He paused at a window that wasn’t as dark as the others and turned to me. “Do you have your scythe?” When I nodded and opened my palm, revealing its miniaturized form, he said, “Good.”

  New-age music drifted over us, as did the sound of Annie’s prayer to the magnificence of Kresnik. We walked across an enclosed space of what was now slush—a disturbing mix of melted snow and vampire ashes.

  “Are you alright?” Valentine glanced down at me, his dark eyes shining with concern.

  My shoulders sagged. “Those poor women.”

  “Don’t blame yourself for their fate,” he murmured. “Nonaginta-Novem was no different from other vampires who grew up in New Mesopotamia. He had little respect for the lives of humans and other beings he considered less powerful.”

  “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

  He placed a hand on my cloak. “Kresnik would have found another vampire to raise as a preternatural, and we would have still fought the same battle.”

  “His Majesty makes a valid point,” said Caiman. “Half a century ago, we fought entire armies of preternaturals in battles that lasted for weeks. If we can succeed in our mission, we will do so with a fraction of the death count we endured the last time he rose.”

  We continued beneath a covered walkway toward a set of wooden double doors, passing the decorative arches that overlooked the courtyard. The mercenaries and other vampires marched behind us in silence, their footsteps landing on the paving stones with gentle thuds.

  Valentine raised a hand to one of the doors and shattered it with a pulse of power. Splinters flew at us and burned to ash on contact with my flames.

  The door opened into a chandelier-lit hallway of pale floors and green walls, lined with gold-framed portraits of people I recognized from browsing Wikipedia. A cordon stretched down the corridor to deter the general public from getting too close to the ancient paintings.

  “Should I shift back in case I damage something here with my fire?” I asked.

  Valentine shook his head. “Objects can be replaced. You cannot.”

  If I was in my regular form, heat would have risen to my cheeks at the casual way he’d told me I was more precious than any of the treasures within this historical royal palace. I nodded and focused on how we might avoid falling to whatever happened to Hades and the others.

  I stretched out my senses, feeling for any strange magic, but it was difficult in this ifrit form and with the reaper cloak. Part of me wanted to throw it off, but that would mean losing a source of protection from Kresnik.

  Valentine raised his hand. “He’s directly upstairs from this spot. We just need to find the stairs.”

  We continued through an archway to a wing of the palace where the walls and floors were made of stone. A grand staircase with a wrought iron handrail held up by swirling gold spindles wound around the vast space, leading up to a mezzanine painted to depict angels flying in the sky and descending on humans wearing Roman gowns.

  The sight was both stunning and terrifying. I couldn’t tell if the prospect of fighting Kresnik was making my flames crackle beneath my cloak, or if I could feel the ghosts of the wives Henry VIII had condemned to death.

  “He’s up there.” Valentine pointed to the end of the mezzanine at a wooden door surrounded by elaborate stone cornicing and a triangular stone pediment that formed a roof. “But I hear dozens of heartbeats.”

  Everybody stilled.

  I glanced around the empty wing, the ringing in my ears filling the silence.

  “Then where are his guards?” I whispered.

  Magic shattered like pieces of broken glass, flooding our surroundings with blinding light. When it cleared, the stone walls and th
e staircase vanished, leaving only the mezzanine. The chamber we stood in expanded to twice its size and was now filled with hundreds of fire users.

  Men, women, and children stood together, each wearing indigo denim and sporting huge medallions of Cleopatra stone. I recognized many of them from the time I’d spent in the Flame’s ritual rooms and refectory.

  I reeled forward and resisted the urge to grab Valentine’s arm to hold myself steady.

  “Were you looking for us?” asked a seven-foot-tall man whose bald head shone in the light of his flaming fists. He grinned, revealing a mouthful of snaggled teeth.

  All around us, fire users spread out across the stone chamber, some raising their flaming fists, others shifting into dragons, fire giants, ifrits, and that genie-creature we had fought in the basement of the Notting Hill safe house.

  “How could there be so many of them?” I whispered.

  “We arrested hundreds of them last month,” Valentine growled. “They should all be behind secure wards.”

  My gaze dropped to the thick layer of ash coating the stone floor, and the flames lining the back of my throat receded. Was this what happened to Hades and his demon enforcers?

  “What will it be?” Snaggletooth puffed out his massive chest. “An agonizing death in a blaze of fire, or will you bend the knee to Our Lord?”

  “I don’t remember seeing you in the Flame.” The words spilled from my lips before I could stop them.

  His thick brows drew together. “What are you talking about, girl?”

  “I stayed there for over a week, and you weren’t at any of the gatherings.”

  “Did you spend time in the kitchens?” he asked through clenched teeth. When I didn’t answer, he turned to Valentine. “Surrender on behalf of the Supernatural Council, and we will spare your lives.”

  I glanced over his shoulder at the line of dragons staring down at us through amber and red eyes. Something about this scenario was off. Even with everyone wearing Cleopatra stone, so many varieties of fire should fill the chamber with dozens of sounds and scents.

  “How much of this is real?” I asked.

  Snaggletooth shook his head with an awkward laugh. “The real question is how many of these bloodsuckers we will turn into preternaturals by the end of this fight.”

  Some of the vampires visibly stiffened. I wanted to assure them that I had a means of turning them back, but there was no telling if Kresnik had completely taken control of my phoenix.

  “What is your answer?” Snaggletooth raised his thick arms. Flames erupted from the floor and spread across the chamber, encasing us in a twenty-foot-high wall of fire.

  The vampires huddled close, breaking into anxious chatter. They weren’t flammable like preternaturals, but had learned to fear that fire. It put them at risk of rising as an undead vampire with a fire user for a master and an insatiable desire for blood.

  “Everybody remain calm.” Valentine’s loud voice crushed the sounds of quiet panic. “Use your ears and noses. At least one of the people in front of us is a mage capable of bending the light. The fire users standing in front of you are illusions.”

  Snaggletooth’s nostrils flared. “He lies!”

  A green dragon blew out a long plume of fire, filling the air with the scent of sulphur and showering us all with a rain of sparks.

  I sucked in a breath. That had been real.

  “Tread carefully,” said Valentine. “Tear off those amulets, and we’ll separate illusion from reality.”

  The mercenaries in our group vanished from sight, reappearing behind members of the crowd of fire users, snapping necks, and tearing off pendants. When some of the fire users dimmed, proving themselves to be made of light, the vampires charged into the fray.

  A vampire in black armor and a helmet shaped like a wolf’s head grabbed Snaggletooth around the neck and threw him across the chamber. He landed face-first into the wall, shattering his Cleopatra stone pendant. Dozens of fire users, including all the genies, vanished.

  My heart soared, and I shot Valentine a triumphant grin. “It’s working.”

  “Kresnik will know we’re here.” He stared down at me, his features solemn.

  “There’s no point in hanging around here, then,” I said.

  He flicked his head up to the mezzanine’s door. “I’ll take Caiman up with the spheres. You fly up after us.”

  Valentine turned to the butler, who gave him a sharp nod and raised the bag containing the warded vessels we intended to use to trap Kresnik.

  My stomach lurched, and I clamped my lips shut, not daring to utter my confession. Valentine’s heartfelt words about my beauty and strength had been linked to my new power, but what if it disappeared the moment we banished Kresnik into those objects?

  The battle raged on around us, with only half the number of fire users and three-quarters of the creatures from before. Shouts and screams and strikes of weapons echoed through the chamber, adding to the pandemonium.

  Every flame that made up my body flickered in and out of existence, and I placed a hand over my chest. If I remained quiet now and lost my power, I would revert to a damsel who needed protection, and I would never be able to help find King Antonius’s lost soul.

  “Valentine?” I whispered.

  He turned around, fixing me with his intense, violet eyes. “Morata?”

  “I can’t shift into a phoenix.”

  His eyes bulged. “What?”

  Shame squirmed through my insides, along with a slick and slimy revulsion at how Kresnik had violated my soul. Valentine continued staring down at me as though we weren’t in the middle of a battle to save Great Britain from a fire-stealing maniac.

  I cleared my throat and forced out the words. “It feels like he’s pulled away my phoenix and filled the void inside me with his stolen power.”

  “That’s why you’re an ifrit?” he asked.

  My gaze dropped to the flagstones, and I willed myself to nod.

  Valentine placed his gloved fingers beneath my fiery chin and tilted my head up so our eyes met. “Never blame yourself for the actions of a madman.”

  A rush of emotion thickened my throat, and the edges of my vision blurred with the onset of tears. “What if I never get my phoenix back?”

  He shook his head. “You’ll always be my Innamorata, even if you lose your power. No matter what, Kresnik must die tonight.”

  I straightened, my muscles tightening in readiness for the fight. There was no time to worry about the future when we were on the cusp of defeating Kresnik.

  “You’re right,” I said. “Let’s kill that bastard.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Valentine reached for my hand, but I held out a palm and stepped back. “Wait a minute.”

  The only dragon in the chamber who wasn’t an illusion roared with a fireball that exploded into a shower of sparks. Caiman, who stood at Valentine’s left, stared up at it with the tight expression some people make when forgetting their umbrella during a downpour.

  Valentine’s brows rose. “What are you doing? We have to attack before he returns to the stage.”

  I pulled up my hood. “Would you let me shift back for a few seconds?”

  His features clouded. “Mera, I told you—”

  “That’s why I want to make sure you don’t come into contact with my flames.” I tucked my flaming hands into my sleeves, trying to stuff as much as I could of my ifrit body into the reaper cloak. “Don’t touch my feet, and you should be fine.”

  He scooped me into his arms, raised us several feet into the air, and gazed down at me with an indulgent smile. “We’ll need to commission you a set of fireproof armor that molds around your ifrit form,” he said with a smile.

  “Banishing Kresnik might take that away,” I murmured.

  His eyes softened. “Focus on surviving the battle.”

  I nodded, and he set me on my feet.

  From my vantage point of the mezzanine, the battle seemed more even. The demon mercenaries
continued to pop in and out of existence to attack the fire users, while preternaturals in black denim fought evenly with Valentine’s subjects. I recognized their outfits as something Valentine had worn while he was working with Kresnik.

  “November wasn’t the only master vampire,” I said.

  “None of that will matter when Kresnik dies.” Valentine flew back into the edge of the battleground to pick up Caiman.

  They arrived seconds later. Caiman unsheathed his firestone broadsword, while Valentine wielded a saber in his right hand and clung to the trident with his left.

  He stood at the door and gazed down at me from over his shoulder. “Both of you, stay behind me.”

  A flock of butterflies took flight through my insides. In less than a minute, I would see Kresnik again. If Sybil’s attempt to weaken our bond didn’t work, Cupid’s arrows would lock me into an eternity with Kresnik. His death would mean mine. His reincarnation would mean mine. We’d be fated forever, possibly with me forgetting that we were once enemies.

  Was Kresnik’s demise and the possibility of being trapped with him forever a risk I was willing to take to save the world—to save Valentine from Kresnik’s wrath?

  I clenched my teeth. I would.

  Shoving those thoughts to the side, I nodded. “Alright.”

  Valentine pushed open the door, revealing a narrow antechamber illuminated by the light of a roaring fire. On its far right, a pair of windows overlooked a different snow-covered courtyard.

  I barely had time to take in the paintings of naked people frolicking among the clouds before a pair of ifrits rushed at us.

  The ifrit on the left bared his teeth. “Who dares interrupt—”

  In the blink of an eye, Valentine impaled him through the gut with the firestone saber, and Caiman sliced through his companion. The ifrits’ flames receded before they fell naked to the ground, either unconscious or dead.

  Biting down on my lip, I tried not to wince at their injuries or the weapons’ crystal blades, which now glowed with power.

  A denim-clad figure stumbled into the far left of the room, bumped into the wall, and fell onto his ass.