by N M Thorn
“Yes, there is always the risk of that, of course, but most likely, it’s not going to happen,” Magnus said, iron tones ringing in his voice. “You will do whatever this man demands of you, Commander. You must find out what he’s after and retrieve it.”
Damian stiffened, pressing his hand to his mouth. “Magnus, you’re asking me to willingly kill my brother. You know that, right?” he said, everything inside him frozen with dread. “And you’re putting me in a no-win situation.”
“How so?”
Damian dropped his arm on his lap, raising his eyes at the Head of the Destiny Council. “Give me some credit, Magnus,” he whispered, unable to speak louder. “I’m not an idiot. We don’t even know what Amaris is after. If it is some kind of powerful magical artifact, I’m sure you don’t want me to deliver it to him, do you?”
“Absolutely not. No matter what it is, you will deliver it to the Destiny Council realm as soon as you put your hands on it,” said Magnus, frowning. “Also, you can’t release anything evil into this world on his orders. If he demands something like that, you must report to the Destiny Council immediately and wait for our decision.”
“Then how am I going to get my brother back? I’m sure if I don’t deliver on my promise, Amaris is not going to let Cole go out of the evilness of his heart.” Damian shook his head, his hands lying powerlessly on his lap. “Like I said—it’s a no-win situation for me, but I understand, the life of my brother doesn’t matter to the Destiny Council. Purpose justifies the means, so to speak?”
“Dmitri.” Magnus leaned forward and touched his shoulder, but Damian shied away from his touch, raising his hand. “I promise, we’ll figure out how to get Cole out, but no matter what, you must comply with my orders.” He glanced around. Even though they were in some timeless, spaceless void, Magnus looked fearful. “Right now, I’m not speaking with you as your master. I’m asking you as… a friend. Please, trust me, my boy. The future of this world depends on it.”
“The needs of many versus the needs of one… Yeah, I know.” Damian bit his lip, numbness spreading through his chest. “Just send me back, Magnus.”
“Dmitri—”
“I’m a Destiny Enforcer. I do as I’m told,” Damian interrupted him and pressed his fist to his chest. “After all, I’m yours to command, am I not?” A pained smile touched his lips as he added, “My lord.”
“Dmitri, please—”
“Magnus… have mercy on my soul and send me back,” Damian said, barely able to speak. “I need to be alone now. I have to figure things out.”
“As you wish. But before I send you back, I wanted to tell you that I have Cossack on standby in case you need his help,” Magnus said quietly, his shoulders slumped.
“May Perun strike me with his lightning bolt if I drag another innocent soul into this mess,” growled Damian, clenching his fists.
With a deep sigh, Magnus reached forward and touched Damian’s forehead with two fingers. The darkness became absolute, and when Damian could see again, he was back in Amaris’ holding cell, Ruslan’s fangs tearing at his arm.
Chapter 13
~ Damian Blake ~
“Ruslan, stop!”
Cole’s voice sounded somewhere above him. Loud and strong, it broke through the wall of fog obscuring his mind, delivering him back to the unpleasant reality.
“Cole,” Damian moaned, feeling indifferent and weak as the toxic vampire essence circulated through his bloodstream.
Suddenly, the hold on his arm loosened up, and the fog in his mind started to clear, bringing forth the pain. Wincing, Damian opened his eyes and found himself lying on the floor, his head resting on Cole’s lap. His brother punctured his own finger with his fang and smeared some of his blood over the wound on Damian’s wrist, instantly healing it.
“Dmitri Chernov. We meet at last,” a deep male voice said his true name, pronouncing it slowly and clearly as if savoring every syllable. “I’ve heard… too much about you over the centuries.”
Damian turned his head, a swirl of dizziness accompanying his move, and his gaze fell on Ruslan. Even though his lips were covered in blood, the ancient vampire no longer looked like a trapped, feral animal. His brown eyes shone with intelligence, tiny twinkles of humor dancing in their depths. Like all vampires, he had a pale complexion, but his skin was still darker than Cole’s and Damian’s with shadows etched under his high cheekbones. His bloodied lips curved as he stared down at Damian without blinking.
“All these years…” Ruslan mused, his gaze traveling up and down Damian’s body. “I thought you were an immortal Child of the Elements the first time I laid my eyes on you, back in Kievan Rus. And your brother”—his eyes darted to Cole, and warmth suffused the hard features of the ancient warrior—“just as special as you are. Now that I’ve tasted your blood, I’m positive you’re a Child of Earth, but there is more to you than just that. What are you, Dmitri?”
Damian turned away and closed his eyes for a second, taking a breath to deal with the lightheadedness. “I was right… He does have a deep voice,” he murmured to himself, but both vampires heard him. They exchanged a quick look, and Ruslan chuckled.
“He’s still slightly groggy after the effects of the vampire bite,” he said to Cole. “You know how it is. He’ll get over it soon.”
“My brother is special.” Damian pushed himself into a sitting position and pressed his hand to his mouth as the room swam around him. “What can you tell me—”
“Hush, Dmitri,” Ruslan whispered so softly that Damian could barely make out his words. Ruslan’s eyes darted toward the entrance door, and his straight, black eyebrows snapped together. “These walls have ears and eyes, even though you can’t see them.”
Damian nodded. Getting up with a strenuous groan, he stilled, swaying slightly on his feet. Then he made his way to the wall and sat down, resting his back against it. Cole threw a somewhat guilty look at his maker and lowered himself to the floor next to Damian.
“We need to talk,” Damian whispered without looking at his brother, numbness spreading through his limbs as he thought back to his conversation with Magnus.
Slowly raising his head, Ruslan looked at him from under the dark strands of his hair and gave him a barely visible shake no, his eyes igniting with a furious scarlet glow. For a few seconds, he listened to something intently. Then his entire body shuddered, and his fingers gathered into tight fists, muscles bulging on his shoulders and chest.
“If it’s anything important, I suggest using your blood bond. Cole is my son, and I can sense that you two are connected,” he whispered even softer than before, his jaw clenched. “But you’ll probably want to wait a few minutes, anyway.” His eyes flashed to Cole, widening for a heartbeat, and then darted toward the door, hatred shadowing his tense features. “Son, turn away. I don’t want you to watch—"
The lock clicked, interrupting him, and two guards walked into the room. Damian recognized Jeff as one of the guards and swallowed hard as the warning Amaris had given them about Ruslan’s life being strictly regimented surfaced in his mind. Jeff approached Cole and Damian and halted, staring down at them with narrowed eyes.
“You two stay here and don’t move,” he said icily, his hands moving down toward the guns holstered on his hips. “Just a friendly warning—my guns are loaded with silver.”
Without waiting for their reply, Jeff turned around and gestured for the other guard to proceed. He approached Ruslan and wrang his long hair around his wrist, yanking his head backward.
“Hello, Ruslan,” he said, a derisive sneer on his round, freckled face. “Did you miss me, buddy?”
Ruslan didn’t reply, but as he met the guard’s mocking stare, every muscle in his body tensed, his eyes overflowing with loathing. The guard snickered and let go of his hair.
“I have no idea why, but Mr. Amaris insists on me asking you this question every time. Since I know your answer already, it’s just a formality.” The guard unclipped a bullwhip attached t
o his belt, letting its long thong fall to the floor, pieces of silver embedded into it reflecting the lights. “Are you ready to submit to your master’s will and bend your knee, old-timer?”
Ruslan lifted his face, and his lips stretched, showing off his terrifying fangs. “Never,” he hissed. “Do what you must and get the hell out of here. I prefer the sound of your whip to the sound of your voice.”
“As you wish.” The guard shrugged and stepped behind Ruslan, the thong of his whip slithering on the floor.
Cole met his maker’s dark gaze and stiffened, locking and unlocking his fingers at his sides, an almost palpable fury radiating from his body. Damian seized his brother’s elbow, squeezing it.
“Do not move,” he projected. “You try to stop them, and you’ll make it worse for all of us. If you can’t watch it, close your eyes. Trust me, brother. The time for payback will come, but it’s not today.”
The whip whistled through the air, biting into Ruslan’s back. The ancient vampire pulled at his restraints, but no sound came out from his tightly pressed lips. Damian dropped his head to his chest, keeping his hand on Cole’s arm. With each strike of the whip, Cole jerked slightly as if the silver-infested thong was landing on his back.
The guard counted ten lashes and stopped, staring at Jeff with a question in his eyes. Jeff turned to Cole and Damian, a menacing grimace on his face.
“I’ll see you in a few hours, boys.” He snickered and headed toward the exit, motioning for the other guard to follow him. On his way out, he halted and turned toward Ruslan, pointing at him. “We’ll see you, Ruslan, in another twelve hours.” He pushed the door open, and both left.
As the lock clicked, Ruslan moaned and hung limply, supported only by his chains. Damian got up and walked around him, barely able to move his feet. He stopped behind the vampire and clasped his hand to his mouth, holding his breath. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a man flogged. Looking back, he couldn’t count how many times a whip had struck his own back. But whenever he was forced to watch this barbaric form of physical punishment, he couldn’t help but feel sick thinking about the pain and humiliation a person had to endure at the hand of another being, human or supernatural.
Angry, red welts crisscrossed Ruslan’s back, his skin pulled and torn by the silver whip. The damage was significant, but the healing process had started already, slowly closing the gruesome wounds as the bleeding gradually dwindled to nothing. The process was a lot slower than it would have normally been, undoubtedly affected by the silver in the whip and the iron in Ruslan’s restraints.
“Like what you see?” Ruslan groaned without lifting his head
Damian walked back and stopped in front of him, the horror of Ruslan’s situation making his blood run cold in his veins. “They do it to you—”
“Twice daily, on the clock. Every single goddamn day,” Ruslan replied, a deep line etched between his brows. “That’s how I know I’ve been imprisoned for exactly eleven hundred and thirty days.”
“Perun almighty,” whispered Damian, sweat covering his forehead. “Over three years of this torture, and you’re still fighting... Have you ever considered giving in?”
“I’ve had plenty of time to consider that…” Ruslan gave him a barely visible shrug and winced. “Roxana sold me to the slavers, and I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of watching me wear a collar and fight in the pits.”
“Roxana is dead,” said Damian flatly. “Cole is the King now.”
“Oh?” Ruslan raised his gaze at Cole, a true fatherly pride gleaming in his eyes. “The best news I’ve heard in the last three years.”
“Damian killed her,” Cole said in a hoarse whisper. “I hope It’ll make you feel better to know she was beheaded by my brother’s whip.”
“Live by the sword…” Ruslan muttered, shaking his head. “I guess I missed a few things while being imprisoned.” He glanced at Damian, and his tense features softened. “Thank you for taking care of my son.”
“Your son is my only brother. What did you expect?” Damian headed back toward the wall and sat down, stretching his legs. “I hope you don’t mind if I get a quick nap. Blood loss is kicking my ass, and I can’t self-heal in this shithole.”
He tapped the cold floor next to him, gesturing for Cole to sit down.
“There is something I must tell you,” he projected, using their blood bond, “and you’re not going to like it.”
Cole lowered himself to the floor next to him, bending his knees, and wrapped his arms around his legs. “What’s going on, brother. You’re not yourself.”
“Damn right, I’m not myself,” muttered Damian, throwing a sideways glance at his brother. Then he frowned and looked away, his fingers tracing a net of fractures on the white tiles. “I don’t think I can do it, Cole.”
“Do what?” asked Cole, furrowing his brow. Before Damian could reply, Cole’s lips parted, and his eyes widened. “Magnus pulled you to his realm, didn’t he?” Damian nodded. “Let me guess, Amaris wants me to stay behind as his hostage, and Magnus wants you to agree to that.”
Damian nodded again, barely able to meet his brother’s eyes.
“I’m okay with it, Dima.”
“You’re okay with it because you don’t know everything.” Crumbling on the inside, Damian told Cole about his conversation with Magnus. “I can’t leave you here knowing ahead of time that I’m not going to deliver on my word to Amaris.” He threw a glance at Ruslan and bit his lip, anger searing through him. “This fucking animal… What he’s doing to Ruslan is beyond…” He swallowed hard, finally meeting his brother’s calm gaze. “I can’t take a chance of him doing something like this to you.”
“Dima, I need you to relax and think clearly—the way you always do.” Cole changed his position, turning half-way to his brother. “You’re looking at it the wrong way.”
“How so?”
“Amaris has been torturing Ruslan for over three years, but he still didn’t kill him,” replied Cole. Damian moved, shaking his head, but Cole put his hand on his arm to stop him from interrupting. “It means Amaris knows the true value of an ancient vampire with a sword in his hands. I hate to sound like this, but someone like me can make a fortune for him. He’s not going to kill me either.”
“Do you think the idea of Amaris flogging the skin off your back twice daily makes me feel any better?” Damian stared in the direction of the exit, quietly cursing the Destiny Council for his current predicament.
“Dima, you’re not thinking straight. Amaris wanted you to see what he’s doing to Ruslan to make sure you stay true to your word. It’s a scare tactic.” Cole fell silent, nibbling on his lip. “It’s not going to happen if we play it right, anyway,” he continued at length. “Also, don’t forget, saving Ruslan wasn’t our only goal. We still need to discover who abducts witches and why they steal their magical energy, as well as to find out if Santiago’s daughter is here. If I stay behind, it’ll give me the opportunity to do all that and possibly more.”
“Come on, Cole,” Damian all but shouted through their blood bond. “Your unrealistic optimism blinds you. Please tell me, how are you planning to do all that if you’re locked up in a cell without windows with twenty-four-seven security?”
“Lighten up, brother.” Cole laughed softly, gazing at him reproachfully. “Jamie is right. You’re always doom and gloom.” He tapped Damian’s knee. “You need to learn to look on the bright side, and I need you to trust me. I survived Roxana and her Court. I can handle Mr. Amaris, especially since I have a feeling he’s more inclined to deal with me than with you.”
Damian took a deep breath, slowly shaking his head as thousands of possible worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind.
“Dmitri, I don’t know what Nikolai just told you, but you should trust your brother,” Ruslan whispered, the chains clanking as he pulled slightly against his restraints. “I know you spent many years apart, but I’ve been by his side since the moment I turned him. Believe me w
hen I tell you, Nikolai is quite capable of dealing with any sticky situation.”
Damian glanced at Ruslan with curiosity, a twinge of envy spiking through him as for the first time, he realized that this ancient vampire probably knew his brother a lot better than him, having spent all these years by his side. He gave Ruslan a nod and switched his attention to Cole.
“Cole, our blood bond allows us to communicate from any place and any realm, correct?” he asked, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears.
“Yes,” replied Cole. “And I promise that if I’m in trouble, I’ll let you know right away.”
“Swear to me…”
“I swear on my undead life.” A sadness clouded Cole’s face. “Who else am I going to call for help if I need it, anyway? I have you on speed dial.”
“Your phone is broken,” Damian murmured and closed his eyes, folding his hands over his stomach. “I need to get some rest before facing Amaris again. He’s a slippery bastard, so I need to have a clear mind. Besides, I’m sure you want to spend the few hours we have left with Ruslan without me hovering over your shoulder.”
“You’re welcome to hover over my shoulder any time you wish, big bro.” Cole got up, a wave of warmth washing over Damian through their psychic link.
Damian closed his eyes, allowing his drained body to take over his racing mind.
The soft, metallic click of the lock ripped Damian out of his sleep, and he jolted to his feet, his mind on high alert. Jeff promenaded toward Damian and halted, giving him a demonstrative once-over. Damian took in his facial expression and the arrogant posture, and his stomach twisted with the expectation of more bad news.
“Damian Blake, Mr. Amaris is expecting you.” He motioned toward the exit, but as Cole got up, he pushed him on his chest with a menacing scowl on his face. “Only Blake. Both vampires will remain here until further notice.”
“Dima, I’ll be all right,” Cole projected, staring at the guard with murderous intent in his eyes. “Remember what we talked about and watch your back.”