by N M Thorn
“Yes, sir,” Damian replied, the tension slowly draining off his face. “Donna Luna is gone forever. Unfortunately, the monster she summoned wasn’t your regular demon. She had bound herself to a Navij, an abomination of the Dark Nav. It’s a long story”—he threw a warning glance at Cole—"but to make it short, I had to use the concentrated magical energy Donna Luna had been collecting for a while to destroy it. The Navij possessed her body, anchoring himself to the human realm through whatever contract she had made with him. I couldn’t let him escape the bunker, and that was the only way I could kill it.”
He turned toward Grand Master Elony, his face void of emotions. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he continued calmly. “When I got there, all the witches were dead already. I was too late to save them. I did everything I could—”
A slow clapping interrupted him, echoing through the morning street.
“And what a marvelous job you did today, Commander Blake. Just as per usual,” a deep male voice sounded behind him, and Cole turned around, his hand reaching for his sword.
A tall man in a black uniform stood behind him, staring at Damian with unconcealed hostility. He held out his hand, and a pair of glowing handcuffs materialized in his palm. Recognizing the Destiny cuffs, Cole hissed and jumped between the man and his brother, his sword in his hand.
“Stay out of it, vamp, if you know what’s good for you,” the man said icily, his upper lip curling in a snarl. Then he switched his attention to Damian, showing him the cuffs. “In the name of the Destiny Council, Commander Blake, you’re under arrest. On your knees, hands behind your head.”
“Hold on just a second.” Archmage Allerton approached them, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “Commander Moore, what’s going on? I was here all the time. I assure you, Commander Blake didn’t do anything wrong. If I have to, I’ll speak with the High Council on his behalf.”
“That won’t be necessary, my lord,” Moore replied, a wild, euphoric glimmer in his eyes. “I’m positive Commander Blake is well aware of what he did wrong, but to make it clear to everyone present—he disregarded his obligations as a Destiny Enforcer, and he must be punished in accordance with the law.”
“How so?” asked the Archmage, a deep frown shadowing his features.
Moore all but rolled his eyes, annoyance lingering over him. “He was ordered to find whatever Amaris wanted him to retrieve and deliver it directly to the Destiny Council. Instead, he chose to come back here and save the life of this disgusting vamp.” He jerked his chin in Cole’s direction, eliciting a furious hiss out of him. “Now, he has to pay for his crimes. He’s charged with disregarding direct orders, exposing the World of Magic, and endangering human lives.” He waved his hand around with an exaggerated look of horror on his face. “A giant building exploded in the middle of Downtown. Earthquake in Arizona. A blinding light visible for miles around. Why do you think the local authorities are not here, sirens blazing, huh? Because Ivor and I had to clean up his mess. Again!” He pointed at Damian, his jaw clenched.
A fit of blazing anger rushed through Cole, and the sword in his hand lit up with a deep, red light. “You touch a hair on my brother’s head, and I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands,” he hissed, his fangs expanding.
“I second that.” Ruslan halted by Cole’s side, looking dark and ferocious.
“Commander Moore,” said Oleg, stepping next to Cole. “There is some kind of misunderstanding here. Can we just—”
“Go back to Kendral, Child of Earth,” Moore hissed. He tongued his cheek and spat on the ground. “Run back home. You have no place in all this, and I don’t need the Master of Kendral sticking his nose into the Destiny Enforcers’ business. This is an internal affair, and none of you have any say so in it.” He glanced at Petrukha, and his lips twitched in distaste. “Another low-life asshole who loves to break the rules…”
Petrukha blanched and cowered away from him until he ran into Sylvana. With a deep sigh, Damian stepped forward, placing his hand on Cole’s arm.
“Sheathe your sword, brother,” he said calmly. “It’s going to be all right. Not the first time for me.” Then he turned to Moore, regarding him with cold indifference. “I’m coming with you willingly, Commander Moore. There is no need for the cuffs.”
“Are you kidding me?” Moore gave a deep guffaw, spinning the cuffs on his index finger. “I’ve been wanting to see you wearing these for centuries. I think they will perfectly match the fashion statement you’re sporting.” He moved his arm up and down, gesturing at the black veil wrapped around Damian’s hips. “I’m not going to deprive myself of the pleasure. On your knees, Blake. Your hands.”
“Fine,” Damian replied calmly. Completely disregarding Moore, he turned to Cole. He brushed his arm lightly, and Cole crumbled inside. “I need you to keep your cool, little bro. The Destiny cuffs will make me weak… extremely weak. I don’t want you to react when you see me fall.” He leaned down, whispering into his ear so quietly, only the vampires could hear. “Don’t give this jackass the satisfaction of seeing you hurt. I’m going to be all right. I promise. Go home. River is probably going crazy not knowing where we are. Take care of Ruslan. I’ll be back soon.”
Damian’s eyes darted around as if he were searching for something. Cole followed the direction of his gaze, realizing that his brother was looking for his gargoyle, but Zhulik was nowhere to be found, and Zabava was gone as well.
Giving Cole an encouraging nod, Damian turned to face Moore. He held out his hands but didn’t kneel.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot.” Moore snickered, sarcasm dripping from his every word. “You kneel before no one.” He seized Damian’s arm, pulling him closer, and locked the Destiny Cuffs on his wrists. “We’ll see about that.”
As soon as the cuffs touched Damian’s skin, they lit up brighter. Damian moaned and dropped first to his knees and then to his back, his chest shuddering with arduous breaths as if he couldn’t inhale. Then his eyes closed, and his head lolled to the side. Cole didn’t move, but everything inside him was stretched to the limit, and he knew if Moore said one wrong word to him, he wouldn’t be able to control his anger.
Moore bent down and lifted Damian with a low groan, throwing him over his shoulder carelessly. Then he gestured for Petrukha to approach. “You’re coming with me, too,” he said flatly. “The Destiny Council wants to have a word with you.”
Placing his hand on Petrukha’s shoulder, he snapped his fingers and vanished, taking Damian with him.
Moving torturously slow, Cole patted the pockets of his pants just to remember that he didn’t have a phone. Turning toward the Archmage, he lifted his shoulders in an apologetic shrug.
“Can I borrow your cellphone, my lord?” he asked flatly. “I need to get back to Paradise Manor, and for whatever reason, I feel drained.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I know. I’m a vampire. I’m not supposed to feel exhaustion, but I don’t think I can take another step right now.” He massaged his shoulder absentmindedly. “Also, I need to call Santiago del Castillo. I’m sure Sylvana wants to speak with him.”
“Hold your horses, Mr. Adams,” said Grand Master Elony with a commanding look of a person who got used to her orders being obeyed with no questions asked. “Sylvana Erickson goes with me. She broke the sacred oath, and I can no longer trust her with the secrets of the Sisterhood. End of story.”
She snapped her fingers, and two of her slayers materialized next to her, dark and silent like shadows. They stepped on either side of Sylvana, seizing her arms. Sylvana winced and sent a veiled gaze to Cole, silently pleading for help.
Dammit… That’s something I didn’t need to deal with right now. Cole stifled a sigh. “Grand Master Elony, all the impostors are dead. I killed them all with my own hands, and Sylvana has proof if you want to see it. I swear the secrets of the Sisterhood are still safe.”
“And I should trust a vamp why?” Elony asked, cocking her head.
Cole closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. “
I’m sorry, Syl,” he muttered, feeling dead on the inside. He eased her robe off her shoulder, exposing the dark rune on her chest. Then he turned to Grand Master Elony, meeting her scrutinizing gaze. “Sylvana didn’t break her oath. She would never betray you. She had no choice.”
“And that just proves my point.” Elony folded her arms, raking Cole with frosty contempt. “One can never trust a vamp. What’s dead must stay dead. You have no place in the world of the living. But that’s beside the point.” She waved her hand as if dismissing the issue. “Now that she has this rune, any necromancer can turn her into their willing puppet.”
Cole shook his head, a corner of his mouth lifting in a sardonic grin. “I have no desire to argue with you, Grand Master.” He turned to Allerton and ripped his torn shirt open. “My lord, do me a favor. Check my body for the presence of any runes. Tell her what you see.”
“Are you sure?” Archmage Allerton raised his eyebrows. “This kind of check can be a little unpleasant.”
“Yeah, I know. I am sure,” replied Cole.
“As you wish.” The Archmage placed his hand on Cole’s chest and whispered a few words.
Cole groaned as a burning pain ripped him from the inside, forcing himself to remain still. His chest lit up with a shimmering white glimmer, and the runes that Yakov Bruce embedded into his ribs ignited brighter, glowing over his skin.
“I’ll be damned,” whispered Allerton, staring at him in awe. “Who cast this spell? Quite old and powerful.” He lifted his hand, and the glowing runes vanished. Turning toward Grand Master Elony, he continued, “Elony, Cole Adams is fully protected against necromancy. I guess this is what he wanted me to confirm. If he can do the same for Sylvana Erickson, it’ll solve the problem.”
“That’s right,” replied Cole. “A powerful wizard of the Wardens Order cast this spell to protect me. He can remove the rune from Sylvana’s chest and do the same for her.” He paused, carefully observing Elony’s reaction, but since her face showed no emotions, he continued, “Would that be enough for you to let Sylvana get back to her life in peace?”
Elony huffed, pursing her lips, her steel eyes blazing with displeasure. “Who is this Warden? I want to know who his Master is so I can confirm your statement and make sure he takes care of Sylvana’s situation.”
“His name is Yakov Bruce, my lady,” Cole replied, and a thin layer of sarcasm snaked into his voice despite his effort to sound even. “He serves under Master Luc de la Crosse. You are welcome to contact Master de la Crosse to confirm my statement.”
He heard a constrained gasp and glanced in the direction of the sound. Camila, Ricardo’s sister, sat by the wall, finally awake. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her bent knees, and a haunted expression seemed to be permanently etched on her tender face. Cole narrowed his eyes, a few crazy thoughts zooming through his mind, but he said nothing to her, returning his attention to Elony.
“Fine,” she snapped. “If you don’t deliver on your promise, Mr. Adams, it’s your head.”
“Whatever,” Cole muttered, turning toward the Archmage. “Can I please use your cellphone, my lord?”
As Allerton reached into his pocket, Oleg approached them, his face gray with exhaustion. “You do not need to call a taxi, my friend,” he said to Cole calmly. “I can give you a lift to Paradise Manor.” He glanced around and added, “And to whoever comes with you.”
“Thank you,” replied Cole, truly grateful that he didn’t have to wait for a ride. “Can you teleport with three passengers?”
Oleg chuckled. “It is going to be tricky, but I think I can manage it. No problem.”
“I guess the problem’s solved,” muttered the Archmage. He gave Cole a quick once-over and sighed. “Cole, if I may suggest… Don’t do anything rash. Just sit tight and wait. The best thing you can do for your brother is do nothing. As soon as I get back to the Guardian’s HQ, I’ll contact Lord Magnus and explain everything to him. I promise it’s going to be all right.”
“Thank you,” said Cole, and as the Archmage snapped his fingers, vanishing from the street, he turned to Ricardo. “Are you gonna be okay?” he asked.
While he did feel bad for Ricardo after his sister’s betrayal, he still wasn’t comfortable in the company of a man who sold hundreds of people into slavery, no matter what his reasons were. His eyes darted to Camila, but she shied away from his gaze, hiding in the shadows.
“Yeah, she has a phone,” Ricardo replied, barely meeting his eyes. “We’ll call a cab.” He got up, rubbing the back of his neck, discomfort prominent in his every move. “Cole, listen… I am—”
“Go home, Ricardo,” Cole interrupted him. “Whatever you want to say can wait. I’m sure we’ll speak again at some point.”
Cole turned to Oleg. “I look like a serial killer on the run, and River is going to have something to say about that,” he mumbled, staring down at his torn clothes covered in brown stains of blood. “I’m so going to time-out.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting this River,” muttered Ruslan. “In a short period of time, she managed to do what I couldn’t in centuries.”
“What is that?” asked Oleg with curiosity, placing his hands on Cole’s and Ruslan’s shoulders.
“Keep this troublemaker in line.” Ruslan’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners, his gaze settling on Cole.
“Home, finally…” Cole whispered, pulling Sylvana closer. Oleg snapped his fingers, leaving Downtown behind in a swirl of colors and sounds.
Chapter 33
~ Damian Blake ~
A touch of cold air to his exposed back ripped Damian out of unconsciousness. He groaned and opened his eyes but could see nothing, everything too bright and blurry. Feeling a painful numbness in his shoulders, he tried to move his arms just to realize that he couldn’t. As his vision cleared, he found himself on his knees in a small, empty room, his arms stretched wide apart and shackled to the walls with long, thick chains.
At the opposite end of the room, he saw Petrukha. He sat on a chair, securely tied to it with iron chains. His head was bowed down low, and the mop of his gray hair fell over his eyes, so Damian couldn’t say if he was conscious. However, the dark purple blemishes on the visible areas of his arms and chest suggested that he had taken quite a beating. Weakened by the previous events and drained by the Destiny cuffs, he knew fighting the restraints was pointless, so he dropped his head and let go, trying not to think about anything.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been waiting, but to him it seemed like forever, his frazzled mind drifting on and off. When the door on his right opened with a soft squeak, and Commander Moore walked inside accompanied by Miranda, one of the three Destiny Council representatives, he wasn’t sure it wasn’t an illusion. She sauntered her way to him, her long robe flowing around her in soft waves. Halting no more than a foot away from him, she observed him with cold superiority. Damian groaned, averting his gaze as her shameless eyes explored every inch of his unclad body. Moore snickered, gloating over his helplessness.
“Look at you now,” Miranda whispered, closing the distance between them. “Not so high and mighty anymore, are you, Commander Blake?”
Damian raised his eyes but didn’t say anything. She seized his hair, yanking his head back, and moved her finger over the scar on his face, pressing her fingernail deeper to inflict as much pain as she could.
“So strange,” she whispered, and Damian was positive she was talking neither to him nor Moore, but rather thought out loud. “Magnus is right, you are extremely powerful…” She let go of his hair and probed his bicep, her fingers quickly exploring the muscles of his arms and shoulders, raising goosebumps on his skin in their wake. “You’re also quite capable as a man. But look at you now.” She waved at the chains holding Damian’s arm. “Simple iron chains, and you’re absolutely helpless, on your knees before me. All your physical strength and magical abilities can’t help you now. I can do with you whatever my heart desires.” She fell silent, a strange glimmer in
her gaze. “How does it feel to be at someone else’s mercy? How do you feel about that, Commander Blake?”
“What do you want?” asked Damian through gritted teeth, too drained to be angry.
She laughed softly, slapping his cheek. “Still as rude of a peasant as you have always been.” She arched her eyebrow at Moore. “Let’s see if Commander Moore’s whip can teach you some manners and how to respect the chain of command.” She cackled, but as Moore made a move to come closer, she raised her hand, stopping him. “But before we jump into that, I would like to know why Magnus values you so much.”
“You should ask him then,” Damian suggested, pulling at his restraints slightly to readjust his position.
“Nuh,” she sang, derision gleaming in her eyes. “Why should I, if I can just look under the hood myself?”
She placed her hand on his chest, and he stiffened, knowing full well what was coming next. As she channeled her power and proceeded with the soul-reading, he groaned, realizing with shock that he couldn’t control the pain. He couldn’t resist her invasive magic. He couldn’t do anything to protect his soul or his mind. Feeling as if she was turning him inside out, he clenched his teeth, wrestling the need to scream.
A few seconds later, Miranda let go and folded her arms over her chest, a troubled look on her face. He dropped his head and hung in his restraints, his chest shuddering with laborious breaths.
“Hmm,” she hummed, pursing her lips. “There is something very peculiar about you, Commander Blake. I can read anyone’s soul. It’s one of my specialties. But yours seems to be partially obscured, and whatever keeps me from fully reading it is more powerful than I am. Just like your path on the Board of Destiny… For whatever reason, I can never get a clear reading on anything to do with you or that undead brother of yours. Why is that?”
Damian looked up at her from under the overgrown mane of his hair, and a dark grin split his face before he could contain it.