Danielle merely nodded, her face set in a stern, yet somehow beautiful scowl. She vanished from sight, leaving Sebastian feeling woozy. He wobbled on his stunted legs but stayed upright.
Moments stretched inexorably long, and sudden terror overtook him. He was too vulnerable. Too exposed. Othella and Mathias would know by now that something bad was happening. The yacht wasn’t big enough to mask the sound of Danielle ripping the steel door from its hinges. The High Council would slither into the belly of the ship any time now. And even if they didn’t—
Cot let out a guttural groan, as if to complete Sebastian’s line of thinking. His lips were withering, black veins invading his gray-green skin. Once he opened those fetid, blood-filled eyes, it was all over for Sebastian.
Danielle reappeared next to Sebastian, as silent as a ray of sunlight, and he nearly screamed.
“Come on,” she said, starting up the narrow, steep set of stairs. “We can’t go until we have the wizard.” She took the stairs two at a time, leaving Sebastian to run after her.
“Once we have the Necromancer, you must take us to Jerusa.”
“That’s not the plan. I’m supposed to take you and the human back to Howland Island.”
Sebastian felt dizzy and out of breath, partly because of the bright lights and fresh air after such a long time in his cell. But mostly, it was the flood of voices and visions washing over him now that his telepathy was no longer restrained.
“That’s a bad idea,” he coughed out. “Suhail is on the island.”
Danielle stopped, but didn’t turn to look at him. “You sure?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But there’s still hope.”
This time, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “How?”
“Take us to Jerusa. We can set her free.” We really meant the Necromancer. Sebastian didn’t really figure into this equation, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. “Once she’s free, you, Silvanus, and Jerusa can leap to the island and save the others from Suhail.”
“If it’s not too late.”
He nodded. “If it’s not too late.”
Danielle snatched Sebastian by the shirt, hoisting him off the stairs, and rushed up the treads to the middle deck. They passed quickly down the hall, smashing in every door they passed. Each room was empty, but somewhere close by, a couple of hearts—one human, one vampire—thrummed with fearful agitation.
In the last room before the galley, the scent of mortal perspiration wafted out from under the door. Danielle pushed it open to find a man standing in the middle of a luxurious room full of lush furniture, and a sparkling bar along the back wall.
The man stood, his arms crossed over his chest, his tearful eyes down-turned. A string of snot dripped from his nose, and he trembled fiercely.
“You’re not the wizard,” Danielle said, the impatience in her voice cracking like a whip.
Sebastian had only gotten a brief look at the mortal body the Necromancer had been inhabiting the night of the cemetery battle. A truly well-made form. Young, muscular, tall with tan skin. The man standing in the middle of the room, who had just let loose of his bladder, held none of those qualities.
Still, with a body thief, one couldn’t judge so hastily. Danielle could read human minds, but Sebastian had to see for himself.
He pressed into the man’s mind. Mortal thoughts were cluttered vaults, and while he was powerful enough to penetrate them, it was on his empathic skills he now relied.
The appearance of a Divine Vampire would frighten the Necromancer, but not to the point of an emotional breakdown. No, not that one. He’d quiver on the outside, while plotting his escape on the inside.
“You’re right. It’s not him.”
Suddenly, without warning, Mathias exploded from behind the bar, slamming into the poor human slave, and driving him into Danielle.
Mathias rushed forward, but whether to escape or attack, Sebastian couldn’t tell. The human, already dead from the impact, knocked Danielle off balance, more from shock than anything else. Sebastian threw himself into the taller vampire’s gangly legs and buried his fangs into the tightly packed muscle of his calf.
The vampires tumbled across the floor in a knotted ball. The pain of impact was exquisite, but Sebastian refused to release his bite. Mathias’s powerful blood poured down Sebastian’s throat, burning like the rye whiskey he used to drink when he was a mortal. He almost didn’t notice Mathias pounding him in the face with fists like hammers.
Mathias grasped him by the throat, plucking him from his leg, then drew back to deliver the death blow.
Before the strike fell, Mathias folded backward with a terrible crack, his head now touching his buttocks.
Danielle still stood where she had been, but her hands were outstretched. With a little flick of her wrist, Mathias floated up off of Sebastian, and drifted over to her. She placed her hands on the sides of Mathias’s face, drained him, then released her telekinetic hold, dropping his broken body to the floor.
“You okay?”
Sebastian smiled, though it hurt to do so. “Nothing broken that won’t mend.”
She helped him up, and they mounted the last set of steps leading to the upper deck.
The yacht rolled upon the turbulent sea. Sebastian had grown accustomed to its movement, but being up top, seeing the warring waves, brought a measure of sea sickness.
The air was fresh, full of brine and mist. A partial moon danced among a dusting of stars. And Othella stood at the stern of the ship, the Necromancer clutched tightly in her arms.
“Let me go, or he dies.” Othella squeezed him, bringing a cry of pain from the Necromancer. “I know you need him, but if you try to kill him and crush—”
Danielle vanished from the top of the stairs, reappearing at Othella’s left side. The Divine drove a crushing blow to the side of the vampire’s head, spilling her sideways.
Othella, true to her word, scissored her arms together, meaning to pinch the Necromancer in half, but the Divine had already leapt back to Sebastian’s side with the Necromancer in tow.
Othella stood up, wiping blood from her mouth, a brief, rueful smile slithering across her face. Then she jumped over the railing and into the sea.
“Time to go,” Danielle said.
“Not yet,” Sebastian answered in an uncharacteristic panic. “Cot and Mathias are savage now. We can’t leave them alive.”
Danielle sighed. “I can’t make fire, so we’re going to have to improvise. Both of you better hold on to me tight.”
Then she closed her eyes and extended her arms. Immediately, the yacht lurched, but not from the waves. The ship lifted away from the water with a suctioning sound, rising fast and high into the sky. Sebastian and the Necromancer clung to the Divine, and no sooner than they had, the ship halted its accent. They, however, continued to climb.
Higher and higher, they rocketed upward, until the air was thin and cold, and the yacht seemed no larger than a toy. Danielle clapped her hands together, and the ship imploded with a sickening crunch. The fuel ignited, and the yacht erupted into flames.
“Happy now?”
Sebastian watched the burning wreckage fall back toward the sea. “Yes.”
Then the Divine, the vampire, and the Necromancer vanished.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Something’s wrong,” Shufah said. “They should be back by now.”
Danielle leapt away almost nineteen minutes ago. Shufah had been keeping a silent count, and as the seconds ticked by, her tentative hope descended into gut-wrenching fear.
“We don’t know that,” Celeste said. “I’m sure she’s fine.” Her mouth spoke one thing, but her overly expressive eyes said differently. The same fear gripped her as well.
Shufah spun in the sand, turning a scouring look upon the Watchtower. “Can you touch him?” When they didn’t immediately answer, she rushed them, not fully knowing herself what she meant to do. Her temples throbbed, and her emotions wound as tight as a spring. “Can
you touch Sebastian? Is he still alive? Tell me, now!”
The augurs recoiled as if she had spit acid at them. The glimmer of freshly won freedom fell from their eyes, the dull glare of servitude returning at once. They hadn’t escaped at all. Not really. They had merely traded one taskmaster for another.
Shufah reined in her madness, softened her features. She would apologize to the Watchtower later. But right now, she needed to know. “Is the Dwarf still where you sensed him?”
The seven reluctantly reformed their circle. When Celeste moved to join them, the plump vampire held up her hand. “We don’t need you. We can find him on our own. We don’t have to pinpoint him. We’re only taking a peek.”
Celeste returned to Taos’s side, a sour look of dejection upon her face.
The Watchtower stood hand in hand for less than a minute. Their eyes rolled beneath their lids, as though each were having a nightmare. Then, as if struck by a jolt of electricity, they broke contact with a collective gasp.
“Well,” Shufah snapped, unable to hide her impatience. “What did you see?”
But they didn’t answer. Instead, they spun outward, their backs now facing the inside of the circle, and what Shufah saw made her heart freeze over.
Their heads twitched side to side, as though they heard the approach of some terrible beast. Their eyes—wide and distant—filled with blood tears, and they trembled like children experiencing their first thunderstorm.
Shufah turned to Celeste, not at all surprised to find her eyes closed, and her hands clasped tight to her chest. Taos stood to the side, watching his love with dread.
Shufah approached Celeste but stopped shy of touching her. “What is it?”
“The Dwarf is gone.” Celeste’s voice sounded far away somehow, as though she were in the belly of a deep cave. “Not dead, but gone.”
“Where is he? Does Danielle have him? What about the Necromancer?”
“Don’t know,” Celeste said in short, choppy syllables. “Can’t see them. But. Something. Is. Coming.”
Celeste’s eyes snapped open. At the same moment, the seven Watchtower augurs turned, casting their fearful gazes in the same direction. A frozen tidal wave washed from Shufah’s scalp down to her toes. Every danger-sensing instinct within her begged for her not to turn and look.
But Shufah turned anyway.
“Hello, Suhail. I was hoping we’d be finished with our business before you found us.”
Suhail stood knee deep in the tide at the farthest end of the island. The savage Conrad waited behind him and to the left. The savage held the human/Alicia in his arms like a husband carrying his bride over the threshold, except this bride convulsed, moaned, and struggled in vain to escape.
The Watchtower augurs broke into a run for the opposite end of the island. Shufah wasn’t sure if this was blind panic, or if they actually intended to swim for it. It didn’t matter either way. They never got their chance.
Suhail teleported in front of the Watchtower, cutting off their escape. The seven augurs shouted in fright. Some hunkered in the sand, while others simply closed their eyes, unable to meet death’s grim glare.
Shufah crept backward, trying her best not to arouse her brother’s attention. She nestled in close to her coven. The Furies were to her back, Thad and Victor to her right, and Taos and Celeste to her left.
“You saw what he did to the Divine Vampire, Augustus.” Shufah’s voice barely registered above a whisper, yet her brother’s ever-changing eyes seemed to flick her way. “The way he devoured him. The time it took. When he goes for the Watchtower, we make our move.”
“We’re just going to leave them?” Celeste asked, aghast.
“We’ve no choice,” Shufah responded coldly. “He’s here for them. Not us. We’ve lost this battle. All we can do is live long enough to fight the next one.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Taos said. “He’s not attacking them. He’s just watching us.”
And sure enough, Suhail just stood with the waves lapping at his ankles. The Watchtower were before him, but his eyes (melting from black to red and back again) were on Shufah.
“There is no escape,” he shouted to them. “No more battles. This is the end.”
The umbilical cord burst from Suhail’s navel, except, this time, instead of one thick cord, it broke into seven smaller tendrils, piercing each of the Watchtower vampires through the head.
Danielle, Sebastian and the Necromancer appeared on the sandbar, unannounced. Once upon a time, the act of “leaping” had filled Sebastian with a sort of whimsical curiosity. A lusty need to see behind the curtain of the magician and understand the precise mechanics by which he achieved such miraculous illusions.
Now, having “leapt” himself, he found it an experience he could do without. Teleporting felt a lot like how he imagined falling into a black hole might feel. There was this inescapable gravitational pull at the core of his being, yanking him against his will to a far distant destination.
It also didn’t help that Danielle “leapt” them fifteen feet above the ground.
As they plummeted to the warm sand, Danielle quickly righted herself, landing on her feet. Sebastian? Not so much. And to make matters worse, the Necromancer used the tiny vampire to cushion his own fall.
“I assumed you were better at this whole teleporting thing,” Sebastian said, wriggling out from under the human.
“We were in a hurry, and you distracted me,” Danielle snapped back. She opened her mouth to say more, but as she took in their surroundings, the words died in her throat.
Sebastian followed Danielle’s fearful gaze and his skin broke in a cold sweat. What he had thought, at first, to be a sky full of rolling thunderheads turned out to be a thick shell of savage wraiths encapsulating the small sandbar. And floating directly overhead—just above where they had appeared—was Jerusa Phoenix.
Jerusa somehow stood upon a pair of wraiths. Silvanus’s arms draped around her chest (one below her armpit, the other over her shoulder), and his feet dangled listlessly, unable to use the wraiths for purchase.
The few wraiths who weren’t part of the shell, or holding Jerusa in midair, zoomed back and forth, passing through Silvanus. He grunted in pain from each assault but refused to relinquish his grip on Jerusa.
For all his physical strength and Divine powers, it was not Silvanus who kept Jerusa from leaping to Howland Island to kill her former coven mates. Not all of Jerusa’s wraiths had returned from wherever creatures such as they go. Once they did, however…
Danielle dragged her eyes away from Jerusa, turning them on the Necromancer. “The wraiths won’t be blind to us much longer. Many sacrificed much to find you. You better be worth it.” She turned as if to leave, but Sebastian stopped her.
“Wait. Where do you think you’re going?”
“Howland Island,” she said, as though this should be obvious. “The vampires have drawn Suhail’s attention, remember? He may be there already. They’ll need my help.”
Sebastian darted around in front of her. “That’s suicide. You can’t stop Suhail. Only she can.” He pointed a stubby finger up at Jerusa. “I’m sorry, but there’s no saving them now.”
Danielle’s eyes narrowed. “Are you really so cold? I may be unable to face Suhail, but I just might be able to leap a few to safety before he slaughters them all.”
The wraiths were returning at a steadily increasing pace, and Sebastian felt their “eyes” fall upon him. The sands of time were running through his fingers.
“True, I don’t care for most, but Thad Campbell is my friend, and I’d give my own life to save his. But we need you here. Right now. Jerusa will leap, and soon. Unless you keep her here. Add your strength to Silvanus’s. Turn Jerusa’s eye from what is beyond to what is here.”
Danielle clenched her teeth, curled her lips inward, and sighed through her nose.
The Necromancer stood up and shook the sand from his hair. “I can make this all go away. I just need you to keep thos
e demons off of me for a couple minutes, then you can go your way.”
“Two minutes,” Danielle said, holding up two fingers to emphasize her point. “After that, I’m leaping us out of here.”
Danielle vanished before there could be any argument. She reappeared ten feet above Jerusa and Silvanus, then dropped upon them like a hunting eagle. Danielle grasped Jerusa’s neck with one arm and pummeled her face with the other.
The shell of savage wraiths imploded, transforming into a hive of angry demon hornets. Sebastian dropped to the sand as the wraiths zoomed overhead, but for the moment, they had no interest in him or the Necromancer.
The Necromancer moved forward, unperturbed by the wraiths, and extended his arms toward Jerusa. He spoke in a guttural, archaic language that seemed to reverberate across the sand. His breath spilled out in a thick plume as though it were cold, yet instead of white mist, the plume glowed with a deep purple light.
Sebastian sensed an unseen tether extend from the Necromancer to Jerusa. Something dark. Something wrong.
Jerusa gasped, her savage-like eyes snapped to the Necromancer, then she dropped like a stone, shaking off Silvanus and Danielle with little effort.
Sebastian watched this invisible tug-o-war waging between Jerusa and the Necromancer, and the fullness of the betrayal smacked him like a hammer. He rushed toward the Necromancer with every intention of opening his treacherous throat, but the wraiths funneled downward to protect him.
A vampire—especially an old one—can fight the savage change for a time, as Suhail once did, but eventually, you’ll turn.
The Watchtower vampires were old, blood hardened, but the speed at which they turned savage terrified Shufah.
Suhail retracted his cord with a sickening slurping sound, and the Watchtower savages turned their snarling, wounded faces toward the vampires.
The two groups stared at one another for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. Seven savages were bad. Eight if you counted Conrad—still stationed behind them—but his sole duty seemed to be to guard the human body holding Alicia’s spirit.
The Savage Vampire (The Perpetual Creatures Saga Book 5) Page 25