“Won’t it be wonderful?” Corina threw her arms together and leapt up in a gleeful state. “For too long we’ve suffered at the hands of lesser beings. In that, you and I are not alone. All supernatural races will be given the chance to join us when the time comes. Some will just have more value than others. The Master wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You’d call yourself vampire queen and bow to another?” Lukas asked as his eyes burst alive in an amber aura. “Remus Castalon’s a lot of sick things, but he’s no errand boy.”
“Oh, don’t look so pissy,” the dark princess said with the wave of her hand. “Everyone bows to someone in this world. I just have the decency to see that my particular someone is a man of insuperable means. You may call me vile, enemy, but the hard truth is that one day you’ll come to know the actions that move me. You’ll come to know of the chosen few that fought for Earth before, during, and in its dying breaths; but more importantly, you’ll come to know the untold horrors that await you on the other side of the Hell Gate.”
“Billions will suffer if the Hell Gate isn’t lifted from our world,” she continued with a singular mindset, dead certain that every word she said was a proven fact. “It happened to the nosferatu home world. It happened to the lycan home world. Now it’s going to happen to Earth and our vampiric father’s escape from the nine circles will have been meaningless. Humans and supernatural, we’ll all become slaves to the arch demons of Hell. You can save them, Lukas; all the werewolves of the world. Even that precious, little Elsa Dukane you fancy so much. All you need to do is come with me. See our races nourished by the offerings we give them. Let us become destroyers of the gods that once enslaved our two peoples.”
“Go suck a gutter rat,” he answered with his feet firmly placed in the ground. He knew the princess was deranged, off the rails, and barely lucid half the time she spoke. In spite of herself, Corina Petravic managed to make an inkling of sense. If any of what she said could be true.
A few months ago, Lukas might’ve taken that offer to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. He would’ve spared his mother and father the horrors of war, but those pains had already come to pass. His father was dead, his mother marked with lesions across her body, and what remained of his pack soon to be in a fight for their lives.
He wouldn’t bow down to the dark princess. He wouldn’t bow down ever again.
“Make no mistake, werepup,” said Corina as her frame of mind swung back towards the depraved and unrestrained. “Your essence is mine whether you’re dead or alive. Such distinctions don’t matter to my buyer—.”
Lukas heard enough of Corina Petravic and her supernatural dogma. He struck back at her with and connected with several blows against her chin and torso. His surprise assault lasted all but a few seconds before the dark princess countered his blows with a stiletto to the inner thigh.
Lukas backed off to heal from the deep tissue wound. He braced for any reprisal sent his way, but none came from the madwoman in front of him. Instead, she stared back at him with cold, dead eyes as a wiry smirk spread across her face.
“Yes, yes,” said Corina, as that grin swept to the upper corners of her cheeks, “become the beast inside. I want to see all of you!”
As Lukas healed from the last of his wounds she lashed out with tendrils of nail that tore at the forearm of Lukas. She raked back and forth in a furious fashion until his cries of agony were muffled by the sounds of nails against bone.
“My lady,” a shaken Akil said to his Technicolor love. “We don’t know far his regeneration has advanced. If you take off his arm there’s no guarantee it will grow back.”
Corina ceased her attacks to consider Akil’s words, but his words held little weight while the blood boiled inside her. Corina didn’t wait for Lukas’ wounds to heal this time and kicked off one of her high heeled pumps before she planted a foot to his midsection.
Lukas was thrown back with enough force to topple the tree he collided with and both went thrust down to the ground with force. He tried to rise above the pain, but no matter how much he willed his legs to lift him, they wouldn’t work under his command.
His back was broken.
Corina turned dispassionately to her long term confidant, and said, “It appears this shall be a lesson taken to heart. Thank the unholy father, really now. How much fun can one have inflicting punishment when the wounds of the guilty always heal? Not much fun, that’s for damned sure. At least now we know my new hordes can be housetrained.”
Lukas caught the scent of another headed their way. Unlike the dead on the inside vampires that lacked even a human scent to call their own, a turned werewolf smelled less like the wolf it resembled and more the demon that once kept them it chained. He desperately scanned the environment with hopes to intercede, but that proved impossible when the silhouette of a lone werewolf appeared behind the dark princess.
The smoke filled air clogged their vampire senses and allowed a bloodthirsty and berserk Kaleb Ramsey to approach them unannounced. He threw himself at the undead bodyguard without abandon for his own wellbeing, in a lust for blood and battle, and eyes locked on the ashen woman of red and black patterns.
Kaleb wasn’t attuned to the thought of Lukas, as the wolves of the pack were, but the pack master didn’t need attunement to see the man behind the tawny eyes. It wasn’t the wolf or the moon god that controlled his actions. It was the man deep inside. He needed to pay for his sins, but for a member of the warrior caste that could happen only one way. He would pay with blood, as much as he could spare.
Akil was thrown into the darkness and soon the teeth of the frenzied werewolf were at the throat of the vampire princess. The hands of his undead opponent proved quicker than his feet and, while Kaleb was only a few inches from her cold flesh, he was grabbed by the nape of his neck.
“What have we here?” Corina asked with her eyes locked on the pack master, not the rabid wolf that snapped at her throat. “Someone miss their daddy?”
With her free hand she clamped on to Kaleb’s snout and drew him in for closer inspection. “This one’s got the smell of freedom on him and it stinks to high heaven. It appears your werewolf has trouble following rules. You know how I’d treat such insolence? Now, you’ll want to pay attention to what happens next if you’re to have any hand in the birth of your new werewolf race.”
She stabbed at his throat with the many rows of fangs that descended from her gaped mouth. What little blood managed to avoid her widespread lips cascaded to the ground. As the life drained from his eyes, Kaleb watched with the satisfaction that came from the knowledge that his sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. In the corner of his eye, Kaleb could see Lukas Wendish approach with fists raised; and this time he moved in for the kill. This wouldn’t be the rest he wanted, but maybe it would be the rest he deserved; and as the yellow light faded in his eyes he had only one man to thank for that privilege.
“You’re rotten to the core,” Lukas bellowed in his approach, “and I’m going to tear you apart!”
He struck her with hands of notched claw. He struck and he struck until Corina stumbled back in a blood-soaked mess. Then he continued his fevered onslaught once more. He wanted to give in to his inner wolf and tear her stump from bloody stump, but to do so would break the connection he made with the wolves of his new formed pack. So he kept the werewolf at bay and did battle without his rugged hide to aid him.
Corina dropped the lifeless body in her hands and backed up listlessly in a haze of blood. With her one good eye she caught him on second approach and stabbed at him with her hand. Lukas tried to avoid the surprise attack, but he was caught in the middle of his chest. His heart was missed by inches, but the damage had been dealt and he lurched backwards almost as quickly as he’d come at her.
She’d done him great harm, but so, too, had she taken it in consider stride. She cupped her open hands together and spat out more than a few teeth. She was humiliated, made a fool, and the further she pushed her latest toy, the harder h
e pushed back. Vampires were known to lose their teeth over the centuries. Those were lesser vampires in her eyes. Her teeth would grow back, in time, but the damage had already been dealt, her ego bruised beyond repair. It was time to shut her experiment down, lest it threatened to go up in the flames that surrounded her mother’s miserable home.
“Akil,” said a fervent Corina Petravic, “where the hell are you? I want you to crush the bones of this impudent whelp! When he heals I want you to break them again, and again, until he gets the fucking picture!”
“Akil?” she asked with her eyes all along the tree line. “What the fuck, man?”
Nowhere Corina looked the sight of her companion could be found.
“You fucking slave!” Corina howled to the night sky with hands raised in indignation. “Where is your place if not by my goddamn side?”
Akil came to his dark princess at last. He appeared from behind and, with a silver dagger held above his head, he cried, “For the king!”
Akil Fayed thrust the dagger downward, but his maker was faster than he previously thought and the cutting edge of his blade found a home not in her heart, but instead in her left forearm.
Corina didn’t winch as the blade carved through her rotten flesh, though it pained her greatly, and spun around to meet her beloved with as cool and collected a response she could under such circumstances. With a level hand she lopped the head of Akil Fayed clean off in one fell swoop. It flew through the air, round and round it spun all the while, until it disappeared into a cloud of black smoke.
“You’re nothing to me now,” a shaken Corina whispered as his headless body fell to the ground, “neither you nor the man in black that sent you in his stead.”
A crestfallen Corina Petravic sunk to the ground beside her beloved. She knew his reasons, but it didn’t make it any easier for the dark princess to bear. Akil Fayed had been there as none other had before or after him. He was her protector, though she needed none. He was her navigator, though she could see clear across the oceans; and he was her lover, though it was often a thankless role.
Akil Fayed did all of that for the chance to stand next to her in times both thick and thin. Now he didn’t stand at all.
“That damned honor of yours,” said Corina, a single tear streaming down her cheek. “I always knew he had something on you… I just never believed it could be greater than what I had… what we had…”
A slight sob from the dark princess could be heard atop the muffled cries from the populace below. The dark robed men had torched the suburbs. Now it was the commercial district of the downtown core that burned at their touch.
She was humiliated, overcome with enough raw emotion to send her off the edge again, and fraught with worry over the prospect of a long life alone. She could feel herself begin to slip into the darkness, lose herself, and close herself off to anyone that stood close at hand.
Twisted thoughts rushed through the head of Corina as she contemplated a life without her beloved. Akil Fayed wasn’t the only man to share her bed, but he was the only one she came back to time and time again. She couldn’t lose another, not now and not ever.
To see that come to pass would mean total loss of control to the voices the taunted her from within. No, she determined then and there, Lukas would be her other half. He must, lest she lose herself completely to the imaginary world inside her head.
She was pulled in all directions. Some of the voices wanted her to tear Lukas Wendish apart for the many wrongs he committed, others wanted to see not only the werewolf drained of his essence, but of all those down below that would stand against her. The voices, each and every one of them, yearned for the blood that would further steep Corina Petravic in the throes of madness.
“If you weren’t already doomed, Remus Castalon,” she shrieked as the lifeless body before her molted into ash, “I would fry up your bones myself!”
Corina wasn’t sure where to lay the brunt of her vehemence. Remus would soon join the ranks of the dead, the witches and werewolves among them. All she had was a purebred werewolf that refused to bow at the feet of his betters. Corina wasn’t going to kill him. She would hurt him, over and over again, and then she would make him love her.
At this moment it all came to a silent crawl for Corina Petravic, for she was without the voices that scolded her every action. They waited with bated breath in what each of them saw happen next.
The sadistic monarch turned just in time to catch the glint of the moon’s light against werewolf claws. A meaty swathe of claw was taken to her midsection that saw chunks of intestine, spleen, and stomach strewn across the deadened ground. Corina tried to stuff what remained of her innards back inside her cavernous husk, but it was to no avail and, little by little, all her guts fell to the ground.
“Dearest, why?” she asked with a soft hand to the neck of her newly beloved. “We could’ve built such a pretty life for ourselves.”
The woman that once held total control over Lukas Wendish toppled before him to the dead grass below. She desperately tried to reach out and grab hold of him for support, but she couldn’t summon the strength to wrap her boney fingers around his ankles.
“Dearest,” the dark princess repeated before her head slumped into the puddle of blood beneath her. “I forgive you…”
Lukas stood both in shock of his actions, and how thoroughly he pursued them. He more than halted the princess of the vampire kingdom. He tore her apart and left her in a pool of her own entrails. He waited for a few moments for her body to come to ash, but the cries were louder, more pronounced than before.
It wasn’t that his people needed him. It was that the whole city of Salem needed him and his friends. Corina Petravic may have her allies in this world, but they weren’t here. It was the werewolves, the witches, and the vampires that were here, on this night, and it was them that were charged with the protection of the sacred city of Salem.
The sisters had Cetra Altaras to guide them in these fated hours. The vampire had their king in black, if he ever got off his stoop to take notice. And the nameless creatures of the world had the unknown girl who stood for more than she could possibly know. Where was the pack master of the werewolves?
Lukas pushed aside the thoughts of misdoubt that clouded him and left the side of Corina Petravic’s corpse. He hadn’t the time to watch her body turn to ash. There were lives at stake, every one of them more important than the one he stayed with now.
As Lukas passed into the billowed wall of black he turned to look upon the woman that had taken his life from him. A hint of a red interwoven with black lingered atop the hill. It was the vampire princess, Corina Petravic, and while life didn’t return to her body, it didn’t turn to the ash that took all kindred spirits upon their second death. He couldn’t waste another minute on the miserable princess and kept his pace towards the city that burned.
He could feel the emotions of those under his attunement. His werewolves were almost upon the dark robed invaders and they aimed to meet them head on, with or without their master to lead them. Not only did his pack need him, they needed him to be strong, or every single one of them will be no more than fodder to their cannons. He didn’t need to win a war tonight. That was for the absentee gods to decide. All he needed to do was prevent a massacre.
Lukas never wanted the mantle of pack master. That was for his father. Had the circumstances been right, he might’ve turned around and given that leadership over to Kaleb Ramsey in the years that proceeded. Kaleb proved himself unworthy of that title. Perhaps, as word spread of what happened here tonight, he would prove himself equally as unworthy of his father’s title.
There was only one way to know for sure.
Chapter Fifty Six
Night Kings: Old World Cull
Gregory Blackman
The Streets Run Red with Blood
Salem was known across the land as an idyllic port city open to any that wished to make it their home. There were five star accommodations on every block; colos
sal stadiums for more sports teams than a city should have, and million dollar beach homes that lined the coast of the Atlantic. On the surface, Salem was a city anyone and everyone would love to call their home. Then, when you did as the young Elsa Dukane had done and scratched just beneath the surface, one could find a world far beyond their realm of comprehension.
Of course, the Salem humanity saw wasn’t close to the dark truth sealed underneath the stone towers that made up the city’s main streets. In the historic city of Salem, more than any other city in the New World, the supernatural races not only lived, but thrived within the community. It was rarely perfect harmony the supernaturals found themselves in, but they managed to survive the most ancient of rivalries and lay claim to the same city walls.
Those walls were about to come down tonight. The Brotherhood of the Crescent Moon, after nearly one millennia of banishment, had returned to their city and this time they wouldn’t be so quick to leave.
While brothers on the inside used their gifts to shut down the power plant and the cellular towers, the others moved to strike the now blinded city. The swirled mass of black that was the warlocks came from the mountains to the west and set fire to all the homes of the suburban districts. Hundreds were butchered, thousands displaced from their houses, and nowhere they could run would be far enough away. The warlocks came for the city of Salem and for all that fouled their sacred grounds.
The dark robed men moved into the downtown core where they came face to face with those that once fled their homes in distress. These were people that were tired and fearful for their lives, but they were still human, and now they had been pushed too far.
The populace rallied with whatever weapons they could find, or fashion, and moved against the horde of black soon to come around the corner. The humans, armed with baseball bats and knives, fought with valiance against the warlocks on the street, but in the end their attempts could do little other than delay the inevitable.
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