Vengeful Hearts (Dead Hearts Book 3)

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  * * *

  Midnight Falls was nothing more than a creek with a small, flowing waterfall that iced over in winter. Highbrow selected an area near an oak tree to bury Barbarella. The patrol teams worked together to dig a deep grave, lining it with pine boughs. The Amazons wrapped Barbarella in blankets and lowered her into the ground. Odin stood nearby, flanked by the Bulldogs. Once they covered the grave, everyone gathered around. The Panthers watched the funeral from Moon Tower. Nomad sunk a cross fashioned from two crowbars at the head of the grave, and joined the circle.

  Highbrow removed his beret. “Barbarella was brave and strong, and she was willing to put others first, no matter the cost. She died trying to protect me. I know the last few days have been difficult for everyone, and we’ve lost many friends and loved ones. Humans, vampires, and werepumas alike. It doesn’t matter who we were before we came here, but it matters who we have become. We are a team, but we were also part of Barbarella’s pride, and she cared for us.” He glanced at Rose, who gave him a tender smile.

  Highbrow was reminded of just how many they had lost, and filled with emotion. He recited the 23rd Psalm, weeping, and the others joined him. Their voices touched him, and he felt a sense of calm. But as they spoke the words, ‘Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil,’ Highbrow scanned the trees for an ominous, dark shadow. He spotted Micah and the Dark Angels standing among the teams. Following the prayer, Highbrow tore the Fighting Tigers’ patch off his sleeve and dropped it against the cross. Each teenager did the same, except Odin, who removed his crucifix and hung it over the upright iron pole.

  The sense of calm soon turned to anxiousness. Highbrow knew they needed to leave Seven Falls. He did fear evil and it was just miles away.

  It occupied the Citadel.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seventeen

  At the break of dawn, they rode for the Roman fort as Sir Thomas, Sir Wallace, Lord Montagu, and the entire assembly of castle guards watched from the battlements. Four strange priests had blessed the team, invoking an air of impending doom rather than victory. Each wore silver-coated hauberks, and white tunics bearing a red cross. Cadence felt like a crusader, except she had not ridden a horse in ages. The saddle was too narrow, and the stirrups were short.

  Blaze, unused to riding horses, moaned in misery as they trotted over a well-worn Roman road. Lachlan and Whisper, in comparison, rode like experts.

  As they passed a nearby graveyard, Cadence listened to birds singing in the surrounding forest. Their gleeful songs were deceptive, as she noticed armored men following them. They stayed hidden among the trees, invisible to human eyes.

  “Whisper,” Cadence said. “Are you sure this is the right way?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “It’s twenty miles to the outpost. I see the dog soldiers in the tree line, too. We stay on this road until we come to the fort. They won’t attack us out here in broad daylight; they will wait until we’re inside.”

  “I don’t like horses,” Blaze complained. “They’re too slow. It’ll be noon before we arrive.”

  Lachlan rode beside Cadence, appearing noble and poised. A silver shield engraved with the figure of a hawk hung on the side of his saddle. His Irish galloglass was strapped to the horse’s saddle, and he wore a long-sword on his side. It was no wonder Sir Thomas found great value in Lachlan’s friendship and skill as a fighter.

  The dog soldiers would not find Lachlan an easy opponent. It was ironic. The monolith had sucked in the three teammates Cadence would have chosen to retrieve the Spear of Destiny. She could not help but feel optimistic.

  “We don’t have to go on this mission,” Lachlan said, light-hearted. “This isn’t our fight, Cadence, nor are we obliged to fight Lord Montagu’s war. Whisper has maps in his saddle bag, along with a few days of rations.”

  “Run away? At a time like this?” Cadence shook her head. “Not my style.”

  The big, red-haired vampire laughed. “And that’s but one of the reasons I love you, Cadence Sinclair. You’re fearless in battle, yet you never know when I’m teasing you. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

  A dole of white doves flew out of the forest, and somewhere in the distance church bells rang. Cadence looked over at Lachlan and caught him staring. She had no doubt he loved her.

  Lachlan made a handsome knight with his square jaw, freckled nose, red hair, and dark green eyes. But she loved him because he was kind and tender.

  “I care about you,” she said. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

  “I’m honored,” Lachlan replied, chuckling. “When we get home, I intend to see you more often. I like sharing a pillow with you. Who knows? You might realize that you can love a vampire, and I hope that vampire is me.”

  “Trust me. You’re the only vampire I’m interested in, Lachlan.” Cadence’s cheeks burned as she remembered their night together. “If you don’t stop staring at me, I will not be able to focus. I need my game face on, so cut it out.”

  “Whatever my lady desires,” Lachlan said, bowing in his saddle.

  Cadence could not help but laugh. Lachlan joined in, stopping when Whisper passed them and took the lead, leaving Blaze to bring up the rear.

  “We must be close,” Cadence said. “Be careful when things heat up, Lachlan. You’re reckless and foolhardy at the best of times. Please try to act more like Whisper. Being cautious and deadly is needed here, not Irish heroics.”

  “I’m a knight,” replied Lachlan. He looked straight ahead, trying to hide the smile on his face. “I’ll do no less than any other knight would for his lady. My life is yours. I will do what it takes to protect you and see you home, and that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

  The team grew quiet as they approached a small, abandoned village. The homes stood exposed to the elements, and there were no graves or graveyard, or any sign of what might have happened to the villagers. A mile further they reached a section of land where no trees grew, and the high, green grass swayed in the light wind. The ruins of a Roman fort sat on a cliff beside the sea, with a stone wall surrounding the few remaining buildings. Broken pillars and statues of Roman gods lay on the ground, impressive even in decay.

  Swords drawn, they rode through the gate and entered the outpost. Armored guards appeared from every doorway. More marched around corners wielding spiked maces and spears. Black fur capes draped their armor and some had the jaws of large animals attached to their helmets. Shouts revealed mounted cavalry through the gates, circling Cadence and her team. Archers appeared on the battlements above them. The largest of the guards stepped forward, swinging his axe. His face was scarred and visible beneath an ancient Roman helmet.

  “We’re outnumbered, but we have speed on our side. I’ll kill their commander. Deal with these dog soldiers,” Cadence said wheeling her horse around. She pointed her sword at the leader. “Stand aside or die!”

  “You are not welcome here,” he said, snarling. “We will kill you and eat your flesh. After that, we’ll join our brothers at Pevensey and devour Lord Montagu and his knights.”

  “We can handle this, Cadence,” Lachlan said, bringing up his shield. “Fight your way into the main building. We’ll join you soon. Get moving.”

  A trumpet blared, and the commander signaled his troops forward. Cadence charged the big brute. Archers brought down Cadence’s horse. She sailed over its head and was already running when she hit the ground. Her sword clashed against his axe with such force that the leader staggered, a stunned expression twisting his face further. Cadence swung again and tore through the commander’s heart. As he fell, she removed his head with another swing of her blade. The dog soldiers looked at their dead leader and fled.

  The door was unguarded. Cadence entered the building and found the ceiling had partially collapsed and vegetation was growing wild. Vines covered the walls and filled every crack in the stones. The sea-facing wall had crumbled, revealing a blue ocean. Mature trees grew in the center of
the square room, surrounding a hole in the ground. On closer inspection, the hole turned out to be staircase leading into the darkness. As she advanced toward the stairs, a wraith leapt from behind a broken altar. It wailed in fear as it scrambled through the undergrowth and vanished to the far side of the room.

  Two guards emerged from the stairs, glaring at Cadence. They lifted their rusty, chipped swords as she launched into the air and landed behind them. With a spin, Cadence split the nearest guard in half and caught the second man in the shoulder, producing an arterial gush. His arm fell off, and he howled in pain briefly, until the return stroke caught him in the neck. The guard’s head flipped backward, hanging by loose flesh, and he fell backward to the ground, motionless.

  “The Old Ones are fleeing,” Lachlan reported as he entered the room. He rushed to Cadence’s side and scanned the hole. “There are many more below. We should wait for Whisper and Blaze.”

  Cadence shook her head. “How sharp are your vampire senses? Is Darkmoore below us? Are you able to detect him or his guards?”

  “There are guards below. So is Darkmoore.” Lachlan held his shield aside and peered into the darkness. His eyes turned bright violet, and his fangs slid out as he sniffed the air. “There’s a lot of them, too. Best let me lead.”

  “Gallantry isn’t necessary,” Cadence said, noting a gash in his cheek that drenched his tunic with blood. “Let me go first. I can’t be injured or killed.”

  Lachlan laughed. “If you want the glory, babe, help yourself. I’ll be right behind you every step of the way.”

  Cadence walked down the stairs with caution, giving her eyes time to adjust to the dark. Lachlan followed right behind her. He pointed out several shallow graves and a row of clay wine jars. Whisper and Blaze appeared behind them, both spattered with the remains of their battles. They fell into step behind Cadence and Lachlan, but then the ground shifted, and vampires sprang from hidden alcoves and attacked.

  Together they fought the vampires, and they found that silver swords worked as well as wooden stakes on them. The wraiths streaked across the room trying to outflank them, but her team was faster and equipped for what they faced. The team stabbed and hacked their way through the ghoulish creatures until they reached another staircase that led to a dank, wet cavern.

  Torches gave ample light showing stone, Roman coffins lining a wall. Chests sat piled together in the middle of the room, while gold coins and the remains of both humans and animals dotted the dirty floor. Whisper threw off the stone lid to a coffin and impaled its occupant. As he and Blaze approached the next coffin, they heard a growl from the back of the cave. A large werewolf crept forward on its hind legs. Countless gray beasts, each towering well over seven feet tall, stood behind it. The remaining coffin lids crashed open, and armor-clad wraiths crawled out and joined the werewolves.

  “It’s time to get mad,” Blaze said, “and bring out the big guns!”

  Blaze threw her sword, impaling a wolf through its skull. She pulled the M4 carbine from her shoulder and fired off a magazine of silver rounds, before launching a grenade at a pack entering from another door. Werewolves and wraiths alike dropped like flies around them. Whisper kept his sword out and watched her back. Lachlan raised his galloglass and attacked an advancing group of ghouls.

  Cadence surged forward, cutting through the monsters until she was far ahead of the rest of the team and facing a large, stone coffin. The creatures moved around her, striking ineffective blows while she cut, sliced, and decapitated them. Behind her, Cadence could hear shouts from Whisper, Blaze and Lachlan, mixed with the furious howls and eerie cries of werewolves and wraiths. Most of the Old Ones attacked her team, trusting the ghouls to protect the stone coffin. Lachlan appeared, swinging his massive broadsword and scattering the monsters.

  “Go for Darkmoore,” Lachlan called out. “He has to be inside the coffin.”

  Lachlan was attacked from behind and pushed into a group of wraiths, vanishing from view. Cadence kicked the large coffin over, its occupant tumbling to the ground. A knight with a pallid face and yellow fangs stood and faced her. Wisps of hair hung in strands from his sallow scalp. A Celtic cross that looked similar to her own adorned his neck, except the corners folded inward.

  “You’re Lord Darkmoore?” Cadence said. “I thought you’d look…better.”

  The vampire lord glared at her with blood-red eyes, extended his talons, and opened his mouth to scream. A rush of beasts came at Cadence from all sides. She swung her sword as jaws flashed and teeth tore at her arms. She was pushed from behind into the coffin, losing her sword. As she struggled to rise, the Old Ones stepped back and waiting for their leader.

  Darkmoore kicked her sword out of reach. “Did my brother send you?” he asked in a rasping voice. “You’re not like the others who came here to steal the spear. But like them, you shall die, and I will feast on your blood.”

  “I came to kill you.”

  She rose to her feet, watching the Old Ones close. In an instant, Cadence drew her silver-loaded pistol from its holster and laid waste to three of the monsters; the rest turned tail and ran. Darkmoore yowled with the fury of hell as Cadence landed a round in his shoulder, and he turned and fled, vanishing into another tunnel. Lachlan gave chase, followed by the remaining wraiths.

  “More coming in!” Blaze shouted. “Stand your ground.”

  A horde of ghouls skittered across the walls and ceiling of the cave, blocking the tunnel. A wraith dropped from the ceiling biting at Cadence’s neck. More fell like spiders from the darkness above, scattering around Cadence. They clawed at her armor and screamed when they burst into flames. But it was Lachlan’s screams that terrified her, and reaching Lachlan was all she could think about. With inhuman speed, she flew through the cave, carving up ghouls and dismembering werewolves. She butchered her enemies until none remained, then sped through the tunnels after Lachlan.

  Whisper and Blaze were close on her heels as she entered a larger cave. A crystal coffin in the center of the room glowed a strange shade of pink. The coffin commanded her attention; it was transparent, and Cadence could see a body holding a spear inside it.

  Not far from the coffin, Cadence spotted Lachlan face down in the dirt. A ghoul crouched on her lover’s back, chewing his fingers. She shot the wraith in the head. Her heart thundered in her chest as she hurried to kneel beside Lachlan. Cadence turned the Irishman over and felt her heart skip a beat. He was dead. She slumped forward, fighting back a wave of tears. Laughter came from behind the crystal coffin, and Cadence rose with grim determination in her eyes, turned, and glared at Lord Darkmoore.

  “Whisper, see to Lachlan,” Cadence said, her voice cold. “Blaze, guard the entrance.”

  Consumed with the need for revenge, Cadence advanced toward the crystal coffin. Darkmoore stood behind it, holding a sword in his clawed hand.

  “Is this what you’ve come for?” Darkmoore hissed. “Did my brother Thomas tell you who is contained within this coffin, or did he fail to mention that?” He pointed at the transparent crystal lid, his red eyes never leaving Cadence’s face.

  Cadence’s eyes never wavered from Darkmoore as she continued forward.

  “This is Apollo,” Darkmoore continued, “the last remaining Roman god. He was present at Golgotha and took the spear from the Roman guard Longinus. With it, he led the remaining Roman gods against a demon prince. Their army was defeated, and his immortal family killed. Apollo was captured and brought here, and for centuries, the Vescali have guarded Apollo. They are leaving these lands, though, and I am now in charge of guarding this place.”

  Cadence glanced at the body in the coffin. She saw golden hair and a pale face. “This can’t be Apollo. The ancient gods were myth and legend. This is just a man. He’s no god and you’re not invincible, you little worm.”

  “Alas, Apollo failed. When he was close to death, Prince Balan enclosed him in this coffin with the spear. The Romans found far more than they expected when they built this outpost. Th
e Vescali killed the Romans and those in the fort. When William the Bastard came here and built his castle, the Vescali waited until the plague struck, and the dead rose from their graves to consume them. The Vescali used the Roman Stone to travel to a far-away land, and left me to guard Apollo and the spear.”

  Cadence took a leap of faith. “Prince Balan was a demon? Did you ever meet him?” She smiled when Darkmoore nodded, suspecting Balan was the Kaiser. “I suppose for your service he promised to make you immortal. That’s what Balan and the Vescali trash told you, isn’t it? Before they came to my land and my time to destroy everything I loved.”

  “Why tell you more?” Darkmoore asked. “You will try to kill me regardless of what I say.”

  “I’m not interested in you. Only the spear,” Cadence said, a glint of danger in her green eyes. She stabbed her sword into the ground and reached out to grab the lid.

  “No mortal can touch the coffin,” Darkmoore snarled. “Touch it and you will die, as your friend did. His death is not of my doing. Like an Irishman, he was brash and foolhardy to the end.”

  “Let’s kill this freak and get the hell out of here.” The anger in Whisper’s voice was palpable.

  Darkmoore’s ravaged eyes darted toward Whisper, and then back to Cadence. “Who are you? Why would Montagu send so few men and women, when so many have failed?” He laughed. “It’s true then. You came out of the portal that took Richard. Has my brother returned?”

  “Your brother is dead.”

  Darkmoore smiled, revealing his yellowed fangs. “Then prove your greatness. Open the coffin and take the spear. I will not stop you.”

  Gazing at the coffin, Cadence saw a strong-featured man wearing a white toga, holding a wooden spear in his hands. He did not look dead, but sleeping. His skin was flawless, as if made of marble with a faint blush of pink high on his cheekbones. She held her hand above the lid. The vampire knight approached the coffin, and grinned with malevolence.