Jenda protested, “I didn’t bring you here. I did not ask for this. I want nothing to do with you. You are psychotic, demented, insane, and dead. Do you get that you are D.E.A.D?”
Jenda spelled the word out in a slow sarcastic fashion. The fear drained from her. As she said the words, she grew stronger. Belle was not real and this was just some stupid dream. However, she’d said those words before only to find herself in the midst of a reality worse than nightmare.
An edge of doubt crept into Jenda’s mind. Pushing it away, Jenda steeled herself. She had come here to find answers. Matteo may have given up on Soborgne but Jenda continued to fight for her and to find a way to bring her back. Even as a council of powerful coven and clan leaders met, Jenda was planning a way of her own. This was her way.
The edges of her world darkened a little and Jenda felt her resolve slip. Matteo had warned her not to try to link with the spirits on the astral plane. He’d told her that it was unsafe. The dangers of traveling the astral planes were ones she knew well.
On the night Matteo appeared in her room, those risks had become all too clear. She had somehow linked with Matteo and forced him from the metaphysical realm into physical being, from hundreds of miles away. He was afraid that her inability to control her powers would result in her injury or the release of something far worse than him. Now, Jenda stood face-to-face with the spirit of the woman who had begun the cataclysmic chain of events that caused her to lose and gain so much.
When untainted by anger, Belle’s voice always reminded Jenda of something smooth and thick. Conversations with the woman made her think words like butterscotch, honey, and velvet. However, rage added an edge that was both jagged and sharp. Her voice transformed into a sound more like the screech of an owl. The danger in it seemed to ooze and bubble rather than flow in thick waves.
Jenda resisted the urge to back away again as poison dripped from Belle’s lips. “Don’t you think I know that I am dead? You are an ungrateful little wretch! I gave you everything. I saved you from a short and unfulfilling existence as a human brat. I gave you everything and in return, you and your little friends saw to it that I would never rule on Earth or in hell.”
Jenda stopped being afraid. Her fangs pulled at her jaw and her eyes turned into red blazes. The vampire awoke and the world shifted. The changes were subtle but both women noticed the pitch of the wind and the crackle of energy in the air.
“I’m ungrateful. What am I supposed to do? Did you expect that I would be happy to give up the people I loved? Did you think I would be grateful because you kidnapped, tortured, and almost permanently killed my best friend? Was it really your idea of being good to me when you tore me away from everything that I cared for? You stole my life and you want gratitude? You are nuts!”
“Oh poor Jenda, mistreated little angel. It is not as if you didn’t jump right in with both feet after my dear sweet Matteo. You turned him against me, you little devil.” Despite the harshness of the words, Belle was beginning to calm. Jenda could see the calculations going on behind her ice-blue eyes.
“He was never yours. He only helped you because he was lonely. Now either you tell me what you are here to tell me or leave me alone. I don’t have time to deal with you and your pathetic attempts to control or destroy everyone and everything around you.” Jenda’s anger made her strong and, instead of backing away, she took a single step forward.
“You know my dear, despite the fact that you played a crucial part in my untimely death, I am proud of you. You are my true heir after all. Of all my children, you were the only one who had the audacity to kill me. You have betrayed your closest friends and your beloved Matteo. You are so like your dear auntie even if you don’t want to admit it.” Belle’s husky laughter rang out through the open landscape again.
Jenda was shocked and the words caused her vampire-self to recoil to its hiding place inside her.
“I am nothing like you. Nothing at all.” Jenda couldn’t take Belle’s insulting words any longer. She turned her back on the vampire woman’s spirit and closed her eyes.
“There’s no need to leave so soon. You don’t have what you came for. It’s a bit lonely here in the abyss.” Belle could muster the sincerest and saddest quality when she needed to.
Jenda slowly turned and stared at Belle with eyes that were once again green. “Okay, so can you tell me how to find Soborgne or the Tree of Life?”
“Yes my dear I can. The question is, will I?” Belle’s cunningness shone brightly as little stars in her eyes.
“You know what will happen. You have known all along. Have you gained no understanding, no enlightenment since passing on? Do you not see what a catastrophe this war will be? You and Augustine started on this path a long time ago. Surely, you can see the error. We cannot harvest humans and be gods. The humans will never survive and we will all perish. Would you condemn the entire vampire race?” Jenda shook her head.
“Trying to appeal to my better nature will do you no good, child. I have no better nature. I will tell you what you need to know. Not to help save those filthy mammals but to seek out a long-awaited revenge. The battle between devils and angels never meant anything to me, and now, I am obviously in no shape to rule as I should have.”
Jenda’s confusion showed in her expression as she asked, “What revenge? What else can you do? We are nearly destroyed.”
Belle clicked her tongue. “No, my dear. It seems you aren’t the bright little prodigy I thought. Have you not made the connection yet? The man who took your little friend, do you not know who he is? Do you not recognize him from the stories of my long-lost love? My Augustine has risen from what I thought was his grave. He has Soborgne and they have bonded. I will have his heart for betraying me.
“He let me believe he perished all those years ago and I want him dead now. In order to save your friend, you will have to kill him. There is no other way. When his soul leaves his body, it will be here, in the darkness with me. Together again, for all eternity, just as we were destined. That is my revenge.”
Jenda started to protest. She wanted to say it couldn’t be true but she couldn’t deny Belle’s claims. A keen knowledge told her to believe in the impossible. Over and over, she’d denied inklings of insight and it had caused her to miss important things. She would not deny her intuition again.
“Why? How? You said Augustine was blind. The man who took Soborgne wasn’t. Why wouldn’t he come to you after all these years?” Jenda felt a stab of sympathy for Belle. A man she loved and trusted betrayed her yet again.
“The details are of no importance. The punishment is of far greater concern. I will not extract promises from you. I know you will do what I desire, this time without question. Now, let me enlighten you on your search.”
Jenda interrupted her. “Wait. How do you know I will do anything? I don’t plan to kill anyone. I have done so and I don’t have the passion for it. I am not so much like you as you think. You must know I will avoid hurting anyone if I have the option.”
Jenda’s protest did not deter Belle. “This time that will not be an option for you my dear. You will choose the life of your friend over the life of a stranger. You will kill him to set her free.”
Jenda was afraid. Her answer was barely audible when she whispered the word, “Never.”
Belle raised her eyebrow but continued as if she had not heard. Her voice lost all humor, anger, and hurt. Her flat tone sounded exceedingly different from her usual breathiness or the rage filled shrill. “You will find Soborgne in the arms of the dragon. Also within its powerful embrace lies a book made of flesh and blood. In it, two secrets are hidden that will take you to the other side.”
“In a book of flesh and blood? I don’t understand. Books aren’t made from flesh.” Jenda stopped as understanding rushed in. “The book Celeste has been searching for. She said it was made from human skin, bone, and blood.”
Belle smiled with pride before her image began to fade. Her smile dimmed into a sad and w
ilted thing as she whispered, “Don’t forget, Jenda. A deal is a deal.”
“Wait. Don’t go. I need to ask you more. I need to know more, damn it!” Jenda pleaded with Belle’s apparition as it dematerialized.
2
Andras stood on the bluff looking over his father’s lands. His chest heaved and his wings fluttered restlessly behind him in the hot air. His eyes blazed with anger. The taste of failure stained his mouth like bile. He’d had the girl in his talons and lost her. If he did not capture her, his kingdom would crumble. All he’d fought for would be lost. To fail would mean the loss of an age-old war and the idea was intolerable.
He could suffer no more mishaps. His internal mechanism screamed it was the time for the demons to rule. They would push God from his heavenly throne, punish the vampires for the curse they set upon the demon breed, and he would at last possess his bride. The hours were like sand in the old glass, pouring away as he fought to accomplish his mission.
Fire and brimstone lay as far as the eye could see. Several millennia past, the most powerful demons to exist populated the land that now seethed with disappointment. In the time before his father made the deal with Cane and Lilith to create a child, the land by the Red Sea had been the demons’ haven. Once God cast the curse upon them, Andras’s family faced extinction. His army became a pittance of what it used to be and his hold over it all slipped with each passing minute.
Thinking about their cursed existence made his mouth froth with rage. His howl of anguished despair fractured the eerie silence of the perpetual red skyline. Around him, the echoing cries of his brood rose into the dusty wind. Andras spread his giant ebony wings and took to the skies. The never-ending red sun blazed and glinted in his eyes as he glided through the hot air. Silhouetted against the crimson sphere, he looked more like a bloody angel than a demon. The congregation below howled again in salute to their leader.
Paws, hooves, and talons clawed at the wasteland beneath them as the demons emerged from their dark hideaways. Andras watched them come forth. Unable to bear the sunlight of the upper worlds, they remained trapped in the reddened haze. Andras knew it would all change when they conquered the heavens and laid waste to the angels. The holly blood of the divine would pave their unhallowed path from their prison. He longed to plunge the human world into darkness. He hated the light for condemning them and for forcing him to drop the girl.
He beat his heavy wings once, then twice, before gliding again on the open air as he rolled his failure through his mind. He had saved Soborgne from smashing face first into the unforgiving concrete but when the rising sun had hit him, he’d floundered. The burning twinge in his muscles reminded him of how close he had come to killing himself for her. Andras’s desperation grew. He must have the girl who would help him build his army and rise victoriously over the vampires and the angels. His need made him careless and his weakness infuriated him as the smell of burned feathers fueled his anger.
Andras circled closer to where his faithful gathered. He could feel the heavy burden of time keenly. The Dracul had Soborgne, the Clan and Coven protected the red-haired one, and Lamashtu had disappeared far beyond his reach long ago. The survival of his kind hinged precariously on his ability to capture Soborgne. If he did not possess the girl, the last of the demons would perish by either God’s hand or the vampires’ rule.
He watched his brothers and sisters make their way to the sacred ground. The knowledge that their future rested perilously in his hands felt as if a knife were plunged into his chest. When the group of snarling humanoid and animal forms completed a jagged circle around their mark, Andras glided down and stood with his back to an ancient and gnarled tree.
From a distance, the tree seemed to be dead and rotted. Two separate halves entwined up from the roots to twist around each other and form the trunk. The naked branches seemed fragile in their starkness. Upon nearing the carcass, the barely audible sound of twin hearts beating foretold the life hidden within. A pair of tormented souls screamed silently through the heavy misshapen bark. Despair, anger, hunger, and pain swirled in imperceptible layers.
Caught in the current of forced air from Andras’s wings, the dwarfed and ugly thing groaned with pent up rage as it swayed. Never changing, it did not grow. The tree had remained frozen in time since its creation. The centerpiece of the demons’ meeting place, they fed from the rolling hurricane of hate drifting out from within the twisted from. Their trophy from a victory never forgotten. The spot where it stood held the memory of their downfall.
Andras could not reach Soborgne until night came to the upper worlds. Even then, he knew he might not be able to drag her from the depths of the Dracul. Many millennia ago, his father had failed to hold a vampire princess captive—Andras would not make the same mistake. No kindness or leniency would be shown and she would have no chance to escape.
He planned to seek out Lamashtu’s heir, his creation, and drag her through the portal between the worlds. Only a powerful demon, like him, could bring her over while she still lived. Soborgne’s demon blood and her vampire curse would lead her to Nod if she was dead, but Andras needed her to be alive. Once death consumed her flesh, she would no longer be able to complete the prophecy.
Confident that the nightmares he had woven for her would have her primed to wither in terror upon seeing him, he doubted she would fight him. Andras acknowledged Soborgne’s strength without underestimating her precarious need to remain in touch with her humanity. The one weakness he could truly detect in her was her human feelings.
Andras’s black eyes sparkled with greed. His black forked tongue snaked out and tasted victory in the air. He could see himself taking place in the battle. The world would be theirs when he fulfilled the prophecy. His demonic assemblage would rise to the heavens and bring them down upon all creation. The belief in these things rushed his black blood through his veins.
Knowing what he had to do, a rare smile spread across the demon prince’s chiseled face. He spread his arms and great onyx colored wings to their full width. The rose tinted light glistened off the feathers, creating green and purple rainbows against the raven black. When he lifted his face to the bloodied sky, his voice carried across the winds, “The Prince of Darkness shall rule in heaven as his father before him should have reigned.”
Another chorus of hellish howls and jeers rose up into the crimson desert to answer him. He soaked in their power, using it to heal his wounds. He let his own deep voice meld with theirs in a poignant blend of hate, bloodlust, and hunger for triumph. He hoped that the others did not hear the keening wail of the angelic voices in the distance.
3
Soborgne had always heard a person couldn’t watch as they died in a dream. The old women had told her it caused real death and the psychology books said a person’s fragile ego would not allow it. For Soborgne, none of the wives’ tales or psychobabble held true. Her nightmares revealed her death to be a violent surrender. She could still feel the talons ripping her body.
In the dream, she walked in the crimson sun. Watching warily to each side, she saw the demons lining the path. Wide sneering mouths full of jagged teeth snapped at her heels. Some were hideous monsters while others resembled mutated humans. Nearly mortal faces and deformed animal expressions peered at her with soulless eyes. They all sneered at her transparent calm.
She walked the path of the already dead and yet she still lived. Refusing to show fear, Soborgne took each step purposefully. She did not jerk away from the savage teeth and claws that cut the air inches away from her flesh. The blazing scarlet sun on the barren world intensified the demons’ rancid breath. She walked on, head held high. None of it could reach her deep inside her own shell.
It seemed as if millions of degenerate beasts and humanoid clones lined the stretch of rocky earth. Her muscles trembled and fatigue blurred her vision as the strange red sun with its iridescent glow sucked at her strength. Her head swam and the familiar pain of hunger growled like a demon of her own. Blood sweat s
oaked her naked flesh, yet she fought to walk what felt like a descent into death.
Soborgne knew if she faltered, the demons would tear her apart. If she showed any weakness, if she stumbled, or if she fell, they would stream in from all directions to devour her like a pack of hyena hunting the small and wounded. The creatures would show no mercy, keeping her alive as long as possible to enjoy her screams while they fed. She envisioned her blood as it sputtered and sizzled on the burned land like eggs in a frying pan.
At last, she saw where her journey would end. No reprieve, no hope could be found in the finality of the moment. Shimmering as if a desert mirage, he stood at the end of the death trail. The odd light reflected in the sheen of his dark wings as Andras placed one hand on the twisted trunk of the blackened tree. He smiled at her in a strangely intimate way before lifting one large hand to stroke a curve in the tree that resembled a face. He ran his thumb across the would-be cheekbone as if it were a lover. Soborgne found the gesture so oddly touching that she nearly forgot to fear the demon prince.
Soborgne came to a halt within an arm’s length of the tree. She let her eyes run freely over the beast before her, noting that the tips of his wings were badly singed and slightly curled. The sight stirred the memory of his talons as they had ripped into her back. Soborgne knew he was the one who had saved her from the fall minutes before she had lost consciousness in the rays of the morning sun. She had forgotten to ask Augustine about the incident, or perhaps he had avoided her questions—but she had her answers anyway. Too late, Soborgne realized her destiny.
He didn’t speak as he stared at her with his jaw clenched and a look of unconcealed want on his sensuous mouth. Andras’s eyes were black orbs filled with her image. Reflections of the evil within her danced inside them like tiny flames. He held a hand towards her, human except for the long black claws extending from each fingertip. She shivered at the reminder of the pain the black daggers had caused her. She did not move to take his offering, leaving his hand extended before her, empty and beckoning.
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