Darting a look at Drew, she was surprised to find him staring at her. Looking away in the same manner as he had when she caught him staring at her breasts, he motioned for her to move silently along the edge of the bushes. Jenda did not want to go. She wanted to see Matteo. If she could not be near him, watching him from afar was her only solace. She reluctantly followed Drew only because she knew he would have a plan.
Once they were a safe distance away, Drew turned to Jenda. “I could not hear what they said but Soborgne and Augustine are not here. I’m not sure if the others have any leads but it is better to wait here where we are less likely to be seen until they make their next move.”
Thankfully, the wait was brief and Jenda had only time to gnaw one of her fingernails down to a bloody nub. The witches’ car eased from the driveway and sped into the night. Jenda let her extra sense loose moments later. She searched for Matteo and found that he and a few of the others had set off on foot again. They were heading towards the Buddha Hills. She knew it would be safer to follow the sedan but her heart pulled towards Matteo as he flew through the cover of darkness.
As she sped through the twisting streets with Drew beside her, Jenda’s mind turned over her next move. She was determined to find Soborgne and to protect her friend from the Dracul and her own allies. She feared the girl might be completely lost in the darkness. If Soborgne did not want to be rescued, if she committed herself to the destruction of humanity, Jenda dreaded the thought that she would have to kill the one person who had always stood beside her.
The trail was difficult to follow as it led them up the winding hills. As they ran, brambles and limbs seemed to intentionally reach out and snag them in an attempt to slow them down. The city sparkled below them through breaks in the dense forest. The black sedan wound its way upward as Jenda and Drew followed diligently. No conversation passed between them as they dodged trees and leapt over thick underbrush. The deeper in the wild they found themselves, the more Jenda could sense the Dracul.
By the time the sedan slowed and made the turn onto gravel, the hairs on Jenda’s arms stood erect. The electrical sensation signaling her proximity to the ancient sect of vampires made her doubt the decision to try to reach Soborgne before the others. Only her intense love for her friend kept her traveling parallel to the witches through the darkened woods.
Drew motioned upward a split second before he leapt into a tall tree. His lean and graceful body instantly found purchase on a thin branch. Jenda followed his lead, taking to the trees instead of the ground in hopes the others would be less likely to discover them. Moving through the dark forest in silent swinging motions, Drew reminded her of a panther. His muscles coiled and sprung with deadly precision.
The witches’ car pulled into a large open meadow. The recently cut grass showed multiple tire tracks. The muddy tread marred the once green and lush area. In the far corner, several vehicles sat unattended. Jenda was amazed at the sight of luxury cars and SUVs, sitting in the middle of nowhere. Drew cast a questioning look her way, as if to say he thought the same.
The witches exited the sedan and grouped in the center of the space. Each of them kept one eye on the forest surrounding them as they talked in hushed voices. From their vantage point, Jenda and Drew could see the entire area clearly. Despite full visual of the Vajdahunyad tribe, the soft murmuring of their voices did not quite reach Jenda and Drew’s ears.
Jenda knew that Matteo ran with agility and speed, and his absence made Jenda worry that something was wrong. Gripping the trunk of the tree for balance, she leaned forward and peered into the night. Willing her eyes to see through the shadows more clearly, she searched for him. With every passing second, her anxiousness grew and her heart sank.
She felt Drew shift as he prepared to catch her if she slipped. She was thankful for the boy’s concern and flattered by his attentions but she worried that he may not understand how deep her love for her husband ran. If things went well, and they escaped the hell of Budapest alive, perhaps she and Matteo could visit him in America. Her thoughts grew distracted and hopeful as she contemplated the chances of instigating a romance between the Gothic vampire and Soborgne.
The first sign of movement came from the center of the woods surrounding the clearing and snapped Jenda back to attention. A slight shift in the shadows told her Matteo was there. Sensing his presence, the others began to prepare. Returning to the car, everyone in the group armed themselves with a matinee of weapons from the trunk. She watched in horror as they divided wood stakes, sharp swords, and many things Jenda did not recognize between them.
She suddenly found herself feeling extremely vulnerable and unprepared. Her only weapon was her ability to feel the emotions of others, which wasn’t much of a weapon if the person planned to fight instead of run. She was sure that Drew was unarmed as well. Jenda’s confidence wavered for a moment before she forced herself to recall that she had no option. She would have to get to Soborgne first or the girl would most certainly die.
The Vajdahunyad troop slipped into the woods as silently as the moon slips into the sky. Each of the witches found themselves flanked by a vampire. Jenda and Drew moved slowly, keeping their distance as much as possible. The tension was nearly palpable as they neared the Dracul’s villa. Watching her friends and her husband head towards possible death rattled her.
Twinkling lights hung over the redbrick patio like stars. Round tables covered in ivory cloths dotted the courtyard in a festive manner. The sound of music and the hum of voices flitted from the open French doors. No watchman stood guard and nothing prevented their entry. The night seemed hushed and frightening.
The Coven and the Clan moved with purpose toward the villa. Matteo raised his hand in the universal signal to stop and the group grudgingly halted. The anticipation of battle held them roughly in its grip. Black eyes darted anxiously to the entrance and golden eyes narrowed in impatience. The Coven and Clan were ready to call in the blood debt and avenge those lost in the battle of Vajdahunyad.
Matteo’s whisper ended the restless movement. “Either they feel they are too strong to suspect an attack or they are awaiting our arrival.”
Patrick stepped up to stand beside his longtime friend. Standing side by side, the two contrasted each other in every way. The Irish vampire’s voice was calm, his face a mask of control, despite the tense ripples in his muscular arms. “Aye, seems a bit curious to not have a lil’ protection durin’ as grand a meetin’ of the powers that be.”
Back in the clearing, the witches were first to blink away the battle lust and stop to observe the situation clearly. Tobias was the first to speak up. His physical voice sounded strange. They had all come accustomed to his psionic communications. “I cannot sweep their minds. If another telepath is among them, they would sense the psychic touch and raise an alarm.”
Anya stepped forward. As she spoke, she drew a long crystal and a small salt pouch from the bag at her hip. “There is another way. Visions are not a physical/psychic interaction. Though they are not always accurate, I am considered a master.”
The Coven and Clan stepped back, giving the witch some space. The motion was all the go ahead she needed. Surrounding herself with salt in the form of a small circle, she told them, “This will allow us some sort of insight into what we shall expect. If they are waiting for us, the guards are hiding inside. This is not the most accurate way but it will be the less likely to be observed.”
Anya drew her athame, a golden masterpiece, carved by hand and blessed with powerful runes. Gently pressing the end of her index finger on the edge of the blade, she began the spell. Holding the oblong gem in one dark hand, she allowed the blood to trickle down. She placed tiny crimson drops on each of the six clear sides and one on the pointed top.
The smell of the powerful fluid, despite its poisonous nature, caused the vampires to shift uncomfortably. Each of them stood within a breath of the killing edge, waiting for the promise of the kill. Anya paid no attention to the predators around
her; she trusted each of them with her life, and her brethren would not allow anyone to cause her harm.
The other witches gathered around her in a protective circle, knowing she would be most vulnerable while she cast the spell. They each stood on the outside of the salted border, watching the vampires carefully. To them, it was not a matter of distrust. They understood the nature of bloodlusting vampires well and only wished to be prepared.
During the ceremony, the crystal did not change. No miraculous light or eerie smoke commenced from the clear gem. Yet, Anya’s eyes bore into it as her face filled with concern. Her golden eyes remained wide and unblinking as her chant of power began. The lovely sound of her tribal song rose and fell in the stillness of the night.
Anya saw the vision in full color. Her mind acted as a window into the villa. She saw the inner sanctum of the Dracul, lighted by chandeliers that had been fashioned from human skeletons. The candles burned brightly, dripping wax onto human skulls, femurs, and other bones. Prying her focus from the macabre interior décor, the witch surveyed the room with trepidation.
The room contained two long tables full of vampires and witches. Vampires sat on the left of each table and on the right, each facing their own Dracul appointed match, sat the witches. At the head of the room, Mellich perched regally in a large, red velvet chair. His ancient skin appeared to reflect even the lowest light and his eyes burned a red haze that spoke of gluttonous feeding. His lustrous dark hair hid partially beneath a black top hat, a true ringmaster. He had been close to thirty when he made the change and despite the agelessness that comes with the curse, he maintained a more youthful appearance than most.
On each side of Mellich, human slaves that exuded sex and adoration preened for his attention. Two blonde females and one young but virile male were held to the arms of his throne by long gold chains hooked to thick leather collars. Anya didn’t doubt that beneath the decorative throat cuffs vicious evidence of the Dracul leader’s attentions would be evident.
The slaves serving the group looked gaunt and sickly in their provocative clothing. Marks of all natures of abuse and feeding marred the flesh of the young men and women as they bustled through the room. The harem attire hung loose on their emancipated bodies but a shine of hope still lingered in their eyes. Animals meant for slaughter that were dressed in finery for the amusement of the crowd. They did not understand that the promise of immortality was only a lie.
Altogether, Anya guessed the head count to be near twenty witches and vampires. She considered the human slaves less than dangerous but she tallied their count at fifteen. Stockholm syndrome was not rare among vampire prisoners and an unnoticed foe, even a weak one, could kill just as well as any other. She tried to push her vision wider but a sharp pain ground its way through her skull.
Anya’s eyes rolled into her head and she slumped to the ground inside her circle. Her hands never released the long crystal as she held it out before her like a precious child. The vampires moved forward to assist her but the witches prevented their advance.
Tobias spoke to the group through the mind link. “The circle must not be broken. She will come to no harm.”
Jenda and Drew, still in the safety of the trees, watched the witch with trepidation. Not having heard Tobias’s words, they feared for her life. Jenda wondered if the Clan and Coven would let one of their own die in order to execute their mission to stop the Dracul. The thought left Jenda feeling cold as she watched the others help Anya from the ground and a long serious conversation begin.
Taking the opportunity to move while the others were well distracted, Drew placed a finger to his lips and slipped down the thick line of trees. Jenda followed closely behind him as they moved around the vast villa. Being in such close proximity to the enemy without a large group to protect her was incredibly dangerous, but she knew any delay might cost Soborgne her life.
Panting as if she had just run a mile, Anya relayed her findings to the others. “I don’t think they are preparing for a battle. There are not enough of them, and I sensed no more than ten others in the upper floors. However, I did not see our Darkling.”
Matteo tried to hide his concern. “Assuming the Dracul is keeping Soborgne elsewhere in the villa, our plan of attack must allow for no mistakes. We are grossly outnumbered by approximately forty potential enemies. The battle will be treacherous. Most of the vampires inside hold some type of special ability and the witches are all known powers. However, we have gifts of our own. The attack will have to be fast and heavy with no remorse.”
The others listened closely as Matteo laid out the plan. “Tobias can send an alarming amount of white noise into the brains of the slaves and vampires. The Dracul’s witches will be more capable of blocking his attempts but the momentary confusion will allow us a quick entry into the villa.”
Matteo looked directly at Tobias, and the psychic nodded his consent as Matteo finished. “I want you outside but near the entrance. If we keep you hidden from combat, the spell will not be interrupted by any unwanted surprises.”
Matteo moved quickly on; there was little time left. “Nicholi’s brute strength gives him the ability to crush the skulls of even the oldest of vampires and Patrick’s ability to cause internal combustion without physical touch makes them the two most dangerous foes. They will be the front men of the attack.”
Picking up a stick, Matteo drew out a crude map in the mud left from the tires. “We will enter here, through the patio doors. Patrick and Nicholi’s task will be to kill anything they meet.”
Nicholi accepted his position by disrobing. The large fur coat hid muscles that resembled the edgy cliffs of a mountainside. The silver scars of many battles shimmered like moonlight on his skin. Patrick merely nodded his agreement to his part in the strategy. The front lines had always been his place.
“Chenda and Anya will flank Nicholi and Patrick.” No one needed explanation of the two women’s skills. Neither of them made the ways they could shed blood a secret.
Chenda, whose Cambodian bokator skills matched with two sharp sickle blades, would make short work of anyone within reach. The tiny vampire woman looked as if an opponent could easily crush her but an enemy’s tendency to discount her based on size was often her greatest weapon. Trained by Loke Kru Sra Ngair Pan, Chenda wielded her body and her blades as if she was an angel of death.
Anya, with her gold trimmed black eyes, held a special gift. If asked, she would contribute it to the great Vodoun gods. The truth that her beloved mother had an alliance with Loki, a lesser demon for years, remained secret from all. The demon mixed his essence with that of Anya’s mother to create a weapon of destruction. However, Anya’s humanity and the goodness installed in her heart overcame the demon. Her ability to cause a body to burst into flame became a weapon of good instead of evil.
“Meredith will follow the other women. As the most powerful witch at our disposal, she will cast a spell to unite our strengths and quicken our healing if we are wounded. The invocation will make us stronger, faster, and harder to kill.” As he finished detailing Meredith’s part in the plan, Matteo gave her a curt nod to signal that she may begin. Taking her athame and a strange gold powder from her bag, she began to prepare to mark the members of the Coven and Clan.
“Celeste and Imre will make their move during the height of the chaos. Mellich will try to attempt to escape while the others die. They will see to it that he does not slip out of their grasp. Their sole purpose is to kill the Dracul leader. His death will be a great blow to the organization no matter who wins the looming battle. In all great wars, the purpose is the same: kill the leader and watch the legions fall.” As he said the words, Matteo tried to keep the doubt from his voice.
Celeste possessed no major skills other than an ancient vampire’s speed and strength. She claimed the right to slay the man who had ordered her death. Imre, always her protector, would stay by her side. His dogged and tireless need to kill anything that threatened to harm Celeste would be more useful than
any other power. Together, they would be a fearsome team.
At last, Matteo came to his own part in the plan. He launched into the explanation without hesitation though he worried about the others’ judgment. “I will enter through the veranda adjacent to the banquet hall. My mission will be to locate and either capture or kill Soborgne.”
He felt a twang of guilt and self-hatred as he declared his own position and intent. If he killed Soborgne and Jenda ever learned of his hand in the destruction of her friend, she would hate him. Yet, the good of the world meant more than his selfish heart. If he had chosen to deny himself of her love initially, they would not be facing certain annihilation. The short time he had shared with her had been heaven but the fate of so many rested on the prophecy.
The others did not protest the death or rescue of the dark vampire girl. They wanted the battle for many reasons, and if they could contain the evil that Soborgne represented, it was only a bonus. For the Coven and the Clan, the claiming of the blood debt owed to them by the Dracul was a matter of honor. The attack on Vajdahunyad must be avenged no matter the cost.
9
Jenda had no idea what to do. She stood frozen beneath a large tree, hidden completely by its shadow, while staring at her best friend in the arms of the enemy. Soborgne looked into the man’s eyes as he spoke to her. Their bodies pressed tightly together and Soborgne didn’t try to fight at all. The rage boiling up within Jenda incinerated the block she held to keep her thoughts her own.
Her brain screamed the words but her mouth never moved. Soborgne’s head snapped up and her eyes went wide with disbelief. The words were not typical of her redheaded friend but the voice shouting, “Treacherous slut!” could belong to no one else.
Requiem of Humanity Page 49