Throwing himself to his knees and casting the bloody blade aside, he begged them. “Forgive me, my darlings. Please. Mellich is dead and the battle is nearly lost. We must flee. I was wrong to do this to you. I swear, I will help you both. We will find a place where you do not have to fear death or the prophecy. If they come for you Jenda, they will kill her. They will thrust her out into the sun or cut out her heart. They will take her head to end this war. Please, I know you have no reason to trust me but please come with me. I have been a fool.”
He knew Soborgne would believe him. He was counting on Jenda’s soft heart. She still loved her childhood friend despite the bad blood between them. He hoped she would go with them if only to see Soborgne safe. He knew if Jenda’s love for Sobo was greater than the feelings she held for Matteo, he would win her over with his speech.
Soborgne stepped to his side and placed her hand on his shoulder. A silent commitment to the man she thought she loved. Jenda, however, struggled. She hated Soborgne for the way she had behaved and the carelessness with which she had treated others’ lives. Yet, she loved the girl who had always been a part of her life. She could not watch her best friend die for a curse neither of them chose.
Stuck in a state of indecision, Jenda stared at her friend and her tormentor in silence. Her special ability to sense others’ emotions stretched out to brush against the ancient vampire who knelt in front of her. Her skin tingled with the intensified electricity that seemed to pulsate from the Dracul.
Inside of Augustine, Jenda saw both truth and lies. Light edged in darkness ebbed around the man’s thoughts. Just as her mind and heart united in a decision that would either commit her to death or free them both, the door burst open. She froze as the rest of the room exploded in mayhem.
13
By the time his bones healed, the battle was already under way. Drew knew the others would find Jenda; Matteo would tear the building to shreds until he freed her from the Dracul. Though he worried about her, he had other business to take care of. He set out to find the book of flesh and bone as she had asked. If the girls both survived, they would need the book to prevent the fulfillment of the prophecy.
Drew carefully approached the veranda door. Seeing the discarded needle, still half-full, he placed it in his jacket pocket. He was unsure of how well the serum inside would work on the Dracul but he felt comforted by its presence anyway. With the battle happening on the other side of the villa, his entrance seemed almost too easy.
He searched the hallways unmolested, until he found the library. The most logical place to find a book, he never expected to find what he was looking for. He walked around the room, staring up at the high reaching, mahogany shelves. The vastness of the library stole away his confidence. Locating one book among the thousands of unorganized volumes seemed impossible.
Drew backed away from the shelf nearest to him, straining to read the names on the spines. Numerous languages, strange scripts, and blank spaces sped through his mind. Taking another step back, he bumped into a piece of furniture. Spinning with the kind of speed only a vampire could accomplish, he caught the large wood and glass display stand by its pedestal. Placing it in an upright position, he nearly laughed aloud.
His prize lay beneath a thick pane of glass. Nestled on a velvet cloth, the book seemed to pulsate with unspoken power. The sight of the thing made him ill. The red leather cover bore over a dozen human finger bones linked together by golden wire. In the center, brass screws held a flat piece of bone secure. Someone had carefully engraved and painted the words Sárkány Szíve on to the plate. Drew was secretly glad that he could not read the inscription. The visible edge of the pages made from the skin of the creator’s victims were yellowed with age and tanning. The dark and ominous secrets hiding inside the pages made him shiver with displeasure.
Prying the lid open carefully, he snapped the lock with ease. Drew wrapped the rich velvet cloth around the book and lifted it from the case. His stomach lurched violently despite the cloth that prevented him from having to touch the book with his skin. Swallowing back the bile, he steeled himself for whatever would come next.
With the ancient tome tucked close to his body, he set off to find Jenda. The sounds of the fighting drifted through the house, amplified by the marble and sparse furnishings. Moving away from the bloodshed, he followed the staircase that would lead him to where he and Jenda had spotted Soborgne. He searched the blood-tinged air for any sign of her scent.
At the top of the stairs, Drew overheard voices. The sounds of one male and two females floated down the hall. He recognized Jenda’s frightened and confused tone immediately. Without a thought to his safety, he pulled the syringe from the pocket of his leather jacket and charged into the room.
The man, Augustine, knelt at her feet while Soborgne hovered at his shoulder. Jenda’s head popped up and her eyes went wide at the sight of Drew. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to plead with him to run for safety. Ignoring the blatant warning in her eyes, Drew moved to intercept whatever had been happening before he entered the room.
Drew had intended take on Augustine once more but never made it near him. A human would not have been able to see his movement as more than a blur in the air but Soborgne’s powers were great enough that she easily intersected his path. Her hand shot out and caught Drew in the center of his chest. The blow rattled him and sent the precious book flying. Distracted by the object flying from his hands, she never saw the needle in his hand.
Like a cobra striking out at his prey, Drew caught her just below her clavicle. He sunk the plunger in and watched Soborgne’s black eyes turn hazy. Catching her as she fell, he lifted the girl’s body and threw her across the room. The sick sound of a hollow thud echoed through the room as she collided with the wall and fell in the space between it and the bed.
Jenda screamed and rushed forward, unsure whether she should run to her best friend or her protector. At the same time, Augustine launched himself at Drew, intent on ripping the young vampire apart with his bare hands. Drew dodged the headlong attack and scrambled to reach the falcata left abandoned on the floor. Just as his hand fumbled to enclose on the handle, Augustine grabbed him by the collar and flung him backward.
Shattered plaster sent a cloud of dust into the air as Drew’s head smashed into the wall. Augustine’s eyes blazed red as he advanced on his enemy. The magic of his bond called forward an ancient instinct to protect, sending him barreling down with the intent to torture the stranger who dared touch Soborgne. Murderous rage flooded him.
14
Matteo felt the pull of the battle in his blood as he sped through the halls. The combination of chilling screams and the overpowering scent of blood sung to his inner demon. A dark part of him, the one who once stalked the battlefields of great wars in order to feed in gluttonous abandon, raised its ugly head. He forced himself to move on and repressed his demons. He knew finding Jenda would be a victory much greater than any he had ever found on the killing field.
Cutting down the hallway nearest the battle, he headed for the stairs. In the distance, he saw the partial body of a fallen vampire. As he approached, he saw the head that lay a few feet away from the neck it belonged to. He was not surprised to see that both belonged to the Dracul leader.
Matteo’s eyes followed bloody footsteps that led up the stairs. His stomach flipped and he suddenly became very afraid. If the man or woman who had killed Mellich had sought out the girls, they could already be dead. Neither Celeste nor Imre would stay their hand if they believed the girl was a threat to their lives. Cruelty was nothing to someone who could easily outlive the guilt.
Spurred by his fears, Matteo sprinted down the hall to the stairwell. The thick haze of blood that filled the atmosphere prevented him from easily locking onto Jenda’s scent and he was forced to hastily search for her location. He checked every room, finding them all void of occupants. Raking his hand through his hair he started up the second staircase to the third floor.
; As he reached the head of the stairs, he heard the feral growl of a vampire on the attack and Jenda’s startled cry. Matteo did not hesitate to fling himself into the room without knowing the situation. If Jenda was in danger, he could not risk wasting precious seconds of her life.
All heads turned toward the fierce vampire as he burst into the room. Matteo swept the occupants with red glazed eyes until they settled on to Augustine. His glare bore down on the ancient vampire who had been a horrendous legend in his mind. Matteo found it strange to be standing face-to-face with Belle’s creator and the being responsible for setting in motion the catastrophes that had befallen him.
The noise that came from Augustine bordered between a growl and a verbal challenge. He bore his fangs at Matteo but his glare flickered back to Drew. Clearly torn between killing the young vampire and dealing with the new threat that had entered the room, Augustine hesitated, which gave Matteo an opening.
Ripped apart inside by the sight of Jenda standing near the bed with her eyes full of tears and her body trembling, the murderous wretch inside Matteo rose to the surface. He launched himself at Augustine, giving the ancient vampire no time to decide which of his opponents deserved his ire first. Matteo’s only desire was to rip Augustine’s head from his shoulders and watch him die. The two grappled with fierce intensity.
Ignoring the fight, Drew ran for Jenda. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. Jenda struggled against his grip, unwilling to leave her husband behind and angry he had struck her friend so carelessly. Fueled by his love for Jenda, Matteo seemed to have the upper hand, but she could not abandon him. As Drew bent to collect the book from the floor, Jenda managed to jerk her arm free.
She turned just in time to see Augustine flat on the ground with Matteo standing above him. She saw the face of the man she loved buried behind the horrible mask that hatred had formed over his features. The glowing red of rage had sucked the compassion out of his normally blue eyes. The gentle mouth she had so often kissed was set in a grimace as hard as stone. Jenda hardly recognized him as he went for the kill.
Jenda ignored Drew’s frantic pulling as she stood mesmerized by Matteo in his terrible, frightening beauty. Her mind was so disconnected that the events that followed seemed to happen in slow motion. Augustine’s hand found the hilt of the falcata and he wielded the sword with merciless accuracy toward Matteo’s throat. Drew tried to grab for her but his reaction time was to slow. Jenda screamed out Matteo’s name and launched herself between the two men without thought to her own safety.
She felt no pain as the sword decapitated her. She had no time to fear the inevitable death. The world went quiet, still, and bright. A flash of light exploded behind her eyes and she was gone. Her body fell, the gruesome remains of a life wasted at the hands of immortals.
15
On the lower floors of the villa, the battle was over. Bodies lay strewn throughout the rooms spewing streams of crimson liquid and gore. The Clan and Coven stood victorious but not without substantial damage. Anya did not survive the attack and the others suffered many wounds. They wove their way through the massacre, decapitating those with heads still left to remove. Their movements were slow and revulsion filled them once their bloodlust faded.
Patrick, Meredith, and Chenda set off to find Matteo and search for survivors. The others stayed behind to prepare for the cleansing. They could not leave the villa standing. Evidence of paranormal life was spattered everywhere. All creeds of vampire and witch followed a single rule: Never leave evidence of supernatural existence behind. An entire villa full of supernatural DNA could set about a public reaction nearly as devastating as the prophecy itself.
The Vajdahunyad warriors and witches dragged the bodies of the dead to the center of the room, creating a mound of bloodied and twisted flesh. They created a separate pile for the heads of the fallen. Even the bear-like Russian, Nicholi, felt the effects of the carnage. His stomach lurched and his head swam at the sight of the open eyes and mouths piled together in a heap.
One by one, they offered their respects to their fallen foes before carrying the body of their fallen sister away. They would take Anya back to Vajdahunyad for a proper memorial and notify her clan of her parting. They would not celebrate victory. Instead, they would mourn. They could not celebrate the death of the fallen enemy because, in truth, they had slaughtered their brothers and sisters.
Patrick, Meredith, and Chenda followed the trails of blood, open doors, and shattered wood. They gave a cursory glance to the interior of each room and moved on. The villa appeared to be empty, its inhabitants had fled or lay dead among the bodies below.
As the trio continued their search, they began to worry about the others. The entire battle would have been for nothing if Matteo or Jenda died or if Augustine still walked the earth.
As they approached the bottom of the third-floor stairs, Patrick halted the others. “Listen.”
Frozen by the sounds of a scuffle they paused to assess the danger before speeding ahead to help. The growls and grunts coming from above were not of a large battle but of two vampires attempting to rip each other into unrecognizable parts. Knowing it must be Matteo and Augustine they ran to assist.
Matteo’s howl of pain ripped through the hallway like a fierce wind. Filled with pain and hatred, it cut anyone within earshot to the core of their soul. The three advancing vampires knew by the sound of that heart-wrenching cry that Jenda had fallen. Cautiously, they approached the door.
The redheaded girl they all loved so much lay convulsing. A fount of blood poured from where the falcata had severed her neck. Nearby, her head lay to the side, eyes blinking and mouth moving, but no life left within. Augustine was horror struck as he stumbled away from the girl.
His protest fell on deaf ears. “I never intended to harm her. I wanted her to be a part of our new family. I wanted her to be my adviser because of her special gift. I would never have harmed her for fear of harming Soborgne.”
Blood tears streaming down his face, Augustine forgot about the fight. Once the rage had drained from him and was replaced by pure horror and sorrow, he only wanted to escape. He searched the room for Soborgne but in his frightened and confused state he forgot that she lay unconscious in the small space between the wall and the bed where Drew had thrown her limp body.
Ignoring Augustine completely, Matteo grappled to save his beloved wife. Hoisting her body into his lap, he tried to hold her head in place as he bit himself repeatedly. He chewed his own tongue nearly in half so he could let the blood pour onto the wound. He tried in vain to save the only woman he had ever loved.
In his mind, Matteo saw her as the human girl that he had wanted so fiercely. Guilt filled him, and he condemned himself as the cause of her short life as a monster and brutal death as a martyr. The heartbreak shredded his insides as he drained the blood from his body in a hopeless struggle to save her. With every passing second a great void of grief filled him.
Meredith ran to Matteo. The others advanced on Augustine. The vampire was old, fast, and strong but he was no match for three rabid vampires bent on his destruction. Patrick’s power was weak from the battle but his body found a new strength from watching the sweet girl die. He was not capable of crushing Augustine from the inside out but there was nothing stopping him from tearing out the vampire’s heart with his bare hands.
In Drew’s opinion, one of the few things that the human authors ever got right was a vampire’s ability to fall instantly in love with a person or an object. As eternal creatures, they understood the importance of passion more than the short-lived races. He had barely known Jenda but he had loved her deeply from afar. The young vampire seethed with the pain of watching that love die in such a heinous fashion. Heartbroken and devastated, he used his love for Jenda as a catalyst for his hatred of Augustine.
Augustine fought wildly to reach the balcony as Patrick grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back. Drew looked dead into the ancient’s eyes, feeling the wild electric
charge that the Dracul exuded. He wrenched Augustine’s neck until the bones broke in a loud crack. Hanging helpless between the two, Augustine could not prevent what came next and he accepted his fate for all the sins against the world that he had committed.
Chenda grabbed him by the chin and thrust his head so that he could look upon the massacre he had committed and see the anguished Matteo as he brutally tore at his own flesh. “You signed your undead soul to the darkest of the demons when you slayed the child of light, old one.”
Using her bloodstained blades, she slowly and meticulously cut away the flesh of his chest as Augustine moaned in a pain so deep that he could not hide from it. Peeling away skin and muscle as if she were peeling a head of lettuce, she finally saw the gleam of nearly indestructible bone. The room filled with an ancient war cry and Chenda’s fist pierced what was left of Augustine’s chest. When she withdrew her hand, his heart was wrapped in her tiny fingers.
After dispatching Augustine, Chenda and Patrick approached Matteo cautiously. The loss of his true love had driven him mad with pain and grief. Meredith was covered in blood sweat from her strenuous attempt to wrestle Matteo away from Jenda’s body. She had uttered calming spells while trying to prevent him from opening more wounds on his body and he had come close to snapping off her fingers.
The spells finally began to encase him in a thick cocoon of magic and their power helped subdue his grief. Meredith wrapped her arms around the inconsolable vampire and held him as one might hold a child. He weakened in her arms, sobbing for his wife. His grip on Jenda’s body loosened and she slid to the floor. The others did not attempt to wipe away the reddened tears that streamed freely down their cheeks as they looked at what was left of Jenda.
Requiem of Humanity Page 51