Ivy Cross and the Monarch of Darkness (Dark Inquisitor Series Book 1)

by A. D. Winter

Greta struck out at me with a series of attacks, playing with me like a cat would a mouse. On and on, she pressed me back, attacking me from every angle. It was so fast that at one point, I had to close my eyes, relying on the power of my spirit to anticipate her movements.

  Finally, she backed me against the bar and sliced the back of my hand.

  I glanced down at the wound and saw that it was in the same place where she used to whack me with her metal spoon. The indignation stung more than the actual cut. I glared at her.

  “You naughty, naughty child.”

  I lunged at her with a scream, and we fell into a deadly ballet of fighting. But this time, I was fueled by anger and refocused with deadly intent.

  I attacked the woman with everything I had, willing to risk my own life to kill her. And that’s when I turned the tide.

  She stumbled back, and the grin that had been cemented on her face slowly withered into a look of concentrated effort.

  This was the moment, and I took my shot. I spun around and swung my blade. It grazed her face, slicing a deep gash along her cheek.

  A hush fell over the surrounding vampires, as they watched in awe. They’d probably never seen such a thing. Greta stared at the blood on her fingers, and I felt the strangling tension of fear and confusion hanging in the air.

  Just as quickly as the wound appeared, it healed, and Greta leveled her gaze at me, forcing a wilted grin. “Impressive.”

  Uh-oh.

  She strode out with her blade lowered to the ground, as if unconcerned by my attack. I shuffled back, keeping my weapon raised. But I knew it wouldn’t help.

  “You know, it was always such a treat to punish you, Ivy.” She lifted her blade and studied its edge. “You were always so quick to anger. All I had to do was starve you for a couple of days, or steal your towel on a winter’s night. But not the others. They always did what they were told. And that’s why I left them alone. But not you, Ivy. Not you at all.”

  “What can I say?” I replied. “I’ve always been a round block in s square peg.”

  “But I learned something about you today,” she said.

  “Oh?” I asked. “And what’s that?”

  “That you actually have the ability to care for someone else.” She turned to Crag, pleased by his wheezing breath and bleeding body. “And that makes me realize something else. You see, Ivy, you’re not alone because you don’t care for others. You’re alone because you care too much. And that’s how I’m going to hurt you today. I’m going to make sure you know how badly those around you will suffer before you’re gone.”

  “You’re a monster,” I said.

  “Perhaps,” she admitted. “But you know it’s true.”

  I leaped out at the woman, striking and slashing as fast as I could. But she escaped every attack, spinning around and ending up behind me. Her blade slashed at my back, cut at my legs, pierced through my arms, leaving me a bloody mess.

  But I didn’t care.

  I was too angry—angry with myself—and like she’d done before, she used it against me.

  She backed away as I charged at her once more, laughing as my energy was quickly spent.

  After I’d tired myself out, unable to even stand, she charged at me with a fury of her own, leaving me helpless and bewildered.

  I ducked as she swung for my head, barely avoiding the tip of her blade. It tore through the wall behind me, showering the room with brick and debris. Dust wafted over me as I spun to the side, able to regain my footing.

  Our swords clashed, and we were locked face-to-face, our blades grated down to their hilts. Her strength was incredible, and I had to use all my might just to hold my ground.

  “Pathetic.” She shoved me back, knocked my blade to the side, then backhanded me across the face.

  I fell to the floor in a daze, my mind wiped. What the …?

  Behind me, I heard the sharp taps of spider legs striding across the floor.

  “You never learn, do you?” She gripped me by my neck and flung me across the room, where I smashed into the brick wall. My face took the brunt of the impact and my nose was broken, along with my cheek and a couple of teeth.

  Crawling along the floor, I looked up at Crag.

  He was staring at me with pity in his eyes.

  What had I done?

  I’d lured so many innocent people into this mess and now they were going to be sacrificed because of it.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the joyous sounds of laughter coming from the celebration outside.

  Sophie!

  Pain tore at my chest as I thought of the young princess, remembering the fear in her eyes as she had been forced to drink the potion.

  I’m sorry, Sophie. I’m so sorry …

  I winced as a bony hand gripped the back of my hair. Greta was dragging me slowly across the floor to the center of the room. Rolling over, I stared up at the circle of pale faces glaring down at me with toothy grins.

  I was to be their feast, I knew, a bloody mess with no strength to move.

  Amid all of this, I saw Greta’s slender face staring down at me.

  “I guess I could end your suffering now,” she said. “But what of my children?” She gestured at the crowd of bloodsuckers glaring down at me with their fangs. “Surely, I can’t forget about them. Especially after you’ve killed so many of their brethren. But don’t worry. Take solace in the fact that we still have the dwarf. We’ll be sure to keep him alive, at least for a while.”

  She nodded at the vampires, granting them permission, and they closed in around me, their eyes glowing red with hunger.

  It was then, as I began to feel the coarseness of their touch along my skin, that I waited for the merciless touch of death.

  37

  Ivy

  The first vampire was about to bite my wrist when I heard it. The shouts of confusion rising from the first floor. It was a concert of havoc and commands that caused everyone to still.

  The vampires turned toward the exit. Greta craned her neck. And I, in all of my pain, began to laugh.

  They glared back at me in confusion, desperate to know what was happening. But it was too late. I could already hear the shouts of warriors assembling on the first floor, followed by the sound of heavy boots marching up the stairs.

  They reached the entrance within seconds, and I heard the distinct groan of two bouncers being impaled at the ends of blades.

  Greta glared back at me, her eyes filling with fury. “But how?”

  “The note,” I said through my laughter.

  “What note?” Greta demanded.

  “The one I left with the workers outside the factory. Just as you said, I never give in.”

  Greta yanked her blade from the floor and readied to strike me down with it. But she never got the chance.

  The doors to the exit burst open, and an entire squad of inquisitors armed to the teeth rushed into the room.

  Make me proud, guys.

  They killed everything that moved, striking the bloodthirsty vampires with skillful precision. Vampires erupted in showers of embers as they were cut down with the magical weapons, and the flare of shadows scarred the room.

  Most fought, but some tried to flee. They raced for the windows, attempting to escape, but the inquisitors were too good.

  They chopped down the fleeing cowards like they were reeds, adding their number to the shadows that already marked the room.

  Greta was set upon by three inquisitors. They swung their weapons at her in a dizzying array. Yet she was able to fight them off with a barrage of skillful parries, slicing one across the face, punching another in the stomach, then kicking the third against the wall, where his body smashed through the brick structure.

  Dust and stone filled the air, causing me to shield my eyes. Yet through the smoke, I saw a slender form scampering into the next room.

  Greta …

  I needed to get up.

  I needed to catch her.

  Gathering my strength, I rolled
onto my hands. It would take some time for my healing to kick in, but in the meantime, I had something to do.

  I searched the ground with my eyes, crawling amid the chaos, and there it was.

  The key was lying in the shadow of a vampire who’d been incinerated. I snatched it up, lowered my head, and hurried beneath the bloody fighting.

  Crag was slumped over on his knees, his thick arms tied behind his back. He stirred when I reached him. “Ivy? I thought you were dead.”

  I snorted weakly. “Bad weeds die hard.”

  “Well said, my dear. Well said.”

  I hurried as I unlocked his manacles. He pulled his arms free and winced from the sudden loosening of his muscles. Exhausted and bleeding, he forced himself through the pain and sat back on his heels.

  I dragged the war hammer across the floor toward him. He looked at it, and our eyes met.

  “Save her,” I whispered.

  He nodded.

  The mighty dwarf rose to his feet, his strength renewed through the touch of his hammer, and he charged toward the exit with the focus of a father racing for his child.

  I grabbed one of the blades lying on the floor. It was heavy, but the grip was firm. Hunched over, I rushed toward the ripped wall that Greta had just escaped through seconds ago.

  The room next door was empty. Gaslights were lit everywhere, and the body of a young elf was lying on the floor, her head severed in a hurried slash.

  I stumbled forward, following the trail of blood as it led out into the hallway, and saw that the window at the far end had been smashed.

  “Greta!” I stumbled after her, drawing upon my strength. “I’m coming for you!”

  The night air was cool on my face as I struggled through the window. The stairs rattled beneath my boots, and shouts of excitement rose from the celebration below.

  When I reached the roof, I saw that it was connected to a long bridge stretching over the center of the festival. Greta was standing at the mouth of it, glaring down at the hundred children about to be led into the fountain.

  “Look at them,” Greta said, keeping her gaze fixed on the children. “So young, so innocent. They actually think that the world is a good place.”

  “And you’re going to steal that away from them,” I told her.

  Indignation filled her eyes. “Me?”

  “You’re the one behind all of this, aren’t you?”

  “No, Ivy. Their futures were stolen the moment the fae built this place. But after tonight, a new world will begin, one that will be ruled by my kind. And then, Eden.”

  “But the pact,” I said.

  “Soon to be broken,” she replied. “And all who oppose us will die.”

  “Not on my watch.” I hobbled out with my blade at my side.

  I was under no illusions. I would die here tonight, and my journey would finally come to an end. But it didn’t matter. I needed to distract her—long enough for the rest of the inquisitors to reach us.

  Besides, Sophie was down there, and I’d be damned if I was going to let her die without a fight.

  I fell into the stance of the Whipping Tail, cringing in pain as I struggled to raise my blade. My breathing was stunted by my broken nose, and my gaze was still fuzzy from being knocked out. Still, I was ready to throw myself at this woman if need be.

  “Even now, you think you have a chance.” Greta remained fixed on the children below.

  “There’s always a chance,” I said.

  “Pity,” she replied. “If only I’d had more time to break your soul.” And with that, she waved her hand in the air.

  At first I was confused. She wasn’t attacking me. In fact, she didn’t even spare me a glance. But as I saw the evil warlock appearing over her shoulder, his face a patchwork of wire, I felt my heart sinking into my stomach.

  He glided to the roof with his fingers steepled before his chest, the tail of his robe flapping in the wind. He landed softly next to his mistress.

  “Finish her, Malick,” she ordered. “I have more pressing issues to attend to.”

  “What of my ascension?” the warlock demanded. “You promised me.”

  Greta examined me for a moment. “Do this, and your ascension to the Council will be complete.”

  The warlock bristled with excitement. “Very well, mistress. Consider it done.”

  I staggered back as the warlock turned to me. I needed a plan—and fast. There was no way I could beat him, especially in the shape that I was in. I looked around the roof, searching for an escape.

  But it was too late.

  The warlock snapped his fingers, and I felt a stinging pain through my body. It froze me in place, like an excruciating vise, twisting and twisting until it felt like my entire body was going to snap.

  My screams tore through the night, and I tried not to faint. But it was hard. The pain was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

  I was about to pass out when a blazing ball of fire roared past my head. It struck the warlock in the face, knocking him back and causing him to release his spell.

  I fell to the floor, gasping for breath. Rising to my hands, I looked and saw a figure towering above me.

  “Need some help?” Dryden held out his hand for me to take.

  “Took you long enough,” I said, accepting his help and rising to my feet. “But I guess you couldn’t live without me, huh?”

  He snorted. “As much as you’d love to believe that, I’m actually here for him.” He pointed at the warlock, who was still dazed from the fireball.

  I studied Dryden under the moonlight and saw that his hair had been brutalized. A huge patch was missing from the back, and the sides were cut short, leaving a stylish faux hawk on top of his head. He looked like a punk rocker from the eighties. “Your hair,” I said.

  “It appears that the warlock knows where I live,” he replied. “So I kind of had to cut it off after I was hit by a mysterious ball of energy.”

  “They have Sophie,” I said.

  He looked at me. “Where?”

  “In the celebration. Greta possessed her, along with the other ninety-nine children about to enter the fountain. Dryden, she’s going to have them commit suicide.”

  Fear tensed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a look of fury as he turned his attention back to the warlock. “No, she won’t.”

  He tugged off his tweed jacket and threw it to the floor, leaving only his white V-neck T-shirt and black leather pants to cover his long frame.

  “See to your headmistress,” he said. “I’ll take care of the pincushion.”

  Sounds like a plan.

  I hurried for the bridge as the sound of magic and death erupted behind me. Dryden would have his hands full with the warlock, but I couldn’t worry about that now. I needed to get on the bridge. I needed to get to Greta.

  She turned as she saw me, her mouth falling agape in surprise. “How in the Minstrel’s name are you still alive? I have a warlock!”

  “And I have a wizard,” I said. “And mine’s hotter.”

  We met at the center of the bridge, our blades clanking as each of us tried to finish the other off. Sparks flew, and the force shuddered through my arms, nearly breaking my limbs.

  She was extremely powerful. But I had nothing to lose. And when you had nothing to lose, you couldn’t be beaten.

  I slashed at her face, stabbed at her chest, swung at her arms, using everything I could to kill her.

  But she was strong.

  She was a vampire goddess with the strength of her entire brood; it would take at least a dozen inquisitors to stop her. And that was if they were lucky.

  She kicked me in the stomach, and I was thrown along the length of the bridge, where I finally crashed to the concrete. Pain shot through my neck, and I felt my blade falling over the side of the bridge.

  Behind me, I heard the clash of fire and stone. Dryden was still battling the warlock, relying on every spell he could come up with.

  But this warlock was different.
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  He was stronger and clearly more destructive than his twin. He waved out a hand and cast a terrible wave of power that nearly caved in the entire roof. Walls shook. The framework shuddered, and one of the chimneys toppled over, crumbling into the top floor.

  Yet as crazy as it was up here, it was still no comparison to what was happening below.

  By now the fighting had spilled into the streets.

  Hundreds of vampires had formed a perimeter around the fountain, holding off the ranks of inquisitors, who were fighting to reach the children.

  The tiny figures stood senseless around the fountain, staring blankly at the water, waiting for their mistress to command their deaths.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Greta turned her attention to me. “To rid the world of such filth in one quick moment. If only I’d had this power when I was at the orphanage. The Order would never have been able to stop me, and I would never have been the twisted form that I am now. But that doesn’t matter. Not anymore. Now you will witness the end.”

  She whispered a few words, and the children began to descend into the water.

  “No!”

  I jumped to my feet, charging at her with all of my might. But she caught me by the throat and spun me around, holding me in the air.

  She was about to crack my neck when I heard a thud.

  She released her grip and spun around, and that was when I saw it—an inquisitor’s dagger stuck between her shoulder blades.

  “Ivy!”

  I stared at the other end of the bridge, astonished to see that last person I ever thought would come to my rescue.

  Barton charged at Greta with incredible speed, drawing her attention and giving me the time to rise to my feet.

  I’d never seen the old man face an opponent like this before. But it was apparent why they called him James “Lightfoot” Barton. He dived in like a mystical bird of prey, slashing at her in three different places before she could even react.

  She parried with a strike of her own, but he ducked at the last second, spinning around and using a move I’d never seen before. If I’d blinked, I would’ve missed it. He went under her arm, turned upside down, and swung at her with a wide arc.