Her mind spun. If she didn’t share her recent visions, her future would become even more uncertain than it currently was as the slave of this Abatu demon. He wasn’t just a prince of their hellish realm, but one of the most powerful warriors she’d ever seen.
Lately, he’d been working for a darkness that was easily creeping over everything with a nefarious plot of its own.
Another war was brewing, like those of the long distant past.
Only this time, her visions made her fear this war might be the one to end all of the Arcaine, and all of humanity—not just on earth, but in all realms, including her home.
Not many could face Brüs and survive. But this darkness scared her more than he ever could.
Chapter Two
Sean stretched out on a thick, rough tree limb, high above the forest floor. He studied the dark-gray castle looming about a mile in the distance.
It was straight out of the Middle Ages, from the steaming moat surrounding the tall stone walls, to the drawbridge, and the battlements on the top of each of the four corner towers.
After leaving Arizona, it had taken him a few days of non-stop driving to reach the edge of this forest. During the day, the sunlight nibbled at his strength, though it didn’t weaken him as much as a normal vampire. Another couple days of trekking through the trees, even with the directions in the notebook the witch, Jezamine, had given him. Considering castles weren’t situated all over Oregon, hidden from mortals behind thick forests and plenty of magic, this had to be where the demon prophetess was being held captive.
He continued to lie still, watching the hive of activity, as the sun descended. Strange creatures came and went. Even from here, the place reeked. Of demon, and other scents he wasn’t familiar with. The power emanating from that direction occasionally slid over his skin like a shock of electricity.
He needed to figure out which creatures were castle guards. Study their patterns, in order to avoid being caught when he broke in to free the woman his clan needed.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax and his mind to still. Instead of monitoring each person, he watched the whole.
Soon, a pattern emerged.
Six guards constantly circled the drawbridge and portcullis. Twelve men rotated around the top of the castle walls, keeping a look out for anyone approaching from below. But all of them seemed lax, as if they were merely going through their paces. None appeared attentive, or even concerned someone might show up without an invitation.
Based on the information in the witch’s report, it wasn’t much of a surprise. The demon in charge here seemed to revel in destruction. In death, whether from war or torture.
Few had attempted to challenge him.
None had ever succeeded.
To the far right of the massive castle, a small group of demons emerged from the trees. They wore bows and quivers full of arrows strapped to their backs. The carcass of a deer hung from a pole carried by four creatures. Two of them looked human enough. The others were straight out of The Island of Doctor Moreau, with their freaky combination of human and animal features.
Squinting, Sean was finally able to make out a narrow, hidden path winding from the forest.
After a quick, disinterested glance around, one of the demons tossed a thin plank across the boiling water in the moat. The group crossed and disappeared behind a hidden wooden door.
Glee filled Sean. That was his way in.
The breeze shifted, sending a chilly gust through the tree tops. A heaviness hung in the air, promising a freezing night ahead. He didn’t care. Between his vampire blood and the demon essence he kept locked deep inside, unless the weather was extreme, it might be a bother, but not a major concern.
Only one thing mattered.
Slipping inside the castle, finding his quarry and getting out. Preferably before raising any alarms.
Then he could take the prophetess home. Prove to everyone—his king, his clan, his parents—that he was not only capable, but worthy.
Even if he was tainted by demon.
His fingers bit deep into the bark of the limb. Wood cracked. Splinters drifted down to the forest floor.
He must succeed.
Prove himself to everyone who was looking to the vampire King for information about this strange darkness approaching.
He refused to fail.
Hours later, full dark arrived. The moon was a mere sliver, giving shadows reign. Inside the castle, bonfires burned. Drunken revelry dampened the sounds of nature.
Good.
Let them drink, every last one of them, until they passed out. Make his job easier.
He stayed in the tree. Watching, assessing.
More hours passed before the sounds dimmed, the castle finally settling down for the night.
Sean climbed down, jumping the last twenty feet and landing on the mossy ground with nary a sound. He crept from shadow to shadow, making his way toward the castle. When he reached the trail that the hunting party had emerged from, he stared up into the night, timing the guards.
As only half vampire, he didn’t have all the speed and strength most did. But he could still make the leap across the thirty-foot wide moat.
A guard passed overhead, then disappeared. By the time the next man showed up, right on cue, Sean knew he’d have plenty of time.
He dashed forward, jumping at the last second. He landed on the other side, unprepared for the slipperiness of the muddy bank. A dislodged rock plopped into the water. Sean hugged the damp, lichen-covered wall for a long moment, but no cry of alarm rang out.
He pushed aside the ivy hiding the thick wooden door, then pressed his ear to it, listening for activity on the other side. All he heard were nearby snores. Someone laughed, but it was far in the distance, muffled by the inner castle walls.
Pulling the door open slowly, Sean slipped inside, then stopped and waited once more, taking in the dark surroundings. Misshapen lumps lay scattered through the expansive courtyard. Snores echoed loudly.
He silently moved through the yard and into the castle, then pulled out another map Jezamine had given him. Though he’d memorized it during his trek here, he looked it over carefully once more. Putting it away, he snuck toward the corridors, slipping into shadows each time he heard someone moving nearby.
Painfully slow, he finally found the stone steps leading to the basement.
* * *
Mayah strode around her narrow bed, tugging on her multi-colored braids. She hardly saw the bare, forlorn room, the opulence of the upper floors absent. Brüs thought it a punishment, but she preferred it bare. This wasn’t her home, no matter she’d been caged here for centuries.
Images flashed behind her eyes. Pictures, colors. A hum rang in her ears, occasionally punctuated by a brief snatch of conversation from the half-formed visions.
A headache spread, making her temples throb. At least Brüs hadn’t demanded her presence at tonight’s feast, instead, telling her to rest in her room. Present him with her visions come morning, or her brother would be punished. She was out of time.
In her mind’s eye, color turned to black and white. She saw herself, standing alone in some vast emptiness. Behind her, a shadowed figure approached.
Yet she didn’t feel danger.
The vision began to fade, snapping her from future to present.
It would be nice if seeing came with instructions on how to interpret images.
She sank onto the bed, her stomach quivering at thoughts of what she would say in just a few hours.
Already, Brüs suspected the few visions she’d shared the past few days were tinged with falseness.
But she dared not give him the truth.
That path led to such incomprehensible death and destruction it nearly made her weep. Since the night of the last party, the things she’d seen had become terrifying.
A flash of the Earth. Scorched and decaying.
The demon realm. Deserted and in ruins.
Everything… and everyone…
She contemplated trying to escape yet again. Her hand drifted to the collar at her throat. Every time before, when she’d tried to run, the power of the collar had sent her right back to the front door. And wearing the damned thing prevented her from using her own magic.
With a sigh, she laid back, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it.
There didn’t seem to be any way out.
Her bedroom door banged open, making her jump. She sat up, assessing the shadowed figure in her doorway. Slowing her racing heartbeat, she said softly, “I am Brüs’s prophetess, not one of the entertainment. You have lost your way.”
“You’re the Seer?” The man’s deep, gravelly voice sent a shiver of unease skittering along her spine.
“I am. Therefore you must realize I’m protected.”
The man was so tall, he had to duck beneath the doorway. Dark hair framed a handsome, masculine face. Dark stubble covered a strong jaw line. Gray eyes, hard as stone, focused on her with an undeniable intent. The iris was ringed with a band of demon black. But… inside that slim color laid another ring.
Red.
Her mind finally made sense of the man’s scent. Her heart stuttered, stopped. Then, with a rushing pace, it resumed, thumping against her ribs. “Half-breed,” she whispered, jumping to her feet and racing for the bell that would sound the castle alarm.
* * *
“Damn it,” Sean growled, lunging to intercept the woman. He grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides.
Though he didn’t know much of demon kind, and he hadn’t really thought this through, he hadn’t expected such a violent reaction to his being a half-breed. Not from another demon.
She kicked at his shins but her bare feet didn’t hurt. He tightened his arms.
All at once, she slumped in his grip. Worried he might have hurt her, he moved toward the bed, loosening his grip.
Sharp teeth sank into the meaty part of his forearm.
“Hey!” he shouted.
Before she could try any more tricks, he pushed her down on the bed. She struggled, nearly freeing one of her arms.
So he laid on her, his weight pinning her to the mattress.
She stiffened, becoming still as death. Then she screamed, the sound muffled, as she once more twisted and turned, trying to buck him off.
“Will you hold still?” he demanded. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Not if he could help it anyway.
Unsurprisingly, she didn’t listen. She managed to free an arm and clawed at his face, screeching the whole while. Though demon nails held a poison that could debilitate anyone not of their kind, it didn’t affect Sean. After centuries of torture with such poison, he’d become immune.
She still managed to inflict plenty of damage, drawing blood.
Reaching between them, he grabbed her wrists, then jerked them behind her back. From his bag, he grabbed a hefty length of rope and tightened it around her hands and arms, nearly up to her elbows. See the hell cat escape that.
He rose, flipping her onto her back.
“If you scream, I will gag you,” he stated, his voice harsh. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
She nibbled her lower lip, eyes downcast.
Running a hand through his short hair, he glanced around the room, ignoring it when she drew her legs up, angling her feet to kick him.
“What do you want with me, half-breed? You aren’t one of Brüs’s men. Not even he would have one such as you.” Her voice was soft, yet completely unemotional.
Sean looked her up and down, biting his tongue at the anger searing the back of his throat. “I’m here to get you out.”
She laughed bitterly. “Good luck with that, half-breed.”
His anger flashed hot. It was a struggle, but he pushed it back and took a deep breath, calming the dark emotions his demon felt. It was like a gaping hole in his chest, yearning for sustenance.
What it wanted was destruction.
Death.
He was used to derisive suspicion—or attempted murder—from other Arcaine. Until this moment, he hadn’t even realized he’d hoped for a different reaction from a demon.
He’d never be accepted anywhere. By any one.
Well, knowledge was power.
He took another deep breath, pushing his demon’s yearnings down to the depths of his soul. “My name is Sean, not half-breed. And if you’d truly like me to leave you here, I’ll gladly do so. Say the word.”
She lay still, as if carved from alabaster stone.
A fleeting waver of emotion flashed in her gaze as she watched him from beneath the many braids—ranging in color from the deepest red to white blonde—that had fallen over her face. “What do you mean?”
“I’m here to get you out. Unless you want to stay.”
She blinked, struggling to rise on her elbows.
Even after her reaction, he felt a stirring need to try to help, but quashed it. He’d most likely only get another bite.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?” He studied her, a bit revolted at the heavy layers of gaudy make-up hiding what he thought might be delicate features.
“Why rescue me?”
“My clan was informed you are a prophetess. You have knowledge on some war that’s beginning,” he replied slowly.
Her lips tightened, the only show of emotion on her blank face.
He shrugged. “We were told to come get you and request your help with our cause.”
“Who told you about me?” Suspicion colored her blue-green eyes.
“An old witch. Jezamine.”
She lay back on the bed. “Who is the ‘we’ that wants my help? Vampire or demon?”
“Vampire.”
Thoughts flashed through her eyes, though her face remained an unreadable mask. “If this is true, untie me.”
“You swear not to make a ruckus?”
“I do.”
He wasn’t sure if he believed her, but he couldn’t haul a spitting, scratching—biting—wild cat all the way home. If they were to get out of here, he’d need her cooperation.
“Turn over,” he said.
After she did so, he watched her for a long moment. Her muscles looked relaxed, yet he had a feeling it was deceptive. Slowly, he approached the bed. Slipping the rope from her arms and hands, he stepped away before she could face him.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her wrists, watching him cautiously. “How is it you’re not crazed by your mixed blood?”
“Long story.”
“Hmmm. So Jezzie sent you to help me. How do you propose to do that?” She waved to the iron-studded collar at her neck. “This stops me from leaving the magical boundaries of the castle.”
He slowly drew closer to get a better look, while keeping alert for any tricks. The collar encircled her neck, the clasp either non-existent or invisible. “Have you ever tried to get it off?”
She shot him a look that stated he was an idiot. “Just about everything except decapitation. I figured that would defeat the purpose.”
He hid his grin at her sarcastic quip as he continued to look over the leather. “Demon magic, I expect?”
“What else.”
“I’m going to draw my katana. Don’t be alarmed.”
Once more she gave him a look that called him stupid. She must have perfected it centuries ago, it was so well done.
Drawing one of his blades from the sheaths on his back, he pointed the tip to the floor and held the handle close to the collar. His katana vibrated.
She gasped, glancing from the sword to his face. “How do you have earth magic?”
“My mother has Fey blood.”
“Has?” Her eyebrow rose. “So that’s the other part of your scent. You’re Fey.” Her lips curled up into a sardonic grin and with heavy sarcasm, she stated, “You are aware demons eat Fey?”
“I’ve heard tales,” he replied. He damn sure wasn’t on the menu for anyone.
“And still
you came?”
He only shrugged. She didn’t need to know all his reasons for being here. As Sean held the sword closer to her neck, the blade vibrated harder. “This should work.”
“Assuming I trust you won’t slice my throat,” she replied.
“I’ll do my best not to.”
She stared at him for several long moments, as if internally weighing the pros and cons. Just when he was certain she would refuse his help, she sighed heavily.
Turning, she gave him her back, pushing her long, colorful braids to the side as she bowed her head. It gave him good access to the collar, but he still hesitated before sliding the tip of the blade between her porcelain skin and the leather.
There was a tug, as if the magic of the collar clashed with that of his sword. Then the katana slid through. The collar dropped onto the bed.
Mayah shot it a heavy look of revulsion, before standing. She rubbed her bare throat, the skin red and raw.
“How long have you worn that thing?” he asked.
Her blue-green eyes darkened to a smoky black. “Centuries.”
A spark of recognition flared to life inside him. He knew all too well what it was like to be captive, at the mercy of a terrible master, for so long. And how much it hurt to yearn for freedom that seemed forever out of reach.
All he said was, “Let’s go.”
She hurried around the room, grabbing a bag and stuffing clothes and trinkets in it, then headed for her door. Hand on the knob, she turned to face him. “Your clan wants my help?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Then I have two conditions.” She opened the door, glanced both directions along the hall, then strode out.
He was freeing her, for crying out loud. One would think that would be enough. Hurrying to catch up, he kept his voice low as he asked cautiously, “What conditions?”
Chapter Three
Mayah approached the shadowy stairs leading up to the ground floor, cautioning herself not to run just yet. If only she had her father’s weapons. But no, Brüs feared she’d use them against him. Which, she probably would have. Still, the sanction disallowing her a weapon of any sort had always been a minor issue when it came to the demon’s guests. They feared him enough to leave her be.
Demonstorm: Heart of a Vampire #6 Page 2