by E. M. Knight
It was when I discovered demon blood.
Demon blood, demon blood, demon blood. A more precious substance on this earth cannot be found. The ounce of special metal reinforcing my Black Sorceress’s vault has nothing on its value.
Demon blood opens the door to the next step. To the evolution of my kind. Of course, I would never share the secret. I don’t want my kind to evolve—I want me to evolve. I want me to become the most powerful, most influential, most fearsome and hated and worshiped and adored being on this whole earth.
I shake my head slightly. What would my old mentors say if they knew my thoughts? What would any of The Order’s current members say if they knew the truth of my desires?
Well, their whole world would lie in shambles. They would ostracize me, hurt me, try to destroy me…
And there are ways of killing a vampire, even for mere mortals. The Crusaders have demonstrated that. Yet death does not have to come to someone who is a level above.
Death will never come to a Sun God.
The Ancient Egyptians—they were the ones who first wrote down the suspected means of transcendence. It is in the study of their artifacts that I found the connection between demons, demon blood, vampires, vampire blood, and the truth of becoming a deity.
The truth is this: demon blood is highly corrosive. Yet it flows through the veins of a creature who houses it without harm.
Blood is the essence of life. It is the lifeline of vampires. Humans are turned with the infusion of vampiric blood—plus the addition of a serum—and we live by feasting on the red gold of our victims. Animal blood sustains, too, but it is weak and paltry in comparison.
All know this.
Yet the true key to metamorphosis is the taking of demon blood. A vampire who does that, and survives… well, such a creature has never graced the plains of this earth before.
Yet I know what would happen if the pieces came together.
The Ancient Egyptians knew, though they had not the means to facilitate such a process. Maybe they were too scared—or maybe, more likely, they had too much respect for the powers that were from outside of this world.
Good thing I share none of their reticence.
The natural order of things, of the species? Animals are at the base, then come humans, then witches and warlocks, then vampires, and then…? Then what?
For the Egyptians it was the Sun God. But such a name carries too many religious overtones. Were I to transcend to that plane, I would deem myself…
A Blood Lord.
Again, all the greed, all the desire, all of it surges inside me as I think of the term. The term, and all of its associations. The term, and all that it can give me when I become the first and only Blood Lord to walk the earth.
But for that I need to drink my demon blood. I need to take it right from the Narwhark’s body, while its heart still beats. Only then will the transformation, the transcendence, begin.
Yet the blood is poisonous. It is corrosive. It is the anathema to every living, vital thing.
Demon blood will kill a vampire as surely as napalm destroys humans.
And that is why I need the witch. She will conduct the ritual that will make my body impervious, for a time, to the blood’s deleterious effects. She will channel the dark magic required, the sort that my clan of witches can never touch, and give me just the time I need to conduct the transfusion. Her spell will be like the vampiric serum that primes human bodies into accepting our blood.
I also need her to control the Narwhark.
Because, in The Haven, I’d seen what it could do. Scenes of its fight with me flash before my eyes. The creature moves so fast—many times faster than I could react to, even with my vampiric gift.
And now, imagine if I had such power. If I had such strength. All of the demon’s abilities would be heightened in me. They would combine with my superior intellect, and then, truly, a new species will be born. I would inherit the earth. I would be strengthened, not weakened, by the rays of the sun.
I would alone stand so high above all others as to be utterly untouchable.
I salivate at the prospect of such strength. The world would be mine! The vampire scourge would be eliminated, and then, only those I deem worthy would be allowed to join the Blood Lord ranks.
Morgan made me half a millennium ago. I swore revenge on all her kind that day. And now, as the Black Sorceress comes closer and closer to waking up…
Well, that sweet revenge is nearly certain.
Chapter Four
BEATRICE
THE CRYPTS
The screams of my three sons and three daughters pierce the air with a shrill and undulating intensity. Were I anybody else, I would not be able to stand the noise.
But I have trained myself to be immune. Because these cries, these shrieks, they are the culmination of my creation. They are not horrid wails to me, but beautiful songs, sung by glorious harpies who will one day grant me everything I wish.
I glide from one cell door to the next, peering inside, making sure none of the six are too comfortable. Those who do not sing quite so loudly, I check on, to make sure it is not fading strength that weakens their calls, but a growing resistance to the rays shining down.
I am comforted when I see that such is the case. I go up to Devon, who’s proved most resilient of all.
His cries actually cut off when he sees me. He stops, and, from hands and knees on the floor, makes eye contact.
I tsk. No, no, that won’t do. I reach for the knob beside the cell door that increases the light’s intensity. I twist it clockwise. Devon tries to resist. I add just another notch.
And then, the most horrific, yet beautiful scream is ripped from his mouth. He joins the others in an existence of pure agony once more.
Smiling to myself, I turn around and hum a wordless tune as I exit the room.
A shadow joins me as I reach the top of the stairs and emerge into the narrow, destitute hall. This part of The Crypts isn’t off-limits to any vampires, not exactly, though I have made it known that I prefer the corridors empty.
“Riyu,” I say to the small vampire trailing behind me. “I’m surprised. What are you doing here?”
“Eleira’s been taken back to The Haven,” he says. “I’ve just returned.”
“Well, I know that,” I tell him, with a hint of impatience. “You don’t owe a status report to me. Have you come for something else?”
He hesitates… and then nods. “Something strange happened in the Paths,” he tells me.
“Oh?”
“I felt a… disturbance. In the pattern of energies.”
I wait for him to say more. When he does not, I ask. “And?”
“And, I wanted to know if you knew anything about it.”
I laugh. “Oh, Riyu. I cannot even wield magic! Surely you don’t think I could affect things.”
“You have the torrials,” he says. “You’ve worked with countless objects that make use of those energies.”
I allow myself a small, knowing smile. “That’s true.”
“For somebody without The Spark, you know more about the elemental forces than would be deemed… appropriate.”
I stop walking and turn to face him. He stops, too, and tilts his head up just a little to meet my eyes.
He and I have always had an open relationship. Well—relatively so. I’ve allowed him a glimpse into what I’m doing in return for his loyalty. So far, he’s proven up to the task. I don’t think Riyu has many friends amongst the vampires of The Crypts. Most shun him the same way his father did. Most shun him the same way the King does.
But I know better than to underestimate one who has a mind that works as quickly as his. What Riyu lacks in size, and strength, and yes, even in magical ability… he makes up for in wit.
Few have gleaned that, I reckon. But few have paid him any great amount of attention. It is what makes my relationship with him so advantageous to me.
But right now, he’s speaking as if we’re
strangers.
“What are you saying, Riyu?” I ask, a dangerous undercurrent entering my voice.
“I’m saying,” he tells me, “that if the King knew how much you dabble in the forces—”
I cut him off with a sharp laugh. “You think Logan doesn’t know? Come now. You’re evading.” I offer him a sweet, indulgent smile. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind?”
He grunts. His mouth moves, but the words don’t come out. He’s struggling with something.
Finally, he says, “First, I want assurance that you had nothing to do with what we felt in the Paths.”
“We?” I ask him.
“Eleira felt it too.”
“Oh. Of course she would. She is a strong witch, after all.” I turn the way we were heading and continue walking. “No. Riyu, I promise you, I had nothing to do with whatever you felt in that dimension.”
“Then I warn you to be careful,” he says. “Something is influencing the elemental forces. There was a...” he searches for the right word, “… a vileness to what I felt. Magic is never like that. The energies are pure, they are untainted. This was… wholly different.”
“Duly noted,” I acknowledge. “Thank you for the warning and concern.” I shoot him another look. “Now, quit beating around the bush and tell me what’s troubling you.”
Riyu walks alongside me in silence for a few steps. It’s like he’s mustering up the courage to speak.
In the end, he utters a single word, no louder than a whisper.
“Dagan.”
“Ah,” I say. I knew it. “Your venerated commander.”
“You told me once that you could… help me.” He struggles with the words. “Help me get his… attention.”
He ends the sentence on an upward inflection, almost like a question, almost as if he’s a hopeful boy asking his parents on Christmas for an early gift.
“I did say that,” I note. I make my voice soft and soothing. “Have you come around to the idea? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, asking for help.”
His cheeks color. “You’re mocking me,” he says.
“Not at all,” I proclaim. “Why would I want to do that? I understand the direction your personal interests lie. I might be one of the few vampires here who do. And trust me, Riyu, I respect that.”
Shyly, he asks, “Really?”
“Of course, I do. It takes great courage to acknowledge the desires you must keep hidden from everyone else. The desires, perhaps, that you’ve kept hidden from yourself?”
“It’s not just that,” Riyu emphasizes. “I’m worried about him. Ever since Eleira broke the link between his weapon and Raul, he hasn’t been the same.”
“It’s been less than a day,” I remind him. “Give it time.”
Riyu shakes his head. “It’s not like that. The connection was severed, whereas it should have been slowly weakened to nothing. I would have done it, and then he’d be free.”
“Who would? Dagan, or Raul?”
“Both of them,” he says. “The way Eleira did it—it cut the link clean completely. Her man is fine, her man won’t suffer. But now the afflictions are going to take hold of Dagan, and, and...”
Riyu trails off, and hopelessly spreads his hands.
“And you’re worried this will change him?”
“I’m worried this will consume him,” he says.
“So why not go to him and cast a spell? Block whatever is happening. Cauterize it like a poisoned wound?”
“Because he won’t let me.” Riyu almost pouts. “He won’t admit weakness to anyone. He is stubborn as a stone.”
“So you need my help to make him more… receptive?” I ask.
“I’m not asking for myself,” Riyu grumbles. “I’m asking for him. If he just let me in, if he could understand that I really do want him better, that I do really—”
“–love him?” I interrupt.
Riyu stops short. “What did you say?”
“You love him, Riyu. Don’t you?” I sigh. “Yes, I see it now. It’s not just an infatuation. This is more than mere lust.”
“I respect him,” Riyu corrects. “I look up to him. I trust him. But I certainly don’t—”
“Don’t worry,” I interrupt again. “Your secrets are safe with me, you know that.”
“I don’t love him,” Riyu stammers under his breath.
“It’s quite admirable, you know?” I say right over him. “The extent of your devotion to one who is utterly blind to your affections.”
Riyu doesn’t answer.
“Yes, I can help to make him see,” I promise. “But in return, you have to do something for me.”
“I’ve done many things for you already,” Riyu begins.
“Is that a backbone I hear developing? How cute.”
He stares at me, his eyes masking the fury I’m certainly provoking in him.
I laugh and touch him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m only playing,” I say.
He frowns.
“But I still need something in return. What you’re asking of me is no small thing… and it requires a woman’s delicate touch.”
“Fine,” he grouses. “What is it you want?”
“Something that will benefit both of us, sweet Riyu,” I say. “I want you to get Logan to acknowledge you as his son.”
From the look of horror that crosses Riyu’s face, I know he thinks I’ve just asked him for the impossible.
Chapter Five
VICTORIA
SOMEWHERE IN THE VICINITY OF THE HAVEN
The torches spread around the outside of the cave provide only the faintest glow.
I do not want it to be too bright. I want this woman to be confused, to be disoriented, when she wakes up.
I look at my prisoner, bound tightly by thick, heavy rope to a solid vertical rock. I had to fuse the ends of the rope to the surface. It took nearly three hours to do so, and required me to call upon the full extent of my magical abilities.
Perhaps even more. Gathering the elemental forces and directing them the way I wanted required so much more concentration than I could believe. As a result, I now have a blistering headache, my whole body feels stretched and tired and grainy and raw, and I doubt that I’ll be able to use even a trickle of magic for days and days and days.
But it was worth it, I tell myself, if only because it secured my captive in a position where I could extract answers from her.
Yet while I was doing it—while I was putting all of my concentration upon funneling my Spark—something happened to the woman that was inexplicable.
In the hours it took me to muster up sufficient magic, that little bit of corruption around the mark near her neck had spread to cover almost the entirety of her body.
It was a shock when I looked up to discover her like that. I had thought the reason she hadn’t so much as stirred was that the transformation was taking too much out of her. Maybe the vampire responsible hadn’t given her enough of the serum—I did not know.
But nothing could have prepared me for finding her looking the way she did.
I look upon her from a distance, using my superior vampire vision. I don’t know whether the sickness is contagious. Vampires are immune to most bodily afflictions. That means that even a fledgling such as her should not be suffering so.
That is clearly not the case.
I wait another hour. She doesn’t stir. So, I decide to approach.
I hold my breath as I get close. It’s a superstitious relic of my past, but no matter…
With a finger I probe her flesh.
She’s burning hot. Yet enough of the vampiric ether has come into her that I can feel her presence.
It’s not much, admittedly. I would not expect it to be. But the fact that she does have some of it, that she has some of it and yet the corruption over her body still persists…
I turn away and go to the little burlap sack I swiped on my way out the stronghold.
There are a few chains of sil
ver, a dagger, and an odd yet very alluring ring inside. The ring I had found in a crevice amongst the rubble of Morgan’s castle. The chains I also picked up there. The dagger is a weapon I took from the arms room. Not because I needed it, not precisely, but because I liked the way it looked.
I take the ring out. This whole time it has been on the back of my mind. Something about it… something about it is special.
I only wish I hadn’t exhausted my entire capacity for magic with the feeble-yet-necessary spell. Then I could have probed the ring, and seen if it were, maybe, a sort of torrial.
Then I catch myself thinking that and have to laugh. I’ve never had enough magical abilities to do that.
Yet why do I feel such an odd affinity, a sort of resonance, toward the ring?
I hold it up before my eyes. The large and heavy jewels reflect the faint torchlight. For a moment, I’m mesmerized.
Then I come to with a start and, without thinking, slip the ring on.
Right away the world shakes. I see a white flash. A splintering pain runs through my body. It feels like my head is being split in two.
Fast as I can, I try to rip the ring off. But before I get my free hand even halfway there, the pain subsides, the nausea stops, and a… tranquility… comes over me.
“Whoa,” I murmur.
I cannot sense my vampiric half anymore.
I look to my prisoner. Even from this distance I see her clearly. I reach down and pick up a few rocks. I close my fist over them, pressing down tightly.
They crumble and break under the pressure.
So I still have all my powers.
I look at the ring in wonder. How could it do such a thing?
I decide to test my speed. I pick a spot in the distance and race to it. My legs move over the rocks as fast as they’ve ever done.
I’ve lost nothing.
And yet, when I cast my attention inside, when I look within me, there is not a trace of the duality that has defined my existence since I was made.
It’s… astounding. Phenomenal! I feel no hunger. None, none whatsoever! And the vampire is always, always hungry—especially when her blood has been shared, as mine has.