by E. M. Knight
Cautiously, I open my mind to magic and pluck a string of Earth mixed with Fire from the air and wrap it around me as a protective shield. The weaves strain against me, trying to break out of my control. I concentrate enough to tame them, after a fashion, but their resistance gives me even more pause.
This was the simplest spell. Yet now, if it’s a struggle to get it working?
It does not bode well for my chances in there.
But screw it. I’m up for the challenge.
I’ve got nothing to lose. Nothing, really, to live for.
Not anymore.
I reach the door. I press my palm against it, seeing if I can get a sense of anything going on inside. I search for the magical energies on the other side of the barrier—and find nothing.
It’s like a vacuum has sucked all of them away.
Of course, that makes sense. A room designed to hold torrials should be properly warded and protected to prevent detection by those outside. I wonder, for a moment, who was the witch responsible for such a spell. Could it have been the woman Beatrice killed, my former teacher in the Red Keep?
It matters little now, except that it might help me prepare a bit better. The spells of every witch are unique, just like the paintings of every artist are unique. We all start off with the same basic palette of colors, but then cast them, twist them, join them, into something unreproducible by any other with The Spark.
Just before I push the door open, I look back. “Anything you’d like to warn me of?” I ask. “Anything in particular I should be conscious of?”
“No,” Beatrice says. “Besides, I wouldn’t profess to know what the most dangerous thing to you is.”
I give a sour chuckle. “You are correct there,” I say, and open the door.
The entrance is cloaked with a veil of black. I cannot see through. That is a part of the warding, no doubt. Nothing I should have particular trouble dealing with.
I begin summoning the energies required for the spell. The currents fight me, demanding all my concentration. Something that should be routine is made infinitely harder by the constant fluctuations—
Something slams into me from behind, hitting me between the shoulders. The blow knocks me off my feet and sends me throttling forward.
My body rips through the veil. On the other side is not a repository at all, but a silver cage. A line of bars drop over the entrance, quickly sealing me inside.
Alarm flares. I twist back—and find Beatrice looking pitifully at me from the other side.
“I am sorry, Riyu,” she says. “I have no choice.”
She flicks a switch, and a powerful beam of pure UV light streams onto me. Instantly, my skin feels like it’s on fire. The worst pain imaginable consumes me. I open my mouth to scream—
The light flickers off. I’m left panting, no better than a dog, on the ground.
“But this is a familiar scene, isn’t it?” Beatrice asks, almost gloating. “You, trapped in a metal cage. A vampire, many times your superior, looking at you from the outside.”
Once more, she switches on the light. Pain stars explode in my vision. My whole body burns. The UV is so strong that it penetrates my clothes, rendering their physical defense useless.
After a moment, it stops. I seize my chance, capitalizing on her vanity, and open my mind to the Elemental Forces—
They are absent.
Shock rifles through me. It must show, for Beatrice laughs.
“You think I would be so dumb as not to take precautions?” She taps the bars. “Obsidian, Riyu. Thin tendrils of it are implanted on the inside. You, ahead of everyone else, should know that magic cannot penetrate the field obsidian makes.”
She reaches for the switch again. In my desperation, I call out, “No!”
“No?” She looks at me. Her lips quirk up in a smile. “Why not?”
“We… we had a deal,” I gasp. The pain is too much—it lingers, even after the light has been shut off. “Why? Why do this? I was on your side!”
“Ah, but that’s where you mistake me.”
She crouches down, so that we are nearly eye-level.
“You presume,” she says softly, “that I have a side.”
She brings one hand out and examines her nails. Not a flicker of remorse shows on her face.
Lord, how I hate her for it.
“We had a deal, Riyu, you’re right. I asked you to ingratiate yourself to your father. You could not.”
“You didn’t give me enough time!” I say. “Don’t do this. Let me try again!”
“Alas, my dearest, the gate’s been shut. You failed. I did my part—I got that brute of a vampire invested in you. And you scarcely made an effort to pay me back.”
She stands, then shrugs. “But it’s all right. You are more use to me this way.”
She flicks the switch up. Brilliant, bright light explodes all around me. The light—so much light—shines down and burns and pulls the most wretched screams from my throat.
It goes on like that seemingly for eternity. But then she turns it off again and regards me on the floor.
“You… you tricked me,” I say between desperate gasps. “You… said...”
“Oh, pah, pah,” she mocks. “It was your mistake to trust me, Riyu. But, worry not. I don’t aim to kill. I simply want to make you pliable.”
I stare at her without comprehension. The lingering pain is too great for me to form even the most basic thoughts.
“The others,” she says sadly, “are all too weak. My children—they have to be put down. But you… you can be made to rise. Like the phoenix, you will be turned to ash, then resurrected to your final form. You will be my greatest creation yet, Riyu. You will do anything I say, because my word will become your law. You will be broken and then recast as a glorious triumph of a man.”
She flips the light on again. I scream and writhe beneath it.
She turns it off.
“I think that’s enough,” she says. “We need your body to heal from each session. Tomorrow—” she gives a truly evil smile, “—we will increase the length. It is a matter of building up your exposure slowly, you see. The agony you suffer now… why, it will all be worth it, in the end.”
She starts to walk away. In the distance, the screams of her other “creations” are heard.
“Oh, and Riyu?” she asks. “I did not lie. You and I will be a team. I’ve studied the prophecies. Eleira is not necessary. For us to cast the world into eternal night, all we need is me—” she plucks at her skirt, “—controlling you. The best thing, now, for you to do, is rest. Rest and heal.
"Because, like I said: our next session will be much, much longer.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
JAMES
THE ROCKIES
“It’s back!” Victoria gasps. “Look, James, look, quick, the mark is back!”
I turn around to see what the hell she’s talking about. For some reason she has kept hold of the map even though I told her to discard it.
I may have been too rash. Because right there, sure enough, is that inky dot showing Smithson’s location.
Victoria holds the map out. The dot beats and pulses like a living heart, many times bigger than what it was previously.
But before I can say anything, Victoria lets the map go. It flutters to the ground.
Meanwhile, she has turned to stare north.
She points to the top of a nearby mountain. The peak is hidden by clouds.
“There,” she says, breathlessly. “James, I can feel it. The torrial, the one transmitting his location, it’s there.”
I grasp her by the shoulders. “Of this you’re certain?” I demand.
She swallows and nods. “It’s so strong,” she murmurs, half to herself, mostly in awe. “I can feel it shining—I can almost see it—it’s so strong.”
She gives a start and shakes her head. “My Spark is miniscule, I shouldn’t be able to—” she gasps. “And now it’s gone.”
“What?” I g
rab hold of the map. Sure enough, the dot of ink is no more.
“Victoria. Victoria! Snap out of it. Lead us, you felt it, tell us where to go!”
She blinks, obviously dazed, but for reasons incomprehensible to me. “There’s magic being wielded,” she says in a whisper. “But the currents, the flows, they’re all wrong.”
I grunt. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She looks at me. For a moment, there’s genuine fear in her eyes. “We mustn’t do this,” she says. “Not now.”
“What?” I exclaim. “Are you kidding me? We have come this close, and now you have reservations?”
April and Liana listen to our exchange with bated breaths.
“James, I’m telling you. Something is wrong. Something has happened. This doesn’t… this doesn’t feel right.”
“Your sudden cowardice doesn’t feel right,” I snap, growing angry with her. “Do you want revenge, or not? Well, it’s waiting for you, right there at the peak!”
She shakes her head. “This has nothing to do with Smithson. It has everything to do with magic.”
“What do I care for magic?” I say, brusquely, rashly. “My Mother used it for hundreds of years. I have nothing to fear.”
“It’s not like that,” Victoria begins. “It’s—”
I cut her off with a dangerous look. “We’re going,” I say. “And you will lead us.” I give her a small shove in the direction. “Understand?”
She grudgingly takes a few steps forward. Then she spins around and screams at me in a rage. “Have you given any thought to what Smithson is doing here? Any thought as to why he would choose a place like this? Or are you so blinded by your own search for revenge that you cannot even contemplate what you’re going up against?”
“Up against?” I roar back. “Victoria, are you mad? I’m a vampire—one of the strongest ones alive!” Outside of The Crypts, at least, I add to myself. “What is there to think about? What is there to even consider? Smithson is there, at the top of that mountain.” I point. “So that’s where we go.”
“Just don’t—”
“I don’t have time for this,” I spit, and take off at a dead run through the woods. The others, I know, will follow.
Even Victoria.
We race ahead, darting through the close-together trees, quick as silver in the night. I lead. We reach the base of the mountain where the ground starts to slope up. Huge boulders and harsh rocks jut out from the undergrowth.
I leap high and grab hold of the first ledge. I pull myself up with ease, then look down and watch for the others.
A blur streaks by my side. I allow myself an indulgent smile. Liana, my most favored fledgling.
She’s taken to being a vampire with impressive alacrity, not once hesitating before making use of her strengths. If she keeps going this way, she’ll be bolder than any vampire I’ve met for years.
And she’s all mine, I think with a rueful grin.
Next comes April, not quite as fast, but only, I suspect, because of her polarizing loyalty between me and Victoria. Whereas Liana accepts my rule as absolute, April is more measured in her approach.
I don’t take that to be a bad thing. I will need a variety of vampires, a variety of minds, in my coven if it is to become what I truly envision.
Last, of course, comes Victoria. She would be going faster—but I think she feels a responsibility for the two girls. She’d be hard-pressed to admit it, though.
And by the scowl she directs my way, I can tell she is bitter from our argument.
Still, I shoot her a wink, and then bend my knees and leap up, propelling past April and Liana. I land, and keep going, as the four of us scale the mountain like that, together, at break-neck speed.
Three-quarters of the way up a massive explosion shakes the mountain from its core.
I freeze. The force is as strong as if a ballistic missile struck the top. Huge chunks of rock come crashing down. I flatten myself against the cliff and scream at the others to do the same. Panic flares as the enormous boulders plummet past us. They hit the side of the mountain and splinter and break.
But all my vampires are safe.
Eventually, the sounds fade from hearing. Everything is still once more.
I ease myself off. “What the hell was that?” I wonder.
I look up. The peak is hidden by a grey cloud of debris.
Suddenly, there’s another blast. A bright, fiery flash of light from within the cloud accompanies the explosion. Thick, acrid smoke billows out from a gap in the side of the mountain.
The unmistakable scent of spilled human blood reaches me.
My vampiric instincts kicks in. But something is wrong. The blood is not fresh but dirtied. In my mind’s eye, I see the carnage up top: countless humans, torn apart by the explosions that occurred.
An angry growl comes from deep in my throat. Killing to feed, killing with a purpose, I can abide. But to lose so much precious blood, without having any of it feed a single vampire…
It is a colossal waste.
Without thinking, I start to climb faster, determined to get inside the mountain and see what is going on.
“James!” Victoria screams. “Wait—”
But the rest of her words are lost in the wind as I bound higher and higher.
When I’m close, I get the vaguest sense of a vampire inside. My fangs come out.
It is Smithson, no doubt.
Yet just as I’m about to take the final leap that will take me inside, a black streak shoots out from the thick dirty cloud, fast as a demon from hell.
I only get the briefest moment to make out the distinctive features of that blur.
It is an old, decrepit, ugly woman. A strange, repulsive cloud of black fire surrounds her body. Her trajectory sends her down in a long arch, almost like a descending cannonball.
I watch, fascinated, as the streak surges into the darkened woods like a comet from out the sky.
My momentary pause gives Victoria enough time to catch up to me. She grabs my arm.
“Did you see her?” she demands. Her eyes are wide with fright.
“Yes,” I say. “Who is that?”
I feel nothing of the vampire about her.
Victoria swallows. “I only caught a brief glimpse of her face,” she says. “But if I guess right, that is Cierra.” She visibly falters. “The most fearsome witch to ever live.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
BEATRICE
THE CRYPTS
I stroll up the tunnel breezily, a joyous bounce in my step.
I now have everything I need. Eleira is no longer of importance. Sure, her cooperation would simplify things, but she is not as essential as I once thought.
Prophecy does not mean the future is written in stone. Neither does prophecy preclude change.
Ah, but poor Riyu. If only the brat had at least tried to do as I asked. His fate might have been different.
I always knew he would not succeed. Success was not the point. The attempt was.
He made none, thus showing his true colors, and making my ultimate decision easier for me.
I smile as I lock up and emerge on the main floor of The Crypts. Poor, poor, Riyu. He really is delusional if he thinks I’ll let him live.
Because I need his powers… and the only way to get those is not through control, but through blood magic. The most awful, most dangerous kind.
The kind that always, always, requires a living sacrifice.
All my research, all my experiments over the years have come to this. The things I am doing to my children? They are things I will do to myself, when the time comes. I will steal Riyu’s powers first and transfer them to myself. I will make myself a witch… a dark witch… and the most menacing one to ever roam the earth.
Then, and only then, will I become truly invincible.
The prophecy does not need Eleira. It simply needs someone willing.
And I’ve dedicated my whole life to ensuring that that someone
… is me.
Chapter Fifty
RAUL
THE PATHS
I watch the Queen—my Mother—as carefully as if she were… as if she were…
…a rabid bitch in heat.
She leads us back through the Paths without a single word of explanation about what happened.
Only after we get out will I demand answers. Because, for now, the particulars of the situation pale in importance compared to the need to return to the real world.
We reach a large crystal cavern. Morgan looks around then, satisfied, and nods to herself.
“Gather here,” she commands, gesturing in a small circle. “The journey out might not be pleasant, but it will be fast.”
I glance at Eleira, who’s regarding the Queen with just as much skepticism as I am..
“Wait,” she says, just as Geordam and the guards start to follow the order. “How do we know you’re really you?”
Morgan lifts her chin. “Are you questioning my authority?”
“Yes, in fact, I am,” Eleira counters. “A witch once took possession of me. I saw you summon the Narwhark. What’s to say you’re not under the same influence now?”
Morgan clicks her tongue in irritation. “This is what I get for being so lenient with you,” she mutters.
“Eleira has a point,” I say, coming beside her. “You haven’t explained anything. How do we trust you?”
“And now Raul has a backbone,” Mother mocks. “How nice.”
“A portal you make can take us anywhere,” Eleira says. “Prove it’s you, or we don’t go.”
“Really, girl?” the Queen asks. “You’re putting an ultimatum before me? Have you forgotten who I am?”
Eleira crosses her arms. “A lot has changed while you’ve been unconscious,” she says.
The Queen looks to each of us. “And Phillip?” she asks. “What do you say?”
My younger brother considers for a moment. “I believe it’s really you,” he answers. “But Eleira’s caution makes sense.”
“My, my, my,” Mother murmurs, eyebrows raised. “It looks like we’ve reached an impasse.”