A Shade of Vampire 66: An Edge of Malice

by Bella Forrest

  Dmitri gave me a weak smile, as if thanking me. He, too, understood the risks. But I knew how love felt, too. I would’ve stopped at nothing to get Nevis back, if Ta’Zan took him away from me. I would’ve torn this place down, if necessary. This was the least we could do.

  We followed Raphael through the colosseum, with me occasionally looking over my shoulder. Cassiel wasn’t far behind, but, at some point, we lost him, as more Perfects flooded the hallway to assist him in his search for us.

  My heart was thumping, and my skin crawled as we moved between incoming Perfects. We dodged them, rushing in the opposite direction. Left, right, left, right, then stopping by the wall for a minute before moving again, whenever there were too many of them for us to slide past.

  We managed to get away from the increasingly hot zone, thankful to have had some of the black mineral dust from other Faulties in our allied group. It helped smother our tracks, at least temporarily. Using my True Sight, I looked around, noticing how Perfects on multiple floors mobilized, answering Cassiel’s call. They were all searching for us, but, for the time being, they had no idea where we were.

  “He mentioned thermal scanners,” Nevis muttered, reminding me of the downside of this particular mission. “They can see us with them.”

  “Not if we stay closer to large groups of Perfects or Faulties,” Raphael replied. “They don’t have that many of those gizmos.”

  “They use them for medical purposes, mostly, so they are quite heavy and difficult to maneuver,” Amane added. “We just have to be careful to stay out of their range or in crowds, where our heat signatures can be easily overlooked.”

  “The training hall is just up here, to the right,” Raphael replied, then turned the corner.

  We followed and nearly bumped into him, as he’d stopped without notice. The training hall was straight ahead, and it was packed—dozens of Perfects could be seen through the massive, open double doors. Some sparred one-on-one, while others used spears and blades. They were evolving, learning to master weapons, not just their bodies.

  Several trainers barked orders in there.

  “Swerve left! That’s it! Don’t let him get to your right! Move, Ariel, move!” one of them commanded.

  “That’s a sloppy defense, Effriel! Hit back! Block, then hit back twice as hard! Come on!” another shouted.

  “There she is,” Dmitri murmured, pointing ahead.

  Douma emerged from the training hall, sporting several cuts and bruises on her face and arms. She’d been fitted with a dark blue silken tunic, different from most other trainees in there. She carried a round shield on her shoulder, and two long swords hung from her wide leather belt, along with a pair of short knives and gloves.

  Judging by the thin sheet of sweat that covered her from head to toe, Douma had been training hard for the past few hours at least.

  “Does her presence here mean her memory was restored? That she’s coming back to her once-favorite places?” Varga asked, noticing Dmitri’s flaring nostrils. The young wolf was dying to talk to her, to get her back.

  “I can’t tell,” Raphael replied. “It could be. But we won’t know for sure until we talk to her.”

  “Then let’s tail her around for a bit,” I suggested. “Let’s see how she’s behaving. Maybe we’ll be able to tell, before we engage her.”

  Raphael nodded, then motioned for us to keep following him, as we shadowed Douma around that part of the colosseum. Fortunately for us, she took us through busy areas, where Perfects with two thermal scanners were looking around—but there were too many of their brethren present, for them to notice our bodies. Just like Amane had said.

  Douma didn’t seem all that interested in the frantic search, not even when one of the Perfects told her what was going on.

  “The outsiders are in here, somewhere,” a male said. “We can’t see them; we think they’re invisible or cloaked by magic or something. They might’ve taken Amal.”

  “Good luck finding them,” Douma replied. “I doubt they’ll let themselves get caught so easily.”

  “Aren’t you going to help?” The male seemed confused.

  “What for? There are so many of you working on it already. There’s no point. Besides, I’m busy,” she said, then headed down a side corridor, away from the increasing buzz.

  We slipped through after her, each of us wary and wondering whether Douma had been restored to her old self, or maybe “reconditioned.” I knew that our Douma never would’ve stayed here willingly, with Ta’Zan, and there wasn’t a shock collar around her neck to forcibly keep her in check. It was reasonable to assume that we were following the old Douma, but one could only hope.

  We’d taught her about deception, about how to lie her way through captivity, if needed, in order to prevent any surgical interventions. We’d talked about what would happen if she got captured, since that had always been a risk. Maybe she’d played her part right. Maybe she was pretending.

  Or, at least, that’s what I told myself.

  Douma made it to what looked like the living quarters, a seemingly endless row of rooms on both sides of a hallway, perpendicular to the narrow corridor through which we’d just moved. She stilled in front of a door, then looked around a couple of times. More Perfects emerged from their rooms and ran out toward the main hallway, where Cassiel was mobilizing more troops to go looking for us.

  But I was more interested in monitoring Douma. Her behavior was atypical, to say the least. Her smell and hearing were sharp enough to recognize our presence, but she didn’t react. Instead, she went into her room, leaving the door open behind her. Since she was finally somewhat still and not walking around, I was able to use my True Sight on her, measuring her from head to toe. The serium blocker was gone from her nape.

  Dmitri saw the open door as an unwitting invitation, but it smelled like a trap to me. He darted in after her, before any of us could stop him.

  “Morfuris,” he whispered, revealing himself to Douma, just as she turned around, having heard his footsteps.

  “Dammit,” I cursed under my breath, then went in after him.

  The rest of the crew followed, and Kallisto shut the door behind us. The diamond walls weren’t exactly opaque, but they were better than an open door, especially since Dmitri had just jumped the gun.

  Douma was speechless, her eyes wide and her breathing fractured at the sight of Dmitri standing in front of her. One by one, we revealed ourselves—except for Amal, who was still out cold, thrown over Ridan’s shoulder. Athos stayed hidden, too, his aura blaring yellow. Douma terrified him, though I wasn’t sure why.

  “Douma. We’re here,” Dmitri said, smiling.

  “Stating the obvious,” Douma replied, her tone clipped.

  Her aura burned yellow and red—fear and anger intertwining, as she made great efforts to keep a straight face.

  “We’ve come to take you home, with us, where you belong,” Dmitri breathed.

  His hope was about to get brutally crushed, as I finally spotted the implanted memory chip.

  “Dmitri. It’s not our Douma anymore,” I said, my voice shaky. “There’s a memory chip two inches left of her spine.”

  Dmitri stilled, grief skewing his features, his lower jaw quivering with angst.

  “Douma,” he continued, as if ignoring me. He wasn’t, though. He was simply determined to get her back. “You remember me, right? You have to remember me.”

  “Oh, I remember you,” Douma shot back, gripping her sword handles.

  “Dmitri, watch out!” I blurted.

  Douma shot forward like a flash and nearly cut Dmitri’s stomach wide open, but Raphael pulled him to the side before her blades could reach him. Nevis, Varga, and I instantly pointed our weapons at Douma, all three set on bullet-mode. Our aim was to save her, not kill her.

  “Don’t be stupid, Douma!” I warned her. “We will shoot.”

  She shot me a cold grin, making my blood run frosty. “But you won’t bring yourselves to kill me. We’
ve bonded, right?”

  “Douma! Come on! You’ve been with us for long enough to know that what Ta’Zan is doing is utterly wrong! You fought by our side,” Dmitri said, trying to sway her.

  Kallisto and Amane slowly moved to the sides, preparing for a blitzkrieg of sorts. Douma was too busy with the five of us, while Ridan stayed back with Athos and a knocked-out Amal.

  “My mind is back,” Douma replied. “And so is the undeniable truth. You’re all going down.”

  That hurt me deeply. I could only imagine how Dmitri felt, but the look on his face said enough. Our Douma was, in fact, gone. The loyal one had returned, eager to capture and drag us back to Ta’Zan. But we had devil-vipers in our backpacks, and Amal. We couldn’t lose what we’d accomplished so far. Too much was hanging in the balance. Our lives included.

  “You’re not staying here,” Dmitri said, gritting his teeth and pointing his pulverizer weapon at her. His was also set on bullets, making Douma laugh.

  “You’re too in love with me to kill me. I thought we established that already,” she hissed.

  “Yeah, but I’m not, and I can still cause you a world of pain,” I snapped, then fired.

  She dodged my bullet, but she failed to do the same with Nevis’s and Varga’s. Two projectiles went through her—one in the shoulder, the other in her chest. She gasped, then coughed and wheezed, as the bullets did a fair amount of damage.

  She lunged at us, but Amane and Kallisto tackled her from both sides. A scuffle broke out, as Douma was too strong and determined to let two bullets bring her down. She put up quite a fight, until she landed flat on her back with a thud.

  Douma opened her mouth and released a strange, ultrasonic sound. Not all of us could hear it, but I knew it wasn’t meant for us. I kicked her in the head, knocking her out.

  “Dammit! She called for backup,” I said, breathing heavily.

  Boots thundered on the hallway outside. We only had a few seconds—not enough to get her out of here. I gripped Dmitri by the shoulders, while the Perfects got alarmingly closer to Douma’s room.

  “You know that sound! You know what it means! She called the alarm!” I added. “We have to go, Dmitri.”

  “But… But Douma—”

  “There’s no time to make her ingest anything! Morfuris!” I retorted, then vanished.

  Dmitri cursed under his breath, then sighed his reactivation spell. “Morfuris.”

  A few seconds later, we were all hidden behind a changing screen made with a golden frame and white silken panels. We were invisible and motionless, but we couldn’t make a sound. Raphael had some black mineral dust in his pouch, but the Perfects were definitely going to notice it in this small space.

  They barged in, six of them, fully armored and with slim swords eager to draw blood. Ta’Zan had probably decided that, despite their physical advantages, the Perfects still needed weapons to deal with us. I stifled a smirk at that thought.

  They checked Douma’s vitals, then looked at each other, taking deep breaths.

  “The outsiders were here,” one of them said.

  “They might still be around,” another replied.

  Holding my breath, I leaned to my left to get a clear shot, then pushed a barrier out past the Perfects. It smacked into the doors, making them dangle in their joints. It was enough to draw their attention and get them out of the room. They ran out, thinking they had us.

  “Go, go, go!” Raphael whispered, then ran out.

  We followed, though Varga had to grip Dmitri’s wrist and pull him after us. He was too distraught and hung up on Douma, who was still lying unconscious on the floor. The Perfects were going to be back in a few seconds, tops, as they lingered in the hallway, trying to figure out how the doors had moved, and where the outsiders had gone.

  “We need that thermal scanner from Mabiel,” the first Perfect grunted.

  We slipped past them and headed farther south, as far away from them as possible. I hated leaving Douma behind, too, but we were in quite a hot mess. Despite our invisibility, we had to be careful and exit the colosseum in one piece, with thousands of Perfects hunting us. Cassiel was out here somewhere, also looking for us.

  And we’d kidnapped Amal, Ta’Zan’s most precious Faulty. A whole world of pain was about to rain down on us, if we didn’t get out.

  We’d come back for Douma another time. We’ll get her back.

  Ridan

  We continued to sneak through the colosseum, heading toward the southwestern exits. The diamond dome was somewhere along this route, and, as I carried Amal on my shoulder, I thought of something that might be useful to us in the long term.

  “There’s no time to stop by Derek and the other prisoners,” I whispered, “but we should tell them about the latest developments, especially about what the Hermessi said to Ben’s group.”

  “I think we should get out of here, first,” Elonora breathed as we ran down the hallway.

  We darted left and right, avoiding clusters of agitated Perfects along the way. My nerves were stretched to the max, and my instincts were on fire. I would’ve loved nothing more than to go full dragon and set this whole place alight, but, unfortunately, the Perfects were well above my destructive capabilities, especially in large numbers.

  The best we could do was sneak around like the thieves that we’d become, while Ta’Zan’s warriors scoured the colosseum with a handful of thermal scanners, looking for us.

  “I would’ve liked to stop by the dome, at least,” Dmitri sighed.

  “None of us expected this Amal issue to progress like this,” Elonora replied. “We were supposed to tail her and approach her when no one was looking for her. She had to show up in the sanctuary and push everything into fast forward…”

  “We still would’ve had to take her,” Amane said. “Clearly, she’s too loyal to Ta’Zan for her to make any sensible decisions on her own. But it’s okay. I just need her close to me for my brain to function at full capacity. I’m already building that mass memory wiper in my head.”

  “Let’s get out of here, first, then head for the new base. Once we’re away from the enemy, we can communicate with the others, get the coordinates of our new destination, and push forward with this damn planet,” Elonora said.

  None of us liked working in such strained conditions, but we had no other choice. We exchanged words whenever there weren’t Perfects around. We mingled with the crowds whenever we spotted thermal scanners being moved around. We kept going south, occasionally going up and down the colosseum’s levels to further throw the Perfects for a loop. They were still tracking our scent, and Raphael didn’t have much black mineral dust left. We’d agreed to use it outside, to stop the bastards from chasing us into the woods.

  “The service door is straight ahead, fifty yards away,” Raphael said.

  “Good, let’s speed this up, because—” Elonora replied, but was abruptly cut off by Nevis’s arm.

  We all came to a grinding and unexpected halt. My breath got stuck in my throat.

  Cassiel had come into the hallway, stopping right in front of the service door leading outside. He carried one of the thermal scanners, waving it around with a smirk. Surprisingly, he was on his own. He held the scanner up, pointing it at us as he looked at the screen.

  None of us dared to move. The tension was so high, I was seconds away from a stroke. The air was thick enough to cut with a knife, but we were so close to getting out of here… It almost broke my heart to think we’d fail, after what we’d already been through.

  My fingers instinctively dug into Amal’s thigh. I was ready to kill anyone who dared take her away from us. Not only was she instrumental to our next move against Ta’Zan, she was Amane’s sister, and nothing made me feel better than the thought of reuniting these two sisters. Despite their differences, they were twins, and they belonged together. And Amal was bound to see things from our point of view, soon enough. We just needed the time and space to make her understand.

  There was somet
hing strange going on here. Cassiel wasn’t doing anything, and I was willing to bet that we were all red blobs on his thermal scanner right now, in the middle of an almost-empty hallway. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that we were there.

  Several Perfects soon joined him, and Cassiel put the scanner away.

  “Any sign of them?” one of them asked.

  Cassiel shook his head. “Nope. Let’s check upstairs,” he said, motioning for them to go away. They did as ordered and headed for a nearby set of stairs, while Cassiel turned his head and seemed to look right at us. He smiled, then went after his people, clearing the path between us and the service doorway.

  We stared at each other.

  “What in the world was that?” Nevis mumbled, clearly stunned.

  “Did he just ignore us?” Dmitri croaked.

  “Pretty much. He had us on that scanner, for sure,” Elonora replied. “Otherwise, I cannot explain that satisfied smirk of his. He knew we were here. He let us go.”

  “Then, let’s take advantage of this and scratch our brains over it later!” Raphael said.

  He led the way as we snuck through the service door and past the few Perfect guards posted in the vicinity. They must’ve heard the door open behind them but, by the time they turned around, they had nothing to see. We were but a mere draft. We could hear the noises and agitation inside, as they all scrambled to find us and catch us before we made off with Amal.

  The jungle opened up before us, and we ran as fast as we could, jumping over gnarly tree roots and jagged rocks. Behind us, sonic booms erupted, as Perfects began to emerge from the colosseum and started looking at the surrounding greenery.

  “They’re finally realizing we’re out.” Elonora chuckled as we put another mile between us and the colosseum. “Ta’Zan must be stroking out right about now.”

  “The repercussions will be swift and painful,” Amane warned us.

  “Let him try. He’s hurt us enough already,” Varga replied. “It’s our turn now!”

  “Ridan, how is Amal?” Elonora asked.