Dragon's Conquest (Dragons of Midnight Book 3)

by Silver Milan

  She gestured and the dragon shifter’s arms and legs spread wide. She rolled up his sleeves with Air and studied the tribal tattoos inked into his forearms. She knew something about how to read those tattoos, and quickly realized he was no one of any particular import. Certainly not a member of the royal court. Just a dragon shifter whose weapons skills had caught the eye of the king.

  Medeia began the draining spell. The amount of Strength required was taxing, and it used up nearly the last of the dragon blood flowing through her veins. As rivulets of crimson fluid emerged from pinprick wounds in the tattoos, she could feel the press of the Weave that suppressed all magic in this place even more keenly.

  She opened her mouth and directed the streams of blood toward her fangs, and when the scarlet rivers touched her exposed teeth, she began to feed. At first she felt no change, but as she drank more and more, she could feel the power of the blood as it flowed through her veins, a power that beat back the constricting magic suppression. An invigorating feeling.

  And then it was done. The rivulets ceased and the dragon dropped his head to his chest. He was pale as a vampire: she had drained him of the last drop of blood, to his death.

  She released the Air that bound him and the dragon flopped lifelessly to the floor.

  Then Medeia began the meticulous Death Weave. It was a powerful work, and it took all of her concentration to create it. One mistake, one misplaced branch of the Strength, and it could backfire, killing them all. If there were any Strengthworkers nearby with knowledge of the Death affinity, they would easily sense her work. The resident witch of Midnight, Ephephany, had no knowledge of the Death affinity, so Medeia didn’t have to worry about her. But there were some witches who could detect the usage of Death, even while having no knowledge of the affinity itself. Mostly it was witches who had associated with vampires in the past, taking them as lovers. Once again, Ephephany was not one of those.

  She completed the Weave and placed it on the dead man. She watched with more than a little satisfaction as the incorporeal design sank into his forehead, taking hold, and then she released the Strength.

  Medeia felt faint and was forced to rest a steadying hand on the wall beside her. The Death spell had drained her to the core, nearly depleting the fresh dragon blood flowing through her veins. The suffocating weight of the suppression Weave descended around her chest anew, threatening to choke her. She concentrated on her breathing.

  I’m not choking. I’m not. The feeling will pass.

  She resisted the urge to hyperventilate, and sure enough, the feeling subsided, but she still felt the weight of the anti-magic that permeated the air. She would have to rest for the next few hours, and as soon as Gabriel had regenerated enough blood, she’d drink deeply to restore her supply.

  She stared at the pale body of the deceased dragon shifter, waiting for something to happen. After several uneventful moments, she wondered if she had made a mistake after all.

  But then all of a sudden the dragon shifter opened his eyes. He stood up with the graceful strength of Death-animated muscles, and stared at her expectantly.

  The vampire prisoner beside the undead shifter squirmed against his binds of Airs, his eyes bulging.

  Medeia couldn’t help but smirk.

  “What is your name,” she asked the undead dragon shifter.

  “I am Crater,” the man replied.

  Medeia glanced at Sevilla. “Mask his scent.”

  Sevilla motioned with her hands and in moments the characteristic undead smell of the body vanished. It was an advanced Weave another of Aldam’s vampire witches had shared. A few weeks ago she hadn’t known such a Weave even existed, otherwise she would have used it on all of her previous creations. She wondered how many other Weaves Aldam and his witches had kept from the other covens. He was probably sitting on a treasure trove of knowledge. That was very likely the case, since when it came to the Strength, knowledge was quite literally power.

  “Return to your post at the door,” Medeia told Crater. “You are not to allow anyone to pass, unless I give my permission. Reach me on band 579.” She tapped her headset.

  “Understood,” Crater said. The dragon shifter opened the door and returned to his post. She didn’t have to worry about any betrayal from him. As an undead, Crater was now completely in her power.

  Medeia glanced at the remaining individual, the vampire who had betrayed his own kind. “You won’t swear allegiance to me. You have already sworn to the king, otherwise you would be wearing a collar. And since a vampire can’t be made into an undead, you are useless to me.”

  The vampire couldn’t answer as his mouth was bound of course. But she saw all the answer she needed in his eyes, which shone with fear.

  She wondered if she should risk giving him a chance.

  No. She had been betrayed so many times in the past. Show mercy to another vampire, especially one who had already given his loyalty to another, and he would interpret it as weakness. This man might pretend to follow and obey her, but he would merely be biding his time, waiting for the appropriate moment to stab her in the back.

  Medeia glanced at Sevilla. “Drain him.”

  Sevilla stepped forward immediately. Medeia had not placed any binds of air around the Black Guard’s neck, so Sevilla could easily penetrate with her teeth.

  She drank for several moments. Medeia could tell from the way the woman stood straighter that the blood was invigorating to her, even if it was from a vampire. The Black Guard’s skin slowly turned from pale to ashen, and finally his eyes rolled up in his head and his chin bowed.

  Sevilla removed her teeth.

  The Black Guard’s chest heaved laboriously, meaning he yet lived.

  “Drain him to the core,” Medeia said impatiently.

  “He’ll die,” Sevilla said.

  “That’s the point,” Medeia told her.

  Sevilla hesitated. She looked at the man, and pity was written all over her face. “I… I can’t.”

  Medeia crushed her bone gauntleted hand and the Black Guard imploded, leaving behind only a stream of gore and toppled bones.

  “You’re weak,” Medeia said. “When we’re done with Midnight, you will be strong. I’ll see to it.” She turned toward the four vampires who had been lurking in the corner of the room. “Clean up this mess.”

  Medeia used Air to compel Gabriel from the litter, and had him lead the way into the house. She stepped fastidiously around the corpse of the Black Guard, and glanced toward the entrance, where the undead dragon shifter stood hidden from view outside the front doors. A pawn on her chessboard, like the king.

  A pawn, yes. And the very first member of my undead dragon army.

  Gabriel could do nothing as the vampires chained him in his study. Finally the woman, who called herself Medeia, released his invisible binds, allowing him to slump to the floor.

  “Heal quickly, my king,” she taunted as she walked toward the door. “I need your blood for later.”

  “You’ll never get away with this,” Gabriel tried to tell her, but his voice only came out a rasp. His throat was so very dry. Hydration was very important to dragons, and he hadn’t had a drink all morning.

  “What’s that, my king?” Medeia taunted.

  Again he tried to speak but no words came. Instead, he coughed.

  Medeia shrugged, smiling. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” She left, and the door closed with a loud thud behind her.

  Gabriel collapsed. He was a king. Ruler of North America. How could he have allowed this vermin into his great city? It had been a mistake to only bring one member of his Black Guard with him to the Hooded Dale. He had been flying free in that hidden valley where the dragons could be themselves, forgetting his burdens as he soared above the mountaintops, and when he had landed, the vampire witch had captured him.

  And now she was going to work through Midnight’s many residences one by one, starting with his own, converting the dragon shifters who lived there into her undead
. It was every king’s nightmare scenario. Soon Midnight would no longer be a dragon den, but a vampire coven, and Medeia would rule North America.

  She had kept him alive only to drain his blood and power her machinations. That, and gloat over him. She planned to make him undead eventually, he had no doubt about it. Knowing that was part of the torture.

  Gabriel felt like he had betrayed Jett. He had only acquired the throne from his brother four months ago, and now Gabriel was about to lose it to an invading vampire.

  Gabriel swallowed, forcing himself to take several deep breaths. He couldn’t allow himself to despair. Kings didn’t give up so easily.

  What would my brother Jett do?

  He had often asked himself that question during his rule. Jett was the ultimate example of a good king, and Gabriel had striven to emulate him in all that he did. If he was uncertain whether some act was just or good, he would ask himself what Jett would do in similar circumstances, and the answer would guide him.

  Except this time Gabriel found himself unable to come up with an answer. This was a scenario not even Jett would have known how to handle.

  Gabriel lay on the floor, his blue and silver dress shirt glued to his body from the perspiration. The thin silver band the vampire witch had collared him with dug into his neck. The collar prevented him from transforming into his dragon, but it was impossible for shifters to transform while inside Midnight anyway, so its presence was kind of redundant. Then again, it did partially restrain his dragon strength. If he was uncollared, he might have been able to break free of his shackles. Medeia couldn’t have that, could she?

  He heard the door open but felt too weak to raise his head.

  A large bowl thudded onto the floor in front of him.

  “You should drink,” a gentle voice said.

  Gabriel couldn’t help but look up. The voice belonged to the other vampire witch, who Medeia had identified as Sevilla. Kneeling there before him, she was perhaps the most beautiful vampire Gabriel had ever seen, perhaps even the most beautiful woman, period. The flawless skin of her face reminded him of the color of moonlight. Behind a pair of glasses, her eyes shone a deep, unnatural blue, like sapphires polished to the brightest luster. She wore black, form-fitting fatigues that emphasized her figure and ample bust. Thick black gloves covered her hands, just like Medeia’s, no doubt hiding the dragon bone accessories of her profession. Her hair fell to her shoulders in silky waves, and he could sense the intoxicating scent of it even here.

  One might think that vampires smelled terrible, but that was the farthest thing from the truth. Certain sweat pores on the bodies of vampires produced what was essentially perfume, meant to arouse and intoxicate potential victims. It was said that Raquel, queen of Africa, had found a way to extract the scent into an actual perfume, and the sales had made her rich, paving the way for her control of that continent.

  Dismissing the smell, he concentrated on her face. Some might have found the eyeglasses detracting from her beauty, making her seem a little geeky, but he liked it. And there was something else about her, something he couldn’t quite place. He felt almost as if he knew her from somewhere, but that was impossible of course.

  He doused his desire, reminding himself who this woman served.

  She is the enemy.

  “I’m very sorry you’ve had to go through this,” Sevilla said softly. “I didn’t know what my mistress had planned. When Aldam gave me to her, I couldn’t refuse him. He has protected me all these years. His coven gave me shelter when others wouldn’t.” She sighed. “But I didn’t want to be a part of any of this.”

  Gabriel tried to speak again, but his throat was too dry, and he could only produce a painful rasp. He tried to drink from the silver bowl, but that only sent him into a coughing fit. When he recovered, he attempted to swallow the liquid again, and was able to sip several times. When he felt confident enough to imbibe a larger amount without coughing, he drank. Deeply.

  When finished sating his dragon thirst, he glanced at Sevilla. “She sent you here to befriend me, is that it? The two of you are putting on some sort of good cop, bad cop routine?”

  She seemed stunned. “No. That’s not it at all. I’m truly concerned…”

  “If you don’t want to be a part of this, then don’t be,” Gabriel said. “No one can compel you to serve her.” If Sevilla abandoned her, that would be one less vampire witch helping Medeia. Gabriel knew Sevilla would stay of course, but still he had to try.

  Sevilla sighed. “I can’t. I have sworn allegiance to her. Something we vampires don’t take lightly.”

  Gabriel chuckled softly. “Of course you don’t. So what then, you hope that by telling me this, you’ll clear your conscience or something? Or do you just want to taunt me, like her?”

  “I tell you this not too taunt, nor for the sake of my conscience,” Sevilla said. “But for what you did for me.”

  Gabriel stared at her, puzzled.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” Sevilla said. “I was your slave, a long time ago. You treated me well. Or at least, ordered your servants to do so. When my time expired, I left.”

  Gabriel thought back. “I have no recollection of you.”

  She seemed disappointed.

  “I think I’d remember a vampire witch among my slaves,” Gabriel said. “Considering they’re not allowed in the city!”

  “Of course you would have noticed if I were a witch,” Sevilla told him. “But you didn’t know. You couldn’t: prisoners of war are stripped of all dragon bone once they are captured.”

  “Ah,” Gabriel said. He thought back, concentrating on her face. “Wait, I remember you now. It’s the glasses that are throwing me off. You didn’t have them then.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “Go on.”

  “During the Great Vampire War, that’s when I purchased you,” Gabriel said. "I remember waiting at the slave auction, when one of the most beautiful vampires I had ever seen stepped onto the stage. I decided right then and there I had to have her.” He sighed wistfully. “But I never touched her, though. Never dared. I was not one to mistreat slaves.”

  She smiled sadly. “No, you never mistreated me. Sometimes I wondered if you barely noticed me at all.”

  The memories came flooding back. He remembered the sheer desire he had felt for her all those years ago. An all-consuming, body-torturing desire.

  How could I forget a woman like this?

  And then he knew how. He recalled assigning her to tasks that kept her well away from him, because he was terrified that if she remained in his presence for too long, he would break the First Rule and mate with a non-dragon.

  Looking at her now, he realized his fears were completely justified.

  He found himself desiring her all over again.

  Gabriel closed his eyes.

  Forget this temptress. If I give in to her, it will be the downfall of Midnight.

  Then again, it looked like Midnight was going to fall anyway.

  No. I will find a way to save my city.

  He opened his eyes and gazed at Sevilla. The sympathy in her eyes was unmistakable. He wondered if he could use her in some way. Convince her that he had feelings for her, and then betray her when the time came. It might be his only hope. And if he had to break the First Rule to earn her trust, it was worth it to save his kingdom. Not that breaking the rule with her would be very hard, at least on his part...

  “Sevilla,” Gabriel said. “You have to let me go.”

  “I can’t,” Sevilla said. “Just as you couldn’t let me go all those years ago when I was your slave, I can’t release you either. I have sworn allegiance, as I told you. And even if I hadn’t, my loyalties lie with my own kind. But I promise, for what it’s worth, I’ll do my best to protect you.”

  “Please,” Gabriel said. “She intends to destroy Midnight. You know how many dragons will die?”

  “They won’t really be dead,” Sevilla said. “We’ll bring them back to life.”
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  “As shadows of their former selves,” Gabriel said. “The remnants of their minds enslaved to your wills. That’s not life.”

  “It’s better than the alternative,” Sevilla said.

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?” Gabriel said.

  Sevilla didn’t answer, but from the way her eyes became downcast, he felt sure that no, she did not.

  “I believe you when you say you don’t want to be a part of this,” Gabriel told her. “There are good vampires in this world, and there are bad ones. You’re one of the good ones. You’ve always been.”

  He didn’t know that for sure, obviously, since he had never really spoken to her in the days when she was his slave, but he felt he was a pretty good judge of character. She had tried to spare Harvester, the vampire member of his Black Guards whom Medeia had killed in cold blood afterward, and that told him everything he needed to know.

  Still Sevilla remained silent.

  Gabriel waited for her gaze to meet his own, but she refused to lift her eyes. Finally he said: “What if I promised you—”

  Before Gabriel could finish, motion drew his eyes to the open doorway.

  Medeia stepped inside. “What are you two talking about?”

  Sevilla quickly stood.

  “Nothing,” Sevilla said. “I was only taunting him.”

  Medeia regarded Gabriel suspiciously a moment, then turned her attention to Sevilla.

  “Come with me,” Medeia ordered the vampire witch. “We need to hatch a plan to convey our brethren here from the outer tunnel.” She looked at Gabriel and theatrically licked her lips. “Drink your water, sexy dragon, and enjoy your privacy while you can, because I’ll be coming back to have a talk with you later. If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll bring you a cow to eat.”

  With that the two left, shutting the door behind them.

  Gabriel stared at the closed door.

  I was only taunting him.

  Sevilla had lied to protect him. Interesting.

  Yes, seducing Sevilla might be a way out of this. He wasn’t sure he would be able to save Midnight once he broke free, but he’d certainly try his damnedest. And if the casualties along the way included a few broken hearts, well that was a price he was entirely willing to pay.