The Necro, however, seemed to take the chiding in stride. “I came to discover if the Druid’s little experiment had produced any definitive results yet.”
Narrowing his eyes darkly, Cynric barely resisted the urge to reach into the Necro’s slimy mouth and rip its spine out through its throat.
Chuckling, Knox crooned, “I’ll take that as a no, then.”
“It matters not,” the voice interceded. “The Vampire Medium has been found.”
Cynric cursed darkly.
Knox’s maniacal laughter filled the empty space around them. Its glowing neon gaze lit upon Cynric with malicious delight. It knew how much the Druid had tried to keep his race’s precious little prophets out of the Old One’s grand scheme. He had pushed his experiments so carefully for that reason, trying to find some other way to get the Old One what it desired without resorting to Starla’s prophecy. It appeared, however, that fate had not sided with him in this battle.
Burying his emotions beneath his carefully constructed shields of apathy, Cynric composed himself. “What would you have me do now, Old One?”
“Find the Medium; complete the ritual. Do not fail me,” the voice commanded.
The finality of the statement knocked Cynric back into his own presence, within the cavernous mines of the Vampire realm. He opened his eyes, and immediately saw the stark, pale face of Deq’on.
“Are you all right?” the Vampire asked. His voice harbored light concern, but Cynric did not miss the blade the Vampire had tucked into his boot. Not that he could be blamed; Cynric had forced the Vampire to assist him in using his own people as guinea pigs for his experiments.
Brushing off Deq’on’s assistance, Cynric rose unsteadily to his feet and turned his black gaze upon the Vampire.
“Is there a reason you are in my personal quarters, Deq’on?” he asked in an unconcerned tone as he busied himself cleaning up the mess he’d made in his rage.
“El’on and his brothers are marching on the gates to the mine with the Vampire Hunter, Tyrian Blackwood, as we speak,” Deq’on reported. Any concern for his own brothers did not show anywhere on his features. This only led Cynric to believe that the Vampire had set some sort of trap.
“Let them come, it matters not,” he replied offhandedly. In truth, it really did matter very little in the grand scheme of things. He had his orders, and failing them would mean a fate worse than death.
“What would you have me do?” Deq’on asked.
Cynric pressed a palm to the middle of his forehead, where a burgeoning headache had begun to split his skull, and waved his other hand at Deq’on dismissively. “Kill them, I don’t care how,” he seethed, knowing the Vampire would do no such thing. In a more alert state of mind, Cynric might have noticed the slight smirk that rose on Deq’on’s lips at the order, along with the barest lighting in his eyes.
“As you wish,” the Vampire responded. He bowed shortly, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the room.
* * * *
Tyrian stared into the dark tunnel, apprehension clenching his gut. He had only the vaguest idea what sort of creatures he and the band of brothers behind him would likely encounter within the depths of the mine.
As if in response to his thoughts, movement registered in the corner of his eye. One lone Vampire emerged from the shadows, his features bearing a close resemblance to those of the Vampires collected at his rear flank.
The Vampire came to a halt just inside the mouth of the cave. “Leave now, and your lives will be spared.”
The brothers looked at one another briefly, before turning back to their counterpart in the mine entryway. “And if we stay?” one of the younger ones taunted.
A dark look crossed the older Vampire’s face; ripples in the space around him shimmered and grew.
Tyrian recognized the phenomenon as the formation of portals. He swiftly drew his hook swords, and gestured for the others to do the same.
“Death it is, then,” Deq’on growled low. He raised his own weapon, and slashed forward.
The portals erupted a moment later, with what appeared to be Nightstalkers. These, however, seemed to be immune to the light now surrounding them. Glowing green acid, reminiscent of Necro blood, dripped from their teeth and claws.
These must have been the experiments El’on had mentioned.
“Terrific, the worst qualities of the two most disgusting realm species imaginable,” Tyrian drawled.
A whining howl cut through the mid-afternoon air, just before the monstrous creatures launched at the Vampire Hunter and his entourage. Tyrian caught the claws of one of them against his blades as it swung for his head. The glowing acid dripped down onto his duster, and quickly ate a hole through the cloth. He swung one sword in a backhanded motion for the creature’s middle. The blade made contact with the creature’s flesh with a clanking sound. With his entire body weight, Tyrian threw the monster away from him.
“Dragon scales, fucking perfect!” Tyrian cursed as he shrugged off his duster. As if the hybrid creatures weren’t formidable enough, the bastard had gone and given them impenetrable armor as well.
El’on skidded to a halt next to him, an apologetic look on his aged face. “I did not know about the Dragons,” he offered with a shrug.
Rolling his head to crack his neck, Tyrian let the violence around him soak in. However much he liked to play at being a gentleman, he never forgot that he was the Hunter for one of the most violent races in all of the realms. The evidence of this was displayed before him by El’on and his brothers, tearing through the creatures with their teeth and claws, unmistakable smiles on their pale faces.
Ripping down the walls between himself and his Sleeper, Tyrian felt Ra’al awaken within him as he’d never experienced before. Its eagerness to immerse itself in battle soaked into Tyrian’s pores, raising a tidal wave of bloodlust within him that he did not even attempt to keep from spilling forth. He opened his mouth wide in his own battle cry. Long, curved fangs protruded from his gums, and fingernails extending to form razor-sharp claws. He practically radiated raw rage, and he reveled in it.
Like a blood-soaked avenging demon, Tyrian waylaid the hordes of modified Nightstalkers with no restraint. Slashing with his teeth and claws, flashing his twin hook swords, the unleashed Vampire Hunter exploited with gratuitous violence every weak spot he found in the creatures. He flung whole chunks of the beasts all around the open battlefield, drenching himself in blood and body parts until his skin glowed red in the weak light of the sun.
Pausing briefly to rip the loosened head from the neck of one unfortunate beast, Tyrian let his gaze wander to the Vampires. They were actually doing quite well for themselves, taking the beasts on in groups of three, while El’on and his second-eldest brother, Tu’on, fought on their own.
Shifting his eyes over to the mouth of the entryway to the mines, Tyrian caught sight of the solitary form of Deq’on, taking in the carnage around him indifferently.
After rending the beast’s enormous head in two with his bare hands, Tyrian stepped forward in the direction of the mine. He intended on having more than words with the Vampire in his bloodlust-induced rage. He didn’t make it another step, though, as a large, clawed hand gripped him from behind, digging into his stomach and chest.
Howling in pain, Tyrian turned and dug his own claws into the rib cage of the Nightstalker that had interrupted his quest. After cleaving the monster clean in two, he turned swiftly back to the mouth of the cave.
Deq’on was gone.
Tyrian opened his mouth wide, and cried out in rage. Heaving in great, seething breaths of air, he turned back to the blood-drenched battlefield. With blackened eyes, he scanned for the next feast for his claws, only to find the ground barren. All of the beasts had been defeated. Deq’on had probably retreated for that reason.
Clenching his fists, Tyrian carefully reined in the monster within him, tempering the rage and caging it inside the painstakingly constructed walls he’d built around it ages before.
Feeling the fangs and claws slowly retract, he let out a long, controlled breath, and took in the sight of the Vampires surrounding him. Many of them were heavily injured, and bled openly from numerous lacerations. He glanced to El’on remorsefully, and saw the old Vampire supporting one of his younger siblings, whose arm had been torn clean off at the shoulder.
Knowing that he himself would need to heal before venturing into the mine, Tyrian accepted that they would have to withdraw and regroup before proceeding. He nodded to El’on, acceded to the momentary retreat, and grabbed up his twin swords from where he’d dropped them earlier.
“You battle in a way worthy of the Vampire you house,” came a roughly familiar voice to Tyrian’s left. He turned to Vor’on, and accepted the outstretched arm in an embrace of mutual appreciation. He had also witnessed Vor’on’s battle prowess, which had not disappointed him.
“You’re not too shabby yourself,” Tyrian replied. The quippy turn of phrase reminded him briefly of his Kaelyn. He wondered where she was and what she was doing, all the while hoping that involving her in his mission hadn’t put her in harm’s way.
He jolted forward slightly as Vor’on’s hand landed heavily against his shoulder. “Come. Nurse your wounds, replenish your strength, and tomorrow we will return,” the Vampire said. He urged the Hunter forward.
Tightening his lips in a grim line, Tyrian nodded. He followed the Vampire and his brothers away from the one place where he needed most to be.
* * * *
Kaelyn and Lilith appeared outside the East End Bookstore, in the heart of Boston. The Medium took in the sight of the familiar building nostalgically.
“Well, this is all rather anticlimactic,” Lilith’s caustic tone sounded out to her right.
Kaelyn sighed, and turned to face the Witch Hunter. “We’re a little off the mark,” she stated. At Lilith’s winged brow, she looped an arm through one of the leather-clad woman’s own, and dragged her around the corner.
It was eleven o’clock on a Saturday night, and O’Shanahan’s would be practically bursting with people at this time. Kaelyn smiled to herself as they rounded the corner, her gaze settling on the dimly lit entrance to the small family bar. Groups of people milled around to smoke outside the establishment; Ember had never allowed the stuff inside.
Kaelyn pulled Lilith down the alleyway to the right of the entrance. She caught the excited gleam in the Hunter’s auburn gaze. Her plan might just work after all.
Walking them up to the back door of the bar, Kaelyn smiled softly at the bouncer in greeting. “Hey, Hank,” she said. She slid her arm out from its link with Lilith’s.
The burly, bald bouncer smiled back at Kaelyn and reached for the handle of the door, then opened it for the two women to enter. “Hey, Kaelyn. Come on in; Ember’ll be happy to see you,” he said jovially as he ushered them inside.
Lilith gave the large human a highly suggestive once-over before sauntering through the open door, a seductive glint in her eye. “Now this is more like it,” she said. She grinned and bit her lip as she took in the sight of the churning bodies in the crowded bar ahead of them.
“Go, have fun. I’m just gonna pop into the office for a minute and say hi,” Kaelyn offered. Clearly, Lilith wanted to take her up on the offer, but did not feel she could let her charge leave her sight.
Chewing her lower lip, Lilith shrugged and headed off in the direction of the crowd. “Just a minute, or I’m coming after you,” the Witch Hunter warned.
Making a motion of crossing her heart, Kaelyn backed through the kitchen door and headed quickly toward the roof.
The book she’d read about opening portals said that it was easiest to succeed where events of high-yield destruction had taken place. O’Shanahan’s had gone through its fair share of wringers. Kaelyn hoped that the worst of those would serve her purposes: the fire that had once turned the brick building into a smoldering pile of ash, and killed Ember’s mother.
Carefully opening the door to the roof, Kaelyn found it empty, and breathed a sigh of relief. After stepping through the doorway, she let the door swing shut behind her. Making her way over to the far left edge, where the scorch marks were most prominent, she then drew a long kitchen knife out of the inside pocket of her winter coat. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and braced the blade against her palm.
“I thought you might try something like this,” came a familiar voice from behind her.
Kaelyn jumped at the sudden intrusion, and the knife cut deeply into her palm, before clattering to the ground at her feet. She clutched her now-bleeding palm in her hand, and turned to face Lilith.
She opened her mouth to reply, but just then, a strange, pulling sensation overwhelmed her. Time seemed to slow to a crawl around her. She saw panic enter the Witch Hunter’s stare. A moment later, a blinding flash of white light erupted to her left, heralding the arrival of the Druid leader of the Hunter Association.
But even Starla, with all of her power, had come too late to stop the chain of events that the Medium had set in motion. In a brief moment of clarity, Kaelyn almost felt sorry for the Witch Hunter, whom she had unceremoniously dragged into her harebrained scheme.
Two small drops of blood splashed onto the pavement of the roof, and opened a swirling vortex beneath Kaelyn that sucked her through in an instant. To an outside observer, she would have seemed to simply disappear, there one moment and gone the next. To Kaelyn, it felt as though an invisible force was ripping her molecules apart, then piecing them back together with agonizing slowness.
When her feet finally touched down on the other side, she shuddered and blinked rapidly to clear her suddenly dark vision. She couldn’t see or hear anything, but she could feel. Heat bombarded her flesh, leaving her parched, and she drew in a deep lungful of scorching air. Those sensations did not last long, however, as the horrible feeling of being stretched over a long distance in too short a time assaulted her again.
This time, when she regained wholeness, she threw up.
Kaelyn’s sight had finally returned to her. She raised her eyes to view the figure now standing before her, his pale skin and hair clashing with his stark black clothes and deep, haunting eyes. Drawing herself up to sit back on her shins, she felt a sinking feeling of dread form in her gut, making her sick all over again.
“Hello, Medium,” the figure said, his soft, low voice bland and emotionless. “My name is Cynric. Welcome to the Vampire realm.”
Dreading the answer without knowing why, Kaelyn asked, “Are you a Vampire?”
The malicious light that filled his bottomless black gaze caused her heart to drop into the deepest pit of her stomach.
“No, Medium, I am something much worse,” he assured her. He bent to wrap one long-fingered, pale hand around her biceps, and lifted her effortlessly to her feet. “Come; I have great plans for you.”
Chapter 13
Lilith stared in shock at the spot that only moments before had held the newly discovered Vampire Medium.
Well, that was just fucking perfect.
Starla glared at her with a look of utter disappointment. Not only had she completely screwed the pooch on the protection detail she’d been saddled with, but she’d actually come to like the mopey Vampire Medium. An unfamiliar feeling of remorse tugged at the Witch Hunter, making her incredibly uncomfortable under its accusatory weight.
This was exactly what you got for caring about someone else. Lilith was a little too intimately familiar with that feeling, and consciously avoided it. Why she had let the little slip of a bookworm twist past her carefully maintained defenses, she had no idea.
Never one to linger on the unexplainable, Lilith balled up the issue and tossed it into a deep, dark corner of her mind to be lost and forgotten for now. She sniffed indelicately, ran her tongue over her upper front teeth, and turned to regard her pale companion on the rooftop. After raising her shoulders in a makeshift shrug, she addressed the other woman offhandedly.
“My bad?”
Lilith could almost hear the Druid’s jaw click.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Starla lifted her arms, crossed her chest, and raised one pale eyebrow at the Witch Hunter. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?” she asked in a hard, clipped tone, quite unlike her usual cadence. Lilith, however, had been on the receiving end of this tone more times than she cared to remember.
Shrugging once more, Lilith regarded Starla carefully, and mimicked her stance. “What do you want me to say? I messed up,” she admitted. Lowering her gaze, she dug her heel into the asphalt.
Starla cocked her head to one side, and seemed to stare right through the Witch Hunter. An involuntary shiver ran down Lilith’s spine. She always hated it when Starla did that, as if the Druid could see into her deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings. She probably could. Lilith had given up on surprise at anything Starla said or did a long time before.
Still, she didn’t enjoy feeling like a small child being admonished by an angry parent. Treating her that way was just silly. She was over nine hundred years old; she was not a child. The longer she stared into Starla’s disapproving pearlescent gaze, though, the less she found herself believing that.
After what seemed like an eternity, Starla sighed and turned to stare out over the Boston skyline. “I sometimes wonder if I made the right choice.”
Starla had whispered the phrase so quietly, Lilith didn’t know for certain that she’d even heard it. The Hunter leader almost appeared to shrink in upon herself, small knuckles growing even paler as they tightly gripped her clothed biceps. She slowly slid her eyes closed and lowered her head a few inches, her expression a cross between helplessness and pain.
Lilith took a brief moment to realize it, but when she did, she almost buckled. “You’re afraid,” she whispered, unable to produce any greater volume. She had never seen anything cause this sort of reaction in the Druid. Still, she read the emotion as clearly as day. What Starla was feeling was unmistakably terror.
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