by J. D. Brown
I nodded and let Sara lead me into the foyer even though I didn’t think I could stomach a meal. She took my hand and held it all the way to the exquisite dining hall.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Ema is strong.”
I chuckled in agreement. “More than you know, darling. More than you know.”
Chapter 22
Light brightened on the other side of my closed eyelids. A heavy ache pressed against my wrists, neck, and ankles. A small bout of anxiety drew faint memories of when I used to wake up with the blankets tangled around my body in a cold sweat. Anthony would pull the covers off and calm me. My brow furrowed. Why did I think of Anthony? I wanted to open my eyes, but my body resisted. Just ten more minutes. Something about the thought of sleep disturbed me. My eyes squeezed tight as I tried to recall why that was so bizarre.
Vampyres don’t sleep.
Yet I could have sworn I was dreaming a minute ago. Something about Apollyon and zombies.
You need to wake up, Ema.
My brow rose and my lids slowly peeled apart. Candlelight stung my vision and I squinted, turning away. My shoulder jarred as something held my wrist and I fell back against the flat surface. Startled, I flexed my hand, trying to make sense of what happened. Metal rattled through my groggy senses. I tried to lift my head, but my neck and chest were bound in place. I shifted my gaze as much as I could, glancing to one arm and then the other. Several layers of heavy chains shackled my wrists to the wooden table. I struggled against the ties, but it was no use. Even my legs were bound.
Shoot, why couldn’t it have been a dream just this once? No, I had to be chained to a table in Apollyon’s sick little workshop. A sulfuric scent wrinkled my nose. My muddled brain took a moment to register the significance and my muscles tensed as the shack door creaked open. Footsteps entered the room, approaching the table. The undead female moved into my line of sight and a sly smile stretched her deformed lips. I looked away to keep from vomiting.
A blunt object jabbed the side of my leg, pulling my unwilling attention back to the female creature. She held a stun baton overhead so that I could see it clearly. Then she clanked the butt end of the baton against the chains on my wrists, ankles, and neck. I rolled my eyes to show that I understood—I was wearing the electronic cuffs again, and they’d added three more than last time. I sighed in defeat as she set the baton down somewhere outside my field of vision.
A pin pricked the delicate underside of my elbow and I jumped. My gaze went to the syringe as her thumb pressed on the plunger, forcing a clear liquid into my veins.
“What…” My eyes widened at the hoarseness of my voice. I wet my lips as a tingly sensation ebbed through my veins, up my arm, and out to my fingertips. Slowly it seeped into my core, climbing each vertebra in my spine while extending through my chest. A thought latched onto my brain and screamed in a panic that didn’t match my weak voice. “What did you do to me?”
The female ignored my words as she removed the needle. My lungs gulped in short gasps of air as my head swam. Water sloshed somewhere below the table and my gaze gravitated to a damp sponge in her hands. She swiped it over my palm and between my fingers. Her brow pitched in concentration as she took extra care with the mutilated space between my thumb and middle digit. I couldn’t feel it. My hand was completely numb.
An ice-cold frost wrapped around my consciousness. My eyelids became heavy as I struggled to form a coherent thought. Something about Novocain. Instinct told me to fight the drug. I kicked and paddled so that my dulling mind might stay afloat, but the effort was fruitless and soon the lights went out.
My gaze lolled to the side. I wasn’t sure when I had opened my eyes again, or when I regained consciousness. The hazy blobs of color before me began to move. I blinked several times as a man’s face bobbed in and out of focus. His red gaze studied some small object close to my side. No sound or scent or feeling came. I drifted as though entombed in a cloud, watching the man, unable to look away or do anything else.
The more I observed the angles of his face, the more I sensed that I knew him. His sons look like him. I couldn’t recall how I knew that. His face went out of focus again and my vision floated over the surrounding walls. What a funny place to keep so many maps.
Movement in the periphery of my vision called my attention back. The middle-aged man hunched close to my side, his gaze narrowed in concentration. What is he doing? I willed myself to sit up, but my chest and limbs felt like lead. A glint of light sparkled between us. Panic wormed its way to the small, barely functioning part of my brain, but I didn’t understand it. What’s going on?
I pulled every ounce of energy I could muster into directing my gaze, until my line of sight found my arm resting naturally by my side, unchained and unscathed. It was unmoving, lifeless, like a mannequin. It can’t be mine. My arm had been stretched overhead and chained to the table.
The metallic glint came from a jagged steel knife in the man’s hand. He steadied the blade over the fleshy edge of a knuckle. Don’t do that, I thought as my energy waned. My eyelids drooped as darkness seeped from the edges of my vision. I wasn’t sure I really saw what happened next. The blade sliced clean through the skin and red liquid pooled over my hand. Then darkness closed around me.
My eyes flew open. Where am I? What’s going on? My temples throbbed and a stiff ache manifested in my muscles. I couldn’t shake the feeling of a long time lapse in the short moments since I last opened my eyes. My vision circled the space above me and I balked. The view was off kilter in a very major way. The ceiling stood higher than I remembered and the furniture loomed over me as if I was… on the floor?
My senses snapped to reality. I’m on the floor. Not on the table. I flexed my back in an attempt to sit up, but I was still bound. My hands were chained behind my back and I could feel the prongs of the electric cuffs against my wrists, ankles, and around my neck.
Apollyon was at my side, kneeling. The upper half of his body bent over mine. The underside of his arms lay flat against me, one elbow touching my knee, the other touching my shoulder. His hands met in the middle, at the center of my waist. His fingertips pressed together in a steeple pointed at the ceiling. Ancient words formed a chant that flowed from his lips. He didn’t seem to notice or care that I was awake.
I scanned the room. We were alone. Candles lined the shelves and tables. A dark maroon paste painted a large circle around the concrete floor, with Apollyon and me in the center. Pentagrams and other geometric shapes filled the area in between. A salty metallic scent lingered in the air, waking my thirst. My throat suddenly felt parched.
I didn’t fight the thirst. My instincts almost got me out here before, maybe I could do it again if I gave in to my Nephilim tendencies. Holding nothing back, the deeply rooted cravings reigned against my gut. My muscles spasmed and I thrashed to the side. Apollyon held his position as I knocked against him. His voice rose as he chanted faster. My fingers arched like claws against the floor and my jaw gnashed together in a growl as red colored the corners of my vision.
Yes, I told myself. Do it. Let go and become a vicious vampyre.
Suddenly, my gut contracted in a sharp pain as the air punched from my lungs. I gasped and coiled into myself as much as the chains would allow. Fire incinerated the pit of my stomach and I screamed. Apollyon rose and then slammed his palms against my abs, directly above the burning spot, as if to pin down the searing pain. My vision went completely red and my back arched off the floor. A sensation like barbed wire shredded my insides apart. It latched onto something deeply rooted inside me, and then it pulled back. A sickening shrill erupted from my lungs. I couldn’t stop screaming, not even to breathe.
The redness disappeared from my vision, leaving only a blur. Some part of me was being sucked out through the scraping force. In its wake was a cold, hollow feeling. The thirst was long gone and my instincts dulled as a cold sweat dampened my brow.
At some point, I had stopped screaming and lay still as a corpse. M
y breath slowed and then stopped all together. My eyelids fluttered as my pulse drummed in my ears, each beat fainter than the one before. Terror overwhelmed me as my chest convulsed in a last-ditch attempt to save my sorry ass as my eyes threatened to close forever.
I’m dying.
Apollyon ceased his chanting and studied my face, watching me drown inside myself. Watching me die. Faint screams erupted somewhere in the distance. His gaze flickered to the side and I thought I saw him grimace, which would have been a pleasant last sight.
“Stop this immediately, ya ignoramus ol’ bastard!”
Apollyon definitely wavered that time. I found, much to my surprise, that I could breathe for a moment longer, though slow and laborious. I kept my gaze glued to a spot on the ceiling and focused solely on expanding my lungs. I thought of Bridget’s breathing techniques. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Meanwhile, Apollyon growled at the intruder.
“What have you done to my men?”
“Those idiots are useless. Yer gettin’ sloppy.”
“You have interrupted a very delicate process—”
“Yer damn right I interrupted, now put that girl’s essence back inside her body this instant.”
A weak smile touched my lips. I didn’t need to see who my savior was, I knew by the cadence of her tone that the old Crone stood in the room, scolding Apollyon like he was toddler. I could picture her long boney finger pointed at him, extending from beneath her black cloak. My smile fell as nausea churned my stomach. Though I kept my breath even, it didn’t seem to be enough to dispel whatever magic Apollyon had cast on me.
“Why would I listen to a hag like you?” he said.
“You moron, can’t ya see yer killin’ her? Yer spell won’t work without yer ring.”
Apollyon scoffed. “There are more like her. I know how to trigger the gene now.”
“Yer wrong,” the Crone argued. “She’s different. And she’s with child.”
I tilted my head in their direction. With child? I must have heard wrong. I was pretty loopy.
Apollyon stood. His brow furrowed and his lip rose to bare his fangs as he sneered at the little old lady. “What do I care if she’s pregnant? When I find my ring, no one will be able to defeat me. The throne will never again require an heir. I will rule indefinitely.”
She put her white-knuckled hands on her hips and leveled an ice blue gaze at him. “Yer dafter than I thought. Did ya leave yer senses stuck to the side of the spider sack ya crawled outta?”
Apollyon snarled in annoyance. “Be gone, hag. I’ll package the babe’s essence and deliver it to you if you agree not to cripple my men as you take your leave.”
The Crone shook her head and tsked. The hem of her robed ruffled slightly as she floated closer to him. “Have ya noticed that piece missin’ from ya?”
Before he could respond, she snatched the fur collar of his jacket and yanked the fabric over his shoulder, exposing a broad chiseled chest and abs. Perfect as his physique was, it was hard to miss the quarter-sized wound on his left breast.
“This…” The old woman floated a step closer and then extended her boney finger. She pressed the tip into Apollyon’s raw flesh. A sound like squishing Jell-O made me cringe as she continued to bury her finger all the way to the knuckle inside his rotted chest. “This is missin’.”
She twisted her hand and Apollyon hissed, lowering to one knee.
“Ah,” she cooed. “Does that hurt?”
He balled his fists and forced himself to meet her gaze.
She scowled in return. “Ya ain’t got yer stone and ya ain’t got all yer essence together.”
Apollyon’s brow perked. “Do you know where my ring is?”
The Crone bared her teeth and twisted her hand in the other direction. Apollyon recoiled with an angry growl. “Focus, fool! I know where the rest o’ yer essence be at.”
Breathing wasn’t getting any easier, but now I was worried for a different reason. I had no idea what game the Crone was playing. At first, I thought it might have been an elaborate scheme to draw Apollyon’s attention away while I escaped, but could she be on Apollyon’s side? Would she help him?
He looked her crudely in the eyes. “Where?”
She slowly drew her finger from Apollyon’s chest. Blood coated the skin and dribbled over her knuckles as she pointed to me. “You gave it to her, ya idiot! Now it’s useless, reverted back to its original form, before it was tainted by lifetimes.” She wiped her finger on Apollyon’s jacket. “Yer only choice is to let the thing grow and guide it back. Now put the girl’s essence inside her ‘fore she dies.”
My eyes widened. I knew I was dying, but it was still a shock to hear it confirmed out loud.
Apollyon grudgingly rose and then came to my side. He crouched and held a flat palm over my belly, just above my groin. I tried to coil away, but I hadn’t the energy to move. He whispered something to himself and his brows pulled together in concentration. A single muscle spasm pulsed in my stomach and then rippled toward my toes and fingers. When the sensation reached my neck, my head jerked back and a light flashed in the periphery of my vision. I saw an image of a young boy with wide brown eyes. He looked like me, the way I looked before I became a vampyre. The image shifted to a handsome teenager with broad shoulders and lean muscles, his eyes dark and dangerous. Then he transformed into an old man with thin white hair, regret written in every wrinkle of his forehead. His dull gaze met mine in a very final moment and his eyes were crimson.
The images fled like a warped dream. Apollyon released a slow breath and then glanced over his shoulder at the old woman. She crossed her arms and arched her brow as if to say I told you so. His gaze trailed back to me and he lowered himself so that his arms lay across the length of my body. His fingers met and pressed into a steeple over my middle. He mumbled a chant in an ancient language. My gaze went to the Crone. She stepped out of the red circle, but leaned forward to watch.
A burning sensation ignited in the center of my waist and then snaked its way into my core like molten lava. My lips parted to scream, but no sound came out of my deflated lungs. The heat scorched through my body, stretching over my organs, gripping my bones, leaking into my blood. Sweat slicked my temples and my muscles clenched tight. I couldn’t take it anymore. I just wanted it to end, even if it meant death.
A force ejected from the fire, filling my chest with a deep revitalizing breath. On exhale, a rumbling growl curled my lips from my fangs, and then turned into a shrill scream as my vision went red. Strength returned to my muscles. My senses amplified. My thoughts were clear and fluid. The pain ebbed away and my screams subsided.
I panted on the ground, blinking away the redness until my vision went back to normal. I wet my lips, calmed my breath, and then watched Apollyon as his arms fell away from my body. He sat back on his heels, his features tight in displeasure at what he’d done.
The Crone nodded her approval. “Good. Now unchain her and let her dress. Poor thing must be clean outta dignity by now.”
Apollyon narrowed his gaze. “I will not. I need her offspring, so she can sit in a cell until it is born.”
A few choice words came to mind. I opened my mouth to make them known, but the old woman was faster.
“Ya keep more flies with wine than with vinegar, ya know?”
His gaze slowly traveled over the contours of my body. A hint of longing glossed his eyes and a cold fear hitched my breath. “There was a time,” Apollyon kept his voice low, “when I thought she would make a prized bride, but her spirit needs breaking. She will run every chance she gets, and she is of multiple heritages. Containing her will be difficult enough.” He stood and then faced the old woman, all traces of morbid romance erased. “Release my men. The girl will remain here, sedated and cared for until my essence is returned.”
I wanted to give Apollyon a piece of my mind, but it would do no good while I was chained and with the electronic prongs still pressed against my joints. Plus, I still had no cl
ue where the old woman was going with this pregnancy fiasco. For all I knew, she was making it up on the fly.
The Crone snorted and rolled her eyes. “Ya can’t take it from an infant, dimwit, it’ll be too raw.”
“Then I will rear the child.”
“Pfft. Yeah, that worked so well with yer first son.”
Apollyon growled. “Your welcome wears thin, hag.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll take my leave as soon as ya release her an’ let her dress.” She looked me straight in the eyes. “Besides, yer not gonna try an’ run away, are ya, child?”
I gave her my best what-the-heck look, but at that moment the door swung open. Valafar strode inside, thumbs in his belt loops, his long scarf flowing in his wake.
“What did you do to my men, incubus?” Apollyon demanded.
Incubus? Is that what Valafar and the Crone are?
“I gave those chaps the day off.” Valafar grinned.
Apollyon lunged at Valafar, but a bolt of purple light to the chest sent Apollyon flying across the room. His back hit the wall and he fell against a table, cracking the wood in half and spilling a row of glass jars. Tiny shards rained across my body and I squeezed my eyes and lips shut against them.
When I opened my eyes again, Apollyon was already on his feet. His veins lifted to the surface against the strain in his taut muscles. He bent his knees in an attack stance, and yet… a glimmer of restraint shone in his eyes.
Astonishment widened my gaze. Apollyon was the strongest vampyre I’d ever encountered. He was stronger than me even when he was a dead corpse in the underworld. But he knew he was no match for Valafar’s purple light and he hesitated.
The Crone tsked. “Ya’ve always been a curmudgeon.”
“And you have always been a tick in my side. What do you want from me this time?”
A sly smile pulled at the corner of her lips. Her ice blue irises darkened under her white lashes. “Ah, now yer using yer head. But all I want from ya is the girl’s God-damned clothes.” She turned to her male companion. “Get the girl.”