Shadow Rising (The Shadow World Book 7)

by Dianne Sylvan

  The room was freezing, even without substantial blood loss. His teeth began to chatter; right about then he realized he was naked.

  “Well you’re a mess,” Agnilath said, drawing closer to the table. “I can’t have that gorgeous body looking like a carved-up side of beef when I come into you. Would you mind, my love?”

  “Of course.”

  David recognized the face that peered down at him even though he’d never seen it before. Those heathered lavender eyes, the ears, that chin…unmistakable…but not real.

  Kai had been beautiful; Agnilath was not. Neither was this creature, this parody of an Elf, serene features twisted into a kind of viciousness that was still vacant of any soul, anything approaching humanity. Neither one truly inhabited the body they had stolen; they moved them around like puppets, used them for pleasure and cruelty, but the flesh wasn’t theirs.

  He understood, then, watching the way they moved, almost naturally but still the slightest bit stilted. As long as they were borrowing bodies they were on borrowed time; their lives, like those of any living thing, could only last as long as the skin that contained them. But both wanted to be gods…wanted true immortality…and for that they needed bodies that could transform with them, something they could fully own.

  Why was that him? Why should it be Miranda? While it made sense to him somewhere deep down, it had no logic. Why were their bodies any better than that of a three-hundred-year-old Elven Bard?

  “Oh, beloved,” Agdilan murmured, “He’s exquisite. I can’t wait to see you in him.”

  “Nor can I,” Agnilath replied, taking a moment to bite her earlobe. “Especially once you have yours. Imagine it, my darling…in a few hours you can put this one through his paces.”

  “Mmm.” She reached over David’s bare skin and held her hands out, palm down; a second later he cried out in pain as he felt the bullets inside his body begin to reverse course, burrowing upward instead of downward. The flesh had closed behind them as his body tried to heal itself, but all that accomplished was making their exit twice as agonizing. He bit down on screams over and over as, one by one, the bullets emerged from his skin, popping out and then rolling harmlessly off onto the floor in a rivulet of his blood.

  After the bullets were removed, she ran her fingers over his muscles, the intimacy in the touch making his skin crawl.

  “You will be a perfect being,” she murmured to him, leaning down to say it in his ear. “When he comes inside you, taking your flesh, your old life will fall away, and you will be what you were meant to be all along. Don’t fight it, beautiful one…this is fate, long foretold. We’ve been waiting for you for so long.”

  Another pair of hands joined hers, and the two Firstborn touched him all over, caressing, gauging his reaction. Luckily for what remained of his pride, the disgust he felt at what they were doing was more than enough to deny them the pleasure of watching him get hard in his humiliation.

  It was so like what they’d done to Nico…except without the surgery…keeping him weak, stripping his defenses, debasing him as thoroughly as they could. It was what they loved…he’d thought that the motive for torturing Nico was to figure out if an Elf’s body could hold a Firstborn, but this was the truth. They wanted to do this because they enjoyed it. They existed to destroy, but even more, to blaspheme…to take the creations of their Mother, Persephone, and defile them. He didn’t want to imagine what the ritual to take over a body was like.

  The thought of what they’d done to Nico, and to Kai, and even to Deven’s mother now, brought the first flush of something other than pain and fear. Not only had they gotten their filth all over the Elves, they fully intended to do the same to Miranda…

  Like hell you will.

  Agnilath was smiling, though, watching his face. “Look,” he said. “He thinks he can fight this.”

  Agdilan chuckled. “Poor thing. I do like his spirit.”

  “You didn’t have much chance to see him in action…too bad, really. He’s truly the finest example of vampire kind ever to exist, with the possible exception of his woman. Look at this craftsmanship…the one I’m wearing has such dexterous hands, but imagine these. Such games we’ll have.”

  “I’ve seen her,” Agdilan answered with a nod. “She’s magnificent. What a goddess we will make of her, my love. The old whore and all her ravens could not do better. And with the power she already commands the Godspell is as good as ours.”

  “That’s enough talk of such things,” Agnilath said. “We can work on the search once we’re finished here tonight.”

  She smiled in a way David supposed was meant to be flirtatious, and moved aside, leaving Agnilath standing over David’s naked body, looking possessively from head to foot and back again.

  “I’d like to feed you before we move forward, just so I can be sure you’ll survive, but it’s more important to keep you docile for the time being. You see…” He picked up something heavy—a book, David realized, as thick and worn as the Codex. “What I’ve been doing with my bodies so far is really only a partial transfer. Each time I’ve gotten closer to taking full possession, but they’ve all given out on me in the middle of the transition. I even tried having this one turned into a vampire once I’d taken it over, to buy myself some time.”

  David stared up at that face, wishing he could get past the mask and speak to Kai, even for a second. “I’m sorry,” he said weakly, trying to push the thought inward. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t bother. There’s no coming back from where he’s at…or at least that’s what I thought. I have to say, your little bitch surprised me. No one’s ever pulled out one of my hungry ghosts before. If she’d had more time she might even have saved that pointless human life. Such a waste of power! But that’s the problem, you see; even as a vampire this body is too frail for me. Elves, simpering little twits that they are, are strong, but they’re not made of our kind. What I needed was something close to the source…something touched by, transformed by, the old whore Herself, that had Her energy and Her power in its veins. You…well, I just had to wait until I was sure She’d touched you all…because then, if I can claim one of you…”

  “You can have us all,” David affirmed, only able to summon harsh, ragged whispers. “All of our power, through the two of us.”

  “It won’t take long once I have you.”

  A moment of pure, golden relief: Agnilath didn’t know Nico could split the bond, or at least that he could do it quickly enough to stop the Firstborn taking over the entire Circle.

  Not much longer now…surely not much longer. Wait for it. Wait for it. You can do this.

  “I can make this right,” he told Deven.

  But even Deven hadn’t believed him.

  “How do you want him, my love?” Agdilan asked. “I’ll have the men get him into position.”

  Agnilath smiled, this one pure and cruel. “What would you rather watch? You had to miss out on the last one, so it’s lady’s choice.”

  “I want to be able to watch his face,” she said silkily, running her hand down David’s chest. “And your face, when the moment hits…those ridiculous purple eyes going blank while these lovely blue ones become yours. Both at once.”

  “Very well.” Agnilath gestured to the soldiers, who moved forward again and started shifting the chains around, jerking David’s arm and leg over until he was flat on his stomach.

  He heard clanking; there were wheels attached to the chains, like a rack, but these were designed to move his limbs. After so much blood loss he couldn’t break them, and even at his best they would have been a challenge.

  It wasn’t until they locked into place, leaving him bound on his knees, and the neck chain was hauled downward so hard his face struck the stone altar violently enough to fracture his cheekbone, that cold fear gripped him.

  The Firstborn had both gone silent; the only sound was his panting breath as panic raced through his body with the realization of what exactl
y was about to happen. He felt something hot and wet being dribbled on his head—blood, though whose he couldn’t guess. Meanwhile, Agdilan began to read something from their Codex. The language was like nothing he knew, had no antecedent he could attach to it with his mind whirling like it was.

  There was a knock—hesitant, faint.

  The Prophet was standing by the altar, his hands on the knot that held his black robe closed. He hissed to the guard, “What did I say about interruptions? Take care of that!”

  The guard nodded, looking petrified, and darted to the door. After a moment of scuffling and a faint cry of pain, he returned, and said very quietly, “My Lord…it seems there’s a disturbance at the perimeter. Nothing serious, someone asking for…”

  “For what?”

  The guard shrank back, stuttering, but got himself together enough to say, “For you, my Lord, they asked for you…by name. They wanted to know if…”

  Agnilath seized the man by his neck and shook him. “Out with it, you sniveling animal, what did they want?”

  Every word stammered, the man answered, “She…wanted to know if…you had time…to hear about…”

  David closed his eyes and smiled. Thank you.

  “…our lady Persephone…and Her plan for you.”

  Taking a deep breath, David summoned all the strength he could to “tap” mentally on the com implanted behind his ear…the real one…and he spoke as clearly as he could:

  “This is Prime David Solomon, Star-One, issuing order Sigma Four-Two. All Elite converge on this signal and fire at will.”

  Within ten seconds, somewhere high above, he suddenly heard distant, soft popping sounds…rushing feet…shouting…

  He saw the rage on Agnilath’s face and couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

  “My Lord, the entire building is being overrun!” one of the guards yelled over the growing din. “They came from everywhere— and they have guns!”

  Agdilan, already near panic, seized the Prophet’s arm. “What do we do? There’s no way out of this building—”

  Agnilath struck her, sending her staggering into the wall. “Get back to the book!” he snarled.

  He reached down and took David by the hair, forcing David’s eyes to meet his. “We’ll just have to hurry, then,” he said with a cold, cruel smile.

  The giddy relief David had felt turned back into ice. Out of pure animal instinct he started to struggle against the chains, against the hand on his jaw that then slammed his head back down to the stone surface, sending pain and stars through vision that greyed in and out.¬¬¬¬¬

  “I know the atmosphere isn’t ideal,” the Prophet said, “but try to enjoy it…it’s the last thing you’ll ever get to feel.”

  *****

  * The Elite cleared a path for her, and Miranda shoved her way through the battle into the building where they’d tracked the Prime. He was several levels underground, and between her and him were several hundred human soldiers—the first wave of which was armed with those poisoned bullets.

  Historically vampires had little need for guns. What use was a bullet against their kind?

  But while Morningstar’s soldiers may have been brainwashed, cursed, and suicidal…they were still mortal.

  Swords had their place. But not here, not tonight.

  Only the outermost sentries had the magicked bullets, though, and once inside the building there was far less need to be careful. She ordered her Elite to switch to close-quarters tactics and charged ahead.

  “Should we keep them alive?” one of her lieutenants had asked dubiously. “In case they can be set free?”

  The look she leveled on him gave her answer, but just to be clear, she said, “No quarter.”

  It didn’t take long to see, even as distracted as she was with her singular goal, that there was no other way it could have played out. The people that the Prophet had cursed at the benefit had been under a different spell designed for a different purpose. The one used on these poor bastards was irreversible, at least, not by any power she possessed. Whomever they had been was dead already; their bodies were just shells holding their master’s orders.

  Perhaps later she could pretend she’d cared; at the moment it was convenient. All they were to her right now was an obstacle between her and her Prime.

  As she rounded a corner to the stairwell, something hit her—a wave of power, the same crawling oily evil that had made up the creatures she’d burned away. This was ten times stronger, and it was growing…reaching…

  Suddenly fear stronger than she could fight grabbed her around the throat, as did a horrible pain in her lower body…she cried out in terror, her body reacting as if she had gone back in time to that alley, that night so long ago, dear God was someone using empathy on her or—

  No. No no no—

  Miranda’s vision went red with rage, and she drove herself past the horror, past the pain; she had her sword out before she even reached the stairs and jumped down over the rail, falling down the stairwell to bypass the teams of Elite grappling with the remaining humans.

  Her feet hit the ground, as did four others, and she barely had time to register that Nico and Deven were with her before another blast of power hit them, nearly knocking them down. It was building—and when it reached the peak, it would be too late—

  The three of them threw themselves at the heavy double doors at the end of the hall, where several Elite were already trying to break it down. The bodies of the door guards littered the hallway.

  “Fight him!” she cried. “David, we’re here! Fight!”

  He was so tired, and so hurt…the fear, the humiliation, guilt…they all assaulted her as the Prophet assaulted him, and there was no time—

  “Miranda!”

  She didn’t know where the voice was coming from, but she knew it. “Cora?”

  “Reach for me, my Lady! Reach for all of us!” The distant Queen’s mental voice was strong, firm…and angry.

  Yes.

  Miranda opened herself to the Circle, drawing in their strength on her breath, filling her lungs with Cora’s fire…

  …and she exhaled through her fingers…

  …the door didn’t just catch fire, it exploded. Every inch of it burst into flame and turned to ash in less than two seconds, the whole thing falling under her outstretched hand.

  The Queen didn’t give herself time to digest what she saw when she entered the room.

  All she saw were targets.

  She saw the Prophet’s face…and his expression of pure bliss, of triumph, would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her days, as she knew she had to be too late, that—

  But when his body jerked forward, it wasn’t to finish his ritual.

  A wooden stake burst through his sternum, slammed so hard into his back it threw him off David’s bound, bleeding body and onto the floor, a mindless animal scream filling the air as the power of the ritual was broken before it could be completed.

  Agnilath’s face was a rictus of hatred and violence. He scrabbled forward, naked and grotesque, gripping the stake and trying to pull it, finally getting his bloodstained fingers around it.

  But before he could, Nico stomped hard on his shoulder, forcing him back down onto the stake and impaling him over again.

  Whatever the Prophet was, he needed a body. The one he wanted had been denied him and the one he was in shuddered hard, then lay still.

  On the other side of the room, Agdilan screamed in grief and fury and tried to fight her way free of Deven.

  Deven was staring at the woman, seeing his mother somewhere in that ghastly face, perhaps…but only a moment of regret touched his face before he let her go.

  She started to lunge at Miranda, but Deven reached into his coat and pulled out something Miranda would never have expected him to carry, no matter how they’d armed the Elite tonight:

  A 9mm.

  A single shot to the head, and the monster fell.

>   Silence.

  “Clear the room,” Deven said quietly.

  The Elite all backed out, eyes averted, leaving the Tetrad alone.

  Miranda wasted no time on the fallen bodies. She dropped her sword, pulled off her coat, and slung it over David.

  He whimpered but didn’t move.

  She could hear Nico sobbing softly, though whether it was over David or Kai, she didn’t know or care; all she could see, all she knew, was her beloved’s torn flesh, the chains binding him in obscene angles, the degradation of it beyond anything she could process. She fumbled with the chains, trying to break them with brute strength; a second later the first wrist manacle went slack as Deven got to the winches that controlled them and released one after another.

  Dev joined her and together they lowered David onto the altar, removing the shackles, the neck chain. They carefully stretched out his limbs, their own hands shaking.

  She heard Dev call on his com for blankets and blood, but all she saw was David’s face. He looked so young…so sad.

  He moaned softly and his eyes fluttered against the incongruously peaceful candlelight, but if he was conscious it was half at best, caught in some kind of feverish horror he could still see.

  “Is it him?” Nico asked from the floor where he had Kai’s head in his lap. “Were we too late?”

  “Of course it’s him,” Miranda snapped, finding enough of her voice to croak at him. “He’s fine.”

  “You can’t be sure—”

  “Go to hell!” she cried, wanting nothing more than to claw the Elf’s eyes out.

  “Miranda,” Deven said gently, “Easy. He just wants you to be safe, is all.”

  “You can go to hell too!” she sobbed. “Look what happened…look what we did to him, Deven. Look what we did.”

  “I know…I know. But he’s safe now. They’re gone.”

  “No…”

  None of them recognized the voice, and they all started, even Miranda through the haze of her grief; she covered David’s body with hers and went into defensive mode, ready to attack anyone who came at her.