“Fucking awesome, isn’t he?” Payne turned on his heel, sheathed his scimitars, and grabbed a third vampire by the throat. “Wicked little beast.”
“Yes, he is.” Whirling around, he sent a dagger flying into the chest of yet another oncoming vampire, its fangs gleaming and its stench whipping about in the wind.
Varick watched as Payne buried a dagger into a vampire’s throat and slammed him to the ground. The scene played out before his eyes, and he was helpless, trapped inside the dragon’s mind. In one fluid motion, Payne thrust his hand into its chest and pulled out the black orb. The vampire gasped and went completely limp.
Screams ripped out, and they turned to the church. It was engulfed in flames. A horde of vampires came scrambling out of the inferno, guns raised and firing erratically as they sought safety. A bullet caught Payne’s right leg, and Alexander rolled to his left as dozens of the bastards descended on him like harpies on fresh meat.
Two went down as Payne released the blades in the toes of his boots and kicked into their chests. Four more replaced them as he flipped backwards, his blades catching the first three but not penetrating deep enough. He grabbed one by the throat as two ran at him and body-slammed him to the ground. He willed his dagger to his hand and punched into the closest body. Shrieks split the air as burning pain pierced his left arm, the vampire sucking greedily through Alexander’s leather jacket as his comrades grabbed at whatever limbs they could.
From out of nowhere, Kreach appeared, his vicious snarl hovering above Alexander’s head and a dead vampire hanging from his hand by the throat. Black blood coated his fingers and arm. As Alexander knifed another, Kreach tossed the vampire aside and grabbed two more from behind and crushed their necks. In complete Kreach fashion, he slammed them to the ground before plunging into their chests and ripping out the black orbs.
Alexander tossed the last one aside, the orb tucked into his jacket pocket with the others he had collected in the last three minutes. Payne got busy with two more as the church fell in and flames licked up the trees. The dragon was swallowing one vampire after another and spewing black fire at the ones daring to escape its wrath.
The dragon watched as several vampires went screaming with terror back into the flames rather than be devoured by the beast blocking their escape. He snapped at three bodies huddled in the doorway. Body parts fell to ground as the dragon snapped its jaws shut and swallowed.
The Destroyers moved back as the dragon turned and inspected them. As he stepped forward, he bent to eat the remains of a dead vampire. Bones crunched and black blood splattered as he chewed. He took another step and eyed the dragon above. He roared, but his eyes came back to the Destroyers in front of him.
Payne stepped forward. “Varick. Come back to us. Control. Control the beast.”
Varick tried to focus on the man before him. He knew him. His face was in his memories, his past, his present, and his future. What the hell was his name?
The dragon roared, its talons clawing at the ground, black flames pouring out of his nostrils. The stench of vampire rolled off his tongue.
“Varick, come back to us. It’s me, Payne. Remember me? You and I go way back.” He stepped warily. The dragon fell to his knees, his body jerking.
Varick fought against the pull of the beast, fought against the demands the beast was making. He was out and he wanted to stay out. It was his time, his Mating Rite, and he wanted it now, with her, with the woman in his chambers. He roared as her name bounced around his brain. The beast wanted Angelica, would devour her. His back arched as Varick refused the beast.
“She’s mine!” The words ripped out of the beast’s throat in a tidal wave of black flames and smoke. “Mine!”
Varick was losing the battle; the beast had claimed the right to be out and was refusing to give in. Like soft whispers of chaos, Payne’s voice made its way inside him, beckoning, almost pleading.
“Varick, come back to me. Without you, what am I going to do? You are my mentor, my teacher, my friend.” Payne dodged the dragon’s tail. “You don’t want to hurt me. I am your friend — come back to me. Fight the beast. Fight it, Varick.”
Fight it? No one fought the Mating Rite and survived. No one except Kreach had ever fought it, but even he had almost died, had slit his own throat before he took the unwilling female. Would Angelica be unwilling? Would she deny him? Would he kill her? Could he do as Kreach had and stop himself if she did deny him?
Topaz eyes flickered as Payne stepped cautiously closer, his voice low and compelling. “Listen to my voice and hear me. Take control of the beast.”
The dragon inspected Payne, saw his wounds, felt his pain. Pain? Pain was an ally. Pain was his friend — no, not pain, Payne, the Destroyer, Payne — his friend, his closest friend.
The dragon groaned and dropped his head as the scales decreased in size. His great body trembled and seized as it shrank and his wings curled and disappeared into his shoulders. Steam rose from his back as Varick fought the beast, demanded his body back. He took control of his needs, his wants. Lifting his head, he groaned and sagged forward. Payne caught him as he fell and lowered him to the ground.
Sirens blared in the background and lights flashed in the distance. “We need to leave now.”
Alexander looked up as the other dragon nose-dived, spewing flames that engulfed the tree line and the road leading to the church parking lot. The Destroyers vanished, taking Varick with them, all with grim expressions on their faces.
Chapter 24
“Is he awake yet?” Gyth appeared beside of Alexander. He had hoped Varick had taken care of the Mating Rite.
“No,” Payne gritted out. “Where the hell did all those vampires come from?”
Gyth pushed past him and looked down on Varick’s unconscious face. “Long ago there were portals between the Underworld, Earth, and the Heavens, but they were sealed. A portal has been opened, and it seems Zena is in control of it at the moment.”
He turned to face the Destroyers. “And we have a new player to add to the game.”
Kreach growled as the air around them grew heavy and taxed with misery. Alexander reached for the daggers strapped to the insides of his thighs, and all three Destroyers surrounded the bed in full defense mode. No one and nothing was coming after Varick while he was unconscious.
Gyth held up his hand. “Stand down! He is here at my request.”
“He who?” growled Payne as he withdrew his scimitars.
A figure wearing a long black robe and holding a scythe appeared. “I am Charon, the ferryman of River Styx.”
Charon’s bony fingers were wrapped around the scythe. Gyth watched Charon use his voice to fill Payne’s soul with hatred and misery. “What the hell is this, Halloween?”
Gyth gave him a pointed look. “I said stand down, Payne!”
“Whatever, but if he has a beef with Varick, screw him!” He grinned. “He wants our boy, he’ll have to fight us for him first.”
Alexander nodded and looked at Gyth. “What the hell is going on?”
“One of the portals in the Underworld was opened, and the ferry was not paid. Charon has informed me a be-spelled arrow entered the portal and had Varick’s name written all over it.”
“An arrow? Arrows won’t kill us.” Alexander replaced his daggers. “Bespelled?”
Charon glided forward. “A spell was attached. It’s not directed toward Varick but toward one he holds dear. It isn’t meant to kill — it is meant to find.”
Payne came forward, putting himself between Charon and the bed. “Why are you telling us? What do you gain from this information?”
Charon laughed. “Call it a mutual alliance. I have long been confined to Styx and am somewhat at a disadvantage. I have no knowledge of the world today. I need allies, and I’d prefer them to be the enemy of the one who opened the portal.�
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Payne growled and faced off with Charon. Toe to toe, he said, “We don’t need allies! What the hell do you want from us, and what the hell aren’t you telling us?”
Charon’s hand shot out from the robes, and bones curled around Payne’s massive neck. “The ferryman always gets paid, by blood or deed, by token or soul. I will have my payment, Payne, warrior of the One Race.”
Payne grinned as his black eyes locked with red ones. “I’d prefer you to die.”
With his left scimitar he sliced into the robe, and with the right he hacked at the arm attached to the hand at his throat. Charon laughed as he dissolved into black ribbons of mist and appeared at Varick’s bedside, in the same place Payne had previously stood.
“I am the ferryman, the collector of the souls condemned to the abysses of the Underworld. I do not die, I do not live; I simply exist, and I will collect one way or the other.”
He looked down at Varick and ran his forefinger down his cheek. “Oh, yes, he has a strong soul, full of delicious fire and smoke. Full of” — he paused — “full of heavenly blood and hell’s wrath.” He suddenly looked up as a growl ripped out of Gyth’s throat and the god took a step forward.
Misting away from the bed, Charon reformed at the door, laughter echoing around the room in streams of agony and sorrow. “Secrets, so full of secrets.”
Gyth roared and crossed the room in a blink of an eye. The chains wrapped around his waist were in his hands, and his hair was blood red, the white completely submerged. “If you ever touch him again, Styx will no longer have a ferryman.”
Confusion hung in the air, the Destroyers gasping their surprise as Gyth slammed Charon against the door. “Trust me; you can die an agonizing death. I know your weakness, Charon.”
“Secrets, king of the Heavens, have a way of eating at one’s soul.” Charon’s voice dripped with venom. “Secrets of the Heavens have always found a way to bring downfall. I now know your weakness, Gyth, so we are tit for tat.”
Before Gyth could make good on his word, Charon vanished in thick smoke and cruel laughter. Gyth turned and ran his hand through his hair, changing it back to its usual white tinged with red at the bottom, and took a deep breath as his Destroyers sat on the bed with worry on their brows. They knew that if Gyth had a weakness, they were as good as screwed.
Regaining his composure, Gyth spoke in an even tone, “Who is the one he holds dear?”
Alexander stood. “His angel.” He looked at Gyth. “The female he is infatuated with, the one he calls Angelica.”
Gyth turned on his heel. “Find her before that arrow does. If Varick falls prey to whatever Zena is planning while he is in the throes of the blasted Mating Rite, we may very well lose him.”
The Destroyers nodded and Alexander spoke. “She works at Tortured Souls. Alera will know where she lives and all her closest kin.”
“Go. Time is something we have very little of.” Alexander and Kreach vanished as Payne turned back to Varick who was finally stirring.
“Welcome back,” Payne mumbled.
Varick sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “How the hell did I get here?”
“In a pumpkin, princess.” Payne leaned against the bedpost as Varick stood on shaky legs. “Piece of advice — go get laid before you try to eat us all and we have to put your ass down.”
“Enough, Payne.” Gyth stared at Varick. “The Mating Rite is upon you.”
Varick growled a few choice obscenities as he lurched toward a chair. “Where am I?”
Payne grunted. “Figure it out, my brother. Old statues of long forgotten Greek generals, several unique volumes of Aristotle’s philosophies, and a desk piled to the ceiling with battle plans.”
Varick looked up, a snarl on his lips. “How long have I been here?”
Payne rubbed his chest. “An hour at the most.”
Gyth’s eyebrows pulled together as Varick’ face fell and his eyes filled with worry. He eased into Varick’s thoughts, listened to the commotion and found what Varick’s main thoughts centered on.
Angelica was in his chambers with no way to get out, and she was hungry. She was hungry and angry. Varick didn’t know how long a human could go without food. He was worried for her welfare.
Gyth let out a soft sigh. At least Angelica was at Varick’s place and safe for now. He knew he couldn’t help Varick deal with the beast or the Mating Rite and he had things to attend to. Leaving in a soft flash of light, Gyth vanished, intent on finding Charon.
• • •
Every muscle in Varick’s body ached. His head felt like it had been smashed between two boulders and used as a bowling pin. The soft flash of light made him squint, sent pain through his eyes. On unsteady legs, he went to Alexander’s closet.
Payne followed rambling on about Charon the ferryman and Gyth. Varick really didn’t know what Payne was saying. He heard something about Gyth going ballistic but couldn’t process the information.
Shifting through the clothes, he managed to find a descent pair of leathers without skulls and crossbones and a black T-shirt. Awkwardly, he used one hand to steady himself on the wall and the other to pull the leather pants up and over his hips. He pulled at the crotch and wondered how the hell Alexander went commando all the time. Payne grabbed his shoulder and swung him around.
“Are you listening to me, Varick?”
“I have to go.” Varick jerked back and sidestepped Payne. “Something needs to be taken care of. I screwed up, and I have to make it right.”
“Damn it! Varick, this is important. Listen to me.”
He turned on his heel. “What the fuck is it, Payne, that it can’t fucking wait?”
Payne narrowed his eyes. “Charon, the ferryman of the River Styx, was here, and it seems Zena may be after your little beauty.”
Varick stepped back. “What?”
“Oh, let me see. For the third time — bad queen of vampires wants Varick’s little angel. She sent an arrow through a portal and aimed it at the one you hold dear. If she finds her — and she will — she’ll suck your angel dry. And if that isn’t bad enough, Charon seems to think he knows Gyth’s weakness.” Payne crossed his arms over his chest. “Any more questions?”
Cursing, Varick misted and vanished, leaving Payne grumbling under his breath. “Yeah, well, a simple thank you would have been nice, asshole!”
Chapter 25
Traveling faster than the speed of light, the arrow searched the world over, seeking the one Varick held dear. Deep within the Earth, in the dense forest of the Amazon, the arrow aimed true. Slicing through dirt and rock, it homed in on the female walking in the chamber below the ground.
Angelica’s stomach was rumbling, and she was getting a killer headache. How long had she been here? Hours? Days? She had been pacing back and forth for an eternity. Where was he? Had he left her to starve to death, or was this some kind of sick test of wills? Pulling the black jogging pants up she had found in Varick’s closet, she screamed.
The knife she had found with the gun was in her hand, her knuckles turning white. She had no clue what she was going to do with it but it made her feel a little safer. Sliding it into the waistband of the jogging pants, she readjusted them as they began sliding off her hips from the weight of the knife.
She groaned and sat down in the floor, bringing her knees to her forehead. Tears slid down her face as she cursed. She was going to kill him, beat his ass until he begged her for forgiveness. She would, if and when he came back.
She gasped as a slicing pain hit her in the back of the head, vibrating inside her skull with a violent screech — or was that her voice that made that sound? She clutched at her temples and screamed as the pain splintered into her veins and coursed through her body.
Laughter filled the room as Angelica seized, her body jerking uncont
rollably, her bloodshot eyes rolling back into her head. “It does hurt, does it not?”
Minutes passed as her body calmed and her breathing returned to normal. Slowly, she sat up and turned to the voice. A woman grinned down at her, showing off a pearly white set of double fangs. She was dressed in black, fingernails painted black, lips painted black. The long hair falling over her shoulder to the floor was black, and to top it off, her eyes were black too.
The woman licked her lips and purred. “I haven’t taken a human in a very long time. Your blood will be a nice little added bonus.”
Angelica laughed hysterically. “I must be suffering from dementia. Yeah, I’ve lost my mind and my body has followed.”
The woman laughed. “Afraid not, sweetling. I am Zena. And what is your name?”
Angelica sat there not knowing to laugh or to cry. “Screw you.”
Zena cackled. “Well, Screwyou, I have come to offer you a deal.”
She backed up and scrambled to her feet. “What kind of deal?”
Zena shrugged. “I want Varick. You will be bait, and after he has come for you and falls into my clutches, I will give you immortality.”
Angelica’s spine jerked, prickly sensations working at her heart. She focused on the woman’s words. “Why do you want him?”
Again, she shrugged. “That makes no difference.”
“It does to me. Tell me why you want him.” Angelica reached around to her back and grasped the handle of the knife hidden in the waistband of Varick’s jogging pants. “Oh, let me guess, it’s a vampire secret.”
Zena hissed, her fangs scaring the crap out of Angelica but she refused to give in. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to make a deal with me.”
“He is mine, and you are nothing but a passing trinket, one he will discard after he uses you.” She smiled as she edged closer. “He is a rare breed, and he will not deny me any longer.”
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