Dark Hunt: Division 4: The Berkano Vampire Collection

by Nicole Zoltack

  “No. You asked me to think about your words, and I have. Each case has multiple sides, various angles. Without exploring them all, how can I be certain your version of the happenings is indeed the actual rendering of the events?”

  Anger and frustration rose within her, and she wanted to grab him by the throat again. She had enjoyed feeling his swift pulse beneath her palm last night.

  But she refrained, doing her best to remain level-headed and calm. Rashness would not suit her purposes.

  “I haven’t seen Franz in two years. Sera looks like she’s about two. I asked you before, and you didn’t answer. Seraphine, have you killed a vampire?”

  “Franz still lives.” She hesitated before nodding. “If you can keep up, I will take you to him.”

  His eyes widened with shock. “Him or his dead body?” he asked.

  Seraphine bristled with disgust. She no longer had any illusions that this Antoine would become an ally, even an accidental one.

  “Him. I told you he’s alive. Do not slow me down.”

  She stood, wiped off some of the rain even though it was a pointless gesture, and raced away.

  One rooftop to another, rolling, running, leaping, she zoomed so swift the raindrops could not beat down on her. She felt free, invincible, untouchable.

  Abruptly, she stopped. Antoine was only a few seconds behind her, although it didn’t surprise her. He must have strong magic to nearly rival vampire speed.

  “Where is he?” Antoine asked.

  “In my dwelling.” She lifted her chin.

  He startled. “You trust me—”

  “If I want you to believe the truth in my story, then my hand is forced,” she said.

  She leaned forward.

  Antoine touched her arm. “I will wait here if you prefer. You can bring him to me.”

  Seraphine gaped at him in surprise. Her smile was almost shy.

  Quicker than the lightning that would soon appear as the current storm matured, she dashed away. From within the confines of the cellar of her dwelling, she located the witch. He was incoherent but alive.

  And that was all she would grant him.

  As if carrying a baby, she climbed onto the roof to avoid the bulls and made her way back to Antoine.

  He was there, waiting patiently. His expression widened with shock and disgust when he witnessed her drop Franz onto the roof.

  “What did you do to him?” he growled.

  “Relax. He’s alive. He’s just a little… anemic.”

  “You drank from him?”

  She nodded.

  “How?” he asked, perplexed and maybe appalled. “His blood is poisonous to you!”

  “I may have…”

  “A totem. Let me guess, Noella gave you something that neutralizes the poison.”

  “Not exactly.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Noella siphoned all of his magic. He’s basically not a witch anymore. I can drink from him without being poisoned. But I never drink enough to kill him.”

  “You’re using him as a living blood bag!”

  “Yes, but he’s alive. Consider it punishment for his crimes. Because Noella wasn’t the first person he’d wronged.”

  “You have no right—”

  “I hope you break your back when you fall off that high pedestal! The reason he victimized so many was because he bragged about that one good deed he did! I’m comfortable enough in my own skin to own up to the fact that the act in question was a good thing. That vampire crossed the line. Had I known he was doing that, I might’ve…”

  Seraphine shook her head. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done. She liked to think she would have handled it personally, but she wasn’t sure.

  “One good deed doesn’t mean you can lord over others, make them suffer, bring them sorrow and grief and fear. His bringing a vampire to be executed before the division instantly made him a favorite of your queen. None would deny him anything from then on, even if what he wanted was sadistic and horrific. Do you honestly think Pierrette Lyon would have had him killed? Or even stopped him?”

  Antoine said nothing.

  “You want to question him? Go ahead. He should wake up soon.”

  Seraphine crossed her arms. To grant them space, she even leaped over to a nearby roof where she would be out of Franz’s line of sight when he stirred.

  The unconscious witch’s heartbeat began to pick up a few minutes later. Her ears prickled, and she listened to their conversation.

  “Where am… Antoine? Is that you? This must be a dream. I’m hallucinating. I—”

  “Franz, I need to ask you a few questions.”

  At least Antoine appeared flustered and, even better, angry.

  “You have to help me.”

  The sound of feet sliding made Seraphine smirk.

  “She… She…”

  “I don’t want to talk about her. I want to talk about someone else.”

  “Who?” Franz seemed confused.

  “Does the name Noella Giles mean anything to you?”

  There was a long, pregnant pause.

  “I never—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Franz.”

  “Do you know who I am?” Franz demanded, but his voice shook with fear and desperation.

  “You probably don’t know this, but I’m the new vampire executioner, so I outrank you. Now tell me the truth, or would you rather I spell it out of you?”

  “I… Did your intel come from that vampire? Because you can’t—”

  “I heard a, let’s say, an abbreviated version from Noella herself.”

  “I-I went to see her.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “When?” Antoine’s tone was not pleased at all.

  “About two years ago.”

  “Before or after she gave birth?”

  “After,” he grumbled.

  “Good. So far, your stories align. Why did you see her? What did you want?”

  “Her husband died. I thought she would need… comfort.”

  “You sought to take advantage of a witch while she was using up all of her magic to protect her newborn child. Is that the truth?”

  “I wouldn’t quite put it—”

  “Is that the truth?”

  Antoine’s question echoed with a roar of anger and revulsion.

  A crash of thunder sounded in the distance.

  Seraphine jerked, startled. The storm hadn’t increased that strong yet. There was no lightning.

  “If you’re asking if I—”

  Just like that, Seraphine could hear nothing. Franz didn’t have the strength to wield magic, so Antoine must have been the one blocking her vampire hearing.

  Unable to linger in her hiding spot, she glanced over at the pair of witches. Their lips were moving. They were still talking. Well, Franz was talking and cowering. Antoine was shouting and trembling with obvious anger and disgust.

  She sat back down. After waiting a few minutes, she stood and slowly crossed over to the witches.

  Franz was unconscious again. Antoine was standing over him, breathing heavily.

  Seraphine could not help feeling vindicated.

  “Admit it,” she said in triumph. “You know she wouldn’t have killed or even punished him. Some vampires are evil, yes, but so are some witches. Humans too. Deep down, we’re all the same, whether we’re cursed, have magic, or have none.”

  “Remove him from my sight.”

  She threw the unconscious witch over her shoulder. Since she’d kidnapped him, she had learned how much special tea it took to make him unconscious. Also, Noella had spelled her dwelling, so Franz could not leave of his own accord.

  Maybe I should ask her to upgrade it to prevent any witch from entering without my approval. Would be nice for them to be the ones to ask for entrance for a change.

  But she hesitated. “Do you care what I do to him?”

  “Drink from him. Drain him. Let him live. Leave him to rot and die. I don’t care.�
�

  Seraphine nodded. A lightness bounced in her step as she raced back to her dwelling.

  Maybe she could spare a little hope that Antoine’s eyes had been opened.

  He did have beautiful eyes.

  But strikingly handsome or not, he remained in the queen’s inner circle, and he was a powerful witch. If it came down to Antoine having to choose between her or his precious Pierrette Lyon, he would always pick the queen.

  Why did that notion bother her so much?

  7

  Two days and nights had passed since Antoine had been charged with locating the bull killer. So far, his quest had been both fruitful and fruitless.

  Fruitless because he hadn’t succeeded in the task.

  And fruitful because he’d caught several vampires in the act of killing humans.

  Antoine was perplexed that he had hesitated to swoop in with the last vampire. Maybe Seraphine was damaging his thoughts, but this didn’t seem like an attack. The human wasn’t squirming or trying to break free.

  So Antoine had hidden, watching, waiting.

  The vampire finished and passed something to the human. They shook hands and went on their way.

  A vampire paying a human for blood?

  The human trusting the vampire to not be overwhelmed by his thirst?

  It was baffling. It was shocking. It was insane.

  And, yet, it was not a crime.

  Antoine had been plagued by guilt ever since he’d witnessed that event an hour ago. If he had swooped in, the vampire might have killed the human without meaning to. Then he would have killed the vampire. Maybe the human had no other means of earning a living. Jobs were rumored to be scarce. If this had been his only way to support his family, his death would have been to the detriment of many others.

  Antoine’s hesitation may have saved more lives than only two.

  But the guilt was crippling. If he had never talked to Seraphine, Noella, and Franz, he would never have given it another thought.

  A lot of blood could be on his hands.

  Correction. A lot more blood could be on his hands.

  He had no issues swinging the axe again and again for the vampires he personally witnessed killing humans before he could stop them.

  But the others, he was now beginning to wonder if they had truly been guilty. Maybe some of them had been victims of a system that spurned hatred toward all of their kind.

  Not that he was a vampire sympathizer. Not at all. He would never be.

  By this point, Antoine was ready to drop, and he fell asleep in his bed despite so many thoughts perplexing him.

  When he woke, he was still confused but also angry. He should not be questioning his queen. He should not be failing her. Locating the bull killer was his main objective. Yes, cleaning up the streets from criminal vampires was important, but he could not afford to lose focus.

  Antoine left his house. It frustrated him that his dwelling was in better shape than the queen’s castle. She had witches and humans make repairs to her castle all the time, yet it seemed as if the work came undone the very next day.

  Her castle had turrets and turrets and turrets. The tops of the four corner towers barely had any roofs covering them. Likewise, the parapet walks, which had one time been covered, were exposed to the terrible elements. The flanking towers had crumbled, the tops ground to dust. Even the drawbridge could not be raised, and the keep was comprised of only two walls. Half the pinnacles were broken.

  Once upon a time, vampire executions had been held within the castle grounds in the bailey. Allowing entry to the humans and witches to witness it had nearly proven a disaster. At that time, Alois Schmidt had not yet been named vampire executioner. His predecessor had the honor or curse.

  The very first vampire slaying had nearly ended up in bloodshed. During the execution, the guillotine became dismantled. Somehow, the blade went flying through the air and landed in the middle of the crowd. No one was hurt, including the condemned vampire.

  The queen had been so disgusted and vexed she’d killed the prisoner herself by magically putting his body through an ancient rack device.

  From what Antoine had heard, it had been an impressive sight. Unfortunately, he had not been there to witness it as he had been hunting down another vampire. Eventually, he found his quarry and brought him to justice. It was that success that earned Antoine’s promotion into the queen’s inner circle.

  Before he took two steps from his perfect little house, another protector marched toward him.

  “Antoine,” Cathrin Keller said. “The queen wishes to have a word with you.”

  “Right away.” He nodded to her. ‘Thank you.”

  She shook her head. Cathrin was short but stout, strong and muscular. Her hair was always kept in triplet buns on her head, so Antoine had no idea how long it would fall if left untied. Her eyes were dark and set almost too far apart, but she saw all and heard even more.

  “Do not thank me. The queen is not happy.”

  “With me?”

  Cathrin shrugged. “She threatened the cook.”

  “But she has never had an issue with him before.”

  “She always likes her meat well done.”

  “Always.” Antoine never could agree with that. Meat cooked too much was tough and impossible to enjoy.

  “Well, he apparently overcooked her sausage this morning. And she demands to have an entire boar roasted for dinner tonight, but she wants to see blood on the plate.”

  Antoine frowned and rubbed his chin, the hairs there prickling his fingers. “Might it be that she is—”

  “She has not chosen a consort.”

  “I know, but that does not mean—”

  “The queen will not disgrace herself by becoming pregnant by just anyone. She will wait until she finds a worthy man. She is not with child.”

  “Understood.”

  Cathrin patted her buns, each one in turn. “Honestly, I wish she would already. It might help her unwind some if she could pass off some of her responsibilities to someone she can trust.”

  “She can trust us, her protectors,” Antoine protested.

  “Of course, but she cannot rely on us to help with every detail. To have an equal, someone she can talk to and discuss all matters with would be a huge blessing for her, I think. I hope she finds him soon. The division is at a tipping point on many fronts.”

  Antoine glanced at Cathrin, dismayed and confused. “Have you seen something?”

  “In the stars?” She rolled her eyes. “How can I when the weather has prevented us from having a clear night in months?”

  Cathrin spoke the truth. Strangely, during this past dry season, clouds had formed. In previous years, only bright and sunny days and starry nights dawned during the heat and dry seasons. Granted, sometimes fire rained down from the sky during the hottest days.

  “No, I have not seen anything, but a change is in the air. Something is brewing.”

  “Trouble? Dissension in the ranks?”

  “I cannot be certain, but I do know that if you tarry much longer, the source of the queen’s discontent will be you.”

  Antoine nodded and hurried along to the castle. When he reached his destination, the guards bid him entry, and he soon found the queen in the courtyard.

  She was pacing back and forth, back and forth. The moment he stepped into her line of sight, she halted.

  “How does your search go?” she asked, her tone curt, critical.

  “To hunt down vampires, well enough, but as for the bull killer, I’m afraid I need more time.”

  He hated to disappoint her, but he would only ever tell her the truth.

  “I expected as much,” she muttered, disgusted. “The vampire must have been cunning and vicious to dismantle one of my magical bulls like that.”

  “I’m sorry.” Antoine hung his head in shame.

  “Do not apologize. So long as the vampire responsible is found and held accountable for his or her actions, that is all I need. If th
e bloodsuckers get it in their heads that they can kill the bulls and then the witches, it will be a catastrophe.”

  “Your Highness, it will never reach that point.”

  “No. I suppose not, as you are on the task.”

  She tapped a long finger against her chin. Her nails were painted green to match the emeralds draped around her neck. Antoine thought the choker must weight five pounds at least with all of the gemstones hanging from it.

  Her gown this day was impressive. The hoops were wide and full. Other witches and humans tried to emulate her fashions, but no one ever could. Where Pierrette Lyon found the metal for the hoops, he didn’t know. They did use metal for the hoops, right? At least he thought they had at one time. Maybe the queen preferred animal bones.

  Antoine was dressed in black slacks and a matching buttoned-down shirt. Simple. In the heat and dry seasons, he wore white instead. To finish his look, he wore a black cloak, the interior red. It was spelled to prevent rain from touching any part of his person.

  Rain had continued coming down in sheets. He pitied the humans who worked out in the fields to grow their crops under the magical illumination the witches provided. The sun was weak and grew weaker every year, even if the heat increased in magnitude.

  The heat season killed off any crops, and the dry season was no better. All produce had to be grown and harvested during the rain season. Once the ice arrived, the rest of the vegetation would be ruined.

  Humans and witches alike worked together to provide food and nourishment for each other. In addition to eating sustenance, witches needed to feed off humans in a way. Without humans as their psychic energy source, witches would not be able to recharge their power and would eventually use up their magic.

  Vampires didn’t do anything for anyone except for themselves. Seraphine notwithstanding.

  Speaking of vampires…

  No. He would not speak to her about them.

  Instead, he asked, “My queen, are you all right?”

  “I am fine,” she said, grinning as if to prove her words were the truth. “Why do you ask?”

  “You seem a little anxious.”

  “Of course, I am anxious. I have not learned how the crops are faring yet. I do not know who killed my bull. More and more vampires have been caught committing treasonous acts in my division, and yet their numbers never seem to dwindle. Have they added rabbit DNA to theirs somehow?”