Dark Hunt: Division 4: The Berkano Vampire Collection

by Nicole Zoltack

  His only regret, his only shame, was that he had not told Seraphine how he felt about her.

  The queen stepped back, the skirt of her gown swirling around her legs. “Say your piece,” she ordered, bored and indifferent, glancing at her nails instead of him.

  “A vampire…” He swallowed hard. “She kidnapped my friends. All of them. She was going to kill them. She forced my hand! I would never have betrayed you—”

  “How many vampires have you killed?” the queen cut in, pacing in a circle around him. Without waiting for a response, she continued, “Why didn’t you just kill her?”

  “With her great speed, she could have murdered more of my friends before I could have killed her.”

  “But why didn’t you use the illusion spell on this vampire? Then she would not have been able to hurt your friends.”

  “I did not know where my friends were being held.”

  Her eyes flash with disappointment.

  “What kind of a witch cannot track his friends?”

  “N-Not all of them are witches. Some lack magic. Finding them would have been difficult, and it’s possible that some were hidden in different locations.”

  He was sweating from fear and anxiety. The queen was one intimidating woman.

  “How was this vampire able to capture your witch friends?” she asked.

  “She must have sneaked into their houses while they slept. I don’t know for certain. All I know is she kidnapped them to force my hand. I would never have dared go against your wishes!”

  “Why didn’t you share this with me? Or with the other protectors for that matter?”

  Antoine’s nostrils flared, and he was doing his best to appear indignant. “I did not want to become less important in your eyes. To admit weakness would have meant that I am not worthy of my position. That I’m not worthy of you.”

  The queen halted in front of him and laid a hand where she had struck him.

  “I believe you,” she whispered.

  He exhaled with hope and extreme relief.

  “I believe you to be a lying, treacherous traitor of a witch. You expect me to believe none of the protectors are your friends?”

  “They are c-co-workers,” he sputtered.

  “Honestly, Antoine, it’s as if you don’t know me at all.”

  The queen’s broad smile left a sour taste in Antoine’s mouth.

  “To ensure you would comply with my demands, I had all your friends rounded up, except for the protectors, of course. They remain in the dungeon. How is that you did not notice?”

  His eyes bulged with fear and hatred. “That vampire!” he spewed with venom geared toward the queen instead of the fictitious felon he was referring to. “She took advantage! Of course, I noticed my friends were gone. I assumed the vampire had them. I believed her. I… Forgive me. I have been a fool.”

  Antoine dropped to one knee, head lowered.

  But he knew his charade had collapsed. The queen was too intelligent to fall for his words.

  What bothered him more than anything was that he had not noticed his friends had been taken. Was the queen lying?

  He doubted it. She was shrewd, cunning, and vindictive. She suspected he’d been playing her. How much did she know, and how much was guessed? Was the queen aware of Seraphine? Was Seraphine trapped in a dungeon cell awaiting execution?

  Would the queen force him to execute his love?

  His nightmare might come true. Maybe it would prove to be a premonition after all.

  “You are a fool, Antoine. I am not one.”

  Her heel struck him in the temple, and he tumbled onto the floor, startled by the swift, painful blow. Warm liquid ran down the side of his face, meeting the blood from his cut lip.

  The heel of her shoe forced him to lie down on his back with the stiletto pressed against his throat.

  “I have been watching you,” she said, her fingers caressing the gemstones around her neck. “I have seen your deceit with my own eyes. I had hoped you were playing an angle to—”

  “Yes,” he croaked out.

  She pressed harder with her heel. He could scarcely breathe. His hands wrapped around her ankle. If he wanted to, he could twist it and bring her down. If it came to that, he would fight her. Physically. Mentally. Whatever it took.

  He was not a coward. He would not be a victim.

  He might love Seraphine, but he was also a fighter.

  “Yes, I’ll tell you the truth now. You can believe me or not, but you must know what I’ve been doing. I learned of the vampire uprising and their plans. I found the leader.”

  The queen backed off the pressure of her heel on his throat ever so slightly.

  He gulped down a few breaths before continuing, “Her name is Seraphine.”

  Hopefully, the queen already knew this, and he was not supplying her with new information.

  “She is strong and capable,” he added. “Driven. Infectious. She had already called many to her side by the time I met her. I needed to learn all I could from her. I wanted to know their plans. First, though, I had to earn her trust.”

  The queen’s face had returned to being a mask of indifference. He knew she did not believe him. It might prove impossible to get the queen to trust him ever again, but that was not the goal. Antoine wanted her to listen. He needed to distract her.

  And then he’d try and kill her.

  “Can you imagine that? A witch trying to get a vampire to trust him? Especially when that witch was the vampire executioner! But she is a female. Needy. Clingy. Desperate for affection.”

  “You seduced her like you were trying to seduce me?”

  “I seduced her, yes, but I wasn’t trying to seduce you. I—”

  “Save it,” she snapped, scraping her heel against his throat, cutting it this time.

  “When I learned she had killed the bull—”

  The queen blinked a few times, startled, and he fought a grin. Wrapping the truth in lies might help, although he had no hope to get out of this alive.

  “Yes, it was she. I never thought anyone other than a vampire would kill one of your majestic creatures. She is powerful. Strong. Beautiful.”

  Damn. He hadn’t meant to say aloud the last part even though it was the truth.

  “She is proud. Getting her to realize I was on her side proved a challenge, but I almost had her! She was nearly ready to share with me her plans against you! Then I planned on—”

  “Telling me every last detail,” the queen said.

  “No. I planned on dismantling every aspect of their plan. I was going to kill them all, every one of the dissenters. Whether they were vampires, human, or witch. Yes, a few other witches did actually take up their cause. The thought disgusts me. I would have left her death for last, Seraphine’s. I would have brought you her head and then told you everything. I…” He sighed as if bitterly upset and disappointed. “I had it all planned out. I would have had a new necklace for you. Rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. I would have brought both the necklace and the head, and I’d planned on confessing my love for you then. I would never have—”

  The queen bent down and spat in his face, just missing his eye.

  “You met her and fought. You exchanged words. You failed to kill her and she you. You started to question things, even questioned me. You grew soft, Antoine. You were once a staunch supporter. You deserved your position as vampire executioner! I could see your smile as you killed Hernando. Yes, I remember every name, every crime of those executed.”

  She reached for a knife. Forged from bone and filled with a magic that made the blade tinge green, the weapon was a masterpiece.

  Queen Pierrette Lyon removed her heel from Antoine’s throat and replaced it with the knife.

  She stared down at him, hatred and revulsion in her eyes, her face otherwise hiding her contempt.

  “Her uprising wasn’t strong. She had the heart for it, but the other vampires were too cowardly, too afraid to join. That one of her first followers was a
human made me laugh. You didn’t kill him though. Oh, yes. I learned about that. You were so gracious to give the kill elsewhere.”

  The queen rolled her eyes. Now, her full lips twisted with displeasure and loathing. Her eyes narrowed with disgust. Every part of her, including the stiffness of her shoulders and the strong grip on the blade, revealed her detest and aversion.

  “You gave her the body! Do not try to pretend that was because of your attempt to play her. Why else wouldn’t you have killed that human, Marwin, yourself? I will admit that even I played into her hand somewhat. That bonfire would have ignited more to her cause.”

  Antoine gasped.

  “Yes, I was the one to sabotage it. I wanted to learn the extent of her influence and determine how much of a threat she truly was. This Seraphine is not the first to try to rise up against me. She will not be the last. They all, her included, will fall and be rendered to ash.”

  Antoine blinked. A cruel tear fell from one eye. The cut on his face stung from the moisture.

  “I had the witch killed to serve as a test for the division. I needed to learn who was loyal to me and the way life must be and who was against me. The division did not take kindly to that, another reason why I postponed the bonfire. That, and I’d already killed every follower devoted to Seraphine and her uprising. They did not deserve air to breathe or water to drink or food to eat to survive until a public mass execution.”

  All of those deaths. The blood had not been spilled by his hand and yet he felt guilty and shame. Why hadn’t he attempted to save them? He should have. He might have been discovered much earlier, but the uprising would have been stronger for it.

  “I knew then that you were not with me. You were with her! I had been hopeful all along that I was wrong, that you were indeed playing her as you claimed. But you had fallen for her! A vampire! A witch and a vampire together are expressly forbidden. In other divisions, it is an offense punishable by death. Believe me. I have ways to learn what happens in other divisions. I never had to state that rule because none before you were stupid enough to do such a thing. It’s unnatural. It’s an abomination. It’s horrific, Antoine. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  His worry and fear all melted away. He could never be disgusted by his feelings for Seraphine. The queen could hurt him, torture him, and magically strip him of his powers. Still, he would not confess that he had been wrong or corrupted to have loved Seraphine.

  “I wanted to test you. That’s why I tasked you with hunting three vampires a day. You did not even find them, did you? Seraphine sent them. You did not even kill them. You allowed them to leave in front of the entire enchanted gathering.”

  He would not deny the truth any longer. The queen had been spying on him the entire time. Maybe she even knew about—

  “You gave her your blood. Can’t you see how contrary to nature it is for witches and vampires to be together? Your blood is poisonous to her! Yet you protected her. You let a vampire drink from you. It’s abhorrent. You even slept with her. Maybe you did not actually mate with her, but you and I both know that would have only been a matter of time.”

  Not now. The queen would make sure he would die before he could see Seraphine again. He would never be able to tell her or show her how much he loved her.

  “I am glad the two of you fought, but it was only a lover’s quarrel. Why did you return, Antoine? Did you truly think you could convince more witches to join you? Did you think me that much of a fool that I would allow you to kiss me? Touch me? To remove my clothes and my jewelry? After you have kissed and touched that vile vampire?”

  The blade sliced his throat, only superficially, but his body trembled as if on fire. Every nerve tingled, and it felt as if he were trying to force his body out from his skin.

  “Even now, I can tell you’re trying to think how to remove my necklace, how to kill me. Do you believe I haven’t noticed how many times you’ve looked at that window? Could you fly if I kicked you out of it instead?”

  “Do your worse,” he spat.

  “Oh, brave words. I admired you at one time. Not that I ever considered you for my king. I never considered anyone. I have no need for love. I feel no need to share my power. This division needs a firm hand, and that hand is mine.”

  The queen slapped him again, straightened, and stomped furiously on his stomach. A gust of air whooshed out of him.

  “Ville de Liberté. The City of Freedom. Freedom from the vampires. Freedom from oppression. Freedom—”

  “From oppression?” Antoine couldn’t help himself. He was going to die, so he would speak his mind. “All you do is cause oppression. You’ve killed vampires. Humans. And witches. You inspire fear. You encourage hatred.”

  “You mistake fear for respect,” she said in a cool voice.

  “You’re so arrogant you can’t tell the difference,” he countered. “You don’t know what the people truly think of you. Do you realize what the whispers say about you? People call you the mad queen. Château de la Reine Folle. No one loves and adores you. No one—”

  “Those who crave love have nothing,” she spat. “Love is worthless. All that matters is power and control.”

  “A world built on oppression and fear—”

  “I’ve already told you we don’t have oppression. Vampires are not alive. They are not human. They are not a part of nature. They are destruction, devastation, death. They deserve to die. All of them!”

  “You are mad,” he said. “Kill me, and the uprising will happen. Mark my words.”

  She laughed, the sound loud and long, strangely both happy and menacing.

  “Oh, I will kill you, and I will kill the uprising. Seraphine will witness all her followers die and be burned to nothing. Vampires in their small dwellings will all be burned alive. The underground world they have been struggling to forge? I will see to it personally. They, every last one, will die. Then she will too. Off with all of their heads! Burn them all!”

  Antoine’s body became weak as he struggled to his feet. He reached toward her, at her neck, but he didn’t have a chance to touch her.

  She clapped her hands. The door to the tower opened. Protectors must have been waiting there. If he had tried to kill her earlier, they would have arrived and murdered him instead. He never stood a chance against the queen. He was powerless.

  The mad Queen Pierrette Lyon had outsmarted him at every turn.

  Protectors placed iron shackles on his wrists, preventing him from using his magic. Without a word, the queen pointed toward the exit.

  They complied.

  The last thing Antoine heard as they dragged him away was the queen’s maniacal laughter.

  Outside, the rain storm continued, growing increasingly brutal with unnatural lighting and thunder and hail. It would only be a matter of time before the fire would rain down too.

  “Burn them all,” the queen had said.

  That just might happen.

  As a protector, Antoine had been down to the dungeons so many times that he had lost track. There was something poignant and melancholy about the place. It was as if the souls of those trapped and murdered here had come back to haunt it. The stone walls were cracked and worn, crumbling to dust. Unfortunately, the iron bars were all solid and thick, withstanding the test of time.

  It was one thing to fetch the prisoner and ready them for execution… a far different matter to now be one of them.

  The protectors did not say a word during the entire long trek down to the bowels of the castle. When Antoine glanced at their faces, he immediately wished he hadn’t. They did not share the queen’s talent for a mask that concealed her thoughts and opinions.

  His one-time fellow protectors wore disgust and aversion in their pinched lips and scowls, their eyes darkened with hatred. They would never understand why he had done what he had. He could never get them to understand how necessary it had been.

  He opened his mouth but found no words. Most likely, they had overheard most if not all of his conv
ersation with the queen. They would know the full extent of his plots against her, his love for Seraphine. But to know and understand, to know and appreciate, those were very different matters.

  The moment they left the winding, narrow staircase behind, someone shoved his old executioner’s hood over his head. He struggled against their hold, wanting to yank it off and see who was down here. Although he had no reason to doubt the queen’s assertion that his friends had been taken to the dungeon, he wished to see for himself. Now, he would be robbed of that. Because the queen had lied? Because she wished to mentally torment him?

  Regardless, he struggled, kicked, and even bit when he could, but the protectors released their hold on him. The abruptness caused him to fall to his knees.

  Someone kicked his back. He sprawled out, wrist slamming against the concrete floor. A boot to his back forced him to roll over, and the punches and strikes began in earnest.

  Antoine did his best to protect himself. He covered his face with his arms and curled into a ball to give them as little access to his body as possible. The attacks were aimed for his kidneys, the fists to his head and temple.

  He tried not to cry out, not to whine or whimper, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing they were hurting him. Imagine that. Witches using fists and kicks instead of magic to assault him. Physical violence. Then again, with him shackled, he could not fight back physically or magically.

  Antoine tried to think of Seraphine, to remember how it felt to hold her, to kiss her. Unfortunately, the more they assaulted his body, the more they seemed to attack his mind as well. They were beating his memories of Seraphine out of him until he could hardly see her. All he could remember was pain and suffering.

  He was bruised, beaten, bloodied. Bones were surely broken. This anguish was more than he could bear.

  Abruptly, the onslaught stopped. He did not uncurl from his position. The ground beneath him felt slick with moisture, with blood… his blood.

  The protectors jerked him to his feet and dragged him down a corridor. Even if he hadn’t had the mask on, he would not be able to see. His world had dissolved to the point that he could see and hear nothing. All he could feel was pain. Nothing else mattered.