“Look, you selected this one for a reason.” He pointed at me. “You’ll have to hunt down the perfect one for another go at whatever it is you’ve planned.”
Even in my state of agony, I could smell the sweat of his fear as I dimly realized he was bargaining for my life. I hoped he knew what he was doing. The choice had been taken out of my hands.
“We’ll go peacefully.” Ash glanced at me then back at Goodkin. “You have my word.”
Goodkin exhaled, and the torture ended. I fell to the floor on my face, clawing at the carpet. “Thank you,” I mumbled before his men came forward to lay hands on me. Out came the syringe I’d become familiar with. It made sense, considering it’d be hell to just knock me out. Ash watched as they slid the needle in my vein. I grinned stupidly in relief as I passed out.
Chapter 8
Ash
Pain brought me back to reality. My arms were stretched above my head and the weight of my body dragged me toward the earth. My mouth tasted as though I’d dined on week-old road kill. The air was smoky with incense and I could pick out the bitterness of myrrh among the tones of frankincense and woody cedar. This brought on a fit of coughing, which didn’t help my bruised ribs one whit. I hacked until I was sure I tasted blood and didn’t give a shit whether anyone heard that I was awake. Inkarna tended to be more physically robust than the average human, but it was still possible to kill the Kha. As I was right now, I was harmless to House Montu. After all, I’d said I’d not give any further trouble. I could only hope that whatever they had planned for Xan would leave him alive afterward. As for me? Maybe a sarcophagus awaited me with promises of eternal torment.
I tried to focus on my surroundings. Easier said than done. My vision refused to clear at first and I had to blink furiously until I could discern where the hell I was. A chamber. Of course. It would be some chamber. The domed area was covered in hieroglyphs but my vision was too fuzzy to read any of the words. Most were scribed in hieratic, and the artist’s hand was very slanted.
The lettering created bands around the circumference of the room that caused a peculiar optical illusion—akin to 1960s op art—that pulsed and made me look to the ground. It wasn’t that difficult to stare at the ground. My neck was sore anyway. Where the hell was the vampire? What had they done with him? For surely if I was here, in this environment that crackled with suppressed malice, chances were good they’d intended me to watch, or at least be a part of the proceedings. And that thought chilled me.
In many ways my ignorance of House Montu’s plans were worse than being strung up like game waiting to be gutted. They had no qualms about harnessing the life forces of others. My own prospects didn’t look good either. While my mortal Kha remained alive, they could easily use me as some sort of battery. Kinda like in that movie, the one where the machines kept the humans in suspended animation. Visions of that sarcophagus returned yet again.
I shuddered and coughed again, the pain spiking simultaneously from my head and my chest. Now we both needed rescuing. The black humor of my situation drew a twist of a grin. Damn House Montu. Every time we tussled, the axe I had to grind just got bigger and bigger.
My heart fucking broke just recapturing the brief happier times before House Montu had shoved its filthy tentacles into my life again. All because of secrets.
None of that really helped at present, with me hanging like so much meat while…
At this point I looked up and was able to focus on the pale stone plinth that hulked in the center of the room. My head felt as though it would roll off my neck but I held it up long enough to take in the dismal scene before me.
They’d cuffed the poor daft fuck of a vampire to the stone. Whatever they’d administered to knock me out still had him out cold, for he lay slack-jawed and limp, his hair tangled and spilling off the shelf—a platform that appeared to have too-convenient grooves cut into its surface, rather like the embalming tables the elder pharaohs had been prepped on.
I shuddered then glanced around the chamber again.
This was the place where House Montu’s dead no doubt had their Khas prepared for the eternal journey. What manner of devilry did they have in store for he who had already passed through the Black Gate and returned?
Unless I could pull a serious fucking rabbit out of a non-existent hat, there was no way either Xan or I were getting out of here. Alive or undead.
Chapter 9
Xan
I knew I should have trusted my instincts in the first place. Everybody else figured I had no clue for myself anyway. It sucked, but if I’d given this a second thought—the whole coming along peacefully with a bunch of sharp-dressed men—I’d stayed behind, unless they felt they could take me by force in front of better part of a hundred witnesses. Really, what the fuck did they want with me? I clenched my hands into fists, but was much too weak to pull loose from whatever the hell they had me strapped to, so I stared at the ceiling instead. A big-ass dome, kind of like the ones you find in Rome or something. Scribbles all around it. I blinked. This was some seriously hokey shit, but they obviously took it as gospel, or whatever these weirdoes believed. I was stripped to the waist, vulnerable to anything they felt like doing to me.
I knew there was more out there besides ordinary life. I’d been through a little bit before I landed at Pale Rider to assume an ineffectual existence as a bass player. I was put through the paces as a new vampire by my sire, so I came across enough of the paranormal, as people called us now. And some had powers, like mind reading, or making shit move by just thinking hard. I never really inherited much in the way of “powers” but my physical senses had sharpened up nicely.
My body hurt, from my side to my head, my ears, my jaw…all of me. Loss of blood had me wavering between human and that monster thing I kept carefully coiled inside. The real vampire, not the grinning, womanizing asshole that lurked in his seat at a corner table with his booze.That real vampire? One mean motherfucker. Hungry. Unbiased. A killer. Faint memories tickled my brain of Ash’s blood and my fangs ached for a little more. Just a little more.
A man with a bald head and dark eyeliner stepped up beside me. His white robe gave him the appearance of a ghost and he chanted stuff in a harsh-sounding language, one I’d never heard before. I wasn’t really listening, just working at keeping my shit together. I had to survive this. It couldn’t be the end. Or worse, the beginning of some other kind of torture. He laid his hand on my chest, rattling off in that same weird language. My heart tingled. A low growl welled up inside me and slid between my dry lips. Green filaments of light swirled in the air above me; it was the same stuff I had seen around Ash. Speaking of which, where was he? I wanted to look around, but felt so heavy. My heart thundered behind my ribs, like it’d punch out in a bloody mess. I gritted my teeth as pain set in, a hot kind—the bad stuff that meant this wasn’t over.
The bald dude’s voice rose in volume until he was shouting, the same words, over and over again. I smelled wine. A spatter of thick liquid on what sounded like concrete told me they were pouring it on the floor. The rest of the fools I’d run into before drew close around me lying there like a Thanksgiving dinner. The girl I’d spared earlier was behind the ring of men, smug as she handed the guy above my head another bowl. That guy turned out to be the fuck, Goodkin. He strolled around me, spreading what looked like salt. A leopard skin was strapped over his white robe on his shoulder. A thick hunk of jewelry in the shape of an Egyptian scarab glittered from a harness he wore over his chest. I struggled in my bonds, wanting to break loose and just get the fuck out of there, but the straps held solid and I whined against my will at the heat building inside me.
The green stuff had a calming effect though, and I allowed myself to be lulled by it. Anything to escape from the fire spreading in my body. I felt weirdly compelled to open up, not like physically, but on a deeper level in my mind. A wild head-trip of some kind, and I let it in. The green stuff grew a point and swiftly entered me through the nose, making me exhale. M
y breath was a red mist that joined the green, spinning and swirling to form some sort of vortex-thing, like a little round portal. Every breath I took and released added to the mixture. The hole opened wider.
Goodkin kept up that creepy monotone chanting shit and raised his hands to direct the growing window. I wasn’t sure, but before it left my field of vision I saw black waves, a glistening gate, lightning… Chills ran through me, shaking my spine like a death rattle. Another dude appeared at my side, a little younger, same makeup and identical robe. In his hand gleamed a small but wickedly-curved ceremonial knife. It had to be. It was almost like a sickle, with a modest length of blade and a bone pommel.
I cried out when he cut me. I might be dead but I could still feel that. The fire inside me rushed to the wound as he put a shiny wide-rimmed cup against my ribs to catch my blood.
“What the fuck are you—” I got out before someone from behind me shoved a rag into my mouth. I squirmed in my restraints. This was bad shit. I knew what they were trying to do. They were looking to steal my blood. If they drank it, bad things were about to happen. Consider the fact that I had no clue what these dudes were, but drinking from me without consent?
Well fuck. That could make them a vampire. Or worse.
Every time my wound healed, he cut me again. His eyes were black. Cold. I growled through the makeshift gag as the vampire kicked in. I pulled and jerked at the chains, but they still held. Once he had what he wanted from me, he raised the cup. The green shit twinkled around him and around me, and I closed my eyes. Felt it. A direction planted in my mind. Just a little suggestion. I had to get out of there. I didn’t want to be part of whatever the hell they were cooking up.
My eyes popped open again and the scrawling on the inside of the dome above me spun. Faster. Faster. Waves of white noise hissed in my ears like open-air static on a radio. My vision tunneled to a pinprick and then I felt it. An energy. A burn, but this time, psychic. How did I know that? It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t hot, but it crackled as it soaked into me, like a sponge. A massive implosion of power kicked me in the brain and I jerked on the table like a reanimated corpse. I don’t know where the dudes went, maybe off to go party with my stolen blood, whatever, but where I lay, something was definitely happening and the party? It was just starting.
I yanked at the chains again and this time they broke like they were made of plastic. I pulled the gag from my mouth, which had gone dry. Blue-green shimmered at the edges of my vision as I came up off that table like some kind of ninja-Frankenstein. Far away, a piece of me laughed at the joke, but from where I was, there was no joke. Goodkin was drinking my blood, with the now-massive hole standing in place with a rotating foggy ring behind him. There definitely was a sea of black waves, like the metal-flake pearl paint on a Les Paul; fractured peaks of moving nothingness, and beyond that, an enormous black gate. Black-on-black.
In my peripheral vision, I spotted Ash dangling from a chain, just watching me with wide eyes. But below that stare, a little smirk. Something was up here. Goodkin gagged and dropped the bowl to clutch at his throat.
“Stupid ass, don’t you know better than to drink that shit?” It was too late to stop whatever was gonna happen to him. He let out a bone-chilling scream and stared at his hands. Two of the robed dudes rushed at me. Instead of bracing myself to throw a punch or kick, I felt a rising bubble of cold burn from the pit of my stomach.
Ghostly blue flames flared out from me and covered everything in front of me like a wildfire after a long drought. In slow-motion, I watched in horror as the demonic wave exploded my offenders from the chest out in a mess of blood, bits of bone and floating hairs, even Goodkin. The backsplash of guts and ooze splattered over everything, including me and Ash. The smell of roasted flesh laced the air, stinging my nostrils.
The window swelled in size until I could’ve just walked through it, giving a terrible glimpse of what lay beyond death. Then with a blinding flash of light, it was gone.
The female that’d just been smirking at me minutes ago was pressed flat against the wall, coated with the goop from her former friends. Wide-eyed, she sobbed as she watched me release Ash from his bonds. I stood and walked over to her, still feeling that power coiled up inside me like a rattlesnake, ready to strike.
“This power…” She eyed me with obvious contempt. “It is not yours.”
Hell no, it wasn’t. It was something like I’d never believe I could handle. And definitely something I wasn’t interested in using again—to erase people from existence with just a thought? Fuck.
I leaned against the wall, my hand above her head, like I was going to kiss her. Her brows knitted in confusion.
“No, it isn’t sweetheart, but you forget something.”
“I forget nothing.” Her lame attempt to spit on me missed because she was shaking so much.
“Sure you do. And Ash here? Was right. I should’ve taken you out before, but I don’t hit women.”
Her chin lifted, hope glimmering in her eyes that she was going to make it out of this room alive. I grinned, making a slow show of my big fangs. Her gaze locked on them.
“Thing is sweetheart, I got no problem biting.” I bowed my head to her neck, despite her trying to shove me away. She may as well have tried to push a dump truck uphill for all the resistance it gave.
My fangs slid into her skin as easily as any other victim and I drank deep. The little sparks I felt in that fluid weakly mirrored the same I felt from Ash, which was great. I really needed the extra boost after the shit I’d been through. The day’s activities had left me with a thirst I couldn’t explain, and especially after I was bled like a weak little lamb on their altar. She was my reward.
The blood rushed over my tongue, hot and spiced with adrenaline. Usually, I didn’t like taking from scared people, it made them taste bitter, but I was rolling high on this Inkarna shit, and didn’t mind one bit at how she finally killed off that goddamned craving. Of course, that was before I killed her. Would I have done it without being under the influence? Probably not.
“I never thought I’d see that.” Ash stood behind me, gazing at our surroundings and oblivious to what I just did. I dropped the girl’s body at my feet and turned to face him.
“Of all the goddamned stupid-crazy shit I’ve seen. The only way I can explain it is when you buggered up their ritual you somehow made a bridge between the world of matter and what lies behind the Black Gate. Pure unformed chaos from the Sea of Nun brought into the heaviest plane. Fuck me. Hectic.”
It would’ve been unbelievable, if I’d had time to stand there and ponder, but reality was setting back in and I became disgustingly aware that I was covered in a pink and red pulpy mess dotted with pieces of bone. Pretty much what it’d look like had the cultists been thrown into a blender and pureed. I wrinkled my nose. “Eww. This is fucking sick…”
“Never mind that, we’ll have to find a tap someplace and hose off. But right now, we need to exit out of here.” Ash led the way to the door, unlocking it and opening it cautiously before urging me through. It led into a small side room with a desk lamp, a long table and two metal chairs. A couple of books lay next to what I recognized as my shirt and my leather jacket. I brightened. “Hey, that’s my stuff!”
“Wonderful, grab them and come on. The guards are bound to be confused without lack of direction but I have no doubts they will shoot us if we’re caught waffling around.”
“Pfft. Whatever that means.” The stuff, I mean person goo, was drying on my skin and was starting to itch. Plus it smelled horrible, like burnt hair and bone, dead blood, and shit. I tried not to gag as I held my clean clothes away from my body.
We slipped through another set of doors that led back out into the main corridor. I looked back and realized the doors we’d just exited were concealed behind a panel. At least the lights had been turned back on. Of course they were. They’d caught us. No need for the guards to be running around in the dark anymore.
The place was full of
wild secrets. Things I was just fine without knowing. Ash used the GPS in his head to find the kitchen, where we paused to spray down using the hose attached to the industrial dishwasher.
“This shit is sticky,” I grumbled and frowned, trying to pressure wash the bigger chunks off myself and especially out of my hair. Ash, making grabby motions from time to time, paced, waiting for me to finish.
“Give me that.” He snatched the sprayer out of my hand. My objection was cut off when he hit me full-blast with ice-cold water.
“Fuck, dude!” I threw my hands in front of my face to block and realized he was laughing. “It’s not fucking funny.”
“Sure it is. Depends on how you look at it.” He grinned and shot me again.
“Hey, godammit!”
“You look like a strawberry sundae.”
“I didn’t know people had so much…yuck in them.”
Ash snorted. “Yuck? You sound like a woman.”
“Look at this shit splattered all over me. At least you were farther away.” I scowled at him and took back the nozzle.
“You’re the one that decided to pop human firecrackers.”
“Fuck you, dude.” I gave up on scrubbing with just my hands and sacrificed my shirt in the name of getting that shit off me. I was soaked. My hair stuck in wet strands to my cheeks. And here that asshole was laughing about it. I sprayed him in the face, which caught him by surprise, and he shrieked. That made me laugh. “Turn around so I can get your back. Damn man, your shit is fucked.”
Swirls of human matter rushed into the wide-mouthed drain in the center of the room and I struggled not to vomit. We stank like hell. At least now I could have a cigarette. They were in my inside jacket pocket. I opened the box and stuck one between my lips before fishing in my jeans pocket for my lighter.
“Really? You’re going to smoke now?”
“Fuck yes I am.” I flicked my Zippo open, but since I’d just been put through what amounted to a vampire carwash, it was too wet to light. I rattled off half the cuss words in the English language. “Just my goddamn luck. What now?”
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