Buried In Denial

by Evi Asher

  Long and rectangular, the whole room was a study in opulence. The floor was veined marble, black and white with swirls of red that looked like blood flowing through the stone.

  Black and red bunting hung on the walls, reminding Athera of stuff she’d seen on the History channel about royal courts of old.

  Vampires were everywhere, and she could have sworn she smelled the faint trace of old blood—not a pleasant smell at all. They lounged on chairs and couches placed in strange positions in the hall, some clustered together like little sitting rooms, some all on their own, like a naughty child on a time out.

  The vampires moving through the space were as strange as the furniture layout. They were dressed in everything from Elizabethan couture to torn jeans. Some wore elaborate masks over their eyes, and one vampire—she was assuming the female was a vampire—even wore a tall multicolored Mohawk, dyed to resemble a peacock’s colors.

  If this were a teenage movie, this lot would be the art geeks—those weird souls looking to prove they were cool by how strange they could look.

  She had to be honest... she liked it.

  As they moved through the hall, vampires turned to look at them, and the murmured conversation faded out.

  Athera felt conspicuous. She wasn’t worried about her jeans and button-down blouse, or even meeting royalty—it was not the Middle Ages, after all—but everyone staring at her made her feel as if she’d shrunk and climbed under a microscope.

  She resisted the urge to smooth her hair and clothes.

  The guards stopped and stepped out of the way, giving Athera her first look at the king of the Vampires—well, her second, because he was the splitting image of Ryder. The two were identical twins.

  He sat on a throne, his legs crossed at the knee, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. Unlike Ryder, he was fully dressed. She had to bite back a giggle. Nerves. It had to be nerves turning her into a stilly wench.

  He spoke, and his voice reverberated across the room. “Well?”

  He was waiting for something and it was only when Grave bowed from the waist that Athera realized she was staring at royalty and she’d forgotten her manners.

  She curtsied as best she could in a pair of jeans and decided right then that if she ever met royalty again, she’d make sure she was wearing a skirt.

  “That’s better. Now, you may rise.”

  Thank goodness. Her thigh muscles were getting sore already. Athera looked up at the king as he stood and stepped down off the dais that raised his throne.

  He walked toward them, then circled them, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Wyatt.” The king spoke as he completed his circle. “Why were our guests not brought to me immediately?”

  He raised his gaze to Wyatt, who was standing behind Athera. That was when she knew she’d be able to tell the king and Ryder apart. Ryder’s eyes had held warmth, humor and a teasing light. Even when he’d been furious at the guards, the warmth in his gaze had remained.

  The king—his eyes were dead. Like the eyes of a predator, a great white shark, doll eyes.

  When Wyatt didn’t answer immediately, something flashed in the depths of the king’s eyes and Athera felt a frisson of fear. This was a dangerous creature.

  “Well?” The king clenched his jaw.

  Athera didn’t turn to look, but she could almost feel Wyatt’s shrug. “They were here to see your brother,” Wyatt said at last.

  No your majesty, no my lord, no my king. Apparently, Wyatt liked to live dangerously.

  “Ah, and you are ever my brother’s puppet. I should have you executed.” The king spat the words out, then seemed to dismiss Wyatt and looked down at Athera.

  “Well, I have to say... ”

  He raised a hand and ran the back of it down Athera’s cheek. She wanted to shudder in revulsion. How could such a handsome man make her feel sick to her stomach? He was pure evil, that’s how. She felt it deep in her soul.

  “You are far prettier than I thought you would be, phoenix.” He clasped her jaw between his fingers and tilted her face so he could inspect it better.

  “Let go of her.”

  Grave’s low warning surprised her.

  The king tilted his head to look at Grave.

  “And a reaper. Hmmm.” He stepped back from Athera and let out a deep sigh.

  “I was considering making you... ”

  His gaze came back to her, and again she wanted to shudder.

  “One of my treasured possessions. My harem has no phoenix, and you would have been pampered.”

  “I’ll pass if it’s all the same.” Athera let the shudder take her, and he saw it. His brows drew down.

  “I might still do just that, but first I want to see how well you do. I have promised my court... ” He waved his hand to include all the strange vampires in the room. “... some much needed entertainment, and you are it.”

  “What kind of entertainment?” Grave was tense next to her—it was coming off his body in waves. Athera was half expecting him to launch at the king.

  The king waved a hand and the guards around them closed in, grabbing both Athera and Grave.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Athera yelled.

  “Whatever I want to do, phoenix.” The king smiled. “I am king, after all.”

  “Let go of us now,” Grave commanded, and the king started laughing.

  “Oh, this is going to be so entertaining. Take them away,” the king commanded.

  The guards dragged them off, pulling them through the whispering crowd of vampires.

  Athera had no idea what was happening, but she had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good for them.

  “Don’t fight the guards. I’ll go get Ryder,” Wyatt called after them.

  Athera looked over at Grave and he nodded. He was going to trust Wyatt to do what he’d said he would. If anyone could get them out of this situation, it would have to be Ryder. He didn’t seem to obey his brother’s commands.

  Fear rode her hard. Athera wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she was a bit of a control freak, and not having any control over what was happening to her was making stress levels climb. She wanted out of this predicament now. All she’d wanted was some information, and now she was captive to the vampire king and at his mercy. She should have found Poe before she came here. He could have made her way through here a bit easier. Surely the king wouldn’t hurt friends of his sons.

  Ha! She wouldn’t bet on that. The vampire king looked like he didn’t care for anyone—not even his son.

  To combat her fear, Athera mentally marked the path they were following by memorizing landmarks like breadcrumbs. They were going deeper into the underground labyrinth that was the vampire home. The corridors got darker—or was it her fear making it seem so? Athera wasn’t sure. All she knew was that this wasn’t good. Something was going to be horribly wrong. Whatever the vampire king had planned for them, chances were it would not end well.

  The walls got dirtier, and Athera started to notice streaks of slime coating the surface. She shuddered at the thought of touching it. It looked... toxic.

  Keep all arms and hands inside the ride while it’s in progress. She wanted to snort at the thought. It had to be gallows humor coming out in her because she had a feeling that both she and Grave were in... grave danger.

  A laugh escaped her and Grave looked down at her with an arched brow.

  “It’s nothing.”

  The butt of a spear hit her in the kidney.

  “No talking,” the guard demanded as she nearly went to her knees.

  Grave spun so fast he was a blur, but before he could launch himself at the guard, the other two had him pinned.

  “No,” she hissed, her hand rubbing the sore part of her back. “I’m okay. Don’t do it, Grave.”

  He looked over at her, his teeth bared and anger radiating from him.

  It was sweet the way he was trying to protect her, and she appreciated it. “I’m okay,” she repeated. “Save
your strength for what’s coming.”

  Her words seemed to get through to him, and Grave stopped trying to get out of the guards hold. “Are you sure?”

  One of the guards tightened their hold on him and he shot the guard a look that should have melted the vampire on the spot.

  She nodded. “I’m sure.”.

  The guard poked her with his spear butt again, not as hard as before, but she gave him a look that could melt a diamond.

  “Is it a phallic thing? Is your dick really small?” She held her thumb and forefinger so close together that they were almost touching. “Is that why you are so spear happy?”

  There was a snort of laughter from the other guards and even Grave grinned over at her. The guard holding the spear jabbed her again and she zipped her lips and started walking. She was going to be bruised already, so if she gave him half a chance he’d poke the thing right through her back.

  Grave fell into step next to her and glanced down at her. She caught his eye and gave him a smile to let him know she was okay.

  He nodded, a strange look on his face. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was admiration. Nah, it couldn’t be. She was more of an irritation to the reaper than anything else.

  The passage got darker and dingier. She shuddered at the smell that assailed and head-butted her sinuses.

  She tried to breathe through her mouth to offset the smell, but it wasn’t doing much good. Sometimes, the super senses of eternals were a pain in the—

  She didn’t get to finish the thought. They had stepped through a doorway into utter darkness. She stopped and felt the butt of that damn spear hit her kidney again.

  Whatever was in front of her couldn’t be as bad as the pain that stupid spear caused. If she got out of this alive, she was going to sauté the vampire guard with fava beans and feed him to Heath’s dog, Tinkerbelle.

  “What is this place?” Grave asked, then grunted as if a spear butt had hit him.

  All three guards laughed.

  “Your death,” her spear-happy guard answered.

  Athera knew they were facing danger and some kind of test, but she would have loved to know what kind of test.

  Use your senses.

  She didn’t know where the thought came from, probably a fragment of a lesson she’d learned while being taught to fight by the males from the Outsiders.

  It was good advice. She started with the eye-watering stench, trying to break it down as she moved forward in the blackness that disabled her sight.

  She smelled mold. Okay, one bit down. She smelled stagnant water. Two down. She smelled... death, and not new fresh death, but old decay. Rotting corpses. Ripe and full of maggots.

  Bile rose in her throat and she had to fight back the urge to vomit. Time to focus on another sense.

  The ground under her shoes. It wasn’t rock hard, or even crumbly, like she’d expect a dirt floor to feel. No, it was spongy, almost springy under her weight. Could it be that they were walking across the mold she had identified? Yes, that seemed more likely when her toe hooked on a protuberance and the smell of mold got stronger.

  “Move faster,” the guard instructed her, and she felt like turning around and slapping the ass-hat. She was going as fast as she could.

  She put a hand out to feel around her, and her palm hit velvet-covered steel. She almost sighed in pleasure. It was Grave to her left. She felt his hand slide down her arm and his fingers curl around hers.

  Athera knew she’d be better off letting go so she could feel ahead of her, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of the comfort of Grave’s hand. She decided to step closer to him, trusting him to feel ahead for his half of their connection, and put her right hand out in front of her so she could feel for obstacles on her side.

  “Don’t poke me with your big stick.” She paused. “Can you even see in here?” she asked the guards.

  There was a chuckled response. “Vampires have better night vision than any other eternal. What do you think, little creature?”

  Egotistical much? Athera would love to bring them down a peg or two. Make that ten.

  She felt the edge of something with her right hand. It felt like a table, except when she moved her hand, she realized some kind of slime was covering it.

  Athera shuddered. This place was an utter ewww-fest.

  “Move two steps right and five more forward,” one of the guards instructed.

  She moved with Grave as he followed the instructions, still keeping her left hand wrapped in his, and wiped the slimy goop off on her jeans. She’d have to burn these clothes later.

  Grave was a step ahead of her and he stopped. She felt the air move as he reached out a hand.

  “There appears to be a closed door ahead of us,” he said.

  “Yes, reach down for the knob, open it, and then step inside the room.”

  Grave hesitated. “What’s in there?”

  The butt of the spear in his back rewarded him and Athera squeezed her eyes shut in sympathy as she felt him flinch.

  She heard the twist and click of a rusty doorknob, then the room was flooded with bright light. She tilted her head forward and covered her face with her right arm, trying to squint against the glare.

  Grave and Athera were shoved forward, and it was only her innate sense of balance that kept her from sprawling in the filth at her feet.

  Where the hell were they?

  Cheers from hundreds of voices sounded above her and she tried to get her watering eyes to co-operate enough for her to see.

  Everything was a blur, but she knew they were in trouble when she heard Grave curse, low and vile.

  “Fuck!”

  Chapter Nine

  Grave unconsciously stepped in front of Athera as he scanned the scene in front of him. Part of him was having trouble believing what he was seeing.

  He and Athera were in a sunken area. The ground beneath their feet was dirt, hard packed and dry, but there were patches Grave could see that were a darker color, as if blood had soaked into the hard clay.

  The circular edges of the pit—he could think of no better word for it—were gore-spattered walls that led up to a railing. Behind the railing were tiers that climbed up, wide enough for people to sit on, and they were full.

  That was why they’d heard the cheering crowd.

  Grave realized they were in the vampire’s version of the Roman coliseum, gladiators with no chance of survival, amusement for the court.

  The top of the cavern was high, but closed. They were still deep inside the vampire bunker.

  He wanted to curse again, but it would be useless. Instead, he started to scan the walls of the pit. There had to be something else coming. What fun would he and Athera have standing there gawking at the crowd?

  “What is this place?” Athera’s voice was soft, and he thought he heard a faint tremble in it, but it was gone when she spoke again. “Whose asses are we going to kick?”

  In that moment, he was proud of the phoenix. She had brass frigging balls, and he was glad she stood next to him. “Be quiet, listen, and watch.”

  A grating sound filled the cavern, and the roar of the crowd picked up, echoing around the cavern walls in a way that made Grave uncomfortable.

  He dropped his hands to his sides, straightening his fingers, then curling them as the handles of his scythes appeared in his closed fists and the lethal blades curved away from his upper arm.

  One small movement and he would bring those blades into action.

  His eyes were scanning for what was making the noise when Athera stepped up next him and pointed. “There.”

  A section of the gore-splattered base wall was moving, and he could see glowing eyes in the dark pit it was reveling.

  The color of the glow was telling—a putrid green mixed with streaks of red-brown, the color of decay.

  “Fuck!” He cursed again, maneuvering himself between the opening portion of the base and Athera.

  “No thanks. Now isn’t the right time,�
�� Athera quipped and Grave stopped, turned his head and glared at her.

  When she grinned, he knew his expression must be one of total frustration and question. How could she be joking right now? They were about to be...

  He shouldn’t be thinking this.

  “Those are ghouls, little phoenix. You can stow the joking for when we aren’t about to die.”

  “Eww, like zombies?” She shuddered.

  He had to fight the urge to draw her into his arms and make her feel safe. He had forgotten that she’d been raised completely sheltered from the other races of eternals.

  “No... Ghouls. They are worse than zombies.” He didn’t have time for the Monster Mash 101 right now. “They think they are fast and wily, and they are contagious.”

  She shuddered, not saying anything.

  “Their whole point is to kill you so they can eat you. Stay behind me and keep your guard up.”

  “Will fire kill them?”

  “Fire kills anything if it’s hot enough,” he answered.

  She nodded and sank into a fighting stance. Grave could see little flames dancing on her fingertips. It brought the absurd image of birthday candles to mind.

  Even when she was about to face an enemy that made grown eternals think twice, she seemed so good and delicate. He needed to defend her.

  Grave took a step forward. He had to put himself between the ghouls and Athera and keep it that way.

  He swung the scythes in his hands, his body instantly ready for the death dance.

  The panel slid all the way open and Grave waited, his eyes on the doorway, his ears taking in every sound, his body attuned to every breath of air.

  He was in combat mode, his whole body balanced on the edge of violence.

  * * * *

  Athera crouched behind Grave, her body loose, ready for attack from any side, but it was the opening door and that nauseating glow it was revealing that had her stomach in a knot of anxiety. The door reached its end and she waited. She was expecting the ghouls to come rushing out and attack.

  It never happened.

  The ghouls stepped out of the hole in the sidewall one at a time. She counted five slinking out into view. Athera was grateful for the staggered entrance of the creatures, because she was fighting the urge to vomit.