The Phantom King (The Kings)

by Killough-Walden, Heather

  On one hand, if the Vampire King let loose with all he had stored up, Salem would crumble beneath a disaster of earthquake-like proportions. On the other hand, Thane’s mere proximity to the man was allowing him to absorb a bit of that magic, and that was probably a good thing. In fact, knowing Roman, that might have been the Vampire King’s plan.

  They stepped out together, two men wrapped in darkness who seemed to bring the very night with them. The portal closed behind them without a detectable sound because a storm brewed around them, its lightning splitting the sky, its thunder drowning out all other noises.

  Wind whipped through Thane’s hair and his eyes flashed to white. His fangs extended behind lips drawn back in a ready snarl. Magic permeated the air, dark and twisted, grazing his skin and making the hairs on his arms stand on end. Beside him, Roman transformed as well, the monster within him allowed to shift his eyes to a glowing red and expose the fangs he normally kept hidden.

  Up ahead of them lay the cul-de-sac of Siobhan’s street. Not a full minute had elapsed since Thane had transported Siobhan and himself to Purgatory. He could sense the change in time; nearly none had passed. He’d never held it for that long before. Was he growing stronger? It was a question to be answered later.

  Thane and Roman broke into a run toward the house in the cul-de-sac, drawn to it by the color spray of magic that could be seen through the billowing curtains that rustled and danced through the mansion’s shattered windows. The sky fractured with a bolt of electricity that struck the roof of the house directly, the force so powerful, it cascaded over the tiles, across the lawn, and out into the street to bring Thane and his companion to a halt.

  The two crouched beneath the wave’s electric, black magic-filled onslaught as it rushed across the asphalt, a visible ripple in reality. Thane lowered his head, braced himself, and took the opportunity to absorb every ounce of magic that tidal waved over his strong body. There was so much there, it almost hurt to take in. But he managed.

  And then he and Roman both raised their heads to train their gazes on the house once more. Thane’s vision was tinted red. Something crashed inside the house, glass exploding and tinkling across a great distance. Someone grunted in pain – and then cried out in agony.

  Roman headed toward one of the windows and Thane was crashing through the front door before he realized what he was doing. He had no idea where the Vampire King ended up and almost didn’t care.

  The scene in front of him was one of chaos and struggle. Jason Alberich stood at the center of the room where Thane and Siobhan had last seen him only seconds earlier. He was in hand-to-hand combat with Marius. The two had each other in firm grips and so much magic surrounded them, their figures were blurred and indistinct in the miasmic cloud.

  Alberich had just finished casting the spell he’d begun as Thane took Siobhan out of the house. Now that it was finished, he recognized its signature. That particular spell was meant to absorb magic instead of attack with it. The Warlock King was intelligent enough not to use magic directly against Marius since the notorious Akyri would only absorb it and use it against him if he did. Instead, Alberich had turned the tables and used a spell meant to draw as much of Marius’ power out of him as possible.

  The clash of wills had to have been immense for it to have created the mess in this living room. Every surface was scorched, though Alberich and Marius themselves seemed completely untouched by the damage. No doubt the lightning bolt that had brought Thane and Roman to a halt outside had been the result of their two powers battling it out – Marius struggling furiously to keep what he had to himself and Jason struggling just as hard to take it away from him.

  They were not alone in the room. Rogue Akyri everywhere struggled in fist-to-cuffs with Jason’s warlocks and personal Akyri servants. As the Warlock King, Jason had amassed an immense amount of power, and that power drew Akyri to him like moths to a flame. He chose the strongest and the most loyal as a kind of guard. These men now struggled alongside him.

  Also in the fray was the former detective Steven Lazarus, who much to Thane’s inordinate shock, was slamming one of Marius’ Akyri up against the scorched wall behind him even as Thane watched.

  He had fractions of a second to take all of this in. That was all.

  In the next moment, he was hit from the side by something hard and fast and strong, and two bodies went sailing across the living room to connect with the dining room table, smashing it to splinters beneath them as they continued to the floor.

  Thane made it through his attacker. And the next one. And somewhere between knocking out the third and turning to deal with the fourth, he wondered how there could possibly be so many. Marius had acquired a veritable army of demons to follow him.

  And they’d all come here to help him get to Siobhan? Why? Yes, she was beautiful, and yes she was a warlock, and yes she had stored a boat-load of power over the years, and yes she might even be his queen….

  Thane felt a frisson of fear and determination rush through him. He’d answered his own question. The Akyri King would be hard pressed to come up with a more desirable meal than an innocent warlock who might also be one of the 13 Queens.

  Thane gritted his fanged teeth and the fourth Akyri he was fighting went sailing, as did the fifth. He felt the magic he’d stolen earlier rush to the fore, ready to be cast even though he knew it would be a fatal error in dealing with these men. As he spun to find his next opponent, a second bolt of lightning split the night air.

  This one was so close that it set Thane’s teeth on edge, buzzed through his mind, and made the world seem distant for a moment. Electricity struck the roof and then traveled through the already burned wood and cascaded like a spider web over every piece of furniture in the house. It lit up the ground beneath him like a grid, melting a bit of the tread on his motorcycle boots.

  Time seemed to slow in the wake of the blast, almost coming to a stop. Thane turned in that slow-motion battle, his silver eyes searching the bizarre chaos.

  He found himself standing at the center of the lit-up and burned-out house, Jason Alberich, Roman D’Angelo, Steven Lazarus, and Marius the Akyri King all within a few feet of each other. The five of them formed a pentagram of throbbing, crackling magic, of power ancient and unnamable.

  The shadows danced and wavered around them, their depths darkening into familiar shapes. Thane glanced at them and frowned. He had the strangest sensation… that each one was watching him. Waiting. It was as if the spirits of his realm had gathered along its borders, an army of souls ready to charge the world they’d once known for their king. It couldn’t be, though. Once an Anime was trapped in Purgatory, they could never get out again. It was impossible.

  Wasn’t it?

  For some reason, in that very moment and in the midst of the magic as thick as water in the air around him, it felt like anything was possible.

  Two feet away, Marius’ red eyes burned with untold hatred and far too much power. He turned those red eyes on Thane and flashed his fangs. “I’ll have her, Phantom King. Mark my words.” Then he looked at Alberich. “And you, Warlock King. You can find any warlock anywhere in the world….” He laughed, and it was a horrid, wretched sound, harsh and hoarse and deep. As he laughed, the fallen Akyri around them began to pull themselves up – even the ones he was sure he had killed.

  “The warlocks are your domain,” Marius continued. “And the Akyri are mine.” His smile broadened and his eyes burned like laser beams where they were locked in Jason’s gaze. “Even the beautiful blonde ones hiding on tiny islands in the middle of the Pacific.”

  Jason’s green eyes flashed red. He moved forward – and met a force field of inconceivable magic as the Akyri King thrust his power in an outward blast, simultaneously opening an instant portal to some other place.

  It was a dark place and it was a horrible place.

  Thane had a split-second impression of it before Marius and every one of his Akyri lackeys were enveloped in deep, dark cold and impenetrabl
e black – and then sucked away.

  A second later, Jason sent away his own Akyri, all of whom had come through the fight relatively unscathed. He only chose the best.

  In the aftermath of the battle, three kings of the supernatural world and one surprising newcomer stood alone, their chests rising and falling with exertion, their clothes torn and tattered, the house around them in ruins.

  Outside, a handsome ginger tomcat whipped his tail against the pavement of the sidewalk in agitation. He made a small, perhaps frustrated sound. His whiskers twitched.

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  Chapter Eighteen

  There was a dark cloud hanging over Roman D’Angelo as he entered the meeting room for the 13 Kings that night. The air was already swimming with the heady mixture of barely checked magic when Roman stepped in and closed the door behind him. He was late. His place was at the head of the table, and normally he would have been the first to arrive. Especially when he’d called the meeting himself.

  However, nothing about this night was status quo, and when he walked in, he felt the weight of twelve sets of very powerful eyes follow him to his seat.

  There were twelve original Kings present today. Marius the Akyri King was missing. In his place sat Jesse Graves, the werewolf council Overseer. He’d had the invitation to join them for months, but it took something very personal and close to home to finally bring him to the table.

  So much was happening all at once, it felt apocalyptic.

  There was this business with Ophelia…. Roman was not a man any sane person would want to piss off. But Ophelia was not sane. And she was not really even a person. She was a vampire, which was difficult enough for Roman to wrap his head around, but not only was she a vampire, she had acquired more power than a vampire of her age should have acquired.

  He’d sensed it as she’d entered his mind. No one else in the world could do such a thing, not even Evie though she was close. He could feel his wife’s abilities growing every day. Lalura had been right when she’d reiterated that in the game of chess, the queen is always more powerful than the king. Evelynne D’Angelo was about to prove that perfectly.

  But for now, Roman’s private thoughts were safe from everyone but the young woman he had once courted, had once thought he loved, and who now apparently hated him and everyone he actually did love.

  Someone out there – some other vampire – had turned Ophelia despite Roman’s edict as king that such a thing would no longer be done. Now the law against turning mortals was lifted and the vampires of Roman’s realm were allowed to bring new humans into their ranks in certain, special circumstances. However, in 1798, it was not allowed. There were very good reasons for this.

  When Roman killed the former king and took over as sovereign of the vampires three thousand years ago, he’d claimed the throne of a nation so debauched and overrun with bloodthirstiness, it had disgusted him to his core. The first thing he’d done was ensure that the death, destruction, and utter disregard for human emotion come to a sudden and firm end.

  Three magic words were necessary for the transformation of human into vampire: Addo Nox Noctis. Roman had hidden away the words, hidden away the means to force this change upon mortals, and issued the decree. Punishment for breaking this law had been strict indeed.

  And apparently, at least one very important infraction had gone unnoticed. It was no wonder that when Roman, delirious with grief, had gone to the Phantom King’s realm to ask for Ophelia’s Anime, she had not been there. Despite the fact that she’d died a wrongful death, run down by a carriage in the streets of London in the prime of her life, she was not in Purgatory. That was what Thanatos had told him.

  Roman hadn’t believed him at the time.

  He believed him now.

  He could not help but wonder what vampire had caused this to happen. And why turn Ophelia? Certainly, she was lovely. But had it been worth it? Roman’s vice-like grip on the vampire nation and the punishments for breaking his laws were so severe, any vampire willing to do so would have had to be insane. Or very, very smart.

  Or both.

  Whoever he was, Ophelia had referred to him as a “master” vampire and as good as promised that he would be coming for Evelynne. To say nothing of the threat Ophelia posed herself. She felt forsaken by him and displaced by Evie, and she meant to seek revenge. The easiest way to devastate Roman would be to attack Evie directly.

  It was his worst fear.

  Roman knew he couldn’t trust the 13 Kings. The fight that he, Alberich and Thane had just experienced with the Akyri King was testament to that as well. He couldn’t have Evie join him in the meeting room. There was so much power sitting at that table, if any one of the others was somehow involved in Ophelia’s transformation or was on Marius’ side, Evie’s life would have been placed in jeopardy.

  Instead, he’d left her in their cavern, the one place he could be certain she would be safe.

  “Thank you for your time, gentlemen,” Roman greeted the others. His deep, powerful voice filled the room with authority, as it always did. He went to the chair that was his, but instead of sitting, he placed his hands palm-down on the table and leaned into it. “I’m afraid several omens bring you here tonight, none of them necessarily good, and some most certainly less than good.”

  Ophelia was one problem.

  This business with the Akyri King was another.

  To Roman’s left sat the Shadow King, hidden in the stygian recesses of the cowl of his cloak, nothing showing but the unnatural glint of his eyes. Not many people knew the face that lurked in that darkness. Roman was one of the few who did.

  To the left of the Shadow King sat the Winter King, also known as the Ice King – or Kristopher. His thick, fine hair was the color of snow, his eyes were an arctic blue-gray, and a hint of frost appeared before his mouth with each slow breath he took. This didn’t always happen. Normally, the ice inside of him was kept well under wraps. However in times of danger, the cold of Kristopher’s ancient soul was loosed. One of their own had betrayed them, one of their fellow kings. If they could not trust and rely upon one another, it could bring supernatural war. Such a thing would see the end of the Earth as anyone knew it.

  So Kristopher had reason to be upset. They all did.

  Kristopher’s hands were in his lap, but if he were to lean forward and touch the table, Roman knew that rime would begin to crackle across its surface. It was a disquieting thing to witness.

  To the Winter King’s left sat the Unseelie King, Caliban. He was one of the more… frightening men at the table. The fey were always beautiful, and Caliban was no exception. Raven hair, fair skin, and a charming smile hid the undertow of darkness that defined his kingdom. He and his brother the Seelie King were both sovereigns of the supernatural court. His brother sat directly across from him, an opposite to him in nearly every possible way.

  The two Sidhe Kings wore identical rings that protected them from the iron so prevalent in modern day society and allowed them to meet in the larger cities it was sometimes necessary to hold gather in.

  To the Unseelie King’s left sat the Phantom King, Thanatos.

  Thane was normally a rough and tumble but incredibly laid back sort of man who only attended meetings because it was expected of him as a king. However, that was not the case tonight.

  Instead of the suit he normally wore while seated at this table, he remained dressed in his usual garb of blue jeans, a t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. All three showed the signs of their former struggle. What Roman could make out of his tattoos where they peeked over the skin of his neck and wrists beyond the cuffs of his jacket showed ink of pure black that was seemingly more agitated than ever.

  His gray eyes swirled from silver to charcoal, and every muscle in his entire body appeared to be flexed. He was as taut as a bow string, and his situation was mirrored in the Warlock King, who sat directly across the table from him.

  Jason Alberich had also come to the meeting in street clot
hes, black, as was his usual garb. His jade green eyes were shooting sparks of furious emerald, and the air around him was filled with an aura so intense, Roman knew the man was having to concentrate hard on forcing his black magic to heel.

  Both men were like wolves protecting their mates, fangs out, eyes flashing, muscles bunched for the fight. And the reason for this stance was clear; their mates were indeed threatened. Jason had yet to claim his queen, or even meet her face to face. As for Thane….

  Roman glanced at the dark-haired man. Thane had yet to fully realize or admit it to himself, but the young Siobhan Ashdown was made to rule by his side. His soul knew it, his heart recognized it, and his body was reacting to the threat to her.

  And speaking of wolves.

  The newcomer at the table, Jesse Graves, was also showing signs of carefully contained wrath. It was easier for the Overseer, who had once been a sentinel in the werewolf community and therefore a highly trained enforcer, to keep his emotions under wraps. But the amber of his eyes glowed as fiercely as the sun. It was always a sign with werewolves. The fact that his pupils were tinged with red and his lips were closed to hide his fangs were two more.

  “Threats to our community, to our people, and even to our loved ones have made themselves apparent over the last few days,” Roman said. “They are pressing and potentially catastrophic.” He paused for effect. “So I won’t keep you long.”

  The werewolf community was dealing with an interloper powerful enough to make it past Jason Alberich’s wards and several enforcers, not to mention Lucas Caige, in order to lay hands on the Healer’s newborn twins. The idea was not only terrifying to Dannai and her husband, but to everyone who cared for her – which was a wide circle indeed.

  That circle included the twins’ godfather and protector, Jason Alberich. The Warlock King had enough to worry about with the threat to his queen and to one of his warlocks, but his troubles clearly didn’t end there.