Blood of Gods

by Scarlett Dawn

  Gwen blinked and swayed where she sat.

  I turned away and listened closely, searching.

  “Ah. There she is!” I trotted back the way I had come. “Just two shakes, Gwen. Try not to fall while I’m away.”

  I dodged between soldiers, killing them with my claws as I passed by without a thought. One after another, each vampire soldier plummeted to the ground, sans a head or a heart. I shook my hands out, wiping their slippery blood on my pants. I stopped dead in my tracks in the smallest room yet…where a mad queen sat staring at a wall, humming to herself.

  Queen Niniane’s attention jerked in my direction.

  I waved two bloody fingers and winked. “Hello there. I’ve come to take your head.”

  The wooden seat clattered onto its back as she jumped to her feet—in all of her ridiculous finery. She screeched so loudly my eardrums hurt, pointing a finger behind me. “Get out of my castle now!”

  “Madam, I hate to inform you of this…” I cleared my throat, trying not to laugh since I would be killing her soon. “You are in a cave. Not a castle.”

  Her blink was slow. Lucidity returned to her eyes as the seconds passed. She straightened her spine, and the queen asked primly, “Who are you? Why are you in my personal room?”

  “I’m the man who is going to kill you,” I stated patiently. “How would you prefer I do it? Head or heart?”

  Insanity entered her eyes. She screamed.

  “Head it is.” I shrugged as she raced toward me, with her claws extended. “I knew my first instinct was correct. It will shut your blasted mouth.”

  I turned and sliced, catching her head before it hit the ground. I bopped my hip to the side, bumping her still standing body, knocking it over to the floor. I bobbled her head back and forth, playing catch, and walked down the cave’s small grooves again. I whistled softly while I strolled, hoping that poor Gwynnore hadn’t fallen over. She was dirty enough as it was.

  I entered the small dining room.

  My breath exhaled in relief. “You are still sitting. That is good. I can’t have you appearing as any more of a disaster than you already are. I don’t believe Belshazzar would like that very much.”

  Gwen stared. She swayed even more.

  I patted the top of her head again, promising gently, “Blood will be here soon. Be patient.” I set the mad queen’s head down on the table in front of Gwen. “See? I’ve taken care of the issue.”

  Gwen grunted. “Yes, I see that.”

  I cocked my head to the side, listening. “But there are a few more vampires I need to kill before I go. You’ll stay seated, correct?”

  “No shit,” she slurred tiredly. “Go on a killing spree. I don’t really mind.”

  I ran my dark amber eyes over her face and shoved my silver hair back over my shoulders. “It truly was a pleasure to finally meet you, Queen Gwynnore.”

  “If you are real…it was a pleasure to meet you, too.” She dipped her head and then slumped forward to place her chin on her resting arms. “Go on now, Mr. Delusion. Make them bleed. My dreams need to be sweet.”

  “Stare at Queen Niniane’s head. That should do the trick.” I pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Remember, don’t fall over.”

  “Hmph.”

  I chuckled and sauntered away, cracking my knuckles as I went. I would make the soldiers bleed really well. It sounded like a fine time—time to get back to work to clean up these fucking loose ends.

  Then I’d start traveling to a yacht. I couldn’t wait to see that baby up close and personal. A yacht, not just a boat. But first, blood needed to spill…

  Time to get shit done again.

  25

  Kimber

  The wind and rain had whipped the cliff town starting late in the afternoon and all through the night. The little rock house they had us in was secure, but Bel was impatient. He wanted to get to Gwen, and I didn’t blame him.

  But the storm was awful, and being stuck out on the high plateaus of the mountains would have gotten us all killed. Lightning would have done us in.

  Dawn took its time, but as soon as there was light, we had our packs on and were headed for the platform.

  The woman, Ela, assured us the lookouts would be heading up early as well, and we could ride with them. When we arrived, a man was waiting at the bottom.

  The platform was descending to us from the field above. It thumped against the ground as it settled, and a woman walked off, waving to the man.

  He stepped up, and we followed. He was surprised but quickly appreciated that we were there because we could relieve part of the burden of winding the mechanism.

  The two hand cranks were meant to be spun by a single person, so we would have to take turns. With seven people working on the crank, we were to the top in no time. The man locked the platform in place and allowed us to get off.

  “You’re going to want to head north-northwest, on the Dead Horse Trail,” he said, pointing across the field.

  “The what?” Rilen asked.

  “Dead Horse Trail,” he repeated, thinking we just hadn’t heard him. “The caves are all in the Gulaar Valley, and there aren’t a lot of places to hide in these mountains. We all know the jagged rocks like the back of our hands.”

  “Thank you,” I said to the man.

  “Thank you for lending us your ship. We need those supplies. You can see our land isn’t the most fertile. Sheep and vitanberries are about the only things you can grow up here.”

  “Vitanberries?” Roran whispered. “I haven’t had any of those since…” He went bright red. “Never mind.”

  Rilen started laughing and headed down the path the watchman had pointed to. Roran looked mortified and ran after him, yelling, “Don’t tell her the story, Ri! Don’t you dare!”

  Belshazzar just shook his head and followed them. Aiko trailed behind him, and Dorian and I brought up the rear. As we walked, the wind whipped at us, and the high sun barely did anything to warm the day.

  We didn’t want to use our speed—we talked Bel and Dorian out of it—because we didn’t know how quickly we’d be able to locate the queen and Gwen and what we would have to face. Using our speed to get there would wear all of us out, even those two old bastards.

  As mid-morning approached, we heard…something in the distance. Something the currents of the wind in the valley swept our way. It sounded like screaming, panic, nervous horses and general confusion.

  A while later, several of those panicked, nervous horses shot by us, galloping at top speed. Some were bareback, some had saddles. A few had riders, and a few had… less than complete riders. Two were missing heads. Three were merely the bottom half of the body.

  Belshazzar watched half a rider fly by on the back of his horse and looked at Aiko and me. “So, we’re going the right way.”

  Aiko watched as a horse bearing a headless rider trotted by. “Yes.”

  I watched another saddled, riderless horse trot by. “We’re not grabbing these horses to use because…”

  Rilen and Roran turned back to us. “Dead Horse Trail,” they chorused.

  I nodded. “Forgot. Sorry.”

  “How do you forget something like Dead Horse Trail?” Roran asked.

  I jerked my thumb back at the horses that had passed. “They were alive. The riders were dead. I was distracted.”

  Belshazzar chuckled. “You mean headless riders—”

  “Headless and torso-less,” I corrected.

  “—aren’t a common occurrence?”

  “Headless is more common,” Dorian said. “But usually not still on the horse.”

  We followed the trail the horses and soldier had left as they fled the valley. The closer we got, the more dead, headless and dismembered bodies littered the ground.

  Saddled horses were grazing between the remains. The blood near each of them had soaked into the ground.

  And for the first time since leaving the city of S’Kir, a gnawing worry that we wouldn’t find Gwen alive
grew in my gut.

  We grew quiet, picking our way down the trail. It changed to something more treacherous than just a few rocks and roots. There was loose scree as the trail pitched down, and the soldiers that were strewn about weren’t all injured—some had been victims of the loose, unsteady pebbles on the steep trail.

  If it were raining, a misstep would have been death.

  The dangerous trail led us down and down, and finally around a crag that had been blocking our view of the full valley. There were dozens of soldiers smashed against the rocky outcropping, thrown, or fallen from the horses.

  We cleared the crag and pulled up short.

  The valley was covered in bodies and horses that didn’t care their masters were dead. Every one of the soldiers in this valley was missing a head or had been cleaved in half. And while the bodies were sporadic where we stood, they shortly condensed more and more, forming a trail, clear and straight to the entrance of the cave on the rise of the next mountain.

  “Sweet Savior,” Aiko whispered.

  “Better they’re dead,” Belshazzar said. “Saves me the trouble.” He hoisted the small pack he was carrying and started quickly down the path.

  The five of us followed directly behind him. He appeared calm and collected, the abject terror he was feeling for Gwen’s life hard to sense. It was in the pace he set as we made our way around the valley full of horses and dead men.

  The cave wasn’t far up the hill, but the rocks were sharp and uneven. There wasn’t a real trail there, but it was obvious where the soldiers had been climbing up the incline to get to the entrance.

  Halfway up, Belshazzar looked back at us and shook his head. “Fuck this,” he mumbled and crouched. He leapt at a precise angle and cleared the last eight strides of the rock face easily, landing in a crouch.

  I didn’t often use my powers in such a personal, physical manner, but none of us knew what was up there. Rilen and Roran were the first to follow, and Aiko quickly after. Dorian grabbed my elbow, and we leapt up together.

  The cave entrance was huge, and Belshazzar was already deep inside. Hurrying to catch up, we could see that the rock narrowed, fast, and we were left with a small, single file passage into the interior.

  Bel tried to push through, but Dorian grabbed his arm. “Wait. Just wait. We don’t know what we’re going to find. Let someone with a level head in first. Let the twins go.”

  Roran had his sword out and started forward, but Belshazzar grabbed his hand and slapped one of his guns into his hand and flipped a lever. “Can you use that?”

  Roran looked down. “Point and pull the trigger.”

  “Good enough.”

  Leading with his sword, Roran walked through the small passage, a ball of light appearing inches above him as he walked. The light pressed forward, and we followed one at a time: Rilen directly behind, then the king, then Aiko, me and Dorian in the rear.

  Dorian grabbed my wrist. “I’m walking backward to watch our backs.” He turned and pressed himself against me.

  The passage seemed like it was going to be long, but the light suddenly jumped up, and the cave opened.

  But not much. Roran was able to follow along the wall and allow all of us into the small, torch-lit room. It was damp and disagreeable. The floor was mossy, probably just as dangerous as the scree we’d walked down, and it smelled dead.

  Or something smelled like death.

  Roran lifted the light along the ceiling, and it slowly revealed the room. Not very large at all, there was another passage to the right, and eventually, the room was fully revealed, with merely a table at the other end.

  A gaunt, trembling, unsteady figure was seated at one end, away from the passage.

  She sat staring across the table at a head.

  I gasped.

  Niniane’s head—complete with crown and blood that trailed off the wood of the table and down on to the floor in an insidious drip-drip-dripping sound. Her eyes were wide with terror and madness, and they stared at the figure that stared back.

  Belshazzar took a step forward. In the dark of the cave, his face looked wrecked with emotions I couldn’t name. “Gwen…”

  Slowly, the figure turned its head, neck unsteady, hands shaking, posture wobbling.

  But it was Gwynnore.

  “Gwen,” Bel said again.

  “Bel…” Her voice was scratchy and unclear.

  The king took another step toward his woman. “Gwynnore, are you—”

  The queen wasn’t at the table anymore

  She had Belshazzar in her grasp, his neck exposed, and her teeth in his vein.

  26

  GWYNNORE

  Queen Niniane’s dead brown eyes stared into mine.

  My chin rested on my folded arms while I sat at a murdered royal’s table. This was an odd twist to my horrible day, but it wasn’t wholly unwanted. I smiled at the dead queen, and I said, “Do you know you have a booger in your nose, Queen Niniane? What an embarrassing way to die.”

  She gazed back, not commenting.

  I analyzed her severed neck with my hazy vision. The slice had been clean, almost analytical in its precision, a killer who’d had plenty of practice. I had chosen well with my delusion, the very best assassin, even in my dreams.

  “Mr. Delusion got you good,” I whispered. “I bet it didn’t even hurt it was so fast. It’s a perfect kill.”

  Queen Niniane wasn’t talkative right now.

  “At least your hair still looks good,” I added. “There’s not one piece of hair missing from your bun, although it’s slightly splattered with blood now. A decent washing will clean that right up. Don’t you fret your…head…over that.”

  I snickered at my own funny.

  I ran my gaze over her face. She was a beauty.

  But, damn, her eyes were creepy like this.

  Wide. Unblinking.

  I sighed, then rasped, “I think it’s time for me to take a Rest, Queen Niniane. I am surely losing my mind. What do you think?”

  Only screams could be heard in the distance.

  Mr. Delusion was busy out there.

  I closed my eyes, unable to keep them open.

  The scent of blood wafted in the air heavily.

  If only it were closer. I sighed again.

  Then I might be able to partake.

  “Why didn’t Mr. Delusion leave me a glass of blood?” I whined softly, my voice scratchy from disuse. I didn’t bother to open my eyes, not sure if I could open them anyway. “Just a little bit more of his sunshine blood would have been nice. He was yummy.”

  The shouts of fear eventually subsided—nary a sound heard outside. I merely listened to the scurrying of rats inside the tunnels, their scraping nails clicking on the cave’s floor, hurried, running for the feast of the dead lying about. Their chewing was a smidge off-putting, their teeth gnashing together loudly and their tiny panting breaths between bites frantic—too many damned rats for royal living, to be sure.

  “You should have gotten some cats,” I mumbled, pulling my eyes open once more. “Or some rat poison. Your rodent infestation is appalling, Your Royal Highness.”

  I held her gaze as long as I could.

  I blinked. Yes, her gaze was creepy.

  “Damn, you are good.” One side of my lips quirked up. “You are the winner of the staring contest. I blinked first.”

  I nibbled on my cracked bottom lip.

  I really needed blood. I would continue to spiral if I didn’t get what I needed. The pain in my stomach would not go away.

  And I wanted King Belshazzar.

  So much so, I could have sworn I heard him…

  It sounded like he was calling my name…

  I turned my head to the side and pushed on the table with trembling hands, straightening up to sit tall—only swaying a little where I sat on the wooden chair.

  Belshazzar stood near the entrance of the room, with his twin brother and others. He breathed in profound relief, “Gwen.”

  “Bel…�
�� I slurred. Was he really here?

  My eyes burned with unshed tears.

  The rush of his blood filled my ears.

  King Belshazzar stepped toward me, bringing his mint scent with him. “Gwynnore, are you—”

  I blurred with speed.

  All the strength I had…

  Blood. Sweet, sweet blood.

  I climbed his muscular body and wrapped myself around him like a monkey. I fisted a handful of his long, silky black hair and jerked his head to the side, sinking my fangs deep into his neck, his powerful blood coating my tongue.

  Rainbows on a dark night.

  I sucked in a harsh breath.

  My eyelashes fluttered, my body tensing.

  My mind fucking screamed his name.

  Over and over. And over again.

  Belshazzar. Belshazzar. Belshazzar!

  “Shit,” Bel hissed harshly, wrapping his arms around me. His right hand grabbed the back of my head, holding my face close to his neck. King Belshazzar’s body stiffened with tension. A moment passed, and then he whispered, “It will be all right, little one. Do not fear it.”

  I shuddered hard, my eyes closing.

  My wrist burned as a brand appeared.

  I yanked my fangs from his neck and pulled my head back to stare into his ice-blue eyes…and my head dropped back as my entire body went limp inside his fierce hold.

  I fainted dead in his arms.

  King Belshazzar was my soul mate.

  I groaned under my breath and lifted my head off the warm body I rested against. The scent of mint clung to my dirty clothes. I squinted into the sunlight, staring up at Belshazzar. The gentle rocking of the horse we rode had my frame swaying inside his hold, my legs straddling his, my face toward him.

  The sunrays haloed his dark head of hair.

  He looked like a fucking death angel.