by Iris Walker
The air in the tunnels slithered past them, cold and dank, and smelled like it had been stale for hundreds of years.
Harley whipped through the passageways, moving lightning fast and barely making a sound as their breath fogged in the freezing corridors. Slowly, the flashes of heat moved upward, on the tops of her shoulders, centering on her head. Vampires, above us?
Robin didn’t have time to find out as Harley pulled her down another offshoot, ending at an ancient wooden door.
As their steps approached, the door swung open and three strongbloods with fierce expressions met them, slick weapons outstretched.
Robin’s heart lurched and she tensed, but a flicker of recognition crossed between the warriors, and the three guards stepped away, letting them through.
Harley dragged Robin into a circular chamber, with two doors and a low, low ceiling. It was only a few feet above Robin’s head, and made of irregular stones, ancient and worn with time.
Where are we?
A faint glow fizzled out from the magical torches, four of which hung in the cramped chamber. In the center was a wide pool, that looked like a penny fountain. It was full of black water. Or, black something. Robin felt queasy just looking at it. Her eyes shifted to the figures, tense, huddled around the room.
There were two more strongbloods, including Harley and the three guarding the main door. They stayed in fixed formation around the final figure, Darian.
Harley’s hand was still on Robin’s arm, bringing her over in front of the pool. Harley positioned her like a mannequin, behind the strongblood’s stance and away from the two doors.
Robin certainly wasn’t going to argue.
Once the immediate panic had lulled, Robin’s eyes shifted from the door, looking around the room. Darian’s gaze connected with hers. She must have looked like a scared chihuahua, but Darian was about as stoic as ever.
Whatever strength he’d lost during their tandem dream ride, he’d regained in full, and was now shimmering with fierce energy, looking less human and more vampire than she’d ever seen. He studied her, his eyes red with anger and hungry for battle, and for a moment she was reminded of her location: front and center in a den of lions.
What had Harley said about her being like catnip?
Even as the fear flickered in her mind, she knew Darian had enough self-control to resist whatever the vampire upstairs had succumbed to. Robin suppressed a shiver as she remembered the rabid look in the creature’s eyes as he’d clawed for her artery.
Robin tore her eyes away and leaned towards Harley. “What’s happening?”
“We’re under attack,” she hissed, still crouched in fighting stance.
She knew that.
Her voice was a harsh whisper, irritation born out of panic. “Can they get to us here?”
“They can get to us anywhere.”
She felt the fire burning under her skin, but it was contained, and even in the tense silence, Robin was able to suppress her ragged emotions. If there was anything she’d learned in her crash course for magical alteration, it was that when she was out of control, the fire was as well. Robin let out slow, regulated exhales as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Small pulses of heat were firing all over her shoulders and scalp, flickering and extinguishing in a frenetic dance.
Her eyes snapped to the strongbloods at the door.
A pulse of heat was growing, spreading on her left arm and coming toward them with rapid succession.
The door flung open, and Robin tensed, only to see a manic, bloody Ezra, dragging Charlemagne into the room.
The whole crew seemed to let out a collective breath of tension.
Just as the vampire entered, his burning red eyes flicked to Robin, and he stiffened, desire flashing across his face.
Harley dug her feet in, the glow of her magical red symbols just rising; a warning, not a threat.
In a split second, the look was gone, and Ezra had returned. He held an exhausted hand out to Robin and braced himself on his knees. “My apologies, Lady Robin. My focus was scattered.”
Robin nodded, unsure of what to say, as her attention was drawn to Charlemagne, collapsed on the ground, taking air in big, heaving gulps.
“Heathens!” he cried, veins on his forehead popping out. “The whole lot of them!”
Darian looked to Ezra. “The others?”
“No others,” Ezra said with a grimace.
“Charlemagne,” Darian commanded. “You must begin.”
The caster pulled himself up to his feet, wincing with the movement, and staggered over to the pool. He shoved both hands, sleeves and all, into the liquid and began whispering, chanting.
Queasiness oozed up in her throat as she was reminded of Calliope’s chanting, her spell work, still echoing in her ears, but Robin swallowed the haunting memory and focused on the present.
“What’s happening?” Robin asked Harley, who steered her a few feet away from the swirling liquid.
“We’re getting the hell out of Dodge,” Harley said, eyes centering on the circle in the middle.
The liquid began frothing, glowing from a pitch-black to a royal blue, and then a lightning glow, casting aqua shadows on the walls and giving every stoic face a ghostly haze.
As tense seconds ticked by, Charlemagne’s words became more urgent, and the light surged, the current swirling in a frenzied whirlpool, rising higher and higher, contained in an invisible barrier. A column of water, moving with tornado like speed, churned from floor to ceiling.
Robin’s mouth was gaping at the sight in front of her, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ezra stiffen. The strongbloods shouted out an order, every one of them ripping open the doors and slipping outside of the chamber.
“Where are they going?” Robin asked in a hurried whisper.
Sadness and anger collided in Harley’s emerald eyes. “They’re buying us some time.”
They’ll die, Robin thought in a panic.
Ezra poised to move, but Darian’s powerful grip shot out and stopped him. “You must go. Ensure the path ahead.”
A look of understanding crossed between them, before Ezra skirted around Darian and jumped into the rising whirlpool, lost in the churning blue glow.
Robin gasped, searching for any trace of him. Sea foam and electricity crackled in the air, fizzing on her skin. But underneath the magical aura, she felt flashes of heat, no longer above them, but approaching rapidly. Darian’s two personal guards moved swiftly for the doors, leaving and latching the barriers once more, metal grinding on metal.
That wasn’t good.
That wasn’t good at all.
The tension in the room surged, so thick that it was hard to breathe. After a moment, a rock careened through the whirlpool and thunked on the ground. Robin cried out in surprise and clapped a hand over her mouth.
“It’s safe!” Harley called.
Just as Darian nodded to them, a vicious crack sounded out from the door. Harley ripped away from Robin the instant a flash of heat surged on her arm. Burning red symbols met with pale flesh as Harley tackled the vampire, a mess of snarls and grabs. Hit for hit, they matched each other.
Darian blurred to Robin, taking her by the arm and dragging her in front of the whirlpool. “Go, now,” he said.
The sound of his voice rumbled in Robin’s lungs, shocking her, an instant before another flash of heat ignited on her other arm, too fast for any of them to notice.
“No!” Robin cried, a wave of panic and terror rising in her chest.
In an instant, she twisted in Darian’s grip, breaking it easily and extending her right hand. It landed on Darian’s marble chest, bracing her against him. Just as she outstretched her left hand, another vampire barreled through the room at lightning speed.
The world around her slowed as the vampire coming towards her crushed into her arm, shattering her wrist with an audible crunch. But the impact was absorbed into Robin’s body, a pulse of heat running up her arm as her hand f
ound that pull, that well of energy pulsing in the creature’s core, and drew it in faster than the others, closer to the switch that she’d flipped with Magnus.
In an instant, the vampire crumpled to the floor in a mess of blood and anguish, as though he were a soda can and she’d crushed him on impact.
Robin faltered, heat and red glow racing up and down her body as her hands shook with exhaustion and power. The silver-haired vampire behind her didn’t waste a moment.
“Harley!” Darian growled, pulling Robin back.
The vampire’s purple cloak encircled her as the ground disappeared and Darian plunged them both into the roiling, icy blue water.
Reykon
Landon was new at this. That meant he had a lot of learning to do. Lesson one? The prison is supposed to be the most heavily guarded area of a vampire stronghold. Landon’s setup meant that his different buildings were all broken up and separated. Even with the best of training, communication between sectors would be a weak link.
But in the new House Prior, not only was security for this area lacking, it was also too far away from the other buildings to provide a reasonable response time.
Bad for Landon Prior, good for Reykon the rogue.
Leaders only improved by making mistakes and learning from them, and being the generous strongblood he was, Reykon had absolutely no problem helping Landon become a better leader.
Now, he was in the warehouse’s supply closet, rifling through archaic torture implements with two dumbasses that were supposed to pass as guards.
“How long have you been a part of House Prior?” Reykon muttered, words feeling strange on his lips. Up until now, there wasn’t transience between Houses for any reason, except espionage. In the rare cases that it did occur, the vampire was marked for life, an unspoken brand that yelled ‘disloyal’.
“A couple months,” the younger vampire said, picking up a flaying knife.
Reykon raised an eyebrow and glanced to the section of magical weapons he was looking for. All sorts of caster bindings, magical stunning devices, and warfare rejects were laid out ahead of him.
“Where from?” Reykon asked, picking up a knife engraved with runes.
“House Spire.”
“Small fish in a big sea, huh?” Reykon said with a laugh.
The vampire narrowed his eyes but kept his expression light. “Used to be. But not anymore.”
“Right.”
“You got a problem with House Prior’s new system?” the bigger vampire said with an intimidating tone.
Reykon scoffed. “You got a problem serving alongside House Spire chum?”
Vampires were quick on their feet, which meant that often times, you couldn’t anticipate an attack until the vampire had actually gotten a hold of you.
It was one of the more unpleasant facets of vampire-strongblood combat.
Reykon was reminded of exactly how unpleasant it was as the vampire rammed into him, keeping a vise grip on Reykon’s arm and pulling him off his feet like a rag doll.
Luckily, the vampire wasn’t quick enough to dodge the dagger held in Reykon’s other hand. With a quick jab, he sunk it hilt-deep into the vampire. The grip on his arm released and he collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees. The vampire next to him clutched his abdomen with clawing fingers, a wicked howl coming out of his mouth, fangs bared to the world.
“Enchanted silver hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?” Reykon grinned, gripping the hilt and yanking it out of the vampire’s gut, causing him to keel forward and land on his knees.
Before the House Spire guard could run, Reykon flipped the knife in his hand and sent it spinning through the air fast enough to whistle, lodging straight in the vampire’s leg. He crumpled faster than the first, writhing on the ground. Reykon only took a moment to survey the surroundings, his keen eyes focused on any sign of pursuit.
After a tense silence, he straightened up and collected his dagger.
The wounds on the vampire guards were steaming, sizzling like the hibachi grill from hell, and dark black veins crawled up their once snow-pale skin.
Silver poisoning was a long, slow burn for vampires to recover from, but hey, that wasn’t his problem.
He collected what he was after in the first place, shoving all the strange items into a pack that was laying in the corner, and sprinted for the hallway that led to Noomi’s cell.
Robin
They were in a moving car, jerking around twists and turns painfully. Glowing green bullets collided with the outside walls of the van, leaving little holes where dim light cut through, sharp and jagged against the blacked-out interior.
Robin’s confused gaze focused on one caster, laying on the ground, eyes wide in pain. Blood, laced with thick black ooze dripped from Calliope’s shoulder.
“Robin!” she groaned, reaching out.
“What’s happening?” Robin asked, voice panicked. Something zoomed up on their left, revving the engine with a wicked howl.
“Listen to me,” Calliope said, her face obscured by pain and desperation. No trace of the powerful woman with flaming hair remained on this panicked caster. “You must stop using the abilities. I- I cannot shoulder the energy draw anymore, and it’s going to start ripping you apart. The farther we are from each other, the more-”
A loud boom rattled the frame of the van, and Robin felt herself jerked to the side, her arm colliding with the van’s wall.
“What is that?” Robin yelled, fighting to keep her gaze on the caster as they whipped around another curve.
“I’ve held them off as long as I could, but Robin, we must meet. I am running out of time. If they find me before I can complete the ritual, then we are both dead. Where are you?”
Robin’s eyes widened as more bullets careened into the van. “I- I don’t know.”
“Robin, we must-”
Sharp, biting salt water ripped through her lungs, stinging her throat as she choked it up. Every muscle spasmed in fear and she jerked to the side, spewing the vile water out. Her fingers dug into sand, grainy and wet and cold.
Robin’s eyes were blurry from the ocean spray, and burning from the salt, but as she shifted her panicked gaze around, she found Harley, in the same position she was, puking salt water like a geyser.
The glowing blue whirlpool began to abate, the light flickering and then fading.
Robin had just begun to relax when another pulse of heat raced up her forearms. A shadow ripped out of the dying whirlpool, streaming across the dark cave. Robin felt the thudding collision in her own body as Ezra slammed into the intruder with all the force a vampire could muster. It was like listening to boulders crash down a mountainside.
Grunts of fighting careened off each wall, echoing into a dizzying storm of violence and struggle.
As the glow of the water stopped entirely, Robin lost sight of the dueling vampires; the only light in the entire chamber came from a sliver opening in the craggly rock, high overhead.
A hand gripped her arm, hauling her up, and Robin let out a cry before realizing it was Harley. “Come on,” Harley said, pushing Robin towards an alcove in the cave face and away from the fighting. Charlamagne was already leaning against the wall, catching his breath.
The fighting stopped, and Ezra let out a roar of triumph, slamming the vampire into the cave again with a resounding boom.
“Ezra, no,” Darian said, his voice like an axe. “We must keep him alive.”
Another gruesome crack sounded out, and Robin flinched as a spattering of blood landed on her cheek.
“Just lovely,” Harley muttered, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve.
The sound stopped, and they were left with the gentle lapping of waves against the pool in the center of their cave. Robin peered through the darkness, feeling the pulse of heat straight ahead of her, dancing underneath her skin.
Like a vampire compass, she observed.
Darian’s burning red eyes swiveled their way. “Come, through the corridor.”
The two names echoed in her mind for a moment as her anger surged. Fausta and Cain, working together to restructure the power balance of the entire vampire race. What could possibly go wrong?
Lucidia had heard countless rumors of Fausta’s cruelty, not to mention having witnessed it before herself. And Cain…
Well, she knew all about Cain.
“I understand that you’re angry…” Landon began.
“Angry,” she balked, tightening her fists. “That doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now.”
“I’ve made certain that we are safe from any attacks.”
Lucidia turned to him with an icy glare. “I am not worried about us,” she seethed. “I’m worried about the hundreds of thousands of vampires, strongbloods, and humans living in those strongholds.”
“We don’t know the extent-”
“Bullshit,” she snapped. “I want to know everything. What houses were hit, and which ones are still fighting? I want to know every single move that those snakes have taken since the beginning.”
“Lucidia,” Landon said, folding his hands together on the desk. “It’s not our concern. Part of the reason we moved so quickly after seceding was to ensure that we could close our borders before the casters and the royal houses fell into conflict. You declared independence, just as we did, and now, it’s not our problem.”
As she looked at the vampire in front of her, telling her what to be concerned about, she was thrown back into House Xander, sitting in Darian’s office, asking for permission to go on personal leave.
Asking.
For what she should have taken.
Hot, roiling anger welled up inside of her, and she felt the magic creeping out, tingling underneath her skin. Not our concern…
“I do not belong to you,” she said in a low voice, thick with rage. “My concerns are my own, and they’re no business of yours. In fact, your entire assumption that I’d cooperate out of fear for being sent back to Darian Xander is now null and void, considering his forces have been decimated and he’s fled to hiding. But clearly you knew that, and you lied to me as well.”