by D B Nielsen
“If it please the Red Lady, we have captured the youngest offspring of Prima Aislinn. Humbly, we here give up our offering, and in full bent lay our service freely at your feet, to be commanded.”
“Stop groveling, Ole.” The high priestess waved a majestic hand dismissively to shut the fawning fool up. “You shall receive such thanks as suits my favor—if what you say is true.”
“Without doubt, Kayne is his grandsire, O Divinely Blessed Red Lady,” Ole continued with his toadying speech.
“We shall see. Bring him forward and prepare him for my blessing.”
Pools of congealed, darkened blood covered the ground from the previous offering who had received the high priestess’s ‘blessing’. It didn’t bode well, but he was drifting in and out of the fugue state induced by the foul-tasting blood he’d been forced to drink earlier.
Cooper was stripped naked, suffering the indignity of having her attendants’ hands on him, though it was luckily neither Ole’s nor the jailor’s. The priestesses ‘prepared’ him with perfumed oils, anointing him with frankincense and frangipani so that he shone like a polished statue in the dim light.
Belakane watched on approvingly from behind heavy-lidded eyes. Her expression was filled with lust as if she wished to devour him. Cooper would have blushed deep crimson if he was still human at the bold look Belakane directed at his reluctant arousal. Instead, he squirmed at her admiration.
Ole’s face was still planted to the floor. Cooper’s jailor had also prostrated himself before the high priestess, remaining silent in worshipful adoration.
“On your knees before the high priestess, the Eternal Lady of the Night,” one of the priestesses intoned. He fell to his knees on the hard, bloodstained stone floor. “Bow before the Queen of the Luminous Moon.”
Forced to kneel before the dais, the enormous, carved stone feet of Primus Marduk’s towering statue made him feel like an ant before a god, easily crushed beneath his heel. Yet the immediate threat came from the sensuous, semi-naked high priestess before him.
Belakane rose to her feet, svelte and graceful as a dancer. Hips undulating as she walked forward on bare feet, she stood over Cooper. He had a glimpse of those perfectly pale feet before she stepped down from the dais, her body moving with sensuous grace beneath her transparent gown.
Cooper’s face was now level with her belly button, and the transparent gown did little to conceal her charms. The thin, gold belt acted like an arrow, directing his gaze downward. He could feel himself swallowing the extreme dryness in his mouth.
She touched his face lingeringly with cool, slim fingers, forcing him to meet her milky-white eyes.
“Welcome to the Temple of Eternal Night, grandson of Kayne,” she said in a sultry voice that was so husky, it seemed to purr in her throat.
Chapter 26
Belakane’s voice and the way she addressed him sent a strange shock through him. Something wasn’t right. Cooper tried to shake the thick fog from his mind.
Suddenly, her hands wrapped around his wrist in a crushing grip. A long, delicate gold needlelike object on her index finger sliced deeply into his vein. She drew the needle down his arm from elbow to wrist and greedily raised his pulsing blood to her mouth. Almost instantly, the wound healed, leaving little beads of blood on his skin like perspiration. Her tongue darted out between sharp incisors, flicking like the forked tongue of serpent to taste his blood.
Awareness blazed in her colorless eyes. “Pureblood.”
A strange confusion filled his mind, along with the mingling of pleasure and pain. The bitter drink he had been given still affected his awareness like a smothering heat. Beneath it, he felt at once both repulsed and yet strangely attracted to the high priestess.
Belakane was basically a fervent boar feeding on the blood of her many worshippers. Somewhere beneath his dull-witted state, his mind was screaming all kinds of warnings. There was a small pilot light sparking, reminding him that Caleb was near at hand, but it was like he was trapped within a fog of sulfur and sweet blood.
“Do not be afraid,” she purred at him. “I will not hurt you—not unless you want me to.”
As if to prove her point, she ran one slim, pale hand down his hard chest sensuously, reveling in the feel of the solid muscle beneath her fingertips before scratching him like a kitten extending her claws, drawing vertical stripes of blood with her sharp fingernails. A sensual heat shimmered between them.
“Your duties here will be very pleasant,” she said, her words seductively coiling around him. “I can teach you things that your maker hasn’t even dreamed of.”
Belakane stroked his muscular chest, working the slick oil downward toward his navel and low on his hips, massaging the deep indentations above his hipbones teasingly. Her fingers dug in just enough to cause an odd, exciting discomfort.
Unsettled even further by the sexual arousal he was experiencing and, for the first time, seriously alarmed, the stupor he felt effectively disappeared. He tried concentrating on anything other than the high priestess’s nakedness and what she was doing to him with her smooth hands.
Think of ice-cold showers. Think of the football you took in the groin when you were in middle school requiring an ice pack and bed rest. Think of Varya biting. Think of Caleb kicking your ass every day in boot camp. Think of Cole’s terrible poetry.
Fuck, what’s she doing with her pinky finger? Oh, fuck. Stick to the plan. Holy mother of—Vlad help me!
What’s the plan? Think Cooper. Caleb and—something—can’t think.
What the fuck is Caleb doing? I’m dying here.
Cooper shuddered in response to the overripe promise of unspeakable dangers and delights. The dead eyes were repellent, yet there was a kind of lush invitation about her.
Belakane took Cooper’s stimulation as his submission to attend on her as one of her select male concubines, and her expression became triumphant. Her incisors elongated further, and she leaned in as if to ravish his neck.
“But what of the Jinn, your Eternal Highness?” Ole asked petulantly, raising his head from where his nose was pressed against the bloodied paving stones. “He will be expecting you to produce the pureblood.”
A flicker of annoyance showed in the high priestess’s eyes at the reminder of her duty and the promise made to the new God. She turned and looked rather coldly at her obsequious attendant.
“Do not question my methods, Ole. I will do exactly as requested,” the high priestess replied. Her tone was frosty enough to bite. “But only after I’m done with him.”
Ole had been an advisor to Belakane long enough to realize when to bite his tongue and keep his mutinous thoughts to himself.
“Would you like the grandson of Kayne taken to your chamber, Red Lady?” he asked. The priestesses stepped forward in readiness, prepared to do as they were bid. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable—”
“No,” Belakane interrupted. “Leave him.”
“As you wish.” Ole couldn’t have groveled or lowered himself any further even if he wanted to, since he was already prostrate on the floor. But Belakane ignored both him and Cooper’s jailor.
She ignored the priestesses who remained trancelike, rocking back and forth on their haunches before the sacred fire as they chanted the Egyptian Prayer of Resurrection in honor of the Eternal Red lady and the coming of the promised new God. “Death is but the doorway to new life. We live today. We shall live again. In many forms shall we return.”
Her sole focus was Cooper.
“Bring me the branding iron, Ole,” the high priestess instructed.
“Branding iron?” Cooper’s voice warbled unsteadily.
“Do not worry. I cannot allow my property to go wandering. It will be a momentary pain,” she said. But Cooper caught the jailor’s jerky movement out of the corner of his eye, and from the man’s expression, he knew Belakane was lying to him.
His suspicions were confirmed when Ole returned with the branding iron and was commanded to remove one
of the stone pavers from the floor. Cooper had not noticed earlier that a section of the floor was inlaid with gold and precious gems. Whatever lay beneath it made Ole behave oddly.
It was obvious Belakane had no intention of branding him with fire since he would heal without scarring almost immediately, but it was far worse than he could ever have imagined.
“Holy water blessed by Pope Benedict IX. Very difficult to obtain but he owed Primus Marduk a favor,” Belakane said, fascinated by the clear water revealed beneath the stone paver, which miraculously was not stained with blood.
Cooper’s eyes rounded in horror. Every human hunter in the service of the church had heard of the debauchery of Pope Benedict IX, who was most probably the role model for Joffrey Baratheon.
“Fuck me! I’m in a frigging Stephen King psycho-thriller,” Cooper cried, horrified. “Caleb! Where the hell are you?”
A sudden whirling dervish, Caleb dropped down from the rafters between the crystal oil lamps, landing softly on the pads of his feet like a panther in their midst. Masterfully, he threw Cooper’s crossbow across at him and, in a chaos of limbs and blades, hacked several of Belakane’s attendants to pieces.
Ole and the jailor jumped to their feet, but Caleb grabbed one of the feathered fans from an attendant and scooped holy water in their direction. Skin melted from the bones. Their howls of agony were amplified in the stone chamber.
Meanwhile, Cooper raised his crossbow, aiming it at Belakane, but before he had an opportunity to shoot off a bolt, the high priestess reached out and tore the puny crossbow out of his grip with a smoldering hatred, tossing it like a broken toy from the chamber.
“How dare you defile the temple!” she exclaimed hotly.
“Look lady, I haven’t got time for your bullshit. The kid’s not here for your entertainment,” Caleb responded. He slid across the blood-slicked paving stones on his knees, holding out the long blade in his hands to literally cut in half the perfectly aligned regiment of bodyguards rushing to protect their high priestess. Belakane gave a resounding scream as their dismembered limbs and torsos collapsed like dominoes onto the floor.
Standing among splattered limbs and blood-smeared faces, Caleb said under his breath to Cooper, “For fuck’s sake, don’t just stand there. Put some clothes on.”
Cooper looked around, grabbing the first thing that came to hand. The gauzy material of the curtains floated down from the high ceiling as he attempted to wrap it around his waist.
“Oh shit!” Cooper cried.
The end of the filmy drape fell across the sacred fire and was like a match to a stick of dynamite. The fabric immediately caught alight, flame roaring up its length. Cooper struggled out of the cloth, unaided by Caleb who was battling Belakane. Managing to extricate himself, he threw the flaming fabric away from him.
It sparked a raging inferno. Flames rushed the animal hides and patterned rugs where the material landed, racing over to the divan and starting at the curtains, licking at the hems.
“Caleb, we’ve got a problem!” Cooper shouted over his shoulder as the sacred fire now roared like a slavering, berserk animal, out of control. Cooper’s pale, oiled skin gleamed in the firelight making him look like an avenging god. “Just don’t lose your shit!”
“Vlad’s tits, kid! What have you done?” Caleb growled as the beams above caught alight. He lunged at Belakane, slicing the air with an axe kick, but the high priestess moved quickly, dodging the blow.
“You’re a fool. The new God is coming, and I have been chosen. Cut me down and I shall rise again.” Belakane gave a mad, taunting laugh.
With flaming cloth and wood falling from above all around them, Cooper managed to grab hold of the jailor’s blade, loosely sheathed in his leather belt. He removed the dagger and, turning, plunged it into Belakane’s neck.
She gave an earsplitting shriek and tried to clutch at him. They struggled, toppling onto the paving stones. When Caleb moved in, Cooper was kneeling on the floor with a blood-covered dagger in his hand, and Belakane’s head was severed from her neck. Slowly, the body toppled forward.
“Vlad almighty, we need to move now!” Caleb cried, grabbing the younger Malum by the arm, and propelled him toward the exit.
Figures moved about chaotically, trying to escape the dreadful heat of the fire in the confined chamber. Reaching the exit, Cooper momentarily looked back over his shoulder at the dead high priestess.
“Caleb.” Cooper’s voice held a note of alarm.
The burly vampire turned to look. From the shadowed recesses behind the titanic statue, a figure appeared. The glowing eyes of the dark mage met the vampire’s obsidian pair as it flashed daggers.
Cooper strained against Caleb’s grip on his arm, ready to leap into the fray.
“No. There’s no time.” As if to prove his words correct, a beam fell from the ceiling, crashing down between their enemies. “We’ve got to get out of here before we’re trapped.”
Cooper hesitated, unwilling to leave the dark mage behind.
Creeping over to Belakane’s torso amongst the falling debris, the dark mage sliced open her chest and withdrew her heart. He wrapped the heart in a red cloth and slipped it into his pocket. Then he flashed the vampires a sinister smile.
Suddenly, the wall directly behind where the dark mage was standing started to swirl like a whirlpool. Cooper initially thought it was due to the surrounding fire, but bright sparks flew from the twirling circle, lighting the dark mage inside what appeared to be an enormous spinning spiral until, from within, a portal appeared.
“Vlad’s iron nuts,” Caleb spat, staring at Styx’s minion, Thirteen, within the interior of Styx’s basement. “Bastard.”
With a mocking smile, Thirteen reached out a hand to assist the dark mage through the portal, causing Cooper to grit his teeth in frustration.
If only he had his beloved crossbow, he would have fired a bolt or two. Instead, he was forced to watch ineffectually as the dark mage walked into a world of infinite darkness beyond.
Caleb grunted as the portal disappeared, along with Thirteen and the dark mage. He tugged at Cooper’s unresisting arm. “C’mon. This place is going to get as hot as Demura in a moment.”
Cooper turned and made his way back through the temple’s labyrinth of tunnels. Finally rising to a starless night sky, he threw away the blood-covered dagger he’d used to kill the high priestess in disgust.
Caleb looked at Aislinn’s youngest offspring through narrowed eyes. “We’re going to have to work on your communication skills. I thought I told you to put on some clothes.”
Chapter 27
Aislinn lost it. “Are you fucking kidding me? You two guano-brained, plasma-gargling, cavity-ridden, cock-wombles! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Told you she’d be pissed.” Caleb looked smug as he nudged Cooper in the ribs.
Cooper would have given a facepalm but instead shot Caleb a filthy look as he reached into his Shuka to produce several gold Aurum Marduk coins which exchanged hands.
But Aislinn hadn’t finished. “And you let the Druid get away? Great. Just great. You two need a high five. In the face. With a barstool.”
This time, Cooper smirked, holding out his hand. “And I told you she’d be more pissed about the Druid than her brother’s sacred fire.” The coins clinked together as they exchanged hands again.
“And you made bets?” Aislinn looked like she was about to blow a gasket as she stared the two Malums down. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but it’s still on my to-do list, boys.”
“You’re a cruel woman, Aislinn,” Caleb said sadly. “Where’s your sense of humor?”
“We thought you’d be pleased that we found the thief we’d been searching for,” Cooper stated somewhat plaintively. “It’s a pity she’s dead, but these things happen.”
“It’s a pity she’s dead, but these things happen?” Aislinn questioned in a voice heavy with sarcasm. “Not to an immortal. Not to Marduk’s high pri
estess in over three millennia. Not until you two fucktrocities. I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and shit out a smarter statement than that.”
“We’re sorry?” Cooper offered with a sheepish shrug.
Caleb’s eyes flashed. “Hell, no. I’m not sorry. That bitch had it coming. Cooper was just the appetizer. If she’d seen me, I would have been the main course.”
“You wish, old man,” Aislinn said snidely, shutting Cooper up before he had an opportunity to protest.
Harper brought over tankards of dark red blood ale for them all and then quietly left. Cooper quickly lifted his tankard and took a large swallow of the bitter drink. It immediately made his face quite warm.
“Well, at least we now know the origin of the ancient blood and who is responsible for stealing it,” Caleb said, snapping his fingers.
“Maybe,” Aislinn said dubiously.
“Maybe?”
Aislinn gave a shrug. “All I’m saying is that this—what would you call it? A cult? A conspiracy? It extends far beyond Marduk’s coven.” Briefly, she explained the cascade of events leading to the current situation in London.
Caleb was able to rein in his indignation and worry when hearing of Dorian throwing in his lot with Marcellus and the dark mage, but not Cooper.
Young and filled with blood rage, he exclaimed, “Why hasn’t someone done something about this douchebag earlier? What are they waiting for?”
Caleb sighed. “Because Dorian’s douchebaggery makes Julius look good.”
“Dorian is merciless and cruel. His sadism knows no bounds,” Aislinn explained. There was revulsion and regret in her voice. She poured herself another fortifying drink and knocked it back quicker than the blink of an eye. “And in our world that earns him admirers, even while it makes us a coven to be feared. Admit it. Even as a hunter, you’ve heard of the vampires of London. We make the church extremely nervous.”
“Let’s hope the Atum Council will deal with him as he deserves,” Caleb said shortly.