Prophecies of Light

by E. M. Knight

  “We weren’t trying to replicate the transformation,” Paul hisses. “We wanted to pave the way to something better.”

  “Your superhuman soldiers,” Victoria mumbles.

  I turn to her. “What?”

  “He said,” she begins, gesturing at Paul, “that the Crusaders’ purpose has changed. That they no longer exist to kill vampires. But that they want to create the strongest private army force in the world.”

  “An admirable shift,” Smithson notes, voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “I don’t believe it,” I say. “They already have all the tools at their disposal to be the best mercenary force in the world. Isn’t that right, Smithson?”

  “Things can always be made better,” the onetime leader of the Order says. “Would a man who truly hated vampires ask to be turned into one?”

  “If a man was desperate,” I say.

  I haul Paul away from the wall he’s leaning on. “We’ve dawdled too long,” I announce. “It’s time to confront the rest of your organization. And time for me to get what I came for.”

  “And what is that?” Paul asks.

  I smile in a beguiling way.

  “The vampire cure.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cassandra

  The caves under the stronghold

  I come to very slowly. It’s like rising out from the dark fog of some horrific dream.

  The first thing I know is that ringing in my ears. It is an echo of those screams I was exposed to.

  The ones that I thought would kill me.

  But as the seconds slowly tick by, and I get a better and better grip on my consciousness, I realize that the ringing is only a memory of what I experienced before I passed out, and that all around me is actually silent.

  I take a breath.

  My eyelids are very, very heavy.

  It takes an enormous amount of effort to lift even one.

  When I do, all that I see is darkness.

  Panic shoots through me. I’m still a vampire, I feel my fangs with my tongue, but my vision does not pierce the black.

  Why?

  I gasp and surge up. But my body is bound by heavy chains. They rattle and clink against each other as I struggle against them.

  After a tremendous exertion of energy, I give up. The chains are too heavy for me to break free from.

  Think Cassandra! I scold myself. Think!

  But my thoughts are leaden. Everything is operating so much slower than usual.

  At least you’re still alive.

  That consideration brings a little bit of relief. Yes, I am alive, even though I haven’t got the slightest clue how. Neither do I know where I am, and this damn darkness does absolutely nothing to help.

  I take another breath, slowly through my nose, and try to determine if I can sense anything.

  …Nothing.

  There’s nobody in the room with me. Nobody outside. The chains stretch out from my body in four directions, presumably linked to four walls. I cannot even figure out what type of room I’m holed up in.

  The floor feels soft, however, a little like wet clay.

  I don’t know whether that should comfort or frighten me.

  I hear a door creak open. I snap to attention. My body goes rigid.

  Some sort of creature hobbles in.

  I can hear the slow, almost pained footsteps as it approaches me. That feeling of alarm inside grows and grows and grows.

  I try extending my claws, and for a horrifying moment, realize that I can’t.

  A match flickers to life in front of me. It’s brought to a torch. A big flame bursts to life at the top.

  And finally, I can see where I am imprisoned, and who has come to observe me.

  An old, hobbled woman stands before me. One of her hands clutch a gnarled, twisted walking stick. The other holds that torch.

  The room itself is unremarkable. It’s made of red stone, rectangular, and completely barren. The chains do attach to four equidistant points along the walls.

  I turn my attention to the woman again.

  She is wearing a stained, threadbare gown. It’s the simplest article of clothing I’ve ever seen—it looks like a bed sheet stitched together and tossed on. Her back is hunched, her face drawn and dry. Her cheeks sag down almost past her lower jaw. Her skin is splotchy, almost yellow. Liver spots mar every expansion of it that I see.

  Even her eyes are weak, sort of dull-looking and almost dead.

  Yet despite her appearance, her presence is enough to make the biggest sense of apprehension grip me.

  She hobbles up to me, using that walking stick, her other hand barely supporting the weight of the torch.

  I can’t help myself. I draw back. I feel as vulnerable as a regular human woman before a vampire.

  The woman prods my belly with the walking stick. “Soft,” she says.

  I choke down a sob. I don’t know why I feel so vulnerable before her. Even bound as I am, the vampiric essence should save my body from any harm she can do.

  But I do not think those defenses will help me now.

  “Why…” I stutter. “Why…”

  “Shhh,” she hushes me.

  She points behind me.

  I turn my head. On the floor is a black, cast-iron pot. Beside it, is a cup filled with a clear liquid.

  “Drink,” she suggests.

  Even if I wanted to I can’t. I pull against the chains, but they hold me tight. The absolute futility of my situation crashes into me.

  I start to sob.

  The woman makes a disgruntled sound in her throat. She walks past me, kneels down to pick up the cup.

  She brings it back and raises it to my lips.

  “Drink,” she says in that awful, scratchy voice again.

  A drop of the liquid gets past my lips and touches my tongue. The moment it does, a jolt goes through me.

  For a flicker of a second, my vampire powers are back.

  The woman judges my reaction and smiles. “Drink,” she repeats.

  I let my lips part and sip at the concoction.

  The first bit runs down my throat. Immediately, my body is invigorated. My strength returns to me, I can feel my retracted claws at the tips of my fingers, feel the edge of my fangs. I take another swallow, and the vampire prowess grows even stronger. I start feeling greedy, wanting more and more—but the woman pulls the cup away.

  “Enough,” she says. “For now.”

  She looks me over for a long moment, and then sighs.

  “You are not my first choice,” she admits. “But you will have to do.”

  With the majority of my strength returning to me, I no longer feel quite so futile. I test the chains again—and am disappointed to discover them just as unbreakable as ever.

  The strange woman shakes her head. “You needn’t bother,” she tells me. “Those links are made of the strongest metal on this earth. It would take a vampire with centuries in the blood to be able to snap them.”

  I slump back.

  “You’re so despondent,” she observes. “Is a thank-you too much to ask?”

  I glare at her. “You made me prisoner. You want me to thank you?”

  “I gave you your strength back,” she replies. “At least, a portion of it. Any vampire should be thankful for that.”

  “How did you take it away?”

  The woman’s eyebrows go up in an expression of surprise. “That,” she murmurs, “is not something you are in a position to ask. But,” she adds after a pause, “I am feeling generous, so let me indulge you.

  “When my little gophers brought you here, you were unconscious and in no state of mind to talk were you to wake up. I had them bind you here and then administer the potion,” she gestures at the iron pot, “—the infusion of herbs which numb your vampiric abilities. What I gave you now,” she taps the side of the cup with one finger, “was the antidote.”

  “Herbs can nullify the vampiric essence?” I ask, not quite believing it.

 
; “You just experienced it yourself, dearest.”

  I grind my teeth. “Who are you? What do you want?” I narrow my eyes. “Why can I not feel you?”

  She exhales heavily. “The answer to all of that will be revealed in time.”

  “What do you want?” I repeat.

  “I want what any living thing wants. Freedom.” Her eyes take on a glazed look. She peers at the ceiling. “Freedom to return above ground, freedom to taste the air, freedom to see the moon and the stars. Freedom for me and my kind to be held prisoner beneath the earth no longer.”

  “And what does that have to do with me?” I ask.

  Her head snaps forward. Her eyes sear into me.

  “You, little vampire,” she says softly, “are a vessel which contains the purest Royal Family blood.” She turns away. “My cousin put me here. It is only right that I use her fledgling against her.”

  “Your cousin?” I shake my head. “Who are you talking about? How do you know I have Royal blood, that’s just—”

  She whips around with extraordinary speed and backhands me across the face.

  I taste blood.

  “My cousin,” she seethes, “was the one who damned me to this despicable existence. My cousin is Morgan, your repulsive Queen! And for Royal blood, well—” she smiles like a wolf, “—I can smell it on you.”

  I don’t know whether to be terrified or not. I feel like I’m on the verge of hysteria.

  “Morgan’s dead,” I tell her forcefully. “Succeeded by Eleira. And I am not her fledgling. She did not make me!”

  “Oh?” The woman’s eyebrows go up. “Who did, then? There are only three other possibilities. Raul, James, or Phillip.”

  I press my lips tight.

  “Tell me,” she implores.

  I shake my head, refusing to give her any leverage.

  “Either way, it doesn’t matter,” she informs me. “Your blood will be used for what I intend to do.”

  “And what is that?”

  One side of her mouth twitches up in a crooked smile. “I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she begins, “but I must say I enjoy the conversation. The others down here, none of them possess the capability of speech any longer.”

  “What are you?”

  “We are spawn,” she answers, “of the vampire filth whose souls have been severed from their bodies.”

  I do a double take. “What?”

  “Morgan’s first attempted her despicable trick on me. She cast a spell, forced my soul into a painting, and threw my body down into the depths of the earth to rot.”

  I blink rapidly, trying to keep my mouth shut so as not to gape at the revelation.

  “She thought it would decompose, presumably.” The woman sniffs and looks at her arm. “In a sense, she was right. But her arrogance with magic got the better of her. Nothing but fire can truly eliminate the vampiric essence from a body. She cleaved my soul away, which is why you cannot feel me. Which is why no vampire can. In fact, that is the common thread that has let me and all my kind remain here, under The Haven, without drawing attention.”

  “All those pale, ghastly things, the ones screaming… they were what?”

  “They were all like me,” the woman says.

  “But they’re not,” I respond. “Look at you, look at them. You are altogether different!”

  “I was perhaps stronger when the deed was done,” she says. “My cousin may not have perfected the spell.”

  “There were hundreds of them,” I say, remembering how they chased after Raul and me. “The Haven never had so many vampires.”

  She smiles. “They’ve bred.”

  My eyes go wide. “What? Vampires are sterile, they are not capable of—”

  “They became something else the moment their souls left their bodies,” she cuts in. She turns her head to the door. “I think I’ve entertained you too long. At this time tomorrow, I will return, and you can then make your sacrifice.”

  “Sacrifice?” I say, that impenetrable horror starting to fill me again. “What sacrifice? What are you talking about? You can’t leave me here, you can’t, you can’t…!”

  But my words are lost as she simply walks out the room and slams the door back in place.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Smithson

  The Crusaders’ Facility

  The moment James mentions a vampire cure, my reluctant respect for him crumbles.

  I grab him by the shoulder and spin him back. I don’t care that I’ve sworn myself to him—some madness is just too much!

  “You don’t know what you are asking!” I rasp. “You take that request back—”

  James shoves my arm away in disgust. “Don’t touch me,” he snarls. “You do it again, and I’ll cut off your hand. Let’s see how well lost appendages grow back.”

  I hiss. “You’re forgetting I’m on your side here.”

  “Why do you want a vampire cure?” Paul asks in disbelief.

  “I’ve got my reasons,” James addresses him. “Is it possible, or not? We saw what the cuffs did.”

  “James.” Victoria steps closer to him. “What are you talking about? Why would you want a cure?”

  “I just need to know if it’s possible,” he stresses. “The reasons are my own.”

  What is he so desperate to hide? I wonder.

  Paul runs his tongue over his teeth, obviously sensing the growing tension in our group. “It might be possible…” he hedges. “Under the right circumstances.”

  “See?” James gloats. “I’m not such a fool after all.”

  “First of all,” Paul considers. “It would have to be done very early in the transformation. The essence cannot have taken over, cannot have converted every cell in the human body. There has to be a portion of pure humanity left, of what the individual in question can return to.” He hesitates. “If you want it for yourself, I would say no. Impossible. You are too long in the blood. But someone like me…?” He looks at his hands. “Maybe.”

  “That’s perfect,” James says. “That’s all I need. We’ll talk about this later.”

  I look at Victoria in question. She gives me a blank look.

  “Beast will continue giving the transfusions to your daughter,” James announces. “None of that will change for now.”

  “James, you haven’t seen her!” Victoria protests. “You can’t imagine how pitiful she is!”

  “She’s lasted this long,” James says dismissively. “What is another few weeks, or months, or even years? You know why we’re really here.”

  Victoria drops her gaze. “Yes,” she says. “I do.”

  “You have to understand,” James continues, turning on Paul. “I do not need you. You might not see it yet, but you have already given me the keys to your kingdom.” He smiles cruelly. “You are my fledgling, and you and I share a special bond.”

  He steps to Paul. “You, however, very much need me. Your whole existence as a vampire will depend on what I decide to do with you. Your organization might be powerful, you might have some incredible technology at your disposal, but you do not know the vampire secrets that I do. That knowledge is only afforded to those with centuries in the blood.”

  He’s bluffing, I think. I take in Paul’s expression. But it looks like it will work.

  “Then what do you want from me?” Paul asks.

  “First, the four of us go to your command center. Not that awful sickbed. We go above ground, and you take back control of the organization you own. What we do from there… is dependent entirely on your cooperation.”

  ***

  James takes me aside as Paul and Victoria walk a few steps ahead.

  “I am sorry for threatening you,” he says, forcing the words out stiffly. “I only did it to put the fear of God into Paul.”

  I scoff. “You want me to believe that?”

  He shrugs. “It’s the truth.”

  “Fine,” I look over. “What are you planning here, James? You can’t expect me to accept that this
task of a ‘vampire cure’ did not come premeditated. You’ve been thinking about it for some time.”

  “So what if I have?”

  “I’m not threatening you,” I say, trying to show him that I am on his side. “I just want to know what prompted your interest.”

  James looks ahead at the other vampires. Then he stops, pulls me aside, and waits.

  “Keep walking,” he tells Victoria when she glances back. “You keep Paul near you, but out of earshot of us.”

  “You’re almost making me feel like your prisoner,” the newest vampire says.

  “Just give me and Smithson some privacy.”

  James waits until they are a safe distance away. Then he looks at me, looks deeply into my eyes, and says, “I did not think I would tell you this so early.”

  A sense of apprehension creeps up inside. “Tell me what?”

  “Do you remember that morning you tried to escape, and were caught by the girls?”

  I bristle. “Of course I remember—and I was not trying to escape. I explained before. I came to, my cuffs were off, I assumed you did it, and so I went in search of you.”

  He considers the explanation.

  “It’s what truly happened,” I reassure, when I see how skeptical he looks.

  After a long and solemn moment, James nods. “I do think you’re being sincere. And I think I understand, now, how your cuffs came off.”

  “You mean you didn’t do it?”

  “No. We went over that.”

  “Then who?”

  “Cierra.”

  An incredulous smile breaks over my lips. “Cierra,” I say flatly. “You think the Dark Sorceress came to the pack’s lair and released me? Me, Smithson, the one vampire she probably hates more than any other in the world, after what I did to her?

  “Or rather,” I correct, “what she thinks I did to her.”

  “I know it was Cierra,” James says softly. “Because that morning, I encountered her outside.”

  Alarm rips through me. “Cierra was truly there?”

  “She came back to her lair,” James says. “Just as we thought she would.”