by N M Thorn
“Why did you leave?” asked Jamie.
Damian glanced at him, feeling the blood draining from his face, and switched his attention to the ball of yarn climbing up a tall hill.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” he said. His chest locked with a nagging pain, and he massaged his left shoulder and arm absentmindedly. “You already made me say more than I wanted to share.”
He ran up to the top of the hill and stilled, staring down. Far on the horizon, separated from the valley by the dark line of a forest, proud cupolas of a large palace reached toward the blue sky, the rays of the morning sun throwing bright flares at their golden surface. It was positioned on the crest of a tall hill and surrounded by a wall, a dark, narrow serpentine of a road slithering down the hillside.
“I guess this is where we need to be,” said Damian, pointing at the palace. From that distance, the palace looked peaceful, but it was impossible to say if it truly was.
Jamie nodded, starting on his way down. “At this pace, we should be there by nightfall.”
Their passage through the forest was uneventful. Trying to speed up the process, Damian used his power over nature to make sure their path was unobstructed by thickets, making their walk a lot faster and easier. By the time the sun crawled its way down to the horizon, they reached the edge of the woods and halted, observing the palace towering over the small valley at the foot of the hill.
The road, Damian had noticed before, cut abruptly at the border with the forest. Paved with light cobblestones, it was easily visible even in the dimming light of the early dusk. The red ball of yarn rolled onto the road and halted, moving back and forth slightly, as if expecting Damian and Jamie to follow it.
Jamie separated the bushes, ready to walk out, but Damian seized his shoulder, pulling him back. A barely noticeable spike in the magical energy field touched his senses, causing him to hold his breath. It was so faint that Damian wasn’t sure he didn’t imagine it, but it was enough for his intuition to raise a red flag.
“Isn’t it where we’re supposed to go?” asked Jamie, giving him an arched stare. “Everything seems to be quiet and peaceful.”
“Yes, but try to remember where we are. You’re not in Arizona anymore. The Land of Dreams is not a place where you can trust your human eyes. Nothing here is what it appears to be,” Damian whispered.
Taking a deep breath, he channeled his power toward his eyes to reinforce his second sight. As he surveyed the castle, chills ran down his back. A veil of dark magical energy swayed with the breeze, circling around the tall walls built of solid white rocks. From where they stood, Damian could see the tall gates into the palace. They were locked, but he couldn’t see any guards either by the entrance or on top of the wall.
“Dammit…” he exhaled, massaging the back of his neck. “Nothing is ever easy.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” replied Damian, “but since we have no choice but to go up there, I’m sure we’re about to find out.” He glanced at Jamie, fighting the desire to ask him to stay behind. Knowing full well that Jamie would never agree to that, he tapped the young man’s shoulder, jerking his chin toward the road. “Get your dagger ready, my friend. I think we’re about to have some fun Slavic style.”
“Slavic style?” Jamie unsheathed his dagger, squeezing its grip tightly in his hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…” murmured Damian, carefully separating the bushes and stepping on the road. He glanced at Jamie, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a mirthless smile. “It means that when you think that things can’t get any worse, they most certainly will.”
Keeping his senses attuned to the fluctuations of the magical energy field around the palace, he took a few careful steps up the hill and halted, holding his hand up to stop Jamie. The energy spiked again, and a piercing scream shattered the silence of the evening. The sound echoed through the forest, bouncing from tree to tree, but instead of dwindling, with every next reverberation, it became louder and rose higher until it turned into a bone-chilling, high-pitched, continuous shrill.
A pain, harsh and unyielding, took hold of him, blinding him for a moment. Damian cried out and wrapped his arms around his head, his knees bending of their own accord. A new scream rang above the palace. Dark and malignant, it was followed by a sharp increase in the dark magical energy. The screams kept changing, resembling first the cry of a child, then the meow of a cat, and finally, the bleat of a goat. It became darker as if the moon were swallowed by some horrendous invisible monster.
One grating shriek followed the other. They fused into a choir from Hell, echoing between the trees, bouncing against the hills, rising high into the black sky. Struggling to stand on his feet, Damian raised his face, drops of sweat slipping down his forehead. His vision was blurry, but he wasn’t sure if it was his imagination fueled by the non-stop, blinding pain in his head playing tricks on him.
Like a giant tidal wave, something dark and eerie rose from behind the palace. It reached higher and higher, and soon the dismal veil was taller than the tallest tower of the palace. It didn’t appear to be solid but rather misty, its large particles moving and shifting as they bounced up and down. The reek of demonic essence invaded Damian’s nostrils, making him choke as he struggled for breath. While it felt familiar, there was something different about it, and Damian was positive this energy signature didn’t belong to a run-of-the-mill demon.
As a sudden realization flashed through Damian’s frazzled mind, he forced himself to tear his eyes off of the quickly approaching horror and turned toward Jamie. The young man was on his knees, his hands pressed to his ears. His face was contorted with pain, blood dripping between his fingers and from his nose. Taking an unsteady step toward him, Damian seized his shoulder and hauled him to his feet.
“Jamie, I’m going to do something to stop this ruckus,” he shouted, leaning down to Jamie’s ear. “Unfortunately, it will kill all sound. I won’t be able to communicate with you.” He glanced at his friend, worry gnawing at his insides. “Do you understand me?”
Jamie nodded, bloody tears slipping from his blue eyes. “Do you know what it is?”
Damian couldn’t hear his friend’s words, but he read his lips and nodded. “I suspect it’s the Drekavac. Many of them… too many to be natural. The Drekavac is a demonic entity similar to the phantoms of the Dark Nav, but a lot worse and more dangerous.”
“Awesome…”
Ignoring the pain, Damian channeled his magic and whispered, “Silenties…”
As soon as the word of the silencing spell escaped his lips, all sound ceased. The change was so abrupt that after the non-stop cacophony of the demonic shrieks, the silence was so thick and heavy, it felt almost painful. Gesturing for Jamie to follow, Damian summoned his daggers and ran toward the approaching tidal surge of darkness.
“Zhulik,” he reached out to his gargoyle in his mind. “I need you to protect Jamie.”
“But Commander—,” the gargoyle started, but Damian interrupted him.
“I have no time to argue with you,” he snapped. “Do as I say.”
“Dictator!”
“Yeah, you got that right,” muttered Damian, ignoring the light zing of electricity Zhulik sent through his arm.
He managed to reach the walls of the palace before the demonic cloud swallowed him, wrapping its icy tendrils around him. He had been right—it wasn’t solid. Thousands of semi-transparent creatures spun around him in a dizzying, continuous whirl. They had weird thin bodies and heads that were twice as big as their torsos. Dirty, leathery wings sprouted out of their deformed backs, and all four of their limbs ended in terrifying talons.
Their mouths, filled with small, sharp teeth, were opened in silent screams, but no sound came out, and their eyes, shining with a malignant purple light, stared at Damian without blinking. Icy fear the likes of which he had never experienced before squeezed his heart, sending his mind into a wild frenzy, and for a momen
t, all he wanted to do was run.
Realizing it was the demonic influence on his mind, he took a deep breath, channeling his magic toward his daggers.
“Illucious,” he thought the spell, and his blades ignited with a blinding white light, the purifying magic of Creation surging through them.
The Drekavacs’ eyes flashed with a boiling fury, and their round mouths stretched wider, covering more than half of their deformed faces. Damian squeezed the grips of his daggers tighter, a rush of anger catalyzing his power. He spun in place, and every strike of his deadly weapons found a target. At the touch of the purifying magical energy, emitted by his blades, the demons twitched and convulsed, their ugly bodies turning into black smoke of pure demonic essence before getting absorbed by the ground.
As the Drekavacs pulled away from him, Damian glanced back and saw the gargoyle in the shape of a giant dog standing with his wings open in front of Jamie. The demons didn’t attack them, visibly terrified of Zhulik, and that was enough for Damian to know that his friend was well protected. He channeled his power of the Destiny Enforcer, and his giant black wings opened behind his back. Rising a few feet off the ground, he moved forward at full speed, destroying as many demons as he could on his way. His progress was fast and forceful, but there were so many monsters around him that it was impossible to block all their attacks, their talons ripping his arms and shoulders.
He glanced up, noticing that the thick cloud of demons started to get thinner, and he doubled his effort, blocking the stinging pain in his wounds. Suddenly, a powerful blast of magical energy rushed through the area. It was so strong that the demons froze in midair, and their wide mouths snapped shut. The second wave followed soon after, melting the Drekavacs’ ugly bodies into dirty swirls of black smoke. Those that survived the second blast came out of their stupor. They huddled closer together and started to swirl. Moving faster, their bodies assembled into a disgusting tornado which kept rising higher and higher until every single Drekavac was gone, disappearing into the dark sky.
Damian landed on the ground and folded his wings, his chest rising and falling with laborious breaths. He saw Jamie and Zhulik standing a few feet behind him, pointing at the gates of the palace. Damian walked up to his friends, quickly assessing Jamie’s state to make sure he wasn’t wounded. Then his eyes darted to the entrance, and his jaw dropped. A group of people walked out of the gates and halted, staring at them with curiosity.
An older man, dressed in a white linen shirt that resembled a tunic and wide, black pants, stepped in front of the crowd. He wasn’t tall, his short, gray hair in disarray, but the light of white magical energy surrounded him as he wasn’t trying to hide or suppress it. He pointed at his ears, gesturing for Damian to remove his silencing spell.
“Incanto Comlium,” Damian commanded in his mind, and all sound came rushing into the area.
The man approached Damian and lowered to one knee, pressing his fist to his chest.
“My lord,” he said, inclining his head. “I’m yours to command.”
Chapter 25
~ Cole Adams ~
Ruslan pulled a small stool closer to the couch where Cole sat with his head bowed down, deep in contemplation. He lowered himself onto the stool and gently touched Cole’s knee, causing him to lift his head. Cole glanced at his maker’s face and warmth spread through his chest, dispelling his heavy thoughts for a moment.
“I’m fine,” he said, pulling a small throw pillow to his side to lean on it.
“You’re not. You’re tired, my boy,” Ruslan objected, his voice sounding below a whisper.
Cole chuckled mirthlessly. “We’re vampires. The word ‘tired’ has no meaning to us.”
“You’re right. I don’t think I remember how it feels to be physically tired.” Ruslan got up and headed toward the electric fireplace where he halted, turning his back to Cole. He braced his hands against the wall, dropping his head, and stood like this for a few seconds. “But I wasn’t talking about the exhaustion of your body. I was talking about your soul, my child.” He turned around and rested his back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest.
“This too shall pass,” Cole whispered, but a nagging feeling of dread spread through him.
“I have a bad feeling about all this,” said Ruslan, echoing Cole’s thoughts, which only added to Cole’s feeling of unease.
A soft knock on the door interrupted their quiet conversation, but before Cole could answer, Ruslan was by his side, his hand lying firmly on Cole’s shoulder.
“Jeff, probably,” Cole whispered and added aloud, “Please, come in.”
The door opened up slowly and soundlessly, but no one walked in. The light in the room flickered, and it seemed as though darkness emerged through the entrance, lingering there like a stormy cloud for a heartbeat. The light flickered again, igniting brighter, and the shadow was gone, ephemeral like some freakish illusion.
The Head of the Arizona House stood in the doorway, his left hand in the pocket of his suit pants. His face was partially covered by a black leather mask, his eyes glowing with a deep purple light through the slits. The corners of his mouth lifted a little, his eyes darting from Ruslan to Cole. Ruslan’s fingers dug deeper into Cole’s shoulder, nearly tearing through his black dress shirt, and his teeth squeaked as he clenched his jaw.
“Good evening,” Amaris said, remaining in place.
“Mr. Amaris,” Ruslan growled instead of a greeting, his entire body stiff with suppressed rage.
Cole tapped Ruslan’s hand and got up, appearing relaxed and at ease. “Good evening, Erick. I was expecting Jeff to notify me when you were ready.”
“Why? We don’t need a middleman between us, do we?” Amaris’ smile grew wider as he switched his attention to Ruslan. “Ruslan, do you mind if I borrow your multi-talented son for a few hours?”
“Not at all,” replied Ruslan, returning a smile, but his was so dark and ferocious that if Amaris were human, the blood would’ve run cold in his veins from the mere looks of it.
With a tiny nod in Ruslan’s direction, Cole left the room, following the Head of the Arizona House. Amaris closed the door and turned to Cole.
“Let’s talk some business, my friend,” he said, motioning for him to follow. Suddenly, his easy, leisurely demeanor was gone, and now he looked so nervous and tense that Cole had to do a double take.
Without waiting for Cole’s reply, Amaris turned left and picked up the pace, marching along the same hallway Cole and Sylvana had walked recently. For a moment, everything inside Cole somersaulted as he expected Amaris to take him to the locked room surrounded by magical energy. But at the cross point of the two hallways, the Head of the Arizona House threw a curious stare at him and turned right.
As they passed the room where he spent the night with Sylvana, Amaris’ lips twitched a little, but he didn’t say anything and just kept moving forward until the hallway came to a dead-end. Cole glanced around but couldn’t see anything resembling a door.
“Do you feel it?” Amaris breathed out and moved his hand over the wall, leaving a purple swoosh of light behind.
“No,” Cole lied as smoothly as he could muster while his skin prickled with the amount of magical energy this area emanated. “I’m a vampire. Sure, I can detect the presence of vampires, werewolves, demons”—he peered at Amaris, expecting a reaction, but the man didn’t even blink—"and a few other supernatural types, but that’s as far as it goes. My brother always talks about magical and elemental energy, and sometimes I wish I could feel it too… but oh, well.”
“Uh-huh,” Amaris hummed, tilting his head slightly, his eyes drilling into Cole as if he were trying to read his soul. Rising on his tiptoes, he drew a glowing rectangle in the air, whispering a spell in Dragon tongue. The rectangle ignited brighter, and when the light dwindled, a tall door materialized on the wall in front of them.
With a condescending sneer, Amaris pushed the door open and bowed ceremoniously. “After you, my lord.”
<
br /> Cole crossed the threshold and halted, staring around in awe. The giant space with a high ceiling and steel reinforced beams looked like an industrial warehouse, and it was filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves, glass cases, and locked safes. Dimly illuminated by the shimmering, bluish light of magical orbs, the far end of the room was concealed by darkness, shadows gathering behind every shelf and in every corner.
Ancient weapons, strange objects, vials with shimmering liquids inside and thick books in leather covers filled all of the available holding space. Some of the shelves were crisscrossed by iron and silver chains in addition to other security measures. A light smell of dust mixed with a barely noticeable odor of sulfur and some other smells Cole didn’t recognize lingered in the air, and the magical energy that flowed around the shelves was so thick, it could have been cut with an ax.
Cole dropped his shoulders, lead-like heaviness settling in his limbs—this wasn’t what he had expected to find.
“So, what do you think?” Amaris’ voice sounded next to him, causing Cole to flinch and snap toward him.
“I think I’ve seen this show before,” Cole muttered, a thin layer of sarcasm in his voice. “A warehouse built to keep dangerous magical artifacts from the reach of humans?” Cole motioned at the shelves. “I assume all these… um… items have magical properties?”
“Right you are, my friend.” Amaris put his hand on the small of Cole’s back, pushing him forward slightly. “Don’t feel shy. Come closer, take a look. Just don’t touch anything without asking me first. Some of these things are quite powerful, and I don’t know how they would react to the touch of a vampire.”
