by N M Thorn
She lowered to one knee next to the corpses and grabbed the sword lying on the floor by her feet. With one sharp move, she cut the right arm of the dead woman closest to her, severing her hand and the part of her arms with the tattoo. Then she repeated the procedure with the other fake slayer. Rising to her feet, she stuffed the still bleeding hands into the pockets of her robe, ignoring the fact that the sheer fabric got soaked through in a matter of seconds.
As the next tremor rushed through the bunker, Cole approached Camila and Ricardo. He sheathed his sword and raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.
“Camila,” he said softly, hoping he sounded friendly enough to convince her. “It’s over. Please, lower your knife. You and your brother are finally free. You both can go and live your life in peace.”
“Free?” she squealed, pressing her knife tighter under Ricardo’s chin. A few drops of blood escaped from under the blade, and Ricardo groaned, his face strained. “Who said that I wasn’t free before? Who told you I wanted to leave Donna Luna?” She stared around, a maniacal glimmer in her wide-open eyes. “I’m happy with her. She’s my only friend, you bloodsucking leech. Unlike my brother, she treated me like a queen, my every tiniest desire met immediately. Why would I want to leave her for this good-for-nothing loser?”
“Camila, what are you saying?” Ricardo moaned, his voice weak and trembling, a pained expression never leaving his dazed eyes. “I gave up my life, my freedom… everything… What I had to do for you…”
“He is your brother.” Cole took a step forward, his throat tight. “Your flesh and blood. The only family you have. How can you betray him like this?
“Come one more step closer, and I’ll cut his throat!” she screeched at Cole, yanking her brother’s head back.
“Go for it. I had enough of this human soap opera,” muttered Ruslan through clenched teeth. Before Cole could stop him, he thrust his arm forward. For him, it was a light jab, but Camila dropped back unconscious, her knife falling to the floor with a loud clatter. The ancient vampire walked around Ricardo and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder carelessly. Then he turned to Cole, humor sparkling in his dark eyes. “Like I said, you talk too much. Let’s get moving before this rattrap collapses on top of us.”
Cole hauled Ricardo to his feet and spun him around. Seizing his handcuffs, he yanked them apart, breaking the chain connecting them.
“Let’s go,” he said, tapping Ricardo’s shoulder. The man looked like a shadow of his former self, but he nodded and followed Cole out the door.
They ran through the empty hallways as tremors kept rattling the floor under their feet. Cole zoomed through the central area but instead of stopping there, he kept navigating the maze of hallways until they reached the locked room where he had sensed the accumulation of magical energy before. Now, he could detect nothing, but he was positive he was in the right place.
He kicked the door, but it didn’t budge. He exchanged an annoyed look with Ruslan and stepped aside, giving his maker some space by his side. They kicked the door at the same time, putting all their strength into a single kick. It broke with a thunderous bang, shattering into slivers of wood and strips of warped silver and iron.
As Cole crossed into a spacious room, everything inside him twisted. The sweet, nauseating odor of decay overwhelmed his sharp sense of smell, and he pressed his hand over his nose and mouth. Five dead bodies—all women—in different stages of decomposition lay on the cold, concrete floor.
There was no furniture in this large, empty room, but at the far end, three giant cylindrical contraptions stood, taking the entire space from the ceiling to the floor. All three were filled with a strange, shimmering substance. Moving in a bizarre, phantasmal way, it glowed from the inside, its blue glimmer illuminating the dark space, throwing wide cerulean circles of light on the gray floor. Transfixed, Cole stared at the magical energy in its purest form, unable to make a move. Since all magic had been suppressed in the entire area, he had to wonder if the glass-like cylinders were protecting the collected energy from vanishing.
A mighty impact rattled the entire building, breaking Cole’s trance, and the powerful bang that followed cut painfully through his heightened senses. One bang followed the next, and soon they fused into a continuous, deafening ruckus. Cole backed away from the bodies of the dead witches and the strange vessels holding the magical energy. Then he took off running at human speed and didn’t slow down until he reached the central area.
The guards stood in a tight formation. Stupefied, they stared up at the cracked ceiling in horror, as if expecting it to collapse on their heads at any moment. Cole found Jeff among them and seized the shirt on his chest, giving him a good shake.
“Snap out of it, jackass!” he shouted, shoving the necklace Donna Luna had given him into his hands. “Mr. Amaris wants us all to leave the bunker immediately. Open the door.”
Jeff nodded. “Yes, Mr. Adams,” he stammered, barely regarding the jewelry in his hand, and pointed at the wall on their right. Unhooking a chain with a set of keys attached to it from his belt, he made his way to the small, well-hidden door and unlocked it. “It will lead you into a tunnel that exits on the outskirts of Downtown.”
Cole let Sylvana, Ricardo and Ruslan with the unconscious Camila on his shoulder pass through the door first. With a shake of his head, he turned to the mortified guard.
“Jeff, unlock all your holding cells, and let your captive fighters go.” He glanced up and bit his lip, trying not to think of his brother. “Something terrible is coming, and no one deserves this kind of death. Take your people and the fighters and leave.”
Jeff nodded again, the Adam’s apple in his throat working as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t.
“Wake up,” Cole growled and slapped the stupefied man across his face. Jeff gasped, pressing his hand to his cheek involuntarily, but at least now he seemed to be more aware of the situation. “Do it now, if you want to live.”
Then he turned around and walked through the door into the coolness of the underground tunnel, quickly catching up with his friends.
After a few minutes of running at the fastest pace Ricardo could manage, the tunnel came to an abrupt dead-end, and Cole halted, staring up the long, vertical shaft with a metal stair attached to its concrete wall. He climbed up and carefully moved a heavy, cast iron manhole cover to the side. Once on the surface, he surveyed the area, making sure there was no one watching, and then took Camila from Ruslan, stepping out of the way.
It was still early in the morning, and the narrow alley was dark and empty. Once everyone was out of the tunnel, he headed toward the main street, moving stealthily in the shadows of the night. As soon as he stepped out of the alley, he saw a man standing with his arms spread wide. His head was upturned, and he was chanting, monotonously repeating the same set of words in Dragon tongue over and over.
“Archmage Allerton,” Cole whispered, recognizing the man. This is how my brother blocked the magic… He didn’t lie to Amaris. For once, he didn’t try to do everything on his own.
A loud boom rolled through the empty streets of Phoenix, the echo amplifying the terrible sound as it bounced between high-rises. Cole spun in the direction of the noise and froze in place, unable to move, small hairs rising on the back of his neck.
Right on the very edge of Downtown, no more than a couple of blocks away from where he stood, a colossal, winged silhouette rose above one of the tall buildings, its wide, webbed wings obscuring a big part of the sky. The darkness became thicker, almost tangible around it, sucking up all the scraps of light in the area. The monster raised his enormous arm, bulging with grotesque muscles, and then lowered it on something only it could see. A bloodcurdling growl rumbled in its wide chest as it kept punching, tearing, and breaking everything in its way.
Without fully realizing what he was doing, Cole let Camila’s body slip to the ground, and he pressed his hand to his throat as if he needed air to breathe but couldn’t inhale.
Fear the likes of which he hadn’t felt in years enveloped him, and his motionless heart jolted in his chest. As the next fountain of dust and debris rose in the air, surrounding the beast like a dirty veil, the ground shook under his feet, and the beast roared—the unmistakable sound of triumph.
With his senses stretched to the limit, Cole turned on his heels and jetted back into the dark alley. He was about to dive into the manhole when a strong hand seized his arm above the elbow, halting him in midair.
“Where are you going, son?” Ruslan’s fingers squeezed his arm in an iron grip.
“I’m not leaving my brother to fight this monstrosity alone!” Cole growled, struggling against his maker’s hold. “Please, Father… Don’t you understand? I must go…”
Ruslan’s fingers unlocked, and he dropped his arm powerlessly. “Cole, my boy, you have no idea what this thing is and—”
“You’re right, I have no idea what that is,” Cole interrupted him calmly, “and I don’t give a damn. My brother is there, and I will kill anything that stands in my way.”
Without waiting for Ruslan’s response, Cole turned around and jumped into the shaft.
Chapter 31
~ Damian Blake ~
“What have you done, Damian Blake?” Donna Luna whispered, scrambling to her feet. Pure torment replaced burning rage, and she looked tired and a little lost. She glanced up and around, shaking her head in resignation. Leaving her sword on the floor, she rushed toward Damian and grabbed his arm with both hands, her eyes almost pleading with him. “Damian, you have no idea what you’ve done, and now it’s too late to fix it.”
Donna Luna spoke fast, her teeth chattering, and he had a hard time understanding her words. She looked scared and miserable, but at this point all he cared about was the monster that was about to break in, destroying everything and killing everyone on its way down. The bunker kept rattling, tremors running through the heavy concrete walls as if they were made of paper, and a cloud of dust obscured the tunnel, concealing the monster from his view. He had to let it into the bunker so he could trap it inside, but for now, all he could do was wait for it to happen and deal with the situation the best he could.
Leaning down just a little, he seized her hands, prying her fingers off his wrist.
“I’ve done nothing,” he growled, squeezing her wrists tighter until she yelped. “You brought this monster into the realm of humans. Not me. But I’m the one stuck cleaning up your mess.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right.” She nodded, a feverish glimmer igniting in her eyes. “That’s true. But with my magic, I locked him within my body, and I was in complete control until that drunken fool broke my mask. The demon served my every command, unable to break the prison I created for him. All I had to do to keep the beast tamed was channel the magic of the moon through my mask once a month during the full moon…” She moaned in despair, rocking back and forth on her feet slightly. “Ever since I lost my mask, all I wanted was to have it back, so I could stop hiding and restore my power over the demon.”
She glanced up at the broken ceiling, but except for the canopy of dust and the outline of the black hole beneath it, there was nothing there.
“Do you think my captive fighters are slaves?” She cackled and yanked her arms out of Damian’s grip. “I’m the only true slave here.” She hit her chest with her index finger, angry tears brimming her eyes. “Without my mask, I was doomed to spend my life here, in this God-forsaken bunker my master built to hide me from the demon.” She grabbed her hair with both hands, her sharp claws digging into her scalp. “All I wanted was my freedom! Don’t you get it?”
“Oh, I get it, alright.” Damian stepped away from her, his skin crawling from being so close to her. “My heart is breaking for you. You’re a poor, sweet damsel in distress. All you wished for was your freedom… and to harness the otherworldly power that has the potential of destroying this world. All you wanted was to be equal to the gods. Really, nothing big.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t going to—"
A furious growl rumbled in Damian’s chest as he exhaled and held out his hand. “Strike number one—attempt to change the path of the Board of Destiny by dethroning Peter the Great.” He extended an index finger, showing it to her. “Strike number two—summoning a high-level demonic entity from the unknown realm of spirits and demons.” He extended his second finger. “Slave trade and gladiatorial fights, and only God knows what else. In my books, that’s strike number three.” He showed three fingers, barely containing his anger. “Three strikes—you’re out.”
“Agh…” She stomped her foot. “Do you seriously think I was trying to kill young Tsar Peter because I wanted to?” She threw her hands up, slipping worrisome glances at the broken ceiling. “I also have someone above me. I was just doing what I’d been ordered, you giant moron. Do you think I care about who sat on the Russian throne, or the trivialities of everyday life of the human realm, or about gathering magical energy from witches, for that matter? I don’t give a damn about any of that. My master is the one who wanted all that! I don’t even know why he needed it. But he promised to take care of the demon situation, and I needed his protection—"
Her feverish speech was interrupted by a deafening noise coming from above. Clouds of dust and debris fell through the hole in the ceiling, and the building shook as something large and heavy made its way down the shaft.
Donna Luna gasped and threw herself at Damian’s chest, wrapping her arm around his waist, her entire body trembling.
“Please, please, please,” she begged, tears running down her pale face. “I’ll agree to anything you want. Use your cuffs, please! Take me to the Destiny Council. Anything… Just please, don’t let it—”
“Too late for that,” Damian whispered.
Suddenly, the tremors stopped, and an invisible force seized Donna Luna, ripping her away from Damian. She screamed, a grimace of pain and terror twisting her face. The entire room flooded with absolute darkness, and Damian staggered backward until his back hit the wall, his chest shuddering with shallow breaths as he struggled to inhale. A strange weakness enveloped him, and he knew it had nothing to do with the lack of magic. This weakness, all-consuming and gloomy, felt familiar. He had experienced it before, just recently as a matter of fact.
The Dark Nav.
It felt as if he were crossing river Smorodina once again, losing all his hopes and dreams, the desire to live and the need to survive. He wanted to lie down and close his eyes, never to open them again.
The demonic entity emitted the energy of the Dark Nav in its purest form. It wasn’t just oozing the presence of the Slavic realm of demons and spirits—it was the Dark Nav in all its deadly splendor.
Perun almighty, a terrifying thought rushed through his frazzled mind, and he swallowed with effort. She managed to summon and control a Navij, a high-level demon of the Dark Nav… How the hell…
“Finally…” A voice filled with hatred and carnivorous gloating rolled through the room. While Damian was aware that the monster was communicating telepathically, it seemed as if the voice was coming from every direction at once, consuming all available space. “You dared break our deal, puny witch? You dare try controlling me?” The demon gave a loud guffaw, but cut it off abruptly, turning it into a menacing roar. “Now, I’m planning to return the favor.”
Damian tried to push away from the wall he was pressed against, but he couldn’t make a move, his body numb, his muscles refusing to obey the commands of his fogged mind. The surrounding blackness became so heavy that he wasn’t sure his eyes were still open.
“No! NOOO!”
Donna Luna’s scream, filled with dismay and anguish beyond that of a regular human, ripped through Damian’s mind, clearing it for a brief moment. He groaned, fighting the debilitating embrace of the Dark Nav, and reached for his element. It didn’t respond to his call right away, but soon he felt a tiny touch of the energy flowing through him, accumulating somewhere around his heart. He dropped his head
and closed his eyes, obsolete in the surrounding dark.
Focusing on its weak flow, he redirected it toward his hands, calling to his daggers. For a heartbeat, he thought what he had wasn’t enough to summon his weapons, but as the familiar coolness of the hilts touched his palms, his lips quirked up despite the danger of the situation. He wrapped his fingers tighter, sending all the energy he could gather through the blades.
The weapons in his hands lit up with an orange glow of elemental energy, their light breaking through the wall of gloom and despair. The heaviness lifted off his chest, and he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with oxygen. With a furious groan, he pushed away from the wall and stepped forward, raising one of his glowing daggers above his head.
Dark shadows shifted, cowering from the light. He spun around, searching for Donna Luna, but couldn’t find her anywhere.
“Looking for someone, Child of Earth?” a soft whisper sounded somewhere above him.
Damian raised his face, squinting his blazing eyes into the darkness. Something swished through the air with a soft hiss, and an excruciating pain spiked through him. He cried out, staggering back a step. Pressing his fist to his chest, he felt a slippery wetness, and for a moment, the room spun around him. Something hissed through the air again, cutting him across his chest, too close to his throat.
Either the monster moved too fast for him to notice the motion, or the light of his daggers wasn’t enough for him to see it. Damian held his breath and opened his other sight while sharpening all his senses. At first, he could hear nothing except for the loud beating of his heart and the rhythmical pumping of blood in his ears. But as he forced himself to calm down, he heard it.
He didn’t really hear or see the monster. He detected it with all his senses at once, including his magical sight, his brain completing the image. No more than a foot away from him, the monster stood with its ghastly fangs exposed, its wide bat-like wings folded behind its back. As the demon raised his hand, ready to strike him again, Damian rolled over his shoulder, slipping under the demon’s arm, and came to his feet on the other side of the monster. He thrust his dagger forward, wishing he could cast a spell to call to the light of Creation, but it was impossible without his magical energy.
