by Ana Calin
I can hear Zdrovan’s teeth grinding, and my skin crawls. The idea that I’m giving myself intimately to another man must awaken some sick kind of jealousy in him.
“So,” Herald presses his advantage. “I think you’ll agree with me that making me immortal is the surest way to get Irina Motovilova interested enough that she’ll stick her head out in the open again. It will work, because she won’t sniff a plot behind it, like she would if you hang my severed head somewhere like waving bait in her face. It would insult her intelligence, too, come to think about it.”
Silence falls between the two of them while Zdrovan thinks. Cutlery and muffled voices fill the background, but both Lazarus and I adjust our hearing to single out the two men.
“You saw at the club what I do with immortal humans,” Zdrovan says. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll do the same to you once I have Irina? Feed you to vampires in pieces?”
“Now why would you do that?” Herald counters. “I helped you quite a lot in the human world so far, haven’t I? Think of all the doors I can still open for you, how many thorny paths I can smooth out. You could use me the same way you use your wife, Geneva. Well, except for the more intimate parts, if those still exist between you. I doubt I’m equipped to entice your senses.”
Zdrovan doesn’t laugh at the joke, but at least he’s taking Herald seriously. Soon they leave the restaurant, Herald hunch-backed between two of Zdrovan’s goons, a big bad serpent shifter in a slimy black suit pushing Zdrovan’s wheelchair, helping him into the car, and then taking the driver’s seat.
It’s easy to follow the Maybachs at vampire speed. More of them emerge from the dark streets like tarantulas crawling from the earth. It feels like we’re following a small army, so we keep in the thick shadows of the forest, following along the line of the motorway. We are heading deep into Zdrovan’s territory, and when we smell the presence of more and more supernaturals the awareness of deep trouble causes a sharp buzz in my ears.
We reach the edge of what was once a compound of caserns for Russian soldiers between Berlin and Potsdam, one they used briefly after WWII. Now the compound resembles a village filled with overgrowth. A small ghost town, the plaster exfoliated off the building walls, windows hanging broken and askew.
Wind blows through the trees and the abandoned barracks, masking the sound of twigs and leaves creaking under our feet. We slink by the abandoned swimming hall as the cars drive through the old gates that close behind them. We keep quiet in the shadows of the night, only our vampire eyes moving around, exploring the place.
Buying this compound was a smart move on Zdrovan’s or the Serpent Lord’s side. No one would ever guess the kind of experiments they’re conducting here. The place allows for perfect privacy, lying far enough away from both the cities of Berlin and Potsdam for anyone to hear anything, but close enough to civilization so that it ensures easy access to civilization when needed, be the need scientific or logistical. The only danger would be drunk gangs and the occasional homeless people happening about, but it’s easy to scare them away. I can hear dogs howling deep in the heart of this ghost village, and they don’t sound like the nice and cuddly ones.
The cars descend slowly like a black snake into the underground, the door rolling shut slowly after them. Lazarus and I slip inside right before complete darkness swallows us, only the car lights visible in the distance.
Judging by the air pressure we’re right under the old swimming hall. We follow the low purring of the engines, but can’t adjust our eyes to full night vision because it would give us away. Vampire eyes catch a special luminosity when they go into night mode. It would only be an attractive brightness to humans, but supernaturals are equipped to spot us.
“Wait,” Lazarus hisses and pulls me behind a pillar. The cars have come to a halt. Doors open and close with muffled thuds. My ears move imperceptibly as they adjust, like tiny high-tech devices. I can single out the wheelchair’s long shuffled pull, and Herald’s dragged legs, but the others’ moves are too subtle.
I try to keep track of Herald’s human movements, but I can’t spot exactly the direction they’re going without upping my hearing to full vampire level. We have to keep our senses to a minimum to avoid all risk of getting caught.
We have to lay low until we get to the immortal humans. If we get caught before that, we’ll die in pain at Zdrovan’s hands, without having accomplished anything. This is our only chance to hi-jack the Serpent Lord’s plan with the immortals. Disarming his plan of taking over the world lies only on Lazarus’ and my shoulders, and depends completely on what happens tonight.
Lazarus emerges from our hideout and takes the lead, moving subtly like a ghost and pulling me after him. He doesn’t have as much experience as me in the under-workings of war such as spy work, but he has talent. The way he slinks like a shadow licking the walls, even his breath so light that you couldn’t tell the difference between it and the air, it requires refinement.
It also helps that Lazarus has a specific neutral scent. A very sought-after trait in warriors. Even as a human he had a neutral scent that was hard to track, and now as a vampire even more so.
By the time we reach the corridor that the men disappeared into we find no trace of them except for their scent. Lazarus and I sniff our way up into the old swimming hall. We keep slinking in the shadows hand in hand, Lazarus leading the way, both of us aware we need to get through the center of the Olympic-sized pool in order to get to the big water inlet where Herald’s scent leads us. But that would expose us to the shafts of moonlight from the high windows. Someone could see us.
“Okay, we know more or less where the immortals are, so let’s get help now,” Lazarus whispers.
“No, Lazarus, we can’t stop now,” I whisper back.
“I can’t risk anything happening to you.”
“No, we’re not even sure this is where they keep the immortals.” I squeeze his hand. “He could be trying to fool Herald someway. Zdrovan is cunning, dangerous, a good plotter. Besides, I’d never forgive myself if he killed Herald. The man is risking his life to help us, I could never turn my back on him like that.”
Lazarus grabs my shoulders, staring deep and hard into my eyes. “Okay, listen. We’re gonna go down that old water inlet, but that could be a dead-end. So promise me one thing—If at any point I tell you to leave me and run, you do it. No hesitating, no protesting. You don’t stick around to help me, you don’t return to save me.”
“No way I’m leaving you.” I cling to him.
“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. None of this. If we are to go through with the mission, you have to promise that you’ll allow me to protect you.”
”I’m older, and more experienced than you, Lazarus. I can use my skills—”
“One more word, and we abort.”
I cling to his beloved eyes, my own in tears. I’m so torn. He pulls me to his warm chest, pressing his lips to the crown of my head. “I can’t bear the thought of you enduring any more pain in your existence, Irina. Promise me. No, swear to me. Swear that you’ll turn around and leave the instant I tell you to.”
With an aching, breaking heart I whisper against his chest, “I promise.”
Lazarus
WE’RE IN GRAVE DANGER, there’s no denying that. Still, I’m not afraid. I have a purpose. I’m gonna get Irina out of here alive even if it kills me, I’ll die in pain for her if I have to.
I skulk forward, my hand firm over hers. Her fist feels small against my large palm, but I know it can do a world of damage. She’s got the body of an athlete with strong muscles, and she’s one of Dracula’s very best. I keep telling myself she’ll make it out of here in time, and that she’ll be able to easily fight off one or two pursuers if they manage to make it out of my claws alive, which is very unlikely.
We go down a maze of tunnels behind the old swimming pool, round shafts that used to house pipes. Rusty leftovers of copper sheets hang above our heads and to the sides, but we’re walk
ing on bare beaten earth that gets wetter and sludgier until we emerge into a dark hall. We must be a level lower, under the swimming pool, I can feel the pressure above us, and the air would be hard to breathe for a human.
We sniff around for serpents. There’s none here, or anywhere close. One squeeze of Irina’s hand tells me she’s ready to adjust her vampire senses, too, so we can assess our surroundings. The more light fills our irises, the more contour the place gains.
My mouth pops open. I pull Irina in my arms to keep her from making a sound. Not even a muscle moves on her perfect vampiress face, and seeing her eyes, now free of any make-up and bright blue from the enhanced vampire vision she activated, she’s stunned, too.
I half expected men in large tubes, kept in elaborate devices like cryogenic containers, hell, I would have even expected cryogenic chambers, but what surrounds us is coffins. Wooden coffins with the lids open, people lying inside on underlays of white silk that shimmers in the dark.
Irina frees herself from my arms and walks closer as if hypnotized, while I keep behind her like a bodyguard. She traces the first coffin with her fingers, gingerly as if she could break it if she let the whole weight of her hand rest on it. But when her fingers slide over the inside of the coffin and then over the body’s crossed hands I understand she’s analyzing the creature.
The man’s eyes snap open. I flash over to Irina’s side, ready to crush him if he poses any danger.
“Don’t worry,” Irina tells him sweetly, placing a gentle hand on top of his. “We’re here to help you, not hurt you.” Pheromones of seduction emanate from her body and her voice. I can feel them take over my head, too. But the bond we have tells me it’s a sort of tranquilizer to keep the man harmless, lest he has powers we don’t know about.
He sits up slowly. He’s old and bald, but along with his slow moves his appearance changes like onionskins peeling off of him. Old age strips off of his face like veils, and moments later he’s sitting up in his coffin a young man with soft brown hair and brown eyes, staring Irina up and down like he can’t believe it.
“Are you an angel?” his question is just a whisper, but I can tell behind it lies a musical voice. Like vampires’ bodies, it seems that immortal humans’ bodies adjust to become the best version of themselves. Irina’s powers keep the man calm and slow, so she can touch his body, starting with his forehead and moving down his neck to his chest.
He stares down at her hand sinking into his shirt and spreading over his heart, his now young and perfect brow furrowing. Jealousy fires up in my own chest—Irina touching another man. My jaw crunches in the quiet room.
“I’m just examining him,” she whispers, feeling me through our bond. “I’m gonna need more time with him, though.”
I want to say something, but she holds up her finger. She stares into the dark as she processes the data. “It’s fascinating,” she breathes. “His inner organs are the same as a human’s, but somehow.... Perfected.”
Her hand wraps around mine, and the connection between us strengthens, allowing me to feel what she does.
“Immortal humans are turning into the best version of themselves not only on the outside,” I whisper. “But also on the inside.”
“I think I’m sensing a special talent, too, maybe a superpower.”
“Immortal humans come with superpowers?”
“This one does.”
The scent of serpent and vampire hits me. I sniff at the air and pull Irina under the coffin.
“Well, well, well.” It’s Zdrovan’s voice, coming from a dark pipe opening on the far end. “One of them has awakened.” I can hear him smell the air as he approaches, the shuffled roll of his chair filling the room like the crawling of a giant snail.
The wheels stop and turn. Irina and I don’t move under the coffin, eyes wide and unblinking on the crippled legs, the slacks hanging on his knees like on sticks. Didn’t know that vampire muscles could atrophy.
Through the vibration of our bond Irina lets me know that Dracula sucked most of the vampire power from Zdrovan when he crippled him, which is why all the power he’s got left is his evil and his immortality. But he’s as bitter in his skin as the Old Priest was.
Two serpents join him, grabbing the immortal human from the coffin and dragging him out. The man screams in German, struggling, now ripped awake from the tranquilizing influence of Irina’s power, but a second later Zdrovan pushes the coffin off of us. The massive wood hits the ground, Irina and I now exposed to the nemesis of her life, surrounded by his serpent goons.
Time stops still.
All odds are against us. Only once in my life have I been in a situation like this, and that was back when Radek, Juliet and I stood outnumbered by Dracula’s commanders Gruia and Victoria, and their army of vampires of which Irina was part. I may not be a weak human this time, but a vampire with power and grit, but still I’m not strong enough to take them all down. At least not fast enough to make sure none of them gets to hurt Irina. But I’ll find a way to save her, I swear, no matter what I have to do.
The way the bastard’s eyes sparkle at her. He’s watching her like he did at the club, like a stalker that’s finally got his long-craved prey in his hands, and enjoys to watch it struggle and hear it wail. The pain hits me in the gut. I hiss and launch myself at him.
Serpents form a protective wall in front of him, but the pain has filled me with rage and power. I break through their line like it’s made of cardboard, landing on my feet in front of my target like a feral cat, my claws flashing out and piercing him right under his chin.
Blood swells out, and his ugly face distorts, but just the moment the black blood starts to crawl down my claws his wrinkled mouth stretches in a grin. Does he enjoy pain?
“Turn around, lover boy,” he gurgles.
I do, and ice stings my heart.
The goons are holding Irina, arms apart and pulling so strongly that they might even tear her apart. I drive my claws deeper into her nemesis’s throat. A human would have been dead by now and, while a vampire takes more than this to kill, he should be at least writhing in pain. Instead he stares at me in defiance as if I’m giving him exactly what he’s been longing for.
“Do you really think you can give me more pain than Dracula already has?” he manages, still gurgling and stopping to cope with the pain, but not rejecting it.
I bare my teeth, hissing like a viper. “I’ll kill you if I have to rip you into pieces. I’ll drain you of blood to the last droplet.”
He licks his lips, blood coming out of his mouth. His blood smells strongly but enticingly, making my nostrils flare—the blood of a superhuman.
“If you already made that decision,” he says, blood gurgling in his mouth, “stop to consider that I’ve made arrangements. The time you take to do it will be used to force an immortal’s blood down your beloved Irina’s throat, and making her an addicted marionette for the Serpent Lord.”
His wounds are slow to heal, but I can feel his flesh constricting around my claws, trying to close. But my claws still piercing his flesh don’t let the process finalize.
“Let her go and take me in her place. I will take whatever punishment you may have for her,” I hiss through my teeth. “Whatever horrors.”
“No,” Irina screams desperately behind me, but I fight my urge to turn around. I keep my eyes locked on the bastard.
He tries to laugh, but chokes on it. “Do you have any idea what I’m capable of, kid? Hasn’t she told you what happened between her and I all those years ago?”
I press my forehead to his, wishing I could rip him apart, and I would if it weren’t for Irina. “Shut up. Do you wanna die, just shut up.”
“Kill me and you’re sentencing her to eternity as a junkie, used and tortured.”
I push my claws deeper into his throat. I can feel the bone of his jaw against my nail. He presses his lips and his eyes shut, trying hard to resist the pain.
“How stupid must you be—” He coughs and tries
to swallow, but only makes a horrific gurgling sound. “To do all this for something as idiotic as love.”
“Just let her go!”
“Loosen up pretty boy,” a new voice comes from behind. I turn to see the big serpent shifter that served as the bastard’s driver, slime oozing out of his skin and soaking his black suit at the collar, joints and between his legs. He’s dragging along a Herald Gruff so scared he seems half dead, his jaw set and his eyes so wide they’re pushing out of his skull.
“All you have to do,” the shifter says as he pushes Herald at my feet, “is suck this guy dry.”
“Do what?” I glare at him, still holding Zdrovan in place with my claws under his chin, his blood crawling down my wrist to the cuffs of my shirt.
“Suck his blood,” the serpent repeats without the slightest inflection in his voice. “Do it, and we’ll let Irina Motovilova go.”
I look from Herald, who’s coiling at my feet, holding tight to my ankles as if I’m some Messiah who can save him, to the serpent.
“What the hell?” I blurt out. “Why? Why this?”
Herald pushes his face against my ankles, stranded at my feet. Damn it. I hold no love for the man, but it breaks my heart to see him like this, a creature so vulnerable, fragile, mortal. He’s too scared to even plead for his own life, stripped of all dignity.
“Pull out your claws,” Zdrovan urges, losing strength. “If you want me to explain.”
My claws retract. I unwillingly stand back from him, but my eyes still shoot daggers at him, full of hatred.
“You can waste time asking questions, or you can save your lover,” Zdrovan says, mockery in his tone, his wounds closing. “All you have to do is have human blood for the first time in your existence. The blood of a man who wronged you and other people you cared about, no less. Would that be so hard? A price too high to save the woman you love? Because you do love her, as far as I can see.”
