It had been forged long ago, and rather than quenching it in oil and water as the blacksmith had requested…
I had quenched it in my own cursed blood.
The metal sang in my hands, vibrating wildly as the banging and opposing screaming sounds grew louder, battling for dominance. I shifted in order to set my feet flat on the ground, hunched over the fresh grave. Green fog now poured out from within the grave, spilling and pooling all around us like a boat’s hull filling up with sloshing water as it began to sink into the deepest, blackest depths of the merciless ocean.
I squatted low, still gripping that bloody bar of metal as wind screamed and howled all around me, whipping my hair back and forth. I clenched the bar tighter, battling against an unseen force that was struggling to pull it back down—Dracula fighting to keep that which was not his.
“CASTLE AMBROGIO IS MINE!” the three of us screamed as I drew deep on my blood reserves—infused with Victoria and Natalie’s potent power. I exploded upwards, straightening my legs as I let out a beastly roar, my skin steaming until I felt like I was sweating blood.
A great chiming sound shattered the peace of Central Park and the ground erupted before me. I held the top of my Castle Gate a few feet above the grave, my entire body shaking as my muscles screamed in defiance of Dracula’s will. Hot tears streamed down my face and I laughed. Nero shouted something that I couldn’t comprehend as I glanced left and right with a victorious roar. The tops of the Castle Walls had torn up from the earth, stretching at least one hundred yards in either direction.
White and green fog poured up from the torn earth and familiar haunted howls welcomed me back, crying out to their master, begging for my return.
My body shook as I stared down at the metal in my hands. The black metal was tinged with a red stain, almost seeming to glow as it drank the blood from my wounded palm.
I strained a few more inches, desperately needing to see the name welded into the gate—the name of the castle’s true owner. Its maker. I cackled as it finally came into view, screaming up from the torn earth with more green and white fog.
Except someone had hammered a wooden slat over it, attempting to cover up the name.
I snarled, risking a free hand to slice through it with two powerful strikes. I almost lost my grip in the process, but Adam and Eve suddenly stepped up beside me, supporting my efforts and holding the castle gate in place. The metal throbbed with a sudden white sheen, responding to the additional blood that had helped bring the castle back to her true master.
Then the Nephilim began tugging the gate higher, much more easily than I had.
I finally released my hold on the gate rather than being hoisted high up into the air as the Nephilim continued to heave with all their blessed and cursed might, grunting and snarling like wild beasts.
I fell to my knees, crying tears of joy as my gate rose before me, no longer desecrated by the wooden slat covering the owner’s name.
The red and black metal of the gate had been forged into one word—a piece of the very gate itself and literally impossible to remove—which was why Dracula had only been able to cover it up.
AMBROGIO.
The Nephilim roared as they worked in tandem, alternating so as to keep raising the gate and surrounding wall higher and higher until it loomed even taller than their own height. The fog was now up to my waist and had shifted to a solid white color, so thick that I couldn’t even see my own feet. I quickly crouched down to search for my sack of coffin dirt before I lost it. I hurriedly tied it closed and shoved it back into my pocket and then watched the results of my Nephilim’s work.
With the sound of a struck bell, the walls and gate thudded into place, no longer moving.
I heard a man scream from the very depths of his soul and I gripped the metal bars, peering through to stare beyond the protective wall we had just lifted. Dracula was screaming—but he wasn’t able to stop this. I felt him finally surrender with a furious scream.
“Mine, boy. Mine,” I snarled under my breath.
Central Park exploded as spires of obsidian and ivory tore through the earth like sewing needles through fabric, rising up into the night sky so quickly that the very air screamed and roared as trees and dirt beyond the wall simply fell into a newly-formed, unnatural abyss. A lone bridge of alternating black and white stones stretched across the abyss from the gate to the front of the instantaneous castle that defied reality. It loomed overhead, dwarfing the surrounding buildings, easily as wide as Central Park, although I couldn’t tell how far back it stretched.
The full moon shone brightly overhead, broken up by the towers of black and white stabbing up at the skies like a fistful of daggers. The dreaded castle loomed over us, seeming to growl in warning at the neighboring buildings.
I wondered if the moon’s presence was an omen.
And whether it was a good or a bad one.
Because it reminded me of Selene and her bizarre appearance in my chambers. Her even more bizarre warning. I wondered again if she had been trying to warn me about tonight. Everything had gone perfectly here, but we had another battle to fight. A battle possibly already taking place on Liberty Island. I took a calming breath, knowing I had to be certain about the castle before I left.
Whatever I had just done with the Nephilim had definitely worked, because my castle had always been black obsidian. Those intermittent white ivory spires and towers and keeps and balustrades were all thanks to the Nephilim.
I shook my head, openly weeping as a missing part of me clicked into place—my castle.
Castle Ambrogio.
I glanced over at a strange sound to find Adam and Eve sobbing with wondrous smiles, clutching their chests.
Werewolves howled in the distance, but everything outside the walls was a blanket of thick fog that was slowly rising up to my chest.
“I can feel her,” Eve whispered. “She sings to see you again, Master Ambrogio. She sings to me, too, welcoming me and hugging my very soul,” she whispered, squeezing at her breast.
Adam nodded shakily. “She loves me and welcomes me into her bosom. She’s been tormented in your absence, Master Ambrogio. She cries at her salvation.”
I nodded, wiping at my nose as I set my bloody palm on the gate. The castle purred like a cat—both in my heart and in the fog-strewn landscape of what had once been Central Park.
“Sorin! You’re about to lose your warlock!” I spun to see Nero hopping up and down to keep his head out of the fog. Adam chuckled and calmly walked over, hoisting Nero up onto his shoulders like a child astride his father’s back.
Eve carefully scooped me up and put me on her shoulders. I was careful not to fall back onto her crimson scythes—which seemed to be quivering with energy.
Nero cheered, pumping a fist in the air. “You crazy sumbitches! I told you words were best! But your stupid vampire magic is awesome!”
I grinned over at him. “I told you!”
“What’s next?” Nero asked, staring over the wall at the sprawling estate of my castle with a look of both awe and concern on his face. “Where are all the assholes?”
I smiled, having already sensed the truth. “They are trapped!” I laughed, grinning at Adam as I planted a fat kiss on Eve’s hair. “They can’t even touch the doors!” Because I could feel hundreds of hands within my castle, all clawing at the doors to no avail, screaming and wailing in terror and pain as their skin burned upon contact.
I even felt Dracula seated upon my throne, panting with impotent rage as he chanted my name over and over again in a breathless snarl. Unbelievably, I saw a metal waste bin beside him that was overflowing with postcards—the ones Renfield had been sending him for the past few weeks. I grinned from ear-to-ear.
Adam turned to stare at me, smiling proudly. “That is us, isn’t it?” Adam asked.
I nodded. “It is all three of us, but it wouldn’t have been possible without you two. I can tell you that much.”
Nero was staring at me incredulo
usly. “You mean Dracula and all his vampires really are trapped inside? You weren’t exaggerating?”
I shook my head, hardly able to believe it myself. “Our blood gave the castle enough power to lock the doors and windows, poisoning both sides of the exterior walls.” I let out a stunned sigh. “That…is unbelievable,” I breathed.
There was still much to learn about the castle and what I should do next, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that those within would not be able to leave—not even to throw themselves out a window. Every exterior surface was the equivalent of holy silver. Lethal to Dracula and his vampires.
And equally as lethal and invulnerable to any external force if Dracula’s local vampires tried to break them out. I glanced behind us, wary of a police army gathering.
I saw crowds of vampires and werewolves filling the streets leading to Central Park, staring wondrously to see us looming over the fog. Everything from the walls to the surrounding buildings was an ocean of solid white fog. I lifted my arms and screamed, pumping my fist at the crowds of monsters.
My vampires and werewolves cheered and howled in reply, but they didn’t approach. They were wary of the fog.
I turned to Nero. “We have more work to do tonight. The castle is safe for now.”
Adam and Eve spoke up. “We will stand guard at the gate. Just in case.”
I nodded, glancing down at the ground. The fog was clear around her and Adam’s feet. “Set me down, please, Eve.” She crouched, obeying my request. I took a few steps and the fog rolled away from me, making me grin. I glanced up at Nero. “You try.”
Adam set him down and Nero hesitated. “I don’t know, Sorin. It feels…aggressive. It doesn’t want anyone close to your castle—not even me, and I’m your friend.”
I nodded, understanding why the werewolves and vampires had retreated to the outer streets. “Try walking like I did.”
Nero let out a nervous breath and then stepped forward. The fog swamped over him and he began to shout for help. I jogged over to him, the fog rolling away from me. Nero stood there with wide eyes, relieved to see me. “I couldn’t see or hear anything! It was like I fell underwater. I couldn’t even use my magic!”
I arched an eyebrow, stunned. “Wow. That’s actually a relief to hear. No one is coming close to the castle without me or the Nephilim.” I grinned broadly. Then I turned to Eve. “I need you to go talk to the vampires and werewolves over there. Give them the good news. Have one of them call Hugo so he can spread the word. Tell them to help get the humans out of the surrounding buildings without causing a stampede. Every single person inside is suddenly going to want to leave, and we can’t have them trampling each other. Nero and I have another job tonight—”
A sudden flash of light on the horizon drew my eye and I sucked in a breath. Lightning on the horizon. Nosh had finally succeeded in breaking through the magic around Liberty Island.
Eve nodded. “I will speak to the little ones. Adam will stand guard until I return.”
“What if something changes with the castle?” Adam asked me. “What if Dracula finds a way to break out? How do we contact you?”
I smiled. “You should feel it the moment he tries. You should even be able to see him—in a way—inside the castle. I saw him seated on my throne, cursing my name. Once you get a feel for your bond with the castle, you should be able to communicate with her. And she will communicate with you. We will all know if something is wrong. Even from a distance.”
They nodded uncertainly, but then the castle suddenly purred reassuringly.
Their frowns shifted to awe. “Yes. I see what you mean,” Eve breathed.
I turned to Nero. “Open your magic doorway. Do you need some complicated ingredients, a song, and an assortment of other random things or can you do it as easily as we just did?” I teased with a smug grin.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Show off.”
Then he grabbed my hand without warning and the world simply winked out of existence.
39
Between one moment and the next, we were standing back in the office on Liberty Island where Nero had left his totem. I gagged, clutching at my stomach.
“Weakling,” Nero sneered pompously. “That’s real magic—”
I backhanded his chest, adamantly shaking my head as I forced myself to hold my breath. “Not your magic,” I snapped. “That magic!” I pointed through the office’s window at the thick haze of shifting purple smoke in the main area. Even in the privacy of the closed office, the smoke’s putrid stench of rot and decay seemed to have permeated the very walls, making it impossible for me to breathe without gagging.
The area beyond had been a war zone, and only the roiling purple smoke remained.
The walls and supporting pedestals were covered in gouges from claws, bullet holes, scorch marks, and bloody smears. The floor was strewn with rubble, spent bullet casings, and alarmingly familiar broken glass vials—the source of the purple smoke.
And dozens of bodies. Both friend and foe, vampire, werewolf, and—
“Witches,” Nero snarled murderously.
Muted sounds reached my ears through the exterior wall of the building, coming from outside—lightning cracked, thunder growled, werewolves howled, men and women screamed, and gunfire chattered. The fight raged on across the lawns of Liberty Island, where Nosh had most likely performed his fake rain dance with Natalie, Victoria, and Isabella. Which, based on the lighting dancing across the sky, had been successful.
Once the storm began, Nosh and the girls had probably rushed inside to battle the witch invaders and defend Dr. Stein. It would be faster and more efficient for me to go up to the Crown—allowing me to assess the statue’s interior threats, check on Dr. Stein, and get a clear view of the battle raging outside from the wall of windows.
A louder crack of lightning struck nearby, close enough to make me jump in fear of the roof crashing down over my head. Thankfully, it didn’t. That bolt of lightning had to have struck the statue—close enough for it to initiate Project Phoenix.
But it hadn’t. I’d felt no vampires suddenly come to life.
In addition to the obvious battle, something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
I suddenly remembered that I could check for my precious devils through our bond. I reached out, frantically feeling for Natalie and Victoria, my heart racing wildly in my chest. I almost let out a cry of relief to feel them, but I bit it down.
Because the bond didn’t tell me what kind of danger they faced.
Just that they were close. And they were absolutely terrified.
“NO!” I shouted, exploding into a cloud of crimson mist. I spread my form across the ceiling and bled through the wall towards the main area of the pedestal’s top floor, braving the potential dangers of the purple smoke. Luckily, the smoke didn’t reach the ceiling, and where it did, it reared away from my mist as if repelled. And I could no longer smell the nauseating stench, which was a relief. I had to find my devils. They needed me. I hugged the ceiling, knowing it was my best—and fastest—option to locate them and get a clear view of the situation without alerting the witches of my presence. Hardly anyone ever looked up. I could move about unseen, and without the fear of running headlong into a trap.
I began to hunt; committed to saving my lovers from harm at any cost.
And equally committed to drinking so much blood that the enemy corpses I left behind would resemble nothing more than dehydrated husks.
The purple smoke avoided me as if repelled. I scanned the dozens of mutilated, charred, dismembered, and shredded bodies as I moved, recognizing many faces and counting over twenty brutally slaughtered witches. Some of the familiar faces no longer had bodies attached.
I pressed on, bottling my rage and using it for fuel to fight down my panic over Natalie and Victoria. Near the base of the spiral staircase that led up to the Crown—and hopefully, Dr. Stein—I finally came upon my first sign of life. Three gray-haired witches stood with their backs to me, staring
down at three prisoners kneeling before them. But the angle of the three witches’ bodies blocked me from identifying the faces of the prisoners. A fourth, much younger witch, stood farther from the staircase than the others, holding a glass vial over her head in a threatening manner. She was facing me and didn’t seem to notice—or care—that her nose was bleeding freely, dripping down her lips and chin, staining her white shirt. She alternated her attention—and aim—between the main area and the kneeling prisoners.
Although she hadn’t looked up at the ceiling, her almost manic wariness prevented me from advancing or acting. Instead, I sunk the majority of my mist into the ceiling, and shifted laterally to discern who had been caught.
My heart thundered wildly as I stared in horror at Natalie, Victoria, and Isabella. Their attention was fixed on the three old witches standing between us. I somehow refrained from attacking the witches’ backs in one explosive shower of blood, knowing that the younger witch would toss her vial the instant I moved. Also, my instincts were screaming a warning at me.
That the situation wasn’t as simple as it seemed. It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do, but I trusted my instincts. They had never led me astray before.
Natalie and Victoria were both gagged with filthy strips of cloth wound around their heads, and I watched as one of the old witches approached Isabella, humming to herself as she plucked out a deadly glass vial from a jacket pocket. Isabella stared back at her with calm fury.
“Oh, how I love the Sisters of Mercy. Their screams are just so rewarding,” the witch croaked.
It took everything in my power to remain hidden within the ceiling, only emerging enough to observe the crisis below.
The witch knelt down to pinch Isabella’s jaw, forcing her mouth wide so she could slide a large vial into her mouth. Then she wound a long strip of cloth over Isabella’s head, tying a knot in the back, and preventing the white witch from spitting out the vial.
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