by Dima Zales
I launch into a run—and as I go, I quickly realize I don’t actually need the map after all.
Nero’s army left an obvious trail behind them—ashes from campfires, decimated grass, garbage, and even a few dead bodies of enemies they must’ve come across.
After some hours of non-stop sprinting, I reach the scorched battlefield from my first vision.
Oh, wow.
The smell of dead bodies is so bad I can almost see it shimmering the air. Carrion-feeding birds and animals are feasting on dead dragon and human flesh, and I deeply regret having seen any of it.
Even for Nero, I can’t bring myself to go directly through this mess, so I speed up and run around it.
The second battlefield is not as bad as the first, thanks to the fact that many dragons fled the fight and human soldiers switched sides.
According to Nero’s words in my vision, Godiva is a day’s journey from here.
But that’s for an army.
I’m bound to be faster.
Not wanting to waste time going around the battlefield, I run through it, doing my best not to step on the dead. Jumping over bodies slows my usually brisk pace, as does holding my breath, trying not to inhale the noxious fumes.
Finally, I leave the battlefield far behind me and speed up—until I get to the forest and a monstrous thunderstorm begins.
Waterfall-like streams of water barrage me from seemingly every angle, and thunder claps every couple of seconds. Then a lightning strikes a tree a few feet from where I’m passing, which makes me wonder if vampires can survive a hit from one.
Probably not.
A tree crashes to the ground in front of me next. Could a vampire survive that?
Also doubtful.
I do my best to traverse the muddy mess that the forest trail has become. Vampire or not, my muscles are beginning to ache in earnest now, but I ignore the pain and keep running.
The storm ends, and I pick up my pace again.
Finally, I see Godiva in the far distance.
As I get closer, I realize that the army has already entered the battlefield.
Crap.
In my vision, they were just finishing their march when Nero walked toward those giant boulders, which means it’s now after that moment.
And when I look at the boulders in question, Nero isn’t there.
There goes my plan to tell him not to go into the castle. He must’ve already entered the cursed tunnel.
Now I have to catch him before he gets too far.
Sprinting for the boulders with everything I have left, I listen for any signs of the battle starting.
Nothing yet—which means there’s still hope.
On the off chance that vampires recharge their seer powers quicker than normal folks, I attempt going into Headspace.
Nope. Still in recovery mode and probably will be for a while.
By the time I get to the boulders, my heart is hammering against my chest.
Interesting.
I guess that can happen to a vampire if she runs fast enough, or worries about someone enough.
Steadying my finger, I draw the letter “zhe” on the smaller boulder and hold my breath.
For all I know, the passage might only open to dragons.
But no.
After a few excruciatingly nerve-wracking moments, the ground opens with the same screech as in my vision.
I climb into the hole and, straining my muscles, start running through the musty, bioluminescent-critter-lit passage. Before long, I reach the castle entrance.
Damn it.
The metal door has already been cut with the gate sword, and the guards are lying here dead.
Nero and his companions are clearly far ahead of me.
Frantically, I rush into the wine cellar, jumping over the dead bodies of guards as I go.
I’m running so fast it feels like I break the sound barrier on my way through the corridor with high ceilings. And as I swing open the door to the torture room, I hear the usurper say, “Looks like it’s just us.”
Oh no.
The brother dragons are already dead, and Nero is just about to join them.
I barge in and see that I’m right.
Everyone but Nero, Claudia, and the usurper are already dead.
“This is it for you.” Gripping his sword tighter, Nero takes a menacing step toward the usurper just as Claudia gets within striking distance.
“Nero, watch out!” I yell, but in that very moment, Kit (who’s pretending to be Nero) roars “Attack!” outside the castle, drowning out my scream.
I torpedo forward, but Claudia’s blade is already slicing Nero’s right forearm to the bone.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“She’s betraying you!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “I had a vision. She’s about to stab you in the back!”
No one seems to notice my arrival.
Just like in my vision, Nero grunts from the pain, and the gate sword slips out of his grip, hitting the floor with a clank as it deactivates.
And, like in my vision, the usurper slices at Nero’s head—a strike that my boss dodges but just barely.
Then, like clockwork, Claudia thrusts her sword forward—but Nero isn’t there to get stabbed like before.
So he did hear me. And—thanks to his truth-telling ability—believed me right away.
Seeing Nero sidestep Claudia’s strike, the usurper swipes at Nero with his sword—which is when Nero catches his wrist and gives it a vicious jerk.
Yudo’s sword flies to the side.
Claudia rushes forward to help her ally, but I’m finally there, and I slam my fist into her sword-wielding arm.
Dragons sure are sturdy.
Even with my vampire-boosted strength, I don’t break her arm—but at least her sword goes flying.
“You bitch,” Claudia growls, spinning around to face me as she throws a punch at my face—moving at a hundred miles per hour.
Amazingly, I dodge the punch and even have a moment to uppercut her in return.
Only when my knuckles connect with her jaw, it feels like it’s made of steel.
The impact sends her flying about a foot in the air, but when she lands, she does so on her feet, and instead of passing out, she just gives me a murderous stare.
I leap at her, fist aimed at her jaw.
She blocks me with her right hand, then counter-punches me.
Her small fist rams into my cheek with a force Mike Tyson would envy. Stars explode in my vision, but miraculously, I don’t pass out.
Angry growls and sounds of fists battering flesh can be heard from where Nero is going at it with the usurper.
I spare them a glance, but both are moving as blurs that are too fast to track. All I catch is Nero striking the usurper with his injured arm, but then I think he punches Nero back.
Using my distraction, Claudia tries to kick me, but I side-step it and land a punch on her cement-like forehead.
She doesn’t even blink, and I finally register the troubling truth.
I’m fighting a freaking dragon.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Switching my eyes into glamour mode, I stare at Claudia intently and say, “Sleep.”
She bares her teeth in a humorless smile. “Little vampire, I’m a dragon. Did you really expect that to work?”
Shrugging, I sweep at her feet, but she jumps over my leg, then rakes her talon-like nails over my face.
I jump back, crying out in pain, but then a confusing thing happens.
I feel the gash closing up and the pain dulling.
This is so cool.
I might not be a dragon, but I’m not a pushover either.
Maybe I’ll actually manage to hurt her before she kills me.
She strikes at me again, but I block her punch, then land a fist into her jaw, which doesn’t seem to faze her much.
The heel of her hand slams into my chest, and I fly back but land on my feet. When she leaps to attack me again, I kic
k her knee—sadly, not damaging anything.
Over the next two minutes, we go back and forth like that. I bet if anyone were watching, it would look like a mix between an MMA and a superhero fight. Between punches, kicks, and gouging out chunks of flesh, we throw each other at the torture equipment, but the only thing that breaks is said equipment and not either one of us.
A sudden spray of blood reminds me of the battle Nero is fighting. It’s impossible to tell whose it is just by the look or smell of it, and I can’t help but spare Nero and the usurper another microsecond-long glance.
Again, though, all I see is a big blur.
Capitalizing on my distraction, Claudia leaps for her sword.
Two can play that game, though. Using her distraction, I dive for the gate sword.
She gets hers first and charges at me.
I grasp the handle of my weapon just as her blade enters my back.
Asshole.
She loves stabbing people in the back, doesn’t she?
Ignoring the burning agony in my back muscles, I activate my sword’s shimmering plasma and swipe blindly at Claudia.
The pain almost makes me pass out—and at first, I have no idea if I got her. The gate sword is so light, and slices things so smoothly, that it feels like I missed her completely.
Only I didn’t miss.
The first thing I register is the horrified expression in Claudia’s eyes. Then a river of blood streams over her birthmark.
Staring at the bloody gash on her forehead, I realize what I managed to do.
I sliced off a hat-like chunk of her skull.
As she collapses, the top part of her head falls to the side, exposing the chopped-off brain underneath.
There’s no healing from that. Even for a dragon.
As this realization dawns on me, I belatedly recall that this woman means something to Nero—and though I think she totally deserved her fate, he might have a different opinion.
Oh well, no time to worry about that.
I have to help Nero.
Though my back is healing rapidly, it still hurts as I grip my sword tighter.
Ignoring the pain, I turn to face the two blurring dragons.
Only Nero no longer needs my help.
With an angry growl, he picks up the wounded usurper from the ground and tosses him into the maw of the iron maiden.
Hundreds of sharp blades enter Yudo’s body, and he roars in pain.
Face contorted in rage, Nero smashes down the lid of the coffin-like device, piercing the enemy with hundreds more blades.
“Here.” I disable the gate sword and toss the handle to Nero. “Make sure this is finished.”
Nero catches the handle, activates the sword, and cuts the iron maiden into even halves. Then he slices each half into more halves, and keeps repeating it until all that’s left are tiny pieces of meat impaled on the blades of the device—a kind of macabre dragon shish kebab.
Nero prods one particular piece with his foot, and a bloodied gold crown clinks on the floor.
Deactivating the sword, Nero turns to face me, his gaze filled with a mixture of fury and confusion.
“You died in my vision about this,” I say, chewing on my lip. “I came to help.”
Eyes narrowing, he opens his mouth to retort—but then his gaze falls on Claudia, and the sword drops from his hand.
With a leap that makes me jump back, he reaches the dead woman and kneels down.
Oh crap.
His limbal rings completely overtake his eyes, and his face is contorted with grief.
Despite Claudia’s treachery, he’s more than upset at her death.
“Why?” His hands clench on her bloodied dress. “Why? Why?”
I have no idea if he’s asking me why I killed her, asking her why she betrayed him, or asking the uncaring universe why it likes to take everyone he loves from him.
I only know one thing for sure.
When Nero recovers his ability to think straight, he’ll understand how Claudia came to be dead.
He’ll realize I’m the one who killed her.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Though I should probably run, I approach Nero. And though I’m probably risking its loss, I put a hand on his shoulder.
He doesn’t seem to feel my touch.
His powerful body is stiff, as if turned to stone. The blood dripping from his forearm paints the stone floor red, and the expression on his face is pure devastation.
“Why?” he whispers raggedly again. “Why did you do this?”
My chest feels like a herd of elephants is sitting on it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Woland is giving me another heart attack. Only it somehow feels worse this time, with the squeezing pressure echoed by the painful stinging behind my eyes.
I did this to Nero.
I killed the one person he seems to have still cared about.
“Nero,” I say achingly. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
He’s still oblivious to my presence, all his attention on Claudia’s corpse. Tenderly, he reaches out and wipes away the blood covering her face—and as he does, I notice something strange.
That birthmark of hers.
It seems to be smearing away, like makeup.
Like it was painted on.
In a flash, it all makes sense to me—and the magician part of me is grudgingly impressed even as fury boils in my veins.
Knees weak with relief, I sink to my haunches next to Nero, and he finally turns to look at me, his gaze uncomprehending.
“She’s not Claudia,” I say softly, pushing aside my turmoil as I reach out to clasp his hand. “Her birthmark is fake.”
The limbal rings in Nero’s eyes impossibly dilate, nearly taking over the white, and his hand curls into a fist within my grip.
“What?” His voice is barely audible.
“The usurper did to you what you did to him,” I explain, releasing his hand. “You made everyone think Kit was you, but he made you think this person is Claudia. Look.”
Nero turns his attention to the corpse as I spit on my finger and drag it through the smeared birthmark on the imposter’s cheek.
It leaves a clean streak—and no trace of the birthmark.
The blood loosened the paint or makeup or whatever, allowing my finger to easily wipe it away.
As he stares at my handiwork, Nero’s face seems to roller-coaster through every emotion known to science, settling on a mixture of hope and rage.
“Where is she?” he growls, leaping to his feet.
“No idea,” I say, in case he’s asking me and not the corpse of the Claudia impersonator.
Without another word, Nero blurs out of the room.
I get up, and as I do, I notice that my back is feeling noticeably better. Picking up the gate sword, I run after him.
He’s too fast for me to catch, so I follow the trail of broken doors and overturned furniture that he leaves behind.
When I reach the prison portion of the castle, I see multiple cell doors ripped out of the wall.
Farther in, I find Nero standing next to a giant cell with thick metal bars that remind me of the cage where the impostor Claudia awaited her “rescue.”
I freeze in place.
The woman inside this cage is dressed in a plain dress that’s identical to what the fake one wore, has similar long reddish-brown hair, and—of course—a birthmark in the shape of a cloud on her cheek. Her face, however, is quite different. Where the impostor was pretty, this woman is Helen of Troy airbrushed in Photoshop.
The kind of beauty men would go to war for.
Standing behind the bars, she’s almost nose-to-nose with Nero. As I watch, she tries to bend the cage bars—but without any success.
“Your name,” Nero demands, reaching out to grip her hands. “Tell me who you are.”
Tears run down her face as she squeezes his hands. “I’m Claudia,” she chokes out. “And you are my brother, Nero.” She laughs shakily, and I exhale a big breat
h of relief.
Sister.
She’s definitely his sister.
Until this moment, I didn’t realize how tense I was, waiting for this confirmation.
“I can’t believe you’re alive,” she continues. Then her gorgeous face contorts into a mask of fury. “That bastard Yudo—”
“Is gone,” Nero growls. Releasing her hands, he grabs the bars of the cage and they both strain to bend them—but again to no avail.
“No matter how often I tried, I couldn’t escape,” Claudia says, then punches the bars in frustration.
Snapping out of my paralysis, I activate the gate sword and rush over.
“Step aside,” I say, and when they do, I cut a hole in the cage that’s big enough for Claudia to walk through.
As soon as I move aside, Claudia tackle-hugs Nero so viciously that if he weren’t a dragon, he’d end up with a cracked rib.
They stand there embracing and murmuring to each other, and I tactfully step back, giving them privacy. I feel like an idiot that I was jealous over Claudia—which I was, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself.
But they’re brother and sister, so yay.
Extra glad I didn’t kill the real Claudia. I’ll have to use this sword very carefully around her in the future.
A sound of clanking metal to our right startles me, and I spin on my heel, activating the sword on autopilot.
About a dozen guards run in, armed to the teeth.
Nero reacts immediately, shoving Claudia behind himself. “Lay down your weapons.” His tone is blade sharp. “Your master is dead, and a new regime is—”
Before Nero can finish, Claudia blurs forward, and in a split second, the guards are left in bloody shreds.
Wiping her hands on her dress, she looks up, her expression vaguely embarrassed. “They kept spitting in my lunch,” she says, and I can’t help but notice how the copious blood streaking down her face does not mess with her birthmark this time. “They—”
“You don’t need to explain yourself.” A smile touches Nero’s eyes. “You’ve always had a bit of a temper.”
Sure. Leave it to the guy who also shreds people who piss him off to call what she did “a bit of a temper.”
