Lovers Awakening
Page 23
Trynn couldn’t, and looking at Duchess’ expression, she was immeasurably glad of that fact.
All of them rushed to join Snag at the window. They crowded around, in time to see a mushroom-shaped fireball of brilliant orange, yellow, and red slowly lifting into the sky a few miles away.
“Oh my god,” Della exclaimed, horrified. “No, it can’t be. It can’t be! Not after all that!”
Trynn’s heart sank, even as nausea rose. Dear god. She hadn’t stopped it. She hadn’t stopped it.
“This is a nightmare,” Xander whispered, running a shaking hand through his hair.
Tré broke free of his paralysis. “Satellite phone,” he said. “We can try to get a signal on the cell phones, but the system is likely to be down. Xander, who can we call to find out what’s happening elsewhere? We need to know if this was the only detonation, and how the world’s governments are responding.”
Xander took a deep breath, visibly gathering himself. “I’ll try some of my business contacts in the UK. They have dealings with the government there, and should have some idea of what’s going on.”
*
It took well over an hour for Xander to reach someone and get news. Trynn itched for a data connection—Twitter… IRC… anything that would let her put a finger on the pulse of the outside world. Tré had been right, though. Those parts of the cellular network that hadn’t been destroyed by the blast were overloaded with everyone trying to use their phones at once.
Finally, Xander put the satellite phone aside and scrubbed a hand over his face. “This was the only explosion. It’s touch and go, but it looks like the western governments and Russia are tentatively willing to view it as an isolated act of terrorism, not the beginning of all-out nuclear war. There will be boots on the ground and drones in the sky within hours. Every country with a suspected terrorist presence is about to become a hot zone—including this one. But the world’s nuclear warheads are still in their silos. That tiny thread of sanity appears—somewhat shockingly—to have prevailed.”
Trynn thought she should probably feel more relieved than this, at the knowledge that the world was not about to end in a rain of fiery ICBM-fueled terror from the skies. But she wasn’t relieved. She was numb.
“What do we do now?” she asked, turning towards Eris.
He seemed to be at a loss for words as he stared out the window at the aftermath of destruction.
“I’m… not sure there’s anything we can do,” he replied slowly.
“But we’re immortal, right?” Trynn demanded, turning towards the other vampires. “Right?”
“Yes,” Oksana said hesitantly.
“Then let’s go help,” Trynn said, tugging on Eris’ hand.
She felt a sudden urgency to rush to the aid of the people of Damascus. Her heart broke, knowing that she was witnessing the slow, painful death of thousands—perhaps tens of thousands—of men, women, and children.
“You’re suggesting that we rush into a fire-riddled, radioactive pile of rubble to help a bunch of humans who will probably die anyway?” Duchess challenged, her voice brittle.
“Yes!” Trynn said, staring the other woman in the eye. Not backing down.
Their gaze locked for a long moment before Duchess shrugged, feigning indifference. “All right, then,” she said. “That’s what we’ll do. Just clarifying.”
“Can the radiation hurt us?” Della asked, looking at Tré.
“No,” Xander answered, his tone clipped.
They all looked at him.
“And you know that… how, exactly?” Tré asked, brow furrowed.
Xander shifted on his feet. He took a deep breath “There was an incident in the nineteen-fifties… and… I, uh, just happened to be at the scene during a leak at an experimental nuclear reactor…”
He trailed off, looking pained. “You know what—never mind. Suffice to say, there shouldn’t be any lasting effects on us. Probably.”
Tré’s eyes lingered on Xander for a long moment before he blinked and dragged his gaze away.
“Are we all in agreement, then?” he asked, his piercing silver eyes meeting each of his fellow vampires’ in turn. They nodded in response.
“Do we have any supplies that would be useful?” Eris asked, looking around at the destruction surrounding them.
Tré shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything we can really get on short notice that will help much. This… is going to be terrible.”
Trynn saw Eris’ chest rise and fall. He took her hand, lacing their fingers together and lifting her knuckles to his lips. “Not the honeymoon I’d envisioned, beloved,” he murmured.
She felt tears threaten. “It doesn’t matter,” she managed. “We’re together. Not just you and I, but all of us.” Her gaze took in the others—battered… shell-shocked… and poised to fly straight into the heart of hell, in hopes that they could make some small difference in the face of horror. “We’re together, and we’re going to do what’s right. Demons and madmen be damned.”
“Hear, hear,” Xander said quietly.
Eris squeezed her hand. “Yes. We’re together. I will never leave you again, Trynn. Never. We’ll face whatever the future throws at us, shoulder to shoulder—my beloved.”
She looked up at him, a single tear slipping free to slide down her cheek. “Beloved,” she whispered, echoing the endearment. “Come on, then. Let’s do this.”
Surrounded by her strange, unexpected new family, Trynn turned toward the fiery night sky in the distance, and the others turned with her. She felt Snag gather her under the cloak of his power, guiding her first transformation into cool mist.
The others transformed, swirling around her, and the eight of them plunged forward into the unknown.
EPILOGUE
BASTIAN KOVAC LIMPED awkwardly through the rubble that covered every street and sidewalk in what used to be central Damascus. As he listened, he could still hear parts of buildings crumbling, sounding like heavy rain on a crashing ocean.
He breathed, smelling the heavy sent of burned flesh and decay.
It had been two days since the bomb had detonated in the heart of the city, and while the single point of destruction had not been exactly on the scale he had originally planned, it was effective as far as it went. With so much death to feast on, Bastian had recovered quickly enough from the Russian bullets that had ripped through his body.
However, the punishment from Bael for his failure was not so easy to shake off.
As he drew the radioactive air into his lungs, Bastian sucked in the dark power of his master, thrumming through the scene of devastation like a current.
This was their time. Their victory. Their chance at dominion over this twisted, pathetic world. Evil swirled through the air around him, palpable as a cold wind.
As Bastian’s dark hair whipped around his face, the reek of death penetrated straight to his still, cold heart, calling like to like. His dead eyes surveyed the darkness around him, easily able to discern the lifeless bodies hidden under the rubble, away from the sight of men and vampires.
Oh yes—the abominations had been here, picking at the edges of the kill zone like vultures in search of the living. He’d watched from the shadows as they plucked injured men, women, and children from half-collapsed buildings under cover of darkness. Bastian had shielded his presence carefully, knowing that he was too weak to risk another confrontation with them so soon.
Around him, Bael’s power swelled.
”Bring forth my army, to rule over all.” The deep voice resonated through the earth, making it tremble.
Bastian climbed to the top of a mound of debris near a demolished building. Even though his left leg was mangled and bloody, he pulled himself upright and stood, spine straight, looking out over their kingdom.
“My master, your wisdom is as endless as the seas. I will build your empire with the help of your new servants, who now await your command,” he proclaimed.
As he lifted his voice to the
demon, Bastian held out his hands in front of him, palms facing downwards. He could feel power vibrating between his body and the earth as Bael’s force grew and solidified.
“I will build your sovereign nation,” he whispered, closing his eyes and allowing the darkness to flow through him.
A black bubble formed in the center of the zone of destruction, and expanded outward. Evil spread like an oil slick, coating everything it touched. The power balance between the Light and the Dark strained, and burst its bonds.
With a sudden, deafening crack, the bubble of power exploded, forcing animation into every frail, broken body in the city.
“Let your will be done!” Bastian cried, cold sweat pouring down his face as he concentrated on maintaining his connection with the earth. He would not fail his master now.
All around, he could hear the sound of feeble limbs scraping at the dirt, cracked fingernails scrabbling over broken concrete and twisted metal as the undead pulled themselves free of their unmarked tombs.
Bastian opened his eyes and looked around, surveying his new creations in wonder and ecstasy. Unbridled joy flooded him. He closed his hands into fists and threw his head back, uttering a roar of victory.
An army of the dead was rising from the ashes of Damascus, patiently awaiting their creator’s command.
finis
The Circle of Blood series continues in Book Three: Lover’s Sacrifice.
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