Velvet Cataclysm: Princes of the Underground, Book 1

by BETH KERY

  It seemed so indecent, somehow, to allow a slave to control him if only for a moment; to let a subservient see him shudder in bliss.

  “I want to take the chance, Teslar. More than anything. I’d die inside knowing I’d been too much of a coward to risk being with you.”

  Teslar endured as Elliot used his forefinger to tenderly wipe a tear from his cheek. Why did humans always mention this nauseating concept of dying inside? How ludicrous. It made him want to laugh every time he heard it, which would have been a most unfortunate loss of control at such a crucial moment.

  Luckily, Teslar secreted tears as easily as blinking. For him, it was a matter of simple muscular control. It had always amused him, those first years on Earth that he’d spent with Saint, to learn that his clone could not produce tears. Only the blood of his prey ever escaped his eyes.

  Pitiful.

  Teslar sighed regretfully. “I suppose if you are determined to continue, we should proceed then.” Elliot’s hand froze in his hair and Teslar knew precisely what he was thinking. He’d hoped that Teslar would bring him to climax several more times before the Final Embrace.

  The greedy little bastard.

  But Elliot’s semen had gone flat, and Teslar was anxious to move onto much richer, tastier fare. He’d harvested Elliot so carefully after all, and he was impatient for his feast.

  He smiled and kissed the young man’s muscular abdomen. It would be all right if he survived the Final Embrace, for he was a handsome one. He sensed Elliot’s veins constricting with fear, heard the desperate thumping of a heart that knew it was about to beat no more. Teslar urged him off the couch. Elliot stumbled as they walked across the room, but Teslar steadied him before helping him up onto a medical table.

  “Now, I’ve told you how this works several times,” Teslar murmured as he rolled the pneumatic exsanguinator closer and chose a cuff from one of the drawers, setting it beside a trembling Elliot. “But, before we begin, you must look in my eyes and solemnly swear once again that this is what you choose. If you mean to sacrifice yourself willingly, declare it now.”

  “I swear that I sacrifice my life willingly if it means there is a chance I will be with you forever,” Elliot said shakily.

  Teslar resisted an urge to lick the tears flowing down Elliot’s cheek. Instead, he smiled and tenderly ran his fingers through the young man’s hair before he opened a drawer and removed the captive bolt. He would insert it into Elliot’s brain, keeping him immobile and paralyzed. Elliot would be very much aware of what was happening as he watched Teslar collecting his fear-infused blood.

  Just as he was about to pierce the base of Elliot’s skull with the captive bolt, Marcellus and Crowbar barged into the crystal room.

  “Get out, you idiots,” Teslar snarled.

  “But Master…it’s Saint and the Iniskium. They’ve found us.”

  Teslar hissed in disgust as he tossed the captive bolt onto the table.

  Why must Saint insist upon ruining everything? Why had he been so cursed to forever be plagued by his uptight, party-crashing clone?

  “Marcellus, get Ash to evacuate everyone through the south tunnel. We’ll re-group again in the LaSalle Street freight tunnels. We’ll need a diversion. Crowbar, you take Cyrus and…whatever that new girl’s name is—”

  The whites of Crowbar’s eyes showed up starkly in his face. “Jane Farrant? But she and Cyrus are both practically new to the immortal life. They’ve never engaged in a battle, let alone one where Saint was present—”

  “Which is why I’m sending you,” Teslar said briskly as he pulled a dazed-looking Elliot down off the table. “I want you to face my clone, Crowbar.”

  Crowbar’s face stiffened in fear. Of course he knew Teslar had just signed his death warrant. Well, that’s what the loud-mouthed fool got for flapping his mouth in front of the meal Teslar had been harvesting, telling Elliot about his former lovers. If Saint didn’t separate the fool’s head from his body, Teslar would when he had a spare moment.

  He shoved Elliot toward the crystal room’s escape tunnel, but he’d apparently cultivated the young man’s fear too well. Elliot stumbled on rubbery legs and fell hard to the floor. Teslar started to shout at him in rising frustration when he noticed that Marcellus and Crowbar hadn’t moved. He turned up his ascendancy to maximum levels.

  “Did I not just give you two orders?”

  They scurried out of the room. Teslar gritted his teeth in mounting outrage as he glanced around the crystal chamber. He’d never valued anything so greatly in his life…save the woman. Damn, Saint. This was his special place, and now his clone had gone and ruined it all! He was going to treat that girl, Alison, to a slow, tortuous death for betraying his location.

  A shout erupted out of his chest and he kicked the only object available to him. Elliot grunted in pain and looked up at Teslar in shock.

  “Fuck it.” He kicked Elliot again, this time in the face, before he leapt fifteen feet to the escape chamber.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fardusk and Isi’s flashlights flickered off walls as they made their way down the circular limestone tube.

  “So what are the Iniskium?” Alison asked Fardusk. She and the tall, somber chief of the Iniskium walked in front, Saint and Isi behind. Alison had to skip and trot to keep up with Fardusk’s long strides.

  “Iniskium was the name of an ancient tribe of people who once lived in this area on the banks of what you call the Chicago River. Today, it refers to the survivors of that tribe,” Fardusk said, keeping his gaze trained down the tunnel. The passage that had been dug by the Scourge revenants under Teslar’s command was much narrower than the tunnels dug by the city. It hadn’t been reinforced by concrete and was crumbling in spots.

  “But what are you? He said Saint made you.” Alison tilted her head back toward Isi. “Does that mean he turned you into vampires?”

  “We have many of the characteristics of our sire, although we are not as strong. Vampire is a word used by humans, as is werewolf. But we think of ourselves only as the Iniskium warriors who help Saint hunt the Scourge revenants. We must fight hard, because our numbers have decreased over time while the revenants’ numbers grow,” Fardusk said.

  “Werewolf. Wait…was that you guys on the subway platform? Were you those wolves who fought off Teslar’s followers?” Alison asked.

  “As I said. We share the same characteristics as our sire. A wolf is always the animal nature of the Iniskium, while the Scourge revenants resemble their creator—although Teslar can transform into any number of beasts, while the revenants can usually transform only into one fixed form.”

  With his powerful hearing, Saint heard Alison whisper to Fardusk. “Did you ask Saint to turn you into what you are?”

  Fardusk didn’t respond.

  “It’s all right,” Saint said, startling Alison.

  “No,” Fardusk continued now that Saint had given him permission to reveal one of the most painful secrets of Saint’s past. “Saint attacked our village many centuries ago, when he was new to this Earth…before he had learned to control his bloodlust.”

  Saint met Alison’s stare when she glanced back at him speculatively. “Don’t you hate him for it?”

  “No. But he hates himself,” Isi supplied drolly.

  “Quiet, Isi,” Fardusk commanded. Isi immediately looked contrite. Fardusk didn’t exert his authority often, but when he did, it carried absolute weight amongst the Iniskium.

  Saint tried to focus on the soothing sounds and sensations of the earth’s vitessence. He wished they’d change the subject, but Alison was a leech for information.

  “But he stole your soul,” Alison hissed at Fardusk as they resumed down the tunnel.

  “He gave us our wolf-souls,” Fardusk intoned. “The Iniskium revere the wolf as a teacher, its hunting prowess, its great spiritual power, its ability to survive in the most difficult of circumstances. Saint allowed us to embody all those qualities and more. We are thankful to him and will for
ever be in his debt.”

  Alison once again peered at Saint over her shoulder. This time, she didn’t bother to lower her voice. “He could be brainwashing you into thinking that.”

  “No one can brainwash a wolf,” Fardusk said with a tone of curt dismissal that even Alison didn’t dare to question.

  Saint stopped abruptly and turned around. Isi followed his lead, crouching slightly in the balanced stance of a warrior waiting for an attack. Saint knew that Fardusk was poised and ready for a threat in the opposite direction.

  “Reveal yourself,” Saint shouted at whomever or whatever was in the tunnel behind him. His ears had picked up a slight scuffling noise, but whatever was following them was not near enough for him to yet catch their scent.

  “What’s going on?” Alison asked anxiously.

  “Quiet,” Saint ordered. They waited tensely. The figures of a thin, wiry male and a female slowly appeared out of the darkness.

  “What is it?” he asked tensely. Saint and Isi turned, knowing that if Strix and Bena—their Iniskium rear guard—approached, a threat was coming from the other direction.

  “We have been observed,” Strix said calmly. “They are coming.”

  “Wha…? I thought you said they wouldn’t know we were here,” Alison accused Saint.

  He drew his heartluster out of the leather sheath tied to his thigh. He pushed her back against the curving side of the tunnel in order to cover her, hearing her gasp when Fardusk, Isi, Strix, and Bena transformed into their wolf-selves. He saw several figures emerge out of the shadows—a boar leading several other Scourge creatures. The boar’s eyes glistened with bloodlust, its maw dripping thick saliva. Saint thought he recognized Crowbar, but he couldn’t make out the identity of the others in the dim light. No telling how many were obscured in the darkness of the narrow tube. The blood boar let out a shriek of fury as it caught their scent.

  “Put out the lights,” Saint ordered, knowing it was better to go on instinct and scent where shadows and darkness played deadly tricks on a warrior in such a confined space.

  “You’re fucking nuts!” Alison shouted.

  “You’ll be fucking dead if you don’t shut your mouth,” Saint replied quietly as the lights blinked out and the Scourge closed in on them in the darkness.

  Shrieks and snarls echoed off the tunnel walls, the sounds amplifying until it seemed hundreds of creatures fought tooth and nail in the darkness. Saint moved through the blackness, his sense of smell sharpened until it became more acute than his sight. When the scent of sulfur, blood, animal and fetid breath filled his nose, he reached and found the boar’s matted fur and corded neck. A razor-shop incisor cut into his biceps, but he’d long ago learned to dissociate himself from pain. Saint twisted viciously and heard the sound of cracking bone. He tossed the dead weight onto the floor.

  The earth itself shook as the battle raged around him and bodies were hurled against the limestone tunnel with great force. Saint slashed with his heartluster, finishing Crowbar.

  When Isi clicked on his light less than a minute later, silence reigned. A canid and a prowler lay motionless and bleeding from deep wounds at the neck and belly. A beheaded Crowbar had transformed back to his human-form.

  “So few,” Isi said.

  “Teslar sacrificed them,” Saint commented as he knelt and wiped the blood off his heartluster onto Crowbar’s coat.

  “Crowbar must have done something to piss Teslar off if he ordered him to fight you,” Strix agreed. His lean, scarred face looked like it’d been carved from wood in the dim light. Saint watched as he raised his bowie knife and finished what he’d begun in his wolf-form, hacking the canid’s head from its body. Alison started and cried out in mixed disgust and dismay when the hideous animal transformed into a beheaded bloody man in his early thirties.

  Bena stepped over to the prowler, ready to do the same as Strix, her long blade gleaming in the dim light. Her slender, powerful muscles flexed.

  “No, wait!”

  Alison clutched Saint’s waist in fear when Isi lunged in the shadowed tunnel. He reached for Bena’s slashing arm, but he was too late.

  Isi let out a howl of pure misery that caused crumbling earth to fall into the tunnel. Saint started instinctively toward the grief-stricken warrior, but Fardusk was there before him. Isi strained to look over the shoulder of the Iniskium chief, his eyes trained on the gruesome sight of the beheaded female.

  “What is it? What the hell’s wrong?” Alison asked wildly as she peered around Saint’s chest and Isi continued to moan as though he were being tortured.

  Alison tightened her hold on Saint’s waist and shook. “What is going on? What is wrong with Isi?” she seethed.

  “That revenant was once Jane Farrant, Isi’s lover. A powerful revenant named Javier Ash took her in the Final Embrace, transforming her into a Scourge revenant. Ash did it to spite Isi.”

  Alison strained around him, taking in the long, lithesome limbs and the golden hair of the beheaded corpse.

  “How awful. That woman just killed Isi’s lover right in front of him?” Alison whispered in a choked voice.

  They both watched as Isi suddenly collapsed in Fardusk’s arms. Alison started toward the tableau of misery, but Saint stopped her, understanding that nothing could penetrate the warrior’s agony in that moment.

  “Bena didn’t kill Jane Farrant, Alison,” Saint corrected quietly. “You must understand. Javier Ash murdered her two years ago. Isi has lived in anguish every day of those years knowing that a monster inhabited his lover’s body, making a mockery…a sacrilege of everything she was.”

  Alison didn’t say anything for a moment. Isi sobbed harshly and shoved himself out of Fardusk’s arms.

  They all watched as he staggered like a newly blinded man down the dark tunnel.

  “He loved her,” Alison breathed out, her tone tinged with awe.

  “The Iniskium can love,” Saint said in a hushed tone.

  Saint slid his heartluster back into its sheath, knocking Alison’s clutching hands off him. He glanced back at her. She’d plastered herself against the wall of the tunnel. He saw where she stared fixedly. He kicked aside Crowbar’s severed head, clearing the path for her.

  “It’s not pretty, but it’s the only way to kill a Scourge revenant,” Saint explained. His tone softened when he saw how pale the young woman was as she stared at Crowbar’s remains. “Crowbar died more than seventy years ago, Alison. What you see is the remains of his walking, talking, eating corpse. Now, come on. Teslar and his followers will have fled by now. I want you to show me his den.”

  Alison glanced up and met his gaze. Her hand shook in his as he led her away from the carnage.

  Ten minutes later, Saint stepped into the crystal chamber alone. The sound of the earth’s singing escalated a hundred-thousand-fold, the vibrations making his flesh quiver like a stroked harp string. A young man with dark curly hair and a bloody face appeared to be the only occupant of the furnished chamber. He rushed toward Saint.

  “I am not Teslar,” Saint said distractedly, easily reading the man’s mind in his vulnerable state.

  “I…I don’t understand,” he said shakily, wiping his bleeding nose on his sleeve. Saint barely noticed the man’s eyes studying his hair and goatee. He was too stunned by the power of the earth’s energy infusing him with life to be aware of much of anything else.

  “What’s your name?” Saint asked.

  “El…Elliot.”

  “How long ago did Teslar leave, Elliot?”

  Elliot shrugged. “I’m not sure. Five minutes ago? Ten?”

  Too much of a head start, Saint thought in rising frustration. He glanced over at the medical table. The chief of the Chicago Police Department had been keeping him updated on the Youngblood Thief case and he’d seen the grisly photos of the corpses. He recognized the captive bolt Teslar used to paralyze his victims.

  “You just narrowly escaped being the Youngblood Thief’s next victim.” The young man swayed on
his feet. Saint caught his arm, steadying him, and guided him over to the couch. He saw what appeared to be his pants lying there and laid them in Elliot’s lap, covering him.

  “I don’t understand. If you’re not Teslar, you must be his twin. If you see him, will you ask him to give me another chance?”” Elliot grabbed at his waist and looked up at him pleadingly. “Why is Teslar angry at me? Please tell me where he is. I have to apologize for whatever I’ve done.”

  Saint grimaced and moved back from the young man’s desperate clutch. He was saved from having to reply when Fardusk entered the chamber. He stared, open-mouthed. Saint realized it was the first time in more than half a millennium he’d ever seen Fardusk stunned. Strix and Bena followed. Bena gasped loudly in wonder.

  “Do you know what this means?” Bena asked, referring to the miraculous chamber.

  Saint nodded. He thought of Christina—Christina laughing, the way her face softened when she looked at Aidan… Christina staring up at him with green eyes glazed with desire.

  “It means never having to feed from another human again.”

  Elliot’s confused expression segued to dazed wonder when he saw Saint break into a smile.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Christina caught the baseball Aidan tossed her and looked around at the sound of Saint’s motorcycle approaching. She and Aidan left the yard and reached the patio at the same moment as Saint and Alison.

  “The wound on your arm’s re-opened,” Christina said immediately when she saw the mixture of dried and wet blood on Saint’s biceps. She charged across the patio and lifted the sleeve of his T-shirt.

  “Actually, I think it’s a different wound,” Saint said mildly. He caught her hand and Christina looked up into his face. When she saw the heat in his blue eyes, she stared, open-mouthed.

  Alison cleared her throat loudly. Christina realized several seconds had passed as she gaped at Saint and breathed his scent.

  “Are you all right?” Christina looked first at Alison and then back to Saint.

  “I’m fine, but I can’t say those three Scourge revenants down in the tunnels are doing so good. Not that they’d notice, without any heads,” Alison mumbled.