Thrall of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 4)

by Bella Klaus

  “I do my best, Father,” I murmured, hoping it sounded demure.

  “You seemed a little hostile in the beginning,” he said. “Why was that?”

  “It took a little time for me to settle into the way things were done here, I suppose.” My gaze flickered up to Kresnik who leaned forward, watching me like a cat might watch a drowsy housefly. “When I first came here, all I wanted to do was save Valentine from the Mage King.”

  “And now?”

  My mouth dried, and my gaze dropped to the empty cup. What the hell did he want from me? My goal hadn’t changed much. I still wanted to free Valentine but from a more sinister tyrant and I also wanted to stop said tyrant from clawing his way up to godhood.

  Raising my fingers to my throat, I made a high-pitched cough, hoping it would buy me a little time to think up an answer.

  “Where are my manners?” Kresnik asked with a laugh.

  I flinched. “Pardon?”

  “You’re thirsty. Possibly even dehydrated after being drained so mercilessly, and I haven’t offered you a thing to drink.”

  “That’s alright—”

  “I insist.” Kresnik beckoned to the corner of the room.

  Martika scurried out from between two bookshelves, knelt on the other side of the low table, and poured out two cups of black coffee. She gripped the pot so tightly that her knuckles turned white, and when she finished, she rose from the table and retreated back into the shelves.

  Kresnik picked up a cup and pressed it into my hands. “You were telling me about your hostile attitude.”

  The muscles of my neck tightened with indignation. No, I bloody well wasn’t. I pulled my lips into a bland smile and said the first thing that tumbled through my mind. “The past few weeks have been hard with the Supernatural Council trying to hunt me down for having fire magic. Those people really messed with my head.”

  He emptied the entire bowl of sugar into his cup and brought it to his lips.

  I took a pretend sip of my coffee and hummed my approval. “Thank you.”

  Kresnik inclined his head. “Continue.”

  “I’m so glad that Valentine is free from the Mage King.” I set down the cup, reached across the sofa and forced myself to place my hand on his forearm. The power coursing beneath my fingers made my insides tremble. “It’s wonderful that we’re finally together.”

  “Everything I do is for my children.” He turned to me with misty eyes, looking on the verge of wanting a hug.

  “I know, Father.” My voice wobbled, and I blinked a few times before dipping my head to wipe away an imaginary tear. “And I thank you for the wonderful home you’ve prepared for us.”

  Kresnik rose off the sofa and offered me his hand. “Come, I wish to show you something.”

  I let Kresnik pull me up, still not knowing why the hell he brought me here. At first, I thought he wanted me to tell him what I thought of him, but he didn’t linger too long on that subject and appeared to be looking for ammunition to break things up between Valentine and me.

  He walked me across the room and toward the corner of the bookshelves where Martika cowered. Fear rolled a rapid beat over my eardrums, and my insides cringed at his touch. After shooing her to the side and making her scamper away, he placed a hand over one of the books, and a door clicked open.

  “Are we going to a ritual room?” I asked.

  “What I have to show you is far better,” he said with a cold laugh.

  Without Valentine’s thrall keeping me subdued, I might have collapsed with terror or thrown up a bellyful of acid. We continued down a darkened hallway and down a set of stairs that led to a chamber illuminated by wall sconces.

  It was about the size of the cafeteria but with sacks piled against the walls. Hundreds of figures stood in rows, some dressed like Supernatural Council enforcers, others wearing prison uniforms. Their red eyes reflected the light of the flames, but none of them appeared to blink.

  A breath caught in the back of my throat, and I placed a hand over my mouth. I saw a documentary once about an army in China made up of terracotta soldiers. The emperor who had commissioned them wanted the figures to protect him in the afterlife, but what stood before me weren’t statues.

  Kresnik stared down at me, his rasping breaths filling my ear. I held still, waiting for the moment he would blast me with his immense power and turn me into one of the undead.

  Instead of attacking, he walked through the rows of mostly men, examining them like he was a drill sergeant making an inspection of his underlings. “This is my second-tier fighting force. The soldiers standing in the middle have already transitioned and those lying around the edges have yet to be turned.”

  My gaze darted to the side of the room, where the piles I’d originally thought were sacks now took the shape of slumbering people.

  “Father?” I turned back to the row of zombies, but couldn’t find Kresnik anywhere.

  “Yes?” His voice echoed across the chamber.

  Shards of anxiety tore through my insides like blades. “Why do you have so many?”

  “We don’t have just the enforcers to contend with,” he replied from the far side of the room. “The British army will fight back. As will the Royal Navy, Royal Air Force and whoever else the government can enlist for the upcoming wars.”

  My brows drew together. Someone once told me there were nearly two hundred thousand people in the armed forces. Even without factoring in the police and humans willing to fight against Kresnik, this battle seemed lost before it even began. I rose onto my tiptoes, looking for signs of the man but nothing stirred, not even on the edges of my vision.

  “Why are you confiding in me?” I asked, trying to sound like a clueless Neutral. “Do you want me to look anything up for you on the internet?”

  Kresnik emerged from the shadows, placing his hands on my shoulders and rooting me to the ground. “Don’t play coy with me, daughter. I think you know exactly what I need.”

  Dread rolled around my belly, waiting for him to make his demand so my stomach would drop.

  I stared into his white shirt. “Please, tell me.”

  His cool hands gripped my chin and tilted my head up to meet his glowing eyes. Kresnik’s lips parted into that abnormally wide smile, and he released my chin, letting everything but those eyes and those terrible teeth fade into the gloom.

  This was a trick of shadow and light magic—something Clarence and the twins could do when they had their power—nothing creepy or terrifying, apart from the man glowering down into my eyes.

  I tried to pull my gaze away from his, but couldn’t. Somehow, he had managed to ensnare my consciousness the way an injured bird might be caught in the gaze of a king cobra. As his sharp power sliced into my mind, my knees buckled, but cold shadows wrapped around my neck and held me steady.

  As he rifled through my thoughts, all I could think about was Valentine. The way he kissed me, the way his fangs sliced through my veins and how his soft lips felt against my veins as he drank.

  “Tell me truly.” His voice echoed through my skull as his magic sliced deeper. “What are you hiding from your father?”

  The kiss fell away, and I was back on that bed on all fours, being taken from behind as Valentine plundered my body. Kresnik snarled and cut into my mind once more, making me bleed with desire for Valentine. My mind went blank, and the next thing I knew, I pictured myself straddling Valentine as he pumped into me from below.

  “Is that all you think about?” Kresnik roared, his shadows shaking me like a ragdoll.

  My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and saliva flooded my mouth as the memories assaulted me of my tongue around the head of Valentine’s erection.

  Kresnik’s shadows vanished from around my neck, leaving me reeling from the onslaught. My heart pounded the way it did after waking from a nightmare. Breathing hard, I bent over double and braced my hands on my knees. When I stared up, it was to meet him glowering down at me with a loathing that made my stomach flip.
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  “Production has stalled,” he said.

  I stepped back, blinking the confusion out of my eyes and still trying to catch my breath. “Production of what?” I asked, straightening to meet his gaze. “I don’t understand—”

  “Has your magic returned?” He narrowed his eyes.

  I shook my head from side to side. “Not yet,” I said, my voice still trembling from that mad rush of Valentine-related memories. “Healer Calla told me that powerful rituals take their toll on a person’s magic—”

  “Yes, I know what she said,” he snarled with the implication that he’d not only ordered her to tell us that excuse but he knew it wasn’t true. “Roman’s magic returned. What about yours?”

  “You want me to check, Father?” I asked.

  Kresnik nodded.

  “Alright.” Exhaling a sharp breath, I rolled my shoulders, raised a hand, and frowned into my palm.

  He drifted closer, carefully avoiding my eyes. I didn’t dare to allow myself a moment of triumph.

  Faint wisps of brimstone curled through my nostrils, but I didn’t dwell on the sensation. It was the default odor of anyone who had recently escaped from Hell. My muscles tensed, and I made my forearm tremble with what I hoped he would interpret as effort.

  Kresnik’s hand wrapped around the back of my neck, and his power pulsed against my skin. “More,” he growled. “Push more magic into that hand.”

  My skin prickled into goosebumps, and I made a straining noise in the back of my throat. “I’m trying, Father.”

  His magic poured into me, feeling mostly like Coral’s. Pressure built up through my chakras, and ringing filled my ears. My insides rippled as though I was on the verge of flickering out of existence.

  A scream tore from my lips, and I collapsed, hoping that a few seconds on the floor might give me a break from Kresnik, but he caught me and pulled me into his chest.

  “Shhhh…” Kresnik stroked my hair. “I had hoped you would produce your pretty flames, but we’ll have to try something else.”

  I gulped mouthfuls of air, forcing myself not to pull out of his grip. “Like what, Father?”

  “Don’t worry, sweet girl,” he crooned. “Calla knows of a painless way to extract the magic. When I’ve taken what I need, you and Valentine will spend an eternity ruling at my side.”

  As soon as Kresnik released me and headed toward the exit, the lights flickered out, plunging us into utter darkness.

  The absence of light made the unconscious prisoners’ breaths feel like steel wool against my eardrums. Something ghosted over my hair, making my skin tighten into goosebumps. I clapped both hands over my mouth to suppress a scream.

  Was this where I forgot my pretense of not having magic and pushed a flame into my hands? Clenching my teeth, I trudged forward in the dark. I’d rather fall flat on my face.

  Now that all my other senses had receded to the background, I could focus on Kresnik’s sharp power. It reminded me of a pyramid with smooth sides that culminated into a needlelike point, but beneath the glass-like exterior lay a riot of clashing magic.

  Closing my eyes, I stretched out my arm and waved my hand from side to side, using it as my guide. It felt as though Kresnik was trying to create a patchwork of different types of fire to bolster his power. Only the smooth planes belonged to him… or he’d held it for long enough to incorporate it into his being.

  After several steps, my fingers brushed against a crumbling wall. I followed it to the right, which led to a doorway. As I stepped through, light poured through my closed eyelids.

  When I opened my eyes, Kresnik stood in front of me, studying me as though I was a puzzle he wanted to crack open and dissect. “Valentine won’t be around for a few days to provide for you.” His gaze dropped to my lips. “Is there anything you need?”

  I decided he was referring to the breakfast tray Martika had provided this morning and shook my head. “Thank you, Father. If I get hungry, I can always find something in the refectory.”

  The corners of his mouth pinched with dissatisfaction, and he held my gaze for several moments, seeming to wonder if I could really be that dense. I pictured myself dipping a freshly baked croissant into a bowl of melted chocolate diluted with thick cream.

  With a scoff, Kresnik turned around and headed up the stairs. I smoothed out my features, keeping several strides behind him as he returned to his study.

  “What’s Healer Calla’s method?” I asked.

  He glanced at me over his shoulder. “I believe she explained it to you on the day you returned to the Flame.”

  “The one where she sticks needles into a person’s heart?” I whispered.

  “If there are any remnants of magic remaining in your fifth chamber, she will siphon them out with a long needle.”

  Nausea rose to the back of my throat, and I placed a hand over my chest. My heart thudded a painful beat, already cringing at the thought of being pierced. I couldn’t let that happen.

  It would probably hurt, leave me punctured or with an air bubble that traveled through my system and ruptured something. By the time Valentine returned from his assignment, I might have already risen a soulless preternatural, a bloodsucking equivalent of Brother David.

  As he reached the top of the stairs, desperation made the words tumble from my lips. “You’re looking for missing magic?”

  Kresnik turned around and stared down at me with wide eyes. “Have you thought of something?”

  “Yes.” I licked my lips. “My aunt sent me a firestone bracelet that soaked into my skin and absorbed my magic.”

  “What?”

  I nodded, my pulse thrumming an excited beat. “She intended for it to suppress my power and lock it away. Each stone was supposed to hold the magic of four mages, but my power kept leaking through.”

  “Which was why she put the firestone in your blood?” Before I could nod, he asked, “Where is this bracelet now?”

  “My body rejected it after I got arrested and tried to escape, then the enforcers caught me and took it away. Someone must have analyzed its magic, which was why the kings created that ambush and—”

  Kresnik roared and punched his fist into his palm. “You should have mentioned this before.”

  I flinched and had to hold on to the wall to stop myself from tumbling down the steps. “Sorry. I didn’t think—”

  “Silence.” Kresnik bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  I followed after him, staring up through the door he’d disappeared into and hoping that it would be enough for him to cancel his plot to rupture my fifth chamber.

  “Martika,” he bellowed.

  “Good thinking, Miss Griffin,” Hades whispered into my ear. “And kudos for not letting Kresnik see the truth in your mind. While he’s organizing his forces to storm the Supernatural Council in search of your missing magic, I want you to steal the ash from the jar he’s keeping in his bathroom cabinet.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I placed a hand on the rough wall, trying not to stumble on the darkened stairwell. The door swung shut, encasing me in darkness, and muffling Kresnik’s continued orders to Martika.

  With a hand over my mouth to stop my voice from echoing, I whispered, “What did you just say?”

  “Kresnik is keeping one of my jars on his bookshelf,” Hades murmured into my ear. “You need to release my ashes.”

  “And put them where?” I crept up the stairs, hoping Kresnik would be gone by the time I reached the top.

  One pocket already contained the ashes I’d gathered earlier from the pyre, and the other contained a bunch of stuff I didn’t care to get soiled, such as Istabelle’s leather-bound book and the reaper knife.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m capable of shifting my own bodily remains,” Hades said, sounding affronted.

  “I’m only trying to be thorough.” At the top of the stairs, I pushed the door open to find Kresnik missing from his study. I turned in a circle, getting my first chance to take in
our surroundings. Floor-to-ceiling shelves covered all the walls, without a door in sight.

  A shocked breath heaved out of my lungs. Had they just forgotten about me in the excitement to retrieve the firestone bracelet? “Father?” I said out loud. “Martika?”

  “They already left,” Hades said.

  “How the hell am I going to get out of here without the ability to flicker?” I asked.

  “I’ll show you the way out, as soon as you free my ashes.” Hades led me to the only shelf that didn’t contain books.

  Bottles and gourds and metallic objects filled the space, along with ominous-looking stones that radiated dark magic. My insides crawled toward my spine, trying to put as much distance between themselves and those objects as possible. Some of these things had to be ancient, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Kresnik had used them in the past to commit murder.

  “It’s behind the chimera,” Hades said.

  My gaze dropped to a human skull with a row of six-inch horns over its brow. Instead of teeth, fangs protruded from its maw in all directions, creating a jagged mess. The magic radiating off it pulsed.

  I gulped. “That’s real?”

  “Don’t worry about the transference malediction. This one isn’t permanent.”

  My stomach tightened. Some enchanted beings cursed whoever touched them to take on their characteristics. For example, a cursed frog might infect a person unlucky enough to touch it with their bare hands with slimy skin. I hadn’t known it was possible to become a chimera until Hades just brought up the subject, and I wasn’t about to trust that the skull was safe to remove.

  If I were Kresnik, I would ensure that the item protecting the ashes of my worst enemy contained a curse that would make anyone tampering with it easy to identify and punish. Covering my hands with the fabric of my reaper cloak, I picked up the skull and set it on the floor.

  “Now, will you release my ashes?” Hades asked, his voice rough with impatience.

  My lips formed a tight line. “Maybe a mouthful of overlapping teeth is an asset in Hell, but up in this realm, it’s not a good look.”