by Amy Miles
“Let Sadie and her brother go. You’ve had your fun with them. It’s over now.”
Vladimir laughs, his coattails twirl as he spins through the crowd. “Now why should I do that?”
Roseline’s gaze flits over his shoulder. Nicolae is inching his way toward Sadie. Fane watches Roseline like a hawk, his muscles flexed, ready for a fight. Malachi snarls at the immortals that close in behind him, sealing off their exit. The sound of the lock slamming into place on the castle doors reverberates through the courtyard.
“You wanted me and now I am here. You got what you wanted so just let them go.” She plants her hands on her hips, making no move for her swords. If she can convince him to let her friends go, Fane and Nicolae might stand a chance at escaping with them. Judging by the fire in Malachi’s eyes, he has no intention of leaving her behind.
Pursing his lips, Vladimir pretends to think it over. Small titters of laughter filter through the crowd. Vladimir makes a show of raising his hands for silence. “I have decided. The boy may leave but the girl stays. Her life for Davros.”
So he has heard. Roseline stuffs back her resentment. It was bound to happen with this many immortals present.
Judging by the vicious glint in Vladimir’s eye, he already has Sadie’s dismemberment planned out. Roseline shifts to look at William. His arms cradle his sides, face pinched with pain. He wheezes as his broken ribs press against his lungs. William cannot fight, but even if he did, he would not stand a chance against even the weakest immortal.
As Vladimir twirls to ramp up the cheering crowd, Roseline launches herself next to William. “You need to run. Hide wherever you can find a place but don’t come out until one of us comes to get you.”
“What about Sadie?” he grunts, clutching his ribs. “I’m not leaving her.”
“Nicolae will keep her safe.” She wraps her arm around his shoulders and gives him a brief hug. “I’m so sorry Vladimir found you.”
William’s head rolls back. “Just go save my sister. You can apologize to me later.”
“Get ready,” she whispers into his ear, “I’m going to pick a fight.”
Vladimir snickers at Roseline’s farewell embrace as she rises. “How touching. I almost shed a tear.”
Roseline squints through the blinding light at Fane across the length of the courtyard. His jaw clamps down as he nods. Malachi follows suit. They are ready.
With her head held high and her shoulders pressed back, Roseline turns her gaze on Vladimir. “Did you hear what really happened at Torrent?” She saunters forward, ignoring the pain running the length of her body. “I beat the mighty Davros in front of a room full of people.”
Vladimir’s cheek twitches. A hush falls over the crowd. Even those who have never had the displeasure of meeting Davros in person are wise enough to respect his name, especially in front of Vladimir.
“Did you know that he begged for his life at the end?” Roseline smiles, digging her claws in deeper. A vein along her husband’s forehead pulses madly. She pauses less than a foot away from Vladimir, nearing the center of the courtyard. The crowd pulls back from his rising rage. “He cried, like a little child, as I plunged the stake through his heart.”
Vladimir’s lips peel back to reveal sharp incisors, filed into wicked points to strike fear in his victims just before he sinks them into their neck. Roseline leans in close, near enough to smell the scent of Sadie’s blood on his lips. Unbridled rage burns in her eyes.
“Davros’ skill with a sword was far superior to yours, my love,” she coos, enjoying the frantic beating of his heart. She meets Fane’s gaze over Vladimir’s shoulder, nodding imperceptibly. It is now or never. They cannot wait around any longer for Nicolae’s hunters to breach the walls. “What do you think I will do to you?”
Vladimir roars, barreling into her with lightning speed. Air rushes from her lungs as he slams into her chest and shoves her twenty feet back into the wall. The stone cracks, caving in around her, showering William in a cloud of dust.
Fane and Malachi attack. The rear line of immortals fall as Malachi drives his blade through their backs, severing their spines. Fane’s mace smashes through three heads with one blow. Blood spurts onto the flagstone, staining the white walls red.
Nicolae’s crossbow releases with deadly precision, targeting a muscular immortal at the top of the stairs as he dives for Sadie. He clips his crossbow onto his quiver strap and lifts her frail body into his arms.
The arrow pierces through the immortal’s right eye and he tumbles down the steps, taking out the three immortals in his path. Leaping over the jumbled pile of swearing men, Nicolae mounts the steps three at a time and disappears into the house with an unconscious Sadie cradled in his arms.
William scrambles to his feet as Vladimir dives and slams Roseline’s head into the wall. He ducks down a small set of stairs and disappears into the castle. Two immortals notice his retreat and follow closely behind.
Malachi shouts as he dives into a small group of females. Their screeching wails cut off as their weapons clatter to the ground. Three heads roll, bumping along the uneven ground.
Fane leaps overhead to smash his mace into the spine of a ginger haired immortal, whose spiked hair gives him a porcupine look. The man bellows, fighting to dislodge the weapon when Malachi’s ax slices through his neck. Fane ducks the spray of blood.
“Thanks for that,” he grunts before leaping onto the back of a petite female wielding a javelin.
“Fight,” Vladimir shouts to his army on the second and third floors as he slams Roseline’s forehead back into the wall.
Her vision blacks out as her temple crushes into the jagged stone. Her hairline splits and blood seeps into her eyes. She blinks, fighting to see around Vladimir.
Chaos has overrun the courtyard. Arrows fly from the second balcony, forcing Malachi and Fane into a corner under the cover of a terrace awning. At least with the walls at their back they won’t be completely overrun from all directions.
Roseline braces against the wall and slams her heel back into Vladimir’s groin. His eyes bulge as he drops to the rough cobblestones, his hands cupping himself. She pushes out from the wall and whips her leg around. Her knee connects with his temple and Vladimir’s head slams to the floor.
She leaps up onto the wall, vaulting onto the tile roof above. Narrowly dodging a spray of arrows, she grips a wide, wooden beam and swings into the second floor hall. She yanks her swords from their sheath and slices a tawny haired immortal in half.
Glancing up to find herself staring through the crosshairs of a bow, Roseline jams her boot into the bowman’s abdomen, slamming him back into the next two immortals, which are too busy taking aim on the courtyard to notice her advance. She grips the support beam for the roof and launches herself over the railing, soaring onto a terrace roof on the far end of the courtyard. She somersaults off the roof and lands next to Malachi.
“Nice of you to join us,” Malachi grunts, cleaving a man’s face in half. He shoves at the man’s waist with his boot to retract his ax.
“Thought I’d take care of a couple of your friends from above first.” She brings her swords together over the shoulders of the woman in front of her and severs her head with a clean swipe. Roseline does not pause to consider if she knew the person before she moves on to the next.
Fane backflips over a fallen garden planter and lands beside her, easily taking out a girl with a mop of curly brown hair who lunged for Roseline. “Any brilliant ideas on how to get out of this?”
“I’m working on it,” she grunts, thrusting her sword into the chest of Vladimir’s valet. The ginger-haired man’s mouth gapes open as she kicks him off the end of her sword. More immortals fall in to take his place. Dozen’s surround them now, with more waiting behind.
“Where are your friends?” Malachi shouts, dueling with two females.
“Inside,” Roseline grunts, dipping low to miss a blow aimed at her head.
“And Nicolae?” Malachi slam
s his elbow into one of the girl’s faces. She screams shrilly as she drops to the ground and is trampled underfoot.
“Same.” Roseline sidesteps Fane as he smashes the skull of the man before her. Blood spurts over her neck, staining her flesh. A clumpy gray substance clings to the spikes as he pulls back.
“Thanks for that.” She grins and jabs with her sword. A javelin slices through the crowd, narrowly missing her abdomen. Roseline leaps forward and buries the heel of her boot into the attacker’s calf. His screams cut off as Malachi whips his ax around, slicing through his throat.
Roseline turns. She can feel Vladimir’s dark eyes boring into her. He paces back and forth, seething, beyond the mob. Fane grabs her arm and slings her back as a dagger hurtles through the air. He strikes it with his mace and it ricochets off, burying it into the arm of a man before him.
“Thanks,” she grunts, slamming into the wall. Her hands press against it to launch back into the crowd but she hesitates. The wall vibrates beneath her palms.
Something large pounds against the front doors of the castle. The lock groans, refusing to give way. “The hunters!” she shouts, leaping back to Fane’s side. “You have to get to the doors!”
“What about you?”
She stares over the crowd straight into Vladimir’s soulless eyes. He sneers back. “I’m gonna go make myself a widow.”
Chapter 36
The wind tussles Gabriel’s hair, blowing it into his face. He releases his grip on Elias’ neck to clear his vision.
“You alright back there?” Elias asks over his shoulder.
“Perfect.” Gabriel’s teeth chatter. He takes a moment to blow life back into his fingers before reattaching his hold. “How much further?”
Elias glances down at the trees and houses that slip past at frightening speeds. “Not far. See those mountains?”
Gabriel peers through the dark. A low fog hangs over the land, toying with his night vision. “I think so.”
“Those are the Carpathian mountains. We are getting close.”
“To what?” Gabriel shouts, before burying his face in Elias’ feathers. His cheeks ache with windburn. He blows warm air into his feathery hovel, defrosting the ice from his eyelashes.
“To Brasov.”
Gabriel yelps as his hands give way, spilling him down Elias’ back and into a free fall. His arms pinwheel as he tumbles end over end. His scream precedes him through the fog.
Strong arms wrap around his torso, scooping him up less than ten feet from a smoking chimney. Gabriel clinches his eyes closed, fighting to still the hammering in his chest. “Thanks.”
Elias grins. His wings sweep back behind him as he surges up into the stars. “That was a tad theatrical, don’t you think?”
Gabriel finally regains his composure and climbs around to Elias’ back, careful not to knee Elias in his retracted wing. They level off as Elias stretches out his wings to full capacity once again. Seneh’s grim face nods in their direction as he tilts his scarlet wings and climbs the night sky. Always the watchful protector. If Elias had been unable to save Gabriel, he has no doubt Seneh would have swooped down to rescue him at the last second.
“Why are we in Romania?” Gabriel shouts in Elias’ ear.
“To retrieve the original prophecy, of course.”
“What the heck is it doing here?” Gabriel’s numb fingers lock together as he feels himself begin to slip again. There is no way he is taking that plunge again.
“Surely you have guessed who is in possession of the prophecy. He is the only one who has the most to lose if you were to succeed.”
Gabriel grinds his teeth. Vladimir.
“Is she here?” he asks, his throat constricting at the thought. He longs to see Roseline again, to hold her in his arms and never let go, but does he have a right to claim her now that he knows the truth about himself, about his father?
What will Roseline think when she discovers his origin? And what of her own? Will she reject the truth and along with it, his love? Can he face her knowing how Vladimir has probably tainted her blood?
Elias breaks into his thoughts. “The last report I received was that she was seen in London with her friend.”
Gabriel stiffens. “What friend? Fane?”
Elias’ broad shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “I do not know all of the details, but she appeared to be safe.”
Well at least there is that. Gabriel breathes a sigh of relief. “So where exactly are we going?”
Elias dips lower, angling his wings to slow their approach. “To the place where Roseline was born. The Black Church.”
“Why there?”
“Roseline was chosen, Gabriel. Not for her beauty and certainly not for her parent’s failing wealth. She was selected for a reason that many have only guessed at.”
Goosebumps raise up across Gabriel’s arms. “Do you know why was she chosen?”
Elias’ wings shift into a hard V as he spirals toward the ground. Street lights flicker past with the speed of an Amtrak train. Gabriel buries his face in Elias’ back. His stomach meets up with the ground before his feet do.
He opens his eyes. The wind has stopped, and a solid surface now holds his weight. Elias shakes out his feathers before tucking them behind his back.
“You never answered my question,” Gabriel says, staring out across the sleeping town from the peaked roof of a darkened building.
“That is because I have no proof, only suspicions. I believe there is more going on between you two than we know. We must retrieve the prophecy to discover what that is.” Elias turns, staring out across the town, far into the distance.
A glow illuminates the forest beyond. Gabriel follows his gaze. The peak of the tallest tower can just be seen over the treetops. “Bran Castle,” he whispers, recognizing it from a Dracula movie he snuck into on Halloween night when he was in Jr. High. Beyond that lies Sorin’s estate and pain filled memories best left to the past.
“Focus, Gabriel. We are not here for Vladimir.” Elias pats him on the shoulder as he turns and slips through the small opening of a church spire. Gabriel’s boots slip on the icy clay roof tiles as he hurries to follow. Seneh lands above him, perched on the tip of the steeple.
Gabriel skirts the massive bell hanging silently from the ceiling and begins the spiral descent into the church. He is amazed that Elias is able to fit through such a narrow space. The wooden steps creak as he leaps off the final step onto hard stone.
Light from the street is dimmed as it filters through the high windows along the sanctuary walls. Row after row of aged oak pews lead Elias and Gabriel to the front of the church.
Large rectangular stone bricks rise from the floor, creating a row of pillars and arches along the inner walls. Each key stone peaks at the top of the arch just below the balcony above. Woven tapestries drape from the balcony’s wrought iron railings. Vaulted ceilings rise high overhead. Intricate, detail work appears all around.
“Nice place,” Gabriel mutters, following Elias down the main aisle.
“Yes, much nicer since the renovations.” Elias pauses, staring up at one of the octagonal pillars at the front of the sanctuary. Gabriel follows his gaze, confused by his contemplative stare.
“Have you ever heard of Matthias Corvinus?” Elias asks, his voice oddly tense.
Gabriel’s brow furrows. “The last name sounds familiar. I think they made a movie about him. It was pretty good, too.”
Elias turns to gaze at him. “I do not speak of a character in a movie, Gabriel. I speak of the real man, of the king of Hungary and rumored associate of Dracula.”
Gabriel glances back up at the coat of arms displayed prominently on the pillar. “That’s his, right?”
“Yes.” Elias nods. “There are many theories about what happened between Matthias Corvinus and Vladimir, but one thing is very evident…their relationship did not end well.”
“Let me guess, old Corvinus died a rather gruesome death, care of one Vladimir Enescue.
”
“No,” Elias shakes his head, “his death was never understood. Some claimed he died of a stroke. Others claimed it was poison.”
“But you think Vladimir was behind it.”
Elias smiles. “That is what we are here to find out.”
With a rush of air, Elias rises from the floor. He hovers overhead, his wings barely beating as his fingers move along the inlaid crest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers before he slams his fist into the brick.
Mortar and dust cascade down on Gabriel. He shields his eyes from the falling debris. “Find anything?”
The floor quakes as Elias lands next to him. A tightly rolled scroll lies in his palm, coated with dust. “This is what we have been looking for. It would appear that the rumors are true. Vladimir really did carry a grudge against Corvinus.”
