by Kim Faulks
“Skills as in biting, drinking, leaving for dead?” I murmured. “Please be a little more specific.”
He seemed to pale in the silver glow of the moon. “Never mind.”
The night had a heartbeat of its own, ticking like a countdown—I glanced at the mortal beside me and couldn’t shake the feeling…was it to Samson’s death?
No.
There was no Doc to save him this time, and no Eva to bring him back from eternal darkness. There was only me…I clenched my grip on the hilt of my sword.
My sword. My determination.
The mortal wouldn’t die. I wouldn’t let that happen.
A heavy thud thumped in my chest. He was the only one that brought that dead muscle to life. I fought the urge to touch, to kiss…to have his body warm against mine, and the throb pulsed, driving cold black blood through these veins.
Samson followed, and then matched my stride. He shoved through the glass door and held it open while I entered. The elevator lights glowed neon in the gloom. I strode to the bank of doors and pressed the button.
I stared at the criss-crossed holsters across his chest. Muscles bulged, tensing as he moved. He was packed to the hilt with two Sig Sauers and a semi-automatic.
The Commander made no noise until the ding of the elevators. “They’re ready, aren’t they?”
“They’re ready.”
The elevator doors slid open. He waited for me to move. “And this connection you have with the Queen. Nothing can stop that, right?”
I turned my head as he entered behind me. “You mean short of me losing my head?”
His finger hovered mid-air for a second before he reached toward the lighted panel. “Yeah, I guess. Just try not to do that, okay?”
That throb flared, pulsing deep. He cared.
Samson stabbed the button for level twelve with one hand, keeping the semi-auto at his side, and the elevator doors slid closed. My muscles tightened, tendons pulled taut with the slow ride. I took a swift step to the side as the elevator slowed and the doors opened. But he was already moving, raising the firearm high, sight aimed at the center of the opening, and then scanning the full 180 degrees in front of us.
He moved like a warrior, stepping out of the elevator, moving fast to clear the way. I gripped the hilt of my sword and followed, leaving the elevator doors to close behind us with a whoosh.
A set of stainless double doors waited at the end of the foyer. I followed the shine all the way to the ceiling as Samson lowered the muzzle of his weapon. He glanced over his shoulder and fear shone bright in his eyes.
I dragged the sword free and spun the hilt.
The honed blade cut the air with barely a whisper.
The steel was firm and light in my grip as Samson lifted his hand to the door handle.
My throat tightened. Panic raced.
That cold, heavy muscle in my chest gave a shudder.
And in that second I knew how those I’d cut down had felt.
This…fear was suffocating. My hand trembled. My will was weak.
Fear raced through these dried, collapsed veins and found a home in the center of my chest.
But it wasn’t my life I cared for.
It wasn’t my blood I was terrified to see.
I shifted my gaze as Samson twisted the handle and pushed.
The lock clicked, and the door swung inward.
For a second, I couldn’t move. My feet were nailed to the spot as the Commander lifted his weapon and stepped inside.
My frigid heart lunged and slammed against the inside of my ribs. I drove my boot into the floor and pushed forward.
Our steps echoed along the hall as it opened up to an expansive room.
And at the end of that room sat a man behind a sleek glass desk. He lifted his head at the sound of our entrance and waited.
There were doors to the right and left behind him. But there were no Lowest Kynd to welcome us, and no sign of Alpha’s father.
“Welcome,” he called. “Come.”
I dragged in air and scented mortal. His pulse was slow, easy…no hint of fear or excitement. His gaze flicked to me, and give a quick scan. There was darkness in that look, a cruelty I knew all too well.
“I see you’ve brought company.”
“You said no Guardians…” Samson growled, and scanned the doorway behind this piece of shit.
“So I did,” he murmured.
He waited like a god. But this man was no god.
He was nothing.
A mere mortal.
A king upon a throne of glass.
One crack. One blow, and he’d be sliced apart.
The Commander moved forward and stopped just short of the desk. “You went to great lengths to get me here.” A darkness filled the Commander’s voice as he raised the muzzle of his weapon. “Threatened my family, and hurt my men. I’m giving you two seconds before I put a round between your fucking eyes and call this done.”
There was nothing. No hint of fear, not even when the red laser sight bounced off the mortal’s forehead.
“Not so fast, Commander. You’ll recall that your men are still alive, and your family is unharmed.”
“No for want of trying, though, right?” Samson’s focus was rock steady.
The red laser barely moved as his finger slipped from the trigger guard and eased around the trigger.
“You think if we wanted them dead, they wouldn’t already be six feet under?” Anger seeped into his words. “They’re alive because we allow it. The same way as we let you walk in here unharmed…you and your…” his gaze drifted to me, “friend.”
“Who the fuck are you, and what the Hell do you want?” Samson growled.
Our ‘interviewer’ gave a slow shake of his head. “Who I am is of little importance. As for what I want, I want your men, Samson…I want you.” There was a twitch in the corner of one of his eyes. “I want you to choose the winning side and become the greatest soldiers who ever walked this earth.” He inhaled deeply. “But I must admit they are impressive, aren’t they?”
“Who?”
“The Guardians,” his words were slippery against my skin as he focused on me. “And that Shadistin bitch.”
My stomach tightened. My fist strangled the hilt of my blade, until something slick wound around my feet, and wound its way up my side, like an unseen tendril.
“I bet she’s delicious, just like this one.”
My lips trembled as a hiss slipped free. I wanted to lunge and ram the point of my blade through his goddamn heart. But I was frozen with fear, held down by unknown hands.
I tried to move, tried to swing my weapon high, tried to spear the blade through the air and kill this goddamn witch. “Don’t listen to him, Samson.”
Agony bloomed, tearing through my head. My grip slipped on the blade’s handle, and the room spun. Something was very wrong here…something…
Eva! Fresh agony filled me. Eva!
There was nothing but silence. Nothing but emptiness. “Samson.”
“Your girlfriend’s in a bit of pain, Commander,” the bastard murmured as the door on the right opened behind him.
Footsteps sounded. Slow, light on one side with a limp on the other. Like he was hurt…recently. My lips curled, and a sickening sound slipped free. But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop the one vein of hate that seeped from me as the betrayer…the weak bastard, Austine, stepped from the doorway.
He glanced at the Commander with the weapon’s sight aimed in the middle of his companion’s forehead, and then turned his head to me. “Annabelle.”
“You filthy fucking swine. I’m going to kill you, Austine. I’m going to cut that undead heart from your chest and give to my Queen as a gift.”
He flinched at the words, then cold words slithered from his lips. “Prince Austine. I still carry the bloodline, even if it is a fucking joke.”
I sucked in hard breaths, heaved my foot, and felt the weight crush down. Every jerk of my body, every wave o
f rage, tightened those invisible bonds around me.
I stood in quicksand. One I couldn’t fight. One I couldn’t see.
I turned inward, past the struggle and the fight, to the quiet depths of my mind, where the connection to my Queen lived, and tried once more. EVA!
The words echoed, bouncing back from the emptiness of my mind. There was no answer, no flare of recognition, no life that I could feel. I was screaming down a one-way connection, one that left us alone, and vulnerable. “Samson.”
My whisper drew the Commander’s gaze. He slowly turned his head, keeping his weapon aimed at the bastard’s head. Rage and hopelessness filled me. I gave a tiny shake of my head.
We were on our own, with a weapon in my hand and the face of the betrayer in sight. And there was nothing I could do about it. No words I could whisper. No sword that could slice.
“You see, we asked you here to make you an offer, Commander.”
The unnamed growled, and turned his head to see the spineless sonofabitch Austine.
“We wanted you to join the ranks of our men. We wanted you to lead them, to hone them, to bring the sense of loyalty in our men that we see in yours. That was our first desire. The other, well, I must admit it’s petty and childish.”
He rose from his seat as the door to the left opened, and the stench of sulfur and rage billowed out.
“We wanted you to know who you were up against,” the unnamed piece of shit finished. “And introduce ourselves. We are the Shadow Government, and your world, Commander, as you know it, will fall.”
Flames leapt from the palm of this new contender. He was big, thick shoulders and muscled arms. Flames danced in his eyes, the same hungry orange tongues that speared hungry tongues from his palm.
I knew what he was, knew without looking into his eyes.
“Commander Marks, I’d like to introduce Prince Austine of the former Shadistin Clan, and Blaze, the leader of the Hell’s Gate Hellhounds.”
“Hellhound?”
The word slipped from Samson, and this time the muzzle of his weapon wavered.
The Hellhound leader strode in, joining Austine to stand behind the nameless bastard. Footsteps approached, slow, slight, like they were taking their time.
A low moan followed, painful and pathetic, caught between a whimper and a snarl. I tried to turn my head, tried to fight these bonds that held me.
But the more I moved, and the harder I fought, the tighter they wound. The cruel grip clamped bonds around my chest, and speared tendrils along my spine.
“Samson,” a hiss of my breath formed the words. “Run, leave…”
“It’s far too late for that.”
Power rippled with those words.
Power like I’d never felt.
Power that stole the words from my mouth and the breath from my lungs.
Power that shuddered the floor under my feet.
Power that made me weak.
“Yes, it’s far too late.”
A moan followed, gaining substance, until the brittle whimper broke. There was a scuff of something against the ground. The dark shape was a blur, hurling through the air to fall at my feet. Blood filled the air, blood and piss and filth.
The human was nothing more than a mess. Busted eyes, swollen and bruised face. He cradled one hand in his other. His fingers were broken, pointing at unnatural angles.
He was human.
And he was alive.
That was all I could distinguish.
“Clark…Clark Slater?” Samson asked.
“What’s left of him, anyway,” the rolling thunder answered.
I closed my eyes to that sound and my mind to the horror that followed.
Blood called to blood.
Terror to terror.
Hate to hate.
Shadows clung to him as the maker of all makers stopped in front of me and looked at the mess of blood and bones at his feet. Darkness was a suit of honor, hate a shroud of perfect. The name slipped from my lips, calling forth the very essence of who I was. “Acheron.”
He lifted his head and everlasting death resided in those cold, bottomless eyes. His gaze drifted over my body, and I knew now—knew where those unseen tendrils had come from—him.
“I created the most powerful Vampire in history and what does she do? She sends me a child?”
He moved in an instant, covering the distance between us. His hand went around my throat. Bones crunched, filling my head with the sickening sound. My feet left the floor, my hand left the sword. The sharp clatter of steel on the stony floor echoed as my death raged in his eyes.
There was no warrior strong enough.
No Queen powerful enough.
Not to save me, or bring me back from the final death. The veins pulsed, filling my head with the heavy beat. I came to kill. I came to care.
I came to defend, but I couldn’t even defend myself. No one could.
The semi-auto clattered to the ground. The blur of movement so fast I lost sight. Darkness seeped into the edges, until the shine of light bounced against the steel.
Samson pressed the muzzle of the Sig against the temple of my maker’s maker—and this time he didn’t shake.
“Tell the snack to drop his gun, or I'll shove it up his ass,” Acheron hissed, his gazed fixed on mine.
I kicked, tearing my foot free from the unseen hold.
“The snack is telling you to put her down. Now, this might not do the damage I want it to, but you can bet your ass this .357 cartridge is gonna give you a damn headache, and I brought plenty to share around.”
The brutal sound that slipped from Acheron’s lips reeked of anger and disappointment.
“Now you put her down nice and slow, and then step the fuck away.”
Surprise glinted like cold, icy shards. The grip around my neck eased as Acheron lowered me to the floor. “You surprise me, Commander,” the Original Vampire growled. “I could do with a man like you, human or otherwise…I’ll let you leave here…and take these two vermin with you.”
He turned his head and stared into the muzzle of the Sig aimed in the middle of his forehead. “But you can guarantee this isn’t finished. I want you on my team…now, I prefer alive…and, unchanged. But I’m not picky, and I always get my way. So you run along now. Hurry back to the bitch I made, and you give her a message from me. You tell her, one way or another I’m putting a baby in her belly, and this time there’ll be no goddamn Guardian to stand in my way.”
My knees buckled as I hit the ground. But the Commander was there, wrapping his arm around my waist, and pulling me close against his body. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Lean on me. I’ve got you.”
The mess of blood and bones moved, crawling onto mangled hands and knees. He whimpered and wept, leaving a puddle of blood and fluid on the floor.
The sharp scent of urine hit me. I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but grip the warm arm around me and hold on.
14
Samson
The elevator door pinged. I gripped Annabelle with one hand and Alpha’s father with the other. Both weighed me down, leaving the door to begin to close before we could get inside.
I growled, shoved my foot in the way of the sliding door and waited for the damn thing to open back up. I shot a panicked glance over my shoulder to the wide-open doors and the slick sheen of blood Alpha’s father had left behind.
“Can you make it?”
He lifted his head, the peek of a pupil shone between the tiny slits of one eye. “Help her,” Clark whispered. “I’ll make it.”
Annabelle’s head lolled to one side. There were no darkened patches around her neck, nothing but the indents of that sonofabitch’s hand. Vampire or not, that piece of shit was going to fucking pay. But right now, getting us out of here alive was the only thing I focused on.
Annabelle thrust a hand in front of the door. Her feet barely moved, dragging more than stepping, and she toppled into the elevator.
I
let her go, bending to try to grip someplace on Alpha’s father that wasn’t weeping or broken. “Jesus, what did they do to you?”
He lifted his head, staring almost sightlessly at me as I heaved him inside, and for a second, part of me wanted to steal back those words. “Too much,” he whispered.
The elevator doors closed, yet my heart still pounded, lunging against the confines of my damn ribs. We were out of there…and alive…for now. The three of us huddled, man, soldier and Vampire.
Fear knew no difference as we took the slow ride down.
Lights blinked above as we passed floors five…four…three…My stomach tensed, the weapon in my hand the only protection we had—even that was useless.
I reached for Annabelle and she gave a small shake of her head. “Better,” she wheezed. “He needs you more.”
Busted fingers and torn skin filled my view as Clark threw his arm around my neck and moved in close. I held my Sig in one hand, and Alpha’s dad in the other. But my focus was on the Vampire at my side.
She moved with us as the elevator doors opened, slow and steady. Her voice a whisper. “They’re waiting outside.”
The harsh glare of headlights filled the foyer. I’d never seen anything so goddamn beautiful in all my life. The black Explorer’s rear doors were thrown open, and bodies spilled onto the sidewalk.
They moved fast, Alpha, Gunny, and Ace leading the charge as they shoved through the swinging glass doors with weapons raised high until they saw it was only us.
Alpha’s focus stilled on the man in my arms. He lowered his Glock and then holstered it. “Dad? Jesus…Dad, is that you?”
My heart clenched with his shattered words. He took a step, gaze scanning the visibly broken bones, torn skin, and busted and bruised…everything. The Marine lifted a hand, wanting to touch, wanting to hold, but unsure how to hold, or how to comfort.
“It’s okay,” the man slumped against me wheezed. He took a step, and then another, forcing shaking legs to move as he made for his son.
Alpha slid one arm around his dad’s shoulders, the other went under his knees.
He swept the man from his unsteady feet and carried him like a child through the door Gunny held open.
