by Tessa Dawn
“I know the tunnel you speak of,” Marquis said. “It’s in the cavern we destroyed in our short battle with the Nistor brothers not so long ago.” Marquis’s lip turned up in a snarl as he remembered the night he had tracked Valentine to the sacrificial chamber.
It had been shortly after Nathaniel had discovered what had happened to Dalia, their youngest brother’s destiny. Nathaniel had searched the memories of his new mate, Jocelyn, only to discover the full extent of what Valentine had done to their family: He had kidnapped the destiny of Nachari’s twin and impregnated her. He had forced her to give birth to his own evil sons in a hideous ritual that caused her untimely death, ultimately causing Shelby’s death as well when the young vampire could no longer fulfill the demands of the Blood Curse.
Marquis had cornered Valentine in the chamber the same night, but before he could finish him off, Salvatore had shown up to save him, and then Nathaniel had joined in the battle, which only encouraged Zarek and Kagen to show up as well. The standoff had almost turned into a full-fledged vampire war, but luckily, Napolean had put an end to the skirmish before the entire valley could be destroyed, along with most of its human inhabitants. In any event, the sacrificial chamber had been all but destroyed in the process.
Valentine got what was coming to him, Nachari reminded Marquis.
Marquis shrugged. Yes, they had killed the evil scourge, but not before Shelby, Dalia, and even his innocent housekeeper, Joelle, had fallen victim to the maniacal vampire’s schemes.
Nathaniel placed a hand on Marquis’s shoulder, which Marquis abruptly shrugged off, a typical reaction that didn’t seem to insult Nathaniel one bit.
“Has anyone here ever explored the cliffs?” Julien asked, bringing Marquis back to the subject at hand.
One by one, the males shook their heads.
“Those corridors go down for miles,” Ramsey snorted.
“I always thought they were meant as safeguards, to trap and kill any females who tried to escape the chamber,” Santos added, standing up, his crystal blue eyes turning cloudy.
Julien shrugged. “But what if they’re not just straight, vertical corridors? What if they connect to—or lead to—somewhere else?” He picked up the pencil and began to trace a line across the map connecting the Red Canyons to the area Marquis had circled. “What if they lead to an underground passage?”
Napolean’s canines began to lengthen, and the males instinctively moved away from their fearsome leader, whose legendary power was enough to incinerate any of them right where they stood simply if he lost his temper and glared at them.
No one spoke a word for the next five minutes.
Finally, Julien continued: “To go from there”—he pointed to the Red Canyons—“all the way to here”—he pointed to the area circled by Marquis—“would require a virtual colony of tunnels.”
Nathaniel inhaled sharply.
“Holy. Shit.” Santos sat back down.
“Their lairs are right beneath us?” Ramsey asked, indignant. “How could they hide such a thing?”
Nachari frowned. “With enough diamond and crystal built into the walls—enough steel to enforce the chambers—they could completely block their energy. And that far underground? They could mask their presence from any of us.”
Napolean slammed his fist into the table, and all the males, save Marquis, literally leapt backward, exiting the room. “And our valley has more than enough of those resources.” He looked around the empty table and grumbled, “I’m fine.” He sighed. “Get back in here.”
Ramsey approached slowly and cleared his throat. “You okay, milord?”
Napolean frowned.
“Whatever gems we don’t have, they could manufacture,” Santos added.
Napolean pushed the map away and nodded. “And if they’ve been using diamonds to mask their presence, then we really have a problem.”
Ramsey nodded. “We can’t materialize down there.”
“If we really are going into an underground...colony”—he practically choked over the words, his eyes cloudy with skepticism—“we’ll have to go in through the tunnels, and only the gods know what we might be walking into. They’ll have security. Surveillance. And there could be—”
“Hundreds of them?” Nathaniel spoke the common fear aloud.
“Perhaps thousands,” Julien added, causing the entire room to blanch. “Think about it: Do you know how easy it would be for them to reproduce if they’ve been existing right under our noses, unchecked, for gods know how long?”
“Damn.” Nachari shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Do we need a larger army?”
Napolean frowned. “Absolutely not. The larger the team, the more likely we are to be detected, to have to engage the enemy. We don’t want an underground war, not in their territory or on their terms. They would pick us off like flies. No, this is reconnaissance only: Get in undetected; get to the princess; and get her out. And then, we can regroup, start thinking of ways to deal with this new threat. If, indeed, there is one.”
Marquis snarled. “We’re not going to get her away from Salvatore without a fight.”
“Of course not,” Napolean agreed. “We’ll have to make a few kills, but, warriors, we do not want to start a battle, understood?” He steadied his gaze at Marquis and then glanced at his watch. “It’s about ten-thirty now. It’ll be at least noon before we reach the target area, now that we know we’re going in on foot—”
“Blind,” Ramsey reminded him.
“One way or the other, we have to be out of there by sunset,” Napolean continued. “As it stands, we have the advantage: The vast majority of our dark brothers will be sleeping, and they cannot follow us out of the tunnels into the sunlight. But should the sun go down…”
Nachari rested his chin on his folded hands. “Then we’re all dead...and the princess is lost.”
Napolean nodded, and the room became silent, each male processing the new information.
Holy Pegasus, Marquis, Nathaniel said angrily. I’m not so sure I want Nachari going on this mission, after all.
Kagen chimed in from the other room, where he waited with the females; clearly, he had been listening to the entire discussion: Let me trade places with our youngest brother.
Nachari spun around and glared at Nathaniel. There’s no way in hell I’m staying here now! And Kagen, if you’re going to listen to everything, then why not just join us in the room?
Kagen materialized at Nachari’s side with a smirk on his face, and Marquis held up his hand to silence them both. Nachari is right; we need him. We’re walking into a den of Dark Ones, countless unknown traps, and a host of black magic. The first two threats we can combat; the last one…we need a wizard.
Napolean has powerful magic, Kagen insisted.
If the Dark Ones are living right beneath us and discover that our sentinels are in their territory—leaving Dark Moon Vale unprotected—then our females will be in more jeopardy than ever before, Kagen. We need a seasoned fighter with the women! Marquis was losing his patience. We have already lost one princess; I don’t want to have to go after another.
Nathaniel sighed then. Kagen, there is no one else I would leave Jocelyn and Storm with, especially knowing what we now know. Please, brother...
Marquis waved his hand to indicate that the discussion was over. His words were his brother’s law, and that was that.
Napolean turned to the sentinels, his countenance lacking his usual patience. “Let’s get working on a strategy.” He glanced at the window. “Because as it stands, brothers, we’re burning daylight.”
fifteen
The males surveyed the oddly-shaped underground cavity in silence. Having entered the mountain beneath a thin, arched doorway at the back of the Red Canyon cliffs, just beyond a waterfall, they had followed the familiar limestone tunnels to their destination: the ruined sacrificial chamber of the Dark Ones.
Marquis watched as Nachari moved about the cavern, gathering and reading energy. When hi
s little brother’s eyes scanned the ancient limestone birth-slab, he knew exactly what he was thinking of: Shelby and Dalia. The last place his twin’s destiny had lain before her brutal death. To his credit, he betrayed no emotion. His deep jade eyes simply regarded all of the damage to the gigantic chamber with cool objectivity.
While several of the white limestone columns still stood like statues, randomly erected about the chamber, the ceiling of the cave had collapsed in on itself, scattering jagged pieces of stalactites about in hazardous piles of debris. The smell of blood still mixed with the musty scent of sulfur in the stagnant pond at the back of the cave, and two of the three, low-lying ledges that led to the steep cliffs remained intact.
Napolean gathered the males at the rim of the eastern-most ledge. “Marquis, Julien, Ramsey, and Nachari: I want you to split up into one team and take the eastern tunnel. You are to proceed in the order I have called you, and as the senior warrior of the team, Marquis will be in command.” He glanced at the remaining vampires. “Myself, Nathaniel, Santos, and Saxson will descend the western cliff and proceed parallel to the first team.” It went without saying that Napolean would lead the western charge. “From this point on, maintain cloaked appearances and speak only with telepathy.”
The males nodded in unison. So be it.
With that, Napolean and the second team dematerialized.
Marquis waved his warriors close, carefully eyeing the males on his team. They were each dressed in black fire-retardant leather with diamond-inset collars around their necks, wrists, and ankles to help maintain their invisibility as they approached the Dark Ones. While vampires could easily cloak their personas from humans, other Nosferatu—especially those who were ancient—could easily pick up on subtle shifts in the energy field around them, or measure slight variations of temperature in a cold room to detect the presence of a warm body. The diamond collars would block infrared detection and provide a secondary barrier from energetic projection.
Julien shifted his taut, muscular frame, twitching in anticipation as he fingered the edge of his M4-carbine and deftly slid the handle of a time-worn battle ax into the palm of his hand. The others followed suit, adjusting sickles, spiked bolas, nine millimeters, and one AK-47, along with numerous hidden daggers for hand-to-hand combat. While guns were virtually useless when used by humans against vampires—the species was simply too fast to hit—all bets were off when they fought each other: Bullets had their use as a tactical decoy, and fired in rapid enough succession, they could stun an enemy long enough for another vampire to step in and take the head or heart.
Marquis balled his right hand into a fist, testing the perfect fit of his ancient cestus, the gladiator version of brass knuckles, which employed sharp iron spikes as opposed to hard brass for impact. The leather was dyed a dark inky brown, from all of the blood that had seeped into it over the years, and the fit had become like a second hand. His steel-toed boots had matching spikes along the toe and heel, and there was hardly a square inch of his body that didn’t conceal an easily accessible stiletto or throwing star.
When Ramsey pulled out a three-pronged, barbed trident, Marquis blanched and stepped back. What the hell, Ramsey!
Ramsey smiled and shrugged, his golden eyes lighting with mischief. The weapon was too large and cumbersome for Marquis’s taste, but Ramsey could wield the thing like a switch-blade, and one good stab from a trident could tear an enemy’s torso in half, extracting the vital organs in one blow. The sentinel was known for his ruthlessness and strength.
Do you have something special, too? Marquis asked sarcastically, eyeing Nachari.
Nachari opened his long, flowing trench coat to reveal a simple medieval scabbard sheathing a perilously-sharpened sword, always good for beheading. Not to mention, Nachari had taken a special interest in fencing while at the Romanian University. That and a curved sickle, which he deftly maneuvered like an extension of his own hand, were typically his weapons of choice.
Marquis rolled his eyes. Wizards!
The other males chuckled, releasing some nervous energy as they stepped off the ledge and began floating downward, a slow descent into the pitch-black precipice. While their eyes adjusted instantly to the darkness, the going was slow because they had no idea what they were heading into. The smell of sulfur and wet earth grew stronger as they went deeper, and the air grew colder as they passed several clusters of bats and other strange troglophiles.
Nachari winced as he flicked a strange insect off his jacket only to come face to face with an albino-looking reptile with no eyes. What the hell—
Welcome to subterranean life, Julien teased.
As they passed the one-mile mark in depth, Julien’s light-hearted countenance became all at once serious. This isn’t natural, he commented to no one in particular.
Marquis slowed to a halt and ran his hands against the shaft wall. Julien, come feel this.
The tracker shook his head in disgust as he ran his hand against the smooth, precise surface. Man-made.
Vampyr-made to be precise, Ramsey countered. Those sons-of-hyenas built this place. It must have taken—
Centuries, Julien supplied.
Nachari held up his hand. Yes, they did, and the deeper we go, the more I’m beginning to feel the influence of magic in the architecture.
Meaning what? Marquis asked.
Meaning there are energetic booby-traps in the cave walls.
Napolean’s psychic voice joined the conversation from the western shaft. There are kinetic trip-wires, if you will, all around us. In other words, don’t touch anything as we descend further.
Marquis nodded. Understood. He gave his little brother a separate nod of approval.
The next two miles went painstakingly slow as the shaft occasionally narrowed into a tube so small only one male could fit at a time. As they slowly passed mile number three, they began to hear a distant clip-clop, clip-clop coming from several different directions.
Footsteps? Julien asked.
Marquis nodded and held up his hand to still the warriors. Napolean, what do you see over there?
We’re approaching an entrance. It looks like an arched doorway, leading off into a westerly direction.
Marquis looked off to the east and noticed the same thing—a horizontal corridor leading into the mountain.
Sentinels at two-o’clock! Napolean’s harsh voice snapped them all to attention.
I’ve got them in my sights, Nathaniel assured his Sovereign from the westerly tunnel, no doubt referring to the sight on his favorite semi-automatic weapon, a polished, nine-millimeter Beretta.
Good, Napolean said. Fire only at my command. He turned his attention back to the males in the eastern tunnel. Marquis, these entry points will lead us in opposite directions. Where do you sense the princess?
Marquis stilled his mind and began to concentrate, using his finely-honed senses. He followed the essence of Ciopori’s life as it ran through his own veins. The pulse grew steadily stronger and stronger, like a radio wave, a central beacon leading into the mountain. She’s definitely east, he said.
Napolean sighed. Very well. We are going to take out these guards, enter from the western vantage, and as soon as possible, try to make our way over to your team. Keep going. We’ll catch up to you as soon as we can.
Very well. Marquis waved his warriors forward. Stay in tight formation.
Julien palmed his battle ax as they made their way into the vertical shaft. And then all at once, the warriors heard distinct voices:
“With Valentine gone, both Demitri Zeclos and Milano Marandici are battling for his seat on the council,” a deep male voice echoed from inside the corridor.
“Yeah, so I hear,” a younger male answered. “If you ask me, Valentine never belonged on the council to begin with. He was only there because of his brother.”
“Salvatore.”
“Exactly.” The younger male laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, Valentine was definitely twisted enough to do the whole pol
itical office gig, but he was straight-up incapable of leading, know what I’m sayin’?”
The older male cleared his throat, hawked, and spat. “Didn’t have the patience for it.”
The second male snarled, “Who the hell would? I sure wouldn’t want to spend all my nights locked up in some freaky council room with a bunch of pissed-off ancients. Good way to lose your head, if you ask me.”
Sneaking up behind the younger male, Marquis swung one arm around the vampire’s chest and held his head steady, using the other arm as a vise. He swiftly slit his throat from ear to ear. “And this is also an excellent way,” he whispered.
The older male lunged at Marquis, his jagged canines exploding from his mouth, but not before Ramsey caught him dead-center with the trident—plunging, twisting, and retracting in one smooth motion. The male’s innards fell to the floor as the top half of his body severed from the bottom.
Bleed them out, Marquis commanded, knowing full well that both males were still alive and could still regenerate with a powerful injection of vampire venom. Who knew how many of their brothers were just around the corner.
Nachari slit both wrists of the older male vertically before turning his attention to the popliteal artery next. With cool precision, he sliced a lethal gash in both of the vampire’s thighs. Just as quickly, Julien crouched down and sliced the jugular of the male Ramsey had taken down.
Marquis probed the Dark Ones’ minds, searching for information about Ciopori. Gossip, innuendo; that was all he could find, a quickly spreading rumor that Salvatore Nistor had captured one of the original females and was keeping her in his private lair. Marquis withdrew enormous blocks of information from each male’s mind, one at a time; then he swiftly sorted through the knowledge in order to acquire a firsthand blue-print of the colony. He needed a mental map of the halls leading to Salvatore’s private chamber.
Good gods, he exclaimed as the information unraveled. There is an entire ...organized... civilization down here!
The colony was built in a huge three-story circle, the east quadrants flowing under Dark Moon Vale, the centers existing directly beneath the Red Canyons, the remaining quadrants extending to the west—where the sons of Jadon had believed, all of this time, that the Dark Ones kept their lairs: haphazardly carved out of caves or empty mine shafts.
