The Vampire War

by Michelle Madow

  “Especially since you hate the wolves,” Stephenie spat. “The shifters killed the love of your life. Now you’re working with them. You’re even more disgusting than they are.”

  I flinched at the mention of the love of my life—she must be referring to the “Peter” that Noah had told me about.

  But I couldn’t let myself think about the man I didn’t remember. Right now, I could only think about the facts of why I was here.

  “Prince Alexander told both of you about the wolves’ visions of their Savior—he told all the citizens of the Vale,” I said. “He told you that if you didn’t leave, you would die. Yet, you remain here. Why?”

  Scott turned his nose up at me. “I can’t explain loyalty to someone who has none,” he said, his eyes empty and cold. “Right, sister?”

  Stephenie frowned, refusing to look at her brother. “No.” She sounded small and meek, despite her fancy gown and jewels. “Princess Karina may not be right in turning on her own kind, but you weren’t right in staying here, either. We should have gone with our brother. I didn’t go with him because I was afraid. But Alexander was right—it’s better to fear an uncertain future than to have no future at all.”

  I took a sharp breath inward, not having expected her to say that.

  Scott stood from his throne to tower in front of Stephenie. “What was that?” he seethed, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

  “We should have gone with Alexander.” She stared up at him defiantly. “More than that, we should have made Alexander the acting king—not you. Maybe if he’d been king, we wouldn’t be about to be ripped apart by wild animals.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, sister,” he said. “I have no intention of letting you be ripped apart by animals.”

  He raised his sword and ran it through her heart, pinning her to the back of her throne.

  The princess’s eyes glazed over, but she remained upright, her tiara still balanced perfectly on her head.

  Even in death, Stephenie was beautiful.

  Scott stepped away, although he left his sword where it was, sliced straight through his sister’s chest. “Well?” He turned to face me, raising an eyebrow. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to tell your dogs to rip my head off?”

  I didn’t bother giving the wolves the signal.

  Instead, I rushed for Scott and raised my sword, getting a clean strike through his neck.

  His head rolled to the ground, his body crumpling to the floor.

  I don’t know how long I stood there staring at him before someone took my hand in his. Noah.

  “You’re shaking,” he said, pulling me toward him.

  “You need to shift back to your wolf form,” I said, still staring at Scott’s remains. “You can defend yourself best in your wolf form.”

  “We’ve taken down all the guards in the palace.” He raised his hand to my face and forced me to look at him, his eyes deep and caring as he gazed into mine. “The vampires that remain are all cowering in their rooms, so there’s no more immediate threat. Right now, you need me—in my human form.”

  His lowered his lips to mine, and I melted into his kiss, squeezing my eyes shut and pulling him closer. I didn’t care that the other wolves were watching. I just kissed Noah like his touch could erase the horrors I’d helped create.

  It didn’t help. I wanted it to, but I felt nothing.

  I felt empty.

  What had I done?

  Annika

  “To get to the mountain, we’ll have to go through all the fighting in town,” Jacen said. “It would be much faster if you could teleport us there.”

  “I can try,” I said, although after my failed attempt to bring us to the palace, I wasn’t sure.

  “A wise man once said—do or do not, there is no try.”

  “Did you just quote Star Wars?” I chuckled, although my heart panged at the memory of my brother. Grant used to quote that exact same line.

  “You bet I did.” He stepped closer and took my hands in his. “Now, are you ready to do this?”

  “I am,” I said. “But there’s no place to hide at the top of the mountain. The moment we get there, we need to be ready to fight. Any delay could cost us our lives.”

  “Got it.” Jacen watched me intently, waiting for me to bring us there.

  I took a deep breath, not feeling ready in the slightest. Everything since the moment I’d killed Laila had happened so quickly that I’d barely had time to process what I was about to do. I was about to kill a demon.

  How could someone ever feel ready for that?

  Then I remembered what Rosella and Emmanuel had told me—this was my destiny. If a psychic vampire and an angel believed in me, then I must be able to do this. Plus, if I didn’t do this, the whole world would be at the mercy of the demons.

  I refused to let that happen.

  I pictured the top of the mountain—I’d only been there once, when Camelia had taken me to retrieve Geneva’s sapphire ring. The peak was above the tree line, so it was just a gaping cave amongst an endless amount of snow. I thought about how I wanted to transport us straight there, and how I couldn’t mess up—getting us there could mean the end of this war.

  My stomach dropped—I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get used to the sensation of teleporting—and the air around me became colder, the ground softer. Snow.

  I opened my eyes and saw two wolves running toward us. But we readied our weapons, and in seconds, the wolves were dead at our feet, the snow turning red from their blood.

  Slow clapping echoed from nearby.

  I spun around and saw a pale, frail girl with delicate features and long brown hair. She looked like a young teen. She wore the same animal pelt clothing as the wolves, and had a sword and dagger strapped to her sides.

  But she didn’t move to attack. She just tilted her head and gave us a close-lipped smile.

  “Samael,” I said, since I was truly speaking to the demon possessing her—not to the girl she truly was.

  “What?” Confusion passed over her features—if I didn’t know better, I would have believed that she didn’t know what I was talking about. “My name is Marigold.”

  “That might be Marigold’s body, but you’re Samael,” I said. “Emmanuel told me all about you before sending me here to end you. The game is up. It’s time for you to raise your sword and fight.”

  Her lower lip trembled, and she reached for her sword, clumsily pulling it out of its sheath. “I’m only a witch.” She held the sword with both hands, her arms shaking. “I don’t know how to fight.”

  “Save it,” I said, and I ran at her, using my sword to knock hers out of her hands.

  She fell to the ground and looked up at me in terror.

  I raised my sword, ready to kill her.

  Except that as I stood there, staring down at the helpless, shivering girl, I couldn’t. Yes, I knew it was an act—that Samael was controlling her and using her innocence to guilt me into not killing her. But Marigold was still in there. She’d never asked to be possessed by a demon. She was innocent—and she was so young. She should have her whole life ahead of her.

  She reminded me of myself a little over a year ago—when I’d been a helpless human at the mercy of the vampires who had kidnapped me to the Vale. Killing her like this—when she wasn’t fighting back—would be cold-blooded, heartless murder.

  She remained where she was, stark still in the snow, and started muttering under her breath.

  “What?” I leaned closer to make out what she was saying.

  She just smiled, reached for her dagger, and slashed it across her neck.

  “No!” I dropped my sword and kneeled down next to her, pressing my hands against the wound to try stopping the blood.

  But there was so much blood. It flowed and flowed, staining her clothes and the snow around her. Soon we were sitting in a puddle of it.

  Her breaths rattled, and she moved her lips, but she couldn’t speak. Instead, she gave
me one last smile. Then her head lolled back, her eyes glazing over.

  Dead.

  Suddenly, an explosion sounded from the vampire town.

  A well of blackness opened up, reaching up past the clouds. A shadow fell over the sun, making it look like night. It was so dark that the crickets started chirping and an owl hooted nearby.

  Gray shadows swirled up and out of the darkness. Wild, storming wind ripped through the air, and a chill traveled down to my bones.

  “The Hell Gate,” I said, horror shaking me to the core as I stared out at the black void. “It’s open.”

  Annika

  Jacen rushed to me and pulled me away from Marigold’s body.

  I hadn’t even remembered that I’d been holding her until she thumped to the ground. I was barely even aware of Jacen’s arms around me.

  All I could see were the demons bursting out of the Hell Gate.

  “Marigold’s blood,” Jacen said, looking down at the ground in horror.

  “What?” My eyes shot to his—how could he be struggling with bloodlust at a time like this?

  “Look at it,” he said, and I did.

  Wisps of smoke rose from the puddle of her blood. The blood itself was also changing color—from red to black.

  One of the gray shapes from the Hell Gate fell next to the blood. It was the size of a human—a very large human—and it materialized into a strong, tall man with dark brown hair and chiseled features.

  He would have been handsome if he didn’t radiate evil.

  He took a deep breath in, and the smoke from Marigold’s blood entered his mouth and nose. Once the final wisps disappeared inside of him, his eyes glowed red, and he smiled. His teeth were long and pointy—revulsion passed through me at the sight of them.

  “Damn.” He brought his hands together behind his back and cracked his spine, finishing it off with a final crack of his neck. “It feels good to have my body back.”

  “Samael,” I said his name darkly, the pit of despair in my chest growing larger with each second.

  “In the flesh.” He kicked Marigold’s corpse, sending it up and over the side of the mountain. “I traded up from that pathetic little witch, don’t you think? Actually, I don’t care what you think, since you—and your vampire boyfriend—are about to die.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and dove for my sword, but I wasn’t fast enough—Samael got it first.

  He brought it down toward me, but I rolled away before it could slice me in two. It cut into the ground instead.

  “Dammit!” he said, yanking the sword from the ground.

  Before he had a chance to swing again, Jacen was on him. He’d somehow gotten ahold of Marigold’s sword and was using it to hold Samael off.

  Which left only one available weapon nearby—Marigold’s dagger.

  The dagger she’d used to slice her throat and open the Hell Gate.

  I took the dagger and glanced back over at Jacen and Samael. Samael was larger than even Jacen, and the two of them were engrossed in a dangerous dance of sword fighting. They moved so fast that they would have been blurs to the human eye, but my angel sight could keep up with them just fine.

  Jacen was slowing down, but Samael looked just as energized as ever.

  I needed to do something. Now.

  I ran with the dagger in hand, ramming it straight through Samael’s back and into his heart.

  He froze, and I let go of the handle, taking a step back.

  I’d done it. I’d had to stab him in the back, but what did it matter how I’d killed him?

  All that mattered was that he was dead.

  But he delivered a blow to Jacen’s face that knocked him across the clearing, and he spun around to face me. His red eyes glowed, and he flashed me a creepy lopsided smile. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

  Then he pulled the dagger out of his back and threw it straight at me.

  I dashed out of the way, but the blade clipped the side of my arm, and I screamed.

  “Angel blood.” Samael took a deep breath in, smiled again, and licked his lips. “It always smells as fresh as the Garden of Eden. Especially baby angel blood.” He laughed, the emptiness of it sending shivers down my spine, and set the tip of the sword into the ground. He put some of his weight on it, standing there like a perverse circus ringleader. “What was Emmanuel thinking, sending a baby angel to kill me?” he asked, laughing again. “He must be desperate.”

  At the mention of Emmanuel, I remembered the last part of what he’d told me up in Heaven, when he was instructing me on how to kill Samael.

  Demons couldn’t be killed with a regular sword.

  I needed a sword that had been dipped in heavenly water. More specifically, I needed my sword that Emmanuel had dipped in the heavenly cloud.

  The sword that Samael was currently holding.

  It wasn’t going to be easy. But I had one advantage—Samael clearly underestimated me. Of course he did, after seeing how I hadn’t been able to kill Marigold. He thought I was weak. A “baby angel.”

  I would show him.

  And so, I stared at the spot right next to Samael, thinking about how much I wanted to be there instead of where I was currently standing across from him. I didn’t bother closing my eyes this time—I needed to be alert and ready.

  My stomach dropped, the world blurred around me, and a second later, I was next to Samael.

  I kicked the sword to knock it out of his hand, caught it in mine, and rammed it through his heart.

  His eyes met mine, and he disintegrated into ashes.

  Well, mostly into ashes. The only things remaining in the pile were his pointed, disgusting demon teeth.

  I plucked one of them of the ashes and shoved it into my pocket.

  “Why’d you take that?” Jacen stepped up next to me, glancing down at the teeth at our feet.

  “Proof that we killed him,” I said. “Not that it matters, since we failed.” I gazed out at the open Hell Gate, hopelessness sinking into my bones once more.

  Wherever the demons were going, I had no doubt that they would bring evil and darkness in their wake.

  At the thought of darkness, Rosella’s prophecy echoed in my mind. No matter what, we’ll end up with a different world—a dark world. But your decisions will determine how dark it’ll get.

  Was this what she’d meant? Had the Hell Gate always been fated to open, no matter what I’d chosen to do?

  The part about my decisions was the only thing giving me hope. Or perhaps that part had already come to pass when I’d been unable to kill Marigold.

  I’d had an important decision to make, and I’d chosen wrong.

  Now the entire world would pay for my mistake.

  “Maybe we didn’t fail.” Jacen’s voice pulled me out of my grim thoughts.

  “The Hell Gate is open,” I said. “How can we possibly fix this?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, and he took my hand, pulling me toward the Hell Gate. “But we owe it to ourselves—and the world—to go over there and try.”

  Camelia

  The Haven put me in a guest room while they were getting my permanent accommodation ready. The room was simple, and I mostly stayed inside of it, contemplating all my recent decisions. I also prayed for the Vale. What I’d told Alexander had seemed to get through to him, and I hoped with all of my being that he’d led as many citizens to safety as he could.

  Now, Mary led me through the luscious grounds of the Haven toward the cabin that would be my new home. The air here felt thicker and wetter than in the Vale, and there seemed to be a constant chorus of animals coming from the rain forest. I felt foreign—like an outsider who didn’t belong.

  I doubted I would ever get used to living here. How could this strange land ever feel like home?

  But I rested my hand on my belly, the motion bringing me peace.

  The safety of my child was more than worth this change.

  We walked along a row of cabins, and my stomach s
ank in disappointment. While the cabins appeared sturdy and well maintained, they were so small.

  Maybe these cabins were for the workers, and the larger accommodations were further out. That must be it. Surely a witch of my standing would be provided a larger living space than an average worker.

  “Here we are.” Mary stopped in front of a cabin that was the same size as all the others.

  I hid the horror from my face as I followed her up the steps. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful—after all, the Haven was doing me a courtesy by taking me in—but I also felt insulted.

  I prayed there was a spell around the cabins—something that made the interiors larger than the outsides appeared.

  Upon following Mary inside, it became apparent that there was no such spell. The inside of was just as confining as I’d dreaded. There weren’t even separate rooms—the bed was in a nook that could see straight into the living room and tiny kitchen.

  The few personal items that I’d brought in my suitcase had been placed on the kitchen counter.

  “You can put your belongings wherever you’d like,” Mary said. “The closets are filled with the uniform of the Haven, tailored to your size. The clothes you brought with you have been donated to charity, since you’ll have no need for them here.”

  My throat went dry as I looked around the cabin. My clothes were some of the few things I’d had from my life. Now they’d been taken from me, without my permission.

  As I looked around, I realized that this stark, confined space would never feel like home.

  “You look ill,” Mary observed. “Is everything all right?”

  No, everything most certainly was not all right. She might as well have just told me that I’d be living in a dungeon—prison uniform and all.

  But if I said that, she might kick me out of the Haven. Then I’d truly have no place to go.

  I had to tread cautiously—both for my sake and my child’s.

  “Is this size cabin typical for citizens of the Haven?” I tried to phrase the question in the most inoffensive way possible.