The Vampire Gift 4: Darkness Rising

by E. M. Knight

  I felt entirely discombobulated.

  The hooded vampires paid me no attention. In fact, they behaved as if I wasn’t there at all. Yet I knew that they knew, for they did not once turn their heads my way so I could glimpse inside their cowls.

  They were determined, it seemed, to maintain their secrecy.

  I could not tell what profane ritual I had stumbled upon. And I knew better than to interfere. The children were all dead. Besides, their fates were sealed the day they landed in their steel cages.

  So I started to turn away, when a lone figure caught my eye.

  She had been invisible before. Or maybe I was just so consumed by the spectacle going on before me that I did not chance to see her.

  My unnamed teacher. The sordid witch.

  She was bound and her clothes were in tatters. For the first time, I saw how thin, how frail her body was. She had angry red welts running all over her skin—evidence of long-since healed cuts.

  Parts of her body were covered in dried blood. Her lower lip was badly swollen. She had a bruise developing under one eye. Her hair—which was never perfect—was now a complete, chaotic, utter mess.

  She looked like hell.

  At the same moment I noticed her, her eyes found me. They widened in sudden fear. She started to shake her head, desperately.

  She mouthed the word, “Run.”

  But where would I go? The Red Keep had no exit. I grappled with the conundrum at blistering speed. I might not have cared for the children. But I wanted to save her.

  Yet what could I do against so many vampires? They still hadn’t deemed me worthy of notice. They still flung the bodies into the fire with calm indifference.

  A hand suddenly clamped over my mouth.

  I jumped, and then I fought. I struggled and squirmed and kicked to get away. But whoever was holding me had an iron grip—and an icy cold hand.

  “Be still, little one,” a voice—a female voice—whispered in my ear. “It’s time to see what your training has gifted you.”

  And she released me.

  I burst free, staggered, and spun around.

  My eyes fell on the one vampire I would eventually learn to trust.

  My eyes fell on Beatrice.

  Of course, I did not know her name at the time.

  Her eyes went to the witch. She, too, did not seem keen to interrupt the ritual going on in the middle. But that did not mean we lacked our own battles to be fought.

  Beatrice floated to the other woman. In a flash, she had her on her feet, with a fist tangled in her hair.

  The witch did not fight the vampire. She was just going along.

  Beatrice brought her close. None of the others paid us any attention. “So, she is the one the King commanded to teach you, hmm?” Beatrice wondered. “I’m curious to see how much her tutelage has wrought.” She twisted her hand, and the witch squirmed in pain. “Well then, go on. Use your magic. Free her.”

  I was baffled. This was a test? But everything I’d learned, everything I’d done, every spell I’d cast and all incantations I’d mustered had occurred in the comfort of that secret room. The magical energies were strong there, and so they were mine to command.

  Here? Here, I could not feel so much as a whiff.

  “No?” Beatrice asked. “How sad. Maybe you need some more… motivation.”

  With that, she slashed a long cut down the witch’s body.

  The witch gasped in pain. Beatrice let her go, and she fell to her knees. The cut was bleeding, the blood soaking her dirty rags. It ran from just beneath her neck all the way to her naval. I did not think it was deep, but it was viscous enough to make blood gush out.

  “So?” Beatrice asked. “Heal her.”

  I stared, lost, frightened, unsure of what to do. On a desperate whim, I reached out for the Elemental Seals.

  They were hidden from me.

  “How quaint,” Beatrice murmured. “Your teacher lies dying on the floor, and you do nothing to save her.” She shook her head. “I’d say you did not receive very good training.”

  I could not just watch. I took a step forward, not thinking—and Beatrice was at my side in the blink of an eye.

  “You mustn’t approach,” she whispered in my ear, holding me tight. The witch continued to bleed on the ground. “Nothing physical can save her now. It is only the power that you wield that can prove her salvation.”

  I tried to break free. Beatrice held me tight. “No,” she hissed. “Only your magic, you must use your magic, show me what you can do!”

  The sight before me was pitiful. The woman, the witch, had collapsed on her chest. She was face-down in a pool of her own blood, and the pool was growing bigger by the second.

  Even if I were in the chamber, even if I could summon the forces, what could I do? The spells I’d been taught did nothing to heal. In fact, I didn’t even know if magic could heal!

  “I can’t,” I said, through gritted teeth. My voice turned desperate. “Don’t do this. Don’t let her die. Please.”

  “My, my,” Beatrice murmured. “What a disappointment. You want her to live? Only you can affect things, then. So do it!” She pressed her claws into my shoulder. “Do it! Cast the spells, use your magics, heal her!”

  “I… cannot.” I grunted. My eyes filled with tears from the pain erupting in my shoulder, from my inability to help the witch. “I cannot! Please, please, you mustn’t let her die!”

  Beatrice released me and shoved me away. I stumbled and fell. “Pitiful,” she said. “Don’t you know that vampires are the harbingers of death?”

  And she fell upon the witch and latched her mouth onto her neck and drank the blood pouring from the broken vein until all that remained of my teacher was an empty bodily husk.

  The sight was horrible. The feeding, grotesque. It was nothing like the exalted ceremony I had witnessed before and yearned to be a part of. This was dirty and visceral and raw, and wrong. So, so wrong.

  When she was done, Beatrice stood up. Her mouth and chin were covered in blood.

  She looked at me and smiled. Two fangs shone in the faint light.

  I turned to the side and vomited.

  Beatrice laughed. “So your teacher has failed you,” she said. “Just as in her hour of need you have failed her. A shame. We were expecting more.”

  And then, a silent figure moved out from the shadows. I had not noticed him there before.

  My father, the King.

  He sneered at me. “Weak,” he said, passing judgment. “My son is weak.”

  And that was the last time he ever acknowledged me as his own.

  ***

  In the aftermath, Dagan took me in and began to train me, as he did with all the First Guard recruits. I was soon made complete in my transformation as a vampire. I was one of them, but I was of the lowest class. I was brought out from the Red Keep and introduced to my new life as the weakest member of The Crypts.

  None spoke to me again of The Spark. And after seeing my teacher ruthlessly murdered, I did all that I could to distance myself from the ability. After all, I was a vampire now. Did not my new powers grant me what I had always truly wanted?

  Yet I found life vastly less glamorous than I’d imagined. I was rudely introduced to the vampire hierarchy and found myself stuck at the very bottom. The great feasts that took place once a month were barred to me. I was given trifling amounts of blood, barely enough to quell my appetite, and otherwise drilled and trained in the ways of all the other members of The Crypt’s militia.

  What I quickly discovered, however, was that I had not the knack for combat. My delicate, feminine structure left me a poor fighter. And our leader, the massive, strong vampire who had been tasked with watching over me, showed nothing but the utmost disdain for everything I tried.

  Dagan was not a fan of mine. And I, in turn, tried my best to squash the irredeemable feelings that his presence never failed to evoke.

  It was a long time before I found the freedom to pursue magic agai
n. A long time with plenty of trials and uncountable errors…

  ***

  I stop. I shiver from all the memories. I hadn’t thought that far back in ages. And to think—Beatrice was there when the King actually disowned me. She was there, and she witnessed the event!

  And now, she wants me to somehow reverse that and show Logan that I am a son worth acknowledging?

  It is an impossible task. It is a task with no possible good outcome. But, if it will grant me Beatrice’s help…

  Well, I would do anything for Dagan. And right now, he needs me most.

  So, swallowing all of my much-misguided pride, I take the next left and begin the long, solemn march to the King’s chambers.

  To my father’s chambers.

  Chapter Eight

  ELEIRA

  NEAR THE BORDER OF THE HAVEN

  A dark shiver passes through me as we cross the border into The Haven.

  Raul notices. He immediately looks my way. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I shake it off. “I think it’s the residue of the wards. I can feel a part of them still in the air.” I rub my arms and look around the deserted woods. “At least, I hope that’s what it is.”

  “The Ancient’s blood has made you even stronger,” Raul says, with a calculated look at James. “If your senses became even more extensive...”

  Suddenly he grins. “Well, let’s just say I’m glad you’re on our side.”

  I have to smile at that.

  “Look, while I appreciate the camaraderie,” James grumbles, “it’s not getting us where we need to be any faster.” He shakes his head, and, for what must be the dozenth time, mutters, “I still can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  I look back at him. He’s still a ways off from us. Over his shoulders are two thick ropes, tied to a make-shift litter. The ropes Raul found from the abandoned human village. The litter, James and I made.

  To say that it felt strange working together on such an… ordinary… task would be the understatement of the year.

  On the litter, being dragged over the uneven earth, are the fifteen bodies of James’s would-be coven members.

  Their condition hasn’t improved—but neither, thankfully, has it gotten any worse.

  I realized at some point during our collaboration on the litter that while I harbor tons of ill-will toward James, I shouldn’t mistakenly direct it at his… creations. Even if he won’t tell me or Raul a thing about them—who they are, how they found him, why they’re all men—I still realize their allegiance to James does not mean they’re guilty of the same things he is.

  And maybe it’s the vestige of softness from my human heart, but I cannot simply look away while others suffer. The corruption marring their skin reminds me uncomfortably of the darkness around Raul’s former wound. It’s not exactly the same… but it’s close enough.

  The Narwhark and the evil weapon must be connected, in some way, drawing on the same source of dark, tainted magic. Or maybe there is only one source of magic, and they are the instrument that taints it. Or maybe—

  I stop myself with a rough shake of the head. No use contemplating things I have no control over. The one thing I know is that we have to get to the stronghold, revive Morgan, and hopefully rely on her knowledge, wisdom, and experience to save these fifteen men.

  It seems a small task in the face of everything else coming our way, but to me, these fifteen lives matter. Even though I know logically it’s not my fault, the weight of all the deaths in the attacks on The Haven is heavy on my shoulders. If I had done something different, if I had been a tiny bit braver, or smarter, maybe… maybe fewer vampires would have died. Maybe more villagers would still be alive today.

  I mean, I have all these powers. I have the blood of The Ancient, the strength of a vampire, the magic of a witch. I have all of them, and how have they helped me? How have I used them to make The Haven a better place?

  Of course, all those casualties pale in comparison to what will happen if Beatrice and Logan get their way. An earth cloaked in darkness—it’s unimaginable. It’s horrid. It’s demented and twisted and sick, and—

  “Eleira? Did you hear that?”

  I look at Raul. He’s frowning at something behind me. I glance back. “No, I—”

  Suddenly, James staggers and collapses. He cries out. He grips his head. A series of convulsions take his body.

  Raul and I rush toward him. Before we even get a quarter of the way there, the fit is done. James is left gasping on the ground, his body dripping with sweat, his eyes wide and darting from left to right.

  “James?” his brother asks. “What is it? What happened?”

  “I saw...” his voice is hoarse. “I saw… Victoria.”

  “What? Where?” I spin around, instantly using my vampire gifts to scan the surroundings. The woods are empty save for us.

  “Not… here,” James breathes. He grunts, rolling over, and pushes himself up. He goes back on his haunches, and he looks at us. “I saw her through somebody else’s eyes.”

  “Who’s eyes?” Raul presses. “James, what’s happening to you?”

  “There was a woman here,” he explains, gesturing back to the litter. “Amongst them. Wanda. She was their leader.”

  “The sixteenth body,” I say.

  “Yes,” James nods. “I left them there during the day. When the sun set, and I arose, she was gone. You two found me soon after.”

  He grimaces. “But you see the state of all the rest. Wanda couldn’t—wouldn’t—have just wandered off. Somebody took her. And now I know who.”

  “Victoria?”

  “Yes. And now, Wanda is dead.”

  The gravity in his voice makes me sure he is absolutely certain.

  “But how do you know?” Raul asks.

  “Victoria… did something to her,” James admits reluctantly. “I saw the last moments of her life. They flashed through my mind.” He grimaces. “The visions… they took me… they were awful.”

  “You fell. You convulsed. What was that?”

  “It’s like… something snapped back into me,” James says. He’s speaking in an awed sort of way, grappling with the experience he’s just had. “Like if you take an elastic band and stretch it too far. It breaks and whips back against your fingers.” He stands up, slowly, judging his body. “I’m all right. It was just—unexpected, that’s all.”

  Then, suddenly, he seems to remember who he’s with and takes on his presumed air of authority once more. “So, what are you looking at? Let’s go!”

  “No, James. You have to tell us.” Raul steps toward his brother. “You have a link with these people?”

  “I made them, didn’t I?” he growls.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Raul says. “A fledgling is not connected to his maker—”

  “Actually,” I interrupt. “I had something of a connection with Victoria.”

  Both brothers turn to me. “What?”

  “It broke when the castle fell. And I think the Narwhark was able to capitalize on that, to somehow clasp onto it and...” I trail off. And link itself to me, I wanted to say, but I’m not sure how smart it is to reveal that to James.

  Just as I imagined, his curiosity is piqued. “And what?” he asks.

  “Never mind,” I say. “The key thing is the link. I thought it had something to do with magic. And James, you don’t have The Spark.” I eye him in sudden suspicion. “Do you?”

  “What? Of course not.” He gives a haughty laugh. “Everyone knows that only women can wield magic.”

  I share a look with Raul. We both have the same thought: What about Riyu?

  “Anyway,” James continues. “A male who can do magic would be an aberration. A disgrace.”

  “You seem awfully convinced of that,” Raul says, with no small amount of impatience. “Is there something you’re not telling us, James?”

  “There’s lots I’m not telling you,” he rebuffs, full of arrogance. “I don’t make it a habit to revea
l my secrets.”

  “Yes,” Raul says, stepping closer to his brother. “Especially if those secrets can hurt you.” He stabs a finger in James’s chest. “Why can I not feel you? Why do I have no sense of your presence?”

  James smirks in a self-indulgent way. “Perhaps your powers are failing you.”

  In a rash, sudden move, Raul grips the front of James’s shirt with both hands. “No more deception,” he says. “Brother.”

  James’s hands fly up ,and he easily knocks Raul’s away. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way,” he growls back. “Brother.”

  I sense a fight coming up and fly quickly to get between them. “We’re on the same side!” I hiss, more in annoyance than anything else. “Will you two grow up?”

  James stares at me, judging, fuming. I stare right back. It’s uncanny to look into the eyes of another vampire and not be able to tell his strength, or his position relative to mine.

  But I’m fairly self-assured in my own abilities. Even if James is now a complete wild card, he should not be any stronger than I.

  Then he scoffs. And then he starts to laugh. “Can you believe it,” he asks his brother. “This one, this little girl, telling us to grow up?”

  “Her name is Eleira,” Raul stresses. “Not, ‘little girl.’”

  It’s such a small thing, but that single correction endears him to me so much more.

  “Fine. Whatever.” James backs off. “We’re wasting the night. Let’s get to the stronghold, let’s get underground.” He looks at me. “I can’t wait to see the reception I get.”

  Chapter Nine

  PHILLIP

  THE STRONGHOLD

  I rush to the front of the crowd, sometimes using my hands, sometimes using my vampiric influence to get others out of the way.

  I had not expected such a mass to form so quickly. When the guard burst through my doors to inform me that my brother and Eleira had been sighted, I thought I was the first to know.

  Apparently not. Apparently word had spread quickly. And in truth, the only reason I am not one of the first to arrive is that my offices are so far away.