The Vampire Gift 4: Darkness Rising

by E. M. Knight

  She cackles when she sees me. “Veeery nice,” she coos. Her voice sounds like a sheet of metal being ripped apart. “Very impressive, to defeat so many of my minions.”

  She laughs again, but this time, her laugh turns into a cough, and she coughs and coughs and coughs, all the while clinging onto the desk.

  Is she so weak? I wonder. I don’t move toward her. This could be yet another set up.

  But slowly, I draw my sword.

  “Oooh,” she says. “What’s that? Not the infamous Witchbane, is it?”

  She points at it, and crooks a finger. A force stronger than any I can resist yanks it from my hand.

  I give a sound of alarm. If she is so strong…

  “We are not enemies,” I tell her softly. “You do not know what I want. You’re right, we kept you here—maybe against your will.”

  “Maybe?” she demands. “Maybe?”

  Witchbane hovers in the air, its point an inch away from Sylvia’s heart.

  “When my Order found you, you were deemed vulnerable,” I say. “Your lair was compromised. We brought you here—I brought you to safety—so that you would be certain to wake up.”

  “Oh, that’s a funny lie,” she says. “Look at the funny vampire, telling a funny lie.” A sudden blast of fire streams from her fingertips, aimed right at my feet. I jump out of the way easily enough.

  “Would you like me to make you dance, again, you funny, funny creature?” she asks in that horrible voice.

  Witchbane floats a fraction of an inch closer to Sylvia’s heart.

  “I did it to ensure your safety and prosperity!” I insist. “Underground, you could have been taken by any other—found by any other! Here, you were protected. This is the most secure facility on planet Earth!”

  “Oh… I don’t think so,” she says. “There are certain… weaknesses.”

  Without warning a jet of pure-white flame roars from her palm and hits the top of the compound. The metal groans against the onslaught.

  But it doesn’t give.

  I allow myself the tiniest of satisfied smiles.

  “You see?” I ask.

  “Interesting...” she murmurs. “And how about… this?”

  She throws both hands together and casts another stream of white flame. This one is twice as large and doubly powerful. It melts away the inner layer of the wall, but does not penetrate the reinforced steel barriers.

  Looks like the ounce of precious metal infused into it has done its job.

  “Gah!” The sorceress curses. The fire winks out. She sags back as if suddenly exhausted.

  I take a cautious step to her. My eyes flicker to Sylvia—and then I wish they hadn’t.

  The runes branded on her skull are burning, as bright as the day they were created. Her face is twisted in pain even though she still cannot make a sound.

  “You’re weakening,” I say softly. “You’ve been asleep for a long time. I brought you here not to experiment on you, despite what this laboratory looks like. I want to collaborate with you. I want to work together.”

  The Black Sorceress looks at me, cautious, haggard… but intrigued.

  “You cannot escape,” I continue. “But if you could, where would you go? You’ve been asleep and out of the world for a very long time. Society has changed. The cities you will discover out there are not the cities you knew.

  “But if you let me help you...” I take another small, careful step to her, “...I can make sure that you prosper. The power of my entire organization will be behind you. Anything you wish for in this world can be yours!”

  She lets go of the desk’s edge and stands on her own. Her strength seems to be coming back to her.

  That does not bode well for me.

  “And what,” she asks, “do you hope to achieve from such an arrangement?”

  “Me?” I say. “That’s easy. I get the most powerful witch alive on my side. Together, you and I will craft a vision of the world as we want it… and together, we will achieve our wildest dreams!”

  “Pretty words,” she murmurs. “Pretty words from a funny man!”

  She glances up at Sylvia. Witchbane presses against her chest. “How many lives of those like me have been ended by that sword? How many witches did the Vorcellian Order eliminate in its time on Earth?”

  “Ancient transgressions,” I tell her. “Long ago forgotten. I stand at the helm of the Vorcellian Order. Our purpose has changed.”

  She laughs at me, a maniacal, crazy laugh. “Changed?” Changed to what?"

  "Ah,” I say with a faint smile. “That is a question whose answer is known only to me. But in time, if you gain my trust—if we develop a mutual trust… I can reveal it to you, also.”

  She sneers, then sticks her hideous tongue out. “You think those promises appeal to me? Your blade, by the way—” she sniffs, “—is poisoned.”

  And with a bright flash of light, Witchbane explodes into millions of tiny fragments.

  “No!” I cry out.

  The pieces turn to ash before they even hit the ground.

  All, that is, except for one.

  A small orange stone, maybe the size of a grape, floats down gracefully and settles on the ground. It is nothing I ever knew to be in my sword.

  The Black Sorceress gives a truly wicked laugh. “Do you know what that is, vampire?”

  Through my shock, through my raging hatred, I shake my head.

  “It’s a torrial, meant to transmit your location. A weak one, at that. From the look on your face, I take it you didn’t know? Ah, of course you didn’t. But what’s worse—you didn’t want your location to be known?”

  I recover quickly, though there are a million thoughts spinning through my head. Only one other had possession of Witchbane while it was out of my hands.

  Carter.

  That lying, traitorous, treasonous bastard! And now, because of him, The Order’s location has been compromised.

  No. Not because of him. Not entirely.

  Because of me—me and my folly.

  My eyes go beyond the Black Sorceress, to the exit leading to the rest of the facility. She can’t get out without activating security protocol. The only reason, I suspect, that Sylvia is still alive.

  “Ah, but look what I can do, you funny, puny vampire.” She waggles her fingers. The torrial begins to glow. She points her hand up, and it lifts, hovering at eye-level between us. The glow becomes stronger, stronger, stronger…

  “The torrial is now a beacon,” she announces. “Any witch with even the tiniest Spark will feel its presence within a thousand miles! And whoever put it there, whoever’s tracking you—you can be sure they know, too."

  I scowl.

  She laughs. “Angry? You shouldn’t be. I alerted you to its ability. Without me, you would have gone on for who-knows-how-long, carrying that sword around, informing everybody of where you are…

  “You should thank me, vampire. For opening your eyes.”

  I need her on my side. Everything else pales in comparison to the importance of that. Let the location of this facility be transmitted to the world! Everything The Order has, everything it’s done, has been building to this point: my point of glory, my point of triumph. The final vindication of everything I’ve been after my whole life, she’s standing in front of me.

  If I lose her now…

  “You betray yourself,” I tell her. “My organization has enormous powers. We have tremendous influence all over the world. Put the woman down.” I give a dismissive nod at Sylvia, not wanting to show how important she is to me, either. “Put her down, and we can talk. We are not enemies—”

  “LIAR!” she hisses in a foul screech. “You, killer of so many other witches, murderer of my kind! You wish me to trust you? The only way I’ll trust you is when I see you dead!”

  She flings her arm out and shoots another spray of fire at me. I jump and roll out of the way. This one was close—very close, to hitting me.

  She’s still just toying with me,
I think, partly in awe. She could kill me if she truly aimed.

  The urgency of the situation just quadrupled in scope.

  “I lead The Order,” I say. “Yes, it’s true! And you are right: in history, we have been at war. But think! A vampire is at the helm of the most powerful organization dedicated to exterminating all traces of the supernatural! The Order's purpose is a cover, it is not the true one!”

  “So you say.” She laughs, and sends another jet of flame my way. This one gets close enough to nearly singe my leg.

  “The truth!” I insist. “The Order has no purpose other than to serve me. I have made it so! Don’t throw this away, Cierra. Together we can do great things!”

  The witch stops cold. A flicker of shock cascades over her horrid features.

  “What did you call me?” she asks softly.

  “Cierra,” I repeat. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

  “My… name.” She shakes her head. Her eyes retreat to a distant place as she conjures up some distant memory. “Yes. I was called that. Once...”

  Some of the fight seems to seep out of her. I take it as my chance.

  “Whatever you had in your past life, we will restore it!” I vow. “Magic is not enough. Not in this world. Not anymore. You need finances, you need money, you need political strength.” I step toward her. “I can give you all that, if you but listen.”

  She pushes off from the desk and walks around it. She moves with a strange, distorted limp. It’s almost like her body has not been properly molded for her.

  I go absolutely still as she approaches.

  “You want me to listen?” she asks. She takes hold of the floating stone torrial. As soon as her fingers touch it, it’s like the invisible strings holding it up have been cut. It becomes just an ordinary gem.

  She tosses it to me. It arcs through the air. I snatch it.

  “Fine,” she says. “I’ll listen.”

  “Good,” I say. I pocket the stone. I almost sag in relief. “What I can grant you—”

  “LISTEN TO YOU SCREAM AS YOU BURN IN HELL!”

  Her head snaps up. Her eyes are black, filled with that putrid miasma.

  A force explodes from around her body. It knocks me back—it knocks everything back. The cube that was her former home hits the far wall. The glass shatters.

  A great wind starts to howl.

  It blows around the room like a hurricane. It forms a vortex with her in the middle. All the rubble, all the debris, all of it is picked up and caught in the wind. The computer systems and electronics are yanked from their spots, sparks flying from severed electric cords.

  My claws extend. I dig them into the wall to anchor myself against the wind.

  The witch takes aim. Enormous, powerful jets of flame stream from her palms. Thick as logs, and hotter than any fire should rightfully be, they turn whatever they touch to ash, incinerating it on contact.

  I have to stop this. I have to stop her. But how, I can’t—

  Suddenly, Sylvia’s scream pierces the air.

  The witch dropped her and is now marching her as a puppet toward the exit doors.

  I have to do something. I can’t just let her get away!

  The wind shrieks and howls as the vortex picks up speed. The flames rage against it, somehow being fed by the wind and growing higher. The temperature in the enclosure is getting so high that I don’t know how much longer I can stand it. My nails start to melt, and the pain is terrible. My body fights against the affliction, sending all the vampiric blood it can there to heal… but it’s a losing battle.

  If I don’t get out soon, I will die.

  Everything is mashed, everywhere is madness, except for a small orb of tranquility that surrounds the Black Sorceress and Sylvia. She’s protected them both against the elements, as she tries to work out how to get Sylvia to activate the security mechanism that opens the door.

  Sylvia is fighting, resisting, but I know it’s just a matter of time before she gives in. Nobody can stand against the dark witch.

  I have to act.

  I let go of the wall and let the vortex take me. I fly through the air, propelled by the wind. I force my body straight as an arrow and take aim at the protective orb.

  I slam into the shield. The Black Sorceress glances over her shoulder at me. For a fraction of a second, our eyes meet.

  The dark specks flooding her eyes are mirrored, for that infinitesimal moment, in mine.

  The hidden, subdued, latent, and very dangerous power they represent stirs in me…

  And then I’m flung off, the wind being too great, and the secret blood magic is lost to me. I hit one wall, then collide with a flying desk, then am knocked upside down as the wind keeps blowing, the vortex keeps growing, and the fires keep burning.

  I’ve failed.

  Sylvia is in tears. The Black Sorceress has one wiry-fingered hand on her head. Her long, dirty nails press into Sylvia’s skull. She pushes her forward, Sylvia tries to fight, but at this point, it’s beyond hope.

  The iris scanner by the doorway recognizes her eyes. The mechanism whips into action. The vault doors start to open...

  And Cierra is unleashed unto the world.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  DAGAN

  THE CRYPTS

  I fall to my knees as I feel the power pulsating around my King.

  His eyes come open. Those dark specks run across the whites like discharge in a river. Logan tips his head back and laughs as the dark magic swirls and twists around him with malicious energy.

  I keep my features blank. But inside, my mind is storming. A man—the King!—wielding magic! It is an abomination, it is a corruption, it is a hideous thing.

  How do I reconcile that with my loyalty for him?

  Suddenly, the laughter stops. The foreign force cuts out. Logan staggers forward, as if drunk.

  My body tenses, ready to catch him, but he finds his footing in time.

  And I realize at that very moment that the numbness is gone. Riyu’s potion worked!

  That triumph is overshadowed by the enormity of what I’ve just seen.

  “Stand up!” the King sneers. “You do not grovel for me, Dagan. That is the ways of my sons. And you—” he places a hand on my shoulder. I can feel his grip! “—are a vampire many times greater than any of them."

  I bow my head even as I rise. “Thank you, my King.”

  “And now you know why Beatrice has exhausted her usefulness to me,” he says. “Be on the ready. The order to kill may come at any time.”

  I nod but say nothing. Male vampires have no business wielding magic. It is a corruption of the most basic principles of our existence. I can overlook it in Riyu, because he is so weak, because my King commanded me to take him under my wing, so many years ago.

  But this… this revelation… has changed things.

  How can I be loyal to a man who willingly put himself through this?

  “You’re troubled,” Logan observes. His eyes narrow in suspicion. “What is it? Speak up!”

  “Nothing, my Liege,” I vow. “I will do as you say.”

  He considers me for a moment, and then gives a gruff nod. “As I expect. Remember what I said. Nothing you saw here leaves this room. When the time comes to eliminate Beatrice, nothing you do will be linked back to me.”

  “I understand.”

  “So you claim,” he murmurs. My gut clenches in alarm. He can’t suspect my hesitation yet…!

  “This is an opportunity for you, Lieutenant. Play your cards right, and you might yet become my second-in-command.”

  I say nothing, only nod.

  “Our time is near,” the King whispers. “When the vampires of The Crypts rise to take over the world, I want only those with unwavering loyalty at my side. Your performance in these coming days will determine if you join the trusted few. I am building a new circle, Dagan, and this one… this one will be forever.”

  “It will be an honor to serve,” I say by rote.

  The K
ing turns to leave.

  “One last thing,” he adds. “The hybrids Beatrice is experimenting on? I want them destroyed. No matter what happens with me and her, no matter if the other order comes or not, I want them gone.”

  “Hybrids?” I ask.

  “You don’t know,” Logan observes. “I thought you did.”

  I shake my head.

  “You’ve heard rumors of the experiments she’s been conducting underground.”

  “Yes.”

  “Take the worst of those, magnify it by ten, and you still won’t have a fraction of the truth. I’ve shielded her and those vile offspring for too long. You are granted full access to the pathways—” he flicks a key to me, which I catch, “—to investigate as you wish.

  “You have two days to do this task for me. I trust it will not take you that long.”

  “No,” I vow. “Not with this key.”

  “See that you don’t fail, Dagan. It would sadden me to lose a vampire as capable as you.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  RIYU

  DEEP BELOW THE CRYPTS

  The magical currents continue their tortured, maniacal dance through the air. I’ve never seen such cacophony—not in the usually gently-flowing force.

  “Through there,” Beatrice says, pointing out the final, closed door, "is where I keep the torrials.”

  With every step I take toward it, the elemental currents seem to become wider and wider. I realize when I’m a dozen feet away that Beatrice has stopped behind.

  I look at her. “You’re not coming?”

  She scoffs. “No. You can, at least, sense the danger. I can only guess at it. Why put myself in harm’s way? Besides, I have a feeling you concentrate better when you’re alone.”

  “You’re right about that,” I murmur. Still, something about her sudden hesitance strikes me as wrong. She was so confident leading me here…

  I tell myself not to be paranoid. The surging swells of magic are just playing havoc on my nerves. That, and my lingering, constant concern about Dagan…

  I put the Lieutenant out of my mind. Beatrice is right, I need to focus. Especially if I’m about to enter a room full of unfamiliar torrials…