“Let’s begin with a little history, shall we?” Dementae started walking now, his hands extending from his flowing robe, animated as he spoke. “Over two thousand years ago the Romans built this city as their home away from home – a capital in the Middle East, a base of operations for their world conquest. A capital city of Rome had to have a coliseum, of course, as well as an amphitheater. The coliseum is still being unearthed,” Dementae pointed behind the stands, “But here’s where the real fun took place, anyway.”
Mike took hold of his companions. Aaron was shaking, clearly thinking about Dementae’s guarantee to kill him. Annabella looked steady, unafraid, almost as if she was ready to accept the worst-case scenario. And Steph… he couldn’t read Steph’s expression at all.
“The Romans of yesteryear were a bunch of bullies. They suppressed whatever nations they had conquered. Treating them at best like second-class citizens, at worst like the animals they featured in the coliseum. And they loved their executions.”
A smile came to Dementae’s face. He had drawn closer now, and Mike could make out his features in the full moon. Mike was startled by what he saw. Dementae appeared young, not much older than Mike was, and full of life. Mike had almost assumed Dementae would be some sort of zombie, like in the movies, raised from the dead to terrorize mankind. But this guy could’ve been a senior in high school and no one would’ve known the difference.
“Caesarea was a town with plenty of blood on its hands. For example, the Romans executed a group of Jews known as the Ten Martyrs here on this spot, sometime in the first century.” Dementae pointed to the ground and grinned. “Flesh ripped off bone. Burnings at the stake. Beheadings. A rabbi’s face ripped off.” He paused for effect, then clasped his hands behind his back and continued walking in a different direction. “My kind of people.”
Mike had never heard of the Ten Martyrs, but if this was some sick joke, he wasn’t laughing.
“Caesarea was also home to Pontius Pilate, of Christian fame.” Peeking behind him, Dementae’s noticed his guests’ blank stares. “The guy who condemned Jesus to death, you ignoramuses.” He shook his head, then continued talking with his back to the Guardians. “During the Crusades this city served as a burial ground for many foolish warriors, most of whom chased the legend that the Holy Grail was hidden here. Finally the Mamaluks razed the city’s fortifications in the thirteenth century, and the bloodbaths of Caesarea ceased altogether.”
Here Dementae’s hands curled into fists, and he turned to face the Guardians. “Until 1820, when your god-forsaken Headmage decided to reopen the amusement park for visitors.”
Dementae stalked towards the Guardians, slowly, like a lion converging on its prey. “Two hundred years ago, I was sacrificed. Murdered. Martyred. In front of an audience greater than any the Romans ever put together. And it was Garzan who did it to me.”
Mike readied a shield in his mind. Dementae had totally morphed from his previous persona – he had been calm, collected, a history teacher giving over a lesson. But now he was shaking, almost unstable…
“Garzan wanted to gain the favor of the other clans. He wanted to be accepted once again, to reclaim the glory that the Skyfire clan had lost. First he forced me out of the clan, then he executed me, as if I was a sacrifice to the heathen Headmages of the clans.”
Keep on going, Mike thought. Just keep on talking.
“But it is no matter,” Dementae said, calming down just a bit. “I have been reborn. And I will not make the mistake of losing a second time.”
Dementae stared down Mike. Then he smiled.
“Your face does not show fear. In fact, I detect a certain smugness. Am I right, Mister Prior?”
“Uh, sure, whatever you say.” Mike stared straight ahead, refusing to be intimidated. He opened and closed his right hand, ready for a fight…
Dementae continued, “Because if that is the case, then I must conclude that you have something up your sleeve. Perhaps this is not the entire remnant of the Skyfire clan?”
Mike struggled to keep his face straight.
How could he know that?
Now Dementae’s face rearranged into a glare. “You know the only reason I dragged you to this forsaken place was to see if you sent a second party, right?”
Mike bit his lip, so hard he thought it might burst. He made himself stay calm, stay unmoving… he could not let Dementae know what they had planned…
Dementae grinned and smoothed out his robe. “I thought so. And now that you have revealed exactly that, Mister Prior, to business. A formal request to join us.”
“Excuse me?” Mike said, cursing himself for being so stupid. Of course they would suspect some sort of plan, some sort of attack. Who actually came and surrendered after a simple request?
Dementae’s black eyes were piercing, his eyebrows slanted. “I will not be so kind to ask again.”
“Go to hell,” Mike said, and spat on the floor.
Dementae looked down at the dusty quarry, then up again at Mike. “Because I am so benevolent, I will try another method. Mister Prior, your mother is one of my servants. She is my second in command.” Mike felt the burn of his companions’ stares. “Join me, like she has, and fulfill the destiny of your family.” Dementae held out a hand.
Mike shook his head repeatedly, as if it would make the fact false. “I’m no traitor,” he said, stepping backwards.
Dementae retracted his offering and smoothed out his robes yet again. He threw his arms to the sky. “What else do I have to do to convince you to fulfill your destiny, your heritage?” He rubbed his chin. “Ah, I know. Perhaps you would like to meet the orchestrator of the Skyfires’ demise? Maybe she will be able to sway you over to the winning side?”
Mike stared only at Dementae. What could he be talking about… they had already figured it out, his mom was the spy…
“Aw, come on, sweetheart, don’t be shy.” Dementae looked in Steph and Annabella’s direction. To which Annabella cried out in shock, “It was you all the time!”
Steph hesitated for a moment, then took a step in Dementae’s direction.
It was Steph.
“I knew it was you,” Annabella cried. “You put the Calebra in the girls’ dorms, you tried to poison Kiva after we got back from the Slayer hideout!”
“What?” Mike said inadvertently. Someone had tried to poison Kiva? Why hadn’t he heard about this?
Annabella pointed a condemning finger at Steph. “That’s why nobody knew about it –we sent you to go for help!”
Well, that answered that question.
Water rushed in from over the amphitheater, and Annabella fired ice ray after ice ray at Steph. But Dementae put up a shield – an enormous shield, as big as a gargoyle’s wingspan – and blocked any attempt at offense. Then he fired through the shield, a tiny black pellet that nailed Annabella in the stomach. She jerked backwards and fell onto the floor. She screamed, writhing in pain. Mike watched in horror as a black splotch grew on her stomach, not unlike the one that inhabited Garzan for the past few days.
“Anyone else care to try that?” Dementae suggested. “No?” He lowered the shield.
“Now we come to the fourth type of reasoning – and my personal favorite – blackmail. By the way, Mister Caulderon? I always keep my word.” Quick as a whip, Dementae fired another black gobbet at Aaron, who had gone over to care for Annabella. It too hit him in the stomach, causing him to double over on his knees and hold himself, screaming.
“Stop it, just stop it!” Mike yelled amongst the Guardian cries. He couldn’t take this anymore. His mother and Steph were Black Brethren. Aaron, Garzan, and Annabella were infected with Aneksham. Zachariah was dead. Caroline and Alexis were gone, along with the rest of his clan. There was nothing left…
“Why? Why did you need me? You could’ve left them alone… why did you have to destroy everything I knew?” The words came out staggered, rasping, struggling against the gasps of air Mike inhaled. Mike’s breathing wheezed in and
out, his eyes as salty as the oceanic vista.
“My poor boy, who doesn’t even know his own inner strength.” Dementae bent down and put a hand on Mike’s shoulder. Mike threw it off.
Dementae straightened. “Very well. I will remove the Aneksham if you agree to cooperate.”
Mike looked from Aaron to Annabella, whose movements were already starting to slow. Garzan must’ve been able to fight it for much longer. But Aaron and Annabella… they wouldn’t stand a chance against the poison…
It could save their lives…
But who was he kidding? Dementae wouldn’t actually heal them… and he’d kill Mike as soon as he was done with him…
But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t heal them by himself, he couldn’t get them to Stockton or Garzan or anyone else who could help… they were stuck in the middle of nowhere, without any way of transport…
“Done,” Mike said quickly. If Aaron and Annabella had any chance to live, this was it. He would deal with the consequences afterwards. “What do I have to do?”
Dementae grinned. “Follow me.” He snapped his fingers. A massive portal formed behind him, and Dementae turned to leave.
“What about them?” Mike said, pointing to Annabella and Aaron.
“If you think I’m going to heal them before we’re through, you’re crazier than I am.” Dementae walked into the portal, and disappeared. Steph took one impassive look at Mike, then followed Dementae without a word.
Chapter Forty
Mike dragged Aaron and Annabella into the portal, then followed. He ended up in a tremendous antechamber. The floor was a checkerboard of white and black marble. Drapes covered enormous glass windows, and glass chandeliers – not unlike the ones in Windham – illuminated the room. Tall columns stretched to the ceiling. Marble sculptures guarded enormous wooden doors. Renaissance paintings hung all around.
And in the middle of the room lay a pile of bodies, not unlike the one he had seen at Blackrock Castle.
Mike gagged on the smell.
“Welcome, Mister Prior, to Chateau de Vincennes. Although I must say its inhabitants have seen better days.” Dementae clucked and shook his head at the pile of remains. “Come, to a more pleasant sight.”
Mike dragged Aaron and Annabella through the wooden doors and into the Castle’s Greeting Hall, which had been set up into a laboratory of some kind. A tremendous mass lay underneath a white sheet, its expanse nearly taking up half the room. Various bottles of neon liquids lay strewn about, some on tables, some in a cabinet that was wide open. Several displays of knights’ armor stood with various weapons in hand, as if to decorate the place. There was a seat off to the left, almost like an electric chair, with a leather hat and metal bindings for the wrists and ankles. Wires ran over from the chair to the covered carcass. Mike had never read Frankenstein, but it must’ve looked exactly like this, only ten times smaller. He slipped Annabella onto the floor where she could lie comfortably, and kept Aaron supported upright.
“Honey, I’m home!” Dementae called. Instantly the room was filled with movement. Vampires, almost like grunts, ran over to the carcass on the floor and peeked underneath the sheet, making sure everything was in place. Tall, handsome men and women in black robes came over to Dementae and kissed his hand, only to immediately slink out of the room.
“Put these two with the others,” Dementae said to two of the black-robed Brethren.
“Hey, where are they taking them?” Mike said as one of the Brethren grabbed Annabella. He held Aaron up with both arms, as if to protect him, although Aaron was starting to slip into unconsciousness.
“Relax, Mister Prior, they won’t get any worse where they’re going.”
That was hardly comforting, but Mike didn’t have much of a choice. He had to help Dementae, or they would die. He reluctantly let Aaron be taken by the Brethren, along with Annabella, towards a downwards staircase at the end of the hall.
Then someone across the room caught his eye. She was a tall, slender brunette, walking around in a different manner than the other Brethren. With an air of importance about her, as if she owned the place. Finally as she walked into the light, Mike glimpsed her face.
It was Cassandra, Lord of the Slayers.
“Evan, darling!” Cassandra walked over to Dementae and plastered her lips to his. “I’ve missed you!”
At this point, Mike almost started laughing. This was ridiculous already. Who was next, his dead father? Was everyone he knew a Brethren spy?
“You know, Evan, we caught an advance party of theirs.” Cassandra nodded at Mike.
Mike swore silently. So they had caught them.
Dementae’s response barely registered. “I figured as much. Are they still alive?”
“The boy is. And the gargoyles, we took to the holding pen, for use in the experiments.”
Mike’s knees almost buckled. Only the boy was alive. Meaning Julius Brutus. Kiva was gone…
“Hello, Steph,” Cassandra said. “I barely saw you.” Cassandra kissed Steph on the forehead.
Steph’s face was still blank. She was standing off to the side, taking it all in. But she wasn’t in a trance. She looked in full control, knowing exactly what she was doing.
Then something clicked in Mike’s mind.
“It was you,” Mike said to Cassandra, seething. “You asked Garzan for the alliance. You convinced him to send out the Book of Lineage, and you had the Brethren ambush both parties.”
Cassandra clucked. “Please, my dear. You give me too much credit. I convinced Garzan into making the alliance, of course I did. I begged for his help, claimed we were going to be wiped out, pleaded with him to be merciful.” Cassandra snorted. “Which he always is. I planned on publicizing the agreement the moment it was consummated, by the way.” She rolled her eyes. “It was Evan here who took out the Greeting Party. Something about needing you alive.” She snickered, mouth curled into a cruel smile.
Dementae laughed. “Yes, well said, Mister Prior, well thought out. I admit, you’re brighter than your mother.” He smiled wide. “And now, it’s your time to shine.”
The Brethren Lord snapped at two vampires, who quickly lifted Mike off his feet and dragged him towards the chair. Mike didn’t fight back only because of the thought of Aaron and Annabella. As if that was a legitimate reason. As if Dementae would really heal them after he was done… there was no way, not even after he used Mike’s powers for whatever he needed…
Mike was about to grab some of the electricity from overhead when he caught Steph’s gaze.
She shook her head, ever so slowly.
Before Mike could figure out what that meant, Dementae spoke again. “Listen closely, Mister Prior. This spell requires your complete focus and concentration, as well as your will.” For some reason, Mike found himself allowing the vampires to snap in his wrists and ankles. Dementae continued. “That’s correct, if you don’t want the spell to happen, it won’t. But then your two friends won’t survive the Aneksham, either. So I suggest you pay attention.”
Now the vampires strapped Mike’s head into the chair. Mike’s heart beat at an insane level, as if it was sure it was on its last moments. He eyed the chandelier.
“I need you to access the power inside of you. Without it, my baby over here will not be able to rise.” Dementae motioned to the prehistoric-sized tablecloth. “Capice?”
“Why don’t you just do it?” Mike said as the vampires finished strapping the leather helmet on. It was so tight that Mike thought his head was going to burst before any spells were cast.
Dementae wagged a finger. “Ah, but there’s where you’re wrong. Death has a funny way of shifting things around. When I was reborn, I received some of the young man’s vigor. You think I was this maniacal back in the day? Of course not. But this kid has a sense of personality, a sense of humor!” Dementae laughed at his own gaiety.
So that was why Dementae looked the way he did. He wasn’t two hundred years old – he was twenty. Whoever h
ad cut his heart out to revive Dementae had given him his looks, personality, and strength. But apparently Dementae had retained whatever was in his brain – his know-how for spells, magic, and sheer ruthlessness.
What a crazy spell… who would be able to cut his own freaking heart out?
Dementae shed Cassandra’s arm, which had been wrapped around his waist, and slid over to Mike. He placed a hand on Mike’s forehead and began speaking gibberish. For a moment, nothing happened.
“Concentrate, Mister Prior!”
The gibberish began again. Mike found himself focusing on… using his power? What did that even mean? He thought Dementae meant that burning sensation in his chest, the one he’d gotten when he’d attacked Zachariah a month ago, but Mike had never actually tried to create it. He didn’t know if—
“Mister Prior!”
“Okay, okay.” Find the power within, use the power within… it was Aaron and Annabella’s only hope, their only chance… strength, power, energy… this was all a joke, right… power, energy, strength…
Dementae threw his arms up. “What do I need to—” He cut himself off, and a huge grin spread on his face.
“Of course, how could I be so dumb?” He chuckled at himself. “Really, Mister Prior, sometimes I remind myself of one of those stupid creatures over there.” He gestured at the vampires attending to the carcass on the floor.
Dementae waved a hand over his face, and his features started to change.
Crease lines appeared on his forehead, and black hair sprouted from his head. His nose grew larger, and a long mustache sprouted from his nostrils…
All of a sudden, Mike felt a ball of fire in his stomach.
DuBois. Dementae is DuBois?
“But I thought…”
“That DuBois was dead?” DuBois finished in Dementae’s voice. “Yes, indeed he is. About two months ago. Very sad.” Dementae snapped a finger, and his face returned to normal.
The Guardian Lineage Page 24
