On the lower section of the steps leading up to the museum—many hiding behind the statue of Theodore Roosevelt—was a ragtag assortment of women in dark, shabby clothing, looking like an army of homeless beggars. The dark witches of the Cauldron. Somehow, the positions of the two witch factions made it seem like the Cauldron was defending the museum from the invading Sisters of Mercy rather than the other way around. A sinister thought raced down my spine, realizing that the Sisters would see the situation the exact same way.
That the Cauldron was working for me.
“Goddamn it,” I growled, pointing at the tableau.
Victoria nodded grimly. “That can’t be coincidental.”
I noticed a horde of werewolves in the near distance, frozen in the act of racing towards the fight, resembling an approaching tidal wave. Vampires with glowing red eyes hung suspended in mid-air, their bodies almost horizontal with the ground so that they appeared to be flying. I’d never felt like that when tapping into my supernatural speeds, but it made sense. Huh.
I spotted a dozen more of my vampires already on the outskirts of the fight, not daring to come between the two lines of witches, but doing their best to neutralize any stragglers—and they seemed to have no preference between dark or white witches. All were a threat.
Natalie and Nosh were easy to pick out at the base of the steps since they were the only other people moving. I scanned the area ahead of them to see Izzy standing between the two factions of witches, obviously having been trapped there by the Cauldron while passing my message along to the Sisters of Mercy. The now ex-Sister fought all by herself, wielding two oversized pistols aimed at a pair of elderly dark witches. Time had frozen in the act of her squeezing the triggers, making it look like her pistols spit fire rather than bullets. I could even see the bullets hanging suspended in the air between her and her foes.
A lot of bullets.
None of the Sisters behind her seemed even remotely invested in backing her up, focused on their own foes and protecting the other Sisters in white coats. They truly had abandoned Izzy, stripping away her standing in more ways than just on paper. Their very actions spoke louder than any words on a page. Izzy was on her own.
I raced down the steps towards the thick of battle, calling up my cloak of shadows and blood for added protection. Once time resumed, all the projectiles now hovering in the air would instantly spring to life, racing towards their intended victims. Victoria ran behind me as Nosh reached Izzy and began carrying her to relative safety. Natalie was dragging a wounded werewolf away from imminent death. I silently debated how I wanted to impact the fight, my mind racing with political ramifications and maneuvering how best to capitalize on the chaos.
Victoria slipped past me and became a hauntingly beautiful angel of death.
She calmly and swiftly made her way down a line of dark witches, slicing their throats without shame. “This isn’t so bad,” she said with a macabre smile.
I grunted, leaving the line of easy foes to her tender care as I moved into the kill-zone between the two factions. Each row of witches consisted of about two dozen members, with the remainder battling it out in groups of twos or threes, or all by themselves, in the center area between the two factions. A few vampires and werewolves had unwisely wandered into that kill-zone only to be slaughtered by both sides—some even at the same time.
I cautiously covered my vitals with my cloak since the air in the kill-zone was thick with bullets, knives, wooden stakes, and glass vials—all ready to kill whoever stood in the way the moment that time ticked back to normal.
Rather than dispatching the dark witches like Victoria, I made a calculated, tactical decision and began bodily hurling my vampires, werewolves, and any Sisters of Mercy out of immediate harm’s way. I needed the Sisters to work with me on the Dracula situation—at least long enough to get them off my back while I figured out the Hades dilemma.
I was hoping that a life saved was worth more to the Sisters than an enemy slayed.
Numbers would matter when this was all said and done. It wouldn’t do me any good to kill all the dark witches only to have the majority of the white witches die from inbound projectiles the moment Aphrodite’s spell evaporated.
But I did use my claws to kill or fatally wound any dark witch within easy reach.
I ducked beneath an airborne werewolf and made a quick judgment call to pluck a potion from the hand of a Sister of Mercy who had been intending to throw her poisonous brew at him. Coming upon a dark witch in a similar situation, I chose to sever her hand at the wrist, careful to catch the vial before it fell to the ground.
All in all, it was haunting and eerie to move about the battlefield, choosing who lived and who died without fear of detection or retaliation.
As I saved and slaughtered, I couldn’t help but wonder where the Cauldron witches had come from. How had they gotten here so fast? Did it have anything to do with whomever was trying to break Aphrodite’s spell? That had to be someone far away—or they were extremely powerful—because anyone within close proximity should have been affected by the altered flow of time, thus unable to interfere.
My bet was one—or both—of the dreaded twins, Artemis and Apollo.
The Cauldron had attacked in the moments right before Nosh and I had seen the purple light in the catacombs. Shortly after I had given Izzy the tomahawk and welcomed her into my family. She must have been speaking to the Sisters when the Cauldron—
I froze, almost fumbling the stolen vials in my hand.
“The tomahawk,” I breathed. The number one thing the dark witches had wanted a few days ago was Nosh’s skinwalker blades.
I spun, searching for Nosh. I caught him trying to drag Izzy up the stairs towards the door without putting her in the path of a lethal projectile. She was also holding pistols that had just been fired, meaning he had to consider the impending recoil and her line of fire. “The tomahawk!” I shouted at him. “They came for you, Nosh!”
Nosh froze for a heartbeat. Then he redoubled his efforts, coming face-to-face with a group of dark witches that Victoria hadn’t yet dealt with. He would have to run right through them.
“Don’t use your magic or they’ll swarm you!” I shouted. “Get inside—”
A sharp snapping sound echoed through the night air, cutting me off.
Then everyone and everything exploded into motion as time suddenly resumed. The sudden storm of gunfire made my ears pop, and the pungent scent of hot blood filled the air, making my mouth instantly salivate. I cursed, ducking beneath a flying witch before she tackled me. Blades and stakes struck my protective cloak from every direction, but thankfully none of them struck my flesh. Simultaneously, potions erupted all around me since I stood in the middle of the fight. Victoria screamed my name, but I was too busy holding my cloak over my head to avoid inhaling any poisonous clouds. I blindly ran, peering through a tiny opening until I was certain I was surrounded by moderately fresh air.
I released my grip on the cloak, letting it fall around my shoulders, and I hurled the vials in my hand at the nearest threat. I winced as a Sister of Mercy backed directly into my line of fire, taking one of the vials in the back of the head. The other sailed true, and both of the witches, one good and one bad, vaporized to ash in a single second, not even having time to scream.
Many of the dark witches simply dropped dead from our earlier ministrations, but the fight was far from over. Nosh and Izzy went down in my peripheral vision and I screamed furiously, clawing my way through a trio of unaware dark witches with their backs to me. “No!” I shouted as a group of wild-eyed dark witches noticed Izzy and Nosh falling at their feet. Their confusion was instantly replaced by wicked grins as they dove for the pair.
A lone werewolf tore into them, eviscerating two of them and knocking the other back. Natalie, in full werewolf form, hunkered over Nosh and Izzy protectively. Her long black fur glistened with the blood of the witches she had just killed, and her lips curled back in a savage snarl.
Victoria used Natalie’s back as a stepping stone, launching up into the air with two daggers in hand as she flipped into a somersault to bury one of her blades into the top of a dark witch’s skull, driving her down to the ground. She left the dagger behind as she rolled to her feet, still running, not even noticing me. I followed her line of sight to see a Sister of Mercy scowling down at a wounded vampire who was struggling to crawl away, judging by the smear of blood behind him. The Sister lifted her hands with a flash of light, aiming for the wounded vampire.
I snarled instinctively, drawing up a blood dagger to sever her hand before she could execute my vampire.
Victoria was faster.
She punched the Sister in the face with the hilt of her dagger, hitting her so hard that I watched her nose shatter and blood splatter across Victoria’s face before the witch crumpled to the ground.
Two other Sisters shrieked at Victoria, raising their arms threateningly, but Victoria was already backpedaling away. Before they could do anything stupid, I dove in front of her, protecting us both with my cloak as I held my arms out to keep Victoria back.
I shouted at the top of my lungs. “It’s finished! They’re all dead!” The area fell as silent as a tomb. Especially when Victoria rested both of her arms over my shoulders, revealing two gleaming pistols aimed at the witches’ faces. She thumbed back the hammers one at a time and the sound seemed to echo off the concrete steps like thunder. I probably looked as startled as the witches…because she would blow out my eardrums if she squeezed her triggers.
12
The Sisters wisely backed away. The rest of their faction surveyed the scene, not trusting my claim that the fight was over. I saw a handful of them sneer at a pair of bloodied vampires. Two werewolves abruptly growled a vicious warning from directly behind the Sisters, causing them to jump in surprise as they coincidentally reconsidered their actions. The werewolves forcefully shoved past them, one on either side, knocking the Sisters into each other.
No love lost between the survivors. The Sisters angrily slunk back to their group, glaring daggers at the two offending werewolves.
Victoria calmly lowered her guns and stepped up beside me, giving me enough space to do something violent if I felt so inclined. And she didn’t put her guns away either. In short order, the surviving Sisters had regrouped—wounded, singed, and furious. Their white coats were torn and covered in gore, blood, and soot. They congregated in a huddle with three of them facing outwards to keep an eye on us like the whole attack was our fault.
They finally turned to face me, none of them making a sound. One woman stepped forward and I winced to see that she had no eyes, just sunken eye sockets. Despite this, she stared directly at me. The Speaker to the High Priestess. She had long white hair and looked noticeably older than the rest of the witches, who all seemed on the younger side.
“One of your servants told us you would be out in twenty minutes,” she said in an officious tone. “Then the Cauldron attacked. Then you arrive to conveniently save us—within one minute of the attack, not twenty.”
Not sure how to respond to that without mentioning Aphrodite, and not particularly appreciating her referring to Izzy as my servant, I chose humble diplomacy. “I think my favorite part about being a hero is the gratitude,” I said, matching the Speaker’s pompous tone as I scanned the row of Sisters behind her. “After saving someone, there is something uniquely fulfilling about that special look they get in their eyes—” I cut off, locking onto the Speaker’s vacant sockets. “Well, this is awkward,” I said, clasping my hands behind my back. “I suddenly feel unfulfilled.”
She pursed her lips but managed to maintain her composure. “Did you send your Cauldron witches out in hopes that they would resolve the problem on your front steps?” she asked crisply, ignoring my rudeness.
I stared at her. Then I laughed, turning my back on her as I surveyed the damage to the front of the museum. The steps were soaked with blood, rubble, and sooty smears. I let out a sigh and turned back to the Speaker. “Does it look like my problem was resolved? Go ahead and ask one of your Sisters to take a look for you—one of the Sisters I just saved.”
Someone laughed behind me, but it was quickly cut off as someone else hit them.
The witches collectively bristled, but the Speaker simply stared back at me without reaction. “Answer my question.”
I pointed over her shoulder towards Central Park rather than answering.
Someone laughed from behind me again, but I kept my face composed. Several of the witches turned to study the park behind them. Illuminated by the full moon, my castle loomed above the trees, stabbing at the sky. Living mist surrounded the gates and much of the park in an impenetrable ring. A lone statue stood at the edge of the park, facing away from us. The witches turned back to me with matching frowns.
“My front steps are over there,” I explained, “not here. In my massive castle. The one you lost track of in Europe.” I’d already made my decision about Dracula prior to talking with Aphrodite, but now I had additional reasons to stick to my choice. I couldn’t afford Dracula falling into Olympian hands.
The blind woman continued to face me, again pursing her lips. “Why send the Cauldron after us? Why have your army surround us when we came in peace? Why tell us you will meet only to attack us a moment later?”
I blinked at her. Then I snorted and shifted my attention to the rest of the Sisters. “I request a new Speaker. One who has at least a basic grasp on reality rather than a blind obsession with conspiracy. Anyone?” The witches glared back as one. I sighed regretfully, turning back to the eyeless waste of space. Her fists were clenched at her sides. “You stand before my museum with an army, threatening me with war if I don’t hand over my prisoner, Dracula. Yet you have no ability or authority to back up your threat. You couldn’t even handle a few dozen witches without my help. Is this supposed to impress me? All you’ve accomplished is to somehow further establish your utter incompetence. And that is saying something, because you are only here in my city after you failed at the one job you devoted your life to—watching that castle,” I said, pointing over their shoulders again. “And now you wish to point blame at me? To insult my intelligence with the fallacy that you truly believe you are the only party qualified to deliver Dracula to the cold blade of justice?” I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. I held my arms out, indicating the wolves and vampires gathering around us as reinforcements continued to arrive from all over Central Park. “These vampires and werewolves are loyal friends of mine, and they are responding to an attack on my museum—an attack brought upon us by both the Cauldron and your Sisters. The Cauldron is not welcome here, in case you missed the part where we just saved you from slaughter.” I let my words sink in for a heartbeat. “In my brief time here, the Cauldron has never attacked the museum. That only happened once you graced us with your presence.”
Victoria stepped forward. “I killed a dozen of them. How many did you kill, witch?”
The Speaker narrowed her eye sockets at Victoria. “Another lost soul. Victoria Helsing, I presume?”
“You!” one of the Sisters closest to the Speaker snarled, pointing at Victoria.
“If you value that arm, you better lower it,” Natalie growled, striding out from a huddle of vampires. She was naked and covered in blood, having shifted back into her human form. Except her claws were still out, her forearms covered in fur like she was wearing gauntlets.
The Sister wilted instinctively, taking a step back from Natalie. She seemed to find some of her courage once she was back within the safety of her group of Sisters.
The Speaker clucked her tongue and the Sister lowered her glare to the ground. The eyeless witch stared at Victoria, not even acknowledging Natalie. “You work with this vampire. You, the notable vampire hunter.”
“Perhaps that should tell you something about him,” Victoria said, still holding her pistols at her side.
“Or perhaps it tells us something about you, tr
aitor.”
I turned to Victoria. “Is this really happening? Are they always this blatantly aloof?”
Victoria shook her head. “Usually they can see common sense. But I’m certain that Sister Hazel was born a zealous twat. Then she became a born-again zealous twat.”
“Sister Hazel? Like the band?” Natalie blurted incredulously. Then she burst into laughter. “You’re kidding me.”
Victoria grinned, shaking her head. “Hence the groupies,” she said, jerking her chin at the witches behind the Speaker.
The Sisters hissed in unison, but the eyeless Sister Hazel merely thinned her lips with disdain. “You used to be one of our greatest allies hunting for Dracula. Yet here you stand with the enemy. And you’ve formed a trinity with him. Much like Dracula did with his brides—a way for him to gain yet more power to defend himself from us.”
I frowned at Hazel. “What do you mean, trinity?” She shifted her attention my way, a suspicious look on her face as if she thought I was being willfully ignorant to further vex her. “I’m genuinely asking. Consider it an olive branch.”
She was silent for about ten seconds before answering slowly and carefully. “A trinity is a sharing of power, much like a rope is stronger when braided together.” I nodded, having already picked up that obvious aspect. “It varies based on what type of magic you have. Typically, trinities are formed between those of the same supernatural upbringing. Until Dracula, it was considered impossible for vampires to form trinities. Since you three are not remotely the same type of supernatural being, I have no idea what could happen, but I imagine it won’t be pleasant. Participants in a trinity share both the pleasures and the pains of their partners, after all,” she said with a cruel smirk, eyeing Natalie and Victoria.
Natalie and Victoria continued glaring at the witches as if Hazel hadn’t said anything. At least they hadn’t shown surprise. Hazel had obviously hoped to sow seeds of discord with the comment.
Devil’s Blood: Shade of Devil Book 3 Page 8
