Crimson Storm

by V L Moon

  Rijeka, Croatia

  Hot on Copi’s heels, Saul crashed into the bedroom with all the force of a wrecking ball. He’d taken the higher ground in pursuit of the hybrid. Given Darklon’s desire for Vischeral, Saul doubted he would degrade the object of his affections by sullying him in some dirty, dingy dungeon. It had seemed the most logical location. Roman and Tobias cleared the lower floors. Saul could hear them fighting their way toward them. They weren’t going to make it in time. Copi had obviously given up any form of self-control. His features had morphed. Fury brought his vampire to the fore. And the cause of his fury, Darklon’s carnal ministrations as his hands and mouth traversed the stoic form of Copi’s sire and chosen mate.

  Lost to the throws of passion, Darklon writhed against the stone faced male. If death wore a mask, Vischeral Bourne owned it outright and donned it like a glove. Blood oozed from the array of bite marks covering his body. Old bruises and half healed whip marks marred Bourne’s exposed skin, proof of his continued fight to hold off the psychotic advances of Darklon’s desire.

  Roman and his wolf mate burst into the room. The former Elder was so obsessed he failed to notice the growing audience or sense the swelling agitation of Vischeral’s true mate. It would be his undoing.

  ~*~*~*~

  White hot pain seared through his veins, blinding Copi to the scene before him. The vision of Vischeral in the arms of that squirming madman boiled his blood. Vischeral was his. HIS. His entire body shook from the force of his anger, blocking out the array of voices filling the room. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. Pain lanced through his body taking Copi down to his knees. A savage howl ripped from his throat. His back arched and his arms and legs became ravaged by pain. He couldn’t breathe. His chest expanded at the same time as his mouth opened up in a silent scream. He shook so hard, his fists curled to pierce his flesh with the long claws that had taken root where his fingers used to be.

  “Let go, Copi. Let the beast within you free.” Gentle words, a familiar voice spoke to his mind. Panting, Copi turned to face the yellow eyes of Tobias’s wolf.

  With a savage howl, Copi embraced the wild. The transformation tore apart his human form. Silver fur tipped in black sprouted to cover muscle and sinew. Paws replaced hands and feet. A muzzle extended full of lethal fangs and teeth. His perspective of the room shifted. With a savage snarl, he sprang up and grasped Darklon by the back of the neck and flung him across the floor.

  “Copi!” Vischeral remained locked in place, held by his Sire’s will. Copi whined, desperate to get to his mate. But, Darklon scrambled to his feet with a scream of outrage. Copi took a stance between them, his back to Vischeral and fangs bared at Darklon.

  Darklon’s shock quickly turned to anger as he took in those gathered around him.

  “Come to rescue daddy, little boy?” Darklon sneered at Roman. “And, you brought your little dog with you. Surprised to see he survived the Nephilim attack. There were strict orders to kill him.”

  “And you, the Russian scum and his brood of merry men come to take me out. Oh wait, they’re not your brood, are they? Sorry, old chap. Your family is a long time dead, massacred by vampires.” Darklon laughed, the twisted sound bouncing off of the walls. “Dead, all but one, and he was quite the little fighter after being cut from his mother’s womb. The little bastard came in useful though. A young one like that, innocent and untainted, he was more than enough to pay off my debt to the Fae. Can’t go back on a promise to the little folk.” Darklon was rambling, he had to be, but the captain went sheet white and collapsed against the wall.

  Darklon turned his twisted crazed eyes back to Copi. “Fucking mutt. Fucking half breed, bastard mutt. You’re my blood. You will obey me and watch as I defile your treasonous sire. How dare you come into my home thinking to take what belongs to me.”

  Darklon’s words rang through his head. Hot blood surged through his veins. Copi was done listening to him talk. Wolf and vampire genes united. Between one heartbeat and the next, he had Darklon’s throat between his jaws. A vicious twist ripped the male’s throat out. Human, Nephilim and demon blood coated Copi’s fur as he chewed through skin and bone until nothing tethered the maniac’s head to his body.

  Lost to the kill, Copi raked giant claws through the bastard’s chest in search of his heart. He snarled as he tore ferociously at the lifeless muscle. With a snort of disgust, he spit the offensive organ onto the bed. A triumphant howl echoed into the dawning day. Seconds later, Tobias joined in the chorus. The other wolf came to his side. Together, they picked up Darklon’s remains and dragged the bloodied mass of ravaged flesh and the severed head into the light of the morning sun.

  ~*~*~*~

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  ~*~*~*~

  Croatia

  With Darklon’s death, freedom came. Vischeral’s body returned to his command. Muscles unlocked. He immediately went after Copi despite the blistering pain of the sun’s kiss. He didn’t have long. The Sole Dormire would drag him under as the sun rose higher. Blisters rose and burst on his sizzling skin. The pain was overshadowed by the relief and joy of having Copi close.

  Unfamiliar hands caught at him. Words buzzed in his ears in Italian and English. He ripped free of the grasping fingers and ignored the shouts. Nothing and no one mattered except Copi. Grasping the frame of the Venetian doors, he surveyed the carnage that had been Darklon before shifting his eyes to the snarling, snapping silver wolf.

  “Copi!” Both wolves turned to face him. Vischeral bared his fangs at the white blond wolf standing between him and Copi. He wouldn’t tolerate any more barriers.

  “Move or die, whelp. It matters not to me.” Menace laced his words.

  The wolf-Copi whined and leaped over the stranger. He ploughed into Vischeral at shoulder level, knocking him back into the shadows. The huge beast landed on his chest; a wet tongue laved the burned skin on his face. Whines and soft yips broke the silence. Sinking his fingers into the thick fur, Vischeral dove into Copi’s mind seeking his mate. Barely tethered rage met his invasion, but he pushed through it, tunneled deeper. And there, a sparkling beacon, was his male.

  Creator’s blood, I missed you, my Copi. Come back to me.

  Another presence shifted in Copi’s mind, a voice Vischeral didn’t recognize. With a snarl, he batted it away and slammed down mental barriers. Across the room, the other wolf yelped and stumbled into the wall. Vischeral didn’t care. None of them mattered. Only, his Copi.

  He stroked the soft fur, murmuring in Italian to the wolf. Slowly, he felt the tension recede from body and mind. The sun sleep dragged at his consciousness. He fought to stay awake, to feel Copi’s true form against him.

  Please, Copi.

  The weight on his chest changed. Familiar lips brushed over his throat. Strong hands framed his face. Vischeral blinked trying to focus. Copi’s hazy face filled his vision. A half smile tugged at Vischeral’s mouth. “Stubborn male. I told you not to come for me.” His words slurred as his vampire gave in to the call of the Sole Dormire. As much as he wanted to rejoice in his mate, he slept.

  ~*~*~*~

  Slumped against the wall, Saul shuddered under the weight of Darklon’s revelation. Shock, anger, grief and years of agony left him a useless accomplice in Vischeral’s rescue plan. Darklon had to have been lying. His family had been killed. Laziel and Malachi had buried his dead. But, had they ever mentioned a babe? He couldn’t remember.

  He tried to tell himself that Darklon was crazy, lost to madness. But, his words rang true. Saul couldn’t comprehend it. Darklon was responsible for killing his wife, his parents and his little ones. All of the years he’d grieved; all of the years lost while his babe lived. Anguish ripped through Saul’s chest. Tears leaked from his eyes unchecked. The horrible truth beat against his skull. The bastard had used the life of his youngest as a blood payment to a race that no one knew anything about.

  Gentle hands grasped him by the shoulders. Voices murmured. The Sole Dormire embraced him, pulling
him into oblivion. And then, a face appeared against his eyelids, one being who had answers he needed.

  Lance.

  ~*~*~*~

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  ~*~*~*~

  Rome, Italy

  He found Arial on one knee beside the beheaded remains of his mother. The former angel lay covered in her own blood amid the carnage and mass destruction of the royal quarters of the Roman enclave. Broken bodies littered the floor. Smoke rose from the demon spawned carcasses who had joined the fray. Everywhere his eyes landed, there was blood, feathers, limbs and splintered or cracked wood, glass and concrete.

  Wolf and Nephilim survivors carried the vampires through the rubble to the civilian quarters. The Sole Dormire had wreaked havoc in the early dawn hours. The vampires had simply dropped where they had been fighting unable to resist the call of the undead sleep. How many had died because of their one weakness? It would have been a complete slaughter if not for the wolves and Nephilim.

  “Your soldiers, your people saved this enclave.” Bastian knelt beside Arial. He didn’t spare a glance for the bitch at his feet. He hated her with an ugly passion for what she’d done to Arial. She deserved death and the violent torture she would suffer in Hell, if Lucifer allowed his mistress to be tortured. Another reason to detest his reprehensible sire. His only regret was that he had not been the one to take her worthless life.

  “It’s all her fault.” Bitterness stained Arial’s words. “All of these deaths, the lost souls, the innocent and the ones who will never see their children grow up.” Arial’s head shot up. Haunted eyes pleaded with Bastian. “Please tell me there were no children killed. I saw what happened in South America, so many little ones slain. So fucking senseless.”

  Bastian rose to his feet and pulled Arial up into his arms. “The children are safe, locked away deep in the enclave. All of the guards responded exactly as they were trained. The civilians are safe.” Bastian hesitated, but only for a split second.

  “There’s no sign of Malachi or Laziel. Destahny’s safe in their chambers with Mirabella, Khad and Jorn. I can’t get in there. Laziel must have warded the room.” His hands and arms still vibrated with the shock he’d received when he grasped the handles. Maybe it was because he was demon. He refused to admit how much that stung. He’d thought Laziel and the vampire king had accepted him, trusted him.

  Arial pulled away. His dreadlocks brushed against Bastian’s face and then he was gone, running down the long corridors. Bastian tracked him through the warren of rubbled walls and shattered concrete. The great wooden doors of Denali’s bedchamber glowed in the tomb quiet darkness. Arial skidded to a stop before them, muttering under his breath.

  “You were right. Laziel protected his daughter with every bit of his power. Only Malachi or I could have opened this door without injury.” Arial twisted around and grabbed Bastian’s hands. He turned them palm up. The charred skin was an angry red. Blood ran freely down his arms. Arial cursed. “If you were anyone else, you would be dead right now. Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”

  “There are far more important concerns than my hands. We have to find Denali and Laziel.”

  “It can wait just a minute,” Arial growled. Soft illumination encompassed their hands. The pain vanished. When Arial drew his hands back, Bastian’s palms were mended and whole.

  “Laziel?” Mirabella’s muffled voice barely reached his ears. Arial faced the door again. Strange words fell from his lips while his fingers danced in the air. His male took a deep breath and reached for the door knobs.

  “Arial, don’t!”

  The angel’s fingers wrapped around the knobs and twisted. The doors swung open, and as they did, the glow subsided. They were brought up short by snarling wolves and an electrified sword. Mirabella stood between the two wolves. Destahny was strapped to her back, calmly sucking her thumb. Kimberly stood behind her wielding a nasty look sword.

  “It’s Arial and Rhys.” Mirabella’s shoulders sagged a fraction. The crackling sword vanished into the hilt. Jorn and Khadlyn settled on their haunches. “Have you seen the king? He was with us until the human Pope came to the room. He said he had a message from the Creator.”

  “And Laziel?”

  Mirabella shook her head. “The doors sealed themselves when Jorn and Khadlyn came through them. We haven’t heard or seen anything since then.”

  “These chambers are the only undamaged area of the royal chambers. The civilian side is largely intact. The Nephilim and wolves have taken the vampire survivors there to wait for the sun to set. They’re cleaning up what they can of the mess. Thankfully, there were no explosions or major collapse so the human Vatican is safe. The everyday humans are still ignorant of vampire existence.”

  Bastian felt Him. The surge of power called to his demon soul. Near orgasmic jubilation raced through his veins. Bastian stepped between the two angels.

  “Arial, can you reseal the doors?” Everyone looked toward the opening, but they wouldn’t see him. “Now, Arial. Seal it, now. Lucifer’s here.” Rhys ripped free of the human form. It was a dangerous move; he wouldn’t be able to hide from his father in demon form. Stepping back into the hall, he turned to face Arial.

  “You have to seal it. He won’t hesitate to kill that baby.”

  “Get your ass back in here and I will.”

  Rhys shook his head. “I’m a liability in there. He can use me to channel. I’ll guard this door with my life, Arial. I promise. You protect that babe.” He drew the doors together. “I love you, Arial Nathanial. Stop worrying, I won’t be going anywhere without you.”

  Arial surprised him by stepping forward and kissing him before the doors were completely closed. For just a moment, he rested his forehead against the wood. The soft hum gave him warning before the ward activated.

  He had no idea what his father wanted, or why he would be on Earth during daylight. But, if he was after Destahny Denali, they were going to butt heads worse than they ever had before.

  ~*~*~*~

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  ~*~*~*~

  “There is nothing for you here on Earth. Come with me, Malachi Denali, and I can give you a new realm to conquer. A place where your talents won’t be wasted; a place where you can give in to the dark violence swirling around your soul. No rules or limitations. None of the justice bullshit Laziel has fed you all of your life.”

  Leaning against the serendibite altar, Malachi watched the personification of evil stroll around Laziel’s most private sanctum. Humans feared him; demons worshipped him. Malachi found him tedious and arrogant.

  “I told you, Morningstar, I am not interested in anything you have to offer. If all of this was a grand scheme to lure me to your side, you’ve failed. And, you’ve pissed me the fuck off. This is my fucking home. My friends are out there, fighting and bleeding, while you prance around in here playing Darth Vader.”

  Lucifer smirked. “The dark side offers more than cookies. You’re a predator. Blood is your nectar. If you come to my playground, you’ll have all you need?”

  “First rule of strategy, get your fucking facts straight.” Malachi pushed away from the altar. “I don’t drink blood from just anyone. You have nothing I want.”

  “But, I have something he wants.”

  Lucifer flashed across the room and grabbed him just as Laziel appeared from thin air. Clad in full battle armor and clutching the Spear of Destiny, his male was magnificent. Malachi’s body immediately responded to his resplendent mate. Behind him, Lucifer smirked at his nemesis and ran a possessive hand down Malachi’s cheek.

  “Took you long enough, Seraphim. I was beginning to think the little vampire didn’t mean anything to you.”

  Malachi snarled and knocked Lucifer’s hand away from his face. He paced to Laziel’s side and slid an arm around his seething mate.

  “We know your game, Morningstar. You seek to start a holy war on Earth, right here in this room. Your bid will fail. Laziel and I are not pawns in your little ga
me of Fate. He’s defeated you once before; we will do so again.”

  “He doesn’t have his Seraphim brothers and sisters anymore,” Lucifer snarled. “He stands alone against Hell’s horde.”

  “He never stands alone while I breathe.”

  “You’re wasting your gifts at his side. He’s always kept you right under his thumb. Don’t you want freedom? Did you choose this destiny you so zealously seek? When in your young life did you stand up and say you wanted to be king? Never? Because it was force fed to you.”

  Lucifer edged closer. His brilliant eyes latched onto Malachi’s face. “When you wanted a lover, what did he do? He nearly killed Vischeral Bourne and allowed Darklon to destroy the male’s life. He could have stopped all of that. Vischeral could still be human.”

  Malachi roared in outrage. He swung around to face Laziel. “Why the fuck didn’t you save him?” Pure shock froze Laziel’s features. Malachi used the split second distraction to his advantage. His fist connected with Laziel’s chin. The crack of flesh against flesh echoed in the room. The devastated look on Laziel’s face broke his heart, but Malachi swung again and a third time. Instinct made the angel defend himself. Lucifer crowed with delight when Malachi was thrown across the room to crash against the newly rebuilt pews.

  “Azarian, you can’t listen to him. Fight his influence.”

  Malachi launched himself into the air. Time slowed. He had seen the Spear of Destiny only once before in his long lifetime. He’d been a child, scared by a nightmare when he’s stumbled into the living room to see Laziel holding the weapon. Bits and pieces of the story had stayed with him. He prayed he remembered them correctly.