Father Luke tripped to his feet and lunged forward. He had not taken three steps when Marius made a swift movement with his hand, and the priest flew backward, as if a string behind him had been yanked.
Valerian seemed to retreat, then stalked a wide circle around to the tree. He was hoping to sneak up behind the fiend, I realized. His lips were peeled back, a look of naked hatred on his face, so fierce and raw that even I recoiled.
For myself, I was distracted with worry for this new child Marius had brought with him. Would she also be used for the sacrifice, or was it the vampire’s plan to feed from her, to give himself strength for what he was about to do? Either way, it was imperative I find a way to get her safely out of his clutches.
Fishing the crucifix out of my bag, I stepped forward and held it out in front of me. Careful not to meet the vampire’s eye, I advanced, one step at a time. My legs shook and my voice quavered, but I did not stop.
“By the power of Christ,” I said. I saw the flash of bone-white teeth, wetly gleaming and razor-sharp, as the great vampire laughed at me. But he’d paused, and he was watching.
I knew where Father Luke had made the seal with the holy water behind the back of the tree. I positioned myself across from where he had poured the blessed water onto the ground. Armed with my crucifix, I intended to try to back Marius into the trap.
My mind was braced, not only for what Marius would do as I neared, but for the repulsive brush of his mind into mine, the sapping of my will, the loss of my soul, the horror of the vampire’s touch so deep and thrilling it would take me to hell without a murmur of complaint. I did my best to ignore this fear, focusing instead on the gleam of the child’s dark hair. I fixed my eyes on the pale throat exposed by her lolling head, and I pressed on, sending silent prayers to Heaven to help me.
I must save her, I prayed fervently. Help me, help me.
With the crucifix before me, one step after another, I advanced. But there was nothing I, nor any of us, could do to stop Marius when he bent his head to the child in his arms and whispered something to her. With the index finger of his free hand, he hooked his nail into her flesh and tore open her throat. The life’s blood gushed from her like bubbling liquid from a spring.
I screamed, and heard the male cries echo around me. I recognized Sebastian’s voice, and dully registered that he’d finally arrived. He, I, Father Luke, and Valerian—all of us watched with horror as the child’s blood poured onto the ground and the filthy shape that cowered among the roots of the old tree began to swell.
Marius worked quickly, his finger trailing to the girl’s chest. He opened it with no more than a stroke. I fell to my knees, watching helplessly as he drew out the still-beating heart and held it aloft.
A lash of the darkness that seethed in expectation whipped out like a strike of lightning to pluck it from his fingers, and it disappeared into the shadow. I watched sickly as the foul creature thickened, darkened, its stench poisoning the air until tears rolled down my eyes. Or perhaps I was crying.
Marius dropped the child’s lifeless body to the ground. Her face rolled toward me, and I glimpsed her pallor, the shadowed eyes, the ashen lips. She’d been a beautiful little girl.
Over her dead form, Marius and I faced one another. Behind him arched the grasping branches of the hawthorn inside which waiting, hovering, thirsty, greedy, hungry for life was that terrible thing.
Marius moved quickly. Like a snake, he rose in one rapid, fluid movement to his full height and surged forward at the same time. His head snapped toward me and his mouth opened, jaws unlocking so that the gaping maw lined with a row of vicious teeth was impossibly wide. It clamped down on the crucifix in my hand, the hard bite clicking down like the closing of a cinch, and the wooden cross with its detailed statue of the suffering Christ snapped in two.
Horror and surprise slapped me. I screamed and leapt back, scrabbling artlessly from under the hawthorn. I had not thought this possible, knowing full well a crucifix was a reliable weapon against the undead, but somehow his fresh kill had made him stronger, nearly invincible.
Marius threw back his head and laughed, then reached his hand to his left. I saw Valerian go down. Marius had known where he was and what he’d been planning all along. The monster then leveled his gaze toward Father Luke, who was climbing to his feet with visible difficulty, and pointed his finger almost playfully. The mighty priest trembled, clearly in terrible pain. Marius’s smile gleamed brighter, the vicious points of his fangs glowing in the murky moonlight, and he jabbed his finger again. Father Luke collapsed back onto the ground.
I looked about anxiously for Sebastian. He must be hiding, or perhaps he’d lost his nerve and run away. I prayed that if that was the case, he’d bring back help.
I waited for Marius to turn to me, to do the same to me as he had done to the men. But he did not. Instead, he pursed his lips and blew. I heard an approaching clatter, something flying through the air, rattling against trees that stood far off in the distance. Sickness washed over me as I realized the stakes—the stakes I’d fashioned from the Holy Hawthorn at Glastonbury—were clattering as they were blown away. They were gone!
I had nearly forgotten Valerian, but he suddenly appeared at the periphery of my vision, stumbling toward Marius from behind. He and Father Luke were severely weakened; whatever Marius had done to them had taken a terrible toll, but they were not in retreat. They would never retreat. This fight was until the death.
Marius seemed unperturbed by our movements. Why should he be otherwise? I thought hopelessly. He had defeated us with powers none of us had suspected. He had been smarter, stronger than we’d thought possible.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I lay panting on the ground. I did not know what more I could do. I was defenseless, frightened, paralyzed.
The horrible thing next to Marius raised itself, emitting a noise now. It sounded like a plea, a greedy evil plea urging Marius to hurry.
The vampire lord raised his hand, the wicked tips curling and yellowed. He beckoned, his gaze fixed behind me. His ancient voice, the echo of which I still held in my head, sifted into the air. “Come now, my little one.”
I snapped my head and saw Henrietta. Sebastian had his arms around her. He had been guarding her all this time. “Keep her away,” I called to him. “For God’s sake, take her away!”
He tried. Valiantly, Sebastian tried to pull at Henrietta to draw her away, but the vampire lord had only to whip his hand toward him and Sebastian went down. His screams of pain rent the air as his body twisted on the ground.
“Stop it,” I cried helplessly.
Henrietta dashed forward, making straight for Marius. I saw her running, and leapt to intercept her but she skittered out of my grasp. And then from nowhere Valerian sprang forward, coming out of a half-crouch, and snagged the hem of her nightgown. She went sprawling onto the ground, and though she hit at him with her small fists, he held on to her.
Suddenly I heard Roger’s voice sound authoritatively. “What the devil is happening here?”
And Mary’s, more hysterical: “Henrietta!”
I was not wholly surprised they’d come. Our fast exit from the house had not been stealthy, and our trail would not have been difficult to follow. I suppose I’d been expecting them. I drew myself to my feet and faced them. “Stay where you are,” I said. “Do not interfere.”
Roger stood with a few house servants, still dressed in his nightclothes. Mary clutched at his arm. He glared at me. “Emma! What the devil are you doing?”
Valerian had Henrietta in his arms. She twisted furiously, rabid to be free. Marius was murmuring, calling to her. Mary screamed and ran toward her daughter.
“Do not come closer!” I shouted, and she stopped, uncertain. She looked back to her husband.
Henrietta began to scream and cry, holding out her arms. But she was not reaching for her mother. She wanted Marius.
“Damnation, I will not!” Roger was furious, his rage directed at me. “Emma
, you have—”
“Not now!” I shouted, and my own voice held a new quality, something neither he nor I had ever heard in it before. “Stay where you are, and for God’s sake, if you want Henrietta to live, you must trust me and do exactly as I say.”
I was somehow not surprised when the ring of command in my voice brought them both up short. They stood gaping at me, but they did comply. I did not expend any time explaining. Turning back to Marius, I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, banishing all my fears and doubts. The time had come for me to face my natural enemy.
Chapter Thirty-one
Let her come to me.” Marius’s voice swelled around us, seeming to rise up from the stones, the ground.
Everyone was still. The thickness of the air seemed to seal us inside a small capsule, trapped together to play out this drama. Only Mary’s sobs, soft now, interrupted the blanket of silence.
Then Father Luke moved, but not against Marius. He grabbed Valerian and shook him. “Let him raise the thing! Let him eat it, and then we will take him. It is the only chance, man!”
“No!” Valerian stared at him in horror.
“She is dead anyway!” Father Luke roared. His great fists came down, and although Valerian’s strength was not small, he rent the iron-fast grip Valerian had on the child, and set her free. Valerian fell to the ground in pain. Father Luke went down with him, his voice rising in an agonized crescendo. “She is his minion already, do you not see? It is too late, Fox! You cannot save her.”
I cried out, horrified to realize this could very well be true. Henrietta wanted Marius, there was no denying that. But the vampire could not have tainted her blood, could he? He wanted her pure. The corruption of the best was what he needed.
But she was enchanted. I could see with my own eyes how she loved him.
When Valerian struck, it was so quick Father Luke did not have any time to react. He brought his foot up, then down to deliver a heavy, sharp jab to the priest’s thigh, an exotic motion of measured agility and stunning strength. I heard the crack from where I stood. Father Luke’s cry shook us all, even Valerian, who broke free and stood, uncertain and regretful, next to the fallen priest. I could see he was pale, sick with what he’d done, and guilty, too.
Mary’s scream ripped through the air in a terrible wail: “Henrietta!”
The child was transfixed, moving woodenly toward the tree, toward Marius, whose face was alight with triumph. I could see the confusion on her features. She feared him, that was plain. What had he done to her? Was it some power, or merely very common intimidation that gave him such sway? She was clearly terrorized by him, and yet she remained obedient.
Marius reached out his arms to receive her and the foul cloud pulsed, knowing its fruition was near. Instinct moved me to stand directly in the path between Marius and Henrietta. Putting out my hand, open-palmed, I reached toward him. The connection he had once used to master me—which I feared more than my own death—now hummed to life. I braced myself against the revulsion, and I stretched.
Marius’s head snapped up, and the mad gleam of victory in his eyes dimmed. His jaw convulsed, and I felt his foulness, felt him reaching to possess me again. Dark, raging fear reared up, almost driving me into retreat.
But I held strong. I would possess him. I alone had looked into the eyes of a master vampire and survived, traveled to the great archive at Amiens and delved deep into the wisdom of ages on this creature and others like him. I had my mother’s blood in me.
My fear did not ebb. It merely became irrelevant. I thought, I am Dhampir and I have tasted the blood of my enemy.
As a vampire gained the strength of those upon whom it fed, so did I gain Marius’s strength from the taste of his blood. I had feared my impulse to touch the hawthorn switch to my lips had been a trap, but I now knew it had given me power which I felt now. It pulsed as it rose inside of me, beckoning me to action. I followed the lead of impulse, reaching into his being as he had once reached into mine.
The vampire pushed against my invasion. His strength nearly overwhelmed me, but I slipped behind his fury and touched the writhing will. His name was not Marius. Nor Emil. It was something long, written in symbols on sandstone walls. His cipher stood in the desert, but his body did not lie in the tomb made for him. This knowledge, and more, shot like a shower of burning sparks in my consciousness. And I glimpsed those he’d touched, his minions. A beggar. A Knight Templar. An Arab woman with wide, almond-shaped eyes deep with wisdom and shining with wickedness.
He tried to repel me, whispering inside my head, “I know you, Dhampir. I know your line, made from the blood of my enemy. But beyond that is the great Dracula. Yes, little vampire, the great prince is also in you, for he is the ancient that binds us all. We need not be enemies. Come with me. Can you feel the promise of eternal life? Time unending, death defeated. It is in you. We are the same; we can be the same. Grant me your blood, and we shall be eternal together.”
The temptation of his offering summoned a yearning in me. I still wanted him, like an opium eater both craves and reviles the bliss of the poppy. I did not move, however. He could not reach Henrietta, not with me to block him. I held him; but equally did he hold me. For either one of us to surrender was unthinkable.
Then I felt something at my hand. Sebastian was beside me. “I could only find one,” he said as my fingers closed around a slender column. The sharpened pole of the Holy Hawthorn of Joseph of Arimathea fit securely into the palm of my hand.
Exhilaration surged within me as I brought it to bear upon my enemy and saw him step back. He must have keenly felt the singular power of this weapon, wrought from the holiest of places, for he seemed surprised, even cowered for a moment before springing into counter attack.
He flung his hand out in an abrupt gesture and there came an explosion behind me, and a sudden surge of heat. I cut a glance quickly to the side to see that one of the oil lamps had burst, its contents spilling onto the chalky downs. The oil flashed, then caught fire. The flames leapt higher than the fuel warranted, no doubt fed by the evil magic Marius had used to effect the petty trick.
I startled at the sound but quickly realized that the flames were not a danger, merely a distraction. Yet my break in con centration was all Marius needed. Henrietta flew forward and was in his arms before I knew what was happening.
I heard Mary scream, a heart-wrenching sound I forced myself to ignore. Very quickly, the fiend used a talonlike fingernail to slice a clean line in Henrietta’s neck just below the ear where the artery lay. Then he bent to allow her precious blood to fall onto the ground, to where the vague shape was unfolding itself into an oily mist beneath the tree. I watched in horror as it pulsed, surging greedily in response to the grisly feeding.
I burst into a run. I had only one stake, one means to kill, and two creatures I had to destroy. But there was no time for anything but desperate action. Henrietta was dying.
Valerian was there, too, suddenly—racing at full speed to hurl himself at his nemesis. The impact of his body jarred Henrietta out of Marius’s arms, and I scrabbled toward her, snatching her to me and dragging her away.
Marius grasped Valerian around the neck, lifting him high up off the ground for a moment before flinging him aside, sending him hard to the ground out of his reach. The great vampire lord then turned, hunkering over the pulsing energy he had raised from the soul of the tree.
I heard Mary’s piercing cry for her daughter behind me as I raced toward Marius, who was now kneeling in the midst of the shadow. The loathsome thing he had conjured pulsed around him like a mass of scrabbling rats. But it was beginning to assemble itself into shape. A human shape.
It was like watching a corpse reanimate itself. The thing was hideous. Its eyes were black, gleaming, its mouth gaping. There was but a hole where its nose and ears should be. Marius clasped him, his teeth flashing for a moment before he clamped down on the writhing flesh and began to feed. The horror that lay in Marius’s arms flailed, a keening cry
of protest ripping across the air as they grappled together in the harsh ballet of predator and prey.
Father Luke’s voice tore into the air, filled with rage and frustration. “Now, Emma! Fox! Kill them!”
My hand reached for the vial as I neared the tree, and I unstoppered it, flinging the precious little blessed water onto the two of them. As soon as it came in contact with Marius’s skin, he bucked, screaming as if he’d been touched with fire. Releasing the other creature, he stumbled back, whirling upon me in rage. I did not look in his eyes. Instead, I fixed my gaze on his gaping mouth, dripping the putrid black essence of the creature he’d consumed.
The fire he’d made leapt, dancing deliriously as if infused by his rage. It produced roiling coils of smoke on the wet grass as it fought its way toward me. The crisp sound of it crackled in the air and the heat pressed in on my skin.
I steeled my courage and I blocked out the shouts behind me. My concentration deepened as I centered on my target. Marius and I—somehow, I had always known it would be thus. I bore down on him. Now he was my prey, and I was relentless. My hand was ready with the wooden stake, and murder was fixed solid and sure in my heart.
“No,” Father Luke commanded. “Not Marius. The demon—kill it!”
I hesitated, turning to consider the ancient horror Marius had restored. Its eyes gleamed fiercely as it lay on the ground. It had been temporarily weakened by Mairus’s attack, but it was reviving. Marius had not been able to finish feeding from it. It would not be weak for long. If it were left to survive, it would feed off legions of men, and live into eternity to torment humanity for all time.
I had but one stake in my hand.
I raised that blessed weapon over my head. I had no remorse, no hesitation, not even a little. I brought the stake down, impaling the demon vampire into the ground. The foul thing grasped at me, surprised. Perhaps it had never supposed a mere woman could be its destruction. Its talon-like fingers scraped viciously down my arms and the odor coming from him nearly drove me back, but I forced myself onward.
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