by Leia Shaw
“We have no quarrel with you, witches,” a deep voice boomed from outside. “Send out the girl and we’ll be on our way.”
“Like hell, mutt!” Athena yelled.
The girls snickered.
Her jaw dropped. Athena looked as harmless as a flighty Sorority girl, the twins prep school girls, and Sam, with her long billowy skirt, could have been a modern hippie. Never in a million years would she have deemed any of them a threat if she’d seen them walking on the street. But now – with weapons in their hands, eerie smiles beaming in the afternoon light, their eyes narrowed with lethal focus, their bodies itching to hurt something – she couldn’t imagine a more menacing sight. And then they’d actually provoked the werewolves.
Selene slid her gaze to Sage. “Are you always this much trouble?” A smile hinted at her lips.
“Yes. It’s alright. I’ll go. I’m not afraid of them.” She took a step forward but Selene put an arm in her path.
“No. We take care of our own.” She loaded her crossbow and aimed it at the front door. As dangerous as this group of witches appeared, Sage didn’t feel safe anywhere. Except with James.
Ugh! She wished he’d get out of her head.
Before Sage could insist on leaving, the house shook and the bay window shattered.
“Oh shit! They’ve got some serious magic,” Athena yelled, already throwing knives at the advancing werewolves.
Sage couldn’t see out of the window enough to know how many there were.
“This ain’t no typical werewolf stuff,” she said. “They’re getting help from somebody.”
“Cadmael,” she breathed.
Selene snapped her head to stare at Sage, but didn’t say anything.
Sam opened the front door and Selene let loose three arrows. A pained yelp filled the tension-charged air. The witches’ aim was deadly, but their numbers too small.
“You have to let me go with them,” she told Selene, who was reloading her crossbow. “I won’t get you killed because of me.”
“No.”
Something flew at Sage and instinct kicked in. A dart skidded to a stop inches in front of her chest. A tranquilizer? She plucked it out of the air and inspected it.
Selene’s gaze was fixed on her, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Sage smirked and pocketed the dart. “You have no idea.”
But there wasn’t time for more questions because the werewolves, using magic and brute strength, had quickly descended on the house. She knew the witches, as fierce as they were, wouldn’t be able to hold them back much longer. They knew it too.
“Rose!” Selene called over the growls and roars.
A fierce wind whirled outside, rattling the windows with its strength. With the front door wide open and the bay window shattered, it blew through the house, creating a miniature Armegeddon.
“The Concealer!” Selene yelled when she caught Rosemary’s attention. She threw one of the pouches across the room and Selene caught it in her palm.
Concealer? This was hardly the time for make-up.
Selene ripped open the pouch with her teeth, one arm still grasping the crossbow, and poured powder into her hand.
Before Sage could ask what it was, she blew the loose powder at her face. Sage sneezed then blinked several times to keep her vision from clouding.
“This will make you invisible for about three hours,” Selene told her. “You’re going to have to run. There’s a coven in Vermont if you can make it there. They’re bigger and could offer more protection. Here’s my number.” She shoved a slip of paper in Sage’s jeans pocket. “Please, call me.” She kissed her cheek then shoved Sage down the basement stairs before she could stutter a thank you. “There’s a secret passageway where you fell in through the trapdoor. Follow the hallway to the storage room. The freezer leads outside.”
Sage nodded, too stunned to do anything else.
“We’ll hold them off as long as we can. Good luck.” She smiled once, closed the door, and then she was gone.
***
Sage made the most of her invisibility. It took a full hour to walk back to town but it was worth it when she’d filched supplies from a convenience store.
In a secluded alley behind the store, she shoved the items into her backpack and studied the map she’d stolen to replace the other.
A dark figure appeared at the entrance of the alley. She waited for it to pass by. When it stood still and watched her, she figured the invisibility had worn off. Shit. The idea of a curious bum didn’t scare her, but this guy was giving off creepy vibes worse than the witches.
He took three steps toward her. Her breath hitched in her throat. When he gestured for her to come to him, she knew she was in knee-deep shit.
At once, she brought forth her sword. The figure vanished. Had she scared him off?
No. Nothing was ever that easy. That should be her motto. That and “get fucked by everyone you think cares about you.”
Her gaze flitted nervously around the alley.
He reappeared a few feet in front of her and she jumped back.
“Get away from me!” she commanded, holding out her sword in her best fencing pose – as seen on TV.
He didn’t move. Though this was only the second vampire she’d ever seen, there was no doubt in her mind that’s what he was. It might’ve had something to do with the fangs poking out from under his top lip. If he was going for discreet, he’d fail miserably.
She swung her sword at him, but he dodged it, creating a blur as he moved.
When she swiped at him again, he disappeared. A thick arm came around her chest. Before she could even start to fight, her light went out and the alley faded away with a whoosh of cold air.
Nothing made sense for a moment. The vampire held her so tightly she couldn’t conjure any magic. The only thing she could do was keep trying to breathe.
When she blinked her eyes for the third time, she was in a grand hall made of stone.
Did they just teleport?
Trying to wiggle free was pointless. The vampire placed one big palm on her forehead.
“Be still, sorceress or I’ll snap your neck before you can blink,” he said in a Spanish accent.
Always a survivor, she stopped struggling. He dropped his hand from her head and loosened his grip on her chest, but he still held her against him. His body was tense, as if he were ready to snap her neck any moment.
It was a very disconcerting position to be in. She almost preferred the magic rope.
She peered around the room while trying not to move her head too much for fear of giving the vampire a reason to murder her. As far as she could tell, the hall was empty. A grand staircase curved up to a balcony on the upper level and a black iron chandelier hung above them. Dark gray stone made up the walls and floor, giving the whole place an eerie medieval vibe.
Was she in the Underworld?
After a few silent minutes, Sage grew impatient. What the hell were they waiting for? Too bad her captor didn’t seem like the chatty type.
The vampire twitched and snapped his head toward the staircase. She watched for movement at the top of the balcony.
After a moment, a man came into view. He walked slowly down the staircase, a broad grin across his face. She looked him over, assessing whether this was a true adversary.
His skin was a shade of gray and his short, spiky hair matched it, making his age impossible to tell. Parts of him looked young and others ancient. Dressed head-to-toe in black with a long swinging trench coat, he was the epitome of a vampire cliché.
His smile was accentuated by wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. Laugh lines. And he looked genuinely happy to see her – no pretenses at all.
Halfway through his theatrical walk down the staircase, he became a blur then appeared a few feet in front of her.
The man raked his creepy gray eyes up and down Sage’s body, his grin broadening when he reached her face.
She shuddered. Cadmael.
“Let her go, Marcelo,” he told the vampire holding her.
He obeyed.
She wasted no time. The element of surprise, James had coached her during a training session.
She threw the biggest Bolt she could conjure straight at the mystery vamp.
Blinding pain made her gasp and stumble back, clutching her nose. Blood gushed through her fingers. She held back the sob stuck in her throat. Her eyes watered but she sucked in a sharp breath, wiped her hands on her shirt, and lifted her chin proudly even as blood flowed down it.
Laughter filled the hall. The owner of the sound stood a few feet away. Behind him, a piece of smoking stone crumbled and fell to the ground. At least she’d hit something.
“Naughty girl,” Cadmael chided in an accent like James’. “Trying to kill me already? But we’ve only just met,” he gave her a weighted glare, “daughter.”
Daughter?
Her stomach dropped. Head spinning, she almost doubled over from shock. Her arms felt like dead weight. She needed to sit down.
It all made sense now – why Cadmael had been looking for her, why she was more powerful than others, why James had been hiding her.
She was Cadmael’s daughter. Adwyth Hun, the evil one. She had to remind herself to breathe.
Cadmael watched her response carefully. “Ah, I see you recognize the truth.”
“How?” she grated as she held back the vomit she wanted to spew.
“Is it so hard to believe a woman could love me?”
Yes.
“I assure you I can be very charming –”
“When you’re not kidnapping your daughter and breaking her nose?”
He laughed, a deep rich sound that echoed through the hall. “Fiery one, aren’t you? Reminds me of myself at your age.”
Sage made a sound of disgust.
“My heir,” he said gesturing towards her, as if proud. “I’ve been very curious about you, Sage. You go by Sage, correct?”
She shrugged. Her father was the fucking king of evil, did it really matter what he called her?
“To be honest, Sage, I hoped for a boy. I might have used him to expand my kingdom. But a girl? What could I do with that?”
Sage was tempted to roll her eyes. “So, you and my mother were –”
“Nothing. A one night stand, that was all. She used me to get over a heartbreak and I used her for,” he smiled, “well, what all men –”
“Okay.” She put her hands up to stop him. “Got it.”
“When your mother found out who I was, not many like the Evil One part, she was afraid I’d find you. So she gave you away before I could get to her. Then she fled under the protection of the witches. Though mortal, they are still very powerful. And tricky. Don’t ever make a deal with one of them,” he told her as if giving ordinary fatherly advice. “They’ll double cross you and before you know it, you’ll have a stake in your chest while you bleed out slowly on the floor.”
He continued talking as he paced in front of her. “Anyway, I figured you might die of your own accord. Our family tree is notorious for our bad tempers. Or I thought that the Counsel would find out about you and arrange your accidental death or some nonsense like that. Hypocrites, all of them. But as it were, you are still alive. And growing stronger by the day, I hear. Well done.”
Did he expect a thank you? She inhaled a deep breath while trying to process all of this. “If you’re my father then shouldn’t I be a vampire?”
“You are, dear. One quarter vampire.”
The room spun. Fuck. She couldn’t afford to be off her game.
“Although you appear not to have inherited our speed or strength. Instead you’ve taken on stronger sorcery skills. Tell me, do you thirst for blood?” At her grimace, he nodded. “No? Well, I’d bet my life that you’re immortal.”
She shook her head.
“Have you never been sick? Do you heal from injury faster than others?”
Yes, on both accounts, but she’d attributed it to being in good shape, a strong immune system, and just plain luck.
When she didn’t respond, he shrugged and said, “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”
He gestured to the vampire still standing behind her. A pair of strong hands grabbed her head, and before she could process what was happening, her neck twisted with a loud crack.
Her cheek pressed up against a hard, cold surface when she came to. Groaning, she rose and stretched her sore neck. Her head pounded. She staggered a bit until Marcelo steadied her.
Cadmael wore an eerily amused expression. “I was right! Immortal.”
Her mouth hung wide open. She couldn’t believe he just fucking killed her. So much for a happy family reunion.
“Now I’ll bet that if you drink blood, even a small amount, your vampiric traits will come to surface. Speed, strength, extra sensory perception,” his eyes sparkled, “fangs.”
Enough. “What the hell do you want from me?” she spat.
He looked hurt at her tone. “To meet you. To get a chance to tell you my side of the story. I’m sure James and the Counsel exaggerated tales of my evil. But nothing is as it seems.”
He paused, maybe waiting for a response. She gave him none.
Clasping his hands together, he continued. “For one, I don’t want to take over Caerwyn and kill all the sorcerers living there. That’s what they told you, right?”
She didn’t answer.
“The Counsel is a group of underhanded, lying hypocrites. With me,” he held his arms out to the side, “what you see is what you get.”
Yeah, a deranged psychopath.
“And the Counsel didn’t exile me from Caerwyn. They tried to kill me and I escaped, barely, with my life hanging by a thread. I went to the vampires to save my life. Without the powers of Caerwyn, I would have died in a matter of days. Marcelo agreed to turn me if I helped them find safe land to hunt and live.”
At her confused expression, he explained, “You see, vampires and werewolves have been persecuted in their homelands for centuries. The werewolves in Romania, the vampires in England. They’ve been hunted, brutally massacred, sometimes burned alive by scared humans for years. But no one bothered to find out that werewolves only hunt animals and vampires can feed without killing. They were a threat to no one, yet they were destroyed time and time again. The Underworld is safe from humans but it’s difficult to find resources here. And going Topside for everything has its challenges. So I offered them safety and the extraordinary abilities Caerwyn could provide. There is plenty of land to go around. Why should one race suffer while another flourishes?”
There was no lie in his eyes. Sage was surprised to find just a bit of logic in his explanation.
“But you killed a man and drank his blood,” she accused.
He nodded. “Another form of lying is omitting the truth. The reason I killed that man is because he raped my wife. I bested him in a game of Baccarat. He was a competitive man, too proud. And so, to spite me, he raped her then bent her will to make her kill herself. Would you not kill a man for that?”
She would.
“In a fit of rage I murdered him. When I saw his lifeless body on the ground and all that magnificent magic-filled blood draining from his veins, I couldn’t see the sense in wasting it. So I drank it and obtained his power.”
More logic? She shook her head. No way. He was still a sick bastard. “But you drain others. For their power.”
He shrugged. “Mostly just the stray sorcerer trying to kill me in a misguided attempt at bravery. I do so hate being murdered in my own home. Your friend James was fun.” His smile turned sinister. “I enjoyed creating him.”
A soft growl tore from her throat.
“I never said I wasn’t evil,” he said. “Just that there are always two sides to a story. And now you know mine.”
“What’s your plan for me?” She was disinterested in hearing any more of his disturbing stories. “What’s the point
of all of this?”
He stepped toward her. She stepped back and bumped into Marcelo, reminding her she was a prisoner here.
“The oracles tell me you are destined to be the Queen of the Underworld,” he said. “I cannot allow that. I work alone.”
“You’re going to kill me.” It wasn’t a question, just an observation of fate.
He nodded slowly, his eyes downcast, almost as if he were sad about it. “But first I’ll drain you. A sorcerer-witch is bound to be an interesting combination. But enough sentiments. Show me what you’ve got.” He backed up a few steps, crouched down, and gestured her forward.
“You want me to fight you?”
“Of course. I have to see what talents I’ll obtain when I drain you.”
The element of surprise. She faked a stunned expression then threw a Bolt. But he moved too quickly and dodged it. Something hit her and she flew back then crashed into the stone wall behind her.
A few of her ribs cracked with a sickening sound and the air rush out of her lungs. She fell to the floor, gasping for breath.
Cadmael stood over her. “Is that all you’ve got? I’m disappointed.”
Gaze on her target, she pulled energy into her palms and formed a sword. She held it in front of her as she stood to face him.
Cadmael mimicked her lighted sword then smiled from behind the white glow.
James’ had told her, when fighting vampires, to anticipate their next move. They were too fast to strike where they stood, so she had to be one step ahead. At the last strike, Cadmael moved left to avoid the Bolt. Would he move right this time?
Instead of swinging the sword at him, she struck slightly to the right. His shirt ripped open and blood rose to the surface of his pale skin. Before she could follow up with another strike, sharp pain exploded in her shoulder. She hadn’t even seen the sword stab her.
She choked back a scream, enduring the agony with dignity. Instead of falling to her knees, she managed to stay upright, just barely. Maybe being immortal wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Broken ribs and fire radiating down her arm made it hard to breathe. Fucking crazy ass relatives. She narrowed her gaze at enemy.
With a glance at the ceiling, a bolt of lightning struck and hit something atop the castle. The building rumbled.
