by Leia Shaw
Cadmael, momentarily distracted, looked up and whispered, “Fascinating.”
Desperately, she wished for the chandelier to fall. It creaked at first then silenced. Her heart sunk and she felt hope fading away.
Without warning, the entire iron piece came crashing down on top of Cadmael, wiping off his perpetually amused grin.
She winced as he fell to the ground underneath the heavy pieces of broken chandelier. It had to have hurt, but he didn’t give any indication it did anything but irritate him.
His growl made her flinch. Despite having been growled at plenty by her own vampire, Cadmael was unmatched. He leapt to his feet.
Great. She’d only angered him.
He thrust out his hand and one of the broken chandelier pieces flew toward her. It hit her in the chest, forcing her back against the wall. Something invisible held it there, pinning her a foot or so off the ground. She tried to gather power in her hands but they only sparked.
Cadmael sauntered toward her, stopping a few feet away. “You won’t win this. And I’ve gotten a good view of your abilities. We’re done here.” He motioned to Marcelo, who’d been delicately dodging the effects of the fight.
Marcelo released the iron bar from her chest and wrapped his big arm around her torso. He probably didn’t realize he was the only thing holding her up.
“You’re weak,” Cadmael said with disgust. “I’ll wait until you gain your strength before I drain you. I have a ceremony planned.” He looked at Marcelo. “Take her to one of my rooms. Make sure she’s fed and taken care of. No one touches her.”
A moment later, cold air seized her, her head spun, and the destroyed hallway turned into a plain, anonymous bedroom.
Marcelo eased her onto the bed. She winced with each movement. Her lungs burned when she breathed. Her shirt was sticky with blood. So much of her body hurt, she couldn’t concentrate on one single injury. She wanted to curl up and die.
“You cannot escape from here, princesa,” the vampire said, pulling a blanket over her body. “The walls are magic proof. Save your energy and rest as the Dark King instructed. You will receive food shortly.”
She looked up into his strangely warm eyes. He was being…nice? It was impossible to keep up with these moody vampires. Her eyelids grew heavy, and within seconds of hitting the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 15
He was going to thrash her! First, he was going to drink her. Then he was going to fuck her. Then he was going to thrash her. No. First he was going to fuck her, then thrash her, then drink her.
James had spent three whole days plotting his revenge. He hadn’t felt so helpless since he’d been turned so long ago. Stuck in a goddamn cave by a twenty-five year old woman with a fucking beginner potion! The fact that he was falling in love with that woman made it all the trickier to plan revenge.
In his mind, he hunted Sage. He looked forward to the thrill of it. Scenting her. Tracking her. Taking her in his arms once he caught her – and he would catch her – although he wasn’t sure if he would hug her or throttle her. But he would find her, and they would have a nice long talk – preferably with her over his knee, or maybe tied to the bed.
When the potion finally wore off, he was hungry and sore and in no condition to hunt. It took him a full day to find blood and get his strength back. Already Sage was four days ahead of him.
He checked his voicemail, hoping Sage had come to her senses and asked for forgiveness. He would make her beg. But there was only one message. It was Ruby.
“James, I thought you were going to take the girl to safety. Why do I see her uniting with Cadmael? And what on earth are you doing playing around in a cave when so much is at stake?” Her voice was calm but stern. “Oh, I made you some fresh banana bread. Pick it up anytime.”
James growled and his phone fell to pieces on the ground.
***
Sage woke, feeling stiff but somewhat healed. Her shoulder ached when she rolled onto it. She opened her eyes and assessed the rest of her body. Her ribs and back were still sore from being slammed into the stone wall, but it was nothing compared to the searing agony yesterday – or however long ago that was. She sat up to look for a clock. Did time even work the same in the Underworld?
She gasped and jumped to the other side of the bed. A large body consumed most of the mattress. Marcelo. His face was half-hidden by a mass of raven hair.
“Calm, princesa,” he said. “I mean you no harm. I’ve brought you food.”
He held out a bowl of liquid that smelled like some kind of soup. She eased closer on the bed, but kept a wary eye on him.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Not to worry. The Dark King has ordered us not to hurt you.”
She snatched the bowl from his hands and drained the contents greedily then wiped her mouth on her shirt sleeve when she was done.
Her shirt was crusty with dried blood and she cringed when she pictured what the rest of her may have looked like. For the first time, she peered down at the bed. The sheets were smeared with her blood.
Marcelo gestured toward at attached bathroom she hadn’t noticed. “You can clean up in there. The clothing from your backpack is in the dresser. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“It’s like being at the Hilton,” she said wryly.
Marcelo had frightened her when she’d first seen him in the alley. She hadn’t been able to see past his size.
Maybe it had something to do with the food he’d brought her, but she could swear there were traces of where he’d once had laugh lines. Now it just looked like a permanently etched scowl. He had handsome features, but the way he wore them was terrifying – like he could kiss her passionately one moment then kill her easily the next.
Although they were both vampires, Marcelo and James couldn’t have been more different. James had a regal air about him. His skin was smooth, pale, and flawless, his features chiseled. Everything about him was refined, from the way he dressed, to the style of his hair, to his patterns of speech.
Marcelo looked wild and ragged in comparison. His skin was dark and weathered. There was something rough and animalistic about him. She would have thought he was a werewolf but for the fangs.
Sage tilted her head to the side and asked, “Why do you serve him, vampire –”
“Please, call me Marcelo.”
“You seem strong enough to take him. Why do you let him tell you what to do?”
“It was no lie what the Dark King told you. Our race was struggling before he found the Underworld. He provided food and protection. And promises for the future. Vampires don’t procreate as quickly or as easily as the werewolves, so uniting us with a common enemy worked in our favor. We don’t fight each other anymore. And werewolves require leadership. Cadmael provides it and they fall in line. The wars have been bloody over the last few centuries but we grow stronger under his direction.” Marcelo looked down at the floor. “At least we did. Things have changed.”
“You said he found the Underworld. How do you mean?”
He adjusted his body to face her. “Have you ever seen the Welsh flag?”
“Yeah, it’s green with a red dragon on it.” James had several miniatures in his house. Not to mention a mug with the symbol. She was surprised he didn’t have a bumper sticker. Maybe she’d get him one for Christmas. That thought almost made her laugh. Even if she made it out of here alive, James would probably be the one to kill her.
“Yes, The Red Dragon. Y Ddraig Goch,” Marcelo said. “It has been a symbol of Wales since the fifth century when a young Welsh sorcerer released the dragon from a trap.”
“Don’t tell me the young sorcerer was Cadmael,” she said arching an eyebrow.
Marcelo scowled. “No. The Dark King is old, but not that old.” He inhaled a deep breath. “It was Merlin. But that’s not the important part. The Red Dragon aligned with the sorcerers because of Merlin, who’d also given him the power to take human form and walk among mortals. Now called
Gethin, he is a symbol to both sorcerers and Wales. That is how Cadmael first came in contact with The Red Dragon.”
“Okay, but what does a dragon have to do with the Underworld?”
“Dragons were created as guardians. Guardians of gold, usually. But sometimes ancient cities. Secrets. And sometimes gateways.”
“Gateways? Like doors to other planes?”
“Exactly. Gethin is the guardian of the door to the Underworld. But like most dragons, he is easily bored. The lure of power compels them to get involved in political affairs. When you live forever, you have to be creative to amuse yourself. Some cause wars, some stop wars…among other things. But Gethin has an affinity for religion. In fact, he’s been trying to get in with the Pope for centuries.”
Tempted to question Marcelo’s sanity, she just nodded for him to continue.
“Dragons are also very greedy, which means they can be bought. So Cadmael made some kind of deal with Gethin to have a door opened to the Underworld.”
Ancient dragons that could turn into humans and liked to play Pope? Well, why the hell not? She just happened to be sitting in another dimension, conversing with a vampire while waiting for her own father to suck her dry.
Gathering her thoughts, she asked, “So, when Cadmael found the Underworld, it was empty?”
Marcelo rubbed his hand over his unshaven chin. “Not exactly. Demons are imprisoned here.”
“Demons? They’re not in hell?” Was there a plane worse than this?
“Most are in hell. A few remain here, under our supervision. Since we opened the door, it’s our responsibility to keep them here. But Cadmael has grown lazy with his duty. It will catch up to him soon.” He gave her an eerie look that made a chill travel down her spine.
There was something he was hiding.
“Why are you being nice to me?” she asked. What was his angle?
“I do not believe in hurting children.”
She scowled. “I’m not a child.”
“I am over eight hundred years old,” he stated with that typical vampire arrogance. “Compared to me you are a mere infant.”
“Well I hate to break it to you, but your King is about to kill a child.” She made air quotes around the word child then pointed to herself. “Me.”
“That remains to be seen.”
She studied his face. There was more to this vampire than he let his King know. And she wondered, briefly, if that would work in her favor. Before she could question him further, a shout in the hallway caught his attention. He gave her a smirk before disappearing from the room.
With a sigh, she scanned the room for something to occupy her. But the Underworld wasn’t the Hilton. There was no TV or pay-per-view. She giggled when she imagined ordering porn to keep her entertained.
Waiting for her fate sucked.
Chapter 16
A string of four letter “encouragements” and two phones later, James had finally gotten the information from Ruby he needed to find Sage.
He stood in his kitchen and sighed, hoping he would return some day. But after his last stint in the Underworld, he doubted he’d ever see his home again. Still, he couldn’t leave Sage to a fate unknown at the hands of her father.
With his wallet and passport in his jeans pocket, he picked up his airline tickets and started for the door.
The scent of blood stopped him in his tracks.
How had he missed it? Panic over Sage must’ve distracted him. But now, it was as clear as if he’d tasted it.
Maddox’s blood had been spilled in the kitchen only days ago. He inhaled a lungful of stale air. To his relief, it wasn’t a lot of blood.
After following the scent to his coffee maker, he swiped the single drop of blood off the plastic piece on the lid. Maddox had left him a message cloaked in a spell. Sneaky devil.
He scanned the area for clues as to where Maddox had written it. Now that he knew what he was looking for, the cleared off space among the clutter on the kitchen counter seemed obvious.
He ran his bloody finger across the counter and watched as the letters magically formed.
I’m being watched. The Counsel is up to something big. Members of royalty are being kidnapped from each supernatural race. I’m going back to Caerwyn to spy. I’ll text you as soon as I get a secure phone. Something is coming, my friend. Be prepared.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as the letters of the ominous warning faded. Maddox was probably in Caerwyn by now. Just in case, he checked his new phone text inbox. It was still empty. Could he have missed a message while he’d been between phones? Unfortunately, he had no way of contacting him to find out.
Feeling frustrated that two of the most important people in his life were missing, he picked up his keys and left, locking the door behind him.
***
Sage showered and dressed in her last set of clean clothes – loose black cargo pants and a faded green tank top. She snorted at the image of herself in the mirror. Maybe the military-inspired outfit would help her blend in and someone would let her free. It was as good a plan as she could come up with.
Pacing the length of the locked bedroom, she tried to come to terms with her impending death sentence. But she’d fought too hard to stay alive the last twenty-five years to give up so easily. She’d figured a way out of some pretty fucked up situations in the past, but nothing compared to being locked-up in a plane halfway to hell by a psychotic parent bent on draining her blood.
The walls seemed to be closing in on her. She wished she hadn’t left James in the cave the way she had. He probably wasn’t even looking for her. Not that she wanted him to. Not that she needed him to. But it would have been nice to say a proper goodbye. She missed the egotistical brute.
Staring out the window wasn’t as distracting as she’d hoped, but she did it anyway. So far, all she could determine about the Underworld was that it was somewhat similar to her world. There was a night and a day, about twelve hours of each. The climate was hotter – she supposed that had to do with its closeness to hell. The limited land she could see from her window was sparse and barren. There was a line of bare trees in the distance and yellow crab grass covered the ground.
For a long time, nothing moved. No marching army. No fearsome Underworld monsters ravaged each other. Not even squirrels or birds scurried about – not that she expected any to live in the Underworld. Maybe only the evil ones.
Marcelo appeared beside her without warning and she almost flew out of her skin.
“That sneaking up thing is getting old!” she yelled.
He ignored her burst of temper.
“What is that anyway? The teleporting. How do you do it?”
“It’s called traversing. At least, that’s what I call it. I can teleport myself to any place I’ve previously been. I don’t know anyone else who can do it but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone. Older vampires usually have extra abilities. The lines have been watered down through the ages. Vampires made in the last century have virtually nothing to offer but speed and strength.” He gave her a once over. “Except for those with mixed blood, obviously.”
She scowled then looked at the cup in his hand. “Please tell me that’s something alcoholic.”
“You would drink alcohol at a time like this?” he asked disapprovingly.
Not another moral compass! Maybe he and James weren’t so different after all.
“Let’s see, I’m about to have my blood drank by my own father, resulting in my death. What would you suggest? A nice glass of orange juice?” Awaiting her own murder made her a little snippy.
He shrugged then gave her a dark look. “I’m sorry, Eirian. I need you to drink this.”
“What is it?”
“Blood.”
“Oh, hell no!” She shook her head violently. “No. No way.”
“You must. It will trigger the vampiric traits, which will make you strong enough to kill the Dark King. And it is imperative that you do.”
“Hold up.”
She put her hand up when he thrust the cup in front of her. “You want him dead?”
With a sigh, he set the cup on the vanity and took a seat on the bed. Sage folded her arms across her chest.
“Most of us tire of his rule,” he answered. “Cadmael has gotten out of control. We’ve let him go on like this far too long.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to live in Caerwyn. I thought you fought for him because he provided safety and blah, blah, blah.”
He shook his head. “Cadmael was right when he told you we were here for refuge. And at first it was a good life. We didn’t care so much about Caerwyn but were happy to fight for it because Cadmael provided for us. But in the last hundred years he’s become obsessed with it. He’s been trying to create an army to defeat the sorcerers. He’s made the werewolves reproduce, and then taken the young to train them to fight. And he’s forcing the vampires to create new ones from humans in the local towns. But it isn’t our war. Most of us don’t want to fight it any longer.”
She shrugged. “Then why don’t you kill him? Aren’t there enough of you to pull off some kind of rebellion?”
He shook his head, more emphatically this time. “I said most of us don’t want to fight, but not all. The werewolves are hard to organize. They yearn for leadership. Without it, they are no more than animals. And the vampires don’t have the numbers to defeat him. He is unequal in strength and we have no magic to use against him. It must be you.”
He held her with his solemn glare until she shook away. Muttering to herself, she paced the floor. There had to be another way.
Marcelo made an impatient sound. “You are destined to become the Queen of the Underworld, are you not?”
She grimaced. “I don’t know!” But why did she feel like she was? “I can’t. I…I’m…too young. I’m too irresponsible. I’ve been homeless for the last five years for god’s sake! Does that sound like someone who should lead a…a…kingdom?”
“You are smart where it counts, princesa. And you are stronger than you think. You must do this. And to defeat him, you must drink blood.”
