Through clenched teeth, Varick heard himself ask, “Why would Gyth waste his time with your daughter? Why would he take her?”
Zena grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Vicery was the epitome of beauty, and she had a soul. Two thousand years ago he took her. He wanted her.” She smiled, her fangs gleaming. “You will avenge me. You will avenge her.”
Muscles straining, Varick stood, his topaz eyes glowing casting profuse light onto her face as he towered over the goddess that looked so much like his mother. Like lightning striking, he grabbed her throat and slammed her down to the sand.
“You’ll never control me. No one controls me. I am a Destroyer. I’m not your servant.” Varick struggled to keep his vampire half in check, struggled to keep his grip on her throat. “I am two thousand years old, and not once have I ever fell under your compulsion. Not once have I ever given in to the incessant need to do as you would command.”
A choked laugh escaped her as she smiled. “Listen to yourself, Varick.”
Throwing his head back, he hissed as his fangs elongated. Black, scaled wings rippled out of his shoulder blades as his claws dug into her flesh. His topaz eyes burned, changing, swirling with fire as he forced her head to turn, revealing her beating pulse.
He caught his breath as his eyes fell to the mark under her earlobe. A small teardrop, outlined in black and filled with red, stared back at him as his other hand unconsciously went to his own mark. His mother had once told him it was their mark, a family trait.
He jerked away, falling backwards and scrambling out of her immediate vicinity. The dead vampire language rolled off his tongue. “Miatha?” Mother?
His mother’s name was Vicery Beth. His mother had given birth to him two thousand years ago. She had had a soul and she was a vampire with incredible power. Power held in check by Grace. If she was indeed Zena’s daughter, it would mean …
“Oh, hell no!” He stood, his head pounding. “No, it cannot be!”
His wings stretched wide as he paced, deep in thought. “No! She would have told me. She would have warned me. My mother was good. She was clean and free of evil.”
Zena stood, laughter washing away the sound of the ocean. “Have you gone insane, Destroyer?”
He turned. “Was your daughter pregnant when Gyth took her?”
Zena hissed, and her own wings rolled out of her shoulder blades. Varick watched as she transformed into half dragon, half female. He sucked in a harsh breath, his lungs seizing and burning. Her form was much like his own. It didn’t make sense. The dragon was his Destroyer form, not his vampire.
“Was she?” Varick was unaware of the power that flowed through his voice as he roared at the goddess.
She trembled. “Of course not! She was pure; she was untouched by any!”
“Under her right earlobe, she had a mark, a small … ” Varick paused.
Zena stepped back, sadness overwhelming her beauty. “A small black tear filled with red.” She buried her face in her hands. “My baby. My precious daughter.”
Varick took a deep breath and pulled his hair back, revealing the teardrop under his earlobe. “My mother looked a lot like you.”
Zena cursed and wiped at her eyes. Turning to mist, she sped across the beach out of his sight, out of his reach. Varick watched as she grasped the ball of water that awaited for to return to the River Styx. Screaming in agony, she warped into the portal and cried as she let the river of hate take her away from her grandson.
• • •
Gyth gritted his teeth as he heard Varick roar from the Earth to the Heavens. He stepped off the cloud he had been sitting on and freefell to the ocean shore where Varick waited. He knew the time would come when Varick would call, but he wished it could have been a time of his own making, not Zena’s.
The Destroyer was livid with anger. He watched for several long minutes as Varick slashed and hacked his way through the last of the vampires. His glorious black wings arched and spread with power as he displayed what he was famous for — methodical and unmerciful killing.
Gyth shimmered and appeared at Varick’s side. He took in the scene that lay in front of the Destroyer. Bloody, mangled bodies of at least two-dozen vampires lay sprawled across the beach; blood splatters painted the moon lit sand.
The calm Varick was known for was evading him this night. The carnage had not been performed in the neat, precise manner he usually displayed.
Gyth shook his head. Varick’s Mating Rite was at hand, and it was seriously affecting his behavior. With care, he approached the Destroyer knowing he could attack without thought or care of consequence.
“Varick, you called?”
“Why did you not tell me?” He turned on his heel and held out his palm, willing the vampires’ tokens, the black orbs he collected, to appear in his hand. “When you awoke my soul, when you reanimated my body nineteen hundred years ago, why did you not tell me I am the grandson of Zena, the she-bitch of the Underworld?”
Gyth, in his usual manner of silence, nodded slowly. “Is this what is bothering you?”
“Answer me!” Sarcastically, he grunted. “Oh, great wise one, what is the answer I seek?”
“Sarcasm does not and never has suited you, Varick.” Gyth clenched his fists at his sides and prepared for the Destroyer’s anger. “Your mother asked me not to tell you about Zena.”
Fire swirled in his topaz eyes. “And you expect me to believe that? All this time, I believed my position with you was for the safety and survival of mankind, to protect the One Race. But it wasn’t, was it?” He took two steps, nose to nose with the god. “Do you get off knowing you took something from her? That her grandson kills her minions?”
Varick growled so low the rumble sounded like a cannon going off in the distance. “What sick part of you finds amusement knowing Zena didn’t know, either?”
Gyth held his ground, his eyes narrowing. “I did as your mother asked of me. Don’t make me regret it.”
“How dare you! You took her from the Underworld, stole her like she was a possession.” Icy resolve moved his tongue. “Zena had suffered these long years because of it, and yet you do not see the wrong in your actions.”
“Vicery Beth,” murmured Gyth as he looked into Varick’s eyes. “She was the loveliest female ever born, even to this day.”
“You kidnapped her. Took her from her home and left her mother in agony.” Varick roared and spun away from the god before he slugged him.
“Don’t play the saint with me, Varick!” Gyth demanded between clenched teeth. “Kidnapping Angelica Dark is no different than me taking Vicery Beth from that hideous place.”
Varick twisted, leapt into the air, and grabbed Gyth by the shoulders, slinging him to the ground. Pushing aside the fact he had the power to blast Varick into oblivion, Gyth allowed to Varick to slug him. Gyth allowed Varick his anger as he drew back to repeat the action.
Gyth’s eyes closed as Varick’s fist slammed into his jaw the second time. With a roar of anger, Gyth shoved him off and jackknifed to his feet. Violence erupted in his eyes as he kneed the Destroyer in the face and sent him sprawling.
“I did as she asked me to.” He grabbed Varick by the arm and swung him around to his feet so he could look him in the eyes. “She wanted you to become a Destroyer, wanted you to be able to deny the call of your queen.”
Varick jerked away. “No! She killed me. She couldn’t bear what her son had become.”
“You were the first, Varick. You were the first Destroyer because she wanted you to be free of Zena.” Gyth sidestepped, barely missing Varick’s suddenly appearing swords. “She killed you to save you. She sacrificed you so you could be reborn as you are now. The Destroyers were created out of her love for you; out of her need to know she had saved your soul from Zena.”
“No!” He s
creamed with rage, with pain, and with heartbreak.
Gyth caught his wrist as the blade sang through the air, dodging the other. “Zena kept her locked in her chambers, refused to acknowledge her to any other. A mother who chained her to her throne and made her watch the carnage that comes with the queen’s lust.”
Varick screamed as he twisted his wrist, gaining his freedom from Gyth’s hold. “Then pray tell me, why was I raised in a camp of assassins where death was closer than any lover?”
Gyth stepped back and leaned on the same post where Varick had laid his coat. “You had to be trained. Had to be the best of the best.”
He laughed. “Trained by warriors, by assassins created by Grace? Trained to be your slave?”
Gyth visibly swallowed hard. “Yes, so it would seem.”
“And what did Grace get out of this? What was her role in this?” Varick swiped at the blood on his lip with the back of his hand. “And why would you take pity on a female vampire? Who was my mother to you that you would go through all this trouble?”
“Grace was the only one who had the power to cloak Vicery Beth from her mother. She hid you and your mother. But, as with all the gods and goddesses, she required a price.”
“What the hell was the price?”
He held up his hand. “Enough of your questions, Varick. I did what I did because your mother asked it of me. Believe what you will.” As an afterthought, Gyth whispered, “I know not what Vicery Beth offered Grace. It was her decision, one even I could not interfere with.”
Before Varick could take a step or make another move, Gyth vanished. Black smoke rolled out of Varick’s nostrils as rage and defiance consumed him. Scales rippled down his spine, the blood of the slain vampires taunted him, lured his inner demon. It was indeed feeding time.
Chapter 23
“Grandson. I have a grandson!” Zena roared, her claws slashing into the first servant who dared to come close enough to her.
He fell in groaning agony at her feet, a slight smile upon his face. She roared again at the injustice.
“Gyth is responsible for this. He will pay! I’ll tear him apart, eat his heart.”
Her chamber door, now sealed, groaned as she slammed the body of her fallen servant into it without mercy. Her set of double fangs punched out of her gums as her black wings unfurled across the chambers.
“If Varick will not come to me willingly, then I’ll be forced to use other methods.”
Her black eyes narrowed as she plucked a black hair from her head and pulled it into a straight line. As she twisted it, it turned into an arrow, the tip black and sharp as her fangs. She used the tip to slice into her palm, letting her blood coat the sharp point. From the folds of her robes, she withdrew a small piece of parchment she had stolen from one of Damon’s many books.
She cackled as she laid the arrow on a black slab of marble and read from the parchment.
“Straight and true, this arrow I imbue.” The arrow lifted and glowed with an odd, swirling, green light. “Find the one Varick holds dear.” The arrow purred with menace, with awareness. “Bury deep into the flesh, so I can find you.” She grinned as her voice dropped several octaves. “Go now and find the one to spear.”
The arrow vibrated as she opened the portal to the River Styx. Without warning, it zipped across the room and disappeared into the gate. Zena’s laughter spilled forth, and her minions slithered to the ground, rejoicing in her beautiful tyranny.
“He’ll come to me one way or the other. And then he is going to help me find a way to make the great Gyth fall to his knees and beg for mercy.” She patted one of her servants on the head. “Now, it’s time to feed your mistress. I think I’ll have need of two of you.”
• • •
Trying to keep his mind on the clean-up job on the beach, Varick slipped the orbs into his pocket, turned to the last body, and growled when his cell phone rang. Alexander’s ring tone chimed, and he answered, trying to keep the leave-me-the-hell-alone-I-have-problems-to-deal-with tone out of his voice.
“Go.”
“Tirney Church, east side of Fether.” A pause and a gunshot in the background. “Damn it! The bastards are shooting at us.”
“Where’s Payne?” He didn’t need this right now.
“To my left and dodging bullets as we speak.” Alexander laughed. “Fuckers are swarming in the churchyard, headed inside.”
Varick looked across the beach and nodded. “I’ll be there as soon as clean-up is done here.”
Watching the last body burn to ash, Varick tuned out the hum in his head. He locked onto Alexander’s location and dematerialized his body. From the sounds he heard in the background, he knew it was going to be bad.
Payne and Alexander were hunched behind an overturned Bronco as Varick appeared to their right. “How many?” He peered past the front tires at the abandoned church.
Payne grunted. “At least twenty. And the fuckers are armed. Since when do vampires arm themselves? And why the hell are they gathered inside a damn church?”
Varick rolled his eyes. “Please, those vampire myths are rubbish and you damn well know it.” A bullet whizzed by his head, and he grunted. “Armed but incredibly bad shots.”
The breath in his lungs hurt. Varick rubbed his chest trying to keep the calm he needed. A black scale appeared on his right hand, his beast beating at the walls in his brain.
“I say we burn the church and be rid of it. It’ll save us the trouble of unearthing any who are still under ground.” Alexander eyed Payne. “Why the hell are you still here, anyway? You’re supposed to be in Kentucky.”
Payne growled, his black hair falling across his cheek as he pulled his scimitars from their sheaths. “I told you, I’m not taking some clinging woman through her Burning. Not now, not ever.”
Alexander grabbed Payne’s arm. “It’s an order from Gyth. You cannot disobey a direct order.”
Payne jerked away. “What’s he going to do to me that hasn’t already been done?”
He wanted to keep the beast at bay, suddenly knew he couldn’t. The stench of vampire was everywhere, drifting into his nose, making the beast’s mouth water. Trying to concentrate on what Payne had been saying, he urged the beast to stay calm.
Varick fell forward, leaning his weight on his palm as pain splintered up his back. He cursed viciously as the pain spread out into his limbs, his muscles jerking and spasms twisting and violently crushing his lungs.
“Varick?” Alexander twisted around on his hunches. Payne grabbed Varick’s waist before he fell onto the sword in his hand. “Stubborn son of a bitch, the Mating Rite is demanding your attention.”
“Fuck. Me.” Varick groaned as he swallowed hard, another wave of pain backslapping him. “I’m fine. I can control him. Let’s just finish this and get the hell out of here.”
Another bullet whizzed by followed by laughing taunts. “What’s wrong, Destroyers? Afraid of our guns?”
The red haze of the beast returned. Blinking his eyes, Varick grabbed his head muffling out the sounds around him. Two trains collided inside his head, the deafening sound snapping through his control.
Varick’s back arched, his shoulder blades ripping through the silk. “I’ll kill them all!”
Payne released Varick as his body lifted. A distinct, low vibration was coming out of his chest, growing louder with each second. Payne looked at Alexander and cursed.
“He’s going dragon. Get out of his way, Alexander. He’ll be in a rage when he transforms completely.”
Varick’s eyes glowed with red rage, and he roared catching a bullet in the shoulder. Scales slashed out of his skin and rippled down his back as his wings spread. Alexander barely rolled out of his range as the spiky tips slashed through the front and back tires of the Bronco.
Giving in to the beast because he di
dn’t have the strength to resist him, Varick slipped into the back of his consciousness. He could only watch through the dragon’s eyes, hear with his ears, and pray that the beast didn’t harm the other Destroyers. This was the reason he liked to fight alone, alone was safer for his friends.
The black dragon reared back and spit black fire into the night air. Bullets bounced off his scaled chest and pinged against the truck. Payne and Alexander grinned at each other and barreled out from behind the truck as a bullet hit the gas tank. The dragon hissed and climbed over the truck as it exploded into flames. His body glowed, the flames catching against his scales and running up his great neck.
Overhead, Payne and Alexander heard another cry and blinked twice as another dragon circled above them. The two dragons eyed each other, and Varick lifted from the flames, his wings carrying his weight upwards and toward the church.
“What the hell is going on?” Alexander shouted as the dragon above roared.
Payne laughed as two vampires came charging at them. “Don’t you think it’s getting hot out here?”
“Screw you, Payne! You knew, didn’t you? You knew he was a dragon in his Destroyer form.”
He met the two vampires head on as Alexander leapt on another that slithered out from behind several bushes. “Yeah, I knew.”
“And” — Alexander crushed the vampire against a tree with his weight and snapped his neck like a twig — “the dragon above us? Who the hell is that one?”
Payne sliced and diced the second vampire as he crushed the head of the first one under his boot. “Don’t know. But that one hangs out in the shadows everywhere Varick goes.”
Alexander paused; his sword posed over the vampire’s chest, as he watched the black dragon land on the church and rip the steeple off with his gigantic talons. “Damn! He’s the first dragon I’ve ever seen.”
Embrace the Fire Page 15
