Dark Hunt: Division 4: The Berkano Vampire Collection

by Nicole Zoltack

  Now human.

  Was this all necessary for a human? It seemed wrong. Then again, shouldn’t it have been wrong for the vampires too?

  He still could not help himself. Antoine’s distrust of vampires ran too deep. Maybe it was lazy, but it was easier to believe that Seraphine wasn’t like the others.

  Was she really different though? She’d killed the bull and kept a witch alive solely so she could drink from him as she pleased. That meant she had to provide him drink and food. It was despicable.

  If he had an undying thirst for human blood, what would he do? And did siphoning psychic energy hurt humans? He never had stopped to think how it must feel to them. It recharged witches, so it followed to a logical conclusion that such an act would affect humans to their detriment.

  The runes etched deeply into the stone and glowed a bright red too harsh to look upon. From within him, Antoine uttered the words that would conjure forth the fires to damn the offerings.

  Heat from the blazes burned inside of him and gushed out. The twin pillars burst into flames that reached to the sky. For an entire hour, the Inferno Fires consumed the offering and the pillars. No smoke burned from the flames, and rain did not and could not dowse.

  Then, in a moment, the fire burned out. The pillars were reborn. The body, bones, teeth, every aspect of Madeleine had been extinguished.

  His duty accomplished, Antoine had one more to complete. The blade must be cleansed from the bloodshed.

  First, he wiped it down with a cloth. Then he had to clean it again, this time with magic.

  A heavy fog of dismay and weariness hit him. Maybe three hours had passed since he’d killed Madeleine, but it seemed as if it had been a lifetime ago.

  He dragged himself toward his house, thought better of it, and headed to Château des Flammes instead. The queen would want to see him, for better or worse.

  When he arrived, she was in her throne room. Her impressive seat of power was fashioned from wood and metal. Vampire fangs comprised the arms and base. Satin cushions covered the back and the seat. The size of it was impressively massive, far greater than she needed. Her king, once she chose one, could comfortably sit alongside her on it. Pierrette Lyon’s presence was large enough to fill it, and she drummed a fingernail against the arms as she watched him approach.

  Her face displayed an indifferent mask. She might be furious with him or happy or a hundred different things, and he could not tell.

  “Today’s execution was… fun,” he ventured.

  She scoffed as regally as one could.

  “Letting her speak was the right course,” she said after a slight hesitation. “So many have come forward to talk about those who have been slighting me behind my back. Now they know I will not suffer such a thing, my loyal subjects are willing to report anyone. Their neighbors, their friends, even a brother.”

  Antoine raised his eyebrow in shock. “Already? What are these less-than-loyal subjects guilty of?”

  “You don’t need to worry about the specifics.” She grabbed her stein from the large, cushioned pedestal beside her throne and sipped. Then she carefully set it back down as if it were her most cherished item.

  “Are they all humans?” he guessed.

  “And a few witches.” Her lips twisted with disgust and disapproval. “Can you believe that? A witch! Two in fact!”

  “That’s reprehensible,” he murmured.

  “It makes no matter. You will handle them all once the sun sets. I want everyone in the entire division to witness this, witch, human, and vampire alike. It will be a royal bonfire.” She clapped her hands with joy. “No one will stand against me. None will dare to rise up against me.”

  He knew better than to ask, but he had no choice. “I do not mean to question you, but…”

  “You’re wondering if having the vampires there will cause an issue. Hundreds of witches will be on hand to keep them in check. If any dare to bite a human and feed, they will be incinerated on the spot!”

  Antoine nodded, but inwardly, he was appalled. How could she think this was a good idea? It would be a calamity!

  “A bonfire?” he asked, chilled.

  “Oh, yes.” Her eyes lit up with delighted loathing and fury. “The flames will blight away the storm clouds. The tempest might even pause to watch the spectacle. All of those evil ones will die from the flames.”

  “Of course,” he murmured.

  “You will execute them and perform the spell. The Inferno Fires for all to witness. You will have to build a large stone pillar for them all to stand on. Other witches will use the wind to create a force field to trap them in place. You won’t have to worry about that.”

  “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “Indeed.” Her smile revealed her vindictive nature. “But before the bonfire, there will be one more execution.”

  A chill ran down his spine, and he grew terrified.

  “For who?” he asked. “A vampire?”

  “A human, actually.”

  “Why not add him to the bonfire with the others?”

  “His crime warrants special accommodations.” Fury twisted her features until her beauty reverted to ugliness. “He dared to spark an uprising. He will first have an arm chopped off. A leg. The other arm. The other leg. Only then his head. He will be magically kept alive throughout the first four cuts. It will be glorious!”

  She’s mad. No. She’s afraid. This is driven by fear. Or lust for power and to maintain it. Anger and frustration. That is what is spurring this on. Not fear. She’s too strong to be afraid.

  But Antoine was afraid. He did not want to do this. To kill how many witches and humans? That the queen would not divulge their crimes against her was both perplexing and disconcerting.

  Maybe Seraphine had been right all along.

  But her uprising would never happen now. Not with her biggest ally to be killed before her uprising had any legs to stand on.

  Or maybe this could be the spark that ignites it. Should he tell the queen what he knew of the uprising? Would it be better to feign ignorance? Will pretending to be oblivious cause more problems in the long run?

  The fact that the queen had learned of the uprising almost immediately was more than a little disconcerting. It was downright frustrating. The way of the world—the way of her world—was wrong. There had to be another way for witches, humans, and vampires to get along. One wasn’t better than the other in Antoine’s mind. Yes, vampires could kill humans, but so could witches. Look at Madeleine. Humans could kill humans!

  Seraphine was right about a lot of things.

  Without support, though, her uprising was doomed.

  Even if he were to try and help her now, it would not end well. In fact, it could only end in one way—with them both in that bonfire.

  Either way, he could not win.

  Either way, the queen had already won.

  I’m sorry, Seraphine. You told me. I thought I heard you. I understand you now, but it’s too late. We’ve lost.

  12

  The need for sleep was pressing in on Seraphine. She was sick, weak, and nearly ready to collapse. How long had it been since she’d last rested? There was too much to do. With it being the rain season, she could risk going out and about during the day. Of course, she never slept at night either.

  She had been trying to locate vampires who were more courageous than the Day Drinkers. Whenever she thought of Baltasar Torres, a rage that only rivaled her feelings for the queen would rush over her.

  Even vampires needed sleep, yes, but something compelled her to keep pushing, to keep moving. Since the queen had killed a human, the act would open a door. Seraphine was certain of it. The mad queen had an excuse now. Humans were evil. Anyone who stood against her was corrupt, depraved, and disposable.

  And this evil queen would soon think everyone was against her. She would start killing them all, including the vampire who sneered at everyone. It was his normal expression, but some people walked around him as if
they were sure he wanted to burn the world to the ground. Others seemed happier. Not Vicente Lobo. Was it any surprise he sneered at the queen?

  Well, yes, because the queen rarely left the castle except to sentence people to die. And to have left the castle at night? Seraphine still wasn’t sure when the two had crossed paths, but the queen had her way. Vicente had died.

  By Antoine’s swing.

  That blasted witch. Seraphine didn’t know what to think of him. She didn’t want to think of him.

  But she also didn’t want to stop thinking. Doing, actually.

  That meant she needed blood. Because she still refused to sleep. Sleep would make her vulnerable. Sleep might lead to her being a victim.

  She wouldn’t let it happen. Not if she could help it.

  Instead of returning to her dwelling, she opted to head to The Mean Gladiator. There, everyone was buzzing about the execution of the human.

  And wondering who was next.

  Seraphine didn’t have to do anything. Whichever vampire hopped behind the counter to grab more blood handed her another one if they happened to see her face. Soon, a pile of drained goblets clustered before her. She hadn’t drunk this much blood in a long, long time.

  Warmth flooded her, and her heart rate increased, although it would never beat as swiftly as a human’s. Her body strengthened, and fatigue fled as if she had never been tired.

  Seraphine continued to drink while threading her way throughout the bar, asking a few questions, probing, prying. Most others did not see the writing on the wall. Most vampires ignored the signs.

  Worse yet, most weren’t ready to do a damn thing about it.

  Rather than risk enlisting the help of more vampires who would only serve to disappoint her, Seraphine did not even mention the uprising. It killed her. How could the rebellion occur if the vampires were too scared to change the world? To fight for their rights?

  The worst of all was when she realized the vampires weren’t returning home after they left the bar. Oh, no. They were hiding underground.

  Like cowards.

  Like they wanted to be buried.

  Like they were already dead.

  So to speak.

  Furious and willing to risk everything, she followed the leggy blonde into an underground passage.

  The world below was one the vampires had started to build as soon as the Rift occurred. They wished to live separate, away from everyone, and to be free.

  But Seraphine knew there would never be complete freedom for vampires. Not unless or until there was a means to change them so they no longer needed to drink human blood.

  Originally, their ancestors thought the only ones who might be able to help them were witches. The two species had actually worked together to find a cure for vampirism.

  To say it didn’t work would be an understatement.

  A witch and a vampire came together. Their tryst created a spell. A monster spell. A terrible spell.

  The Rift.

  Their world shattered, devastated. The continents shifted, broke apart, and formed sixteen divisions. Nature itself had been destroyed too. Not only within the division were there horrific storms and wicked seasons. The Rift created protective barriers around the divisions that made travel from one to another impossible. Storms of magic raged continuously between the areas. Anyone who ever dared to travel outside of his or her division died.

  Frankly, it was suicide.

  Maybe her uprising would be too.

  Red earth clay, moist and fresh, surrounded her. The walls were hollowed, the cavern deep.

  Vampire speed came in handy, and when you had fifty years, the end results were extremely impressive.

  A few bridges connected the pillars and the buildings formed out of the clay. Earthenware had been used to create a whole new level.

  Everywhere she looked, vampires were standing, talking, lounging. But the whispers she overheard had her hesitating, freezing, rooting to the spot.

  The vampires did not want to stay here and fight.

  They recognized that hiding underground would only ever serve as a temporary solution, a delay to the inevitable.

  What they were considering instead was terrible and horrifying.

  They wanted to dismantle the shield and flee to another division.

  Seraphine could not handle this. She needed another drink.

  Back to the pub she went and drained another two blood drinks. By now, it was nearly dawn, and most of the other vampires had cleared out long ago.

  She wasn’t ready for sleep. Unfortunately, the day would turn even more devastating. Would her life ever get any better?

  First, Marwin wasn’t waiting for her in her dwelling after he should have completed his feces duty.

  Second, she heard rumors that humans were being rounded up.

  Then she learned a few witches were too.

  There was talk of a bonfire, a means to kill them all at once.

  Fear and worry overcame her, and she dashed around the division trying to locate Marwin, desperate to hear his heartbeat.

  Eventually, she heard it from the most devastating of places—within the dungeons of Château des Flammes where the vampires were held until time for their scheduled execution.

  “Château des Flammes?” Seraphine muttered to herself. “Not even Château des Maudit. The castle might be cursed, but it’s more Château de la Reine Folle. Queen Lyons is mad. Completely mad.”

  As near as she could tell from her vampire hearing, at least twenty were contained within the dungeon.

  No vampire would ever dare attempt to enter Château de la Reine Folle. It was too well protected, too enchanted. She would never be able to step a foot inside without being caught, tortured, and then executed too… unless the mad queen took matters into her own hands and slew Seraphine herself.

  Seraphine hadn’t ventured inside the castle to swipe the queen’s beer. Instead, she had snatched it from the guard who was on stein duty before an execution. Earlier, she had slipped a few herbs into his drink to make him forgetful. He wouldn’t be able to mutter any magic spells if he couldn’t recall them. She grabbed the beer before he could see her, and he thought he had forgotten it. The whole ordeal had gone off perfectly.

  Her next move would require a lot more than luck or cunning or speed. She would have to wait for Marwin to be removed from the walls of the castle. Only then might she have a chance.

  If she could free him quickly enough.

  If his neck wouldn’t snap or his bones break in her mad dash away from the clearing.

  If the witches didn’t magically catch her.

  If she didn’t fail.

  Failure would mean they would both die.

  I’m stupid. I’m selfish. I’m egotistical. I thought I could take on the world. I thought I could take on the queen.

  I thought I could be something more than a mindless, worthless, bloodthirsty monster. I thought I could make a difference.

  I thought I could help people in the end once the dust settled.

  She had been naïve. Antoine had been—

  Antoine.

  Could she dare to hope he might help her?

  Again, she made a mad dash around the city, trying to locate the witch. His scent had been seared into her nostrils the first time they’d crossed paths.

  Eventually, she did locate him.

  In the castle.

  Out of reach.

  “Wouldn’t be able to trust him anyhow.”

  To her knowledge, there was only one door that exited from the dungeon where all the vampire prisoners were shunted from. She lingered, hiding, waiting, biding her time.

  When his heartbeat and that of his guards neared, their sounds growing louder, she perked up.

  Not a soul was in sight.

  The vampires’ underground lair did not extend near the castle. Why would they wish to be near their oppressor? But it seemed they were not the only ones to have burrowed beneath the soil.

  Careful
ly, quickly, Seraphine trailed along the path they took under her feet.

  She was led directly to the clearing.

  The area was so filled with people she could not move.

  Seraphine darted back around buildings, trying to locate a better angle. If she dared to step on the heads of those gathered, they would realize a vampire was in their midst… unless she had drunk enough blood to be the fastest vampire ever.

  Emboldened, Seraphine readied to try. She would back up, get a running start, and leap onto the head of the nearest human. Then she would run without stopping until she and Marwin were safe or captured.

  But she hesitated. Antoine stood in his position by the guillotine. He was ready, holding his axe.

  But the queen wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  Seraphine leaped and dashed, no longer aiming for the queen’s platform but the death one.

  She ran faster than she ever had before.

  Faster than she thought possible.

  Even so, she was too late.

  When the platform split open, and the body was given up to be executed, Marwin was already dead.

  Still, Antoine went through the show of killing him.

  Clearly, the witches and humans did not know the human had already been killed.

  Sick to her stomach, disgusted, filled with self-loathing once again, Seraphine altered course. She left the clearing and did not look back.

  The uprising had died with Marwin’s murder.

  She had nothing left.

  13

  The whole charade of killing Marwin caused Antoine to experience more revulsion and hatred than he thought possible. He did his duty. Only the knowledge that he had not been the one to kill the human gave him a sliver of solace.

  Antoine hoped Seraphine had not witnessed it. The crowd had been confused twice over. First by the sudden appearance of the body on the death platform. And then when the queen did not appear to deliver a speech concerning his crime.