Dark Hunt: Division 4: The Berkano Vampire Collection

by Nicole Zoltack

  “Ah, but I do. I have seen the future, my queen. I have seen your fright. You fear your power is slipping away, so you seek to show demonstrations of your strength by killing all those who oppose you. But Egon Becker has been one of your strongest supporters. He raises funds for you every year, or he would, except you want to kill him. And what about—”

  “Silence!” the queen demanded. “You will not speak another word. You will pay for your crimes. But first, for your insolence…”

  The queen lifted her hands out to the side. As her lips moved frantically, the words inaudible even to Seraphine’s vampire ears, and the queen’s hands turned red.

  Benjamine’s face matched that red shade. She appeared incapable of breathing, but she fought to show no signs of distress. Then she leaned over, gagged, and spat out her swollen tongue.

  The queen swirled her finger in the air and pointed at the guillotine. Immediately, the protectors brought the prisoner there and positioned her. The execution was over in a matter of seconds.

  If Seraphine was stunned by the turn of events, everyone else in attendance was perplexed and confused.

  And happy.

  The vampires disappeared immediately. No surprise there. Any second now and the queen would release her bulls.

  Seraphine lingered and watched as the humans disappeared into the night. It did not surprise her that they were also quick to leave. They would celebrate the death of a witch because they feared the witches’ power. Or maybe they would be sorrowful that one of their protectors had been sentenced to death like the barbaric vampires.

  She blinked and swore Antoine had disappeared. Without a reason to linger, she rushed away to The Mean Gladiator.

  The place was filled with more vampires than ever before. Blood was freely flowing, and she claimed the only vacant seat.

  A vampire brought her a goblet. Another did. Three more. Make that seven.

  And then Baltasar Torres handed her one as well.

  Without words, she knew their meaning, their intent. She guzzled the drinks one after the other. For a while, there was shouting, dancing, cheering, storming, and laughing. Various patrons tossed around a few ill-conceived plans that would need to be evaluated with a level head.

  But it was progress.

  By the time Seraphine returned to her dwelling, it was nearly morning.

  Five humans waited for her near Marwin’s burial place.

  Five flowers rested on his grave. The rain had already forced some of the petals into the soil.

  Slowly, one by one, those gathered faced her.

  The tallest one, surprisingly a female, said, “Marwin died for us.”

  “He wanted a better world.” This speaker was a male, older like Marwin, with wisdom burning in his gray eyes.

  The second female, a short woman with even shorter hair plastered to her face, stepped forward. “We want it too.”

  “Yes, we do.” The youngest of the crew, a male who was likely no more than twenty, nodded.

  “He told us to come to you.” A muscular man, the last to speak, was built like a bull, strong, capable, but with a quiet determination too.

  The humans all turned to her expectantly.

  Without disgust or revulsion.

  Without fear or hatred.

  With sorrow for their friend.

  And with hope as well.

  Seraphine returned a warm smile to each in turn. “Would you like to come in? Wait. Before you do, I should probably explain about the witch in my—”

  The tall female waved her hand. “Marwin told us. It’s because of witches like him that we want to change the division. We need to take it back for us, for the betterment of the humans, for the witches, and for the vampires.”

  “Maybe together, there can be peace. Maybe not. But we have to try,” the young male said. His eagerness was refreshing.

  “Anything has to be better than watching someone be executed every day, warranted or not,” the other female said.

  Seraphine had never known hope like this before. Marwin’s death combined with the witch’s earlier today had sparked the uprising.

  The mad queen would prove to be her own downfall.

  Seraphine couldn’t wait for that day to come.

  15

  The queen demanded the witch’s body. What she did with it Antoine didn’t know. He certainly wasn’t about to ask.

  Benjamine Hardy. Antoine had not known the witch personally. After he had left Seraphine, he had every intention of altering the carvings into the pillar so the bonfire would be a failure. His plan was to blame it on sabotage.

  Only once he arrived, he realized someone had already disrupted it.

  Had Marwin spoken with the witch? Had Seraphine?

  When he thought about it, he felt certain that the day he’d trailed Marwin, the man had spoken only to fellow humans. Of course, it was possible he’d approached witches when Antoine had not been around to spy on him.

  As for Seraphine, he doubted she would have kept details of a plan like this from him if she had another witch ally besides Noella.

  Maybe the witch Benjamine had acted alone.

  Antoine might never know the truth.

  He had been asleep for only two hours when he was summoned by a protector to seek out the queen. Pretending to be curious instead of fearful, he strolled into the castle, head high. Maybe if he acted as if nothing was amiss, nothing would be wrong.

  And maybe she’ll ask me to be her king.

  Not that he wanted that. Then again, if she could listen to him, they could reign together…

  Queen Pierrette didn’t want to marry anyone, he realized. She did not want to give up any authority. She was wed already to the division, to her power, to her cruelty.

  As soon as he passed through the threshold of the ruined castle, Antoine noticed her. Pierrette stood halfway up the once-grand but now broken staircase. The onyx necklace she wore matched the scowl on her face.

  “The bonfire will be postponed,” she announced, tanned nose in the air. “I will see to the pillar myself.”

  “Are you certain?” he asked.

  “Do not question me.” Her tone was biting, yet she smiled. “You will be too busy to rebuild it yourself. I have a new duty for you, executioner.”

  He said nothing. Dread and anxiety coiled in his stomach.

  The queen descended a single step. Her gown flared out when she moved.

  “You will seek out and round up at least three vampires a day. Or night.”

  She waved her hand. The emerald green of her drooping sleeve fell back to reveal black bracelets.

  “Whichever. Whenever. Three vampire executions a day.”

  It’s begun. She wants to completely stomp out the vampires.

  “For how long?” he asked.

  “Until I tell you to stop. Oh, and Antoine, I am counting on you. You are my favorite vampire executioner. Do not disappoint me.” Her nasty words came across as coy.

  “Never,” he murmured.

  “Because if you don’t find those three vampires, there will be a problem. Because there will be three executions a day. Because if we don’t have three vampires to execute, you will have to execute someone else instead.”

  She tapped a finger against her cheek before pointing at him.

  “Your friends can take the missing vampire or vampires’ place. Three vampire executions a day isn’t too much to ask, is it? If you can’t find terrible, vicious vampires, you clearly aren’t working hard enough.”

  “As you wish it, Your Highness. I will see to it.”

  Antoine bowed and quickly left.

  Desperation seized control of his legs, and he rushed to locate Seraphine. He thought of her constantly and her plot to rise up against the queen. She was ambitious in a way but unlike the queen. Whereas the queen only thought of herself, Seraphine wanted to do right by the vampires.

  Guilt plagued Seraphine as much as it plagued him. That was why she wanted to save the humans.r />
  Seraphine mostly hated the witches. From the start, he thought she despised him. He definitely had hated her. When had he started to think of her in a more decent fashion?

  That kiss had been both unexpected and anticipated. But this was not the time for that, and he had plainly read in her eyes that they would never kiss again.

  The thought suited him because a vampire and a witch together would be asking for both heads to end up on the chopping block.

  Literally.

  He wasn’t surprised the object of his thoughts stood outside her dwelling, staring down at the gravesite of her friend. Antoine didn’t want to intrude, so he turned his back to give her privacy.

  “I should ask the queen for a restraining order against you,” she joked.

  Her good mood shocked him.

  “You already asked her a question,” he pointed out.

  He turned around to see her smile fade.

  “What is going to happen to all those people?” she asked.

  “She intends to handle them eventually.”

  “She does?” She jerked back, startled. “And what are you going to be doing instead?”

  “That’s why I’m here. She wants me to round up and execute three vampires a day for the foreseeable future.”

  Antoine eyed her, suddenly nervous. If she did not take well to the news and decided to blame the messenger, he could be forced to fight her.

  From the glint in her green eyes, he knew she had recently fed.

  But she was still thirsty.

  16

  “Why would you come here to tell me this?” Seraphine asked, hands on her hips. “What do you want from me? The names of evil vampires so you can kill them and not feel guilty about it?”

  “I don’t need you to critique my conscience,” he said in a cool tone. “I thought I would give you a warning.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re hiding something.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “The queen wants me to execute three vampires a day. If I can’t locate three, any missing slots will be filled by my friends.”

  “All two of them?” she asked.

  Antoine winced. “I have more than two friends.”

  “Ah.”

  She swallowed back bitter disappointment. Of course, he didn’t want to save vampires because he loved them. It was only out of fear.

  Then again, it was shocking that he came to her, that he wanted to save the vampires at all.

  Still, she was miffed. Her feelings for him left her angry and furious.

  And confused. So confused.

  “Any idea how I can get out of this?” Antoine asked.

  “So I have to be the brains of this duo?” she asked, smiling.

  But she frowned a second later and rubbed her throat. Ever since she had started to drink more blood again, her craving had become stronger than ever. When she denied herself, she could go for long stretches without. Now, she wanted more, and she wanted it now.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  Is it that obvious?

  “Why?” she asked. “Are you offering?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  Swift fury rushed over her, and tears prickled her eyes. She could only drink from Franz because he was no longer a witch, but Antoine remained magical.

  All of her joy and happiness at having made progress with both vampires and humans came crashing back down around her. They still needed more numbers in their fight against the queen, and they needed to convert witches too.

  The one witch who could truly make a difference in the upcoming war was on the fence and would not completely join their side. What hope did they have to succeed? Antoine, as the vampire executioner, as the executioner, would hold so much weight with the other witches. He was probably the second most powerful witch after the queen. If he turned against the mad queen, they would have a very good chance.

  But to offer his blood when he knew it could hurt or even kill her proved exactly what he thought of her.

  And it was amazing how much that stung.

  “Do you think me stupid?” she asked, her words coming out soft but still revealing her fury, anger, and bitter disappointment. “You want to poison me? Want me to be one of your three? Is that the real reason you’re here?”

  Antoine gaped at her and rolled his eyes. “If that is what you want to believe, go ahead.”

  “I don’t need your blood. If you want me to be a vampire for you to kill, I will fight you to the death.”

  He stiffened. “I came here to ask for your help and offer help in turn. You spurn me, so I’ll go.”

  “Do be careful as you run along,” she said sarcastically. “The storm is growing worse. It’s almost as horrible as you are.”

  Antoine left without another word.

  17

  Of course, Antoine knew his blood was poisonous to her. He knew and understood that, accepted it.

  But when he’d offered her his blood, he had forgotten. He had realized she needed something, and so, without thinking, he’d tendered it as a gift and to show his loyalty. It had been meant as a gesture of good will.

  How could it be taken like that? It had been a careless mistake on his part because it would have hurt her. She had every right to be upset with him.

  As he stormed away, he could imagine how well it would have gone over if he’d tried to explain the mental lapse. She would have rejected it, thought him trying to belittle and humiliate her.

  In short, she would have spurned him even more.

  Better for her to think him a monster than to believe him a fool.

  Because he was a fool. For her maybe. The queen had gone mad. He’d heard a few whispers in the night. Some referred to the castle as Château de la Reine Folle. Castle of the Mad Queen. More must accept the truth and be willing to do whatever it took to rise up against her.

  If a rebellion didn’t happen, they would fall one by one. All Antoine could do was hope the queen would take her time preparing the bonfire pillar. If she openly attacked only the vampires for the time being, she might save face with the witches and humans. Once the bonfire commenced with witches and humans as victims, more of their species would unite against her too.

  A new world would be created out of fear and hatred of one mutual foe. How can that bode well for whatever might happen next?

  Antoine had not gone far after leaving Seraphine behind when a human male stepped out from the shadows. He glowered at Antoine. Maybe he was twenty, his face boyish yet.

  The guy marched forward and punched Antoine’s shoulder. “You leave Seraphine alone.”

  Had he overheard their conversation?

  Antoine held up his hands. “I—”

  “Shut it, queen lover. I don’t want to hear it. The queen doesn’t care about anyone. Seraphine does. She protects us. Sometimes, the bulls go after humans too. She saved me. I don’t know if she even remembers it. I was just a kid back then. She didn’t drink my blood or ask for anything in return. Just told me to go home and not wander the streets at night.”

  Antoine wasn’t surprised to hear that Seraphine had done something like that. Something selfless. Something heroic.

  But he was shocked to hear that the bulls went after humans. No one had ever mentioned that.

  “How often do the bulls attack non-vampires?”

  The guy snorted. “You mean humans? You witches are all protected, of course. So much more powerful than us. We’re so weak and helpless. We don’t need your protection.”

  “But you need hers.”

  The guy raised his fists. “We can protect ourselves, and we can handle the bad vampires. But Seraphine’s a good one. Not all are evil. Not all are terrible.”

  Like you hung in the air, unsaid but clearly thought by the guy.

  Antoine nodded. “I would never threaten her.”

  “But you offered to hurt her. She told us about you. She wants you to help us. I don’t trust you. How many have you killed already? You’re too
comfortable with your axe, too comfortable with your power. What good is power if you only use it to hurt others? If you kill?” The guy shook his head. “I’ll feed Seraphine. I’ll take care of her. And if you come back around…”

  The boy let his threat hang in the air.

  Antoine rolled his eyes and walked around him. The guy didn’t know Seraphine well at all. She could take care of herself.

  But the boy’d been right. Antoine did have power, and he had close proximity to the queen. Maybe he should take a risk, take a chance.

  He was in a position to help the uprising.

  It would mean gambling his life, but the risk would be worthwhile to save the people of Ville de Liberté.

  18

  The youngest of the humans came to see Seraphine and held out his wrist, shortly after Antoine had gone.

  “Drink,” he commanded.

  She raised her eyebrows, not caring for his tone.

  His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and insecurity. “I overheard you and that witch. Why did the vampire killer come here?”

  “I guess you didn’t hear everything.”

  “No.” The young man lowered his arm. “I’m Carlos. Please. Let me feed you.”

  But she shook her head. As much as she appreciated his offer and was pleased he didn’t hate her or find her disgusting, she rejected his gesture.

  “I need a moment to think if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.” But Carlos hesitated. “If I can help in any way, please let me know.”

  “Certainly.”

  When the young man left, she sighed and rubbed her temples. She wanted to believe Antoine was a decent witch. His coming to see her and alert her of the queen’s terrible new mandate proved he had a conscience.

  Honestly, Seraphine wondered why he hadn’t stepped down from his position as executioner.

  Probably because he knows he’d be killed if he wanted out.

  But she couldn’t risk the queen replacing him. Antoine might be an executioner, but he was sympathetic to their case.

  She didn’t know what to think of him. Even though she was upset by his cruel offer, she did not want him to face the queen’s anger.