As it turned out, Carlos hadn’t walked far away at all. His feet were dragging as if he hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place. She soon caught up to him.
“Actually, Carlos, I do need your help. Gather the others. We need to try to figure out a way to save the three vampires who are destined to be killed today.”
Carlos nodded. “I’ll go get them.”
He ran.
She watched his swift pace. “We also need to save Antoine too,” she said out loud to herself.
19
A war was brewing within Antoine. He knew where he could find vampires and could easily hunt some down. If he did not care if they had committed a crime, he could have his choice of the three he needed today.
But he could not bring himself to even hunt for the bad ones. What could he do to better succeed against the queen? If he could find a way to steal her jewelry…
Surely she would notice they were gone, and she always wore at least one at all times. She even slept with a necklace on.
If he altered the spells on them, she would most likely notice. Still, that might be his best bet.
It would take him time to change the magic within the stones, maybe even days to ensure he had succeeded with each piece.
The vampires didn’t have days. His friends wouldn’t have days either. Their timeline was too critical.
He had waited too late to square off against the queen.
Maybe he was approaching this from the wrong angle.
It would be impossible to attack and maybe kill her and still survive.
So why try to be sneaky and underhanded about it? He should just remove her necklace. Fight her. Hope for the best.
But first, he would have to draw her somewhere alone. Just the two of them. If he wanted any chance at actually assassinating her, he must not have anyone else join the fray on her side.
Perhaps… A wild thought came to him, one that disgusted him.
Even if the queen showed no signs of wanting a husband, if he were to try to make a move, that might work. He could seduce her, remove the necklace, and then kill her.
Or be killed.
Yes. That might be his best plan of attack.
The queen was beautiful. Stately. Some would even say majestic.
But the moment he thought about seduction, his mind jumped to Seraphine. He never thought he would ever think of a vampire as beautiful, but Seraphine was. Not just her shapely body or the teasing curl of her smile or even her smirk. Her eyes mesmerized him from the beginning.
Seraphine’s heart and mind had ensnared him. She was intelligent and fierce. She was protective. She was kind.
She was everything a queen should be.
She was everything he could want from a woman.
Even if she was a vampire.
He should never have left her without explaining his stupid slip of the tongue. So what if she had mocked him for it? If she would have believed him, maybe they could have worked out a way for him to buy the vampires more time.
Instead, he would have to take the weight of the uprising on his shoulders.
If he died instead of the queen, would that hurt the uprising? Would that frighten off anyone else from trying?
Or would it be more fuel for the fire?
Then again, the chances were slim to none that the queen would admit an attempt on her life.
As the day wasted away, Antoine grew so desperate that he decided to locate the queen and attempt his seduction plan, only she was nowhere to be found.
The hour arrived for the vampires’ executions, but Antoine had no vampires to execute.
Antoine had friends, many of them. He had no family. His mother had died giving birth to his sister. His sister lived for only a week. His father had perished shortly after Antoine’s twentieth birthday, seven years ago.
He had always made friends easily. A fair number of them were humans.
Seraphine was his first vampire friend.
Even if she doesn’t consider me a friend back.
Antoine stood in the small room where executioners waited before they made their way to the guillotine. Dust accumulated here with ease but not much else. A hook was mounted on the wall for the executioner hood. Some herbs for drinks and a few talismans and charms rested on a wooden table beneath a cracked oval mirror. The room stank of blood, sweat, depression, and guilt.
Strange. The first time he’d stepped foot in the room, he had smelled the blood and sweat but also excitement and victory.
Worried and concerned not for himself but for his friends, he rubbed his throat. His fingers reached up and traced his lips. That kiss with Seraphine had not been his first kiss, but it was the only one he thought about now.
It was too late for him to try to kill the queen today, but here might be the best location to try to lure her for his plan.
If he were bold enough, he could try to kill her in front of everyone. That might be the only way to save his friends.
Because the queen would have three beheadings today, one way or another. She would not accept less.
Yes. He would risk it. He would risk his life to kill her and save his friends.
Antoine would go on the main platform today. In and of itself that would not be unusual.
A grand style for his death or hers. Who knew what the fallout might be. Most witches and humans followed her with blind faith. Would they have minds of their own and be willing to forge a new division? Or would another try to claim the throne and become Queen Pierrette Lyon 2.0?
Regardless, he had no choice. He would not execute anyone else.
Antoine brushed his hair back and grabbed the hood. Swiftly, he left the small room. The executioner’s waiting room was beneath the guillotine, but he walked along the narrow underground corridor to the main platform. His footsteps echoed as he climbed the stairs.
Ten of the protectors stood on the platform, forming a semicircle behind the queen. Spectators filled the clearing. That the bonfire had not happened did not detract from the onlookers.
It was disgusting how eager and excited they were to watch beheadings.
Then again, how repulsive was he for being the one to commence them?
The queen turned toward Antoine with a wide smile on her face. Diamonds glittered from around her throat, ears, wrists, fingers. Even her heavy, opulent gown was speckled with more of the jewels.
She shone brightly despite the lack of sunlight. The rainstorm was still maturing. Once it finally reached full power, it would be a terrible, vicious beast. Thunder, lightning, and even fire might rain down along with hail the size of houses.
“Where are the vampires?” she cooed.
Antoine hesitated. He hadn’t expected so many protectors. If he could call them away…
“They are waiting in the dungeon,” he said. His gaze flickered to the protectors. “If you all would fetch them?”
“All?” the queen asked, raising an arched brow.
“There are three of them,” he reminded her.
She nodded, but two of the protectors remained.
Antoine stepped forward, his mind racing. Fear did not afflict him. He was not afraid of death.
But he wished he would not die because he wanted to live in a division where the queen was not in charge.
And he wanted to see Seraphine one more time, to make amends if he could.
More than his other friends, he was drawn to her.
Let’s see. A spell to render the two protectors unconscious. Then I’ll have to quickly remove the jewelry. Only then can I actually attempt to kill the queen.
He parted his lips to begin the spell when footsteps sounded on the stairs.
The protectors must have raced to the dungeon and back to return already.
Antoine glanced over his shoulder. Three vampires climbed and dutifully hung their heads, submitting, willing victims.
He gaped at them in surprise. Had Seraphine sent them? Had she asked for those willing to sacrifice so the u
prising could have more time to gain traction?
No. He had vowed to himself that he would not execute another, and he wouldn’t.
As the queen launched into a speech, Antoine inched toward the vampires. If they were willing to take on and distract the two protectors, his plan could continue.
But the vampires seemed drugged and did not understand him.
Or pretended to be ignorant.
And the other protectors arrived.
He murmured to them that the vampires must have left before they arrived.
“Perhaps they feel guilty and wish for this.” Antoine shrugged.
One protector rolled his eyes. “They feel nothing but their hunger.”
Antoine winced inwardly. What was he going to do now?
The queen’s speech ended. She squeezed Antoine’s shoulder as he dutifully led the procession of the vampires across the platform. Without having to be forced and prodded, the vampires followed him down the stairs and across the clearing. One by one, they walked ahead of him, climbed the stairs, and waited patiently for him.
Antoine cleared his throat and directed them to look at him. To appease the crowd and the queen, he made a show of announcing who would die first, second, and last.
As the mob roared with approval, he quietly told the vampires to trust him and not say a word.
Any trace of being mindless vanished from their eyes. They each blinked twice to show they understood.
“Lie down,” he instructed the first.
The vampire in question complied.
Antoine muttered the spell as fast as possible. It was an illusion spell and had to be powerful, extremely powerful. If anyone in the crowd, or the queen, saw through it, they would know him for a sham.
“Shift downward now,” Antoine hissed.
The vampire did, just far enough that the blade would not cut off even one hair from his head.
Antoine swung the axe.
The angled, weighted blade slammed onto the deck, cutting into the frame.
Cheering erupted from the crowd.
Antoine couldn’t breathe easier. He made a show of kicking the living vampire off the frame, to make room for the next vampire to be killed.
Only he maintained the illusion spell. The crowd saw what they wanted to see.
Three vampire executions.
It was a terrible spell to use. What if even one or more persons in the crowd did not want to see the vampires executed? What would they see? But the spell required to force them all to witness something so specific was too difficult. It wasn’t one he could maintain for so many all at once.
The final vampire was killed or rather not killed in the same fashion.
One more loud cheer resounded from the crowd, and it seemed forever for them to clear out, far longer than normal, or perhaps Antoine was merely anxious and afraid of discovery.
Swiftly, he brought the vampires to the execution room.
“You can never risk showing your face above ground. Stay underground. It’s the best I can do for you.”
The vampires nodded and thanked him.
Two left immediately, but one hesitated.
“Seraphine told us to trust her. That she would rescue us. I had no idea her rescue included you. Thank you.” The vampire pumped Antoine’s hand. “You have given me hope.”
Antoine nodded and fell down, dazed and overspent. He needed rest and required food.
If he could keep up his strength, maybe he could continue to bide time for the uprising to grow. Once large enough, together, they could all go after the queen and kill her and dismantle her way of life.
Antoine did not wish to die.
He wanted to live in a better world.
And he would do his part to help create it.
20
The moment the vampires walked onto the death platform, Seraphine was ready to make her move. She had been crouched beneath it for nearly an hour with a smoke bomb she’d created. As soon as she threw it onto the platform, the vampires would flee, and she would grab Antoine and dash away with her great speed.
Not the most stunning of plans, but it would have to work.
But then she heard Antoine speak to the vampires. Heard his muttered spell. Realized what he was doing.
Her heart was full of hope and maybe even something else that she could burst.
She trailed behind the vampires and Antoine. Once all of the vampires spirited away, she marched into the room.
The stench of blood assaulted her, and she licked her lips.
Antoine gaped at her in surprise. “Seraphine. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to save them. To save you too.”
For a long moment, they stared at each other. Antoine looked pale. Darkness made his eyes appear sunken in. He had shaved recently, leaving no more scruff. She wanted to touch his chin, his cheeks, to see if they were as soft as they looked.
Seraphine took a hesitating step forward.
He did not retreat.
“It’s not safe for you to be here,” he murmured. “If the queen were to come…”
“Does she come here often?” Seraphine scowled, flashing her fangs.
It was ridiculous, but she did not appreciate the thought of the queen being with Antoine in such tight quarters.
Absurd. Jealousy? For a witch?
“Not often.”
“You don’t need to be worried for my sake,” she said.
He stepped closer as the blood pumped through his veins.
The thudding of his heart made her ache for him.
The sight of his full lips made her ache for another kiss.
“You should not be here,” he whispered as he brushed her hair back from her shoulder.
“You should not be so near a hungry vampire,” she answered.
“Bring me to your house,” he said.
His words startled her, and she was shocked anew when he gripped her in a tight hug, their bodies pressed flush against each other. She hesitated, enjoying his scent, breathing in deeply. Her craving for his blood warred with her desire for him as a man.
Seraphine glanced up at him. As if this was an invitation, his mouth descended on hers. They clung to each other, no space separating them.
A faint sound echoed outside the room, not far away, steady and rhythmic. Footsteps. Someone was approaching.
She broke the kiss and dashed away, carrying Antoine along for the ride.
Thankfully, none of the other dissenters were at her dwelling. She did not want to be interrupted right now.
The moment she released her hold on Antoine, she staggered. To go such a distance carrying him had used up more of the human blood in her system than she’d anticipated.
“Seraphine.”
The way he said her name brought a smile to her lips.
Happy.
When had she last been happy?
“Antoine,” she murmured.
“I wasn’t thinking earlier when I offered you my blood,” he said in a rush. “I never wanted to hurt you. I should’ve said something, but I didn’t want to look—”
“I can be cruel at times. I’ve been bitter about the way things are for so long it’s prejudiced me against witches. I know I am. When I get angry with you, it’s easy to fall back on that.” She turned and took a few steps away from him, needing a moment to think. Keeping her back to him, she added, “But you saved them. You used your magic to save them. I was going to have to risk exposing the uprising in order to save them, but you and—”
“You could have just saved them,” he said. “Attacked me and fled with them. You wouldn’t have had to protect me.”
“I want you to be one of us,” she said.
He faced her. “What do you think?”
“I think you already are,” she said, her voice hoarse, scratchy.
Antoine’s grin was crooked, wicked, and devilishly handsome.
“Do witches get hungry after using magic?” she asked. “Sit. I can prepare y
ou something.”
He complied, and she bustled about making a quick stew. She hated making hot meals because of her aversion to fire, but for him, she dealt with a small one.
Fifteen minutes later, she brought two clay bowls filled with broth, vegetables, and some bull meat from the beast she’d killed to the table.
Antoine ate eagerly. She watched him enjoy the food before taking a spoonful herself.
“Not all vampires eat,” he said.
“No. It does not completely sustain me. I must always have blood to survive, but I do need food too.”
He ate the rest of his meal in silence. Once she had finished, he cleared away the bowls.
“Seraphine,” he said, approaching her at her table and kneeling in front of her. He took her hands in his. “I want to offer my blood again.”
She opened her mouth, but he pressed a finger to her lips.
“Let me finish,” he scolded softly. His eyes twinkled with amusement, but she spied fear too.
Fear that she would reject him and did not care for him? Fear that he could not pull off what he intended? Fear that she’d realize this was all a ruse?
Because how could a vampire and a witch be together? How could she have feelings for him? How could he for her? It wasn’t natural for them to fall in love.
Love. Love? Who said anything about love?
“I promise you will not become poisoned,” he said. “Do you trust me?”
She started to nod when he yawned.
“I suppose you also need sleep after you use magic. You are welcome to stay here.”
Seraphine stood and made a bed of blankets for him.
“Once you wake,” she said, staring at the bed and not him, “I will accept your blood.”
He crossed over to her and squeezed her shoulder. She patted his hand.
Trust. Faith. Hope.
For a witch. From a vampire.
For a vampire. From a witch.
What a strange turn her life had taken.
A strange but maybe wondrous turn.
Seraphine cleaned. Still, the witch slept, so she sat and watched his chest rise and fall. His forehead beaded with sweat. The nature of her dwelling trapped heat within it. The fire had caused the small space to become very warm. Swiftly but tenderly, she removed his shirt. Then she hesitated but opted to leave on his pants.
Dark Hunt: Division 4: The Berkano Vampire Collection Page 13
