Dark Hunt: Division 4: The Berkano Vampire Collection

by Nicole Zoltack

  Finally. At long last. She was directly beneath him. He was not moving. Was he dead? No, of course not. She was listening to his heartbeat!

  But he might be dying.

  Because she could not step foot inside the cell, she had to make sure she was precisely beneath him. Seraphine even tunneled farther to ensure there was enough space for him. She also wanted to give herself room to resume digging their way out of here.

  The moment had come. She dug upward for the first time. Darkness greeted her. Dirt fell onto her face and into her mouth and eyes.

  Then she hit concrete.

  No matter.

  She smashed through it. Once. Twice. Three times.

  A magical force field slammed her back down the hole.

  The curse that prohibited vampires from entering houses was working against her.

  She reached up with one more punch.

  The sensation of being hit back nearly took her breath away.

  Even though the concrete was nearly worn through, she could not take this last step.

  Had this all been for naught? How could she have come so far, gotten so close, only to fail?

  A trickle of rocks from the concrete tapped her on the head. More and more.

  A hole opened. Antoine fell through.

  She caught him with ease and wrapped his shackles around her neck. Now they were tethered. Time to dig again.

  Already she could hear someone calling out.

  Damn. She had figured he’d be watched but hoped for a head start.

  Strength from the blood had not nearly been used up yet, but the execution was to happen before dawn. The bulls would still be out.

  She would have to worry about that later.

  The witches might be able to track magic. Would they be able to locate Antoine no matter where she went with him?

  A clawful at a time, she scooped the dirt and shoved it out of the way. Antoine did not slow her down at all. His added weight felt like nothing. The blood was doing its job.

  But would it be enough?

  By now, she had dug their way back to the tree, but surely the castle exterior would be well protected with scores of guards. Onward, she burrowed. Hopefully, she had traveled far enough because she dared to pause and listen.

  Heartbeats. Lots of them. Humans? Witches? She could not be certain.

  Farther out she traveled, crawling through the tunnel she recreated with Antoine on her back. Her pace was slowing. No amount of blood could secure such a heavy demand and burden for long.

  Still, she pressed forward. Always making progress. She never had the sense that anyone else was down there, but one troubling thought came to mind.

  Why hadn’t she reached any of the vampire’s underground city yet?

  She paused. Held her breath. Listened.

  No sounds. Nothing at all.

  Now that was troubling. Surely she hadn’t dug out of the division.

  She altered direction and dug some more. When she next paused, she heard heartbeats. Five of them. Faint and far away. Others also, far too slow to belong to a human or a witch.

  Relief washed over her. Before she could consider whether returning to her dwelling was smart or not, she was already risking it.

  A minute later. Maybe five. A half hour. Who knew? Her sense of time was nonexistent, but eventually, she burst through the ground and into her own house.

  The humans all reached for her arms to pull her up. She accepted their aid and gently freed herself from the shackles around her neck. It was only after she laid Antoine onto blankets that she realized how sore and tender her throat was. The shackles had abrased her for too long, and she lacked the blood to heal herself.

  She collapsed beside him, closed her eyes, and knew no more.

  25

  The weight against his shoulder was almost more than he could bear. Antoine’s eyelids would not open. He didn’t know where he was, but the dank oppressiveness of the dungeon did not surround him.

  He must be dreaming.

  His head, his back, his wrists…

  The shackles. They were…. Gone?

  Although they felt as if they were sealed shut, Antoine pried his eyelids open and blinked against the candlelight flickering on the walls.

  Ones he recogized. The walls of Seraphine’s house.

  Seraphine was the weight.

  She was sleeping, lips parted, beautiful despite the dirt clinging to her long hair. Her face was marred by more dirt.

  “Seraphine,” he murmured.

  Instantly, her eyes popped open.

  “Antoine,” she whispered. “Are you all right?”

  “Maybe.”

  She sat up and then propped him up. He groaned and rubbed his aching wrists.

  “Why do I feel like I rammed through concrete?”

  She laughed. Her face looked paler than normal.

  “Do you need blood?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry about me!” She laughed again. “What do you need?”

  “Ugh.” He examined his body. “I swear I’m more bruised than I should be. My back especially…”

  “I’m sorry. I did my best to protect you, but I might’ve hit you against the top of the tunnel a few times in my haste.”

  “Tunnel?” Only now did he see the dirt on her fingers, the skin stained with dried blood. “You burrowed me out?”

  “I had to save you,” she said in a matter of fact way.

  “Seraphine, I can’t thank you enough for risking your life for me.”

  He opened his mouth to say more, but words failed him. How could he express just how much she meant to him?

  “I’d like to think you would’ve done the same for me,” she said. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?”

  Honestly, all he wanted was another nap. He could probably sleep for two days if not three.

  “We need to move. I don’t think we’re safe here.” She stood and walked over to the window. “I guess we hardly slept. Just enough time for the others to have left. Good. I don’t think I had the chance to tell them to hide, but they must’ve realized they needed to.”

  “The others?”

  “The humans on our side.” She graced him with a glorious smile.

  Seraphine approached. Her gait was awkward. She was hurting but putting on a brave face. She had pushed herself too hard to save him, and now she was paying for it.

  “You’ve never been to our underground city, have you?” she asked.

  “I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

  She grinned. “It might sting you a little when you cross the first time.”

  “Sting? Why?”

  “You know how some vampires have some small, basic magic? Well, when it’s pooled together, it can strengthen. I don’t understand all of it since I don’t have magic myself, but it’s supposed to grow stronger over time.”

  “A barrier?”

  “If a ton of witches come and try to blast through it, it might shatter. I won’t deny that. But other ones on our side have passed through. The vampires with magic can alter it to allow anyone they want to pass. All vampires, of course. All humans. We need the blood. No witches unless we say so, and we say so in your case.”

  She beamed and kneeled in front of him. Her arms wrapped around him, but her hug lacked any real strength.

  “Are you up for it?” she asked.

  Seraphine helped him to stand, but he fell down so heavily that she toppled over too, right on top of him.

  Antoine tried to lift an arm to brush hair from her face, but he couldn’t. He had never been so weak before.

  “I don’t think so,” he murmured.

  “I was afraid of that.” She exhaled. “We need to be on the run to ensure you aren’t caught.”

  “You can’t be either. The queen knows you as the leader of the uprising.”

  “The leader?” She rolled her eyes, but he saw her worried frown. “We don’t have a leader. And it doesn’t matter. They don’t know
where I live. Regardless, we should go.”

  Seraphine lived farther away from the heart of the division than most vampires. Even so, they hurried to increase the distance between themselves and the castle. The storm slowed their progress. It swelled, frantic and frustrated, acting as if trying to purposely delay their travel. The witches who siphoned the water either neglected this part of the division or hadn’t been here yet, and soon, the water reached up to their knees.

  Antoine could barely walk, let alone slosh through water, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other. If he did that, he would survive. If he walked, he would live. Left foot. Right. Left. Right.

  Before he put his left foot back down, it hit something. A rock? A tree branch?

  Lightning flashed, and he saw the culprit.

  A severed arm.

  Seraphine had gone on ahead but circled back and held his hand. Not far ahead some ruins were visible on a hill. Any place above water level was ideal, so they headed that direction.

  Antoine slid down the hill. The mud was far too slick, and he hadn’t the strength to crawl. Seraphine had to drag him through the water. Grunting and mumbling to herself, she finally jerked Antoine onto the hill. She collapsed beside him.

  “Not exactly a honeymoon spot,” she muttered.

  “Honeymoon?” He tried to laugh but coughed instead. “Doesn’t a wedding usually come first?”

  “Usually.” She leaned back and tilted her face toward the rain. “Did you ever hear the story about the queen and her supposed vampire boyfriend? She spelled her blood so he could drink.”

  He said nothing.

  Seraphine eyed him. The water was cleaning the dirt from their faces.

  “I hope we have a better ending,” she murmured.

  His hand patted hers, and they intertwined their fingers. A deep, sobering but fulfilling silence overwhelmed them. The couple stood, wordlessly, and watched the storm.

  For an entire day, they remained on the hill, ignoring the rest of the world, pretending the chaos below didn’t faze them.

  But they could not overlook their bodies. They both required food, and Seraphine needed blood. Out here, in the land that ventured close to the edge of the division, they had plenty of seclusion, yes. However, it lacked all of the necessities required for them to be sustained.

  Although he had slept most of the day, Antoine still felt exhausted. Seraphine figured the humans had been the ones to remove his manacles. Unfortunately, the restraints themselves were now missing. If they could find the shackles, they might prove handy.

  If they could open them again, they might ensnare another witch.

  Such as the queen.

  Then again, if she had created the irons herself, she might have instilled a safeguard to prevent the device being used against her.

  He wouldn’t put that past her. The queen had more wisdom and power than any one person should possess.

  Leaving their hill was depressing but necessary. At least they had been able to sleep here and recover some. Certainly they were still being heavily sought, but they could not delay any longer. Who knew how the queen had reacted to his escape? For all they knew, the division could be crumbling all around them.

  Hand in hand, aiding each other, they left their sanctuary. The water level was now a few inches above their knees. Seraphine stumbled but always caught herself before completely losing balance. Antoine tripped and fell. He ached from his legs, arms, back, chest, temple, everywhere. The weakness was so terrible he could hardly concentrate.

  Seraphine coaxed him back toward the shallower water where most of the vampires lived, and the water was only a few inches deep. His clothes clung to him and refused to be peeled away from his body. It was as if they had been glued to his skin.

  Seraphine steered him away from her house. “Not safe,” she murmured when he turned to glance back in that direction.

  She was walking slower than he would when at full strength, but he could barely keep up. Without a word, she hung back. When he caught up, she draped his arm over her shoulder to take on the brunt of his weight. He hated to rely on her, yet he appreciated her strength despite her own weakness.

  Soon, he realized they were headed for The Mean Gladiator. That made sense. They could get blood for her there.

  Imagine his surprise when she kept on walking past the pub.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his words slurring slightly. “Where are we going?”

  “Not all of the vampires who side with us have gone underground.”

  Her smirk had him worried. Did she think he wouldn’t get along with them? Or them with him? She didn’t seem concerned, so maybe he was reading too much into the situation.

  But then he noticed the faded sign on the building. Forged in dried blood and repainted time and again was a sun and blood-dripping fangs.

  “The Day Drinkers?” he asked, horrified.

  “So you do know them by name.” Even her laugh sounded tired and worn. “They’ll be so happy to hear that.”

  She knocked on the door twice, paused, and then knocked three more times.

  The door opened even though no one stood there.

  Antoine shivered. It wasn’t from the cold. Or fright. Or worry. Or anything like that.

  He wasn’t sure what was going on, but ever since he had left the dungeon, he hadn’t felt right.

  No. Even before then.

  It had started when the queen had sliced him with that bone dagger.

  “Baltasar Torres?” Seraphine called. “Come on out. I have someone I would like you to meet.”

  “The vampire who has finally caused you to settle down?” a deep, booming voice called.

  “Check your senses,” she snapped.

  A large, looming form appeared deeper in the building, draped in shadows. Baltasar stalked forward, his nostrils flaring with disgust.

  “I smelled the witch, of course,” he snapped. “Don’t tell me he’s the one—”

  “He’s the witch on our side.”

  “What’s the matter?” Baltasar asked, leering in close, his face inches from Antoine’s. “You got sick of killing vampires so now you want to kill witches instead?”

  “Just one witch,” he answered as calmly as he could, which wasn’t calmly at all considering his teeth were chattering. “The queen.”

  Baltasar eyed him, threw back his head, and howled with laughter. “You look like you can’t even handle a wet noodle to your noggin, and you want to take on the queen?”

  “Can it, Baltasar,” Seraphine retorted. “What’s the word on the street?”

  Baltasar glanced at Antoine before pulling Seraphine aside. Antoine could still hear every word as he slumped to sit on the ground, curling into a ball.

  “Vampires are being cut down left and right. None are safe. If a witch sees them, they have the go-ahead to kill. Some do bring them in, and humans have been given devices to help neutralize us. The new vampire executioner is going to have biceps made of steel from the long line of vampires he’s killing all day long.”

  “Why haven’t you been caught yet?” she asked.

  He chuckled quietly. “Why? Do you want me dead?”

  She glared at him but shook her head.

  Baltasar grimaced. “Still have work to do.”

  “Do I even want to know?” she groaned.

  “Probably not.” He gave her the once-over. “You look like you need blood and lots of it. Come on.”

  She hesitated, glancing at Antoine.

  “I’ll be fine,” Antoine managed to say, waving her away.

  She left and did not return for a long time. Or maybe it was only a minute. Antoine thought he dozed but couldn’t be sure.

  Once again, he examined his body. His wounds seemed to be healing slower than normal. Now that he was no longer shackled, he should be able to use his magic again.

  He whispered the healing chant.

  Nothing happened.

  He repeated the words. Tried differ
ent variations. Attempted all manners of spells, even non-healing ones.

  Antoine couldn’t even get a burned out candle to light, one of the first spells a young witch learned.

  Either the dagger had stripped him of his powers, which was extremely feasible, or the witches had found other means to steal his powers.

  Antoine’s fright and worry increased to a thousand-fold of his normal level.

  When she returned, alone, Seraphine had some hot stew. She kneeled in front of him and fed him, careful not to spill a single drop, with sips of fresh water to drink between spoonfuls.

  But the food, although delicious, did nothing to increase his strength, and the water failed to decrease his thirst.

  In fact, he craved liquid. He desperately needed it.

  A speck of blood from her drink dotted the corner of Seraphine’s lips. Before he could stop himself, Antoine wiped it away with his thumb and licked the blood.

  Yes, he was thirsty, all right.

  Thirsty for vampire blood.

  26

  The look in Antoine’s eyes after he licked the blood made Seraphine straighten with worry.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, concern coloring each word.

  He turned to face her. “I’m thirsty, that’s all,” he uttered.

  She swallowed hard. “That was human blood you just tasted.”

  Antoine immediately shook his head. “I don’t want that.” He stared at her, confused.

  She was confused too, but she recognized what he wanted—vampire blood.

  Her blood.

  She didn’t hesitate and brushed her hair back from her shoulder.

  Antoine jerked back. “I… I don’t know. I don’t want to.”

  “You aren’t healing. Can you use your magic?”

  He shook his head. “I tried. I can’t. I don’t know what they did to me.”

  His sorrowful grimace made her want to cry.

  “This isn’t your fault,” she assured him.

  “I just don’t see how they could have done this, how she could have.” Antoine shook his head.

  Some witches under the effects of the Rift Curse experienced different side effects. The most benign one was light sensitivity. One spectacular change, depending on one’s point of view, was extended lifespans. Heightened strength, speed, or senses were also results in rare cases.