Dark Hunt: Division 4: The Berkano Vampire Collection

by Nicole Zoltack

  But in the rarest situation, those witches had a blood hunger only for vampire’s blood.

  “Why can’t I have the strength or speed or the long life?” Antoine groaned.

  If he required a drink, he must not deny himself. Since he wouldn’t take from her neck, maybe he would from her wrist.

  “Here.” She held out her arm and placed it against his mouth.

  “I don’t have fangs to puncture your skin,” he protested. “And I don’t want you to—what are you doing?”

  She ignored him and bit her wrist. Blood dripped, and she quickly grabbed his empty glass. Her dark blood filled the cup, and she handed it to him.

  “If you are thirsty, you should drink,” she said.

  Admiration filled his eyes, and when he accepted the glass, his eyes darkened with interest and eagerness. Although timid, he took a sip and then chugged every last drop. Antoine even licked the rim.

  “That was satisfying,” he said, sounding pleased.

  “But not enough, was it?”

  He tilted his head to the side, considering. “Enough for now.”

  She gasped. Before her eyes, the gash by his temple healed.

  “Did you use magic?” she asked.

  “No.” He touched his temple. “Vampires can heal themselves?”

  “If they’ve feed enough.” She grinned. “How are you feeling?”

  “A lot stronger.”

  “Do you want more?” she asked, eager to help.

  “Can you spare it?”

  He was as excited as a child getting some of the rare cinnamon spice on their bread. It was a treat most parents only could provide on the anniversary of a child’s birth.

  In answer, she reached for the glass, but he tapped her elbow. Instead, she provided her wrist. The puncture marks hadn’t healed completely.

  Antoine drank, but he was not a glutton, and he pulled back quicker than Seraphine expected.

  “Now how do you feel?” she asked as excited as before.

  He smiled at her and picked her up, twirling her around. She let out a squeal of surprise.

  When he lowered her, slowly, hands on her rump, the glint in his eyes stole her breath away.

  It was a look of gratitude and appreciation, admiration and joy, love and peace.

  “I’ve regained most of my strength and power,” he said.

  “And your magic?”

  He whispered a few words, and the unlit candles illuminated, and the flames of those already burning grew in intensity.

  “It’s back.” Antoine grinned recklessly. “We’re back.”

  27

  The power coursing through Antoine might be alien and foreign, but he found it easy to control. He had undergone a rebirth to become a stronger, more powerful version of himself.

  That he needed to drink vampire blood now did not disgust him as it might have a short time ago. If anything, it made him understand and appreciate Seraphine even more. Not because she willingly offered her blood to him, but because he now understood the thirst.

  That Seraphine had learned to survive an entire week without giving into her need for blood was impressive. That she could drink without killing was even more so.

  Antoine’s thirst was unending. It could never be quenched, but if he slowed down and kept his mind focused, he could be satisfied.

  The witches in the dungeon had somehow cursed him with the need for vampire blood. Perhaps they hoped it would overwhelm him, that he would kill Seraphine.

  No. Never. He was stronger than that. He could survive this. He would control his thirst, not the other way around.

  “Do you need more blood since I took some of yours?” he asked.

  “A good idea.”

  She exited and returned a minute later with a stein brimming with blood. Seraphine sat at the table, and he claimed the seat beside her.

  “We need to formulate a plan,” he said.

  “To take down the mad queen once and for all,” she said, nodding. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  “She can’t be in the castle if we both attack her… too many guards and protectors.”

  “Being in front of the large crowd at an execution is less than ideal,” she mused.

  “You think?” He chuckled, but she knew he was being sarcastic. “Too many spectators who might get hurt or ones who may even try to help save her.”

  “I wish we could count on others to help. Don’t they see how mad she is?”

  “Maybe they’re afraid of the truth or of change. The world was devastated once. People reacted badly. It’s not easy to broker a new dawn, a new age.”

  “But we’ll try.”

  “Or die in the attempt.”

  He reached out for her hand, and they sat in silence, contemplating. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Seraphine smile.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, confused.

  Even if we fail, I’m glad I met you. Did you ever expect all of this when we first crossed paths?”

  “No. As I recall, you wanted to kill me.”

  She snorted. “You wanted me for your damned blade.”

  “You had your chances to kill me. You didn’t. Why?” He had always wondered about that.

  Seraphine hesitated. “I’ve always tried not to kill, and besides, the bulls were closing in. Yes, I’m fast, but I didn’t want to risk my life over killing you.”

  “Hogwash. You could’ve finished me off and sneaked away before the bulls rendered you unconscious.”

  She burst out laughing. “Hogwash?”

  He grinned and shrugged sheepishly. “I read it in a book.”

  “Books,” she murmured, wonder in her eyes. “What kind of books?”

  Few books had been written after the Rift because of the rain and ice seasons. The dry ones too tended to kill off trees. The books that had been scrolled were for the queen. To say her choice of reading was fanatical might be true. Even when he’d been loyal to Queen Pierrette, he had always bypassed hers for the classics.

  “All kinds. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry…”

  “Poetry?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “About love?”

  “Love, death, rebirth, finding your way. If there’s one thing I learned from books, it’s that you must first dream and then take a leap before you can fly.”

  Seraphine rested her head on his shoulder. “Maybe you should write some poetry one day.”

  “I’ll do better. I’ll write songs. I’ll bring back music.”

  “Songs? Can you sing?” She leaned back to look at him.

  He shrugged and grinned. “I can try.”

  “And the songs will be about?”

  “You and how you wanted to kill me and failed.”

  She slapped his shoulder.

  Antoine laughed. “Or would you rather the music be about your undying love for me?”

  A softness shone in her mesmerizing eyes. “Yes, because that would be the truth.”

  The kiss was soft and gentle but quickly deepened. Before they could do more, however, that damned vampire entered and cleared his throat.

  They jerked apart as if guilty while Baltasar scraped a chair against the floor and sat.

  “What’s the plan?” he barked.

  Seraphine glanced at Antoine, her cheeks flushed. From embarrassment? Or desire?

  She cleared her throat. “You said the vampires are still being hunted.”

  “Hunted and slain, cut down like animals. The witches have made it a damn sport. Even a few humans have killed a vampire or two. It’s disgusting.” Baltasar turned to the side and spat on the ground.

  “A dark hunt if ever there was one,” Antoine murmured.

  “I need to go to the vampires and convince them to all go underground.”

  “All?” Baltasar scoffed. “Not all.”

  “Yes. All.” Seraphine faced Antoine. “What other choice do we have?”

  He had to admit she was right, but the evil queen would turn on humans an
d witches next. They both knew that.

  “Do it,” he said, “but first ask your human friends to round up any others sympathetic to the cause and get them underground. Leave the witches to me.”

  “Witches. Bah.” Baltasar slammed a fist onto the table. Splinters flew, but the table didn’t completely shatter apart. “None of them are—”

  “I understand your dislike for us—” Antoine started.

  “Don’t waste your breath,” Seraphine murmured.

  “Dislike? I hate you all. Loathe you all. You and your kind repulse me. You—”

  “Some might say the same about vampires,” Antoine said coolly.

  Baltasar stared at him in shock and then barked a laugh. “Some might,” he admitted. “Fine. We’ll get everyone underground. Then what?”

  Antoine turned to Seraphine. She nodded.

  “Then,” she said, pointing to Antoine and herself, “we handle the queen.”

  28

  The rain storm had grown to be the wildest and strongest tempest ever. A few buildings that had been whole and perfect were now rubble. The castle was in more disarray and disrepair than ever before. Not a single tree remained rooted.

  For two weeks, Seraphine and Antoine did their part. It proved impossible to convince all of the vampires to hide underground. Some hated their existence and wished to die for their crimes, believing their thirst was a curse. Others preferred isolation. A few wanted to take their chances.

  Most, thankfully, listened, but Seraphine was distraught to see how dwindled their numbers had become from the queen’s hateful persecution.

  Every dawn, she and Antoine would meet, discuss their day, kiss, and steal a few moments. They had to be on the move constantly for fear of being found. The queen was rumored to take to the streets at times and slay a few vampires herself. If she found them, there would be no mercy.

  Antoine had recruited witches, fewer than the fingers on his hands.

  “I don’t want to risk asking anyone else,” he admitted. “Too many thrive on the power. Most hate vampires and are unwilling to realize there could be another way of life.”

  “Being complacent is no excuse,” she said, spitting bitterness with each word. “But I don’t want you to risk exposing yourself to someone who might hand you over to the queen.”

  “Then I’m afraid my part in this is done. Have you made any headway with the humans?”

  “Yes.”

  She reached into her pocket and removed a flask of vampire blood. Since that first time he’d drunk from her, he had refused to do so again because he claimed she needed her strength. Thankfully, Baltasar actually stepped up. When he saw how much Antoine cared for her and what he was doing on behalf of the division, he agreed to give Antoine his blood.

  “But only if he drinks from a glass or stein. Anything but my person. None of that,” Baltasar had insisted.

  Antoine drained the flask and handed it back. “Well?”

  “The vampires will stay underground no matter what unless we tell them it’s safe to come back.”

  “Until,” he corrected. “We will win.”

  She grinned, but his appearance of optimism was forced, and they both recognized that. At the moment, the hunt was for survival and nothing else.

  “The witches and humans won’t take part in the next step of our plan,” she continued, “other than to ensure no one interferes. We can do this, right?”

  “We have to.”

  She kissed his cheek. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right.”

  Seraphine laughed. “Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day, it’ll be true.”

  That night, Seraphine went underground for the first time in weeks. She wanted to make sure everyone was getting along despite the close quarters.

  Vampires were in their element, which wasn’t surprising. They had tunneled the city and knew where everything was. They finally seemed free as if they were citizens instead of scum.

  The humans were remarkably adaptive to their hopefully temporary home. A few grinned at Seraphine. Carlos started to approach her, but Nadine touched his arm to hold him back.

  Seraphine was most worried about the witch population. Surely that was just her old prejudice trying to rear its ugly head, but she wanted to check on them anyway.

  All of them except Antoine were there. Wait. Someone was missing. A female. The only protector to deflect. Cathrin Keller.

  From the start, when Antoine had first introduced the two of them, Seraphine hadn’t liked Cathrin. One glance from the witch to Antoine was all it took. Cathrin longed for him, maybe even loved him.

  Seraphine recognized she was jealous. She accepted that. Having another protector witch would be huge to their cause. Cathrin’s loyalty to Antoine would only serve to ensure the witch would not play them false.

  The vampires insisted Seraphine have quarters in the large part of the underground city. They were working on a branch for the humans and a tiny one for the few witches who’d come along.

  Antoine, they’d agreed, had a house with the other witches. Seraphine had already checked his place, but an odd premonition brought her back there again.

  The witch who claimed her heart was not there.

  Breathing uneasily, uncertain why she was so anxious and worried, Seraphine spun around.

  Standing directly in front of her was Cathrin Keller. How could the witch have snuck up on her like that?

  “Hello, Seraphine.” Cathrin’s grin was positively ruthless. “Goodnight, Seraphine.”

  Before Seraphine could react even with her vampire speed, the witch had rendered her unconscious.

  29

  No one, not in the nearly thousand underground refugees, knew where Seraphine was.

  Cathrin was missing too.

  Antoine was beside himself. He had wrestled for days whether or not to talk to Cathrin, to see if she might join them. He had thought her trustworthy and a friend. His only concern had been her feelings for him, feelings he had never shared.

  Had the lack of reciprocity driven Cathrin to extreme jealous and dangerous measures?

  Had she done the unforgivable?

  No. No, he would know if Seraphine was dead. Wouldn’t he?

  His only hope, if he could hope right now, was that the queen would want to make a public victim out of Seraphine. To display her death for all the division to see.

  Since the majority of vampires had relocated underground, Sergio hardly had the chance to swing his blade. Only in the last two days he had started wielding the axe again.

  But the heads that rolled belonged to humans, not vampires.

  Antoine had to do something. He would never allow Sergio to kill her!

  Although several of the witches, humans, and even Baltasar and a few vampires had pleaded with him to not risk it, he abandoned the underground city.

  Using his enhanced speed, he rushed through the division toward the clearing. Yes, the more vampire blood he had in him, the faster he could go.

  Already, a huge crowd was forming.

  Antoine used an illusion spell to make himself appear as an old, hunched over woman. He even included a huge wart on the end of her hooked nose.

  “What might be all the commotion about?” he asked in a raspy, gnarled, old lady’s voice.

  “Haven’t you heard?” a witch said with no shortage of excitement.

  “There’s to be another vampire execution,” a human said, just as eager.

  “Bah. There’s been so many,” Antoine said, but his heart pounded furiously. His knees became weak with worry and dread.

  “This one is different,” the witch said, clearly in awe of the spectacle.

  “It’s that Seraphine! She’s been caught! By a protector, of course.” The human nodded sagely.

  “Seraphine?” he asked.

  “You know, that blasted vampire who stirred up all the trouble and hid with the other vampires. She’s as crooked as they come.” The witch sounded as d
isgusted and repulsed by vampires as the queen ever did.

  Antoine remained silent, unable to maintain his charade any longer, too consumed by sorrow and fear.

  The witch turned away from Antoine and laid a hand on the human, draining her of psychic energy.

  Fury and hostility flooded through Antoine. Where was Seraphine? Should he try to save her?

  Or should he go after the queen?

  As much as he couldn’t bear the thought of Seraphine dying, this was already a circus. The chaos and pandemonium of Seraphine’s awaited execution might be the only chance he had at finding the queen alone.

  Well, not alone. Not unless he could force her away from the guards.

  He patted the shackles beneath his long trench coat. He’d secured them after drinking from Seraphine. He licked his lips. The taste of her and of her blood drove him wild.

  Focus, Antoine!

  If he could find the queen, he would spirit her away from the castle and out of sight of the clearing. Then he might have a chance to fight her and end this battle once and for all… if she didn’t use magic to strike him down the moment he grabbed her. Or doing the race. Or the moment he would drop her.

  It would be a challenge, a risk, and a daring mission.

  “Time for the ultimate dark hunt to begin,” he murmured to himself, slinking away from the back of the crowd.

  30

  The shackles weighed Seraphine down. She could hardly think, barely breathe. Her mind was a fog.

  Only one thing did she see. Cathrin was still grinning that vicious smirk.

  Seraphine wanted to smack it off the witch’s face so hard that her wrists trembled.

  Cathrin laughed. “Don’t bother to try, sweetheart,” she said sarcastically. “Those are specifically spelled so a vampire can’t break free. You’re stuck. After Sergio cuts off your head, your body with burn in the flames until there’s nothing left of you. Then you’ll be free of the shackles. But only then.”

  Seraphine glowered at her. Her face felt numb. Was she even frowning?