by Tessa Dawn
He could not comprehend how they had allowed it to happen.
How had the sentinels missed the evil one's presence in the Red Canyons? How had he and Nathaniel been so easily fooled by Valentine's deception? He should not have been able to pass off another woman's body—a human woman with no trace of Celestial DNA in her blood—as Dalia's. The sentinels had picked up on Valentine's scent in the river-bed; it was all over the mutilated corpse. Yet they had missed something as powerful as a birthing...a blood sacrifice...in their own backyard.
Marquis understood Nathaniel's rage. His need for vengeance. But he simply could not endure another loss such as the loss of Shelby. If hunting Valentine alone would help keep Nathaniel safe, then Marquis was more than ready to do so. Jocelyn had to be his brother's one and only priority right now.
Turning back toward the Red Canyons for the third time, Marquis left an obvious trail in his wake, should there be a Dark One present who was willing to confront him. He uprooted trees and turned over rocks, leaving strange weather patterns behind him. He formed several isolated rain clouds and created numerous miniature cyclones, sending each one to hover randomly in the air behind him. Any vampire within the vicinity would know that there was an Ancient in the area. And they would easily scent that he was alone.
It was of no use.
All of his effort.
Not a single Dark One was in sight.
Marquis decided to return home, but not before entering the Sacrificial Chamber to see the scene of the abomination himself. Perhaps Valentine had left some distinct energy pattern behind that would indicate his next move or provide a clue as to where he might be sleeping during the day while staying in the valley.
Unlike the descendants of Jadon, the Dark Ones could not tolerate the sun, not even for a moment, not even in the early hours of dawn or the late hours of twilight. Valentine would be sleeping deep within the confines of a crypt, albeit natural or manmade, during the day.
Marquis flowed effortlessly through the long labyrinth of tunnels that wound through the deep canyon, careful to avoid the low hanging stalactites that hovered like forbidding daggers at the entrance to the actual chamber. Immediately, his blood came alive, coursing powerfully through his veins; his senses became heightened and aware. The smell of death was as thick inside the damp hall as a cloud of moisture on a humid day, clearly revealing the cruelty of the night as well as the identities of those who had been within its walls.
Despite the subtle smell of sulfur, and the not so subtle stench of burned flesh, Marquis recognized the lingering scent of Valentine's arousal, the noxious odor of Dalia's terror, and the faint aroma of Jocelyn's frantic escape, each remnant persisting like a visceral reminder of the hideous events. In terms of energy, Jocelyn's residual imprint rose strongest from the back of the cave, from a hollow just beyond a stagnant pool of musty water. Dalia's presence cried out loudest from the stone slab, and Valentine's abhorrent stench marked a path back and forth between the death bed and the sacrificial altar like a heady trail of adrenaline laced with testosterone.
Marquis closed his eyes, allowing his already heightened senses to become even stronger. He was trying to detect whether or not anyone else had been in the chamber recently. There was no sign of another Dark One in the cavern. Nothing that gave a hint of Valentine's brothers, Salvatore or Zarek. Nothing that might reveal any other descendant of Jaegar in the close proximity. Clearly, Valentine had acted alone.
Without warning, the acrid stench Marquis had identified as Valentine's began to increase, all at once becoming stronger in the cavern. Marquis opened his eyes, wondering if he was receiving a psychic imprint from earlier. Something especially powerful. Perhaps an important clue that Valentine had left behind.
And then the scent grew stronger...unmistakable...a clear indication of something coming closer, until the entity emerged in the chamber and settled conspicuously near.
Marquis knew immediately that Valentine was there in the cavern with him, and the Dark One was hoping to remain undetected behind his poorly cloaked presence. He waved his hand across the shadowy cave, sending the many antique torches embedded in the sandstone walls into a fiery blaze of orange and red light; while at the same time, he used his mind to raise the room temperature to ninety-nine degrees Fahrenheit—two degrees higher than normal body temperature. Using infrared detection to identify any section of the air containing a hollow—a noticeable dip in temperature—Marquis scanned the interior for the anomaly.
The void was directly above him.
Marquis whirled around, leaping to the other end of the cave with preternatural speed just as Valentine materialized into view, raking his fully extended claws perilously close to Marquis's jugular. A high-pitched whistle buzzed through the air as the five seeking daggers swept past their target.
"How nice of you to join me," Marquis hissed, landing in a crouched, defensive stance. "But did you really think it would be that easy to sneak up on an Ancient?" He knew his enemy had hoped to score a quick, unexpected victory; he certainly had not shown up expecting to fight man-to-man.
Valentine roared his fury as he spun to face Marquis. "The night is still young," he purred. His raspy voice dripped with venom. Now that he was there, his pride would dictate that he finish what he started. He turned his bristling black eyes on Marquis, glaring straight through his soul with a murderous rage.
"That it is," Marquis drawled. "Yet all good things eventually come to an end, do they not, Dark One?"
Valentine sneered, "Shelby certainly did, my brother of light."
Marquis's fangs exploded in his mouth as he snarled a promise of retribution, all the while rocking back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet restlessly. He eyed the legendary vampire with contempt before finally settling into position, as silent as the night, his powerful muscles expanding and contracting in dangerous waves of readiness.
He could not believe his fortune.
Valentine Nistor.
Alone.
With him.
"Do not be so certain of your victory," Valentine spat.
"Arrogance does not become you, Marquis. And sunrise is a long ways away."
"Oh, I can assure you, my dark brother, this will not take long at all." Marquis's voice was a sultry caress of death as a raging fire of vengeance began to rise within him like the blistering lava of a volcano, ever ready to explode into a sweltering onslaught of retribution.
"If I recall, destroying Dalia did not take so long either,"
Valentine taunted. "Although, I hear your brother's death was an entirely different story: quite the drawn-out process, no?"
Marquis steadied himself. "Perhaps. But at least Shelby died with honor, and his soul now walks the Valley of Spirit and Light. You, on the other hand, will die like the wretched maggot you are and spend the rest of eternity in The Valley of Death and Shadows. We will see then what a long, drawn out process really is..."
Valentine's eyes narrowed into angry slits of derision as each vampire continued to try and goad the other into a prideful state of fury, hoping to gain the upper hand.
Emotions were an easily exploited weakness in mortal combat.
They circled each other like two stalking leopards. Pacing.
Glowering. Waiting. Each one demonstrating his own physical prowess...promising the other a violent and painful death...until finally, a group of dagger-shaped stalactites broke free from the cave ceiling and crashed down around them, spurring the angry predators into action.
Valentine struck first, hurling a red-hot bolt of lightning directly at Marquis's heart. The chamber lit up with dazzling sparks of orange and blue electricity as the powerful bolt raced toward its target.
Marquis reacted so quickly the lightning never had a chance to connect. Holding both palms out in front of him, he intercepted the lethal missile and sent it sailing back at Valentine. He never once flinched as the bolt seared sweltering burns into his hands.
Valentine leapt ade
ptly to the side, laughing wickedly at the sight of Marquis's burning flesh.
Marquis stared down at the scorching fire blistering his palms and began to gather its energy. He could hear the wind picking up outside of the cavern, lashing wildly through the valley, howling its own rising fury, and he could feel the turbulence as it began to form rows of dark, skeletal, funnel clouds, preparing to unleash the deadly result of the vampires' rage in the surrounding canyon. But he just didn't care.
Heat turned to fire. Fire turned to radiation. Radiation became two enormous balls of iridescent red flames, spinning and turning in Marquis's hands as the glowing conflagration pulsated out from their cores. And then, without warning, Marquis hurled both balls at preternatural speed, each in quick succession of the other. The first was aimed directly at Valentine, veering slightly off to the left. The second was thrust into the vacant space to his right, the exact spot Valentine would have to leap for in an effort to dodge the first ball.
The weapon struck its target.
Squarely in the chest.
Valentine howled with pain as his body became a hot blaze of fire and radiation. And then he leapt the entire distance of the cave in one smooth motion, grasping Marquis forcefully by the shoulders as he flew through the air.
Their powerful bodies came together like two large cannon-balls colliding in the night, sending both of them spiraling backward into the murky pond of water behind them. Valentine rolled frantically in the shallow pool in an effort to extinguish the flames, and Marquis seized the opportunity to attack.
Slashing deep with his jagged claws, he pierced the wall of Valentine's chest and dug deep into the cavity. He wrenched at the muscle, trying to extract the heart, even as he struck at the vampire's throat with his other hand, slicing straight through the Dark One's jugular.
Valentine shouted in pain, and his fangs elongated.
Harnessing all of his remaining strength, the son of Jaegar lunged at Marquis in a desperate attempt to rip out his jugular—to take his enemy into the next world with him.
But Marquis moved far too swiftly.
He jerked back, avoiding the enormous serrated teeth before they could puncture his throat, and snatched Valentine up by the shirt with two powerful fists. He launched him across the cavern hard, sending him crashing into a solid wall of limestone. He heard the vampire's bones splinter as his massive torso struck forcefully upon impact.
And then Valentine's body slumped to the cave floor and landed in a seated position.
Blood spewed forth from the Dark One's throat, his spine too mangled to hold him upright. Choking on his own blood, Valentine fought desperately to stay alive. Both vampires were warriors. And with their shared centuries of discipline, as well as lightning-quick reflexes, neither one was going out that easily.
The Dark One quickly constructed an invisible barrier around his body—a pulsating force field of dense waves of energy—in a fevered attempt to hold Marquis back long enough to regenerate. He was losing blood far too quickly, which was precisely what Marquis wanted...to drain his enemy of his vital life force. To render him powerless to fight back. To dispatch his head or remove his heart in order to prevent regeneration. And to finally incinerate his body so that he could never rise again.
Marquis watched as Valentine instinctively released his incisors and sank the sharp fangs deep into his own hand, rapidly filling it with venom until it began to swell up like a blow-fish. Using a sharp claw from his other hand, he tore a deep gash into the swollen flesh, forcing the venom to seep out to the surface, and then he held it up against his throat as a poultice.
"You will not kill me this night, Ancient One," Valentine stuttered, choking on the words. He was still gurgling on his own blood, yet he managed to growl a low, drawn-out snarl just the same. His throat was beginning to repair itself, the blood loss lessening.
Marquis tore wildly at the circular barrier then, like a madman unleashed in a rage, rapidly destroying each powerful layer, one at a time, until the entire obstruction finally came down.
With a fury so great the entire mountain shook, he went straight for the kill.
His hands became crimson-red blurs of light. His claws slashed wildly at the Dark One's arteries as he tore hundreds of lacerations into Valentine's flesh, long before the vampire could lift a weakened hand in defense.
Blood spurted out like geysers erupting from the earth, two powerful streams shooting straight from Valentine's upper arm and inner thigh. And then Marquis lunged at his enemy's throat, determined to reopen the carotid artery...one last time.
Without warning, an enormous hand grasped at the mutilated body, snatching Valentine up by the arm just as the roof of the cavern began to cave in. Marquis covered his head reflexively, deflecting the falling rocks with his mind while whirling around to see what had happened.
When the rock slide stopped, Salvatore Nistor was kneeling over his injured brother in the middle of the cave as if he were a coiled cobra, frantically injecting Valentine's wounds with venom from his fangs. Salvatore was an ancient descendant of Jaegar—one who was well studied in black magic—and his venom was powerful.
His head snapped up, and he turned to glare at Marquis, a vicious snarl escaping his throat. Throwing back his wild mane of banded, black-and-red hair, he roared a deafening warning to the powerful descendant of Jadon, and then he leapt to his feet like an angry jungle cat about to pounce.
"Perhaps you should pick on someone your own size, son of Jadon!" His hard, angled jaw was set in a line of unyielding defiance and rage. "Come play with me, instead, Marquis!"
Standing with his arms out at his side, Salvatore began to build a fiery blaze of radiation. Only, instead of constructing two balls of fire to hurl at his enemy, he began to encase his own body in the burning arc of flames, until he was standing in the cavern glowing—a living pillar of fire.
Marquis recognized the arrogant display of power for what it was, a masterful attempt at intimidation, and he quickly built a matching arc around his own body; only, he didn't stop there. He absorbed the flames until they completely consumed his core, and the red-hot blazes shot out from his mouth, eyes, nose, and ears in a blistering display of sorcery.
A much more difficult and deadly configuration.
Salvatore and Marquis leapt simultaneously into attack positions, two blazing predators dying to strike first. Marquis was about to lunge when he was stopped short by the sudden reappearance of Valentine, who was quickly regenerating with the help of Salvatore's ancient venom. The sadistic vampire leapt effortlessly to his feet at his brother's side, and then he jumped completely over Marquis, resembling a runner taking a hurdle, before crouching low on the opposite side of the cavern and growling with satisfaction.
They had him surrounded.
Marquis became deathly quiet. Listening. Anticipating.
Waiting for the slightest vibration to indicate which of the two brothers intended to attack first. To his surprise, the first hint of movement did not come from either one of them. Rather, Nathaniel Silivasi, his own brother, silently materialized in the cavern, his eyes lethal and alert, his body swollen with power.
He was perfectly poised and prepared for battle as he stood back-to-back with Marquis.
"Forgive my disobedience, brother," Nathaniel murmured,
"but the opportunity was simply irresistible. Besides, I would hate to leave you at a couple's dance without a date."
Marquis smiled a wicked grin and glanced over his shoulder to assess his younger sibling. It was blatantly obvious that he had consumed an enormous amount of blood: His muscles rippled with raw power; his eyes were vivid with enhanced acuity; and his skin positively glistened with a fresh sheen of vitality.
Nathaniel would be unstoppable.
"I can always ground you later," Marquis grumbled, a deep chuckle reverberating in his chest. He turned his gaze to Salvatore and Valentine and bowed slightly at the waist.
"Shall we dance, boys?"
Before they could strike, a dark, malevolent laughter filled the chamber—as a fourth figure shimmered into view. The deep, resonant voice came from Zarek Nistor, as he stood next to his twin, scanning his body to assess the extent of his remaining injuries. "I believe it is considered rude to start a party before all the guests have arrived," he snarled.
Marquis chuckled, more than happy to welcome the foolish vampire to the slaughter.
And then a sixth voice rang out, "I couldn't agree with you more." Kagen Silivasi stood leisurely at the entrance to the chamber, his powerful arms crossed idly over his chest.
"Luckily, it would appear as if we are all accounted for."
Salvatore sneered, "All but Shelby, of course." He sighed.
"Oh yes, Valentine, did you do something to...discourage...the youngest Silivasi from attending this night?" His laughter was evil. "Speaking of which, I must come and visit my new nephew soon; I understand his mother was simply delicious."
Nathaniel, Marquis, and Kagen all launched into the air at the same time, lunging with supernatural speed at their enemies. There was a hideous clash of flesh and bone. Claws and fangs. Blood and sweat. As hidden weapons were drawn and fury became a living, breathing entity within the cavern.
And then the walls of the cave simply buckled and exploded outward, hurtling all six vampires into the open valley, beneath a suddenly blackened, violent sky, where a war of untold proportions was about to take place.
A war that would give new meaning to the words Blood Moon.
Lightning sizzled and thunder roared.
And then the Great One spoke: "There will be no battle, tonight!" The voice rang out like a clash of cymbals as the Sovereign lord of the house of Jadon, Napolean Mondragon, descended from the sky, his feral red eyes ablaze with power, his face like a granite statue, etched with authority and resolve. Deep lines of age framed the Ancient's face as his striking silver and black hair whipped furiously in the wind, giving off a ghostly appearance of omniscience and immortality.
Napolean was the chosen monarch of the descendants of Jadon and an adversary far too powerful to oppose, to the descendants of Jaegar. His words were law among the Lighter Vampires, and his legendary prowess in war commanded unyielding respect from the Dark Ones. He remained deathly quiet, awaiting the reply of the eldest brothers.
