The sun balances on the edge of the world like a dancer on a tightrope, burning a golden path over the ocean, casting the green hills around us in bright gold and deep indigo. Before the burning dancer can slip another inch, Nyx raises his hand and, as easily as cutting paper with a freshly sharpened knife, tears a hole in the sky through which I can see almost the same sunset, but setting over a drastically different horizon. Through the burning hoop of Nyx's portal, the sun sets behind the dark, hulking monolith of Morana's palace, and Paris glitters in the distance beyond it.
I approach the portal's edge as we make last checks, adjusting the harness holding my weapons one last time. Hawthorn knives at my hips, a pair of last-resort pistols with silver-coated bullets in side holsters, a sawed-off shotgun on my back and plenty of silver-treated birdshot shells on my belt. I brought the bolo I used on James for good luck, and three UV flash grenades for insurance. Carver is similarly kitted out beside me, not much different from the gear we'd relied on when we were Morana's assassins. I do a double take, noticing the rapier at his waist.
"Really?" I ask, laughing. "Since when have you used one of those?"
He glances down at the sword, flustered.
"I became interested in it when I saw you using it during your time with Le Tireur," he confesses. "It's a very elegant style."
"Tell that to Maeve and Moira," I say with a small laugh. "They keep trying to convince me katanas are the superior weapon."
"Because they are," one of the twins interjects. I can't say which one for once. They're dressed identically in black, padded armor. It's surprisingly utilitarian for them. I'm used to them being theatrical as hell. But as they draw their katanas in perfect unison, I understand better. It's still theatrical, they're just using it to their advantage. When they move in sync, the pitch darkness of their clothing makes it easy to lose track of the shape of them. They become a single, terrifying warrior with four arms and two identical faces, perfect for confusing and intimidating their enemies in one strike.
"Perhaps when this is over, we should duel," Carver suggests. "Two on two."
"Perhaps," one of the twins agrees, and they both grin. "With two of you, you might begin to pose an actual challenge."
I roll my eyes at their good-natured ribbing, my attention drifting as Carver continues to discuss technique with them, checking over my men.
The Dakvahar vampires are all well-equipped. They've been fighting this war a long time. The Kresova vampires have less gear, but they all look like they know how to use it. The Dakvahar are mostly split between the two flanking groups, while the ranged units are almost all Kresova now, as well as the rear guard.
The werewolves wait at the front, already fully shifted and snarling with eagerness to get started. Callahan and Brenna had fit them all with simple leather armor that will not impede their movement but may deflect knives or teeth. In addition, Brenna has managed to pull together massive gauntlets for many of the wolves, which are tipped in wickedly curved silver claws, a vampire's worst nightmare. They'd only be scarier if they could spit UV bombs.
Seamus waves at me from behind the ranged units where he and the other Fae are placed. They'll be doing whatever magic comes to them, I assume. You can't really give orders to the Fae. Most of them aren't even wearing armor. Those that are wear only ornate, isolated pieces—a cauldron here, a gauntlet there, some fucking, absurd thigh-high armored boots— which I have a feeling are pretty much ornamental. They don't seem worried about getting hurt. Seamus looks excited, like a kid on a field trip, his only weapon a long silver staff with a nasty-looking hooked end, which he spins idly, turning to laugh at a comment from another Fae near him.
Everything appears ready, and I'm humming with nervous excitement and at the same time too anxious to sound the charge. I find Nyx near the portal's edge instead, nodding to him. He nods back, his attention on the edge of the portal, a complex weave of violet threads, some of which he has carefully loosened and is tuning, like something between a musician with an instrument and an engineer doing cable management. The thumb and index finger of his left hand are fitted with some kind of filigreed golden jewelry or perhaps it's a tool of some kind. As I watch, he uses those two fingers to pluck a single violet thread from the sleeve of his long, twilight-colored robe, which he then feeds into the portal's edge, tying it into the others seamlessly.
He's a mysterious guy, I think. Quiet, with an air of reserved dignity. He moves with measured precision and I've yet to hear him raise his voice or express any emotion but subdued amusement.
"How long can you hold this open?" I ask, watching him work.
"As long as necessary," Nyx replies, looping several threads around deceptively ornamental hooks in the golden finger cuffs, sorting them based on some criteria I can't perceive. This portal is a massive work of magic. "But use caution. The enemy should not be able to see the portal until you pass through it, but once you have, they can pass through it as easily as you."
"Good," I say with a nod. "Stay here and hold the door for us. If we need to make a fast retreat this will be a lifesaver, literally. But if the enemy gets past us, shut the portal."
"Are you certain?" Nyx asks, pausing in his work to look at me. His eyes unsettle me a bit. They're black as night, scattered with silver stars. "If I close it from this side, I won't know if you need it opened again."
"I'm sure," I say. "The shifter's kids and everybody else who can't fight is here. It's not worth risking the enemy getting in here while they're unprotected.
Nyx inclines his head in genteel acceptance of the order and releases the threads he's been tuning, letting them slip perfectly back into the weave of the portal's magic.
Beside us, Aura hugs Reina goodbye.
"I hate staying behind," Reina complains. "If something happens to you guys—"
"If something happens to us, there's nothing you could have done anyway," Aura says, taking her by the shoulders to look her in the eye. "You're the only one who keeps me sane in all this crazy vampire shit, Rei. I need you safe."
"Right," Reina says, though still disappointed.
"I'll make sure she's protected," Nyx offers. Reina gives him a surprised look, and when he smiles at her, she turns red.
"Thank you," Aura says to Nyx, oblivious too or pretending not to notice Reina's flustered reaction. "I appreciate it more than I can say."
"It's my pleasure," Nyx replies.
"I think we're about ready," Aura says, turning to me. "You ready for this?"
I take a deep breath, wishing I could say yes without feeling like I'm lying.
"Ready as I'm going to get," I say instead. "You?"
"Same," she says with a nervous laugh.
"At least I'm not the only one," I say, gratefully. "Come on. Let's get this shitshow started."
We head to the front of the army, right in front of the center of the portal. Carver joins us and, after a moment, so does Damon. He hasn't shifted yet, and the leather armor that will fit him as a wolf hangs off his human shape awkwardly.
"You still sure about this?" he asks quietly. "There's still time to run."
"I'm sure," I say, and catch his hand for a moment, drawing strength from even the brief contact. I left a kiss mark on his throat last night, and I'm quietly pleased that he'll be going into this fight with it. A little proof, a little piece of my love, to protect him. "Now transform already. Can't get started while you're still falling out of your armor."
"I will," he says, smiling at me. "Just wanted to do this first."
He pulls me into a warm, lingering kiss and for a moment I forget the army watching us.
When we part, his stare is intense.
"Stay alive," he demands.
"I will," I promise him, squeezing his hand. "You too."
"I'll eat anyone who tries to take me away from you," he says, dead serious, and I laugh. I hold his hand tightly as I turn to the army watching us. Emmett is near the front, in one of the flanking groups, and nods to me
encouragingly. Callahan is shifted, ready to lead one of the werewolf packs along with the other alphas. The twins are in the other flanking group, ominous as hell in their black armor. Everyone's accounted for. Everyone's ready to go. Next to me, Damon shifts, roaring as he takes on his wolf shape, massive and ferocious. The other wolves roar back, all of them eager to move.
"All right," I say, my heart racing. "This is it. You all know the plan. Now's probably the time for a big inspiring speech, but fuck it. There's nothing else to say. We all know why we're here. So let's go kill some assholes and take our fucking world back!"
The cheer that rises from my army is so powerful, it nearly knocks me off my feet. And for the first time, it really does feel like my army.
I lead the way through the portal and into war.
For a moment, things are quiet on the other side. It's an empty summer evening here. Then the army crashes through the portal right behind me, splitting the night air with shouts, howls, and the clatter of weapons. Aura, Carver, and Damon run in step with me as we sprint toward the palace.
The entrance I want to use is on the sheltered eastern side. It would have been much more difficult to get to without Nyx's portal, but that's precisely why it's the perfect place to attack, less guarded and more difficult for them to defend.
I see people outside, a few of Morana's vamps relaxing, one or two guards. I see the shock and fear on their faces as they take in the army rushing at them, including the wall of angry werewolves sprinting ahead of the rest of the army. They rush inside, seeking escape or to raise the alarm, but it's too late.
The wolves pass me entirely, reaching the property fence. Most of them vault over, but alpha Callahan, twice the size of any of the other wolves, barrels through the gate like a festive banner on homecoming. The heavy wrought iron-and-steel security gate crumples like chicken wire before the alpha.
The wolves lead the charge through the grounds of Morana's estate, moving swiftly and, so far, unopposed. But I don't expect this to last.
Opposition arrives just where I hoped it wouldn't. As we approach the main house, a narrow stone walk between two outbuildings is the only direct access to the courtyard I chose for our foothold. That narrow access is part of what makes it so perfect for defending. But currently the walk is crowded with vamps: security, Morana's first wave. The rest of her vamps scramble to arm themselves.
The wolves don't hesitate, throwing themselves at the guards with an almost disturbing level of enthusiasm. Those silver gauntlets tear through vampires just as well as I thought they would. But not fast enough. More vampires arrive, pouring out of the house and outbuildings. We can't defend here. We have to get to the courtyard.
"Down!" Someone shouts behind me and the wolves all drop to the ground as one. Damon drags me down as well, and an instant later a volley of gunshots and crossbow bolts tear through the vampires ahead of us. I watch in slightly horrified awe as the crossbows tear straight through and keep going like magically guided missiles to take out three or four other vampires before they stop. But more are pouring out of the house every minute.
"Carver!" I shout, reaching for the shotgun on my back. "Let's clear a path!"
"I'm with you," he says falling into step beside me and reaching for his own shot gun and one of the UV grenades. "Aura, Damon, watch our backs!"
"Back!" Callahan howls behind me, and the werewolves get out of our way, leaving the enemy confused for the split second it takes Carver to pull the pin on the UV grenade and hurl it into the center of the horde blocking the pathway.
I cover my eyes as it goes off, but I am close enough to feel the sting of a new sunburn blooming on my exposed skin. Vampires at the center of the blast are on fire, others reel from severe burns. UV grenades aren't enough to kill, but they are great for causing chaos and pain, which is all Carver and I need as we step forward, load a shell each into our shotguns, and fire.
We've done this before, calculating the angle of our shots for the maximum spread. No one in front of us is going to get out of this without getting hit at least once.
We push forward, followed by the army, as we load and fire again, driving the other vampires back. Those not smart enough to leap out of the way get a face full of silver. The ones that do get out of the find themselves in range of our flanking groups.
We plow down the walk and pour into the courtyard beyond it like ants into a picnic, where for a moment all strategy becomes pointless in the scramble to secure the spot from the vampires still inside it and inside the building around it.
"Barricade those doors!" I shout over the chaos. "Ranged, to the center! Wolves, keep 'em covered! Let the flankers handle the stragglers!"
The sheer numbers on our side give the unprepared vampires no chance. But they're getting more prepared. Damon shoves me and a chunk of mosaic tile explodes where I'd just been standing.
"Up there!" Damon snarls, pointing at a second story window that someone is leaning out of with a rifle. Seamus responds before anyone else can, stepping back and hurling his silver staff like a spear. It flies with unnatural power and accuracy, directly into the sniper's chest. At another gesture from Seamus, it rips itself free, the hooked end taking what I suspect is a chunk of the vampire's heart with it, and flies back to his hand.
"Perimeter teams, get up there!" I shout. "Secure those windows!"
Several groups of vamps, each accompanied by two wolves, peel off from the main group and into the house to secure the rooms surrounding the courtyard. The mass of our army won't even fit in here. They're focused on taking the building on the other side of the walk. Anyone who tries to come at us from that direction will quickly find themselves attacked on both sides with no hope of retreat. Others are securing the rooftops.
I shout orders as we finish securing the space, but I know I can't linger.
"Damon, Aura, Carver!" I call out. "Let's move! Throne room is this way!"
"Don't worry boss," one of the twins calls out as the four of us move toward the door that leads deeper into the palace. "We'll hold down the fort! You go slay the dragon!"
"Yeah, fuck the bitch up!" the other twin chimes in.
I'm glad for their vote of confidence. This is going really well so far. Maybe it's only because I'm up front, but I haven't seen any of our guys go down yet. From what Seamus suggested, the Fae is actually manipulating probability in our favor a little. I really hope that luck holds.
We hurry down the familiar halls, cutting our way through anyone that has the misfortune of crossing our path. There's a lot of them, presumably heading to the fight in the courtyard, but in the close quarters of the house the numbers don't mean much. Not against two former members of Le Tireur, two prophesied vampire queens, and one extremely pissed-off werewolf. As long as we don't wear out, we can carve our way through them forever.
We reach the throne room, and I'm only half surprised to find it empty. I expected Morana to waiting for us there, draped across the throne like the ridiculously extra bitch she is.
"She's hiding deeper in," I tell the others. "This way."
I lead them past the throne and down the stairs into the first of the basement levels.
"Down here?" Aura asks, frowning. "Is there some kind of panic room?"
"It's just a hunch," I admit, scanning the dark room and moving on to the next quickly. "These sub-basements go on for miles. She used to hide all kinds of shit down here. It's the first place I can imagine her running. It's like a fucking maze. She knows it better than anyone, and God only knows what kind of weird shit she has down here that she could use as a weapon."
"So what you're saying is that we're walking into a trap," Aura summarized.
"A hastily laid trap, chèrie," Carver replied. "And a hastily laid trap is no trap at all."
"Still," I say, checking another room before hurrying toward the stairs down to the level below. "Don't underestimate her. She's still powerful as hell even without the ring."
The lower levels appear to
be mostly empty, so we progress quickly, clearing floor after floor with no sign of Morona, which quickly begins to worry me.
"Do you guys smell that?" Damon asks, nose twitching. I breath in and catch a whiff of something both familiar and repulsive.
"It's Morana's perfume, I think," I say, frowning. "And something else . . ."
"Smells animal," Damon growls, fur rising into spikes on his back. "Like a den."
"I don't like the sound of this," Aura murmurs, and I agree with her.
We move toward the scent cautiously, checking rooms as we go until we come to a door where Damon suddenly stops, going stiff.
"It's in there," he says over a low, ceaseless growl, his body tense. "I know that smell. Where have I smelled that before? I know it."
"Well, here goes nothing," I say, taking a deep breath and reaching for the door.
"Wait!" Damon says, too late. As the light from the door floods the massive room, it illuminates the prone forms of hundreds of vampires, lying in sprawled piles like sleeping animals. The smell is intense, animal, like Damon said. But also like unwashed people, aboveground toilets, and spoiled meat. Carcasses lay among the once sleeping vampires, who wake almost as once, their eyes reflecting the light as they stare at us, silent, unsurprised. Hungry. I know where Damon recognized the scent.
It's an army of savage vampires.
Chapter 13
For a moment we freeze, staring at the horde in stunned horror. The room has to be larger than a football field, and it's packed to the gills with Morana's insane experiments. If even half of them are as fast and strong as the two we fought before, we're fucked.
The tension is broken and my fearful question is answered all at once as one of the vampires near the front of the room launches himself at us with a shriek, just as fast, maybe even faster, than the one from yesterday.
Fury : The Kresova Vampire Harems: Lyra Page 9
