The Vampire King

by Heather Killough-Walden

  The lightning continued for a few seconds more and then crackled away, leaving a group of heavily breathing men bent over in the dirt. Thane turned to watch the one closest to him. Slowly, the Akyri sat back on his heels and removed his hand from his neck. The mark was gone.

  Thane’s eyes widened. He glanced at the others. The marks were all gone.

  “What the –” he muttered. But then he heard a soft, female sound from behind him and spun in place. Maybe ten meters away, a beautiful young woman was kneeling on the parched ground, her head bent, and a small black book in her hands. Pages littered the ground around her, all of them glowing with a weak red light. The book itself, however, was encased in the same kind of crackling cocoon that had taken the Akyri.

  Thane knew who she was at once. There was an aura around her that spelled it out for him as strongly as an actual introduction would have. She was D’Angelo’s queen. And the book she held was the one he had directed his Anime to retrieve. Whatever she’d just done to the book had somehow freed the Akyri from the warlock’s bonds.

  Thane glanced over his shoulder at the Akyri. They were no longer watching him, however. They were no longer concerned with him in any way whatsoever. Every one of them was making his way toward the mansion – the mansion where they knew Charles Alexander Ward waited inside.

  Thane didn’t have to wonder what was going through their heads. They had murder on the brain. It was wrong on so many levels to bind an Akyri, he wouldn’t know where to start.

  But they did.

  He would have smiled if it wasn’t for the woman. He turned back around to face her, concern thrumming through him. She was bent in such a way that her long, thick hair obscured her features now, and she appeared to be in pain. Both of her wrists were bound with gauze, but blood stained them anyway.

  At once, he started in her direction, but he didn’t get far. The blast that expanded from behind him was so strong, it lifted him up off of the ground and threw him dozens of feet into the air. The impact felt solid, as if someone had sucker punched him in the back; it stole the wind from his lungs and sent stars swimming before his vision.

  Thane’s eyes closed automatically, and his mind began to spiral. His body knew what to do, though. It began to evaporate. It felt strange; he’d done it before, but long, long ago. It was discombobulating. Suddenly, he was viewing the world through millions of tiny eyes, and they were blurry and indistinct. He wanted to shut them, but there were no eyes to shut, not really.

  It was short lived, thankfully, and Thane stumbled as his tall form once more coalesced and solidified, from the tips of his boots to the top of his dark head six and a half feet up. He regained his balance, ran a hand through his dusty hair, and settled his gaze on the astral plane’s horizon.

  In the distance, the illusory mansion Charles Ward had created was in flaming pieces that crackled noisily in the otherwise eerie silence.

  *****

  Roman’s father had been a warlock, and that meant that there was an inherent magic to Roman that he was able to mold and shape around him to suit his needs. Over the years, this magic had only grown stronger and, as things were at the moment, he was one of the most magically powerful beings on the planet.

  Even so, there was only so much he could do against fire.

  A fledgling vampire could not protect himself against it at all. It was only Roman’s incredible age that allowed him to pull the strength from within himself just then and form a shield around his body. He knew the shield wouldn’t last long. Fire was the ultimate destroyer for his kind. Keeping the shield up, in fact, was sure to drain him faster than anything else could, save perhaps walking unprotected in the daylight.

  But he was happy to have it when Ward reared his head, drew a deep, rumbling breath, and then released a jet of red-black flame upon Roman the likes of which he had never seen.

  The blaze tore at his shield, warping it with angry heat. Roman felt sweat break out along his brow, dampening his hair and clothes. The effort to maintain the essential, magical barrier between himself and the flames that would have consumed him was so difficult, it was like trying to hold a snowflake in your hand in the summer heat without allowing it to melt.

  Ward’s wrathful blaze bludgeoned the force field, battering it with angry energy that little by little began to wear it away. Roman could feel it thinning. The air was heating up. His muscles began to ache as he pulled strength from his own physiology in order to hold the shield just a little while longer.

  Thane!

  He could only pray that Thane had gotten the message and that he wasn’t so overwhelmed with Akyri muscle, there was nothing he could do, because there was still no reply.

  The shield around Roman crackled, throbbing in its final death throes.

  But something moved behind Ward. It was difficult to see at first through Roman’s blurry sweat-soaked vision, but when he blinked and re-focused, he saw it again. Wisps of smoke. Tendrils of spirit.

  The Anime were in the mansion.

  He bared his teeth in pain and effort as he watched the Anime take the book from the table upon which it sat and disappear once more through the mansion’s windows.

  Just a while longer. Just a little bit….

  A flicker of flame shot through a newly formed hole in his shield over his chest, licking out to kiss his skin with its infernal heat. Roman’s strangled sound of pain was made through fangs that gleamed in the firelight and begged for blood.

  I imagine this is what Malachi felt when he died, Your Majesty, came the fierce, furious whisper in Roman’s mind. Brought down with a bolt of lightning. And what is lightning but white hot fire?

  Roman felt another breach form in his shield, but this one was fortunately at his back. It was fading fast and Ward’s power wasn’t waning, despite the now missing black book.

  Roman glanced to where the book had been seconds ago. And that’s why, he thought. The book may have gone, but the string of magic that linked Ward to its powerful capabilities still existed; it ran from Ward’s dragon body right out the window through which the Animes had escaped.

  As long as that book still existed, Ward would be as he was now.

  Roman inhaled a hiss of pain as the rift in the force field over his chest widened and more of Ward’s evil fire made it through. As it was now, he wouldn’t scar. He was old enough that his vampire blood would heal the wound. But if this went on much longer – more than a few seconds longer – there would be no hope.

  As it was, Roman felt himself faltering. His heart hammered hard, his lungs labored, and his eyes burned in his face with a fire almost as hot as Ward’s.

  Just when he felt the last of his strength to withstand the flames slipping, he sensed the change around him. It was abrupt and startling. It felt like the very air gasped.

  Ward drew back, his fire retreated with him, and suddenly everything was still. A beat passed. And another. Roman could hear himself breathing, each intake ragged and choked with smoke.

  All of a sudden, Ward’s massive monster head reared and a screeching bellow of rage emitted from his dragon’s throat. The sound shook the walls and ramrodded through Roman like the ultimate warning bell.

  Something was coming. Roman couldn’t tell what it was, but on the winds of time, the cold, metallic taste of it was drawing nearer. And this was Roman’s chance. Ward was clearly distracted. Whatever was happening was forcing the warlock to ease up on the fire. So, with nearly everything Roman had left, he wrapped his hands around the metal tail spike that kept him impaled to the wall behind him and pulled. He screamed as he did it, a sound of sheer strength and pain, and little by little, the spike retreated, leaving him bleeding and pierced.

  But free.

  Once the tip of the spike appeared from his abdomen, Roman willed his body into mist. At once, he was light and malleable, and the wounds he had suffered began to regenerate. He moved through the mansion’s living room, putting distance between himself and Ward.

  Behi
nd him, Ward’s massive body began to morph a second time, shrinking and writhing as the scales and tale disappeared and the color of his skin muted back to its normal hue. Roman wondered why, but he had never been one to waste his chances. In light of the development, he considered taking on solid form again so that he could finish Ward once and for all, and with his bare hands.

  But the appearance of no fewer than half a dozen tall, strong forms in the doorway of the mansion changed Roman’s mind. The Akyri stood on the threshold of the house’s foyer, their red-ringed eyes filled with hatred, their fists clenching and unclenching with the need for revenge.

  If Roman took on human form right now, he would be competing with the Akyri for a chance to kill the warlock. There was no point. It took one look in their burning eyes to know that they could handle the job just fine on their own.

  And Roman desperately wanted to find Evie. He could feel her again, closer this time than before, and he could swear that he could even smell her now for real. He smelled cherry blossoms. There was blood too, and the adrenaline that came with fear. But there were cherry blossoms. And that was Evie, up close and personal.

  The Akyri crossed the threshold and Ward, now human once more, turned to face them. Recognition crossed his features, widening his eyes when he realized that not a single one of them bore his binding mark any longer.

  And with that, Roman escaped through the same window the Anime had gone through, leaving the boundaries of the illusory house with incredible speed.

  Almost at once, he caught sight of Thane as the Phantom King turned and began striding very quickly away from the house. Roman looked to see where he was going. A hundred feet away was a beautiful young woman on her knees, her small form bent in either pain or concentration, a small black leather book in her hands.

  Evie.

  And then everything exploded.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ker-thump.

  Ker-thump.

  Evie heard a heart beating. It was the only thing she heard. She felt warm and peaceful and there was no sound but the lub-dub like movement of blood through arteries.

  But the sound was growing fainter.

  Ker……thump. Ker……….. thump.

  And as she lay there, the warmth began to seep away as well. When she felt the pain, she opened her eyes, at once dragged back to the reality that had become her insane, terrifying world.

  Her head rested in the crook of someone’s arm. Evie blinked, clearing her vision, to find herself gazing up at the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

  “Roman,” she said softly, pleased that her voice worked despite everything.

  Roman didn’t respond, however. And his expression was stark.

  “She can’t come, Roman,” said someone else. It was an old voice, harsh and scraping, like dried parchment. Evie glanced to her right, straining to see who had spoken.

  The old woman who’d sat beside her on Roman’s bed in the safe house what felt like an eternity ago came forward on her cane. Her blue eyes blazed with intelligence, and her lips were thin with concern. “I’m sorry,” she said, and Evie could sense that she meant it deeply. “But Dannai fell gravely ill when she healed a young woman at the mall after a Hunter attack,” the old woman explained.

  Lalura, Evie thought. Her name is Lalura.

  Lalura glanced at her, almost as if she’d been able to read her mind. “She cannot heal her, Roman. As it is, she nearly lost her unborn children. And this… she would not be able to heal anyway.”

  Evie’s fingers and toes felt cold. Not numb, but cold.

  “Werewolf blood,” Roman said, not taking his intense gaze from Evie.

  “This is a different wound, Roman,” said Lalura. “You know it.” She came forward again, closing the distance between them so that she stood beside Evie, who lay on the ground, her upper body cradled on Roman’s kneeling form. “Ward knew he was dying and decided to take her with him. He did not mean for her to survive.”

  Roman was trembling. She could feel it where he held her so tenderly. But as she stared up at him, something hard crossed his features and he asked, “Evie, can you sit up?”

  Evie thought about it. She felt strangely weak. Growing colder by the second. But she couldn't tell why. Nothing in particular hurt except her wrists, where Ward’s fangs had torn cruel gashes in her flesh.

  She nodded. For him, she could sit up.

  “What are you doing?” came a third voice. It was a man’s voice.

  David Cade, Evie thought. She was so good, remembering all of these names.

  Roman didn’t answer, but only concentrated on helping Evie sit up on her own. His hands on her were strong, but gentle, and his touch warmed her where he made contact.

  “He’s going to turn her,” came yet another voice.

  Evie was sitting up now. She turned to take in her surroundings. They were in the living room of what she could only guess was another of Roman’s safe houses. There were several people there. David, she recognized. And Jaxon. There were two other men there as well, both incredibly handsome and obviously vampires.

  There were three other women. One was Lalura. One was a young red-headed girl who looked to be in her early twenties. The third was a gorgeous dark-haired woman with piercing green eyes. They were both clearly vampires as well; Evie was getting used to identifying them. The dark haired woman was the one who had spoken.

  They were all watching her in stark silence, their expressions as intense as Roman’s.

  Evie blinked. Wait.

  What had the dark-haired woman said?

  “It’s the only way, Evie,” said Roman softly. His voice, so deep and melodic, acted as a salve on Evie’s nerves. “I know that Ward told you what to say.” He gently cupped her face in his warm, tender hands, and brushed his thumb across her lips, sending rivulets of pleasure across Evie’s skin. “Say those words for me now.”

  Evie gazed at him, not comprehending. Everything felt fuzzy and disjointed. She felt light – too light.

  “Please, Evie,” Roman repeated, his hands shaking where he held her. “You don’t have much time. Say the words.” He closed his eyes and appeared as if he were fighting with something unseen when he said, “Say them, Evie. Addo Nox Noctis.”

  The words, she thought. The words. She knew them now. She remembered what Ward had told her.

  And as she remembered what Ward had told her, she realized what was happening.

  “Ward’s spell damaged you where nothing else can reach, Evie,” said Lalura, her ancient voice nearly as charismatic in its own way as Roman’s was. “He injured your soul, child. And nothing will save you now but this.”

  If she says it, then it’s true, thought Evie. Somehow, she simply knew that. If anyone knew anything at all about the way the world worked, it was Lalura Chantelle.

  Evie opened her mouth and licked her lips. “Addo…” she said – and Roman went stiff beside her. His eyes flew open, their deep, deep darkness shimmering like stars on the verge of going supernova. The room had grown silent and still around her. The other vampires in the room waited; she could sense them holding their collective breaths.

  If I say this, I will become like him, she told herself.

  “Nox…” she whispered. Behind Roman, the other vampires began to move forward. Roman’s eyes widened and she caught the hint of fang behind his lips.

  If I don’t, I will die.

  “Noctis.”

  “Restrain him!” Cade gave the command, turning to the Offspring men who had been waiting behind Roman. They responded at once, readily obeying the command.

  The men blurred into vampire movement, and Roman suddenly had more than four pairs of hands on him, some securing his arms, some wrapped tightly around his broad chest.

  Evie was confused, and that confusion fed into a dawning fear, but the black-haired woman was beside her, kneeling so that they were on eye level. “You have to feed from him, Evie,” she told her quickly. “You’ve said the words
– now you need to finish the spell and make the transition as soon as possible.”

  With vampire strength, the woman reached under Evie’s arms and lifted her up until Evie could feel her knees beneath her. She braced herself, trying to steady her body. She was on eye level with Roman.

  Never in her wildest writer’s dreams could she have imagined eyes that looked like his. They had gone supernova. Now they pulsed with hellish light at every heartbeat. Those eyes ripped through her, their heat almost burning her physically. They could see into her again, into her mind – even into her soul. She knew because she could feel him there.

  A dot of red caught Evie’s attention. There at the base of Roman’s neck, a small gash had been ripped. Blood welled at the opening, crimson and precious. It hadn’t been there a second before, and Evie instinctively knew that her spoken words had opened it.

  She trembled violently.

  “Drink now,” Cade instructed, glancing at his fellow vampires as if to tell them to hold their king with everything they had. Evie could see Roman’s corded muscles straining against the grips of his subjects.

  She could also feel the magic her words had released. It pulsed in the air around her as if it waited impatiently for Evie to finish what she’d started.

  “Do it now, Evie,” said the black-haired woman.

  Gently, Evie placed her hands against Roman’s chest, feeling the muscles tensed there beneath the black material of his shirt.

  The wound her words had opened in his throat waited, small and red and promising. With strength that she had no idea where she obtained, Evie leaned in – and placed her lips over the tiny gash.

  At once, Roman bucked against her and she could feel the vampires holding him communicating with one another. She could almost hear it. As if she were already one of their kind. They tightened their holds on him, straining with the effort of keeping him in place. Evie could feel every one of his muscles beneath her fingertips had gone taut with barely contained power.

  Slowly, tentatively, she brushed her tongue against the bleeding gash in his neck. A low growl emitted from somewhere deep within him. He tasted like a heady, potent, and salty wine. It burned across Evie’s tongue and numbed her throat as it slid down. It felt good. Very good.