by Anna Carven
The lips don’t move, but he’s definitely talking to me.
So the legends are true. You really are an undead monster.
Obviously. Although I take exception to the monster part, especially coming from you. Hurry up and free me before they send someone else down to see what’s taking so bloody long. We Ven don’t tolerate inefficiency very well.
We Ven? What is this madman talking about? Was he part of the Order, too?
I stare at the desiccated corpse. And how am I supposed to revive you?
See that queen in your arms? All you need to do is take her finger and prick it on the end of my sharp tooth there. Give me a little taste of her…
I look down at Salanke’s unconscious face. The hardness has melted away from her stern features, making her look almost innocent.
Strange. The trainer who used to beat my young ass so soundly is so vulnerable now.
Perhaps having another female in my arms should make me feel something, but all it does is make me yearn even more strongly for Amali.
I’m frantic.
I need to get out of this hellish place…
But can I just trade away Salanke to an unknown fate, even if she is part of all this?
For Amali, yes. I would do anything, even despicable things.
“What are you going to do to her, Andoku?”
Taste her… hold her… drink in her essence… You know, it has been so very long since I have had a proper drink. These modern-day bastards don’t give me anything. They’re too scared. Can’t even turn a single one of them, because they refuse to let me drink. Not that I would ever share my curse with them, anyway.
I stare at Andoku’s exposed fang. His withered, lifeless lips start to tremble.
Please, Kaim. Give her to me. I promise, I will make it worth your while.
“And after that? What will you do to her?”
I’ll bind her to me until she has no choice but to fall for me.
“You will coerce her, against her will.”
It’s no worse than what’s happening to her now. You think she has any choice in her current life?
“I can’t trust you.”
You can. You have no choice.
Voices drift to me from outside. Female voices. Angry voices. Uncertain voices. Salanke’s disciples are growing restless.
Time to make a decision.
“On one condition, sanguisu.”
Oh?
“The innocent ones, the young, naive ones, who follow the Order blindly because that is all they’ve ever known…”
Yes?
“You are not to kill them if you can help it. And Khelion Rel is mine.”
I expected nothing less from you. I agree. It might surprise you to learn that I am of the same mind. I was Ven once too, you know.
Although I am mildly curious, I am not particularly interested in hearing the sanguisu’s entire life story right now.
“Very well.” Using both bandaged stumps, I awkwardly lift Salanke’s fingertip and press her roughened skin against the corpse—Andoku’s—sharp tooth. A single pearl of blood beads on her fingertip.
It trickles down into Andoku’s shriveled mouth.
At first, nothing happens.
I’m almost disappointed. What is the meaning of this, Andoku?
You are an impatient one, aren’t you? I can hardly blame you, though. You are still so very young. Wait until you’ve had an eternity. Watch and learn.
I go still as a tiny patch of pale pink appears on Andoku’s lower lip. The patch starts to spread, moving across his lips.
What is it?
It’s his dried old flesh, turning from dead to whole. Changing.
Another drop of Salanke’s blood falls, beading on his lower lip, which is intact now.
Andoku’s newly repaired tongue darts out, licking the blood from his lower lip. The change spreads across his face, transforming his dry, wrinkled, parchment-thin skin into perfectly ordinary skin.
His skin is nearly as pale as mine.
The change extends to his neck. It spreads across his chest and down his limbs, moving rapidly now.
He’s coming back to life. This dried husk of a corpse is actually Andoku.
Two drops of Salanke’s blood…
That’s all it takes?
“How is it possible?” I ask, mildly horrified and yet utterly transfixed. This is a different kind of magic, one I’ve never encountered before.
At the last moment, I have the presence of mind to yank Salanke out of the sanguisu’s clutches.
I take a step backward as Andoku’s eyes turn from dark, empty hollows to perfectly intact eyes.
Suddenly, deep crimson irises stare back at me. Andoku blinks, and black eyelashes sprout from his pale eyelids.
“That is the power of blood. Same blood that runs in your veins, boy.”
“But I am not a sanguisu,” I say stiffly. “I don’t have any compulsion to drink blood.”
“No, you aren’t cursed like me. You’re all natural.”
A sudden thought occurs to me. “You aren’t… my father?”
Andoku’s expression turns perfectly serious, almost as if he’s afraid. Then he lets out a soft, bitter chuckle. “Not even close.”
Although his face is completely intact now, he looks gaunt and starved. Sharp cheekbones slice across the sculptural hollows of his cheeks. He’s completely naked, allowing me to see prominent ribs and thin, wiry limbs and a flat, hollowed-out belly. I stare back into features that are strikingly Ioni, even more so than the mountain folk I’ve encountered on my travels. He looks like one of the ancient people; an Ioni who would have lived in the grand civilizations of the mountains long before the gods supposedly fought and caused the Black Mountain to erupt.
Before they destroyed everything.
What kind of secrets does he hold in that thick skull of his?
Suddenly, the vampire grins, baring his sharp fangs. “See, that’s why they’re so terrified of me that they had to chain me down here and starve me. They drained my blood, vial by vial. They used it to repair their wounds and prolong their lives. But they never, ever gave me a drop of blood in return, because they knew a drop is all I need. A god’s magic is mind-blowingly powerful, even when it isn’t deserved. It doesn’t take much, even after thousands of winters.” He licks his lips and stares longingly at Salanke. “But I’m still weak. Sweet gods, just look at her. Just give me one last taste, Kaim. Please. I beg you.”
I hold Salanke tightly. A low murmur issues from her lips. She’s beginning to stir.
“I think she will be able to make that decision for herself soon.” I gently drop her to her knees, then lay her on the cold stone floor. I do not want another beating when she comes to. My strength is draining away. I’ve been stabbed so many times. I’m still bleeding all over the place. My arms start to tremble.
Salanke’s legs twitch. Her arms twitch. Her eyelids flutter.
Before I can react, Andoku thrusts his arms and legs forward, tearing the housings of his metal restraints right off the stone wall. He jumps to the floor and becomes a black-and-white blur, surging toward Salanke.
The next thing I know, his mouth is at her throat, and he’s drinking deeply, and she’s wide awake now, kicking and fighting, but still he won’t let her go.
His fucking teeth are in her neck.
“Enough!” I roar, delivering a vicious kick to the back of his head. It’s enough to send him sprawling; enough to allow Salanke to roll out from under his clutches and draw a short dagger from her waist. She turns and plunges the blade into Andoku’s left eye.
Then she staggers backward, clutching at her neck, staring at Andoku, then at me in horror. Her own crimson blood spills through her fingers. “Wh-what did you do, Kaim?”
Her eyes are wide and haunted.
I have never, ever seen Salanke look so spooked.
Andoku rises to his feet and wipes the blood from his lips with the back of his hand.
Salanke screams a curse in Ioni and draws her long swords. The two Ven women appear in the doorway, blades drawn.
I hear footsteps, many of them.
The cavalry has arrived, it seems.
I glance at Andoku, who has a lust-crazed look in his eyes. “As I said, she can take care of herself. Are you going to be my ally now, or do I have to add you to my list of personal vendettas?”
Actually, I only have one personal vendetta, and that is with the Order of the Ven.
Right now, they are keeping me from my mate.
Andoku waves one pale, slender hand, as if lightly taunting me. “You don’t have these on you right now, so allow me. I don’t know what you’re planning to do in the long-term, but you’d better have that chat with your old man, sooner rather than later.”
Before I have a chance to reply, something whooshes past me.
Suddenly, there are half a dozen crossbow bolts sticking out of Andoku’s body.
He groans, but doesn’t falter.
A monster indeed.
Salanke and her disciples rush forward. More footsteps reach my ears. Dozens of Ven, crowding the hallway outside. Voices whispering, then shouting. Curses spat, invoking both my name and Andoku’s.
Kill the bloodsucker if you must, but bring the other one alive. Quickly, before the bastard tastes another drop of blood and grows stronger.
This time, I’m not the object of their attention. They go for Andoku, braids flying, silver blades blurring in the dim light.
He becomes a blur himself, using his hands against their swords.
Taptaptap. The four of them dance together, and absurdly, I’m left on the sidelines.
More Ven rush in, flowing around me. Andoku fights them off with ease. His speed is preternatural. His strength is abnormal, just like mine.
And to think, he’s still weak.
What kind of monster have I released into the world? I don’t think I could take him now, in my current state.
If I could slow time, then I could kill him with ease.
Shit.
I need to go. But where?
The only way out of the Black Mountain is down.
If I can just make it out of here and into the mountains proper, then I can hide.
I can regain my strength, and try to figure out how to stop Vyloren’s poison. I can try and get more information out of the dark bastard in my dreams.
He’s coming here, supposedly. Perhaps I will meet him face to face.
“Stall them,” I bark at Andoku as I run out of the room.
My hands start to tingle. Invisible fingers twitch. I look down. The skin of my forearm is very, very pale. It’s taken on that crystalline look again. My body feels light. The pain is still there, but it isn’t as bad.
A dozen Ven come at me like a wall of death, stabbing me, kicking me, trying to pull me down to the ground. My body is riddled with holes. I’m bleeding all over. Soon, I won’t have anything left to bleed.
I fight them off; messily, frantically, without any of my usual precision. My nonexistent fingers itch to hold a weapon, but all I can do is smash the hard stumps of my arms into faces.
With a roar, Andoku surges out into the corridor, bringing the three furious women with him. They swirl around him, getting in the occasional hit or slash.
His flesh knits back together almost as quickly as they can cut it. What a monstrous bastard.
More Ven are here now, commanded by Djeru, who is barking orders in the background. I turn the chaos to my advantage, pulling my arms close to my body and using my legs as powerful weapons; the only weapons I have.
I pull my useless arms close to my body and spin like a dancer, kicking blades out of hands. I almost decapitate someone with a savage kick to the head.
I start to make a little ground.
Where am I going?
To kill Khelion Rel, of course.
The head of the snake must be chopped off before anything else.
Having shaken off Salanke and her disciples, Andoku appears close behind me. He’s a whirlwind of pale flesh and blood and long black hair, vicious, blood-soaked tendrils whipping around in the darkness.
The sanguisu is a beast, his fighting style brutal and vicious. Even without a blade, he’s more than a match for these Ven.
Actually, his hands and teeth are his weapons. Andoku rips flesh with his bare hands. He tears out throats with his fangs. Blades bite into his flesh but don’t really damage him. The floor runs black with Ven blood. He’s a force unto his own, millennia upon millennia of anger and suffering unleashed in a single moment.
What in Lok’s cold hells have I unleashed?
I glance over my shoulder. Where are Salanke and her Ven?
Surely Andoku’s gone easy on them. He seemed besotted with Salanke for some reason or other.
But I can’t see them amongst the sea of black-clad Ven warriors. I don’t have time to search for them, because suddenly Djeru is behind me, wrapping his powerful forearms around my neck, dragging me backwards.
“You have no idea what you’ve done, demon,” he hisses.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I rasp as he slips a thin wire garrote over my head. Without hands, I can’t stop him. How frustrating. “You’re going to kill me now?”
“No…” He tightens the wire just a little and it bites into my skin, drawing blood, sending a fresh wave of pain into my cursed body.
No…
They can’t do this to me.
“Don’t move, Kaim.”
The wire is razor-sharp. I should know. I’ve used a few in my time. If I drop to my knees, it will slice clean through my neck, right to the bone.
No.
It can’t end like this.
I need to get to Amali.
She needs me.
And I need her more than she could ever realize.
She’s real.
This—everything that’s happening around me—isn’t.
I grow dizzy. The corridor and the Ven start to blur, their dark eyes and masked faces turning into a monstrous blur of black and grey; silent promises of death and hard killer’s eyes.
Eyes like mine.
Djeru’s steel wire cuts deeper into my neck, and a sudden gush of blood tells me he’s hit the big vessels.
He stops immediately, cursing deeply in Ioni, but it’s too late.
Now I’m bleeding from my neck, too. Blood is already seeping out of my chest, my stomach, my shoulder, my thighs…
How much more blood loss can I take?
“You should be dead by now, demon,” Djeru hisses, “but I get the feeling nothing can kill you.”
You really want to test that theory?
Stars dance across my vision, spinning into darkness. Somewhere in the back of my consciousness, Andoku is shouting, promising death to any who touch his fated one.
Salanke? Now the Ven are threatening to slit her throat if he doesn’t stop and drop to his knees.
That’s classic Ven. They will bargain away the life of one of their most experienced and loyal trainers, so long as the Order survives.
With crazed, blood-red eyes, Andoku stares across the sea of killers and lets out a deranged howl. Bodies lie on the floor all around him; drained, severed, slender necks torn out. The dark energy radiating from the sanguisu has intensified a hundredfold. His gaunt cheeks have filled out, and his body has developed considerable muscle. His true form is that of an elite warrior, which makes sense, considering he claims to be one of the Ven.
But now he’s helpless, because they have his queen.
Andoku disappears from my vision as waves of blackness come crashing down, becoming more and more until all I can see is black.
I hear voices in the background; they count the dead and make calculations and swiftly arrange for a team to restrain me and carry me away.
Rough h
ands bind my wrists and ankles together. They lift me up. Djeru’s cursed wire is still around my neck. Voices swim in my awareness.
“How the fuck is he still alive?”
“Well, you know what he is. He has to be taken out.”
“He’s got no fucking hands. How did Salanke’s team manage to let him escape? They’ll die for this.”
“Because he’s an unnatural bastard, that’s why. Never mind. It’s done now. He’ll make a nice gift for the death-god.”
“We can only pray that he’ll appear this time.”
“It’s been done before. Just pray.”
We start to move, and each step is pure agony in my dragon-poisoned, stab-hole-riddled, bleeding body. I pass Andoku’s seething presence. Good try, vampire.
I tried to protect her, but she kept on fighting me.
She’s Ven. What did you expect?
Andoku says something in reply, but my mind fails to decipher his jumbled words as unconsciousness threatens to sweep me away.
I should be dead, but I’m not.
The dragon’s fire is pure agony, spreading through my body like never before.
I’ve been fighting the poison for so long, but this is the first time I feel that it could really win.
I’m too damaged; too weak.
Morhaba’s fire magic is starting to win.
Just give up, a tiny voice says in the back of my mind. Your fate was already mapped out for you before you were born. You’ve survived for far longer than you should have. You’ve been able to see and enjoy things no other Ven would ever be able to experience. It’s enough now. Aren’t you tired? Why fight it?
I’m exhausted, and the truth is, I’m deeply tempted to give in to that insidious little voice.
But I can’t yield.
Never.
Suddenly, the line of pain around my neck where the garrote has dug in turns ice-cold. The cold starts to spread, creeping down my neck. It’s strangely pleasant against the agony of the dragon’s fire.
Fire and ice, warring inside my body, which has been stabbed so many times I should be dead.
What next, are my bloody hands going to start growing back?
One can only hope.
There isn’t anything else I can do now but wait, even though I hate the idea of being a helpless victim who can do nothing but wait for rescue.
My sire is coming, apparently. From beyond the veil, whatever that means.
