by DB Nielsen
“What the Vlad!” Varya screamed, livid as hell, her arms thrown wide in disgust. She’d had blood on her clothing from her earlier feed and the drinking games played with the Russian vampire mafioso, but this? This was way beyond a joke. Even the Cleaner wasn’t that good. Seriously, her hair even had blood dripping from it. It was revolting.
Cole tried being helpful, attempting to pat her dry with his orange-colored, silk cravat which he’d removed, but the IV pole kept hitting Varya in the face.
“Stop it, you dumbass!”
As the smell of the animal blood permeated the interior of the car and Varya looked like something out of a horror movie, Caleb lost it. Laughing uproariously, he pulled out his phone and, recording Varya’s humiliation, said, “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? Oh, fuck yeah. ‘Another one bites the dust’!”
Varya’s expression turned thunderous, threatening murder.
“Get them out of here!” Aislinn yelled to the driver, seeing Mia struggling in the distance with the riot squad. “Now!”
Aislinn took off in the direction of the struggling girl.
“No fucking way. Someone’s gonna pay for this.” Varya leaped out of the car after Aislinn, wanting to vent her anger on someone—anyone—everyone. She only wished Zhenya was around. She would have enjoyed venting it on the Russian Malum.
Slamming the car door, the driver immediately took off, uncaring that bodies were thrown over the bonnet of the limo and flying into the air. Vampires were aflame in front of them. Some rolling on the ground, some scattering to ashes in the wind, some grappling with the riot squad.
Aislinn pulled out her skean as she ran and saw Mia wrench free from the older, stronger vampire who then backhanded her so hard she toppled over, collapsing onto the ground like a rag doll. It made Aislinn see red.
She leaped and lunged suddenly in, toward the vampire’s stomach. One stab, a swift surgical slash, pulling the knife up and out. It wouldn’t take him long to recover, but it would delay him for a few moments, enough to get Mia out of the fray.
Aislinn gathered up the other girl and moved farther into the darkness, away from the burning bodies and wisps of smoke suggesting a vampire’s life had been snuffed out in mere seconds. She didn’t have time to contemplate the significance of this, even though some part of her subconscious innately knew that no Zooarian protest had turned quite this violent ever before.
A fierce-looking member of the riot squad stood in her path, stopping her.
“You there,” she spat. “Not so fast.” The veteran vampire’s voice was a growl, low and vicious. “You I want.”
“Get in line.” Aislinn didn’t stop to have a discussion. The other vampire reached for her, but even with the additional weight, Aislinn deftly sidestepped her, dancing away from the reach of her wickedly sharp gladius which the soldier guard raised to lunge at her.
A blur of red suddenly moved in between them as Varya drove the other vampire back. Light flashed as she raised her dagger and let it fly. It struck true. Varya followed up, running at the other vampire at a ferocious speed, throwing the second dagger and then herself at her target. She hit the vampire in a flying leap, twisting her daggers viciously as she withdrew them and whirled to Aislinn’s side.
“What the Vlad’s up with this?” Varya shouted over the screams and noise of vampires going up in flames.
Aislinn didn’t have time to reply as Mia, still propped up under one shoulder, started screaming hysterically. Whirling round, she saw the vampire with the flamethrower approaching, lighting up everything in his path.
“Take her,” Aislinn yelled back, passing over Mia. “Call Benjamin to open the gates. Get her back to the manor house.”
“What about you?” Varya demanded, grabbing the other girl by the arm and forcefully pushing her toward a safer path.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m working off too many platelets at dinner.” Aislinn winked and disappeared into the melee.
The vampire held the flamethrower before him. He’d spotted the daughter of Kayne and did not hesitate in burning a path toward her. Under orders, he did as he was told. As she ran in his direction, throwing herself into the fray, he watched the surrounding Zooarians go up in a roar of flame and ash. All around them, the darkness was lit with embers. Fragments of sooty, blackened flesh and bone as his fellow coven members were burned to cinders drifted in the winter wind. The bonfire roared like an animal unleashed, now gone wild.
And, suddenly, unexpectedly, there she was.
Leaping through the wall of flame, the daughter of Kayne bore down upon him.
Impossible!
Goosebumps prickled his skin and it had nothing to do with the cold of winter or the heat of the blaze. He suddenly realized that Aislinn was coming for him. And fire wasn’t going to stop her.
She smiled. It didn’t reach her piercing, obsidian eyes.
There was nothing remotely human left in her expression. Only a deadly cold, pure blood rage. Razor-sharp incisors broke through her gums, snapping down into place in a matter of seconds.
She locked him in a chokehold as she plucked the flamethrower from his grasp, throwing it on the ground. He heard it crunch beneath the heel of her boot as she stamped forcefully down upon it.
Squirming and writhing like a fish on a hook from where he dangled in her grip, he managed to squeeze a few words out. “Not—my—fault—Dorian—”
The terrified vampire’s eyes bulged wildly. Aislinn loosened her grip slightly. “What has this got to do with Dorian?” Her tone of voice was enough to strip paint from the walls, sounding acidic and terrifying.
“Primus Julius gave Dorian authority to use force to disperse the Zooarians,” he said, barely controlling the trembling in his voice.
“Dorian is not one of my brother’s guards. He has no claim to any power over the coven’s military.” Her eyes blazed dangerously. “And I doubt if my brother gave him or anyone else the authority to try to burn me alive either. Kayne wouldn’t be pleased.”
“Dorian gave orders. Julius placed him in charge. He said anyone who was with the Zooarians was a threat. Anyone who defended their actions had to be eliminated.”
“And you thought this included Kayne’s Twelfth Disciple? Really?” Her voice dripped sarcasm.
The vampire opened his mouth to speak, but she immediately cut him off.
“Please do not insult my intelligence by claiming you didn’t recognize me.”
He immediately shut his mouth. Without his flamethrower, he was ineffectual. A petty, powerless but sycophantic individual. The worst sort.
Aislinn turned to scan the vicinity. The area beyond the property was full of frightened vampires. Some were too stunned to flee, most were adolescents who lacked military training. They certainly weren’t in any position to defend themselves. Students who knew more book learning than self-defense. Yet, given the use of a flamethrower, there wasn’t much chance of running to safety.
The burning effigies were no longer. Columns of flame had given way to fluttering embers. Smoke rose from the ground. The stench of burning flesh permeated the air, carried on the wind.
Aislinn kept her blood rage in check for now and marshaled the surviving young vampires together. Zooarians were generally pacifists, most were artistic types who indulged in the pageantry of protests. But tonight’s events were guaranteed to leave them deeply scarred.
Raising her voice, she ordered them to follow her as she led the way up to the great iron and stone gates, knowing very well that her movements were being tracked by the state-of-the-art electronic surveillance equipment and, hopefully, Benjamin. Some looked like they might argue, but it was out of fear rather than defiance. Blackened faces, torn clothes, bloodstains. The stragglers gawked at the abandoned placards and banners, left to flap aimlessly in the wind. Detritus was strewn along the road leading up to the gated entrance. The strange layering of ash made it seem almost post-apocalyptic.
Dragging the flame-throwing vampire by th
e chokehold she had around his neck, Aislinn weaved her way through the carnage, ignoring the embers that were once members of her coven as they danced around her face. All that was left.
As she approached the gates with her pathetic rabble of Zooarians, she spied Caleb arguing loudly with the armed Sanguis sentries on the opposite side. The vicious attack dogs were barking wildly, snarling and straining at their leads as Aislinn and the group came to a stop next to the dented limo. Its headlights lit up the faces on the other side, those who continued to refuse them entry.
“Aislinn, they’ve locked down the manor house,” Caleb said, updating her on events. “Varya’s with Cole and Mia in the car, keeping them safe. Mia’s still a little shaken. Apparently, Dorian invited Cole to attend the protest. Some bullshit about poetic inspiration.”
“Prima Aislinn. Please step away from the gates, or we will be forced to fire on the crowd under order of Primus Julius.” The larger of the two Malum warriors in charge spoke, his voice harsh and deep.
“Step aside,” Aislinn instructed Caleb.
She faced the soldiers beyond the gates. Something in her expression made them uneasy, and they took a step back.
“Prima Aislinn, I won’t ask ag—”
She threw the soldier guard against the gates like a battering ram, the force lodging his head between the bars like a stockade. Ten thousand volts snapped at his body, making him scream in hideous pain.
The others looked on in horrified silence at the spectacle of the vampire getting fried. Then, unexpectedly, there was a huge cheer that erupted from the Zooarians, who were suddenly bloodthirsty.
It was unlikely to kill the flame-throwing bastard, but the pain was excruciating.
“Get used to it,” Aislinn stated. “Your punishment will be a solar cell.”
Before the guards could respond, she grabbed an abandoned flagpole lying on the ground, and, using it as a pole vault, with a sudden extraordinary leap, Aislinn cleared the gate. She landed gracefully on the other side in front of the startled Malum vampire guards in charge.
“Hello, boys,” she greeted with a thin smile and, with a speedy stab and slash of her skean, sliced the throat of the one who had hailed her from ear to ear. His head lolled back, and he crumpled to the ground. She looked at the others. “Anybody else want to give orders around here?”
The other Malum backed off, his hands up, signaling his surrender. “Open the gates?”
“Clever boy, I might let you live,” Aislinn said, chuckling. There was little humor in it. “Now. Where’s my soulless, unscrupulous, power-hungry offspring?”
Chapter 19
Aislinn set a cracking pace, but falling into step beside her, Caleb was determined to keep up. They marched through the manor house, moving as one through the complex maze of galleries, down the secured passageways and stone stairwells, until they reached the long corridor heading toward the Inner Sanctum.
This part of the manor house was usually a silent tomb, often empty except for the Sanguis security guards who continued their regular patrol, surprisingly as dawn loomed. Now, it was filled with the older, highest-ranking vampires demanding to see Primus Julius. She could hear their bitter complaints laced with fear as the row of sentries guarded the doors, denying them entrance.
As their boots stomped, deliberately heavy on the prettily detailed floor, announcing their approach, the nearest vampires fell silent. Like a domino effect, the others followed, until the entire corridor was filled with still marble statues like a museum gallery.
“Prima Aislinn—” Darius began, attempting to detain her, obviously harassed. His eyes flicked warily between the elders and the daughter of Kayne.
“Save it,” she stated and threw an object at Darius’s feet like a bowling ball. The head of the patrol leader rolled and bounced along the floor, eyes staring sightlessly into space. They jumped back in horror. “Now, get out of my way or join your comrade here.”
Aislinn’s voice commanded enough authority that even Gaius willingly removed himself from her path, though his hasty retreat may have had more to do with the head that had fetched up at his boots.
Her face was a stony mask, promising retribution.
Throwing open the double doors, Aislinn stormed into the cool tranquility of the Inner Sanctum with Caleb and a group of curious elders and Zooarians in tow, breaking its quiet. Julius’s personal guards loitered by the doorway, uncertain of what to do.
Primus Julius leaned heavily against the back of the throne-like chair, watching from malevolent, amused eyes. Beside him, on the chair she had formerly occupied, sat her cruel offspring, Dorian. They were drinking from goblets dripping with the blood of the human victim encased in the Iron Maiden which Dorian had gifted to his uncle.
“Ah, dear sister, I see you have returned from your dealings with the Underground Russian vampire mafia and brought many of my old friends with you. But not, alas, Stanislav. Pity. It has been so long since last we conversed.” Julius sighed, acknowledging the elder vampires behind her.
She could feel the effects of the blood she had fed on earlier coursing through her veins and felt grateful to Stanislav in sharing the fortifying, illegal Russian bottle with her. The blood warmed her, increasing her unique skillset, heightening her strength and endurance, making her responses even faster, sharpening her sight and smell.
She said nothing, and Julius frowned. She kept her expression as even and as neutral as possible.
“You wanted to speak to me. Anything you wish to say can be said in front of your charming progeny.” He glanced at Dorian as he said this.
There was tittering and grumbling from behind. She took no notice.
“Hello, Mother,” Dorian taunted as if this was his cue to speak, his voice deep and sultry. “I’d offer you a drink, but I’m afraid we’re all out of the good stuff. It just expired.” He saluted her, gesturing to the Iron Maiden with the occupant’s last forced breath.
The little turd! Aislinn thought. Instead, she smiled serenely as she, alone, approached the dais. She didn’t answer Dorian either, but her dark gaze lanced him. He caught sight of the unsheathed dagger in her hand, which she had not bothered to wipe the blood from. His eyes narrowed shrewdly.
Before either of them could speak again, Aislinn moved. In a pale blur of motion which exceeded even the fastest vampire speed, Aislinn was seated next to her brother, and Dorian was a heap of wrung-out rags on the mosaic floor.
“Tsk. Tsk. Manners, Dorian,” Aislinn chided, holding the skean in her hand as if it were just an artifact. But its bloodied edge was immensely intimidating, even to Julius. “And please remember your place in the hierarchy. The elders deserve acknowledgement. Do your duty, child.”
Caleb let out a guffaw, his muscles flexing under the pendant lighting so that the tattoos on his arms writhed dangerously. It was a warning to Dorian that he had Aislinn’s back. Not that Dorian needed any warning. Nor that Aislinn needed backup. She seemed to be handling herself just fine. Indeed, Caleb thought her diplomacy had improved a little over the centuries.
Dorian was forced to pick himself up from the floor with as much dignity as he could muster. Despite his stained clothes, he still held a sartorial elegance that was unmatched in the room. The one-hundred-and-thirty-year-old vampire held the cruelest nature of almost anyone Aislinn knew, despite his youth, but his looks were unsurpassed and deceptively angelic. It excused all manner of vices. Tossing his dark hair back in a disdainful gesture and righting his cuffs and jacket, he executed a perfect bow to the congregation.
“Very prettily done,” Aislinn mocked. Then dismissing her offspring with a cold smile, she turned toward her brother. “Why give the order to attack the Zooarians? They protest every decade and are little more than sullen teenagers. All bark, no bite.” More grumbling and shuffling of feet could be heard from the hall. Before continuing, she tossed over her shoulder at the millennials, “Like whatever.” She raised an eyebrow, daring them to challenge her.
&n
bsp; Nobody said anything, so she returned to Julius. “Besides, they’re pacifists. Admittedly, they’re a little dramatic for me, as you can tell, but surely, the use of force was unnecessary?”
Julius’s brows rose, and then he laughed. “My dearest sister, I had it on good authority that the protest would turn violent. Yes, indeed, I would not have given permission for the riot squad to interfere otherwise.”
By not so much a flicker of an eyelash did she give away the knowledge that her brother was lying, though she also knew without doubt that Dorian had planted the idea in his head. Julius was arrogant enough to believe it was his, but if he truly wanted to break up the crowd, he would have used the Roman wedge formation, and his soldiers would have marched on the Zooarians with their interlocked shields, cracking open enemy lines.
She’d seen it used often in the past. Julius always preferred the old ways. His guards, former Legionaries, formed up in a triangle, the front tip usually his most experienced right-hand such as Marcellus, now most likely Varya, and charged toward enemy lines with their gladiuses out. They would not have used a flamethrower. That was Dorian’s personal touch.
“I assume that the advice was my progeny’s?” she asked him curtly, already knowing the answer.
Before Julius could reply, Dorian opened his mouth, his voice smooth like silk and his charm slippery like oil. “I, too, have an interest in the safety of this coven, though it may surprise you to hear it, Mother. But even Benjamin cannot know the minds of those malcontents who would seek to bring discord amongst us. I have no personal reason to attack the Zooarians but only the best interests of our people. My sources, perhaps, were mistaken. But, as you know, war can come from a pretense of peace. If Uncle Julius had done nothing, then we may have handed them the power to do damage to our coven.”
Careful, Aislinn. Play it cool. Tempering her blood rage, she focused on her foul offspring. Already, he had too much influence over her brother. But it wasn’t merely Julius’s position as head of the coven he was after, as Dorian wanted the kind of power only Kayne had. And he would trample over every vampire in the coven to get it.
