Demonstorm: Heart of a Vampire #6 (2 page)

The crone stared at his mother. “You coddle this one like he be child. Do ye not see the man?”

Ashlyn opened her mouth, then closed it without a sound.

Jezamine nodded to Jordan. “This one. He be immune to such poisons, and so much more,” she stated cryptically. “He must go. Retrieve the one who can be our help. And he must go alone.”

The room erupted in anger, those not his clan shouting about his tainted blood, how a half-breed could never be trusted.

Sean caught his father’s assessing stare. There was not only a surprising confidence in Connor’s gaze, but approval as well. His mother, however, looked like she was about to cry.

Standing tall, Sean faced Jezamine. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“It not be easy,” she warned. “But ye have it in ye to succeed.” She smiled beautifully, and for a split second, he glimpsed the shadow of a much younger woman shining from her gaze. “Succeed in many ways, if ye choose,” she chortled.

“We’ll get you prepared, packed—” Connor began.

“He must leave tonight.” Jezamine pulled out a notebook, stuffed with papers and all sorts of strange items, from yet another hidden pocket and handed them to Sean. “Trust yerself. That be yer key.”

* * *

The overpowering stench of decay in the cavernous dining hall made Mayah’s stomach churn. The sight of demons and a myriad of Arcaine creatures sitting at the long rows of wooden tables and piggishly shoveling food into their maws made bile rise to burn the back of her throat. Raucous laughter filled the air, grating, making her temples throb with a headache.

Someone tossed a cup onto a table and the eighteenth fight of the six-hour long feast broke out. A dog-faced demon wrestled some sort of rock creature across the floor.

Sitting beside her, Brüs laughed as he banged his golden chalice in front of him, shouting, “More!”

Mayah rubbed the chaffed skin beneath the leather collar at her throat, careful not to prick her skin on any of the sharp spikes of specially created iron. The metal, mixed with numerous things debilitating to any demon, would send her reeling from even a small cut. Poison would seep through her blood, taking inestimable time before her body could neutralize it.

Minutes later, the rock creature lay sprawled against a wall, unconscious, bloody and ignored. The dog demon sat back down and continued eating, those around him slapping his back with hearty congratulations.

Unfortunately, that meant Brüs was no longer entertained.

As the last “dancer” was claimed by one of his guests to attend their needs, Brüs grasped the iron chain connected to Mayah’s collar.

He jerked her close enough that she nearly vomited at the rotting stink of his fetid breath.

She glanced up at Brüs, brushing back her many colored braids, ranging from white-blonde to the deep red of blood. It was hard, but she swallowed the nausea and forced all emotion from her face, giving him only a pleasant, if blank, expression.

“You. Dance,” he commanded.

Calming the quick flash of anger, she smiled sweetly. “I didn’t realize I’d been forced down here tonight to be entertainment for you and your men.”

He scowled, taking a minute to process her words, in a near-drunken haze from the demon brew he’d been gulping down by the barrel. His pitted, scarred face remained tinged by the gray that proclaimed him an Abatu demon—one who thrived on destruction and death—rather than flushed red like some of his completely drunk companions.

“You ain’t fulfilling any other duties. When’s the last time you had a prophecy for me like a good demoness?”

She bowed her head, long used to showing a submissive pose while not cutting herself on the spiked collar. Her many-colored braids fell over her face, helping to hide her raging emotions until she could control them once more. “Truly, it grieves me to be feeling so sickly of late. But if you wish me to use my last bit of health to dance for you, I shall certainly do so.”

He grumbled, but allowed the end of the chain to slip from his grasp.

Mayah leaned back, keeping her gaze down and her fisted hands hidden in her lap, out of fear this might be the time her anger escaped.

After a few calming breaths, she risked a glance up from beneath her lashes. Her blood cooled at the calculating glint in his black eyes, as if he wasn’t nearly as drunk as he made out.

“If I don’t get a prophecy soon, perhaps I’ll allow you to join the dancers. Permanently,” he stated.

She hid the shiver that oozed down her spine, knowing exactly what he implied. Only her status as Seer and Prophetess saved her from being mauled in the beds of his guests.

The thought of fulfilling that role, when even some of the pure blooded Succubi demonesses didn’t always survive the night, snapped a tight band of bleakness around her heart.

“Of course, perhaps you may still have some usefulness after all. Can’t allow some brute to take your virginity and your powers along with it.” He sat back in his throne, rubbing his chin as he added his ultimate threat. “Maybe instead, the punishment should go to your brother. I could visit my other castle and see him. Listen to his delightful screams. Think that might reawaken your Sight?”

“No, Sire,” she whispered, struggling to remain outwardly impassive, even as a hopeless, white-hot anger filled her soul. “I shall try harder to find your future. I swear.”

“Make it soon, or your precious kin will feel my wrath.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Good.” He turned back to his slop, but she noticed the watchful gaze he kept on the crowd.

And on her.

She picked at the fruit on her plate, not bothering to pretend to eat.

Her mind spun. If she didn’t share her recent visions, her future would become even more uncertain than it currently was as the slave of this Abatu demon. He wasn’t just a prince of their hellish realm, but one of the most powerful warriors she’d ever seen.

Lately, he’d been working for a darkness that was easily creeping over everything with a nefarious plot of its own.

Another war was brewing, like those of the long distant past.

Only this time, her visions made her fear this war might be the one to end all of the Arcaine, and all of humanity—not just on earth, but in all realms, including her home.

Not many could face Brüs and survive. But this darkness scared her more than he ever could.

Chapter Two

S
ean stretched out on a thick, rough tree limb, high above the forest floor. He studied the dark-gray castle looming about a mile in the distance.

It was straight out of the Middle Ages, from the steaming moat surrounding the tall stone walls, to the drawbridge, and the battlements on the top of each of the four corner towers.

After leaving Arizona, it had taken him a few days of non-stop driving to reach the edge of this forest. During the day, the sunlight nibbled at his strength, though it didn’t weaken him as much as a normal vampire. Another couple days of trekking through the trees, even with the directions in the notebook the witch, Jezamine, had given him. Considering castles weren’t situated all over Oregon, hidden from mortals behind thick forests and plenty of magic, this had to be where the demon prophetess was being held captive.

He continued to lie still, watching the hive of activity, as the sun descended. Strange creatures came and went. Even from here, the place reeked. Of demon, and other scents he wasn’t familiar with. The power emanating from that direction occasionally slid over his skin like a shock of electricity.

He needed to figure out which creatures were castle guards. Study their patterns, in order to avoid being caught when he broke in to free the woman his clan needed.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax and his mind to still. Instead of monitoring each person, he watched the whole.

Soon, a pattern emerged.

Six guards constantly circled the drawbridge and portcullis. Twelve men rotated around the top of the castle walls, keeping a look out for anyone approaching from below. But all of them seemed lax, as if they were merely going through their paces. None appeared attentive, or even concerned someone might show up without an invitation.

Based on the information in the witch’s report, it wasn’t much of a surprise. The demon in charge here seemed to revel in destruction. In death, whether from war or torture.

Few had attempted to challenge him.

None had ever succeeded.

To the far right of the massive castle, a small group of demons emerged from the trees. They wore bows and quivers full of arrows strapped to their backs. The carcass of a deer hung from a pole carried by four creatures. Two of them looked human enough. The others were straight out of
The Island of Doctor Moreau
, with their freaky combination of human and animal features.

Squinting, Sean was finally able to make out a narrow, hidden path winding from the forest.

After a quick, disinterested glance around, one of the demons tossed a thin plank across the boiling water in the moat. The group crossed and disappeared behind a hidden wooden door.

Glee filled Sean. That was his way in.

The breeze shifted, sending a chilly gust through the tree tops. A heaviness hung in the air, promising a freezing night ahead. He didn’t care. Between his vampire blood and the demon essence he kept locked deep inside, unless the weather was extreme, it might be a bother, but not a major concern.

Only one thing mattered.

Slipping inside the castle, finding his quarry and getting out. Preferably before raising any alarms.

Then he could take the prophetess home. Prove to everyone—his king, his clan, his parents—that he was not only capable, but worthy.

Even if he was tainted by demon.

His fingers bit deep into the bark of the limb. Wood cracked. Splinters drifted down to the forest floor.

He must succeed.

Prove himself to everyone who was looking to the vampire King for information about this strange darkness approaching.

He refused to fail.

Hours later, full dark arrived. The moon was a mere sliver, giving shadows reign. Inside the castle, bonfires burned. Drunken revelry dampened the sounds of nature.

Good.

Let them drink, every last one of them, until they passed out. Make his job easier.

He stayed in the tree. Watching, assessing.

More hours passed before the sounds dimmed, the castle finally settling down for the night.

Sean climbed down, jumping the last twenty feet and landing on the mossy ground with nary a sound. He crept from shadow to shadow, making his way toward the castle. When he reached the trail that the hunting party had emerged from, he stared up into the night, timing the guards.

As only half vampire, he didn’t have all the speed and strength most did. But he could still make the leap across the thirty-foot wide moat.

A guard passed overhead, then disappeared. By the time the next man showed up, right on cue, Sean knew he’d have plenty of time.

He dashed forward, jumping at the last second. He landed on the other side, unprepared for the slipperiness of the muddy bank. A dislodged rock plopped into the water. Sean hugged the damp, lichen-covered wall for a long moment, but no cry of alarm rang out.

He pushed aside the ivy hiding the thick wooden door, then pressed his ear to it, listening for activity on the other side. All he heard were nearby snores. Someone laughed, but it was far in the distance, muffled by the inner castle walls.

Pulling the door open slowly, Sean slipped inside, then stopped and waited once more, taking in the dark surroundings. Misshapen lumps lay scattered through the expansive courtyard. Snores echoed loudly.

He silently moved through the yard and into the castle, then pulled out another map Jezamine had given him. Though he’d memorized it during his trek here, he looked it over carefully once more. Putting it away, he snuck toward the corridors, slipping into shadows each time he heard someone moving nearby.

Painfully slow, he finally found the stone steps leading to the basement.

* * *

Mayah strode around her narrow bed, tugging on her multi-colored braids. She hardly saw the bare, forlorn room, the opulence of the upper floors absent. Brüs thought it a punishment, but she preferred it bare. This wasn’t her home, no matter she’d been caged here for centuries.

Images flashed behind her eyes. Pictures, colors. A hum rang in her ears, occasionally punctuated by a brief snatch of conversation from the half-formed visions.

A headache spread, making her temples throb. At least Brüs hadn’t demanded her presence at tonight’s feast, instead, telling her to rest in her room. Present him with her visions come morning, or her brother would be punished. She was out of time.

In her mind’s eye, color turned to black and white. She
saw
herself, standing alone in some vast emptiness. Behind her, a shadowed figure approached.

Yet she didn’t feel danger.

The vision began to fade, snapping her from future to present.