CHAPTER EIGHT
If I knew anything about dangerously attractive, rebellious children of royals—it’s that they know how to keep secrets. Daero Justini knew the underground tunnels beneath the palace that housed the Justini court like the back of his hand.
“These tunnels were used for herding human cattle back before the Crimson Pact made things easier, and they decided to get more … dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” I asked.
“Yeah, like, rivers of blood and public execution-to-table feasts. Now, the tunnels are pretty much abandoned,” he said.
“Lucky for us,” Korin replied.
The tunnels were a dank, dark remnant of horrors that I could hardly even imagine, lined with cells with metal bars, shackles, and various torture devices I tried not to dwell on too long. The map orb buzzed ahead, sensing the tunnels were the best way forward. I suppose it could be more trusted than we thought.
At least, I hoped it was a sign of that.
“So where is this … ball map thing leading you exactly?” Daero asked.
“Map orb is what we typically call it … and well, it’s a bit of a long story, but Korin and I are magically bonded in some ancient way that makes us candidates for these trials. The map orb leads us to trials, we complete them, we ensure new demigods are born, we get some power upgrades, and the world doesn’t end … or something like that.”
“Okay … demigods? Trials? I have about a billion questions.”
“So do we,” Korin scoffed, “this is the second of seven trials we must complete. It could be perilous, or a bit kinky, or both, but whatever it is—we must face it. Or risk the circle of life breaking. All of us, even vampires, rely on that circle. All of Presmithia does. Even the gods.”
“Maybe not the ‘capital G’ Gods,” I added.
“No, not them, or it wouldn’t work like this in the first place,” Korin looked saddened.
“Those Gods forgot us long ago,” Daero added, “but this does sound important. If saving my life, beautiful Ivan, wasn’t enough reason to help you, your story surely is.”
“Laying your gratitude on a bit thick, aren’t you, dear Daero?” Korin almost growled.
“Don’t mind him,” I said with a wink. Korin, jealous—I never would’ve imagined. “I appreciate the compliment.”
Korin gave me a look that could sour milk in an instant.
I simply smiled, before a strange shadow in the distance caught my eye. It seemed to be moving towards us and getting increasingly more … person-shaped.
“Oh shit,” Daero murmured, “we need to run.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“The High Lord of the Justini court, my father, Valdimire Justini,” his voice was monotone. Void of emotion, as if he had already given up. “He found us.”
“We will not cower before one vampire. Lord or not, I am a god.” Korin scoffed.
Then the shadow laughed. A dark, mysterious laugh that echoed unnaturally through the tunnel.
Vines shot at the figure. Korin’s vines. But they halted, as if stopped by some invisible wall, right before reaching them. The shadow was now solidifying into the Vampire Lord in all his opulent and fearsome glory—draped in rubies, gold, and purple textiles tied artfully around his vast form, he was clearly a fan of flaunting his wealth. A golden crown tipped in dark red sat on his greying long dark hair, now flowing behind him in a supernatural current. One ring-covered hand was just barely outstretched toward the vines. He looked at them like he was bored. Like this force-field blocking the vines he had conjured was such a small effort for him. As easy as breathing.
“I’ve long since enchanted these tunnels to alert me of your comings and goings, my little, naive Daero,” Valdimire drawled, “I simply let you think you had found a way to sneak past my awareness. I knew it would come in handy one day. Though I never thought it would be under these grim circumstances.”
I reached for my daggers instinctively, ready to imbue them with magic strong enough to cut through mind-fields of even the most powerful witches in the coven of minds, and throw one right at his head.
That’s when I realized I couldn’t move.
I tried, and tried, and tired. Every cell was fighting against my will. I couldn’t even blink. My eyes burned. I managed a gargled, undefined noise before even my throat was immobile.
“Ivan?” Korin rushed to me. “What the fuck have you done to him?” he shouted at the Vampire Lord.
“I’m afraid he’s under my control now,” Valdimire grinned.
“Let them go, Dad. Take me and do what you wish, but let them go. They are innocent in all of this.”
“You always were too soft-hearted, boy,” the Lord spat, “to suggest leaving such a delicacy, a god, go … Well, it’s unthinkable! I will be drinking quite well tonight.”
Korin’s grinned from ear to ear, matching Valdimire’s bloodthirsty one. “You can try.”
“I may not be able to toy with a god’s mind, but I have many other tricks.”
“Run while you still can,” Daero looked at Korin with tears in his eyes, and I was struck with all-consuming fear as my eyes watered in kind, dread coiling in my gut.
Korin was a blur as he dashed for the Vampire Lord. Before he could reach him, Vladimir turned into black smoke, evading him entirely. He reappeared behind him, laughing at Korin—who whirled around to growl in his face.
Vines encompassed Korin’s fist just as he hurled a punch. It met that invisible wall with a distinct clink. Like there was a completely impenetrable bubble around the man.
A glint of low blue light emitting off a sword Daero unsheathed caught my attention, just as he slammed it against the back of his father’s shield while he was distracted with Korin. A loud CRACK in the back of his shield made him turn to his son.
And hope, hope that this was winnable, filled my heart.
But Valdimire flung out a hand, sending his son flying backward with his invisible mighty power. “Stay down if you know what’s good for you,” he snarled.
More of Korin’s vines shot at the Lord. Most bounced off of that impenetrable shield.
Except for one.
One seemed to find that crack left by Daero’s sword. It must have some kind of magic to combat his father’s gifts. But that crack was small. The vine, no matter how hard Korin was pushing, wasn’t budging—wasn’t making the crack bigger. It would take several more whacks with that sword to get through.
A small tendril grew from the tip of the vine within the shield, which turned into a blossom of bright orange and yellow. Probably poisonous.
Valdimire turned to Korin, clenched his fist, and his shield snapped back into place, snipping the bud.
He was black smoke again, then dissipated to nothing, until reforming behind Korin, and stabbing him in the back—straight through the heart—with a spear of thought.
Green sap oozed from the wound. Korin looked down in shock.
I heard it before I felt it. The snap of my left forearm breaking. It was nearly split in two, the bottom half jutting at an almost ninety-degree angle with the bone sticking out. Then the pain was all-consuming as my blood formed a pool below me. I wanted to scream, to alleviate the pain with a spell, anything, but movement was still completely out of my control.
“Ivan!” Korin screamed.
Valdimire breathed in deeply through his nose like he was smelling a flower as he removed the invisible protrusion from Korin’s spine.
“Mmm, witch blood,” he sighed, “just the smell gets me rock hard.” He grabbed his crotch crudely. “I’m going to fuck your little faggots ass raw, breaking each of his bones, one by one, while you watch. Then, I will drain him of his lifeblood.”
