Read Born in Blood (The Sentinels) Online
Authors: Alexandra Ivy
Born in Blood (The Sentinels) (28 page)
Even worse, she could feel a strange tug deep inside her. As if she were connected to something—or rather many things—just beyond her sight.
The sensations only intensified as a dozen warriors slowly stepped from the crypts, still wrapped in their funeral shrouds with their weapons in hand.
Callie cried out in horror, but her strength was being drained with every drip of blood that slid down her arms and vanished into the goblet. There was nothing she could do as they silently moved past her, the once proud warriors now under the compulsion of Lord Zakhar.
“So glorious,” her father murmured, watching in pride as his monsters dismantled the layers of magic that protected her home.
“They were glorious when they were alive,” she tried to snarl, startled when her voice came out in a shaky whisper. The warriors were sucking her life force at an alarming rate. “They should be respected and honored for their service to their people, not treated as disposable minions.”
He flicked an indifferent glance in her direction. “So passionate, but my dear Callie, you are all disposable minions to me.”
Nice.
She grimaced, squashing her flare of revulsion toward the man who’d spawned her.
Hate wasn’t a productive emotion.
She needed resolve. Purpose. Stubborn, pigheaded obstinacy.
She had the last three in spades.
Sucking in a deep breath, she turned her attention inward, concentrating on the mystical bond that ran from her father through her and onto the warriors. At the same time, she began to babble. She didn’t know if the necromancer could sense her trying to destroy the bond, but it seemed smart to try and keep him distracted.
Just in case.
“Do you imagine that even if you take Valhalla you’ll be satisfied?” she asked, her brow furrowed as she opened herself to the icy power that pulsed through her.
She grimaced. Christ. It was like an evil umbilical cord that connected them all together.
Her father arched a puzzled brow. “Of course I will not be satisfied,” he said, his chilling calm assuring her that he didn’t yet sense her attempt to destroy his connection to the warriors. “I intend to rule the world.”
Well of course he did.
“And then what?” she prompted, inwardly judging the amount of life she was losing against the progress of the warriors.
Even as she watched the second barrier went down.
God dammit.
Too fast.
There was only one more layer before they would have a direct shot at Valhalla.
And then ...
She shook her head. She couldn’t bear the thought.
“Then my destiny will be fulfilled,” Lord Zakhar was saying, a smile on his lips as he contemplated his glorious future.
Arrogant ass.
“And you’ll still be empty,” she accused, turning her attention from the ruthless drain on her life to her connection to her father.
If she could snap her bond with the dead, then maybe she could cut off the power at its source.
“Empty of what?”
“Love, happiness ... contentment.”
He turned to stab her with an annoyed glare.
Ah. Hit a nerve, did she?
“I have no need for human emotions.”
She held his gaze, finding it an anchor to help search along the cord that bound them together.
“If that were true you wouldn’t have such a gaping hole inside you,” she said, weirdly able to feel the howling abyss inside her father.
God. It was no wonder he was as cold and empty as Siberia. He’d been stripped of everything but a raw, unrelenting hunger for power.
She shivered, crushing her instinctive pity.
There were few people on the face of the earth less deserving of sympathy than Lord Zakhar.
Instead she concentrated on the odd darkness at the very center of his soul.
There.
The doorway to the underworld.
She didn’t know how she knew it.
She just did.
“There is no hole,” he mocked, his voice suspiciously bland. “Gaping or otherwise.”
“Why are your hands clenched, Father? Are you afraid I might be right?” Callie mocked in return, glancing down at his tight fists while she inwardly surveyed the doorway.
Crap. It was more a smooth portal than an actual doorway. Like a black hole. So how the hell was she supposed to close it?
He sucked in a deep breath, forcing his hands to relax. “Stupid, child. I fear nothing.”
He did, of course.
He feared being weak.
Or failing in his grand quest.
So how did she use it to her advantage?
“Yet another worthless human emotion?” she absently taunted.
He frowned, as if belatedly sensing she wasn’t fully concentrating on their bickering.
“Precisely.”
Oh hell.
A distraction was needed. Pronto.
“What a pathetic excuse for a man you are.” She tossed out the first insult that came to mind, still anxiously probing for a weakness in the bond between them.
His eyes narrowed. “Do you hope to anger me?”
She blinked in confusion. “What?”
“You are deliberately provoking my temper.”
“Why would I want that?”
“Perhaps you hope that I will become enraged enough to kill you.”
Ah. That had certainly been her first thought.
Until he’d ruined the plan by saying the dead warriors would plunder, pillage, and ravage their way across the country once she lost her control over them...
Her control over them.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she realized she had the answer.
If she couldn’t cut the connection, or close the doorway, she had no choice but to take command of the bond.
“Is that what you hope for, Callie?” her father impatiently snapped, forcing her to realize he was studying her with a growing suspicion.
She licked her lips, her mouth dry.
She had to keep him distracted a few more minutes.
Just long enough to call on her powers.
“Why would you think I want to die?”
“People burdened with morals are always eager to become martyrs,” he said in obvious disgust.
Clearly he had no hopes for earning a sainthood.
“Maybe I just truly believe you’re pathetic,” she pointed out with a humorless smile.
“You’re wasting your energy, my dear.” He tilted his chin, turning back toward Valhalla. “I have waited too long for this moment to be goaded into a rash act of stupidity.”
“It’s my energy to waste.”
“No longer. It’s mine to control.” He gave a sudden chuckle as a group of Sentinels appeared to stand in front of the dead warriors, Duncan’s golden blond hair unmistakable in the moonlight. “Ah. Shall I demonstrate?”
Callie forced herself to her feet, her hand pressed to her lips as she watched the man she loved charging straight at the nearest warrior.
“No,” she breathed, knowing there was no way he could survive for even a few minutes against an indestructible Sentinel. “Please—”
“You see?” Lord Zakhar sneered. “Emotions make you weak.”
“You’re wrong.” Knowing it was now or never, Callie opened herself to her powers, allowing them to flow through her. “They give me a strength you never dreamed possible.”
Her father continued to watch the unfolding battle, a cold smile of anticipation touching his lips as one Sentinel fell beneath the onslaught, and then another.
Callie frantically closed her eyes, knowing she’d never be able to concentrate if she knew Duncan was injured. The only way to protect him was to wrench away her father’s command of the warriors.
Not bothering to try and control the natural power that flowed through her, Callie focused on the bond that spanned between herself and her father.
It is just like entering the mind of the dead,
she assured herself.
she assured herself.
Slip in, take command, and ...
Well, she didn’t know what happened after that, but she was about to find out.
Aiming directly at the bond, Callie slid into the darkness, losing her touch with her physical body.
It felt oddly familiar.
Cool, peaceful.
The temptation of death.
Then, at last through the surface of the bond, she found the darkness separating.
She didn’t know what she expected.
The faces of the warriors. Or maybe her father. Or even the doorway to the underworld.
Instead it was the golden chalice that hovered directly before her eyes.
Of course.
The power didn’t flow from her father.
It came from her.
Her blood.
Her life force.
She only needed to reach out and grasp it.
Not allowing herself time to consider the pertinent fact she’d never used her powers to do anything but search the memories of the dead, she focused on the blood pooled in the bottom of the goblet.
At first she felt nothing.
She could sense the power, but she had no way to know how to gain command of it.
Tentatively reaching out with her power, she brushed it over the chalice. The breath rushed from her lungs as she touched the minds of the warriors.
There was a startled curse from Lord Zakhar as he belatedly sensed her intrusion.
“What are you doing?” he snarled, grasping her shoulders in a grip that threatened to crush her bones.
Callie smiled through the pain as she opened her eyes and whispered one word.
“Stop.”
Duncan didn’t need to be a trained soldier to know the battle wasn’t going well.
His first clue came when he’d pumped his entire clip of bullets into the nearest intruder and the warrior barely flinched.
Not good.
Not good at all.
Traditional weapons were obviously worthless against zombies.
Time to think outside the box.
Ducking to avoid the arrow that whizzed past his face, he darted to the side to grab the heavy chain that was coiled in the back of the jeep they’d taken to the edge of the large meadow.
He couldn’t kill the zombies, but he might be able to slow one or two of them down long enough for Fane to track down the necromancer.
He grimaced at the memory of his short but violent argument with the guardian Sentinel.
Duncan had claimed it was his right to go in search of Callie and kill the bastard who’d kidnapped her. Fane, however, had kindly pointed out that he was by far the superior tracker, not to mention he’d been trained for over a century by the most fearsome warriors ever born.
And oh yeah, he was impervious to magic.
Duncan might have continued the argument—he was nothing if not obstinate—but Fane had simply melted into the darkness and disappeared.
Jackass.
Now Duncan was forced to hold back the encroaching zombies and pray that Fane was as good as he thought he was.
Another arrow flew past his face, and with an infuriated roar, Duncan whirled the chain like a lasso, watching it wrap around the nearest zombie’s legs.
The creature fell to the ground and a slender female witch darted forward, chanting a spell that bound the creature in a shimmering dome of magic.
It wouldn’t last.
But it did take one warrior out of the fight for a few minutes.
Duncan turned his attention to Wolfe, who was swinging a massive sword at a Sentinel who held a battle ax.
The Tagos was surprisingly skilled in wielding the heavy weapon, striking blow after blow before dancing away to avoid the swinging ax. But no matter how skilled he might be, there was no way to win against an opponent who couldn’t be killed. With every passing second Wolfe was losing ground.
Further away the gathered Sentinels engaged in similar fights with the zombies, grimly struggling to keep the monsters at bay.
Pausing long enough to grab another chain from the jeep, Duncan sprinted forward. Behind him he could feel the witch following, clearly trained in battle tactics.
Good girl.
Halting a few feet from the zombie who fought against Wolfe, Duncan was preparing to throw the chain at the creature’s legs when there was an odd sizzle in the air.
And then... the zombies abruptly froze.
Just like that.
One minute they were silently slicing and dicing their way through the line of Sentinels, and the next they were standing like mannequins, their gazes blank, as if they’d been switched off.
Cautiously lowering his sword, Wolfe circled the unmoving zombie who still held his ax midair.
“What the hell?” the Tagos muttered.
“Callie,” Duncan breathed, dropping the chain as he pressed a hand to his heart.
Wolfe scowled, a shallow cut marring his cheek and a deeper slice dripping blood down his neck.
“She did this?”
Duncan gave a slow nod. He had no explanation, but he could catch Callie’s scent mingled among the warriors. As if they were somehow connected to her.
“It has to be her,” he muttered, hissing as he realized the sense of her deep in his heart was fading. “Dammit, we have to find her. Now.”
On cue, there was a sharp whistle.
Fane.
Wolfe raised his hand, motioning to the Sentinels, who were staring at the frozen zombies in wary horror. “This way.”
They jogged across the grass, entering a small clump of trees that circled a gray stone building that was nearly hidden beneath a layer of ivy.
It had to be the opening to the lower crypts, Duncan inanely acknowledged, and where the now frozen warriors had come from.
The thought had barely flickered along the edge of his mind when he caught sight of Fane, who had his hands wrapped around the neck of the tall man with silver hair and diamond eyes.
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