The Demon Hunter (20 page)

“What Bane has done must be undone. His treachery must be found, and destroyed.”

What are they talking about?
Emalie asked.

Not sure
, Oliver replied, but he felt an ache inside as he remembered the moment when he'd discovered that Bane had been made to fulfill the prophecy just like Oliver had. Unlike all other vampire children, who were created in a lab, Oliver and Bane had been sired from human infants.

Bane's “treachery” must have been his attempt to free Oliver from the prophecy. In that case, Oliver would need to be very careful. Before he was slain, Bane had told Oliver that he had some things to show him, and just the other night Oliver had finally discovered a false back on one of the walls of Bane's coffin. Inside, he'd found two very secret and mysterious objects. Oliver didn't know yet what they did, but he was certain they were the objects Bane had planned to show him.

Yasmin spoke up from the crowd. “Is there any word on the Brotherhood of the Fallen?”

“There have been only rumors since Valentine's Day,” said Malcolm LeRoux from the seat beside Ravonovich. “But we cannot be content to believe that they will let the Anointment pass without some attempt to thwart it.” The Brotherhood had attacked the Darkling Ball on the night of Bane's Anointment many years ago, which ruined Bane's chance to fulfill the prophecy, and thus passed it on to Oliver.

“Do we have any new plans this time, to avoid getting blown up?” Leah asked.

“We have hired Pyreth Guardians for the event,” said Ravonovich. A murmur passed through the crowd. “And moved the ceremony's location underground.”

“And what of the Rogue?” someone asked over the din. “Even the Pyreth are no match for her.”

The room quieted.

“Yes,” Ravonovich muttered, “the Rogue. We shall continue to be vigilant, to determine her motive. As we all know, that's all we can do for now.”

Désirée?
Emalie wondered.

Sounds like it
, Oliver agreed. Dead Désirée was the only being powerful enough to earn that kind of respect—and perhaps some fear?—from Half-Light. And no one knew what kind of being she really was.

“And what about the boy?” Malcolm asked, his voice dripping with distaste.

“Oliver should be treated normally, to ensure a smooth path to his destiny,” said Ravonovich.

“Normally?” Malcolm sneered. “We treated his traitorous brother normally and look where that got us. If you ask me, we should lock up young Oliver until the Anointment.”

“We're not asking you,” said Tyrus.

“So what, we're just going to let him cavort about with humans and zombies and wraiths?” Malcolm rose to his feet. “Generations will be doomed to this prison if we do not open the Gate. You're putting legions of
vampyr
at risk!”

“And you're not?” Phlox growled. “Where is your little princess? Talk about letting one cavort irresponsibly—”

“Watch your tongue,” Malcolm hissed. “My daughter … how did you put it? Lythia is her
own
demon. I don't know where she is, or what she is up to, but I do know she is no failure like your first, and no sniveling coward like your second.”

Oliver shook with anger.

Let it go
, Emalie warned. He knew she was right, but still, it was taking all of his focus to remain invisible, listening to this.

Below, Phlox wasn't able to restrain herself. “
Tsss
—” She lunged toward Malcolm. Sebastian grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her back.

“Enough!” Ravonovich's voice boomed through the chamber. “Sit down, Malcolm. Your daughter is a traitor to the cause and has formed dangerous alliances. If I were you, I'd be rooting for young Lythia to keep out of sight until after the Anointment. If she tries again to interfere with our plans, not even your valuable research into the Artifact, or your significant sacrifices to the cause, will save you both from the ash can.”

Malcolm sat, seething.

“Sebastian, Phloxiana,” Ravonovich continued, “the Consortium understands that you have sacrificed much, and this will not be forgotten. Rest assured, we will be vigilantly watching out for you and Oliver in these final days.”

Oliver thought that sounded more like a threat than a reassurance. Phlox felt the same way. “Meaning you don't trust us,” she muttered.

“Trust is irrelevant,” Ravonovich replied. “This is the end game. The final act of a drama that has graced this stage since the binding stitches of the universe were completed. Soon, the
vampyr
and the Architects will read their final lines. And if we are right, as we know we are, then we shall prevail and be free, finally free, from the shackles of Finity, and the Eternal Tomb will be destroyed.”

A great chorus of earsplitting hissing engulfed the room.

Finity? What's that?
Emalie asked.

Oliver had only heard the word Finity once before, from Bane, in the moments before he was slain.
Bane said that Finity was the whole point
, he replied.

The whole point of what?

Not sure
.

And what are the Architects?
Emalie asked.

Origin beings
, Oliver explained.
They built the universe, and the Gate
.

“Thank you all for coming,” said Ravonovich. The vampires stood and gathered their coats. Oliver watched his parents shuffle from the center of the floor. No one spoke to them as they left.

Come on
, said Emalie. Oliver felt her slide back through the door. He turned and did the same.

“How'd it go?” Dean asked as they left the kitchen.

“It went,” said Oliver, leading the way to a broken window. He scaled down the hull of the ship to the abandoned dock. Dean jumped down, landing awkwardly on the buckled boards. Emalie reappeared beside them. They hurried away from the pier, under a looming highway overpass, and up steep lengths of stairs into the lonely city streets.

“So, did they know what Bane was up to?” Dean asked.

“I think Half-Light did, but they didn't say what,” said Oliver.

“And what about Lythia?” Dean asked. “Any news?”

“No,” Emalie answered, “but they're worried about her. Désirée, too. They called her the Rogue. And it sounded like they don't know what to do about her, either.”

“That makes two of us,” said Dean. They had been to the Underground twice in the last two weeks so that Emalie could get supplies. Both times they had passed Désirée's shop, and both times it had been closed.

“Half-Light said they'd be watching me,” said Oliver. “And they're looking for Bane's treachery, whatever that is.”

“The objects you found?” Dean asked.

Oliver shrugged. “And they said that once the Anointment is completed, there's no way to undo the prophecy.”

“So we need to check those objects,” said Emalie. “Maybe I should stop working on the Portal enchantment until we can—”

“No,” said Oliver. The Portal would take Oliver, Emalie, and Dean back to the night of Oliver's death. The night that Phlox and Sebastian sired him and killed his parents. Except that maybe, just maybe, Oliver's parents hadn't been killed. Their graves had been full of pig bones. And Oliver had been told by the leader of the Brotherhood, Braiden Lang, that they were alive.

“Okay. Well, let's meet tomorrow at my place,” said Dean. When Emalie wasn't looking, he winked at Oliver. They had something else planned for tomorrow night as well. “I gotta go meet Autumn at the sewer clubs. See you guys later.”

Oliver and Emalie walked quietly through the city. Oliver felt like walls were closing in. His destiny was mere days away, and he had no idea how to stop it.

Chapter 2

New Ashes, Old Answers

THE NEXT NIGHT, OLIVER
awoke to a terrible racket. His eyes snapped open and he was surprised to realize that he'd actually been sleeping. His portable video game player lay on his chest, still pulsing with tinny music and lights, muffled by his sleeping soil. He flicked it off and listened for whatever had woken him.

Crrrrackk!

The sound was violent and close by. Oliver flicked a handle and the lid of his coffin yawned open. He sat up to find Phlox on the other side of the crypt. Sebastian stood nearby, head down, hands clasped behind his back.

“Good morning, Oliver,” Phlox said, her tone businesslike. She was well-dressed in a sharp black blazer, a high-collared white shirt, and black pants. Her long platinum hair was pulled back and fastened with two sticks, yet one wild strand had sprung free and dangled in front of her face.

“Hey, Mom,” said Oliver. “What's up?”

“Oh,” sighed Phlox, “just catching up on a little housecleaning.” With that, she raised an enormous sledgehammer and slammed it down—

On Bane's coffin.

The wood exploded as the heavy stone head crashed into it. Splinters sprayed across the room. Phlox lifted the sledgehammer and struck again. The coffin lid imploded and a geyser of sleeping soil burst into the air. The sound rattled off the stone walls of the crypt.

“There we go,” said Phlox, another strand of hair coming free. Oliver noted the tight purse of her mouth, the turquoise glow in her eyes, the fierce
v
shape of her brow.…

Crrrraaackk!

“Nice work, honey,” Sebastian said supportively. His eyes had begun to glow with emotion as well, his face similarly tense.

Phlox's next swing crashed through the bottom of the bed and into the dresser drawers below. The sledgehammer came away wrapped in ratty black T-shirts and torn jeans. Phlox shook the clothes free, then swung the hammer again.

Oliver watched his brother's coffin splinter apart, collapsing into a pile of broken wood and clothes and soil, and felt his face grow tight as well.

Finally, this was good-bye.

The sledgehammer head clanged to the stone floor. Phlox turned to Sebastian. “Would you like a turn?” she asked solemnly.

Sebastian looked down at his hands. His left, though almost fully regrown, was still slightly smaller than the right, and a ghostly white. Sebastian was finally able to do most of the normal things that an adult vampire could do, but he shook his head. “You can finish.”

“Oliver?” Phlox asked, holding the sledgehammer toward him.

“You do it,” said Oliver quietly.

“All right, then.” Phlox swung ferociously, crushing the pile of remains and even cracking the floor in the process.

Oliver was relieved to finally see his parents releasing their emotions, and also that he'd gotten Bane's hidden objects out of the coffin just in time.

Phlox stopped again, this time letting the hammer fall from her hand and clatter to the floor. She stared hard at the wreckage, her eyes burning. “Shall we?” she whispered.

“Of course,” said Sebastian. He gathered armfuls of the tangled wood and clothing. “Oliver, would you like to help?”

“Yeah.” Oliver slipped out of bed and filled his arms as well. He followed Sebastian upstairs. Within his load was one of Bane's leather jackets, which still carried a faint scent of Bane's many noxious colognes. The smell made Oliver's gut clench. He never imagined that he could have missed his annoying brother this much. Then again, until the moment before Bane was slain, Oliver had had no idea how similar they were. It was so unfair.

Phlox followed Oliver as they climbed to the surface floor of the house. They slipped through the steel door, around the broken refrigerator, and carried the remains across the dilapidated space, through a huge hole in the far wall, to a giant stone fireplace. Rain fell gently into the room from rotted holes in the floors above.

Sebastian tossed his armful in. Oliver did the same. Phlox followed, then pulled a tiny glass jar from her pocket and hurled it at the pile. The jar exploded and a thick pink substance splattered onto the remains. It was jellied magma, which aided in starting forges and fires and getting them to burn far hotter than a conventional oven or flame ever could.

Sebastian struck a match and tossed it in. There was a great sucking gasp of air, and Bane's things burst into white-hot flames.

Oliver squinted at the blaze, but forced himself not to look away. Phlox and Sebastian stood on either side of him, doing the same. Bane's clothes and boots began to melt. The wood blackened and crumbled in the searing heat.

“Cindrethhh …”
Phlox whispered slowly. It was an ancient Skrit word for a slain vampire, meaning “return to ash.”

As his vision was slowly blinded by green, Oliver saw Bane's face in his mind, that night in the overgrown cemetery, the last moment of his existence. His look of shock as he'd turned to dust—a look that Oliver had never seen from his brother before. That gut-clenching feeling increased, and Oliver longed to—

Admit it
, he said to himself. Yes, he wanted to cry again, as he had that night with help from the apparition. He wanted that painful feeling that strangely seemed to make things better. But he couldn't do it alone. Different as he was, he was still a vampire. And he hadn't seen the apparition at all in the weeks since Bane's slaying.

Oliver felt a hand, and turned to find Phlox taking his. She squeezed it so tightly that Oliver's finger bones came close to snapping. “This won't happen again,” she whispered.

“We won't let it,” Sebastian agreed softly.

The fire cooled and soon died. All that remained was a pile of ash and cinders.

“Time for breakfast,” Phlox said quietly, and turned away. Sebastian followed.

Oliver gazed at the ashes for another moment, then joined them.

In the kitchen, Phlox threw herself into making a fresh blood angel cake, Bane's favorite. Oliver sat at the island, in his usual place. Sebastian stood by the counter. Bane's old seat remained empty.