When Darkness Hungers: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 5) (39 page)

And in that moment of contact, the beast rushed up. Desperate. Hungry.
Demanding
.

It reached out, ready to take from this woman, this vampire, this fucking bitch. Ready to draw the life from—

No
.

With a violent shove, Serge pushed her back, sending her tumbling against the bar.

Beside him, Leena gaped, but he ignored her, all of his focus aimed at controlling the beast, on keeping it down.
Alexis
. He couldn’t feel her. But he could remember her.

Could conjure her. Could tap into his love for her.

Alexis, Alexis, darling Alexis
.

“Stop!” Leena’s voice rang out, and Serge whipped sideways, his eyes going wide as he saw Vivian held in what looked like the kind of heat shimmer that would rise from a hot street in the summer. “I can’t hold it for long.”

“You could never hold me for long enough,” Vivian spat back, fighting against the spell that contained her. “I have his strength within me, and I cannot be defeated.”

“His strength?” Serge looked at Leena. “His blood. Can you—?”

“I can,” she said, and before Vivian had time to figure out what they were talking about, Serge leaped forward. Leena dropped the force field so that he could get through. He practically flew at the vampire, knocking her backward onto the ground. And then, before she could anticipate his next move, he used a bar knife to slice her arm, then bled her until she’d filled a shot glass from the bar.

And then, because he just didn’t like the bitch, he used the stake that Leena tossed him and slammed it through her heart.

“You’re sure this will work?”

“I can do it,” Leena said, using her finger to draw an intricate pattern on the oak bar in blood. “I’ve actually been working out a spell for tracking a vampire through its blood. Alexis originally wanted to use her blood to track you—that was when she was trying to find the teenage girl and all she knew was your name. Even after she found you, I kept on working on it. I thought it might come in handy.”

“You were right.”

“It will weaken me, but for Alexis I can manage.”

“How is it that you know witchcraft?”

She eyed him sideways, her lip curving into the slightest of smiles. “You could say that it’s in my blood. My mother was a sorceress, and hers before that, all the way back into our dark, distant past.”

An odd sense of déjà vu washed over him. “What’s your surname?”

“Dumont,” she said.

A chill chased up Serge’s spine. “I knew a witch once. She was a slave at the Dumont plantation outside New Orleans. I asked her for help.”

“And did she agree?”

“The evening went awry. It didn’t end well for anyone.”

“Then I was fortunate to be born in a different generation. Let’s hope tonight goes better.” She nodded at the pattern on the bar. “It’s ready.”

As he watched, she pressed her hands against the wood and tilted her head back, her mouth open and her eyes closed. She muttered something in a language he didn’t know. At first, nothing happened. Then the blood on the bar began to shimmer and glow. As if it were quicksilver, the blood pooled up and eased over her hands. No, not over,
into
her hands. Until the pattern that was on the wood seemed etched under her skin. The pattern quivered and glowed, and then a tiny dot of red appeared.

Leena opened her eyes and turned her head. Her teeth glowed white in the dim light of the bar, giving her a lean, dangerous look. “Got it,” she said. “Let’s go.”

A dozen ice picks rammed into Alexis’s skull. And that horror had been joined by wave after wave of nausea and bloating and stomach cramps so horrible she wanted nothing more than to double over, clutch her knees to her chest, and moan.

She couldn’t, though, because she was strapped to a post—hands tied behind her back, legs strapped at the ankles, head held stable by duct tape across her forehead.

Twice she’d almost vomited, and her mouth was now swollen and dry. She felt miserable. Wretched. Positively vile.

But that was nothing compared with the horrific knowledge that the only reason she was being tormented was to entrap Serge.

“You’re going to die first,” she told Jonathan. “He won’t even think twice. You’re like some little bug he has to swat out of the way.” She grimaced as a wave of pain hit her. But she fought through it and shifted her attention to the vampire who’d introduced himself as Derrick. “He’ll take more time with you, though. He’ll want to watch you suffer.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” Derrick said. “Sergius has always thrived on the suffering of others. He was the master of pain and of death. My mentor, my
friend. Certainly my equal in that regard.” He took a casual step toward her. “Did he tell you? When he had you in bed and his cock was deep inside you, did he whisper sweet nothings? Did he share with you how he’d drained young women purely for the joy of watching them die? Did he make you come by telling you of the still-beating hearts he’d ripped out, for no reason other than to hear his victims scream?”

Nausea overwhelmed her, but she refused to turn away. She met his eyes defiantly. “Is that why you’re luring him here? Because he’s not that person anymore and you can’t stand that he’s decent and you’re still vile?”

Faster than she could see, his hand lashed out, slapping her hard against the cheek, the pain increased exponentially since she couldn’t move her head to absorb the blow. “It would serve you well to watch how you speak to me.”

“Why? I’m dead already.”

He chuckled. “True. But there’s still the question of the pain, isn’t there, Alexis, darling? I owe you a great deal of pain. How many of my men did you kill?”

“Not nearly enough,” she said.

“No, your death won’t be easy. Not easy at all. But until then let’s be friends, shall we? Come on, darling. Give us a kiss.” And then his mouth was on hers, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to jerk away, but was foiled by the binds that held her. He forced his tongue in and she gagged. He pulled away, laughing, his fangs scraping her lower lip.

“I suggest you get your hands off my woman.”
Serge!
She opened her eyes, afraid her mind was playing tricks,
but he was there, the door behind him hanging open on one hinge. Jonathan was crumpled, headless, at his feet. And beside him, Leena stood, a crossbow tight in her hands.

Alexis wanted to cheer, but her joy at seeing him was stolen by the knife Derrick pressed against her throat. “Bravo, Sergius. It took you a bit longer than I anticipated, but at last you’ve made it to the party.” Serge took a step forward. “Ah, ah. Careful my friend. I can cut off her head with one stroke. And that’s a death even you cannot defeat.”

Hesitation filled Serge’s eyes, and she watched his face as he calculated what to do. Beside him, Leena hadn’t moved, though she appeared to be talking to herself, muttering low, unintelligible words.

A fresh wave of nausea crashed over Alexis and her stomach and chest convulsed, her body wanting to bend over and fight the pain, but unable to do so. Simultaneously, she felt the flick of the knife as Derrick tightened his grip.

Serge’s cry of
“No!”
mingled with Leena’s, and Alexis squeezed her eyes shut, afraid that this was the end.

But then the press of steel was gone and she opened her eyes and saw Derrick frozen in front of her, only inches away, a heat-like shimmer surrounding him. A second later, an arrow pierced the shimmering air, landing dead-center in Derrick’s heart. The vampire’s mouth opened in a gape of surprise, and then there was nothing. Just dust cascading to the floor.

The shimmer disappeared, and Leena dropped her crossbow and sagged against her cane.

“Dead,” she said. “And about time.”

In an instant Serge was at Alexis’s side. He ripped
through her bindings, and she collapsed, shivering, into his arms. It was getting worse. She felt hot and cold and she was certain that any moment her head was going to explode.

“She’s ill,” Serge said. “Alexis, what’s wrong?”

But she could only shake her head.

Leena approached, then stood over them, frowning down. “Tell him,” she said. “Tell him what’s wrong with you.”

Her friend’s voice sounded harsh. “Leena?”

Leena laughed, but there was no humor. “I said to tell him. Tell the vampire who killed your sister why you’re dying.”

More nausea rose inside her as the truth washed over her.
Dying
. Oh, dear God, Leena was right—she was going to die right here in Serge’s arms.

“Dying?” Serge repeated, his voice frantic. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The spell,” Alexis whispered, forcing the words out past the pain. “When I gave my blood for the map. The scar on my wrist. I pledged vengeance. I pledged death. Either I killed the vampire I was hunting or the magic would have my life.”

“No.” His voice was firm, unbelieving. “No, that isn’t possible.” He turned to Leena. “You’re a witch. Can’t you do something?”

“It’s a vengeance spell. She made the pact of her own free will.”

“But things have changed. And you have power to alter the spell.”

“I have power? You’re asking me to use my power? Funny how things never change, isn’t it?”

The words flowed over Alexis, and she tried to understand
what was going on. But the conversation wasn’t making sense.

“Never change?” Serge repeated, his voice full of disbelief. “No. No, it can’t be true.”

“You and your friend took everything from me,” Leena said. “You took what I loved. Now you can watch as I take what you love. Cure her? Not possible. And now you suffer. And the irony is that she chose that, too. And of her own free will.”

Trapped
.

Inside her own body, Leena watched what was going on. Watched as someone who looked like her and talked like her but
so
wasn’t her tormented her friend. Threatened death.

And Leena knew the threat wasn’t idle.

She tried to lash out. Tried to break free. Tried to find a way to slam at this prison with all of her consciousness and fight the creature that had pushed her down.

Tried to make the tiniest of chinks.

She’d come close a few times—so close that she could almost feel her limbs. Could almost grab control.

But it was never enough. And each time she thought she was close, she was crushed once again by the weight of a much more powerful sorceress.

“Evangeline?” Serge gaped at the girl, trying to reconcile the fact that this young woman who’d been Alexis’s friend was really Evangeline.

“Mostly,” she said, her smile thin and tight.

“I took nothing from you,” Serge said. “Don’t do this. Don’t destroy Alexis. She’s innocent.”

“You took my life.”

“And yet here you stand.”

She snorted. “I had to destroy my daughter to do so, and her daughter after that.”

“Had to?” he repeated, finally understanding what she’d done. The vile depths of the magic she’d used. “Or chose to?”

“It’s your fault Tomas is dead.” Her eyes flashed wild. He forced himself to keep his voice calm.

“Derrick killed Tomas. Not me. Not Alexis. Take me, and let her live.” Beside him, Alexis murmured a protest, but it was weak. Her skin was gray and clammy. Time was running out. He forced himself to be calm, to think.