04 - Rise of the Lycans (25 page)

Tonight his only enemy was boredom.

He spat upon the ground, barely missing the metal grate a few inches away from his feet. The grate had felt loose when he had
accidentally trod on it before. He wondered if he should mention that to
anybody.

Another crack of thunder split the night. Vayer looked up, grateful for the
rough-hewn stone roof above his head.
Sounds like a hell of a storm,
he
thought. Thank the Elders he was indoors and not up on the ramparts tonight!

The deafening boom almost drowned out the sound of clanking against the wall
behind him. He looked down in surprise to see the rusty metal grate lying askew.
“What the devil?” He fumbled for his sword.

A powerful hand grabbed his ankle. He yelped in surprise as he was yanked
down the drain….

His glorious career as a Death Dealer ended permanently.

Two more Death Dealers were posted in the hall outside the Lady Sonja’s
quarters. The noblewoman had been confined to her chambers upon the orders of
Lord Viktor himself. Rumors were rampant throughout the castle as to what the
Elder’s daughter might have done to warrant her imprisonment, but if half of what
the gossips said was true, the guards figured she was lucky not to be spending
the night in the dungeons instead.

Could it be true that she had actually coupled with a lycan? The senior
guard, a grizzled veteran named Lazar, shook his head at the very notion.
Filthy slut,
he groused silently. Were she anyone else’s daughter she’d
already have been branded as a whore for such a wanton perversion of nature. But
that was always the way of things, wasn’t it? The goddamn aristocrats got away
with crimes an honest soldier would be flayed alive for even thinking of.

No that he would ever dare to say so aloud, of course Especially if he
thought an Elder might hear.

He pictured Lady Sonja and the slave together. Once you got over the sheer
sacrilege of it all, it was hard not to find the provocative rumors vaguely
arousing. Salacious fantasies frolicked across his imagination, producing a
bulge in his breeches. He licked his lips as he wondered how exactly a lycan
rutted with a vampire.
Probably took her from behind,
he supposed,
like a dog in heat….

A faint noise, coming from just around the corner, interrupted his lubricious
reverie. Lazar exchanged glances with his partner, a Wallachian vampire named
Dmitri. Drawing his sword, Dmitri hurried to investigate, leaving Lazar behind
to stand guard over the bedchamber. Long moments passed as he waited tensely for
the other soldier to return. He strained his ears to hear over the thunder
rumbling outside.

Was that a muffled cry he heard? Or the sound of an armored body hitting the
ground?

“Dmitri?”

No answer came from around the corner.

Locked within her chambers, Sonja sat forlornly at the edge of her bed. Her
hand went to her throat. Although the bite marks and scratches had long since
healed, leaving the skin smooth and unblemished once more, the emotional scars
left by her father’s attack had not yet faded. She wondered if they ever would.
A fresh gown had not cleansed her from the violation she had endured at her own father’s hands. Even now, she could still feel his sharp
fangs penetrating her flesh….

She knew she would never be able to see him the same way again.

Dark shadows haunted her eyes; she had slept little since the attack, and
what meager slumber she had managed to attain had been troubled by disturbing
dreams in which a demonic bat, wearing her father’s face, sucked the last drops
of blood from her body. Her anguished gaze went to the door. Every part of her
wanted to flee Castle Corvinus and never return, yet she knew that the Death
Dealers outside would not permit it. She could only await her father’s judgment
and tremble at the thought of what terrible punishment lay ahead for her. A
vicious flogging such as Lucian had endured—or perhaps something worse?

Surely not!
she strove to convince herself. Even after all that had come
between them, surely her father would not order her death.
I am still his
only child!

But after what had happened last night, in this very bedchamber, she could no
longer be sure of anything. Her entire world had been shaken to its core…
and in more ways than one. Her hand drifted across her belly. Her stomach, which
had been unsettled for many nights now, troubled her once more. She felt an
unfamiliar stirring within her.

At least Lucian is safe,
she thought. That knowledge was all that
comforted her in these trying hours. She prayed to the heavens that he would not
be reckless enough to try to rescue her.
Leave me, my love. Do not sacrifice
your freedom for my sake.

Footsteps sounded outside the suite.

* * *

“Dmitri?” Lazar called out again, louder this time. Once again, his hail was
met with silence.
Damnation,
he cursed. He wavered, torn between staying
at his post and finding out what had happened to this partner.
He better not
have snuck off to relieve himself!

Finally, he could abide the suspense no longer. Checking to make sure that
Sonja’s door was securely locked from the outside, he drew his own sword and
cautiously crept down the drafty corridor. His former arousal wilted completely
as he wondered what had become of the other Death Dealer. Rounding the corner,
he discovered that a torch had gone out, leaving the hall shrouded in inky
shadows. He peered warily into the dark. Was that breathing he heard up ahead?

“Dmitri? Are you there?”

A flurry of motion, moving almost faster than the eye could see, was the only
warning he received before something cold and sharp sliced across his throat,
just above his protective steel gorget. A cold red waterfall cascaded down his
front. He crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Stealthy feet stepped over his corpse.

Sonja stared intently at the door. Minutes had passed since she had heard the
guards stomp away to investigate the crash. At first, dark imaginings had sent a
chill through her heart. Had her father dispatched an assassin to quietly rid
his bloodline of a humiliating embarrassment, or was her sire himself returning
to “question” her further? In truth, she had not known which dire circumstance
would have been preferable.

But her courage had returned as another possibility leapt to mind. She held
her breath, hoping against hope.

Please let it be so,
she prayed.
It
must
be so….

A metal latch was drawn back on the other side of the door. The creaking
wooden barrier swung open and Lucian rushed inside. Fresh blood stained the
double-edged sword in his hand. His muddy leather gear and boots dripped onto
the carpet. Concerned brown eyes sought her out. “Are you all right?” he asked
anxiously.

Already clad for battle, she now wore a leather surcoat and boots over a
suit of fine chain mail that clung to her body like a second skin. As plate
armor did not lend itself to stealth, she had not donned her heavier gear. Her
pendant was tucked between her breasts. She drew her own sword from its
scabbard.

“I knew it was you,” she declared.

Joy and relief washed over her. She ran to him and clung to him in a fervid
embrace. She could feel the comforting warmth of his body even through his tough
leather garb. Their lips found each other and they fed hungrily upon their love
until her fears at last reasserted themselves.

“You…” She pulled her face away from his. “But you should not have
come.” Guilt coursed through her veins as she grasped the tremendous risk he was
taking on her behalf. “You were free.”

He shook his head. “Not without you.”

That was all she needed to hear to restore her spirits. They lost themselves
in another kiss before they finally broke apart once more. It dawned on her that
this was the first time Lucian had ever dared set foot in her bedchamber, but,
alas, there was no time to share it with him. Commotion sounded in the hall
outside. Footsteps pounded up the stairs toward her chambers.

“We have to go,” he insisted. “Now.”

If it was not already too late…

Sandor rushed up the stairs, followed by a trio of loyal Death Dealers. A
chambermaid had reported a disturbance on the top floor of the castle, not far
from where Lady Sonja had been confined to her quarters. The captain hoped that
the noise was simply the result of some clumsy accident, but he feared the
worst.

How could that lycan have gotten past my guards?

His heart sank as he spotted the prone body of a soldier lying in a darkened
corridor leading to Lady Sonja’s quarters. A crimson pool surrounded the
murdered Death Dealer’s body. Bloody boot prints led away down the hall. One of
Sandor’s men knelt to check on their fallen comrade, but the captain knew better
than to waste time on a corpse. Not while an intruder stalked the castle.

“Lucian,” he muttered under his breath. It could be no one else.

Just as the Elder predicted.

He wondered momentarily what had become of the second guard, only to have his
fears confirmed by the sight of the vampire’s severed head, lying several feet
away from the man’s truncated body. Glazed blue eyes gazed blankly up at the
captain as he rushed past the carnage toward Sonja’s quarters. The horrified
gasps and curses of his men followed him down the adjoining hall.
First
Kosta, now this,
Sandor thought. He was starting to lose count of just how
many vampires Lucian and his rebels had killed….

“Treacherous dog!”

He skidded to a halt outside the open door to Lady Sonja’s chambers. Scarlet
boot prints crossed the threshold, but Sandor trampled over them in his haste to
check out the interior of the suite. It took him only moments to confirm the
ghastly truth.

Lady Sonja—and her murderous lover—were gone.

A pair of Death Dealers crouched beside the open drain behind the smithy.
They muttered in confusion as they called out for their missing comrade. Peering
down into the inky blackness of the drainage tunnels below, they were taken
unawares by Lucian and Sonja, who rushed silently out of the shadows like demons
freshly conjured from the abyss. Twin swords cut the knights down before they
could raise an alarm. Slashed throats spilled crimson cataracts onto the sooty
floor of the workshop.

Lucian plucked a burning torch from a sconce as he stepped over the soldiers’ bodies. Lightning flashed outside the smithy,
followed almost immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. The storm, it
seemed, was almost upon them.

Sonja wiped the blood from the blade Lucian had provided for her. He stood by
chivalrously as she swiftly lowered herself into the waiting chute. He had
already warned her not to be startled by the dead soldier waiting at the bottom
of the drain. They exchanged a silent look before she disappeared down the
drain. He gave her a few minutes, then followed after her.

The first faint lashings of rain pelted the roof of the smithy.

Sandor came rushing into the great hall, tracking blood onto the floor.
Judging from the captain’s apparent lack of wounds, Viktor judged that the
enticing red splatter was not his own. The soldier’s agitated manner suggested
that Viktor’s plans had at last come to fruition.

“Milord!” Sandor cried out in dismay. He prostrated himself before the
Elder’s throne. “Your daughter has escaped!”

The consternation on the captain’s face was almost amusing. He looked as
though he expected to be fed to the wolves for his failure. Instead Viktor
calmly sipped on his crimson quaff.

“Ah,” he said, completely unperturbed. “Of course she has.”

The waiting was over….

The rain was coming down in force now, flooding the ancient catacombs and
drainage tunnels. Hand-in-hand, Lucian and Sonja waded through the icy torrent. The rising yellow
sewage washed crumbling skeletons from their funerary niches. Skulls and bones
floated past them. A drowned rat bumped against Lucian’s leg.

Freedom, and a new life together, perhaps as man and wife, awaited at the end
of the tunnels. Lucian found it hard to believe that they had already come so
far without being stopped. It was almost too easy….

Suddenly, a metal grate in the ceiling, no more than ten feet ahead of them,
was wrenched open from above. The fugitive lovers jumped backward in alarm.
Torchlight invaded the tunnel, followed by a large wooden barrel, which crashed
down into the catacombs from high above their heads. The barrel smashed against
the floor of the sewer, splintering into dozens of wooden staves. Thick black
oil spilled into the frothing water.

No!
Lucian thought, realizing at once what was in store. He tugged
frantically at Sonja’s arm, dragging her away from the spreading oil. Just as he
feared, a blazing torch was tossed after the barrel. The torch ignited the oil
and broken timbers, which burst into flame like a vampire in the sun.

A scorching blast of heat and smoke drove Lucian and Sonja back the way
they’d come. They choked on the noxious fumes. Lucian’s mustache and beard felt
singed. “This way!” he shouted over the roar of the fire as he pulled Sonja from
the crackling orange conflagration, which chased after them like a thing alive.
Cobwebs flared up briefly before crumbling to ash. Burning rats shrieked in
agony.

This is the trap Raze warned me of,
Lucian realized.
Viktor has us
right where he wants us!

* * *

Many feet above them, in the rain-swept courtyard, Sandor and his Death
Dealers readied another barrel. The soaked vampires struggled to keep their
torches lit despite the driving rain and wind. Lightning slashed across the
night sky. Thunderclaps rattled the stained-glass windows of the keep. Water
gushed from the mouths of the sculpted grotesques perched upon the eaves.