Blood Awakening (25 page)

Salvatore made a tent with his hands, then linked
his fingers, listening intently.

“I will then take the infant from Nachari,”
Marquis continued, “and you will take Ciopori from Zarek so that the final exchange
is left between us: cooler heads.”

You? Cooler than me
? Nachari mocked.
Dearest
virgin goddess, you might be the best warrior here, but emotionally speaking—you
are the least stable among us!

Be quiet, Nachari!
Marquis warned, giving
him a hard look of reprimand. He returned his gaze to Salvatore. “Then our
brothers will step away.” His eyes swept over Nachari, gauging the wizard for signs
of resistance—the potential for disobedience. He knew how badly Nachari wanted
the infant dead, and what an affront submission was to any male in the house of
Jadon. “Nachari will leave the colony and notify me when he is back on solid
earth, just as Julien and Ramsey did ahead of him. He will pose no threat to you
at the time of the exchange, and we will each have one less thing to worry
about.”

Brother, please don’t ask such a thing,
Nachari
pleaded, all jest and humor gone from his psychic voice.

You know this is the only way, Nachari. I
haven’t time to barter…consider it my Spoken Word.

Nachari briefly shut his eyes, and Marquis’s heart
skipped a beat. Was he asking too much of the wizard? As Shelby’s twin, would
Nachari at last choose to disobey a senior command?
Great Perseus, Victorious
Hero,
Marquis prayed,
you are the guardian of my brother’s soul. I
beseech you: Make him compliant in this command.
He turned his attention back
to Salvatore and awaited an answer.

Salvatore frowned. “And with all your warriors and
your brother gone, you would leave me and Zarek—alive and well—to pursue you
and the princess the moment the exchange is made? Why is it I’m having trouble believing
you, warrior?”

Marquis shook his head. “Because you haven’t let
me finish.”

Salvatore bit his bottom lip. “By all means,
continue.”

Marquis dug deep inside, searching for a calm he
wasn’t sure he possessed.
Gods, this was a bunch of horse shit
. “Once
Nachari is gone, Zarek will slice his carotid artery and bleed out”—he took a
deep breath—“
until he flat-lines.
”

“Are you insane, son of Jadon!” Salvatore’s curses
shook what remained of the chamber walls, and fire shot out from the tips of
his fingers as he gestured wildly with his hands.

Marquis held steady. All lives depended on this
barter. “How else do I insure our safe exit, Salvatore? Be reasonable. You know
as well as I do that Zarek does not have the self-control to abide by our
agreement, or to keep from coming after the princess the moment we walk out the
door. And once you have your nephew, there will be no reason for either of you to
honor our bargain.” He held up his hands. “Consider this: You have a two-minute
window to bring Zarek back to life once his heart stops beating—all it requires
is enough of your venom and a great deal of blood.” He raised his eyebrows. “You
can hardly pursue us and save Zarek at the same time: I am quite certain that
you will choose Zarek. Whereas, we will have two minutes to leave this colony.”

Salvatore snarled and began pacing in a tight
circle, his breath wafting in and out in hard, angry pants. “And what if you
don’t make the exchange, huh? Then what, warrior? What if you kill the child,
instead, or try to take Zarek’s head while he is helpless? I cannot defend them
both at the same time. What if you force me to choose between Derrian and
Zarek’s life?”

Marquis shook his head. “There is still the matter
of Ciopori, Dark One. Do you think I would go through all of this just to let
her die at your hands in order to double-cross you? If I attack your nephew or
your brother, I will lose the princess, and I will have to fight you to the death
as well; of that, I am quite certain.” He waved his hand around the room. “However,
should
you
choose to double-cross
me
—considering where we are—remaining
behind without my warriors would be suicide. You are not the only one taking a
risk, Salvatore. This is a reasonable solution to a difficult problem. Do not
be foolish. We all wish to walk away alive.” He sighed. “Again, search my mind
if you must, but let’s get on with it.”

Salvatore waved his arm through the air and growled
a low, angry rumble. “Give me your word as a warrior—on the life of your king—you
will not delay the exchange. The instant Zarek flat-lines, you will place
Derrian safely in his crib and leave with the princess.”

“On the life of my king,
I will
.”

Salvatore pulled at his own hair, taking a large
chunk out in sheer frustration, and then he spun around to square off with
Marquis. “Know this, son of Jadon: If you fail to keep your promise, I will not
allow you an easy death. You will be captured in this colony and restrained. And
you will be forced to watch while every male in the house of Jaegar takes his
turn with your princess. You will witness her death, birthing my offspring. Do
I make myself clear?”

Marquis bit a literal hole through his tongue,
meditated on the pain, and struggled to restrain himself.
Salvatore Nistor was
the walking dead
. He had sealed his own coffin with that threat.
Tomorrow,
he reminded himself.
Today, just get the princess out of here.
With
a strength he didn’t know he had, he growled the word
yes
.

“Very well then,” Salvatore spat. “Send your
warriors away, and let’s do this. My nephew is injured.” He turned to face the
three blistering Dark Ones. They were leaning against the wall, their harsh faces
contorted with disgust. “Slit your wrists, brothers. And don’t seal the wounds
until I tell you to.”

The males eyed one another warily, and then glared
at their councilman with stunned fury.

“Do it!” Salvatore barked. “And don’t bleed all
over my bed.”

Incredulous, the closest male removed a dagger
from the back of his jeans and sliced his wrist all the way to the bone,
glowering at Salvatore as the blood shot forth. The remaining two released
their canines and tore the veins open with their teeth.

As they sank down to the floor, arms rested
against bent knees, the blood began to pool, and Marquis became deathly quiet: He
would not trust Salvatore to make such an important determination. Summoning his
extra-sensory hearing, he monitored each soldier’s heartbeats as his blood
pressure fell.

He then turned to Julien and Ramsey. “Go swiftly,
my friends. And transmit to me the moment you are back above ground.”

As Julien and Ramsey turned to leave, Marquis addressed
them privately, telepathically:
And call Napolean at once. Alert him to our
position. Explain what is happening. Tell him to prepare an ambush!

The sentinel cleared his throat. The tracker nodded
almost imperceptibly.

And then they sauntered out of the room.

“You know this is not over, this thing between you
and me,” Salvatore snarled in Ciopori’s ear, a deep threat reverberating in his
voice. He nodded at Zarek. “Release her and take your place across the room so
the wizard can walk out unscathed.”

Zarek’s eyes were two gleaming balls of hatred as
they bore into Salvatore’s, his entire body trembling with contempt. “You risk
my life for this worthless son of Jadon?”

Salvatore reached out and cuffed him, knocking his
head so far to the side that his neck popped before snapping back in place, and
then he grasped a fistful of Zarek’s black and red hair. “Do not speak to me of
the choice I’ve been forced to make when Valentine has already perished at this
warrior’s hands. Should you and Derrian fall this day, I would gladly follow
you into the Corridor of the Dead: How can you doubt my loyalty?”

Zarek wrenched his hair free and stalked across
the room, still seething. “You are not the one about to die on the floor!”

Salvatore’s claws bit into Ciopori’s waist, and
she fought not to cry out. The last thing she needed was Marquis losing his
cool and having to fight the entire colony because he went after Salvatore
without any back-up.

“See what you’ve caused,” Salvatore hissed.

Ciopori didn’t respond. She simply watched Marquis
and Nachari exchange the baby—the evil little fiend—and held her breath as
Nachari left the lair, slowly walking backward, his eyes never leaving Zarek or
Salvatore.

The minutes seemed like hours as they waited quietly
for word from Nachari that he had made it out of the colony safely. Dear gods,
what if something went wrong? Ciopori quickly pushed the thought from her mind.
No. Nothing would go wrong. The plan had to work.

Aware that she was wearing what amounted to no more
than the remaining lace of a camisole and panties—thanks to Zarek’s obscene
display earlier—she shivered, keeping a straight face as the enormous erection
behind her jerked repeatedly against her lower back. This was definitely not
the thing to bring to Marquis’s attention, and vomiting wasn’t a much better
idea. She swallowed her bile and squared her chin. She could endure the foul
being for a little longer.
Mother of Aries,
where was Nachari?

When it seemed like time had literally stood
still, and both males had become dangerously antsy, Marquis finally waved his
hand at Salvatore. “He is back in the valley.”

“Show me,” Salvatore spat.

Marquis must have projected a powerful image into
the Dark One’s mind because Ciopori felt Salvatore tense and then relax behind
her as a sudden surge of energy flowed through him. His gaze turned back to
Zarek. “You know what must be done, my brother. Do not waste time. Let us get
this over with.”

Zarek crouched down like a wounded animal, and his
eyes shot back and forth between Marquis—whose fangs were scraping softly
against the infant’s neck in lethal warning—and Salvatore, who now had
Ciopori’s neck in both of his powerful hands, ready to snap it at a moment’s
notice.

“Easy, Zarek,” Salvatore warned, indicating the
baby with a nod. “He is all we have left of our brother.”

Marquis visibly bristled, and Ciopori’s heart
ached for him. He had nothing left of his brother Shelby, and now, he would be
forced to release the child, born of Dalia’s rape, to the rapist’s brother. Her
soul wept knowing that he did it for her.

“Zarek,” Salvatore repeated, his stare fixed on
the anxious vampire. “Just do it.”

Zarek took a deep breath. He reached behind his
back and drew a long silver stiletto, with crossbones engraved in the pommel.
He placed the tip against his carotid artery and hastily slit his own throat,
his eyes never leaving his brother’s.

As the blood began to spurt out, he staggered backward,
bent over, and braced his hands against his knees, remaining in that position
until at last he began to choke on his own blood. With one final impassioned
plea from his eyes, he toppled over onto the floor and sank into the crimson puddle.

Ciopori glanced back at Salvatore as he became
eerily still. His heart raced beneath his massive chest, and his eyes remained glued
like two hot coals on the crimson pool of blood expanding beneath his brother’s
unconscious body. “That is close enough,” he snarled at Marquis, pressing a
sharp claw against Ciopori’s own artery.

Marquis didn’t flinch as he shook his head. “
Flat-lined,
Salvatore.
Deceased
. That was our agreement.”

Salvatore began to sweat as both warriors waited,
listening for the sound of
silence
. The complete absence of a heart-beat.

And then just like that, it happened.

Zarek died.

Salvatore spun to face Marquis, his heart pounding
so furiously Ciopori could see the rise and fall of his chest. “Put Derrian in
the crib, take your witch, and go!” He was shouting, his voice frantic. “
Now!
”

Marquis did not waste time. “Step away from
Ciopori, and I will place Derrian in the crib.”

Salvatore looked like a crazed madman as he
sidestepped a yard to the right of the princess, finally releasing her neck.

Marquis nodded and placed the baby in the crib. “Go
to your brother, and we will take our leave.”

Salvatore started to rush to Zarek’s side but
apparently thought better of it. Turning to face the warrior, he slowly stepped
backward, circling in the opposite direction of Marquis as the son of Jadon
approached Ciopori.

At last, he was at her side.

Marquis reached out and clutched her to him like
she was the last remaining soul on earth. His arms trembled as he cradled her
against his chest, his hands sweeping over her body all the while to check for
broken bones and injuries. As she allowed herself to go limp in his arms, tears
began to stream down her face for the first time. She couldn’t believe he was
there, holding her…that he had actually come for her.

Marquis nestled his head in the crook of her neck
and inhaled deeply. “Oh, my love, I thought I had lost you.”

She fisted his thick, silky hair and drew him even
closer, afraid to let go.

“What the hell did he do to you?” His hand swept
over one of the bite marks on her stomach.

“Nothing, my love.” She stroked his cheek.
“Nothing I couldn’t withstand. I’m fine. Believe me.”

  Marquis growled deep in his throat, his canines emerging
even longer. “It doesn’t look like nothing.” He steadied his voice. “Did he…did
Salvatore—” 

“No!” Ciopori insisted, pulling away from him in
order to look him in the eyes. She cupped his face in her hands. “Look at me,
Marquis!”

His eyes bored into hers.

“
No
.”

Breath he didn’t seem to know he was holding
released from his body, and he pulled her, again, to his chest. “I swear to you
on my honor, I’m going to rip his bowels from his body. He will die for this
insult.”

Ciopori raised her chin. “Do not lose your focus,
warrior. I am counting on you to get me out of here. Understood?”

Marquis closed his eyes momentarily, and then a pair
of snarls passed between him and Salvatore as he hastily led Ciopori to the
busted door, carrying her over the threshold to prevent her from cutting her
feet on the rubble.

Thank the gods
, she murmured to herself.

She was finally leaving the lair.

She was just about to lay her head on his chest
when she heard a loud, explosive boom, the sound of Marquis punching a hole in
the cavern wall, his fist penetrating at least twelve inches deep.

“What is it, warrior?” she asked, taken aback. The
limestone exploded, sending bits of stone flying in every direction.

Marquis pointed back to the lair.

Salvatore had retrieved Derrian, draaged Zarek to
the bed, and pulled a small brass lever on the headboard, causing a solid
diamond enclosure to descend from the ceiling, fully encasing the three of them.
It was the vampire equivalent of a
safe room
: a diamond fortress that
could not be breached.

“We can’t touch him now!” Marquis spat. He cursed in
an unrecognizable language.

“We?” Ciopori asked.

Before Marquis could answer, the sovereign lord of
the house of Jadon approached from the end of the hall: There were three warriors
flanking him, two at his sides, and one at his back. Ciopori instinctively drew
into herself, feeling suddenly self-conscious. She was acutely aware of her miniscule
clothing.

Marquis shook his head with disgust as he met
Napolean’s gaze. “Don’t bother,” he snarled. “Salvatore has managed to place
himself and his family inside a diamond cell. We don’t have time to deconstruct
it.”

Napolean’s eyes flashed deep amber, but he showed
no further emotion. “Very well.” He gave a hand signal to his men.

As the males fell into formation, a shrill alarm
began to ring overhead; the entire colony filled with a painful, pulsating drone.

Marquis clutched Ciopori by the arm. “Son of a bitch!
He already set off the alarms.”

Napolean remained calm, motioning the males in
front of him. “Move out quickly.”

“Milord?” A perilous-looking male, with eyes much
like Marquis’s, glanced inquisitively at the king. “You wish to take the rear?
Forgive me, but your life is far too important. Please, allow me in your—”

“Move out, Nathaniel!” Napolean ordered. “Santos, you
take the lead. Marquis, you keep the princess in the middle. Saxson, you get
Marquis’s back.
I
will take the rear.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before
the king growled low in his throat. “
I said
move out!
”

The warriors sped through the underground tunnels like comets racing through a
night sky. They were headed in the direction of the eastern-most elevators, the
ones that would take them to the surface, when all of a sudden they heard a loud
whooshing drone behind them, like an enormous body of water rushing toward
them.

“What is that?” Santos eyed Marquis nervously. “You
think they’re gonna try to flood us out?”

Marquis frowned and began searching the tunnel for
signs of an indoor irrigation system.
Gods, he hoped not.
Vampires could
slow down their breathing, even hold their breath for long periods of time if
necessary, but Ciopori would drown under such an assault. He carefully assessed
the limestone wall, analyzing how long it would take him if he had to barrel
through it, using only his body as a rotary to dig their way to the surface.

As the men slowed down, each one evaluating the
danger, Napolean shouted from the end of the line. “It’s not water! It’s an
army.”

Marquis spun around, mystified: The Dark Ones were
flying through the tunnels at such enormous speeds that their collective wings gave
off the sound of rushing water. And
holy hell
, if they didn’t look like an
approaching swarm of black and red locusts. Hate-filled, glowing eyes pierced through
the darkness even as wild banded hair flapped in the furious wind.

Marquis released Ciopori. He shoved her toward the
nearest warrior and withdrew his nine-millimeter. “Santos, take the princess
and go!” The remaining warriors would just have to do their best to buy the
princess and Santos time.

They could shoot at the eyes of their enemies to slow
them down, but they would eventually have to engage in hand-to-hand combat if
they wanted to give the two any real chance of escape.

Saxson pulled out an AK-47, and Nathaniel reached
for a pair of grenades. “We’re with you, brother.” His eyes lit up with
harnessed fire.

Napolean held up his hand, a commanding gesture. “Do
not fight! Get to sunlight!” He eyed Marquis intently. “
You
take the
princess out of here, warrior.”

Marquis shook his head. “I am the oldest, most
experienced fighter here, Napolean. You know I will not leave you.”

Nathaniel snarled, “Each warrior here is worth a hundred
Dark Ones. Not to impugn, milord, but we will stand with you.” His blue-black
hair fell forward, partially concealing his glowing eyes. Death radiated around
him. A red haze of intensity framed his face, giving him the ominous appearance
of a dark angel.

Napolean held out his arms and threw back his
head, his own feral eyes ablaze with fury. His body trembled as it rose off the
ground, and then he began to glow, his surrounding orbit emanating such intense
heat that the limestone around them began to melt.

The warriors stepped back, retreating with caution,
as their Sovereign’s head pivoted to the side, and his ghostly black-and-silver
hair caught fire.

The male was a blazing inferno, yet he neither
smoldered nor burned.

A hint of madness filled his dark eyes as
unchecked rage dilated his pupils. “There are
thousands
coming.” His
voice echoed through the hall like thunder, sparks ricocheting off the walls as
the space around him vibrated with electricity. “You will go into the sun, as I
command, my warriors”—his fangs descended beyond his jaw, casting the startling
appearance of a saber-toothed tiger—“and then I shall command the sun to come
to me.
Now go!
”