Blood Ties Page 31

  “Yes,” a high-ranking vampire said, meeting Reykon with lukewarm curiosity. “Roger Nye, general.”

  “Any attacks so far?” Reykon asked, peering around.

  “No. Routine wolf scouts, but nobody coming towards the ramparts. They’d be daft to attempt it with this castle,” Nye laughed, chuckling along with his men.

  Anger rose up inside of Reykon. “Listen, Fausta’s going to launch an attack from this end. I don’t know-”

  “The battle is at the rear,” Nye scowled. “All extra units were diverted as per General Garrick’s orders.”

  “Yeah, I know what the orders were, but the battle on the field is a distraction. Fausta had spies. She was able to plant explosives in the rear walls of the castle, so we have to assume she could have access to the interior through methods she planted. Are you only guarding the front gate? Did you send any of these men to do checks on the weaker points?” he asked, glancing around at the thirty vampires spaced along this corridor.

  “Easton’s unit was in charge of non-essential perimeter checks,” Nye countered.

  “Easton’s unit was diverted to the field in light of the explosions,” he growled in frustration.

  “Then I suppose not,” Nye said with increasing anger. “We were stationed at the front gate, and we’re doing our job by manning our post.”

  Reykon shook his head sharply, turning to his unit. “We need to fan out and check the sides. There are weak points down each hallway, about two thirds of the way, and-”

  Vampires murmured from behind him, and one of them cleared their throats, stepping towards Reykon.

  “There was a noise,” the soldier said. Reykon didn’t miss the look of disdain that Nye shot his man, but the general gave a nod to permit it.

  “What?” Reykon asked.

  “Thumping from inside the walls, over on the west side, towards the outer passage around the castle. We thought it was refugees, after the explosion, so we didn’t investigate.”

  “None of the refugees were sent to this side of the castle. They were all clustered along the back half, in the upper floors,” Reykon said, a deep fear seeping into his gut. “A map. Someone get me a map.”

  The vampires glanced to each other before looking at Nye. After a moment, Nye let out a sharp breath. “Do it.”

  A rush of air brushed past him as a vampire zoomed out and back in the span of a couple seconds. He spread the map out on one of the decorative tables that had been shoved against the wall. His eyes scanned over the map, each hall, each barrier, and he motioned the soldier over. “Exactly where were the noises?”

  The soldier dragged his finger across the main hallway, where it branched into a smaller passage, shooting further into the interior of the castle, and tapped his finger twice on the fork. “Right around there.”

  Reykon scowled, scouring the area for any sign of incongruity until his eyes caught a squiggle, crossed out, just under the wall. “What’s that?” he muttered.

  Another soldier peered at it, and then another, until someone said, “old aqueducts that broke down. They never repaired them, in lieu of copper piping.”

  “Damnit,” Reykon hissed, realizing what Fausta’s hidden strategy must have been. “They’re in the walls.”

  “Wolves!” a soldier bellowed. The entire room stiffened, on guard, and Reykon charged over, looking between the two staircases where a vampire soldier was running towards them.

  “Forces!” Nye called.

  “Wait,” Reykon snapped. “How many wolves?”

  “Ten,” the man yelled. “They’ve made it to the grand hall.”

  Ten? Reykon thought. A wave of goosebumps sprouted across his shoulders, a nagging confusion pecking at his mind. “The map… hang on.”

  “We’re not waiting for a strongblood’s hunch,” Nye bellowed, motioning to his men.

  Reykon shook his head. “It’s a distraction.”

  “That’s what you said about the battle on the field,” Nye snapped. “My unit, with me, now! Let’s show these dogs who they’re fighting.”

  Reykon’s unit shifted anxiously. He could tell they were a split second from following, and Reykon checked the map once more. “This castle’s entirely symmetrical, right?”

  One of his soldiers nodded.

  “The wolves are coming in through the western aqueduct, drawing them away, but that still leaves this one…” he muttered. Reykon felt that notion, that gut feeling so deeply rooted inside of him that it felt like fact. But the fear, that notion that he was wrong prickled at the back of his scalp, whispering doubt in his ear. Just like Reed.

  He had to trust himself.

  Reykon drew in a deep breath. “She’s launching vampires from this side,” Reykon murmured, shaking his head. “The wolves are a distraction.”

  “Sir, with all-”

  Reykon shot him a steely look, shutting the man up in an instant.

  “How do you know?” another soldier asked.

  “Because that’s what I’d do,” he said, charging forward, down the dark corridor to their left, weapon raised. “If you want to join Nye and give the victory up, be my guest, but if you want to win this war and stop Fausta, then you’ll follow me, now.”

  Chapter 17 Retribution

  Reykon

  Nearly an hour had passed before anything happened.

  In that hour, he questioned everything he’d ever known about battles. He questioned every decision, every move, and every strategy he’d ever attempted. He second-guessed himself a million times.

  But he didn’t stand down.

  Updates had come from the main halls, and slowly, more and more wolves were bleeding out of the west passageway, keeping Nye and his men busy. But the east passageway had been entirely quiet, up until this point. His unit must have been seconds away from abandoning him when they heard the first signs of crumbling dust, coming from inside the walls. Now, each vampire stiffened, leaning forward and listening. When Reykon saw it on their faces, he knew he’d been right. Crumbling rocks shifted from the bones of the castle; they were right under the wall now. “Steady,” he whispered, barely audible. His men stood in a triangular formation behind him, and he cast a single glance back, weapon raised and ready. “Remember, gents. We’re not trapped in here with them, they’re trapped in here with us.”

  Smiles broke out across his unit, hungry smiles, and their defensive stances deepened, watching as the rock in front of them trembled, more and more dust streaming down until the whole wall toppled, and vampires began pouring out like an angry wasp’s nest. Reykon and his men gave a loud war cry, charging forward. Fausta’s forces met theirs, jarring Reykon with the impact as he bore down, jabbing his sword into the mass of teeming opponents, finding purchase in an enemy’s neck. His eyes flared with the victory, but he didn’t let it go to his head, attacking the next vampire with a fiendish intensity, unleashing his rage, his fury, onto every opponent that crawled out of that wall.

  The battle raged on. Soon, they’d been fighting for hours, holding their own against a near-endless stream of vampires, keeping it up until dead bodies blocked their way and they were pushed back a few feet, scanning the wall for more. Even in the yawning silence of that portal, Reykon new the onslaught wasn’t done.

  “Fresh ones, on their way!” one of his soldiers called.

  Reykon nodded, shooting a glance back. “Where’s Nye?” he snapped, out of breath and exhausted.

  The rest of the soldiers had no reply. Reykon gave a sharp nod and looked forward, preparing himself for the second wave. Hundreds of vampires poured through the wall, and one by one, his twenty-five men cut them down. It wasn’t until the start of the fourth wave that Reykon questioned his strength. But just as that wave began, he heard a noise behind them, thundering steps, and a bolt of fear drove through him until he saw who it was.

  Hugo, Robin, and Ezra were charging forward, with a force of about five hundred vampires and strongbloods behind them. Robin saw him, bloody and manic from
the battle, and she grinned. “I heard you had a vampire problem!” she called.

  Reykon couldn’t help but smile back.

  The battle lasted two more hours, until the first vestiges of dawn. Reykon was exhausted, and everything in his body hurt, but after seeing the dead soldiers pile up around them, after seeing each and every vampire that came through the wall surprised, taken aback by their presence, he was still riding the adrenaline of the fight, and the high of their success. When the battle had been declared theirs, his men cheered, hollering, slamming into each other with earth-shaking force, and then turning to Reykon, clapping him on the shoulder and lifting him up in a massive wave of applause. Exhausted beyond belief, he mustered up the energy to laugh, catching sight of Robin, cheering along with them. When the immediate celebration quelled, they made their way to the back field, in search of any stragglers or nearly dead infiltrators.

  “The wicked queen pulled back at the last moment. Our forces are still searching for her, but have come up empty,” Ezra explained.

  “She won’t get very far,” Hugo added. “Disgraced and disheveled.”

  “Where’s Lucidia?” Robin asked.

  “I spotted her at the final stand with Fausta’s last wolves,” Ezra mentioned. “But she fell back to consult Max in some matter. She’s probably tying up loose ends with the other scouts.”

  Lucidia

  Max’s eyes and ears were more helpful than they could have possibly anticipated; Lucidia had a hunch, but it was Max’s intel that caught Fausta slinking into the bowels of House Albus like the rat she was. The air in the catacombs hung heavy as Lucidia faced the vampire queen. Fausta’s armor was torn, a portion near her shoulder shredded, her perfect hair now coming apart. Blood and dirt smeared her face in war paint, but her eyes were still burning with hunger and life and the thrill of pursuit. A cruel laugh sounded out against the bare stone walls, echoing through the catacombs like a ghost. “Lucidia Draxos, the disgraced warrior.”

  “It’s over, Fausta,” Lucidia said sharply. “Surrender.”

  “Or what? You’ll kill me? You are not your half-breed sister, dear.”

  “I don’t need vampire killing powers when I’ve got a lifetime of fighting your kind’s battles,” she threw back. Her eyes narrowed, her voice like ice as it shot into the space between them.

  “We shall see,” Fausta murmured viciously.

  Lucidia let her feet slide against the ground, deepening her stance. Her eyes tracked the vampire as she circled, testing Lucidia’s reactions, gauging what sort of opponent she would be. In a split second, Fausta lunged, swinging Retribution towards Lucidia with an arc of fury. The sword sliced through the air, in the exact spot where Lucidia stood only an instant prior. She’d dodged it with an inch to spare. Again, Adonis’s instruction came to her. She felt the smooth boards beneath her feet, smelled the sweat and steel, thrown back to that day that he’d yanked her out of the rudimentary class and pulled her into an empty training arena. You are so talented, aren’t you? he chided, circling her with the wooden staff, a smile on his lips as she’d nodded arrogantly. Well then, little prodigy, let’s see how you do with your eyes closed. Even now, she could still feel the scratchy blindfold, discolored, grimy from years of blood and sweat. In that room, training with Adonis, she must have gotten smacked by his staff over ten thousand times. A thousand on your right shoulder, a thousand on your left, and a thousand on your head, he’d tease, smacking her again as she’d cry out in fury and frustration. How many more until you give up?

  Never, she’d growl back at him. And she hadn’t.

  Fausta brought the sword back down with tempestuous speed, slicing through the air over and over again as Lucidia moved like a gazelle, dodging it each time. She called on her ceres swords, imagining razor sharp daggers and feeling them materialize in her hands, short and swift, as she drove forward, into Fausta’s space. Her arms burned red as she unleashed a series of sharp cuts to the vampire’s armor, like a hornet, darting against her. It didn’t do much damage, but it had achieved Lucidia’s end: Fausta was infuriated. “I don’t really like broadswords,” Lucidia goaded, her tone like venom. “They only work from a distance.”

  “I can assure you, you won’t like this broadsword as it cleaves your body in two,” Fausta returned in an icy, cutting voice. Just as Fausta moved forward, Lucidia darted towards her, not giving the queen an inch to work with. Lucidia imagined a morning star, fierce and glinting, and watched the metal materialize as she flew towards the vampire, driving it straight into Fausta’s collarbone and listening as it pulverized her shoulder. Lucidia darted back, just in time for the tip of Retribution to shred through her arm. She grimaced, clutching the wound.

  Fausta pulled herself up, her shoulder snapping back into place like nothing had happened, the tendons knitting back together. She turned her head, looking at Lucidia from underneath her tempest of curls, blood coating her teeth. “Lucidia Draxos… trying to best me. Isn’t this a walk down memory lane? You fight just like your father, girl.”

  Lucidia’s eyes flared, a scowl of fury setting on her face.

  Fausta staggered once, her other hand finding Retribution’s handle. “Oh yes, Kenzo was just as formidable as you when I pulled him out of the prison and ripped him apart.”

  For a moment, Lucidia faltered, that well of anger coming up from inside of her so fast that she didn’t even think before she acted, screaming and lunging towards Calliope. Her veins of power were a blinding red, shining through the shadows like fireworks as she drove her fist into the vampire queen, only to find her blow met by air. Lucidia realized her mistake in an instant and whipped around as quickly as her reflexes would allow.

  She caught a glimpse of Retribution, just as a cloud of dust and gravel blasted her face, rock particles digging into her eyes. Lucidia cried out in frustration, staggering back until her shoulder jarred against the wall. She panicked for a moment longer before regaining her control and subduing her rage. Her eyes were still coated with dust, sharp and searing. “Fausta!” Lucidia roared.

  A saccharin laugh echoed through the cavern, bouncing across the stones. Lucidia quieted, calming her breath, ignoring her racing pulse, and listening for any sign of movement. Emotion is the weakest point in any warrior’s armor, Adonis’s voice called out to her. She heard nothing. She was as tense as a bowstring, forcing her breath out in smooth, silent draws. And then, to her left she heard the familiar sound of metal whistling through the air. Lucidia dodged, crouching and spinning out. “I don’t need my eyes to fight, Fausta,” Lucidia goaded, ticking her head to the side once more, trying to hear where the vampire was.

  “But they do help, don’t they?” Fausta returned.

  A baseball-sized rock hurtled into Lucidia’s ribcage, knocking her off balance, jamming her back against the stone wall in time for Fausta’s sword to come down again, just to her right. Lucidia blinked hard, clearing the remaining dust, the teary haze of the room coming back to her now. She pictured the weapon in her mind, and drove her hand forward, extending the silver whip just far enough to snap against Fausta’s torso, underneath her arms. She let out a growl of frustration.

  In an instant, Fausta was gone, whipping through the maze of arches and melding into the shadows. Lucidia stood, scanning the catacombs, searching for her opponent. “Only cowards run from battles, vampire,” Lucidia called, stepping into the middle of the room and glancing down the murky, labyrinthian corridor.

  “Kenzo ran from me, you know,” the vampire whispered, only a few feet behind Lucidia. Lucidia drew in a sharp breath, whipping around, daggers raised, but found no trace of the vampire. She quirked her head to the side, stalking forward, weapons ready. “I’m not proud of besting him,” Fausta shouted, stalking through the arches of the catacombs, hunting her prey. “Kenzo was quite weak when I dragged him out of his cell and forced a sword in his hand. I think the sentence had broken him… or maybe it was your betrayal that crushed his spirit.”

  Anger
boiled afresh inside of Lucidia and she cried out in rage. “Come and face me!”

  Another laugh echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and obscuring Fausta’s location. Lucidia’s eyes searched the darkness, met by shadow, as the queen’s stealth infuriated her even more.

  You fight with your instincts, Adonis chided, smacking her with that wooden staff, the blindfold scratching her eyebrows. The eyes give false confidence, but your heart never lies. Lucidia drew in a sharp breath, closing her eyes and extending her arms at the ready. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a wave of prickly goosebumps sprouted across Lucidia’s shoulders, and she heard a scrape, then another, as Fausta moved towards her, certain that she’d gotten the drop.

  But Lucidia wouldn’t be that easy to kill.

  She pictured the harpoon in her mind, thrusting her hand forward and driving it into the ceiling. Just as Retribution whistled through the air, raised and ready, Lucidia brought every ounce of power forth in a blast of blinding red and yanked on the chain, bringing an avalanche of rock down on the vampire queen. Fausta cried out, bludgeoned as more rocks fell on top of her. Lucidia stepped forward, imagining a spear and watching the metal dance into formation before her.

  Fausta’s arms were pinned by the rubble, and Lucidia stood over her, watching the manic look in the vampire’s eyes as Lucidia called on all her anger, all her hatred, all of the memories of her father and the others that had died in House Xander at the wicked queen’s hands. She let it fuel her bright red veins, the power boiling within her, as she drove the silver spear straight through Fausta’s heart. A sickening groan escaped the queen’s lips and Fausta struggled with all her might to pull herself up. It was futile; once the heart of a vampire was pierced, healing could no longer occur on its own.

  Lucidia wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, anger fueling her every movement as she stepped back and let her gaze fall on Retribution, on the famous broadsword of Hadriana the Great. Lucidia watched it for a moment before bending down and letting her fingers clasp around the handle. The weapon weighed about a ton, made only for vampires to wield; Lucidia never would have been able to lift it before, but now that her true strength had been unlocked, there was no telling what she could do.