Immortal Sleepers_Blood Awakening Page 14

  If he did not know better, he would have assumed that the boy slept.

  “I’ve brought you a present,” Cynric drawled. A malicious smile twisted his lips as the boy slowly cracked open his glowing, ultramarine orbs, and stared at him through the darkness of his makeshift jail cell.

  * * * *

  Caleb struggled to open his eyes as the sound of his captor’s voice registered in his drifting consciousness. Trying his hardest to glare, he could barely focus on the stark visage his captor afforded. He had not had so much as a drop of water for three days. For all he knew, he now hallucinated the three figures standing outside his cell.

  At the sound of the locks on the door clicking free, Caleb forced himself to hunch forward, and every muscle in his body screamed in protest. He glared through hooded eyes at the figure of a small Vampire girl as a larger figure unceremoniously pushed her into his cage. She looked about as emaciated as him. He fought the urge to shy away from the pale monster who entered after her, then gestured for the large Vampire outside to shut and lock the door.

  “Hello, Caleb,” Cynric crooned. He cocked his head to the side, and regarded his captive blankly.

  Caleb could not read any sort of emotion or mood from his captor. He strongly doubted that the creature felt very much of anything.

  “Sadist,” Caleb slurred. His vision swam as a wave of intense hunger assaulted him, clenching his gut in an iron fist and exploding in a white-hot flash of pain behind his temple. He knew that his main bodily functions would slowly shut down, one after another, in an effort to preserve his more essential functions, like blood flow and brain activity. The process gave him extreme pain, but giving in to the maniac sitting in front of him, even in his current state, still struck him as an unacceptable alternative.

  A small smirk tightened Cynric’s lips at Caleb’s familiarly scathing wit, and he sighed. “I grow wary of our little game, Caleb.” He inspected the chain he held in his hand before leveling a glare at the malnourished boy on the floor at his feet.

  Caleb let out a small chuckle that came out more like a muted cough. “But we were having so much fun,” he choked out. Then he closed his eyes, and rested his head back against the dark glass walls.

  Cynric kicked offhandedly at one of Caleb’s blue, black, and white skater shoes, bringing the teenager back to consciousness. “The time for fun is over.” He leaned forward and stared directly into Caleb’s eyes. If anything bugged Caleb most about the man, it was those endless black pits of his. They always seemed to drown him in a swirling chasm of despair. He gulped past his parched larynx, but refused to avert his gaze. It seemed to give the bastard the sense of an upper hand when he knew he’d unsettled Caleb. And he always grew ten times more unbearable afterward.

  “I am sure you are aware that if you do not nourish your cells, you will expire shortly,” the black-eyed abomination drawled out in that annoyingly matter-of-fact tone.

  “Awe, Cynie, I didn’t know you cared.” Caleb smirked. He caught the momentary reticence in that black gaze as he punctuated the little pet name he’d developed for him.

  “If you continue to refuse to eat, I am afraid you will leave me no other choice but to force you,” Cynric declared. He tugged on the chain, bringing the young female Vampire closer to them. She’d crouched on the other side of the cage, seemingly trying to make herself as small as possible in the hope that she might be forgotten.

  Caleb huffed, then winced as his abdominals groaned in protest. “Good luck with that, jerkwad,” he ground out. Then he leveled a glare at Cynric that would have melted a normal man in his boots. He could only assume that the evil bastard wanted him to drink this Vampire girl’s blood. He would sooner kill himself.

  “Drink from this Vampire of your own volition, or I will kill her,” Cynric warned.

  Caleb leaned back against the wall behind him, and continued to stare nonchalantly through heavy-lidded eyes at the figure opposite him. He did not even spare the effort to glance at the newest addition to his cell’s decor. “Why should I care?”

  Cynric smirked, and drew the Vampire girl up against him. She squeaked in startled terror, and small tremors wracked her body. She swept her large, violet eyes constantly around the expanse of the cage, never settling on any one thing for more than a moment before shifting to the next. Some dirty pillowcase-looking scrap of cloth hung loosely from her bony shoulders and hips. Ebony hair fell over her face and across her shoulders, constantly flowing with the tremors that shook her tiny frame. Her skin, drawn tightly over her face and body, seemed permanently smudged with dirt and grime from the mines. Cynric roughly grabbed the girl’s chin, and forced her to look forward into Caleb’s guarded blue pools.

  “You see Vampires in black and white,” Cynric taunted. “To you, they are all creatures worthy of destruction, simply for being. This female has never set foot outside of this realm, never fed on a human, never harmed another living soul. And yet you would condemn her to death for the sake of your inconsequential stubbornness. Now then, between the two of us, who is the bigger monster?”

  Caleb clenched his jaw, and glared daggers at his captor. “I won’t.”

  Cynric hung his head, and sighed in dejection. “Very well.”

  It happened too rapidly for Caleb’s delirious senses to register. Cynric removed the girl’s head from her body in one swift action, those emotionless black pits never leaving Caleb’s vibrant blue, and dropped her decapitated body on the floor in front of him.

  Caleb drew up sharply, ignoring his body’s protest, and sucked in a sharp breath. Cynric suddenly loomed right in front of him. The haunting black eyes, closer than ever before, brought forth the terror he’d managed to drown within himself until this very moment.

  “The next time I bring you a meal, there will be no conversation. You will consume if I have to feed you myself.” Cynric shook with the force of punctuating the words. “Now eat!”

  Turning on his heel, Cynric walked right through the heavy glass surface of the locked cell door.

  Caleb became suddenly and painfully aware of two things. One: he had pushed the maniacal bastard into a corner, where he could not hold his ground against him. It was becoming increasingly apparent to him that the man was capable of literally anything. That thought, in and of itself, wholly terrified the young Vampire Page.

  Even more terrifying, however, was startling revelation number two. Blood quickly drained from the decapitated body of the young Vampire girl; the warm, flowing red liquid spread out around her corpse in an ever-growing puddle. While that disgusted Caleb, it disturbed him less than what he realized next. The most delicious scent he had ever tasted steadily enveloped him. It permeated the air, suffocating him with its overwhelming allure.

  Caleb fought tooth and nail against his body’s reaction to that which would alleviate his suffering. He clawed for purchase on the floor, his short nails scraping against the glass surface as pure, basic instinct pulled him forward.

  Feed to survive.

  Caleb inwardly cursed his own damnation as his lips finally touched the crimson freedom from his pain.

  * * * *

  Tyrian drained the last of his canteen, and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve before squatting next to the bubbling water. It flowed up from a geyser in the sand dunes, and ran down into the city through the aqueduct on the west wall. He refilled his canteen, at the same time testing the temperature of the liquid he would most likely have to swim through to get inside the city.

  “It will be uncomfortable, but you will survive,” Drake offered nonchalantly.

  “Well, that is comforting, thank you,” Tyrian replied, sarcasm dripping from each syllable. He glanced up at the mile-high city wall, its black, glass-like texture shimmering in the afternoon sun. Caleb was here; he felt it. Along with something else that had pressed at the back of his mind since he’d learned of his Page’s capture.

  How in the worlds had whoever took Caleb brought him here?

  “Th
ere’s only one way you’re going to find out,” Drake’s ever-present rationale echoed in his mind.

  Tyrian secured his pack on his back and clasped his coat around his chest, trying to create a protective barrier against the scalding liquid before submerging himself in it. After taking a deep breath, he steeled his resolve and dove into the bubbling brook.

  It resembled jumping into an acid bath.

  Tyrian’s skin screamed in fury as the stream assaulted it. Propelling himself forward, he relied on Drake to navigate his way through the maze-like aqueduct. Just as he thought he would either drown or cook, Drake urged him upward. He broke through the surface of the stream, and gulped in a great breath of air. After spotting the edge not two meters away, he swam through the water and hauled himself with great effort out of the boiling liquid.

  Tyrian stooped on hands and knees to catch his breath, and let his accelerated healing repair some of the damage to his extremities. He felt the press of a blade before shiny, black boots broke through his field of vision. Silently, he cursed himself for lowering his guard in enemy territory.

  He slowly turned his head, and looked up into dark orange eyes encased in the pale face of a solitary Vampire scout. Knowing that even in his weakened state he could probably take the sentry, he moved to reach for his hook swords, but a voice halted his motion.

  “Hello, Hunter. Welcome to the Vampire realm.”

  Tyrian glanced in front of him at the Vampire who had addressed him, flanked on either side by two more. They wore dark pants and jackets, the edges straight and pressed. Each of the four flanking Vampires carried a short, hooked blade at his hip, while the leader apparently carried no weapon.

  Sighing to himself, Tyrian once again cursed his rotten luck. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you I was lost?” He hoped that the creatures would take his humor in stride, and not force him into a battle he might not make it out of.

  The leader of the group gestured for the Vampire holding the blade to Tyrian’s neck to stand down. He stepped forward then, pinning Tyrian in a violet stare that held no malice the Hunter could detect. A small smile suddenly lit his stark, pale features.

  “I should certainly hope not, Tyrian Blackwood. We have been expecting you. I am El’on, head of the house of ’On, leader of this city, and old friend to the soul now housed within your body. No harm shall befall you by my hand, or any hand I command. Welcome to Torehj, Hunter.” He inclined his head in greeting, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “El’on, he is a good male. A worthy second in battle. You can trust him,” Drake assured him.

  Tyrian scoffed. “I trust no Vampire any further than I can toss it.” He felt, more than heard, a sigh of exasperation from his mental companion.

  “You knew Ra’al?” Tyrian asked aloud. He carefully pulled himself to his feet, and made overly sure to show no outward signs of weakness.

  One of the guards, all of whom shared a striking resemblance, stepped forward and spat on the ground at Tyrian’s feet.

  “The house of ’Al was always the strongest of our race. Until the White Witch came and took our leader from us, forcing him to kill our people in the name of peace!” the Vampire raged with rampant malice.

  Tyrian slid his hand a little closer to his hook swords.

  “Vor,” El’on warned.

  The Vampire Hunter leveled a stare at the one called Vor. The depths of that gaze held a promise of swift retribution. “He didn’t kill your comrades; I did. I will offer you no condolences or request your forgiveness, and if I find that any of you are guilty of crimes against the human race, I will cut you down as surely as I did those before you,” he promised.

  A ripple of unease washed over the company of Vampires. A few reached for their weapons in response to the blatant threat. El’on, however, closed his eyes and shook his head. His soft chuckle cut through the tension, easing the atmosphere almost immediately.

  “You don’t have very many friends, do you, Hunter?” El’on asked, his ever-present smile proving infectious, and drawing Tyrian into his amity.

  “None that are Vampire,” Tyrian confirmed with less of a dark tone than he’d intended. It had actually come out sounding more like an invitation.

  He immediately blamed Drake.

  “Then I will be proud to be the first.” El’on smiled, and held out his hand in greeting.

  Almost of its own volition, Tyrian’s hand rose to clasp the Vampire’s outstretched appendage. “I don’t know why I just did that...” He trailed off, stared down at their joined hands in mild confusion, and cocked his head to the side. Then he drew his brow down in a frown.

  “Perhaps your instincts know what your mind will not believe,” El’on offered. He moved their hands up and down in the decidedly human custom called a handshake. “I am not your enemy.”

  Pulling his hand from El’on’s grasp, Tyrian regarded the old Vampire warily. “We shall see.”

  Clasping his hands in front of him, El’on nodded, then gestured to the entryway of the aqueduct. “Come! You need rest, and to eat.”

  After shrugging to adjust the pack on his back, Tyrian glared at the overly zealous Vampire leader. “I don’t have time for that. I have to find what I came here for, now.”

  El’on nodded, stepped behind the Hunter, and proceeded to push him toward the exit, followed closely by his guards. “Yes, of course, after you’ve replenished your strength.”

  “I don’t think you understand—” Tyrian began, but the aged look of wisdom in the old Vampire’s violet gaze cut him off.

  “I believe it is you who do not understand, young Hunter. You will need all the help you can get if you wish to besiege the mines where your friend is being held captive. Much more than Vampires now guard its depths. You would be foolhardy to rush in unprepared and expect to succeed in your endeavor. Accept our hospitality, Hunter. Eat a good meal; rest your body. Tomorrow, we will take you to that which you seek,” El’on cryptically explained.

  Against his better judgement, Tyrian allowed the old Vampire and his entourage to guide him into the city. He could not deny the truth behind El’on’s words, though. Perhaps, after he’d eaten and rested, he would find out what the old man actually knew, and if it would ultimately help him in his quest to find and free Caleb.

  * * * *

  Kaelyn yawned and stretched her arms above her head, muscles straining and tendons popping from non-use. She’d remained in the same position for—she glanced back at the clock—just over four hours. Her single-minded mission had been to discover as much as she could about herself and her kind.

  She had begun with the oldest book she could find about Vampires. She had learned that almost everything she thought she knew about them was utterly false. Only their aversion to sunlight seemed congruent with her assumptions. Though most of the book concentrated on the ways to kill a Vampire, she had also discovered a few things about their world and their diet that she had not previously known.

  For instance, Vampires needed blood to survive, but it was not their sole source of sustenance. Because their realm lacked its own vegetation, they relied on a diet of protein and fatty acids, which they derived from the livestock that inhabited the realm. The little she had learned about their environment had also been fascinating, but not exactly what she had looked for.

  So she had moved on from Vampires to Mediums. Very little documentation existed about her kind, so few of them having ever been discovered. Only five had been found since the creation of the first Hunters, ten thousand years earlier.

  None of the five had been a Vampire Medium.

  One thing, though, caught Kaelyn’s interest in her readings about the Mediums. Apparently, they were all born with an extrasensory gift that manifested itself through one of their primary senses: sight, scent, sound, touch, or taste.

  So far as Kaelyn knew, she did not harbor any sort of special gift.

  One of the previous Mediums, of the Siren realm if she recalled correctly, ha
d had the ability to see the future in her dreams. Another, from the Sidhe realm, harbored the ability to grow plants with a single touch. Kaelyn couldn’t recall anything like that ever happening to her. Setting that thought aside for another time, she continued in her musings as she gingerly rose from her spot on the couch and meandered her way to the bathroom.

  She couldn’t rightly remember what had happened to Lilith and Slade. She hadn’t seen either of them in several hours, though she knew they were still around somewhere. They would not leave her unguarded, lest she do something they considered stupid—like research a way to open a portal.

  Kaelyn pushed down the rampant giddiness that swelled within her at the idea, then thought back on the last book she had read, which had detailed that very thing. Apparently, because she was half Vampire, but born in the human realm, she had the ability to open a portal and cross over to the Vampire realm. The simple thought of it sent a rush of belligerent anticipation shooting down her spine. Of course she wouldn’t actually be stupid enough to attempt such a thing.

  Probably.

  She had also learned that she couldn’t quite trust herself to dictate her own actions based on logic and propriety anymore. She was dying to scratch the itch in the back of her mind that demanded she do everything within her power to return to Tyrian’s side. It was absolutely maddening! No matter what she tried to will her mind to think about, it always wound up referencing back to him.

  Sighing dejectedly to herself, Kaelyn slumped into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, where she came face to face with the previously absent Druid leader.