Dreams of a Dark Warrior

THIRTY-FOUR

“You don’t want to mix it up with us tonight, Flicka,” Regin warned the centaur king. Of course, he did not have a torque and had somehow scored not one but two swords. “Just let us pass.”

He stalked closer, swinging those swords with super-natural speed. Eyes on Natalya, he said, “Vengeance is mine.”

“You have no quarrel with the Valkyrie,” Natalya said. “Let her go.”

“She’s a leader in the Vertas. This is our opportunity to crush all of you.”

Regin calmly aimed her rifle. “You’re an easy target. Lots of surface area to wound. Big-game hunting’s my new fav—”

He charged them; Natalya screamed, “Regin, fire!”

“I’m going to grease him right now!” she yelled, pulling the trigger.

Nothing.

She banged the gun against her upraised knee, then tried again. Oh, shit.

Volós bore down on them with his swords swinging, one ton of irate centaur male.

Regin ducked and chucked her rifle at him—he sliced through it. Natalya flung six shards of glass at him. They plunged deep into his flanks, but he didn’t seem to feel them.

With a scream, the fey leapt for Volós’s side, swiping her poisonous claws across his body. But the centaur was unaffected.

Regin realized why. The torque had neutralized all her powers—which meant her poison.

While Natalya gaped, Volós kicked out his back legs, his hooves speeding for Regin’s chest.

Fire. On me? Wake up. …

Declan forced his eyes open, shaking off the blackness.

Fuck! His armored vest was on fire. He jerked upright, shrugging free of the armor, knowing it was the only reason he still lived.

He scanned the area for the Sorceri. But they were gone, no doubt certain they’d killed him.

And while he’d been out, the Queen of Stone’s mountain had risen until the facility’s entire framework shifted.

Realization sank in. There was no containment, no retaking the installation. This structure was about to crumble to the ground. It was done. There’d be no self-destruct override.

So how long until the sequence timed out? He squinted down at his watch.

Less than half an hour left.

Mere minutes to get Regin to safety, and only one shite option available to him.

As soon as he’d lurched to his feet, nearby creatures turned their heads in his direction, ears or noses twitching. Eyes zeroed in on him. “Blademan,” they whispered. “It’s the magister.”

They attacked in a wave. He reloaded the rifle and opened fire, burning through another clip.

Too many of them. No time to reload. He shouldered the rifle and drew his sword, slashing his way toward Regin’s ward.

In midstride he slowed, canting his head. Regin’s scream.

Over the pandemonium, the roars and explosions, somehow Declan had heard her.

He pushed hard in that direction, evading opponents instead of engaging them. Sounds seemed to dim until all he could hear was his heart thundering.

His body began to change. Blood pumped to his muscles—they drank it in as though starved for it, growing, strengthening.

Finally he knew what to call this.

Berserkrage. A beast stirs within me.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t resist, gave himself up to it. Never had he felt the transformation like this. Because I’ve never done what I was born to do.

Protect her.

Lothaire recoiled from the boy, spitting a mouthful of blood.

Blood that was part vampire, yet masked by something else he couldn’t place. Lothaire wasn’t often surprised, but this had taken him unawares.

Blyad’, we don’t drink our own! He spun Thaddeus around, clutching his upper arms. “What are you?” He gave him a shake. “What—are—you?”

The boy turned owl eyes up at him. “Th-they told me I’m a vampire.”

Lothaire spat once more. “Then they’ve only got half the story.” He released him with disgust, his fangs aching so badly they’d likely turn blue.

“Are y-you gonna bite me again?” he asked, his gaze darting toward the frenzied combat ahead.

Lothaire scanned for another victim. “Consider me immune to your charms.” He started forward, beings diving out of his way.

“Uh, okay. I’m just gonna trail behind you, mister, if you don’t mind. Let you run interference.”

Without slowing, Lothaire said, “You are as insignificant to me as a fly.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. So where’re we headed?”

Lothaire absently said, “To find the Blademan.” And get my ring. Finally. He stormed toward Chase’s office.

When ghouls mindlessly rushed them, Lothaire dispatched them readily. Any creatures stupid enough to attack him paid with their lives.

The boy had begun gazing up at him worshipfully.

As he should.

“Wait, Mr. Lothaire,” Thaddeus yelled from behind him. “Those’re my girls up ahead! Or they used to be. Might wanna kill me now that I’m a vampire and all. But they’re fighting with that gigantic horse thing. Can you take him out and save them?”

Lothaire cast him a chilling glance over his shoulder. “Aid a Valkyrie and a fey?”

The boy swallowed. “For that debt of gratitude?”

Lothaire eyed the centaur. Volós had pledged no allegiance to him.

If you’re not with me …

Regin leapt back, narrowly avoiding Volós’s hooves, tripping over a headless body. Natalya was still ducking under Volós’s swords, but he was too fast. Just a matter of time.

Surveying the area, Regin spied another gun—this one attached to a downed guard’s hand. She clambered across the floor to it, but the man was still alive, barely. When she yanked on his rifle, he yanked back with one hand, holding in his entrails with the other.

As she played gun tug-of-war, she saw Thad a short distance away. “Tiger! Ah, thank gods.”

He turned to her with a wobbly smile, calling out, “You don’t wanna kill me?”

“You’re such a douche!” she yelled in answer, which made him grin wider. Then she noticed who he was with.

Thad was following Lothaire like a puppy; the kid hiked a thumb at the vampire, then gave her an okay signal.

“No, Thad, get away from him!” She snatched the gun free, aiming at Lothaire.

Click. Click. Empty? Balls! Hate guns.

But as she watched in disbelief, Lothaire stole behind Volós, casually raking his claws across the centaur’s back legs, severing tendons. Volós began teetering, his legs bending at weird angles.

Like a shot, Lothaire was in front of him, calmly sidestepping Volós’s swords as if he could predict exactly where the centaur would swing. The vampire stretched out one long arm and severed Volós’s throat in a rush of blood.

When Lothaire cupped a handful of it to his mouth, Thad cried, “Dude! That’s disgusting.”

“It’s mother’s milk.” The vampire walked on as if he’d merely stopped to tie his shoe.

Still scrambling for purchase, Volós dropped one sword to clamp his gaping throat; Natalya took advantage, catching the weapon. She used it to lop off Volós’s forelegs, sending him toppling forward.

“Give your nephew my regards!” With a scream of victory, the fey took his head.

Revenge. One down, one to go. “Grab your trophy, Nat, and let’s book.”

As Natalya sliced the queue from the back of Volós’s head, Regin grabbed Thad’s shoulder. “What were you doing with Lothaire?”

Thad pointed. “He’s getting away! We’ve got to stick with him.”

“No way, kid. That leech is bad news! Evil as hell.”

“Not all vampires are evil—I’m not! And he saved you two, didn’t he? He’s strong enough to get us out of here. After we find the Blademan.”

“Blademan?” Regin gazed at Lothaire fearlessly striding forward through the commotion. He was like a snowplow as beings cowered. Lothaire can take me straight to Chase. “I’m following him.” She snagged Volós’s second sword from his clenched fingers.

“Oh, fine!” Natalya said. “Just be wary, Thad. And take this.” She handed him her sword, preferring to load glass shards between her knuckles again. “Swing first, ask questions later.”

When the three of them caught up to Lothaire, he frowned at his new retinue of immortals but didn’t deign to annihilate them.

As they passed Carrow’s cell, Regin peered inside, but the occupants were long gone. No piles of ash remained either, so Regin was hopeful. Brandr too was missing.

She spotted Chase just as Lothaire tensed in front of her. The magister was fighting his way through the ward, somehow fending off waves of creatures.

Regin and the vampire said in unison, “He’s mine.”

Lothaire turned to her with silky menace, his bloodstained face as hard as a marble statue’s. “Chase remains alive for now. Or you do not.”

Regin was raising her sword and opening her mouth to argue when vampires traced all around them.

Red-eyed Horde vampires. Who looked surprisingly enraged at Lothaire.

“We’ve been searching for you, Lothaire,” the largest one said. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out that you betrayed the Pravus?”

Another added, “The Enemy of Old has clearly allied with the Vertas, now working with a Valkyrie, a fey, and a…” He gestured toward Thad.

The leader said, “You freed the rage demon king. He guards the well with his queen. There’s no retaking it.”

“Was that I?” Lothaire shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes were reddening. “Ah, yes. It was.”

Regin had heard about him freeing Rydstrom, a Vertas demon king, and had mulled the vamp’s motives. But then she’d learned that Lothaire had extracted a high price for his cooperation: Rydstrom’s vow to give the vampire anything he wished in the future.

“Shall we get on with this, then?” Lothaire sighed. “I’ve pressing business to attend to.”

The vampires appeared astonished by his gall. Most of them began to converge on Lothaire, Natalya, and Thad, but a trio closed in on Regin, separating her out.

One told her, “You’ve slaughtered so many of our brothers, Valkyrie, over your unending lifetime. At last you’ll pay.”

“We’re not going to kill you,” said another. “Not at first.”

They began tracing all around her, delivering blows, then disappearing before she could strike with her sword. The torque made her so sluggish. …

One backhanded her, whipping her head around. Blood flew from her lips, her staples straining.

Another’s hit sent her skidding across the glass-strewn floor, leaving a trail of crimson like a mop swipe. The third lifted her limp body by the neck and a thigh and flung her into a swaying stone wall.

Before she could scramble out of the way, the wall collapsed over her, pounding her body into the floor. Pain exploded all over; consciousness wavered.

The vampires weren’t finished. One snatched her hair to drag her from the rubble as she shrieked.

As if in a dream, she heard Chase’s answering bellow.

Suddenly the glint of a sword flashed at one vampire’s throat. His head tumbled to the ground.

The remaining pair turned on their attacker.

Chase. Standing just there. His eyes were blazing, his body larger, his muscles swelling with his berserkrage.

They rushed him. With uncanny speed, he sliced through one’s neck, seizing the other by its throat.

Squeezing, squeezing. His brutal power … The vampire’s eyes bulged just before Chase separated its head from its body.

Then Chase ripped free the masses of concrete that covered her as if they were feathers. “Hold on, Valkyrie.” With unexpected gentleness, he scooped her up, clasping her to his chest. “I’m gettin’ you out of here.”

“Hate you.” She was too weak to fight him. So dizzy. To black out now, with enemies all around? Her Valkyrie instincts screamed for her to be wary.

“Hate me all you want—after I save your life.”

As Chase lifted her, she gazed back at the fight. Lothaire was still surrounded in a battle to the death. Natalya and Thad had escaped? Yes, Natalya had somehow snagged a charge thrower and was threatening to fire it as she backed herself and Thad out of the clash. He was scanning the area, yelling, “Regin!”

Regin drew a breath to call for them—

“Ah-ah, Valkyrie.” Chase shoved his gloved hand over her mouth as he took off in the opposite direction.

Only when they were clear did he remove it.

“Why … save me?” As she struggled, his pitiless face grew blurry.

Gazing down at her, he growled, “Because I’ll protect what’s mine.”

Darkness took her.