Dreams of a Dark Warrior

THIRTY-SIX

Lothaire stood in the pouring rain watching as the plane came screaming back toward the runway.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d ordered the winged Volar demons to bring it to the ground gently. This touchdown would prove anything but.

If Chase died, all his knowledge of the ring would expire with him. Lothaire had ransacked his office, but couldn’t find it—

The craft landed belly first on the last quarter of the track, the initial impact ripping the fuselage in half, severing the tail from the rest of the plane. The cockpit half didn’t slow, barreling toward a wall of rock.

One wing and its engine separated, exploding into a ball of fire that rocked the night. The blast pitched the cockpit and remaining wing end over end until it crashed into the side of the cliff.

Lothaire hurried toward it. If Chase lived, Lothaire could drink him, harvesting all of the magister’s memories.

At the thought, his fangs dripped in his mouth. Such hunger … He’d have to take care not to drain the man down.

When he approached the mangled cockpit, the scent of aviation fuel swept over him; the remaining engine sparked and flamed in the hissing rain.

Just a matter of time before it too exploded.

He found that Chase lived. Barely. Blood streamed down his face from a gash at his temple, whetting Lothaire’s appetite even more. The plane’s frame had collapsed around his lower body, metal indentations trapping his legs inside.

As Lothaire impassively watched, Chase gripped his legs behind the knees and yanked, but he was pinned tight—

Those winged demons descended all around the crash site like vultures.

Some of demonkind, such as these from the Volar demonarchy, believed Lothaire was the devil himself, born to lead all demons back to hell. Naturally, he’d fostered this rumor. Now Lothaire bared his fangs. “I said gently.”

One muttered, “He unexpectedly made the craft dive.”

“Be—gone.” With fear in their eyes, they took off at once, great black wings swooping, fanning the flames.

Lothaire dropped to his knee beside Chase. “Where’s my ring?”

“Fuck off, leech!” He brandished his sword from a sheath at his side.

Before Chase could strike, Lothaire fisted his wrist, wresting the sword free. “I recognize this blade. You stabbed me with it, twisting it inside me.” Lothaire pulled the scabbard free, then donned his new sword. “For sentimental value. Something to remember you by.”

Next he seized the magister’s hand. “And now to be rid of this collar.” Though the man resisted, Lothaire tore off his glove.

More scars? Raised marks covered the back of Chase’s hand.

With a shrug, Lothaire flattened the pad of the man’s thumb against the torque’s lock. “Once I’m free, we’re going to find out exactly how much pain you can endure while remaining conscious. I won’t stop until you tell me where my ring is.” He leaned in to say at his ear, “I’ll be sure to make you feel your loss.”

Chase sneered, “My print won’t work.”

Lothaire pressed his thumb on the pad again. “You lie.” He snatched off Chase’s remaining glove to test his other print. Nothing.

“If you want your torque removed, go find Fegley. Tell him I sent you.”

“Didn’t you hear? The warden is dead. Emberine burned the man alive.” After his hand had been removed to use as a key. But the suka wouldn’t bargain for it, had threatened to incinerate it if Lothaire neared her.

So I’m still trapped. “Then you remain of use to me, Chase. You know of another way off this island.”

“Of course I do.”

“You will share it. But must I dismember you first?” Once Lothaire drank Chase, he’d garner knowledge of any potential escape to be had. But those stolen memories were difficult to access at will, no matter how hard he’d trained to do just that.

Most of the time the memories came in the form of dreams. How much sleeping will I be doing until I escape? Until I seize her?

The magister’s body twisted as the flames began to lick closer to his legs. As if he could see his female, Chase stretched one arm out, reaching in her direction. His eyes glowed with fear—but clearly not for himself.

He would be particularly keen to bargain. “I do hope your female’s faring better than you. If she survived the crash, she could be at the mercy of those winged demons. Lusty devils. They won’t kill her; they’ll keep her as a concubine. For centuries. They’ll breed on her as well, of course.”

Chase yelled, thrashing against the metal.

“You want to get to her more than anything,” Lothaire murmured. “You want it so badly, you’re dumbfounded that you can’t get free.”

Another violent thrash.

“Now you understand what it’s like to be kept from your female when she is in danger. To have some enemy gloating, while you are trapped and powerless, unable to defend her. But what if I pulled you free and you were able to go to her?”

“Do it! Free me!”

“You’d have to cede things in return. You stole my property, jailed me for weeks, starved and tortured me. So many debts to pay. The scales between us tip so heavily against you, I probably should just kill you.”

“You want to deal? Then do it!”

“My ring. I must have it.”

“It was taken off the island tonight. I don’t know where.”

“Blyad’! Then what else do you have? What will clear the slate between us?”

“The Order will strike this installation within six days,” Chase grated. “But there’s a boat a few days from here. I vow to lead you to it, if you free me now.”

A few days? Cutting it so close.

Lothaire would require blood in the interim. Normally he fed only every week or so, but he was still regenerating. And he’d need all the power he could steal to compensate for this torque.

“I’ll allow this to cancel out my stolen property and to pay for jailing me for weeks. You will be my guide—and my prisoner.” He examined his black claws. “Next?”

“What?”

“To pay for starving and torturing me. What could possibly be recompense for that?”

Chase’s eyes darted. “I don’t … know. Damn it, pull me free so I can think!”

“I can’t stand to see all this good blood going to waste, seared to nothing.”

The magister’s face paled even more. “The fuck you’ll be drinkin’ me!”

“When you tortured me, I told you I’d make you pay in ways you couldn’t imagine.”

As ever, I was right. Lothaire almost sighed. The world is so tediously predictable. Speaking over Chase’s furious railings, Lothaire said, “Until we escape, I want you to yield your blood to me.”

Submitting to my bite. Nothing would humiliate a man like Chase more, nothing could bring him so low. Though Lothaire was calculating—choosing to serve the Endgame, rather than his emotions—he was a vindictive son of a bitch.

“Never.” The scent of flames and volatile aviation fuel oozed over Declan. “Just free me!” The nearing fire, the frustration. He was going to burn to death without reaching Regin. And if he died, who would get her off this island before the Order retaliated?

The vampire said, “Someone will pay for the damage you did. Perhaps your woman? Yes, I should go pierce her bright flesh. If she lives yet.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Poor Regin. She could be bleeding out, or about to burn like you. Ah, she looked so weak, too. She could actually perish.” He tsked. “A legendary being like that, her life force extinguished forever. Because you wouldn’t surrender mere drops of your blood. And possibly a memory or two.”

“No, no!”

Lothaire rose. “Her blood will be sublime.”

“Don’t touch her!” Touch what’s mine, and I’ll punish you.

Lothaire knelt once more. “I want all the blood I can drink from you, Magister. Whenever and however I choose to drink it until we leave this island.”

However? Declan didn’t understand, couldn’t think. The metal frame of the plane was heating all around him, searing his skin. He would give his life to save hers, but surrendering his blood to a detrus … ?

To have another one of these creatures feeding from his body?

“Never mind. I’ll return with her head, so the two of you can fry together.” Lothaire turned once more.

“I vow it.” Declan bit back a yell as pain racked him. “Now free me!”

“Very well.” After several tries, the vampire hauled him loose in a rush. As Declan labored just to rise up on his battered knees, Lothaire snatched free two seat belts, using them to tie Declan’s hands behind his back.

“What the hell is this, vampire?”

Lothaire shoved one hand against the side of his face and clamped the other over his shoulder.

“No! What the fuck are you doing?”

“Exacting, no, accepting a payment from you. I promised you that you’d know when I wanted to drink you. Because my fangs would be shoved deep in your neck.” The vampire dipped down, murmuring, “They’re about to be. And with your invitation.”

Declan flailed, roaring with fury. Another detrus feeding on me! Another one touching my skin!

“It can be quite enjoyable if you relax.”

But no matter how hard Declan struggled, he couldn’t get free. He felt the vampire’s breath against his neck right before the bastard pierced him. There wasn’t the pain he’d expected, just a disgusting fullness.

The rage, the unspeakable humiliation . . .

Lothaire drew deep, his tongue working as he lapped and sucked. When the vampire groaned, Declan shuddered with revulsion, dizziness washing over him with each greedy pull from his neck.

Finally the vampire released him with another groan, sitting back on his haunches. “Your blood is steeped in power.” Running his tongue over a fang, he said, “Among other things. I believe I might be high. But I like it.”

“You wanted my memories, leech? They’re all yours.” All the torture, misery, hate. Declan gave a crazed laugh. “You’ll fuckin’ choke on them!”