Page 44 of The Salvation

Mayce and Drago’s bond is the polar opposite of twisted and dark. Nothing about them is depraved. They are the essence of fire and growth. Burning hot and flourishing with life.

The skeletal stones groan from the surge of wind whipping across them as we make our approach. Every bitten vampirewho dares to widen their eyes or open their mouth meets their end before they can so much as whisper a warning.

Through desecrated aisles and ancient passages, I guide my brothers to where the scent of human flesh and blood is thickest. Not that they require a guide when they hold as strong of senses as me. But this is still my world, my territory.

“Preserve the humans at all costs,” I command them in a lowered voice as we approach the heart of the cathedral. Any who volunteered for such a life will return to the Court of Hollows. All others will be free to escape to their homes.

The nexus of the cathedral is more like a ruined amphitheater. A haunted stage for dark rituals. One filled with a host of vampires wearing ceremonial robes of black with a crimson crest stitched onto the back. The same crest of a crown and blood droplets was carved into the skin of the head Reaver brought.

The coppery tang of blood curls its scent into my nostrils, and I narrow my eyes upon the well hewn into the very stone floor of the dais just before the altar. A well filled to the brim with blood. All of it...human.

I’ve seen enough.

Caging the urge to growl at the sight of the altar stained in blood, I press my lips into a firm seam as a priest takes his place behind it. Clutched in his hand is a dagger. Much like all the other vampires in the audience, he bears gaunt and sunken-in features, skin ashen and loose.

A human, clad in white, lays across the altar, their chest heaving from their maddened breath. Icy cold fury knifes through my blood from the knowledge of how hard I worked to ensure humanity would be preserved in my realm. Not just empty threats and laws with words but through actions. Actions that required spilling more vampire blood in those early days of my ascension to Malachor’s throne.

Tonight, my hands won’t simply be dirty. They will drown in the blood and flesh of these cultists.

Dressed in a tattered hooded red robe, the priest chants a malevolent incantation. I don’t recognize the words. I don’t need to. More chants echo, thundering from the throats of the vampires.

Next to me, Drago balls his scaled paw, growing his claws, his massive wings lifting, flaring at their edges. Flames lick at the sides of his body. On my other side, Mayce fairs little better with his appraisal of the sight. Impenetrable stone grows along his skin in a precursor symbol of armor. The ground trembles beneath him. With one channeling of his power, the Fae could bring down the entire amphitheater.

Ever since Quintessa entered our lives, we have all taken a more protective perspective of human life, more than we did before the Curse.

Reaver stands at our right flank, where I can keep an eye on him. Thus far, he has presented no powers. Most bitten vampires manifest with their usual human binding power. Stronger than their mortal blood could manage. Rare ones will develop two powers at times.

I am the rarest.

Turning to the shifter god at my right, I level my eyes with his and command in a lowered voice, “Have fun, brother.”

Parting his jaws and spreading his muzzle into a toothy grin, Drago beats his wings and unleashes the full dragon god within him, transforming into Thiago. The name Quintessa gave him. At the same time that Drago roars, shaking the decrepit foundation, I nod to Mayce. “Watch his back.”

“I’ve been watching his back and front for ten thousand years, Merikh,” the Fae says with a sly grin. “And other impressive parts.”

Mayce doesn’t hesitate to vault into the air after his partner, rising on those dynamic wings that are a weapon in their own right. If Quintessa learns how grateful I am for the Fae’s presence tonight, she will not hesitate to use the knowledge against me. In the sweetest of tortured ways.

Directing Reaver to stay close, I move toward the dais, where the necromancer huddles against the altar. Reaver clears a path for me, bringing down any vampires who would choose to attack. It buys him another morsel of respect. Not trust but respect.

By now, the amphitheater has plunged into chaos. Vampires and humans scatter for the exits, but Thiago roars his flames to block all escape routes while Mayce brings down the pillars, crushing and battering whole groups of vampires. I respect the Fae for his prowess in stopping the stone monuments from destroying any humans. Casting illusions with his wings to confuse the host, Mayce gives him and Thiago an easy time to pick off the cultists.

Countless humans have gathered between multiple fallen pillars, hiding in the shadows as best they can. The one on the pillar is still bound as I approach. Judging by the glazed expression, I understand venom has been used to numb the pain and reduce the human to a thrall.

The sounds of battle begin to slow and fade behind me, a sign that Mayce and Drago have nearly finished their sport.

Sneering, I lower my head to view the spineless excuse for a necromancer who cowers against the stone, defensive hands raised to protect his face.

He’s not worth the effort to touch him. All I need do is slow the blood in his veins, turning his extremities numb and aching from the loss. His pained moans signal the beginning of the throbbing pain attacking his organs and tissues. His withered breath marks the lack of oxygen to his lungs.

Brandishing my hand into a fist, I spit at the miserable worm, “How many reside in the Court of Hollows? What regions? Tell me now, and I will give you a swift death, priest.”

He clutches his ailing chest but weakly rasps, “Everywhere, renegade. We are everywhere. Blessed be the crown and its rightful ruler.”

As I’m glowering down at him, the priest holds up his cross. I roll my eyes as he kisses it until I register he’s inhaling the damned thing. Fuck, inhaled poison. Deadly one. If it was ingested, I could easily prevent it from hitting his bloodstream, or dissolve it. Kyan could stop it, but it’s too late. Instant paralysis, followed by his undead form rendered to a corpse.

I don’t bother kicking the body.

When I turn to the side, Mayce is working his natural charm and charisma upon the quivering humans while Thiago tears into the singed flesh and picks at the bones of the vampires.

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