Chapter 261: Will She Be A Problem?
Her chest rose and fell unevenly, torn between the rational truth of his words and the gnawing dread in her gut.
"So," he said casually, almost as if the conversation had never dipped into blood and shadows. "Tell me about this... Isolde. Will she be a problem?"
******
Lord Bishop trotted behind the other men. He adjusted his coat, muttering a prayer under his breath. This was one of those rare moments he was grateful he’d never sworn his loyalty too firmly to Gabriel. He had always waited, calculating who would stand and who would fall. Tonight, he suspected, would be the end of Gabriel’s game. Whatever was hidden down here had the power to damn him.
Up ahead, Damien walked side by side with his father, his stride measured but dangerous.
"With the distance we’ve walked, I think we’re already outside the boundaries of Blood City," Lucivar remarked. His eyes scanned the curving tunnel, noting every uneven groove in the stone.
"I wonder what he does down here," Damien muttered.
Lucivar gave a shrug, though there was no true dismissal in his eyes. "This could be nothing," he said, almost as if testing his son.
"And it could be everything." Damien could still see the necklace on Isolde in his mind, its threads of power thrumming faintly, wrong against her skin. That necklace hadn’t been crafted by any simple hand. Gabriel had access to magic—and Damien knew better than anyone that magic in Gabriel’s hands was a blade pressed against the city’s throat.
Their boots echoed through the chamber until they stopped at a hulking obstruction in the tunnel wall. A massive steel door loomed on the right, so out of place in the otherwise ancient passage that even the councilmen sucked in a breath. The door was laced with veins of sun shards.
Lucivar frowned, his eyes narrowing. "That door was made for imprisonment."
Indeed, a heavy wedge of blackened iron had been driven into place from the outside, sealing it shut. Someone had wanted whatever lay inside to stay locked away.
Damien strode forward, fingers curling around the wedge. With a sharp twist and a burst of strength, he ripped it free and tossed it clattering onto the floor. The sound rang out, a death knell in the silence.
He set his hand against the steel and shoved it open. The hinges shrieked in protest, the sound echoing down the tunnel.
The sight that greeted them on the other side froze the councilmen where they stood. Eyes widened, throats worked with swallowed curses, a few even took involuntary steps backward.
Damien’s nostrils flared at the stench, his eyes flicking over the nightmare before them. His suspicion had been correct, though the scope of it was worse than he’d imagined.
Only Lucivar did not look shocked. His face hardened, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. He had known—at least some part of him had known. Gabriel’s hunger for power had always been a bottomless pit, and pits this deep only swallowed darkness.
The air beyond the steel door reeked of decay and copper, so thick it clung to the back of the throat. Hundreds of vampires filled the cavernous space, their eyes glowing faint red, their skin mottled, thin, stretched grotesquely over bones. They were rogues—turned by force, stripped of sanity, bred only for violence. Their sheer numbers were suffocating. Their source of feeding laid on the floor. Decaying dead human bodies and bones. How long had this been going on.
Damien was beyond words. Rage thundered in his eyes, black and merciless. His chest rose and fell like a beast straining at its chains, his fangs lengthening against his will. He had suspected Gabriel was corrupt, but this—this was unforgivable. The truth unfolded with brutal clarity: Gabriel had controlled the rogue vampires that had terrorized the werewolf territory. He had orchestrated the slaughter that ended King Magnus Sinclair’s life. He had sent monsters after Luna while she was heavy with their child, forcing her to fight for survival when she should have been cherished.
Images of Luna’s pained cries, of her father’s bloodied body lying in the dirt flooded his mind until he could scarcely see straight. He wanted to rip Gabriel apart with his bare hands, to feel bone splinter and marrow snap beneath him.
Lucivar stood a step behind. He didn’t need to ask what his son felt—he could feel it, the fury spilling out of Damien like a storm threatening to shatter the ground. Yet where others saw a monster’s rage, Lucivar recognized the shape of grief, of love so violently wounded it could not help but bare its teeth.
The rogue vampires had noticed them now. Their heads turned in perfect unison, crimson eyes locking on the intruders. Their lips peeled back, exposing fangs, but they did not lunge. There was no hunger in their gaze—only disinterest. To them, the men at the entrance were ghosts. No heartbeat, no blood pumping warm through veins.
The eerie silence was broken by Damien’s voice, low and cutting as he spun toward Councilman Richard.
"Bring Gabriel to the throne room. Wherever you’re hiding him, drag him there. Now."
Richard, pale as chalk, bowed. "Yes, Your Highness." His voice quavered, and he nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to flee. The scuff of his boots faded quickly down the tunnel, leaving the others to stand in the thick weight of Damien’s command.
Damien turned to the remaining councilmen, his eyes glowing faintly. "The rest of you. Handle this." He gestured sharply toward the rogues, his tone brooking no argument. Whether they lived through it or not was no longer his concern.
Lucivar’s eyes narrowed. "And where are you going?"
"To get my son."
*****
Lord Mason’s Adam’s apple bobbed like a nervous bird trapped in his throat as Gabriel was escorted into the throne room by Richard and Eryk. Mason had been vocal—too vocal—in his praise of Gabriel’s vision, promising a "new dawn" for the vampire clans if only they followed the councilman’s lead. Now his pupils darted across the room, as though searching for cracks in the floor deep enough to swallow him whole. He wasn’t the only one, of course. Several others had once whispered their allegiance to Gabriel in dark corridors, convinced Damien was too weak, too chained to a werewolf princess to be their future. They had wagered everything on a traitor. And now? The silence in the hall told its own truth: they were gambling with their lives.
(it’s almost time to rate your favourite novels for the WSA award. This book won’t win but it would be a great motivation for me if I see how much support it gets)