Chapter 9
This is how Rafa’s father knows things will go his way.
He knows I want to rescue those kids, which means I wouldn’t dare unleash a firestorm in an enclosed room where they could get hurt.
(Not that I could actually do that right now!) And even using my incubus super-speed, there’s no way I could save all of them if he gave the order.
I’m sure I’m fast, but I’m not faster than a speeding bullet. Not at point blank, I’m not.
It might not be checkmate, but it’s at least a solid check. I can’t act.
My stomach begins to sink along with any confidence I had that coming here was somehow a good idea. Still, I feel a locomotive’s worth of power humming inside my muscles. That’s got to count for something.
“What do we do?” I mutter to Collin, under my breath.
“I don’t know yet,” he replies. There’s tension in his voice. “Buy me some time.”
He wants me to stall.
Okay.
“Hi,” I say, stupidly.
“Hello.” Rafa’s father smiles. It does not meet his eyes. “I’m glad you could make it, Alvin. Our conversation before was so rudely interrupted.”
By me setting him on fire. Guess he’s still a little salty about that.
Collin’s AR death-strike tooltips keep fluctuating around all the vamps that surround the room.
It’s almost like they can’t get a lock, but it’s more likely due to there being no good answers.
As I move closer to Rafa’s father, a few more options to take him down appear, at least. I swallow my fear and saunter several steps deeper into the chamber.
It puts me well inside the circle of former Hunters, just up to the silver birdbath altar in the center of the room.
He’s waiting for a reply, so I clear my throat. “Right. Well, uh, so you know my name. Obviously. But I don’t know yours…”
I’m trying to sound at least halfway chill, but I have to concentrate to keep from forming nervous fists. I glance behind me and see the vampires have closed ranks, blocking the stairs. At this point, the eyes of every single bloodsucker in the room are on me, hungry.
“Well, now. Where are my manners? We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Cesar Valiente.” His eye gleams with a wild twinkle. “I am the King of the Vampires.”
I glance over at Collin, who meets my gaze with a baffled expression. Rafa’s dad calling himself that sounds as crazy to him as it does to me. Like, not-playing-with-a-full-deck crazy. But since Valiente seems to be the one calling the shots here, that only makes things worse.
Up to this point, Rafa has been motionless.
Now, with effort, he lifts his chin to take me in, and seeing me triggers a montage of emotions that play over his face.
Shock. Fear. And when he looks up at his father, anger.
He clearly hasn’t bled to death, and an AR pop-up balloon pointing at his neck indicates “No serious injury.” But other messages that spring out from nasty bruises and cuts say “Severe contusion,” “Deep laceration,” and “Possible concussion.” He might not be dying, but he’s been hurt. Badly.
Rafa meets my eyes, miserable. “No. God, Alvin—you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have come. I’m not worth it.” The words come out in a shaky mumble. Considering how strong and confident he’s been with me, the change is unsettling. He looks broken.
“Tut, tut, tut,” Mr. Valiente says. “None of that. Young Alvin is here because he cares about you. Just like he cares about these precious little children.” He narrows his eyes at me. “All of whom I consider completely expendable, just in case you think I would hesitate to give the word.”
I actually don’t think he’d hesitate. He’s still using his fancy words with his put-on high-class accent, but his face betrays the coldness of a serial killer.
I take another look at the teens held tightly against the Hunter-vampires chests.
Their stares are vacant, and they have extensive purple bruising on their necks.
They look even more beaten down and exhausted than Rafa, barely able to stay on their feet.
Only Emma's vulnerable eyes have focus, and they’re locked on me, pleading for rescue.
The strong girl from Nicole’s photo is still in there, but she needs help.
Help I have no idea how to give her right now.
I bite my lower lip, not sure what to say. I know I’m supposed to draw this guy out, but I don’t want to make things worse.
Valiente’s eyes narrow. “Do you have the watch?”
No point in lying about this. It’s why he wants me here, after all. I clear my throat. “I do.”
He quirks his eyebrow. “And may I see it?”
“Go ahead,” Collin says, voice tight. “Just get it back in your pocket as quickly as you can. I need to know how he expects this to go down.”
I keep my gaze on Valiente, but my nod is for Collin. I unzip the inside pocket of my windbreaker and remove the watch, trying to concentrate on the magic Irish boy staying with me.
It doesn’t work. The moment the watch is out of my pocket, he disappears along with all the tactical tooltips around the vamps. I hold the elaborately engraved silver timepiece up so Rafa’s father can see it. It glimmers in the white LED light.
His eyes brighten with malice. “Good boy.”
A female vampire to my right unleashes a low growl.
She pushes forward against her hostage, a boy with pale skin and long blond hair, who seems like he’s struggling to remain upright.
She must be close to six feet tall, and she eyes the watch like it holds an entire steak dinner with all the trimmings.
“You can’t just take it from me!” I say quickly, while shoving the watch back into my pocket. “I have to give it to you willingly or it won’t work!” The loud words reverberate through the cavern.
My voice sounds anxious. Too anxious for someone who is supposed to be able to turn into a fire monster.
Valiente’s lip curls. He noticed.
“Of course,” Valiente says. “I know all about the artifact and its rules. You have to make the choice to give it to me. Therefore, I suggest a simple exchange. You give me the watch. And, in return, anyone here who wants to leave may do so.”
That offer seems oddly specific. I shoot a quick glance at Collin, who seems as puzzled by that as I am. I take in all the terrified, bruised kids at gunpoint.
“And, uh, who are you thinking is going to want to stay?” I ask.
His fingertips lightly touch Rafa’s shoulder. The Hunter’s flinch is subtle, but it doesn’t escape my enhanced incubus senses.
“My son, for one. I haven’t had a chance to adequately explain why I’ve done what I’ve done. But this seems as good a time as any, and once he is aware of what’s at stake, I sincerely believe he will want to help me. Perhaps you both will.”
That claim is so ludicrous, it knocks my fear back for a second. I scrunch my brows.
“Uh-huh. And what is it you want to do, exactly?”
A fang peeks out from under his lip. “It’s simple, really. I wish to reopen a channel to Ah Puch, God of the Dead, and restore his connection to the world.”
Collin sucks in a breath. “Jaysus!”
I dip my chin to hide my face and shoot the Avatar another sidelong glance.
He grits his teeth and spills the tea. “Ah Puch was the Mayan name for ?avadeva, the god of corpses—a great power who holds dominion over all the horrific and terrifying aspects of death. He inspired desperate fear in every human culture that became aware of him, but like all the other Old Gods, he’s been prevented from interfering in our world for centuries.
I have no idea why he’d want to bring him back, but it won’t be for anything good. ”
“Mm.” I take a beat to make sure my voice remains steady before I raise it to address Valiente. “A god of death, huh? And why exactly do you think Rafa and I would want to help you two get in touch?”
His face lights up. He seems genuinely pleased I asked.
“Because when his connection to the world was severed centuries ago, every single member of the undead became a vicious monster. Monsters my son and I pledged our lives to fight. But if I can restore even a small amount of Ah Puch’s power, then the minds of the undead would return.
They would be themselves again and would no longer continue to exist as what they are now: mere soulless abominations.
” He gestures around to the vampires holding the kids at gunpoint.
I follow his hand and take in the coldly hungry eyes of the other vamps who, for a lack of a better word, do indeed seem “soulless.” And now that I think of it, the vampires who attacked me in the Lake Street house didn’t seem all that special, not like Valiente.
Same with the Hunter’s Point vampires. Maybe they were following someone’s strategy, but I saw no intelligence looking back at me then or now—only relentless, mindless hunger.
But Mr. Valiente seems sharp as a tack. So, why is that?
“I see,” I say. “Well, your mind seems more or less okay…”
His smile is bittersweet. “Ah. That is because of this.” He removes an amulet from under his collar, revealing the source of the ozone-flavored magic I sensed under his shirt the last time we faced each other.
It’s the same taste of magic that emanated from the evil tome I left back at Stryker’s office.
The amulet itself is an irregular chunk of amber on a thin string of silver, and in the center is a tear-shaped globule of dark red.
“This stone contains one of the last remaining drops of Ah Puch’s blood.
The necklace was obtained by the original monks of the Benevolent Society and concealed here for decades, until a curious or bored caretaker decided to try it on.
It eventually transformed the man into a vampire, one clever enough to realize that his safety depended on neutralizing the Monster Hunters at his doorstep.
Through cunning, he and the vampires he brought with him were able to catch my clan by surprise. ”