CHAPTER 7
MY CAPTORS CURSE, their grips tightening painfully on my arms as they increase our pace to a run, the pavement pounding under my boots.
“Slayers!” one of them hisses.
More shots, closer now. A body thumps to the ground nearby.
The military steps of Redmoore operatives clomp loudly, their coordinated movements forming a perimeter around us.
Clementine barks orders in a language I don’t recognize, her voice tight with fury. The hands on my right arm suddenly disappear. A wet gurgle follows, then the thud of a body hitting the ground.
I twist, trying to free myself from the remaining grip on my left, but it’s like iron around my bicep.
“Retreat!” Clementine’s screech soars like a hawk over the treetops.
I’m yanked forward with such strength it nearly dislocates my shoulder. I dig my heels into the ground, fighting against the momentum. The bag shifts slightly, allowing me a glimpse of chaos.
Slayers in tactical gear are engaging vampires in brutal close-quarters combat, splatters of vitae spraying across ancient stonework as lumen blades find their marks.
“This way!” My captor drags me despite my resistance.
Clementine’s footsteps retreat in the opposite direction, drawing most of the slayers with her.
The plan is working.
The vampires are scattered, the blood is secured, and the extraction team is pushing them back. Soon, I will be free.
A new sound overtakes the chaos of gunfire—a strange, awful tearing noise followed by silence. Then another. And another.
The coordinated shouts of slayers falter, replaced by screams of confusion and pain.
My captor freezes, his grip on my arm slackening.
I take advantage of the distraction, dropping to the ground and rolling away.
The bag falls from my head, and I blink against the sudden influx of moonlight, trying to make sense of the scene before me.
Bodies litter the square—both vampires and slayers—throats torn out, chests caved in, limbs twisted at impossible angles. And moving among them, silent as midnight, are figures in dark clothing, their lower faces obscured by masks.
The Ravens.
My captor’s heart is suddenly separated from his ribcage, his body collapsing beside me, revealing the vampire who makes my heart beat tenfold with rage.
Before I can react, another masked figure appears beside him. Saul.
He doesn’t greet me or look me in the eye, only stands there, fixated on the chains around my wrists. “Those need to come off,” my brother says, his voice muffled by the mask.
Revenant wipes some blood off his temple. “Hold her still.”
Saul’s hands grip my arms tightly, his touch feeling both foreign and achingly familiar. Then, in one fell swoop, Revenant crushes the chains underfoot, snapping them in half, the impact sending me face down to the ground if it weren’t for my brother holding me steady.
I rub my wrists as circulation returns painfully to my hands.
Around us, other Ravens move with horrifying speed, dispatching slayers at a pace so fast they appear to be in multiple places at once.
I spot Mira taking on two vampires by herself, moving with the skill of someone who’s survived far too many fights.
Henry is firing shots from a strategic position, each of them finding its target with unerring accuracy.
Then I see it—a Raven driving Mira’s own blade through her chest, her body crumpling like a discarded puppet. Not long after, Henry falls too, throat torn out by vampire fangs. Two more slump against a tree, blood pooling beneath them. I force myself to move, to help, but I’m held back by Saul.
“Let go of me!” I shout, trying to pull away.
Saul’s grip only tightens, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. I struggle against him, watching helplessly as the last slayers fall.
The sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing reverberates with a dreadful finality, a grotesque symphony that makes my stomach churn. These were people I knew, people I trained with, and now they’ve been slaughtered right before my eyes.
“Let me go!” I thrash harder, fighting back tears. But without my weapons, I’m powerless against him.
I can’t save anyone. Not Mira, not Henry, not even myself.
When the Ravens have finished their work, they gather around us in a loose circle, vitae seeping into their clothing.
It is of no consequence. Their wounds are already closing, immortal flesh knitting back together at an unnaturally fast rate.
All of their faces are hidden behind masks, hoods, and high collars as usual.
The shortest among them rotates her neck as a deep gash heals almost instantaneously.
“Cowards!” I spit, venom in my voice as I survey the carnage. “Only striking when they’re at their most vulnerable.”
The tall, dark-skinned man standing next to the woman with the healing shoulder tilts his head, regarding me with subtle mockery in his devilish red eyes.
“I’m confused,” he says, feigning deep thought.
“You think that’s cowardice?” He glances at the woman beside him. “What do you think, my beloved?”
She shrugs. “Sounds smart to me.”
“Agreed,” another Raven chimes in as he steps over a slayer’s corpse, blond strands clinging to his forehead. “Why make it difficult when it can be easy?”
Revenant snickers before glancing skyward. “Pack it up,” he commands. “I hear reinforcements coming.”
The distant thrum of helicopter blades confirms his words. A flicker of hope ignites in my chest. All I have to do is stall them.
With a sudden burst of strength born from desperation, I twist in Saul’s grip, throwing my weight forward. The unexpected movement catches him off guard, loosening his hold just enough.
I drop to the ground, rolling toward the nearest fallen slayer. My fingers close around their gun, and I swivel, firing wildly at the Ravens.
“Over here!” I scream, hoping the incoming reinforcements can hear me. “Help!”
The Ravens scatter, avoiding my shots with minimal effort. I keep firing, emptying the clip in an arc around me as I scramble to my feet. The gun clicks dry, and I toss it aside, breaking into a preternatural sprint toward the sound of the approaching helicopters.
I hear their voices behind me, fading as they retreat.
“We can kill them,” my brother suggests, a knot of dread forming in my stomach. So many have already died for me.
I pause, breathing heavily. I cannot let the others die too.
“No,” Revenant says, his response firm. “Let the brat be.”
I close my eyes, relief washing over me. I do not look back, pushing my legs harder as I race through the abandoned forest. The spotlight from a helicopter sweeps across the trees ahead, and I wave my arms frantically.
“Over here!” I shout, my voice raw with emotion.
The spotlight finds me, blinding in its intensity, and I shield my eyes with my arm.
The roar of the rotors drowns out everything else as the aircraft descends, kicking up dust and debris.
A rope ladder unfurls, dangling just a few feet away.
I grab it, my muscles screaming as I haul myself up.
Hands reach down, pulling me into the safety of the cabin.
I collapse against the metal floor, gasping for breath as the helicopter banks sharply, regaining altitude.
“Seraph!” General Lee’s voice rings through my haze. “Status report!”
Medical personnel rush around me, checking for injuries, but I wave them aside. Pushing myself to a sitting position, I take in the cramped interior of the rescue helicopter.
I want to cry.
“They’re all dead.” My voice cracks. “The Ravens came out of nowhere.”
The general lowers his head, a moment of silence filling the space. “We’ll send a recovery team first thing in the morning.”
I nod, leaning back against the cold metal wall as exhaustion washes over me. Adrenaline fades, leaving behind an all-consuming weariness and the bitter taste of failure.
I close my eyes, seeing the courageous faces of the slayers who died tonight, including the ones I once called comrades. Rest in peace, Mira and Henry.
I want to tell the general that they should just let me get taken.
Yet I say nothing, already knowing what his answer would be.
In this world, survival often trumps morality. And I’m a valuable asset for mankind. With both me and my brother on the other side, they might not stand a chance at all. I can’t help but wonder, however, whether the end justifies such brutal means.
We touch down on the rooftop landing pad of Penn City’s medical center. The moment the rotors stop spinning, paramedics rush forward, collecting the case with blood vials from another helicopter that landed moments before.
“Come on,” General Lee says, helping me to my feet. “Let’s go see Maxim.”
The transition ward is a flurry of activity when we arrive. Doctors and nurses move with practiced urgency, administering the invaluable blood to each victim.
I find Max’s room, hovering in the doorway as a doctor carefully injects the obsidian liquid into his IV line.
The effect is immediate. Max’s body, which had been twitching with the pain of incomplete transition, goes still.
The dark veins beneath his skin pulse once, twice, then begin to fade.
His breathing steadies, then deepens, until it’s so faint you barely notice it’s there.
Unlike humans, vampires don’t need oxygen to function, but they may still go through the motions, the familiar rise and fall of their chest often remaining as a ghost of human habit.
“The transition seems to be completing properly,” the doctor says, relieved.
I step closer, watching as color returns to Max’s face. His expression smooths out, the lines of agony disappearing. He looks peaceful now, almost serene.
“How long until he wakes up?” I ask.
“Hard to say,” the doctor responds, checking his vitals. “Could be hours, could be days. The body needs time to adjust to the changes.”
I nod, settling into the chair beside his bed. Despite the violence, his death, and my near-capture, I feel a sense of cautious solace.
Max will live. Not as the human he was, but he will live.
The general appears in the doorway. “Seraph, we need to debrief.”
“Can it wait?” I ask, not taking my eyes off Max.
“I’m afraid not.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “We need to understand exactly what happened out there.”
With reluctance, I squeeze Max’s hand before following the general out.
In the hallway, he stops, lowering his voice. “The tracker in your arm went offline during the ambush.” Suspicion edges his words. “Did they remove it?”
I look down at my arm, the place where it was injected not showing a single scratch. “No, they didn’t. It must have malfunctioned.”
In Mythcrest, you never really know if it’s them or the land messing with technology. The deeper you go, the more signals get scrambled and electronics short out. There’s no logic to it. You just have to hope luck is on your side.
He studies my face intently, searching for deception. “And the Ravens? Why were they there?”
“Still no idea,” I admit. “They killed the slayers, broke my restraints, then let me go when reinforcements arrived. They were trying to take me, that much is sure.”
“And they will try again,” he mutters, more to himself than to me. “What do they want with you?”
I shake my head, the question echoing my own thoughts. “I wish I knew.”
The general sighs, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Get some rest. We’ll continue this tomorrow.”
As he walks away, I lean against the wall, the night’s events replaying in my mind—the exchange, the ambush, the Ravens’ appearance yet again, and most disturbing of all, Revenant’s words. Let the brat be.
Saul was right, though. If they really wanted me, they could have defeated reinforcements easily, or at least enough of them to take me captive. Am I not worth killing everyone for? Is that it?
No, of course not. He has had no issue committing mass murders anytime, whether commanding them or with his own hands. Why would this be an exception? There has to be another reason. But what could it be? What game are they playing? Do I just escape one trap only to fall into another?
Pushing off from the wall, my head hurting, I return to Max’s room.
His chest rises and falls with newfound vampire steadiness.
Preparing for a long vigil, I settle back into the chair beside his bed.
Outside the window, the first glimmers of sunlight emerge, a new day beginning.
And with it, a new chapter in our lives.