Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
ORPHEUS
Alex eventually picked himself off the floor.
Realizing his favorite necktie, a gift from his brother, was gone, he did a quick search.
Miserable not to find it, he headed down the corridors back to his room.
He was uncertain what had just occurred.
With his memory foggy, he tried to fill the gaps.
Had he offended me? He believed he must have done something to displease me.
Or why else had I left him so abruptly?
He recalled an altercation but could not fit the pieces together. He considered that perhaps his engagement to Lady Theron, though now probably broken off, might have roused my jealousy although he reasoned I had dealt with the situation calmly at the time.
He rubbed the area where I had bitten him, soothing its sting. On looking down at his hand, he was dismayed to see some residual blood.
Some kiss, he thought.
Alex needed to be alone for a while, away from the meandering crowds partying within the castle walls below.
On nearing his own room, he was surprised to see his father leaving it, approaching him with worrying speed.
Alex reasoned that news of the conversation with Emily had reached his father and he steadied himself. He pulled his collar up.
“Father, please let me explain,” Alex said.
Lord Artimas was accompanied by four other men, whom Alex recognized as lords from other nearby estates. His parents had hosted them on many occasions. One of them, Lord Hawke, had presented him with his first fencing sword.
“Where is he?” Lord Artimas appeared distracted, impatiently glaring at his son.
“Who, Father? Good evening, sirs. Lord Hawke, it is wonderful to see you again.” Alex politely greeted his father’s associates.
“Lord Velde. Tell me where he is,” Lord Artimas said.
“He is gone, Father.”
“Gone where?”
“I know what this is about. I can explain.” Alex lowered his voice in fear of offending Lord Theron. “You see, Lady Emily Theron is pregnant!”
“And how do you think Lord Velde knew?”
“Did you know?”
Lord Artimas ignored his son’s question. “You believe that, do you? That you can tell from looking at a girl who does not have a belly that she is pregnant? If you believe that, then you are . . . For God’s sake, he read her mind. Your Lord Velde is none other than a vampire!”
Alex placed his hand upon his neck again. He backed away from Lord Artimas, staring at him and attempting to fathom his words. Lord Artimas flicked back Alex’s shirt collar and viewed the two fang marks.
“No!” Lord Artimas steadied himself against the stone wall. “How could you have allowed him?”
“Father.” Alex stepped backward. “It is not what it seems.”
“Do you see?” Lord Artimas said to his men.
With a nod from Lord Artimas, they lunged toward Alex and overpowered him.
“Father, please.”
“My son.” Lord Artimas caught his sobs.
Lord Artimas followed closely behind the entourage. Struggling frantically, Alex was dragged into the dungeons. They shackled him to the central table, securing his arms, tying his wrists upward and binding his feet together.
“Blindfold him, for God’s sake!” Lord Artimas commanded.
The room was prepared, the altar set, the knives sharpened, and the silver chalices placed.
Lord Artimas shook, stifling his tears while preparing the instruments.
The preparations complete, Lord Artimas’s men offered their words of consolation.
The ceremony began, the ritualistic chanting resonating.
Lord Artimas took the knife from the altar and with a shaking hand placed it close to Alex’s wrist, doing what he could to ignore his son’s pleas.
Lord Artimas cut deeply into his son’s flesh, surprised as the blood flowed easily into the cup below.
Despite Alex’s deafening screams, Lord Artimas persisted.
My menacing silhouette was finally noticed at the entrance.
Lord Artimas glared at me.
The shadows danced over me. “He is not a vampire,” I said. “I merely bit into his neck.”
Alex cried out. “Oh, thank God, Daumia! Please hurry, the pain! I cannot bear it!”
“Why him?” Lord Artimas asked.
“To gather up all the lords of the Stones and to ensure that they, and you, would be in the same room at the same time. Artimas, see how his wounds do not heal as those of a vampire would? You are a stupid man.”
“I do not believe you! The marks on his neck . . .”
“You mean you would actually murder your son with such little evidence? How little you think of him.”
“You manipulate everything.”
I snapped. “Someone put pressure on that boy’s wrist before he bleeds to death.”
Lord Artimas raised his hand, an indication his men were not to move.
“He is no longer your son. You do not deserve him,” I said. “Alex is mine. You have taken my Sunaria from me. Now I take your son from you.”
“There are five of us and one of you,” Lord Artimas pointed out.
“Any last words?” I said.
Four of his men approached me. Before they could close in, I descended upon one of them, lifting him high into the air.
I flew toward the ceiling, dragging the startled man with such force that his neck was broken on impact.
I dropped him to the floor with a thud. Lord Hawke threatened me with his knife until he too found himself flying through the air.
I caught him and forced the man against the ceiling.
Lord Hawke flinched in terror as I removed the knife from his grasp and turned it toward his throat, hacking through his fleshy neck from one ear to the other. The blood poured from the gaping wound, gushing down onto the other two men watching helplessly below.
“Do you now comprehend who I am?” I shouted and fell upon the two remaining men now covered in their friend’s blood, fracturing their necks easily. I again settled before Lord Artimas.
“Alex, lay still, do not be afraid,” I reassured him. “I shall not let you die.”
Alex roused. He struggled to see over his blindfold.
“Looks like the party is over.” I glanced at the corpses around us. With flashing speed, I tore away some of the material thrown over the altar, binding it tightly around Alex’s wrist, stemming the bleeding.
Taking the knife he had used to cut the wrist of his son, Lord Artimas attacked me. I thrust him backward and he staggered back upon the altar, causing everything placed upon it to come crashing down.
“Get your hands off my father, Daumia!” Alex yelled. “What is this?”
I pushed him up and onto the altar. Lord Artimas lay dazed. The knife fell from his grasp. I rose and sat astride his body, holding his arms down. I turned his head and exposed his neck, biting down hard.
I drank.
He tasted of history and death. Of every wrong decision and misfortune that had ever marked his path.
Lord Artimas fell in and out of consciousness.
With a Stone Master’s blood running through mine, I freed Alex from the shackles.
I kept his blindfold on despite him begging me to remove it.
He was bewildered and weak, and could hardly stand.
I pulled him to his feet and picked him up, carrying him back up to the private rooms of the castle, careful to avoid any guests who had strayed from the party below.
I carried Alex to his own bedchamber, placing him upon the bed, adjusting his limbs to ensure his comfort.
I removed his blindfold, pulled the blankets up over him and sat for a moment by his side, gazing down at the wound on his wrist. It was not fatal, but it was nevertheless deep, increasing my concern that it would become infected. Alex was in shock.
I ran my fingers affectionately through his hair, wiping the tears from the boy’s face, watching him drift off to sleep. Standing, I lit a nearby candle, providing some light for the room and ensuring Alex would not wake in total darkness.
I readjusted the binding around his wrist so that it was not too tight but would secure the laceration for now.
When I was satisfied that Alex was safe, I made my way back down to the dungeons.
Lord Artimas had staggered toward the doorway. I dragged him back into the chamber and pushed him up toward the altar, allowing him to fall to the cold stone ground before sitting him upright with his back leaning against the table.
I bit into his throat again . . .
This, a Stone Masters dream shared with the flow of his crimson blood, endless nights steeped in ruin, seeking out immortals only to desecrate their sacred breath, to unmake their eternity with cruel precision.
The great lord’s memories unfurled before me like a merciless unveiling of every horror he had rained down upon my kind.
“Your heartbeat is slowing. You are near death.” I took the knife that had fallen to the floor and placed one of the cups under it. I sliced deep into my left wrist and allowed my blood to pour into the silver goblet.
I placed the cup against Lord Artimas’s lips.
It felt like a betrayal to offer such an anointment, for the gift was not what it seemed, a blessing hiding the shape of a curse.
He turned his head away.
“I go now to turn Alex, then on to kill Jadeon,” I taunted.
Lord Artimas labored to breathe.
I again rested the cup against his mouth. “Drink or die tonight.” I forced the red fluid into his mouth.
Lord Artimas swallowed, but I pulled the cup away before he could have enough of the sacrament. “Stone Master, you now reserve the weakness of a man and the vulnerability of a vampire. And the sun awaits your presence, my lord.”