Chapter 6
6
Morgan frowned and leaned forward. “Lucan, what was Dago?”
Lucan grinned. It was the first time Morgan sensed something more than sorrow emanating from him. “He was a demon summoned by Kristof’s partner, Perth. Needless to say, Perth didn’t make it, although not because of the summoning. They invoked the wrong type of summoning spell.”
He chuckled, his gaze dropping to his clasped hands. “Instead of a raging, power-hungry demon, they got one of the enforcers—those who police the worst demons. Dago and I became friends and protected each other as much as we could. We had to get creative on finding nourishment. This lasted for several years, each helping the other as the abuse and torture increased.
“I am so sorry, Lucan,” Morgan whispered. “No one should go through what you did.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, his sad gaze briefly meeting hers before returning to his hands. “Not long after Dago’s arrival, we were moved again. This time to a nearby castle. One evening, the young helper brought in the usual amount of blood and meat. He usually stopped outside the door. This time, however, he entered and stood in the center of the room. The lad placed the food on the floor and quietly waited.”
Suddenly, the memory was thrust into her mind, and from Rafael’s sharp inhale, the memory was also thrust into his. Lucan’s apprehension beat at her, along with his thoughts. She forced the emotion aside and studied the memory as if watching an old movie made better with the added ability to use her senses.
“You are either very brave or foolish, hermanito.” Lucan whispered from the deep shadows of the tiny prison cell. As his deep sultry voice wrapped around the young man, the boy fidgeted, his arm hair standing straight. He shivered. The room was humid but not cold, so Morgan knew it was from fear.
The lad’s overworking heart loudly pounded in the small space, his nurturing blood running through arteries and veins. A large shudder moved his body as he realized the peril he had just placed himself in. “What does that mean…hermanito?”
“It means little brother in my native tongue.”
Gathering his courage, the youth cleared and swallowed a few times. “I know you neither know nor trust me, but I am here to help you—if you let me.” The last was added with a very shaky voice, his gaze darting right and left as if he felt a presence behind him.
Morgan studied the shadow-filled room and thought she saw a black mass slithering behind the lad. The shadow had to be Dago since she couldn’t see anyone other than the boy and Lucan, and the room was too tiny to hide anything or anyone else.
“What makes you think we either need or want your help?” Lucan asked, wondering what the lad was up to or if Kristof had put him up to it.
I don’t sense any deceit from him. He is here on his own, Dago’s rich voice said in Lucan’s mind . Kristof does not know of his betrayal. And he’s so scared, the poor lad’s trying very hard not to pee his pants.
Lucan smirked at the amusing image Dago thrust into his mind of the lad dancing around the room as he tried to hold it in. His cellmate had a weird sense of humor, and he was beginning to think Dago was mental. Even though Kristof had hoped the pairing would end in tragedy, their friendship had been welcomed by both. In fact, Dago turned out to be his savior. He just didn’t know it.
It was so strange to Morgan to be in someone else’s head and hear their thoughts. She was used to her twin’s way of thinking, but this was a male vampire—a stranger to her mere hours ago.
She refocused on Lucan’s thoughts about needing to escape and returning Dago to his post in the Spanish capital of Toledo. To make sure the future was not tragically changed, Dago had to be there to lead his unit in their planned uprising against Lisbon.
As the leader of a special group of shapeshifters, Dago had been sent in to take care of the religious uprisings because of the influx of Jews and Muslims around Spain and even some in Portugal. His group helped smuggle the non-Christians out of the so-called hot spots and into safer areas to try and hopefully live better. Lucan realized he could help this group of special soldiers and had volunteered…if they lived through their current predicament.
Morgan was amazed and worried that he had volunteered, although she realized it stemmed from his desperation to prove he wasn’t the berserker everyone had seen in the battles. While her knowledge of Spanish history was minimal, she knew the beginning of the Inquisition had been horrific. If one was caught, no matter the side they fought on, they were immediately under suspicion of being an infidel or harboring the infidels and were usually tortured and then killed.
Dago shifted from mist to man, once more drawing her attention back to the memory. He stood behind the still-trembling boy, bravely trying to stand still. She listened as the lad explained what Kristof had planned for the two of them later that evening.
“I’m sick and tired of doing his dirty work,” the boy muttered. “He is a bloodthirsty madman. The few times I’ve been allowed to leave for supplies, I noticed the wanted posters with Kristof’s face. He has to be stopped, and if I must die to make that happen, then so be it.”
Lucan stepped closer and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I will do everything I can to prevent that from happening. Let Dago and I take care of the druid. All you need to do is help us escape.” The lad nodded and walked to the door, holding it open for them.
As quietly as possible, they crept from the room and made their way down the narrow tunnel toward the back of the castle. As they passed the last room, the door inched open. Lucan whirled around so fast, his body no more than a colorful blur, but the massive man launching through the doorway was faster.
Morgan bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out, almost forgetting this was just a memory.
Dago grabbed the boy and pulled him out of the way. Pushing him behind his muscular body, he leaped forward to help Lucan. Hesitating just outside the door, his head slanted upward as if listening to something.
Before he took his first step, two figures burst through the doorway and knocked him against the far wall. With a blend of horrified surprise on his face, Dago stared at the monster standing over him. Lucan’s body swinging, the creature’s hand wrapped around his neck.
Morgan held her breath; this creature was unlike anything she had ever seen. He reminded her of a Viking berserker but on steroids…massive amounts of steroids. He also seemed to be having a really bad hair day, his red hair sticking out from his head in every direction. He stood at least two heads taller than the demon. He was huge .
Lucan’s body jerked as he tried to fight, the berserker’s grip around his neck cutting off his blood supply. Glancing at Dago, he continued to wriggle in the giant’s grasp, throwing his legs and arms from one side to the other, but it was futile. Not even his vampire strength helped.
As Dago tried grabbing the tree-stump-sized legs, another giant berserker appeared behind him, scooping him up before heading back along the tunnel toward the bowels of the castle—and Kristof.
The next memory showed Lucan and Dago, side by side, strapped in two chairs. Kristof walked in as the giants tightened the last strap around Rafael’s wrists. Standing just inside the room, the druid wore a long, black coat with a single large pocket on the right front side and the tie knotted at his waist.
With a sneering grin, he smugly shook his head. “Did the two of you think you could escape? All exits are guarded by my magnificent giants—an army of them. True berserkers in every sense of the word. Of course, I had to magically enhance them with Orc blood, giving them even more strength, but I think the result speaks for itself, don’t you?”
He moved around the two prisoners before pulling a glass tube from his pocket, long needles jutting out from each end. Without ceremony, he jabbed one needle into Lucan’s carotid artery and the other into Dago’s.
Lucan struggled as the blood slowly seeped down the tube and into his friend. His frantic thoughts filled Morgan’s mind . What would this amount of vampire blood do to him? He had heard it would kill him because of the blending of blood lust and demon rage. Did Dago have the strength to control both natures? Lucan couldn’t imagine even trying. The result would be close to the outward blast of an exploding star.
“There’s no use struggling so, Lucan. I told you long ago I would get the ultimate warrior, better than even the Fae’s werewolves. What could be more magnificent than a shape-shifting vampire?” Kristof chuckled as he stepped back from the men, watching the blood flow through the tube.
After letting Lucan’s life force flow for several minutes, the druid stepped forward and pulled the tubing from their necks, the blood splattering them before the wounds closed. “I will let you both stew a little bit before taking you back to your room. After all, you are friends, are you not?” With an evil grin, Kristof left the room, leaving the two men staring at the closed wooden door.
Dago recovered first, kicking at Lucan, but the vampire never moved, his open gaze staring at the floor between his feet. Since Morgan was still witnessing the events, she realized Lucan could see and hear everything happening around him, which had to be horrible.
The demon’s gaze jerked toward the door as it slowly opened again. Breaking free from the restraints, he twisted around and lifted the newcomer by the throat, pinning him to the wall. Lucan screamed at Dago, trying to warn him that it was only the child, but Dago couldn’t hear him.
Thankfully, the demon realized who it was, eased him down, and stepped away, smiling slightly at the wide-eyed expression on the lad’s face. “I am sorry for scaring you, little one. You move softly—that’s good. Being here puts you in a lot of danger, though. I don’t think Kristof meant to be gone long.”
The lad nodded, his hand gripping his throat as he tried to swallow. “He’s been detained by an unforeseen fire in the lab,” he said in a hoarse voice. “That should take long enough to get you both out of here. I hope,” he muttered, a slight frown marring his cute face. “We need to hurry though.”
“All right. Let’s see if you can get Lucan to function since I haven’t made much progress. I know he’s listening, so insulting him might make him angry enough to move. My name is Dago, but you probably already know that. What’s your name?” he asked, inching open the door and peering down both sides of the darkened tunnel. “Hmm, you are smart. Dousing the torches was a good idea.”
“My name is Markus.” The boy scowled, staring at Lucan. “What’s wrong with him? I’ve never seen him so vacant before. It’s like he’s lost or something.” Markus took several tentative steps toward the vampire, stopping just in front of him, fear evident on his wide-eyed face. The youth took a deep breath and closed the distance. Kneeling, he placed his tiny hand on one knee.
“Lucan? Sir? We need to leave now, or it will be too late. Please wake up. Sleeping with your eyes open is creepy. Sir? Are you up to it?” he asked quietly, “I don’t want to be anywhere near when Kristof realizes the lab fire wasn’t an accident. I like my head where it’s at.”
Lucan’s mouth twitched and almost formed a small smile as he summoned the last of his energy. He met Markus’s deep brown eyes. “I’m not asleep, and thank you, hermanito. I won’t forget what you have once more risked this night.”
Markus gave a slight nod and scrambled to his feet before turning and following Dago through the door. From the way the lad kept looking over his shoulder, he wanted to make sure Lucan followed.
“I am centuries to your few years and didn’t ask before, but if the endearment bothers you, I won’t say it again.”
“No, actually it doesn’t. I am just a boy. I had ten miserable years under my belt when my stepfather sold me to Kristof, and that was two years ago,” Markus whispered, his steps quick and light as he led them down the tunnel.
They made it outside this time, killing only one guard before blending into the surrounding hillside.
“Were you able to find out the truth about what happened to Dago?” a familiar voice said behind them.
Surprised, Morgan jerked her head around and wished she hadn’t as the room spun. Beside her, Rafael shook his head as if coming out of a daze. Focusing her blurred vision on the mountain of a man standing in the open doorway, she realized where she had heard the voice before.
“You’re back!” She gripped Rafael’s fur-covered thigh and squeezed. “Zhivko, why are you here again?” She blinked several times, her vision finally clearing. Up close and personal, she almost wished the man was still blurred. “For a demon, you are incredibly gorgeous. Are all demons good-looking?”
She ignored Rafael’s low growl beside her, trying not to smile as she stared at the most handsome man she had ever seen. His black hair lay over one shoulder in a silken sheet, and his bronze skin reminded her of someone who had lived his life on the open ocean. Of course, she couldn’t help but notice his muscled physique and wondered if he had been born sculpted or worked at it with whatever he did every day.
Her gaze strayed back to his face, which was as perfectly chiseled as a Greek statue but more. Somehow, he seemed regal in how he held himself and wondered about the demon hierarchy in his relatively unknown world. Was he royalty or did all demons look like he did?
Rafael stood, facing Zhivko. While Morgan believed he was mostly a demon, there was something else—something familiar she detected about him.
“Why go to such lengths?” Rafael asked. “All you had to do was ask for whatever you needed. Both Lucan and I are on very good terms with Coroc.” Rafael’s gaze narrowed.
“I’ve found most races don’t like to willingly give up their mind, no matter how nice I ask, especially twice in such a short time,” Zhivko said with a hint of sarcasm. “Would you have done any different if I’d walked up to you and asked to read your memories and then judge you accordingly?” Morgan almost thought she saw a smile behind the demon’s weird eyes as he returned Rafael’s pointed gaze.
“I’ll concede to you on that one because I can honestly say I wouldn’t have been very nice about it,” Rafael answered.
From the edge of her vision, Lucan rose and crossed to Rafael’s side. With a thoughtful expression on his face, Lucan thoughtfully regarded Zhivko. “You monitored my memories as I shared them—did you find what you needed?”
“I did. Thank you. You suffered much and got little in return. The information you have given me today will save two people, and for that, I am in your debt.”
“What are you going to do with your newfound knowledge?” Lucan asked.
“I will report to those working with me and let them know we are on the right path. We don’t have much time to find the one who will try to help the Dark Fae cross over at Samhain, but we must try. Both our worlds—and my freedom—will be lost if we don’t. Unfortunately, there is more to death than just dying,” he cryptically added. “I also believe Kristof is a main player in this. He may even be the one who serves Fer-Diorich, but only time will tell.”
Zhivko glanced back over at Rafael. “Rafael, as I told you before, you must find a way to forgive. To live and love, your heart must be whole. If you cannot do this, then I’m afraid we will not win this battle.” Zhivko sadly smiled.
“Great. More pressure. It’s not like I already didn’t have much to deal with.” Rafael grumbled. “Can you at least tell me what this is all about? We’ve known Fer-Diorich was trying to break free of the Unseelie Court. He has also been trying to gain his freedom through the curse he placed on Morrigan’s descendants. If I’m going to put my neck on the line, I would, at least, like to know more about what we may be facing and why.”
Morgan smiled at the imposing figure and motioned to the last chair in the room, across from Lucan’s. “Pardon our rudeness. Please, sit if you can.”
Zhivko smiled. “Thank you, but the form I am using is like the darkness from earlier, just magically enhanced so you can see me. To answer a few of your questions, I belong to a group of select warriors who have broken off from the Unseelie Court and joined with others who have done the same from the Seelie Court. Call us the Fae police, if you will. For some time, we’ve known that an unknown entity will try and breach the barrier between the worlds—at Samhain.”
He crossed his thick arms over his chest. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the magical barrier is thinnest during Samhain, allowing the Fae and the dead to move among the living. Most don’t know the magic level peaks then, too, making it the opportune time for a takeover. However, if the balance between the Courts and your world is disrupted, the magical overload would kill everyone.” Zhivko paused to let this information sink in and, Morgan thought, to perhaps judge their reactions to what he’d just told them. However, this information wasn’t new to her, so she kept silent.
“Shit,” Lucan and Rafael whispered in unison.
Zhivko moved his hands behind his back. “My time here is ending. I was told to find out what kind of men you were—your characters. We needed to be sure before trusting you. We learned long ago there’s no such thing as blind faith.”
He turned to Morgan and smiled. “You were a nice surprise, indeed. I think a team of three would be better suited, especially with you in the mix. You will bring the peace these two lack.”
He turned back to Rafael and Lucan. “I find you both honorable and trustworthy. You each have a depth and valor that has yet to be realized. Learn from the past but let it go. You have a bond to be treasured, not wasted. Rafael, take Lucan and your woman and return to the caves. Tell the other Immortals what you’ve learned today. When Samhain arrives, all of you will be needed.”
Both men stood silently digesting his words, each lost in their thoughts. Morgan turned her gaze back to Zhivko, who gave her a small salute as his body exploded into a million golden lights and then winked out one by one, leaving behind the hazy darkness. She blinked, and even that was gone, and she found herself staring at the closed door.