CHAPTER 12
KADE
Two Hundred Years Ago — Goreon Kingdom
DO YOU FEAR FAILURE?” Master asks, warming himself by the roaring fire in the living room as my body finally calms down after Sam’s magic ran through me like a blade.
My trance shifts from crackling logs to Master’s weathered face. Rhett parks himself on the floor beside the fire.
“I feared loss of life, but not failure,” I admit. “But now—”
Master nods stoically, and Grace shifts her head in my lap, her sculpted legs draped over the arm of the sofa.
“Sam was telling us not to come, but I don’t know if it was heroic bravery, not wanting us to jeopardize ourselves for him, or something more than that,” I say.
My magic is anxious, gold shaking in trembling pools as it awaits another message.
Rhett rakes his hands down his face. He lost his father and his best friend in a single moment, and I don’t have anything to offer him other than my sword tomorrow night.
Master’s expression is drawn. “We’ll bleed more losses if we do nothing. Our veil has been broken; I won’t gamble further discovery of our numbers or safehouses.”
I couldn’t agree more.
The front door crashes open, and Grace tenses against me. I grip her shoulder, running a thumb over it, and she relaxes again as Riot comes around the corner, dumping ten enormous logs next to the hearth.
Grace sighs, sitting up. “I agree. If the king found our home, and Lou’s—” her voice catches, “they already seem to know everything about us in Southend. I still think we do this.”
“Aye,” Rhett growls, throwing one of the logs into the fireplace. “We’re infiltrating that castle and getting Sam out. I don’t give a shit what he’s warning us about.”
I don’t bother to correct Rhett that he’s not the one to make the decision because I was about to say the same damn thing.
Master pushes himself to standing, backlit by the fire. “Captain Kade—”
Grace lifts herself from me, and I stand at attention. “Master.”
“We’re moving forward with this war. And we’re going to get my son out of that hell. I’m thankful you’re the man leading us. Your father would be proud,” he says, and my jaw clenches.
“Forever may he rest,” Grace says softly, and I nod at them, falling back onto the sofa.
“You all need to head to bed. Big day tomorrow,” Master says, shuffling toward his room, Rhett right behind him.
Big day, indeed. We’re in the underground by late afternoon to meet up with the legion and infiltrating the castle by nightfall.
Gods be with us.
Grace steps between my knees and kisses me, and I let my hands linger on her hips before she pulls away. “I’ll see you in bed, love.”
“I’ll be right up.”
Riot rakes his hair back as she climbs the stairs, his face stern.
“We’re leaving at dawn to scout the castle and make sure we’ve got that entry point,” I tell him.
“Aye, I might decide to waltz right the fuck in there, though.”
He won’t.
“You know Grace won’t stay behind tomorrow night,” Riot whispers, and my heart thuds in my chest.
“I know.”
“She can hold her own,” he tries to encourage.
“I know that, too.”
“Can’t blame her. I wouldn’t stay behind either. Nothing would stop me.”
I shake my head, slapping my thighs as I stand. “When I married the woman, I made the decision to support whatever choices she makes. I won’t stop her from performing the duties she sees fit for her life. Heir, mother, wife, Hunter. Magic, no magic. It’s up to her.”
“Aren’t you just the perfect fucker?”
I huff at him, turning toward the stairs. “Doesn’t mean I’m not tortured by it every day, Riot.”
As dawn breaks, Riot, Grace, and I venture through Southend, strolling past Lou’s, a single strip of black cloth hanging in the window, mourning the owner and warning everyone who passes.
Black fabric is always hung during the day when warranted, discreetly communicating one message above all else: vampire attack.
Snow up to our calves, we slog through the forest bordering the bay that curves around the east side of the castle.
Grace follows Riot, his form plowing a path ahead of her.
Breath heaving from our effort, we finally break through the tree line and crouch to rest our legs and stay hidden at the edge of the forest.
Hail patters into the shimmering bay like diamonds scattering over glass, and rare sunshine streaks through spotty, heavy clouds.
I shift beside Riot, my right thigh barking at me, and the stillness of the morning is eerie as fog curls across the water’s surface, blurring the castle beyond.
The clouds shift, finally blotting the sun.
“The men I sent to scout last night saw no movement in or out of the castle,” I inform them.
“That’s odd,” Riot says, his boots scraping against snow as he lowers to balance on a knee and pulls the telescope from his chest pocket. “Are we still thinking dungeon access?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
No matter what anger I have toward my father, he was the best captain the Hunters had seen in centuries, and I trust his assessment, but I need to vet its current status.
Riot peers through the telescope, and a damp wind gusts past and into my bones, fog rolling back like the gods are on our side.
Grace shivers beside me, hunkering down tighter in her squat.
“There’s the usual thirty human guards on the rampart and another dozen in the turrets,” Riot says.
“Let’s go find our entrance,” I say.
We jog the three miles around the bay to the waste gate at the base of the massive stronghold, the thick, iron dungeon door beside it that opens up onto the bridge crossing the bay.
“Wish me the luck of the gods,” I whisper as Riot salutes me, and Grace giggles next to him.
I freeze the breath in my chest and step into deep sludge, the others remaining hidden against the edge of the castle wall. My magic simmers, reducing all bodily functions to a minimum to reduce the consumption of my breath and leave me with several minutes of no need for air.
And then I dive.
Under the foulness, I swim blindly for the rusted gate, and then my fingers find steel, and I yank at it.
No budge.
I feel along its edges to find the lock.
There.
My hand closes around the padlock, and I call my magic to attention. Muscles hardening, I pull at the steel, and the hinge of the lock bends and severs under my strength.
I drag the gate open in the soundless mud of waste and swim through.
Traveling to the right, I find stone and edge my fingertips upward toward a lip. Slowly, I float to the surface and peek above the flow to survey the tunnel I’m in.
The sewer is unguarded, as predicted.
I hoist myself onto the stone walkway and race toward the nearest door to test the handle.
Not locked.
Fucking idiots.
I’d worry about leaving a trail of sludge behind me as I explore, but it’s obvious no one comes down here. The cobwebs, rats, dirty pathways, and mold growth are overwhelming.
Wiping my face to clear what I can from my airways and eyes, I finally take a gagging breath, vision blurring at the stench. I make a mental note to carry sacks of water to rinse with and sealed cloths to wipe if this is our only way in.
I’m not taking down a kingdom covered in shit.
After collecting myself, I assess the stone corridor before me.
My goal is to find the exterior dungeon door access and confirm I can open it.
I don’t need all my men swimming through this if they can walk through the back door.
And if I can get that door open, I can dunk my shit-covered ass in the bay, too.
The Hunter within prepares to track movement around me as I move forward, the shadowed corridor sharpening.
Aged stone walls ooze with slime, like trails of blood crying with the despair of the kingdom.
My magic surges to attention as I venture deeper into the dungeons of our enemy, my adrenaline spiking as my magic senses hundreds of vampires in the castle above.
I need to cut left and around to access the door beside the grate I swam through, so I follow the wall, waiting for my first opportunity to turn. My boots tap quietly against the stone floor, and I hit the first blockade.
The large wooden door is bolted shut, with a metal grate at its center.
I peer through to a long hallway lined with holding cells and call upon my magic, strength bursting, and yank the pins out of the hinges before gripping the sides of the thick door.
I push through my legs to release it from the wall.
Spinning, I set the massive door to the side and race through the doorframe, clock ticking now with the evidence of my intrusion.
An unconscious body is slumped over in one of the cells, but based on the smell, the frail man is no longer with us.
Monsters.
I reach my magic out to Sam—no response. The Captain in me hates being this close to my Hunter and not being able to do anything to help him.
My first opportunity to turn left is just ahead, and my magic jumps as it senses movement around the corner. I halt in my tracks, but it’s not a vampiric threat, so I plaster on a worried look before striding around the corner.
The human guard and I stare at one another.
His eyes widen as he scans my soiled clothing and the blades at my hips.
“Morning,” I say brightly.
He fumbles for his sword before aiming it at me, and it shakes between us.
“There’s no need for that,” I tell the speechless guard, the dark circles under his eyes deepening with his stress.
“No one is allowed down here,” he says, eyeing me as I step toward him.
“I’m just looking for my brother,” I say, spreading my hands out wide. “Don’t think he’s down here, though.”
The guard huffs at me. “Probably in the graves, I’m afraid.”
“Aye,” I say, wringing the shit water out of my tunic. It splashes between our boots.
The guard gags and recovers himself, shaking his head. “Sorry about your brother. There are no humans alive in the dungeons.”
I grunt. “Why waste a good meal, right?”
The guard eyes me, clearly undecided about what to do with me.
“Care to show me the way out? I’d prefer not to go back the way I came.”
The guard stiffens.
“So, is a failed rescue attempt going to cost me my life too, then?” I ask him.
“It’s supposed to,” he says, sword still pointed at my chest.
“I see,” I say, praying to the gods I can convince the guard to let me out of here so I don’t have to knock him out. “Any chance we can just forget we saw each other?”
He hesitates. Human guards are loyal to the king for only one reason.
I stuff my hands into my soaked pockets, watching the guard’s nose wrinkle. “You know, if you ever want out of this life, there’s a tavern in Southend that’ll be looking for an extra set of hands in the coming weeks. Benefits aren’t quite the same, but if you ever want out—”
“I won’t trade my family’s survival,” he growls.
“Can’t compete with that perk, huh?”
“No.”
“Well, I have a family to feed and protect. And I don’t have the privilege of working for the king,” I say.
His face softens, a swallow tracking down his throat.
I let my eyes burn with the honesty in my statement. “Please. No one knows I’m down here.”
His shoulders droop. “I hate this fucking job,” he grumbles and aims his sword down the hall. “Fine. You’re in front.”
I grin and stride forward, passing the disgusted man.
My magic keeps tabs on the distance of his footfalls behind me and the threat of his sword while we walk.
“Thank you. Truly.”
He grunts, and I hear him sheathe his blade.
“Left turn,” the guard instructs, and I head down the next hallway, passing through a round foyer of sorts, hallways jetting in every direction.
My eyes catch on the exterior dungeon door at the end of the tunnel, and I smile into the dimness.
“Stand aside. Hands on the wall.”
I do as he says, peering over my shoulder to watch him insert a key into three separate locks and slide the thick bolts as wide as my forearm out of the stone wall.
A complication. But we can plan for it.
“If you want to leave, you need to help me pull it open,” he says.
The iron door is so massive and heavy, it’s impossible to move with one man.
And there’s no way a Hunter could rip it from its locked bolts from the outside.
An intentional design by the vampires. I could pull it open alone if unlocked, but he doesn’t know that.
So I help the guard heave the iron door, the scrape against stone echoing behind us through the dungeon.
The man’s sad eyes meet mine as he steps back to let me through, and he gives me a half-smile before I step out into the chilled morning and push the door closed from the other side.
The guard locks me out, peering through the small grate.
“Until next time,” I tell him with a wink, breaking into a jog across the bridge over the bay, knowing Riot is watching me through his telescope.
I throw two finger signals and make for home.
The dungeon is our way in.