“We should stick together,” Milo argues, a scowl on his face as he tries to lean over the pit to get a better view.
I grunt, not willing to admit I can almost admire the bloodsucker’s commitment. The kid refuses to be treated as a liability, training harder and longer than anyone else. I hesitate for a moment, not liking the thought of leaving him behind, then I give a rumbling sigh. “Let me check it out first. If I find anything, one of us needs to remain topside to signal to the others. You can join me after.”
Without waiting for him to protest, I step forward and drop a good twenty feet down into the hole. I land with a splotch of putrid liquid, the rotten bodies squishing uncomfortably under my boots. It’s like stepping through a portal…directly into the land of the dead, the pit resembling the bowels of hell.
I’ve been to battle, slaughtered both man and beast, seen and done unmentionable horrors throughout my life, but nothing could have prepared me to face so many discarded bodies piled nearly chest high. There have to be over three hundred bodies in various stages of decay stacked around me, and even more skeletons flashing macabre smiles at me from the darkness.
Shining my light around the room, I take in the carnage, noting the very familiar signs of death—exsanguination. Although not all of them look like they went easy. Some had broken bones, bodies twisted in pain. Women and young men took the worst of their depravity, and my grip tightens on my flashlight until the plastic creaks dangerously.
When I spot the corpse of a particularly young girl, rage builds in my chest, and my beast scratches at the undersides of my skin with the demand to be set free and hunt the fuckers down. I turn away, my teeth aching from where my jaw is clenched so tight.
Struggling to contain my need to shift and let my beast rampage, I’m distracted when my light flickers across the rough-hewn stone walls. Claw marks decorate the walls, and a few stray fingernails are embedded in the stone, the residual horrors still echoing in the narrow space.
Stale blood coats everything black. I breathe lightly through my mouth to avoid the rotting stench of so many corpses, but it does little to help. I wish I could shut down my senses, but I can’t risk being cut off from them.
A simple mistake like that could get me killed.
The lack of senses is like being blind and handcuffed.
I don’t know how humans can stand it.
The taste of death and decay steals into my mouth and creeps down my throat. The walls slowly close in on me, and I struggle to take in a full breath. After years of captivity, tight spaces still tend to freak me out. Pacing to shake off the sensations, I ignore the way bones crack, then shatter under each step. Slimy decay and gooey body fluids soak into my clothes, and my lips curl back in a grimace.
Even the beast residing under my skin, who normally craves violence, recoils at the horror. I slowly turn a full circle, a muscle ticking in my jaw at the senseless killing. While a pit like this isn’t uncommon, most vampires have done away with the old ways. It doesn’t surprise me that Dafoe went against the laws and slaughtered people indiscriminately.
I crouch, ready to leave the depraved grave site behind, when I notice a section of bodies positioned a certain way near the far side of the room. The hairs on the back of my neck lift as I take a step closer, then I stop dead when I see the dark, empty sockets of dozens and dozens of vampires staring back at me.
Fuck!
The corpses are resting with their backs against the wall, their severed heads resting drunkenly in their laps. While some wear an almost peaceful expression, others look like they went through the blender, fighting tooth and nail for their lives. Most had their chest cracked open, their insides a hollow cavern, white specks of bones gleaming in the darkness, their hearts gone to prevent rebirth.
And lying in the middle of the nest is one Charles Dafoe, master vampire.
His mangled body is in so many pieces, it’s almost beyond recognition, the ragged edges of skin and bone showing he’d been ripped limb from limb. What remains of his corpse is so shriveled, he resembles a juicy mummy.
Killing a vampire is not an easy thing.
Killing one of his age is nearly impossible.
I should know, I’ve tried more than once…and failed.
While I’m glad to see the bastard gone, I’m unnerved at what could’ve done this.
And suddenly very worried they could still be hiding in the mansion.
I whirl, taking a step to get back to the others, when my light flickers across someone standing so still in the darkness that it takes me a moment to realize the form is not a statue. Lurching back, I trip over one of the corpses, like it was reaching for me, and nearly fall on my ass. I yank up the flashlight, frantically sweeping the light back over the spot where I last saw the person, and the snarl building in my chest dies when the light settles on a young woman.
A painful bubble sparks my chest, like I swallowed air, and I can do nothing but stare at the tiny, blood soaked beauty. She’s wearing a red dress that’s too big for her, the ends of the sleeves dangling off her arms, the skirt pooling around her feet. Tears of blood leak down her face as she reaches a hand out for me. I’m taking a step toward her, unable to resist the impulse to comfort her, when she finally speaks.
“I beg of you, if you have any decency, you will do me the mercy of killing me.” The husky rasp rubs along my nerve endings, crackling like static, and even my beast takes notice.
So it takes a second to process what she said.
Everything inside me protests the thought so violently that I automatically recoil. “Excuse me?”
The girl swallows hard, her throat moving painfully, and she takes another slow step toward me, and I finally process the rest of her appearance. She’s so thin that a good wind could take her down. Even standing at full height, she barely reaches the center of my chest. Her long, dark hair is a snarled, matted mess, her skin caked with so much blood, it’s like she bathed in it, not an inch of her uncovered.
My wolf automatically inhales, desperate for the scent of her…only to gag when the stench of death crawls inside our chest.
