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He walks around the back of the chair and I’m trying to breathe through the pain, willing the wound on my throat to close up and heal. Terror is everywhere inside me, a living, growing thing.
I feel the poke of the blade on my fingertips behind my back, then the sharp edge trail over my open palm. Yanik breathes in deeply.
“I could take off your fingers first, then your hands,” he rasps. “Then your toes, your feet. Start chopping you up into tiny little pieces. Just hack away at your skin and bones. And you’d still be alive. You’d be in a pain like no other, begging for death, but I wouldn’t give it to you.”
He comes around in front of me again, his wing-tipped shoes sticking to my blood on the floor, and he presses the blade at my crotch. “I could cut you from here,” he digs it in, almost breaking the skin, then drags it up over my belly, my stomach, up between my breasts, cutting into my shirt, “to here. Take a look at your insides. And still you’d be alive, wishing I’d cut off your head and be done with it. Yes, that seems like something I just might do, since you’re so useless after all.”
He grins at me, pure evil, pure madness.
For a moment I have to wonder how mad the rest of the Dark Order are, or the Makt, as he called them. They seem almost trained, ready to do his bidding, and if that’s the case, then Solon has a lot more to worry about when it comes to his father.
And then, as Yanik starts to press the blade into my chest, drawing blood, Solon feels like more than a thought.
He feels like he’s here.
And when I smell roses and tobacco and that undeniable essence of all that he is, I know I’m no longer alone in this.
But Yanik knows it too.
He takes a break from cutting me, breathing in sharply then whirling around.
I can’t see behind the cloaks of the creatures, but I can sense that Solon just walked in the barn, and he’s not alone either. I can smell that Wolf and Ezra are with him too.
Oh thank god, I think.
Lenore? I hear Solon’s rich, deep voice in my head.
I’m over here. He has me tied to a chair! I yell, my heart pounding with relief, though the fear is still palpable.
“So you found her after all,” Yanik says loudly, holding the knife behind his back as he faces the outer circle. “Medlemmer, let them through.”
Suddenly the cloaked creatures part to the sides.
Solon, Wolf, and Ezra appear, like a motley crew of well-dressed vampires. Each of them possesses the cold, deadly quality of a snake about to strike, calmly taking in the situation, fully confident in their abilities to kill.
I just don’t know if it will be enough.
Solon’s blue eyes meet mine and they burn right through me, into my soul, into that dark well, and I feel the pain in them, the guilt, the rage. I’m so sorry, he whispers in my skull, his gaze dropping to my neck and chest, the muscles in his neck cording in anger at what Yanik has done to me.
Stay cool, I tell him.
“Come,” Yanik says, motioning with his hand.
Solon takes the bait. Walks up to the red line of blood, his nostrils flaring once he realizes the blood belongs to me. But he can’t step any further. It’s like he’s hit an invisible wall.
“Ah, I forgot,” Yanik says smoothly. “You can’t. You know, you’re not the only one who has traded a few souls for a little bit of magic, Solon.”
Yanik then walks toward him, sliding the blade of the knife over his tongue, tasting my blood. He makes a disgusting licking, slithering sound that makes me cringe. “She’s unique, Stavig, I’ll give you that much. Tastes amazing. I can see why you wanted her to yourself. Unfortunately, your father has the same taste that you do.”
Solon raises his chin. “Let her go.”
“Or what? What are you going to do when you’re there and she’s here? You don’t have any of your paltry magic to save her. You’re just a fucking vampire right now. You don’t even have the monster inside you anymore, believe me, I can sniff it out, just as I sniff out my own.”
Yanik then nods at the cloaked figures. “Medlemmer,” he says again in what sounds like Norwegian. “Take them.”
Suddenly the Dark Order spring into action, seeming to disappear in the air, they’re moving so fast. Two of each grasp Solon, Ezra, and Wolf, holding them in place. None of the vampires can even struggle, not when the creatures dig their bony claws into their skin.
They’re trapped.
“I told you,” Yanik says, pacing now. “You’re nothing but boring, ordinary vampires now. The Makt makes sure of that. Your father spent a lot of time and made a lot of deals to ensure they’re like this. Oh, everyone said that the monsters couldn’t be tamed, and to be honest with you, Solon, I didn’t believe it myself. After all, we both know what it was like to be one. We still are one. But your father did it. His greatest creations, he said. Of course, it’s a slow process but, rest assured, soon there will be others like these ones.”
