And Dracula’s Beast grabbed me by the soul, somehow even pinning my wings to my back, proving that it was perfectly capable to dominate me on the physical plane as well as the magical.
I hissed and struggled, railing against the unseen appendages for any kind of weakness. Upon contact—or whatever this sensation could be called—I suddenly realized that I could feel the Beast itself. And it made my pulse skip a beat or ten.
It.
Was.
Immense.
Unbelievably immense. Like a force of nature. And some part of me realized that the Beast was as surprised as me—that I had somehow taken a peek beneath the curtain. I knew this because it suddenly grew incredibly warm as a tidal wave of rage surged up inside the Beast.
I took a wild guess and assumed it had verified my blood—the blood of Constance’s descendant—the woman who had somehow taken the Beast’s eyes. I struggled and fought harder, fearing it would simply engulf me and extinguish my soul like a pinched candle wick.
It wasn’t just that it was powerful; it was that it was a power I couldn’t even comprehend. Like I was a world-champion bodybuilder standing outside during a storm thinking I was strong enough to punch a tornado and knock it away from my house.
The two forms of strength weren’t even comparable.
But that example was more believable than me trying to stand up against this Beast.
It made Falco look like a puny runt of the litter, where this was the matriarch of all Beasts everywhere.
I heard the two men arguing loudly, but couldn’t make out their words as I strained against the Beast. “Enough!” Dracula finally commanded, sounding closer.
I gasped as the pressure abruptly eased, not having even realized it had been squeezing me so tightly that I hadn’t been able to breathe. The Beast still held me in place, but it was no longer beating the hell out of my soul. My eyes abruptly felt like they were about to bug out of my face and my body was shaking. My Silver claws had simply snapped off and fallen to the floor. What the hell?
Samael was suddenly standing before me, studying me and my broken claws thoughtfully. He looked at me like an object, not an ounce of recognition in his eyes—not a sliver of compassion or camaraderie.
A scientist examining a lifeless object.
A stranger.
I wondered which Samael had been real. This one or the one who had entered Dracula’s Castle with me. It sounded obvious—that this cruel Samael was the original, because he had obviously been working with Dracula the entire time. The part that didn’t make sense was that he’d told Dracula that his goal had been to bring Roland here, but back in the church where I had fought Roland, Samael hadn’t shown the slightest interest in the ex-Shepherd.
Samael had told me it had all been a setup to get me here, not Roland.
One of the two was a lie. Knowing he was a demon, I hadn’t expected anything less—regardless of our Blood Bond. Maybe Dracula had a Blood Bond with Samael as well, and his was simply stronger than mine.
Ultimately, the motivations didn’t really matter at the moment.
Samael lied so easily that it was impossible to know which lie was closest to the truth.
Samael stared at my arms and legs—the same spot I swore I could feel the furious Beast gripping me to hold me in place—even though there was no visible sign of my restraints.
I stared at Samael, my lips curling back. “Godless, dickless, spineless, powerless—”
He struck me across the jaw so strongly and casually that my vision winked out for a second. When it returned, stars spun across my field of sight. I hadn’t fallen, thanks to the Beast holding me in place, which made the blow hurt more. Samael stared at me with zero emotional expression—no anger, no amusement. Just an emptiness. “It’s time to play your part, girl. You will not enjoy it, but I will,” he said, staring down at my unseen restraints again.
Dracula spoke up from across the room. “Go ahead.”
I swabbed my tongue around my mouth, tonguing a tooth that felt slightly loose. Then I spit in his face, speckling it with blood and saliva.
He narrowed his eyes, and I felt a moment of vertigo as his eyes visibly darkened like they were trying to pull me into a void of nothingness. I averted my eyes to stare at his nose instead.
He chuckled derisively. “Embrace the Beast, daughter of Solomon.”
And he placed his palm on my forehead. My skin crackled and hissed.
I screamed as fire ripped through me like a trail of lit gasoline from forehead to toes. It burned and ravaged and…cleansed.
Cleansed me of all power. I wasn’t sure how I knew this through the pain, but I was certain of it. My powers were gone, burnt away. The fire slowly faded as it smoldered and cooled, and the Beast’s grip slowly evaporated with a satisfied purr—like it had just consumed a large meal and was going down for a nap.
I fell to the ground, unable to support my own weight.
Chapter 7
My arm and fingers shook as I weakly reached out to grab one of my broken Silver claws less than a foot away, and it took every ounce of mental and physical strength I could muster to get them working in concert, even if it was slightly arthritic and at a glacial speed. Like those dreams where you ran as fast as you possibly could—even faster than physically possible—only to find that the monster chasing you was only walking, laughing wickedly as he somehow managed to close the distance.
That you simply could not move fast enough to escape his leisurely stroll, even though you were putting absolutely everything you had into it.
Samael chuckled, kicking the Silver claw out of reach—waiting until I was about an inch away from contact to do so, the bastard.
His laugh made me imagine a sadistic kid with a magnifying glass after discovering an ant hill.
I reached within me, trying to call up my Silvers…and failed.
I tried my wizard’s magic, and sensed only smoke from the internal inferno that had blazed through me.
I even considered snatching at my Horseman’s Mask but I knew I would never reach it before Samael stopped me. I needed a minute to catch my breath before trying that.
I tried calling upon my wings to at least fly back from my enemies, anything to get away…
And I felt only the physical silence of an abandoned church.
I was, more or less, a Regular, with no magic to speak of.
Dracula grunted in satisfaction, staring down at me. I hadn’t realized he’d approached. I glared up at him, struggling to get my muscles to obey so that I could at least stand. “Incredible,” he mused, staring at my forehead as I glared at him. “The Mark of the Beast. I thought you were boasting! It has been some time since I’ve seen true devil-work. My resident demon prefers gossip to actual work.”
Samael grunted knowingly. “I’m surprised you keep her around. I’ve always hated her, and that’s saying something.” He smiled faintly. “I could take her off your hands—”
“You will do no such thing. Her gossip falls on deaf ears, and I must admit, she is occasionally useful. Enough to grant her continued existence.”
“As you wish,” Samael said, not sounding best pleased.
“While our guest is recovering, tell me what you did and why. What do you plan to do..” Dracula asked Samael, his voice trailing off as the two of them walked away to speak in private—too quietly for me to hear.