As much as I wanted to eavesdrop on their talk, getting back on my feet was more important. I groaned as I managed to prop myself up on my elbows. Then I actually sat up, supporting my weight with my hands. The effort left me panting and dizzy, but I pressed on. Even though my body was weak, I didn’t necessarily hurt—even on my forehead where Samael had touched me with the Mark of the Beast.
I knew that phrase was referenced in the Book of Revelations in the Bible; however, I didn’t understand how it had taken my powers away.
The Mark of the Beast was a brand to be given to all mankind who were left behind in the End Days, like a farmer branding his cattle to prove ownership.
Except you wouldn’t be owned by any farmer. You would be owned by the Devil—or one of his minions.
And the Mark was a number—666.
So…
What did that have to do with my various powers?
I knew one thing, though. My Godfather was the worst kind of asshole.
I grunted, climbing awkwardly to my feet. The blood rushed to my head and I had to grip the table with my hands to steady my balance. I waited until my vision steadied before loudly clearing my throat, interrupting them as rudely as I could manage. “What did you do to me?” I demanded.
Dracula turned to smile at me, not bothered by my interruption in the slightest. Worse, he looked eager. “Samael was quite clever. He was just telling me how he used devilry to give you the Mark of the Beast, forming a conduit with Sanguina that I hadn’t considered possible.” Seeing the confusion on my face, he pointed up at the ceiling. “Sanguina is the name of Castle Dracula’s Beast.”
I glanced pointedly at the bloody Cross Pattée covering my chest. “Even though my outfit says otherwise, I’m not really up-to-date on the churchy stuff. The Mark of the Beast is from Revelations, so how would that take away my powers or tie me to…Sanguina?” I said, testing out the name. I was surprised that I didn’t feel her freak the hell out when I said it. I didn’t feel her at all, as a matter of fact. That couldn’t be good. “Shouldn’t it make me some kind of zombie or servant of Hell?” I asked, genuinely confused.
Dracula and Samael were both nodding, although Samael’s grin was smug and he looked as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. As if he had finally gotten his revenge against me for the crimes of my mother, finally able to taste freedom after his long prison sentence within the Seal of Solomon.
Dracula motioned for Samael to explain, chuckling and shaking his head, looking thoroughly impressed by what Samael had done.
Samael turned his grin my way. “I was able to bond your powers to Sanguina because your mother took her eyes, and you share your mother’s blood. And since Sanguina is a Beast, the Mark of the Beast was a close enough conduit to bridge the gap,” he explained.
That…actually made sense. Damn it.
“Tit-for-tat,” he continued. “I’ll admit a small personal win as well—your mother bonded me in chains, and now I’ve bonded you in chains.” I narrowed my eyes, but didn’t say anything. “The Mark of the Beast is so much more than a mere bond of servitude to Hell. If I hadn’t been here in the heart of Dracula’s Beast, it never would have been possible. I wish I had thought of the connection sooner,” he admitted.
Dracula interrupted. “Is this something any demon could do?” he asked, suddenly looking concerned.
Samael snorted. “All demons know how to draw it, but only Greater Demons are strong enough to power it. An army of demons could doodle this all over your castle, and it would have the same effect as them drawing stick figures.”
Dracula looked immensely relieved.
I cut in, not caring about Professor Samael’s Demonology 101 lesson. “Since Dracula looks like he’s about to fanboy so hard that he’s dangerously close to dry-humping your leg, I’m guessing you already have a plan for when I tell you that I want my powers back. Right now.”
Dracula’s eyes narrowed slightly at my assessment, but Samael simply nodded. “If you want your powers back, you will have to make a trade with Sanguina.”
Dracula cleared his throat. “That was one of my questions, too,” he told me. “Those inhabiting my castle are bonded to me by blood, and in effect, bonded to Sanguina. Their bond to me is the only thing keeping them safe from Sanguina’s…appetite.”
I nodded slowly, working that out in my mind. “Sanguina won’t eat those bonded to you. And what Samael did to me is similar enough in effect, bonding me to her indirectly through this Mark. I’m assuming I can’t just wipe it off…”
Samael laughed harshly. “Go ahead and try. It won’t feel pleasant.”
So I did. I reached up and wiped my forehead with my sleeve.
And fucking collapsed like a sack of potatoes, hissing as if I’d scraped a raw wound.
Dracula’s eyes widened, and Samael nodded satisfactorily. “Only a Greater Demon can remove it,” he said in a lecturing tone as I climbed back to my feet.
“Right,” I said, knowing that I would not be trying that again.
Samael cleared his throat. “Now. The difference with your relationship with Sanguina is that I gave her a taste of your powers, and she now knows you are the daughter of the one who took her eyes. She is very hungry to eat you, Callie. If I hadn’t put her to sleep, you would already be dead. With you, there is no buffer of protection like the inhabitants of this castle can claim. In three days, she will wake, and you shall die.”
“Unless,” Dracula said, holding up a finger, “you give her something else she desires. Over the years, I have gifted magical ruby amulets from my treasury to certain residents of my castle as a token of gratitude to thank them for one thing or another,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “There are about forty of them in total, and Sanguina has always wanted to eat those residents more than the others—to see if she could taste the extra dash of loyalty in their blood.” He frowned and turned to look at Samael. “How many does she need again?” he asked.
“Six,” Samael replied dryly before taking a sip of his wine.
Which was interesting. 666 was the Mark of the Beast but…I was also the Sixth Horseman.
Coincidence?
Dracula snapped his fingers. “Right. You could find and kill any six of these forty esteemed residents, and dip their amulets in their blood. The amulets have the ability to absorb their blood and essence, you see. Then, when you are ready to feed them to Sanguina, simply shatter them on the floor. Each shattered necklace will result in some of your powers returning. When all six have been broken, I will call Sanguina off.”
Forty options and I had to pick six. What kind of esteemed residents were we talking about? Frankenstein? The original Renfield? I’d read up on Dracula over the years, but it had primarily been via Bram Stoker. And, thinking that Dracula had died at the end, I hadn’t really delved much further into his specific story. Who had he been friends with?
And…could I kill any of them without my powers?
I studied the two men, thinking furiously. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to just let me walk around the castle to feed six of your most valued residents to your dog so that your dog doesn’t eat me?” I asked, trying to comprehend why the hell anyone—especially Dracula—would want such a thing done. I even wondered if I had misheard him.