Alfonzo opened the door, brandishing his sword, and strode out into the darkness of the night with not an ounce of fear in his step. Bella followed him, the holsters along her body filled with the daggers and knives that on a moment’s notice she could use to fill the air around her. And beside her, Eddie the deadly marksman. Holding Maxine’s leash.
No matter what she did, she would either become a prisoner or a corpse.
It wasn’t until they reached one street over that she pulled up short. It looked as though a river had tried to overtake the cobblestone streets. Liquid ran between the stones, filling the gaps between them like grout. Wet and viscous, the substance shone in the gas lamps that were lit and now burned an unnatural, ghastly green tone.
It was not rainwater.
It was blood.
Bodies littered the sidewalk, strewn where they had been discarded. Some with huge chunks torn from their sides, some missing limbs. Eaten, abused, and tossed aside like broken toys. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to be sick, as if by that method alone she could hold back the bile that threatened to jump up from where it belonged.
But the chain was tugged, and she was pulled along behind the three hunters who acted as though the mayhem and slaughter were nothing out of the ordinary for them. Perhaps it wasn’t. She really had no concept of with whom she was dealing.
Step by step, avoiding the rivulets of blood as she walked on the raised portions, they progressed through the city.
They walked from street to street, heading closer to the center of the city. It was slow going. Carriages were overturned, and debris blocked their path. Several buildings looked like they had been demolished by something enormous and torn to pieces, blocking the roads. But everywhere they went, there was death.
He has done this. This is what dwells inside of him. This is what he has unleashed.
After maybe half an hour, they came across their first “living” creature. She could not say that was what it was at all. It was a long, gangly thing. Its skin was purplish in tone, yet sallow and decayed all the same. Its face was distended, as though someone had dug their fingers into a skull made of clay and dragged it forward, uncaring for the pain it might cause the recipient.
She could not even tell if it had eyes or simply sockets pulled out of proportion. Most important was its enormous set of teeth. Fanged, sharp, and rowed like the shark jaws she saw on display in the natural museum of science. Tattered flesh hung from its jaws, stringy and damp.
They had interrupted its meal.
A meal that had once been a man and was now little more than gore smeared on the sidewalk. Emotions roared through her. Fear. Terror. Madness. Hunger. Bloodlust. Joy.
A shake of the chain at her wrists jarred her back into the moment. “Don’t run, Maxine.”
She nodded weakly. She didn’t know if she even could. Backing up, she found a lamppost to lean on. The cold iron helped ground her. The rest was a blur. She heard the monster screaming. She heard gunfire. The sound of steel on stone. Alfonzo and the others shouting to each other, coordinating an attack on the monster.
Death.
The joy of it. The fear of it.
It was too much.
She felt faint. Her breathing was short and shallow. The world was starting to grow fuzzy and strange. She was too hot and too cold. Sinking down to the ground, she shivered uncontrollably.
The darkness that reached out for her was far preferable to drowning in this sea of agony. She let it take her without a fight.
Vlad’s attention was not on the hunters who tangled with the beasts who came from the shadows to fight them. He knew they would likely dispatch his creatures without too much trouble. This wasn’t about killing them—not yet. He would have his revenge, but, for now, he was content to simply wear them down.
Standing on the rooftop of a nearby building, his focus was on the poor girl in the black coat, leaning on the streetlamp. Her head lolled to the side. She had fainted. Concern wrenched his heart. He wanted to go to her, to cradle her in his arms and sweep her off to some dark and silent place.
But he could not.
Not because of the hunters. He could take the opportunity of their distraction and abduct her now if he wished. No. Sadly, a grander game was to be played. One that would test his darling Maxine. And if he were fortunate, it would not break her.
“What’s wrong with her?” Zadok asked from beside him. The Frenchman was standing with his weight all on one foot, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“Think on what this war has done to the fabric of this city. It has become an ocean of blood. The dark tide has swept her under its waves.”
“Why don’t I go take her back?” Zadok looked up at him, yellow eyes catching the light of the red moon. “They will never even know I was there.”
“She must learn what I am.”
“Uh…huh,” Zadok said slowly and looked back down at the warring hunters. “You earned her love, and now you want to earn her hatred, and see which one wins, is it? You really do want to spend your eternity alone, don’t you? I suppose I cannot fault you for childish games, lest I be the pot and you the kettle. But this is foolish, even to me.”
“For once, I fear I agree with him.” Walter spoke from nearby for the first time. “I do loathe it when you put me in the position to side with him. The three of us could end them right now.”
“Be glad, then, that I do not care for either his opinion or yours in this matter.” Vlad smirked, despite their prattle. “And no. We do not attack.”
Walter sighed, clearly disagreeing with his plan. Vlad understood his annoyance. The tactician in him screamed to be done with it quickly. Three hunters could not defeat him and his two strongest children, no matter how talented the humans may be.
“This is not about victory. This is about defeat. I will have them broken at my feet, not only in body, but in soul. I will have them beg for mercy before I let them die.”
“Ah. I see. They’ve gone and made you angry.” Zadok cracked his neck audibly to one side then the other. “If you want to play with your food, fine. What’s the next step?”
“They are strong when they are together…but they are merely human. They draw strength from their sense of solidarity. Shatter it however you see fit.”
Zadok grinned. “Gladly.” He dissolved into a swarm of rats that poured over the side of the building on which they stood, scrabbling down the brickwork and away.
There were two very good reasons he assigned Zadok the task of tearing the hunters apart at the seams. One, it was Zadok’s gift to lie and deceive. And two…he would take great pleasure in the act. There were many adages referring to the fact that a job was not work if it was also a joy.
“Was that wise to release Zadok to his own means?”
Dracula did not look to his second-in-command as he spoke. He did not take his gaze off the girl sitting unconscious on the ground. How he wanted to go to her. But it was not yet time. He would comfort her in her dreams, and that was all he would allow himself for the moment. “Certainly not, no.”
“Then why do it?”
“To deny the artist his canvas and paint too long is to drive him mad. Some hungers are not so easily fed as others.” He gestured idly at a monster in an alley that was quite contentedly ripping the flesh off a young woman it had run down. She was still alive, although her gagging cries of pain revealed it was only for the moment. “And Zadok has a talent in such regard. He will destroy them from the inside out. And when he is finished, when they split, then we will be done with them.”