Shadow Rising (33 page)
One by one, Arsinöe, Vlad, and Lily rose, moving to surround the leader of the Empusae, who extended the chalice to each in turn. Each gave a few drops of blood, crimson spattering against gold. Lily extended a claw. Arsinöe used a dagger. Vlad drew his wrist across his fangs. Ariane stood quickly, nearly forgetting her part. Her blood would play the most important role in this ritual, from what she had been told.
The cup pulsed with the power that had collected inside of it, lifeblood of the strongest vampires. Mormo held it out to Ariane, seeing her, Ariane was sure, with her strange blind eyes. Ariane fumbled a moment with her dagger but got it unsheathed quickly enough. She held her wrist over the chalice, slicing a thin, shallow line in her skin. Her blood, so dark as to be nearly black, dripped slowly out to mingle with the crimson.
Ariane stepped back quickly when it was done, feeling interested eyes watching her. She knew they had seen the dark blood, so different from their own. Still, she managed to look at everything and nothing, lifting her chin and moving quickly back to her place.
“Grigori,” Mormo said, drawing out the word. It seemed to echo, filling the chamber.
Then she began to chant.
A haze grew around the Empusa, a swirling cloud that was at first bright white, then faded to dusky gray. Within, she continued her chanting, though that sound began to be drowned out by others. Screams. Hooves hitting the hard earth. The flutter of wings.
Ariane blinked, suddenly disoriented. The world around her began to go dark, and images started to flicker through her mind, disjointed at first, then more cohesive.
Beautiful beings falling from a war-torn sky, some with wings of ebony, others with wings the gray of the sky at morning.
Sammael’s wings
, she thought. Some of these beings vanished as they hit the earth, crying out in pain to an indifferent moon. Others crawled into caves, fleeing underground from the burning sun. Still others stayed above, creating a fortress in the sand, hiding from the light and feeding by moonlight. Ariane saw the white hair, the burning violet eyes, and knew them… even Sam. He was one of nine, and Ariane knew all the faces, even Lucan’s. All, save one.
For a time, the men Ariane knew as ancient ones did nothing but hunt their black-winged brethren, those even more cursed than they. The fortress in the sand grew, and in time, most of the dark wings either vanished or were killed. All but the strongest, whose torment of humankind became the sole focus of those who could sense them. Watchers. Grigori. One by one, the dark fallen were destroyed. But while the Grigori studied books, watched the sky, and tried to maintain some tenuous connection to wherever they had fallen from, one of their own had wings turning pitch-black.
The images flickered faster through Ariane’s mind. A village of broken human bodies. And another. And another. A beautiful, masculine face with eyes full of hatred and madness, screaming in pain and fury. A pit so deep it seemed to go to the center of the world, and at the bottom, chained to the wall, weakened but dangerous yet, was the beautiful creature who had become something other, something twisted and violent.
A demon, Ariane thought. A fallen angel gone mad. And when he sank his teeth into the offerings his brothers gave him, he drank more than blood. He drank the soul.
There was the briefest flash of Sariel standing before the demon, hands extended as though for an embrace, before Ariane felt herself plunged into blackness so ice-cold that she thought she would never be warm again. Faintly, she heard Damien calling to her.
Be careful… I’m on my way…
Her eyes flew open and she gasped in a breath, utterly disoriented for a moment until she remembered where she was. She’d slumped down on the bench, barely upright.
With hazy vision, she looked around to see the others rising from their places. Someone shouted as they gathered around a figure curled into a fetal position, motionless, on the floor. Ariane forced herself to her feet, starting toward the knot of people, when Vlad looked up at her, his eyes still hazed with shock. “Ariane. Get Ludo. Get
someone
. She’s not breathing.”
Ariane nodded and rushed to the door. She ran down the damp, quiet corridor on her way to the stairs, still reeling from all she had seen. Sam wasn’t truly a vampire. None of the ancients were. And their brother in chains… what he had done… what he
could
do…
He still whispered through her mind, in a voice dark and seductive.
I am Angel-No-More. I am Nothing. I am Everything. I am Chaos.
And I am Rising.
She didn’t see Ludo until she reached the bottom of the stairs. He lay sprawled across the bottom steps, unconscious. Above, all was silent.
The single breath she drew in was sharp and eerily loud in the utter absence of noise. Then she was grabbed from behind and dragged backward, one hand covering her mouth, another wrapped around her waist. All the air left her lungs in a rush, far too quickly to scream. A voice filled her head, so loud that it shot a sliver of bright pain right above her right eye.
Do not struggle, Ariane.
A strange, sweet smell wafted into her nostrils, drugging her, taking her down into a dark place where she could rest, forget. She tried to keep her head above water, but the currents were too strong, too deep.
You will help him rise.
From far away, she thought she heard a feline roar, the rustle of wings.
Then everything went black.
W
HEN SHE OPENED HER EYES,
at first all she saw was shining silver.
The she realized she’d been sleeping with her hair in her face. Still, it took a moment for Ariane to move. She felt groggy, a little sick, and stiff from sleeping on the cold, hard floor of wherever she was.
She had a bad feeling that she knew the answer to that.
With a soft groan, she pushed herself up, despite the shooting pain that went through her head. With a tentative hand, she pushed her hair out of her face and blinked slowly, looking around the small cell she’d been placed in. Ariane breathed in and smelled sand and spice, desert wind and… something wonderfully familiar.
It was only then that she realized what had wakened her.
A big, sleek black cat watched her steadily from the other side of her cage.
At first she thought she was hallucinating. But no
matter how many times she blinked, the cat remained, its blue eyes fixed on her face. Damien’s eyes. Somehow, he had come for her.
She opened her mouth to whisper his name, but his voice, clear as a bell, filled her head.
Don’t speak, darling. I’m going to get you out of here. Can you walk?
His voice was full of emotion she hadn’t dared hope for. However he’d gotten here, whatever it meant, the relief Ariane felt at his presence was overwhelming. It was then that she understood the sound of his voice as she’d blacked out at Vlad’s. He’d used the blood bond between them to touch her thoughts… to let her know he was coming.
I think so.
She crawled to the big, beautiful cat and slid her fingers into the soft black fur, feeling the heart slowly beating beneath, the slow, even breaths. Then the fur beneath her hands became fabric and it was just Damien, looking slightly rumpled and blessedly real.
“You came,” she whispered.
He held a finger to his lips with a hint of the wicked smile she’d fallen in love with.
Not here, kitten. We won’t be alone for long, and we’ll need more than just you and me to put up a fight. Lucan’s checking on the rest.
Ariane found it impossible to take her hands away from the place on Damien’s chest where she could feel his beating heart.
What are you doing here? How did you know?
Damien pulled away, extracting a small, tied roll of fabric from the inside pocket of his coat. When he unrolled it, a set of picks was revealed, neatly organized.
He eyed the lock on the outside of the cage, selected two of the picks, and got to work, his hands sure.
We’re lucky. These aren’t exactly modern. I knew because Lucan found me. And he knew because he got some sort of mental warning from Sammael. You’ve been had, kitten. Sariel never left here. He had the lot of you delivered to him on a silver platter instead. Did you know that Lucan was the demon’s keeper for over a thousand years? No wonder he’s so bloody miserable to deal with.
Damien’s chatter inside her head, warm and seemingly unconcerned, allowed Ariane to relax enough to stand and get her bearings. Her weapons had been taken, but she seemed little worse for wear. She didn’t want to know how she’d been kept unconscious for so long. She imagined Sariel was much further gone and more deeply involved with Chaos than even Sam had imagined.
Is Sam down here? Is everyone else alive?
Damien glanced up at her, and she saw immediately that the light tone of his conversation had been a ruse. The worry and care in his eyes took her breath away.
I honestly don’t know. The only one I gave a damn about was you.
The lock opened with a soft click, and Ariane saw only a blur of movement before she was in Damien’s arms, gathered so tightly against him she could hardly breathe. He pressed his face into her hair, his breathing harsh. And then he did speak, whispering against her ear.
“I thought I’d lost you.”
She melted into him, savoring the feel of him, solid and strong. All of her doubts about his feelings evaporated with a simple touch. Whether or not he ever said the words, his actions told her all she needed to know.
“I would have found a way back to you,” she whispered.
His laugh was a single, ragged breath. “All the same, I’d rather be here to make sure of it.” He moved to touch his forehead to hers, a gentle, tender gesture that surprised her.
“I love you,” he said.
Words failed her. All she could manage for a response was to press her lips against his, trying to tell him everything she wanted to say without words. His arms came around her back, crushing her to him briefly before he stepped back, though he caught her hand in his tightly.
Let’s go find the others.
They stepped out into a low-ceilinged corridor constructed of large, weathered blocks of stone. The air was cool and bone-dry, the air of the desert. Ariane could see numerous cells just like her own set along one side of the wall. How many had the ancients kept down here to feed their brother’s hunger? All this time, she and the others had lived above this dungeon, completely unaware of what their dynasty was doing… and of what they truly were.
Lucan walked toward them, his wings visible, their tips nearly touching the floor. His voice echoed loudly in Ariane’s mind.
I see the drugs have worn off. Good. The others have not all fared as well.
He beckoned to Damien, who quickly set to work unlocking each cell. In the silence of the corridor, Ariane began to have the oddest sensation of being watched, a feeling that had the hair at the back of her neck prickling. But each time she turned, there was nothing. Though Damien’s efforts barely made a sound, they began to sound incredibly loud to her.
In each cell slumped one of the leaders of the dynasties: Vlad, Lily, Arsinöe, and finally Mormo, whose skin was almost translucent, her breath so faint it was easy to miss altogether. She hadn’t recovered from the divination. Ariane wondered whether they had even bothered to drug her. None of the attendants had been taken, nor had Ty. Ariane hoped they hadn’t been killed.
Damien avoided the unconscious Arsinöe, instead trying to rouse first Vlad, then Lily. Of the two, only Lily tried to get to her feet, but she couldn’t seem to get her legs under her well enough. Vlad simply looked at all of them blearily, a strange haze fogging his eyes.
Damien bared his teeth. “They’ve been given enough of whatever this was to take down an army of vampires,” he hissed. He looked at Ariane. “Didn’t they inject you with it as well?”
“She carries Sammael’s blood in its purest form,” Lucan said quietly. “It will not affect her the same way it does the others.”
“You were angels,” Ariane murmured, her eyes skimming the beauty of Lucan’s wings. “How can that be possible?”
Lucan surprised her with a small, sad smile that managed to transform his face into one of impossible beauty. “It simply
is
. We are like the vampire in some ways, and those we sire are barely different at all… but my brothers and I are endless. As is our curse, given as punishment for our fascination with mortals. No amount of distance between us and that which we once coveted has been enough to return us to what we were, so we are simply Grigori, serving neither darkness nor light. I do not expect you to understand.”
She didn’t, not really… but she wanted to. Maybe after this, there would be time to try.
“So your isolation hasn’t done
anyone
a bit of good,” Damien muttered. He looked around. “Look, maybe each of us can get one of them. Lucan, you’re big enough that you may even be able to get two. It may be a better idea to try saving who we can. Sammael’s not here.”
Then his head jerked up, his pupils dilating so that for just an instant he was the cat again, a hunter scenting another predator. Ariane didn’t even want to turn. She already knew what she would see.
“He is here,” Lucan said softly. “As are my brothers.” He looked at Ariane. “This is not the time to fight. Do as they say.”
Damien looked aghast. “Are you mad?” he hissed. “Then what did we—”
“Listen to Lucan. He still has a bit of sense left, it seems.”
Ariane had to look then, compelled by the smooth, deadly sound of Sariel’s voice. When she did, what she saw made her heart sink. Sariel and three of the other ancients stood in the corridor, blocking the way out. Their swords, all well suited to their owners’ immense size, were drawn.
Sariel looked at each of them in turn, his eyes at last settling on Ariane. What she saw in them was so ancient and cold she wanted to scream.