My wolves hang from some kind of weird machine. It’s like something from a horror movie. They are hanging by their feet with their front paws bound and pulled to one side, preventing them from moving their limbs. Heavy iron chains hang from spiked collars that dig into their flesh. Blood drips from each of them into a container on the floor. The bottom of the container has a hole. The blood runs out of the container and along a groove in the floor. It leads to a pair of stone boxes. I take a step closer to get a better look.
The lids to both boxes have been pushed aside. Inside lay the shriveled and dried up bodies of two people. Oh my god. They are coffins. Then these must be… horror at what I’m seeing washes over me. He’s been keeping them all this time? That is a level of crazy and gross that’s entirely in keeping with what’s going on here.
The brutal hanging machine. The spiked collars.
Underwood enjoys the cruelty. He seeks it out. A thin line of rage sparks in me, wrapping me in its heated embrace.
Underwood’s voice echoes through the chamber. “I can’t believe you’ve been right here all this time. Hiding under my nose. What in the world were you waiting for? Fools. You should have killed me the moment you found me, because I will not show you mercy.”
The blood moves from the channel into the first coffin. The body inside appears to absorb it, drawing it in from the channel like it’s sucking on a straw. As I watch, the body in the first coffin plumps up a little.
I fight back the bile rising in my throat. That has got to be one of the grossest things I’ve ever seen.
Underwood continues, “My sons have been waiting for one hundred and seventy-six years to return to the world.” Underwood has a knife. “I’ll take every last drop of their blood from your veins and when it’s returned to them, I will let you heal and then I will feed you to them.”
And he’s—oh my god.
The sound of the blade tearing through fur makes my gorge rise again, and makes the thin line of rage inside me grow stronger, larger. He’s draining their blood and using it to bring his mummified sons back to life. How is that even possible?
What happens when the bodies are strong enough to stand up? I have no idea, but I know that three vampires will be much harder to kill than one. I look around. I need a weapon. There’s a table just inside the door. Maybe there is something there that can help me. I step into the room and I’m overcome with the sense of the four wolves. Yes—four. Tobias is with us.
Wood.
The single word fills my awareness and I know exactly what I need.
I don’t know much about vampires other than the most basic things. The daylight and garlic thing are not true, and they can totally see their reflections. They’re very strong, and fast, and they have keen senses. They feed on the blood of mammals, and they have a horrible aversion to being staked with wood.
The table is made of wood, but it’s too thick for me to break with my hands. On the table there are a few books, some candles, a box of matches. A bowl and a scrying mirror, but nothing that I can use.
Look again.
There’s nothing here! I look over the table again, and then crouch down to look underneath it. And that’s when I spot it. A bent tree branch, maybe four feet long, laying on the floor among the cobwebs and dust.
I reach for it, stretching my arms as far as I can. And as soon as I grab hold, the entire room flashes bright white.
Tobias appears in front of me, his white fur pristine and flowing as if he’s outside in the breeze. He bows once and steps aside as the light fades. Something inside my chest breaks open and I feel a surge of power wash through me.
I know what I need to do before my body does. I can see it happening in my head, every move I need to make before I make it. Tobias has been right all along. I’m not alone. My fingers curl around the branch, holding it tight. I’m going to need to keep my hands steady for this.
There are three vampires in this room, and I know that I have to end them if my men are going to have any chance at all. And I know that if I don’t succeed, all of them—all four of them—will be lost forever.
I climb down the stairs, easing myself forward, watching the dance play out in my head. When I reach the bottom step, I launch myself into the air.
Underwood turns and his eyes go wide at the sight of me. I throw a ball of fire at him, hitting him square in the chest. It’s not enough to kill him, but it buys me the time that I need. I land next to the first coffin and without a moment’s hesitation, I slam the branch into the thickening corpse. He isn’t a mummy anymore, but looks like half a person, still dead, still dried up, but closer to what he used to be.
The vampire’s corpse explodes in a puff of dust.
“No!” Underwood screams and comes at me so fast that he appears like a blur.
I draw my energy in around me, feeling the power of my own essence create a sort of bubble around me. It’s strengthened by Angus’s solidness, and lifted by Marco’s airiness, and put into motion with Van’s fluidity. Even Tobias lends his course edge to my bubble, and it acts like a shield of thick energy,
