"Confession."Carlos waited until Yonnie's now normal, but bloodshot, brown eyes met his. "I'm scared to f**king death this time out, bro. Nerves are so damned bad I couldn't get a sanctuary address in a fold-away right, and could've gotten the team butchered from that stupid shit I just did, missing Monroe Street. But I've got shit cooking my brain. My wife is pregnant and this ain't a drill . . . and I know, like you do, how bad Hell really can be. The f**king Devil himself is pissed off at both of us, man . . . he called me outmano a mano and is coming for mine like I came for his-so this right here that just happened, so you could get your head right, stays between me and you. Nothing but respect," Carlos said, pounding Yonnie's fist. "You ain'tno punk just because you let out what most motherfuckers couldn't carry for a day, let alone two hundred years, aw'ight."
Yonnie nodded. "Yeah . . . I hear you," he said in a gravelly tone.
"If I come to you like this . . . if anything happens to D, I'mabe right here, too . . . totally f**ked-up. You just ain'tsee me go to the rock before-Marlene took me there in front of the whole team-I'm sparing you that embarrassing shit."
"Get out of here." Yonnie gaped at Carlos and then wiped his face."You, Mr. Chairman?"
Carlos nodded."Yeah. Last I checked, I was part human . . . you are, too, now, man."
"Fucked-up, ain't it?" Yonnie said with a half smile."The being human part."
"Completely . . . but whatchu gonna do?" Carlos let out a hard breath on a shrug.
"Suck it up and deal." Yonnie pounded his fist.
"As brothers," Carlos said.
"As brothers," Yonnie confirmed, and then wiped his face.
"Take a walk to the men's room . . . splash some water," Carlos said. "I'll tell the team whatever. Ain't a man been in battle that hasn't gone here . . . either that or they lose their damned minds. If they tell you otherwise they're crazy or lying."
"Or both," Yonnie said with a sad chuckle.
"Yeah, man," Carlos replied, walking away."Or both."
She'd waited for this opportunity-for Sebastian's fear of Lilith and his venomous jealousy of Fallon Nuit to make him desperate for a win. He'd even made a deal with the Dark Lord, and amazingly returned whole with his conjuring arm intact. Such desperation in a man besieged by fear and guilt and hatred was bound to make him sloppy. But that he was the more adept necromancer was something she could use to her advantage. He hadn't even noticed the invasion to his spell chambers; he'd been too preoccupied with obtaining results and keeping his groveling carcass alive.Sycophant. And the gall that he'd made her wait . . . refused to waste his restored powers on healing her before doing Lilith's bidding. For that injustice, he'd surely pay.
Elizabeth held her charred hands firmly clasped together, only glimpsing her faithful sorceress, Dorka, from the corner of her eye. Luring Sebastian to the depths of the Hungarian forest had been mere child's play. His ego would allow him to believe that now that she was so badly burned, he could play Dark Lord and master over her . . . that she would remain an emotional cripple-her beauty in ruins and grateful for his attentions until he got around to making her lovely again.
She watched him arrogantly promenade around the clearing, preparing to raise any beast or demon that had not died by a Neteru blade. The haughty glee practically resonated off his sallow skin. Rage gnawed at her insides as he waved his arms and pranced along the vectors of the bloody pentagram he'd drawn with human blood under the blue wash of the full moon.
Oh, yes, he was in his element . . . she seethed as he craned his long fingers until they'd become talons, calling up the unholy legions that had been vanquished by mortal men. The display was theatric, all hellfire and brimstone, drawing forth swirling winds that lashed their faces and billowed his council robes in an attempt to demonstrate prowess that he never owned.
But she waited, patiently, for the lines drawn in blood around the butchered goat's head to begin to bubble. She waited until the dead human female carcass began to blister with maggots. She waited until black blood sweat ran down Sebastian's gaunt face and he closed his eyes, shouting the last necromancer command for the dead to arise-and that's when she did it.
A black charge left her hands as Dorka jettisoned the skull of Vlad the Impaler with his burial ashes into the center of the ceremonial perimeter. Slashing at her wrists, Elizabeth added her Council-level blood to the offering, along with all of her hatred and the black magic she'd collected throughout the realms. The words she shouted scorched her throat till she sputtered black blood. Her hair was on fire, her robes engulfed in blue-black flames. Searing pain ripped a shriek from her, but she held out her arms, calling forth the greatest vampire that had ever existed.
Screeching and twisting, the lesser shadows that had already risen drew away to the woods for safety. Sebastian turned to her in slow motion, his mouth opening in horror as he screamed the word, "No!"
Before he could inhale the next breath, the ground splintered open, toppling trees and sending black lightning in reverse up toward the sky.
A huge black stallion's skeletal head lunged out of the ground, its massive barrel chest and cloven hooves heaving forward to escape the Hell furnaces. Its rider carried a long pike in one black armored fist. He turned slowly, tossing back his face shield to reveal his regal heritage, eyes blazing black fire and fangs fully extended. Fury rippled down his left arm to engulf his hand as it released his horse's reins and reached toward Sebastian. A war cry rent the air as the magnetic snatch-force dragged Sebastian off his feet.
"My wife and my castle?Interloper, you die!"
Hundreds of warhorses followed their leader from the pit, each vampire rider holding up a pike, skewering badly decomposed human remains impaled through the rectum, along the entire length of the body, exiting the mouth. The moment Dracula's horse reared on its haunches, his soldiers lifted their pikes in a deafening cheer, waving mutilated human remains like gray-green flags.
Limbs and entrails flopped against raised pikes as their horses charged forward and headed toward the feeding grounds in the Carpathian Mountains. Elizabeth dropped to her knees and sobbed, overcome, as she watched Sebastian held aloft in Vlad's black charge.
Strangling from the death grip, Sebastian could offer no defense. She stood slowly as her former husband regarded her condition. His expression was unreadable, and for tense seconds she wondered if her maimed condition would make him turn away from her. Tears glittered in her eyes as she waited and pure contempt overtook his countenance. The spell had backfired . . . Elizabeth covered her face and spun away.
"He has let this fate befall my beloved?"
Elizabeth stopped at Vlad's words and cautiously nodded, slowly turning back to face him.
"Then determine his fate now," Dracula growled.
"Impale him," she hissed, pressing her hands to her heart. "But do not let him die . . . the Chairwoman forbids a loss of resources at this time. Just make him suffer."