Immanuel's Veins (31 page)

How I managed to stay straight, I don't know, but I only scraped the moss on the walls once. And then I was at the end, winded more by my nerves than from exertion. I could still just see the slight glow of flame from the study far behind me.

No light from under the door. I opened it and stepped through. Now I was on the thinnest of ice. Up to that point I knew my way because I'd been there before. But I had no intention of retracing my former steps back to the main ballroom from which I had fled.

I had to get back down to the tunnels where I'd met Alek. Back to that same library that, according to Sofia, Alek preferred. If I could make it there and win Alek back, I would stand a far better chance than if I had to go it alone.

I had noticed earlier that the Russians seemed to hold together in groups, lounging in rooms where they clung to each other. During my tour with Sofia, we hadn't encountered even one wandering down a hall alone. They all seemed to know where they wanted to be and wasted no time getting there.

Or so I hoped.

A thin thread of light traced the base of a door directly ahead of me. I'd passed by this door before, avoiding it because it led back
into
the castle when my intent was to get
out
.

I crossed to the door. It wasn't locked.

Now I had a choice. In the event I did encounter one of the Russians, I would have to strike without a moment's hesitation, before they could fly at me or flee to give the warning. Normally I would use the pistol, for there was no quicker way to a man's head than the path of a musket ball.

But the ensuing blast would give its own warning so close to the main hall. I would risk it deep in the tunnels but not here.

So I shoved the pistol into my belt and withdrew my throwing knife and one of the wooden stakes. I don't mind telling you, that stick of wood felt like a toy in my hand.

I cracked the door and eased my head forward for a view. If anyone had been in the hall, they were gone already. It ran to my right, toward the back of the castle. A single torch on the wall lit the way.

I stepped in and strode quickly.

This is it, Toma. At any moment a door will open and expose you to a team that's been watching and waiting. They know you're here
.

But I refused to believe myself and picked up my pace, empowered now by raw experience. I was a slave to my instinct, clinging desperately to a hope in a blood greater than mine.

The way was unknown to me—all I know is that I passed through two doors and rounded a corner that delivered me directly to the flight of stairs I'd descended with Sofia. And I had not encountered a soul.

I was so surprised that I pulled up sharply and searched my memory to be sure this was the right passage.

But it was! And I leaped into it.

Perhaps they didn't know I was there. Perhaps I had stumbled upon the greatest fortune, or perhaps another force was behind me, seeing my way to this noble task.

If only I had known what awaited me. I might have fled.

Instead I took the steps two at a time, down into the round atrium, through the darkened door, and then right, into the same tunnel that Sofia had led me down. I ran down the passage, sure I could hear whispers from the rooms I passed, which only sped my pace. I had only one objective, and I tore for it with every last reserve of speed.

And then I was there, at the gate to the library. I spun in, panting.

It was empty. The door leading to the room where I'd found Alek was closed. I could not dare hope for my good fortune to hold up a moment longer. I could set fire to this room using the torch on the wall, and then retreat, having accomplished some of what I'd set out to do, but if Alek was behind that door, I might consign him to his death. I would have rather fallen on my own sword!

So, for my love of Alek, I would risk it all by going through the door, if only to win him first. I was bitten by madness!

I slid silently up to the door and pressed my ear against it. A soft chuckle. But how many? And was Alek . . .

Then I heard him laugh.

The sound flooded me with a frightening mix of rage and optimism. I decided to use all the weapons at my disposal. Snatching the water from the bag, I shoved the latch down and threw myself through the doorway.

At first glance I saw that there were only three of them. Alek and Dasha were in a chair together opposite a male I recognized but did not know.

My entrance caught them off guard, and I was already rushing forward. I hurled the jar of water at the male with my left hand as I flew toward Alek and Dasha. Then, uttering a guttural cry, I snatched a stake from my side and dived for Dasha.

She was just snapping out of her shock, twisting to her right, when the stake reached her with my full weight behind it. The sharp point entered her body just under her armpit and drove deep, into her chest, all the way to my fists. I swear that stake had gone through her heart.

She gasped loudly, grasped for the wood that stuck out of her body, and collapsed into Alek's arms.

My momentum carried me over them. I hit the ground rolling and came up with my pistol withdrawn. Only then did I see that the jar of water had smashed into the wall and accomplished nothing.

But the shock of seeing me shove that stake into Dasha's heart had momentarily frozen the other male. I steadied my aim and shot him through the head.

A hole, and he collapsed in a heap.

“Ahhh!”

I bounded to the door and shut it, then spun back around. Alek was off the couch, staring at Dasha's dead body. His face was white and he was shaking with horror.

“Wha— Oh no, what is this?”

“Alek! It's me! Toma, your commander.”

He looked at me, flabbergasted by what had happened. And no wonder: the woman who had seduced him was now dead at his knees. For the first time it occurred to me that he might be too far gone to come to his senses. But he was Alek. Alek! The strongest of men.

“You've . . . you've killed her!”

He collapsed to his knees and began to shake her body, wailing his command. “Wake up! Dasha, get up! Wake up!” Tears spilled from his eyes. He grabbed the butt of the stick to pull it free and immediately jerked his hand away as if it had burned him.

I hadn't anticipated this reaction. I might have made it that far without being detected, but surely someone would come soon.

I leaped to his side, grasped the stake, and jerked it free. Blood flowed from Dasha's wound.

“You see, Alek, it burns you? But it does nothing to me. You've been infected by the blood of the Nephilim. You must break free of this curse!”

He leaped to his feet and spun to the dead male. “You . . . you've killed Petrus?”

“They are infidels! Worse by far than any enemy we've faced. I beg you, Alek.”

He backed away from the sofa, arms trembling. “You've killed Dasha.”

“She'll come back to life,” I said. “Didn't Stefan?”

“You used the wood! She can't come back!”

He knew more than I.

“I need your help, Alek. If you possess an ounce of duty still, you must find your way past your passion and help me save Lucine!”

He looked stricken. “Lucine? She's the bride. She's the new queen. What have you done?”

I didn't know which was worse: that Alek was so far gone or this new bit of information about Lucine.

“When?” I asked.

“At midnight.”

“Tonight?” I was appalled.

“We were hoping you would . . .” He seemed to lose track of the thought, and he looked back down at Dasha. His mouth clamped shut then slowly drew tight. Bitterness began to replace horror.

“Alek, please. They are wicked.”

But even as I said it, a new thought crashed in on my mind. If they were wicked, was Lucine also wicked? And Alek and Natasha? Were humans infected with the bad blood wicked to their core? Even so, if Lucine was to be wooed and loved, were they not all?

Their blood was bad, but was there nothing redeemable about them?

Still, I pressed on. “I've learned so much, Alek. There's no time, but . . .”

The male whose head I had shot moaned. He was coming awake? Was there no killing these creatures?

Panicked, I rushed over to him and shoved the stake into his chest. He shook once, then lay still. But I tell you, doing it sickened me. I could see that it wasn't only the Nephilim in him that I'd killed. It was the human.

But now time was running on and I was feeling trapped in that underground grave. I rushed back to Alek, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him. His eyes were fired and his jaw firm.

“I need you! Snap out of this, Alek. We can't let him marry Lucine; she can't possibly love him. I am sent here by God himself to save her. And you and Natasha. I'm under direct orders from Kesia to . . .”

He dropped his head and threw himself into my chest. My chin took the brunt of the blow and snapped up. Then I was falling, back over the couch where Dasha lay dead.

Alek roared and tore into me, pummeling me with both fists. I cried out and tried to push him off me, but he didn't budge. His knuckles slammed into my gut like battering rams. He was far stronger than I remembered him.

But then he would be. He had turned, infected with whatever blood Dasha had put into his veins.

Another one of his fists landed and I felt a rib crack. His eyes, only moments earlier dark, were now red with rage. It was then that I realized he intended to kill me. His mind was lost in bloodlust, and he wouldn't back down until I lay dead at his feet.

I brought my knee up with as much force as I could, managing a full swing despite the pain in my chest. It landed in his groin and should have easily pitched him over my head.

He only grunted once, then brought his elbow down on my head with enough power to knock out any ordinary man.

Panicked, I snatched for the stake still tucked under my belt. “Alek! Alek—”

He hit me again, and this time I thought the blow might be the last. My head swam.

I tugged the stake free and jerked it up so that the point angled up toward his chest. I don't think he saw it in his blind fury, because he threw his full weight down on his next blow.

The stake cracked a rib and sank into his chest. I will never forget the look in his eyes, one moment red and glaring as if he himself were a demon, the next dark and round, stunned that something had changed. His blow glanced off my shoulder and went into the floor with an empty crack.

He groaned and blood bubbled from his mouth.

What had I done?

“Alek?”

In answer his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped over the stake, held up like a canvas over a tent pole.

I shoved him off me and clambered to administer life. “Alek!” I jerked the stake out and immediately tried to revive him, but my efforts were useless.

I threw my head down on his chest and grabbed my hair. What had I done? I'd just killed the very man I'd come to save! The one who could help me save Lucine!

I beat upon his chest with my fists. “Alek!” But he would not respond. What kind of calamity had I brought upon myself? I was torn with dread.

I staggered to my feet and looked about the room, surrounded now with three dead, all killed with those stakes. For a moment I could not think. What to do now? How to make amends for this slaughter wrung from my own hands?

I grabbed a lamp and threw it against the floor. Oil splashed around my feet. I rushed out to the library and grabbed three lamps, smashing each into the bookcases. My only chance now was to move before the rest knew what I had done and could mount any coordinated effort against me. I had to save Lucine and Natasha or I would not be able to live with myself.

I snatched up one of the torches and thrust the flame against the spilled oil in the inner room. The fuel caught immediately, flashing to a roaring fire that swarmed the couch.

Forgive me, Alek!
I felt ill.

Grabbing my leather bag, I ran around the outer library, touching the torch to the books and cases. Flames erupted along the floor and hungrily licked at the paper and wood soaked in oil. A crackling
whoosh
chased me from the room. I ran down the hall, blazing torch in hand.

“Fire!”

I thundered the warning at the top of my lungs.

“Fire!”

Smoke billowed from the library's entrance behind me. I saw the first response when I was only halfway down the passage, a dark head jutting past a gate, glaring at me with black eyes. Then he was gone in a blur that blew past me toward the inferno behind.

“Fire!”

Though I ran straight toward the stairs that would take me up into the thick of them, I pushed my sprint to its limit. Up the stairs. Two more brushed past me as I leaped to the landing.

“Fire in the tunnels. Dasha!”

I had one hope and that was that they would see me and think I had decided to join them. I was warning them, after all. I was voicing my concern in the most strenuous way possible. I had planned to do just this, only with Alek at my side.

An oil lamp sat on a table near the entrance. I smashed it against a large painting of one of their ancestors then threw my torch at the soaking canvas. Flames swarmed the portrait. When I spun around, four more of the Russians stared at me with wide eyes. Understanding sank into their eyes.

“He stole my bride,” I screamed, backing toward the passage that led to the tunnel through which I had entered. I had to make my escape there or all would be lost. “Now he's paid his price.”

A fifth suddenly appeared next to the other four. He stared at the fire, then drilled me with his black eyes.

“Then so will you,” he said.

I thrust the crucifix at him. “In the name of the Christ—”

He snarled and swooped past me, knocking the cross from my hand. It clattered and came to a rest on the stone. Oily black smoke boiled through the passageway.

I stumbled backward, closer to my way of escape. My right hand found two more stakes and I jerked them out. The Russians said nothing but neither did they move.