The Chaos Order (Fanghunters Book Three) (45 page)

Okay, let’s get moving!

He shone his torch flame down on the ground, seeking out the next picture of Troy. It was ahead to the left. He made the careful step to it, the stone moving down, but no click. The next was two ahead. He jumped onto it, confidence building inside him as if his veins were filling with liquid steel.

The next was a few across, with the following one ahead of that. He went across, then leaped onto the one ahead. He misjudged the jump and the backs of his soles touched the stone behind it. It went down as he teetered. There was a click. Something whistled by the back of his neck. He froze, his blood turning to ice. His eyeballs rolled left and right.

Man, that was way too close.

“Be careful
,
Dom, you idiot!” He lifted his foot back up nice and slow, his breathing as shallow as a puddle. He steadied himself. The final stone was ahead to the right. He took his time to aim for the dead center of the stone.

His aim was true. He smacked Troy straight between the eyes. A grin broke out on Dom’s face. He looked over his shoulder. The other end of the room stared back at him. “I made it! I made it!” he said, relief plummeting into his stomach. He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand and faced the front. That outline of a doorway in the wall now awaited him. Now, his spine hummed. There was a vampire beyond that doorway. He knew it. Knew it. And a powerful vampire at that.

He stepped off Troy’s face and the stone slotted back up. Dom took a deep breath and approached the wall ahead of him. He was there. Finally. He knew it, just knew it. He’d beaten the traps of the temple and was finally at his goal. A sense of triumph exploded in his chest; he’d done it. All by himself. Against all the odds.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he told himself, an uncontrollable breath rising in his chest. He wiped a tear from his eye. The last ten minutes of his life had been the worst; a sliver of constant torture, apprehension, and stress. And now he’d reached his goal.

But, it wasn’t over yet. He still had to face Magdalena.

He placed a hand on that wall.
Now, how do I get this open?

There was a protruding block on the wall to the right of the doorway.

Dom went over and checked it. He placed a hand on the block and pushed his weight on it; it moved inward. Another mechanism triggered and the doorway ahead of him rumbled open. It rose into the ceiling, exposing the dark room beyond.

Dom stopped and stared into the pitch-black.

This is it,
he said to himself.
No turning back. Good luck.

With a deep breath, Dom steeled himself
,
and then stepped into the chamber of Magdalena.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

D
om crept into the chamber of Magdalena, his torch held out in front of him, trembling in his hand. He’d made it deep in the confines of this house of fun. Now, shit was about to get real. He took slow, cautious steps forward, his wide eyes trying to lock on everything at once. He caught a huge whiff of decay and hot rot and he turned away in disgust.

He took another step and his foot fell on yet another pressure plate. “Oh crap!” he snarled as that all too familiar push and click occurred.
I’ll never learn!

A low rumble behind him made him turn to face it. The door was already halfway down. By the time he reached it, it was almost closed. He listened to it crunch on the floor in despair. He was locked in. He slammed a fist on that door. It bounced off harmlessly.

“Why can’t you be more careful?” he asked himself in a harsh whisper. I mean you must’ve stepped on every goddamn plate in this—

“
Quién eres tú?
” came a voice from behind him, severing his thoughts. A croaky, hoarse voice as if the vocal chords that uttered it had been shredded.

Dom froze, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking. It was almost as if that voice had fingers, brushing against his skin. A cold shiver crawled over him, even though he was drenched with sweat. He spun toward that voice, his torch held up. He lit up the small island he was on; it was surrounded by a deep pit, a few feet wide, that split the chamber, going around it in a U-shape. Strewn by his feet were items of rare quality; gems, pots, statues. Gold idols glittered in the gloom. Dom stared at it all in awe; he felt like Ali Baba.

A loud hissing rose from the pit surrounding the island he was stationed on. He craned his neck forward to get a peek down. The floor of the pit slithered as if alive. Then, he realized it was rammed full of snakes; the ones that were plaguing Chicago. They were coming from here. The floor of the pit was matted with them.

“
Quién eres tú?
” came that coarse, rusty voice again.

Dom shivered. That voice made him want to turn and run; it made his skin crawl, his nerves jangle. It was how he expected a demon to speak. But, he’d managed to lock himself in.
Nice one, Dom.

He wanted more light. He glanced to his left; a torch was hanging on the wall. He pushed the flame of his torch against it and it lit. Now, the room was twice as bright. More rarities were illuminated. Gems, gold, Mayan treasure. He gazed at it all in awe. As he did, he caught movement out of the corner of his eyes and he faced ahead of him.

Now, he saw it.

Opposite him, on the other side of the snake pit, sat a solemn figure, bent down low in a ball, its head turned downward, its hands covering its eyes. It just lounged there between all the rare statues and idols rocking to and fro. Scattered around it were the long vertebrae of snake bones. Dom shivered. The figure emanated a raw power; it radiated death and darkness like gamma rays. He didn’t wanna go near it. No way.

“In what tongue do you speak?” the thing then asked.

“Are you Magdalena?” Dom asked back, although he knew the answer.

“
Inglés.
Your light. It... hurts my eyes.”

Dom flicked his eyes toward his torch. The flame burned bright.

“Have you come to free me?” Magdalena said, still not rising from her bent over position. Her accent had a heavy Spanish influence and something else, something more indigenous.

Dom watched her with wide, cautious eyes. She remained where she was, bent down, rolled into a ball, rocking to and fro, her palms plastered to her eyes. Dom glanced to his right; there was a torch holder on the wall behind him. He reached back and slotted his torch into it and. “No,” he truthfully replied, facing her once more.

“Then, why
are
you here?” Magdalena asked, removing her hands from her eyes, but keeping her head bowed.

With a shaking hand, Dom pulled his crossbow from his back and aimed it at her. “I’m here to end the Chaos Order,” he said, tightening his grip.

A rusty chuckle broke out from her. Her shoulders jigged up and down.

A shiver raced up Dom’s spine. Her presence was too unnerving, like being trapped in a cave with a grizzly bear. He felt safer back with the temple traps than being locked in a room with this mighty vamp.

“Are you a holy man?” she then asked, her voice laced with disgust.

“No, I’m just a regular guy.”

“Centuries I’ve waited for a visitor to my crypt. And this is what I get? A boy? So tell me,
el niño
, who are
you
to attempt to destroy an ancient order?”

“Leviah is dead, Magdalena,” Dom told her.

“Lies!” she spat.

“Uh-uh. No lies. We killed him. The Blood Order is no more. We’ve got the Eye of Moroz.”

A small gasp escaped her. “Father!” She froze. Then, “So, my younger brother met his demise. He always was a fool. The material world his only interest.”

Dom gazed around all the unbelievable wealth sitting idly around them both, then at Magdalena just chilling there amongst it all, without any apparent concern. “And what interests you, Magdalena?”

“Chaos. Blood. Darkness. I like to see the blood flow in cascading rivers. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I like to watch it flow, ripple, ebb. It glows dark under the moonlight.”

Dom kept his aim on her. He knew he had to get her in the heart; the only way to kill a vamp. But as she was all bent over, he didn’t have a clear shot. He’d have to get in close, and force her up, then get her. But, he didn’t wanna go near her. All around him, that hissing continued like gas.

“Where is César?” Magdalena then asked.

“I don’t know who that is,” Dom told her.

“She betrayed me. She was the only one who didn’t lose her mind after I fed on her. The others... The visions drove them insane, my brand of chaos infecting their minds. What pleasure I took in watching them tear their eyes out of their own heads, the things they saw beyond the limit of any mortal mind. They came to me for pleasure, and all they received was pain. Pain and exquisite suffering. I... wear their very limbs on my skin to this night.”

Dom gulped. He didn’t dare take his aim off the thing crouched opposite him. The crossbow trembled in his grip. He knew he had to do something. But, didn’t know what.

“The fools worship me as if I’m their god,” Magdalena continued. “I’m their destruction. I’ll bathe in exquisite waterfalls of their blood and dance on their graves when the darkness comes.” She let out a rusty cackle that sent tremors up and down Dom’s legs.

He couldn’t take any more; he’d heard enough. He took a few steps closer to the pit separating them both. “It’s over, Magdalena,” he said, lifting his crossbow up to his face and taking aim. “I’ll make it quick for you.”

“So, you
are
here to free me.”

Dom shrugged. “If you look at it that way.”

“Then...” she said, now rocking from side to side like an asylum patient. “Please...” She now rocked to and fro in strong arcs. “FREE ME!” she screeched, leaping to her feet and spreading her arms wide.

Dom recoiled in shock. She was a seven-foot monster standing on muscular legs, gnarled like a great oak. Her breasts sagged down to her stomach; huge metal piercings hanging from her nipples swung like pendulums. Her body had been carved with elaborate, swirling tattoos that twisted and danced across her limbs, punctuated by bite marks and scars. Mummified arms and legs hung around her waist in a makeshift skirt, stitched into her skin.

She was a grotesque sight. So horrible, she rooted Dom. He stood there, frozen, glaring at her in horror, while she was open to attack. All he had to do was get a clean shot to her heart. But, he hesitated. By the time he snapped himself out of his shock, she was on the charge.

She leaped over the pit separating them, her massive arms outstretched.

Dom gasped; he went to pull the trigger. But, it was too late; she was on him in a flash, an inhuman wail bolting from her mouth. “FREE ME!” she screeched.

She descended on him like a wild animal, scraping a claw across the air.

Dom managed to get an aimless shot off. The skewer thudded into her attacking forearm, rerouting its arc. Her aged talons missed his head and instead caught his upper arm, tearing skin. They both screamed in agony, pain roaring across Dom’s arm, Magdalena wailing like an injured lioness, her free hand flying to the skewer embedded in her forearm.

Dom staggered back away from her. He had a quick glance at his upper arm; blood was seeping out of long, stinging scratch marks. He clenched his teeth against the pain, growling to counter it. He needed to get another shot off now that he’d injured her. He pulled another skewer from the quiver on his side and hastily slid it into the crossbow. He whipped his head around to face her.

She was staring right back at him, her frizzy hair sprouting back from her head as if she’d had a severe electric shock. She ripped the skewer from her arm with a twisted wail, black blood spurting up from the fresh wound.

She became still; her eyes bored into Dom as she threw the skewer to the side. It clanged against stone, before falling into the snake pit.

Dom was rooted again, unable to keep his eyes off the disgusting image ahead of him. He found himself staring at her earlobes; they stretched down to her shoulders as if they’d melted. Between them sat several fangs hanging from a chain around her neck. Dom’s eyes widened. The Fangs of Moroz. There they were!

Magdalena then charged.

Dom’s eyes popped.

He yanked the string of his crossbow back and fired all in one jerky motion. The skewer flew Magdalena’s way. Magdalena ducked; the skewer whistled past her head, missing it by inches. It struck the far wall behind her with a loud clang that reverberated through the chamber.

Oh crap!

She was on him; a monstrous, hulking beast. Dom’s instincts tweaked. He dropped the crossbow and threw up his hands; he managed to grab hold of her wrists, just as she went for his shoulders. She came to an abrupt stop, and a wrestle ensued. Dom pushed against her mighty weight with everything he had, adrenaline juddering through his veins. She used her bulky frame to push back; she thrust her face into his. Her jaw snapped on the air, her bent and uneven fangs gleaming in the torchlight, the rancid stench brewing in her rotten gut hanging on the air between them. Dom turned his head away in revulsion. She pressed against him, her brutal, raw strength too much for him to handle.