The Eternal Tomb (2 page)

“I tried, Dean,” Emalie said sympathetically.

“I know, I know. No way to make a lowly zombie invisible.” Dean rolled his eyes. “It's safer anyway,” he said, fingering the smooth black pendant around his neck. “Just in case…”

“Right,” said Oliver. As far as they knew, the hindrian charm Dean was wearing had been keeping him safe from his master's orders. Emalie had found an enchantment to power up the charm, and Dean had shown no signs of being under Lythia's command, but there was still a danger. The charm was only supposed to be temporary.

“We'll tell you everything,” Emalie promised.

“Have a great time,” Dean grunted with a wave of his hand. “I'll be here keeping watch.”

Emalie nodded and vanished again.

Oliver spectralized, disappearing as well. Then he pushed open the door and stepped through. There was no floor on the other side. He concentrated, steadying himself against the forces, and slid onto a curved, metal wall.

You there?
Oliver thought to Emalie.

Right beside you
, Emalie thought back. She had been able to speak in his mind since the summer. It was convenient for situations like this, but it also meant that Emalie could hear Oliver's thoughts whenever she wanted. That had taken some getting used to.

Wow
, Emalie said in awe.

Thirty feet below them, at the base of sheer metal walls, were three rings of chairs. Behind them, windows looked out into black water beneath the ferry. Magmalight globes swirled white-hot between the windows.

Every chair except for two was filled by a finely dressed vampire. All eyes faced center, to the circle of space occupied by two figures: Phlox and Sebastian. They stood beside each other, shoulders touching. Oliver tensed at seeing his parents. He could almost feel the dark emotions coming off them.

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” asked Tyrus McKnight, one of Sebastian's coworkers, who sat in the surrounding crowd.

“I think we've explained quite enough,” Phlox replied indignantly. “We know nothing of what Bane was up to. He is—” her voice hitched, and her eyes began to glow turquoise, “—
was
his own demon.”

Oliver felt a knot pulling tight in his stomach. This was the first reaction he'd seen from his parents about losing their older son. It had been two weeks since that night, when Oliver had returned home, stood in the living room, and delivered the news: “Bane's gone.” He'd braced for his parents' reaction, expecting them to explode in rage, calling for vengeance against Lythia, Désirée, and even Half-Light.

But Phlox and Sebastian had barely moved. They'd been exhausted at the time, having spent many nights searching for Bane, not knowing until it was too late that Half-Light had been framing him for a series of human murders. Oliver's awful news had only seemed to press them further into the couch.

Since then, Oliver had waited nervously. Maybe their reaction would come the next evening, or the next. But the nights kept passing. Silent, tense,
empty
. Until now.

“There, there, Phloxiana,” a thin voice said below. It was Mr. Ravonovich, head of Half-Light, a wiry old vampire with ancient eyes, pure white skin, and razor-sharp, parchment-colored teeth. “These are certainly unfortunate events.”

“Why don't you tell
us
what Bane was up to?” asked Sebastian, his voice quiet, dangerous. “You're the ones who planned to slay him.”

“What
we
planned to do, Sebastian,” Ravonovich replied icily, “was whatever was necessary to protect the prophecy. We are here tonight to determine what
you
knew, not the other way around. And based on all the testimony, I think we can conclude that you were not aiding your son in his traitorous actions, which is fortunate.” Ravonovich raised his voice to address the chamber. “The case of Bane Nocturne is closed, and now we must turn our attention to the future. We have only a week before the Darkling Ball, and we must ensure that nothing jeopardizes the Anointment.”

Is that about you?
Emalie thought.

I think so.
Oliver figured that the “Anointment” was the ritual in which he would be given mystical power by the demon Vyette, power that would allow him to journey to Nexia. She would be summoned from a higher world using the Artifact.

It didn't surprise Oliver that he hadn't known the ritual's proper title. He knew almost nothing about the procedure itself, and even less about what it meant. What kind of power was he even getting? How did one travel to Nexia? All he knew was that this power was critical to him making the journey and receiving his demon, Illisius. And to opening the Gate and freeing the vampires, which would also destroy the world and everything in it, including his friends.

“Once the Anointment is completed,” Ravonovich continued, “there can be no stopping us. The prophecy can no longer be tampered with, and the Gate
will
be opened.”

“But what of Bane's traitorous labors?” asked Leah from the crowd.

“What Bane has done must be undone. His treachery must be found, and destroyed.”

What are they talking about?
Emalie asked.

Not sure
, Oliver replied, but he felt an ache inside as he remembered the moment when he'd discovered that Bane had been made to fulfill the prophecy just like Oliver had. Unlike all other vampire children, who were created in a lab, Oliver and Bane had been sired from human infants.

Bane's “treachery” must have been his attempt to free Oliver from the prophecy. In that case, Oliver would need to be very careful. Before he was slain, Bane had told Oliver that he had some things to show him, and just the other night Oliver had finally discovered a false back on one of the walls of Bane's coffin. Inside, he'd found two very secret and mysterious objects. Oliver didn't know yet what they did, but he was certain they were the objects Bane had planned to show him.

Yasmin spoke up from the crowd. “Is there any word on the Brotherhood of the Fallen?”

“There have been only rumors since Valentine's Day,” said Malcolm LeRoux from the seat beside Ravonovich. “But we cannot be content to believe that they will let the Anointment pass without some attempt to thwart it.” The Brotherhood had attacked the Darkling Ball on the night of Bane's Anointment many years ago, which ruined Bane's chance to fulfill the prophecy, and thus passed it on to Oliver.

“Do we have any new plans this time, to avoid getting blown up?” Leah asked.

“We have hired Pyreth Guardians for the event,” said Ravonovich. A murmur passed through the crowd. “And moved the ceremony's location underground.”

“And what of the Rogue?” someone asked over the din. “Even the Pyreth are no match for her.”

The room quieted.

“Yes,” Ravonovich muttered, “the Rogue. We shall continue to be vigilant, to determine her motive. As we all know, that's all we can do for now.”

Désirée?
Emalie wondered.

Sounds like it
, Oliver agreed. Dead Désirée was the only being powerful enough to earn that kind of respect—and perhaps some fear?—from Half-Light. And no one knew what kind of being she really was.

“And what about the boy?” Malcolm asked, his voice dripping with distaste.

“Oliver should be treated normally, to ensure a smooth path to his destiny,” said Ravonovich.

“Normally?” Malcolm sneered. “We treated his traitorous brother normally and look where that got us. If you ask me, we should lock up young Oliver until the Anointment.”

“We're not asking you,” said Tyrus.

“So what, we're just going to let him cavort about with humans and zombies and wraiths?” Malcolm rose to his feet. “Generations will be doomed to this prison if we do not open the Gate. You're putting legions of
vampyr
at risk!”

“And you're not?” Phlox growled. “Where is your little princess? Talk about letting one cavort irresponsibly—”

“Watch your tongue,” Malcolm hissed. “My daughter…how did you put it? Lythia is her
own
demon. I don't know where she is, or what she is up to, but I do know she is no failure like your first, and no sniveling coward like your second.”

Oliver shook with anger.

Let it go
, Emalie warned. He knew she was right, but still, it was taking all of his focus to remain invisible, listening to this.

Below, Phlox wasn't able to restrain herself. “
Tsss
—” She lunged toward Malcolm. Sebastian grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her back.

“Enough!” Ravonovich's voice boomed through the chamber. “Sit down, Malcolm. Your daughter is a traitor to the cause and has formed dangerous alliances. If I were you, I'd be rooting for young Lythia to keep out of sight until after the Anointment. If she tries again to interfere with our plans, not even your valuable research into the Artifact, or your significant sacrifices to the cause, will save you both from the ash can.”

Malcolm sat, seething.

“Sebastian, Phloxiana,” Ravonovich continued, “the Consortium understands that you have sacrificed much, and this will not be forgotten. Rest assured, we will be vigilantly watching out for you and Oliver in these final days.”

Oliver thought that sounded more like a threat than a reassurance. Phlox felt the same way. “Meaning you don't trust us,” she muttered.

“Trust is irrelevant,” Ravonovich replied. “This is the end game. The final act of a drama that has graced this stage since the binding stitches of the universe were completed. Soon, the
vampyr
and the Architects will read their final lines. And if we are right, as we know we are, then we shall prevail and be free, finally free, from the shackles of Finity, and the Eternal Tomb will be destroyed.”

A great chorus of earsplitting hissing engulfed the room.

Finity? What's that?
Emalie asked.

Oliver had only heard the word Finity once before, from Bane, in the moments before he was slain.
Bane said that Finity was the whole point
, he replied.

The whole point of what?

Not sure
.

And what are the Architects?
Emalie asked.

Origin beings
, Oliver explained.
They built the universe, and the Gate
.

“Thank you all for coming,” said Ravonovich. The vampires stood and gathered their coats. Oliver watched his parents shuffle from the center of the floor. No one spoke to them as they left.

Come on
, said Emalie. Oliver felt her slide back through the door. He turned and did the same.

“How'd it go?” Dean asked as they left the kitchen.

“It went,” said Oliver, leading the way to a broken window. He scaled down the hull of the ship to the abandoned dock. Dean jumped down, landing awkwardly on the buckled boards. Emalie reappeared beside them. They hurried away from the pier, under a looming highway overpass, and up steep lengths of stairs into the lonely city streets.

“So, did they know what Bane was up to?” Dean asked.

“I think Half-Light did, but they didn't say what,” said Oliver.

“And what about Lythia?” Dean asked. “Any news?”

“No,” Emalie answered, “but they're worried about her. Désirée, too. They called her the Rogue. And it sounded like they don't know what to do about her, either.”

“That makes two of us,” said Dean. They had been to the Underground twice in the last two weeks so that Emalie could get supplies. Both times they had passed Désirée's shop, and both times it had been closed.

“Half-Light said they'd be watching me,” said Oliver. “And they're looking for Bane's treachery, whatever that is.”

“The objects you found?” Dean asked.

Oliver shrugged. “And they said that once the Anointment is completed, there's no way to undo the prophecy.”

“So we need to check those objects,” said Emalie. “Maybe I should stop working on the Portal enchantment until we can—”

“No,” said Oliver. The Portal would take Oliver, Emalie, and Dean back to the night of Oliver's death. The night that Phlox and Sebastian sired him and killed his parents. Except that maybe, just maybe, Oliver's parents hadn't been killed. Their graves had been full of pig bones. And Oliver had been told by the leader of the Brotherhood, Braiden Lang, that they were alive.

“Okay. Well, let's meet tomorrow at my place,” said Dean. When Emalie wasn't looking, he winked at Oliver. They had something else planned for tomorrow night as well. “I gotta go meet Autumn at the sewer clubs. See you guys later.”

Oliver and Emalie walked quietly through the city. Oliver felt like walls were closing in. His destiny was mere days away, and he had no idea how to stop it.

Chapter 2

New Ashes, Old Answers

THE NEXT NIGHT, OLIVER
awoke to a terrible racket. His eyes snapped open and he was surprised to realize that he'd actually been sleeping. His portable video game player lay on his chest, still pulsing with tinny music and lights, muffled by his sleeping soil. He flicked it off and listened for whatever had woken him.

Crrrrackk!

The sound was violent and close by. Oliver flicked a handle and the lid of his coffin yawned open. He sat up to find Phlox on the other side of the crypt. Sebastian stood nearby, head down, hands clasped behind his back.

“Good morning, Oliver,” Phlox said, her tone businesslike. She was well-dressed in a sharp black blazer, a high-collared white shirt, and black pants. Her long platinum hair was pulled back and fastened with two sticks, yet one wild strand had sprung free and dangled in front of her face.

“Hey, Mom,” said Oliver. “What's up?”

“Oh,” sighed Phlox, “just catching up on a little housecleaning.” With that, she raised an enormous sledgehammer and slammed it down—