Vampire Elite (48 page)

As they lifted off toward the stars, leaving Hathor’s temple behind, Anock kept leaning over in his seat to study Oberon, his enemy, lying on the helicopter floor, defeated and helpless.
 

Anock waited for the thrill of victory, but it never came.

Chapter 63

The helicopter touched down at the pride’s private airport at Sharm el-Sheikh and the group split up. Ken and Shakir stayed with Simone in the helicopter for their trip back to the pride’s villa. The rest of the group—Anock, Oberon, and the sorcerers—crossed the tarmac and boarded the Guardians’ jet for Brussels. No way was Anock going to keep this notorious a prisoner anywhere other than the most secure, best equipped facility available. The sorcerers could make sure he stayed unconscious until they had Oberon totally secure.

Fortunately, for the situation at hand, the best facility available was owned by the organization Anock led. The mansion outside of Brussels that had been selected as Guardian headquarters was as secure as any civilian-looking building could get, and was effectively under 24/7 lockdown, guarded by the Lioness’s warriors. But what really set it apart was that the building had been thoroughly retrofitted to contain Amiti prisoners.
 

When she’d created the Amiti, Hathor had spared them any of the metal sensitivities so common in immortal species, but apparently she hadn’t anticipated silver steel, an alloy invented about two hundred years ago. It had been another thirty years before Sekhmi had discovered that Amiti were vulnerable to it, but within months after that, the Guardians had outfitted the basement of their headquarters, and then all of their facilities, with large silver-steel cages. Collars, cuffs and chains to secure Amiti prisoners were also made of silver steel. At Guardian HQ, they’d also lined all of the mansion’s walls and window grates with silver steel.

When they arrived, several Guardians were waiting to meet them, and they carried Oberon, still unconscious, downstairs to a cage, where they removed his clothing. A wide silver-steel collar was locked around his neck; it connected to a chain about ten feet long that was fixed to a silver-steel ring embedded in the stone floor. Even if Oberon could find a way to open a portal, he wouldn’t be able to go through it with the chain holding him in the cage.
 

Once Etain’s team cast a shield around the cage to further diminish Oberon’s powers, he was no more powerful than any other pathetic Amiti bloodstock.
 

But wait; was Anock absolutely certain of that? “He’s the Keeper of the Hidden. He knows things that we do not,” Anock pondered aloud, and then turning to his assistant, Blade, who stood next to him, he said, “It’s not enough. We need him weaker. Blade, I want him drained just to the brink of death and kept there. That will require twenty-four-hour monitoring by the handlers. By the time they get through with him he’ll have to be spoon fed.”
 

Blade nodded, his eyes glittering with anticipation. Anock and Blade had been close friends for centuries, and Anock had shared Blade’s devastation when the guy lost his blood-bond, Marina, almost eleven years back. The couple’s time together had been all too short, just a decade, and they’d never left the honeymoon phase. Their affection was a topic of jealousy and gentle ribbing among the Guardians. But then Marina had been killed by the Order. Blade had felt their bond sever, and then later that same day, he’d gotten a card depicting the Avenger’s trademark, three winged females in Greek tunics with seething masses of venomous snakes in place of hair.
 

Anock hadn’t left Blade’s side for weeks afterward. The guy suffered unbearably; he’d even attempted suicide. Over the next few months, Anock had seen Blade deteriorate still farther, beyond agony to rote numbness. He’d moved into the Guardians’ mansion and dedicated himself wholly to the Guardians and their cause, making them his pride, his only family. The Guardians had a name for warriors like him: Paladins. Their fervor usually lifted them to the highest ranks among the Guardians, and Blade was among the fiercest of them all
,
channeling all of the passion left in him into hating the Amiti with an intensity that left no room for mercy or compassion.
 

“I leave Oberon in your personal care, Blade. But don’t kill him—yet. We need him alive for a while.”
 

“It’ll be my pleasure to take care of him, boss.” Blade inclined his head.
 

Anock pulled up a chair and took a seat just outside the perimeter of the cage, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back to watch the show.
Check this out, Oberon. When Blade’s done with you, you’ll be begging me to let you talk.

His face expressionless, Blade entered the cage, calling two of his assistants. “Wake him up.”
 

They followed the order, slapping and shaking Oberon, and as soon as he showed signs of life, they pulled him up and held him beneath his armpits. Oberon raised his head and locked eyes with Blade, the two of them starting silently at each other for so long that the tension started to rattle even Anock, who prided himself on keeping his cool. This was the moment Blade had been living for, literally, and Anock knew the guy would do whatever he could to make the rest of Oberon’s existence a living hell. It was payback time.
 

“Finally we meet, Oberon. I’m sure we’ll both remember the experience.” Without turning his gaze away from Oberon, Blade addressed the assistants: “Bring the handlers.”
 

The Guardians left and returned a few moments later with three human bloodstock handlers.
 

“Make sure that you leave him only enough strength to breathe,” Blade directed them, leaning back against the brick wall to watch as they lifted him onto a wooden bench and began their methodical work.
 

* * *

The worst thing about being drained, Oberon thought as his blood was taken from him for the first time, was that it was just so degrading. He was a powerful Keeper of the Key; he shouldn’t be subjected to this type of treatment. How could this have happened to him?
 

Because he was a complete idiot, that’s how, making life-changing decisions based on his emotions. In renouncing the order to kill his Sekhmi mate, he’d joined a long line of blood-bonded Amiti who’d made the same choice. The difference was that in his case, his transgression had put everybody in jeopardy: the Keepers, the Order, the survival of the entire Amiti race. If the vampires didn’t manage to kill him, the Order would; Serena would take it on as her personal mission.
 

So be it.
He deserved nothing less. Until recently, his life had seemed so meaningful, his mission clear. He’d assumed that that conviction would always be with him, but now it seemed to be evading him. So much so that seeing death looming just around the corner wasn’t as disturbing as he’d expected.
 

Floating in a sea of detachment, Oberon barely noticed the handlers removing the catheter from his vein and leaving the room with their equipment. With only slightly more interest, he registered his system shutting down; he’d been left with barely enough blood to carry oxygen to his vital organs. He felt like throwing up but he didn’t have the energy. Was there even a bucket in this cage?
 

“Oberon, you have company,” the one who’d ordered him drained said, his voice smug. With effort, Oberon lifted his head.

Standing meekly outside the bars of Oberon’s cage were two bloodstock, a male and a female, both pale and thin, dressed in the ugly standard-issue bloodstock uniform of grey tunic and pants. They contemplated Oberon with devastated, hopeless eyes. Oberon’s heart was torn in half. His plan to free them all had failed utterly. He’d doomed thousands just like these two poor wretches standing before him—all for his selfish affection for the vampire princess. Nobody could be more disgusted with him than he was with himself.

He pulled together the remnants of his strength to address them. “I’m sorry,” he told them, looking into their eyes so they could see his sincerity. “I am so sorry that I failed you. Please forgive me, if you can.”
 

“You’ll be even more sorry when we execute them on your behalf. You’ll have a front-row seat. Before that, though, I want you to personally experience a small fraction of the pain I felt when the Order killed my Marina, my blood-bond.”
 

“Blade?” Anock’s voice came as a warning.
 

“Don’t worry, boss. I won’t kill him. You said I’m personally responsible for him, so I thought I’d get a little personal. That okay with you?”
 

“Sure.”
 

One of the Guardians pulled Oberon up from the bench. “Get up, you piece of shit.”
 

His brain reeled, but he forced himself to stand. Right away out of nowhere it felt like a bowling ball crashed into his stomach. The force of the punch propelled him across the cage, where he was caught by another Sekhmi. This time, the blow was to his nose. He heard the crush of cartilage, felt hot streams of blood flowing down his battered nostrils.
 

He crashed into the wall and was caught by strong hands. The Sekhmi grabbed him by the shoulders and wheeled Oberon around to face him. Oberon’s nose was broken, but he was beyond feeling pain. All of his attention was centered on the chilling hazel eyes of the Guardian standing in front of him. Blade.
 

“She was a beautiful, gentle, kind female,” Blade said. “She’d never have hurt anyone, and the Order killed her for it. She died because she refused to kill me. And now I’m going to make you wish I’d killed you, Oberon.”
 

If Blade only knew how sorry Oberon was for the Order’s policy. It had been introduced long before Marcus’s leadership of the Order, then reinforced by Marcus and supported by all of the other members, including Oberon, who hadn’t backed off when he’d become the Order’s leader. But that had been before Simone, who’d swept like a hurricane into Oberon’s life. Now he saw how barbaric it was. Dear Goddess, he’d allowed so many blood-bonds to die. If only he could undo what had been done ...
 

Blade was right; he had to pay the highest price for a crime—
crimes
—so savage. He wanted to tell Blade how sorry he was, but whatever he said would fall on deaf ears; the Sekhmi would assume he was just saying whatever he needed to stay alive. It was worse than saying nothing.

Blade’s fist smashed into his jaw, spinning Oberon around into the fist of another Guardian and crumpled to the ground. Kicks and punches covered every inch of his body. He choked on his own blood, spit out teeth. Cutting pain exploded within him as ribs broke and then pierced his organs. And the more he felt his body breaking and shredding, the blows sliding against his own slick blood as they landed, the more furious the beating seemed to grow, as if the Guardians’ rage was only mounting as they unleashed it on him.
 

“Enough!” Anock’s roar reached him through the spreading red mist.
 

Blade kicked him one last time and then left the cage. Feeling butchered, Oberon lay sprawled on the floor, willing his body to die.
 

“Does Simone know you killed her mother?” Anock’s quiet voice echoed in the sudden stillness of the basement.
 

It was the final blow, and Oberon realized that Anock knew that, had been saving it for him. He’d lost everything else, and now Simone, the last thread connecting him to sanity, disintegrated into billions of unreachable, shimmering stars.
 

“I’ll make sure she hears about it,” Anock offered coldly. “Or, you can bargain. The choice is yours.”
 

“What do you want.”
 

“Odji and the two remaining Keepers.”
 

“Fuck you. Go ahead and tell her. She’ll find out anyway.”
 

They’d get nothing more from him. He had already lost Simone. Now he was on his own for the rest of this life, and at this rate, he’d be on to the next one in the not-too-distant future.
 

“Then you leave us no choice.” Anock’s voice was placid, casual. “We’ll kill these bloodstock right before your eyes. It’s your call.”

Astonishingly, he’d forgotten all about the bloodstock, who’d been standing there the whole time, and his heart broke all over again. He looked over to see Blade, now holding a sword, pushing the two Amiti to their knees. With the tip of his sword, he lifted the female’s hair off her neck. She flinched when the cold metal touched her skin. Gripping the sword in both hands, Blade raised it, preparing to strike.

Oberon could hear the female’s heart pounding inside her chest. She was shivering and tears rolled heavily down her greyish cheeks, spilling onto the stone floor, but she made no sound. The boy stood like an oak, his gaze steady on Oberon’s face, clearly summoning all his courage to meet his death with honor.
 

* * *

Anock swallowed to fight the tingling in his throat. He wasn’t a murderer; why did he have to do this?
 

He forced himself to recall the Sekhmi killed by their blood-bonds, then pictured the faces of his pride, his three brothers, and his dearest friends from the Guardians, who would all die if the Keepers won.
 

“I’ll count to three. On the count of three, their heads will be severed.”
 

* * *

For a few short seconds, Oberon focused inward, drawing on the reservoir of universal energy that older Amiti learned to access, summoning it to help carry his body through this ordeal. Then he met the female’s eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“Lydia,” she said, apparently trying to keep her voice steady. “It’s okay, Oberon; I’m ready to die. I hate living like this ... ”
 

Oberon felt the depth of her despair
and a black beast stirred within him. Once again he vowed to himself: if somehow, one way or another, he managed to get out of this
alive, he would
turn the Key
, even if it sent Simone to her death.
No more compromises
. His people came first. The Amiti must survive, period.