Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Look at me.” His thumb strokes my cheek, his skin so warm.
I look up.
“You can do this.”
I shake my head.
“Let it go.” He leans closer. “You have to let it go.” His voice is gentler than I’ve ever heard it, nothing more than the faintest brush of a raven’s wings. I remember it.
“You were there.” I clutch his hand. “I-In my room after the nightmare. It was you.”
“You can do this.” He pulls me haltingly from the elevator, my body trembling, my legs threatening to give out.
“I’m scared,” I whisper and walk alongside him, hewing close to his side.
“I know.” He squeezes my hand.
More steps into the black, more horrible memories threatening to consume me.
“I can’t.” I slow my pace.
“We’re here. I’m going to lift you now.” He grips my waist and sits me down on a bench. Then I feel him beside me, his side pressed against me, his arm draped across the seat at my back.
The carriage, or cart, or train—I can’t tell what it is—begins to move with high pitched squeals of metal on metal. I huddle closer to Valen. His arm at my back wraps around, his hand on my shoulder. Then I feel his chin on top of my head, tucking me close as the carriage rocks, brief flashes of sparks showing black walls looming close on both sides. I’d rather not see, not know, so I close my eyes and let Valen, Gregor’s executioner, hold me tight.
I don’t know how long we travel, but when the carriage slows and stops, I open my eyes. Pale light shines from somewhere far above, barely illuminating the track that continues into the inky black.
A vampire stands guard at an archway ahead of us, the top of it formed by fanged skulls.
“Lord Specter.” The guard bows as we pass.
Valen, no longer holding my hand, leads the way, his black trench coat flying out behind him. I keep up, and I notice him glancing at me over his shoulder every so often.
We come to two more vampires, each of them standing at attention. “Lord Specter,” they say in unison, deference in their tones.
Valen ignores them and continues along the hall until he comes to a set of double doors. The vampires standing here bow then push them open.
Everything is happening so fast. I don’t have time to think, to panic, to run. I just follow Valen into the lion’s den.
“About fucking time!” Gregor’s voice snaps like a whip as we enter a wide room, the walls gilded, the floor gleaming white marble. A large desk is ahead of us, and Gregor sits behind it in a throne-like chair.
I stare at him, his veins even more sinewy and pronounced, his face like a death mask, skeletal and hollowed. Sores have erupted on his forehead and cheeks, angry red and black pustules. I’ve never seen anything like them.
Valen bows then grabs my arm and pulls me forward, forcing me to bow as well.
To the side, Coal stands and stares straight ahead. Carlotta, the Tantun vampire with the white hair, the one who tortured Vince, stands beside him, her smug gaze on me.
“Carlotta, I said to bring your human with you.” Gregor turns to her, the cords of his neck straining.
“Apologies, High Lord.” She dips her head. “He perished a month ago. I did my best to keep him alive, but he proved weak, as do all their kind.”
My hands fist, my impotent rage given a clear target. She murdered Vince, and she has the audacity to gloat about it.
Valen’s hand comes down on my shoulder.
“Weak. Yes.” Gregor’s gaze snaps back to Valen. “Would you call them weak, Specter? When they yet live? When you’ve failed to eradicate them despite my distinct command!” His voice rises, spittle flying from his lips. “They have fortified south of Atlanta. Regrouping! Why are they still alive?” he screeches.
“The humans are dying in droves, my lord. I carry out your orders. They fall before me like wheat before the scythe.”
“I want them dead!” Gregor snarls, then leaps the desk and grips Valen by the throat. Valen doesn’t move, his hand never wavering from my shoulder. “I could rip you to shreds right now. I should. For Theo. He should be here. Not you.” He bares his fangs. “Never you!”
I shudder at the ferocity in Gregor’s withered frame. His claws are curled and yellowed, drawing blood from Valen’s neck as he scowls at him.
“I understand, High Lord.” Valen lifts his chin, baring his neck further to Gregor.
Gregor makes a squeaking sound.
I can’t stop shaking, my bladder threatening to let go.
Gregor makes the sound again, and I realize it’s a wheezing laugh. Then he jumps backward like some sort of uncanny hyena and retakes his seat.
“You’ve much of me in you.” He licks one of his fangs. “But not enough. It will never be enough.”