Alliance
Myra froze. “The Prince?”
“The one and only,” Zack spat. “The guards reported that he’s waiting outside. He requested that you meet him and lead him here, so that he comes as an invited guest instead of sneaking in like last time.” His face twisted in a grimace. “Should I send someone with you?”
“I’ll be fine.” Myra hurried down the corridor, resisting the urge to run. Her feet carried her over the stony floor, alongside twists and turns, past friends and guards, but she never stopped to acknowledge anyone. It was happening. The planning of the Wizard’s destruction would begin today.
But could she trust Vlad? Zack was right—in all likelihood, the Prince was playing with them. And even if he was sincere, he was far too unpredictable. Fifty years ago, he had randomly decided to destroy the world, and now he randomly planned to bring it back. What was to stop him from changing his mind?
She lifted the curtain of dead branches and stepped outside. Frost hung in the air in miniature icicles that pierced her lungs with every breath. Heavy mist gathered around her, caressing the ground with smoky tendrils.
Vlad was leaning against a rotten tree trunk amidst a field of stones and dry earth. The sky stretched pale grey above him, streaked with gashes of black, like dark blood spilled over marble. He blended with the harsh landscape, in a sleeveless black vest over his carmine red tunic and a dark woolen cape lined with wolf fur draped around his broad shoulders. Next to him stood Armida, wearing fitted brown leather pants, knee-high boots, and a high-cut olive-green dress on top that allowed her freedom of movement. Her red hair was a torch of brightness against the gloom.
But Myra mostly had eyes for Tristan. Despite Vlad’s assurance that he was safe in the Palace, she had been worried. It felt good to see him living and healthy. Mostly healthy, she thought as her eyes focused on his bandaged right hand.
Tristan wore black from head to toe, with a black shirt and pants and a long leather coat. The color stood in stark contrast to his silver-blond hair, now smooth and lustrous, unlike last time she had seen him, and Myra could not help but stare. Her hand strayed involuntarily to the spot on her neck where Tristan had bitten her.
She threw a glance at the hideout’s entrance, wondering if someone was watching her. “Well met, Your Highness. The General is awaiting you.”
Tristan grinned at her. “Good to see you too, kitten.”
She glared at him. “I let you bite me once. I’m not your kitten.”
“Of course not,” he said, his grin broadening. “But you wish you were.”
And that was it. Anything she might have felt for this pompous buffoon blew away in a puff of smoke. “What’s with the new look?” she asked. “Back in the cave, Vlad told you that you looked stunning in black, and now it’s all you wear?”
Armida gave her a warning glance. “Please, don’t give him an excuse to remind us that he looks stunning in anything. He does, but if I have to hear it one more time, I might stake myself.”
“He does look striking in bandages,” Myra said and looked back at Tristan. “What happened to your hand?”
Tristan’s grey eyes moved to focus on his bandaged appendage. “Ah, this, you mean? Why don’t you ask Captain Escape Plan? It took him three days to rescue me. Three days he leaves me to rot in that stinking hole. One would think he would have used the time to come up with something better than ‘Let’s crawl on the ceiling!’”
Vlad gave her a tired smile. “See the kind of gratitude I get for all the pain I went through to rescue him? I think next time, I will let him rot for a while longer.”
“Empty threats, my lord,” Tristan said cheerfully. “We both know you can’t survive a week without me. Someone needs to tell you what to wear and what colors go together.”
Armida rolled her eyes. “My darlings, we are here on business. Do you think you two can behave in front of the humans?”
“I couldn’t care less what the humans think,” Tristan said.
“I suggest you start caring,” Myra snapped. “Do you want our help or not?”
“I get a feeling your people need our help more than we need yours,” Tristan said, but he fell silent as they stepped through the entrance and walked down the passageways leading deep inside.
Zack met them, trying his best to hide the sour expression on his face and failing miserably. “Welcome to the Resistance’s Headquarters, Your Highness,” he grumbled.
“Thank you, General,” Vlad said and bowed. “We are honored to be your guests.”
It was hard to say whether the vampire was sincerely gracious or mocking them. Myra was leaning towards the latter option, and judging by the look on Zack’s face, it seemed like he had reached the same conclusion.
The three vampires walked past Zack and the other Warriors and entered the Headquarters. Vlad sat in Zack’s high chair at the end of the table, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Tristan seated himself on his right and Armida on his left.
“You may take seats,” the Prince said benevolently, gesturing with his hand at the empty chairs. Zack looked about to explode but did as requested, followed by the other Resistance members. “There is one thing I want to make clear before we proceed,” Vlad continued. “Both you and I want the Wizard destroyed, and we will fight side by side to achieve this. We are allies. However, we are not friends. The moment the Wizard is destroyed, everything is fair game. You are free to pursue and kill us, and we are free to do the same.”
“Fine with me,” Zack growled.
“Great,” said Tristan. “And now you can show your cooperation by offering your guests something to drink. My lord and lady prefer red wine. I myself am in the mood for some ginger,” he added, winking at Thomas, who had grown grey like ash.
Myra held her breath. Stupid, stupid imp.
Zack’s fist forcefully collided with the wooden table. “You come here as guests, but you act as if you’re the masters of the house.” His dark eyes bored into the Prince. “You dare threaten my people, and you throw the fact that you feed on human blood in our faces, as if our alliance isn’t distasteful enough already. You may think you’re untouchable, but we have stakes, and we have crossbows. You three may be able to kill us all, but at least one of you will not leave this place alive.”
“Now, now, there is no need for violence,” the Prince said calmly. “I didn’t see anyone threaten your people or throw any facts into your face. Tristan clearly meant to ask for ginger ale, before you rudely interrupted. If you believe us to be savage beasts and put words into our mouths so that we fit your idea of what vampires are like, the fault lies with you, not with us.”
Zack’s glare could have burned holes in the wall. “Very smooth, Your Highness. But I have a piece of advice for you—next time one of your minions says something stupid, try to take responsibility instead of hiding behind pretty words. I won’t play your game.”
“I suggest you do,” Vlad said. “If we are to stand a chance, you must do exactly as I tell you.”
“And may I ask who made you the boss?” Zack asked.
“You may,” the Prince said calmly and Zack nearly jumped as a sharp blade flew past his ear, collided with the rock wall and fell down. Everyone’s eyes followed the blade’s path back to Armida, who was now playing with a second knife.
“Ask that again,” she said, “and next time it will be your eye.”
“I hope that answered your question,” the Prince said.
Myra wanted to punch him. It obviously took a lot of effort on Zack’s part to be civil and even to sit in the same room with the vampires without trying anything violent. Vlad could at least try to show some respect and humility instead of being all intimidating and arrogant.
Zack’s face acquired a dark shade of purple, but he miraculously restrained himself. “You want to be a leader? Then lead. What is the plan?”
“How much do you know about the WeatherWizard?” the Prince asked. “And I mean relevant information, such as location, settings, and setup of the guards.”
“We’ve learned a lot from those who saw it before the Nightfall,” Zack replied, his voice proud. “The oldest among us have given firsthand accounts. The device is built on top of a high, partially manmade hill. The hill is in the middle of a deep circular ravine, surrounded by steep cliffs on each side. Suspension bridges connect the cliffs with the Central Peak. It’s possible to climb from the bottom of the ravine to the Peak and back down, but you can’t climb the cliffs, so the bridges are the only way to reach it.”
“No, I suppose if you are human, you cannot make the climb, and even vampires would be slowed down,” Vlad said. “The bridges that you speak of are four—connecting the Peak with the eastern, western, northern and southern shores. How much do you know about the Peak’s protection?”
“There are large vamp camps stationed all around,” Zack said. “Our spies were never able to get close enough.”
“As I suspected.” Vlad grinned. “You know nothing. Thankfully, this is where I come in. I can smuggle you through the outer circle, but then your people and Ila’s will be on your own. You will have to fight the guards protecting the Wizard. You should face nine in the best case and twenty-one in the worst.”
“What do you mean, best and worst case?” Zack asked.
“Guards protect each of the four bridges.” Vlad pulled a notebook and a pencil out of a deep pocket in his cloak. He opened the notebook to a blank page and drew a circle with a dot in the middle and then a bigger circle around it. He shaded the area between the smaller and larger circles and labeled it “Chasm.” He then labeled the small circle as “Central Peak” and the dot as “WW.” The pencil moved fast over the paper, the Prince’s fingers becoming a blur as he scribbled the words and drew four lines across the chasm, labeling them, “East,” “West,” “North,” and “South.”
“There are two guards at the start of each bridge and two at the end.” He put two crosses at the beginning and end of each line. “Then, we have five more on top of the Peak, around the Wizard itself. You will come from the Eastern Bridge.” He drew an arrow with many crosses around it. “The shore on the eastern side is separated from the rest by high cliffs, and it takes some time to reach it on the outside. In fact, the shortest way to the eastern shore from any of the others is via the bridges and across the Peak. Best-case scenario, you will need to deal with only the guards on the Eastern Bridge and the ones at the top. But if you are not fast enough, the others will catch wind and join in.”
He placed the notebook and pencil on the table. “Don’t be afraid—Ila’s vampires will be with you all the time.”
“So, you and these two aren’t participating?” Zack said.
“We will be around in case something goes wrong, but hopefully we will not need to join in. I do not want us to be connected to the Wizard’s destruction,” the Prince said.
“But why would you be connected?” Myra asked. “We kill the guards, and there are no other witnesses. Or are you afraid they’ll get away?”
“You will not kill the guards,” said Vlad. “If at all possible, you will only incapacitate them. No matter what, these are my people. I took responsibility over them when I staged the Nightfall. I want as few vampire casualties as possible.”
Zack’s eyebrows rose so high that they looked about to disappear into his hairline. “You must be joking.”
“I am not,” the Prince said in a tone of voice that left no room for argument.
“We can discuss this later, I suppose,” said Zack, “but right now there is a more pressing matter.”
Vlad nodded at him, and Zack took a deep breath. “Honestly, Your Highness, I don’t believe a single word you’re saying. And if I can’t trust you, we can’t work together.”
“Indeed,” Vlad agreed. “What do you propose, General?”
“I would like to speak with you in private,” Zack said. “One leader to another.”
“Very well,” the vampire replied. “Tell your people to leave.”
“You know your people will need to leave as well,” Zack said.
“I don’t know how you interact with your people,” the Prince said coldly, “but I keep no secrets from Armida and Tristan. Even if we talk alone, I will share every word of our conversation with them later on.”
“This may be so,” said Zack, “but I believe you’ll speak and act differently if you are in their presence. I say you follow me. There is a cellar nearby where we can talk undisturbed. In the meantime, our people can stay here and discuss their own concerns with each other.”
“Do you think we are stupid?” Armida snapped. “Your primary mission from the very beginning has been to murder the Prince. And now you ask him to walk alone, into some cellar of your choosing? And we are supposed to believe this is no trap?”
Myra’s eyes narrowed. Armida had a point, and, honestly, she had no idea what Zack was planning. He could have very well set up a trap and told her nothing.
“It’s no trap,” said Zack. “It’s a matter of trust. You ask us to trust you blindly. And now I ask you to trust us in return.”
“And I trust you.” Vlad stood from the high chair and smoothed his cloak. “Lead the way.”
“My love, you cannot!” Armida stood up and barred his way. “Trust them as much as you want, but I don’t. Not with your life.”
He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “There is no need to worry, my heart. I have this under control.”
Armida scoffed and pulled her hand away. “Do you? You have no idea what this man is planning. Don’t you think you have given me enough grief already?”
Ah, so this was the matter of the Prince going by himself to the Resistance and to Ila’s people, without saying a word to anyone. Myra had wondered if this had been forgiven and forgotten.
His gaze softened. “I regret any grief I might have caused you, but this is something I must do.”
Armida fisted her hands. Her eyes burned like strange green chemical fires. “You think your life is yours to give away as you please. You never think about what it would do to me if any harm came to you. You truly have no idea how much I love you, do you?”
He stepped closer to her and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “It cannot be any more than I love you.”
The corner of Armida’s lip twitched and a tear slid down her face. “If you think so, you clearly have no idea.”
He buried his fingers into her hair and pulled her closer, brushing her forehead with a kiss. “Worry not, my starlight. The only hurt I will suffer will be the pain of being apart from you.”
“Oh, please, stake me now,” Tristan whispered to Myra. “If I have to listen to this sugary crap for another minute, I will get diabetes.”
Myra gave him a sympathetic smile and looked back to the Prince and Armida, who were now kissing as if they were the only two people in the world. Their hair entwined, deep red against raven black. Myra was not even surprised the two vampires were intimate in front of strangers. It was the same as when Indira and Armida had talked freely in front of her. For vampires, humans were just like furniture, or stuffed animals, or pets. Or food.
Suddenly, the Prince broke the kiss and sank his teeth into Armida’s neck, drinking deep. Armida did the same, and the two vampires stood there, devouring each other’s blood. Their skin grew pale and translucent, the veins outlined, sharp and pulsing with new blood, glowing, alive. Their eyes were aflame, his blazing like dark gold, and hers like burning emeralds.
Myra watched in fascination as Zack’s jaw dropped. Lidia, Thomas, and even Sissi grew a sickly shade of green. But when Myra’s eyes returned to the scene, she realized that all the disgust she had felt in the past was gone. She remembered Tristan’s bite and all the fragments of his life she had glimpsed. What were the Prince and Armida seeing right now? For a brief, shameful moment, she was ready to give up everything to see it herself.
“Now that we are done with this nonsense,” Tristan said once Armida and the Prince had finally disentangled themselves, “we can get back to business. You.” He pointed at Zack. “How long do you think this private talk will take?”
Zack shrugged. “I don’t know. Fifteen minutes, I suppose. Or half an hour.”
“Excellent,” said Tristan. He took an ancient-looking watch out of his pocket and placed it on the table. “If the Prince is not back in half an hour, in good health and spirits, Armida and I start eating humans. Understood?”
Zack looked murderous but nodded. “It won’t come to that.”
“The same applies to you,” the Prince said, looking at Thomas and Lidia. “If anything happens to my friends while I am gone, the next thing you see of your General will be a well-done steak.”
“I was unaware vampires cooked humans for food,” Thomas said.
Tristan gave him an incredulous look. “It was a metaphor, you imbecile,” the vampire cried. “My lord, why do you waste time speaking to them at all?”
“Remember what Tristan said,” Armida said, her intense gaze fixed on Zack. “The Prince must return untouched. If as much as a hair is missing from his head, your friends will pay the price.”
“Yes, I got it the first time,” Zack said through clenched teeth. “I’ll return your precious Prince in one piece. And how would you know about missing hairs, anyway?”
Tristan buried his head in his hands. “Really? None of you knows what a metaphor is, do you?” He looked at Zack. “And have you never heard that we can count very fast? I can tell you that you have eighty-seven thousand, six hundred and twenty-four hairs on your head. Now, get out of here and get this stupidity over with, before they have gotten half that number.”
Zack walked out of the room, and the Prince followed but stopped at the doorway. He turned back and gave his friends one last grin before the door closed behind him with a loud squeak.