Black Blood - 27. Chapter 27

27

Things weren’t going too well for Liham’s army. With the taste of blood lingering on her lips, Charisma stood next to him on top of the granite stairs, just outside the massive main door to the castle. They could feel and smell the smoke carried by the thick night wind. They could hear the din of screams in the distance. Not human screams; those were the shrieks of vampires getting burned alive.

“Come on,” said Charisma, grabbing Liham’s arm.

He clearly thought they were going to join the battle, but actually Charisma led him back inside. They made a right, crossing a dimly lit living area with lavish chairs and couches to access the small, narrow stairs spiraling upward in one of the high towers. She urged Liham along, her heeled sandals clicking with her every step, and what was left of her skirt rustling. She wanted to have a better view of the town.

No torches lighted the stairs. The upper floors had once been for storage purposes or living spaces for servants, but they were unused at the moment. They just kept going up the stairs, until a sliver of moonlight slipped through as they reached the top floor. Eagerly, Charisma climbed up the rest of the stairs. She then went to stand by the crenellated wall, resting her hands against the merlons as she glanced at the town below. Her gold bracelets clinked against the cold stone. Her supernatural eyesight could perceive every detail.

The town was like a graveyard in flames. The roads were strewn with corpses. Ashes sifted through the wind in the light of the houses on fire. The last of Liham’s army were trying to run away, screaming. But they were burned; either by the dragon roaming the sky with the Nomad girl on its back, or by the witch. Skylar.

Charisma closed her eyes for a moment, letting the cool wind appease her. This was a disaster. Liham had naively led his vampires to a certain death. Right now he leaned in, looking over her shoulder at the dreadful sight.

Toward the east, they could see Mayrin and Airi with their gleaming silvery hair, leading the survivors inside the religious temple for solace. Some people were haggardly running across town, some were injured, some were simply shell-shocked. Mayrin was calling for them to come in the temple so they could be safe. The screams were slowly fading. Charisma turned her head slightly. She watched as the dragon landed gracefully next to Skylar and that red-headed boy, a few rows of houses south of the temple. In the silence filled only by the crackling of flames, they seemed to wonder if any vampires remained.

“You can never kill all of us,” Charisma whispered to herself. “We will always be there.”

“They’ve won this battle, though,” said Liham with cold despair in his raspy voice.

Charisma darted her gaze to Mayrin’s blonde head. She looked so tiny from this distance. Her arms were spread, and she was leading the last wounded and shocked people into the temple, like a shepherd gathering scattered and frightened sheep. She was so infuriatingly righteous. Oh, how Charisma hated her.

“But not the war,” she arched an eyebrow, lifting her chin arrogantly as though defying Liham to say anything back.

He didn’t.

As smoke hovered over town like dark spirits veiling the starry sky, Charisma and Liham witnessed the two prisoners escaping. Charisma clicked her tongue in annoyance. She almost expected Viko and Micah to hold hands and skip happily rather than run while getting away from the castle. So annoying.

Liham tensed behind her. She could feel his anger, his hatred, even his jealousy—all of those directed at his brother. She wondered what Liham was so jealous of. He was young and immortal, and he had nothing to worry about except serving his lovely queen, whereas Viko was a freak with an obnoxious dragon tattoo and a boyfriend that looked like a puppy.

“I shall go after them and bring you their heads as a—”

She cut him with a hand. “Relax, big boy. You’re not going out there. You’ll get yourself killed, and I need you. Let’s go. We’ve seen enough.”

They marched down the spiral staircase, and then found their way back to the hall with its high walls, lit torches at intervals, original pieces by Drew, and exotic trees. Charisma sighed. Whenever she started liking a place—or learning the language, for that matter—she was somehow forced to leave.

Below the candle chandelier she met up with Xievon. Charisma smiled at him sadly. She knew he liked it here, because it was much more similar to where he came from than Earth. Even the clothes suited him. He looked good in that leather tunic, with black pants and boots, metal arm bracers and fingerless gloves. He looked ready for combat. Charisma liked the way his light turquoise eyes clashed with his dark skin. He didn’t smile back, but his traits softened beneath the drape of hardened frustration.

“It’s over for us here, isn’t it?” he said simply.

She nodded. Her lips parted, but for once she couldn’t find any words to say. The fact that Xievon was disappointed bothered her more than anything else. Behind him stood Josh and Drew, looking sheepish.

“The prisoners escaped,” said Josh in a little voice.

She sighed. “Doesn’t matter now.”

Also gathered in the hall were the only vampires left in the castle; the man who had been lord of Payan and the priest of the temple. The lord had put on his metallic armor, though for what purpose Charisma did not know. He had been too reluctant to join the other vampires in their battle for blood. She supposed that had been a smart move. They were all dead, now. The priest had a scared look on his plump face. He looked ridiculous with his somber robe, and all those feathers pinned in his hair. Charisma sighed once more. They were all she had left—in this world, anyway.

“Listen to me,” she said to Liham, and he looked at her desperately with narrow black eyes. “Take these two and go to the secret underground passageways. It will lead you out of town. Be more discreet in the future. Recruit new vampires slowly. Build a new army in the shadows, for when I come back.” She put a hand on his trembling shoulder, trying not to cringe as she touched his gritty clothes.

“You will come back, right?” His voice demanded reassurance.

“Oh, I will. And we can give this whole taking over Efreyse another try.”

He seemed to regain some of his motivation. The three of them were nodding slowly in understanding, glancing at one another wordlessly. What the hell were they waiting for? An official speech? She had better things to do.

“Go,” Charisma shooed them away with a hand, “now!”

They hurriedly went to walk down the stairs to the basement. It was only a matter of time before Skylar and Mayrin came to the castle to end their killing spree with a bang. Charisma summoned her wings.

“What about Blake?” asked Xievon.

At his words she felt an uneasy tightening of her stomach. They both glanced at the main door, as though Blake would appear right on cue, walking through the castle’s hall like he owned the place. But there was no one there. The silence was heavy.

“No time,” she said, though worry creased her brow.

She was connected to Blake. If something happened to him, it happened to her, too. Right now she could feel that he wasn’t in the best of shapes. That had been the case for a while now.

But it wasn’t just that. She supposed deep down she might possibly, sort of, care about him. Brushing the thought away, she told herself she needed to focus.

Bringing her wings together in front of her, she summoned the shimmering portal. Her wings were grayish silver with veins of red running along the membrane, rather than the pure white of a regular immortal’s wings. She didn’t care. She liked her wings; she liked that she was different from them. The tips of her feathers were black, as though she had dyed them like her hair. Creating the portal always took a lot out of her. But her determination had no equal. She could do it.

The process was slower than she would have liked. Pulling apart her wings, she released a little bit of her magic with every beat of her heart. It leaked out of the wings and created a disturbance in a thin screen of air, in which all worlds became one. She had heard that some immortals had once been skilled enough to open portals without their wings. Her magic wasn’t quite to that point yet.

“Where are we going this time? Back to Earth?” asked Drew, hopeful, as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“No,” said Charisma in a strained voice, “this time, we’re going somewhere Mayrin can’t find us.”

“Don’t disturb her concentration.” Xievon stared at them severely with his arms crossed as he stood next to her. “We shall follow her anywhere she wishes to go.”

“Right,” added Josh, but his voice was hesitant.

“Come, now,” she beckoned the three of them with her hands, “stand within my wings.”

They did, and in between the magical space created by the wings, they could see the portal with its flows of wind going in every direction, like stormy water. One after the other, they walked through it, and disappeared. Charisma had her destination in mind. She glanced over her shoulder one last time at the door. But Blake hadn’t come back.

Be safe.

She walked through the portal last, and made sure to close it behind her; wouldn’t want to make the same mistake twice. Keep on chasing after me, Mayrin. You’ll never catch me.