CHAPTER 41: DOWNFALL
“I don’t trust Seers. I’ve known a few good Magi in my time, but no Seer worth spit. Twisting and pulling memories and dreams is dark stuff. Sure, they claim to have a code, but everyone knows you only need a code if someone is breaking it. So listen to my advice, don’t trust Seers.” - Sir Homas Drover: Mercenary Captain
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The world from the perspective of a rat was a curious thing. Scents and sounds colored the world, creating an ever-shifting tableau. It took Natalie a little time to grow accustomed to this new reality, but her instincts and Isabelle’s silent assistance let her slip into the role of rodent surprisingly well. Skittering away from Cole and the nobles, Natalie kept to the wall’s edge and delved into Louon Keep.
Past the portcullis, the hallway stretched for what felt like a great distance to a rat but was, in truth, only a few meters. Ending at a door stinking of greased hinges and old wood. Scampering up to the door, Natalie found a crack at its bottom, a slight chip in the oak her surprisingly elastic body could squeeze through. On the other side, she sniffed the air and swiveled her ears, ready to escape from any threat. When none became apparent, she kept moving forward.
With the noble's directions in mind, Natalie reached a staircase and skittered up it. Hiding in the shadows and following the scents of other vermin. Generations of rats, mice, and similar had mapped their paths. Guiding Natalie up the stairs and into the keep proper. Entering a cold stone hallway, her rodent ears picked up the deafening footfalls of two men-at-arms. Accompanying the thunderous steps were words, a tense and worried conversation.
Curiosity and caution warred within her, but the lure of information proved too much. Natalie scuttled between shadows and cracks, approaching the two soldiers. Her rodent ears weren’t meant to decipher the low rumbles of human speech, so it took some effort to understand what they were saying.
“He says the Vampire’s got the whole city under her sway! That we are the last holdout in the city!”
“I heard from Tockmen they attacked the clinic, slaughtered everyone, even wee Addie!”
“Gods-dammned Vampire! If she’s taken the city, what can we do? I doubt we have rations to hold out for long.”
“Ya didn’t hear it from me, but the Graf has some magic up his sleeves, something to move the whole bloody manor!”
A skull-splitting headache forced a pained squeak from Natalie. The two soldiers stopped their patrol and looked toward her. “Hey… Vampires can control rats, right?”
Natalie bolted down the hallway, escaping into a gap between two stones. Entering the filthy hollow inside a wall. The headache came again, and this time, words accompanied it “Magic powerful enough to move an entire keep is incredibly rare.”
Shoving down the pain, Natalie rebuked Isabelle. “You almost got us exposed! Wait until we’re alone before you start trying to rip open my mind!”
What might have been an apology flickered through Natalie’s compromised mind. Followed by, “Any teleportation magic of that scope would require a lot of power and focus. We need to find the main body of Louons; that is where the spell is probably being cast.”
Nearly tripping over her paws, Natalie withstood the usurpation of her mind. “We need to find the center of the wards and turn them off first.”
Part of Natalie’s consciousness shrugged. “Having this entire building teleported away with us in it seems a worse outcome than being delayed in turning off the wards.”
Grumbling at the strangeness of having her internal world twisted, Natalie accepted the logic of Isabelle’s argument. Scampering through the inside of the wall, she found another crack to exit and followed her nose. Everything in the Keep stunk of Louons, but the freshest scents were deeper in the fortress. It was a little tricky to tell, but Natalie guessed the Keep's great hall was her destination. If the directions she’d been given were in any way accurate, then that was where the scent was leading her.
More footfalls caught Natalie’s attention, and she sniffed for a hiding spot. Clambering up nearby brickwork, Natalie reached the lintel above a doorway and scuttled along it. A lip of stone ran high along the wall; Natalie used it to slip past the approaching guards and continue down the hallway. Smiling internally, Natalie noted how right Ametza was; nobody ever bothered to look up.
Moving from lintel to lintel, occasionally using light fixtures or cracked stone to navigate, Natalie enjoyed the freedom of movement. It reminded her of her rooftop race across Vindabon, just on a much smaller scale. Still, the leaps and drops seemed even more perilous to her rodent body. A fall of two meters seemed a bottomless void to her weak eyes and tiny body.
“Oh, stop being so melodramatic; rodents can survive incredible falls undamaged. This body is light enough; we could fall from a temple spire with nary a bruised paw to show for it.”
The headache that came with the alien thoughts wasn’t as bad this time, so Natalie decided to try and learn something from her mental guest. “How’d you manage to bring my clothes with us? The Werewolves have to strip naked whenever they transform.”
Natalie’s eyes tried to roll by themselves, a difficult thing to do as a rat. Stomping down on the alien movement, Natalie rebuked Isabelle mentally. The parasite's mind flinched at the weight of Natalie’s will. “I’m sorry, there isn’t as much spare room in here as I anticipated, and some things are bleeding over.”
Deciding not to react to the subtle insult in those words, Natalie kept moving, following the scent deeper into the Keep. “When we drink blood, we don’t bloat up like a Mosquito. Our meals are subsumed into our reservoir. A Vampire’s soul is more than our emotions and memories. It is a metaphysical storehouse, and learning how to efficiently store blood in it is a crucial skill. Eventually letting true experts like myself store more than just blood.”
Then with a sour note, Isabelle added. “A Vampire’s reservoir grows with age and determines how much blood we can store. Limiting the power and efficiency of our fledglings. You break these rules by having the reservoir of Annoch the Binder. That great metaphysical ocean inside you is meant to hold the blood of nations; fitting some clothes into it was easy for someone of my talents.”
Leaping onto a chandelier and then over to the other wall of the hallway, sniffing the air, Natalie pondered this. “Could I store more things inside of me like this? Like how Scapin hid Dietrich’s sword inside of himself?”
A series of recollections flitted through Natalie’s mind as Isabelle rifled through her memories of the ball. The experience brought with it violent vertigo, and Natalie discovered that neither rat nor vampire could vomit. Natalie bared her rodent teeth as the world returned to normal and tried to weather the mental disjunction.
Isabelle didn’t seem to notice her discomfort, busy analyzing the memories and reaching a conclusion. “It would be possible to store things inside your reservoir, but not without expenditure and discomfort. The more mass you hide in the Beyond, the less blood you can store… which isn’t that big of a concern for you considering your obscene reservoir. But anything you keep inside for any serious length of time would start to degrade, not to mention the effort would be a constant drain on your blood supply. Using your soul as a hidden compartment is an option, but I’d suggest using it only when strictly necessary.”
With that in mind, Natalie reached her destination, where the scent trail ended. A set of reinforced oaken doors chained shut with glowing iron links. On either side of the door were hulking lion statues, their eyes alight with green witchfire. Sensing this formidable defense, Natalie asked her mental companion. “Should we look for another way into the great hall?”
Isabelle hesitated, and Natalie felt a flurry of alien ideas and memories pass through her skull. It was like having pages of an occult text flash past her eyes while someone droned on in a foreign tongue. Natalie guessed Isabelle was planning some spell, and this was what it was like to have your own mind do another’s magic.
“Something isn’t right. If a powerful teleportation spell is being prepared, it would be clear in the Aether. I can’t sense it or any other arcane working. But I’m not completely blind; I’m fairly certain the keyholder to the wards is behind that door.”
Twitching her rodent nose at that, Natalie asked, “Can you teach me how to sense magic like that? It seems a useful skill to have.”
A sense of aloof dismissal passed through Natalie. “Most likely not. You are a savant when it comes to blood magic but are lacking in any other arcane talent. Maybe with my tutelage, you might match an inept Magi’s senses in time. Instead, I’d suggest focusing on your powers as a Vampire. That path is faster and more effective in your case.”
A little rankled, Natalie returned their focus to the doors. “If those statues are like the ones Cole fought, then I doubt we can sneak past them. Then even if we do, how can we get into the main hall? Those chains look magical.”
“There is a way; I just need control for maybe a minute at most,” Isabelle answered.
Recoiling at the idea of relinquishing control, Natalie squeaked in protest. Two stone heads reacted to the noise, the lions looking up toward where she hid. Natalie became very still as the statues got up from their stations, their marble bodies grinding with the movement. Cursing her foolishness, Natalie spat, “Fine! Just make it quick.”
Natalie was yanked back inside her own mind. Observing what the body did from a distance. No sooner had she relinquished control did the Rat start to melt. The body dissolved into black blood, dripping down the wall and pooling on the ground. The sensation was profoundly disturbing even from a bystander perspective, or perhaps because she was in a bystander perspective.
The pool of Vampire blood slithered along the ground, reaching the first statue as its primitive mind tried to react to the new threat. Tendrils of blood slipped past grooves in the stone, and slight alterations were made to the magical loci powering the statue. It ground to a stop, and the blood moved to the next, relying on its sense of the aetherial rather than anything else to navigate.
Once both statues were placed in a stupor, the puddle trickled over to the chained door. The gap at its bottom was too small even for a rat’s elastic flesh, but vampire blood could flow through the tiny crack. Ignoring the prickle of power radiating off the chains, chains locking the great hall from the outside, the blood entered the feast hall.
Once inside the great hall, the puddle of blood slithered along the bottom edge of the wall until it reached a corner. Placing itself as far away from the creatures within the hall as possible. Once hidden in the shadow of what its feelers thought was a mundane statue, the blood splatter reformed into a rat. Only then did Natalie’s mind regain control over the body. Tiny rodent claws sunk into the carpet, and Natalie spasmed as she tried to recover from the ordeal of possession.
The sound of a great roaring voice echoed in Natalie’s sensitive ears. Gripping onto the sensation to ground herself, Natalie tried to decipher the words.
“...Our secrets are exposed; the Vampire has ensured that. We must act quickly if we are to preserve ourselves. Together as a family, we can withstand this.”
Another voice came then, higher pitched with the warble of suppressed tears. “F-father, will we really have to leave everything? S-surely we can find help with the Prince. We've been faithful vassals for c-centuries; surely the-they can’t just destroy us on a Vampire’s word?”
The first speaker, which Natalie identified as Graf Louon, answered softly. “I’m sorry, my dear, but we must escape. Together we can flee and rebuild elsewhere, it will be painful, but it can be done.”
In a louder voice that echoed throughout the hall, the Graf proclaimed. “Family is everything! Only together can we survive!”
Fifty people echoed the words. “Family is everything! Only together can we survive!”
The obedient call and response turned the message into something sinister. As if to accent that feeling, the sound of clattering metal caught Natalie’s ears as some great vessel was pulled from the hearth and set down. The cauldron stunk of smoke and grease, its odor detectable even among the Louons. Sniffing the air, Natalie focused on the nobles, smelling the stress, exhaustion, and fear that radiated off most of them. Only two didn’t stink of suffering. One old smell, the Graf himself radiated cold determination instead of fear. While another, barely detectable scent showed no sign of stress at all.
Trying to decipher the smells, Natalie let stolen blood flow into her nose and let her senses reach supernatural heights. What first stuck out to her was the spoiled stink of the Louons, the curse seeping out of their pores like rotting meat. The curse was in all of them, rank and roiling in the elders, just hinted at in the children. With another breath, Natalie realized there was an exception; the calm scent was clean. Smelling of spiced power but not the curse. It was Liam Louon, and now contrasted with the rest of his family, Natalie was certain. He wasn’t cursed; his blood was clean of corruption.
It made no sense, and as Natalie tried to grapple with it, the caldron’s lid was opened. Steam billowed out of the vessel, along with the smell of powerful herbs and alchemical ingredients. “Strange…. It's obviously a potion, but I don’t know its make or purpose.”
Natalie almost ignored that thought as realization struck home. The words of the Anchorite echoed in her mind, overshadowing even Isabelle’s presence.
“Never forget the banality of Evil.”
Liam Louon wasn’t cursed, he wasn’t corrupted by a Demon, he wasn’t enacting some dark ritual, and he wasn’t tainted, warped, or broken by some eldritch darkness. No, Liam Louon had become a monster because of mundane evil. A cruel nanny had beaten him bloody, and his family hadn’t cared or even noticed. When those foul seeds started bearing fruit, he wasn’t helped or even punished in a way that would stop his crimes. He’d been protected and enabled by his family’s wealth and power. There was no magic or mystery as to why Liam Louon had murdered at least forty-six people, just common evil.
This revelation cascaded into another, and Natalie realized the answer to why House Louon had protected their monstrous scion. Going as far as to provoke a riot to cover his actions. Liam Louon wasn’t cursed; his mother’s blood had cured the madness. After fifty years of hiding a debilitating illness that drove their family members insane, the Louons had managed to cure it through careful breeding. Only to have their salvation be insane thanks to nurture, not nature. The irony was as thick and foul as the cauldron's smoke.
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Graf Isac Louon spoke again. “The potion is complete! This ancient tonic passed down the family line will let us escape. We will be freed from our bodies and ready to take new forms away from Vindabon.”
Natalie was confused; she’d never heard of a potion like that. Isabelle was only slightly helpful. “Some shamans use draughts that let them leave their bodies. Walking the world or exploring the Aether while in a meditative trance. That is the closest I know to what he is describing.”
Cups were ladled out from the caldron and handed to each member of the Louon family. Natalie watched as the fifty or so people of all ages and generations were given the potion. None had drunk it yet, waiting on their patriarch to give the command. Internally, Natalie asked, “Should we stop this? We don’t want them escaping?”
Isabelle answered with an internal shrug. “There is power in this room. The Graf and a fair number of his kin are Magi or lesser Paragons. Even with my assistance, victory wouldn’t be guaranteed. I suggest we leave here and try and find a way to deactivate the wards. The Graf is crucial to the defenses somehow, so perhaps we should check his quarters?”
Natalie was about to agree when she realized Liam was the only one without a cup; he was sitting next to his grandfather, watching as the rest of his family held up the potion in a toast. Something about that sent a shiver up Natalie’s spine, her body tensing at some threat her mind hadn’t yet comprehended.
Graf Louon held up his cup and proclaimed. “A family must always stay together; through this, we will never be separated!” then, at his prompting, the Louons drank down the potion. For a long moment, nothing happened, Isac Louon holding up his filled cup while his family drank down the draught.
It was a girl of six who slumped forward first. The emptied cup clattered as she fell out of her chair. An old woman was next, her bladder letting go as she collapsed. Then like an interrupted puppet show, the rest of House Louon collapsed, their strings cut, and their lives ended. Leaving only the Graf and Grafling to look over the banquet hall of corpses.
Natalie and Isabelle were both stunned; neither had even considered this possibility. The Louons were escaping the City’s wrath in the most final way possible. Before better judgment or her mentor could stop her, Natalie started to transform. Her rodent body melted into black blood, which became a cloud of red fog that finally became Natalie. Stepping out from behind the statue, eyes wild with hate unsheathed her short sword.
“How could you…. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS” she snarled, fangs elongating, red mist bubbling off her body.
Graf Isac Louon had his cup to his lips when Natalie appeared. At first, he was shocked by her appearance, but quickly annoyance dominated his face. Standing among the bodies of his family, of the loved one’s he’d poisoned, the Graf had the gall to look slightly peeved. As if he’d been interrupted by a poorly timed message, not witnessed committing an atrocity.
Seeing the detached annoyance in his eyes, Natalie understood then. She’d wondered how the Graf had maintained his sanity where his siblings, children, and other relatives had not. Well, Graf Isac Louon was nothing close to sane. His madness burned cold and spiteful, in contrast to his erratic kindred.
In a clear monotone fit for a royal court, the Graf said. “I would not have my family suffer this disgrace. You and that scarred creature of yours drove me to this. I’ll end you and ensure my House survives.”
With a sneer, he reached out a hand and called up burning chains that lashed out toward Natalie. Stolen blood flowed into her muscles and nerves, letting her dance between the attacks. The chains swam through the air like boiling metal serpents, and Natalie knew if she were caught, she’d suffer terribly. The Graf was fast, his spell moving like animated whips of magic, but Natalie was faster. Speeding forward, ignoring the chains as they missed her and tore apart corpses, Natalie reached Isac Louon and swiped out with her Mercy blade.
In a cut Bruto Shohgard would be proud of, Natalie lopped off Isac Louon’s hands. The insane noble started to scream as stinking blood spewed out of his stumps. The rancid smell had no appeal to Natalie, and she easily ignored the flowing ichor. With the type of combat pragmatism Cole would be proud of, she kicked the Graf’s knee, sending him to the ground with the crunch of broken cartilage.
Snarling in rage, Natalie looked at the collapsed monster before her and the blood rapidly leaving his stumps. Glancing around at the fifty bodies around them, she whispered, “No… you don’t get to face the God’s justice yet.”
The cauldron was still boiling hot its cast-iron sides were enough to cauterize the Graf’s severed wrists. He screamed for the first few seconds, but shock knocked him out once his blood stopped flowing. Shouts and footsteps were coming from outside the hall, and Natalie knew her time was limited. The chains keeping the hall closed off were probably the Graf’s magic and would fade quickly. But till then, it was just Natalie and Liam.
The Heart-stealer looked at the scattered corpses with something like befuddled amusement. In a voice so soft it was almost oily, he whispered. “I could never hurt them; no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t hurt my family.”
Leveling her blade at him, Natalie asked, “What?”
Liam shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “That’s what this was all about. They could never protect me, so I wanted to punish them for that. But I couldn’t, so I found others like them. People who were supposed to protect and care, but FAILED.”
The last word came out with such venom a gobbet of spit escaped Liam. Natalie almost shied back but kept focused, never letting the shortsword’s tip waiver. The momentary rage that overtook Liam faded, replaced by morbid humor. Getting up from his chair, ignoring Natalie, he glanced over at his dead relatives.
“But I was supposed to protect them next. I was to become the Graf and sire better heirs. But before that, I needed to erase their sins. Others like them ate the sins, and I took their hearts, freeing them and this world from their failures.”
Rubbing his face, Liam hissed. “But now I’m the failure. I was supposed to protect and care, but Grandfather even took that from me!”
Pointing at Natalie, he whimpered. “I am the failed caretaker, and you're the monster with the knife. Finish this, kill me, and spare the world another failure.”
Natalie stood and listened throughout all of this, disgusted by every word. It was a rambling whiney manifesto that fell so painfully short. All this death and destruction came from a single broken soul who’d used all his wealth and power to inflict his pain on others.
When Natalie said nothing, Liam stepped towards her and screamed, “DO IT! I SAID DO IT!”
Natalie didn’t lower her sword or move to do anything. An act that seemed to confuse Liam. Confusion turned to rage as his face split into an ugly grimace like a toddler denied a toy. “KILL ME! DO IT NOW!”
Shaking her head, Natalie made her choice. “You don’t get a say in this anymore. Only the city, the gods, and I do.”
Lip trembling, caught between a wail and a sneer, Liam asked, “And what do you say?”
Natalie shrugged. “You aren’t worth the blood on my hands.”
Then, with incredible speed, she shot forward and grabbed either side of Liam’s head. Forcing her mind against his, Natalie broke his token resistance and knocked him unconscious. As the Heart-stealer collapsed to the ground, rasping words reached Natalie’s sensitive ears. Isac Louon had managed to regain consciousness, and he was pointing a charred stump at the fireplace.
“He’s preparing a final spell! Kill him now,” came Isabelle’s warning just as Natalie realized how hot the room was getting. The fire in the hearth was growing rapidly, tongues of it leaping out of its stone enclosure and finding purchase on rugs and wall hangings. Rushing forward, Natalie prepared to take Isac’s head.
Eyes alight with hate, Graf spat, “Die with me.”
Fire exploded out from the hearth and swallowed the Graf. Natalie leaped back as the fire swelled and spilled out from Graf Louon’s screaming body. The fire greedily devoured the aristocrat’s flesh and spread quickly, empowered by a Magi’s final spiteful spell.
“We need to run; even you won’t survive a castle burning down around you.” Isabelle's message had an edge of panic, the old Vampire reliving bad memories of her own death. Rushing away from the growing inferno, Natalie reached the doors and slammed into them. The chains on the door proved to be more than just magic and held against Natalie’s push.
“Can you take control again and turn me into blood again?” Natalie asked, her mounting desperation enough to make relinquishing control a viable option.
Natalie felt suddenly hollow, as if something had scooped out her innards and replaced them incorrectly. “No! We don’t have enough stored blood to do that again. Find another way quickly! This heat is taxing us; look at your skin!”
Glancing down at her hands, Natalie felt a surge of panic. Patches of her skin were missing, sloughing off into ash. Fire was one of the things that could destroy any Vampire, and the closed stone hall was becoming a brick oven. Natalie’s own dulled sense of temperature when not projecting life had hidden the fact she was starting to cook unalive.
Clenching her fists, Natalie quashed her panic and went over to the body of Liam. Dragging him away from the fire, she was relieved to see he still lived. His strengthened constitution proved itself against the heat. “Yes! Good idea, his blood will give us the power we need to escape!’
Natalie shook her head and shoved Isabelle back. “Not what I’m trying to do. I think Liam knows another way out of here. He didn’t drink the poison, and judging by his and his grandfather’s ramblings, I think they wanted him to escape to restart the house.”
Peeling open Liam’s eyes, Natalie looked into them and forced herself into his mind. Cole had said to only use this power in emergencies; well, this certainly counted. Earlier, she’d battered him into unconsciousness with a psychic blow. Now she was pouring part of her consciousness into his mind, a much more delicate act.
A sense of vertigo washed over Natalie as she traveled along the bridge of eye contact and entered Liam’s mind. Imagery and ideas flitted through Natalie as her mind tried to interpret the scraps of self she sifted through. It felt like she was falling through a series of paintings, disjointed scenes that whirled past in a blur of impressions. Before it could become too much, a steadying presence gripped Natalie’s tumbling mind and helped guide her to a landing.
“Another skill I’ll need to teach you.” Natalie didn’t hear as much as feel the sigh accompanying Isabelle’s words. “Finding someone Cole would approve of you practicing on will be troublesome. No matter, a problem for another night.”
Isabelle’s aid helped Natalie sculpt her perception of Liam’s mind into something understandable, a castle hallway, much like the one she’d snuck through as a rat. Except it was painfully bright and covered in filth. Creating a disorienting parody of reality both clearer and more disgusting than the truth.
Gliding along the hallway floor, ignoring a pile of rotting food that wept and twitched, Natalie looked for anything hinting how she might escape the burning Keep. The hallway opened into different rooms, some depicting mundane scenes like Liam walking through a market. Another showed him in the process of ripping out a twitching woman’s heart with his own teeth. No matter the memory involved, they shared incongruous stains and filth. The walls were wet and moldy, and the floors had smears of blood and feces. Clothes or linens had the yellow tint of old sweat, and any food was old and rotten.
Doing her best not to focus on the myriad subtle horrors of a monster’s mind, Natalie entered a soiled copy of the great hall. Every seat was occupied by a faceless lump of raw meat in fine clothing; each held an old leather belt in their hand. At the high seat of the table, where Isac had sat, was a poorly taxidermied lion with bulging eyes and dusty fur. Blood dripped from its mouth and pooled in an empty cradle at its feet.
Muttering to herself, Natalie said. “Don’t need to be a Dream Seer to interpret all this.”
Drifting past the meat nobles, Natalie got closer to the bleeding lion. The thick stink of mold and mildew reached her nose, and she focused her attention on the wall behind the high chair. It was covered by a threadbare tapestry depicting a great pit that was also a mouth. The ravening pit stretched out beneath and crumbling city, and dozens of tiny figures tumbled into its gaping maw. Above the hungering beast was a winged lion chained to the collapsing city. More figures, these ones depicted in the colors of House Louon, climbed the chains and tried to reach the lion.
As she approached the tapestry, it started to rot away, revealing a portcullis of strange sticky black stone. Instead of a metal grate, it was barred by gnashing yellow teeth. One was chipped with a gap in it. A spindly starved hand stuck out from the gap, grasping for Natalie. Before she could get any closer, intense searing pain suddenly washed over her, pulling Natalie from the mindscape.
Burning, horrible pain covered Natalie’s back as she tried to return to her body. Only Isabelle’s careful guidance kept her from losing herself as she surfaced in the world. “A piece of timber fell on us! We aren’t pinned, but it is burning!”
Blinking away her disorientation, Natalie saw the truth of Isabelle’s words and quickly shoved the piece of smoking wood. A strip of her leathers had been torn away, and part of her back was cooked meat and ash. Biting her lip to stop herself from screaming, Natalie grabbed Liam Louon and threw him over her intact shoulder.
“What are you doing? We need to flee! Leave the twisted creature to burn; he certainly deserves it!”
Natalie dashed through the flames, trying to ignore her surging hunger as the licking flames drained her blood. “I agree with you, but I can’t leave him! I need proof this mess isn’t my fault!”
Hoping she’d interpreted Liam’s mindscape accurately, Natalie went for the smoldering tapestry behind Isac’s high seat. The image of Galehaut the Gilded leading a band of heroes was a fading tatter, and a swipe of Natalie’s short sword ended its already time-limited existence. As the smoking cloth fell away, Natalie cursed. No gate awaited her, just hot stone.
Fear and stress pushed on Natalie, and she forced herself to focus on the wall, hoping to find any sign of an escape. Her Vampire eyes didn’t fail her, and a slight groove in one of the bricks caught her attention. It was similarly placed to where the chipped tooth in the portcullis had been.
Reaching out, Natalie hesitated and then adjusted Liam so she could use one of his hands. Shoving his lank fingers towards the stone, Natalie ignored his unconscious attempt to recoil from the heat. The brick wall started to shift at Liam’s touch, melting away into a small passageway. Not hesitating, Natalie pushed into the tight tunnel and found a spiral staircase waiting for her.
Taking it while carrying dead weight proved to be a bit of a challenge, but Vampiric grace triumphed. As Natalie descended, the staircase opened onto a landing but also continued downward. Glancing up to ensure the fire hadn’t followed her, Natalie stepped onto the landing. It was a small nook in the rock, barely large enough for her and Liam’s body to fit. In the little alcove, she heard something. Voices raised in argument barely audible through the rock. She couldn’t interpret what they were saying even with her senses, but Natalie thought the voices sounded familiar.
Putting a hand on the wall, she started looking for another lever. After a minute of searching, Natalie sighed and let Liam fall onto the ground beside her. Marshaling up her limited reserve of blood, Natalie slammed her fist into the wall. She’d braced herself like Isabelle had taught her to, and instead of being knocked back, Natalie knocked down the old wall. Picking up Liam, she peered through the hole and the cloud of dust she’d kicked up. Her makeshift exit led into a familiar tunnel. Standing maybe a dozen meters down the tunnel were the young nobles and Cole.
One of the nobles held a flaming hand and squeaked, “Who’s there!”
Blinking in confusion, Natalie reminded herself they were practically blind in the dark tunnels. Stepping into the tunnel and setting her prisoner beside her, she called out. “It’s me; I have Liam Louon.”
Cole rushed down the hallway to reach her. Blood drained from his face upon seeing Natalie’s condition and he quickly wrapped her in his arms. Natalie relaxed into his embrace as he whispered, “What happened?”
Making a noise like a tired feline, Natalie shrugged. “Lots, little of it good. The whole Keep is probably on fire by now.”
The noble with the flaming hand, Jaerd, spoke up then. “We just got word of that and were debating returning to the surface.”
Natalie noticed then one of the group wasn’t a noble or paladin but the same messenger who’d retrieved her from the Temple. She also noticed the runner had scrapped knees, and fresh blood was dribbling down them. A flash of powerful hunger swelled up in Natalie, and she fought to shove it back down.
Pulling herself away from Cole, she whispered in a tone she hoped he could only hear. “I used up most of my blood doing all this. I don’t know if being around people right now would be smart.”
Cole nodded and turned to his fellows. “Take Liam Louon up to the guards and put him in official custody. By the looks of it, he needs healing as well. I’ll follow with Natalie shortly.”
There was little hesitation from their erstwhile companions. Leaving Cole and Natalie alone in the dark. Wordlessly, Cole pulled on his collar and offered his neck to Natalie. Without a moment’s doubt, she sunk her fangs into him and the red ambrosia pushed away her dark hunger.
“Ohhhhh, I have missed that taste.”
Natalie jerked back in surprise, earning a pained yelp from Cole. Quickly sealing his wound with her saliva, she raged against Isabelle. “What are you still doing in my head!”
Memories of Isabelle’s aid flicked across Natalie’s consciousness. Particularly every time she would have failed without the older Vampire’s help. “I will leave now; I just wanted… well, I think you can guess.”
A sudden lightheadedness hit Natalie, and she stumbled forward, Cole catching her. A plaintiff groan escaped Natalie as she felt Cole’s blood work on healing her burnt skin. “I want to sleep for a week. No, not a week; I want to curl up in bed and sleep until the end of the month.”
Cole was frowning, concerned by what had just happened, he didn’t know fully, but he could guess it had to do with Isabelle’s ‘aid’ to Natalie. Stroking her dirty ashen hair, he said, “I’m sorry, Love, but I think the city of Vindabon is owed your story.”