“Take a look at your reflection,” he tells me. “You will see.”
With a grunt, I push off and stalk through the cabin, ignoring the Forsaken Sisters, and lock myself in the restroom.
I grip the counter hard as I press my face close to the little mirror on the wall.
What I see shocks me. Phillip was right. My pupils are small, focused, tight. Around them is the iris, then a ring of white, and past that…
A raging storm of black specks, moving chaotically like sparks from a flame.
I rip away. I rub my eyes. I look back in the mirror and see the same thing.
My mind races. The witches said I was bound to Phillip—but I did not know it meant to this extent!
I realize I’m shaking. An all-consuming rage takes hold of me. I don’t feel the darkness controlling my body, my mind, my emotions—not like when I was stabbed by Dagan’s poison blade—but evidence of the corrosion is right there, staring at me in the mirror.
I try to calm down. I tell myself this is only temporary. I tell myself it is not that bad—that it could be many times worse.
The thing is, I don’t believe any of those platitudes.
I holler in rage and slam my fist against the mirror. It shatters into many fragments. It’s not enough. I take hold of the sink and rip it out, water from the pressurized pipe bursting everywhere.
I’m about to throw it through the nearest wall, when Phillip slams into me and holds me down.
“You idiot!” he curses. “Do you not know where we are?”
I gasp. For a moment I can see through the cloud of rage.
That single moment of clarity is enough for me to let go of the sink. It clatters on the ground. I deflate.
“That’s better,” Phillip grumbles and eases his grip. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
“My eyes,” I say softly. “I saw… my eyes.”
“And they have the miasma, as I told you, so what? Do you want all of us to die in a fiery crash because you can’t handle what’s happened to you?”
A sense of shame takes me. Phillip is right.
“I’m… sorry,” I mumble. “I was out of control.”
“Damn right you were.” He lets me go completely.
“Phillip, it wasn’t… wasn’t me,” I say. “I lost control. This is what I’ve always feared.”
“That’s your damn problem,” he says, his eyes piercing mine. “You fear too much. You fear your true nature instead of embracing it. It’s what has always held you back.”
“I’m not the one who wouldn’t feed on human blood for most of his vampire life,” I say.
That earns me a jaded laugh. “Maybe not. Back then I too held back, sure. But you are just as guilty of it. When was the last time you embraced the vampire inside you? Truly embraced it, brother?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think you ever have. I think your whole life you’ve been at eighty-five, ninety percent, max. You were never willing to take the very last step. Whereas I, yes, sure, I rejected it completely—but when I embraced it, I embraced it completely.”
“You don’t know the things I’m capable of if I give in entirely,” I say softly.
For a moment, memories I’ve long-since suppressed come bubbling to the surface:
I’m in a tiny village, somewhere in Europe. I led Mother’s expedition back to our home shores, taking with me a team of fifteen of the Royal Guard.
Together, we have plundered and feasted upon village after village of humans. We’ve breached castles, killed all those inside, leaving nothing but a bloody trail. We looted all their gold, all their jewels and treasures, with the explicit purpose of bringing it back to The Haven and increasing our material wealth.
Two weeks ago, we came upon this village. I gave the order to attack. We took them in the dead of night, with our superior speed and deadly skills. We laid waste to it in the matter of an hour. Some of the humans fought—I laugh.
None of them so much as stood a chance against us.
Two weeks ago, we raided them. Their stores of gold proved inconsequential. But there was something else, something about their village that I sensed on an instinctual level, that told me we had not uncovered all of its treasure.
The nagging feeling followed me as we plundered the rest of the countryside. Finally, when we had gotten what I deemed as a sufficient amount of wealth to bring back to Mother, we turned back… but this village remained on my mind.
So, at the last moment, I commanded my group of vampires to take a detour and return to this place.
“Raul?” one of the guards says from behind me.
I turn to him. It’s Sebastian, one of the most loyal vampires in the whole of the Royal Guard.
“Yes?” I ask.
“It’s the church” he says, pointing to a faraway building. “We think we may have found something.”
“Well, by the gods, man, let’s go!” I say, and we hasten the way forward.
All around us lie the decaying bodies we had left before. Mostly women and small children—there were surprisingly few men.
I wrinkle my nose as we walk by. There is nothing sweeter than fresh blood. But the dirt is soiled with old, rotting blood, and there is no greater anathema to a vampire.
We reach the little church. It is a small, square, stone building. The only distinguishing feature it has is a tiny white cross on top.
Well—it used to be white. We vampires have no use for the humans’ fake God. I personally severed the priest’s head in the battle, leapt to the cross, and impaled it on the top.
The head leaked blood all over the artifice, leaving it stained red.
I open the doors and discover all of my vampires already assembled.
They have thrown all the furniture to the sides. Benches lie in broken piles. And there, in the center of the floor, they have excavated… something.
They stand around the hole in the earth. I come closer to peer down—and discover a massive stone trap door lying a few meters below the earth.
I frown. This might be older than the village itself.
“We waited for you before going forward, my Prince,” one of them says.
I nod absently and jump down. The moment my feet touch the barrier, a strange type of wooziness washes over my body.
It lasts only a second before I shake it off. I kneel down and trace a hand over the stone hatch. “There’s silver underneath,” I tell the others. “Presumably an enormous amount.” I wipe some of the dirt away. As I do, my fingers come upon very clear ridges in the stone.
“There’s also an inscription,” I say. “In the stone. Come, help me uncover it.”
The others jump down. I stand back while they sweep the surface clean.
“It’s Latin,” I say, when I see some of the text. I wait for them to uncover all of it, and then, seeing as I’m the only one to have learned the dead language, read it out loud to them.
“It says… ‘Beware, ye creatures of the Devil, for God has graced this earth’.” I scoff. “Some warning.”
I take another step back and motion to the guards. “Lift it up.”
They grab the edges and start to heave.
Despite their immense strength, the slab does not budge.
“Interesting,” I note. “Sebastian. You remember the blacksmith’s place? Go there with the others and bring us some instruments. We’re going to break through this entrance.”
The Royal Guard look at me, a trifle uneasy. But when I bark, “Well? Go!” they all run off.
I am left alone in the church. I think on their hesitation for a moment—and realize it must be because of the silver. I felt its effects the moment my feet touched the stone slab. But I am many times stronger than any of them.
To them, the effects would be much more unnerving.
I shrug. I cannot concern myself with their problems.
As I wait, I stroll around the perimeter of the pit. My instincts have never failed me. They told me we had overlooked something in this village. Here is the proof.
As I’m waiting, a faraway creaking sound catches my attention.
Immediately, I fly out of the church and speed toward it. It came from one of the nearby houses.
I burst in. The walls, the floor, are stained with blood. Two decaying bodies of husband and wife lie discarded by the beds.