Vampire Huntress - The Damned Part 15

Blood scent filled his nose and made him lick his lips. "No," Carlos whispered.

The throne whispered back, its call like a siren's. "Come, and know all." Multiple voices wafted out to him, offering the blood scent as a lure. The slow ooze that had pooled on the floor instantly rippled across the marble to Carlos's feet, covering his Timberlands, circling his ankles. Blood soaked into the hem of his jeans, climbed up his legs, lapped at his thighs, stroked his groin, then wet his T-shirt to travel up his neck and stroke the place along his jugular until it burned like a lover had caressed him there.

Carlos weaved and caught himself against the edge of the table. The scent was intoxicating, but didn't make him nearly as heady as the hint of power the throne begged to share. He'd always secretly wondered what gave the Chairman such absolute reign over the other councilmen. If each of their thrones held the wisdom and collective knowledge of their lines on a given continent, then what the h.e.l.l did the Chairman's throne hold?

The blood that teased his throat spread under his nose and across his face in delicate tendrils, licking at his nostrils. Carlos held his breath for a moment, fighting the urge to inhale deeply as he staggered away from the table and kept his lips sealed firmly shut against b.l.o.o.d.y invasion. He shook his head no as he turned to stare at the throne. No... he was out. The book wasn't there.

Standing there, soaked with blood, tears forming in his eyes, his body began to shudder with feed desire. He hadn't sipped in any air, and was suffocating. He angrily wiped the blood away from his mouth, took in a huge gulp of air, and closed his mouth quickly. But the taste in the scent lingered on his tongue... made him close his eyes, slowly part his lips, and a tiny tendril entered his parched mouth where air was allowed to seep in.

Flavors and colors from all the blood consumed from generations of vampires coated his tongue, opened his mouth wider, until the blood ran over his face like a river, pooling in his opened jaw, lowering fangs, and he swallowed.

The throne pulled him blindly as a deep, sensual moan came up from Carlos's abdomen. Blood washed his face; it was impossible to see. The rush of it was so intense that it deafened him, filling his ears, invading every orifice, until he sank against the crimson velvet panting, swallowing, shuddering, crying, laughing, his palms welded to the hand rests.

His body arched as a black electric volt ran through him. It s.n.a.t.c.hed open his third eye, bludgeoning his senses, burning out his cerebral cortex with so much information transmitting so quickly that he sat there like a vegetable, twitching and jerking in the horrible seat. His spine groaned, writhed to the surface beneath his skin, and then snapped, tearing away from tissue anchors and cartilage, making him scream as vertebra became one with the high-back marble throne for a moment, and then reentered his body, regenerating with new circuitry and bits of black matter.

Carlos slumped forward, panting, sweat pouring down his frame, his clothes burning away while blue-black flames scorched his skin, but he was unable to move. Then the surface of his skin became suddenly cool. A new torrent of blood filled his mouth, and he greedily gulped it, regenerating more as he did so.

Pain abated. The room again went still. Strength slowly crept into his naked limbs. Fear fled his heart. Knowledge from every throne in the room had a new lord. A sly smiled graced his face. Information poured into his mind in streaming, endless still frames... then with agonizing pleasure. Every carnal act that had ever been committed on the planet sent shock waves of ecstasy through him. Depraved or otherwise, it didn't matter. He could feel the impact of it all, every touch, every shudder, every moan, every gasp, every whimper-it all collided and fused into one sensation. He came so hard his heart stopped. His pulse was measured in elongated wails each time his body jerked and emitted thick, black emulsion from his member that wriggled in a slimy wash of tiny black tadpoles over his stomach, his lap, and his thighs.

Carlos's fingers gripped the hand rests; his nails grew, carving into the marble with hooked talons. His eyes were sealed shut, but as he opened them, a black gleaming ray covered the floor where his line of vision went, scorching new sections of marble away.

Battle-bulked to proportions he'd never dreamed possible, Carlos stood abruptly. Dark e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e slid from his body, splatting to the floor in thick, wriggling plops from his thighs. He stared at it dispa.s.sionately as his legs turned into granite. A scaly, spaded tail swished a razor-bladed tip at what was moving at his feet, making the knots on his spine feel tender as he flexed his spine.

Then his toes welded together into gleaming, black, cloven hooves. Interesting. He chuckled, his voice booming like thunder and sending small rocks to the floor from the abraded walls. New, leathery wings unfolded from his shoulder blades and cast a dark shadow from their broad span. He spun to face the throne that had consumed him, fury at the treacherous invasion closing his talons into a fist.

He hurled a punch that exploded against the marble and decimated the throne to bits of stone once more. Breathing hard, he could feel sudden heat flare from his nostrils. He covered his nose with his hand, and it came away with blue flames. "Well... I'll just be d.a.m.ned."

Yonnie touched down and stared at Tara in the moonlight. "Something major just happened."

She nodded, glancing off into the distance. "I know."

"We've gotta find our boy before the others do," Yonnie said, worried. "f.u.c.k all that bulls.h.i.t with Rider. I ain't even thinking about that right now. We need to get back to the group and let 'em know something big is going down."

Tara nodded and disappeared.

CHAPTER TEN

"He should have been trailing blood, from the looks of this accident," Damali said, her keen eyes to the ground as their Hummer b.u.mped over the rough, off-road terrain.

"Not picking up anything," Rider said, hanging his head out the window like a hunting dog.

"Hold up, y'all," Mike said. "Tara's voice."

Shabazz brought the Hummer to a stop. "Be cool, man," he said toward Rider. "She's not alone, dig?"

"Yeah, peace, whatever," Rider said, and sat back in the Hummer.

Damali jumped out and Yonnie and Tara materialized. "What's the word?" Damali said, her gaze going from Yonnie to Tara and back.

"No sign of him," Tara said nervously, "but Yonnie picked up a significant power surge."

"Subterranean," Yonnie said, glaring over Damali's shoulder toward Rider. "Ain't felt that since the Chairman went topside."

"What does it mean?" Damali clutched her baby Isis blade tighter.

The rest of the team piled out of the Hummer.

"Everything all right, D?" Shabazz said, looking at Yonnie hard.

Rider c.o.c.ked back the safety on his weapon. "Any problem, li'l sis?"

"Everybody be cool," Big Mike said. "What happened underground, man?"

Yonnie shook his head, but kept a lethal glare on Rider. "That's just the thing. I don't know and don't have an underground pa.s.s no more to go check it out."

"Where is my f.u.c.king book!" Carlos bellowed, making the table shudder as his fist tore away a section of it.

The crest rolled back, opened again to the vacant s.p.a.ce in its vault, and began to smolder as Carlos's glare remained on the emptiness.

"I know it's not here!" he shouted. "Tell me!"

Within seconds white mist began to form within the empty s.p.a.ce, and Carlos blew on it, sending plumes of cloudlike smoke away from the opening so he could see the bottom of the vault. But instead of gleaming black marble, blue, snow-covered mountains appeared in a wavering hologram-like form. He stared at the illusion, his eyes narrowing as he received sensations, judged distance, and homed in on a location. The Himalayas. He nodded and waved his hand over the opening, and it sealed.

The crest looked at him and bowed its head, shivering.

"Very good," Carlos muttered. "Very, very good."

"Transport!" he bellowed, and wrapped his wings around his naked body.

The doors to the chamber quickly opened, and several hooded messengers rushed through, b.u.mping into each other, stumbling, and falling prostrate on the marble before him.

"Your Excellency," the one closest to his feet said in a shivering croak. "We are humbly at your service."

As his temper receded, Carlos's form began to slowly normalize.

"Mr. Chairman," another said, and then looked up, screamed, and covered his head as a black bolt of energy snuffed him from the floor, leaving ash in the ent.i.ty's wake.

"Please, we beg you, Your Excellency, have pity on us. Do not take out his foolish mistake on the rest of us, we know who you are," the lead messenger groveled. "He was new, insane; please accept our apology on his behalf for t.i.tling you beneath your esteemed Level-Seven rank."

Carlos folded his arms, not sure how to respond. He thought he'd acquired the Chairman's t.i.tle... but clearly that was not the case. He used the end of his spaded tail as a toothpick, cleaning a twelve-inch fang, thinking, then clothed himself as a distraction. The black designer suit and custom-tailored shirt felt good as they slid into place, and all evidence of his brief tryst with the throne did as well. He retracted his wings and tail, then walked around the messengers cowering on the floor, the sound of his black, alligator-skin slip-ons making soft taps against the polished stone. He smiled. Yeah, much more genteel than the clatter of hooves. A brother always had to be smooth."I want to check out the response on all the levels as I go up," Carlos said evenly. "Need to be sure respect is in the house across the board."

"Yes, sir," the lead ent.i.ty whispered. "We a.s.sure you it is, though, sir."

"Good."

The messengers hadn't lied. When Carlos's funnel cloud came to a swirling rest at the edge of the were-demon realms of Level Five, all howling ceased. Heads lowered, bodies shuddered, and he stared at an old werewolf senator that came out of hiding, his tail between his legs in dog-pack submission. A were-jaguar senator crept forward from the big cat clan and crouched low, holding his breath.

"Your Excellency," the wolfen clan senator said, keeping his head lowered, "we do hope you will forgive the previous... uh...

disrespect shown to you while you were a vampire. The tensions between Level Five and Level Six are legendary, but had we known you were being groomed for ultimate descent-I a.s.sure you, our response would have been much different."

"Woulda, coulda, shoulda," Carlos said in a bored tone as he stared out into the black forest. Thousands of gleaming yellow eyes stared back at him, unblinking, waiting for his word and his determination of their realm's fate. He walked with his hands behind his back, a cunning smile on his face as he circled the huge werewolf senator and shook his head. Bones from thousands of years of feedings cracked and crunched under his feet like gravel.

"Forgiveness. Hmmm... Don't have it in me," Carlos said, removing his hands from behind his back and staring down at his neatly manicured nails. "Matter of fact, talk of forgiveness down here is considered blasphemy. Am I wrong?"

A collective gasp filtered through the looming, black trees.

The huge beast began to snuffle and whimper. "Sir, yes, but, really, all I am asking for is-"

"Mercy?" Carlos hollered. Then he laughed. "Motherf.u.c.ker, you are trying my patience."

Wails and sulfuric ash followed Carlos in an angry chimney, the bright red glow of a total inferno helping to jettison his transport to Level Four. "I want that entire level smoked, do you hear me?" Carlos commanded his messenger as they came to the swamplands of the Amanthras. He absently brushed the intermittent rain of maggots off his shoulders and surveyed the bubbling black tars and slithering dampness all around them on Level Four. "If the fire goes out on Five, and the explosions stop, I'm holding every messenger on Six accountable."

Again, his courier was prostrate, shaking his head as hard as his scythe trembled. "Your desire is our every command, sir."

"Good. Then get up off this nasty, slimy s.h.i.t, and be a man," Carlos said, pure disgust entering him. He snapped his fingers and the wetlands dried into desert region. Immediately, huge black serpentine Amanthras rushed forward, gasping.

"Your Excellency," the presiding member of the Amanthra Congress croaked. "We beseech you-we cannot survive without the liquid slurry of dark dreams and fetid desires."

Carlos watched the body of the huge serpent begin to decay without emotion. Once-gleaming black scales withered and began to peel off the beast, dripping yellow and green acidic blood to the dry ground, as they fell like singed roofing tiles to the hot sand. The gills behind its Volkswagen-size, serpentine head struggled open and then shut in shuddering gasps of agony. Smaller serpents squealed and writhed closer to their leader, until a knot of smoldering demon flesh began to melt in one putrid heap.

"Yo holmes," Carlos said smiling at his messenger. "Ain't these the guys that sided with Fallon Nuit against me and my lady?"

"Yeth, thirrrr," the messenger lisped, his eyes glowing red within his faceless hood. "Traitors."The huge Amanthra banged its head against the hot sand, and Carlos watched the sand heat go from a low blue glow, to red, to white hot.

"Please..." it croaked, a viper fang dropping off and torching on impact as it hit the sand.

"Turn off the water on Levels Three and Four," Carlos ordered. "Send the wetlands to the f.u.c.king ghosts gangs-and let's see how they like their new decor on Levels One and Two. f.u.c.k the terror cells, too. No more dry boulders and canyons for those motherf.u.c.kers to hide in. Let the succubae and incubi drown in their own bulls.h.i.t. Vamanos."

Long agonized wails of pleas and shouts followed him. The word nooooooo still echoed in Carlos's ears as he materialized not far from where his Jeep had been wrecked.

The messenger bowed. "Your instructions will be adhered to with all the resources of our realm, sir."

"Cool," Carlos said, walking away. "Kill the sulfur and take your raggedy a.s.s back from whence it came. Don't come up here unless I call you."

"Sir, your wish is my command. However, do you need protective escort?" The messenger seemed frightened and confused as it stared at Carlos. It began to ama.s.s a dark cloud around itself as a precaution in case Carlos's temper flared at the question.

"Someone of your stature could be a direct a.s.sa.s.sination target by the dreaded Light," the ent.i.ty added in an apologetic, shaky voice.

Carlos hesitated, and held up his hand, making his courier forestall his departure. The two stared at each other. The courier lowered his gaze and waited for instructions. Carlos wasn't angry, just concerned. In truth, he'd never considered that aspect of risk. But then he brushed aside his doubts.

He wasn't worried about the other demon realms, visiting them had told him all he needed to know. They had been sufficiently punked down. Anyway, the Light had sent him back down there to get the book. This was their mission, so why would they smoke him? The book was missing, and like before, he'd come back stronger and with critical information-plus he'd really f.u.c.ked up the realms as a show of good faith. They knew the deal. Power was worthless unless one used it, and power always demanded that it be used. He could handle this s.h.i.t, just like he'd handled everything else before.

True, he'd taken an accidental tumble in the chair he wasn't supposed to sit in, and had gotten a little blood in his mouth, but he also found out the semi-accurate location of the book. So, it was all good. It had to be. If it was topside, with all this new power at his disposal, he could get to it in no time-so what would be the problem?

Carlos yanked on his suit lapels to straighten them and lifted his chin, smoothing his collarless black silk shirt with a cool palm.

"Naw, man," he finally said. "I always roll solo, and I don't need no witnesses to the throw down I'm about to lay on my woman."

The ent.i.ty smiled as a sulfuric plume swirled at the hem of its robe. It cut into the earth with its scythe, creating a ragged fissure that belched black smoke. "As you command, sir. Always as you command."

The Chairman looked out over the pristine, deserted beach that sprawled beyond him like a crystalline white carpet beneath the moon. He'd always loved the Mediterranean, and had forgotten how majestic it was. A clandestine meeting with her, here? He'd already been seduced by her voice from the moment she called.

If she would agree to meet him here like this, alone and unarmed, her potential for getting whatever she wished to extract from him was excellent-even if she didn't need to know that.

He'd worn Greek gladiator armor for her, to suit the occasion. Had she any idea of what she did to him just from a call? He smiled and tried to stem the roiling antic.i.p.ation that waiting for her produced. He just hoped that the diversions he'd thrown in the searchers' paths would keep his father off his trail at least for the night. But when he didn't immediately see her, it began to occur to him that his father's powers could have produced her call.

Panic swiftly set in. Topside pressures and atmospheric distortions had possibly eroded some of his keen perceptions. He should have known...

"It's been a long time, Dante," a low, gentle female voice said.

He watched her melt away from a palm, shimmering like the dark waters of the sea. It had been so long since she'd allowed him to even glimpse her that his mouth went dry.

As she turned to face him, her gleaming silver, heart-shaped Sankofa tattoo at the base of her spine became a beacon. His eyes followed the low ruby cut of her backless gown, drinking in her voluptuous body.

"Eve," he murmured as she slowly approached.

"Dante," she quietly replied. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me like this."

He nodded. "When you called... how could I deny you?" He opened his arms for her, hoping she'd fill them. "I've missed you so."

She stepped forward a bit, but not close enough for him to embrace her. "I was a young girl, and you took advantage of me that way before."

He smiled and slowly lowered his arms, disappointed. "I was a young man, rash and impetuous, pa.s.sionate. Yes, I took advantage of you, my love, but that doesn't mean my emotions were fraudulent."

She nodded and sighed sadly, and then flipped her long Egyptian braids over her shoulders. "I know, but-"

"Tell me, my still-gorgeous Neteru, do you ever think of that time we shared in true paradise?"

"I try to focus on the present, Dante. It's best that way."

He neared her and cupped her cheek. When she didn't flinch away, he closed his eyes and sighed. "I've missed you so, Eve.

Level-Six banishment wasn't h.e.l.l. Being without you was."

Her hand covered his. "Then I suppose we both experienced our own brand of said same."

Her admission lowered his head to her neck and created a shudder that they both quietly shared. But she covered her jugular with her graceful hand.

"We need to talk about my younger sister Neteru."