03 - Evolution (28 page)

They turned a corner, only to discover that the passage
ahead was partially flooded. The floor before their feet sloped downward
into the stagnant water. A slimy layer of algae coated the surface of
the water. One of the Cleaners groaned audibly. No doubt he regretted
taking off his wetsuit.

“This it?” Samuel asked. Going back for the diving gear
was not an option; for all they knew, Marcus was only moments away from
liberating William—if he hadn’t done so already.

“Yes,” Selene confirmed. She kept a close eye on the
murky water, half-expecting Marcus to burst from beneath the concealing
liquid as he had under the pier. Her shotgun was primed and ready.

Samuel turned toward his men. “Parks, Hapka,” he
addressed two of the soldiers. “Keep watch and hold this position.” The
men nodded in assent. “Stay sharp.”

He and Selene waded into the waist-deep water,
accompanied by the other two Cleaners. Sludge covered the slippery floor
stones beneath her feet, forcing her to tread carefully. A lizard swam
across her path. Corroded iron chains dangled from the ceiling.

Six-hundred-year-old memories guided her forward, until
she reached the point where the secret door should have been. To her
dismay, she saw that the concealed entrance was no longer hidden. Only a
curtain of falling water guarded the forgotten alcove beyond.

Fuck,
she thought.
We’re too late.

She threw up her hand, bringing the procession to a
halt. Samuel followed her gaze to the open portal. Selene nodded,
confirming his fears.

“He’s already here,” she whispered.

Which almost surely meant that William was loose as
well. She gripped the shotgun securely as she moved cautiously toward
the exposed doorway. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a
splotch of color to her left. She froze in her tracks. Her eyes turned
involuntarily toward the wall beside her.

There, faded almost to the point of nonexistence, were
the sun and flowers she and Cecilia had painted upon the wall six
centuries ago. Her throat tightened as the carefree laughter of two
happy children echoed at the back of her mind. Cecilia was long dead, as
was the innocent girl Selene had once been, yet this chilling memento of
their golden childhood had somehow survived all these years, lying in
wait to stab Selene in the heart when she least expected it.

“What is it?” Samuel asked, sounding both puzzled and
concerned.

“Nothing,” she replied tersely. Through sheer force of
will, she silenced the heart-tugging laughter in her head. She tamped
down any and all distracting emotions, at least as much as she was able.
Her voice and face were as cold as the frigid water lapping at her hips.
“Let’s go.”

She turned away from the painted sunburst and stepped
through the unlocked doorway. A sheet of falling water drenched her head
and shoulders. Ice-cold droplets wormed their way beneath her collar and
trickled down the length of her spine. Samuel and his men followed her
through the alcove until they reached the low staircase leading up to
the crypt beyond. Selene was disturbed, but not surprised, to see the
empty sarcophagus open before them. Shattered silver manacles lay on the
floor in front of the vacant tomb.

“We’re too late,” she said.

Her eyes fell upon the key, still lodged in the wall
beside the sarcophagus. Marcus must have left it behind, now that he no
longer needed it. She tugged it free of the lock and removed the pendant
from the other component of the key. The crest-shaped emblem felt heavy
in her hand, weighed down by centuries of loss and thwarted romance.
Sonja had worn the pendant to her death, as had Lucian hundreds of years
later. Selene remembered finding the pendant beside her head after she
and Michael had made love, then watching Marcus rip the pendant from
Michael’s chest while her newfound lover lay impaled upon the iron
strut.

She fought back tears. For Marcus, the pendant had been
merely a means to an end, to be discarded after it fulfilled its
preordained function, but for Selene, the centuries-old relic
represented everything she had lost over the years, from her family’s
slaughter to Michael’s tragic end. All could be traced back to Viktor’s
machinations—and her father’s unwitting part in the ancient conflict
between the Elders. For a moment, she wished that Viktor was still
alive, just so she could kill him again.

Then her Death Dealer training reasserted itself as she
forced herself to concentrate on the matter at hand. Their situation was
not good: Marcus, the very first vampire, and William, the first
werewolf, were both at large and unaccounted for. Her searchlight
scanned the corridor around, but Selene found no sign of either brother.
Had they already fled the castle, or were they lurking in the shadows at
this very minute, waiting for the right opportunity to fall upon Selene
and her mortal companions? Despite the personal danger posed by the
latter scenario, it was still better than the alternative. The entire
world would suffer if William escaped to spread another epidemic of
uncontrollable lycanthropy throughout Europe and beyond.

The mission was now all about containment. Neither
William nor Marcus could be allowed to leave these ruins alive.

Works for me,
she thought
grimly. Her fist tightened around the pendant.

Karl Hapka stood tensely at the entrance to the
flooded corridor, just as Samuel had ordered. Part of him was relieved
that he hadn’t been required to wade through the freezing water again,
yet he couldn’t help wondering what the rest of the team might have
found up ahead. Along with the other guard, Parks, he listened nervously
for growls, gunfire, screams… or any combination thereof. Bracing himself
against a crumbling stone wall, so as not to be attacked from behind, he
swept the beam of his searchlight back and forth along the sepulchral
tunnel. His finger rested on the trigger of his Uzi.

“Quite a night, eh?” Parks commented from a few feet
away. Like Hapka, he was alert and ready for action. His black uniform
blended into the heavy shadows infesting the catacombs, making him hard
to see even though Hapka was practically beside him. “Crazy stuff.”

“Tell me about it,” Hapka said gruffly. Although a
veteran in the Cleaner corps, with over six years of experience in the
field, he found himself unusually on edge. This mission was unlike any
other operation he had ever taken part in. He had never expected to see
a vampire in charge of a mission, for one thing, let alone a goddamn
Death Dealer. Yet here he was, letting this Selene chick lead them into
the bowels of some creepy old castle in search of a couple of renegade
Elders. It was enough to make any soldier nervous.

“So what happens after this?” Parks asked. He was a
rookie, with barely a year of active duty under his belt. Hapka guessed
that the chatter was the kid’s way of keeping his fears at bay. “I mean,
is this it? Are we, well, unemployed now that the Old Man is… gone?”

“Just keep your mind on the job,” Hapka said, not too
harshly. Under the circumstances, he couldn’t blame the rookie for being
spooked. Hell, he was pretty creeped-out himself. In many ways, waiting
like this was more unnerving than actual combat. Hapka almost wanted
something to happen soon.

Watch it,
he warned himself.
Be careful what you wish for…

A whiff of wet fur was the only warning he got before a
shaggy white beast suddenly pounced from the darkness, its savage claws
and fangs flying at them like ivory shrapnel. The Cleaners whirled
around and fired their rifles and submachine guns, but the snarling
werewolf kept on coming. A fierce roar bellowed from the creature’s open
jaws.

Unemployment was not something either man needed to worry about again.

The sound of gunfire galvanized Selene and the
three commandos. She realized instantly that the alarming noise was
coming from the soldiers they had left behind. The blaring gunshots
quickly gave way to the bloodcurdling screams of men in mortal pain and
terror.

Guns in hand, she and Samuel and the other two men
charged back the way they had come. The chain attached to Sonja’s
pendant was wrapped around her hand, while her fingers tightly gripped
the Remington. The team splashed noisily through the water as Selene
wondered who exactly was tearing the hapless Cleaners apart. Marcus?
William? Both? Reaching a bend in the tunnel, she peered around the
corner—and laid eyes on William for the first time.

The great white lycanthrope was hunched over the body of
the younger Cleaner, looking just as fierce and formidable as that
ancient woodcut had suggested. If anything, the nameless illustrator had
failed to do the primordial werewolf justice; the beast before her eyes
was larger and less human-looking than any other lycan she had ever
encountered. His bristling pelt was the color of virgin snow, his
kill-crazed eyes were as red as blood. Gore dripped from his mammoth
jaws as he ripped out the soldier’s intestines with his teeth. Selene
spotted the second Cleaner lying nearby, half-submerged beneath the
bloody water, his legs and combat boots propped up against a heap of
rubble. She couldn’t help wondering whether the upper half of the man’s
body was still attached to his legs.

William sniffed the air, catching her scent. Abandoning
his prey, he reared back on his haunches and unleashed a ferocious roar.
His hackles rose along his back.

So much for the element of
surprise,
she thought. Swinging her shotgun around, she opened
fire on William, as did the other Cleaners. The werewolf staggered back
in surprise; silver bullets were a new experience for him. Flashlight
beams converged on his monstrous form, along with four streams of
automatic weapons fire. He yelped in pain as the high-powered fusillade
knocked him about, the impact of the bullets causing him to gyrate upon
his heels. Lycan blood spouted from the bullet holes, staining his snowy
pelt. Smoke rose from the silver embedded in his flesh. Hirsute limbs
flailed wildly, trying to ward off the barrage, before he turned and
retreated into the pitch-black catacombs.

Still waist-deep in the water, Selene watched the
werewolf escape. The amount of silver they had pumped into the
creature’s hide should have been enough to poison any ordinary lycan,
but Selene feared that William would not so easily be killed. In
essence, he was the lycan equivalent of an Elder… hell, he was
the
lycan Elder.
I
suppose I should be thankful,
she thought,
that Marcus hasn’t tried to turn him into a hybrid yet.

She started to chase after William, hoping to catch up
with the beast before he had a chance to heal. Samuel and the two
remaining Cleaners ran past her and she hurried to catch up with
them… only to hear a cold, sardonic chuckle behind her!

She spun around to find Marcus standing only inches
away. The Elder was in human form, his wings tucked away beneath a
soaked brown overcoat. She started to raise her shotgun, but Marcus was
way ahead of her. Seizing her by her shoulders, he violently slammed her
into the wall, the force of the collision knocking the rifle from her
hands. The wall’s decaying mortar gave way as the two immortals crashed
against it. Dislodged chunks of granite splashed down into the water,
sending a spray of silt and algae everywhere. Dust and gravel rained
down alarmingly from the ceiling.

Empty-handed, except for the pendant, Selene found
herself pinned against the crumbling wall. Ironically, she saw that she
was merely a hand’s breadth away from the remains of her old painting.
The golden rays of the crudely drawn sun taunted her. She remembered
Marcus stealing her blood back beneath the pier. Would he now claim the
rest of it?

Marcus leaned in close to her, so that she could feel
his cold breath upon her throat. He licked his lips in anticipation,
then hesitated. He drew back his head and inhaled deeply, taking in her
scent. Puzzlement was written on his aristocratic face, followed by a
look of stunned realization. Selene realized that he could smell his
father’s blood in her veins. A hushed voice escaped his throat.

“What have you done?”

Whatever I had to,
she
thought bitterly. A righteous fury rose up inside her like a gathering
storm. Her eyes flashed blue. An angry heart pumped the sacred blood of
Alexander Corvinus through her body, infusing her with strength worthy
of an Elder… or a hybrid. With an unexpected burst of power, she broke
free of Marcus’ grip and drove him backward with a devastating series
of kicks and punches. Her knuckles smashed into the Elder’s face,
drawing blood. She delivered a one-two combination to his chin, followed
by a forward kick to his solar plexus. His grunts of pain were like
music to her ears.

Marcus reeled backward, astonished by Selene’s newfound
power. Framed by the doorway to the hidden crypt, he halted his retreat
and glared back at her with utter hatred. His eyes shifted to black. His
wings began to unfold. Selene realized that he was getting ready to pull
out all the stops

So am I,
she thought.
Retrieving her shotgun, she opened fire. Silver bullets slammed into his
bare chest, tearing open his flesh in a way that reminded her of the
gaping chest wounds that had killed both Michael and Corvinus. She was
all in favor of history repeating itself.
This is
for you, Michael.

The relentless onslaught drove Marcus farther back into
the formerly hidden alcove. He hissed angrily, baring his fangs, but
Selene did not let up. She kept pumping the shotgun, then reloading with
preternatural speed. The nonstop hail of bullets forced Marcus across
the flooded chamber and up the stairs on the other side of the water,
back toward William’s ancient crypt.

The shotgun rounds made a gory mess of his chest, which
was now drenched with his blood, but were not enough to kill him. Ugly
scabs gleamed wetly over his heart. He slashed at the air between them.
Black eyes shot daggers at Selene. Leathery wings flexed ominously.