Shadow of the Vampire (32 page)

         
"In other words, he could turn the crystal into a weapon?"

         
"Exactly."

         
Declan fell back against his desk chair. "But in order to gain Alexia's power and harness it within the crystal..."

         
"He has to kill her."

         
Declan swallowed down the urge to be sick. "How do I stop him?"

         
He heard the desperate panic in his own voice. Knew the minute Doc leveled her unsettling gaze on him, she'd heard it, too. Declan ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could punch his fist through a wall instead.

         
Doc squatted down until her eyes were level with his. A sudden rush of energy and heat charged the air between them. The hair on Declan's forearms and neck stood on end as if static energy pulsed through his pores.

         
"Doc, what are you...?"

         
Without a word, she moved closer, closing the distance between them. His gaze locked with hers and he realized at once what was happening.

         
Declan knew Doc used her empath powers when she healed wounded legionnaires in the infirmary, himself included. However, her patients had always been knocked out cold when she'd worked on them, and no one ever witnessed her powers firsthand. He had no idea what to do, or how she wanted him to react. So, he did nothing. He only stared at her, hoping he wouldn't have to do anything for Doc's magick to take effect.

         
Excitement and fear pumped through him, the twin emotions both exhilarating and frightening. Soft and small, her hands cupped his face. Declan sizzled in a breath, the flesh beneath her fingers burning on contact, only to feel freezing cold a second later. He swallowed hard and stared into her eyes.

         
Beneath her glasses, her eyes widened. The black eating up the blue until she almost appeared more a vampire with onyx eyes than a dragon. Declan stilled as her stare tore through him like a flesh-eating wind. Realized it let her see things, memories and feelings he kept buried deep, perhaps even from himself. Doc saw it all. He knew it. He felt it.

         
She continued to stare and every muscle in Declan's body, from his face to his toes, tensed in reply. His body literally vibrated with the demanding impulse to withdraw, to shut his eyes and disconnect from her.

         
Now!

         
Instead, Declan forced his anxiety to subside. Pulling in a breath, he gripped the arms of his chair and fought against his instincts. Forced himself to open up to her. Willing to do anything, let her see everything, if it might help him save Alexia.

         
Before he could exhale, Doc was careening backward, her hands grasping the edge of his desk for balance. "Sorry," she murmured, lifting a hand to adjust her glasses. "I didn't mean to do that. Kestrel and I have been working on my control. But sometimes it slips."

         
"It's fine, Doc," Declan reassured her, even as his heart beat a frenzied tempo in his chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Did you see...did you see how to help her?"

         
At her silence, Declan opened his eyes, focusing at once on her cobalt gaze. At the fear swirling in their depths, icy fingers coiled around his spine before fisting his gut in their piercing grip. "Please," he whispered. "I need to know."

         
"I--I..." Doc's eyes softened and she shook her head. "I'm sorry."

         
"Why? What did you see?"

         
"Nothing," she said, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her lab coat. "I mean, I don't know what I saw. It doesn't work like that. I feel what you feel. See what you see. Not the future."

         
An odd combination of relief and disappointment sliced through him. He sighed. A defeated lump sank in his chest, dragging his heart down with it. He knew he should be focused on getting the Draco Crystal back, on fighting to save his flock from certain annihilation. Yet he couldn't get his mind off saving Alexia.

         
Right now his only plan was to fight Lotharus and his soldiers on their ground. Hope that, like the last time he'd battled the soldiers, he'd be given the chance to save Alexia. He'd have to spend time unraveling the mystery of the damned crystal and how to destroy it once and for all after he knew she was safe. He frowned, thinking about her note. Found himself wondering if perhaps Alexia didn't already have the answer to that question.

         
As if sensing his despair, Doc leaned over him, grabbing a book off his desk. "But you're right to look to the crystal. That is the key. So, this crystal has the power to rule all or destroy one, right?" she asked, thumbing through the pages. "Well, that could mean a couple of things...."

         
"Doc, please," he said.

         
"...our two races, naturally."

         
"Doc."

         
"But it could also..."

         
"Sparrow." He said her given name and spoke firmly enough this time that she listened. Mindful of how delicate Doc could be in demeanor and frame, Declan gently placed his hand atop hers, stilling her frantic movements and speech. "Listen. I need you to go to Kestrel. Tell him I need everyone, and I mean everyone, to ready for battle, and fast."

         
She blinked over at him, not only meeting but holding his gaze. "But we can do this. I can help you," she said in a small voice. "I want to help you."

         
Declan smiled up at her as best he could. He had always adored Doc and would never be able to thank her enough for healing his warrior captain and friend, Kestrel, after the battle that had taken his parents. But he knew what he had to do and he didn't need her here to do it. "You have."

         
After a moment, Doc nodded and stood upright. "I'll come back if I find anything new," she said, heading for the door.

         
"Thank you," he said, before turning back to his desk, to this impossible task before him.

         
Propping his elbows on the table, he rested his fore head in his hands. Beneath him, the blueprints of the horde's catacombs stared up at him, mocking him. Even with the locator, he wasn't sure he could find Alexia in that maze. The dragons only had on file this makeshift design of the horde's home. It wasn't complete by any stretch of the imagination. And by the sound of it, the vampires themselves didn't know what lay in the bowels of their dwellings.

         
"...plans to kill her at midnight when she ascends and steal her power."

         
Declan peeked up from under his arms. It was nearly ten. Two hours. Two hours and she'd be gone. Somewhere he couldn't bring her back.

         
Gods, he couldn't think like that. Not now. Helpless anger rose inside him. Images of her flashed in his mind, and the scent of her filled his nose. Collapsing, he laid his head on his crossed arms. Hoping he was tired enough for sleep to blanket him. Consumed enough to once again dream of Alexia.

         
It seemed he'd barely shut his eyes and Declan had his answer. As it had before, that damn thick fog he'd become so familiar with the past few days collected and then parted in a whoosh like a stage curtain, revealing whatever it wanted him to see.

         
Unnatural darkness, cold and wet, hit him first. Having lived amongst the stones all his life, he knew the sensation well. However, it was the rest of the surroundings he had trouble comprehending. Frowning, he tried to take in as much of the scene as he could. Candles, hundreds of them, lit up every nook and cranny of the cave. Dozens of dark, hooded figures swayed, but there was no music. The low murmur of male voices thrummed in a constant drone.

         
What was he seeing? Where was the rest of the horde? This second thought snowballed on top of the first and Declan almost willed himself awake. And then he saw Alexia.

         
Oh, gods, he saw her.

         
"Alex." Her name tore from him in a sob. She stood on the raised dais, beside a large stone table. Her arms shackled over her head on the wooden pillar she was bound to. Even from this distance, he could tell she was injured. Dark blood stained her neck and chest, soaking her exquisite brown evening gown and soiling her light hair.

         
When her head lifted, the look of cornered desperation and agony on her face was enough to send him running for her. However, he barely got five steps before his entire body slammed into an invisible wall. Knocked off his feet from the force, he collapsed backward with an unforgiving thud. Pain shot up his spine, but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything except fear, sending wave after wave of terror through his veins.

         
Lotharus emerged and the hooded figures began cheering. Declan scrambled to his feet. The crowd began a low chant that grew louder with each word. Lotharus spoke but Declan could not hear over the now deafening mantra. Frantic, Declan glanced from one corner of the room to the next, looking for something, someone to help.

         
A soft blue light began emanating from Alexia, coiling around her, engulfing her. At first, Declan thought his vision had failed, or the low light of the cave was playing tricks on him. But Lotharus smiled, and his chant grew louder. Alexia's body jerked, fighting against whatever force ripped through her. Sweat dotted her brow and her body writhed in pain.

         
Declan pounded his fists against the invisible wall keeping her from him, shouting a warning when Lotharus unsheathed a gleaming silver broadsword. Her black eyes flew wide open, but she made no struggle to fight the undeniable fate looming over her. The notion she'd given up lingered for only a moment before all thought fled completely. Lotharus jabbed, skewering the weapon through her middle. The blue light shot through the weapon like a current of lightning, buzzing straight to the crystal he now held in his outstretched hand. After the last pulsing stream left her body, she fell limp in the rope bindings. Lotharus bent, ducking a goblet in the bucket beneath her. He hoisted the crystal in one hand and the chalice of her blood in the other before downing its contents.

         
Declan took a step back, refusing to believe any of this could be happening. The visual proof before him refused to register in his breaking heart.

         
Alexia's dead.

         
The truth struck him like a death blow, hard and strong. Although he knew he'd find no physical evidence of the pain tearing through him, he looked down, half expecting to see a sword sticking out of his chest. Instead, the image of her hung and slaughtered burned behind his retinas.

         
Collapsing to his knees, he cradled his head in his hands and allowed the darkness, the sorrow, the loss to swallow him.

         
He awoke with a start, sending papers flying off his desk. His hand unconsciously went to cover the pain still radiating in his chest.

         
"Alex," he gasped, his eyes scouring the scattered desk for his clock.

         
The flashing red numbers nearly made him weep.

         
Twelve-thirty.

         
He was too late.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

         
TALLON PULLED THE WOOL sweater over her bent knees, wrapping her arms around them. Tilting her head, she took in the sweeping view of the jagged, snow-capped mountains stabbing through the blanket of dark clouds before her. Bursts of icy wind shot through the various holes in the worn knit, blowing freezing air over her body. She was numb, and not from the cold. The hollow nothingness born the night her parents had been caged seeped from within until it consumed everything, even her will to care if she would one day be able to pull herself out of the black hole her life seemed to be spiraling into. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to and the utterly pathetic truth of her situation infuriated her.

         
While Declan's feelings for the vampire shouldn't affect her, they did. Call her childish. Call her selfish. She wanted her life back, wanted her mom and dad, wanted her brother back. A long sigh escaped her and she closed her eyes.

         
Not ten minutes ago, Declan had left the lair like a man crazed. She'd pleaded with him to let her help him, to let her go with him. Although she may not care if that vampire lived or died, he did. And both of them had suffered so much these past weeks, part of her was willing to do whatever it took to keep him from feeling any more pain.

         
But he had shut down, closed her out. When she'd stood right here on this very spot and held his face, forcing him to stare at her, his eyes seemed void, resolute in the task he'd set upon himself. She saw the look of a haunted, desperate man and feared what he would do if he found the princess dead as prophesied.