The Bleeding Dusk

“Hold him,” she ordered, gesturing sharply at four of the others, “and I shall prove it, Master Div.” She gave a short, almost insolent bow to the demon as the guards she’d summoned swarmed toward him.

Max’s skin crawled as four pairs of hands grasped his shoulders and arms, but he stood stoically as Sara’s delicate little fingers pulled at his shirt, opening the collar to show the new bite.

“See? She has marked him, and the bite never heals…and no undead dares to touch him for fear of bringing her wrath down upon them.” Her hands were warm and smooth over his skin, brushing his neck and dipping down beneath the fabric of his shirt as if she owned him. “And here—Hold him, I said!” She yanked on the ties of the shirt, and then the two halves, opening it over his chest, flicking her finger over the vis bulla that hung uselessly from his areola. “How I’ve missed this,” she murmured cannily, giving it a tug—without noticing that it wasn’t his.

It was painful, but he kept his face blank and his breathing steady. He hadn’t expected Sara to be such an asset to his plan, to move things along so quickly and easily. “Tell your fiends to release me,” he ordered Akvan. “I came of my own will.”

Akvan waved his hand and the four men stepped away, but Sara remained. “Begone,” Max told her. “I have things to discuss with your master.” Sara did not like being mastered by anyone; now that her father was gone she was the heir apparent to the Tutela leadership. The flare of annoyance in her eyes told him he’d hit the mark.

“Get away from him.” George Starcasset, the cowardly weasel, spoke. Jealousy colored his voice. “Or you will drive Lilith’s anger down upon yourself.”

“But I am safe here with Akvan,” Sara said pertly, her eyes sliding over Max one last time as she glided back toward her companion. She shot a coy look at the demon, and Max was certain he saw her flutter her eyelashes. “She’d not dare to show her face here, for she’s been hiding in her mountains for almost two years now.”

Max would have laughed at her innocent comment if he’d been in any other situation. How little she knew Lilith.

“Why have you come?” Akvan boomed. “Only three days ago you escaped from my…hospitality.” His laugh was deep and raspy.

“I’ve come because I called you back from nothing when I destroyed your obelisk. And for that you owe me a boon.”

“A boon? I owe you a boon?”

“Without me you would still be trapped in nothing, whilst the son of Lilith would wield your power here on this earth.” Max felt the cool air over his bare skin, but held off the urge to draw his shirt back together.

Akvan’s jowls were shaking, and his eyes had nearly disappeared among the folds of their lids and his crinkled skin. His laugh was silent, yet condescension exuded from every one of his large pores. “And what favor is it that you demand?”

The demon was obviously just humoring Max’s conversation, but that served the plan. Weave the web, one thin skein at a time.

For the first time Max allowed himself to show a bit of a falter, a hesitation. Now he pulled the edges of his shirt together. “What I have to say is for your ears only.” And large, malformed ones they were.

Akvan looked at him, his eyes visible again, and sharp. “No. You speak aloud, here, among all.”

Indeed. “There is no love lost between you and Lilith,” he began, letting his eyes flicker around. “And I bear her no love myself.”

“I knew it was so,” Sara hissed from the side.

“Shut up,” Starcasset snapped back.

Ah. Division among the ranks.

“Those pieces are too small to reconstruct your obelisk,” Max said, gesturing to the small pile of obsidian. “I can obtain a much larger shard that you can use to rebuild and restore your power.”

“The one in the possession of the Venator?” asked Akvan. “I do not need it.”

Max shrugged. “Then our business is concluded.” He turned to leave, his eyes meeting Briyani’s at the back of the room. The other man gave a bare nod of readiness. Now they would see.

“Wait.”

Max turned and faced Akvan, allowing a trace of apprehension to show on his face. “Yes?”

“You have this shard?”

“I can get it for you.”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“I wish to ally myself with one who has greater power than Lilith. I desire to destroy her hold over me. She promised to release me if I destroyed your obelisk, but she has refused.”

“And if Sarafina is to be believed, once you are set free, Lilith will bring all of her wrath down upon your ally. I am not foolish enough to step into that trap.”

Max nodded, allowing even more concern to tinge his expression. “I presumed she would be no match for you, in any regard.”

“She would not! I merely do not wish to concern myself with her and her puny, half-demon creatures. I have enough of them about me now.” His voice grated harshly. “But I will have the shard. And when you give it to me, I will allow you to leave.”

“I do not wish to fight you,” Max replied, his face tightening. “Not you.”

Akvan considered him again. “A fight, then. A fight for your freedom. If I win, you give me the shard and you serve me. If you win, I allow you to go free.”

“No, Maximilian,” came a shout from the back of the room. They turned to see Briyani straining against the hold of two men. “I will do it! I will fight him. You are still—”

“Silence him,” Akvan thundered, his command reverberating off the walls. “I shall fight him. And if he dies, you die as well.”

“But you cannot endanger yourself,” Sara cried from the side. She ran to Akvan’s chair, her little hands grasping his bulky arm.

Max could have kissed her at that moment, not only for her confidence in his skills, but also because the timing could not have been more perfect had he paid her. “I will give you the shard,” he said. “I do not wish to fight you. Only let us go free.”

“I have no fear of you, Venator. You cannot harm me, but there is nothing writ that says I cannot draw you into pieces. But perhaps I should fight your friend first, and then when I win, you shall tell me where the shard lies.”

Blast.

“If you wish,” Max said, trying to sound a bit eager. “That is more than fair.”

“But he is not a Venator,” cried Sara. “Is he?” She spun a look at Max, who refused to answer. “You are not fully recovered from your return, Master Div,” she said. “And he is not a Venator. Do not jeopardize our plans by putting yourself in danger.”

Akvan had pulled his bulk from the large chair and now he towered over all in the room. His muscles, bare beneath a short-sleeved tunic and traditional Persian skirt, rippled. If he was not fully recovered from being recalled to earth, Max was loath to imagine what he would look like when he was.

“I shall fight you, Lilith’s concubine. And when you die—”

“When I die you shall not know where the piece of obelisk is,” Max said.

Akvan lumbered to a stop. “You do not wish to fight me. If you tell me where the piece of my obelisk is, I will not fight you.”

“And you will allow me to go free? And my companion?”

Akvan settled back in his chair. “Of course. Now tell me.”

“I will tell it aloud, where all can hear.” Max looked at him, tensing inside. This was about as far as he could go; they’d gone back and forth, around in circles so much that he hoped Akvan was now thoroughly confused about what he wanted and what he feared. “So that you may send them out to obtain the shard and wait here with me for them to return with it in their possession.”

Akvan’s eyes narrowed. “Draw near to me, Lilith’s concubine.”

Max blanched. “I cannot. The bites…she can sense it, and they sting and burn if I—”

“Draw near! I command you, or your companion will be my next meal.”

Max looked around, visibly disconcerted, but then regained his courage. “Send your people from the chamber so I can speak freely.”

“I shall not! Draw near me and speak in my ear.” Akvan glowered at Sara, who peeled herself from his arm and moved away. “You as well, all of you, step back. Allow him to approach.”

Max took measured steps toward the demon, gasping once and pressing his hand to the bites that still oozed blood. He stopped in front of the dais, slightly to the left side, where the table of obsidian splinters rested and looked up at the massive creature. “I cannot move…any closer…. The pain…is unbearable.”

The stench was awful too. Max wasn’t completely feigning discomfort as he drew near, but he was tense and prepared. One chance.

When Akvan’s haunch-size hand lashed out, Max took the opportunity to dive to the ground, his hands busy under his long coat as he rolled. The demon grasped him by the arm and hauled him easily onto the dais as Max winced, pretending to hold an injured arm.

“Tell me where the shard is!” demanded Akvan, his breath spewing a hot, sickly death-smell over Max’s face.

“It is here!” Max said, whipping his arm from beneath the folds of his coat and plunging the shard into Akvan’s chest as if he were staking a vampire.

The demon shrieked, his eyes goggling, his mouth gaping; but Max didn’t hesitate. He was already pulling the short sword from his other trouser leg and, as the demon remained paralyzed by the stab of the shard, he sliced through his meaty neck with a blade barely long enough for the job, and then he turned to the pile of splinters.

Everything happened so quickly that before anyone in the room could react, he had the time to dump the table and its cache of obsidian, as well as the splinter necklace, onto the shriveling, blackening mass of Akvan as the demon bubbled into the floor.

But no sooner had he done that, letting every piece of the obelisk melt into its maker, than Max was turning to defend himself from the hoard of guards that descended upon him. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">