Page 113 of Resurrection
The words land like stones in my belly and dizziness sweeps every thought I have.
Rage boils in my chest. “You’re insane.”
“No,” he replies pleasantly. “I am efficient.” He leans closer, his face inches from the barrier. “For centuries, vampires have ruled through cruelty,” he hisses. “Through myth. Through manipulation. Through lies. You convinced the world you were immortal gods.”
Taking a deep breath, he collects himself. His voice drops. “I intend to correct that mistake.”
We stare at each other mutely for a long moment, neither one of us blinking. There is something ancient lurking behind those eyes.
“With your help,” he continues, “we will erase your kind. City by city. Nest by nest. Until the word ‘vampire’ becomes nothing more than a footnote in storybooks.” A smile touches his lips. “Written by mages.”
Sara finally speaks, her hand reaching for Viktor but not daring to touch him. Interesting. “Father, we…”
“She will save thousands of lives,” Viktor cuts in smoothly, spinning on his heel to face her. “Mages lives, Sara. You did well.”
Whatever she was about to say is forgotten and her shoulders straighten. Pride. Loyalty. Brainwashed devotion flitted across her face and she beams at him.
I swallow hard, forcing myself not to show fear or to let treacherous thoughts that this was a bad idea show.
“So,” I say. “You’re planning our genocide, powered by my blood. Cute.”
He chuckles quietly. “All of you reduce everything to mockery,” he observes. “Another common trait among your species.” Then his expression hardens. “But understand this, April. You are not my prisoner.”
“Do tell what am I, oh wise one.”
“You are my resource,” he nods his head gallantly like he didn’t just threaten my life. “My solution. My victory. And resources,” he adds, voice ice-cold, “are always used to their fullest potential.”
Whatever I was going to reply gets stuck in my throat when Viktor flings his hand my way, slapping me with some spell I don’t see him chant or mumble out loud. The magic sinks intomy skin, taking all my strength with it, and I start falling down. All sorts of curses and threats scream in my head, but I’m on the floor with no time to fight to say them out loud. The clearest of them all is,“This plan better work or I’ll never hear the end of it from Sebastian.”
Darkness swallows me.
Chapter Ninety-Six
SEBASTIAN
They took her.
I almost rip Marcus’s head off when he grabs my shoulder to hold me back. We killed so many of them, filling up the theater and packing it full of bodies like sardines. All for nothing.
At the end, the mages who were still alive ran, disappearing like they were never there. The Guardians we had stationed around the building didn’t see anyone exit apart from us when there were no mages to fight and no April in sight.
We turned the place inside out looking for her. I was praying she was injured, and I would’ve been happy with that as long as I found her. No trace that she was in the damn place was left. My body visibly trembles as I fight for control and not level the whole fucking city to the ground, human and non-human alike.
We lost many of ours, but nowhere near as many as the mages. Defeated and lost, all of us stand in the middle of the street in stunned silence, staring at the building full of death while not knowing where to go. Where to look for her.
“How is it possible for them to take her and not be seen?” The words come out slurred between Marcus’s bared fangs.
I want to jam my fist in his face and lodge it down his throat.
That’s when Eshe decides to show her face.
Before I know what’s happening, I have my hand around her neck and am dangling her in the air. Snarling like a beast, I squeeze unable to speak and demand for her to tell me what she’s been plotting. Instead of being angry, or at least annoyed with me, she looks almost bored when her gaze lands on my twisted face.
Wind whips around us, lifting leaves and debris in the air as her eyes start to glow. It slaps me in the face, plastering the blood covered clothing to our bodies. Eshe’s braids, that she has tied on top of her head, dance around her head like tiny snakes aiming for my throat.
“Release me.” She doesn’t shout or rage.
My skin is covered in gooseflesh from the potent power in her softly spoken demand. Because that’s what it is. Not a plea for me not to hurt her. She demands her release. All our people around struggle to stay on their feet, their bodies leaning forward pushing against the winds.
