“Help?” Tristan demands.
Soraya steps in, maleficence in her glare. “The Old Priest ran straight to me after you arrived at his house. He offered a deal I just couldn’t refuse.” She pushes her chin out at Tristan, her face alight with jealousy.
“So I sent message to Lord Dracula—he is to come here, if he cares enough about you to save your life. Apparently the invincible Dracula has a weakness for his family and friends.” She snorts. “I’m positive he won’t miss the chance to save your ass.”
Baffled, both Tristan and I turn to the Old Priest as one of the serpents frees him from Tristan’s blades that kept him pinned to the cave wall. He joins the serpents with a cunning expression on his face.
“I offered the serpents the secret to human immortality,” he says, glancing at Mark, who clearly only meets him now. This is new to him as well. “But I want Dracula’s head in exchange. I told your daughter—”
“I don’t need to do you any favors, old fuck.” Mark gives him a once over, clearly disgusted with the old man’s appearance. “I can torture the truth out of you.”
But the Old Priest grins, rubbing his hands as if he was only waiting for this reaction. “Oh, yes, that’s what your daughter said at first, too. But you see, I have something else to offer besides the secret to human immortality. Something of personal interest to you.”
He looks at Tristan and me when he says the next words, clearly happy to shock us. “I know how to make you, Lord Serpaint, invincible, just like Lord Dracula. But for that, you need Lord Dracula’s blood—and my powers of incantation.”
Mark cocks an eyebrow. “And how am I supposed to get Dracula’s blood if he is fucking invincible? Do you believe me an idiot?” he snarls.
I wince, and so does the Old Priest, but he keeps enough spirit to reply.
“He will offer his blood in exchange for Tristan DeKnight’s life, won’t he? Then you can fight Tristan—and Lord Dracula.”
Mark’s eyes glint, all his features elongating in pleasant surprise. A grin stretches on his face as he grasps the whole scope of this.
“Oh, hell,” he whispers. A thrill goes through him and, therefore, also through his serpents. I can feel them vibrating behind Mark and behind Tristan and me, a shudder running through my body.
Mark walks to Tristan, who glares at him with shiny eyes like illuminated ice.
“Small change of plan, then. Drop your blades, Prince of Spades. All you need is your bare claws to fight the alligator.” He reveals his slimy, dripping teeth. The bastard is already salivating at the spectacle of pain he’s going to witness, while my heart feels like someone is driving a hot iron through it.
“You bastard,” I blurt out, my eyes burning with hatred. For the first time in my life, I feel pure, unabashed hatred. “If you want Lord Dracula’s blood, you better give him what he wants in return. And he’ll want Tristan alive.”
“That doesn’t matter, my sweet wife. Because after I become invincible, I will take Lord Dracula down. There can be only one invincible supernatural in the world, and that will be me.” He’s greedy for it, I can see it in his slimy face. He hungers for power. I realize what this would mean to the world at large—pain and suffering, evil leaving the Hidden World and seeping into the surface world. Mark Serpaint enjoys few things more than seeing the weak suffer. It’s a fetish. In a few years, he’ll have run over humanity like a rake of hell.
“Moreover,” he continues, drinking in the sight of me for signs of pain as he says the next words. “I will have your lover fight the alligator to death. May the best man win. Then, if he survives Darius, which I doubt, he will fight me—after I’ve taken Dracula’s blood.”
“Son of a bitch,” I spew.
“There’s more,” he presses, pointing a long finger with a sharp tip at me, slime dripping off it. The monster is high with anticipation. “I will have you watch all of it.”
CHAPTER XI – May the Best Man Win
Isolde
I CRY OUT AS SERPENTS coil around me from behind, and try to drag me away from Tristan. Tristan whips around, flashes out his blades, and slices the serpent’s bodies off of me. The sharp metal goes through them like butter. I stare in awe at the still twisted serpent bodies as I fall in Tristan’s granite arms.
“You’re only making this more difficult on both of you,” Mark says from behind Tristan, anger lurking behind his oily tone. “You can keep her if you like—in the same ring in which you’ll fight the alligator. Are you sure you want to have her, taking some of the blows for you?”
Electricity cuts through Tristan’s icy blue eyes, his lips pressing together as he lets me go.
“I will stop fighting and let myself be easily killed if anything happens to her,” he tells Mark without turning to face him. “That would spoil your fun, wouldn’t it?”
“Don’t worry,” Mark says cunningly. “She will be in your field of vision at all times. Now, if you will please come along, Prince of Spades.”
Tristan looks long at me, and bends down to kiss me.
“Don’t,” Mark cuts in. Tristan’s lips stop only an inch away from mine. I can feel his frosty breath on my mouth.
“There will be plenty of time,” Mark hisses. “If you survive the fights.”
Tristan whips around to face Mark. “Do you swear that, if I win both fights, Isolde belongs to me?”
Mark raises his eyebrows. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“As her mate, do you officially proclaim that, if you die tonight, by my hand, your wife becomes mine?”
There’s a long silence, all serpents waiting tensely. As for me, I’m dumbfounded.
“Come on,” Tristan insists. “I barely stand a chance, and you know it. I might even lose motivation if things go too bad. If you take Lord Dracula’s blood before we fight each other, your victory will be as good as guaranteed. But even so, with incentive such as making Isolde mine for eternity, I will keep fighting to the last drop of blood, ensuring your maximum pleasure.”
Though the idea of me in Tristan’s arms clearly irks him, Mark can’t resist the chance of maximizing the pleasure he can get out of this. I know him well enough to see it. He licks his lips, his long body glistening with slime between the open sides of his floral robe. Pain is his porn. He cums for it, and he wouldn’t miss the chance to cum so hard that it’ll rock his world.
“All right, it’s a deal.”
Serpents relieve Tristan of his blades—he has an arsenal of them on him—while others grab me from behind, and lead me forward.
My heart beats like crazy, even though Tristan glances behind with reassurance. A smile quivers on my lips every time he does, because I don’t want to make this harder on him, but inside I’m desperate. I don’t see a way out of this, and the sound of an army of serpents slithering their way in front and behind us isn’t making it any better. On the one hand I’m sure Tristan must have a plan, on the other, I can’t imagine what it can possibly be.
The Old Priest is allowed to lead the way, calling the leading serpents to turn left or right until we emerge into a broader tunnel, and then into a large cave.