“You have a vaccine?”
“We do, but it was never administered.”
“Why not?” Grayson asks?
“The first rounds of testing resulted in severe side effects and several deaths. Lilith ordered the scientists to stop. No more deaths.”
“So, what now?” Uri asks.
“Now, we start trials again,” Conah says. “If Cain is bringing the virus to us, we need to be prepared.”
My mind whirs over this damn virus and its existence, the fact the Magiguard have a concentrated version. Ursula called it an insurance policy, but that doesn’t sit right with me. The Ouroboros are supposedly a secret government organisation and they created the super vamps.
It all comes together in my mind. “The humans did this deliberately, didn’t they?”
Conah’s smile is wry. “Nothing was ever proven.”
“But they did. They targeted you. They knew about you.”
“The highest circles of human power have always been aware of the existence of supernatural life,” Conah said. “It’s a covenant as old as time, and yes, Lilith did suspect the virus was an attack on the Underealm, one that had unfortunate side effects on the human population.”
Allowing humans to see ghosts and decimating the reaper numbers, thus changing the way death plays out.
“But why? Why attack?”
“We have something they want. Something Lilith refuses to share.” He waves a hand to indicate the room. “The power that runs our world is generated from Chaol, a clean fossil fuel that doesn’t damage our atmosphere. Humans want it, but Lilith knows the greed of man. That once we give, all they will do is take. She denied them, and a few years later, we were hit by the virus.”
“Wait, how do they even know about the fuel?”
“Not all demons reside in the Underealm,” Conah says. “There are plenty who have chosen to live amongst humans, coveting positions of power among the elite and the highest ranks of government.”
It all makes perfect sense now. “I think they were planning on another attack. Using super vamps to deliver the virus, to cut through your defences and take what they want.”
“Yes, I believe you might be correct,” Conah says.
“And now Cain has the virus.” Grayson sighs.
Conah pushes back his chair. “I’ll send a message to the Luna labs to resume work on the vaccine.”
He’s almost at the doors when they burst open and a charred guard staggers in.
“Dominus, we’re under attack.”
“Attack? What?” Conah looks stunned. “Mammon’s troops are here?”
The guard groans and drops to his knees. “No, Dominus, it’s a Dragomite.” He falls forward onto his face.
“No,” Conah shakes his head. “They’re extinct…”
Uri rushes to aid the guard, feeling for a pulse, and then he shakes his head solemnly. “He’s gone.”
I lock eyes with a stunned Conah and watch as his jaw clenches in rage. “Con, what’s a Dragomite?”
“A monolith. A monster,” Conah says. “And it breathes everfire.”
I have no idea what everfire is but… Oh fuck.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Keon
The Fortress is cold and forbidding. The black walls and white floors make my eyes hurt. Every ornament, every drape, and all the rugs are crimson. Dust coats every surface, but here and there are streaks, which tell me that there have been people here recently.
Mammon and his spies.
Lilith.
I must find her.
I stick to the shadows, moving within them, becoming one with them. There is very little light lancing in through the windows high up on the walls. This is a place of darkness. If I focus, I can feel the vibrations of pain etched into its walls. If I stop and listen, I can hear the echo of screams.
But I do neither of those things. I block out the residue of pain and forge on, examining room after room, climbing staircase after staircase.
My eyes tell me that there is no threat here.
Mammon is not here.
There are no guards.
And yet my gut warns me to beware. I hit the second floor of this accursed place and icy fingers rake up my spine.
I’m not alone.
Windows line the left wall of this corridor and gauzy red drapes cover the glass. Everything is still and silent, and then, as if a switch has been flipped, the drapes begin to billow outward into the room as if blown by a breeze.
But the windows are closed.
There is no breeze.
The shadows grow longer, stretching toward me, and it takes everything in my will not to back away.
I’m a fucking assassin, and I will not be spooked by smoke and mirrors.
There is someone here.
And they’re playing games.
“Show yourself.” My voice sounds abrasive in the silence. Too loud and too sharp. “Stop playing games and show yourself.”
Laughter, cruel and cutting, slices across my senses, and my bladder clenches.
I draw my blades. “Why don’t you laugh in my face, huh?”
The air before me ripples and then there is a face right up against mine. Its impossibly wide grin and empty black eyes make my heart stutter, but my scream of shock remains trapped in my throat. Still, my body reacts as trained, slashing at the face with my daggers.
But the face is gone.
Laughter echoes around me, louder, closer, and then the corridor is filled with spectral bodies and faces contorted in manic smiles. But now that I look closer, the smiles aren’t real. They’re cut into the faces, hooked in place with metal and pins. Dried blood mars cheeks and chins, and empty eye sockets watch me hungrily.
“Come and play.” The voice is raspy and broken. “He likes it when we play.”
This time I listen to my body and take a step back.
These aren’t beings I can fight. These are specters, and I know in my gut that what I seek lies down this corridor, beyond the red door at the end. To get to it, I’ll need to pass through the dead.
These specters are ancient. I can sense that much, and specters are able to do damage to the living if they desire. I can sense their harmful intentions. If I’m incapacitated, then the others will be at risk. They’ll be walking onto this corridor with no idea what awaits them.
As much as I hate to do it, retreat is the wisest option.
I’ll need back-up for this.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Fee
Keon was gone for what felt like forever, and when he reappeared, he looked shaken.
“What is it?” Samael asked. “What did you find?”
“Mammon isn’t here. No guards either,” he said. “I’m pretty sure the place is deserted except…”
“Except?” Mal probed.
“There are specters blocking my path to a red door. I believe Lilith is behind that door.”
I frowned up at him. “You mean ghosts?”
“No,” Azazel said. “A ghost is a spirit that still retains some semblance of the personality it had in life. A specter is a warped thing that may or may not have been a person. It may be the residue of an entity, or the memory of horror given form.”