The hand was followed by an arm, then a shoulder, then a head. The vampire that emerged from the altar looked like something from a nightmare—ancient, withered, with eyes that glowed like embers and fangs that had tasted the blood of thousands.
"Lord Dimitri," Kieran whispered, recognition and horror mixing in his voice. "The first of the old lords. The one who created the original vampire bloodlines."
"Kieran Ashford," Lord Dimitri's voice was like gravel, rusty from centuries of death. "The prince who abandoned his throne. How fitting that you're here to witness my return."
More hands emerged from the altar. More old lords, climbing back from whatever hell they'd been consigned to, drawn by the interrupted ritual's residual magic.
"We need to close that portal," Grandmother Chen said through the comms, her voice urgent. "If all seven old lords emerge, we won't be able to stop them."
"How?" Kieran demanded.
"Blood. The portal was opened with blood, it needs blood to close. The blood of someone with a connection to both life and death. Someone who's died and returned."
Everyone turned to look at Adrian.
"Oh, hell no," Wei's voice came through. "There has to be another way—"
"There isn't," Grandmother Chen said flatly. "The reincarnation's blood is the only thing powerful enough. He needs to willingly give his blood to close the portal."
Adrian didn't hesitate. "Tell me what to do."
"Adrian, wait—" Kieran grabbed his arm.
"We don't have time to debate this. If those old lords emerge, how many people will die?" Adrian met Kieran's eyes. "I have to do this."
"You could die. Giving enough blood to close a portal of this size—"
"Then you'll give me your blood after. Turn me again if you have to. But we're ending this now." Adrian pulled free and ran to the altar.
Lord Dimitri reached for him, but Kieran intercepted, engaging the ancient vampire in combat that shook the hall's foundations.
Adrian climbed onto the altar, feeling the portal's pull. The magic wanted him, recognized his blood's power.
"What do I do?" he asked Grandmother Chen.
"Cut your wrist. Let your blood flow into the portal. And whatever you do, don't let go until it closes—no matter what you see, no matter what you feel."
Adrian pulled out a knife and sliced his wrist open. Black vampire blood welled up—different from human blood, but still blood. Still life force.
He held his wrist over the portal, and his blood dripped down into the darkness.
The effect was immediate. The portal screamed—an actual sound, high and terrible—and began to shrink. The old lords who'd already emerged roared in fury, trying to reach Adrian to stop him.
But the alliance had rallied. Werewolves, witches, demons, and vampires formed a defensive circle around the altar, holding off the old lords while Adrian bled.
And bled.
And bled.
Adrian's vision started to blur. He could feel his vampire body weakening, the blood loss too great even for his supernatural healing to manage.
"Adrian!" Kieran's voice seemed distant. "That's enough! Close it!"
But the portal wasn't closed yet. Two old lords remained inside, fighting to emerge.
"A little more," Grandmother Chen urged. "Just a little more—"
Adrian's legs gave out. He collapsed onto the altar, his wrist still bleeding into the portal. The world was fading, greying at the edges.
This is what dying feels like, he thought distantly. Again.
Then Kieran was there, pulling him back, pressing his own wrist to Adrian's mouth.
"Drink," Kieran commanded. "Drink, damn you!"
Adrian drank, Kieran's ancient blood flooding his system, fighting back the death that was trying to claim him. Behind them, the portal finally collapsed with a sound like reality tearing, sealing the remaining old lords in whatever afterlife they'd been dragged from.
When Adrian's vision cleared, he found himself cradled in Kieran's arms, surrounded by the destruction of the hall. The three old lords who'd emerged were piles of ash—destroyed by the combined efforts of their alliance. The portal was gone. The ritual had failed.
They'd won.
"You're insane," Kieran said, his voice shaking. "Absolutely insane. You could have died permanently. Your soul could have been destroyed."
"But it wasn't," Adrian pointed out. "And we won."
"We won," Kieran agreed, then kissed him desperately. "Don't ever do that again."
"Can't promise that. Seems like I have a habit of dying for you."
"That's not funny."
"Little bit funny."
Around them, their allies were cheering. Werewolves howled in victory. Witches extinguished the last of the ritual magic. Demons looked disappointed that the fight was over.
"It's done," Marcus reported, helping the injured human girl out of the hall. "Viktor's movement is finished. The followers either died here or fled. There's no leadership left, no resources. It's over."
"For now," Grandmother Chen corrected, approaching them. "But there will always be vampires who want to return to the old ways. The fight for peace is never truly over."
"Then we'll keep fighting," Adrian said, standing with Kieran's help. "For as long as it takes."
Wei shifted back to human form—conveniently clothed thanks to werewolf magic—and clapped Adrian on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. "Not bad for a baby vampire. You might actually survive eternity."
"Thanks, I think."
Asmodeus appeared from the shadows, his unsettling smile in place. "Well, that was entertaining. I'll be in touch about that favor, young vampire. Don't die before I collect."
Then he vanished in a swirl of sulfur.
"I don't trust him," Adrian muttered.
"No one trusts demons," Kieran said. "But he fulfilled his part of the bargain. That's all we can ask."
As dawn approached—they could feel it, an instinctive awareness that the sun would soon rise—their alliance began to disperse. Werewolves returned to their pack lands. Witches teleported home with their complicated magic. Demons slithered back to whatever dimension they called home.
Only Kieran, Adrian, and Marcus remained in the destroyed Hall of Supreme Harmony as the first light of dawn touched the Forbidden City.
"We should go," Marcus said. "Before human authorities arrive with questions we can't answer."
They left the complex, disappearing into Beijing's waking streets like ghosts.