The ghoul's shriek echoed through the catacombs, a raw, primal scream of terror that vibrated in my bones. Its sudden, violent transformation was horrifying. The sluggish creature was gone, replaced by a caged beast thrashing against its chain, its milky eyes wide with mindless panic. It wasn't acting as a guard; it was reacting like prey.
"They're here," I repeated, my voice dropping to a deadly calm. I shoved the wooden box and Silas's severed hand back into the burlap sack and slung it over my shoulder. Proof. Evidence. If I made it out of this alive.
"Who's here?" Twitch wailed, scrambling on his hands and knees toward the farthest, darkest corner of the chamber. "Who?"
"Shut up if you want to live," I snapped, my senses screaming. The clean, disciplined static of approaching hostiles was growing stronger, coming from two of the adjoining tunnels simultaneously. They were professionals.
I backed away from the lantern's weak light, melting into the shadows near the tunnel I'd come from. My hand closed around the familiar shape of a silver dust pouch in my pocket. My mind was a blur of calculations. Two entry points. At least four, maybe five distinct energy signatures. All vampires. Not ghouls. This was an elite team. Joric's men would have been loud and obvious. These were silent killers.
The first figure appeared at the edge of the light. A tall, gaunt vampire in dark, practical leather armor. His head was shaved, and his face was a pale, emotionless mask. He held a short, wicked-looking blade in one hand. Another vampire appeared in the opposite tunnel seconds later, identical to the first.
They weren't looking at me. They were looking at Twitch, cowering in the corner. He was the bait.
"The courier," the first vampire said, his voice flat and devoid of accent. "He is unimportant. The primary target has the package."
He turned his head, his dead-black eyes scanning the shadows, and locked directly onto me. There was no surprise, just cold recognition. My heart hammered against my ribs.
"There," he said. "The vessel."
They started to move forward, their movements synchronized and silent. They were flanking me, cutting off my escape route back the way I came.
This was it. The moment of truth. My first real fight against their kind. Joric's taunt echoed in my head. Five minutes. I glanced at Twitch's thrashing ghoul. It was a chaotic element. A tool, if I could use it.
In my ear, the silence was deafening. I knew Rhyian was watching. I knew his promise was to be here in three seconds. But calling him was admitting defeat. It was proving Joric right. It was surrendering my one chance to show them who I was. Not yet, I told myself.
I took a deep breath. Four minutes.
"Twitch!" I yelled, my voice sharp and commanding. "The key! Unlock your pet! Now!"
"Are you insane?" he shrieked from his corner.
"He's more afraid of them than he is of you!" I shouted back. "He'll attack the biggest threat! Create a diversion! It's your only chance!"
The two vampires in the chamber didn't even glance at him. They advanced on me, their focus absolute. Two more appeared in the tunnels behind them, armed with crossbows, their bolts tipped with what looked like dark, splintered wood.
I had seconds.
I didn't wait for Twitch to act. I ripped the first pouch of silver dust from my pocket. It was weighted perfectly. With a sharp, practiced flick of my wrist, I threw it not at the vampires, but at the stone floor just in front of them.
The pouch burst on impact, releasing a glittering, shimmering cloud of fine silver particles.
The effect was instantaneous and brutal. Both vampires screamed—thin, high-pitched sounds of pure agony. They staggered back, clawing at their faces as the silver dust filled the air, searing their sensitive eyes and lungs. It was like tear gas to them, a thousand times worse. The metallic scent of burning, unnatural flesh filled the chamber.
It bought me three seconds.
I didn't run. I charged.
I moved toward the vampire on the right, the one who was more blinded and disoriented. He was swinging his blade wildly. I dropped low, sliding under his arm, the wind of the blade hissing over my head. As I came up behind him, I drew my stiletto. My Aethel senses screamed a map of his weaknesses at me—not just the heart, but the base of the skull, the point where the spine met the brain. A clean sever there would be just as final.
I drove the blade deep into the spot, putting all my weight behind it.
He went rigid, a choked gasp escaping his lips. His scream cut off. He dropped like a stone.
One down.
The second vampire was already recovering, his eyes streaming with black tears, but his rage was clearing his senses. He lunged, no longer a silent professional but a furious beast. Behind him, I heard the tell-tale thwump of a crossbow firing.
I threw myself to the side, rolling behind a pile of rubble as the wooden bolt slammed into the wall where my head had been, shattering stone.
In that moment, I heard a desperate fumbling with a lock, and then the loud clatter of a chain hitting the floor. Twitch had done it. His ghoul, now free, let out a final, terrified roar and launched itself—not at me, but at the nearest crossbow-wielding vampire.
The diversion.
The chamber erupted into chaos. The ghoul slammed into the vampire, a whirlwind of mindless fury. The other crossbowman was forced to aim at the thrashing pair. The vampire I had blinded was roaring in fury, trying to pinpoint my location.
I used the noise, the chaos. I was in my element. This was just another Tuesday night in the Undercroft.
I took out a second pouch of silver. The blinded vampire was turning, trying to find me.
"Vessel! Show yourself!" he roared.
"Right here," I whispered from the shadows behind him. I threw the pouch, this time directly at his face. He screamed as it hit him, a fresh cloud of agonizing silver enveloping his head.
While he was incapacitated, I sprinted across the chamber toward the fight between the ghoul and the other vampire. The vampire was stronger, faster. He had his blade out and was carving deep gashes into the ghoul's flesh, but the ghoul, running on pure terror, wasn't stopping.
I didn't help the ghoul. I ran right past the fight, my target the last vampire—the second crossbowman, who was trying to get a clear shot. He heard me coming and turned, his eyes widening in surprise as he tried to aim his heavy weapon at me.
He was too slow. I was already on him. I didn't use my stiletto. I slammed my palm upward into the base of the crossbow, knocking it skyward. It fired, the bolt embedding itself harmlessly in the ceiling. Before he could recover, I drove my boot into his kneecap. I heard a wet, satisfying crack. He howled and crumpled to one knee. I brought the butt of my stiletto down hard on the side of his head. He slumped to the ground, unconscious but alive. I might need him.
I spun around, my heart pounding, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The blinded vampire was on his knees, still choking. The ghoul was finally succumbing to its wounds, falling under the blade of its opponent. Twitch was gone, having presumably fled into one of the other tunnels during the chaos.
It was just me and the last standing Coven member.
He finished the ghoul with a final, brutal stab to the head. He turned to me, his chest heaving, his face a mask of grim fury. His leather armor was splattered with the ghoul's black blood.
"You are more trouble than we were led to believe," he snarled.
"You were led poorly," I replied, raising my stiletto.
We circled each other in the flickering lantern light, two predators in the heart of the earth. The fight had taken less than a minute. My four minutes were up.
I could feel the faint warmth of the comm in my ear. I hadn't made a sound. I hadn't called for help.
And in the silent command center miles above, I knew Rhyian and Joric had just watched the "civilian liability" take down a four-man vampire kill-squad.
The vampire lunged.
And just as he moved, a new energy signature appeared in the tunnel behind him. It was immense, cold, and moving with impossible speed.
Rhyian. He had broken his promise.