Chapter 96

Lucille and the Demon had not seen any other car for miles as they approached the looming mansion hideaway on the foresty hills of Armagetton’s outskirts.

Damon knew the creatures that lived in the black hollows between the dancing trees and the crawlers that lurked closer to the edge.

Watchdogs under the bloodsuckers’ commands were allowed to roam of their own free will, darting into the abandoned highway to tear through intruders, their ears fanned out in pointed attention.

Things that were hungry, smelled like fear, and fed on soul matter were evident from the way their victims had been found, with the roofs of their heads missing and their brains blackened and pulsing with madness.

They would not be killed easily. The unfortunate faeries were buried alive in true Armagetton fashion and sealed with blessed concrete, their eyes no doubt still open as the sand ate into their orbits, relieving the horror again and again until they slowly decayed.

Damon did not tell Lucille to keep her eyes on the asphalt stretch of road in front of them; he was glad she knew already. Babysitting was not his forte; he usually just ate the nasty little attention whores.

The Demon and Valkyrie, sitting back easily in the car, hunched forward as the road under their feet transitioned from smooth asphalt to a bumpy side road.

Lucille could see the huge shadow of the vampire’s hideout lurking in the darkness, like a giant cyclops had sat there, hunched over with its head between its knees.

The sharp white light of the Audi cast the grand duplex in shifting shadows until Damon killed the engine in the moonlit driveway.

It was too quiet, unlike the buzz and flop of mid-city Armageddon. Lucille suspected the vampires had seen them coming as they got out of the car silently.

“And what brings the Prince of Hades to darken my door?” A stately-looking man hissed behind them with an air of brittle formality, making Lucille spin around, her sword at the vampire’s neck ready and glinting until Damon turned more gracefully.

“And who is this insipid young doll?” the man asked Damon casually, but his slender frame was turned to Lucille, the deepwater blue of his eyes glowing enough that it almost cast its own halo around the trio.

“Lucille! What are you doing? Sheath the damn sword! Damon whispered harshly, clapping Lucille’s still-outstretched hand robotically.

“Reflex.” Lucille murmured, not exactly apologizing, as she lowered the knife. What did he expect? Jumping around them like that.

“Edwin Kane, Commander of the Armagetton Undead Faction, this is Gingerbread, Lucille Arkavis.” Damon explained in a bored monotone sprinkled with faint civility.

Oh shit! Lucille thought.

She’d just knifed the leader of the vampires in full view of the rest of the clan. She was sure she felt their occuline eyes burning holes in her back.

Lucille wondered if it was too late to run.

“Hmmm, simply delicious.” The gaunt-looking man drawled, casually wiping specks of gray blood from the knifepoint where Lucille’s sword had chafed his throat with one thumb.

Lucille felt nauseous watching the way the man’s lipless smile deepened the hollow of his gaunt cheeks; she didn’t want to be delicious to a vampire, and it wasn’t as much of a compliment as one would expect to be called edible in Armagetton.

“Do come in, seeing as how you’ve imposed your presence on us.” The man cooed in a honeyed voice that did not sound at all sweet to Lucille’s ears.

“Ow!” She yelped, her toes stinging in the leather of her shoes, as she limped on one leg into what she assumed was the guest area. She’d stubbed her damn foot in the doorway, not even five seconds after meeting the bloodsuckers.

Excellent first impression, Lucille; you have really outdone yourself. Saint snickered in her head as Lucille seethed.

“I do hope you’ve been taking your vitamins, Gingerbread; I’m afraid my fellows don’t care much for the light.” Edwin’s singsong baritone rolled over Lucille’s perked ears in the dark.

“Shut it, Snow White.” Lucille murmured under her breath; he’d sounded way too happy hearing her scream like that.

Damon had stiffened beside her, swearing repeatedly in what Lucille imagined was a “Well shit!” fashion.

“What did you just say?”

“Completely respectable.” Lucille corrected herself, smiling wildly with her tongue between her teeth. The vampire had his back to her, but Lucille felt he could somehow still see her.

A soft white fluorescence suddenly filled the space, and Lucille screamed properly this time, gripping Damon’s toned bicep as the red-eyed demon fixed her with an amused sideways smile.

There were white-faced walkers standing in a silent circle all around them, faces drawn and stretched tight around eyes that gleamed a dull blue. Lucille hadn’t heard them because they weren’t breathing.

“Let’s not make this any longer than it has to be; what do you want?” Edwin’s voice was all steel now—no more of the lukewarm charisma.

“We’re looking for my sister; she went missing the night of the reckoning… Benedict said he saw her leaving the old cathedral with a vamp, “one of you.” Lucille finished, squaring her shoulders. She was not going to bury her head in the sand.

Lucille thought if she died here, she would do it with her sword in her hand. The assuring weight of the long silver blade made her chin firm. She hadn’t forgotten it again.

“Benedict saw it now, did he?” Edwin smiled, his rows of too many teeth white and long like his hair.

Lucille wasn’t sure about name-dropping, but the Alpha could stand his ground against them; they would have asked for sources either way; it was how Armagetton worked.

The silence was restive, but Lucille could feel anger rolling off the watchers in waves. The sooner they got out of here, the better. She was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

“Deepest apologies; I don’t believe I know who you’re talking about.” “The undead are quite the crowd, wouldn’t you say?” Edwin jeered, jerking his head to one side.

“Actually,” Damon cut in, but Lucille gripped his arm again.

“Leave it, dammit, let’s go.” Lucille whispered; she wasn’t sure if the Demon noticed, but the watchers in the wide room had tripled; some even hung naked from the high ceiling, their white, mottled skin ugly in the fluorescent light.

Their leader was showing his canines more and more; it made Lucille’s heart beat faster in her chest, much to their delight. She figured they had held back this long because of the Demon Prince’s power.

Lucille knew she was a damn good fighter, but she would lose her head in a battle with lightning-fast vampires, on their own turf, no less.

She wasn’t a damn war god, just a princess. She hadn’t mastered any of the elements, which bespeaks her swordsmanship.

The crowd parted as they backed away slowly, Lucille putting each leg behind her with bated breath. She could feel Damon’s skin overheating behind his fur coat.

Please don’t shift. Please don’t shift. Lucille prayed, with her fingers crossed. Demons only overheated when they were enraged and close to shifting. Edwin, however, seemed to be praying for the exact opposite.

“Yes, damn,” he mocked.

“Run away like you ran from Daddy’s fiery pits!”

“I would watch it, slave.” “A demon prince is still three ranks above bloodsuckers.” Damon hissed, striding towards the white-haired man, who still had a hand on the light switch.

Lucille realized Edwin’s face was changing; he was starting to look ancient, more undead than human, the lines around his face deepening as he cawed and flashed his canines at the Demon Prince.

“I’d say it’s time to test that legend, don’t you think?” Edwin challenged, and Lucille sighed, drawing her sword in resignation.

“Challenge accepted.” Damon roared, charging the smiling man.

Everything else happened at once, almost too quickly for Lucille’s green eyes to follow.