Page 51 of Birthright

My mother’s blade felt like it had been made for my hand as I tossed and spun it, swinging my arm from side to side to get the feel of it. Perfectly balanced, it fit my hand better than the custom blades I had brought with me.

I didn’t bother to say anything to Manus before turning and heading back down the stairs. He followed silently. Keena, Priestess of the Wild, was now a warrior with a very clear mission. I needed no pep talk or advice from my guardian to be ready for this fight.

We met two of the Slaugh on the landing to the main floor. I sliced through both of them without slowing my pace. They disintegrated into the fine sand that made up the lifeless island. I felt my power surge as I hit the stairs leading to the basement. It was the Demon power, and very unfamiliar to me. I had to contain it if I was going to get through this without blasting everyone in the basement. I turned at the bottom of the stairs.

A basement it wasn’t—a dungeon it was.

The thing looked like it had come straight from a Hollywood movie set. Large sconces with burning candles adorned the walls, lending an eerie yellow light to the room. There were shackles and torture devices scattered on the walls and floors. The place reeked of the dead. There were several large crucifixes and one small one. One with dry bones in a pile at its base.

Abbey was tied to the smaller one in the far left corner and looked to be unconscious. I prayed she was passed out. My father was hanging from nails in his hands and a chain around his neck. Every bit of exposed flesh was scarred or open and bleeding. The horror of the sight was overwhelming. I felt the bile of true hate in the back of my throat. I thought I had felt hate before, but now I understood. I was baptized by it.

My father tried to crane his head up to see me as I barged in. It was a struggle, but he managed to open his eyes, to focus. The tiniest of smiles showed on his parched lips. I swallowed hard. His body couldn’t have weighed more than seventy-five or eighty pounds.

“Look, Coyle, I told you she was coming to join you.” Bran stepped from behind a large column to my left. His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. I turned to face him, the blade of Trevina in my right hand and the one from his treasure trove in the left. “Keena, Priestess of the Wild…welcome to my humble abode. His grungy face was actually smiling under the cape. I could see the glow of his red eyes. The stink of him reached my nose, making me sneer even more.

“Humble is a generous adjective for this, Bran.” I kept eye contact with him but heard Abbey moan. I was afraid to look at her again and draw attention to her.

“You have broken a long-held truce by coming here, priestess.” He stepped closer to me. I didn’t back up.

“I believe that my sister has been breaking that truce for a while, Bran. Would you like me to talk to Doran for you?” He didn’t flinch as I stepped slowly over to the right to try to put myself between Abbey and the King of the Slaugh. He circled with me, never breaking eye contact.

“Dark comes soon, Keena.”

I stepped toward him. “I won’t be long. I’ll just have these two and be on my way.”

“I think not, Witch. You may join them, but you won’t be leaving my little oasis. Nessum will be pleased.”

He stepped toward me. We were close enough to draw blood. The stench from his decaying form filled my nostrils, caused my weak stomach to tighten. I fought the nausea as I felt the Demon power surge again.

He felt it too. He backed up a couple of steps.

His red eyes flared from under the cape. “You have no power here, Keena.”

“Try telling yourself that over and over, Bran. See if it makes it true.” He was frightened. I could feel it. I stepped forward again. “Where is your master, Bran?”

The red in his eyes flared bright as he shouted, “I serve no one!”

“I don’t believe you, Bran. Nessum pulls your chain. Everyone knows that. They laugh at you.” He was shaking. “Easily rattled too.” He was almost at the stairs, backing away.

“Enough!” The voice rolled over me like a cold fog. I knew who it was, I just wasn’t happy he was at my back now. He must have materialized behind me in the room. Looking around, I also realized that Manus wasn’t there. He had been behind me coming down the stairs…

I backed farther to the right, toward the nearest wall, trying to keep them both in my view. I dropped Trevina’s blade to the side of my leg so Nessum couldn’t see it. Little miracles, he was on my left, so my body hid it from his view. I still had the other blade out in front of me.

“Keena, nice to see you. I am pleased that you have come to us. Saves me the trouble of sending any more of Bran’s pets after you. I will gain so much more pleasure this way.” Nessum was beautiful. Tall with broad shoulders and a thin midsection, he looked more like the modern concept of a Vampire than any of the real Vampires did. The veins marbling his face and pale skin were the only things that took away from his appearance. Surely, Feldema was sleeping with him and not Bran.

“Sorry, Nessum. I don’t play as well with the evil and undead as my sister does,” I said, still trying to keep them both in sight.

“I had a different impression. Lord Tynan, after all, is just as undead.”

“Not really.” Where the hell was Manus?

“Your father has sustained me over the years so well, I’m sure you’ll do the same. Now, I will let him and your little friend go if you stay in their place.” His voice was serene. I got the impression of a calm morning looking over the still waters of a mountain lake.

“Yeah, right. They just leave, and right before sundown. How nice of you. The Slaugh will slaughter them. No deal, Dark Angel. How about you just let us all go and I’ll forget this happened.” I knew it was corny, but I was trying to appear cocky, whether I felt that sure or not.

As his laughter thundered throughout the entire castle, I saw something gray move out of the corner of my eye on the stairs—and hoped it was who I thought it was. Nessum still had his head tilted back in laughter.

“Not that funny.” As I said it, Manus jumped on Bran’s back in his cat form, sending him forward, toward me.