03 - Evolution (26 page)

She knelt beside the dying immortal and lifted his wrist
to her lips. His blood touched her tongue and an unexpected shock rushed
through her body. Her brown eyes instantly flashed to a luminous blue.
Corvinus’ blood, the font from which both the lycan and vampire races
had been born, possessed a dynamic energy like nothing she had ever
tasted before. Already she felt its powers coursing through her veins.

Startled, and more than a little frightened, she drew
back her lips. Her eyes stared anxiously into his. She spoke in a
whisper:

“What will I become?”

Corvinus lifted his wrist toward her mouth. His voice,
when he answered her, was suffused with a near-religious fervor.

“The Future.”

What does he mean?
She
contemplated his bleeding wrist, uneasy about the momentous step she was
about to take. Even without knowing the full consequences of the act,
she knew that she faced a crucial turning point that would change her
immortal existence forever. After this, nothing would ever be the same.
She hesitated briefly, then realized she had no choice. Marcus had to be
stopped, and this was the only way she could become strong enough to
oppose him. Also, if she was completely honest with herself, the lure of
Corvinus’ potent blood was just too intoxicating to resist.

Opening her mouth wide, she sank her fangs deeply into
the immortal’s wrist. An electric thrill raced through her quivering
flesh as she hungrily gulped down the potent elixir flowing through the
old man’s veins. Her body convulsed in sync with Corvinus’ fading
pulse. Her own heart pounded like the hooves of medieval warhorses. Blue
fire blazed in her eyes as the blood of the First merged with her own.
For the first time since Michael’s death, she felt alive once more.

Is this what Michael felt, when my
bite made him a hybrid?

Finally, she could drink no more. She tore her mouth
away from the old man’s wrist. To her surprise, she saw contentment on
his face, even though his end was near. He gazed up at her with an
enigmatic smile upon his lips, as though he knew something both sublime
and wonderful:

What she would become. What worlds she would bridge.

“Go now,” he told her.

The console lit up as the helicopter pilot
flipped the switches. The aircraft’s powerful turboshaft engine whined
to life. The rotary blades spun into motion.

Selene settled into her seat aboard the chopper. Her
lips still tingled from coming into contact with Corvinus’ blood, but
now she thirsted only for vengeance. Her face was a mask of icy
determination. Her eyes glittered coldly.

I’m coming for you, Marcus,
she thought. Before this night was over, either she or the murderous
Elder would be dead. And, if fortune was kind, William would still be
locked away for all eternity.
I have to end this
madness, once and for all.

The alternative was unimaginable.

The Lynx’s pilot calmly went through his takeoff
procedure. Selene was impressed by the smooth professionalism of the
Cleaners, who reminded her favorably of the Death Dealers. Besides
Samuel, who was riding shotgun beside the pilot, their strike team
consisted of the pilot, a gunner, and four additional commandos. The
armed soldiers sat beside her in stony silence, seemingly committed to
carrying out Corvinus’ final orders. She was struck by the loyalty the
ancient warlord commanded even as he lay dying.

Michael’s corpse, sealed up in a body bag, rested beside
her. Selene could not bring herself to leave his body behind and fully
intended to give him a decent burial, provided she survived her final
confrontation with Marcus. It was the least she could do for him, after
all he had meant to her. She unzipped the bag, and her throat tightened
at the sight of his lifeless body, with its cold, clammy skin and gaping
wounds. Dried blood was crusted over his punctured chest. Tears welled
up in her eyes.

Had it really been less than a day since they had made love?

She choked back a sob. The time for weeping was over.

She had a mission to fulfill.

Nearby, the gunner swung his fifty-caliber machine gun
into position. He unlatched the safety and racked the slide back. Selene
was glad to see that the copter was ready for an aerial attack. She
wondered if even Marcus would willingly take on an armed helicopter.

Welcome to the twenty-first century,
she thought.

The rotors engaged fully and the chopper lifted off from
the deck. It banked sharply, leaving the
Sancta Helena
behind.

Selene didn’t look back.

Alexander Corvinus sat behind his desk in the
blood-spattered office. Samuel and his men had carted the body of the
unfortunate guard away, but broken glass was still scattered all over
the desktop. The cold of winter invaded the suite through the splintered
skylight. Through the open ceiling, he watched the helicopter carry
Selene and his men away.

Godspeed,
he thought.
The future depends on you now.

He was alone now. Samuel had assured him that no other
living soul remained aboard the
Sancta Helena.
This was as it should be; it was almost time to perform one final
cleanup operation. He reached into the pocket of his coat and extracted
one of the explosive disks he had removed from the weapons cabinet
earlier. Ultimately, he had lacked the will to use the destructive
device against Marcus, but it could still serve a useful purpose.

A coughing fit racked his body and he hacked up a gobbet
of clotted blood. He was almost surprised there was any blood left in
him after satisfying Selene’s thirst. He felt like a hollowed-out shell,
dried-up and ready to blow away in the wind. He wheezed painfully, every
breath an ordeal. A numbing chill swept over his body. Darkness
encroached on his vision.

So this is dying,
he
thought. It was a peculiar sensation, after sixteen centuries of
immortality. “We owe God a death,” the Bard had written centuries ago.
If so,
Corvinus thought,
my payment is long past due.
He turned to
look at the elegant face of the massive carving behind him. The Muse’s
divine countenance was modeled on that of Helena, his long-dead wife and
the mother of his children. He was grateful that she did not live to see
the monsters their sons had become.
At long last,
Helena, we shall be reunited once more.

He depressed the disk, activating it. The miniature
holes opened in its side, releasing the concentrated gas fumes into the
air. The acrid smell of the accelerant offended his nostrils. He tossed
the disk into an open crate filled with over twenty identical devices.
Understanding his purpose, Samuel had been good enough to fetch the
crate before departing with Selene.

That should do quite nicely,
he thought.

The original disk automatically split in half, exposing
the contacts inside.

Corvinus closed his eyes for the last time.

A spark of blue electricity arced between the contacts….

A gigantic fireball tore the
Sancta Helena
apart. The devastating
explosion shook the waterfront. Jagged shards of flaming shrapnel
spiraled into the night. Churning black smoke billowed up from the
sinking wreckage.

Selene heard the blast even over the noise of the
chopper. The shock wave sent a shudder through the Lynx, but the
helicopter kept on flying. A muscle twitched beneath Samuel’s face, but
that was the only sign of emotion displayed by the stoic Cleaner. “Oh,
man,” one of the younger soldiers whispered, before a glare from his
leader shut him up.

So much for Alexander Corvinus,
she realized. Sixteen hundred years of life had come to an end, perhaps
many centuries too late.
Better he should have died
of the plague in the first place.
Selene didn’t know how to react
to the first immortal’s death. Too many cataclysmic events in too short
a time had left her numb.

Alexander. Viktor. Amelia. Lucian. All the giants of the
past lived no more. Now only Marcus and William remained.

But not for much longer,
she vowed.

Over time, waters had infiltrated the underground passageway.
Marcus waded through waist-deep water as he trekked through the ancient tunnel
he had seen in Selene’s memories. The dark, silty water was bitterly cold, but
Marcus barely noticed. This close to the end of his sacred quest, he was not
about to let a little freezing water slow him down.

Soon, William. Your long captivity is almost over.

His right hand held aloft a blazing torch. In human
guise, he navigated the subterranean labyrinth. His eyes searched the
shadowy nooks and crannies. The passage of time had taken its toll on
the flooded tunnel. The granite walls were crumbling and coated with
fungus. The air within the corridor was dank and smelled of mildew.
Water dripped from the arched ceiling.

A dash of faded color caught his eye. Above the
waterline, vestiges of red and yellow paint still clung to the moldering
stonework. His finger traced the lingering smears of paint and he
chuckled in amusement. Although the design was barely discernible now,
he recognized the sun and flowers that little Selene and her sister had
scrawled upon the walls some six hundred years ago. He felt destiny’s
multifarious strands coming together at last.

Almost there,
he thought.

The primitive drawings were the final proof that he had
come to the right place. Indeed, he felt as though he could almost sense
his twin’s presence nearby. Their shared blood called out to him, urging
him onward. He quickened his pace through the turbid waters.

At long last, I will fulfill my
vow—and the sons of Corvinus will be united once more.

Just beyond the childish paintings, he came to a wall of
blackened stone. The barrier appeared solid enough, yet an ornate design
had been cut into the heavy granite blocks. In the center of the pattern
was a depression in the shape of the open pendant.

Marcus smiled.

Traveling at over 250 kilometers per hour, the
Lynx headed southeast, crossing the border into Romania. Soon the jagged
peaks of the Carpathian Mountains loomed before them. At six thousand
feet in altitude, dense forests of firs and pines gave way to desolate
outcroppings of barren rock, now surmounted by tons of accumulated snow
and ice. Selene felt a pang of nostalgia at the sight of the mountains,
familiar to her from her long-vanished childhood, but swiftly thrust the
feeling aside. This was no time for bittersweet reminiscences. She had
an Elder to kill.

She sat beside Michael’s body in the cockpit. The top of
the body bag was still unzipped, so that she could gaze upon his
lifeless features. Even in death, his face retained its rugged good
looks. She found it hard to accept that his eyes would never look upon
her again. The gross injustice of it all stabbed at her heart. After six
centuries of solitude she had finally found the love of her life, only
to lose him in a matter of days.

Her face hardened as she took her grief and converted it
into anger. A hunger for revenge came easily to her, and she let her
all-consuming need for vengeance fuel her determination to end Marcus’
obscene existence. Forget the threat posed by William and his highly
infectious brand of lycanthropy; Marcus would pay for taking Michael
from her. She would see to that… or die trying.

Marcus stood where Selene’s father had once
stood, six centuries before. He ran his fingers over the intricate
design etched into the wall, then inserted Sonja’s pendant into the
matching depression. He flicked the switch upon the pendant’s side and
its bronze blades emerged from hiding. The blades fit perfectly into the
slots intended for them, locking the key into place. Marcus reached out
and gave the key a decisive turn.

Click.
Concealed machinery
came to life after centuries of slumber. Reanimated gears creaked
loudly, before being drowned out by the grinding of stone against stone.
A sizable portion of the wall began to lift from the floor, receding
into the ceiling. The newly exposed doorway opened onto a hidden
corridor, just as Selene’s childhood memories had promised. Through a
shimmering curtain of dripping water, Marcus glimpsed the flooded alcove
beyond. For a moment, he feared that the frigid waters might have filled
the dungeon entirely, drowning William in his forgotten cell, but then,
to his relief, he saw a dusty stone staircase rising up from the water
on the other side of the alcove. The polished stone steps, which looked
as though they had been untrodden ever since the dungeon had first been
sealed off centuries ago, led off into the darkness.

Marcus’ eyes gleamed in anticipation. He smirked at the
thought that, somewhere beyond the grave, Viktor’s restless spirit was
crying out in dismay.

You hid my brother well,
he
thought vindictively,
but not well enough.

He removed the pendant from the lock, then stepped
forward through the falling water.

The chopper soared above the frothing waters of
a rushing river. This high in the mountains, the rocky passes churned
the river into turbulent rapids. White water tumbled down a winding path
toward the dense pine forests below. The tumultuous course of the river
matched the turmoil in Selene’s soul, although she did her best to hide
her heartache behind the cool, emotionless mask of a warrior. She needed
to be a Death Dealer now, more than ever before.

“We’re getting close,” Samuel announced.

Good,
she thought.
Reluctantly looking away from Michael, she focused on the mission before
her. The Lynx banked sharply, roaring around a bend in the river, and
the ruins of a medieval castle came into view.