Depraved (Tales of a Vampire Hunter #2) (18 page)

Her gnarled hands pushed at a
large stone that pivoted in the floor, closing it slowly. Others moved to help,
but Oliver held up a hand, inserting his body into the opening.

“He’s weak, vulnerable. The
others—” Oliver stopped, stunned to find he wanted to go and help fight Lobo,
to save the vampires and his father. “I have to go.”

“You can’t fight them by yourself.
I’m coming with you,” Miranda said in a tone that told Oliver she would not
stay behind, no matter what he said.

She slipped past the heavy stone
door to stand in the hall beside him. He took her hand and lifted it to his
lips.

Several of the ones who’d fled
moved out into the hall too. “We’ll fight with you, son of Azazel,” one of them
said.

“Stay here until it’s safe,” Oliver
said to the people who stayed behind.

He turned to look at the small
group that stood ready to fight at his side.

“Is there another way into the
ballroom?” he asked them.

“Yes, but it is forbidden to go
there. Only Azazel and his inner circle are allowed,” one of the younger men
answered, stepping forward.

“Show me,” Oliver growled, pushing
his way to the front of the group.

The man hesitated, obviously torn
between duty and loyalty, life or death. Then he moved a short distance down
the hall. Placing his hands on the stone, he pushed. The stone parted,
revealing a small passageway they would have never found on their own. “This
way,” he said.

The small group followed him down
a passageway that ran under the great hall. Lining the passage were cages containing
people, who reached through the bars with thin arms, pale skin almost glowing
in the dark, eyes imploring along with weak voices.

“Help us. Let us out,” they said.
“Help us. Please.”

Oliver stopped the man who led
them, grabbing his arm and yanking him around. “Who are these people? Why are
they here?”

The man hesitated as if caught
once again in a war between fear and duty, his dark eyes wide.

“Not another step until you answer
me,” Oliver said, his voice low and menacing, his fingers tightening on the
man’s arm.

“Food, for the vampires,” Azazel’s
man finally said.

Miranda gasped. “But . . . I
thought . . . I—”

“The girl on the altar, the
sacrifice, she was sick, but not enough,” their guide said, eyes wildly moving
from Oliver to Miranda.

“What we saw was for show? These
people are the real meal?” Oliver was sickened at the thought.

“Yes,” Azazel’s man said. “The
vampires would have come down to feed later. It is always the way. The
ceremony, then the feeding.”

“But you’re human! How could you
know about this and still serve him?” Miranda asked. She clasped the hand of a
young girl, no more than ten-years-old, who’d reached through the bars.

“We don’t have a choice! He binds
us to him with his bite. Until he dies, we’re nothing more than slaves. I hate
what he does!” His dark eyes flashed with anger and passion.

“Prove it,” Miranda said, her
voice husky with emotion. “Help them. If Azazel binds you through his bite, you
should be able to help us find him.”

“And when you do? What then? He’s
too strong.”

Shrieks from above shook Oliver
from his shocked silence. “I’ll kill you now if you don’t. Your choice.” He
shoved the man against a wall, holding him there with a forearm pressed to his
throat.

“He’ll kill me for telling you the
truth, for helping you!”

“You wouldn’t have taken us that
way unless you knew what Azazel does here is wrong and wanted our help
defeating him. He’s weakened from the ceremony and the attack. Your mind is
your own to command until he regains his strength. It’s not too late to do the
right thing,” Miranda said.

“Azazel Priest and two of his men
are the only ones with keys to the cages. You met them when you came here. In
the car,” the frightened human choked out.

Disgusted, Oliver let the man go,
pushing him down the hall.

Oliver turned to the people behind
him who’d left the safety of the hidden room to come help him fight Lobo to
save Azazel Priest. They were a mix of humans, vampires, and walking dead. All
were silent, looking to him for their next move.

“Plans have changed. You’re on
your own,” Oliver growled.

Knowing any of them might attack
him now, he pulled Miranda into his arms. He spun her around, pressing her back
to the wall, shielding her body with his.

“I’m so sorry. I thought . . .”
Her voice filled with tears that choked off her words.

“I know, Baby. He put on a good
show. We wanted to believe, and he knew it.” He kissed her forehead, hugging
her close for a long moment while keeping a wary eye on the people in the
narrow hall who still waited nearby. Only a few had fled the other direction.

Taking Miranda by the hand, he
started down the hall, the man who’d taken them this far in the lead.

“We’ll come back for you,” Miranda
called out to the people trapped in the cages.

When they came to a wider place in
the hall, faint screams began to ricochet off the stone.

“Stop,” Oliver said, thinking of
the battle to come.

Kneeling, he gathered the full
skirt of Miranda’s gown in a bunch and used his dagger to slice through it
until she could step free of the voluminous fabric.

“Better.” His voice was gruff with
emotion. He pulled her into his arms.

“We need to let Lobo and his
people know we’re on their side. Azazel is vulnerable now. We have to find
him,” she said, her voice steely with anger and determination.

“I’ll find my father.” The word
tasted bitter in his mouth. “You go to Lobo.”

There was no other way. He
couldn’t be in two places at once. Azazel might be weakened, but he’d still be
dangerous. Oliver didn’t want Miranda anywhere near him.

“I’m not leaving you. Remember the
lists we made? Things people do in movies that we wouldn’t do?” She curled her
fingers around his.

Oliver frowned. “We were stupid to
think we could control anything.”

If he’d learned anything these
past few days, it was that all the planning in the world couldn’t prepare you
for some things.

“People in movies who don’t stick
together end up dead. I’m going with you.” She squeezed his hand, clutching her
dagger in the other, chin set at a stubborn angle he knew meant she wouldn’t
budge.

“We’re better in groups. Lobo and
his wolves outnumbered the vamps two to one. You tell him we’re on his side and
he’ll protect you no matter what happens to me.”

“Then we’ll
all
go find
Lobo and Azazel together.”

Oliver glanced to where the small,
ragtag group of people who’d come with them this far waited a short distance
down the hall. Made up of vampires, humans and walking dead, they stood ready
to fight with them. Maybe she was right.

“Strength in numbers?” Oliver
stroked her wrist with his thumb.

“Yes. Side by side.” She kissed
him gently.

“If anything happens to you . . .”
he growled, pulling her closer.

“It will happen because I wanted
it to.” She said firmly. “I’m not going down without a fight and I’m not
leaving you. I love you.” She came into his arms one more time and then squared
her shoulders.

“One of these days, I’ll tell you
first,” Oliver said. His mouth twisted into a crooked smile.

“When this is over,” she said.

“Where would Azazel go, if
attacked?” Oliver turned from her and asked the man who’d taken them this far.

“This has never happened. I
thought he would stay and fight for us, but now I don’t know.”

“Is there anywhere he could go,
lock himself in besides the room we left the old people in?” Miranda asked.

“The crypt. Next to his study.
He’s the only one who knows how to part the stone. Maybe there?”

Oliver gave the group a nod, and
then started down the passageway, Miranda close at his heels. They stayed close
to the wall and moved swiftly.

Melee greeted them when they
reached the ballroom. Wolves had victims pinned to the ground. Vampires fed on
humans and Lobo’s walking dead slaughtered anything in their path. There was no
sign of Azazel or Lobo.

For a few seconds, no one in the
great hall noticed them, caught up in their own fighting, but then a huge gray
wolf launched itself at Oliver, growling and snapping its teeth. Oliver slashed
at it with his dagger, catching it in the throat, slicing the vein and sending
it crashing to the floor.

Stepping over the fallen body,
Oliver whirled as a vampire came at him then stopped short, seemingly unsure
whether or not to attack Azazel’s son, then lunging at his throat with teeth
bared, sharp and deadly.

Miranda used the hesitation to her
advantage, plunging her dagger into the creature’s back.

The vampire howled and spun
around.

Miranda yanked her dagger from its
back and plunged it into the vamp’s heart as he turned, sending it to the floor
atop the fallen wolf.

Oliver grabbed her hand, moving
quickly away from the bodies, hoping none of the other vampires had seen what
she’d done, hoping to use any hesitation to their advantage.

“Here,” their guide said, waving a
hand toward a doorway Oliver recognized.

They ran down the hallway they’d
used earlier in the evening and into the study filled with artifacts and books.

A section of the stone wall near
the fireplace stood ajar. When Oliver looked inside the small chamber behind
it, he saw the room was empty. “Where else would he go?” he asked his father’s
man.

“I don’t know! He is protected
here, in this place. I only know he would not leave it unless forced.”

“Lobo’s men seem pretty forceful
to me. Is the way we came in the only way out?”

“Yes and only Azazel knows the
spell to lift the stone from the top of the temple.”

“It was already open.” Oliver headed
for the stairs, praying they weren’t too late.

They
climbed, higher and higher, legs burning, and finally reached the summit of the
temple. From within the temple, the fighting continued. Shrieks from below
filled the night.

Azazel stood at one end of the
temple, face lifted to the moonlight. Beneath his feet, the temple rumbled. The
intricately carved stone circle the altar rested upon rose once more, abruptly
cutting off the sounds of the screaming from inside along with their hope for
reinforcements.

Azazel flicked his hand toward the
human who’d stuck with them, and the man fell to his knees, clutching his
stomach, spewing blood. Azazel’s fingers closed into a fist and, when he swung
it through the air, it was as if he hit his betrayer. The man fell face first
to the floor and was still.

“And you people,” he said, turning
to the small group that had come with Oliver and Miranda. “I’d run, if I were
you.”

They scattered across the temple’s
summit, most taking the stairs down two at a time in their hurry to flee.

Azazel laughed. “I do love a nice
hunt. I’ll take care of them later.” His smile faded. A frown furrowed his
brow. “But you two. What to do with you? Your human weapons will not help you
here and Oliver . . . you cannot seduce me or harm me. You are of my blood.” He
circled the altar, leaned a hip into it and crossed his arms over his chest.

Anger ripped through Oliver like a
wildfire. Any feelings of budding affection for his father drowned in the hot
surge of his rage. “And you mine. You cannot harm me either.”

Surprise lit Azazel’s eyes. He
grinned and clapped his hands. “A smart boy you’ve turned out to be. It really
is a pity we couldn’t have met under different circumstances. As it is, I
cannot let you live.” He lifted his hand and a pack of wolves crept up the
temple steps, slinking low, almost on their bellies as they came to their
master’s side.

“I cannot harm you, but they can.”

“Why do you hate me so much?”
Oliver asked, surprised by the sadness he felt, as his father admitted to
wanting him dead.

“I don’t hate you, Boy. I meant it
when I said I wished we could have known one another. But a male child who can
see into the otherworld cannot be allowed to live. Once you told me you could,
indeed, see into that terrible place and I saw the temptation in your eyes as
you spoke of it, I had no choice.”

“I have no desire to open any door
between worlds,” Oliver said, his voice hard.

“Good, then no matter what
happens, I hope you never do.”

Footsteps sounded on the steps.
Lobo and a group of his heavily armed men came rushing onto the top of the
temple.

Azazel’s eyes narrowed, meeting
Lobo’s across the width of the temple. “You know your weapons cannot touch me
here. Kill the boy and our pact stands.”