Gothick

Chapter Twenty

"Damn it!" Kurtis yelled.

He stared at his Necromanic gate, the circle still shiny in the dim light. Blood dripped from the wounds at the tips of his fingers.

It should have worked!

At that very moment, Kurtis should have felt himself slipping into a corpse's shell. He should be smelling the dirt and the stench of decay; and then finally see the night sky as corpses-ten, even twenty of them-climbed from their graves.

Yet the gate, made from his own blood, remained inactive. Kurtis grunted, pacing back and forth before the circle. Now that he noticed, his blood wasn't bright, glistening crimson, but a dull, rust-brown. Kurtis's eyes darted around the church's dark congregation hall, as if daring any of the other four Gothicks in the room to laugh.

"Are you certain the pattern is correct," one Gothick, a woman with shaggy, silver hair, asked in a heavy Russian accent.

"Of course, you idiot!" Kurtis said. The woman bared her teeth-her pointed canines making her look almost wolfish. "I want Fürst! Where is he?"

The Gothicks backed away as though Kurtis were about to strike one of them. When no one answered, Kurtis let out a yell that made them all wince. There was something wrong with his blood. He couldn't feel it, but upon sight-

"FÜRST!"

"What is it, Kurtis," Leon asked.

Kurtis spun; knees bent, ready to spring. Leon stood behind him with an eyebrow raised, but other than that he didn't move. Imari's hulking form stood at Leon's side, glaring.

"You lied!" Kurtis said, teeth bared.

"Did I, now?" Leon said. The lids over his gold eyes hung low, as though the situation bored him. It made Kurtis tighten his fists. "Pray tell when might this have been?"

"I can't open a gate!" Kurtis said. "You did something to my blood!"

"You are dead, Kurtis," Leon said, talking in the slow cadence used when talking to a child. "Therefore, your blood is also dead. It holds no power. As for lying to you, I did no such thing. I told you the consequences of the gifts I gave you."

Kurtis's head swayed back and forth. He turned back to the Gothicks, who watched the scene with a mixture of intrigue and irritation.

"Is this what we are reduced to?" Kurtis yelled. "To be nothing more to his lap dogs. He promised us blood! Yet here we are, unable to kill our victims. How long have we been in the shadows, letting the maggots eat us-"

Fingers clasped around Kurtis's throat and hoisted him up. The Gothicks' eyes widened, and they backed away. Kurtis flailed, but could escape the grasp. He couldn't even speak.

"Hear me, Tyler Kurtis," Leon said in a low voice. "Under the conditions of our agreement, you are mine. You are my sword. Until my task is completed, you are nothing more than my slave. If those conditions are not to your satisfaction..." Kurtis yelped as Leon's fingers pressed into his sternum. Though he no longer felt pain, he felt the pressure placed on his breast. "I'll take no pity in ripping your heart out."

Kurtis flew out of Leon's grasp. He hit the ground, rolled, and slammed into the wall. Leon turned back to the others. They all stared at him with weary gazes.

"Disloyalty is a quality I do not tolerate," Leon said. "You stand with me, or I place you beneath the soil. I acknowledge your thirst for blood, your desire for destruction, and that may be quenched sooner than you think. However, bloodlust alone will not conquer the Majesty."

Leon stared at his Gothicks. Their gazes remained unwavering. There was something in them-what was it? Distrust. Leon stiffened and kept his expression even. He left the congregation and entered the stairwell of Daniel Tower with Imari at his heel.

"They will see the wisdom of your words in time," Imari said.

Leon only nodded. Though, more than ever, he wished he could read his followers' thoughts.