Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 65: Dust and Consequence

I rushed down the wide hallway looping the arena into the narrow one leading to the Argarast crypt, exploding into the circular room, where another small faction of Nosferatu troops had amassed, looking decidedly beaten-down with their torn and stained tactical suits and bruised and bloody faces. "Is Ephraim here? Bruce?" I demanded.

The assembled Nosferatu shook their heads. One piped up, "Not yet, Your Majesty. We thought those explosions we heard might be them."

"That's not them," I said, that frantic feeling now lodged so deep inside it may as well have infected my bones. "That's the sorcerers coming right through the floors for us."

The gathered Nosferatu took on a collective look of shock and turned to Keel for confirmation. "It is as she says."

"Then we've got another problem," one of the other soldiers said. He stepped forward so he could address his king directly. "The bleeders won't fit through the tunnel. Or rather they will, but in their state they'll be completely torn up, especially if we have to move as fast as you are suggesting we might have to move."

Keel frowned, then hopped down into the passageway, and crouched to look into the tunnel, his dust-sprinkled hair almost dipping out of sight. "I can see that," he said as he climbed back out. "We'll have to leave them. They can be replaced. Continue sending everyone who arrives here through and out."

I grimaced when he said "replaced," knowing it would mean more kidnappings, more broken people. The vampire he gave the order to noticed my reaction and hesitated, likely not only concerned with his queen's displeasure but about where his next meal was going to come from. "Do as your king says," I said, and this time he obeyed. One by one the gathered Nosferatu began to disappear down the hole.

I watched them, feeling utterly helpless. We couldn't take the bleeders, so that meant we were condemning how many more innocent humans to this horrific existence? Worse, I didn't know where Ephraim or Bruce were and had no idea how to find them. All I could do was sit and-

"Let's go out to the main hall and wait for your father," Keel said, taking my arm. "He might need help when he gets here."

I didn't want to think about that either, though it was a very real possibility. Or hell, he might be dead already, taken out in one of those blasts. The great Ephraim Sayre didn't deserve to be killed by something as mundane as human explosives or as awful as his own people. I couldn't stomach the thought of him being killed at all. Not when he'd finally started to feel something like a dad.

"He's tough as hell," Keel said beside me, and I wondered if he'd been in my head or if my expression was that easy to read. Either way, there was no one else I wanted here with me. The only peace on offer came through him and our bond.

"So is Bruce," I said.

"Bruce too," he agreed.

The hallway was empty when we stepped out of the crypt's entrance, but only for a moment. There was the cracking slam of wood on wood and Boras emerged from one of the small service hallways that led to and from the arena. He hurried over to us.

"You made it," I said, sure I was never going to be as thrilled to see him again.

"They're just one floor above us now," he reported, shaking broken bits of concrete from his tactical suit. "They've pretty much caught up. Anyone else make it through?"

"Some," Keel said. "But none since we've arrived."

"I see." Boras looked down the wide hallway, then back at the door he'd just come through, as if expecting some of those missing troops to suddenly appear, but the only sound we heard was thumping and the occasional explosion from above, an ever-present reminder that we were running out of time.