Breathe Under Water - Shadows of the Night 1

Chapter 28

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Lara

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Chapter 28

Alexander’s head snapped up with the suddenness of a lighting attack.

“They are safe,” he said in a low voice.

He didn’t say anything else, didn’t give me information on where they were or how the hell he even knew the Cellinis hadn’t met true death – assuming he was talking about them. All he did was walk up the slope towards the main road, using that damned controlled way of moving. It made me wonder how much the vamp was really affected by daylight.

The sun was playing hide and peek behind a thick layer of clouds, and yet Alexander seemed to have no trouble moving with the sturdy grace of a marathoner.

At first I was fooled by it. Then I realized that he was moving beneath the thickest ring of trees, never stepping out into full sunlight. He was affected by it, more than he liked to admit. I’d pocket the information for a time and day I’d need it. As things were, I was going to need it in the near future.

We made it through the forests, shadows and trunks, at a slower pace. It felt like ages before the trees started to thin out, and we stepped out into the open. We’d reached the road.

I blinked.

Doll-like and splashed with red, the unmoving forms drew the eye, demanded absolute attention. More dead rogues. A festival of destruction lined the black-singed road. The second Volvo didn’t look much better than the other one, its rear part warped like a blue wax candle.

The Cellinis were scattered around the vehicle, talking among each other in hushed voices. Their mouths and patches of their clothing were smeared with red, eyes cool and hollow. They moved in otherworldly strides, limbs not pushed forward by flesh and muscle, but by something else altogether.

A lion and a brown-furred wolf were prancing up and down the lane as if they were doing sentry duty. Apparently Marco and Peter, the secret shape shifter pets of the vampire royalty, had still not changed form.

My eyes darted back to the corpses and the destruction. The body count was above the expected. There were way more witches than I remembered. Michael must have had an entourage of about twelve to fourteen people.

Somewhere in the front I could see Corine’s lifeless shape, still bound. The rogues had killed her and left her on the street as an obstacle – or an offering, take your pick. A body, a tool for ambush. The carelessness with which it had been dumped almost made me gag.

Antonio approached us. His feet barely touched the ground as he moved with that inhuman, undead glide. The fact that he was the only member of the Cellini family who hadn’t splattered blood over his front made me believe that this wasn’t exactly a trick you picked up over the centuries. Or maybe Antonio simply had the knack of eating neatly, who knew.

“Thirteen rogue witches. No survivors. It seems that they obtained knowledge of our route and the time of our departure.”

“Is anyone of our party injured?” Alexander asked.

“No. Nothing but a few minor injuries. Gregory was wounded by one of them, but his arm will heal.” Gray eyes shifted and the weight of centuries slammed into me with the force of a brick. “I am more interested in the whereabouts of this other dark witch, the one that goes by the name of Michael.”