Chapter 61: Chapter 59

Hi,

There are so many things in this chapter, I don't even know where to start. Okay, let's start with this: You'll get to know a little more about Alexander and his past. That's all I'm saying for now! Let me know if you liked the chapter! Enjoy the read and please listen to the epic music!! (In case any of you want to add this to your playlist, it's Fate/Zero: "Back to Zero"!)

:-)

Lara

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Chapter 59

ANNA

I was on my knees, staring at Victor Crawford's mansion. The taste of smoke and blood was still on my tongue, as if the memory had been real – not some dark secret my mind belched out. My eyes were itching, hurting, moist.

Yes, I was crying.

I pressed my eyes shut.

My parents. Maria. Blaze. All of them dead.

I'd never see Blaze again. He'd never flash me one of those rare smiles again. All because he tried to save me, and he died because of me. Just like my parents.

The great three witches help me.

A sob tore out of my mouth, then another one. Another one. It was as if I couldn't stop. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to reign the sobs in. As if I could. As if I had a chance to erase what happened because I was too damned weak to stop it from happening.

The feeling approached like a soft, silent yawn that stretched through the street, accompanied by a cold gust of wind. Icy air swept against my skin, caressing my face like a set of sharp needles. Goose bumps marched up and down my arms and neck.

Something was approaching.

I got up on my feet, scanning the street. The feeling remained – anticipatory, like the slow beginnings of a nightmare. It was coming. No. Not it. It was –

I turned around.

Vladislav was standing in the middle of the street like a shadow come to life. Black combat boots, black loose pants. Long black hair trailing down a wine-red military coat. Void black eyes that opened up to a lifeless void swallowing anything and everything in its wake. I shunned his eyes, let mine drift away from his face.

My magic burst forth, walls of air manifesting around me in a heartbeat. This time, it didn't come to me as effortlessly and natural as it usually did. Conjuring up the wall was like trying to push against a set of cars pressing in.

The power of the grave marched through the street, an intangible, invisible army of soldiers with the might of one, invincible conqueror. It seemed to swallow up air and space, making it bow to Vladislav's will. Making anything bow to him, if he so wanted.

He hadn't come alone. Helèna Bathoryn walked down the street and came to a halt right behind Vladislav, a moving shadow glued to her masters back. Her long black hair was arranged in thick braids circling her head. The black dress and pants she was wearing struck me as a modern-day version of an Asian warrior costume.

Goose bumps marched up my spine, skin crawling in a slow, torturous dance. Whatever I'd felt when we met at Red Night's Eve in Italy, it was nothing against the painful bursts of power her aura emitted now. Helèna Bathoryn was more powerful than she'd let on when we fought. Just as I, she'd held back.

The great three witches help me.

Her frosty blue eyes were trained on me, didn't give or budge and inch. The message in them was clear. She wanted me dead, if only for the fact that I outperformed her in front of a centuries-old delegation of vamp aristocracy.

Crap, I needed time.

"What do you want?" I said.

Vladislav made a slight motion, nothing that stirred in his eyes, but a slight shift forward – as if he could defy the rules of physics and bend them back and forth at will.

"Why do humans always ask the most tedious, trivial questions?" He said.

I concentrated on a spot underneath Vladislav's chin. Thinking. Static and white noise rushed in my ears along with the dull sound of blood pumping.

Then everything stopped. The rising noise of fingernails scrapping a chalkboard penetrated my ears and my vision crumbled and darkened around the edges.

I lost time. It might have been a second, five minutes or an hour.

I blinked. Vladislav was right in front of me. My walls of air were down.

And I had no idea how or when it happened.

I tried to take a step back and do something, but I couldn't move. I couldn't! My feet were glued to the ground; my arms heavy, oh so heavy at my sides. Sweat coated my skin, throat raw and dry.

Vladislav was doing something to me.

"I know who you really are, Isabella," he said. "I still have a score to settle with your family. You will pay in blood for your ancestor's offenses and your death will be painful. However, before you die, you might prove to be very helpful."

I stared at a spot underneath his chin with all my might, felt a drop of sweat run down my throat. The urge to lift my head, look and see was overwhelming. But I was not going to look up. I was not.

"I came to this city to teach Alexander manners. A dog needs to be caged and put in its place, Isabella. You will indeed be very helpful," Vladislav said.

He was too close. His scent drifted up my nose, that unmistakable old aroma that carried a hint of decomposition. As if he wore the death of whole nations like a poignant perfume.

"Very helpful indeed," he said.

Vladislav wanted to use me to hurt Alexander. I was not going to just let that happen, dammit. I had to warn Alexander, somehow. Anyhow.

The power of the grave drifted around me, settling and closing in like an iron fist squeezing slowly. I couldn't move, but my mind was still my own. The only question was for how long?

What did Vladislav really want? What did he plan to do to Alexander?

What if I did the unthinkable and tried to get inside Vladislav's mind? If Vladislav controlled me, it was proof that we shared a bond. If we did, getting into his mind should be possible. I did it with Alexander before.

Trying to enter Vladislav's head sounded outrageously stupid. But I needed an edge, had to know what he wanted from Alexander. I had to warn him. No matter how. I swallowed and took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out if I could do it.

I lifted my eyes and for the fracture of a second I looked into Vladislav's. This time I didn't avoid the annihilating gaze, but plunged right into it, embracing the cold folds of the power of the grave.

The moment stilled.

All of a sudden I couldn't breathe. Darkness reigned around me. Voices echoed through my head in different pitches and languages, mixed with cries of agony and anger. I tried to push through, get out of that dark place. The voices kept coming, hitting my like icy pieces of rock. I had no idea where I was, or if I was walking, flying or floating. I just knew I tried to move, outrun the terrible voices. It was worse than an hour-long travel through a portal. It was a day in hell.

And it was probably all in my head.

This was not what I wanted. What I wanted was information on what Vladislav wanted from Alexander. Nothing more.

Show me what is true. Why is Vladislav here?

I fused the words with a touch of magic, a whisper of the power of air to push away the oncoming voices and lift the veil of darkness around me.

Light touched the spell of darkness around me, diluting it. The voices stopped with a suddenness that left me reeling. I blinked and reached out, trying to catch my balance. My hand connected with cold stone.

I looked up and found myself standing in front of a stone wall. Could that be it?

I turned slowly. The walls were naked, except for sconces holding big torches that bathed the room into orange-yellowish light. It looked positively medieval. The stone walls melted into a stone floor decorated with a set of blood-red carpets that led to-

I froze.

This wasn't just a medieval room. I was standing in a medieval throne room. Vladislav was sitting on a stony throne in the back of the room, beside him two devil-like statues stood in silent defiance. It looked like he was sitting on the altar of a church. Was it a deliberate choice to provoke, or was there another reason?

Axes and morning stars, paired with flails and swords were displayed behind him on the wall. Above his head a painting that showed a battle field, a testimony of a bloody war between men in armor.

A silent cordon of soldiers was waiting on the other side of the room, their backs against the wall. No, not soldiers, they were undoubtedly vampires. They wore no suits of armor, but they were carrying weapons. In a throne room.

I stared at the clothes. Because of my former work for the Circle, I was familiar with magical and human history. Something told me we weren't in the Middle Ages – this felt more like the Renaissance.

"Bring him in," Vladislav said.

The words echoed through the room, followed by a low creak. I turned, chasing the sound. There, on the other side of the room a big set of doors was pushed open.

I sucked in a breath.

Alexander was walking into the room, flanked by two soldiers. He was pushed forward, by a third. I blinked at the third soldier. Black eyes and high full cheeks – with the complexion of an Asian. The hair color was different – black, – but it was undoubtedly Shinji, the vampire Andy and I encountered when we searched for Fabrice. That meant the soldiers all had to be vampires too.

Was Shinji Vladislav's second in command?

I chased Alexander's step, watched the way he walked, the set of his shoulders and his face. I walked forward in time with them, watching them from the edges of the throne room. The row of soldiers remained silent, but instead of keeping their eyes ahead, they were all watching Alexander. Like me, they were chasing his step, his every move.

I wondered why.