Hi,

Some of you said they felt we were nearing the end. Well, let me tell you this: I'm writing as I go and so everything's still on the table. Who knows what's going to happen... ;-)

A word of warning, I might not be able to update next Sunday, but I'll try my best!

Lara

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Chapter 64

I'd have to up my game – a lot.

"Who the fuck are you?" I said, peering through the flames.

The unknown witch said nothing, but stopped a few feet in front of me, extinguishing the flames with a slice of her head.

Blood pounded in my veins, loud as the crackle of fire – flames she just made disappear. I licked my lips. With a fucking slice of her head. There weren't many witches in her age who could do that. It took decades to get that kind of control over your element. To do that with the amount of magic she was using?

Just. Fuck.

I needed time, and a better plan.

Come on Varner.

"How about an exchange?" I said. "A name for a name, that's only fair, don't you think?"

She cocked her head and something flashed up in her eyes. Not amusement. That would necessitate some sort of warm or fuzzy feeling. Not in her book. Not in her world. No.

If she was a vamp, I would have called it bloodlust – a frenzy of greater proportions; a rare emotional reaction in beings that lost most of their human emotional urges. But she wasn't a vampire. She was a witch and a human first.

"Agreed," she said. "You first."

I was going to give her truth. A deal is a deal – even if your opposite is on the other side of the law.

"I'm Andy Varner," I said, watching her face. "You?"

"I, Mr. Varner, am your worst nightmare," she said.

I gave her a smile that showed all teeth. I'd seen worse, far worse than her. "Nice try. Your name was what we agreed on."

"You do not believe me? Oh but I will become your nightmare. I think I should like that very much. I'd like to hear my name from your lips just before you die." She lifted her head, as if she wanted to underline just how much she was looking down on me. "This and only this is the reason why I will give you my name. It's Helèna Bathoryn."

Helèna Bathoryn. The name had a familiar ring to it. I'd heard the name before, but had no idea where.

She stepped forward and raised her palm. The air shimmered with heat and potent magic. I had no idea what kind of offensive magic she was going to use. I'd never seen that before!

She cocked her head. Her lips curled into a smile that smacked of blood and ash. "Come on. Try saying it. I'm gonna have you say it perfectly before I'm done with you."

"You're gonna have to wait a long time for that," I said, mind racing. I needed an exit strategy that involved a better plan than fighting myself out of this. I was pretty sure – magically speaking – I was majorly outclassed.

The motion was unexpected and sudden. Bathoryn stilled, her smile stuck in an awkward moment of surprise, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. They settled on a spot over my right shoulder.

"I know you're there. Show yourself," she said.

"You seem eager to hear your own name, Helèna," someone said from behind. "It makes you look lonely."

I turned half-way, trying to keep my eyes on both enemies, the known and the unknown, at the same time. Another female witch had appeared behind me. I hadn't seen her. I hadn't even felt her. Whoever this new witch was, she seemed to have more aces in the hole than I.

Enemy or friend? I didn't know.

Probably in her late forties, dark brown hair that was done up in a ponytail and clothes that might have fit better into some European university than in this part of the city. She wasn't exactly dressed for a fight. Still, something burned in the woman's green eyes. Was that anticipation?

I might have been wrong in my first assessment. This witch too was used to fighting. And, judging from her noiseless appearance, she was probably damned good in it.

"Tell that rotting skeleton over there to hand over my godchild, this instant," the witch said, staring at Bathoryn.

I narrowed my eyes. The accent was undeniably there. Whoever this witch was, she was Italian.

Helèna Bathoryn cocked her head, switching sides, and laughed. The sound traveled through the night air, raising an army of goose bumps on my skin. This was the dry laughter of a mass murderer. Bathoryn was a witch and in essence a human, yet she acted more like a monster than many undead killers I'd met.

She licked her lips, looking the newly arrived witch up and down with a frenetic eagerness.

"It's you, isn't it?" she said. "They say you're one of the most powerful witches in the Lumenis, Giuliana."

Giuliana? Was she who I thought she was? Was she Anna's ... godmother?

Giuliana smiled and inclined her head slowly. "How did you guess?"

Helèna sneered. "I knew it the moment I saw your stinking aura." The corners of her mouth dropped from one moment to the other, loose like the slack face of a wooden string puppet released from its master. "Now, an insult against Vladislav II, sovereign of Hungary, is an insult against me," she said, lifting her hand slowly.

The atmosphere changed, the aurtic landscape getting richer and headier with a deadly magical buzz.

Giuliana raised her hands in a half circle before turning her head to me. "Mr. Varner, you better go and try to save my godchild. Now."

* * *

ANNA

In here Vladislav's eyes seemed less void, as if the malevolence was finally showing and widening in circles in his irises. Was he, just like Alexander, human in here? I was betting a lot on it.

I took another step forward, ignoring the voices that threatened to tear me down and tie me to the stone floor. More than forty feet were separating us.

Just a couple more steps and I was going to get to him. Just a few. What I would do then, I wasn't all too sure about. But I was going to get closer and I was going to get out of here. I fisted my hands.

Another step, another horrible wail of voices exploding in my head. My instincts screamed at me to run and cower. Give in to the thoughts I had been having, listen to what the voices had to say.

I shook my head and forced my left foot in front of the right one. The voices rose in a vicious crescendo.

Vladislav stood up. The swish of cloth sliced through the darkness like a silent afterthought. In here the color of his wine-red military coat looked more like a dark violet, as if the darkness had sucked out most of the red.

"I am over one thousand years old," Vladislav said. "While you are, in essence just human. Frail. Faulty. Guided by volatile emotions. Exposing yourself with your weaknesses."

His voice cut through the seemingly impenetrable darkness, altering its very physics.

"I will destroy you and that cozy construct of lies you have built around yourself. I will break you apart and collect you in small pieces. Until you're mine."

I stopped, breathing hard. My eyes strayed away from the vampire. Had there just been motion somewhere in the shadows behind?

I forced my eyes back to Vladislav. I couldn't let myself be distracted, I had to-

"How dare you even attempt to go against me? Did you think you could get out of a blood bond that easily?" Vladislav said. His pupils dilated, an unspeakable void opening up. "Elena Larosa was just like you. Young. Naïve, and so human."

I licked my lips. He was talking about the third Pentagram. My ancestor and the witch that inadvertently started the hunt for my family. My godmother Giuliana told me that, centuries ago, Elena destroyed a vampire coven that had insinuated itself into the Inquisition apparatus. And that that coven's leader hunted down her up until the sixteenth century. I was pretty sure I was standing in front of that vampire.

"Yes, you are," Vladislav said.

My breath got stuck in my tongue. Even in here he could read my thoughts. Vladislav. The name sounded like a hissing valve, tearing into my mind.

Vladislav stared at me for a small eternity. The force of his gaze slammed into me, a deadly punch packed with the unadulterated power of the grave. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't have looked away.

His lips were a thin line under his black moustache. His long black hair looked inhuman, just like everything about him – as if it wasn't a texture that might be cut with scissors. He was over one thousand years old. Ancient.

"Your mind is already mine. Your thoughts are guided solely by me and me alone. I am giving you exactly what you wanted. Now, sink into oblivion at my command."

The words drove into me, like a hand reaching into my innermost cavity. Was I caught up in one big mind fuck, trapped in a vision Vladislav had fed me? Or was I in the middle of fighting my way out?

What was real and what lie? How to tell one from the other?

The black in Vladislav's eyes widened in circles, reaching out, spinning towards me like a deadly cyclone. I took a step back, lifting my hands, palms up in protection.

"You are wrong. You already have lost the fight," he said.

The words reverberated on the bare stone walls and travelled right into my core, sinking deep. I shook my head and looked up.

No.

A gust of wind swept through the throne room, extinguishing the dirty candle-light in a single blow. I stilled, then turned my head, trying to pinpoint the exact location Vladislav had been in. There was no trace of the annihilating nonentity of his presence. Had he left? Or was this another trick?

That was when I heard it. Footsteps from somewhere behind. The sound of motion and of feet being dragged over rough stone exploded in the darkness. The shadows elevated themselves, solidifying and morphing into something else altogether. Shapes that were more than just byproducts of the obstruction of light; not attached to an inanimate, unmoving object, but alive.

I licked my lips. No matter if what Vladislav said was truth or lie, I wasn't alone in here.