Mom releases her binding spell, letting the unconscious vampires slump to the floor. Zephyra’s winds sweep the rubble aside, clearing us a path through the destruction. The fight has left us exposed – we need to move fast.
I gesture urgently to the others, and we sprint through the twisted maze of artwork, no longer trying to stay hidden. We hurry toward the service stairs, leaving the disaster zone behind us.
“Everyone okay?” I ask as we descend. Quick nods all around. We’re rattled but unharmed – a good start, considering what might be waiting below. As we run, I start feeling somethingthat draws my attention. Something that has my heart leaping…a familiar presence.
“This way,” I call. “Gran’s been here – recently.” The trace of her power lingers in the air, a comforting warmth amid the oppressive darkness.
As we descend deeper into the gallery, the art installations become more disturbing. Abstract sculptures writhe with unnatural movement, their metal surfaces seeming to pulse. Video displays show fragmented images that hurt my eyes to look at. The walls feel surreal, as if reality is being warped by whatever experiments Lucien’s been conducting.
“Look at this,” Mom whispers, indicating a series of runes carved into a doorframe. “These are blood sigils – but they’ve been corrupted somehow.”
She’s right. The symbols have been twisted, their natural flow perverted into something that makes my stomach turn. Whatever Lucien’s doing here goes beyond normal vampire magic.
We encounter more guards as we press forward, but they seem different now. Their eyes glow with an inner darkness that shouldn’t be possible.
“The magic’s stronger here,” Mia notes, her own darkness responding to the energy around us. Her hands tremble slightly as she suppresses the urge to tap into it. “He’s been experimenting with combining vampire and witch magic.”
I spot one of Gran’s crystals embedded in the wall, its natural light dimmed by the corruption surrounding it. She’s leaving us breadcrumbs, showing us the way while appearing to cooperate with whatever Lucien’s forcing her to do.
The security systems become more elaborate as we progress – motion sensors paired with wards, cameras enhanced with tracking spells, guards whose movements suggest they’re being controlled by a central consciousness.
“They’re not just guarding something,” Rowan observes. “They’re containing it.”
A surge of adrenaline that isn’t mine floods through my body, and instinctively, I touch the pendant.
Marcus!
He’s in battle – I can feel him moving with lethal grace through the Blood Assembly. His presence burns bright in my mind, impossible to ignore.
As if seeing through his eyes, I catch flashes of his fight. His centuries of combat experience flow through each precise movement as he takes down three vampires in rapid succession. The way he anticipates attacks before they come, turning opponents’ strength against them – it’s breathtaking.
Not that I’d ever admit that out loud.
His power rolls through me, old and controlled. Even in the heat of combat, he maintains iron discipline. I feel his satisfaction as carefully laid plans unfold, troops moving exactly where he predicted. Despite myself, I’m impressed by his tactical mind.
Who am I kidding? It’s not just his mind that I’m impressed by. There’s something about his hands, his arms, the heavy set of his shoulders. His meaty ass.
Holy shit, Kara! Seriously??
I feel him deliver a particularly vicious strike that sends one of Lucien’s guards flying, and I have to shake off the phantom sensation of impact. This thing between us is getting stronger, seeping through more than just emotions now. I can almost taste the metallic tang of blood in the air around him.
Focus, damn it.
I force my attention back to our own mission. Gran needs me present here, not lost in Marcus’s battle. Still, I can’t completely shut out his presence thrumming at the edge of my awareness – steady, powerful, and oddly reassuring.
I gesture to the others to keep moving. We have our own fight ahead, and I need to stay sharp. But part of me remains aware of Marcus, his strength flowing through me like a river of steel.
I burst through another set of doors. The art installations that had seemed merely unsettling before are now actively hostile – metal sculptures twisting like living things, their sharp edges seeking flesh. A nearby kinetic piece tears free from its mounting, its spindly arms reaching for us.
“Duck!” I shout as Mom blasts it apart with a surge of power.
We’ve lost sight of Mia and Soren in the confusion. The gallery’s defenses separated us three rooms back, barriers springing up without warning. Rowan and Zephyra took another route, trying to flank whatever’s ahead.
“There!” Mom points to a doorway partially hidden behind a writhing video installation. Gran’s energy pulses strongly from that direction.
I dodge a sculpture that’s transformed into something like a metallic spider, its legs clicking against the marble floor. The magic holding these things together feels corrupted, twisted.
We break through into a circular chamber, and my heart leaps as I take in the sight before me.
