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All hope of success vanished.

The centerpiece of this underground lair was a massive chamber. Concrete floor and walls. A high ceiling where powerful UV floodlights hung in every corner, powered by a collection of car batteries. Other floodlights were mounted in between. All of them were aimed at a stone sarcophagus in the center of the room.

Circling the sarcophagus was a thick, unbroken line of what appeared to be salt or chalk. I could only assume it was consecrated and impassable. Affixed to the four corners of the sarcophagus were strange mechanisms that released puffs of mist at regular intervals, and I knew with eye-watering certainty that they were the source of the unbearable garlic scent. If that dewy mist touched my skin, it would burn me the same as the holy water and render me paralyzed.

Strewn over the top of the sarcophagus was a practical bouquet of garlic blossoms.

The final nail in the coffin was a giant wooden cross hanging from the ceiling. Its base skimmed the surface of my uncle’s stone prison. I felt its effect from ten yards away. It alone was a crippling deterrent.

I barely had time to process the scene when a shout of alarm sounded from behind me. The trapdoor was open, and the men from outside were descending, calling out frantically to their companions. I’d lost control of the crows, and they’d fled with my inattention.

I backed into a dark corner of the tunnel out of reach of the UV lights and dissolved into shadow. As the men raced toward the open chamber, I moved past them unseen and escaped into the fresh night air.

26

Mordecai

“It’s impossible. I can’t do it.”

The sky in the east glowed a soft indigo announcing the imminent sunrise. The air was damp, heavy with dew. The city slept peacefully on the cusp of a new day, but I was anything but calm. My night had proven the mission was futile. With no feasible resolution and agitated by what I’d learned, I called Cristofer.

“Are you being dramatic?”

“No, and since you seem to have all the answers, I’d love some direction.”

I paced in the alley outside Ensley’s flat, phone pressed to my ear, impervious to the bitter cold that blew across the city. The fact I’d been able to connect with Cristofer at all was a testament to his lifestyle and our differences. When entertaining a human lover—which happened often—Cristofer sacrificed his rest, going days without, to either hide his vampirism or share a bed with his current conquest.

Of course, Cristofer wasn’t against feeding, so he had other means of rejuvenation to fall back on. Romania was seven hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time, which meant it was nearly two in the afternoon on his side of the world. I could only guess where he might be or who he was with.

“Describe impossible.”

I detailed my investigation into the underground chamber, about the UV lights, the garlic mist, the blossoms, the unbroken line of salt or chalk that I knew, without testing, couldn’t be breached. Lastly, I described the ten-foot-high wooden cross hanging over the concrete sarcophagus that must have weighed no less than a hundred and fifty to two hundred pounds.

Did my friend show an ounce of sympathy? No.

Cristofer laughed. “Birds? Really, Mordecai?”

I ground my teeth and scowled. “What would you have me do?”

“A murder of crows. It’s ingenious. You should have had them pluck their eyes from their sockets. Filthy hunters deserve no less.”

“Shut up. It worked fine. There was no need for violence. I got in and out safely.”

“A missed opportunity. Next time.”

What I didn’t mention was the drag on my body after such intense use of my powers and how it had been well over a week since I’d rested or fed. Reconnaissance had taken its toll. Those were my issues, and I would handle them in due time.

“I can’t get Iulian out, and manipulating the minds of six hunters at once is nearly beyond my capability, which is likely why they have so many guards. Valerius made sure of that lovely aspect.”

Cristofer hummed in agreement. “That’s quite the setup. You have to give it to the bastard. He thought it through.”

“Suggestions?”

Cristofer scoffed. “Really?”

“Yes. Really. What part of impossible didn’t you understand?”

“It’s not impossible. In fact, the solution seems obvious.”