Senka heard Dimiti shout.

  Heard the first shot.

  Had started to turn toward the door when Frederic slit Hector’s throat.

  The old man’s hands held more strength than she’d expected. Also hesitated less than she’d thought he would. Frederic’s eyes froze with a complete lack of compassion for the boy. Lost in lust for the act he’d committed himself to completing.

  Blood gushed.

  Hit the old priest first.

  But he turned the boy around, the expanding wound aimed instead at the drugged woman between Senka’s hands. A pumping spray wide enough to hit the vampire, too.

  The slick warmth burned into her skin.

  Her nostrils flared and mouth opened to catch precious drops spurting free.

  She savored the heady mix of youth and splendor.

  Intoxicating.

  Blood, overflowing, dripped off the table in waves.

  Then he threw the boy aside. She watched the body tumble in the air, a part of her disappointed she couldn’t keep it. Couldn’t drain the last of its life herself.

  There was a hum in the air.

  An electric hum which filled her mind with song.

  The song of Fel.

  Her mouth split into a fanged grin.

  Frederic pushed aside his robe, revealing his erection in a manner which should have startled her. It didn’t. Her mind was already lifting beyond her body as though a hand from somewhere far away had reached forth and was trying to drag her free.

  He thrust into the woman.

  A few somewhat panicked moments later, he pulled himself free, spilling ejaculate across the table. He wiped his hands quickly on his robe and, without pause, his thick fingers wrapped around the dagger. He trembled with excitement more than fear.

  It gleamed in his fist, and she was aware for the first time of the weight of absolute power building to a terrible climax within the defiled church.

  She could smell the seething stench of brimstone.

  Feel the hot rhythm of ritual hammer a pulse through the universe’s fragile fabric as one world peeled back to expose its belly to the jaws of another.

  He raised the knife, eyes delirious with sadistic joy.

  And, bringing it down, howled; “Satan! Satan! Satan!”

  Each call of her master’s name went through her like a titanic bell, making her stagger. She held onto the table to keep her feet as each wave washed her soul with corrupted force.

  On the last toll, she fell forward.

  And, as she toppled, the hand which had been pulling at her mind gave a spiteful yank and the world disappeared in a wild scream of light and sound.

  Darkness.

  It swallowed her with a gulp. Snap of jaws.

  Precious silence. Darkness smothering her.

  Empty.

  Alone.

  Then she was falling.

  Falling like a star from the heavens.

  White dress trailing behind, impossibly long. Tattered. Stained. Caught in the slipstream. Like a bright tail winding into the dark.

  She heard it again. The thunderous tolling beat of the Felstone.

  The deeper she fell, the louder it became until each heavy ring made her put her hands to her ears. The wind tore at her dress as she burned through the atmosphere. It roared in her ears.

  Senka screamed with it.

  She was a white comet. A pure line spearing down from the sky. A star, shining bright. Flaring in the last moment before impact.

  The explosion when she hit rippled through the new world.

  A crater was blasted into the rough alien earth. Debris, spat up into the sky, rained down as far as the eye could see.

  She lay in the centre of smoking ruin, on her back. Feeling nothing. An aching emptiness left her stunned as if the sudden crash had torn all sensation from her body.

  Staring up at the cavernous ceiling so far above, she watched mist crawling along the roof of this world. As she’d fallen, she’d seen mountains on the horizon. She’d seen a land which stretched further than anything she’d ever seen.

  And it seemed to exist within a cavernous shell. The size of it all made her shudder and, with that small movement, her body gave a sharp lurch as she gasped for breath, sucking a lungful with panicked need.

  Slowly, Senka rolled onto her side and began the painful crawl up the steep slope of the crater she’d created.

  Her fingers clawed into scorched earth as she climbed.

  Stink of brimstone. The tang of burnt iron. The air seemed impossibly hot and each breath threatened to sear her lungs.

  She hauled herself over the lip and tumbled down the other side. Chunks of stone and hot earth rolled with her. With an agonised cry, she slammed to a halt against a twisted trunk.

  Looked up.

  A leafless tree, bark spotted with foul purple infection. Disease raced through the tree’s wooden flesh, chewing into its heart like acid. Throbbing light glittered as spores wriggled inside pus-filled sores, trying to escape.

  The rancid glow made her feel ill and she kicked away. Instinct howled at her to keep her distance from it.

  Hanging from the high branches, a dozen bodies hung from ropes tied to their wrists.

  Long wooden stakes had been driven through shins, thighs, and bellies. Rusted nails were hammered into their skulls to form cynical crowns.

  A fetid breeze caused the ropes to creak as they swayed, and each movement drew sorrowful moans from their mouths. Every one of them was, in defiance of the wounds and torture inflicted, alive.

  She could see them. See the tortured rise and fall of their chests.

  But they couldn’t see her. Their eyes had been torn out long ago.

  Shuddering, she turned and scampered away, dress tangling around her legs. As she ran, she tore it loose, ripping the cloth just above the knee. Legs free, she ran faster.

  Easier.

  Bare feet kicked clouds of smoking dirt. She didn’t notice as green flames flared with each step to lick greedily at her soles. Plasma burped below the surface, spitting green energy in sparks and leaving behind footprint-sized puddles.

  A lake, thick with brimstone stink and slime, churned to her left as though a whirlpool deep beneath its thick green surface keeping the awful fluid in perpetual motion. Hands stretched for the shore from beneath the shallow waves. Clawing for safety they’d never find. Raking at wet mud, but they found no purchase and slid back into the dark.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Occasionally a head might break the surface.

  Might get the chance to suck a breath of air.

  Perhaps let out a cry of pure madness, only to be dragged back into the molten depths by some unseen beast.

  Senka’s attention lifted toward the cavern’s impossibly large roof. It stretched forever in all directions, promising no end to the torment below. She frowned as she saw figures falling. Tumbling from the dark.

  Souls of the damned.

  Their impacts would be just as violent as her own.

  Dark things flew between them.

  Things with no name.

  She saw one lunge at a falling body. Sharp and blacker than night. A creature from a primordial time. Massive wings propelled its hulking draconic body.

  Its enormous fang-filled mouth opened impossibly wide.

  She heard it roar. A sound like the screech of tearing steel.

  Wings flapped like those of a giant bat as it swept onto its prey. It kicked at air to slow its descent as it pounced, then up it went, launching itself higher and higher.

  The thing wheeled overhead, slavering jaws crunching.

  Blood and bone shrapnel spattered the ground nearby, but the determined vampire had no desire to taste it.

  Senka kept running.

  She didn’t know where she was running to.

  The ground split suddenly in front of her. Green flame spewed from the wound. Putrid molten stone hissed like a snake as steam jetted. Crackle and pop of burning rock as it cracked and burst.

  She followed the wound in the world a short distance before leaping over a chasm where it was at its thinnest.

  She felt the heat rush up her legs, but didn’t look down.

  Landing with a grunt, she kept running.

  A demon rushed past, coming out of nowhere, its huge legs carrying it fast. Fur-draped flanks. Thick bristles, like those on a boar, covered its bare humanoid back.

  It glanced at her. Wide flat face. Bulbous nose. Tusks protruding from its lower jaw. Green skin and bright green eyes made brighter as they burned with Felfire.

  Its heavy cloven hooves drummed the ground as it trampled past.

  Flashing a leer, it darted ahead.

  On a hunch, she followed it.

  Past more burning lakes. Past dead trees laden with strange eyeless corpses.

  A little group of creatures, green and feral. Froglike goblins with monstrously heavy knives. Green eyes bubbling with menace.

  One lifted a small hand and waved. Out of place, the little creature looked shy as she met its gaze.

  The others tittered quietly.

  Little crickets waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness.

  To rip and tear into her flesh with sharklike teeth.

  Senka pulled her gaze away. Ran onward, not looking back.

  Past countless hideously deformed creatures, each more bizarre than the last.

  And then, finally, she saw the temple.

  Saw it shining like a beacon behind a swarm of dark hills. As she passed each mound, she could see they weren’t made of earth, but were instead piles of broken bones. Stripped of flesh and abandoned.

  Crawling across the discarded shards of life were countless armies of small critters. Rodents and spiders. Worms and centipedes.

  Hunched figures wielding scythes stalked the spaces between, slicing anything which came close. Hoods and long cloaks hid what horrors might lie beneath. Hate flowed on their twisted chants.

  Chants which promised deeds the Devil favoured above all others.

  Depravity and sickness.

  Salacious and sadistic impulses sated.

  Agony and ecstasy intertwining.

  And, above all, corrupted and unending desire.

  As she stumbled to a halt before the temple, she felt shock ripple through her mind. It was exactly as she’d dreamed. A ziggurat towering into the sky, lit by braziers of eldritch green fire.

  And, in its shadows, a sea of perverse rituals performed by human and demon with wild abandon. Every sadistic fantasy was fulfilled in this garden of unholy pleasures.

  Eyes slitted, she lunged onward once more. Her bare feet were stained with mud, blood, brimstone, and bodily fluids she didn’t want to think about.

  Stink of it all was enough for her to gag.

  When she made the stairs, she was panting.

  How long had she been running?

  It felt like days.

  Might have only been minutes.

  Seconds.

  She stood staring at the structure, unable to comprehend the cyclopean stone draped in cords of pulsing slime. Slime which looked like flesh.

  She clawed her way up each stair, sometimes on hands and knees, leaving behind a trail of filth as slime burst and ruptured at her touch. The foul stench her touch released was even fouler than the sticky fluid.

  “Senka,” a voice crooned as she reached the peak.

  She flopped over the edge. Exhausted from the climb.

  Lay on her back.

  Chest rising and falling. Hard.

  Slowly, she turned her head.

  And saw.

  Him.

  The Devil.

  “But, you’re just a man,” she gasped.

  The Devil was thin. With the cultured, yet cruel, look of an aristocrat. He had tight cheeks and a mouth which curled into a constantly amused smirk. He seemed older in appearance than Dracula, but of an age hard to determine. Older than forty. Younger than sixty.

  He was dressed in a long coat, clean suit, and a silver-topped black cane in one hand.

  He bowed, deeply and with a flourish, then placed his top hat smoothly on his head. A gentleman’s crown.

  “I can appear however you wish, Senka. How would you like me to be if not like this? Would you prefer a beast? As if from the fields? A boar. I can be a boar, if you want. A razorback. All muscle and meat. I’ll huff and squeal for you. Then we can rut in the fields below.”

  She grunted, getting to her feet. “This is fine.” Then, remembered to add somewhat late; “Master.”

  “She remembers manners,” the Devil said, mocking her with a look of shock. His white teeth glinted so white they didn’t seem real. “Such a devoted servant.”

  Sarcasm.

  Bitterness, too.

  Mostly doubt.

  Senka dropped to her knees. “I do serve!”

  “Then why is your world not yet in my fist?” Hissed, his anger boiling hotter than the molten lakes dotting the lands below. “I was promised, Senka. This was sworn to me. I gave Dracula the power to create you for this purpose. Did our Bargain mean so little? Or were you so worthless?”

  He didn’t move, but his shadow stretched towards her, sending a boiling heat which radiated through her bones. She flinched from his raw power.

  Wanted to cry out.

  To tremble.

  Beg like a slave.

  Instead, she clenched.

  Waited.

  Waited for her breath to slow. Then said, evenly; “We remain true to the Bargain, Master.”

  “Do you?” Soft, his shoes clicking against stone as he approached. “Do you truly?”

  He squatted beside her. Took her head in his hands and lifted her head with the insistent pull of his grip.

  Staring into his eyes, she wondered at the absolute emptiness of his gaze. How could his eyes be so cold? The fires of Hell should have kept them warm.

  But she shivered beneath his gaze. “We do.”

  “You think to speak for all of you?”

  “I speak for us.” She licked her lips. “For his Brides.”

  “Ah.” He turned away, face aimed toward the Felstone. The massive stone burned in its altar. Its song calling to her. Every toll made her bleed inside. She wanted to shove him aside and reach her hand out. Touch the Felstone. Be devoured by it. “For the Brides, you say. But you cannot speak for the one who made you, can you? The one whose Bargain binds your soul. For Dracula, you have no such conviction.”

  She wrenched her attention back to him. “He remains true.”

  “No,” the Devil twirled the cane in his hand. Anger flared and bolts of lightning tore across the vast cavern in witness to his rage. Thunder cracked and the air boiled humid. “He does not! He has tired of the Bargain, Senka. He seeks escape. He seeks an exit from our deal. He searches for redemption.”

  Senka felt a frozen needle drive into her chest at the word. “No. Never.”

  “I have seen into his heart. He dreams of forgiveness. He has turned from our Bargain.”

  “But, if he does…”

  “It matters not what he dreams. He will kneel before Hljod to be judged. There will be no redemption for him. Our Bargain was struck. It cannot be undone. You serve Dracula, as he serves me. Isn’t that true?”

  “We respond to his Call.”

  His face twisted with fury. “Then you shall kneel with him. Hljod will decide your doom.”

  “Please, Master…”

  “Please? Please?” He laughed, a mad laugh which echoed into the furthest reach of Hell. Demons flinched at the sound. Souls cowered. Creatures scuttled out of sight. “Ah, Senka. You beg so prettily.”

  She flinched at his words.

  “I don’t beg!” She reared high, floating off the ground. Arms wide and her own fury awakening within. “I will never beg!”

  Unimpressed, he stared back at her with his cold eyes and cruel smile. “Then, what will you do?”

  “I’ll bring the world to you, Master. I will do what Dracula could not.”

  “And how will you do that?”

  “The Fel. Give me the Fel…”

  “Give you the Fel?” He snarled, eyes flaring with venomous fire. “Why would I do such a thing? How could you think you even deserve such a gift?”

  “You gave it to him.”

  Her guess proved right by the scowl which tore his face.

  “And he betrayed me!” The Devil roared. Huge black wings exploded from his back as he thrust off the ground to meet her, a corrupted trail of Felfire in his wake. His fists took her dress in one hand and the other raised high above with fingers curled into a sharp claw. Not to strike flesh. But to rend her soul. “The conduit was not opened. The world does not kneel. Felfire does not consume. He has broken the Bargain!”

  “But we did not!”

  The words rang heavily, amplified by the Felstone which flared even brighter.

  He glanced over his shoulder at it.

  Scowled.

  Then dropped the young vampire and spun away. “It seems the thing agrees with you.”

  “Release us from Dracula’s Bargain.” She stood tall, fists at her sides. “We ask for a new Pact, Master. One without Dracula.”

  “One without ties?”

  “We are the ties, master. The three of us.”

  “There are only two.”

  “With Fel, we can bring Hailwic back.”

  “She is destroyed!”

  “I’ll bring her back.”

  “Can you?” He whispered the words as he lowered himself back to the ground. He refused to look at her. His dark leathery wings quivered. “Dracula couldn’t do it. No one ever has. Even the Necromancer of Skellig’s Watch believes it cannot be done.”

  “I can do it! I’ve seen it in my dreams.”

  “Dreams?”

  “Yes. Dreams.” And she pointed, now knowing the source of her dream. “The Felstone has shown me.”

  “You ask too much, Senka. You reach too far for one who hasn’t proven herself. Dracula at least had tasted victory in battle. What could you offer?”

  “All I want, master, is to fulfil the Bargain.” She pulled her lips back into a grin, fangs sharp points. “And to bite forever!”

  The Devil sighed.

  His wings whispered gently as they folded away, tucking somehow under his coat.

  He looked tired. Pressed a hand to his head.

  Pointed to the burning stone.

  “Take a piece, Senka. Reach out and it will share itself with you.” His own smile was sardonic and more than a little bitter. “It will give you the power you seek. Or it will obliterate your soul. Either way, never forget that your soul is mine…”

  Senka held her breath as she glided forward.

  Could hear the denizens of Hell shriek and wail as one.

  Lifted her hand.

  Reached.

  And, when the Felstone flared, began to laugh.

  And laugh…