Divine Descent

Chapter Ten

Rome, Italy

Their screams echo in my eardrums as the stony halls of the infamous tribunal are raided by obedient vampires, following commands. My commands. Elijah strides confidently by my side, instantly at home in this place. His progenies are at our heels. Erika is leading the executions through the musty halls, enjoying their terror as much as I am.

We've been informed the council members have themselves guarded in the main council room, having been smart enough to suspect we'd be coming. Elijah, having already been revered as the strongest of his kind, even before he was brought back to life a second time, is gaped at, a disbelieving sight for these creatures running for their lives. We are not interested in them.

I already know who we are looking for, what their faces are.

I'm sure Elijah remembers as well.

In Egypt, he found a gentile way to live, a way to smile and attempt to forget the horrors he endured at the hands of his own people within these very walls.

The man beside me holds no resemblance of the one I've spent every waking minute with the past month. He is a man on a mission, but also a man reliving pain and anguish, a man becoming consumed with revenge with every waking minute, every step.

I can feel it stirring within him, feel the heat and rage. It's breathtaking.

He looks at me as we walk, sensing my gaze. We share a moment, a moment before we both lose ourselves to that hate, to darkness. For this part, we must.

The air is tinged with the scent of blood and piney frankincense, a sweet woody unmistakable aroma. I can recall inhaling pieces of it somewhere in Elijah's doctoral herbs. Wax, another potency, drips from the candles lighting the halls, molding to the pebbled stone floors.

As I gaze at the destruction we are reaping, seeing what is being done in our name, it isn't beyond me what this is. This is a rebellion, an act of insidious intent. While we do this for a greater cause, it's clear that there are other ways we go about it.

If my powers were known, most would relent to us like they did in Egypt.

But these halls are a trigger, a place that ignites the worst in me, making it easier and easier to forget who I used to be. I can hardly recognize her now.

I want them to suffer, suffer as Elijah did. As I did.

I've spent seven months dreaming of this moment, anticipating the moment I could face the vampires that assumed a power too great for them with the man they cursed, a man that is now untouchable to them... to anyone.

Everywhere I look is death, but I call it vengeance.

When we reach familiar ground, turning out of the hall to enter the open courtyard, pins trickle down my stiff spine. As if it were yesterday, happening before my eyes just as it did then, I see the pyre. At first, I think it's just a fragment of my memories coming back to haunt me, but this pyre remains burnt and toppled, an old execution left standing... like a trophy.

My eyes widen slowly, my bones trembling beneath my crawling skin.

This is where they tortured, burned, melted the man I love. This is where they strung him up, where they cheered and hollered, never fully realizing the gravity of the mistake they were making. There are still charcoaled pieces of twine rope lying on the steps.

With a tight throat, I break apart from the group, unable to ignore it.

I bend down and lift a piece of cloth between my index and forefinger, staring at the fabric hypnotically. It's clothing.