Bonds of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 7) by Bella Klaus (romantic books to read TXT) 📗

in our mission, we will do so with a fraction of the death count we endured the last time he rose.”

We continued beneath a covered walkway toward a set of wooden double doors, passing the decorative arches that overlooked the courtyard. The mercenaries and other vampires marched behind us in silence, their footsteps landing on the paving stones with gentle thuds.

Valentine raised a hand to one of the doors and shattered it with a pulse of power. Splinters flew at us and burned to ash on contact with my flames.

The door opened into a chandelier-lit hallway of pale floors and green walls, lined with gold-framed portraits of people I recognized from browsing Wikipedia. A cordon stretched down the corridor to deter the general public from getting too close to the ancient paintings.

“Should I shift back in case I damage something here with my fire?” I asked.

Valentine shook his head. “Objects can be replaced. You cannot.”

If I was in my regular form, heat would have risen to my cheeks at the casual way he’d told me I was more precious than any of the treasures within this historical royal palace. I nodded and focused on how we might avoid falling to whatever happened to Hades and the others.

I stretched out my senses, feeling for any strange magic, but it was difficult in this ifrit form and with the reaper cloak. Part of me wanted to throw it off, but that would mean losing a source of protection from Kresnik.

Valentine raised his hand. “He’s directly upstairs from this spot. We just need to find the stairs.”

We continued through an archway to a wing of the palace where the walls and floors were made of stone. A grand staircase with a wrought iron handrail held up by swirling gold spindles wound around the vast space, leading up to a mezzanine painted to depict angels flying in the sky and descending on humans wearing Roman gowns.

The sight was both stunning and terrifying. I couldn’t tell if the prospect of fighting Kresnik was making my flames crackle beneath my cloak, or if I could feel the ghosts of the wives Henry VIII had condemned to death.

“He’s up there.” Valentine pointed to the end of the mezzanine at a wooden door surrounded by elaborate stone cornicing and a triangular stone pediment that formed a roof. “But I hear dozens of heartbeats.”

Everybody stilled.

I glanced around the empty wing, the ringing in my ears filling the silence.

“Then where are his guards?” I whispered.

Magic shattered like pieces of broken glass, flooding our surroundings with blinding light. When it cleared, the stone walls and the staircase vanished, leaving only the mezzanine. The chamber we stood in expanded to twice its size and was now filled with hundreds of fire users.

Men, women, and children stood together, each wearing indigo denim and sporting huge medallions of Cleopatra stone. I recognized many of them from the time I’d spent in the Flame’s ritual rooms and refectory.

I reeled forward and resisted the urge to grab Valentine’s arm to hold myself steady.

“Were you looking for us?” asked a seven-foot-tall man whose bald head shone in the light of his flaming fists. He grinned, revealing a mouthful of snaggled teeth.

All around us, fire users spread out across the stone chamber, some raising their flaming fists, others shifting into dragons, fire giants, ifrits, and that genie-creature we had fought in the basement of the Notting Hill safe house.

“How could there be so many of them?” I whispered.

“We arrested hundreds of them last month,” Valentine growled. “They should all be behind secure wards.”

My gaze dropped to the thick layer of ash coating the stone floor, and the flames lining the back of my throat receded. Was this what happened to Hades and his demon enforcers?

“What will it be?” Snaggletooth puffed out his massive chest. “An agonizing death in a blaze of fire, or will you bend the knee to Our Lord?”

“I don’t remember seeing you in the Flame.” The words spilled from my lips before I could stop them.

His thick brows drew together. “What are you talking about, girl?”

“I stayed there for over a week, and you weren’t at any of the gatherings.”

“Did you spend time in the kitchens?” he asked through clenched teeth. When I didn’t answer, he turned to Valentine. “Surrender on behalf of the Supernatural Council, and we will spare your lives.”

I glanced over his shoulder at the line of dragons staring down at us through amber and red eyes. Something about this scenario was off. Even with everyone wearing Cleopatra stone, so many varieties of fire should fill the chamber with dozens of sounds and scents.

“How much of this is real?” I asked.

Snaggletooth shook his head with an awkward laugh. “The real question is how many of these bloodsuckers we will turn into preternaturals by the end of this fight.”

Some of the vampires visibly stiffened. I wanted to assure them that I had a means of turning them back, but there was no telling if Kresnik had completely taken control of my phoenix.

“What is your answer?” Snaggletooth raised his thick arms. Flames erupted from the floor and spread across the chamber, encasing us in a twenty-foot-high wall of fire.

The vampires huddled close, breaking into anxious chatter. They weren’t flammable like preternaturals, but had learned to fear that fire. It put them at risk of rising as an undead vampire with a fire user for a master and an insatiable desire for blood.

“Everybody remain calm.” Valentine’s loud voice crushed the sounds of quiet panic. “Use your ears and noses. At least one of the people in front of us is a mage capable of bending the light. The fire users standing in front of you are illusions.”

Snaggletooth’s nostrils flared. “He lies!”

A green dragon blew out a long plume of fire, filling the air with the scent of sulphur and showering us all with a rain of sparks.

I sucked in a breath. That had been real.

“Tread carefully,” said Valentine. “Tear off those amulets, and we’ll separate