Bound by Flames (Night Prince 3)

I didn’t wait for him to reply, but spun away and ran across the bridge. Once on the island, I went for the nearest bright object that wasn’t on fire. That turned out to be the exterior lighting around the tower, and I ripped my glove off before plunging my hand through one of the bulbs.

The surge of electricity hit me with sudden, delirious force. I’d relived cocaine highs through other people that didn’t feel this good. Just like what had happened when I was escaping my old cell, I found myself not only absorbing the energy, but also pulling it into my body by force. All too soon, the lights around the tower shorted out and went dark.

I whirled, going for the next source of electricity. That was a small power grid next to a modern-looking stadium, and the far higher voltage shook me with its potency. By the time the stadium went black, taking out the rest of the power to the small island, I was shuddering with near-ecstatic bliss.

But I hadn’t siphoned all that electricity for a cheap high. I re-channeled it into my right hand, where a cord of dazzling white began to grow. A few seconds of intense concentration later, and I had a sizzling whip that coiled and snapped like a snake chasing after prey. I forced back the almost irresistible urge to look for more electricity and ran over to the hole that Vlad had blasted into the earth.

I paused before jumping into the opening that led to the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the ruins of the former palace. The overload of voltage made my vision a little blurry. That, combined with the fearsome fire display still ravaging the island, made it impossible for me to see if Petre or Samir were still at the bridge, or if one of them had entered the tunnels while I was powering up. I decided not to go back to the bridge to find out. Too much time had been wasted already.

I dropped down into the tunnel, glancing around at the rough stone walls. The narrow, barren structure gave no indicators on whether I should go to my right or to my left. Which way had Vlad chosen?

A faint orange glow to my left answered that, and I ran in the direction of the ebbing light from his flames.

Chapter 34

After about fifty yards, I began to see modern touches in the ancient structure that backed up our notion that this was someone’s secret lair. The cameras stuck to the ceiling in several places of the stone tunnel certainly hadn’t been standard in the sultan’s time, and I blasted each one I passed with electricity, killing their feed. Vlad could have done the same with fire, but he hadn’t, and that worried me. Was he so consumed with rage that he didn’t care about Szilagyi knowing where he was?

Concern for Vlad plus desire for vengeance, all fueled by an electric high, had me charging ahead like the proverbial cavalry, and made me almost oblivious to the faint noises behind me. Once I heard them, I tensed, but didn’t turn around. It couldn’t be Petre or Samir. They weren’t stupid; they would never sneak up on me in enemy territory without saying anything. Nor slink behind me while trying to mask all sounds of their presence.

I paused as if confused, trying to hide my whip as much as possible. That wasn’t easy since the glow from it lit up my section of the tunnel. Despite that, with luck, whoever this person was might think that an unarmed vampire was an easy catch. Still, the tunnel was so narrow that I wouldn’t be able to get a decent strike on whoever was behind me. I hadn’t brought any other weapons, so I couldn’t afford to let the walls take the brunt of my whip. Maybe if I made it to one of the cells, I’d have room enough to swing a full, lethal arc at my stalker. They had to be down here somewhere.

Decision made, I started running again, listening hard to determine if my stalker was keeping up. He was, from the faint footfalls, but much slower. The tunnel began to slope downward, taking me deeper belowground. Fear started to chew its way up my spine because the only light I now saw came from my whip. The glow from Vlad’s flames was gone, and there was no sight or sound from him. It was as if the dungeon had swallowed him.

The thought made me run faster, bringing me to the open door at the end of the tunnel. I dashed through it—and then stopped in surprise. Vlad was still nowhere in sight, but a five-thousand-foot antechamber spread before me, with multiple entrances to other passages showing that this wasn’t the end of the dungeon. It was the beginning.

Survival mode kicked in and I darted away from the entrance. I wasn’t about to make myself a stationary target for my stalker, who, from the barely perceptible sounds, was still coming down the tunnel after me. Aside from the staggering size of the dungeon, I was also surprised by the hundreds of small holes that dotted the right side of the antechamber. They extended all the way to the ceiling, which had to be thirty feet high. The layout reminded me of an odd stone honeycomb and I figured they had been storage compartments until I saw the rotted wood and bones that lined them. Then I understood.

These weren’t storage compartments. They were cells, and the tiny, cramped spaces made the worst cells in Vlad’s dungeon look like suites by comparison. I shuddered, keeping my right hand close to my side. What those poor prisoners went through might break my mind if I touched an essence trail down here.

Footsteps sounded outside the tunnel entrance. I crouched down, coiling my whip in readiness. I snapped it as soon as my mysterious stalker walked into the antechamber, but he leapt back with exceptional speed, avoiding its entire deadly length.

“Wait,” he said when I raised my hand again.

I did, more to repower the whip than to be obedient. He’d moved faster than anticipated, so I’d need a longer reach.

n’t wait for him to reply, but spun away and ran across the bridge. Once on the island, I went for the nearest bright object that wasn’t on fire. That turned out to be the exterior lighting around the tower, and I ripped my glove off before plunging my hand through one of the bulbs.

The surge of electricity hit me with sudden, delirious force. I’d relived cocaine highs through other people that didn’t feel this good. Just like what had happened when I was escaping my old cell, I found myself not only absorbing the energy, but also pulling it into my body by force. All too soon, the lights around the tower shorted out and went dark.

I whirled, going for the next source of electricity. That was a small power grid next to a modern-looking stadium, and the far higher voltage shook me with its potency. By the time the stadium went black, taking out the rest of the power to the small island, I was shuddering with near-ecstatic bliss.

But I hadn’t siphoned all that electricity for a cheap high. I re-channeled it into my right hand, where a cord of dazzling white began to grow. A few seconds of intense concentration later, and I had a sizzling whip that coiled and snapped like a snake chasing after prey. I forced back the almost irresistible urge to look for more electricity and ran over to the hole that Vlad had blasted into the earth.

I paused before jumping into the opening that led to the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the ruins of the former palace. The overload of voltage made my vision a little blurry. That, combined with the fearsome fire display still ravaging the island, made it impossible for me to see if Petre or Samir were still at the bridge, or if one of them had entered the tunnels while I was powering up. I decided not to go back to the bridge to find out. Too much time had been wasted already.

I dropped down into the tunnel, glancing around at the rough stone walls. The narrow, barren structure gave no indicators on whether I should go to my right or to my left. Which way had Vlad chosen?

A faint orange glow to my left answered that, and I ran in the direction of the ebbing light from his flames.

Chapter 34

After about fifty yards, I began to see modern touches in the ancient structure that backed up our notion that this was someone’s secret lair. The cameras stuck to the ceiling in several places of the stone tunnel certainly hadn’t been standard in the sultan’s time, and I blasted each one I passed with electricity, killing their feed. Vlad could have done the same with fire, but he hadn’t, and that worried me. Was he so consumed with rage that he didn’t care about Szilagyi knowing where he was?

Concern for Vlad plus desire for vengeance, all fueled by an electric high, had me charging ahead like the proverbial cavalry, and made me almost oblivious to the faint noises behind me. Once I heard them, I tensed, but didn’t turn around. It couldn’t be Petre or Samir. They weren’t stupid; they would never sneak up on me in enemy territory without saying anything. Nor slink behind me while trying to mask all sounds of their presence.

I paused as if confused, trying to hide my whip as much as possible. That wasn’t easy since the glow from it lit up my section of the tunnel. Despite that, with luck, whoever this person was might think that an unarmed vampire was an easy catch. Still, the tunnel was so narrow that I wouldn’t be able to get a decent strike on whoever was behind me. I hadn’t brought any other weapons, so I couldn’t afford to let the walls take the brunt of my whip. Maybe if I made it to one of the cells, I’d have room enough to swing a full, lethal arc at my stalker. They had to be down here somewhere.

Decision made, I started running again, listening hard to determine if my stalker was keeping up. He was, from the faint footfalls, but much slower. The tunnel began to slope downward, taking me deeper belowground. Fear started to chew its way up my spine because the only light I now saw came from my whip. The glow from Vlad’s flames was gone, and there was no sight or sound from him. It was as if the dungeon had swallowed him.

The thought made me run faster, bringing me to the open door at the end of the tunnel. I dashed through it—and then stopped in surprise. Vlad was still nowhere in sight, but a five-thousand-foot antechamber spread before me, with multiple entrances to other passages showing that this wasn’t the end of the dungeon. It was the beginning.

Survival mode kicked in and I darted away from the entrance. I wasn’t about to make myself a stationary target for my stalker, who, from the barely perceptible sounds, was still coming down the tunnel after me. Aside from the staggering size of the dungeon, I was also surprised by the hundreds of small holes that dotted the right side of the antechamber. They extended all the way to the ceiling, which had to be thirty feet high. The layout reminded me of an odd stone honeycomb and I figured they had been storage compartments until I saw the rotted wood and bones that lined them. Then I understood.

These weren’t storage compartments. They were cells, and the tiny, cramped spaces made the worst cells in Vlad’s dungeon look like suites by comparison. I shuddered, keeping my right hand close to my side. What those poor prisoners went through might break my mind if I touched an essence trail down here.

Footsteps sounded outside the tunnel entrance. I crouched down, coiling my whip in readiness. I snapped it as soon as my mysterious stalker walked into the antechamber, but he leapt back with exceptional speed, avoiding its entire deadly length.

“Wait,” he said when I raised my hand again.

I did, more to repower the whip than to be obedient. He’d moved faster than anticipated, so I’d need a longer reach.