Immortal Resistance: Division 3: The Berkano Vampire Collection Read online

She scanned the ground. The gleam of metal on the grass lay about two feet from Hiran’s opened hand. Nalia lunged for it. As she was about to grasp the handle, she became airborne. She landed on the ground with such an impact, that all the breath whooshed from her lungs. When she tried to breathe, the sharp pain in her chest made her wince.

  The crepuscular sky overhead turned even darker. That was strange. It was only mid-afternoon.

  Where was the vampire? Where was Hiran?

  As the darkness spread in, her thoughts clouded, muting her fear.

  What did the skies look like before the shield? She had never known the world without it.

  She tried to stand, but the darkness weighed her down. It covered her like a warm blanket on a cool autumn night. Her eyes drifted closed as she slipped under its spell.

  Vikas

  Vikas squinted as he exited the Shivanali Temple, facing the ornate iron gates with spiked points that surrounded the temple compound. After days confined to a cell, even the twilight appeared bright. The Enforcers, who guarded the compound, escorted him beyond the gates and then released his arms.

  “I don’t think we need to remind you,” Deven said, “but don’t come back.”

  With their history, couldn’t they have some decency?

  “After all we’ve gone through, this is how it ends?” Vikas eyed Arun and Deven with scorn. It was all he could do. After days of starvation, he lacked the strength to fight them.

  “Boss’s orders,” Arun said.

  Vikas clenched his fists. “You know he’s gone too far. We’re all going to suffer eventually—even you.”

  When Deven eyed Vikas, a flicker of doubt appeared in his intense onyx stare. Then, he spun on his polished boots and turned back toward the temple.

  Vikas prodded Arun. “You can see what’s happening, right, my old friend?”

  Friend might be pushing it, but they had worked together for many years and had formed a companionship.

  “What can we do?” Arun ran a hand over his chin, covering his mouth. In a barely audible voice, he replied, “He’s too powerful.”

  Vikas’s pulse raced. Had he actually reached Arun? They shared a similar history in that Arun had been forced to become a vampire during the same tumultuous period as Vikas, around twenty years ago. Although they’d never shared intimate details of that dark time, Arun had admitted he hadn’t chosen immortality.

  “We need to work together and come up with a plan,” Vikas said.

  “Two vampires don’t stand a chance against them. They’d crush us.” Arun raised his chin in a half-nod. “I wish you well.” He turned and followed Deven back to the stone gates flanked by two lion statues.

  “Wait,” Vikas called, but Arun ignored him.

  To hell with them.

  He spun around and powered forth into the forest with clenched fists and long strides, ignoring his body’s weakness. His cabin awaited him deep in the woods of Charmukh. It had been over a week since he’d left. His cabin was his refuge. And he couldn’t wait to return to the quiet solitude and get away from the suffering in Four Corners.

  He never should have left his cabin. He’d been a fool to listen to a human couple’s plea for his help and head to the temple. Marco had grown too powerful and too cruel to be reasoned with. He’d imprisoned Vikas and starved him for days for interfering.

  The hunger had left him clinging to the edge of sanity. A vampire’s thirst was unfortunately uncontrollable. The longer it went, the more savage a vampire grew to end the agony.

  Before he continued to home, he had to eat. Human blood. Animal. It didn’t matter. He needed blood. His body craved it and his fangs itched to sink into something warm and nutritious.

  He sniffed at the forest. An abundance of animal scents filled his nostrils, and he sought to categorize them: raccoon, squirrel, and deer. Alas, no point in salivating over a deer that had long past.

  His nostrils flared. This odor was recent. A sheep had recently passed. A predatory drive consumed him as he tracked his prey deeper through the woods and into a clearing.

  The lone sheep grazing in the grassy patch didn’t sense Vikas’s approach until it was too late. He knocked it to the forest floor and plunged his fangs into its throat. Blood, sweet blood, rolled over his tongue, firing his taste buds.

  After being starved for too long, he couldn’t stop for the animal to recover. He usually avoided killing his prey, yet that was only possible with larger animals. He cursed the vampire who had brought him to this reckless hunger. Marco was a Berkano, vampires who were notorious for their cruelty and hunger for power. Unfortunately, Marco and his brothers had been in Kathmandu during the Rift, and so they’d been stuck in Charmukh, which formed after the world reformed into divisions. The shield covering the division made communications impossible. It made leaving impossible, as well.

  And the darkening shield over Charmukh made human survival less likely with each passing day.

  The Berkano brothers had overthrown the vampire king, who had been no saint himself, but would be considered kind compared to a Berkano. Marco was the only one remaining of his brothers, and it was assumed he’d killed them to ascend to the position of power he now held today.

  Vikas had been a fool to have once believed Marco’s promises of prosperity for all. He was better off living his solitary existence in a rugged mountainside terrain. That land was still more hospitable than living under the brutal rule of a dictator in a golden cage.

  He continued toward his home. The blood had taken the edge off his hunger, yet he wasn’t satiated. A breeze ruffled the trees and tickled his face like a soft feather. He closed his eyes and inhaled. A surprising scent made him snap his eyes open.

  Spilled blood. Human blood.

  Any vampire would catch the slightest hint of it lingering in the air.

  He followed the scent of blood through the rugged trails of the forests. That aroma could wake any vampire from a century-long slumber and he’d been starved for far too long not to respond to its call. The sheep had taken off the edge of starvation, but hunger still clawed at his insides.

  His hunger grew as he tracked the scent.

  Sweet human blood. Anticipation made him heady.

  The aroma grew stronger. He was close. Soon, the prize of delicious blood would be his.

  Chapter 2

  Nalia

  A bird’s song tweeted in Nalia’s ears. A gentle breeze ruffled her cheek. An inner voice told her it was time to wake. But it was too comfortable. She wasn’t ready.

  A flash of bared fangs blared in her mind. Hiran! She opened her eyes with a gasp.

  Where was Hiran?

  She jumped to her feet, circling the forest for a sign of him. She grabbed her pack off the ground and widened her search. The color of his deep blue tunic ahead caught her eye. He lay on the ground, not moving.

  Please be okay. Please!

  She rushed over to him and fell on her knees at his side. “Hiran, it’s me. It’s going to be all right.” Although she attempted a smile to reassure him that he would survive, the battlefield that was once his neck indicated otherwise. “I’m going to patch you up and take you back home.”

  “It’s too late,” Hiran said. The look in his eyes indicated he knew death was near and he accepted it.

  She didn’t. And she wouldn’t.

  “Don’t say that.” She covered the wound with her hands, trying to squelch the flow of blood. The warm liquid flowed like a crimson river through her fingers, running down her hands in branching rivulets.

  She grabbed a clean shirt from her pack and pressed it on the vicious puncture marks on his throat. How could she help him?

  Her energy. A moment of hesitation stalled her—she’d suppressed her ability for a good reason—but in this situation, it was critical. She closed her eyes and projected her life force into him, willing for it to find and heal the battered parts of his body.

  He coughed and blood spurted from his mouth. A trickle from the co
rner of his lips joined in with the fatal ebb of life that poured out beneath the fabric.

  “You need to continue without me,” Hiran said.

  “No, Hiran. I can’t. We’re a team. We’re supposed to go together. I’ll take you back home and then we can start again once you’re healed up.”

  “Nalia, you must go on. The coven is closer than our village. Think of the families, the children.”

  Yes, that was why she was here. But how could she continue alone? If he—a top Guardian—could be taken down by a vampire, how the hell could she survive on her own?

  “Hiran…” What could she say? What could she do?

  “I stabbed him with the silver knife. He ran off. Poisoned. He won’t recover for a long time, if ever. You should be safe to continue.” He gave her a placating smile. “Go on to the coven.”

  He coughed again and this time, his body spasmed. By the time the convulsion was over, more blood spread beneath his neck on the grass below, a red velvet cushion welcoming death. His breathing turned to sputtering while his face was etched with pain.

  Her magic hadn’t helped him. It was only prolonging the inevitable, making him suffer.

  Fixing his gaze on the twilight above, he softened his contorted expression.

  She turned to look up, but the same shadows hovered—the gloom that had thwarted the sunlight since that damn Berkano had seized power.

  When she glanced back at him, his calm demeanor shook her. He faced death without fear. How could he accept it? It shouldn’t end for him like this, out here in the forest far from home. She squeezed back tears.

  It wasn’t fair. But death never was.

  The life left his eyes. His chest no longer rose and fell in a jagged rhythm.

  “No!” She placed her hand over his heart and started compressions. “I’m not going to let you die!”

  A voice inside her whispered it was too late. She ignored it.

  She pressed her mouth over his, breathing air into his lungs. The salty tang of his blood on her tongue shot a shiver of hunger through her.

  She shoved it away, refusing to acknowledge that part of her. That thirst for blood had always haunted her, but it was only a small part of her, and she’d been able to stifle it. It was yet another horrid effect after the Rift where some witches had developed a thirst for blood and longer lifespans, while some vampires could now breathe and eat food.

  Unfortunately, her thirst had grown lately. She blamed it on the damned vampires and their damn shield. It had thrown all those under its shadow off balance. With the taste of the blood on her lips for the second time that day, the longing for more pulsed through her body.

  Ignoring it, she continued frantic efforts to restore Hiran back to life.

  Her inner voice whispered louder. He’s dead.

  She lowered her head over his chest, and the tears flowed. She sobbed for him and all in the village who knew him. She’d known him her entire life. How could she tell her father that his friend was dead? That he’d made a mistake in trusting her to this task as she’d failed on such an epic level?

  An animal-like sound escaped her. She beat her fists over the pine needles on the forest floor, scattering several with an infusion of their scent in the air. This was all because of the bloody shield. It was like a virus on all who lived under it.

  That’s why she had to get to the witches. They had to stop the virus from spreading and destroying them all.

  After several minutes, she forced herself onto her feet. Crying alone in the forest wouldn’t change anything, for anyone.

  Now what?

  She couldn’t leave Hiran there to rot, to be food for the vultures. After sacrificing his life for this cause, he deserved a proper burial. But how would she manage that? She searched among the trees of the forest for some insight.

  If she’d worked with her magic, rather than stifling it, she might have been able to conjure a fire strong enough to cremate him. But, she’d been raised by humans and suppressed her natural abilities, refusing to be like those who’d turned her away.

  The only other option was to bury Hiran.

  And how the hell do you expect to manage that alone in the woods?

  She ignored that stupid practical voice. It wouldn’t help Hiran. Nothing would now. She fished through her pack for a tool that would serve as a shovel. Nothing sufficed. She’d packed food and weapons; she hadn’t anticipated having to bury her companion.

  She scanned the forest for something to aid in the task. A sharp rock, perhaps. Something that would break up the earth so she could dig a hole deep enough to cover him. It would take hours, but it was the right thing to do.

  Gauging her location by the position of the mountains, she then took another look at him.

  I’m sorry this happened to you. I’ll do my best to make things right.

  The journey to the witches would have to wait a little longer.

  She scoured the area for a sharp object to help in her somber task. At a nearby stream, she washed the blood from her skin, yet it didn’t erase the vivid images of all that had transpired in such a short time. The situation had turned from bleak to utter shit.

  Hiran was right. They’d ventured too far for her to turn back. And now she had to continue the mission alone.

  Vikas

  An unpleasant odor tickled Vikas’s nostrils. He sniffed at it to identify the source. He slowed his approach, taking more cautious steps. His hunt might not be as lucrative as he hoped. Only one thing smelled that way.

  Death.

  The blood trail brought him to a corpse. The man was a fresh kill, lying near rhododendron bushes. Blood caked the side of his face and down his throat. The recent death was why the scent of fresh blood lingered in the air, like the fragrant aroma of fresh-baked chai cookies spiced with cardamom and saffron.

  Another vampire had done this. Vikas scented him on the trail. A vampire who killed humans was stupid and reckless. Why kill when you could make a better arrangement, like barter for blood? It was as foolish as poisoning a food source.

  Vikas turned his head away with a hiss. The only time blood lost its appeal was in a dead body.

  His thirst would not be satiated after all.

  The hint of an enticing fragrance tickled his nostrils—female. With his taste buds already so acute in anticipation of the meal, the blood lust renewed, but with an additional drive. Her scent hinted of jasmine with other tones he couldn’t identify, but it was unlike any he had ever come across. One that invoked a sensual response so strong, it clouded all else. An aphrodisiac. Blood and sex were intertwined for a vampire, and thrown together created an intoxicating cocktail, more potent than alcohol at lowering inhibition—and often leading to regret the morning after.

  Where was this woman? Had she run off? Had she encountered the same fate as this man?

  That would be a shame. To destroy something with such a fragrant aroma would be waste. She might taste as delicious as she smelled.

  If he could find her—alive.

  He altered his search, now focusing on the luscious scent of this female. The surprising need to hunt and claim this female propelled him on. As he tracked her through the forest, his desire grew.

  He hoped she fared better than the dead man on the trail. If the other vampire had reached her first…

  Vikas clenched his hands into fists and resumed the hunt.

  He spotted the woman around fifty paces ahead. She walked in haste along the edge of a row of red rhododendron bushes. The hue of these flowers indicated that they were still on lower ground. The higher the elevation, the less pigment in the petals, giving them a range of pink hues that faded to pure white.

  Her unique scent had been alluring enough, but the sway of this woman’s hips stirred his interest to higher levels. She had shiny chestnut hair that reached past her shoulder blades. He followed the lines of her body, her back slimming in at her waist and then back out to a lush rear end.

  He stalked her along the trail,
his feet light on the undergrowth as he closed the distance. Her scent lingered behind her, mixing in with the rhododendron and wrapping him in an aura of femininity.

  Forty paces away.

  His hunger made his fangs itch. He needed to sink them into her neck and taste her warm blood. If it was as succulent as her scent, it would be nirvana indeed.

  Thirty paces back.

  He wouldn’t attack her. No, that wasn’t his way. He didn’t want to terrorize those who gave him sustenance and preferred an exchange where both parties were happy. He’d get close enough to her to entrance her once he announced his presence. Mind manipulation wasn’t his typical way, but he was desperate and had no money or anything of value to offer.

  Twenty more paces.

  The increasing closeness to his prey made his muscles pull taught, ready to pounce.

  Still, he wasn’t going to attack her like some mindless beast. He was better than that. Killing humans was not the right way. Time to rein in his base urges.

  You are not an animal. Remember, you were once human.

  He pictured himself as how he once was—a refined military officer. He would approach her as if courting her at a ball. Although the wild outdoors setting was incongruent with that image, it helped him find a place of refinement amid the rising hunger for blood and sex. He didn’t want to kill her and needed a link to humanity to keep him from losing himself in the bloodlust.

  Only ten steps separated them. She still hadn’t heard him moving as stealthy as a breeze through the forest. Now was the time to announce his presence to follow through on his plan. He didn’t want to frighten her.

  “Pardon me,” he said. “I didn’t expect to find anyone out here all alone. Do you need some help?”

  The woman stopped. She didn’t move. Then she turned her head slowly over her shoulder, caught his eye, and grimaced. She spun and rushed towards him, roaring indecipherable words. She raised her hand, hurtling toward him. Something shiny was in it.

  Fuck, a knife.

  With vampire speed, he spun away from the weapon. The sharp pain in his side indicated he hadn’t escaped her wrath. He grabbed her wrist and wrestled her to the ground.