Page 67 of The Nephilim's Finesse

“Thank you.”

"Very well," he agreed, a sinister grin spreading across his face. "But remember, our deal is binding. There's no turning back now. I think I’ll motivate you by supporting Thorne’s wishes with even more of my minions." He laughed.

Beleth crossed his massive arms, the bracers on his wrists etched with hellish runes. "Are we done here, or are you offering something else?" he asked, bored. "I seek...other diversions." He gave me a smile that chilled my veins.

I felt my undead heart sink but didn't let my horror show. “That’s all.”

Beleth inclined his horned head. "We will meet again, Victorija. In Hell." His form dissolved into smoke and shadows until only a lingering scent of fire and iron remained. I took a steadying breath as the last wisps of smoke faded. My limbs trembled slightly, though, whether from nerves or the strain of channelling such powerful magic, I couldn't say. I hadn't gained what I wanted, but I had taken a step in the right direction.

I sank down on the circle's edge, heedless of smudging the intricate lines of chalk and ash. Beleth was right: I was brave but stupid. Making a deal with him to gain more power was foolish, and all of London paid the price for it. With Beleth’s threat, it could be England soon and then the rest of the world. What had I done?

Once, I had dreamed of becoming a great leader, commanding dread legions, laying waste to cities, and ruling eternally from an obsidian throne. But centuries of undeath had eroded my ambitions. Now, my desires were simpler: to have equal rights for the vampires, to have peace, to feel the warmth of Raph’s embrace. Perhaps I had been hasty, trying to bind the demon king to my will. It was Thorne’s effort for centuries to summon a great demon, but he never succeeded. When I tortured the warlock Malexus the Cruel to death and then set his house on fire, I first searched his library for valuable grimoires. I hid the priceless books I found in Lithuania and forgot about them. Until recently, when my quest for more rights for us had grown fruitless. I remembered the books and retrieved them. I was very surprised when I found a book on demon summoning and even more so when the summoning worked, and Beleth appeared in front of me.

I rose, gathering my arcane tools. My quest would continue. I had to find a way to get the witch into Hell. How could I accomplish that? Trying to kidnap her? Telling Raph about it and hoping that they would comply? Exhaling, I placed everything as it was. To stop the demons from destroying the world, I had to kill Thorne to stop them in the short term and then get Alissia into Hell. With a newfound resolve, I left the summoning chamber. But first things first. The candles guttered out behind me, engulfing the room in shadow again.

Standing in the hallway of my country house before the closed door of Thorne’s study, I took a deep breath. I used the last few days to evaluate who'd stand by me against Thorne. Surprisingly, there were many vampires who thought that the demon attacks were too much. To oppose Thorne openly, only a few expressed this view. Some, like Aiko and Leonard, were relieved that I wanted to end Thorne's doing and would stand by me in the fight no matter the consequences. They were young vampires, turned during or after the Second World War, and they didn't want to live through horrors like back then. Others, like Ginger and James, were too afraid of Thorne to act against him. They had experienced his wrath before and would obey whoever was in charge. Valentino was another matter. Sired by Thorne, he was loyal to a fault, regardless of whether he shared the same views as his master or not. He was one of the few who could be a challenge. This would be a hard fight.

Now was the time.

I knocked and entered Thorne's study, the thick oak door creaking loudly in my ears. My sire lounged in a high-backed velvet chair, one leg draped casually over the armrest, his blond hair spilling over his shoulders. The dim light of the electric chandelier flickered above us, casting eerie shadows across Thorne's face. The once elegant red and gold wallpaper had faded over centuries, much like our relationship. I hadn’t felt the urge to renovate his room in my house, too.

The weight of his gaze bore down on me, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “What do you desire, my dear?”

This was the moment I had dreaded for centuries. To openly oppose my maker. I collected every ounce of bravery I had.

"Thorne, your thirst for destruction has gone too far," I said with a trembling voice, finding more courage with each word. "I can’t stand idly by while you wipe out every magical species any longer. You can’t continue this madness," I growled.

His icy brown eyes flickered up to meet my glare. "Victorija, my dear, that was always the plan," he replied, his voice a bit mocking, like he was explaining it to a child.

"We were to rule over the night, not slaughter every creature that dares breathe magic into this world." My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms.

"You dare question our purpose?"

"Your demon army is terrifying and did a splendid job in decimating the witches," I continued, grinding my teeth. "But this... this genocide of Nephilim, witches, fae, and warlocks...it's too much, Thorne. You must stop." My heart ached at the thought of all the lives being taken, but I couldn't let my emotions betray me.

Thorne rose in a flurry of movement, closing the distance between us in the space of a heartbeat. His hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing until spots danced before my eyes.

"You forget yourself, Victorija," he hissed. "I made you, shaped you into the weapon you are today. Your place is at my side, not questioning my will."

I gasped for unnecessary breath, clawing at his wrist. "And you forget that I am no longer the fledgling you can bend to your whims."

With a snarl, he threw me across the room. I crashed into a bookshelf, wood splintering under my weight, priceless tomes tumbling around me.

"Your problem, Victorija, is that you've grown soft," he sneered. "For centuries, we have plotted together to rule the world. And now you're backing out?"

I bared my fangs and rose on trembling legs, shaking debris from my hair. "Maybe I've evolved," I shot back. "Maybe I've realised that there's more to life than power and death. This isn't my plan anymore." I could feel the tension growing between us, the air thick with animosity.

"Pathetic," Thorne spat, taking a step closer to me. "If you don't stand by my side, then you'll fall before me. I'll remind you of your place," he said, eyes glowing with rage. My chest tightened at the promise of violence in his tone. This was no mere threat. After four centuries at his side, I knew exactly what he was capable of. I was no stranger to violence, but facing my sire in battle was entirely different.

He lunged at me with preternatural speed, his fist swinging toward my face. I ducked under the blow and pivoted, kicking out at his legs. Thorne stumbled but caught himself, whirling at me before I could press the attack. We traded blows, a flurry of punches and kicks that'd have killed a human. I managed to land a solid kick to his chest, but he grabbed my leg and threw me into another bookshelf. I crashed through the wood, rolling to my feet and leaping away as the shelf collapsed where I'd been standing.

My chest heaved as I stood across from Thorne, the ruins of his study strewn around us. Four centuries of memories flickered through my mind's eye: centuries of training and fighting side by side. I didn't want to kill him. I never had. But I couldn't allow this slaughter to continue.

"Is this all you've got?" he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "You really think you can defeat me?"

"Maybe not," I admitted through gritted teeth, lunging forward once more. "But I'll die trying."

I slammed him into a wall, cracking the antique panelling, but he twisted out of my grip and threw me across the room. I hit the floor and tumbled, narrowly avoiding the edge of a heavy oak desk.

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