Neith

Guardian's Key

Somewhere in Neith...

Kerrin hissed, his lips curling away from his teeth.

“Hissing at me isn’t going to make any difference, vampire filth. You have no power here.” Silanos Garnaych said in a calm voice that sounded like he was entertaining guests in his parlor not torturing another being.

The smell of blood and his extreme hunger were causing Kerrin’s fangs to extend to their full length. He had no idea how long he’d been locked in this pit, but he didn’t think it was nearly as long as it felt. The whippings had escalated his hunger and the darkness, broken only when he had visitors, was messing with his sense of time.

The Warlock who’d brought Garnaych into the pit, released the magique he’d been building between his hands. The bolt struck Kerrin’s side, skin split, muscle tore and two of his ribs broke. Pain vibrated through him. He hissed and growled, instinctively lunging toward the source of his agony, nearly ripping his arms off trying to break the enchanted chains attached to the ceiling. The blood streaming down his side was hot against his rapidly chilling skin. It wouldn’t be much longer before he passed out and this turning’s torture session would come to an end. Only to start up again after he’d had a chance to heal.

With every passing minute, he was slipping further into the darkness he’d spent a lifetime fighting. Soon, the part of his father he always carried with him was going to overtake him and he knew he’d never find his way back from the abyss. Only the memory of Lessa’s sweet face was keeping him together. She was his sanity, the one piece of him that couldn’t be corrupted. But he feared that soon his vampire nature and his father’s legacy would win over even Lessa. He was growing weaker, his resistance failing bit by bit.

“I’ve always wondered how long your bastard diseased race could live without sucking the life out of others.” Garnaych continued in a conversational tone. “I should know soon. You’re starting to weaken, a couple of more turnings and I will see you crawling on the ground like the vermin you are.”

Fury gripped him and for the first time in his life, Kerrin embraced it. To hell with humanity, there was no humanity here. “Fuck you, old man. At least your son had the balls to come at me like a man. Straight on, sword held high. He didn’t hide behind Warlocks and spells. You’re just a piece of washed up dragon shit and I have no intention of ever letting you win.”

“Big talk, vampire trash. No coffin, no blood to replace what you’re losing, you’ll be begging me to cut off your head. After I cut off your balls and feed them to you.”



Kerrin laughed, he forced it to be stronger than he felt, he refused to show weakness of any kind to this coward. “You’d have to grow some of your own before you’d get close enough to me to try to remove mine.”

“Don’t worry, hachling, when the time comes I will be the one to cut out your dead heart. Lornus was an honorable man who was protecting his given right. When his chosen betrayed him, his course was true.”

To Kerrin’s surprise, the old man approached him, his bodyguards flanking him. It was more than he’d expect of Garynach, then again after that last blast from the Warlock, there wasn’t much Kerrin could do. Still the guards’ swords were raised to cut off his head at the slightest move on his part. Good, even chained and injured as he was, the old man was afraid of him.



“Soon I’ll find the Orisso whore and finish what my son began. I’ll be sure to cut off her head so no one, not even her cursed father, can ever bring her back. And I’ll have the added pleasure of making you watch. We’ll be sure to bring her to you before we do anything to her.”

Rage burned hot through him and Kerrin bit down on his bottom lip, letting blood flow into his mouth. When he had a mouthful, he spit it in the older man’s face. That was the only comment he’d let himself make to the asshole. Lessa would not let herself be killed so easily. Besides no one would leave her alone long enough for the bastard to get her. He trusted the people he’d left her with to keep her safe.



Wiping his face with a handkerchief he pulled from his coat pocket, Garynach said, “You might wish you’d conserved that bit of blood instead of wasting it on me.” He spun on his heel, walked to the Warlock and grabbed his arm. “That’s enough for now, we’ll let him bleed out a while before you break the ribs on the other side.”

The man disappeared with the Warlock, his bodyguards following behind, until all that was left was blackness. Kerrin clamped his mouth down, fangs digging into his lower lip, his mouth filling with blood. He would not scream as the man wanted him to, he would not give into the weakness. He would, however, hold onto the rage.

And the small amount of faith and belief he could still wrap around himself.



“Lessa’s safe, Xavier and the others will see to that. She’s strong, she will not let anyone hurt her again,” he whispered to himself. He must convince himself that she would be safe. There was no other way. If he didn’t, he’d lose everything.

He had to believe in Xavier, the man had proved himself time and time again to be their friend. Kerrin couldn’t protect her, not yet, but he would get out. And when he did, the Garynach dynasty would be destroyed from the head down, piece by fucking piece.

He’d continue to heal during the non-evening-time, something he shouldn’t be able to. While painful, his injuries weren’t nearly as debilitating as he’d led Silanos to believe so far.

Part 8 Morana I

Part 8 Morana II