A Ride of Peril (A Shade of Vampire #46)(35)

Patrik nodded slowly, looking away. A muscle tensed in his jaw, and a frown drew his brows close, casting shadows under his eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder whether Patrik was content with his status, as one of Azazel’s most trusted lieutenants.

Goren’s statement provided me with some crucial information. Azazel’s corruption spell went deeper than Draven had originally told us. It wasn’t just physical. It was able to bend the will of its victim. Destroyers were once Druids, but we’d been under the impression that they’d all willingly joined Azazel. It turned out they hadn’t really had a choice.

“Remember your first days, boy?” Goren cackled and slapped Patrik on the back, causing him to hiss with irritation. “You were crying and punching walls, crying after Almus like a little girl, swearing that you would rather die than lead any of Azazel’s armies. Now look at you. A fine lieutenant, racking up territories and bodies like trophies!”

Clear displeasure imprinted itself on Patrik’s face. His hands clutched the edge of the table, his knuckles white.

“Give it a rest, Goren,” he shot back. “We weren’t all spineless traitors like yourself!”

“Traitor?!” Goren growled. His pupils dilated, his nostrils flared, and his tail rattled furiously. “I saw where the true power is! It’s with Azazel! I chose to be here, and I do my best to please our lord! Besides, I do a very good job of it too! Better than you, if you ask me! I didn’t waste a minute trying to persuade those succubi in the Red Tribe to join us. I rained down on them with spears and arrows laced with poison. I burned and killed everything that dared to stand against us! Isn’t that right, Sir?”

Goren addressed Azazel, who was rolling his eyes so deeply that I could only see the whites.

“If you’re looking for praise and flattery, Goren, you’ve picked the wrong Druid,” Azazel smirked. “You all caved in, whether you liked it or not. Your wills are mine, and it makes no difference to me whether you came in willingly or kicking and screaming. I give the orders. You execute. That’s all there is to it. No awards, no medals, just the honor of still breathing.”

Goren’s grin faded.

A smile tugged at the corner of Patrik’s mouth. Clearly, he’d been forced to become a Destroyer, while Goren had willingly joined the Destroyer ranks. Patrik was still struggling, but Azazel’s spell ran so deep, he had no way of fighting it. His will was no longer his own. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, wondering how many lives he’d taken, how loaded his conscience must be. How many tears had he shed for the innocent creatures he’d been forced to kill?

“If you expect me to congratulate you for killing a bunch of succubi, Goren, you’ve got another thing coming. They’re succubi, not Dearghs. You snap them like twigs, you oaf,” Azazel added, then turned to give Patrik a surprisingly sympathetic look. “My dear Patrik, I have always kept you in the highest of regard, even when you were commanding Almus’s troops. Your skill in battle and flawless strategy have brought me this far, after all. It’s the only reason why I tolerate your whims and blatant displeasure regarding your role as my Destroyer. Do not worry about Marchosi. He’ll be fully under my control very soon. He is much weaker than you ever were.”

Patrik nodded again and pointed elsewhere on the map.

“When do we move south, then?”

“We’ll start very soon. I’ve set up a fine strategy for this campaign, Patrik. You will love it! But for now, we wait. Not all of my pieces have fallen into place just yet.”

I felt sick to my stomach, unable to take my eyes off Goren. The massive chunk of meat with a rattle-snake tail was the one who’d led the charge against the Red Tribe. He was the one responsible for all the death and destruction, for killing Hansa and Anjani’s sisters. My stomach churned as I pictured the monster attacking the camp, slaying little succubi and laughing as he set the tents on fire.

My heart broke. The agony, the grief, and the anger made me want to leave. I couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore. I was already looking forward to telling Hansa the name of the Destroyer whose hands were tainted with all that silvery blood.



I was able to shift to another vision swiftly. I was standing on the ridge of a mountain, the evening air cold against my skin. The sky darkened in shades of purple. The sun had already set. Judging by the last flickers of red beyond the horizon, I was able to tell that I was somewhere north.

My mind suddenly clicked as I looked to my right. I could see the burned down camp beyond the deep green forest that unfolded at the base of the mountain. The Red Tribe had lived here for millennia, up until a couple of days ago. I squinted my eyes, my inner-wolf beating the distance and helping me get a better look at the ashes of a massive funeral pyre and the charred remains of tents, swords, spears, and arrows poked out of the purple grass. It all resonated with Jovi’s description of the Red Tribe camp.

I had moved from Azazel’s castle to the northern mountains.

Well done, Aida!

I looked to my right, where the lush forest broke into a small clearing beneath the evening sky. A small fire burned in the middle, and I could see several figures moving around it. A glimmer of hope pulled strings in my heart, and my feet moved in that direction.

I climbed down the ridge and made my way through the thick dark forest, riddled with animals. What sounded like small furry creatures rushed beneath the bushes. Slender deer chewed on leaves, and numerous night birds sang to each other. If it weren’t for all the impending doom, this would have made a great camping spot.