Leviathan (Fist of Light Series) Read Free

forces.
    Exhaustion followed close on the heels of my developing smugness. My vision dimmed and flickered, an uncertain thing liable to vanish in a fleeting moment. Even as the remaining few vampires came within inches of destruction, my construct wobbled and my legs turned to Jello. After falling to a knee under the enormous pressure bearing down on me, I attempted a final, feeble push but found my reserves insufficient. My anger surfaced at the realization, circling threateningly, ready to sink its teeth into something with a fleshy exterior. The quasi-hurricane exploded in a cloud of mist, disparate elements dissipating harmlessly, reverting to their natural tendencies. I stood and took in the destruction wrought by my lethal construct.
    Jeeves glanced around curiously, likely noting my boundaries and barriers for future reference. “That done well enough. Of course, you have failed to realize that this maneuver succeeded exactly as planned. Enter Vampire type B, the puppet master himself.” He indicated a figure rounding the street corner.
    My nemesis gained increasing amounts of definition as my eyes cut through the dark atmosphere. The closer it got, the more defined it became, until it became clear that it was a he. Rather than looking in dire need of anti-dry skin cosmetics from being exposed to low-levels of UV rays, he was more refined. This vamp was all decked out in black, with an old-school cape that didn't belong in this age, let alone century. His minions withdrew at an unspoken command, probably transmitted via psychic means.
    Jeeves summoned a nebulous chair and settled down for a lengthy introduction. “A Royal vampire possesses only a fraction of the defects present in their minions. Only they can create vampires from the human stock. The newly created vamp subsequently becomes enthralled to their will and sports the mark of their maker upon the neck. While they don't have preternatural strength, their alacrity far surpasses that of their obedient thralls. As opposed to their lesser counterparts, the sun is only a marginal barrier, although extended exposure will eventually kill them. Many of the elder Royal lines can walk amid the unwary during daylight hours if they wear proper attire that covers their person. They can procreate, which is closely interlinked to their still beating hearts that continue to pump blood through living bodies. Their greatest source of pride and amusement is reliance upon their slight magical ability, an inherent feature. Their power is proportionate to the purity of their so-called 'bloodlines.' A favored game involves toying with the brain chemistry of their hapless prey, influencing their actions and forcing them to experience agony and overcome their will. However, their kind is particularly vulnerable until they reach their eighteenth year, as they are little more than human until then. The manifestation of power occurs directly after the bloodlust gains dominance over rational action for the first time, and the vampire within comes to the fore.”
    I shifted from foot to foot, shaking out tense limbs in preparation. “You know, I could’ve done with the CliffNotes version. We're kind of short on time here. Care to share any more pearls of wisdom before he decides to eat me?” The vampire approached within twenty feet, calmly assessing me.
    “Only that when one Royal kills another, they gain dominion over the stock created by their defeated counterpart. If a Royal is unmade by one outside their hierarchy, their thralls will become mindless beasts, intent on savagery and blood.”
    My vision began to return to normal, ever so slowly, followed uncertainly by the strength in my limbs. “Aren’t they already intent on blood?” I indicated the few remaining low-tier vamps, assembled behind their master.
    “It has been a long time since I've encountered an Empowered of such caliber,” the Royal said. “Your strength will sustain me for a decade and augment my power