Blood oath: World war V

Miguel

"The air's too damn quiet."

Viktor scanned the market. "Funny. With all this yelling, I was just thinking it's too loud."

"No," he said, low. "Not sound. Feel."

Then he stopped walking.

Viktor caught it too—just a half-beat behind. "Front left, by the melon cart."

Miguel's eyes narrowed.

A man stood near the edge of the crowd, still as a post. Early twenties maybe, lean, dull brown hair sticking to his damp forehead.

His wrist bled sluggishly.

The cut was too clean, too deep, and the blood… didn't drip right. It clung.

His eyes were open, glassy. Staring past people. Like he wasn't there.

Viktor's voice dropped. "His...his heartbeat"

"…Faint. Like it forgot how."

"Then he's either dying," Viktor murmured, "or already something else."

The man blinked. Just once. Then he moved.

Not a run. A twitch. A snap of realization.

Then he bolted.

Miguel and Viktor didn't yell. Didn't chase.

They moved. Flowing around stalls, weaving through bodies without drawing a single eye. Viktor signaled with two fingers. East.

Miguel nodded. "He's bleeding fresh. I'll track scent. You keep eyes."

The man slipped behind crates, past alleys. Heartbeat still there...fluttery, inconsistent. Like something inside him didn't want him caught.

They followed him into a shadowed corridor between two crumbling tenements.

The man turned.

His eyes met Miguel's and for the first time, he saw them.

Panic flared.

He staggered back, reaching into his coat.

Viktor's voice snapped. "Weapon"

But the man didn't aim.

He turned the blade on himself.

Lucian

He materialized behind the man, hand closing around his wrist with crushing precision. The blade clattered to stone.

Lucian twisted the arm behind the man's back, forcing him to his knees.

He leaned in, mouth near the man's ear, "You run like prey. Think very carefully before proving it."

The man froze.

Lucian's grip tightened just slightly, just enough.

"Try that again, and I'll break more than your resolve."

The man's mouth opened but nothing came out.

Just a ragged exhale, like he was trying to scream underwater.

Lucian crouched beside him, eyeing the man's face...pale, soaked in sweat, pupils dilated unevenly. His limbs twitched like his body had forgotten how to be still.

Viktor slipped in behind, gaze sharp. "He's been thralled. Mind's mush."

Miguel knelt on the other side, scenting the blood. "No rot. It's fresh. Maybe hours."

The man's eyes twitched toward Lucian. Unfocused. Searching.

Lucian tilted his head. "Who made you?"

No answer, just a tremble down his spine.

Lucian's voice went lower. "Look at me."

The man jerked like he'd been struck, his gaze snapping to Lucian's face.

For a moment, something flickered there. Pain. Terror.

Then… stillness.

Lucian narrowed his eyes. "You weren't meant to survive this, were you?"

The man blinked. Once. Then shook his head, slow and trembling.

Viktor stepped closer. "He's trying to fight it. You see that?"

Miguel muttered, "Or he doesn't know how anymore."

Lucian leaned closer, "Tell me," he murmured, calm as glass. "Who's watching through you?"

The man's lip twitched.

"Give me a name."

Still nothing.

Lucian's tone sharpened. "Then give me a direction."

The man's mouth opened again—dry, cracked lips straining. "I… I don't—"

Then he froze.

Miguel whispered, "Shit."

The man's eyes widened.

Lucian's voice cut in, too late. "Don't—"

The man screamed.

It tore from him raw, unnatural, no real sound, just air and something else beneath it. Like a chorus of whispers trying to punch through his voice box. Not a cry for help.

A signal.

Miguel reeled back. "That wasn't human."

Viktor spun toward the alley entrance. "That wasn't for us."

Lucian stood smoothly, gaze never leaving the man, whose mouth still hung open in silence.

He whispered, mostly to himself, "He wasn't just thralled."

Miguel's knuckles whitened around his blade hilt. "He was a trigger."

Lucian's voice dropped. "And now something's been pulled."

Miguel knelt beside him, the last of that inhuman scream still echoing in the pit of his stomach.

He stood slowly, eyes flicking to Lucian.

The air had shifted.

Lucian didn't move but something inside him did.

His irises turned the color of glacier ice. Pale, unmerciful.

Then came the sound. A low crack. Bone shifting. Muscle tightening.

Claws slid out in place of fingers like they'd always been there waiting.

And his mouth—

Miguel grinned, stepping back. "Oh, hell yeah."

Lucian's lips peeled open, not into a snarl, not quite. His canines sharpened, but it wasn't just that. His jaw stretched subtly, bones under the skin tightening until it looked carved. And beneath his cheekbones… twin pale streaks shimmered outward, markings like fangs, like frostbite. Twin ice serpents curling toward his ears.

Viktor tilted his head with a smirk. "You always get prettier when things go to hell."

Miguel unsheathed both daggers,"This never gets old."

Then, without warning, they dropped.

Eight of them. Cloaked, fanged, armed.

No ceremony. Just silence and death.

The lead vampire looked up and froze.

His eyes widened.

"You…" he whispered. "Gladius Mortis."

The others shifted.

Another hissed, "The Zeta."

A third took a step back. "He's not supposed to be real."

Lucian said nothing. The mask of ice didn't blink.

Viktor's blade was already raised. "Looks real to me."

"Stop trembling," the lead vamp growled, though his voice wavered. He's just a man."

Lucian stepped forward, without a word, his claws plunged through the vampire's chestbone crunching under his grip. A spray of blackened blood burst forth as Lucian ripped the heart free, squeezing until the ragged breath stopped.

A wet thud echoed.

The others stumbled back, pale faces tight with raw panic. "By the gods."

Miguel lunged, claws tearing open a throat. Viktor spun, knives slashing deep into ribs.

Lucian moved like a wraith, claws shredded through muscle, blood arced, staining stone red.

Another vampire dove for Lucian's neck. He caught him midair, slamming him against the wall with a sickening crack. Before the attacker could react, a dagger slid deep into his temple.

Hisses and snarls tore through the air, as the rest of the vampires fled.

"Grab the twitcher" Viktor barked.

Miguel sank his dagger between ribs, yanking the thrashing vampire down, locking him in place.

Lucian's icy gaze bore into the captive's soul.

"You're alive because I will it. You breathe because I allow it. Speak, or lose both."

The vampire spat blood, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

Lucian's gaze narrowed, sharp as broken glass. He leaned in, claws flexing.

"You'll talk. Names. Orders. Or I'll tear your mind apart myself."

The vampire's lip curled into a sneer.

Lucian's jaw clenched. "You're wasting my patience."

With a brutal shove, Lucian kicked the vampire's temple. His head snapped to the side, a harsh crack echoing.

Miguel stepped forward. "He's useless if he dies."

Lucian's icy eyes met Miguel's. "Then don't let him."

Viktor already had a thick rope ready, expertly binding the vampire's hands behind his back.

"Load him up," Lucian ordered, voice cold steel.

Carmilla

Carmilla's eyes locked on the guard weaving through the crowd.

The same bastard who'd grabbed her wrist and slapped her.

"Well, well, look who's back. Still causing trouble, and still looking as tempting as ever."

Carmilla's jaw clenched hard enough to taste blood, but she didn't back down.

"You're damn lucky I don't tear your throat out right here and now."

The guard chuckled, stepping closer, all swagger and cocky charm.

"Oh? And what's stopping you, little firecracker? Afraid you might get hurt?"

A cruel laugh bubbled up from her chest, bitter and raw. "The only thing stopping me is that I want to watch you bleed first. Slow and painful."

His smirk twisted, amusement flickering to something darker. "Careful with that mouth. Dangerous words... but maybe I like danger. Maybe I like you."

Alya's fingers twitched, ready at her hidden dagger, "Back off," "Keep your distance."

The guard barely glanced at her. Instead, he leaned in toward Carmilla, voice dropping to a teasing growl.

"You're tempting fate, you know that? Dangerous, wild... but so damn beautiful. Maybe I want to see just how much you can take before you break."

Carmilla's eyes burned with furious fire, every muscle taut and ready to strike. "I'm not your toy. And if you think you can own me, you're a fool."

The guard's grin deepened, "Maybe not yet... but every wild thing has its master. You just haven't met yours."

Her laugh was sharp, edged with fury and disbelief. "You wish. The only thing you'll own is your own regret."

He took a step closer, "Don't pretend you don't crave the chase. I see it in your eyes."

Carmilla lunged forward like a storm breaking loose, "You want a chase? Try running from me."

Her lips peeled back, revealing sharp, glistening fangs. The guard's confident smirk froze, his face drained of color as terror snapped across his features.

A strangled, horrified scream caught in his throat.

Before he could react, Carmilla's hand shot down, dagger pressed cold and unyielding against the most vulnerable place he had.

"Try me," she hissed, voice low and deadly.

His body went rigid, breath hitching in a desperate, silent plea.

His eyes darted wildly, voice a shaky whisper.

"You're… a vampire."

Carmilla's fingers tightened on the dagger, steel biting into flesh.

Her smile was slow, cruel, and ice-cold.

"Careful. Saying that could be the last thing you ever do."

Alya's voice cut sharply through the murmurs. "Why don't you smile real nice officer and take a walk with Carmilla, like old friends catching up."

The guard blinked, confusion flickering across his face.

Alya's hand brushed the hidden dagger at her side. "Or she'll chop your dick off and I promise, she's not bluffing."

Carmilla's grin was all teeth and fire. "Your choice."

The guard swallowed hard, glancing nervously at the gathering crowd, then back at Carmilla. Finally, voice rough but resigned, he said,

"Fine. Like old friends."