Chapter 27: The Kraven Escalation
Lucius
The radio crackled to life at sunset.
"All units, priority alert. The pendant is missing. Repeat—Sonja's pendant has been stolen from the Regent's personal safe."
Kraven's voice followed, stripped of its usual political smoothness. Raw. Furious. Desperate.
"The traitor Lucius is responsible. I am authorizing enhanced interrogation protocols for any captured associates. Civilian casualties are acceptable if necessary to recover the artifact. This is not negotiable."
I lowered the radio, meeting Selene's eyes across the safehouse. She'd woken an hour ago, the first genuine rest she'd experienced in centuries, and was now cleaning weapons with the methodical efficiency of someone preparing for war.
"Civilian casualties acceptable," she repeated. "Kraven's lost his mind."
"Kraven's terrified." I moved to the window, scanning the street below through a gap in the shutters. "Viktor wakes in less than three days. Without the pendant, Kraven loses his leverage—the knowledge of William's prison location was supposed to be his insurance policy against the Elders."
"So he escalates to murdering humans?"
"So he burns everything trying to recover what he lost." I turned back to the room. "Which means we need to move faster. Kraven's desperation makes him dangerous, but it also makes him predictable."
Michael emerged from the bathroom, hybrid form rippling at the edges of his human appearance. He'd spent the day practicing control, pushing his transformation to its limits, learning to summon and dismiss the power at will.
"What's the plan?"
"First? We train." I gestured to the safehouse's cleared central space. "Kraven's Death Dealers will be hunting aggressively now. We need to be ready."
The sparring sessions were brutal.
Selene faced Michael first—six centuries of combat experience against hybrid power he was still learning to control. She moved like water, avoiding his strikes, redirecting his momentum, demonstrating how technique could overcome raw strength.
Michael lost. Repeatedly. But each round he lasted longer, learned faster, adapted more effectively.
"Your instincts are good," Selene said, after the fifth bout left him gasping on the floor. "Stop fighting them. Hybrid reflexes are faster than conscious thought—trust your body to react while your mind plans."
"Easy for you to say. You've had six hundred years of practice."
"I've had six hundred years of practice being vampire. Hybrid is new for everyone." She extended a hand, pulled him upright. "Again."
I watched, correcting Michael's stance when necessary, offering tactical observations that surgeon's training had ingrained. The hybrid was improving rapidly—his BP signature had climbed from 187 to 201 over the past three days, strength and speed increasing as his body optimized for combat.
Then I joined the sparring.
Hybrid form activated with a thought, burning 5 BP per hour but granting power that exceeded either of my allies. Selene and Michael attacked together—coordinated strikes, flanking maneuvers, the teamwork we'd need against Viktor's forces.
I held them both off for three minutes before the BP drain forced me to conserve. Even limited, my hybrid capabilities were devastating—but the clock was always ticking, resources always diminishing.
"Fifteen minutes maximum in hybrid form," I said, deactivating the transformation. "Any longer and I'm draining reserves we can't afford to lose."
[ CURRENT BP: 488/1000 ]
[ HYBRID FORM USAGE: 45 MINUTES OVER 2 DAYS ]
[ BP EXPENDED: 15 ]
The training continued until hunger interrupted. Michael fed from blood bags—his hybrid metabolism demanded more frequent sustenance than pure vampires. Selene and I shared a single bag, the intimacy of feeding together carrying new meaning after the night before.
"We need more BP," I said, once the feeding was complete. "Four hundred eighty-eight isn't enough for what's coming."
"How do we acquire more?"
"Hunting. Killing. The usual methods." I pulled the radio from my pocket, tuned to Death Dealer frequency. "But there's another option."
The transmission I'd intercepted earlier played again: "—interrogation continues. Subject refuses to cooperate. Soren authorized advanced techniques—"
"Rigel." Selene's voice carried recognition and concern. "They're torturing him for information about you."
"About us. About the safehouse location, our capabilities, our plans." I set the radio down. "He hasn't broken. Rigel's been under interrogation for days, and he hasn't told them anything."
Michael looked up from his blood bag. "You want to rescue him."
"I want to evaluate the tactical value of rescuing him." The words came out colder than intended. "Rigel is 92 BP. Loyal, skilled, potentially valuable as ally. But rescuing him means infiltrating Ördögház again, exposing ourselves to capture, spending resources we might need for Viktor."
"That's not the only consideration." Selene's voice carried something I'd rarely heard from her—moral conviction. "He's suffering because of us. Because he saved your life against Raze and refused to betray that loyalty."
The callback hit hard. Weeks ago, on the Chain Bridge waterfront, Rigel had crashed through a skylight to save me from an Alpha Lycan. He'd asked no questions, demanded no explanations—just fought beside me because that's what allies did.
"You're right." I stood, moved to the window, stared out at the city lights. "This isn't just tactical calculation. Rigel earned rescue."
"And if we're caught?"
"Then we're caught, and Viktor wakes to find three hybrids in his dungeon instead of one Death Dealer." I turned back to face them. "But we won't be caught. I've infiltrated Ördögház twice now. Third time, I know the patterns, the gaps, the opportunities."
Michael set down his blood bag. "What do you need us to do?"
The plan came together over the next two hours.
Ördögház's dungeons were in the basement level—accessible via service stairs or through the Elder Chamber's antechamber. Guard rotations had increased since my last infiltration, but the same skeleton crew mentality applied. Most forces were still deployed citywide, hunting us across Budapest.
"Entry through the servant tunnels again," I explained, sketching routes on stolen floor plans. "Selene takes point—you know the mansion better than anyone. Michael provides backup, stays in human form unless combat is unavoidable. I'll extract Rigel from the cells while you two handle any guards we encounter."
"What about Soren?" Selene asked. "If he's supervising the interrogation personally—"
"Then we kill him." The words came out flat, certain. "Soren is Viktor's enforcer. Even if we spare him tonight, he'll be problem when Viktor wakes. Better to eliminate him now while we have advantage."
"That's cold."
"That's survival." I met her eyes, letting her see the calculation behind the conviction. "I'm not pretending to be hero, Selene. I'm predator who's learned to choose better prey. Soren has tortured Rigel for days. He's earned what's coming."
She held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Agreed."
Michael looked uncomfortable but didn't object. He was learning that morality in this world was more complicated than human ethics allowed.
We geared up at 11:30 PM.
Dual Berettas loaded with the custom hollow-points Kahn had made what felt like a lifetime ago. Silver dagger at my hip—the same blade that had killed Jonas, that had opened my wrist for Selene's truth-drinking. Combat coat torn and bloodstained but still functional.
Selene armed herself with her usual efficiency—twin Berettas, throwing knives, the silver whip she'd inherited from some long-dead mentor. Michael carried a single pistol and the claws he was finally learning to summon at will.
"The mansion is forty minutes away," I said, checking my watch. "We hit the dungeon at midnight, extract Rigel, and vanish before Soren realizes we were there."
"And if Soren does realize?"
"Then we adapt." I grinned, feeling the familiar pre-operation anticipation that surgery had once provided. "I'm very good at adapting."
The motorcycle roared to life. Three hybrids—or two hybrids and one ancient vampire—racing through Budapest toward the heart of enemy territory.
[ TACTICAL ASSESSMENT: RIGEL RESCUE ]
[ DIFFICULTY: EXTREME ]
[ SUCCESS PROBABILITY: 41% ]
[ POTENTIAL GAINS: +1 ALLY (92 BP), +TACTICAL INTELLIGENCE, +MORAL STANDING ]
[ POTENTIAL LOSSES: CAPTURE, DEATH, EXPOSURE OF SAFEHOUSE LOCATION ]
Forty-one percent. Better odds than most surgeries I'd performed in my previous life. And unlike those surgeries, failure here didn't mean paperwork and malpractice suits.
Failure meant death for everyone I'd come to care about.
The mansion's silhouette appeared on the horizon, Gothic architecture stark against the winter sky. Somewhere inside those walls, Rigel was bleeding and refusing to break.
Time to return the favor.
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