We walk through passport control booths. This time, I don’t release her hand and we race through to baggage reclaim, where the vampire stands with his arms folded in front of a carousel.
“What an arrogant jerk,” Poppy mutters under her breath.
“It’s almost like he wants us to catch him,” I mutter back.
“Something’s off about this guy. We should call him in.”
“Only if you can do it with one hand.” I tighten my fingers around Poppy’s. No way am I letting her release the spell she’s cast over me.
As he fumbles around his pocket, we edge toward him. The alligator jacket encasing his broad shoulders is now almost dark green in the airport’s artificial light.
He glances over his shoulder with a frown. Maybe his enhanced vampire senses tell him that a slayer is close. I don’t care because he’s trapped. Jaeger, Arizona is one of the sunniest places in the United States of America, and there are few hiding places in its airport. Unless the vampire is waiting for a coffin or a man-sized case, he’s stuck here until sunset.
My fingers itch to plunge my stake into his back, but I force myself to remember another rule of slaying: stay hidden. Humans fear and loathe the supernatural.
Poppy and I glare at his back for the twenty minutes it takes for the baggage to arrive. By now, the other passengers crowd the carousel, leaving an obvious space where we stand. The vampire turns around and grins.
I bare my teeth, even though he can’t see me, and we edge toward the only piece of luggage that could belong to a vampire—a vintage Louis Vuitton suitcase that looks like an exhibit from the Victoria and Albert Museum. Whatever is in that bag is important enough to risk exposure. I reach between two old ladies and grab its handle, encasing it in Poppy’s enchantment.
“Did anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to steal?” he growls from within the crowd.
Poppy and I share a smirk. Another case arrives at the carousel, and we edge toward it. Unfortunately for us, the vampire is faster with a longer reach, and he snatches it out of range. We back away from the crowd, and he stalks toward us, his indigo eyes turning black.
“Return my case,” he growls at the space to our right.
I grin. Right now, Presbytera Driver would yell at me for taunting a vampire, but I’m still following the rules. No right-minded creature of the night would follow a slayer and her conciliar into a private spot unless they had backup. Not even a vampire strong enough to transform into mist. This might be our only way to get him alone without causing a scene at the airport. I pass the case to Poppy and release her hand.
The vampire’s furious gaze lands on me. “I want my property.”
“You know what you have to do,” I reply.
He glances to my left and right, presumably looking for signs of Poppy. Her magic is even stronger now that she’s not using it to conceal me. He knows this, and that’s why his shoulders sag.
“Very well,” he says. “There is a bathroom close to the exit. We can do it there.”
Chapter 2
The vampire shoots a pointed look at the case in my hand, which only makes me clutch it tighter. In a few minutes, whatever he deemed important enough to risk capture won’t matter, because he’ll be dust.
Poppy takes his wrist, I grab his hand, and we walk out of baggage reclaim, past the unmanned customs desk, and into a cacophony of chatter and footfalls and loudspeaker announcements, where a small crowd of people awaits behind a metal barrier.
Mingled scents of baking and freshly brewed coffee fill my nostrils, and saliva floods my mouth. I need food. Now. But first, I have a vampire to slay.
A few uniformed drivers stand among the throng, and I scan their placards, hoping that someone from the Order sent a driver to pick us up, but none hold the code name, ‘Jeyne Doe.’
“What’s your name?” I ask the vampire.
He turns to me with a wide grin, his indigo eyes sparkling with mirth. “You need it for your slay book?”
“How do you know—” I shake off the question and snatch away my gaze. His name doesn’t matter. Neither does the reason why he knows slayers document their kills. It’s time for me to end this vampire.
We walk through the concourse of Jaeger International, which is a tenth of the size of Heathrow Airport. Nobody watches us as we pass Starbucks, Barnes and Noble, and the few eateries lining the way to what will be this vampire’s demise.
Up ahead, travelers pull wheeled luggage through the glass, automatic doors, and step out into the sun-drenched morning. I spot the doors to the room where the vampire said we can fight.
“Alaric,” he says. “Alaric Severin. And you are?”
“You won’t need my name,” I say with a tight smile.
“No, but Presbytera Driver will need to know the name of the slayer who withheld my property.”
I clench my teeth. He’s the calmest vampire I’ve ever met, which either means he’s dangerously cocky or he’s old and assured he can overpower us both. Suddenly, my bones feel heavy. And I can feel the depletion of the power Poppy drained from my reserves.
The vampire chuckles, and I snap out of my paranoid haze. Was that mind control? Tightening my grip on his hand, I quicken my pace toward the exit.
“Gabrielle Augustine, also known as Brielle, I presume?” he says.
A bolt of shock hits my heart, and Poppy gasps. Memories of the flock of vampires that tormented me as a child roll to the front of my mind, and I quicken my pace. He couldn’t be one of those. Grandma and Aunt Clarissa killed them years ago. Since then, no vampire has known my name. I turn to him, my eyes bulging, but his grin grows wider.
“What are you,” I snarl. “A mind reader?”
His hand disappears from my grip, and he jerks forward. In the blink of an eye, he passes through the automatic doors and into the sun.
A gasp tears from my lips, and I clamp a hand over my mouth. He’s going to—I drop his case and race out of the doors to drag him back before he self-combusts. When I step into the warm sunlight, the vampire speeds past the line for the taxi, down the slope and stops in the corner. He gives me a jaunty wave and disappears from sight.
I’m about to give chase when Poppy clamps a hand around my wrist.
“Let go,” I shout. “He’s getting away!”
“In daylight,” she says, her voice dry. “Proving he wasn’t a vampire.”
I tug at my arm, but her grip is like iron. The enchantment that strengthens her is part of the treaty that affords a conciliar the magic to stop a slayer if they’re about to use their powers against an innocent supernatural being.
“Poppy!” I snap.
She shakes her head and turns to the line of taxis. “Let’s go to the Order.”
“How do you explain his hands turning to mist?” I hiss.
“He’s probably an advanced mage.” She marches us to the back of the line.
My shoulders sag. Mages are powerful, but I’ve never heard of any being able to make body parts incorporeal. Everything about Alaric screamed vampire, from the pale skin, eerie eyes, to the intoxicating scent. There had to be a trick to his ability to withstand the sun.
“What if he wore a talisman?” I ask.
Poppy’s brows draw together. “There hasn’t been a single artifact that protects vampires from the sun’s effects.”
“Yet.”
“Yet.” She blows out a long breath. “We’ll make a report. If he’s a warlock, the Mage’s Council will deal with him.”
I grind my teeth, too pissed to continue this conversation. Warlocks are mages that feed on people’s magical reserves without their consent, but the Order of Theodora can’t hunt them because of the treaty. That’s the job of the Mage’s Council.
Clutching Alaric’s case to my chest, I inhale his lingering scent. Despite his ability to withstand sunlight, he was no warlock. Poppy would disagree. As a mage, Poppy is more logical, but slayers work on instinct. There’s a gut feel a slayer gets when in contact with
a vampire that feels like a kick to the midsection. When we ignore it, our nerves tingle until it feels like thousands of ants are crawling across the skin.
Eventually, we reach the top of the line, and I sit at the back of a taxi with my friend.
“Agia Convent,” Poppy says.
I stare at the case, resisting the urge to open it. There’s a luggage tag that says, ‘Alaric Severin’ in the flowing script vampires like to use. He already knows my name and knows that I’m a slayer. If he wants his bag back, he will have to track me down.
Only Order-sanctioned individuals can reach Agia Convent because it’s in the middle of a lake larger than Jaeger city center. The taxi stops us at a hotel with the same name where we ask the receptionist—an Order administrator—for transportation.
Poppy and I stand at the pier gates staring at Agia Convent from across the lake. Sunlight shimmers across the water’s surface, giving it the appearance of liquid gold. Most of the convent is hidden by juniper trees, which emit a smell that vampires can’t abide. The lake and trees allow us to walk through the grounds in peace because vampires also can’t cross running water.
Each Order convent around the world contains bricks from the ruins of the Metanoia Temple, the place where Empress Theodora established her first convent of slayers that would become her Holy Order.
Agia Convent is a four-story, gothic building with tall, square towers at each corner used for accommodation and surrounded by four acres of garden. In the middle is the clock tower, which stretches eight stories high, and above that is a weathervane that functions as a lightning conduit to power the wards.
Poppy glances at Alaric’s case but doesn’t comment. The treaty only prevents me from murdering innocent supernaturals, not holding their property hostage until they can meet me for a fight.
The distant roar of a motor catches my attention, and I straighten to find a white speedboat emerging from behind the island. The first time I went to the convent, I pictured Hogwarts because Sister Kerala, the boatman, is a large woman, who reminded me of Hagrid but without the beard. She’s a retired slayer whose conciliar withdrew from service to have children. She now works in the convent as a Sister of Servitude and operates the boats.
Sisters of Servitude wear charcoal tunics with ankle-length culottes that give the impression of robes. They’re a mix of retired slayers, those too injured to hunt vampires, or slayers who have refused the call to arms but still wish to serve the Order.
As Sister Kerala approaches, the sun bounces off her red hair, making it shine like polished copper. Hers is a more yellow shade than mine, which Poppy says resembles the flesh of a blood orange.
Sister Kerala stops her boat at the pier, opens the gate, and steps aside. “You are late.”
Poppy grimaces and steps down onto the boat. “We met a warlock on the plane.”
“Vampire,” I say.
Sister Kerala raises her thick brows. “Tell it to the Magus.”
I step on after her, and the boat sways under my weight. My stomach tightens. It’s not like I’m afraid of water, but these lightweight boats never look secure enough to hold the weight of a woman the size of Sister Kerala.
She gestures for us to sit, and we lower ourselves into the curved, plastic seats. Not wanting to get Alaric’s case wet, I place it between my feet and hold its handle. The boat lurches forward, and I clench my teeth.
“Oh no,” Poppy mutters.
I glance up and squint through the glare of the sun to find a tall figure standing at the convent’s pier with arms folded across her chest. It’s Arianna Helios, the Magus—a term given to the most powerful mage in the convent.
She is also Agia Convent’s second-in-command and the sternest person I’ve ever met. Poppy shudders at my side and I give her hand a gentle pat. The Magus is in charge of the teaching and discipline of apprentice mages, and can slice a person through the heart with a glower.
Behind the Magus stands a well-built, sandy-haired figure also in black. Now it’s my time to shudder. It’s Jude Dempsey.
Jude isn’t my ex. In fact, he’s nobody to me, and I don’t care to even think about him.
“Are you alright?” Poppy whispers.
“I’m fine.” My words come out more curt than I intend, but I won’t discuss what happened last term.
She leans toward me. “If you need me to—”
“Poppy,” I say with an intentional bite in my voice. “Leave it.”
She dips her head, and shame washes through my insides like stale vinegar. She only meant to help, and she’d even sacrificed her summer vacation to stay with Grandma and me in London. I turn to her with an apology on my lips, but she wraps her arms around my shoulders and murmurs into my ear.
“This year,” she says, “It’s just you and me against the vamps.”
“Yeah,” I reply with a chuckle. “Even if they can walk in the sun.”
Poppy draws back with a wide grin. “You should have seen your face when he got away.”
All the tension around my chest loosens, and I smile back. “We’ll meet again soon, I’m sure of it.”
The speedboat slows, and the engine stops. I keep my gaze on my best friend and pick up Alaric’s bag. The Magus will probably scold us for being late—I can handle that, but I won’t look at or acknowledge or even think about the loser at her side.
“Gabrielle Augustine,” says the Magus.
My mouth drops open, and I rise to meet the woman’s gray eyes. For the three years I've been an acolyte, the Magus has never once spoken to me.
“Yes, Ma’am?” I ask.
“The assembly cannot start without you.” She spins on her heel and strides down the peer, leaving Jude standing alone.
I turn to Poppy, who shrugs and steps out of the boat.
Jude steps forward. “Brielle, please—”
I raise a hand, and he falls silent, presumably waiting for me to speak. There aren’t any words. I step out of the boat, onto the pier, and walk at Poppy’s side.
“You can’t keep ignoring me,” he says to my back. “How many times do I need to apologize?”
His words send a blaze of fire across my nerves, and I spin around, rage sizzling through my veins. “If you think ‘sorry’ will erase what you did—”
Triumph flashes in his hazel eyes. He sucks in a deep breath and steps toward me, his hand reaching for my arm. My insides ripple with disgust, and I snatch my arm away. There are things a girl can’t forgive, and Jude is lucky I didn’t tell Grandma about the love enchantment.
“Stay away,” says Poppy, exhaustion lacing her voice.
“But the curse—”
“Will stay until magic deems you repentant.”
My throat thickens, and I march toward the convent’s double doors. Thanks to Poppy, I’m free of Jude’s enchantment, but three years of his magical influence has instilled feelings that have colored my personality the way a person can train their reflexes to dodge or block a blow.
As soon as we step inside, the juniper scent fades, replaced by the warm smell of the wall panels’ beeswax polish. Our footsteps echo across the stone hallways that lead to the assembly hall, and the sun shines down through a skylight of vaulted glass. Even though the gentle whir of the air conditioning fills my ears, the bright rays seep through my leather jacket and warm my skin.
Jude’s presence looms behind us like a specter of past humiliations, but I crush those feelings into a ball and push them to the back of my heart. An acolyte’s final year will determine her role within the Order.
Those who fail to impress the leaders will become administrators like the clerk at the hotel, those who perform averagely will be field soldiers executing routine patrols, and those who excel will receive Theodora’s Blessing, a ritual that unlocks the power of a slayer and enables them to perform the most important missions.
With that Blessing, I might find Mom, then Grandma and Aunt Clarissa might retire from slaying.
“Brielle,” Jude whis
pers.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention, and my skin tightens with irritation. I square my shoulders and continue walking. We round a corner, and the Magus opens the door to a half-filled auditorium that seats two-hundred. The creak of the hinges sends every face turning around to look at us.
I suck in a breath through my teeth.
“Were they waiting for us?” Poppy whispers.
“Yes, Apprentice Sydenham,” the Magus says in a voice loud enough to carry throughout the assembly hall. “Do not keep everyone waiting.”
My cheeks burn, and I walk on wooden legs into the vast room, which consists of rows of tiered, oaken seats. I slip into the back with Poppy at my side and try not to look into the furious glares of the apprentice mages and slayer acolytes. At the bottom of the room stands Presbytera Driver, clad in the flowing purple robe she reserves for formal occasions.
Sitting at both sides of the leader are the Sisters on one side—slayers who have dedicated their lives to teaching acolytes, and mages on the other, consisting of both male and female instructors. Everyone wears floor-length, formal robes to mark the start of the term.
Although these days we’re mostly about protecting the native world from supernatural threats, Saint Theodora started the Order as a nunnery centuries ago when she was the Empress of Constantinople.
Presbytera Driver claps her hands together, bringing everyone’s attention to the front.
“Welcome, new acolytes to the most exciting four years of your time as a slayer. It does not matter if you were called to the vocation upon turning fourteen or if you inherited your powers from a slayer mother or grandmother, all sisters are equal under the eyes of Saint Theodora,”
“Amen,” the slayers all chorus. Poppy remains silent. Mages acknowledge Saint Theodora as our founder, but they don’t believe in higher beings and believe that the power is available to all.
Jude stands at the end of the row in front and forces a pair of younger mages to rise as he works his way to the empty seat in front of me. I press my lips together in a tight line and try to focus on Driver’s welcome speech.
Vampire Bonds (Darkbloods Book 1) Page 2
