Vampire Bonds (Darkbloods Book 1)

by Delia E Castel

  I step out from under Uncle Fred’s protective arm and stand between the pair. “Is it alright if I walk Rick out of the hotel? The slayers want him to leave.”

  Uncle Fred releases Alaric’s hand and steps back. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Winslow.”

  I grind my teeth and Alaric’s knowledge of facts I never shared with him. Does this vampire have a death wish, or is he trying to make everyone suspicious?

  The mage at the door lets us exit, and we step out into the night. Streetlights as tall as the surrounding palm trees stand outside the hotel’s front like sentinels, and the parking lot is devoid of vehicles. I wonder if that means it’s closed to new visitors and try not to think about how much money they’re losing because of the monster.

  A warm, dry breeze blows across the scent of dust from the direction of the mountains, and faraway sprinklers hiss to life. I sweep my gaze beyond the stretch of tarmac, where the water arches across a vast lawn.

  Alaric’s cloak rustles as he sweeps his arm in the direction of the square. I scowl at the vampire costume. It’s a replica of the tuxedo Bela Lugosi wore in the old Dracula movie. I’d almost forgotten about this annoying aspect of his personality.

  We continue toward the square in silence. As soon as we pass the hotel’s grounds, Alaric guides us through the back streets of Agia Square. It's a stretch of road lined with multicolored recycling and trash bins, wooden electricity posts, and the occasional stray cat.

  I glance over my shoulder at the empty street but don’t speak until we reach the back door of Farrier’s Weaponry. Alaric opens the side door and ushers me inside.

  The weaponry’s interior is warm and carries the wood and leather scent of Mr. Farrier. As soon as the door clicks shut, I snarl, “You almost got cau—”

  He pulls me into his body and kisses me.

  I’m breathing too hard to form sentences, and all I can utter is “Wha—”

  Still cradling my face in his hands, he presses another kiss on my lips. “The island has been on lockdown, and I can’t get through the wards without a gaggle of mages shooting magic hot enough to incinerate an iceberg. What happened?”

  “The monster,” I mutter.

  “Let’s go upstairs.”

  We walk through a darkened hallway and pass a room lit by the outside streetlights with a wooden work table I guess is the old man’s workshop. Alaric guides me up the stairs to a cozy living room, where Galla, Leo, and Thoris sit on leather armchairs arranged around a low table.

  My mouth drops open. “What’s everyone doing here?”

  Galla shakes her head. “Good question.”

  “We couldn’t let Alaric enter enemy territory without backup,” Thoris says in a tone that implies he also disagreed with his friend’s plan to crash a slayer’s party.

  Alaric waves a dismissive hand. “I got in and out without detection.”

  My eyes bulge. “Do you know how many slayers had their eyes on you?”

  He places a hand over his heart. “You never have to worry about this conciliar choosing another slayer.”

  “What’s happening on the Island?” Leo picks up a can of soda and raises his brows.

  “It’s a mess.” I shake my head, and he places it back on the table. “That monster you burned turned out to be my Esoteric History instructor. Her daughter is a girl who left me to die on the beach.”

  “The work of a rival?” Thoris strokes his chin.

  “It’s hard to tell.” I raise my shoulder. “Her mother never wanted the girl to compete with me, and she also attacked own her daughter. None of what’s happened makes any sense.”

  Alaric runs the back of his hand down my cheek. “You’re alright?”

  I nod. “It’s just been a bore, but I could end the lockdown by telling them that Sister Shevette was the monster.”

  Everyone shakes their head as though wordlessly agreeing that it would be a dumb idea. It is, but the more resources the Order pours into protecting the convent and hunting down the monster, the less effort it will place on hunting vampires.

  “My friend thinks it's a werewolf variant.” I share the information Poppy gave me on cherubs as well as her theory that someone might be trying to recreate them. “Do you know anything about experiments on their venom?”

  Galla rises from her seat and walks to the other side of the living room to an antique cabinet that stands a foot off the carpeted floor on carved legs. She pulls open the doors, revealing a modern interior of glass shelves at the top, each laden with bottles of spirits. Beneath them lies a wooden drawer and a matching wine rack.

  She selects one of the tumblers from the door’s interior and pours herself a drink. “I spent a lot of time with an alchemist who thought the venom was the key to immortality. He distilled the venom and enchanted it to be compatible with rats.”

  “Did it work?” I ask.

  She shudders and downs the entire contents of her glass. “A little too well.”

  Thoris barks a laugh. “They doubled in size, walked on two legs, and ripped apart their comrades. They stayed alive until Roger decapitated them and burned their bodies.

  “That was the last of the were-rats,” Leo mutters.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “With the mages also running their own little experiments, it’s going to be impossible to track down who’s behind the monster.”

  “Shevette is a mage family,” says Galla.

  Tilting my head, I reply, “Yes?”

  “I see where you’re going with this,” Thoris says.

  “Surely not.” Leo opens his can of soda with a crack.

  These guys have been around each other for so long that they don’t need to complete their thoughts. As I’ve had less than a handful of conversations with Alaric’s family, I’m lost in their rounds of rapid half-sentences.

  I twist around and meet Alaric’s amused gaze. “What?”

  “They think the mage transformed his slayer wife to advance his daughter.” He turns his gaze to them and frowns. “Now they’re implying that the husband was the original monster and is trying to build a harem of she-beasts.”

  I wrinkle my nose.

  “The creature seemed to want you in particular,” says Alaric.

  “I doubt that Sister Shevette would infect me to become her sister-wife.”

  “She might have wanted to kill you.” His voice is as quiet as a whisper.

  Galla raises her glass of liquor. “The ammunition I supplied you within your hand-ballista only works on vampires. If you can get a mage to enchant it to burst into flame, you'll slow the creature for five minutes. Plenty of time to cut off its head.”

  The feeling of being left out in the conversation recedes at her concern for my safety, and I offer Galla a warm smile. “Thanks. I’ll get to that right away.”

  A cuckoo clock chimes, reminding me of the impending curfew. I turn to Alaric. “I’d better leave before Uncle Fred sends out a search party.”

  Leo tosses an object in my line of sight. I snatch it out of the air and stare down at the screen of a smartphone. “Use this if you need our help,” he says. “It’s secure, can send and receive messages through wards, and will stop Alaric from breaking into a den of slayers to find you.”

  Gratitude fills my chest, and I give Leo a cheery thanks and a jaunty salute. Thoris raises his can of soda and wishes me good luck with the slayers. Before I can work out whether he’s implying that I don’t belong with the Order, or to question why the vampires have set up a cozy nest in Mr. Farrier’s old home, Alaric wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his side.

  “We just want you to be safe.” He places a kiss on my nose. “If your instructor infected her daughter, the next target will be you.”

  “Again,” I groan.

  After I say goodbye to the family, I walk down the stairs with Alaric and consider their words. What if Sister Shevette attacked Evangeline to get her reinstated in the Order
? Alaric might be right that she came after me to protect her daughter.

  I squeeze his hand, and my heart swells with appreciation for having him watch over me.

  We reach the bottom of the stairs, and Alaric opens the weaponry’s back door. Outside on the street are the Magus, Uncle Fred, Madoc, the two slayers from earlier, and their conciliars.

  My throat dries. “What’s going on?”

  “How did you pass the wards around the hotel?” The Magus asks Alaric.

  He tilts his head to the side. “Wards?” he says in a tone too light for the situation. “I thought they were sound-muffling enchantments.”

  “What are you doing with my niece?” Uncle Fred growls.

  I step out of the weaponry, putting myself between Alaric and the Order. “This isn’t what you think.”

  The Magus gives me a cold smile. “And what, precisely is your association with a Severin warlock?”

  I gulp. “We’re friends.”

  Alaric places his hand on my shoulder and steps in front of me. My heart sinks at his bravery. At any moment, someone is going to work out that he could pass through the wards because the ether powering his body isn’t corrupted from having been stolen from a human. I’m guessing that if someone measured his ether levels, they would be much like the negative charge of a mage.

  “Nobody needs to fight.” I step out from behind Alaric. “I’ll return to the convent, alright?”

  The Magus’ thin lips curl into a cold smile. “You will both report to Presbytera Driver.”

  “I’ll do no such thing,” Alaric says with a bite in his voice.

  A noose of panic pulls at my neck muscles. I hold my breath and glance from the vampire to the mages. The slayers aren’t allowed to act against warlocks, but there are enough magic-users here to kill a vampire.

  “Leave it with me,” I say for a want of anything better to diffuse the conversation. “Alaric has urgent, out-of-town business over the weekend, but when he returns on Monday, I’ll bring him to Presbytera Driver’s office myself.”

  Silence stretches out for what feels like an eternity. Alaric hasn’t done anything that warrants an arrest. As far as they know, he’s a young warlock who crashed a Halloween party to meet a girl and broke through the wards to take me out on a date. Even if they suspect that it was Alaric who landed on my balcony a few days ago, I’m not sure they can prove it.

  Madoc clears his throat. “Magus, if Brielle doesn’t bring Mr. Severin, I’ll drag him to the Presbytera’s office myself.”

  The older woman nods. “I’m trusting you to escort Acolyte Augustine to an emergency disciplinary.”

  “Of course, Magus,” Madoc murmurs.

  After casting Alaric a hard stare, the Magus turns on her heel and walks back toward the hotel. The two slayers and their conciliars join the Magus, and the noose around my neck loosens.

  “Thanks.” I offer Madoc a grateful smile.

  He shakes his head and hooks his thumb at Uncle Fred. “We had to tag along in case things got dicey.”

  Uncle Fred huffs an irritated breath. “Let’s get you back to the convent.”

  I turn back to Alaric. “It might be a while before we see each other again.”

  “I will wait.” His soft murmur and longing eyes imply that he wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had waited a lifetime for me.

  Uncle Fred clears his throat. “You’re already in a lot of trouble.”

  My heart feels as heavy as lead, but I’ve got to face the consequences of leaving the hotel’s wards while everyone thinks a slayer-killing monster is on the loose. After giving Alaric one last peck on the lips, I take my place between Uncle Fred and Madoc, and we walk back toward the hotel.

  When I reach Presbytera Driver’s office, I’m not surprised to find Grandma on the screen, but the presence of Driver with her arms around Doctor Shevette makes my steps falter. The man’s black suit hangs from his reduced body, and he stares up at me with red-rimmed eyes.

  Guilt wraps around my chest like the lash of a mage whip, and words of condolences dry at the back of my throat. Even though the monster wanted to destroy my humanity, because of Alaric and me, his wife is dead.

  Heels click over the marble floor from the other side of the room. I turn to find the Magus approaching me with a scowl. She points at a leather-topped stool on the other side of Presbytera Driver’s desk. “Sit.”

  As I obey her command, the door clicks shut. Madoc and Uncle Fred stand by the exit, and I wonder if Alaric made a terrible mistake by bringing up the name of Severin.

  “Doctor Rhys,” Grandma says to Madoc. “Thank you for escorting my granddaughter back to the convent. Your presence is no longer requested.”

  He steps forward and folds his arms across his chest. “I’ve seen Alaric Severin before, and he’s no warlock.”

  A lead ball of betrayal drops into my stomach and suffocates the guilt and dread.

  Grandma’s brows furrow. “Explain.”

  Madoc clasps his hands together and rocks forward on the balls of his feet. “While excavating the ruins of Malone Convent, we found the burned remains of the surveillance stones. The man we saw tonight was stalking the convent the night it was burned.”

  The allegation hits like a slap, making me flinch. “Alaric wouldn’t—”

  “Be quiet,” Grandma returns her gaze to Madoc. “What else did you discover about this character?”

  Madoc grimaces. “He’s a vampire.”

  Every head in the room turns to me with hard eyes and blazing accusations. I gulp. They want to know if it’s true.

  My lips part, and no sound comes out. They wouldn’t understand if I told them Alaric was different from other vampires. They probably wouldn’t care that he only drank the blood of animals. To them, he’s the enemy.

  I whisper, “He’s a warlock.”

  Pity softens Madoc’s eyes. “That’s what he wants you to believe.”

  “Don’t you think I know a vampire when I see one?” I turn to Uncle Fred, who stands at the door as though transformed to stone. “Alaric walks around in the day, eats apple pie, drinks coffee.”

  The silence that ensues is suffocating. My head spins, and dots form before my eyes. I can barely get air deep into my lungs to stop myself from fainting. “If he was a vampire, then why could he cross your wards, why hasn’t he taken my blood?”

  Grandma’s stern expression melts into speculation, and she rubs her chin. “Doctor Rhys, how did you come to these conclusions?”

  “The forensic team found bodies deep within the convent’s catacombs, all drained of blood.”

  “Then vampires they keep for experiments broke free and attacked.” My voice is so shrill, it sounds like a fire bell. “Maybe they couldn’t stand any more torture and took revenge on the Order.”

  “Do you have any of the footage of the male who calls himself Severin?” Grandma asks Madoc.

  My heart crumples. Grandma is already acknowledging him as a vampire, otherwise she would have referred to him as a man.

  Madoc strides to the laptop on Driver’s desk, pauses to ask permission to use it, and taps a series of commands. A second screen appears of a man walking along the side of a tall wall. Madoc raises his hands to the screen. With a twisting motion, he enlarges the picture to Alaric’s face.

  Uncle Fred gasps, and the Magus lets out a long breath. I shake my head. Even if this footage is real, that doesn’t mean Alaric killed all those people and set the place alight.

  Grandma’s expression hardens, and she turns to the Magus. “Do you have any footage of Severin passing the wards tonight?”

  “We’ve already isolated all of the footage. It’s the first thing we did, Ma’am.” The Magus replies.

  Alaric walks in the frame and around the perimeter of the hotel, placing his hands on an invisible surface. My dry throat convulses. He’s testing the walls. I send a silent prayer to Saint Theodora that he does something that can be construed as magical to prove Madoc’s suspici
on wrong.

  On screen, Alaric raises a hand.

  Grandma rubs her chin and frowns. “What is he doing?”

  “It’s hard to say,” the Magus replies. “If this Alaric Severin is indeed a warlock, he could be draining power from the wards.”

  Hope fills my chest, and I inhale a deep breath.

  “That’s grounds for an arrest?” Grandma asks.

  “Yes,” says the Magus.

  My chest deflates. If Alaric has any sense, he’ll have evacuated the weaponry with his family. I stare at the screen as he walks through the invisible wards, and I wonder what on earth they will say about that.

  “Well?” Grandma snaps. “Did he or did he not drain them?”

  The Magus shakes her head. “There was no draw of power on the wards.”

  “A vampire, then.”

  “Crossing anti-vampire wards?” I blurt.

  Everyone ignores me as the Magus steps forward with her hand on her ear. “Doctor Lecco has informed me of another scene of interest from the surveillance footage.”

  I shake my head. Alaric didn’t do anything else except walk into the ballroom and dance with me.

  The screen cuts to Alaric striding across the lobby’s black-and-white tiled floor. One of the mages approaches him, and he places a hand on the man’s shoulder. To a vampire slayer, this might look like mesmerism, and I glance around the room at the transfixed faces.

  He continues toward the ballroom. Maeve steps out into the lobby and tries to walk around him but Alaric takes her hand.

  “Who is that girl?” Grandma asks.

  “Acolyte Morann,” says Driver, her voice hoarse. “The sole survivor of the Malone Convent Massacre.”

  My heart gallops a frantic beat, drawing all the blood from my face. What would Alaric want with Maeve? I gulp mouthful after mouthful of air, but none of it reaches my lungs.

  Alaric pulls her behind a pillar, out of the camera’s range.

  “Bring up the footage from the other side of the lobby,” Grandma snaps.