After Darkness Falls: After Darkness Falls Book One

by Sage, May

  Chloe wasn't convincing anyone, let alone herself, but thankfully, she was quite gifted in the art of distracting her mind.

  And she had a trip to London to look forward to.

  They had two seven-seaters, and twelve of them were traveling, so they had two spare seats. Chloe hesitated at the door.

  "Jack?" she called through the open window of the driver’s seat. "Do you mind if a couple of people tag along?"

  Feeling eyes on her, Chloe guessed Mikar and Cat were observing her from somewhere in the shadows—probably the Wolvswoods. She wasn't sure how they intended to travel south, but they might as well drive together. It was kinder on the environment, and besides, the huntsmen would probably notice vamps on their trail. Chloe didn't want to know what would happen if they ended up fighting each other.

  Jack lifted a brow. "Sure, I guess. Who's that?"

  She shrugged. "I heard there were vamps going to London this weekend."

  His expression darkened dangerously. Jack was ripped, fast, and his every movement said predator, but before anything, he was a team leader. He even looked the part of a businessman or politician in his suits. Chloe had never been able to picture him as a huntsman.

  Now, she could.

  "I mean, I'm sure they can find their own way…"

  "It's…fine. If there are suckers on the road, I'd rather have my eyes on them."

  Now, she recalled him telling her during their trip to town last January with Tris that he wasn’t fond of most vampires. Now she understood that might have been a euphemism. While Jack didn't have a problem with his cousin, despite her being a fledgling, he seemed to hate vampires.

  She wished she could take the words back, but a breathtakingly beautiful blonde with long wavy hair stepped out of the woods, Mikar by her side.

  "Joy," she said, with the most unfriendly, fake smile Chloe had ever seen. "Riding with blood bags.”

  Oh dear.

  An Engrossing Tale

  A terrible idea didn't cover it.

  "So, you're huntsmen in training, is that right?" Cat asked, batting her long lashes.

  "Fully trained huntsmen," Bash amended. "We're in the Institute because furthering our education serves the order."

  "I see. So, you've all murdered immortals and other sups already. Good to know."

  Jack had closed the window and put the heating on, but the air in the car was ice anyway.

  "Can we ride with Tris instead?" Gwen whispered to Chloe.

  Cat's bright green eyes turned to the back seat where Chloe was huddled between Gwen and Mikar.

  "And you're a witch,” she said to Gwen. “Unusual, wouldn't you say, for one of you to spend time with huntsmen? You know they're behind most of the witch massacres throughout history?"

  Blair, seated beside Cat in the second row, replied, "Actually, that was mostly regular human men killing random regular human women for kicks. Trust me, I’m from the Salem Coven. We know our history. Huntsmen and witches have a great relationship where I'm from in the States. They come to us for protective spells; we go to them when we have a rogue shifter problem, or whatever."

  Cat all but hissed.

  "Ignore her," Mikar told them. "Catherine is a Stormhale. Her family's storm magic is unpredictable. They've made a mess a billion times throughout history, and huntsmen have had to put down too many of her people. She isn't objective."

  "Stormhale," Chloe echoed.

  Levi had mentioned that name, but now she thought of it, she’d heard it before then.

  One of the seven, she realized. The seven families directly changed by Ariadne, the vampires' creator. Blair had called them vampire royalty.

  Suddenly remembering that frustrating conversation from three months ago, Chloe asked, "Hey, what are the founding families again? De Villier, Drake, Stormhale, Helsing…"

  Cat didn't miss a beat, finishing the list for her.

  "Beauforts, Rosedean, and Eirikrson."

  Eirikrson. That was it. The one Blair had refused to talk about.

  Chloe felt like the name was familiar to her, somehow, although she'd be hard-pressed to say where she'd heard it.

  Eirikrson…

  "It must be amazing to come from a line with so much history," Gwen said.

  Cat turned to her and smiled, completely changing her features. She no longer seemed quite so cold or unfriendly. She looked younger and, if anything, more beautiful.

  "We have stories that go back to the Roman times. You wouldn't believe half of it. And don't get me started with the family heirlooms." She winked at Gwen. "Jewels. Loads and loads of jewels."

  Reiss laughed at her side. "I bet. Shame no one can get into the Eirikrson coffers. There must be so many treasures lying around in their dusty old mansion."

  Cat visibly relaxed. "In Rome, we have a painting of my great-aunt with Liz Eirikrson. Her sword had a diamond the size of a fist, she wore the most gorgeous ruby necklace, and don't get me started on her diadem. To know that they're all lying over there, unappreciated, breaks my heart."

  Chloe could feel Mikar stiffen. They were approaching a subject most people didn't want to talk about—to her, in any case. But Reiss and Cat, at least, hadn't received the memo. They talked without filter.

  "Why are they unappreciated?" Chloe pushed.

  Cat shrugged. "All the Eirikrsons are dead, save for the crazy one guarded in Oldcrest. And while their servants who are still alive do have access to Skyhall, the house atop Night Hill, they refuse to do anything with their fortune. Such a waste."

  "They don't refuse to do anything," Bash protested. "I hear that their treasures are sealed under a blood lock. No one can get in their coffer, except an Eirikrson."

  "Maybe," Cat muttered. "My mom thinks the Eirikrson's slayers are just saying that so they can keep everything to themselves. Who knows?"

  "Did you say one of them still lives in Oldcrest? Couldn't he claim it?"

  The car fell silent. Absolutely silent. Then, everyone laughed—even Jack, who'd been tense for the last hour. The one exception was Mikar, whose jaw was tight. He didn’t like the turn of conversation.

  "She's a regular," said Gwen, as an explanation, or an apology; Chloe couldn't quite tell. "I didn't realize no one had told you about Oldcrest. I would have, if I'd known."

  After three months, she'd mostly stopped feeling like a newbie who didn't understand sup basics. Then came moments like this.

  "Thousands of years ago, the territory was shielded by one of the most powerful witches this world has ever known," Cat said. "The wards make the entire place invisible to all of those who haven't been invited, regular or sups alike, and that's in order to keep that guy locked tight. The seven families moved onto Night Hill, and it was declared that one of them would live here and stand guard every year. It's the one thing the seven have ever agreed on: that Eirikr needs to stay locked up. He was insane. Killed every vampire who wasn't part of his family. All of the other families were in hiding because of him. And he wanted to murder Ariadne, too."

  Chloe blinked in surprise. The story made no sense.

  "He wants to murder a goddess?"

  "It's technically possible. Gods are immortal, not eternal. Cut their head, stop their heart, and they're gone, just like you or me. But it generally takes a god to kill a god. The thing is, Eirikr was almost as powerful as the gods themselves. There were rumors saying that, as we’re made of her blood, if she died, we'd all die with her. So, we decided it was safer to keep him locked up and throw away the key."

  Suddenly, Chloe felt a wind around her hair, although the car was still locked up. She remembered the trail on Coscnoc, beyond the black tape. The darkening, twisted path calling to her.

  "That man," she said, her throat dry. "That vampire…he's on the east hill, right?"

  "Yeah, in a cave, protected by so many spells your head will spin just going anywhere near it. He's been there for a long time. Don't worry about him."

  "Hey, there's a resting area right ahead. Y
ou wanna stretch your legs?" Mikar asked.

  "Sure thing."

  That was the end of the conversation. Next, they talked music, and then movies, followed by the difficulties of beheading someone with a thick neck. Cat seemed to warm up to the others in light of their common interests—particularly the beheading.

  But Chloe's mind remained on the hill. The trail.

  And the creature within.

  A Portrait

  They arrived in London in the middle of the night and headed to an overpriced parking garage.

  They'd stopped several times, but after close to ten hours on the road with bad traffic, Chloe's every limb was stiff and uncomfortable. She stretched next to the car while the others grabbed their bags.

  "So, who are you?"

  Chloe looked up to find Cat standing right next to her, arms folded on her chest, eyes fixed on her.

  "He doesn't talk to me or acknowledge my existence for three months, then the Leviathan tells me to follow your ass to London. And you're a regular," she added, making air quotes around the last word with her fingers. "I don't buy it."

  Chloe shrugged. "Trust me, I'd love to be a cool creature—or a vampire princess like you. But I'm just…me."

  "You don't feel like a regular," Cat stated.

  Chloe had heard that enough times. "Thanks, I guess? But I am. The queen of NOLA's coven tested my blood. It's normal."

  "What did she test?" Cat questioned.

  Chloe tilted her head. "I don't know? That it was normal, or something. She thinks I probably had some witch ancestry because my blood responds to her magic a little, but that's about it."

  Cat wasn't the only one paying attention. Both Mikar and Jack had walked closer. Chloe bit her lip, self-conscious.

  "But," she said, "other than that, I'm normal."

  Chloe could tell that Cat was skeptical. She tried not to find it irritating, and failed. Didn't the vamp princess think that Chloe would have liked to be one of them?

  "Hey, Cheetah, is that your bag?"

  Bash pulled her backpack out of the boot. Chloe smiled as she took it from him, knowing he'd just given her a way out of the conversation.

  "Thanks."

  "Any time, girl."

  Those huntsmen really were a nice bunch. Even if they had decimated Cat's ancestors.

  "All right, listen up,” Jack said. "Outside, we're not supposed to draw attention to ourselves. Fourteen people stand out. We'll walk in groups of three to four at all times. I, Tris, Bash, and Reiss know all of the London safe houses, so make sure you're always close to one of us. Writing the address anywhere isn't an option. No weapons in the street if we can avoid it—the last thing we need is bad press." He marked a pause. "We have a target on our backs at all times. Most sups can't stand us because they know if they step out of line, we're the ones who'll come calling. They can feel us, smell us, and they might cause trouble. We have two witches and one regular with us." He now gestured to Gwen, Blair, and Chloe. "No trouble permitted on this trip, got it?"

  The huntsmen nodded their agreement before setting out into the cool air.

  It was warmer than it had been in January, according to the temperature displayed on her phone, but a cold sixty-mile-per-hour wind negated that, chilling her to the bone although she was wearing her coat. Chloe wished she had gloves, a scarf, thermals under her jeans, earmuffs, a hat, and…

  She stopped at the sight of a perfectly manicured hand outstretched in front of her.

  Cat was handing her what looked like expensive leather gloves.

  Chloe looked up to the stunning creature. Cat shrugged. "I don't get cold," she said. Realizing it wasn't much of an explanation, she added, "Your clacking teeth are irritating."

  She gratefully took the gloves. They were lined with wool.

  "Oh, Cat, they're wonderful."

  The vampire was already storming forward, ten paces away.

  Social, she was not. But Cat was obviously very thoughtful.

  "Don't trust her."

  Chloe turned, finding Mikar right behind her.

  "Why?"

  He was glaring at the woman.

  "She's a Stormhale, for one. Your friend wasn't wrong. They're known to be unstable. They were a clan of powerful witches before they were turned by Ariadne. That's too much strength in one family. The vamp folks out in the world don't quite understand—they see the seven as their betters, their nobility. No one gets that there's a clear hierarchy. For a long time, our kind deferred to the seven in one specific order—Eirikrsons, De Villiers, Drakes, Stormhales, then the rest, quibbling over the base of the pyramid. The De Villiers are spread throughout the world. The Drakes are low in numbers, relying on their own strength. It was the Stormhales who started the coup that dethroned the Eirikrsons. Now she turns up, trying to get her claws in Levi…it's not good news. She may obey Levi's orders for now, but she only answers to the head of her family."

  Chloe's head was going to spin. She looked down at her hands. The gloves had been cold inside a moment ago, but now they were starting to warm up.

  "It sounds like vampire problems. Vampire politics. If she's nice to me, I'll be nice back."

  She was generally cool with everyone, whether or not they proved to be kind first.

  "It is your problem," Mikar retorted. "Levi has ordered her to watch you. She's already questioned why. If Catherine thinks you're Levi's plaything, and that having you is the reason why he isn't interested in her—well." Mikar looked up to the city sky. Barely any stars were visible here; the lights of London clouded them. "It looks like a storm is coming. And accidents happen. A bolt of lightning conveniently hitting a tree right next to you…"

  Chloe glared at Mikar. "You know, I have a very low tolerance for bullshit. Since the beginning of time, men have encouraged women to mistrust each other, see each other as rivals. Guess what? If she wants that control freak, she can have him. I'm certainly not calling dibs."

  Mikar laughed. "All right. Just be careful."

  Chloe decided to ignore every single thing she just heard. Her hands were warm. That was the only fact worth remembering.

  They turned off Oxford Circus, and then turned again a few times into identical white square rows of houses that made Chloe understand why Jack had warned them to stay with those who knew the way. She noted a Victoria's Secret, Louis Vuitton, and a charming little park. At least if she got lost, she could return to the general area.

  Her group, led by Bash, arrived in front of a house so very similar to Rose's Coven that Chloe's heart skipped a beat.

  But there was no body, no smell of blood. As Bash walked up the steps to the door, Jack opened it from the inside.

  "Come on in. I've made tea."

  Chloe practically ran up the stairs.

  She’d never liked coffee. Tea was better, although she still didn't quite get why the Brits were so obsessed with it. But right now, she would have drunk just about anything, provided it was served warm.

  Inside, the walls were painted dark green and hung with paintings that seemed both old and masterful, the sort of art one saw in museums. But instead of a pretty smiling lady or a Romanesque couple walking through a park, the portraits depicted men and women armed with weapons, scenes of battles against demons. The huntsmen had their own history.

  "You like?" Jack asked, seeing her pause in front of an oil painting.

  A vampire, if she wasn't mistaken. A very handsome man with silver hair and bright blue eyes. His fangs weren't extended, but the painter had ensured that the light on his skin was luminous, unnatural.

  "Who is this?" she asked. "It's strange to see a vamp here."

  "Strange if you don't know our history, I guess. This is Eirikr. The guy the others were talking about in the car."

  Chloe was startled and confused. "But they said he was insane and murderous."

  "That's one point of view," Jack replied, chuckling. "Eirikr was hell-bent on eradicating vampires who drank human blood and killed their victims. In
his days, that was almost every vamp. Now, they have synthetic blood—and besides, they've learned to control their thirst, evolutionarily-speaking. Back then…it wasn't pretty." Jack's jaw was set. "Eirikr founded the huntsmen."

  Now, her jaw hit the floor. "Seriously?"

  Jack smiled. "He trained a bunch of humans personally. Those who were strong enough, fast enough, he changed. He had a witch with him; one drop of his blood, a hell of a lot of magic, and here we are. He only used a very small dose of his own blood to ensure we wouldn't turn. But it's here, in our veins. It's been passed down through every generation of huntsmen, hence why we have a chance against sups."

  The more she heard about their founder, she more intrigued she was. Eirikr sounded complicated. But also something else. Not mad, or cruel. Passionate. Purposeful.

  "So you're part vamp," she teased him.

  Jack grimaced. "I'm part Eirikrson. Different."

  Suddenly curious, Chloe asked, "What about the coffers? Cat says only an Eirikrson could get to them. Have you guys tried?"

  Jack shook his head. "No. We have no interest in his wealth. He provided us with plenty of heirlooms, anyway. If we had any control over what happens in Oldcrest…let's just say Eirikr wouldn't be rotting in a cave."

  Though his tone was light, Chloe was starting to understand the divide between huntsmen and vampires. The reason behind the unfriendliness, the tension.

  The land she loved was a divided faction that could easily turn into a battlefield.

  "Let's get that tea, shall we?" Jack said lightly. "I think there might be some chocolate in the cupboard if you prefer."

  The man was starting to know her well.

  Blood and Cashmere

  Chloe woke to find a folded package on her bed. She opened it, and inside was a checked scarf with white, blue, and baby pink lines. It was so warm and soft.

  The package wasn't signed. Chloe sighed. When would she cease to seem so pathetic to her friends that they bought her expensive stuff? It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford to clothe herself, especially now that she’d worked as an accountant for three months. She didn’t spend much in Oldcrest, so most of her salary was sitting nicely in her bank account, waiting to be spent.