House of Ravens

by Keary Taylor

  He’s covered in bite wounds. Deep fang marks sink into his flesh, the reason there is blood covering his entire body. A deep wound in his chest seems to be the source of most of his pain, and I can make out the shape of jagged wood from inside of it.

  “Henry!” I cry in horror and shock. “What… How…”

  “He needs blood,” Nial says, going into saving mode instantly. “Human blood. Now. Ian, get my cart from the supply room. We need to remove whatever is in his chest.”

  Ian swears, looking back over his shoulder as he practically trips over his feet to get what Nial asked for.

  “Henry,” I say as I pull him up into my lap, my hands instantly slick with blood. “You’re alive. You’re…here!”

  “I’m so sorry, Alivia,” he breathes, his voice coming out in a strangled breath. “So…” But he can’t finish his sentence. His eyes flutter closed.

  “Nial!” I scream, even as he examines Henry for injuries. “Do something!”

  “He’s been staked,” Nial says as blood instantly coats him. “It’s broken off inside of him, dangerously close to his heart. Please don’t move him, it might dislodge it and kill him.”

  I carefully back away, lowering his head to the marble floor. Ian races back into the ballroom, pushing a medical cart, the look in his eyes wild.

  “Henry,” I whisper, leaning over him, my hand coming to his cheek. “Open your eyes. Please open your eyes for me.”

  But he doesn’t. One of his hands reaches up, resting over mine. “Alivia,” he breathes.

  “Take the gauze, a lot of it,” Nial says frantically. “When I remove the stake press it to his chest immediately. He’s going to bleed profusely.”

  Ian, hands gloved, wads a huge chunk of gauze and stands at the ready.

  “He needs to feed—fresh, not bagged,” Nial says, shaking his head. “I can’t repair this.”

  “I’ll do it,” a calm voice says from behind us.

  “Elle, no,” Ian says in a panic as he looks over his shoulder. Elle stands there, in a white nightgown, staring at my dying father on the floor. “You were already nearly killed. You can’t.”

  “If I don’t, he will die,” she says as she walks barefoot over the marble floor. “I feel fine, Ian, really. Let me do this. For Alivia.”

  His eyes dart from his sister to me.

  I don’t know what to say. I know Elle shouldn’t be fed on. But I’m afraid if Henry doesn’t feed, he’ll die.

  I’m so selfish.

  “Please,” I whisper to him.

  The fear in Ian’s eyes is so apparent. He looks at me, wide eyed, as if frozen in slow motion.

  “It needs to be now!” Nial says. “We cannot wait for another human.”

  And everything speeds back up. “Come on, Elle!” He waves her forward.

  She crouches down beside Henry, who still won’t open his eyes. His grip on me loosens with every passing second. Drawing her sleeve back, she raises her exposed wrist up to his mouth.

  The second she presses her flesh against his teeth, he sinks them in to her.

  Nial yanks the broken stake from Henry’s chest, and Ian immediately presses the gauze there, trying to stop the bleeding.

  So much blood. It pours from his chest. The gauze doesn’t stand a chance of stopping any of it. Ian’s hands are coated.

  I look at Elle, her eyes glazed over, her head lolling back. She’s perfectly still.

  “Keep drinking, Henry,” I beg, pressing his head to her arm. “Just a little more.”

  “It’s working,” Nial breathes. I turn to see, and the bite marks are indeed closing up. The blood flow slows. One by one, the fang punctures knit themselves closed.

  “It’s working,” I sigh, hope lighting in my chest.

  “That’s enough,” Ian growls, swatting Elle’s wrist away from Henry’s mouth. It drops away without any fight, and he barely catches his sister before she collapses to the floor. “Elle? You okay? Open…open your eyes.”

  “I’m…” she struggles to speak as the fog clears from her head. “Okay. I’m…okay.”

  Slowly, she sits up on her own, blinking several times.

  Seeing that she is indeed alright, I turn back to Henry.

  By this time, most of the bite marks are healed. The gaping hole in his chest is still bleeding, but it seems to be slowing.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I ask.

  Nial turns to the cart and begins digging through it. He comes out with a bottle of brown liquid and what looks like a cotton ball on the end of a stick. “I’ve never known a vampire to bleed out, but my experience is limited. If there are any more shards in his chest, that could be dangerous. They could dislodge, puncturing his heart.”

  “Is there anything you can do about it?” I ask, feeling frantic. Henry’s eyes are fully closed, his entire body limp. But he keeps breathing, ragged, strangled pulls.

  Nial shakes his head. “Even surgery would be very difficult, this close to his heart. We can only hope the blood helps him to heal and push out any remaining particles.”

  “How long?” I ask as tears pool in my eyes. I brush his hair back from his head, which is long, hanging down to his shoulders. It’s amazing. He hasn’t aged a day from the pictures taken of him that I found in the lab. “How long until we know?”

  Nial’s eyes are so sad and unsure when he looks at me. “I don’t know, my dear.”

  A comforting hand is laid on my back as I look back down at my father, lying there so still and quiet. Two tears break free from my eyes, landing on his own cheek.

  “Someone needs to call Rath,” I cry, rubbing a thumb over my father’s cheek. Nial instantly pulls his phone out and is talking just moments later.

  “Please, Henry,” I whisper. “Don’t die on me.”

  NONE OF US SAY A WORD.

  Ian leans against a wall behind me. Nial keeps coming back, his hands flitting about, as if he knows there’s something he should be doing, but there isn’t anything more. Rath sits across from me. The look of utter disbelief on his face is astounding.

  None of us dare breathe as we watch Henry.

  He lies on a bed in the spare bedroom on the lower floor of his house. His eyes are closed, his hands lying gently at his sides. The wound on his chest is closed up; he no longer bleeds.

  With Rath and Nial’s help, we cleaned the blood from his body, cutting away the clothing he wore. In the entire time I’ve lived here at the Conrath Estate, I never could bring myself to throw out his clothes. So it was no problem to run upstairs into my closet and grab some of his pajamas.

  Now, we wait.

  Will he wake up?

  “Can you believe it, Rath?” I whisper. I reach for my father’s hand and take it in mine, holding his knuckles up to my lips. “We thought he was gone forever. And here he is.”

  Rath doesn’t say anything in return. He only studies Henry’s face, as if he can will him to wake up.

  The hours have been so, so long. Once Henry seemed somewhat stable, we moved him into a more private room because the moment we called Rath, everyone else quickly found out that we had already found Henry. They all returned to the House. I can currently hear four House members waiting outside the door, quietly talking. Five more are in the ballroom. Six patrol the property, and everyone else is scattered about.

  Waiting to hear if the rightful leader of their House will live.

  Suddenly, my entire life is up in the air.

  But none of that matters now.

  I have my father back.

  The sun broke out over the horizon hours ago, washing Silent Bend in summer light. For a few hours, we should be safe from attack. From these plots of war.

  And I must wait. And be patient.

  KATINA BRINGS LUNCH IN FOR the four of us around noon. I take a bite of my sandwich, but it’s tasteless and gets stuck in my throat. I set it aside. Rath doesn’t touch his food. Nial and Ian eat quietly, unable to do anything but be there to support Rath and I.


  Finally, at three in the afternoon, Henry’s right foot twitches.

  “That’s a good sign,” Nial says, as a small smile cracks on his lips.

  Henry’s foot twitches again, and his eyes flit back and forth quickly beneath his eyelids. His breathing increases.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I ask, my brows furrowing.

  Nial bends over him with a stethoscope, pressing it to my father’s chest. He listens for a moment. “He’s quite alright,” Nial says. “He’s only having a nightm-”

  Henry suddenly sits straight up, his hand clamping around Nial’s throat like a vise. His eyes glow red and wild, his movements frantic as he scrambles to his knees.

  “Henry!” Rath and I both yell at the same time, leaping to Nial’s aid.

  “It’s alright. You’re safe. He’s a friend,” Rath continues.

  Henry’s wide, unsure eyes search the room, confused for a moment. But finally, they flick back to Nial, who has his hands gripped around Henry’s wrists, and lets him go.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says, his body instantly calming as he relaxes back against the bed, blinking, as if clearing a fog from his eyes. “I…”

  But he doesn’t finish his sentence. His eyes slide over to me, and he meets my gaze and just stares.

  His jaw, mine. His brows, mine. His cheeks, my own.

  We only share half of our DNA, but it’s so like looking in a mirror. I look so much like him. I’ve been told that, over and over, and here he finally is.

  The legend.

  “Henry,” I breathe. “You’re here.”

  Emotion rolls through his eyes and he can’t seem to quite get the words out that he has to say. So he looks away, and takes in Ian and Nial. “Thank you for your help,” he says, his voice still rough. “Can I please get some time alone with my daughter?”

  Nial bows, and immediately walks out. Ian looks to me for reassurance, and when I nod, he leaves.

  “Rath, my brother,” Henry says, taking Rath’s hand in his. “It has been too long, but I must ask you to wait a short amount of time longer.”

  It’s all there in his eyes, how very little Rath wants to leave Henry’s side after finally being reunited with him. But he bows his head and slowly leaves the room.

  He closes the door behind him, leaving Henry and I alone.

  I look at his face, studying him as he stares at the door for just a moment.

  It’s there, so apparent. He’s terrified of this moment, too. So many years of anticipation for him. So much wondering. So many what ifs. And now, we’ve finally arrived.

  He looks over at me, and instantly, my eyes well.

  “I’m so sorry, my darling,” he breathes.

  My walls of self-control burst and I collapse forward into his chest, my arms clinging to him tight, and I just begin to sob.

  I mourn all the years as a child, having never known who my father was. All the times I wanted someone who threatened to break any boy who hurt me. Someone to protect me and give me advice.

  I cry for the ten months of longing I’ve had here in his House, wanting so very badly to know him.

  And these tears are also shed in joy.

  That we’re here. He’s here, tangible, in my arms.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, over and over as he strokes my hair, holding me tight. His strong arms pull me in close, promising not to let me go.

  “I needed you, so many times,” I cry. They’re angry words. Mournful. Accepting. “I just can’t believe…” I can’t even talk.

  “I know, my love,” he says. The promise in his voice, the sincerity, I know he means it when he calls me his love. I may have never known it, but Henry was indeed there, so many moments of my life, watching.

  When I first came to the Conrath Estate, Rath gave me a letter that Henry had written to me. It was full of wishes and regrets.

  I wish I had known sooner. I wish we could have had time together. I wish I could have been there for you.

  I have many wishes for what might have been.

  But I am also sorry.

  “I’m so sorry,” he breathes once more into my hair.

  Knowing that I am your father, I know the fate that I have put upon your shoulders.

  “I know you wanted me to stay away from all of this,” I finally find the words to speak. “But I couldn’t. I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t.”

  He leans back from me, his hands on my upper arms to get a look at me. “You do not have anything at all to be sorry for,” he says, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “I was a fool, and I put an unfair burden upon your shoulders by asking what I did of you. I knew Cyrus would never leave you alone, but I suppose it was my own foolish hopefulness, thinking I could will it to stay apart from you for a very long time.”

  “You’re not disappointed?” I ask, wiping tears from my face, wanting so very badly for him to say no.

  “I have not been able to watch you this entire time,” he says as he takes my hands in his. “But I have seen you go through an incredible transformation since you arrived. Through ups and downs, trial and error, you’ve grown into your birthright. Elijah would have been proud of you.”

  Tears pool in my eyes once again, though they do not fall this time. “I’m so sorry he was taken from you.”

  He nods, though the pain of losing his brother is so far in the past that it does not reach his eyes as I expect it to. “When you live as long as I have, you are bound to lose those you love at some point.”

  My heart, which has been racing and tripping over itself this entire time, finally begins to calm somewhat. I feel all the nerves in me begin to relax. “I can never get a straight answer out of Rath, so I have to finally ask. When were you actually born?”

  Henry gives a little, soundless chuckle, more like the expulsion of air, and a thin-lipped smile. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Of course!” I say, shifting on the bed, so that I’m sitting directly in front of him. “I want to know everything.”

  He lets out a sigh, once more taking my hands in his. “Ah well, the truth is that I do not know exactly what year it was. Though, I remember when I was a child, Charles IV was crowned King over Bohemia, where I was born, so sometime before 1346, according to the history books.”

  My mouth falls open just slightly, my mind instantly attempting to do the math. That makes Henry at least 670 years old.

  “I…” I stutter. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too shocked. I’ve met much older Royals.”

  I mean, I met Dorian and Malachi. Even Raheem is over 900 years old.

  Henry smiles, nodding. “I’ve lived a long life. Others still have lived far longer.”

  And it’s the lifetime that waits before me. It’s impossible to imagine. How the world has changed within my father’s lifetime.

  The room grows quiet once again, and my thoughts grow somber and wondering. My eyes fall from Henry’s, to our hands, held together.

  “You should ask the question you’re most curious about,” he says quietly.

  I nod, though it’s hard to form the words because I’m not entirely sure I want to know the answer. But it’s one I have to learn.

  “Why did you leave? And why didn’t you come back?”

  Henry runs his thumb over my knuckles. I study his hands, expecting wrinkles, old age, and wear. But they’re still youthful. Smooth, but like any other man’s hands. My father stopped aging long ago.

  “My work put me in danger,” he finally says. “What I discovered down in my lab—somehow Cyrus got wind of rumors and I knew he would come after me. Soon. And, what I am working on is too important.”

  So Cyrus wasn’t just messing with me with his parting words. If a measly Bitten hadn’t ended him, I would have killed the traitorous bastard myself. “What is it?” I ask, my brows furrowing, imagining the lab down below the ballroom floor.

  Henry shakes his head. “I will tell you everything soon. But other parts of the timeline are more important in this
moment.”

  It’s hard to accept. I want to rip every single answer to every single question I’ve had from him, in a big, dumping slew of secrets. But I nod in agreement, for the moment.

  “I knew he would come after me soon,” Henry continues. “So when that Bitten came after me, I let everyone believe I was dead. Seeing Rath’s pain and letting him bury me wasn’t easy, but I knew it was necessary. But now there was not only the problem of keeping my discoveries safe, but there was the problem of these Bitten with an incredible Debt and their rising numbers.”

  The look in his eyes darkens, growing deeper by the moment. In them I see the capability of the violence I witnessed in my apartment, and again, in the house on the edge of town. “This war has been brewing since before you arrived in Silent Bend, Alivia. The Bitten and their bitterness to our kind is growing. I could not come to you because, for the last ten months, I’ve been tracking their cells down, putting an end to as many of them as I can.”

  I nod. Accepting this isn’t easy. “How many have you taken out?” I whisper.

  Henry’s eyes rise to meet mine, and they have a dim, red glow igniting in them. “One hundred seventy-nine thus far, including those I killed last night.”

  I shake my head, a breath escaping my chest. “That’s in addition to all the ones we’ve killed so far. That’s…” I shake my head. It’s all so incredible, in the worst way. “Do you know who’s leading them?”

  “No,” Henry says with a sharp edge to his voice. He swings his legs off the side of the bed, rising to his feet to anxiously pace the floor. A little smile crooks on my lips at this. I do the exact same thing. “I’ve never heard of such careful, patient tactics. They’re amassing numbers, but keeping everything so secretive and disguised.”

  “Henry, if these are the numbers that we’ve discovered, there has to be masses more.” The horror is rising in my chest. “Unless we’re taking them out as they’re being created, which seems unlikely. This is going to be a bloody war when it comes to that.”

  “How many House members are you up to?” he asks as he pauses and looks over at me.

  “Nineteen if you count Rath,” I say. “And one more who is only here to help with this fight.”