League of Vampires Box Set 3

by Rye Brewer

  “Don’t you dare touch him!” I snarled before I could stop myself, reaching out and shoving her with all my might.

  Shifters might have been powerful, but vampires were certainly stronger than an average person even while weakened, and the element of surprise along with my strength was enough to knock her off-balance.

  She stumbled, then sprawled onto the pile of rotting nets in the corner. I took Anton’s hand, ready to run—the sun had yet to broach the horizon, and there was still time to make it to the dense forest before its rays touched the treetops—but Isolde managed to scramble to her feet and block the way.

  “You pathetic thing,” she snapped, charging at me this time and grabbing a handful of my hair before Anton pulled her away. She did not let go, but instead took some of my hair with her and left me with a smarting scalp.

  “Enough of this! Isolde, you’ve lost!” He threw her away from me, sending her into the wall. Fishing rods fell, boxes of hooks and lures scattered across the dust-covered floor.

  He turned to me, eyes searching my face. “Are you all right?”

  I had no time to respond before Isolde’s hands closed over his shoulders from behind. She pulled him away, spinning him in place that she might glare up at him. “Her? You want her? This miserable nothing? When you have the entire world at your fingertips, Anton. Anything you could ever desire. Yours for the taking. You need only accept what’s yours by right!”

  “I don’t want it!” He shoved her away. “I don’t want any of it, and I never have. I only want her. We only want to be together. No more of this. No more charades, no more lying. I want none of it, and nothing to do with any of you. Leave us in peace.”

  She studied him, waiting. When he offered nothing more, she grabbed an old desk chair—heavy, on wheels—and swung it at his head. It took no more than the blink of an eye, she moved so quickly.

  I screamed as he sank to the floor, eyes closed, blood oozing from the gash above his ear. Shifters healed nearly instantly from most injuries, I knew, but if she had cracked his skull?

  Or worse?

  She whirled about, facing me now. “As for you—”

  “Stay away from me!” I warned, claws and fangs extended. “I would love nothing more than to tear you apart.”

  “You can try,” she smiled, beckoning me. “Come on, now. I may have just killed your lover. What will you do about it?”

  I knew I shouldn’t let her words get the better of me. I knew she was merely taunting me, getting a rise from me in the hopes of throwing me off.

  It worked.

  I flew at her in a rage, screeching, thirsty for blood. She absorbed the shock of my body colliding with hers—then, to my surprise, her hands clamped over my arms.

  And she began to pull.

  “Wh—what are you doing?” I screamed, planting my feet against the floor, tugging my arms in the hopes of freeing myself. When that didn’t work, I threw myself against her, and we struck the corner of a desk. She nearly lost her balance but managed to remain on her feet.

  And to maintain her hold on me.

  “We’re going to get some sun,” she informed me before laughing maniacally. “I believe we’re both entirely too pale. A tan would do us good.”

  No. It couldn’t be. Yet she released one of my arms long enough to pull open the door, and I struck out at her with my free hand, claws slashing in a desperate attempt at freedom.

  “Come, come,” she bade, pulling me out the door. So strong, so impossibly strong.

  “No!” I grunted, crying out as she pulled with all her might and I heaved just as willfully in the other direction. I was certain my joints would pop, that she would dislocate my wrists somehow as she tugged with all the force of a truly crazed beast.

  The sizzle of skin as the sun’s rays touching me drew another cry from my chapped lips, making her laugh crazily and pull all the harder to expose more and more of me to the world outside the cabin.

  I looked around, half-mad with pain and panic, and reached for anything I could seize. A heavy cabinet sat just inside the doorway, and I gripped the edge with all my might, willing my claws to gain purchase on the scarred wood. Whatever happened, I could not let go of that cabinet.

  Isolde roared in frustration. “Get… out… of here!” she screeched, long nails digging into my arm.

  I barely registered my discomfort at that, seeing as how the sun blistered my hand and wrist so terribly and was touching more and more skin, the harder she pulled.

  I was losing my grip on the cabinet! My fingers weakened, my claws threatened to break loose, I was about to burn to death in the sun.

  “Anton!” I gasped, hoping against hope, but he was solidly unconscious and unable to provide assistance.

  Something rumbled to life inside me. Something which had always been present but had never grown to its full power until that very moment.

  The will to live. The will to survive. I had always survived no matter the cost. I would survive again.

  With a roar which seemed to begin at my toes and work its way up and out of my mouth, I gave one mighty tug until Isolde was near enough to reach. I balanced my weight on my left leg, drawing back my right before kicking out as hard as I could.

  Isolde grunted as the air left her body when my foot made contact with her midsection. She released me and staggered backward while I jerked my blistered hand back against my body where it ached horribly. But I was alive, backing away from the door, away from the light.

  And when she charged at me—eyes wide and wild, lips pulled back against her teeth in a gruesome grimace, hair snarled and hanging in clumps about her face, arms extended—I wasted no time. No effort.

  I merely flicked my hand through the air. Claws still extended.

  And sliced a line across her throat so thin as to nearly be invisible until blood began to pour from it.

  She stopped reaching for me in an instant, hands now clutching her throat. Her eyes went perfectly round as she struggled to hold in the blood which ran between her fingers and soaked into her dress.

  I knew all too well what would come next, having brought many a creature to their end in this manner. She couldn’t believe what I’d done, that it was possible for her life to be snuffed out with hardly any effort on my part. The merest flick of my wrist had opened her throat and allowed her life to pour out.

  Her mouth opened as she dropped to her knees. She held one of her hands out before her, studying it with increasing dismay. Blood stained it dark red, fresh and glistening.

  The scent of it, so heavy in the air, set off my bloodlust. It was like an exotic fruit just waiting to be plucked and devoured, all that fresh, free-flowing blood.

  To drink it would be the ultimate victory. To nourish myself on the last drops of her lifeblood and to know she knew I was doing it. For she was still awake and aware, merely fading away with each pump of her heart, each gush of sticky, red fluid.

  I would not sink so low. It was enough to stare into her eyes as the light left them and she met her fate. To watch as every wicked scheme and every selfish act died along with her. That was my victory. That was my prize.

  That, and the unconscious shifter lying in the corner. The pulse in his neck was strong, telling me he was still alive, but his eyes were shut, and he did not react when I touched him.

  “My love,” I whispered, taking his precious face in my hands. “My love, please, wake up for me. Please. Return to me.”

  After I called his name and tapped his cheeks several times, he began to stir. “Wh-what? Where?”

  “She’s gone now,” was all I would say. I would speak no more of her—at least, not until we were safe, and this was far behind us. “We have to go. Now. I need you to wake up and be ready to go. Come, now. Try for me.”

  He sat up, shaking his head, blinking rapidly as if to blink back the fog in his brain. When his gaze fell upon the pool of blood and the dead shifter in the center, his mouth fell open in an expression of disbelief and disma
y.

  But only for an instant.

  “Good riddance,” he snarled, looking for a moment as if he were about to spit on her corpse. “She should have known she was no match for you.”

  “She didn’t.”

  He got to his feet with my assistance, and I found the burlap sack I’d been wearing before the fight began.

  “You’re burned!” He gaped at my hand, my wrist.

  “Not bad,” I lied before sliding the sack over my head. “Come. I need you to carry me. Can you?”

  “If I lost an arm, I would still use the other to carry you to safety.”

  Not precisely the most romantic thing I’d ever heard, but considering the situation, it was more than enough. He lifted me across his arms, and I settled in against his chest, hoping against hope for an easy getaway after what we had already suffered.

  11

  Stark

  Anissa sat up, her focus on Branwen. “What is it?”

  When Branwen shrugged, her glistening, brown curls seemed to shrug with her, spilling over her shoulders and the wine-red gown she wore. How I longed to touch them. To touch her. I was such a fool. I should have told her the truth of our parting from the start, rather than allowing her to believe a convenient lie.

  I could have told her the truth every minute of the time we’d spent together in the fortress, too. Why hadn’t I? Why was the truth so difficult to put into words? Because it would mean admitting I’d never stopped loving her.

  I had only told myself the love was gone, all in the hopes of soothing my lonely heart. If I admitted the truth and she rejected me in spite of it, there would be no going back.

  “We’re running out of blood,” she announced, unaware of what the sight of her did to my heart. “There is no other way to say it. We will not have enough for the child in another two, perhaps three days.”

  “I thought there was an entire stockpile at our disposal,” I muttered, looking to Anissa for answers. “We could’ve fed many full-grown vampires for months on the amount we’d put together.” It had not been easy, either, involving much deception and thieving my part. I’d gone from place to place using portals, stealing from nightclubs which catered exclusively to vampires and those obsessed with them. Their supply of synthetic blood had been admirable—that was, until I invaded.

  It was Branwen who spoke again. “I suppose none of us understood how much Elena was capable of consuming, but we are truly on the verge of running out.”

  “What does Sirene say about this?” Anissa asked.

  I noticed the way Anissa picked up the baby then, holding her close. As if she felt the need to protect her. From what? The very people who struggled to keep her alive and healthy?

  “She’s resting. I have not yet spoken to her about it. I can only imagine how it will alarm her, however.”

  I could imagine, too, and it hardly thrilled me.

  Elena cooed in Anissa’s arms, then giggled when her sister-in-law made a funny face. She was a beautiful child, one who’d quickly become the light of our lives, but she was eating—or, rather, drinking—us out of house and home. She would soon become unmanageable if we did not find a way to rein her in.

  “What if…” I hardly dared speak it aloud. “What if she doesn’t get all the blood she desires, exactly when she desires it?”

  Both women turned to me, aghast that I would suggest such a thing. “I know it sounds cruel—”

  “It does,” Anissa agreed, her tone cold and clipped.

  “I realize that,” I replied.

  “It isn’t cruel.”

  It came as a surprise that my jaw did not hit the floor when I heard Branwen come to my defense.

  Anissa, too, appeared surprised. “What did you say?”

  Branwen’s already large, soulful eyes widened when she realized she’d now have to back up her statement. Yet she did, her chin lifting as she found her voice. “I do not believe it to be cruel. I believe our Elena has become a rather spoiled child who knows she will receive whatever it is she demands, for if she does not, she can burn us to a crisp without much effort.”

  Little Lena punctuated Branwen’s statement with a laugh, as though she understood every word coming from the witch’s mouth. Perhaps she did. Perhaps her understanding increased even more rapidly than her physical size.

  “You don’t believe it’s only a matter of hunger?” Anissa asked, looking from Branwen to me.

  “I believe she needs blood to thrive,” I ventured, glancing at Branwen in the hope of her backing me up once again. “I believe she does need it to an extent. However, she is also part-witch. Witches do not need blood. If we attempted to wean her away from this constant drinking of blood…”

  “I can’t listen to this.” Anissa bolted to her feet, the baby bouncing in her arms. “No. I will not bear witness to her torture.”

  “Anissa, no one said—”

  “Torture,” she repeated, eyes glistening now. “I’ve seen what happens. I know what a vampire’s life is when they don’t receive the blood they need. My sister,” she hissed.

  “I know,” I murmured, understanding now the reason behind her sudden outburst.

  “What if what happened to her mind is a—I can’t think of the word. By-product? What if this twisting of her mind is somehow connected to the agony she suffered at Marcus’s hand?”

  “You don’t know that,” I reminded her, keeping my voice cool for Lena’s sake. The baby looked at Anissa, her bow-shaped mouth pulling down at the corners. Babies were always keen when it came to absorbing the energy of a situation, and it seemed this one was no exception. She knew her devoted guardian was upset.

  “What if it has to do with her powers, then?” She nodded to Lena. “What if the same thing happens to her? I won’t have it, and I won’t let her suffer when she’s too young to tell us what it is she really needs. She can’t speak. She can’t tell us she’s starving…”

  Anissa buried her face in the child’s neck, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. I knew this was not entirely for Lena’s sake. She was thinking of Sara, and it seemed it was not only Sara’s mind that was twisted during the dark days the two of them had spent as part of the Carver clan.

  Elena patted her cheek as if to comfort her. That tiny gesture all but broke my heart in two.

  Branwen went to them, putting her arms about Anissa and the baby. “We will not allow that to happen to her. None of us will. She has far too many people who love her already. She will not suffer the same fate. This is my solemn vow, Anissa.”

  Anissa nodded, pulling herself together. I watched the three of them—witch, vampire, a mix of the two—and felt pathetically hopeless. I had nothing to offer them.

  Suddenly, a light went on in Anissa’s eyes. Her mouth fell open in an expression of surprise. “Oh. Oh! I didn’t think about it until just now! I wonder…”

  “Wonder what?” Branwen asked as Anissa handed her the baby and began pacing back and forth.

  “It has to be there. It has to be. Hardly anybody knew about it…”

  “Knew about what?” I asked, throwing my hands into the air. “What are you talking about?”

  She continued pacing. “You mentioned Marcus, and that was what got me thinking.”

  “What does he have to do with anything? I thought he was killed.”

  “He was.” She waved a hand. “Which is why this just might work.”

  “What, already?”

  “He had a private supply of blood.” She stopped in front of me, all but buzzing with excitement. “A large supply. I often asked myself what he was saving it for—with Marcus, it was always anyone’s guess what went on in his mind. Self-preservation was always a priority for him. He knew how many enemies he’d collected, of course—he had that much self-awareness. Maybe he expected to hole up at some point, go into hiding. It doesn’t matter. What matters is, I know where he hid that stash, and I would bet just about anything that it’s still there.”

  “How do you know?”
Branwen asked.

  Some of the bright, fierce light left Anissa’s eyes, and I wished it would return. “He used to taunt me with it,” she murmured, looking away. “He used to offer to bring some of it to Sara, if only I would do just one more thing for him…”

  She walked away, to the window, and stared out. “The things I did for him. I told myself it was all for Sara, naturally, and it was. I didn’t want to murder anyone, especially not for his sake. To improve his life, to make his way easier. So long as he kept feeding Sara from that private supply, however, I had no choice. I couldn’t allow her to suffer endlessly.”

  “No one would ever blame you for what you did.” It was enough to make me wish the monster wasn’t dead, for I would have loved nothing more than to kill him with my bare hands.

  “If that blood can now help our Lena, one more good thing might come from his pitiful existence.” She was wiping tears away as she turned to me. “I think this will work. I know it will.”

  “What do you intend to do? Waltz into the mansion and tap dance down the corridors?” I shook my head.

  “I must have left my dancing shoes at home,” she said with a smile. “What do you suggest? I know precisely where to find it and have made my way past the guards more times than I care to remember.”

  “If you’re spotted, it’s over. They’ll recognize you instantly.” I went to her, placing light hands on her shoulders. “And after what you just shared, I wouldn’t want for you to be in a position where you were forced to choose between your life and the life of another. You’ve had to do that far too many times already.”

  “I agree,” Branwen added from across the room, where she bounced Lena on her hip.

  I forced my heart to stop beating double-time as the notion of her bouncing our baby floated through my mind. Elena was not ours, and there would never be a child for us. There was no future for us, because I was too cowardly to do what had to be done when it should have been done.

  “So? What? You think you’re going to do it yourself?” Anissa challenged with a smirk. “Come on, Stark. I know that mansion like the back of my hand.”