Blood and Hexes: A Vampire Paranormal Romance (After Darkness Falls Book 4)

by May Sage

  Now, she'd heard that Alexius had broken his curse. It was time. She had to come back. Even if she wasn't welcome. Her blood demanded it. Staying away from Oldcrest for this long wasn't healthy for a Helsing. The source of her family's power was buried here, under the hill, beneath their home. Cutting herself off from it had slowly drained her. She deserved nothing less, though.

  The moment Diana's bike reached the wards of Oldcrest, she grinned. For a second. Then, her wheel hit an invisible wall at full speed. Her grip tightened on the handlebars, but the force of the impact still sent her flying forward, and she crashed face-first into the wall.

  The bike drifted sideways on the field of grass with a plaintive squeak.

  On the ground, her clothes ripped to shreds on her right flank, and her skin irritated enough to piss her off, she blinked, confused for long moments.

  Then she realized what was going on.

  Juniper had been right.

  She'd been locked out of Oldcrest.

  Wine and Company

  "Is that a smile?" an annoying and familiar voice asked.

  Mikar promptly wiped the grin from his face and sipped his red wine.

  "Oh, no, Ash," Alexius Helsing chortled, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You don't get to deny it. You, my friend, were smiling. Here, in my home." Their host was so dramatic. He held his hands to his chest, shaking his head. "You warm my cold, dark heart."

  "I thought that was my job," the woman at his side pointed out.

  Avani, a gorgeous redheaded she-wolf, far too good for the likes of Alexius, placed a kiss on the clown's jaw.

  Somehow, they fit together. Alexius had always been a jester, but there had been a mean, cold edge to his mockery before Avani came into their lives. She grounded Alexius. And he forced her to have fun. The girl was too serious. No wonder. Her life hadn't been easy. Hurt, changed into a beast—something she hadn't been born into—then hunted. Her mother had died in front of her. Then her savior had brought her here, to Oldcrest. Not to the relative safety of the hill, or into the custody of the Institute. She'd been dumped in the Wolvswoods, of all places. Into a pack so wild they had no place in the mortal world.

  Mikar admired her. She'd somehow survived all that and remained sane. Not many had such strength of spirit. He'd know. His own beginning hadn't been too dissimilar from Avani's, and unlike her, he hadn't taken well to the change.

  He shot her a genuine smile. "Nice party."

  They used to hold parties on the hill almost weekly, before Chloe's arrival. Levi's protective streak had made him reduce the number of visitors he allowed on the territory from the moment she'd arrived. Mikar didn't blame him. If he'd found his own fated mate, he would probably end up locking her in a tower. With barred windows and bubble-wrapped walls.

  Many assumed that most vampires met their end at the hand of a huntsman, or battling another vampire. They'd be right, if they were talking about young, foolish hotheads, but ancients like him or Levi? Half of them died by their own hand because of pure, simple boredom. Lack of passion. After thousands of years on Earth, nothing was new, nothing was exciting, no pleasure hadn’t been tried a hundred times over. It was easy to succumb to a void.

  Mikar hadn't yet reached a point where his immortality was a burden. He had a job, friends, colleagues. There were wines to be drunk and music to dance to. He was far from despair. But he was starting to understand the weight of immortality. The redundancy of life.

  Chloe's existence had shaken his life, changing it so dramatically that every day was an adventure now. They'd been attacked three times. The next time could be tomorrow. He liked the disruption. Still, last year, when he'd been fighting off a Stormhale ancient, there had been a moment when he'd almost kicked the bucket. A Beaufort slayer had attacked from behind while he was in a vulnerable position. And he hadn't felt his fight-or-flight response kick in. There had been no survival instinct telling him that he should do whatever he needed to in order to live another day. He'd known then that he was a lot closer to the void than he'd believed himself to be.

  He’d made it thanks to Gwen, a weather witch, who’d saved his skin by freezing the ground under one of his adversaries’ feet, messing with his balance.

  Having a mate was the one thing that could irrevocably change the descent into madness. Mikar watched his boss sway against Chloe in the living room. Their slow dance was practically clothed sex, but the rest of the crowd was doing the same thing. Levi, like Alexius, was living, for the first time in centuries. And damn if Mikar wasn't jealous of both of them.

  He'd had his fair share of relationships, casual and otherwise, but Mikar had never found anyone who’d kept his interest for more than a few weeks. Months, at most. He'd certainly never been tempted to create a bond with anyone.

  It was possible to bond with someone who wasn't his fated mate, but such bonds were breakable in time, unlike what Levi had with Chloe.

  “Are you throwing yourself a compliment?” Avani chuckled. “You and Chloe planned it.”

  Mikar shrugged, not bothering to defend himself. Whatever they said, Alexius and Avani deserved a celebration, and they were obviously glad to have their friends over.

  “Thank you for that. We kind of decided on the wedding thing at the last second," Avani admitted. “We weren’t going to put anyone at risk, but we really wanted to be married. We weren’t going to make a big deal out of it…but I’m glad you forced us to.”

  “Don’t thank me, I didn’t have any choice. I had to help. Chloe pouted."

  Avani laughed at him. “No one can resist that woman.”

  “No one’s foolish enough to try,” he shot back.

  “Chloe was right. You got married. You should make a big deal out of it," Catherine Stormhale pointed out, walking in with a big white present wrapped with an extravagant blue bow.

  At her side, her mate, Bash Venari, was holding another present—smaller, and considerably less flamboyant.

  Cat kissed Avani's cheeks, and hugged Alexius for half a beat, handing him the larger gift. "That's from Seth. Whatever's in there, I'm not responsible."

  "This is from us," Bash added, giving his gift to Avani.

  The couple had spent the summer traveling. They'd come back at the beginning of the semester because Avani was enrolled at the Institute. Mikar suspected they didn't want to risk her mentor's wrath. Fin Varra, the elder fae lurking in an alcove and nursing a glass containing a black beverage that Mikar didn't want to know about, was as scary as he was dramatic. He would have hunted them down beyond the end of the world.

  Mikar understood why they’d snuck out to get hitched. It wasn’t just that they’d been conscious of the security risk if their friends accompanied them. They’d probably wanted to make their vows private. Ancient vampire customs dictated that bonding rituals were only witnessed by one elder. Weddings weren’t the same as a true blood mating, but Mikar would have bet that Alexius hadn’t wanted the whole hill to hear the words they’d whispered to each other before exchanging matching rings. Eternal, unbreakable bonds weren't anyone's business but that of those who entered the agreement.

  Chloe, however, wasn't impressed. She'd been raised as a human, after all. To her, weddings were parties. Although Mikar guessed she wouldn't have planned a party for the couple while they were on their way back from town, without even asking for their thoughts about it, if she hadn't been bored to tears.

  “How did everyone have time to buy gifts?” Avani mused.

  Mikar chuckled. “Immortality has a way of preparing us for all eventualities. We keep a supply of appropriate presents just in case.” He had a cupboard with neatly wrapped packages, with everything from baby blankets to Cuban cigar sets.

  Alexius unwrapped Seth's present, looking like a kid in a candy store. Seth Stormhale, Cat's elder brother, ranged from annoying to enraging depending on the day, but he and Alexius had hit it off from the day they’d met. Unsurprisingly.

  Mikar sniggered when Alexius victorious
ly exhibited the present. Avani groaned. From the looks of things, Seth wanted to get bitten by a bear-size she-wolf.

  He'd sent a wooden spanking bench, with black leather upholstery, and complete with soft cuffs to lock arms and legs in place.

  "I'm gonna kill him," Avani announced cheerfully, while Alexius passed it around.

  "Maybe we should really get married too," Levi prodded Chloe.

  She slapped his shoulder and bared her fangs.

  Mikar was laughing with—at?—the couple, like everyone else, when something changed in the air, catching his attention.

  Levi's gaze immediately lost all humor as he turned toward the house's entrance.

  Something was wrong.

  Mikar caught Levi's eyes. They'd known each other for long enough to not have to exchange words. He was offering to check it out, if only to avoid alerting Avani, Chloe, or ruining the party. No one would pay attention to his leaving for a while. Levi nodded, accepting his help.

  Like a shadow, Mikar glided out of the Stormhale house, to see what had disrupted the borders of Oldcrest.

  The Silver Guardian

  Anger hit her chest like a dizzying punch. How dare they? How dare they lock her out of the territory, when Night Hill was her home! Her family was one of the founders of Oldcrest, of the entire vampire species! Diana got to her feet, shaking with wrath, but by the time she was standing up, her ire had dissipated, replaced with something else.

  Of course she was locked out. The Eirikrson nonsense notwithstanding, in the hundreds of years since she'd left Oldcrest, they were bound to renew the wards, and how would they have included her in the list of permitted residents? Why would they have wanted to? She was stomping her foot because someone had changed the locks and keys after centuries! A part of her wished they'd found a way to include her. Her brother could have done it. But she was being unfair and petulant. For one, maybe he'd tried. But given how long it had been since she'd spoken to hm, he might not remember her name, let alone anything else.

  Except Alexius was a vampire, and their kind remembered everything.

  It was her fault. She could have written. And in the last centuries, as methods of communication had improved, she could have given him a call, sent him an email, or chatted with him on social media. She hadn't, because she was a fool and a coward.

  Diana breathed out through her nose. Think, Helsing, think.

  She pulled out her phone and loaded up a social media app.

  Alexius had a generic page set to private. She'd never attempted to friend him, but he updated his public status once a year or so, typically with an obnoxious selfie. She clicked on the option to message him, and froze. What could one say to an estranged brother after such a long time? "Hey, I'm at the door, come get me," didn't seem appropriate. "I'm Diana Helsing, your brat sister. Rings a bell?"

  Diana was chewing on her upper lip, a habit she'd shed long ago, leaving it behind with her mortality. Or so she'd believed.

  Her thumb was still hovering over her device when a groan caught her attention.

  Shit! The drugged-out ginger. Well, his messy hair was bright red, not orange.

  She'd forgotten all about him. The crash couldn't have hurt him much, but he was going to have a hell of a headache when he woke up. Poison was a bitch.

  Grateful for the distraction, she went back to the bike. Other than the front wheel, it didn't seem too damaged at first glance. She knelt down next to the vampire still strapped at the back, and started to undo her rope work.

  "I knew the shibari classes would come in handy someday," she mused out loud.

  The complex knots slithered free. With one hand, Diana pushed the back of the bike off the vampire. Though clearly still out of it, he was starting to come to; his breathing got a tad faster and shallower, his eyes fluttered.

  "Wake up, sleepyhead."

  That earned her another groan. Diana laughed, opening the oversized bag hanging at her hips. "Bingo," she said, retrieving an intact bottle. "My last Olla. You're lucky it didn't break in the crash." She opened it up, and bent down to reach his mouth. Tilting the neck of the bottle, Diana said, "Bottoms up. You'll feel much better after some blood."

  The stranger's mouth remained closed for a beat, but he finally parted his lips, forcing his eyes half open. She could tell the effort drained his energy.

  At the first sip, his eyes flew open. He sat up and proceeded to cough. "What the hell was that?"

  He was now most definitely awake.

  "Now that's just rude," she replied. Never mind that most vampires agreed with his distaste for her favorite brew. "Where would you be without me?"

  "Not regretting I was ever given a sense of taste. This is the most disgusting thing I've ever had the displeasure of drinking. And I've lived on a diet of rats a time or two.”

  Diana tilted her head, intrigued. To a modern vampire, the admission might have been repulsive, but back in the day, before synthetic blood, before vamp fangirls happy to get bitten by a hot immortal, it hadn't been uncommon for her kind to feed on small rodents—or whatever animals they could find. It was that or resorting to feeding on unwilling, terrified humans. Diana had drunk her fair share of rats in her time as well, especially during the weeks it had taken to cross the ocean when she’d left the old continent for America. The man was at least a few hundred years old.

  Diana didn't spend a lot of time with her kind. Vampires kept to themselves, sticking to their territory. She wasn't part of a specific clan, as the Helsings had long ago ceased to be a family. They were too few and divided for that. She'd made friends with a loner or two, and occasionally some affiliated vampires like Juniper, but no fellow ancient. And a good thing, too. Surviving hundreds of years in this world required ruthlessness and a great deal of power. Between huntsmen, shifters, witches, and fellow vampires, it was impossible to avoid making enemies. Diana had a healthy handful, although she seldom started conflicts. She should be on her guard. The fact that he already seemed more or less recovered from bloodbane poisoning was a clear indication this man wasn't to be trifled with.

  "Where are we?" her rescued redhead asked, looking around with a frown.

  "Never mind where we are." She wasn't about to tell a stranger they were at the border of Oldcrest. "Who are you? Why were you getting your ass handed to you in the crappiest pub of the kingdom?"

  The man groaned, straining to sit up. "Thanks for the reminder." He shook his head. "I'll never live that down."

  Diana's eyes narrowed. “I heard no answer to either of my questions."

  He sighed. "Look, if I told you, you'd freak, probably attack me, and that wouldn't end well for you."

  "You sure?" She grinned at him. "It ended pretty well for the guys at The Lion's Claw."

  The vampire rose to his feet. "I was drugged. I'd been tracking for an entire week without a break, so I didn't notice the bane before downing my drink. Sue me."

  She'd gathered as much.

  "Your name," she repeated. "Or we're going to have a problem."

  Part of her wished they were about to have a problem. It'd be a nice temporary distraction from the fact that she couldn't get inside her own home. The vampire held her stare. She noticed that his stance remained entirely relaxed, although she was doing nothing to conceal her power now.

  "Fine." He rolled his eyes. "Let's do this.” For a wild second, she thought he was up for a fight, but before she could brace herself, he said, “I’m Belial."

  Diana’s mouth fell open. "As in, the actual king of hell, Belial?"

  Maybe he was just Belial Potter, or something. The name could have gotten popular, right?

  "A king, not the king of hell,” he replied, rolling his eyes. "There are about a dozen of us."

  "No." She shook her head. "No, no. You're a vampire."

  She could feel it. Diana had no problem recognizing her kind.

  Belial chuckled. "Hardly. Ariadne passed on the gene, but where do you think it came from in the first place?"


  She could only blink in confusion, mostly because she'd never asked herself that question.

  "Ariadne was made in the image of her spouse, Dionysius."

  She nodded. "Right. I knew that."

  Why was he looking at her like she was stupid?

  "And Dionysus was…"

  "A god." Or an Enlightened, as they liked to call themselves.

  "One of the gods who preferred their entertainment with a side dish of chaos and destruction," Belial said. "Otherwise labeled as major demons. You're the off-brand copy, darling. I'm the real deal."

  Others might have backed up, quick, just in case he was actually telling the truth. Diana tittered. "And you got knocked on your ass. At The Lion's Claw."

  He grimaced. "Touché. Bloodbane is a bitch."

  Belial lifted his hand to touch the imperceptible wall separating them from Oldcrest. "Seriously, where are we? I didn't think they did wards like this on Earth."

  "My home. Only, looks like I lost the keys." She sounded bitter, even to her own ears.

  "Want me to take care of the shields for you? I owe you, after all."

  Diana gaped, taken aback. "You can do that?"

  She didn't think any wards were more powerful than those around Oldcrest, and he could destroy them, just like that?

  Belial shot her an arrogant, self-satisfied smirk. "Darling, I am a king of hell."

  She wasn't done deciding whether she wanted to accept his offer when a tall, dark, and seriously ripped Adonis stepped right out of the borders, his cold, dark gaze fixed on her. His aura hit her like a brick, almost knocking her down. Unlike her or Belial, he wore power like an aftershave. Diana was convinced he could turn her to ashes without losing a moment of sleep afterwards. He was a true predator.

  "Oh, I think not," his chocolate-suave baritone drawled.

  His dark eyes turned silver, as the guardian of Oldcrest prepared to destroy what he saw as a threat.