The Dracove (The Prophecy series)

by N. L. Gervasio

  “Changed?”

  “Aye, transformed. I’m not quite sure how it happened; it wasn’t done the normal way.”

  Confusion crept across her face.

  “Aye, there’s a normal way, but any way it’s done is dangerous. Don’t ye see, Ky? Cianán killed me that night. D’ye understand? I died that evenin’ long ago.”

  Kylie stared at him. If he was dead, he wouldn’t be sitting here in front of her. Right?

  “So what are you telling me, that you’re a damn ghost or something? I really don’t see how that’s possible” —she poked his arm— “when I can touch you.”

  “There’s no easy way to put this, so I’m just going to say it—”

  “Oh no, wait, maybe you’re a zombie, huh?” She frowned. “But then you’d have bitten me by now and I’d be a zombie.”

  “Kylie, just listen—”

  She stared up at him, unsure of the mix of emotions roiling inside her. Whatever he was about to say certainly wasn’t good. “I don’t know if I want to hear this.”

  “Cianán isn’t what he seems, nor am I—”

  She placed a hand on his arm, letting him know he could stop now. “This isn’t funny, Grant. Please stop.”

  “He’s been on this earth for over two thousand years.”

  “Grant, you’re scaring me. Stop.”

  “He was once a Druid priest, an’ now he’s a vampyre.”

  She pulled back from him, eyes wide. His hands went to her arms, gently holding her in place. Her body told her to run. She wanted to obey.

  “I know this is hard for ye to believe.”

  “And you? How could you have given this locket to someone over four hundred years ago? I suppose you’re a vampyre too, right?”

  “You’ve known all along what I am.”

  She blinked. “How could I possibly know?”

  “My blood is in you. I can smell it. It was in the locket an’ it’s now in you.”

  How did he know about the blood drop in the locket? And how could he possibly smell it in her? Kylie jerked away from him.

  “Is this some sort of sick prank, because it’s not funny, Grant,” she yelled, but even she heard the nervousness threading through her voice. “I know we joked about you being a vampyre the other night, but come on.” She should have listened to Ana. Oh God, I’m going to end up on the damn news. ‘American killed in Ireland by Vampyre Psycho’. Shit! “Shitshitshit!”

  “It’s not a joke, Kylie. I speak the truth. I will always tell you the truth.” He reached out to her.

  She slapped his hand away. “Not if you’ve kept something like this from me. You have lied. In town the other day, if this is story is true. You knew why they were staring . . . they know what you are.”

  “Please try to understand. There was no other way—”

  “Bullshit.” She slapped his hand again when he reached for her. “Really, Grant, if you don’t want to be with me, you could come up with a better excuse.”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “No, I don’t. Do you have any idea how crazy this sounds? Vampyres only exist in books and movies,” she said. “And I’ve seen you in the daylight.”

  “Those are stories an’ old wives tales; this is reality.” His voice dropped a few tones.

  “Reality does not involve vampyres!”

  “Then it must be by some miracle I’ve been alive for hundreds of years. Call me Jesus Christ.” His voice grew deeper, damn near to a growl, and he spread his arms out in the crucifixion pose.

  Kylie crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. She opened her mouth, but quickly shut it.

  “What’s the matter, ye have no smart retort?”

  “I’m supposed to believe you, just like that?” She snapped her fingers.

  “Would ye rather I attacked you the first time I saw ye?”

  She raised a brow. “And when would that have been? In my studio?”

  “A few days before.”

  “Is that so? Well then, tell me something, Mr. Vampyre, do you know how my ex-boyfriend died? No one else seems to know. When they found him, there wasn’t any blood in his body or around it. He’d been bled dry.”

  God, she was pissed. Kylie kept her arms tightly crossed. She realized that wasn’t a very good defensive position and adjusted her hands to the outside of her arms rather than tucked in the crooks of her elbows.

  “Aye, I know what happened. What do I need to do for ye to believe me, to prove I am what I say?”

  “Well, for starters, you could show me. If you really are a vampyre, Grant, then show me,” she said.

  He sat and stared at her.

  “Go on, do it.”

  “That could be dangerous.”

  “Why, would you kill me too?”

  He ignored the sarcasm in her voice, closed his eyes, and tried to think of another way. She was frightened; he sensed it. She used her anger to cover it up. His predatory urges would reach their peak if her fear continued to build. This isn’t good. When he’d startled her in her studio, or any other time for that matter, it was different. The sun was up then, and it was a different kind of fear.

  He hadn’t felt this type of fear in her. It was also nightfall, the time in which he fed, when his senses were heightened.

  And he hadn’t fed for the past three nights.

  Shit. Should’ve told her all of this in the morning.

  “Would you?” Her voice trembled.

  “No, I would never harm you . . . intentionally.” The last word trailed off into a mumble.

  “Then if you’re telling the truth, show me what you are.” Her voice rose to damn near hysterics.

  There are no such things as vampyres slipped through her mental barrier. She tried to convince herself if she believed strongly enough, it would be true. He’s crazy.

  That hurt.

  “Are ye sure you want to see this?” He attempted calm in hopes of calming her. “You aren’t prepared—”

  “Do you honestly think anyone would be prepared to see something they’ve never seen before?”

  She had a point. He nodded, but was reluctant to do it, no matter how much he wanted her to know.

  “So, show me,” she said.

  “As you wish, my lady.” He reluctantly lowered his head. “But I must warn ye, I haven’t fed in a while . . . .”

  When he raised his eyes to her—which were at one time the most beautiful ice blue eyes she’d ever seen—they were colorless, nothing but a dark circle outlining the iris and pupils. Everything else was white, like he had strange Halloween contacts on. A hint of dark blue appeared around the pupils and beyond where the iris had once been. She was drawn in. A three-dimensional effect transformed his iris into a tunnel. Lightning bolts appeared inside the tunnel, shooting from one side to the other and down, electrifying it. She had to force her eyes away from the compelling spectacle. It was no easy feat.

  Kylie stared at two sharp fangs gently touching his lower lip when he opened his mouth.

  She jumped out of his grasp and scurried backward until the headboard stopped her. Crawling off the opposite side of the bed, she faced him. Her body trembled.

  “Oh my God, you’re not joking!”

  “Please, don’t be frightened,” he said in a deep voice that sounded nothing like the man she’d met.

  “Frightened? Are you insane? Haven’t you ever looked in a mirror? Do you have a reflection?” Her breath quickened. “Look at your teeth! You’re a fucking vampyre!”

  “Please, Kylie, calm down. If you’re frightened, I can’t control the predator in me. My senses feed on your fear.”

  “How can I not be, I mean . . . look at you!”

  “Am I truly that much of a monster?” His voice echoed in the room.

  She paced, bit down on her fingernail, and tried to think of a way out of this insane nightmare. It was a nightmare, right? It had to be. She felt a panic attack coming on and pinched herself to wake up. Didn’t work. She’d
had panic attacks before; they weren’t very pretty. Not now! Oh God please, not now. She focused on breathing through the panic.

  His strange eyes watched her intently, like prey he’d trapped in a corner, hunting her. She was, indeed, trapped in the corner of the room. She cursed herself for jumping off the wrong side of the bed. The more she thought about it, the faster her panic built.

  “Please, sit down. It’s takin’ all o’ my strength.” His hands clenched, the muscles in his forearms rippling from the tension.

  “To do what, keep from biting me?” She wrung her hands together, unable to hold the fear back much longer.

  He glared at her. “Aye.”

  The glow in his eyes increased. Fear took over. Kylie darted for the door. He grabbed her arm and swung her around, pulling her to him.

  “Where d’ye think you’re goin’?”

  She stared into those eyes. Something about them seemed so familiar, yet scared the ever-living hell out of her. “I don’t care as long as it’s away from you. Let go of me!”

  “Ye wanted to see. Ye wanted this to be real, more than you even know.”

  “Yes I did, and now I wish I didn’t. Let. Go.” She pulled her arm away and ran through the doorway.

  “Kylie! Do. Not. Run. From. Me!” He threw his head back and howled in anger. It was deafening and echoed through the castle.

  She covered her ears and ran around a corner.

  The echoes stopped moments later. Kylie pulled her hands away from her ears and continued to run down the corridor. She followed the curve it made, and briefly looked behind her to see if he followed. Her panic rose. His feet slammed to the floor and she couldn’t tell which direction they came from. She stopped at the first door she saw and tried to open it, but it was locked. Kylie slammed her hand against the oak and cried out in frustration and fear, pushing and pulling on the door’s handle.

  Just like in her dream.

  The footsteps grew nearer and she looked to her left.

  Louder and louder they came. She turned her head to the right and screamed. His pace quickened when he saw her struggling with the door.

  She froze in terror.

  He jumped, but she ducked. Grant clipped the wall and went tumbling down the stone corridor.

  She stood as still as the suits of armor in the hall leading to the kitchen. He lay on the floor twenty feet away, not moving, but his immobility only lasted a second. Grant sat up and rubbed his shoulder. Kylie ran in the other direction.

  His laugh chased her down the corridor. “Ah, c’mon, darlin’. Isn’t this fun? Isn’t this what ye wanted? Isn’t this what you’ve fantasized about, a vampyre lover?”

  A Lover, not a murderous monster. The thought tripped her up momentarily. She caught herself on the wall and continued to run through the castle, looking desperately for a safe place. She feared there was no safe place, within or without.

  “Stop runnin’ from me. You’re making the bloodsong unbearable,” he shrieked.

  Go back to Hell.

  “How ‘bout I take ye with me?” His haunting laughter crept through the cracks in the walls, surrounding her.

  Grant chased her through the corridors; just missing her each time she’d turn a corner. He slowed just short of her running toward the staircase, and she was thankful for the possible advantage.

  Kylie stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down onto the foyer. The dream and all of its details abruptly came to the front of her mind. Indecision clouded her. She didn’t know where to turn and stared down, down, down the three flights of stairs. She knew what her fate would be if she ran down those stairs.

  He appeared in the archway leading into the maze of corridors.

  Her heart raced when she saw him, and she ran for the stairs, not having any other choice.

  “Kylie, no,” he yelled.

  Ignoring his yells, Kylie headed for the door, and tripped over the large rug at the base of the stairs. Running track in college certainly helped her keep her balance. Of course, she didn’t think she’d ever be running from a monster . . . that’s not supposed to exist. Kylie wondered if he truly was a monster. Part of her wanted to stop and let him take her, but she had never been more frightened than the moment in the corridor when he lunged at her. He attacked her. Didn’t he?

  Slowing down wasn’t an option. He’d have greater speed without obstacles and corners to slow him down. She ran full speed at the large oak door, though no clue where she’d go once she was outside. She didn’t care, as long as she could get away from him. If escape was even possible.

  The dream came back to her, showing her once again that fleeing wouldn’t be an option. There was no escape from the monster behind her.

  She slammed into the door, the impact taking her breath away for only a moment. In her dazed state, Grant dashed down the stairs and pinned her against the door.

  Kylie growled and slammed a fist against the oak. The dream deceived her. The woman had more time; enough time to open the door, had she not faltered. She was trapped against the oak. Her body trembled. Tears fell down her cheeks. She wasn’t going to live through the night.

  She never thought in a million years this was how her life would end. Grant brushed the hair away from her neck with a cold hand. His sharp, pointed nails tickled along her skin, making her shudder.

  “Don’t make me do this. I need you,” he whispered. He took her arm, turned her to face him, and pinned her against the door again. “Ye said you’d try to understand.”

  A thousand years of torment reflected in his ice blue eyes, but it was fleeting. They changed back to a chasm of midnight blue darkness, sucking her in.

  Her heart beat louder and faster, ringing through his ears, inviting him to taste the sweet symphony. He looked her up and down. Moved his hand forcefully up her stomach and over her chest, and ripped her nightgown open, exposing her left breast. Grant clutched her hair at the back of her head and forced her head to the side. He ran a hand down her neck; he wanted to taste her. The bloodlust was so intense, he could almost taste her. He leaned forward and licked her neck. When his fangs touched her skin, she jerked.

  “Grant, please don’t,” she whispered.

  With her trembling words, the garnet glowed brightly. It would have blinded him had he not been about to bite into her neck. The gem shrieked. Grant screeched and slapped his hands over his ears. When he stepped back, the garnet’s brightness amplified. He screeched again, pulling his blood-covered hands from his ears to cover his eyes. He stumbled back. Her eyes—her frightened green eyes—reflected the garnet’s dimming light.

  “Siobhán,” he said in horror. He stepped further away from her and covered his mouth. “No. Not again.”

  The sudden realization of what Cianán said to him in the desert, and that it might be true, hurtled him into the past. He recalled that evening. The stitches in time mended together, and what he saw horrified him. The visions of it happening, him cradling her in his arms, plagued his mind, but he couldn’t remember doing the deed. How could he kill the woman he loved, and now, to try and do it all over again?

  Kylie watched tears form in his eyes. Tears of blood. At first, she couldn’t fathom why he bled from the eyes, but then she understood. He was crying . . . for her. Kylie’s body slowly stopped shaking. She wanted to say something, but there were no words for this. Emotion lodged so tightly in her throat, she could hardly breathe. Slowly, her fear faded. She watched a single crimson tear roll down his cheek amidst the smeared blood from his hands. He stood before her, trembling, and she finally understood the dream.

  “Grant.” Her voice cracked.

  He stumbled back and dropped to his knees. Grant covered his face with his hands.

  Kylie slid down the door until she sat on the floor, her arms cradling her knees. She was too scared to move any further.

  When he finally looked up, his eyes were normal—human—again, the ice blue returning to them.”Please . . . forgive me,” he begged. “I . . . I k
now not what I do.” Grant lowered his head in shame, his hair covered his face and he sat as still as a statue.

  She stared at him, wondering what to do. The seconds passed like hours. Kylie watched him, watched this creature—no, man—kneel before her, crying. She looked to the painting of The Morrigan she so loved, silently asking for guidance. She could leave now, sneak out while he sat there, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to chance it. He’d probably chase her down again. Her lower lip quivered at the thought of it.

  The minutes ticked away on the large grandfather clock in the foyer.

  Finally, with a little courage, she pushed away from the door and cautiously crawled toward him, unsure of what she was doing. In her original dream the woman died, but this was different. Since she woke up from her dream earlier, she didn’t know how this was supposed to end. If she could find a way, it would end differently than the other dream.

  She reached for his hand. He slowly raised his head. His hair stuck to his bloodied face, wet from his tears and the blood on his hands from his ears when the locket around her neck shrieked. She pulled her hand back a little, took a breath, and moved it forward again. Kylie carefully touched his hand. An unsettled silence filled the air; fear and shame and a primal scent lingered. Grant moved his hand just enough to take hers. He gripped it tightly and gave a timid smile. The points of his fangs bit into his lower lip.

  At that moment, she knew he wouldn’t kill her. She knelt before him, ripped a piece of cloth from her nightgown, and wiped the bloody tears from his face. He tried to smile again, but he still trembled terribly, and all he could come up with was a pouting grin. It made her smile inside and she continued to clean his face. She didn’t see him as a monster anymore, or at least tried not to. There was a human side to him, after all; the side of him she fell in love with.

  “You’re not frightened anymore.” His deep voice wavered.

  She shook her head slowly, pushing the hair away from his face and tucking it behind his ear as she had done earlier. I’m trying not to be.