by Sophia North
- The Age of Vampyre Series -
Fire Trilogy - Books I-III
by
Sophia North
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales and organisations is entirely coincidental.
The Age of Vampyre Series - Fire Trilogy - Books I-III
Copyright © 2020 by Sophia North
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Property of Sophia North
April 2020
Cover designed by Giusy:
https://www.premadebookcoversmarket.com/
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
- The Watcher -
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
- The Tower -
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
- The Chalice -
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
- The Watcher -
AoV Fire Trilogy - Book I
FREE BONUS CHAPTERS on OFFER at the end of the novel - but now, the time has come to start the AoV adventure...
To my Knight in Shining Armour
Audeo
Chapter One
London, 2018
"AS ALWAYS, I'D LIKE to thank everyone who rang in tonight. Without your willingness to share, what are at times very personal stories, InsideOut would not be possible. Until next time... "
WITH A DISTINCT ‘click’, the dial on the vintage Marconi radio, as if turned by an invisible hand, switched off.
Seated in an imposing oxblood leather chair, Dante waited for the waves of his preternatural senses to subside. Every instinct he possessed ached for release, and normally the soothing voice of Dr. Simone Radcliffe provided him with relief.
But not tonight.
No, tonight something altogether different had happened. Tonight he'd detected the possibility that Simone needed him.
It was, of course, an irrational thought. He'd never even met the woman.
And yet, Dante felt quite certain he'd heard a slight change in her voice during her final call of the show. How could he define it...a slight rise in her pitch... a hint of panic perhaps?
Whatever it was, the good doctor was clearly in need of some attention.
Most intriguing.
Dong went the grandfather clock and Dante stirred. The hour tolled for him.
His time to "Watch" had come.
Called to action, Dante moved seamlessly from his chair. The streets of London beckoned. His mission: to serve and protect the innocent from those who would bring harm to them. No easy task in a time of such danger. The world was on the brink of transformation and no one seemed to give a shit about it but him.
Emerging from his lair, Dante stood, staring up at the crescent moon as a warm spring breeze tousled his deep chestnut hair. But rather than lovingly caress his handsome cheek, the gentle wisps hit hard angular bone devoid of any human softness.
The mortal world had a name for him. He was Vampyre. A legendary creature from the pages of a book.
How quaint.
As with so many things, the human race completely misunderstood the truth about the world that surrounded them. There were, however, exceptions. And Dante was about to take a massive gamble on his sultry-toned radio therapist being one of them.
Tomorrow, his heart whispered.
Yes, tomorrow it would all change. After weeks agonising over whether or not to take the risk, Dante finally took the
plunge and instructed his private secretary to make him an appointment at Simone's upscale Mayfair clinic.
The thought of seeing her in the flesh excited him no end, even though to do so bordered on the insane. Vampyre-human relations were strictly forbidden.
Rounding a corner near the Palace of Westminster, Dante's Watcher instincts screamed 'danger'. Slowing his speed, he merged into the shadows of a tree-lined street in the heart of St. James. All thoughts of the alluring therapist melted away as he scanned the deserted boulevard, his instincts on fire. Something wasn't quite right. The atmosphere teemed with the unholy scent of a Ripper.
And yet, his instincts now screamed the creature was no longer present.
Most strange. The freshness of its energy imprint usually indicated his target was near.
For a big vampyre, Dante moved stealthily as he stalked the streets of his 'patch' with a feeling of unease. Every time he located his foe, the bastard would again disappear.
By the time three a.m. rolled round, Dante decided to stop in a quiet all-night bar on the edge of Soho to regroup. The constant cat and mouse game he was playing had finally taken its toll on his senses and he needed a drink.
Nursing a pint in a dimly lit corner, Dante tried to silence his overactive mind. His predatory instincts were so heightened from the hunt that he struggled to calm them back down to an acceptable level.
Troubled by an increasing lack of control over his vampyric nature, Dante could not help but think of his lost love, Zara. Without her he felt incomplete, as if her death had somehow made him weaker.
The past year had been the most challenging he'd ever experienced: Zara's murder, his father's disappearance, the ever growing number of humans being viciously mutilated across London. Misfortune piled upon misfortune.
Dante could no longer deny something sinister pervaded the vampyre world. His father had tried to warn him...to accept that the evidence he had compiled pointed in only one direction.
The Haan Prophecy was real and ignoring the truth would be catastrophic for both humans and vampyres.
Problem was, Dante was not a firm prophecy believer. Although of late, it had to be said, he'd begun to reevaluate his position.
Tomorrow, his heart whispered again.
The thump from a bottle of bourbon hitting his table drew Dante back to the present. And it was only by the slimmest of threads that he'd not torn out the throat of the fool stupid enough to approach him.
Devoid of any expression, the fool in question stood silently beside his table.
Dante sat back, puzzled by the old barman's appearance. "You choose an odd time to become familiar, old man," he growled through clenched teeth.
Silence.
Annoyed, he dismissed the proprietor with a wave of his hand. "Begone, Silas! Our 'no conversation' policy in exchange for your fine establishment being free of my kind has suited for decades. This is really not the time to change our rules of engagement."
Instead of granting Dante his space, Silas chuckled to himself. "My, my, you seem so lost, Watcher Polidori...so weak. Does losing your human whore still make you weep?"
Dante's eyes narrowed. Whoever this was, it was most certainly not Silas the barkeep.
Moving like a marionette on a string, the barman dipped his head to look down at Dante except his eyes were rolled back to reveal only the whites of them. It was fucking creepy, but dealing with freaky shit was Dante's specialty.
"I did you a favour by ridding her from your path and what is my thanks?" Silas continued in a mocking voice. "You lower yourself to the rank of Watcher in a futile attempt to protect those who are your inferior. You try my patience with your attachment to humans, Dante Polidori. But soon, ah yes, soon that will be dealt with."
"What trickery is this? I did not think you so cowardly as to hide behind another's face," Dante challenged, convinced the man was possessed by the foe who eluded him. Vampyre possession of a human was a long abandoned practice, but Dante's father had made it part of his son’s education to be aware of the old ways. Whoever this Ripper vamp was, he had to be powerful to pull off this sort of shit.
"Interesting observation,” the possessed barman replied. “You believing I am the coward. It is not I who sits here, drowning my pathetic sorrows. Drink up, my friend and lose your poetic heart in the sweet nectar. You make it so easy for me to take what I want...when I want it."
Dante moved at an imperceptible speed to pin the barman against a wall.
Clearly pleased by Dante's reaction to the taunt, a distorted grin spread across the old man's face. "Ah, ah, ah! Remember, it is an innocent old man you strangle."
"I will destroy you," Dante snarled.
"You think? Catch me if you can, Watcher Polidori."
The old man went limp in Dante's grasp as his vampyric possessor released him from his clutches.
Enraged by the retreat, Dante clenched his eyes shut and opened up his preternatural senses. Street scenes flashed through his mind's eye as he pushed himself to the max in search of the fiend.
Crisscrossing the cobbled streets and laneways of Old London Town, Dante zeroed in on the energy signature within moments. The sick fuck was cruising through the West End but was clever enough to keep himself hidden in the shadows.
Snapping his eyes open, Dante eased Silas into a chair. He'd return later to deal with any potential fallout but right now he needed to catch a Ripper.
Racing through the winding streets, he honed in on his prey.
The energy signature had made its way to Seven Dials, where it now appeared to be tarrying.
About twenty yards ahead, in the shadow of the column which marked where the roads converged, Dante saw a vampyre kneeling over a young woman. Without a second thought, he instantly attacked.
The other vampyre didn't stand a chance. Within seconds, Dante had him slammed against the concrete, his big hands wrapped around the assailant's throat.
"Daa....Daaante....sto...oppp...." the vampyre choked.
Dante loosened his grip. Something wasn't right and as his senses returned he looked more closely at the creature who's throat he'd been squeezing. It was Vlad.
"Fuck, mate!" Vlad spat after being released. "Remind me never to piss you off. When did you learn that pinning move? I thought I knew all your tricks."
"Sorry, brother," Dante muttered, standing back. "I thought you were...you know...the bad guy and just...reacted. How's your throat?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. The 'moves' Vlad was admiring had come purely from instinct, not any sort of training.
"I'll live," he rasped, rubbing his neck and eyeing his friend suspiciously. Vlad had been noticing Dante's tendency to overreact lately, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew his friend had a lot of shit on his plate and didn't want to add to it.
Kneeling beside Vlad, Dante inspected the latest Ripper statistic. "Once again we fail, brother. This fucking Ripper is the worst I've seen in nigh on over a century."
Dante peered at the young woman's body but was reluctant to go too near. He felt guilty, responsible even. Whoever this vamp was, he wanted Dante's attention. And by fuck, he now had it in spades.
"How did you end up on my patch?" Dante asked, forcing his attention back to Vlad.
"I caught the energy imprint of our elusive Ripper and have been following it for the last hour."
"An hour!" Dante cut in, surprised. Vlad's trapping skills were almost as good as his - it was hard to believe the Ripper could evade them both.
"I'm not sure if he was letting me follow him or he just couldn't be bothered to cover his tracks..."
"You must have got a good look at the bastard then."
"I never managed to get close enough. He brought me onto your patch and then I lost him for awhile. When I picked up his imprint again, it led me here - to her," Vlad explained with a nod in the direction of the woman.
"You didn't manage to see him at all?" Dante asked irritably, desperate to catch a break.
"Briefly
in the West End when the theatre crowds were teeming. He made sure to only reveal himself when capturing him was nigh on impossible. You know, for a moment, I thought he was one of us."
Dante gave his friend a confused look.
"A Watcher," Vlad explained. "He was confident and agile. Most humans hardly noticed him."
Fuck, this did not bode well. A Watcher gone Ripper would be one hell of a force to contend with.
The two friends stood in silence digesting the ramifications of the possibility.
"We ought to move her to Lowerton," Dante finally advised.
"I'll do it," Vlad volunteered. "If I hadn't lost him she might have lived."
Dante resisted the urge to tell his friend the truth about his encounter at the pub. He wanted to, if only to confess it was his error in judgment not Vlad's that had cost the young woman her life.
But he stayed silent. Explanations would have to wait.
Tomorrow, his heart whispered once more, reminding him help may be closer than he dared hope. He suppressed the thought, unwilling to allow it to comfort him in the face of another brutal murder.
"We should tell the Council," Vlad said as he gathered the mutilated corpse into his arms.
"To hell with them," Dante muttered bitterly. "Might as well tell a brick wall, for all the good it will do."
"All the same..." Vlad tried to reason but Dante was already walking away.
"You're a right stubborn bastard, Polidori!" he shouted.
Without turning, Dante raised a hand in a mock-wave. The last thing he wanted to think about was the Council of Elders. Tonight's failure brought on a feeling of despair and he needed to walk it off before he ended up doing something crazy.
But he didn't have long. The sky had lightened as dawn approached. And it was in that moment Dante realised ‘tomorrow’ had already begun for the human world. In a few hours he'd be in Simone's presence.
Immediately he felt his despondent heart lift at the promise of salvation.
Chapter Two
A GENTLE GLOW illuminated the tree-lined avenue running from the garden's gated entrance to the Church of the Immaculate Conception. Most people were unaware London maintains a number of its original gas lamps, and this obscure garden was fortunate to be one of the capital's appointed preservers.
In a modern glass extension behind a seemingly unremarkable Georgian townhouse, Simone stared out from her glass perch watching the evening sky darken. It was hard to believe such a sanctuary existed with the hustle of Mayfair but a street away.
