Vampire Legacy

by Leigh Kelsey

  “Just—just give me a minute,” I gasped, trying to pull myself back together. I didn’t know where this wave of emotion had come from—I knew I was out of that cell, safe from Fear Doirche, home with my vampires. I knew that, logically, but my emotions were still in flux.

  A quiet knock on the door was the trigger I needed. I scraped the tears off my cheeks, my breathing steadying as I pushed myself up and pulled the covers back over myself. “Come in,” I said, sounding weak but not like I was an emotional wreck. Progress.

  The door opened and Finn and Scarlett hovered on the threshold. I sighed, my shoulders slumping. I guess they heard me crying. I gestured for them to come in, and Finn didn’t hesitate one second, climbing onto the bed with me, Allen, and Oisìn even though the bed fit three at a push. He snuggled in between me and Allen, his lips pressing to my forehead. Scarlett was slower, but she didn’t look as unsure as she had before I’d been taken. She perched on the edge of the bed—there wasn’t room for much more—and rubbed my ankle through the covers, looking sad.

  “I’m coming too,” a familiar voice said, and I glanced up just in time to watch Sceolan, in vampire form, launch himself onto the bed. He squashed in around Oisìn and me, draping his body over us both. His head rested on my thigh, and suddenly my face flamed.

  “Um,” I said, smiling even as embarrassment coursed through me. “I’m naked under here.”

  “Awesome,” he replied with a slanted grin. “Now it’s really a party.”

  An exasperated sigh preceded Kwame through the door, and he pushed it gently shut before finding a spot on the foot of the bed to sit. I never would have guessed so many people would fit on a bed, and especially not two men as huge as Kwame and Allen. “See what I’ve had to put up with for weeks?” he asked, but there was a touch of fondness to his irritation.

  “You love me really, babe,” Sceolan teased, and I was so happy to hear him sounding carefree. A million miles from the snapping, bitter, suspicious man I’d first heard speak to me through a cell wall.

  Kwame grunted but didn’t disagree.

  Finn tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, glancing around at all of us with something akin to peace on his face. His eyes sparkled, and he looked like the laughing lion he’d struck me as when we first met. “This bed is going to break,” he said.

  “Challenge accepted,” Sceolan replied with a grin.

  Scarlett bared her teeth. “You break this bed and I break your face. It took a whole fucking day to build it.”

  “Wait,” I said, looking between her, Finn, and Allen. “You built this? I can’t picture you putting together Ikea furniture.”

  Allen shook his head, laughing softly. “It was a worse scene than a bloodbath. Never drink and flatpack, Elara. Especially not with these two.”

  “Excuse me?” Finn demanded, puffing up with outrage. “Me? Scar was the one who almost broke five of the slats.”

  “And you were the one who insisted we put them in backwards,” she hissed back, but there was such wicked glee on her face that I couldn’t help but grin. Listening to them bicker, we felt for a minute like a normal family. It didn’t feel like our species teetered on the edge of exposure, or there was a fae once worshipped as a god hunting us and trying to kill our Finn. We just felt … normal. And that was everything.

  WEAPON

  The happiness and ease of last night didn’t last. Most of us had fallen asleep on my bed, only Kwame and Scarlett forced to leave to find a surface they could actually spread out on. Sceolan curled up by my feet in hound form, his nose buried in the coarse fur of his own tail, and the others squashed in the top with me, Allen mostly laid on top of Finn, with me happily between Finn and Oisìn. I slept peacefully again, and I woke up happy—bursting with it, and smiling so wide I feared my face would break—but an hour later our responsibilities had darkened the mood.

  The Last House—Sinclair’s house of vampires—had spent the past week doing damage control with the people of Whitby and the media, spreading lies about the attack to make people really believe it was a human Dracula cult, inventing false family members crying about their poor, deluded son or brother or niece to really sell the story. One of their house who was eerily good with computers even took down all the incriminating photos from Twitter and Facebook, but left the ones that didn’t prove our existence. There were still people who insisted the attack was done by vampires, but at this point most people were treating them like conspiracists.

  As for the vampires who’d come from the coffins, Finn and Sinclair were working together to track them down, pulling in help from seers they knew, and even Old Jacqui. They’d brought down a tall ship out on the water, leaving no vampire behind and not a single one of the hundred and twelve coffins—the second wave about to be unleashed—intact. But the ones who’d already washed into the bay in the coffins … so far Sinclair’s vampires had found twelve of them, most now dead but three of them in the basement of their house. Being questioned. I didn’t like how closely that paralleled my time in the Mistress’s castle and tried to block it out.

  We could expect no help from the witches. When Finn and Allen had gone to ask them for help in tracking down the coffins, the day I was taken, they’d flat-out refused. Even payment hadn’t swayed them. Scarlett’s network had come back with nothing, too, because people had been too freaked out to talk. For now, or maybe forever, all we had to rely on was ourselves and the Last House.

  “Is that all we can do?” I asked, looking at Finn across the kitchen island. I sat on a stool, eating a giant bowl of cereal. “Cover it up and hope the humans dismiss it as a cult?”

  Finn shrugged, glancing absently at Allen as he walked over and snuggled into Finn’s side. “Most people have already dismissed it. It’s another Whitby quirk. Some people even think we’ve done it to drum up tourism. Which, to be fair, has happened. We’ve seen more visitors to the town this week than we did all of last year. You’d think an attack would keep people away but no, they’re all dying to get a glimpse of the place where the coffins came in.” He ran his fingers through Allen’s dark hair. “The best outcome is all of them think it’s a publicity stunt, but how to make them believe it … I’m not sure.”

  “What about if someone goes to the media?” a new voice asked, and my heart leapt to see Rita, Allen’s brother, stroll into the kitchen. My happiness stopped dead though, as I waited for my thirst to rip through me. I started to run from the room but Rita stopped me by grabbing my wrist. She tied a cord bracelet around my wrist, the strings woven with turquoise, pink, and black beads. “A new, improved charm,” she said with a grin. “It mutes your hunger for humans but you’ll known when you need to eat—err, drink—this time. I’ve been working on it for a few weeks.” She bounced on her toes, her eyes dancing and expectant.

  I looked down at my new piece of jewellery, the rose and teal cord and the glittering, faceted beads. And the vicious hunger I’d been waiting for, expecting to blind me, silence every bit of sense in me until I was a hissing, drooling vampire with engorged fangs … that hunger never came.

  I grinned and flung my arms around her, pulling her into a hug. “I missed you,” I said, and I had. Rita was probably the only non-complicated, non-sexual friend I had and I valued our friendship a lot. It was nice, and necessary sometimes, to just sit down and talk, no expectations, no sexual tension.

  “Likewise,” she said, squeezing me tight. “Finn told me what happened to you. I can’t believe I never thought to make you a protection charm. If you’d had one on you, that creep might never have been able to get his hands on you.”

  I winced, remembering that day. “A protection charm would be great for next time.”

  “There will be no next time,” Finn cut in, his voice cold. I released Rita to look at him, my heart flip-flopping in my chest at the steely look in his eye.

  “I know,” I murmured. I got the impression none of my lovers were letting me out of their sight ever again. “And I’ll be more care
ful. I won’t let anyone take me off guard again.”

  “Neither will I,” Oisìn added, coming over to us.

  I nodded. I knew. “This doesn’t matter, anyway. We need to … to prepare.” I couldn’t think of another word for it. “The coffins, the attack, I’m guessing that’s Fear Doirche.”

  Finn nodded.

  “Or his Mistress,” Oisìn added, a shadow crossing his face. He leant against the other side of the marble island, his arms crossed over his chest and his hair in a tight ponytail. I got momentarily distracted by the ropy muscle and veins in his arms but tore my eyes away.

  “That’s the same thing at this point, isn’t it? Does it make that much difference if he’s making the decisions or she is?”

  “She has a point,” Rita said.

  Oisìn shrugged. Finn tilted his head to acknowledge my point.

  “What do we do?” I asked. “We know he wants to hurt you, Finn. Kill you. And if he’s okay with kidnapping, killing, turning, and interrogating people just to get information on you … he’s going to use those vampires in the castle. He’s going to bring them across the portal and come for us. I know it.”

  Finn glanced away. Allen held him tighter, his head pressed to Finn’s shoulder.

  “Elara,” Oisìn said, his voice strange. I looked at him sharply and saw him holding a crumpled sheet of ivory paper. “Where did you get this?”

  “Get what?” I asked, then understood. “That’s the letter I took? What does it say?”

  His green eyes were guarded. “This is a correspondence between Fear Doirche and someone called LW. That’s the signature on the bottom of the letter. It’s about you.” That was apparently all he could take; he moved at blurring speed around the kitchen island until he could hold my hand in his, his fingers laced with mine.

  “What is it?” Finn asked, coming to take the letter from his son. His eyes narrowed the more he read until anger blazed in his eyes.

  “What?” I asked, reaching for the letter. He held it up so I couldn’t take it. “Seriously. Finn, Oisìn—what is it?”

  “You’re a weapon, Ellie,” Finn said in a slow, controlled voice. His anger burned just under the surface. My stomach hollowed out at his words, even though they made no sense. “The Harker legacy is a weapon that could be used against Fear Doirche and this LW, and they want to kill you.”

  I shook my head.

  “Oh shit,” Rita whispered.

  Oisìn gripped my hand so, so tight. “That’s why they had me kill you. They thought it would negate the energy in you. Abriana knew. That’s why they killed her.”

  “I don’t understand,” I breathed, even if I did, just a little. “He killed me to threaten my mum, so she’d give him the stake. When that didn’t work, he kidnapped her to make me give it to him. We know that. I’m not … I’m not a weapon.”

  “Ellie,” Finn said, so softly. “You are. According to this letter, they’re scared of what you can do. What your family’s power can do. Even without a single suggestion that Mina’s power passed to you, they were threatened badly enough that they killed you, like Oisìn said, to cancel out that power. And now…”

  “Now what?” Allen asked, his panicked brown eyes travelling between us all even as he stood as straight and tense as a brick wall.

  Finn sighed. “They know you have the power.”

  “I don’t,” I argued. “I’d know if I had…”

  Oisìn slid his arm around my waist. “I felt it. I didn’t know what it was then, but now I know about our bond, I felt your power, Elara. In the church, when you took Rosa’s stake.”

  I swallowed hard. I said nothing, remembering the heat, that tingling warmth that felt alive under my hand. “That was the Harker legacy?” I breathed.

  Finn nodded.

  “So they … they didn’t take me to the castle to get information about you? They took me there to kill me?” I knew I’d been in danger, knew I would die there, but I’d never realised how close I’d been to death. All the breath left my lungs. “Why didn’t he kill me, then? Even when I attacked him, he didn’t try to kill me. He could have.”

  Oisìn let out a long, vicious hiss.

  “He would have,” Finn said carefully, “if it hadn’t been for his obsession with me. And I think I finally understand it.”

  I looked at him sharply, my anxiety forgotten for the moment. “You do?”

  He glanced back at the letter in his hand, his eyes turning a haunted shade of blue. “He hated me, certainly, for Sadhbh choosing me when she was promised to him. But his obsession with me only started when he met the Mistress. This LW, whoever she is.”

  “Why?” I hugged close to Oisìn’s side but reached for Finn’s hand, clasping it between mine.

  He sagged, his body collapsing inward as the comfort of my touch and Allen’s sank into him. His voice was stronger when he answered, “I’m the oldest living vampire. His Mistress wants to be queen—of all vampires. I’m one of seven who could challenge her, and the other six she’s had killed.”

  “Oh.”

  Rita was shaking her head, the embroidery on her hijab sparkling. “That’s mad.”

  This wasn’t what I was expecting. I paused to process it. “So this Mistress is so crazed for power, she’ll kill you just so you can’t challenge her? Even though you wouldn’t?”

  “I might,” Finn replied, shocking me. “It depends on what she’d do with that power. If she made herself queen and controlled enough of us to damage the human population, to expose us and the rest of paranormal kind, to wield death and suffering on a large scale … yes, I would get involved.”

  “I see why she’s worried, then,” I said. I couldn’t catch my grin before it formed. “You’d be an awesome king. You already look like a Viking leader, you’re powerful and kind and clever. And apparently the oldest vampire alive.” I laughed, shaking my head. “I’d follow you as my king.”

  Finn gave me a soft smile, massaging my knuckles with his thumb. “I have no desire to lead every vampire on earth.” He brought my hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “But thank you.”

  “Back to Fear Doirche and the Harker legacy,” Oisìn said, tightening his arm around me. I gave him an amused glance and he ducked his head, his cheeks flushing red. He wasn’t jealous, it wasn’t any emotion as sharp or barbed as that, but possessive … he was definitely feeling that. I snuggled deeper into his side, trying to dampen my smile.

  “Right,” I said. “So Fear Doirche and LW want me dead.” It was surprisingly easy to say, even if it quickly chilled me. With all the power the fae god had … it would be easy for him to kill me. “And LW wants you dead, Finn, because you’re old and could challenge her. Is that it all?”

  Finn nodded. “Except for two things.” He lifted the letter again. “This implies your Harker power doesn’t just kill ancient vampires, but all ancient creatures.”

  My heart stopped. “What? So I could…” My mind raced. “I could use it against Fear Doirche.”

  “If you knew how to use it,” Allen said, glancing at me with worried brown eyes.

  “It just … happened when I picked up the stake. So I’ll try it again.” Okay, that was a basic plan but it was a start. I glanced at Finn, remembering what he’d said. “What was the second thing?”

  “The Mistress wants you to be a weapon—not to kill you as Fear Doirche is arguing for. She wants to use you against her enemies, against anyone who could hurt her.”

  I stumbled back into Oisìn, whose arms wrapped around my waist to steady me, reassure me. The comfort seeped through my body until I sagged but my mind still raced, panicked. “But you’re her enemy,” I breathed, staring at Finn.

  He nodded.

  “She wants to … she wants me to kill you?” I fixed my jaw, felt my eyes narrow and my brow wrinkle. “No. Not a chance in hell.”

  “I know,” Finn said with a smile. “We all know you’d never hurt me. But even if you did, she’d find more and more enemies to take ou
t. As obsessed as Fear Doirche is with me, she’s obsessed with power—true and absolute control over everything.”

  “So she’s not going to stop until she has me, and Fear Doirche won’t stop until you’re dead,” I breathed.

  “Or he’s dead,” Oisìn added.

  “Yes,” I replied, straightening. I’d been so fixated on defending myself and my family that it never occurred to me to kill him. Not just kill him in the act of protecting myself, or keeping my vampires safe. Set out to kill him—plan it, prepare to murder him, and then actually execute his death.

  Could I do it?

  As I looked around at my family, I knew I could. It might make me a monster but I would do it.

  “What do we do about the vampire army?” I asked.

  Finn’s mouth stretched into a grin. “I have a plan for that.”

  MIDDLEHAM CASTLE

  Finn’s plan was to put a barricade on the portal, for which we’d need Rita’s help and the help of her coven. Who had denied us help before. The other problem was the second portal—the one they’d driven Kwame to when they abducted him, the one Sceolan remembered, the one I was probably taken through, too. It was taking us forever to figure out where it was. Old Jacqui couldn’t get a glimpse of the site in her crystal ball, and none of the seers Finn and Sinclair knew could figure it out either. Which apparently meant Fear Doirche had a witch working for him, which didn’t come as a huge surprise. There was witchcraft involved in the shield around the abbey, and the portals to the pocket world could only be set up by a witch.

  Oisìn provided the answer, or at least the suggestion of it. I’d asked him once where he’d been before Fear Doirche and his hunters came here, and he’d answered Middleham Castle. Which is why we—me, Finn, Oisìn, Allen, and Kwame—were here while the others watched the house. Rita was busy trying to convince her coven elder and the rest of her friends to help us. I’d settle for two other witches helping us—even one.