Ellowyn Found: An MM Vampire Trilogy Omnibus Edition Books 1 - 3

by Kayleigh Sky

  “It only feels like nothing changes, Jessa.”

  “Because it doesn’t. This is my life forever. I’m a drainer.”

  Rune frowned as he circled the table, eyeing his maps. “That isn’t a bad thing, and it isn’t your fault. None of us asked for this.”

  “I like the above world,” Jessa murmured, glancing back at the glass figurine.

  Hearing himself say the words surprised him. He’d caught surprise in Rune’s dark eyes too, before he’d turned away.

  “Wen likes it too,” Rune said.

  Of course. A stab of annoyance struck him and the words, “I’m not anything like him,” tumbled against his lips, almost spilling out. If they were alike, he might be happy about that, but as it was, he wanted to run away from anything about Wen and drainers. Only the taste of Isaac’s blood in his mouth held him rooted to the ground, because he had no choice.

  “Show me how to blow glass.”

  Rune smiled. This wasn’t Jessa’s first request, nor his first lesson, but Rune always humored him. He crossed the room and held out two foot-long dowels. “Take these. One in each hand. Point them end to end and spin them with your fingers. That’s right. Keep them level.”

  “Why can’t I just blow glass?”

  “You can. Glass is beautiful no matter what shape it takes. Creation… that is an act of will.”

  “The world is sloppy and messy and random.”

  “Not a bit,” Rune murmured with a smile.

  An ache grew in Jessa’s fingers and wrists, and his gaze fixed on the turning dowels as he held the ends point to point.

  “We might be risen like the Adi ’el Lumi say. This might be our heaven.”

  Rune laughed. “I hope not.”

  “Who are the Adi ’el Lumi?”

  “No one. They don’t exist. Maybe once. What brings them up?”

  “I think they’re real.”

  “Nobody has talked about them in years. They’re like angels. Nobody believes in angels anymore.”

  “We’re angels.”

  Rune smiled. “Well, you are.”

  Jessa shook out his wrists and offered Rune the sticks back. “Why would somebody pretend to be a drainer?”

  Rune frowned and turned away. He set the dowels back on the table beside the figurine and leaned against the table’s edge, arms folded across his chest. His head tipped to the side and eyed Jessa silently for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “But I can guess.”

  “That’s what humans are afraid of. That we have no control.”

  “That’s what you’re afraid of, Jessa, and as long as you feed, you do.”

  “I hate this.”

  “Jessa.” Barely a second passed, but Rune was suddenly in front of him, arms wrapped around him, holding him tight to his chest. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I’m not worried about me.”

  Rune loosened his hold and leaned away. “Who?”

  “Isaac. Maybe even Wen.”

  Rune was quiet for several long seconds. Then a half smile graced his face. “You mentioned Wen last.”

  Jessa flushed. “I think Isaac’s in more danger.”

  Rune nodded and squeezed Jessa’s shoulders before releasing him. “I have to finish up here. Go on though. I’ll make sure nothing happens to your Isaac.”

  But Rune didn’t return to his glass. He went to his maps spread across the giant table, a look of absorption on his face.

  17

  The Summons

  The banging on his door thudded into the darkness of Otto’s dream. He swam through memories of shaking earth and falling sky and thrust his blankets away in a panic. When the banging came again, he staggered into the hallway, hit a switch, and flooded the entryway with light. Blinking, he opened the front door.

  “Detective Jones?”

  “Mister,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with fingertip and thumb. Hell those were vampires on his front porch. He looked again. Yep. “What do you want?”

  “King Dinallah requests your attendance.”

  He worked his eyes into a squint, trying to focus. Three vamps. Two males waiting at the steps, the female at his door. “Attendance at what?”

  “The manor.”

  “That’s hours from here. Days if the roads aren’t passable.”

  “We’re driving.”

  “I’m not going.”

  The woman smiled. “It is a request, but… not.”

  “I don’t work for Dinallah.”

  Her smile broadened. “Today you do.”

  The two vamps behind her moved slightly to either side and advanced a step. Jesus Christ. “I need a shower.”

  He slammed the door. By the time he emerged from his bedroom again, they were standing in his living room. He strode past them down the steps to the waiting car.

  Dinallah Manor had been built before the Upheaval at the base of the Santa Lucia Mountains. Otto might usually resist a request he had no obligation to honor, but the manor was close to Pacific Grove where the gem festival Acalliona attended each year was held. It was a weak link, but the intersection of Acalliona, the festival, and Dinallah was a curious one, and Otto had a strong suspicion of coincidences.

  Plus, it wasn’t like he had anything else to do.

  Relaxing into the corner of his seat and door, he closed his eyes and didn’t open them until the sun climbed into the sky and they stopped for food. At one point they got off the main highway and wound through fog and thick eucalyptus groves.

  Dinallah Manor was a stunning house of sharp angles and broad planes of glass. More fog softened the mountains behind it, and the lights inside spilled golden puddles into the courtyard where the car pulled to a stop. The roofline was flat, one main house and two wings that flanked the courtyard. Italian cypresses in clay pots framed the entryway. Everything here was grace and elegance. It had none of the strange morbidity of Senera Castle. Climbing out of the car, Otto followed the female vampire across the terra-cotta pavers. The entry door opened, a tall thin vamp waiting a step inside.

  “Justin will take you to King Dinallah,” said the woman. “Have a pleasant visit.”

  Otto shook his head in astonishment but followed the butler or guard or whatever he was.

  The same simple elegance outside met him inside. It wasn’t until they reached the end of the long foyer and turned into one of the wings that the dark vampire decor he was used to appeared. Still, it wasn’t as gloomy as usual. The gray light came through tiny windows set high in the outer wall. Tapestries hung on another wall, most of them depicting a city carved out of white rock. The rugs on the floor were blood red.

  “In here, please,” said Justin, pushing open a heavy wooden door.

  The half of the room he entered was empty of furnishings except for a narrow table under one window. The other half was homey, with a cluster of coffee tables and upholstered sofas around the incongruent addition of a throne. The thing wasn’t particularly ostentatious. It was wood, with a tall, carved back, heavy, wide arms, and a cushy upholstered seat.

  As Otto crossed the room, he noticed the scenes depicted on the fabric on the sofas—more of the hidden cities.

  He halted in front of the throne and gazed at a vampire, who smiled at him.

  “Detective Jones?”

  “I’m not a detective anymore.”

  “Hm. Debatable. I am Zeveriah Dinallah,” said the creature. “Zev, usually.”

  His voice was deep and warm, his smile amused. Otto had trouble guessing the age of most vampires, but he’d heard enough about the Ellowyn king to know he was near forty. His eyes were warm, dark embers, but Otto didn’t trust the amused twist to his lips. The bastard had to be ruthless. He’d turned on Qudim Senera and conquered the world.

  Made peace.

  Otto cleared his throat, masking his snort at his own thoughts. Peace, my ass.

  Capitulation was more like it because the vamp sitting on his wooden throne, face half hidden by the
fall of his wavy hair, ruled them all.

  “What do you want?” Otto asked.

  The vamp beside the throne, who hadn’t moved until now, scooted to the edge of his seat, while Dinallah raised an eyebrow and gestured to his companion. “My cousin. Moss Goran.”

  “Still don’t know what you want.”

  Silence met him. Nothing emerged from the vampires, but a soft click from the door behind him sent a shiver up Otto’s spine. A moment later the squeak of wheels grew louder until a dining cart slid into Otto’s side vision.

  The tall vampire who’d let Otto in transferred the dishes from the cart to the coffee table between the throne and the sofa, poured three drinks from a decanter, and wheeled the cart away.

  Dinallah picked up one of the tall glasses. The heavy amber ring he wore shone golden in the light. “I’ll be specific. I want you to sit and relax. That is a command,” he added with a broader smile.

  Otto gritted his teeth but sat and took a glass.

  He stared at it until Dinallah said, “It’s a juice made from moon lace.”

  “What’s moon lace?”

  “A fern. It’s sweet. A favorite with children.”

  Guessing it wasn’t alcoholic, Otto took a cautious sip. Nectary. A mix of licorice and melon.

  “Help yourself to some food.”

  Otto’s glare returned. “I’m tired,” he said. “Not sure why you couldn’t just send a message. Or make a fucking phone call.”

  Dinallah sat back, bracing his glass on the arm of his throne. “I like to look into the eyes.”

  “Only works on non-psychopaths,” Otto said.

  The vampire laughed. “Are you a psychopath?”

  “I guess that depends on who you ask.”

  Dinallah cocked his head. “I’m asking you.”

  Otto set his glass on the table. “I’m just tired like I said.”

  “You aren’t afraid of me,” Dinallah observed.

  “Maybe I have nothing to lose.”

  “Can I give you something?”

  For the first time, Otto shifted his gaze to the silent Moss. He sat with his elbow on the arm of his chair, the side of his face resting on his fingertips. The King had been sitting that way only a moment before. They were very alike. Mild expressions, a simmering fire. One spoke while the other watched.

  “Trouble with your offer,” said Otto, looking back at the King, “is I don’t know what I want.”

  In a way, that was true. He despaired that finding Maisie’s murderer would only leave him with a deeper loneliness.

  “In that case,” said Dinallah. “Let me start with what I want.”

  “Go on.”

  “I kept tabs on the Acalliona murder because I was told he was a drainer. I hate bigots. They slither under the rocks of both our worlds, and I want them thrown into the blazing sun.” He spat his last words, his lip curled over the tip of a fang. Otto was surprised at the venom in his voice, though why he didn’t know. No matter how strong the pull to run his fingers through that dark hair, Otto wasn’t fooled. This was a creature that had crushed his enemies, and somewhere beneath the manor was a chamber where the covens met. As fun as laying Dinallah underneath him would be, that tender mouth hid fangs and a bloodthirsty hunger.

  “I can’t help you,” said Otto. “I was fired.”

  Dinallah lowered his chin, burning Otto with his dark gaze. “Would you?”

  Hell no.

  But that wasn’t true anymore. Not since his promise to Isaac. Jessa was a vampire. Was Otto really worried about him though? And why did the little bastard keep creeping into his head?

  He returned to his original question. “What do you want?”

  “Cooperation,” murmured Moss.

  “I’m here,” said Otto.

  “I’ve had you reinstated, though you won’t be working directly for the police department anymore. You’ll have every resource you need, and you can call on your colleagues at any time.”

  “Help with what?”

  “I want you to solve the murder.”

  Otto picked up his glass and took a sip of his juice, wishing for something stronger than fern. Fern, for fuck’s sake.

  “Look. A lot of murders are never solved. Cops nowadays don’t have half the tools at our disposal even my dad had. Without reliable computers, a murder that isn’t—” He made air quotes—“a smoking gun case has a good chance of never being solved. Those are the facts we have to work with.”

  “Are you willing to work with them?”

  “Why?”

  “Prince Jessamine is worried about his donor Isaac.”

  Otto kept his face still. “I don’t believe Isaac is involved.”

  “That’s good to hear, but Prince Rune has requested protection for Jessamine. I remember Jessa. My family was very close to the Seneras once. The Ellowyn oftentimes have complicated connections. Dawn, Jessa’s mother, was human. She chose to abandon your world to live with her fated love.”

  The sorrow that passed through the King’s eyes disappeared quickly, but Otto’s scalp prickled with an odd alarm. The vamp was hiding something. Something personal. Something that had nothing to do with a murdered vampire.

  “Abadi was Rune and Mal’s mother,” Zeveriah continued. “Her family the Nezzarams were banished to a distant district after the war where they are free to live as they wish but not to leave. They would destroy Ellowyn or human for their own gain. Abadi attempted to kill Dawn, though she and Qudim had separated many years before. Brillen Acalliona was distantly related to the Nezzarams on his mother’s side.”

  It wasn’t until that last sentence that Otto had any idea why Dinallah was telling him what he was. Otto drew in a breath. “That’s… tangled.”

  Dinallah smiled. “I agree.”

  “Abadi is dead too?”

  The King nodded. “Qudim stayed in Celestine to save as many people as he could. He was bigger than life in many ways. A good King once. Rune led the family out. Abadi was with her family and died in Majallena. The Seneras made it out, and Rune returned for Qudim. While he was gone, a building collapsed on Dawn, killing her and burying Jessa with her.”

  “Jesus,” Otto murmured.

  “I’m told he remembers nothing of that. He was hurt. Perhaps the shock took his memories. Malia dug him out, and by the time Rune returned with Qudim… Well, there was nothing they could do. Less than ten years later, Jessa fell ill. It didn’t occur to anybody he might be a drainer because he didn’t bite anybody or even try to. His human biology compensated to some degree. Eventually, his illness was linked to Synelix, but his recovery was quite slow.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “To explain why his brother and sister are so protective. I doubt Rune thinks Jessa is in any danger, but I understand why he doesn’t want to take a chance. People hate, and Jessa is one of those they have chosen to hate. I don’t know why Jessa is worried about Isaac, but he is, so I want you to work on the Acalliona murder with him.”

  Otto snorted a laugh. “Jessa? The guy makes jewelry for a living.”

  The King’s eyebrows rose. “Wasn’t Acalliona a jeweler?”

  Otto sighed. “I work best on my own.”

  “You’ve always had a partner, and the Ellowyn will trust Jessa even if they don’t like him. They won’t trust you.”

  “He’s safe in the castle.”

  “Rune and Mal aren’t jail keepers.”

  Otto chuckled this time and scrubbed his face. Tiredness crashed over him, and the hazy light made his eyes ache. He was back in his dream from the morning, helpless as he spiraled into a nightmare. Too close. He didn’t want to get that close to Jessa. But he’d promised Isaac and…

  He let his hands fall to his knees. “I’ll need access.”

  “You’ll have it. You’ll have your badge. All the resources you need. I also have a lead you don’t know about. Another drainer was murdered two years ago. The murder was unsolved, but there was a suspect.”
>
  Otto straightened, his tiredness backing off. “Oh?”

  Moss startled him by breaking in. “An Ellowyn named Solomon Frenn owns an art gallery in Windon. You know the town?”

  Otto nodded. “It’s nearby.”

  “Frenn was released,” said the King. “No evidence.”

  “At all?” asked Otto. “Something had to bring him to someone’s attention.”

  “Hate brought him to someone’s attention,” said Moss. “Solomon Frenn makes no pretense of his hatred of humans and drainers. The victim belonged to a family Frenn wanted banned from the local council—a lower family anyway—because they were one of the first to turn on Qudim.”

  Otto stared at Dinallah. “You turned on Qudim too.”

  A stiff smiled lifted the vampire’s lips and a strange glow burned in his eyes. “I gave him a way out. Solomon Frenn would see me dead too. Though loyal to Qudim, he was also Abadi’s lover. The Nezzarrams waged war against Qudim for threatening to execute Abadi after she tried to kill Dawn. My family fought alongside him. Qudim was ruthless, but he allowed Abadi to live, and the war ended. The hatred did not.”

  Otto rubbed an ache in his temple. For fuck’s sake.

  “Solomon reviles Synelix, drainers, and humans, though I’m not sure in what order,” Moss said. “He publicly cursed the family of the drainer and was the first suspect for her murder, but he had an alibi.”

  “What was it?”

  “A meeting of local business owners.”

  “Including humans?” asked Otto.

  “No.”

  “What’s the name of the group?”

  The King raised his eyebrows and looked at Moss. “Comosoro Leaders,” said Moss.

  “Okay.”

  Dinallah looked back at him. “You’ll help?”

  Maybe it was that word—help. It dropped the King’s demand to a plea and Otto… was a sucker.

  Every time.

  But he’d have a freedom he’d never have with the cops, though he technically still was one. And now he had a name. A possibility. A step closer to Maisie’s murderer. Solomon Frenn.

  A way to keep his promise to Maisie. To Isaac. He shut off any thought of Jessa though, because underneath his exhaustion something warm stirred every time he let his guard down.