The Ravenswynd Series - Boxed Set

by Sharon Ricklin Jones

  It’s quite amazing too; the thought process that goes through a mind all at once when faced with imminent danger. Thoughts about my childhood, my family and friends, my home, and even things I just ate.

  Would I ever see my dear twin sister Melinda, again?

  She was safe and sound back home at Ravenswynd – a place I’d already come to love.

  Emrys, my sweet, loving husband - if only he could hear me silently calling to him now.

  He was only twenty feet away from the vehicle, chatting with his old friend, the chef, Graham -who had just fed us the most awesome meal ever. I had to assume the fleeting thought about my most recent meal was due to the fact that, at any moment it would be spewed across the dashboard. The contents of my stomach churned like curdled milk mixed with vinegar. My heart pounded and my lips throbbed. I tried to take a breath, and swallowed hard. The brutal handling of my face didn’t help the sudden light-headed feeling either. I wasn’t quite sure which would come first: the vomiting or the fainting.

  “Move behind the steering wheel, Scarlett,” he hissed. I recognized the voice, more so because of what he’d said than the deep, harsh tone. Only one individual called me that name. I cringed the moment I heard it, even though I’d suspected who it was the minute he grabbed my head. Now I had no doubts.

  “I said move! We’ve got a plane to catch.” Rohan’s voice was sandpaper on my eardrums. And even though I’d had two glasses of wine with my dinner, the pungent stench of alcohol from the back seat was overwhelming. I was slowly beginning to realize that not only was Rohan an evil rogue vampire - bent on destroying what Emrys and I had together and quite desperate to take over as the Regent to our Raven society - but he was also a drunk.

  I began to inch my way closer to the driver’s seat, not an easy task with a short dress on, a knife to my neck, and a filthy hand smashing my mouth. I raised one leg over the shifter, used my hands to balance myself between the seats, and clumsily plopped down behind the wheel. As I did, the burning sharpness of the blade moved from the side of my neck, to just below my chin. One wrong movement was all it would take, and I’d be history. His hand was still pressed so hard against my mouth that it pinched my lip between my teeth and I had a taste of my own blood.

  “Keep away from the car horn,” he warned, pulling me back again with a violent jerk.

  His hot breath huffed in my ear as he slid along the back seat to realign himself behind me. The unpleasant odor of cheap liquor and the sound of broken glass grating on the seat followed him.

  How did I not notice the broken window?

  Emrys had backed the car into the parking space near the entryway of the restaurant’s lot. It would take but a moment to speed away into the night, and I wasn’t sure how fast Emrys was, or if he’d be able to catch up to us once we gained speed. But there was one problem that Rohan was completely unaware of, and his little plan to kidnap me was bound to fail. I had absolutely no clue how to drive a manual vehicle. And, even if I had ever paid attention while being driven in a non-automatic vehicle, this car was completely opposite of any I had ever seen. The steering wheel was on the right, the stick on the left. God only knew where the clutch was to be found. And if Rohan assumed I could drive in an unfamiliar city, on the wrong side of the road, he had another thing coming.

  “Drive!” he barked.

  When I hesitated, he shouted through clenched teeth, “Now, Scarlett!”

  He slid the blade along my neck and pressed the tip up, threatening to jab rather than slice. My eyes began to sting as I reached with my left hand and took hold of the gear shifter. I tried desperately to speak, but his hand muffled my words. I couldn’t see where the clutch was; everything blurred from the tears welling up in my eyes.

  “What?” he growled. He eased his hand away from my mouth and slapped it on my forehead. I sniffed, trying to contain my tears, and licked my swollen, bloody lips.

  “What is your damn problem?” His patience was wearing thin.

  Clearing my dry throat, I finally found my voice but it sounded ragged and I whispered, “I don’t know how to drive this car.”

  “Nice try, Scarlett. Now drive or I cut your throat.”

  The sound of venom in his voice showed me how serious he was, yet the familiar and despised nickname recalled his unnatural obsession with me. When he first started calling me that name at the Gathering after seeing me dressed like Scarlett O’Hara, I thought it was cute. But I’d grown to hate it nearly as much as I hated him. And every time I heard him say ‘Scarlett’ I wanted to shout, “What the flaming hell is wrong with you? My name is Elizabeth, you idiot!”

  It suddenly occurred to me that his hand was still on my forehead!

  I could scream now!

  But then I wondered - if I screamed out would he really slit my throat? Feeling the cold bite of the blade as I swallowed, I decided not to test him and kept quiet.

  I pushed the clutch in and looked at the shifter. I was surprised to see a diagram of the gears on the ball, and easing it into first gear, for one brief moment I thought that maybe I actually could drive stick after all. Foot on the gas pedal, I revved it a bit. Of course at that time, no one had ever explained to me the delicate way one should ease off the clutch while pressing on the gas pedal, and now that we were in first gear I figured all I had to do was release the clutch and go. The car lurched forward about two feet and screeched to a stop, immediately killing the engine. The forward momentum caused the knife to slash deeper into my throat, causing me to gasp in a panic. Warm blood oozed down onto my red dress, much more than just a trickle now. And just like that, he let go of me.

  “Shit!” Rohan’s stupidity matched his unimaginative profanity. After a quick “goddamn it,” he added, “This isn’t over yet, Scarlett. Next time I’ll drive.”

  Turning back, aiming to introduce him to a few creative curse words of my own, I found he had already bolted. I quickly dug into my purse, found some tissues, and with a trembling hand, held them to my neck. My door flew open and I looked up just in time to see the frown on Emrys’ face quickly change from one of curiosity - as he apparently questioned my sanity, to an expression of surprise and concern.

  “Bloody hell, what happened?” he asked as he spotted my wound and stained dress.

  “He was here!” I cried. “He was right here in the back seat! I don’t understand why you didn’t hear me!” Any other time, he’d been able to read my mind.

  Emrys squatted down beside the car, grimacing. He knew exactly who I meant, and he said, “I am so sorry, Elizabeth. I did catch something about your family and childhood, and I picked up that you felt nauseated and light-headed. But I thought it was from too much wine or the rich dessert. Are you quite alright, my love?” His voice was racked with guilt, and he put a soft hand on my thigh.

  “I think so,” I said, nodding, but still shaking.

  “Graham’s news was disturbing; perhaps that was why I did not sense the fear you must have felt.” He leaned in, gently eased my hand out of the way, and inspected my neck. “Is it deep?”

  “Not as bad as it could have been, I suppose. The bleeding has already slowed,” I said, dabbing at the wound. “I imagine if we had not shared a glass of Ambrosia earlier I wouldn’t be healing this quickly.” I glanced around looking for Graham, suddenly aware that he could be standing within hearing range, and I didn’t know how much he knew about our real lives, what we were and what we called our sweet nectar of life.

  “He went indoors already.” Emrys sighed, and then explained further. “Not that it matters. He knows who we are. Graham happens to be much more than just a great chef; he is an enigma, our most valued donor. But, regardless of all that, I never should have let you walk away alone. I should have insisted he follow us to the car. This is entirely my fault.” He shook his head in disbelief, taking my free hand in his. “My God, Elizabeth, I am so very sorry. Tell me what happened. What did the bloody bastard do to you?”

  As he spoke, I caught his eye
s scanning my state of dress, and sensed his silent sigh of relief. After all, the last time Rohan attacked me, his aim was to rape me. I shivered at the unwanted memory.

  My head was still swimming with jumbled thoughts, and I assumed that had to be why Emrys had so many unanswered questions. Under normal conditions, he always knew everything before I uttered a word. I took a deep breath and tried to gather my thoughts.

  “He said something about catching a plane,” I said. “We were supposed to catch a plane. Where in the world would he want to take me? And for God’s sake, why?”

  I now had questions about the chef and his valuable blood, but at least he was on our side.

  As Emrys helped me out of the car, it became obvious how shaken up I really was. The trembling was more from the anxiety than the chill in the night air, and my knees buckled when I first stood. Emrys caught me and held me close in his warm arms.

  “I have no idea,” he whispered softly into my ear. “Let us get you home,” he added, helping me to the other side of the vehicle. I leaned into him, still feeling weak and shaky, and when my cheek rested on his chest as he opened the door, I felt his heart pounding like a drum. Before he closed my door he deliberately locked it with a heavy hand, and in the blink of an eye he was behind the wheel restarting the car and squealing away. Although he made every effort to maintain control, I could see that his level of anger ranged somewhere between seething rage, and merciless fury. He was dead silent.

  As he sped through the streets of London, I watched buildings and road signs blur as we zipped by. A while later, still in silence and away from the city lights; the darkness smothered me like a dismal desolation. Turning a glance at Emrys, in the faint light from the dashboard I could see the deep crease between his brows, his jaw was clenched, and his mouth set in a thin straight line.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked, hoping a conversation might lighten both my state of mind and his state of anger.

  Shaking his head and trying to relax his troubled expression, he said, “I am thinking that I cannot leave you unattended again until we deal with the filthy rogue. Although one would think he should be cognizant of this type of reasoning, and as a result, be wary that any future plans of attack would be thwarted immediately. But the harsh reality is that there is no guarantee of his level of intelligence on the subject. I am more inclined to assume that his mental faculties are deficient, if not altogether absent.” He took a quick breath. “Therefore, I believe these uncertain times call for lessons in self-defense.”

  I attempted to laugh at Emrys’ commentary about Rohan’s lack of intelligence, but imagining his reappearance, fear gripped me again, and my chuckle was only half-hearted.

  “Self-defense? What kind did you have in mind?” I dabbed at my neck and checked the tissue. The bleeding had finally stopped.

  Emrys sighed. “There are many forms. Perhaps you could take up fencing?”

  His idea made me laugh out loud. I couldn’t picture myself with a sword at all. It seemed such an outdated sport, at least from where I came from. I didn’t know anyone skilled in the art of fencing. Although in this type of situation, I guessed swordplay could be very practical, and might even come in handy someday.

  “Who would teach me?” I asked, still watching him drive.

  “Why, I would, of course,” he said, without hesitation. Turning his head, he peered at me through the darkness. He studied my eyes for a moment, and I saw how serious he really was. Watching the road again, he said, “Unless you want formal lessons...”

  “No. Of course I want you to be my teacher!” I rested my hand on his shoulder, felt the tension in his muscles, and turned my eyes to inspect his hands. They gripped the steering wheel so hard that the skin on his knuckles appeared white and rigid.

  He took a deep breath and blew out slowly. “Good. Then it is settled. We begin tomorrow morning.”

  * * *

  Admittedly, I wasn’t too disappointed to find out that Emrys’ idea to begin the following morning didn’t pan out as planned. First, he had to purchase the items I would need for my lessons. Prior to this, only the men in our society practiced fencing, and none of the equipment was suitable for someone of my particular size and stature. So instead, we went shopping.

  It was a lovely day to be out and about. It was breezy and sunny and felt like a spurt of Indian summer had smiled on us, although toward the end of our shopping spree, we ran into a light drizzle. Emrys held an umbrella above our heads as we climbed back into the car, which as it turned out, was in fact a limo, driven by none other than one of the gatekeepers. He had been introduced to me as Royal, Barbara Lee’s brother. He seemed to be more than willing to be accommodating, since his ultimate goal was to eventually become one of us, at least according to what Fiona had told me.

  It was supposed to be Royal’s day off, but he had volunteered to drive for us once he heard about the previous night’s attempted kidnapping. It was amazing how fast word got around Ravenswynd. I could have sworn the only one we had told was Emrys’ right-hand man, Gavin. He had stopped by our suite before the morning meal to get some advice from Emrys about a business meeting he’d just attended; a meeting that they, apparently, were keeping secret. When I asked Emrys about it, he brushed it off as nothing important, and then Melinda hadn’t seemed concerned either when I mentioned it to her at the breakfast table. Evidently, their living arrangements didn’t mean that Gavin shared everything with her either. Our conversation eventually turned to Barbara Lee, her younger brother, Royal, and his secret crush. And then Lindy told me how they had ended up at Ravenswynd in the first place.

  I later questioned Emrys while we sat at the restaurant eating our lunch, and he informed me that, indeed, the story I had heard from Lindy was true. Barbara Lee had joined the society of Ravens about eight years earlier when she and her brother were orphaned. Barbara Lee started out as a donor, as so many had, and eventually asked to be turned. Since Royal was young at the time, she had no other choice but to bring him along, and once he reached eighteen he was given the choice to stay on as an employee or move away. He chose to stay and became a donor, and for extra pay he also became one of the gatekeepers.

  “He is a decent chap,” Emrys stated, “for a human. He is very trustworthy and dedicated to our way of life. He has not yet decided who will be his maker; at least he has not made it public.”

  “So the rumors are true?” I asked, pushing my half-eaten salad around my plate.

  “Which rumors would those be, my lovely one?” Emrys asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Fiona told me that Royal has his eye on someone, like a crush or something. She heard it from his sister, so I assume it to be true.”

  Emrys smiled. His eyes crinkled, and he pushed a strand of long black hair back over his shoulder as he leaned down to take a noisy sip from his straw. Apparently, there was a first time for everything, and there I sat, watching my elegant husband slurping down to the bottom of his glass as he finished his chocolate malt. This was our first time eating at a fast-food restaurant. I wasn’t too hungry myself, hence the salad. But my dear, sweet husband had just wolfed down a gigantic burger and fries, and said, “It appears that shopping increases my appetite! Are you quite sure all you want is that salad, my lovely one?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. So, what do you think?” I asked, perturbed that he had ignored my question.

  “Oh, about Royal? Yes, I have heard all the talk. I think eventually he will come around and get up the fortitude to make his choice known.”

  Emrys seemed a little distant, like he was deep in thought about other things, not concentrating on our conversation at hand.

  “You are correct. I am thinking. We should hire a permanent driver, not just a part time driver. Someone would always be in or near the vehicle while we are away from it, and that way I can spend more time with you - sitting near you and not having to concentrate on driving. What do you think?” He wiped his mouth with his paper napkin and looked directly a
t me. He still had the uncanny ability to melt me with those mesmerizing dark eyes of his.

  He had surprised me with his question, and at first I stammered and sputtered. “I don’t know, I mean, I guess so. Are you asking me my opinion about whom we should hire, or if we should hire someone? Because if you are, well, you know everyone better than I do, and besides, why would you even ask me if I think it’s a good idea?”

  “Why would I ask you?” he said, sounding surprised. “Because you are my wife, my partner, and my best friend; I trust your opinion. I want your input in all my decisions.” He hesitated for a moment and then added, “Of course, unless you do not want me to involve you in such trivial matters.”

  “Will you be involving me or my opinions in things that are not so trivial as well?” I had to ask, even though I doubted this would be the case. I took my napkin from my lap, wiped a crumb off my blue jeans, and gazed up at him.

  His eyes twinkled. He leaned forward, and speaking in an undertone, said, “Well, that would depend on the situation. As you can imagine, there will be some things which are not shared with all the Ravens, especially when it concerns certain, shall we say, retirements.”

  He didn’t have to spell it out for me; I understood immediately that he’d meant the rare times they had to kill a fellow vampire.

  “We have always managed to keep to ourselves,” he continued quietly, “which has also enabled us to conceal all of our secrets from those humans living around us. The best way to do that is not to involve everyone in all the details of what goes on behind closed doors, in particular, certain decisions, as I mentioned earlier. The more obscure we remain, the less chance we have of anyone accidentally repeating something they should not.” He put his hand on mine, “Do you see what I mean?”

  “So, you have decided to kill Rohan then?” I guessed, whispering. I knew my eyes were wide with wonder. I took a gulp of my ice water which seemed to help the sudden dryness parching my throat. It wasn’t Ambrosia but, for now, it helped.