Shadow of the Vampire

by Meagan Hatfield

  Although she'd intended to read the scroll, the crystal called to her the moment she opened her eyes. She reached out, her hand closing around the cold ball. No larger than an apple, the stone weighed less than a pound, but its weight balanced her. Cupping it in her open palm, she stared at the rainbow beams of kaleidoscopic colors inside the crystal. Three circles surrounded one bright ring in its center. The power center. So clear in this low light the inside looked liquid. It amazed her that something so beautiful could cause such ugliness.

  At the thought of Lotharus, anger and frustration seethed inside her. She curled her fingers over the crystal and brought her fist to her forehead. Her entire arm shook. Grabbing a breath, she pulled it deep, willing the anger to abate. However, the only thought running through her mind was to destroy the stone. Alexia pulled back her fist, wanting to pitch the thing against the mountain wall and shatter it and the tyranny it promised to a million pieces. But she stopped midswing.

  Lotharus would never believe she'd destroyed it. A battle would happen anyway and their only bargaining chip would be lost.

  Lowering her hand, she let her gaze slide to the bed. Declan still slept. His handsome face looked relaxed and peaceful. Waves of dark hair curled around the golden skin of his neck. The sheet slid past his hips, one leg slung out of the fabric, revealing every inch of his toned body. A body she knew she could never forget, never close her eyes late at night alone in her chamber and not see his image burning behind them.

  Alone in the Queen's chamber.

  A sob stuck in her throat at the thought of returning to the catacombs, to her duty. She swallowed it down. Yet, she'd mourned their relationship last night when she'd tried to tell Declan she had to return to her horde, her people. After all, it was her home, her future, her destiny. He may have chased away all coherent thought and reasoning last night with his kisses, but the fact remained the same.

  She could not stay here. She couldn't abandon those who trusted her to Lotharus and whatever evil plan he had in store. No. In less than twenty-four hours she would ascend the throne and be Queen of the horde, the highest rank in command of the dragons' enemies. At least now she could hope the relationship Declan and she had forged offered a chance for a future filled with peace. She had to believe that. Had to believe they wouldn't end up on that catacomb rooftop again, only this time facing each other in a fight to the death.

  "I love her."

  Declan's words echoed in her ears. Each one wrapped around her heart before piercing it with barbed magnificence. The pure and utter sweetness of his admission turned sour before she had time to truly savor it. They had no future. Not in this world. No matter how much she wanted it. No matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise. But perhaps if they worked together from their opposing thrones, as painful as it may be, they could create a future. A place where dragon and vampire coexisted. A world where her family wouldn't destroy the lives of those she loved and who loved her.

  Goddess, did such a place even exist?

  At once she thought of Davna Vremena, the utopian society that once existed and now lay immortalized in the pool of her grandmother's garden. She looked down at the crystal cupped in her hand. An image of the fountain of Diana, her palm open, waiting for something to be placed in it, flitted across her vision. Then her mother's words whispered through her mind.

  "They had to fly over the mountain, across the river and beyond the sea. Far away where she couldn't touch them."

  "Oh. My. Goddess." Alexia blinked down at the crystal in her hand. Although not the way Lotharus or the scrolls intended, she realized she just might hold in her hand the key to peace with the dragons. But there was only one person who knew for certain.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A SLOW SMILE SPREAD across Declan's lips the instant he woke. Thoughts of Alexia, her soft sighs and even softer flesh, flicked through his mind. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

  "Mmm, Alex," he murmured, his voice groggy. Stretching a hand behind him, he reached for her, hoping to have another sweet taste of her before the day began.

  The flat of his palm hit cold sheets.

  "Alexia?" Frowning, he slid his hand up and down the mattress, finding only expanse after expanse of bedding. Declan jackknifed up. Flipping to his hands and knees, his gaze frantically scoured the sheets. Empty.

  The first thought blazing through his mind was that someone had taken her from him. Blinding fury quaked so hard through his entire body that his arms and legs shook. Tossing the blanket off, he stormed to his closet. Snatching the first article of clothing his hand hit, he pulled an ashen wool sweater over his head, followed by a pair of crumpled-up jeans from off the floor. Barefoot, he strode to the desk, taking up the scroll.

  It was then reality slapped him like the coldhearted bitch she was.

  The crystal.

  Disbelieving, he put the scroll back down, his eyes flitting over the desk and floor.

  It was gone.

  She was gone.

  It didn't take a genius to figure out where they both were. Declan's legs buckled, so he bent, bracing his hands on either side of the splintered wood desk. His chest blazed in pain so sharp and deep he almost couldn't breathe. Dropping his chin, he deeply inhaled and froze.

  Although a mug half-full of day-old coffee, his bloody dagger, quills and inks lay spread out atop his desk, all his eyes could focus on were the hastily scratched words scrawled across the uppermost corner of the scroll.

  "I love you, too...."

  All the air left him in a whoosh. Disbelieving, he grasped the fragile paper in his hands, tearing the part with her handwritten message free. He pondered only for a moment that it was the first time he'd seen her handwriting. It was as delicate and lovely as her face.

  That chasm opened up a well of possibilities, of how many things, nuances he had yet to discover about her. Things he wasn't certain he'd ever get the chance to know. Declan forced the thoughts back. Holding the paper in front of him, he read and reread until the words blurred.

  She loved him.

  She left him.

  A howling sense of loneliness ripped through him. Part of his soul shredded, torn to bits like the fragments of the scroll littering his desk. Fisting the paper in his hands, he held his knuckles to his forehead and closed his eyes. At once images of Alexia bombarded his mind.

  Declan gritted his teeth and pinched his eyes, trying to ignore the warm elation spreading through his chest as the impact of her written words hit him. Instead, he focused on the hollow pit of worry burrowing in his gut over her. On the driving need to get her back.

  Opening his eyes, he again held the small paper out in front of him.

  "I love you, too...."

  Over and over he read those four words, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to figure out why she would say something so significant on paper and why now?

  Declan's eyes widened and worry plunged down his body.

  It was a goodbye.

  Declan ran a hand over his face, his heart and mind warring with his reason. She had heard him last night.

  Had Alexia heard him and then proceeded to take the crystal and run back to a man trying to kill her? Wait, it didn't make sense. None of this made sense. Declan may not know her handwriting or other mundane things, but goddammit, he knew her. She would not just leave him, not unless...

  Oh, gods.

  The air sucked out of his lungs so hard and fast he had to grasp the back of his chair to keep upright. The Alexia he knew would do something rash in an attempt to save him, save the dragons. She'd risked her life before for him. Hearing him profess his love might have been the catalyst she needed to try and stop Lotharus on her own. By the gods, it would be just like her to do something so rash, so foolish.

  Declan shoved papers and quills aside until he found what he needed. Slamming his hand on the walkie-talkie on his desk, he switched it on as he brought it to his lips.

  He pushed the button down to talk, only to releas
e it. Emotion had lodged in his throat, strangling his words until he was unsure if he could speak. Clearing his throat, Declan took a breath and tried again.

  "Kestrel, do you copy?" he bit out.

  Static hissed through the small speaker.

  He gave only a fleeting thought to the early-morning hour before impatient anger overrode any worry he had about being rude. "Kestrel, this is Declan, do you..."

  "Yes, yes. I'm here."

  By the time Kestrel had replied, his voice thick with sleep, Declan was already in the corridor, taking the steps three at a time to the main chamber. "I need you to call an emergency council meeting."

  "A meeting? But half the council is..."

  "Now!"

  ALEXIA STEPPED THROUGH the catacombs, trying to ignore the aching void spreading in her gut. Trying to ignore the small voice telling her the revelation she'd had in Declan's chamber was a fool's hope.

  Declan.

  Thoughts of him sliced through her like a knife. Clasping a hand in front of her stomach, Alexia braced the other against the wall, using it to prop herself up.

  Closing her eyes, she fought for each breath, fought to remember why she'd dragged herself out of that bed.

  Their future. A peaceful future.

  Pushing off the stones, she repeated that mantra with every step down the silent halls.

  When she rounded the corner to her mother's chambers, Alexia hung back. No soldiers guarded the door.

  Without pausing to find out why, she palmed her Glock, holding it cocked and by her head. Bracing her back to the wall, she slid sideways until she reached the door to her mother's chambers. Wrapping her fingers around the door handle, she pushed it down, opening the door wide. Pausing for the space of a heartbeat, she pivoted, pointing the gun into the chambers.

  She didn't expect anyone to be there, so she wasn't disappointed when only the birds greeted her. Descending the stairs, she started down the trail through the gardens, for the first time cursing the narrow pathway for harboring so many hiding places. Bending at the waist, she swept her gun under the brush in a full arc, repeating the act toward the trees above before again quickening her pace to her mother's bedroom.

  Finally close to the meeting rooms, Alexia rounded the bole of a large oak, taking the stone path toward the upper level, and stopped short. Even from here she could see her mother's room lay in complete and utter darkness.

  Back hugging the wall, Alexia skimmed along the smooth marble and began slowly climbing the stairs. After the third step, her gaze flitted down and held. Her breath caught. Streaks of ruddy brown and red stained the usually pristine stones.

  Blood.

  At the sight of it, a heavy stone of fear sank cold and hard in her gut, bubbling up panic in its wake. Alexia took a deep breath and another step. Her heart hammered against her ribs, the sound of her breath echoing in the silent room. Whirling her focus over her shoulder, she checked the gardens one last time before pivoting through the bedchamber door.

  Holding her gun out in front of her, Alexia quickly checked the corners to her left and right before allowing her focus to settle on the massive platform bed commanding the center of the room.

  In the low light, she could only make out the foot of the bed. But it was enough.

  The gun in her hands visibly shook. Alexia blinked, her mind unable or unwilling to process the image before her. Dried blood smeared the white bedding as if something heavy and lifeless had been dragged across it. Her heart dropped to think of who that person might be. "Mother?"

  Alexia didn't wait for a reply. She stepped to the side of the bed, more of the scene before her revealing each second as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness.

  "Mother," she repeated, trying to ignore the frantic tempo of her heart. She transferred the gun to one hand, fumbling with the other where she knew the bedside table lamp was. Her heart jumped in both shock and relief when her fingertips grazed the cold metal chain dangling in the darkness. Twining her fingers around it, she held her breath and pulled.

  Blinding yellow light blanketed the room. Reflexively, Alexia closed her eyes. Blinking rapidly as her eyes fought to adjust, she turned her focus to the bed, to the bloody form lying motionless atop it.

  "Oh, no," she breathed, dropping to her knees. The Queen lay on her stomach, her head turned to the side and her arms stretched out in front of her as if she were reaching for the something. Alexia scanned the room, seeing only a large wooden box with a gold disc in the center of it.

  Placing her gun on the floor beside her foot, Alexia turned her attention back to her mother. Carefully, she smoothed the heavy curtain of dark hair aside, revealing Catija's beautiful face. Her eyes were closed, a dreamy, almost serene look on her ethereal features. Alexia's heart constricted. The queen appeared at peace, more so than Alexia could ever recall seeing her. If not for the copious amounts of blood and the pallid color of her skin, Alexia would have thought her walking through a glorious dream.

  Narrowing her eyes, she ran her hands over her mother's prone body, searching for a wound. Nothing. Where was all the blood coming from? Grasping the Queen's shoulders, she rolled her on her back. Almost immediately, the heady scent of fresh blood pricked Alexia's nose.

  Without warning, a red haze flooded her vision. Unbidden, her fangs stretched past her lips, as the hunter within focused on the scent. Zeroing in on her mother's delicate neck, she sucked in a breath and held it. Two angry and swollen bite marks oozed a steady stream of blood with each fading pulse of her mother's heart.

  "By the Goddess," Alexia said on an exhale, her stomach convulsing at the sight. Without pause, she brought one hand up, pushing against the wound to try and staunch the bleeding. The other she threaded through her mother's fingers, trying not to notice how cold her palm felt pressed into hers. A nauseating wave of helplessness rolled through her. The truth of what had transpired nearly topped her with its force.

  The Queen of the horde had been bitten. Been fed from, although not drained enough to kill her fast, but agonizingly slowly, as she bled out little by little.

  "Why?" Alexia gasped out a sob, realizing she was on the verge of tears. "Who could do such a thing?" she cried aloud, although she didn't need a reply. Only one man would dare break horde law so flagrantly. Like the tip of a match igniting into flame, her fear and sadness swiftly erupted into hate.

  Lotharus would die for this.

  "Alexia?"

  At the sound of her name, the hate and revenge left her eyes. When she saw her mother's were still shut, Alexia reflexively tightened her grip on the Queen's hand, affirming her presence. "I'm here."

  The Queen tilted her head toward the sound of her voice. Her eyes fluttered open. Tired and waxen, her black gaze fixed on Alexia's.

  "There you are," the Queen breathed, a tiny smile curving her lips. "My darling daughter. My lovely one," she wheezed.

  "Yes." Alexia nodded, bringing her mother's knuck les to her lips. "I'm here."

  "Come closer. Let me see you."

  Alexia leaned down, so close the tips of her blond hair brushed against her mother's shoulder. "Mother, listen to me. We have to get out of here."

  The Queen shook her head. "You and I both know that is not possible."

  "But we can't stay. It's not safe." Alexia's mind reeled. "I have to get you somewhere safe."

  Where, where, where? her thoughts chanted in a never-ending litany. There had to be a place within the horde to find sanctuary. However, even if she could think of such a place, her mother wouldn't make it alive out of the gardens, much less out of the caves. Alexia's mind frantically pored over every possibility, every way to save the Queen. Her gaze flitted down to the blood-soaked fingers pressed against the Queen's neck, to the hand clutching her mother's. She remembered Declan, how she had healed him with her blood.

  Without hesitating, she released her mother's hand and pushed up her sleeve. Twisting her arm behind her, she removed a switchblade from her back pocket. The metal san
g as she snapped it open.

  "Alexia, what are you doing?"

  "You need strength," she said, bringing the blade to her wrist, about to open a vein.

  "Stop."

  The command in her mother's voice made her halt. However, Alexia did not remove the knife from her skin. "I know what you're thinking, Mother. But you need to feed. You must get your strength back so I can get you away from this place."

  "And go where? This is my home. Your home."

  "But..."

  "It's too late, Alexia. I'm diminishing."

  Alexia shook her head, disbelieving.

  "Now, you must listen to me and do as I say. There isn't enough time for me to tell you everything. You must drink from me instead." Slowly, her mother turned her forearm up.

  "What?" Alexia blinked at the request. When she saw her mother's upturned wrist, she recoiled. "You can't be serious?"

  "My time here is over."

  "That's not true."

  "Alexia, please..." she wheezed in a breath "...it's the only way my death will matter."

  Heat welled behind Alexia's eyes, stinging them to the point of tears. "You can't ask me to kill you."

  "I'm dying with or without your help. Lotharus saw to that," she said, her pallid face pinching in an obvious twinge of pain. "Drinking from me is the only way you'll be able to see."

  "I don't understand."

  "Alexia, there is a reason feedings were outlawed after the Dark War. Reasons we now drink from synthetically aged stores instead of humans or other vampires."

  "Yes, the proclamation from the dark council after the war," she said, nodding her head. However, the Queen shook hers in disagreement.

  "No," she said with a gasp. "When vampires feed off one another, or even humans, the memories we imbibe along with the blood are too much for most to deal with and stay sane. Your dreams become haunted, your past, future and memories bleed together into one not entirely your own."