Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5)

by C. J. Ellisson

  As the tale unfolds, my soul feels lighter, free of the deceptions I’ve held between us this whole week. I tell her everything that’s happened. I don’t reveal why Rolando and Persephone wanted Vivian in the first place, as that’s not my secret to tell, but I do tell her what they plan. It’s her city and she needs to know what’s in store for her and her pack. If the vampires have their way, Buenos Aires will soon become a hot bed of violence and change.

  After a few questions to clarify what their plan could mean for the city, she settles on the part that affects her the soonest. “So all along, you’ve hoped to discover my skill and use it to unite packs? Why?”

  “Yesterday, when we fought your packmates, the situation reminded me why it’s so important to have a strong leader.” I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. “Your pack was subjected to a man who abused those under him. He wasn’t a true alpha.”

  “What do you mean by ‘true alpha’? He fought for the position and earned it under pack law.”

  I shake my head, and grip her hand tighter. “No. Fighting to be top dog doesn’t make you a leader. It means you’re a good fighter. Ruling those under your care with an eye for their future, their well-being, their happiness… that’s what makes you a leader. Hector was a horrible alpha, and so were those who led before him. If they were any good, the pack never would have allowed the subsequent challenges to take place.

  “In a war, there are many, many good fighters. But there need be only one general—the right one—to lead those entrusted to him through hell and back.”

  “We’re not in a war. What do your pretty words mean in today’s life?”

  “Aren’t we? Have you looked at your city lately? You’ve got witches and wizards setting up shop alongside the largest grouping of vampires in the entire world. Your pack of—how many werewolves do you have?”

  “After booting out the four yesterday? Thirty-three.”

  “Your pack of thirty-three needs to survive and thrive among all the other supernatural groups here—and I only mentioned the ones you’re currently aware of.” Thinking back to what Vivian said the other day, I add, “Did you even know there were fae and demons, too?”

  The alpha’s olive skin tone pales. “I didn’t know about demons.”

  “My point wasn’t to scare you into thinking there was an immediate attack about to happen, but to get you to see, really see, that your pack isn’t in a good position.” I let out a deep sigh, not thrilled with what I have to say next. “You’re not the best alpha to lead this pack.” Anger crosses her face as I rush to continue, “I’m not saying you haven’t tried, but there’s too much hatred and dissension among your packmates for you to effectively rule. They need someone else, Magda. You must see it too, no?”

  The anger drains out of her as quickly as it came. Tears spring to her eyes and I feel like a shit heel.

  “It’s not easy, you know. I never intended to rule when I defended myself against Hector. I thought I could choose another mate to rule by my side.” A tear trickles down her cheek. “But they didn’t want me that way. They were so filled with anger and hurt over what they endured under Hector, they wanted to battle me for the position. I became this hardened bitch to stay alive.”

  “I understand, Magda. I truly do. That’s why I think you need to share your gift. Let them all know how to change into the hybrid form like you do.”

  “But they’ll kill me!”

  “Not if you pick one who can rule first. Take the time to get to know your pack, seek out those with strong opinions and see if they have what it takes to think of others and be a good ruler. Help decide their fate by choosing the one to share your skill with first, explain what you intend to do, and step down as alpha without a fight.”

  “You really think it’s as easy as that? What if they don’t listen and kill me anyway?”

  “You can do anything you put your mind to. Don’t let your fears rule you. Join with me in this idea to unite the packs around the world.” I reach my other hand across the table to grab her free one, now clasping both of hers on the smooth wood while I stare intently into her pretty brown eyes. “Your skill could be what makes werewolves finally come together as a cohesive group, able to stand against any supernatural race that threatens us.”

  Her eyes close for a moment and I hear her heart racing in her chest. “I’m not sure I want to be part of something so large,” she says with a quiet voice. Her eyes open and she stares at me. “But I will try and help you learn the skill. You can do what you want with the knowledge. And I…” she lets out a long sigh. “I will do what you suggest and try to select a better alpha. Perhaps one who will show kindness for me and not hate me for the things I’ve done.”

  My heart soars, even as I hear hers thumping out a nervous beat. This is what I’ve been hoping for, and I won’t have to manipulate her to get what I want. Life couldn’t be any better. Then I think of Vivian writhing on the couch while Persephone cracked her mind wide open.

  Okay, life could be better: None of this shit could be happening. I’d wake up in Candy’s arms tomorrow, and my biggest worry—whether Pat and Eric unknowingly locked themselves in a cabin again as wolves and had to break out.

  But in the darkness that has been this week, this moment is a bright slice of sunshine. I lean forward and wrap Magda in hug, hoping to convey my gratitude in her trust with the embrace.

  “Thank you, Magda. This means a lot to me.”

  She pulls back and smiles, her hands lingering on my biceps. “Don’t thank me just yet, I may not be able to teach you. Have you ever done any meditating?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have. I started recently in the hopes of strengthening my mental barriers.”

  She gives me a sly look under her full lashes. “Ahh… is not everything perfect in paradise? You’re trying to hold some of yourself private from your vampire, no?”

  She’s too sharp for her own good. “Maybe. Maybe not. She’s not the only vampire who lives on the resort.”

  “Fair enough,” she says with a nod. “Let’s get started. I changed halfway the first time under duress. My wolf was trying to claw to the surface to defend me, and I was holding it back so Hector wouldn’t get worse.”

  Her words trigger a reminder of my actions last night when they attacked Vivian. I too was resisting the change and my magic started to flow out and through my hands. I saw my hands partially shift, but it wasn’t a conscious effort on my part.

  “But later,” she continues, “when I attempted it again, I couldn’t call the change forth. No matter what I tried, it wouldn’t come. I’d switch into a full wolf and have to change back. After a few times of trying I was too exhausted by the shifts to keep going.”

  “So how did you do it?” I ask.

  “Eventually, I gave up. I admit, I didn’t try more than a few days in a row. But about a week after the initial incident with Hector, I was lying down, tired after a long shift. I began to dream about the night he beat me, but it was different, I was aware it was a dream. My mind was relaxed enough to enter into the space ‘between’ the change, if that makes sense.”

  She rushes on, seemingly happy with the analogy and eager to expand on it. “The magic that spills over us during the shift—it’s painful in the early years, remember?”

  I nod, on the edge of my seat while she explains.

  “Before the shift to wolf, the transformational magic seeps through our cells, inciting the change. This ‘between’ state allows a conscious choice, one I never recognized before because of the pain. Maybe we’ve all prepared ourselves for the pain for so long, that we’re unable to see beyond it, to a state normally hidden by the act of transforming.”

  She sighs and slumps to the chair back. “I don’t think I’m explaining it well.”

  “No, you’re doing fine,” I say. “Please, go on.”

  “While in this half-dream state, I was able to ‘see’ the change in slow motion, see at the cellular level that I ha
d three choices: human, wolf, and wolf woman—what I later considered the best of both worlds in one form. Previously, I had skipped right to wolf and never knew there was an alternative.

  “As I laid on the couch, I felt myself slowly shift. One body part at a time. It wasn’t painful, like the shifts were for years, it was… God, how can I explain it? It was like… like water, flowing out of me, rather than the tidal wave of transformation that normally hits when you shift fully to a wolf. Does that make sense?”

  Recalling that I had no pain when my hand partially turned last night, I nod again. “Yes, yes it does. But I’m still not sure I’ll be able to do it. My shift is very fast.”

  “I’ve noticed that. That’s why I asked about meditation. I eventually learned how to master the skill through meditating. I had to reach that dream-like state again, but be conscious of my actions, all of them. It took me weeks to perfect it. And by then, Hector hated me so much for fighting back, that he came after me in wolf form when I was alone.”

  She gets a faraway look in her eyes while recalling the details to me. “It was the first time I’d consciously shifted to a half form without an hour of meditation to assist. It was a calling of sorts, like when you call your wolf to you and the transformation occurs. But different. I felt… still me… but powerful, and more alive. It was exhilarating, even if the sensation was fleeting because I had to fight for my life.

  “That was the night I killed Hector. It was self-defense. But if I’m honest with myself, I must admit I did not know the depth of my strength or have much control that night. I killed him easily.” She swallows and gazes down at the table. “And perhaps I should have stopped before it was too late.”

  I scoot my chair closer and tuck a short dark lock behind her ear, then run a hand across her back in a soothing motion. “I’m not going to spout platitudes that you did what you had to do, or that the world is a better place without him in it, but I will say you can’t change the past. You need to accept what you did and move forward.”

  “Thanks. I’ll try.” She smiles at me, a genuine show of happiness and not a calculated grin meant to entice, like most of her looks since I met her. “Has anything I’ve shared helped? If you’ve never encountered a half-shift before, I doubt mediating to achieve it will do any good.”

  “It has helped, trust me. I have had a partial shift of my hands happen—and it too occurred when I was under extreme duress. I know the feelings you’re speaking of.”

  “But how will your experiences help to recreate the trait in others? How can you teach something that seems more primal?”

  I shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’d have to push them into a fight or flight response, and tell them not to shift into a wolf, to go against their instincts.” I trail off and remove my hand from her back. “It might work.”

  “How about we get started on you mastering the skill before we worry about teaching anyone else?”

  The corners of my mouth tilt up in a grin. “Sounds like a plan.”

  For the next several hours, Magda coaches me through meditation and slowing my transformation. The task is extremely challenging for me as I normally shift in the blink of an eye. She patiently guides me through breathing techniques and perceiving the power between the shift, to call upon the third form at will.

  We stop when it nears sunset, aware I must return to the safe house to see to Vivian’s needs, whatever they may be. I haven’t mastered the change yet, still having not been able to call so much as a single sharp claw forth, but I have no doubt I’ll get there with time.

  “Thank you, Magda,” I say at the door. “You’ve given me a gift I will never forget.”

  She leans in and kisses me, her soft, full lips resting briefly against my own in a chaste exchange, a shyness in her that was never there before. “And thank you, for giving me back my life. I will do as you suggest and step down as alpha.” Her tiny hands snake around my waist and pull me close in a hug. “And maybe then I will find true happiness.”

  I leave, the door closing quietly behind me, and journey back to the small house in San Telmo. Rafe paces in the living room, glancing up sharply when I open the door.

  “It’s about damn time. She hasn’t woken up. I’m worried something’s wrong.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Vivian

  Music seeps into my dreams, calling me back to the land of the living, despite my enjoyment of the calm, dark silence that filled me while I slept. I open my eyes to see Rafe and Jon sitting on either side of me, worry clear on the faces.

  I stretch, raising my arms toward the headboard as a kitten-like mewl of sounds escapes me. “Carry on Wayward Son” by Kansas blasts from the wireless speaker set up on the narrow nightstand. I’ve always loved this song. So much depth and hope woven through the lyrics. With a shaky touch to his phone screen, Rafe turns the music off.

  I sit up and scoot back to lean against the squashed pillows and headboard, pulling the fabric of my nightgown, one I don’t remember putting on, over my knees. “What’s wrong? Why are you both hovering over me?”

  Rafe drops his phone to the covers and forces my legs down, pulling me to his chest in a side-splitting hug. My arms automatically go around him, returning the embrace, his shoulders shake slightly once.

  Much to my surprise, Jon wraps his arms around us both, a loud sniff of moisture coming from his nose.

  “Uh… okay, guys,” I say, my voice even and low. “Not that I’m not enjoying the loving wake up call, but you have to admit this behavior is unprecedented. What’s going on?”

  Jon lets go first, and then Rafe pulls back, not releasing my shoulders, but staring straight into my eyes. “It’s after midnight, liebling. We were—”

  He trails off and hugs me again while Jon says, “Fucking scared, that’s what.”

  Alarm seeps through me. “But that can’t be right. Why would I sleep so far past sunset? That’s never happened to me before. Ever.” My stomach tightens, hunger seeping into my awareness. Whatever happened to me, it’s made me ravenous.

  Rafe runs his hand over my hair, his fear an almost tangible smell in the room. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

  I think back to the memory we shared with Rolando and Persephone. The fiery end of Atlantis, the race to freedom and the long, depressing boat ride. No matter how hard I try, I can’t recall what occurred after or how we got home.

  My brow wrinkles in frustration. “All I remember is the dream Persephone showed us.”

  Jon grabs my shoulder and squeezes, an uncharacteristic show of affection from him. “Do you remember talking to them afterward?”

  I shake my head, concerned by the missing time. “I must not have blown it too badly or we wouldn’t be alive.”

  “Blown what?” Rafe asks.

  “Going along with those two crazy bastards.”

  Jon lets out a deep sigh, tension easing from his frame. “I knew it. I knew you never would have agreed to their idiotic plan.”

  A rumble sounds in my gut and devastating hunger, bright and pure, lances through me. “I must not have been paying too close attention after the memory, because for the life of me, I don’t know what their ultimate plan was.”

  Rafe cups my cheeks, forcing me to stare into his worried gaze. “Darling, they went into your mind. They took what they wanted to know about who you’ve turned over the centuries. They want to use your descendants—your blood legacy—to start a new Atlantis, right here in Buenos Aires, and rule everyone within.”

  “But… but…” I stop speaking as the truth of his words hits me like a blow to the solar plexus. The fear I’ve always been aware of in the back of my mind, the worst possible scenario I imagined centuries ago, has come to life. That someday, someone would be stronger than me and break my mental shields, that all I hold dear would be subjected to their whims.

  “I must see what happened after the shared memory,” I say, reaching for both of them, pushing down my need for blood a little longer.
“Show me. Let me in to your minds.”

  Knowing their responses without having to wait, I slide into their awareness, joining us all in a three way mental connection. I shift back through their recollections of the last day, not needing to go too deep, noting their worry, fear, and arguing over what to do when I didn’t wake as expected. My heart aches at the pain and frustration I unwittingly caused them.

  In a flash, I witness Jon’s interaction with Magda, and his attempts to master his transformation. Next, we move backward further still, until I see all that happened after the memory ended. Shaken, I drop the mental connection, drawing my knees to my chest again and wrapping my arms around them, a subtle rocking motion seeping through my awareness.

  The rocking is me, as I try to hold onto the emotions raging through me. Fury and pulse-pounding rage surge to the forefront, incited by the violation I suffered at their hands. In the next breath, intense and deep-seated fear cripples me. Could I again be subjected to a similar experience in the future—at any time they’re near me? And lastly sorrow—my worries have finally come to fruition. I’m grateful I planned for it, but desperation that I may not have taken enough precaution weighs heavily on my soul.

  “Dria?” Rafe prompts, once again prying my arms from my legs and forcing me into his embrace. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch when he feels like it, pushing his way into my agony. “Talk to us. What did they learn? Who is in danger of discovery?”

  “We can’t let them succeed,” I say, my voice sounding hollow and distant to my own ears. “Absolute power… corrupts absolutely.” A dim part of my brain wonders if I’m in shock. The rocking begins again and I welcome the soothing motion, feeling safe in the comfort of my husband’s arms. “We have to stop them.”

  “Tell us,” Jon urges, sliding closer, slipping his arms around my waist and pressing his chest to my back. “Tell us how.”