Undone By Blood (The Vampire Flynn Book 5)

by Peter Dawes

  Shaking my head, I reached for the cigarette and brought it to my mouth. “Funny thing, that. You looked less than pleased to hear of my existence.”

  “Have the reasons why ever occurred to you?” Robin shut the book he had been holding and rested it on his lap. Folding both hands atop the cover, he tilted his head. “It is so much like you to believe hatred is the fuel to anyone’s fire as far as you’re concerned. While you have the tendency to upset me, you’ve never managed to inspire me to hate. Remember the jealousy Patrick harbored regarding you?”

  “I remember a petty man in whom you apparently saw enough similarity to make me his namesake.”

  “A petty man you seem bent to serve now.” His gaze settled more severely on me. “I thought you had graduated beyond puppet strings when you helped kill our maker.”

  The judgment I saw laid out before me finally prompted me to place aside my cigarette and come to my feet. Pacing closer to Robin, I felt the presence of Monica enter the room again as if she knew my ire had been raised, but I ignored the movement in my periphery for the time being. Instead, I focused on Robin. “I am not anyone’s marionette,” I said.

  “Except for hers.”

  Robin delivered the accusation as if he could look at the woman slinking up behind me, placing her hand on my shoulder again. I smirked. “I take it you’re not about to throw another pointless jab about Sabrina at me.” My next words, I directed toward Monica. “He thinks he knows the name of this game.”

  “Do you, though?” Robin asked. Placing the book on an adjacent end table, Robin rose to his feet as well. I motioned to stop him, but he held up a hand, indicating he meant no malice. “Even I know when I am being manipulated and you have a poor history of falling right into the hands of seduction. Sabrina knows this. Patrick is learning it. Now, they’re counting on your talents to keep me prisoner.” He frowned, eyeing me with concern. “Surely, you’ve figured that out, Flynn. You’re the reason why they know the path we’re walking. Aren’t you upset in the least bit at the way they’re using the woman you love to manipulate you?”

  “How cute,” Monica chimed. “He thinks I’d let myself be used.”

  I glanced at her, the first fissure in her spell forming as I heard the honesty in her words. “To what end, then, are you playing along?” I asked. “If not for me?”

  “Mayhem. Murder. You.” Her lips curled. “I don’t see any reason why I can’t have it all.” As her palm settled flat atop my shoulder, she lifted onto the tips of her toes and nipped at my jawline. “You can have as much and as little of this as you want. That’s the beautiful part about the Master’s offer. Even if all you want is me, you can have me. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

  “She’s offering lies to you,” Robin interjected, bringing my attention back to him. Chancing a step closer to me, he rested his hand over his heart. “That is why your betrayal wounds me. This exemplifies it. I am the one who has been the most honest with you. Who has cared for you the most consistently. And I am the first one you turn against when another has you charmed.”

  “Monica cares for me,” I spat back. “For years, I’ve loved her. For years, I placed myself second for –”

  “It’s not her any longer, though. Surely, you know that, Flynn.” His gaze turned pained, though not due to any words of offense I might have issued.

  I scoffed when I realized he meant to pity me. “Shut up,” I said. “As I recall, you wanted me gone. You tried to get Peter to do away with me.”

  Robin frowned. Taking another step closer to me, he lowered his hand, slipping it into a pocket. “I tried to make the two of you whole again. If that’s what has been wrong with him – what has troubled you – for so long, then I wanted you both to find peace.” Something about the way his posture changed put me on edge. He arched a brow at me, a challenge in the way he beheld me. “Your wife is sick, Flynn, and she’s infecting you with her sickness. Aligning yourself with them purely for her love will lead you nowhere, but disappointed. Sooner or later, you’ll discover the woman you shared those years with is gone. And if you ever cared about me, you’ll hear the truth of what I am saying.”

  A jolt of pain raced through my head, spurring me to cry out in response. Lifting both hands to my temples, I opened my eyes without realizing I had closed them and focused first on Monica, knowing her to be the source. The way she glared at Robin struck me as peculiar, and for a moment I saw how right he was. Evil danced in her gaze and emanated in the way she sneered at him.

  “Don’t kill him,” she ordered, looking back at me. Suggestion dripped from her words and what little free will I had reclaimed ebbed away again. “The Master wants him alive, but I want you to show him that his smart mouth is going to get him hurt if he keeps this up.”

  Confusion transformed into apathy before twisting into outright malice. I directed my attention to Robin again and as my fangs lowered to full extension, he tensed, holding his ground while I encroached upon him. “Now, who is the one guilty of trying to manipulate me?” I asked. “Don’t be so quick to accuse someone of your own sins, brother.”

  “Trying to break through madness with reason, more like it,” Robin countered. “Apparently, that’s a fool’s errand.” His expression sank when I paused directly in front of him, chin tilting upward to meet my gaze more fully. “I love you, Flynn, but sometimes, you can be an enormous pain.”

  The motion happened swiftly. I heard the clicking sound and as the hand that had been concealed in his pocket slipped out, the elder vampire moved too fast for me to avoid his attack. Something sharp jabbed into my chest, missing my heart, but driving between my ribs and lodging there. As I staggered backward, Robin pivoted and swung for me, his fist impacting my jaw and knocking me onto the floor beside the bed.

  I heard his footsteps scurry away while I reached for whatever he had used to stab me. As I wrapped my hand around the cylindrical object, I gritted my teeth and tugged at it. The door opened and slammed shut in the background, an afterthought as I pulled what I soon realized was a pen from my chest cavity. Once the waves of pain had subsided enough for me to look at it, I grumbled and tossed it aside.

  Coming to a shaky stand, I saw Monica yelling, but failed to hear what she tried telling me. The only thing that mattered in that moment was retribution, and as I plucked my sword from where I had it propped, I cared very little for the remainder of her instructions. Racing toward the door, I gritted my teeth and stalked into the hallway once I had opened it. My eyes shifted from one direction to the next, looking for where Robin had scurried.

  When the answer was not immediately evident, I strode toward one of the walls, shutting my eyes and taking a deep breath to focus past the pain as I had seen Peter do numerous times. I relented the moment I failed to do more than summon a brief image of Robin racing for the stairwell, content with that much and freeing a hand to produce Peter’s phone. The time on the display indicated that while we had entered dusk a half hour stood between us and full darkness, which meant that Robin would be reluctant to race outside. I had thirty minutes to locate him.

  “Where would you hide?” I muttered while thrusting the mobile device back into our pocket. Entering the stairwell, I glanced upward and grimaced at the pain my movements produced before hearing a door further down click shut. My attention immediately snapped toward its source, a cunning grin spreading across my lips as I took a deep breath and started my descent. The further I ran, the more I could ignore the agony in my chest, until I grew impatient and vaulted the final set of stairs coming between me and the basement. My jaw clenched and my knees buckled, but the landing held. Glowering at the shut door in front of me, I lifted a hand to pat the sticky fabric of my shirt and stole a moment to regroup. Once I was ready, I pushed open the door and continued forward.

  A carpeted corridor led deeper into the underbelly of the establishment. Passing a boiler room, I stopped at each shut door and peered inside before allowing myself to progress onto the next. “R
obin, Robin,” I said while glancing inside a storage closet, “You should know better than to tempt a predator.”

  “I can because I was the one who taught him how to hunt.”

  He emerged from what looked to be an abandoned office, closing the scant amount of distance between us while swinging something at me. I failed to see what before it impacted, catching me on the jaw with such force, I fell backward and impacted with the wall. My head hit the plaster behind me while a burst of exquisite agony raced from the wound on my chest, to my jaw, and up to my temples. For a moment, I thought I might lose consciousness.

  A warning sounded through me, however, and with the next swing Robin attempted, the cold metal of his improvised weapon only grazed my cheek, cutting it when I pivoted out of the way. Still attempting to gain my bearings, I charged for him and caught him with my shoulder, pushing us both toward where he had emerged and landing on top of him when the door to the office gave way. The impact knocked my sword from my hand, though Robin retained ownership of what I discovered had been an eight-inch wrench, undoubtedly procured in one of the maintenance storage rooms. It impacted my back once before he threw it away, taking hold of my suit jacket with both hands. I wrestled against his grip and lost the fight, rolling underneath him as he climbed on top.

  “You’re a damned fool,” he said. His fist impacted me again and the pain from my jaw blossomed outward, my chest heaving from the pressure of his knee digging into it. I gasped involuntarily, groaning when he applied more weight to the stab wound. “A bloody, short-sighted, vulnerable idiot.”

  Growling, I struggled against him, resisting when he attempted to push my hand away. Before he could stop me, I gathered a fistful of his shirt and while lifting, I pulled him down and smacked my forehead against his face. Robin cried out and I tossed him from me when the pain had temporarily incapacitated him. While he regrouped, I summoned enough presence of mind to reach for one of Peter’s tricks.

  My brother had made it to his knees and I, to my feet, when I froze him into place. Glaring down at him, I saw the blood trickling from his nose and fear in his gaze while I tightened the telekinetic lock I had on Robin. We stared at each other, in a stalemate, until he opened his mouth to speak.

  “Here we are again,” he said. “Immortal life isn’t exempt from irony.”

  Extending my left hand, I looked only long enough to find where my sword had fallen and summoned it toward my open palm. No sooner had my fingers closed around the scabbard than I drew the weapon and aimed the tip of the blade toward Robin’s throat. Whatever blindness had been cast over me or witchcraft had been wrought, it had woken the need for bloodshed and in that moment, I saw the sweetest crime laid out before me. It did not matter what she had told me to do. She had woken the monster and rage demanded he be fed.

  “Yes, this is a familiar position, isn’t it?” I asked, smirking at the way he regarded me. “I believe the first time we fought each other, I had exactly in this position.”

  “You named me Robin and I named you Flynn,” he said. Despite the nervous way in which he regarded me, I saw determination creep from out of the corners of his expression. “If you wanted a different name, all you had to do was ask.”

  “What I want is for you to suffer. Enough games. Enough tricks and false expressions of sentiment. If my betrayals cut you to the bone, it’s only fair I end your misery.”

  I motioned backward, savoring the final moment before I would plunge the blade through his chest Whether he sensed the honesty behind my threat, he centered himself enough to look me directly in my eyes, taking my focus temporarily away from his execution. I felt the whisper of thoughts rushing to me and regardless of whether he thought it would reach me in time, he offered them anyway.

  ‘I am sorry that I failed you, Flynn.’

  I had begun a forward motion when something about the words impacted, knocking me aback. As I checked my sword, lost in the echo how much sincerity his apology contained, Robin saw my hesitation and acted. Ducking to the side, he lifted to his feet and ripped one hand away from my sword’s hilt, in favor of clutching onto my other wrist. His other palm reached for my face and while I recoiled, the hold he already established stopped me from retreating far. His fingers had covered my eyes; his forehead pressed against mine before I knew it.

  “Peter, you need to stop this,” he said, “Or you will leave your children orphans.”

  I shouted in offence, fighting against the other man while flailing blindly for the gifts I had stolen from Peter. His grip on my wrist tightened, preventing me from establishing a hold on the sword and while I searched for a foothold, images flew into my head, as if Robin knew I had the floodgates opened and meant to inundate me. I saw pictures of each of Peter’s children, recognizing the priest’s living room when the visuals gained more clarity. Peter held onto his daughter while she slept. His sons lay curled together and from deep within, the seer called out to me.

  ‘Not this time, Flynn. Not ever. Now, sit down and shut up.’

  Whatever retort I felt inclined to offer could not manage to be formed, let alone birthed. My knees weakened and my thoughts drifted toward a discordant union of personalities. I snapped and fought at the last minute, but the force which had driven me to take control – which had seated the assassin firmly into place – shattered and gave the seer the final push he needed. The darkness imposed by Robin’s hand shifted into a lapse in consciousness and as my sword fell from my hand, the rest of my body slackened. When I woke, it felt like I was being lowered onto the floor.

  My first thoughts upon waking lacked any clarity, forming little more than fleeting images and bursts of pain which radiated from my chest and throughout my head. My eyes had been uncovered and as a set of arms held me upright, I lifted my lids and struggled to orient myself. “Where the bloody hell am I?” I asked, breathing the question in a whisper because it hurt too much to speak with any volume yet.

  Robin breathed a sigh of relief, shifting his support so he could appear more directly in my line of sight. Gradually, he came into focus, and while I knew I had won a battle against Flynn, I could not summon the full memory of what had just happened. “Your alter ego took control,” he said. “I owe the Fates a solemn word of thanks that I managed to unseat him.”

  Furrowing my brow, I studied the expression on Robin’s face, surprised to see him look so rattled. “Did he try to kill you?”

  “I believe that was his intention, though I doubt he was following instructions, considering he originally took control to detain me.” When I peered at him, undoubtedly with confusion written all over my face, he frowned and helped me to support my own weight. I rested on my palms and he sat beside me, reaching into his coat pocket for a handkerchief. “He was speaking to someone. I didn’t see whom, but I assumed it to be your wife. I fear she might have been using him to spy on us.”

  “What does that mean?” I watched him dab his nose, the idle thought that I had caused him to bleed passing through me without connecting. Mercifully, the pain in my head had started to subside. “Am I even safe to be around?”

  “I don’t know, but we don’t have the time to determine that. One set of enemies is poised to land on us at any minute.” Robin thrust his handkerchief back into his pocket, lifting his gaze to look heavenward. “And I think the other people threatening us have already arrived.”

  My attention snapped away from him, attuning itself toward the immediate area. As I peered toward the door, I felt a shiver of an entirely different nature run through me, compelling to a shaky stand, my feet drifting closer to the hallway. Pulses thundered in a manic cadence and when the pounding of footsteps accompanied them, I turned to face Robin. “Someone is coming,” I said. “And I think they are already in the stairwell.”

  Robin paled, reaching for a wrench while rising to his feet and while the blood on it begged for explanation, I knew we had no time. Instead, he assumed a place by my side and clutched onto the improvised weapon with both hands.
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  “Perhaps your alter ego was correct,” he muttered. “Maybe it is a good day to die, after all.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Had I the time to manage more than a few, fleeting thoughts, I might have formed a better plan of attack. As it stood, however, jabs of pain still marked every attempt to move and what clarity I had wrangled possessed a lingering cognitive dissonance. I counted five sets of feet and as they charged down the stairs, I managed a cursory assessment, at least. “Two seers,” I said, out loud for Robin’s benefit. “Three sorcerers accompanying them.”

  “They waited for night to fall,” Robin noted, lowering his voice. “That suggests they want us alive. I was right about them coming for us, though.”

  “I cannot abide being captured. Sadly, I cannot kill them, either. Doing that will ensure we leave here in urns.” Breaking my concentration long enough to find my sword, I saw it and its sheath in separate portions of the room. Walking to one, I bent and picked it up, wincing at the pain in my chest while becoming aware that my vampire instincts had woken. As blade and scabbard were reunited and strapped to my hip, I considered the amount of blood soaking through my shirt, reasoning an explanation to the hunger afflicting me. Feeding would have to wait until we were somewhere safe, though.

  “When we get out of this hotel, you are telling me what I missed,” I said, drawing my katana and flipping it so that its dull side faced outward.

  Robin did not respond. Banging from the other side of the hall preceded the doors swinging open and after exchanging a nod with Robin, I emerged from hiding, focusing on our first adversary. A tall, young seer armed with a sword greeted us, and out of reflex I lifted a hand, intending to push him back before he could attempt his first attack. He had been primed and waiting, however, and before I could summon more than the thought, an invisible force swept my legs out from beneath me. I landed hard on my backside, the force jostling up to my wounded chest and causing me to clench my teeth in pain. “Not fair,” I groaned, struggling to my feet.