Blood Harvest (Blood Curse Series Book 12)

by Tessa Dawn

  He had wanted a moment alone with his little brother, and now, the internal clock in his head was tick-tick-ticking…

  Ten o’clock.

  Ten fifteen.

  Drawing nigh on ten thirty…

  It was almost time to blaze a trail, yet silence still hovered between the two brothers like vapor over a kettle of stew.

  “So…” They both spoke the word in unison.

  “You go first,” Braden offered.

  Conrad sighed, and he ran the tips of his fingers through his short, spiked, dirty blond hair. “I’m glad you came by.” He twiddled his fingers. “It’s really good that you and Mom are getting so close again. She talks about you all the time, ya know? How much she loves you, how badly she misses you, whether texting you ten times an hour, every hour, might be a little too much? Hey, Conrad, she always says. What do you think Braden’s doing?” He chuckled softly. “She even gets out that old embroidered prayer pillow, the one Great-Grandma gave her, kneels at the side of her bed, and asks the gods for your protection—every single night.” He groaned conspiratorially. “And I know Dad worries about you too, sometimes.” He bit his bottom lip. “Not like that. I mean…not in general. He knows you’re grown and have a lot of warriors around you…mentors, stuff like that. He’s just been worried about this Millenia Harvest Moon.” He winced, lowered his gaze, and stared at the ground, immediately feeling sorry for mentioning the great big millennia-elephant in the room. The family had already hashed the subject into the ground, and they had all done their level best to avoid the worst of the what ifs… They had all gone out of their way to impersonate Pollyanna, assuring Braden, half a dozen times, that everything was going to be A-okay, and when that hadn’t quite worked, they had finally wrapped their arms around him, as a family unit, and offered a prayer to both Lord Pegasus, Dario’s ruling celestial god, and Lord Monoceros, the deity who had chosen Braden.

  “You know what I mean, though, don’t you?” Conrad said, interrupting Braden’s train of thought.

  Braden nodded amiably. He reached over and mussed Conrad’s hair. “I do know what you mean, Conny. And you know what I’m grateful for right now?”

  Conrad’s gunmetal-gray eyes lit up.

  “I’m grateful for you, my favorite little brother, the fact that, even though we might not know exactly what to say in this moment, there’s no more…misunderstanding or personal distance between us. Grateful that we’re finally getting a chance to know each other better. Blood brothers, you know? Not just HOJ vamps.”

  Conrad’s answering smile rivaled the sun for its warmth and brightness. “I’m your only little brother, but…you mean that?” He stood up straighter and angled his body toward Braden.

  “Of course I do.”

  Conrad bit his bottom lip again. “You know, I may only be twelve, but I get that things were different, the way I always traveled around with Mom and Dad, got so much of their time and attention. I know you probably thought I was a little spoiled or…I dunno…different.” He frowned. “Self-important.” He shook his head. “It’s just, I know your real dad was an asshole, and Dario sired you—I guess I always thought you didn’t like me much, so I kind of put up a wall.”

  Braden stepped away from the car, turned to face Conrad directly, and planted two large hands on the kid’s eager shoulders. “Conrad…” He drew in a deep, measured breath. “Brotherhood is everything in the house of Jadon. Blood is life, and life is blood. I never blamed you for either of our circumstances. To tell you the truth, I was so busy growing up, just trying to find my way, figuring out who I was and where I belonged in the whole scheme of things, not just our family, that I didn’t really have time…didn’t notice or stop to think what everything looked like from your point of view. But you were always my little brother, Conny, and I always loved you.”

  Conrad’s soft, resplendent eyes teared up. “Not so little anymore though, right?” He raised his chin and puffed out his chest, trying to show off his burgeoning muscles, and Braden chuckled out loud.

  Yep, they were definitely cut from the same genetic cloth.

  He shook his head in the affirmative. “Definitely not so little anymore, and soon, if you like, I’ll swing by and pick you up so we can work out together at the academy’s gym or maybe at Ramsey’s cliff house—he has a state-of-the-art weight room and swimming pool—see how your training is coming along.” He pointed at the driver’s side window of the Mustang. “I’ll even let you drive my car—just don’t tell Mom or Dario.”

  Conrad laughed and rolled his eyes. “They can be so drastic and overprotective sometimes. Seriously, though, I’m a vampire, right? I can already fly, dematerialize, and feed on my own—you would think I could handle a car.” He bent over to look inside the window. “I mean, what’s the worst that’s gonna happen? Not like I can’t regenerate.”

  “Hey,” Braden said sternly. “Not worried about you, but you’d better not wreck my shit, or we’re gonna have words. Feel me?”

  Conrad spun back around and laughed again. “Deal,” he said, and then his expression grew all at once solemn. “Braden?”

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m gonna say a prayer of my own for you tonight.”

  Braden tilted his head to the side and summarily dismissed the comment—he just wasn’t willing to go there…again. Things were going exceedingly well, and he didn’t want to dampen the mood with concerns about things no one could predict…or change. “Thank you, Conny.” His words were crisp, purposefully abrupt, and then he reached in his pocket, pulled out his car keys, and whistled to catch Nachari’s attention. “Ten thirty-five!” he called, tapping his naked wrist in demonstration. “We need to head out, Nachari.” He turned back to Conrad and smiled. “You say that prayer, and text me if you feel like it. I’ll hit you back as soon as I can, and everything’s gonna be fine.” He was lying through his teeth, but oh well—

  Maybe it would turn out to be true.

  At this, Conrad reached out and grasped Braden’s arm. “You’re making that shit up, but it’s all good—I get it. Just…Braden?” He waited until the two made eye contact. “Here’s what I know: My big brother has the stealth of a warrior, the skills of a wizard, and the heartbeat of the house of Jadon in his veins. He can shape-shift, unlock mysteries from the Blood Canon, and fight with the best of them. And he hasn’t even chosen a formal discipline or trained at the Romanian University yet. I think, maybe, one day, you might end up being one of the greatest vampires that ever lived, and maybe tonight is just part of that.” He drew back his hand, bowed his head, and averted his eyes in a formal vampiric show of deference and obedience, a younger brother paying respect to his older sibling. “Be well, my brother.”

  A formal tiding.

  A warrior’s parting.

  Braden blinked several times to clear the mist from his eyes. “Be well, Conrad.” He spoke the words softly, and although he wanted to pull the kid into his arms, he knew the greatest love and respect he could show Conny was to honor the age-old custom, male-to-male, brother-to-brother, strong, courageous warrior…to warrior.

  He opened the door to his Mustang instead and regarded the approaching Master Wizard: “Nachari, let’s go.”

  Chapter Six

  The air was crisp, thanks to an occasional cool cross-breeze, even though the sun was shining high in a pale blue sky. Princess Ciopori and her sister, Vanya, surveyed the open, outdoor courtyard along the left side of Napolean’s compound, checking the decorations for the night’s Homage Ceremony. The sisters had overseen the construction of twelve elegant white pavilions with pergola-style roofs for clear, uninhibited viewing of the moon and sky, along with several slatted wooden walkways arching between them, and among the taller trees, along the exposed, unobscured branches, they had hung numerous glass-and-iron lanterns, each encasing a single autumn-colored candle, all suspended by a length of braided rope.

  The folded chairs were decorated with leafy lianas cascading across the top rail
s and hanging down along the back posts to the legs, and everywhere the eye could turn there were wooden barrels, hay bales, and ornate trellises, either wrapped in pale yellow roses and sage-green vines, or festooned with harvest fruits, pine cones, and mixed bushels of stems, plantings in the full array of harvest colors.

  Ciopori brushed her long, raven hair behind an elegant shoulder, ran her finger along a decorative loop inside a tall, arcing trellis, then sat down on the bench below it, watching her sister studiously as Vanya first tied a knot, and then a bow, in a loop of twine around the final bushel.

  “That’s lovely,” Ciopori said.

  Vanya smiled, and her pale rose eyes shined like moonlight, illuminating the scattered blonde highlights in her flaxen-gold hair. “Why, thank you, sister.” She placed the bushel atop a barrel, just so, and stood up straight to survey her handiwork. “All in all, I think the courtyard looks like a royal garden. In fact, it reminds me of the happier times, growing up in the palace.”

  Ciopori nodded her head, then sighed. She had been thinking along the same lines as Vanya, remembering life in Romania, before the Curse, before the worst of the female genocide, before the growing anarchy and deadly divisions had escalated in their father’s kingdom…before Jaegar’s henchmen and Jadon’s loyalists had become as two opposing nations in one fractured monarchy.

  Vanya met her sister’s eyes. “You’re thinking of them too? Our brothers.”

  Ciopori nodded. “How could I not?” She shook her head in consternation. “With all that is going on, the return of Nanaşule, and the knowledge of what he did with those vials…” Her voice trailed off, and she shivered.

  “Yes,” Vanya said frankly, taking a seat beside her sister and smoothing the pleated hemline of her skirt, “if I’m being perfectly honest, it keeps me up at night…the revelation. My mind wanders incessantly in so many different directions.” She fidgeted with her fingers, rotating her thumbs before placing both hands palm down in her lap. “While I feel so very sorry for Braden, I can’t help but admit there’s a part of me that wonders…perhaps wishes…even hopes—”

  “To catch a glimpse of Jadon?” Ciopori interrupted.

  “Yes.” Vanya nodded. She leaned back against the wooden bench, shifted her weight from side to side, and crossed her arms in front of her. “But then…”

  “Jaegar,” Ciopori supplied, acutely aware of her sister’s nervousness. Heck, she felt it too.

  Vanya rolled her eyes in embellished emphasis as opposed to annoyance. “I was terrified of him toward the end, Ciopori. I truly was. There was just…his soul…something missing, something twisted. Something rotten to the core. I don’t know that I have ever encountered a more perverted being.”

  “You mean a more perverted vampire,” Ciopori said.

  Vanya shrugged. “Perhaps. We never got to see that side of him, our brother after the change, after the Curse. Toward the end, we were so consumed with running, hiding…eventually relocating. I dare say the thought of Jaegar with all these added powers… I honestly can’t conceive of it.”

  “Nor I,” Ciopori agreed. Despite her own much calmer demeanor, she shivered before redirecting the conversation to the present. “Do you feel anything different?” she asked. “The gravitational pull of this coming moon? Any portent or premonition of what is soon to come?”

  Vanya furrowed her brows. “Mm. That’s hard to say. I do know that my celestial magick is awake…astir…like static electricity coursing through my veins. More alive, more present, more kinetic than usual, and earlier this morning, I felt a darkness like a dense, turbulent cloud hovering above the eastern end of the vale, but I don’t even know if I can trust my instincts: What is insight? What is divination? What is just fear or anxiety?” She shook her head in a visible attempt to shake the thoughts loose from her head. “We should change the subject.”

  Ciopori held up one finger. “Wait—not yet.” Her shoulders tensed. “You said the eastern end of the vale?”

  “Mm hmm,” Vanya said. “Why? Does that mean something to you?”

  “Not quite sure,” Ciopori replied. “I got a call from Deanna, about thirty minutes ago—she wanted to know if I had spoken with Kristina this morning. Apparently, Nachari tried to reach her, but she isn’t answering her phone. And while Nachari did not want to disturb her telepathically, he thinks she might be upset, perhaps taking some personal time to deal with the whole precarious situation. He was concerned enough to ask Deanna to call each of the Silivasi sisters, his brother’s mates, to ask us to keep an eye out, to keep checking up on Kristina. Much like you, Niko Durciak and Jankiel Luzanski also got a really strange vibe earlier, a sense of darkness or foreboding, centered around the Dark Moon Casino, and Niko alerted Nachari. Just a heads-up but still…the casino is on the eastern end of the vale.”

  Vanya worried her bottom lip while considering Ciopori’s words thoughtfully. “Hmm, that is interesting, very…interesting. Do you think you should try to reach Kristina right now?”

  Ciopori frowned. “Not really. I mean, I would, but Deanna said that she, Arielle, and Jocelyn would keep trying Kristina’s number, and neither Niko, nor Jankiel, sensed anything…definitive. Like Nachari, they do not want to intrude if Kristina is just…retreating inward. But they are going to keep an eye out.”

  Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Vanya slowly nodded. “Very well then.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to release some tension. “Speaking of being upset…the whole precarious situation…I’ve been meaning to ask: How is Marquis?” She injected a clearly forced note of cheer into her voice. “I know my brother-in-law is very close to Braden—the young vampire has a special place in Marquis’ heart, even if the Ancient Master Warrior doesn’t always show it.” She chuckled softly, and Ciopori smiled.

  “I dare say Marquis is anxious as well. Loaded for bear. Determined to face this Millenia Harvest Moon the way he faces everything else: directly, head-on, and with an iron fist.” She sighed, demonstrating both her understanding of her fearsome mate, and her concern for the warrior’s welfare. “And Saber? How does he feel about all that is happening? Has he said much about it recently?”

  Vanya narrowed her gaze on a loose, pale strand of thread lying crosswise against a seam in her skirt. She picked it out between her nails, studied it absently, then flicked it into the dirt. “Well, being a sentinel, of course his first concern is the safety of the king and the continued well-being of the house of Jadon. He’s not one to let his imagination get the best of him, and I would assume, being raised in the house of Jaegar, he isn’t as…threatened…by the potential of dark cosmic forces, some universal evil being loosed on the land this nightfall. I would say, it’s fifty-fifty—his concern that something odious might happen versus his belief that all will be well. Nonetheless, he will be very relieved—as will I—when this Millenia Harvest Moon business is behind us.”

  “Amen.” Ciopori stressed the word, once again eyeing all the festive decorations. “Even as we prepare and plan for what should be a night filled with sacred, rejuvenating ceremonies, it’s hard to feel celebratory or as reverent as we ought… In truth, I just want it over with, as well.”

  Just then, the sound of tires skidding to a halt on the other side of the outdoor terrace, the veranda that edged the courtyard, interrupted their conversation. Seconds later, a single car door slammed shut, and the crisp clip-clop of hurried footfalls—the underside of a toe, quickly followed by a balancing heel—ascended along the steps to the patio.

  Both Ciopori and Vanya leaned forward, eager to catch a glimpse of the approaching visitor.

  Ah, it’s Kristina! Ciopori noted inwardly. Speak of the devil…

  Relieved to see her sister-in-law in the flesh, she cleared her mind of all recent conversation and turned her full attention on the always well-dressed, five-foot-six female. “Greetings, sister,” she called, gracefully waving her fingers.

  “Hey, sis,” Kristina called back. She crossed the terrace and stopp
ed short, four or five feet in front of Vanya. “Hey, V—what’s up? How are you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Rather, she planted two delicate hands on her narrow but curvy hips and glanced around the courtyard. “This looks great!” she exclaimed, but the enthusiasm in her voice was largely manufactured.

  “Thank you,” Vanya said.

  “Rest assured, we didn’t do all this work ourselves,” Ciopori added, “but yes, we believe it came out quite nicely.” She waved her hand through the air. “But enough of all that, dear sister. Do you realize half the family has been trying to get in touch with you?” Kristina scrunched up her forehead, pretending to be confused, and Ciopori immediately called her out on it. “You have not been answering your phone, Kristina.” She paused to let the accusation settle in. “Nachari… Deanna…Jocelyn and Arielle. Everyone has been worried about you.”

  “Oh, that,” Kristina said sheepishly. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I had my phone turned off. Haven’t really been in the mood for talking, but I texted Joss before I left to come see you, so everyone knows I’m fine.”

  Ciopori reached below the bench to retrieve her small leather handbag, took out her cell phone, and brought up the message screen. She scanned the list until she came to the most recent group message from Jocelyn: Heard from Kristina. She says she’s just fine! (Smiley emoji and a heart.) Ciopori tucked the device back into her handbag and nodded with satisfaction at Vanya.

  Only, Vanya wasn’t having any of it.

  She was staring at Kristina like the devil was standing behind her, as if taking her measure from the inside out. “You’re fine?” she queried. “I can see that. And I would almost buy it, based on your hair, your makeup, and your clothing, except your aura reeks of dark, turbulent energy. It’s hanging all over you like a muddy cloud.”

  Ciopori held out her hand to soften Vanya’s approach. Sometimes the princess could be a bit…too direct. “What brings you here to the compound?” she asked Kristina, casting a sideways, chastising glance at Vanya. She raised her brows and turned her attention back to Kristina.