The Vampire's Spell - Kiss of The Night: Book 3

by Lucy Lyons

  Distantly, I heard shouts, and Clayton was torn out of my arms as the werewolves rushed in and Nicholas pushed me behind him for my protection. I rubbed the tears from my face, threw his arm off me, and stepped out into the open.

  “How dare you come here and try to force us into slavery,” the Amazon werewolf snarled as they pressed forward. I looked toward Henny, but two wolves flanked her, growling and herding her away from us.

  “Stop this,” I pled, fear and anger pressing down on my lungs and making it hard to breathe. “Stop NOW!” I dropped to my knees and pushed out with my power as hard as I could, fueled by fear and anger. But my power was still connected to both Nicholas and Clayton, and the concussive effect of the raw blast was far greater than I anticipated, knocking over every creature in the clearing except Nicholas, who knew me well enough that he’d launched himself into the air before he could be struck by it.

  “You have an interesting way of making friends, Caroline,” came a shaky laugh from a pile of wolves. I ran over and reached out a hand to Henny, jerking it back when one of the wolves growled. Henny reached out and I helped her out of the pile of groggy canine and human limbs.

  “Right now, only two friends I already have matter.” In response, the cinnamon wolf I now knew to be Clay dug his nose under into my armpit and slid under me until my arm was draped over his shoulders.

  “You have so much to learn about interaction between species,” Henny said. I nodded in agreement.

  “I know and I’m sorry. But I have a hurt friend and I need your advice. You invited me here. I didn’t know I should expect a fight.”

  “That’s not your fault. At least not anything you have control over. Clay has been telling the wolves about you. Some of them are less excited by the prospect of an alliance with you than others. Not that it matters now.”

  “How can it not matter?” I gasped. The council of ancient vampires could arrive any day without warning, Nicholas had gained a city by force and would need to stamp out any remaining pockets of dissent. The wolves were in danger from the vampires and the Venatores, now that both knew they existed.

  “I’ll do my best to help keep your wolves safe, no matter what,” I promised. “But right now, I need you to heal Rachel. Please?” I added, choking on my tears.

  Henny shook her head regretfully. “I’m sorry. I can’t even touch what she is. I would be cast out.” I sniffed and nodded.

  “Then tell me how, teach me, and in return, I will protect the wolves from the Venatores, and the council. They are coming. We’ve made them notice us and nowhere on Earth is safe from them now.”

  “The wolves have no choice but to follow you. You’ve bonded with them and subdued them. By law, that makes you their Alpha.” I glanced back at Nicholas, who wore a blank, unreadable face, but I sensed his satisfaction, and I laughed without mirth.

  “Well, I got played pretty well, didn’t I?” I said, looking at the older witch. “No wonder the wolves didn’t want Nicholas back.” I growled in frustration and held out my arms, turning in a circle. “I have come among you as a friend and you treated me as an enemy. Now, you belong to me.”

  Clayton howled and the giant wolves all over the clearing returned his call. I turned to Henny and lowered my arms.

  “I am the alpha wolf and bonded witch of the wererat kingdom. I am servant of the master of Seattle and watcher of the Venatores.” I leveled my gaze on her and balled my hands into fists. “Now teach me how to save my vampire.”

  Henny bowed low and several of the wolves followed suit. I felt a surge of pleasure from Nicholas that raised my hackles.

  “We’re going to discuss this later,” I warned him. “I don’t deal with being used well.”

  “I did not create this situation, Caroline; in truth, neither of us did. I’m only proud that you are coming into your power so naturally.” His voice was soft and apologetic in my mind.

  “I do not want to rule you. But, when I need you, I will call.” I singled out the woman who had tried to chase me off and bowed in front of her. The clearing was quiet and as I stared at the grass beneath my feet, I knew I was putting my life in her hands.

  “What do you want, witch?”

  “I would like to ask you to allow me to train with your people, so I may better understand them,” I said. “I won’t stay here, but someone needs to learn. I’m a watcher. I was meant to learn and record your history and your ways. We don’t have to be enemies anymore.”

  “No vampire will ever be welcome here,” she spat and I nodded.

  “There may come a time when that changes. Until then, give me the tools to rescue a victim of unspeakable torture and teach my friend to be a good wolf. I will return to train with your witch.”

  Henny stepped forward and Clay came with her, trotting to me like a Labrador who only looked like a small horse. I touched his head and felt that bond connect us again.

  “When you return, he should be well enough to be in his human form,” she chuckled. “I can’t help your friend. I deal in life magic only. There are others, like you, witches who are human servants. Find one and you’ll get the answers I can’t provide.”

  “I want to train with you, Henny. I don’t think we can afford to turn our noses up at whatever knowledge we can get. The Venatores have systematically culled the magic from our people. I’m going to bring it back.”

  I shook her hand and she pulled me in quick for a hug. “Hurry back, Caroline. I feel a darkness coming and we’ll need every ounce of power between our two peoples to stop it.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can get Rachel somewhere safe, away from the Venatores.” I bowed to her and she returned the same. I ruffled the thick fur on Clay’s head. “I’ll be right back, buddy. Be good for Henny, okay?” He pressed his big head against my side. “I love you too.”

  I looked around at the dozens of pairs of eyes, human and wolf, that watched me return to the Nicholas and our cars. I opened the door and Rachel peered out at me, shrinking back into the interior.

  “I got you, Ray, okay?” I reached out my hand and she whimpered, bringing tears to my eyes. “Nicholas,” I asked as I turned to him “Where can I find a vampire with a witch for a servant, who will help us?”

  He smiled thinly and exhaled in a long, slow breath. “I do not know, but we will find out.” He held open the door to the second car and climbed in after me, blocking my view of the wolves, and Clay. But I felt him still. He was a part of me. My brother in the society and now my brother in the metaphysical world. For better or worse, my family was crossing over, from hunter to prey. I was beginning to understand that this was what the Venatores had sought to prevent.

  The world had shifted the moment Nicholas, my knight of marble skin and obsidian eyes, had seen in me the potential to end the war. I wondered if he knew that could include the end of the Venatores themselves. Tucking myself into his side and looking out the moonroof at the stars above, I pushed the thought away. There would be time later to dissect his motives and fight.

  He bent and kissed me, and my fears fell behind. For the moment, there was nothing but his cool touch and the fire he lit inside me. Although I hadn’t said it, he knew that I loved him and I finally dared to hope that he loved me. Whatever it took to save Rachel and keep our ever-growing clan safe, I would be by his side. I knew that in all the world the only creature, human or otherwise, who loved me without hesitation, was the centuries old nobleman who held me in his arms.

  END OF BOOK 3

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  The Vampire’s Embrace

  The Gift of Blood:

  Book 1

  Lucy Lyons

  © 2017

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  © Copyright 2017 by Persia Publishing - All rights reserved.

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  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 1

  Ashe lay on the roof of the music building looking up at the foul grey clouds as they raced across the sky. Her head lay on her backpack and her feet rested on the raised lip of the flat roof. Anyone looking up would only be able to see the worn soles of her shoes peeking over the ledge. A book lay open across her stomach: a collection of short stories for her English literature class. Though it was November, Ashe wore nothing more than a simple t-shirt and a pair of tight jeans with holes in the knees and up the thigh. She was never bothered by the cold. In fact, she loved the winter and the quiet cool months leading up to them.

  Ashe was in the first semester of her final year at college. While those around her were preparing for their lives after graduation, Ashe found herself feeling just as lost as when she had first stepped onto campus three years ago, everyone had told her she would find her passion in time and to take as many different classes as she could until she found the ones that fit. However, in all this time nothing had sparked her interest in the slightest. She liked to read— she knew that much— and she liked to play the piano in the music building below her, but those two things alone did not make a future. She wasn’t enrolled in any music classes. She only liked the building for its practice rooms and easily accessible roof. Besides, she had been reading books and playing music long before coming to college.

  What she needed was something to wake her back up. She sighed and stretched her arms out in front of her. The bell in the tower of the campus cathedral started chiming out the hour, its somber melody ringing out across the quad and distorting against the sides of buildings before it reached Ashe’s ears. She had a few minutes yet until class. She sat up, letting the book tumble off her stomach as she reached for her backpack. She tossed the book inside and zipped it up then got to her feet, dusting the concrete grit from the back of her jeans.

  The door to the roof was set in at an angle, like the trapdoor to a tornado shelter. Ashe yanked it open with a grunt and slid herself in through the opening. When her boots hit the metal rungs of the ladder, she reached up again to close the door behind her. She wasn’t really supposed to be up there, but the door to the roof was never locked and she hadn’t gotten in trouble about it yet. She climbed down the ladder into the vast room that comprised half of the music building’s third floor. Once used as a rehearsal studio, it was now filled with dusty old boxes and empty instrument cases. Ashe often took loose sheets of music from the boxes and tried them out on the pianos downstairs. Their melodies were often macabre; sometimes atonal, and Ashe could see why they had been hidden away in the unused part of the building.

  Ashe could almost feel the energy crackling in the air outside. It wasn’t a matter of if it would rain, but rather when. The wind whipped her long auburn hair in front of her face and she tucked it behind an ear so she could see. Students hurried between buildings with their coats clutched close, hoping to get inside before the downpour. Ashe set off towards the lecture hall with a small smile on her face. She liked the idea of a coming storm.

  Angry red marks glared at Ashe from the paper. They slashed down the page like cuts wet with blood. Ashe glanced up at the students filling the lecture hall around her, but no one was paying her any mind. They never did. At the bottom of the last page was her failing grade and a message from the professor: SEE ME. The way it was written, in all caps with two sharp underlines for emphasis told Ashe this was just the beginning of her headaches. Three years of college and she was still just dragging herself along. She swept her long hair to one side and shoved the paper into her backpack. As she stood up to leave the lecture hall, a pen toppled onto the floor. She stooped to pick it up and hooked it onto the collar of her loose black V-neck so that she wouldn't lose it a second time.

  She hadn’t studied for this test, not really, and if she was being completely honest with herself she could have done better. But her midterm on medieval European folklore had come at a time when all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep all day, hiding away from the world’s crap. Days like that happened more often than Ashe would have liked to admit, especially since going to college and realizing that the drama didn’t stop after high school. She kept to herself mostly and could count on one hand the number of people she bothered to keep in touch with. Campus was small, but her world was microscopic.

  Ashe was nearly out the door when Professor Sharp called her name. She debated pretending she hadn’t heard him, but she had tried that tactic before and the man had followed her out into the hallway making the situation all the more embarrassing. This time she stopped and turned around, facing her professor with a poorly-hidden scowl on her face.

  Her mythology professor was like a library come to life, not so much in his vast knowledge of all things related to folklore and myth, but rather in his appearance. He wore a corduroy jacket of a dusty brown with matching brown leather elbow pads sown in. His trousers were of the same fabric as the jacket. Though he couldn’t have been much older than Ashe’s father, his hair was a uniform white as if he had personally watched the centuries go by instead of merely studying them.

  The man gave Ashe a searching look through his thick wireframe glasses. “You know I have office hours after class,” he said. “And if there’s anyone who could benefit from them right now it would be you.”

  “I was going to go to the library,” Ashe replied. “There’s a book I need for my next class.” This was not entirely the truth, but Ashe was not prepared to spend an afternoon listening to her professor’s motivational words about the value of education and the rewards of hard work. She already knew what her problem was—she just wasn’t that interested in mythology.

  Professor Sharp smiled. “I’ll make sure you still have plenty of time to get to the library when we’re finished. Walk with me to my office.”

  Ashe hated how the professor refused to give up on her, even after a semester and a half of unimpressive grades. It made it that much harder to disappoint him. She begrudgingly waited as he shuffled his papers into his brown leather shoulder bag and followed him out the door.

&
nbsp; “You know, a lot of lessons can be learned from folklore,” the professor said as Ashe walked with him through the hallway. “For example, the dangers of pride and the value of friendship and asking for help.”

  “I’m not proud,” Ashe said, though immediately she regretted it. The words made her sound childish, insolent.

  Professor Sharpe chuckled good-naturedly. “I didn’t say you were. I just think it would be good for you to reach out to your fellow students a little. Share the burden of studying for my impossible midterms and maybe make a friend or two along the way. It wouldn’t hurt.”

  Ashe felt the prickle of anger, though she knew she had no reason to be angry. Professor Sharp may think people were the answer to all life’s problems, but Ashe knew just how much trouble they could bring. It wasn’t that she hated other people, but that she was trying to protect herself. Her past had taught her all she needed to know about the follies of relying on others.

  As they rounded the corner to the professor’s office, Ashe could see someone already there waiting for him, someone she had never seen on campus before. If she had, she surely would have remembered. He was tall and a little gaunt, but the arms crossed in front of his chest looked stronger than his thin build would otherwise suggest. The dark circles under his eyes on an otherwise pale face made him look like he was in desperate need of a good night’s sleep. A lock of raven hair spilled over his brow, which he brushed to the side as he looked up to greet the professor. His smile made Ashe feel naked, as though any small move would betray just how fast her heart had started beating upon seeing him. Worst of all, she had no idea why she was feeling this way.