The Tomb of Blood

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The Tomb of Blood Page 43

by Britney Jackson

Her icy blue eyes shifted toward him. “Couldn’t someone else do it?”

  “No,” Aaron growled. “What the hell is wrong with you, Kara?”

  Kara glanced back at Rose, worry twisting at her expression.

  Aaron rolled his eyes as he realized why she didn’t want to leave. “Kara, I need you to focus. Stop worrying about her. This entire colony could be in danger of an attack. I need you to help me secure the Tomb of Blood. Damn it. You’re the one person I can usually count on to not get emotionally involved.”

  Kara glanced back at him. “I’m not emotionally involved.”

  “Then, get down to the tombs,” Aaron growled.

  “Fine. Just…” Kara sighed sadly, “Can you give me a minute?”

  Aaron rolled his eyes and waved his hand, gesturing for her to hurry.

  Kara stepped forward and fell to her knees in front of Rose, her breath catching in her throat, as she stared worriedly at the gruesome, bleeding hole in Rose’s chest. The scent of Rose’s blood swirled around her, igniting an intense, primal hunger inside of her, but the fear that Kara felt as she watched the blood pour over Rose’s jacket and shirt kept that hunger at bay. She lifted her face, staring into Rose’s swirling, red eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking.

  Rose frowned, and then, slowly and weakly, she lifted her hand to touch Kara’s face, watching as Kara’s eyes fluttered closed. “Why do you look so sad?”

  Kara reached up and covered Rose’s hand with her own. “You have to stop wasting your strength like this,” she said worriedly. But then, she turned her face and pressed her soft, warm lips against Rose’s wrist. Rose’s chest tightened with emotion, a strange warmth unfurling through her cold, weak body, as she watched Kara kiss her wrist. Kara’s lips lingered there for a while, warm and wet against Rose’s skin. Kara’s eyes were closed, her brows furrowed, as if she were in deep pain. Then, finally, Kara pulled back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “But…why?” Rose said bewilderedly, her words slurring drowsily.

  “I should have been here when this happened,” Kara said quietly, practically whispering. “I promised to protect you, and…I failed. I’m so sorry.”

  Rose tried to shake her head, but she was too weak. “You…didn’t fail.”

  Kara once again turned her face into Rose’s wrist, and then, with her warm, soft lips brushing against Rose’s wrist, she murmured something in a language that Rose didn’t understand. Rose listened, mesmerized by the beautiful, lilting tone of Kara’s voice. Kara spoke the unfamiliar words as if she were reciting poetry, the icy wind whistling in the background. When she finished reciting the foreign, poetic words, she stood and turned away, purposely avoiding Rose’s gaze. Her sleek, blue-streaked, dark hair fell around her face as she began to walk toward the mausoleum. Kara had only taken a few steps before someone grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. She turned around, frowning, as she realized that Kallias was the one who had stopped her. “Yes?” she said.

  Kallias seemed nervous. “She’ll be okay,” he said quietly, as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear him. “And…if anything changes, I’ll let you know.”

  Kara couldn’t have been more surprised. “Thank you.”

  Kallias nodded, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, and stepped back.

  Rose watched, bewildered and barely conscious, as Kara disappeared into the mausoleum. She looked at Erik. “What was that thing that she was saying?”

  Erik smiled. “It was an Old Norse prayer,” he explained. He moved to her side and knelt down beside her. He tapped his forefinger against Rose’s wrist, which lay idly by her side. “It was a prayer for the person’s safety and well-being. Traditionally, it was spoken into the pulse. Because the pulse represents life.”

  Rose tilted her head to the side, her messy, red hair shifting over her shoulder. “I didn’t think she was religious,” she said, her voice hoarse and weak.

  “She’s not,” Erik sighed, his brows creasing. “She’s just afraid for you.”

  Rose just stared at him, too surprised and too weak to form words.

  “Eh…don’t tell her I told you that,” he mumbled. “She’d kill me.”

  Rose’s lips twitched into a tired smile. “I never say this, but I should: I’m grateful to have you as a friend. You’re annoying. But I appreciate you.”

  Erik’s eyebrows lifted. “Holy shit. You are dying, aren’t you?”

  Practically on cue, Rose suddenly slumped forward, falling unconscious.

  Erik caught her before she fell into the snow, his eyes widening, as he glanced down at her limp, motionless form. “Uh, Kallias,” he called, tensing as he felt her warm blood spilling over him. “We should probably get her inside.”

  “Go ahead,” Aaron told them. “Get her into bed and out of those wet clothes. I’ll send someone to your room to bandage her wounds. And then, later, once I am fully healed from her earlier feeding, I will give her more of my blood.”

  Kallias’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really?”

  Aaron shrugged. “If anyone’s blood can heal her, it’s mine.”

  Kallias narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why are you helping her?”

  Aaron stared at Kallias for a moment. “The first reason is simple: she’s a member of the Tomb of Blood now, which means she’s under my protection.”

  “And the second reason?” Kallias prompted.

  Aaron smirked. “We always take good care of our weapons, don’t we?”

  Kallias froze, his eyes widening in shock. “Fuck you,” he snarled.

  Aaron laughed. “Hey, I’m willing if you are,” he quipped. He performed a sarcastic bow and began trudging through the snow, toward the mausoleum.

  Erik frowned worriedly. “What did that mean?”

  “It means,” Kallias growled, “that Aaron knows what Rose is.”

  17

  Frankenstein’s Monster

  “What have you done?” Aaron breathed.

  “What? You didn’t like it?” Alana asked. She continued to scrub at a large, crimson bloodstain on her bulky, gray dress, barely even acknowledging his presence. A smile curved at her lips. “I thought it was kind of beautiful.”

  Aaron stepped into the small, candlelit temple with her, clenching his fists at his sides as he tried to control his volatile anger. “There are corpses hanging from the trees,” he growled. “You massacred the entire village, Alana.”

  She shrugged. “They were involved in slave trade.”

  “The entire village, Alana,” Aaron growled. “You killed all of them.”

  Alana looked up at him and smiled. “I know. I was there.”

  His anger snapping, Aaron raced toward her and slammed her against the wall. She hit the wall with so much force that the shrine beside her toppled and fell, the clay statue shattering on the ground. “You haven’t even been a vampire for one night yet,” he snarled, “and you’ve already slaughtered a village.”

  Alana tilted her head back against the wall, staring up into his furious, black eyes. His long, curly black hair hung around his face, brushing the collar of his tan, linen shirt. She flashed a taunting smile at him. “What’s wrong? Are you regretting your decision? Do you wish that you would have left me dead?”

  “I can kill you just as easily as I created you,” Aaron warned.

  “Then, do it. Kill me,” Alana hissed against his lips. “I dare you.”

  Aaron released her and stepped back, watching as she tossed her head back and laughed, as if his threat had been the most hilarious thing in the world. A cold wave of horror washed over him as he realized that he’d made a terrible mistake in turning this woman into a vampire. “You’re insane,” he realized.

  She stepped away from the wall, her dark blue eyes sparkling. “Well, what did you expect, darling?” she asked as she closed the space between them, a seductive smile curling at the edges of her lips. “You found me naked and chained up in a barn, like an animal. Did you expect me to be all hap
py and nice?”

  “I expected you to use your power wisely,” Aaron corrected.

  “I am using it wisely,” Alana insisted. “I am using it for vengeance.”

  “Vengeance isn’t wise,” Aaron told her. “Trust me. I would know.”

  “Why?” Alana asked. She tilted her head to the side, her pale blonde hair spilling over her shoulder. She smiled. “Do you have a dark secret, Aaron?”

  “Yes,” Aaron said, “and you’re making the same mistake that I made.”

  “Then, you,” Alana said, poking his chest, “have no room to talk.”

  “Alana, listen to me,” Aaron sighed. “If you don’t let this go, that need for vengeance will consume you. It will destroy everyone and everything around you. And then, eventually, everyone who hurt you will be dead, but your pain will still exist. You’ll have no one left to punish for it, and it will drive you mad.”

  “No worries, then,” Alana giggled. “I went mad a long time ago.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I won’t tolerate this, Alana. I know that you’re angry about what happened to you when you were human, but your human life is over now. You need to let it go. If you want to kill the ones who hurt you, do it. But don’t slaughter entire villages. You’re jeopardizing the safety of all vampires, and I don’t have time to clean up your messes. So, let this go. Quickly.”

  Her blue eyes flashed with fury. “You won’t tolerate this?” she growled. “Am I still a slave, Aaron? Are you my master now? Because—correct me if I’m wrong—but I could’ve sworn that when you found me, you told me I was free.”

  “I made you a vampire so that you could never be hurt like that again,” Aaron growled at her. “I’m not usually a kind person, but…what they did to you was sickening. So, yes, I freed you, but I expect you to use your freedom wisely. If you continue this reckless behavior, I will have no choice but to kill you.”

  Alana leaned closer to him, her small, soft body pressing against his. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled his face closer to hers, as if she were going to kiss him. “Then, you might as well kill me now,” she whispered against his lips. “When I was a defenseless, little human, this world took everything from me. It stripped me of my family, my possessions, my clothes, my virginity…even my will. So, now, I will take everything from it. I will tear this world apart.”

  “That is insane,” Aaron said, his brows creased with worry. “There are specific people who are responsible for your pain. Direct your anger toward them.”

  “The world is responsible,” Alana argued, her breath hitting his lips with each word. “The world that allows slave trade. The world that allows rape. The world that allows war. The world that allows people to take what they want. The world that looks away and pretends not to see when people suffer. This entire world is responsible for what happened to me, and this entire world will suffer.”

  Aaron stared at her, his dark eyes wide. “You’re a monster.”

  Alana leaned forward and captured his lips with her own, her lips soft and wet against his. She kissed him slowly, allowing him to taste the blood in her mouth, and then, finally, she pulled back. She smiled when she saw the desire that burned in his dark eyes. She dropped her arms and took a step backward.

  “You’re right,” Alana said, a seductive smile curling at her lips. “I am a monster. And when I tear your world apart, just remember…you created me.”

  —

  Aaron awoke to the sound of footsteps, thudding softly through the tunnel, moving slowly toward him. He stared up at the vaulted dirt ceiling of his room as the vampire approached. “Kara,” he said, “why are you in my room?”

  “I have information,” Kara answered, “about the Assassins of Light.”

  Aaron raised up in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist, and he dragged his hand through his curly, black hair. His dark gaze shifted toward the opening of the tunnel, where Kara stood with her arms crossed across her black tank top, her black-and-blue hair spilling around her shoulders. The skin around her light blue eyes looked purplish and bruised, as if she hadn’t slept during the day. And based on the time that flashed on the clock beside his bed, she hadn’t.

  He climbed out of bed, scooping up a pair of jeans from the floor and stepping into them. “Shouldn’t you have been sleeping, instead of questioning people about the Assassins of Light?” he asked as he zipped up the black jeans.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Kara sighed, a hint of anguish flashing in her eyes.

  Aaron just stared at her for a moment. “Because of Rose?”

  Kara pursed her lips. “It doesn’t matter why.”

  He tugged a navy-blue T-shirt on over his head, mussing his already unruly, black curls. “She survived the night,” he told Kara. “That’s a good sign.”

  “I know,” she said stoically. “Erik kept me updated.”

  Aaron crossed his arms and sat down on the edge of his bed. “So, what did you find out that was so important that you had to wake me before sunset?”

  “One of the original Assassins is still alive,” Kara informed him.

  His brows furrowed. “That’s impossible,” he insisted. “You know it’s impossible. You and I hunted them together. We killed every last one of them.”

  “Not to mention,” Kara hinted, “it’s been three hundred years…”

  Aaron felt a cold wave of shock wash over him as he realized what she was suggesting. “Are you saying that one of them became a vampire?”

  She nodded. “His name is Isaac Attwood.”

  “Did your sources know where we could find him?” he asked.

  “Last seen in London,” Kara confirmed. “He’s been hiding.”

  “From us, I assume,” Aaron said, nodding. “We need to find him.”

  “I already have someone working on it,” she assured him.

  Aaron frowned thoughtfully. “The Assassins of Light hated vampires. They believed that we were evil. Why would one of them become a vampire?”

  “My guess?” Kara asked, her eyebrows lifting. “It wasn’t his choice.”

  “You think someone turned him for revenge?” he asked.

  She nodded. “That’s exactly what I think.”

  Aaron stood and walked over to the wall of computer screens. He typed something on the keyboard, and the computer screens flipped on, displaying various views of the cemetery and the Tomb of Blood. “Do me a favor?” he asked. “Find me someone to feed from. Your girlfriend took a lot out of me.”

  Kara rolled her eyes. “Rose isn’t my girlfriend, and you know it.”

  “What I know,” Aaron said, glancing back at her, “is that the last time I saw you this emotionally-attached to someone was when you were with Alana.”

  Kara’s icy blue gaze shifted down, toward her boots. “Rose isn’t Alana.”

  “No,” Aaron agreed, “because Rose might actually love you back.”

  She swallowed. “You know me, Aaron,” she said, flashing a fake smile. “I don’t fall in love. I sleep with a lot of women, and then, I’m done with them.”

  “I know you well enough to know that’s all an act,” Aaron corrected.

  Kara sighed, “What are you afraid of, Aaron?”

  “You’re useful to me,” he answered. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  Kara laughed, as if that were absolutely absurd. “What do you think I’m going to do?” she scoffed. “Give myself over to Alana in order to save Rose?”

  Aaron turned toward her, scowling at her. “Something like that.”

  —

  Rose awoke with a sharp cry as she immediately became aware of the agonizing pain aching and burning throughout her chest. She stared at the white ceiling with wide, azure eyes, gasping for air, too weak to move a single muscle.

  Erik scrambled off of the other bed, tossing the remote control onto the nightstand with a loud clack, and he ran to her side, leaning over her, his green eyes wide with worry. “Kallias!” he called toward the bathroom. “She’s awake
!”

  Rose noticed the sound of running water—the shower, she assumed—in the background, and then, after Erik called out to Kallias, the sound of a knob turning. The sound of the running water grew quieter until it disappeared completely. She tensed as another wave of pain shot through her body. “Erik,” she gasped, glancing down at her bandaged body. “Where are my clothes?”

  Erik sat down in the office chair beside the bed and leaned forward, propping his forearms on the mattress. He snorted at her distorted priorities. “A garbage can, I assume. There wasn’t much left of them,” he muttered. When she opened her mouth to object, he smiled and held up a finger. “I know what you’re thinking, and let me just put your mind to rest. I haven’t been looking at your half-naked body. You’re not that sexy with that gruesome hole in your chest.”

  “Thanks,” she said sarcastically. “You’re making me feel tons better.”

  The bathroom door opened, allowing soap-scented steam to permeate the air, and then, Kallias stepped out, toweling his hair dry, his black T-shirt and jeans damp and sticking to his skin. Erik moved out of his way as Kallias set aside the towel and knelt at Rose’s side. His long, brown hair dripped with water still. “Rose,” he breathed, a relieved smile pulling at his lips. “You’re awake.”

  “Try not to sound so surprised,” Rose muttered dryly.

  “If you could see how nasty that wound is, you’d understand,” Erik said.

  “Again, with the making me feel better,” she grumbled.

  “I’m sorry,” Kallias said suddenly. “I’ve wanted to tell you that all day.”

  Rose glanced up at him, her brows furrowing, as she noticed the sadness and frustration in his wide, brown eyes. “Why are you apologizing?” she laughed, wincing as that caused intense pain to lance through her body. “You were right.”

  “I’m apologizing for being such an ass lately,” Kallias corrected.

  She offered him a weak smile. “Stop talking like I’m dying.”

  “But you were dying,” Kallias growled. “And all day, all I could think about was how distant I’ve been lately, and how frustrated I’ve been with you.”

 

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