by Billi Jean
“You must go. They will come. They will destroy me. I will need you alive. I will need you to avenge me, or else I will never be reunited with my Tessa.”
Tears blurred his battered face. She touched Tessa’s cold hand, anguish swelling through her like nothing she’d experienced before. Tessa had suffered much before death had taken her away.
“I can’t lose you. Come with me. Together we will—”
“No! I cannot. They have her soul, as well, sister. Only if they are given me will they release her.”
She shook her head. “They will not. I know them. They are—”
“Evil. I know.” He reached up and touched his knuckles to her cheek and more tears flowed, hot and painful down her face. “I need you now, sister. We need you.”
She knew what he asked. What it would mean. “But what if she is…damaged? And lost to you because of what they did?”
He grimaced and a tear fell from his eye, traveling down his proud features. “I cocooned her from that, sister. She was unconscious, not aware of them.”
“Oh, Jorge!” Such a thing meant he had known, he had known what evil they did to her body and been unable to aid her. Such love he had for her, such joy they had once shared. She bowed her head. “I give you my oath. I will see your souls freed.”
His eyes closed and ease spread over his taut expression. “I will love you forever, as well, my sister.”
“Jorge.” She sobbed once, unable to hold in the sound.
“Don’t. Don’t cry for me. I had her, I had her for a short while. I will have her after. You must believe this.”
“Must I?”
“You must, sister. For it will strengthen you. I swear this to you. If you do not lose faith, you will not lose us. Nor will I lose her.”
She nodded as he gripped her hand. “I will give myself to them freely, but after you must kill them. All of them. Only then will we be avenged. Only then will you purge our people of their evil. Give me your oath you will not try to stop what they do this night. That you will go and not return for a sennight.”
Gasping, she shook her head. “I cannot!”
“You must.”
Knees aching, cold blowing over her heated face, heart aching with agony, she bowed her head, defeated. “What if I fail?”
“You will not fail. You are my sister. They may win for a time, but you will not fail.”
Such strength in his tone, such belief. She lifted her head and gave him what he wanted.
He smiled, a painful twist of his lips, and took Tessa closer in his arms. His grip on her hand loosened.
“I will not fail you, Jorge. I will crucify them for this.”
The memory snapped closed. She gasped in a lungful of salt-scented air. Tears once again blurred her vision, but she wiped them away.
Jorge, I will not fail you. I will not. They will come, and, when they do, I will kill them.
The marshes were still, heavy with a night fog so familiar to her. What wasn’t familiar was the absence of the church. The landscape was dreary, missing the quiet splendor it once possessed. In her mind, this place hadn’t changed. But in reality everything had changed.
Has it been so long, brother?
The church’s tower no longer cut through the night sky, tall and proud as it rose to Heaven. The lovely stained-glass windows depicting chapters from its beloved bible were gone, along with the merry bells that would ring the martyrdom of the saints.
The sea was not far, nibbling at the land like a hungry child biting at a biscuit—that hadn’t changed. The scent of salt called to her, reminding her of long gone times when she had swam beneath the rough surf and let the water buffer her from the world.
She stood and walked to where the small church had once stood. There, in the center of where the Christians had knelt in worship, she went to one knee and bent to touch the ground. Here is where my brother died.
Even after all this time, she felt his presence. The agony and utter helplessness he’d experienced reached up and struck her. Much as it had when she’d discovered what the council had done to him. He was here, but not here. Trapped within the blood they had let soak into the ground and locked into his misery as if he had just discovered his wife’s broken body.
You want answers, Bryson. You would not be able to comprehend the lengths some would go to to gain that which they want above all else—I couldn’t. But I do now.
A disturbance on the air alerted her to the arrival of the Hunters, but she didn’t move. They had come strong, as she knew they would. But Christian led them, the fool. She would kill him, here, where he had helped destroy her brother.
“I see you are still filled with sentiment.”
At the words, she didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.
The Hunters always attack first. But she would be the winner here, no matter how many of them Christian threw at her.
“I always wondered why he didn’t leave. Why let us destroy him? He could find another woman.” Christian’s boots drew nearer. “My guess? With a cold-hearted bitch like you as a sister, he couldn’t wait to get away.”
She flashed a smile. “Such flattery won’t save you.”
He stopped, laughed as if she amused him. She heard the fear, though, under his bravado. More footsteps indicated more Vampires.
A stab of pain barreled through her palm as a stake rose between her knuckles. Witchery? He did fear her. Another appeared by her leg, missing her but touching the side of her knee.
She tore her hand upward and flung herself at the first Vampire, a young, untrained boy. They collided hard and she gained his neck, almost before he realized his danger. She bit him and drew from his blood even as she lifted him high into the clouds. The blood gave her strength. The wounds she’d received from Bryson’s barrier began to heal.
He struggled, fruitlessly, in her arms. When she was satisfied he would not rise again to fight her, she tossed him aside. He plummeted, unable to stop his fall. He would survive. He was not the prey. The wound on her hand closed, leaving behind an ache, but nothing more. She needed more blood.
To her left, she sensed another. He dropped at an angle to capture her. She twisted and evaded him easily and misted to the clouds. Two Vampires still pursued her. Both were strong, but not the one wanted. But she would drink from them, gain her strength again.
She caught one in the chest with a bolt. He fell with a surprised shout and disappeared in the clouds. Two down.
The other one reached her. His eyes flared wide as he drew near. This one will do. He grinned, thinking her an easy catch. She spied the red of blood lust around his irises. A death drinker. Not a source to drink from.
She ducked under his arm and kicked him hard enough to drive him head first into the marsh. He made a desperate attempt to rise to his feet and away from her. She caught his long trench coat and tossed him face down and under the water. He thrashed, wetting them both, until within minutes, he weakened and ceased struggling.
Christian.
He hovered close. This one, she would drink until almost dry.
The coward stayed back. Hunters traveled in packs of six. Always six. Vampires believed such a number was lucky, but it wasn’t luck, it was something much more sacred.
But where are the others?
Suddenly, she sensed someone coming closer. She launched herself away from her hiding spot. Lightning hit so close it burned her arm. The bolt buried itself in the spot she had been. It would have killed her. At least for a while.
Not Christian. The strike was too good. Even as she thought it, Christian appeared in the clouds. His silver eyes were bright with the need to kill her. She beckoned him with two fingers. Come, try.
His eyes flared wide, but he didn’t attack.
She threw herself at him. At the last moment, she broke into a swarm of crows, pecking and stabbing him with her sharp beaks and tough claws. Just as fast, she shifted to herself and hit him hard enough to knock him back to earth. His impact was rewar
ding. She landed softly next to him. He was groaning, holding his head. She kicked him savagely in the stomach before he could rise. He shouted and rolled away, gaining his feet.
Someone grabbed her from behind, attempting to bite into her neck. She tossed the man off. The death eater. She brought her boot down on his ribs then picked him up by his jacket and tossed him into the sea.
Just as she turned, Christian hit her hard in the face, knocking her back a step. Before she could recover, he grabbed her shirt. It ripped as she was thrown to the ground. He followed through with a kick that broke her ribs. Focus! Can’t lose. She twisted her legs and captured him. At the same time, she hit him with a quick snap of power.
“Bitch!” He wiped at his bloodied lip.
Drawing a dagger from his waist he hunched over, then launched himself at her. She let him. He dove low, she twisted and kicked out. Her boot contacted with his head. Toying with him? She wasn’t certain. He was enraged. His irises blackened, his face flushed. He charged, managing to slice her arm from elbow to wrist before she could dodge him.
“Fucking whore.”
The words stabilized her need for his death. She ignored the pain, the blood loss, and brought down another strike of lightning, then another and another. He screamed and burst to mist, avoiding her only for a second. She launched skyward and only too late sensed…danger. A blast of pure white crackled by her head, missing her by a hair’s-breadth. The tingle of electricity left behind traveled up and down her body. She searched the skies. Saw no one. Only someone was there. Ancient. Powerful. A male.
Suddenly she spotted Christian.
“Isobel!”
Bryson. He flew at her, grabbing her arms even as she tried to reach Christian and whoever the other was. She sensed him back off, as if Bryson being here caused him to pause. Bryson lifted her to the clouds, hiding them in the misty cover.
“Release me!”
“God damn it, you’re hurt!” He bit into his arm and suddenly, before she knew what he was doing, shoved the wound up against her mouth. “Drink. You are wounded! Drink now!”
Her fangs dropped. Rich, spicy-scented blood intoxicated her. Never before had she smelled something that caught and held her like Bryson’s blood. Against her will, she bit down. Warm, salty—perfect flesh surrounded her fangs. It felt as if lightning had struck—but on the inside. Awash in such warmth, she moaned, clung to firm, strong shoulders with one hand and clutched her prize closer to her chest with her other.
“Drink!”
She obeyed. The first sip was—life-changing. Heady, powerful blood soaked into her as she savored him. Bryson groaned raggedly. Sounding pained, but…not. He crushed her to him, proving he was as strong as he looked.
“Yes! Take what you need.”
She drank, not deeply, not the way she did when she killed, but slowly, enjoying the rich vintage. She wanted more, wanted more of him. She pressed into him and wrapped her leg around his, drawing him even closer. Rigid muscles flexed beneath her nails. He bound her to him with his arm around her waist. She tightened her grip, moaning at the feel of his erection between them. Warm, suddenly moist flesh trembled as she ground against his manhood. The delicious stimulation made pleasure erupt throughout her body.
She gasped and pulled free. His eyes were dark, shimmering with such heated passion she shivered. His gaze flickered over her face, then focused on her eyes, mesmerizing her. Her mind blanked. Until, with a rush, the scents of the sea reminded her where she was. She pulled back the tiniest bit and he released her, his expression going hard.
“Why…” She swallowed and started again. “Why did you do that?” Had her voice ever been so breathless?
“You were poisoned. You were weak. You should never have—”
“Bryson! Grab her!” Christian shouted, sweeping toward them from above.
Bryson caught her arm, not to hold her but to growl at her, “Go. Damn it, Isobel, will you just listen to me and go?”
“Hold her!” Christian bellowed, materializing right in front of them, his sword lifted to take her head. Bryson shocked her by hitting Christian with enough power that the other man flew backward into a milestone far, far below them. Even from where they hovered it sounded as if it had cracked under him. Christian stayed down, unmoving in the grass.
“What are you doing?” she cried, scanning the area for the other. “There is danger here. Someone else has come with him. Someone dangerous—”
“Hell, don’t you think I know that? They want you dead, Isobel. Every single one of them is dangerous!” Bryson hauled her closer, until their faces were inches apart. Rage filled his expression. “This is the hell you’ve put me in.”
She wrenched free. “I haven’t put you in hell, Bryson. You’ve put yourself there.”
He grimaced and caught her again. His grip was like steel—covered with velvet because he took care not to hurt her, but this time, his hold was unbreakable. His handsome face tightened and the intensity in his gaze deepened. She couldn’t look away from him. His eyes were hypnotic. She could sense his soul, the dark, powerful force that was Bryson. So brave, so honorable, but also so foolishly holding onto his beliefs. Why had he given her blood? She would be able to read him now, reach him now, find him. More important than that, why had he grown hard? For me? Or was it blood sharing…?
“If we are going to die, I want one thing before we do.”
“I am not dying.” She gave him an icy glare. “You might if you do not—”
He silenced her with the sudden shock of his mouth pressed to hers.
The feel of his lips, the heat of his kiss seared into her so she thought he touched her soul. For a brief, utterly unbelievable second, the world and every horrible thing in it ceased to exist. There was only this man—holding her as if she might disappear—and his kiss. He thrust his tongue past her lips, claiming her mouth with such urgency that she gasped. When she did, he stroked his tongue along hers, coaxing hers back along his. It was amazing. Even more so because he gripped her backside with one splayed hand and forcefully shoved her up against him. His solid—very large—erection pulsed between them, making it clear what that one thing was he wanted.
Me.
He couldn’t possibly want to claim me? Now? Just the idea made her lightheaded and weaker than she’d ever been in her life.
With the same abruptness as he’d kissed her, he pulled free. She staggered, lost still in his kiss. If her world seemed turned upside down, the changes in Bryson were profound. She noted the color tingeing his high cheekbones, the swelling of his muscles, all his muscles. His handsome brow was furrowed with such concentration she wondered what he was thinking. He looked like a Greek god.
“Do not die this night, Isobel. Go, now, while you can.”
She pulled free and hit him with her fist—lightly, she realized with a shock. “I’m not going anywhere! You should. Go!” Inside, she knew that now she was the one speaking lies. She desperately—and unexpectedly—wanted him to stay, to stand by her side, and prove that someone, him most especially, cared about her. Believe in me.
Lightning crashed down and the two Vampires she’d thrown earlier appeared, racing for them. More followed. Christian was one.
“Isobel, for God’s sake, go!” Bryson caught one man around the waist and tossed him down so hard she thought his skull cracked. The power was stunning. “Isobel!”
She barely turned in time to defend herself. Bryson growled something under his breath that carried as another meaningless threat on the wind. She caught and held her opponent by his throat.
“You are hunting for the wrong Vampire. Now, stay down!” She tightened her hand and flew upward until the air was so thin it was brittle cold. Then she dropped the unconscious Vampire.
“Now. Now we go,” Bryson called, breathless and bloody from where he had followed her into the clouds.
“I will not go. I came here, knowing they would be here!” He was no different. Even if he kissed her. Even if he
grew hard for her. “I do not need your help, nor should you offer it if you believe such things of me!”
His eyes flashed lighter. “Then tell me what to believe, damn it!”
She sensed the ancient leaving the area, but Christian remained. Meeting Bryson’s tormented gaze, she relented. “I am my brother’s only salvation, Bryson. Do not get in the way of my oath again.”
She dropped down, feeling the power of the wind as she spiraled through the clouds. I will not allow him to distract me. Not now.
She hit Christian hard in the chest with both hands. His eyes widened even as he struggled to dislodge her. But she knew him. Knew the coward he kept hidden from the world. She didn’t try for a killing blow. This time, she twisted and caught him around the neck and shifted him in her arms.
Chapter Fourteen
The cavern Isobel settled in was ancient. Far more ancient than humans, who’d found only the merest percentage of it, far, far above this sacred place.
Christian fought, immediately attempting to throw her. She kept hold of him and let him beat at her sides. It wasn’t his death she craved yet. It was his blood. He had the knowledge she needed. He knew who all the members of the council were—and who this other was.
She sank her teeth in and drank greedily, nearly ending his life as his fight weakened. On the cusp she released him but left the wounds open. He fell to the floor, gasping and attempting to crawl away from her. She broke his mind and found what she wanted in the selfish, manipulating mechanics of his thoughts. There, in the forefront was what he craved.
He’d been glad she had killed Gia. Thrilled to think she’d taken Aquinas’ life, as well. Without them he had no one to stand in his way of claiming the throne. With Agatha by his side, he would win a regime. Everyone else who would ever know and possibly betray his involvement in Aaron’s death—except one.
A man.
She didn’t know him, didn’t recognize Christian’s memories of him, nor understand what part he could have possibly played in her brother’s death. He was young. Merely of this century and yet…this was also the ancient she’d sensed.
