Beautifully Unnatural: A Young Adult Paranormal Boxed Set

by Amy Miles

  “Great history lesson,” Sadie grumbles. “But what’s this got to do with our friend?”

  “The fire occurred on the night of dear Roseline’s wedding…and her rebirth.” Sorin fixes his eyes on Gabriel, weighing out his reaction. “And that, my stupid boy, is recorded in our history books.”

  “Wait a second,” William gasps, speaking for the first time since he entered the gloomy room. “You’re saying Rose is…three hundred and twenty-two years old?”

  Sorin nods. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  He rises and moves toward the far wall. Placing his hand on one of the dark wooden panels, a hidden chamber appears. He motions for them to follow him. “Come…if you seek further proof.”

  Gabriel hangs back with William and Sadie as Nicolae follows directly behind Sorin. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he mutters under his breath. Nicolae darts a glance over his shoulder but says nothing. Gabriel would bet his brand-new Range Rover on the fact that Nicolae is hiding his own concern.

  “Stick close to me,” he whispers as he ducks inside the hidden passage.

  Sadie wedges herself between Gabriel and William as they descend a drafty spiral staircase. They walk on and on, burrowing deeper into the heart of Sorin’s lair. Flickering torch light struggles to illuminate the narrow space.

  “How much further?” Gabriel calls ahead to Nicolae, but there is no response. This worries him even more. Surely, they are miles underground by now. If things go bad for them their screams will never be heard.

  “Ah. Here we are,” Sorin’s voice wafts up past Nicolae. By the stiffness of Nicolae’s shoulders, Gabriel prepares for the worst.

  When his foot finally reaches solid ground, Gabriel is not the least bit surprised to find himself standing in a medieval torture chamber. Rusted chains hang from the walls and some of the manacles still show signs of dried blood from their prisoners. The scent of aged urine and feces lingers on the air, soaked into the grout lines of the uneven stone lining the floor. Gabriel frowns at the scratches in the walls—claw marks.

  The skeletal remains of those who resided here are strewn about the floor. Most have been pushed against the outer walls. The ceiling is vast, towering nearly thirty feet overhead. The walls curve, no doubt to reflect the screams of the victims around the room. Gabriel shudders.

  “What’s that?” Sadie gasps, clinging to Gabriel’s arm.

  “That, my dear, is called a Strappado.” A wide grin stretches across Sorin’s face. Nicolae shudders and averts his gaze. “This device is used much like a rack. A person’s hands are tied behind their back and raised by this pulley system. Their feet are attached to this weight.”

  “How dreadful,” Sadie pales.

  “On the contrary.” Sorin shakes his head. “It is quite useful.”

  “To interrogate?” William gulps.

  Sorin’s smile makes Gabriel’s blood congeal. “Oh, no, this is just for fun.”

  Sadie’s gasp wrenches at Gabriel’s heart. He reaches back to clench her hand in his. “Why have you brought us here?”

  Sorin’s black cloak billows as he whirls around. “Why, to give you the proof you need, of course. Put the other two in the cell,” Sorin orders Nicolae as he stares Gabriel down. His lip curls with anger at his nephew’s hesitation. “Now!”

  “I don’t think so.” Gabriel pushes Sadie back and charges at Sorin.

  Despite appearing to be well into his fifties, Sorin moves as gracefully as a cat, easily side stepping Gabriel’s charge. With the flick of his wrist, a small dagger appears and slices cleanly through Gabriel’s upper arm.

  He gasps and clenches his hand over the stinging wound. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, boy.” Sorin flips the dagger into his right hand. His knees bend as he crouches to attack.

  “Somehow, I think that is exactly how you like it.” Gabriel charges again. His shoulders hunch over like he’s going in for a football tackle but his newfound strength only throws him off balance. He sees the glint of metal a second before pain slashes through his chest.

  Sorin laughs as Gabriel tumbles to the stone floor. It feels cold against his feverish skin. His chest heaves, sucking in the damp air. “Dumb and slow. What did Roseline ever see you in?”

  Gabriel’s hand trembles as he holds his palm to his wound. Blood seeps between his fingers. His head is woozy but is alert enough to know the wound isn’t deep. Judging by the maniacal grin on Sorin’s face, he won’t be so lucky the next time.

  Gabriel struggles to rise to his feet but his legs give out on him. Sorin twists the knife in his hand as he stalks closer

  “Stop!” Sadie screams as she thrusts her hand into the air in surrender. “We’ll go.”

  “Good girl,” Sorin grins. “At least she’s smart enough to know it will be safer locked behind bars than it will be for you, foolish boy.”

  Nicolae remains rooted in place. He watches as Sadie pulls her brother into the cell. “What will happen to them?”

  Sorin charges across the room to grab Nicolae by the throat. He doesn’t struggle. He knows better than that. “I will excuse your insolence because of the girl, but do not make the same mistake twice. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Uncle,” he wheezes. He drops to his knees as his uncle turns away. Finger marks appear on his neck as he rises and walks to the cage. “I’m sorry,” he whispers through the aged iron bars.

  Gabriel notices the sag of Nicolae’s shoulders. His desperation makes Gabriel wonder if his friends will be safer locked away. Are those rusted bars really strong enough to keep a vampire out or have they just been placed in a feeding trough?

  “What do you want with me?” Gabriel asks, turning toward Sorin as the lock falls into place.

  “You are simply a means to an end. You want proof that Roseline is a vampire and I want her dead. It’s a win-win situation.”

  The dagger pierces his skin before he even realizes Sorin moved. A deep gash runs the length of his arm. Warm blood soaks into the tattered remains of his sleeve, dripping from his fingers onto the floor.

  Sadie screams as Sorin appears behind him. The knife tip digs dangerously close to the artery in his neck. “Tie him up.”

  Nicolae shifts to obey. Sorin releases him as Nicolae drags Gabriel up onto a platform in the middle of the room. A wooden table lies horizontally across the raised area. Well-worn straps hang lifelessly over the edge, dried bloodstains clinging to the leather. Gabriel’s eyes widen with fear as he struggles against Nicolae but his strength is waning.

  “How can you do this to us?” He spits in Nicolae’s face. “Traitor!”

  “Now, now, Gabriel. According to you there’s nothing to fear…unless I’m right,” Sorin grins wickedly before turning to head back up the stairs. “Make sure you leave his scent trail for her to find. I don’t want to take any chances tonight.” The small dagger spirals through the air. Nicolae’s hand catches the bloody weapon with ease.

  Gabriel howls as Sorin disappears into the darkness. He bucks against the straps Nicolae has fastened across his chest. “I’m really sorry about this,” Nicolae whispers, lowering the blade to his flesh. “Trust me, this will hurt a lot less if I do it.”

  Sadie burrows her head into William’s chest as Gabriel’s screams echo in her ears. The frenzy fades over several moments; his cries deepen to a guttural moan as his body begins to twitch on the platform. When silence finally reigns, Nicolae stumbles backward. The dagger clatters from his bloodstained hands.

  Nicolae buries his head in his hands. “Oh, god. What have I done?”

  Forty-Two

  Fane slips through the arched wooden door. He gently presses it closed, wincing as the latch falls into place. He turns, steeling himself for what he fears he will see. A strangled cry rises from his throat as his gaze falls on Roseline.

  “Oh, god,” he cries, racing to the side of the bed. A bloodstain seeps down the white sheets from the streams of blood running down her sides.
Strips of flesh have been scourged from her back so deeply that Fane can see glimpses of her ribs.

  His hands tremble as they hover over her body, unsure of where to touch her. The rise and fall of her chest is shallow. A raspy wheeze escapes from between her lips.

  “Roseline? Can you hear me?” He crouches next to her ear. His fingers sweep back bloody strands of hair to reveal a broken and swollen face. When she doesn’t respond, Fane lifts her eyelid and winces at the ring of burst blood vessels around her pupils.

  Tears stream freely down his face. “Please, say something.” His hands wind around her shoulders as he tries to hold her close.

  A pained groan gives him hope. He holds his breath as Roseline’s eyelid flutters. “Oh, my love, what has he done to you?”

  Never before has her beating been so brutal. Never have her injuries been so extensive. If she had been human, she wouldn’t have made it through the first few minutes of this horrific punishment. Fane clenches his fist against the urge to hit the wall. He can’t risk someone hearing him but he allows a guilt-driven moan to escape.

  “I’m sorry but I have to roll you over,” he whispers in her ear as he cradles her to his body and shifts. Her whimper tears at his heart as he slides her onto her side. She lies in his arms, as limp as a rag doll. Most of the bones in her body have been shattered. Fane’s eyes roam the length of her arms and neck and he grits his teeth at the evidence before him. Vladimir waited for her to begin healing before her broke her bones again and again.

  Fane had been beside himself as he listened to her screams echo through the corridors of the castle for endless hours. From sunup until long after the sun had disappeared from the horizon. Then he had to wait an unbearable length of time until she was finally returned to her room.

  Blood seeps from Roseline’s mouth as she tries to speak.

  “Shh, it’s okay,” Fane whispers. “I’m getting you out of here.”

  “No,” she croaks. “Leave me.”

  Fane clenches his eyes shut. He never should have brought her back. He knew Vladimir would be furious with her rebellion, but Fane had hoped that his obsession with his new mistress, Lavinia Ardelean, would ease some of his anger. Fane was wrong. Oh, so wrong.

  Roseline’s frantic screams will haunt him for centuries to come. “I’m not leaving you here,” he whispers, brushing his lips against her forehead, the only place that still seems intact. “I won’t ever let him touch you again.”

  A single tear slides down her cheek. Fane can’t tell if it is acceptance, hope, or sorrow, but he decides not to stick around long enough to find out. Rising from her bed, Fane loops Roseline’s arm around his neck. It hangs there limply before falling free again.

  His eyes roam the stone walls, searching for the hidden latch he knows must exist. His free hand flutters along the wall nearest her bookcase. “I know it’s here somewhere,” he grunts. A click sounds softly from behind the wall. Dust filters down onto the plush rug.

  “Got it.” Fane shoves the panel aside.

  Only three people know of this passage. Fane discovered it not long after Vladimir tore apart the entire castle in search of Roseline, but try as he might to hide his discovery, Lucien found it as well. His only hope this night is that Lucien remains enchanted with the human girl he bewitched away from a tour group earlier in the night.

  “Don’t,” Roseline gurgles.

  Fane glances down. A tender smile stretches across his lips. “I love you too much to let you stay.”

  “You’ll die,” she rasps, another tear escaping.

  Fane nods solemnly, his love for her burning in his eyes. There is no denying his devotion. He will save her tonight even if that means his life is forfeit. “Then so be it.”

  Roseline is too weak to protest further. Her head lolls to the side as Fane ducks low and hurries through the wall. The door slides shut behind him with a soft hiss.

  Fane twists and turns, racing through the passage as fast as he is able. His eyes narrow to pierce the dark. Fane holds her close as the tunnel thins out up ahead.

  When he reaches an impasse in the tunnel, he is forced to lower Roseline through a narrow hole and then shimmy down next to her. At other places, he is forced to pull Roseline behind him when the ceiling drops off dramatically. Thankfully, she passed out from pain after the first drop and feels no pain now. Finally he detects light up ahead.

  “We’re almost there,” he whispers. “Hold on just a little longer. I can see the well up ahead.”

  As he approaches the light, Fane presses back against the stone wall as voices filter down from above. He places his hand over Roseline’s mouth to muffle her raspy breath.

  “You seem to be in a good mood,” a low husky feminine voice coos overhead. Fane struggles to hold back his snarl when he realizes who stands less than six feet away.

  “She learned her lesson,” Vladimir responds indifferently.

  “Oh, don’t even try to act like you didn’t enjoy it,” the woman purrs. “You know you enjoy a good torture.” A grunt of affirmation is all Lavinia is afforded. “Perhaps you’d like to work off some of that pent-up frustration on me, my Lord.”

  Fane clamps down on his jaw, sickened by the teasing voice of Vladimir’s mistress. He has always assumed the woman must possess a blackened heart in order to capture and retain Vladimir’s attention, but to actually hear her in action is revolting.

  “What did you have in mind?” Vladimir asks. His interest is piqued.

  Fane is grateful that he can’t hear the whispers and is disgusted by the quickening of Vladimir’s pulse. Whatever Lavinia has suggested must be sadistic enough to excite him. With a high-pitched giggle and a rustle of silk, the couple rushes off.

  When they are far enough away, Fane blows out the breath he has been holding. He glances down at the beaten face of the angel he holds in his arms and feels his rage surge. From the moment he first met Roseline she captured his heart. And now, over three hundred years later, his love for her has never dwindled.

  The few brief moments they have shared are what have kept him going all this time. Without her, Fane’s life would be meaningless. He has to save her, no matter the cost.

  Roseline needs blood to rejuvenate to normal strength. Taking another’s lifeblood has serious consequences, but he has to risk it. His stomach twists at the knowledge that this blood can’t come from him. He will need his strength if they hope to make it out of the country. If there were any other way, he would never put a human’s life in danger.

  “Hold on, my love.” Fane pushes the grate out of the way. He pauses, listening for any signs that their escape has been discovered, before poking his head up through the hole.

  The old stone well stands in the middle of the courtyard. A gothic cross dangles from the top, hindering his view. Deciding it is now or never, Fane leaps out of the small space and crouches low as he scans the deserted area.

  The moon shines full overhead, lighting the snow kissed ground. Frost hangs in the cloudless night sky. Fane pulls Roseline into his arms and races across the grounds and out of sight.

  Vladimir roars with outrage as the door to his chamber swings open mere seconds after the pounding ceased. “This had better be good,” he growls, pushing Lavinia away. She scurries back under the covers. Lucien ducks as she pulls a dagger from under the blanket and aims it right at his head.

  “Easy, pet. Lucien deserves a chance to explain.”

  Lucien yanks the curved dagger from the wood molding behind him. “She’s gone,” he hisses as he tucks the blade into his belt. The muscles of his waxy cheeks pulsate.

  Vladimir leaps from the bed, unashamed of his state of undress. “How?”

  Lucien averts his eyes as he tosses his brother a robe. “There’s a passage in her room that leads to the courtyard. That’s how she escaped before.”

  “And you never cared to tell me about it before now?” Vladimir shouts. His black eyes gleam with murderous intent.

  “I felt she wa
s in no condition to escape again,” he replies, sounding bored.

  Vladimir snatches a pair of pants off the floor and shoves his legs in. “There’s no way she could have healed so quickly. I beat her within an inch of death.”

  Lucien’s lips curls into a snarl at Lavinia’s giggle. “She had help.”

  “Who?” Vladimir growls. His hand clamps around his brother’s arm.

  Lucien glares at the offending hand but doesn’t pull away. “Who do you think?

  Vladimir’s lips pull back over his teeth. They glisten like mother of pearl in the candlelight. “Fane.”

  Forty-Three

  Fane ducks behind a grove of trees as he skirts the castle walls. His pulse pounds in his ears, making it nearly impossible to detect anyone following them. He is desperate and because of this, his risk of making a mistake rises exponentially.

  “Hold on just a little longer. I’ll find somewhere safe for us,” he whispers, more for his own benefit than Roseline’s. She hangs unconscious in his arms.

  If they don’t escape they are both dead. Vladimir will probably tear her limb from limb while Fane watches just to torture him. The image of her dismembered body drives him over the wall and out into the open.

  Reaching the road doesn’t offer any help. No one in Romania is dumb enough to be out on a full moon night. Too many superstitions have been created around such an evening. He is on his own.

  With the greatest of care, Fane adjusts Roseline in his arms and leaves the castle behind. He heads farther into the countryside, away from town. If he leads Vladimir into the heart of Brasov, he will set the town ablaze until he flushes them out. Too many innocent lives will be lost.

  Dogs howl in the distance. Fane stops, gripping Roseline to his chest. “Oh no.”

  His desperation mounts. Vladimir knows they have escaped. Fane looks to the sky and whispers a prayer for the heavy snow that has begun to fall. It will help to slow Vladimir down, but he is no fool. Nothing will stop Vladimir now.