Randalf was getting to his feet, brushing splinters of wood from his suit pants.
“You will pay for that,” he threatened her, eyes narrowing, wiping at the blood trickling from his mouth, compliments of Gareth before Morgana had stepped in.
Morgana crouched to a fighting stance. Gareth did the same. They could fight Randalf for as long as they could, but if they didn’t stake him soon or at least paralyze him, he wouldn’t stop. Randalf launched himself at the two of them, Morgana braced herself, raising her hand to push him back again.
Randalf anticipated her move, sidestepping her and tackling Gareth instead. Bricks and mortar flew as they landed on the fireplace hearth.
Gareth groaned, slumping to the ground, revealing a charcoaled piece of firewood piercing his right side. Not fatal, but enough to weaken him.
Randalf laughed, grabbing Gareth’s arm, flipping him over his head and smashing his body onto the coffee table, disintegrating it under his weight.
Gareth laid motionless.
“You will pay for hurting him, Randalf,” Morgana snarled, tackling Randalf to the ground. She quickly lifted herself off him. He appeared stunned for a moment but lifted himself off the ground in one fluid movement. Morgana barely had time to catch her breath when he came at her. She ducked, kicking his legs out from underneath him with her right leg. He tumbled over, his back thumping on the floor. He grabbed her ankle, lifting her as he rose into a standing position, then flipped her over his head.
Morgana landed on the wooden floorboards with a violent thud. She groaned in pain. Her new sideways view of the room indicated her head was at a right angle with her body. She hated this part—the few seconds where she was mortally injured, waiting for her body to heal.
A few seconds was all it would take for a vampire to stake her quickly in the heart. She straightened out her mangled body to allow the bones to heal properly. She re-positioned her head in the forward position. She got to her feet just in time to see Randalf standing over Gareth. Gareth’s unconscious bloodied body lie amongst the shards of the broken coffee table. A fear unlike anything she’d felt before washed over her. Randalf raised his arm to bring down one of the fragmented coffee table legs, aiming straight for Gareth’s heart. Morgana rushed over, blanketing Gareth’s body with her own.
“No!” she cried, searching Randalf’s eyes. “What do you want? Whatever it is you want, just don’t kill him.”
Randalf lowered his arm. “That’s more like it. We have much to discuss.”
Morgana stroked Gareth’s face. Hot tears were prickling her eyes as she gazed down at his forlorn body. She had seen death a thousand times before, but when it was someone she knew, and even loved, it was a whole new feeling. “I’m listening.”
“You know I love you. I want you to be my wife.” He leaned toward her, placing his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “But not just any marriage, I want a vampire marriage.”
Morgana jerked her chin from his grasp. She didn’t know what to say. The last thing she wanted to do was marry Randalf. She had fantasized the idea of marriage, more so lately after meeting Gareth. Even though their relationship hadn’t really begun, she couldn’t help feeling the way she did. She returned her focus to Gareth. She was going to do all she could to save him, her parents, and even Alastor, but marriage to a guy she didn’t love would be the last resort. Her mind raced to the hidden space in her wardrobe containing her hawthorn stakes.
That age-old cliché, so close yet so far away.
She sized Randalf up. Both born a first-generation Primus made them evenly matched, so he would be just as fast as her if she raced up to her room to collect the stakes. But then there was the problem of leaving Gareth unprotected. Knowing Randalf, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Gareth.
“I know this might be a bit of a shock under the circumstances.” Randalf shifted closer to her again. “But I’m desperate for you to marry me, and this...” He waved a hand over the unconscious bodies. “It was all necessary.” He grasped her hands in his own. “What do you say, my love? I can give you the world, anything your heart desires. I’ll even let the human-turned vampire live. I love you, Morgana Van Wilden. Say you’ll marry me.”
“I have a better idea.” A confident smile spread over Morgana’s face. She kicked the remaining pieces of coffee table out of Randalf’s reach and leaped over to him, her fangs extended. She was halfway through her leap when Randalf caught her by the neck.
“What are you going to do, Morgana?” He laughed cruelly. “Drain me of my blood?”
“I’m half-human,” she hissed, her airway constricted. She struggled to free herself from his grasp.
“Yes, you’re the precious Dhampir, the only one in existence,” Randalf snarled. “You know there could be more of you, but no other Primus would ever lower themselves to sleep with a human.”
“How dare you.” She pried his fingers apart, landing on the floor.
“Yes, the great Octavius Van Wilden who calls himself Oscar now, lowering himself to the level of a vile, pathetic human,” he spat.
“That’s my mother you’re talking about.” She stood and punched him, the full force of her strength knocking Randalf’s face to the side, almost dislocating his head from his spine.
“Oh, I seem to have hit a nerve.” He rubbed his jaw. “But what are your real weaknesses, Morgana? You often say it yourself. You have all the strength of a vampire but none of their weaknesses. Even a Dhampir has a weakness, though.” Randalf shifted closer to her, grabbing her hand, pulling her toward him. “I know what your weakness is, Morgana,” he whispered in her ear. She felt the burn across her palm, her skin splitting open as she began to lose consciousness. She’d experienced this type of stinging pain before and what caused it.
Silver.
***
Morgana laid sprawled along the sofa on the brink of death but not able to die. Randalf must have moved her there.
If she could stand up and look around, all she would see was unconscious bodies and the destruction of her family’s home.
Everyone she loved, had grown to love, and her new friends—all taken because of her.
“I’m so sorry, Morgana, for attacking you before,” Randalf said in a soothing tone, shifting closer to Morgana on the sofa. He pressed their foreheads together. “I love you so much, Morgana. Just say you’ll marry me.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, Morgana, you can. You just have to submit.” He pressed his hardness into her.
Morgana cringed. He was getting off on her weakened, fragile state. No wonder they fought all the time when they were together. He wanted someone submissive, and she was definitely not.
She stared into his hazel eyes. There was a manic look to them. She knew now she had to change tactic. Maybe make this work to her advantage. She would have to pretend to be giving in. But how to make it look believable? The silver poisoning. She would have to make him believe she was desperate enough to do anything to rid it from her system. Then it dawned on her, and she asked, “Why would you want to be with a half-human if they disgust you so?”
Randalf stared into her eyes. “You couldn’t have chosen your fate. You’re a victim of lust, but you turned out very special. You should be mine. No vampire will ever accept or cherish and love you as I do.” He brushed her hair away from her face. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“You have always loved me, even at my worst.”
Randalf nodded.
“Give me your word, Randalf, you’ll never hurt me or anyone I love ever again, and I’ll forgive you.”
A slow smile spread across Randalf’s face. “Of course. We can’t begin our marriage while hating one another.”
“No,” she agreed. “We have to work together.”
“What’s keeping The Council?” Randalf stood, pacing back and forth. “I invited everyone. You would think they would be on time for a wedding ceremony, especially one for the Head of the North American Division of Ope
rations.”
Morgana closed her eyes. It was difficult to listen to, but as long as Randalf continued his inane rambling, at least her family and friends would be safe. She breathed deeply, attempting to hide how much pain she was really in. She had always thought she worked better alone, and she had often denied even to herself she had any weaknesses. But the silver coursing through her veins proved otherwise. She was not as invincible as she once thought. Now she was truly alone.
Or was she? She opened her eyes, looking toward Gareth.
His eyelids were fluttering. He was starting to gain consciousness.
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was time for Morgana to put her plan into high gear. Going undercover so often had given her some acting ability. She sighed heavily, attempting to stand, then fell back down onto the sofa.
“What’s wrong, my love?” Randalf ran to her side and began stroking her hair again.
“I’m just feeling so weak from the loss of blood,” she complained. “I don’t seem to have the energy to keep going.”
“Do you want me to get you some blood?”
“I’m a bit thirsty. Do you mind?” She gently bit her lip, widening her brown eyes, pleading with him. “I’ll need to refresh my blood for the ceremony,” she added.
“Yes, anything for you, my love.” Randalf’s lips brushed hers as he stood to fetch the blood.
Morgana tried to sit up, but her body was too weak. She rolled off the sofa, her body thumping on the ground. She winced. Randalf would have heard. She needed to get to Gareth, quickly. Dragging her body over the floor, the splinters and shards of glass scratched her stomach.
“Gareth,” she whispered, “you need to recover. Please, for me. I’ll give you some of my blood to help revive you.”
He tried to sit up, but Morgana pushed him back down. “No, Gareth, stay down. We need Randalf to think you’re still unconscious.”
“Morgana...” Gareth whispered, placing a hand to her cheek.
She smiled softly pressing her cheek into his hand and placing her hand over his.
“You have to retrieve the stake, Gareth.”
He narrowed his eyes, “What happened to you?”
“There’s silver in my blood. I won’t be able to take him on.”
“Silver?”
“It’s my weakness, Gareth.”
Gareth groaned. He remembered when she had touched the silver bullets during training, and the flash of hurt in her eyes like she was in pain. “How can you cleanse your blood?”
“I need vampire blood from someone I love and who feels the same about me.”
His face contorted in pain. Morgana wasn’t sure if it was from the wood in his side or something else.
“I need to revive my parents, but I won’t be able to without you.”
Gareth managed a small grin. “So the great Morgana Van Wilden needs help after all.”
“Yes, okay, I do. Will you help me or not?”
“Tell me what I have to do.”
***
Morgana dragged herself back to the living room, barely making it back into place before Randalf returned.
“Bon appetite, my love,” said Randalf.
“Thank you,” Morgana said, grateful for it, despite who had brought it to her. She took the blood from him, gulping it down.
Randalf was eyeing her as she did so. He leaned forward, licking the blood from her lips.
She turned her head.
He seemed alarmed.
“Sorry, I can’t bring myself to do this while everyone is unconscious around us. Please don’t be upset with me.” She peered up at him through her thick lashes.
“Oh, my love, I could never be upset with you.” He sat up, looking down at her, reaching out to stroke her cheek.
It took all her strength not to flinch from his touch.
“One kiss, my love. That’s all. Nothing more,” he said.
She hesitated. She was going to have to let Randalf kiss her to distract him, even briefly, to allow Gareth time to get the stakes.
“Please, Morgana,” Randalf groaned. “I need you.”
“Of course, Randalf,” she said softly.
Morgana leaned toward Randalf, the fingers on her left hand entangling in his hair. She put her right arm around his body, their lips touched. Morgana tightened her grasp, pulling him closer into her embrace. A foul bitterness overwhelmed her tongue. You have to do this, she reminded herself. Lives are on the line.
***
When Gareth heard the horrid sounds of Morgana and Randalf kissing, he knew that was his cue. He sprung to his feet, pulling the splintered piece of wood from his side as he ran, running as fast as he ever had before. He didn’t want to see what was happening on the couch. He should have been the one kissing her. Instead, he kept pushing her away.
He sped up the stairs to Morgana’s bedroom, ripping the wardrobe door off its hinges. He kneeled, smashing through the boards, pulling out the carved box. Grabbing the key from the bedside drawer, he opened the lid, his fingers brushing against the wild rose, the dried thorns scratching his skin. He winced at the pain, closing his hand around the middle stake. Accidentally touching the end, he pulled back his finger in pain. It was sharp.
With grim determination, he returned downstairs. When he neared the living room, he looked at the stake in his hand, and as a second thought, tucked it into the back of his jeans, the sharp end facing down. He didn’t want to risk the chance of it stabbing him instead of Randalf. He rounded the corner.
Turning to look at the empty spot where Gareth had lain, Randalf stiffened. Howling with fury, he pushed Morgana away, sending her flying across the room.
“Where’s the Daywalker?” he bellowed.
“Right here, buddy,” Gareth said from the doorway.
He glanced at the spot where Morgana’s body had landed, the fury from what Randalf had done blinding him.
“All in the name of love?”
One didn’t hurt the person they loved.
The realization dawning on him—he was in love with Morgana.
He had no time to ponder about this, though. Randalf slammed into him, pushing him against the far living room wall.
Morgana’s blood may have given him immense speed and strength, but he was still no match for Randalf. Gareth felt like he had been struck by a wrecking ball. Randalf’s steel fingers closed around his neck, crushing his windpipe. The hawthorn stake was embedding itself into his back. That’s not good.
The stake was close to piercing his skin. He flinched from the burning pain of the hawthorn, now he could see why it was such a deadly wood.
“This time I’m going to kill you and end this little love-triangle of ours, once and for all.” Randalf’s grip tightened around Gareth’s neck.
Gareth tried with all his might to loosen Randalf’s fingers. Eyes half-closed, Gareth spotted Morgana over Randalf’s shoulder. She was hunched over Oscar’s body, her mouth at his wrist.
She rose to a standing position with blood smeared across her mouth, and she cracked her bones back into place. She’d chosen the stronger one of her parents, using his strength to reinvigorate her.
With the grace of a panther, she leaped onto Randalf’s back. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she grabbed his head with her hands. She twisted Randalf’s head, severing his spine. His bones made a loud popping sound as they snapped. Breaking his neck wouldn’t kill Randalf, but it was enough to loosen his grip on Gareth’s neck. Morgana backflipped off Randalf, landing on her feet in front of the fireplace with her cat-like grace. Gareth slumped to the floor, gasping for air. Morgana’s eyes darted toward him briefly, but her primary focus was on Randalf. Gareth could see why she was The Council’s top agent. She was resilient, voracious, and lethal.
“That hurt, bitch,” Randalf snarled as he twisted his neck back into place.
Morgana crouched into a martial pose. “Bitch, now is it? What happened to my love?” she taunted. “I’m so ready to cause yo
u a whole lot of pain.” She licked her lips in anticipation, her eyes glowing. Using her right hand, she gestured for him to come closer.
Randalf snarled again, leaping toward her, his fangs bared.
Gareth staggered to his feet. He couldn’t bear the thought of Randalf hurting Morgana again. Morgana’s blood in his system was re-energizing him quicker than any human blood ever had.
Randalf grasped Morgana by the neck, lifting her in the air. The glint of silver flashed in his hand as he slit the blade across her stomach.
Morgana howled in pain.
The sound tightened Gareth’s stomach. He was no match for Randalf in a fight, but he wasn’t going to stand by and let him hurt the woman he loved.
Using the training Morgana and Vivienne had given him, he threw the stake with deadly aim at Randalf’s heart. The flying hawthorn stake embedded itself into Randalf’s back piercing straight through his heart.
“Hawthorn,” Randalf gasped, clutching at his chest before collapsing face down on the floor.
“Nice shot,” Morgana admired the scene, her voice raspy. She used the heel of her boot, pressing down on the stake, driving it further into Randalf’s heart. Randalf gave one last spasm of life, then died.
“That’s what you get for kissing my girl,” Gareth told the corpse. “No one kisses my girl but me.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Your girl, huh?” Morgana gasped for air, collapsing to the ground.
“Morgana.” Gareth rushed over to her.
“I’ll be okay, just help me to stand.”
He grasped her elbows, pulling her up to him.
“Bring me over to my mother,” she grunted, clutching at her wounded stomach.
They hobbled over to Vivienne, and Gareth gently eased her down on the floor. “Why your mother now?” he asked.
She pointed to her father. “Blood of the father before, now blood of the mother.”
“More vampire lore?”
The Van Wilden Chronicles Box Set Books 1-3 Page 21
