Puppet/Master (The Vale Chronicles Book 1)

by Joel Abernathy

  “Shit,” Elan muttered, lunging. He wasn’t fast enough. Before he could reach Arden, Eric had hauled himself out and the portal collapsed.

  “A trap,” Eric seethed, looking up at his brother. “I should have known. The only time you’re capable of loyalty is when you’re betraying family.”

  Elan snapped the leash off Arden’s collar as the chimera got to his knees. Arden rubbed his neck and moved behind Elan as the vampire stood, smirking. “Call it middle child syndrome. But it was worth a shot.”

  “We’ll see.” Eric reached into his coat and flung six throwing knives at them. Elan grabbed Arden by the shoulder and pulled him out of the way, but one of the knives still grazed his side. He realized only when the vampire landed on top of him that one had gone directly into Elan’s chest.

  The vampire was on his feet before Arden had the chance to do anything. His lips curled back and he snarled before lunging to attack Eric. The men met mid-air, claws slashing and fangs bared. Arden struggled to get onto his side, his arms still bound at his back. Leo appeared on the rooftop, a gun raised as he took aim at Eric, who had his hands around his brother’s neck.

  “Don’t fucking move,” the elf snarled, his own fangs menacing.

  Eric released Elan and raised his hands to his sides. If Arden hadn’t known him so well, he’d think he was ready to accept defeat, but that smug look on his face was eerily familiar. Soon, Arden heard the whirring of choppers as no less than seven black helicopters rose up around them, men in heavily armored suits leaning out with guns the size of Arden himself trained on them.

  It was the northmost chopper that caught Arden’s attention, because the armored warrior standing on its ledge had Dusk in his grasp. The fae Prince was bound and gagged, his eyes wild with fury as he looked down at the scene below.

  Arden’s heart sank. “Dusk!”

  Leo snarled, turning back to Eric, his gun still raised. “If you touch him—”

  “Put the gun down and there won’t be any need for that,” Eric said with the calm of a man who knew he was in absolute control of the situation. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his long coat and waited as Leo and Elan exchanged a look.

  The elf nodded and raised his hands. Elan reluctantly followed suit. Half a dozen soldiers leaped down from the choppers and two grabbed Arden, hauling him to his feet. He watched helplessly as the others subdued Elan and Leo, tying a thick cloth gag around the vampire’s mouth and frisking the elf for every blade and firearm he had on his person.

  “My, my,” Eric said smugly. “Three members of the Brotherhood and the little whore who betrayed his Master. What a day this is turning out to be.”

  Arden glowered at the vampire he’d once loved as his friends were bound and loaded into the choppers hovering near the rooftop. When Eric approached and reached out to touch his face, he jerked away.

  “Be that way if you wish,” said Eric, his eyes darkening. “I taught you manners once and I’ll do it again.”

  Chapter 29

  Elan

  Elan opened his eyes and realized he was in the same place he’d spent so many years of his young life: the family dungeon. He couldn’t remember much beyond being tranquilized and loaded into the chopper. Just the fear in Arden’s eyes as he’d blacked out.

  If Elan knew his brother half as well as he thought he did, the chimera was in for a rude awakening. Eric was gentle, almost doting with his favorites, but once you’d earned his ire, there was no limit to his cruelty. He was like their father that way.

  It felt strange to be back in this place of darkness and old blood. There was more of it on the walls than the aged coat of primer meant to make it easy to clean off. The servants never bothered. No one who mattered ever came down here, except the Master Vampire himself. That title might have been passed on to Eric upon their father’s death, but it was clear to Elan that the dark room had seen as much use if not more than it had under the old patriarch.

  As Elan sat up, rubbing his limbs which had been recently unbound if the tingling in his extremities was any indication, he was relieved and moderately surprised to discover that everything was intact. Then again, perhaps Eric was just waiting until he was conscious.

  He seemed to be alone in the cell for the most part, but he could hear the sounds of screaming from further down the hall. He stilled to listen, but to his relief, it didn’t sound like anyone he knew. The fact that he didn’t care otherwise would have sorely disappointed his mother, but that was hardly the only thing that would have.

  He had to get out somehow. He had to find the others. Arden couldn’t fall back into the elves’ hands and Elan was sure Eric would be all too happy to return his former Puppet to Prince Lavien once he was finished shelling out the young man’s spirit. At least his pride would ensure he kept Arden for a few days, if not weeks.

  Finding Dusk was the priority. He was the only monarch among the fae Aeon could trust, which made him irreplaceable. If he died, the tides of the war would turn forever.

  Elan walked around the room. He knew it like the back of his hand, but it seemed smaller than it had as a child. Less cavernous. Eric probably thought he was being poetic by giving Elan this cell, but it was more than an unpleasant stroll down memory lane. He knew every nook and cranny, every point vulnerable to exploitation.

  He’d made a pick long ago, chiseled from the bone of his own severed pinky. It had grown back over a period of days and it took that long for anyone to check on him. Last time he’d mouthed off to his stepmother. To her face, at least.

  Even as a boy, Elan had known better than to escape for any great length of time. Just long enough to bathe and feed. It made the servants all the more baffled when he refused the blood they offered him at his father’s request. Just enough to keep him alive and make him regret what he’d done.

  Yes, Elan had learned early on that the only way to retain your sanity was to ensure that no matter what else your masters controlled, they didn’t control your mind. It was the one battleground he would never surrender.

  Sure enough, the makeshift key was tucked in the same groove within the aged brick walls. He made quick work of picking the lock and felt a strange sense of nostalgia as he did it.

  Elan knew the old house well and found the prisoner’s quarters easily enough. Dusk was being kept in slightly better conditions, but he looked ragged.

  “Dusk,” Elan whispered, rushing over to the bars in the door that separated them. The fae opened his eyes and Elan was enraged when he saw how swollen the left one was. He’d been badly beaten and blue streaks of blood made the markings on his arms impossible to read.

  Elan swallowed a growl and reached for the lockpick. Dusk shook his head and got up on his side. Before Elan could ask for clarification, he heard the footsteps coming.

  Fae ears were probably the only thing more sensitive than a vampire’s. The size had to count for something. He dashed behind another wall as two soldiers approached, talking loudly about all the lewd things they’d like to do to their prisoner once Eric was done with him.

  Over my dead body, thought Elan. When he’d first joined the Brotherhood, the fae’s Mr. Perfect demeanor had gotten under his skin, but he’d finally accepted that it was just how Dusk was. He’d die for him if it came to that.

  And the elf, but he’d rather die before he admitted it.

  Elan listened as the soldiers opened the cell door and dragged Dusk to his feet. They pushed him out of the cell and shackled his arms behind his back. It was all Elan could do to stay quiet, slinking after them once they were far enough ahead.

  He didn’t know what Eric had planned for the fae, but it certainly wasn’t anything good. If he followed them, they’d probably find the others. Dusk and Arden were the priority, but he’d spring Leo if he could. Elan knew the elf would have his head if he had the chance to escape with them and chose to stick around for him.

  The soldiers led Dusk up the stairs and into the main hall of the family estate. It was rar
e that Eric spent more time there than he had to. He preferred his towering apartment complexes. If he’d brought them here, it was a special occasion.

  The door opened and Elan hesitated before deciding not to follow them just yet. He remembered there being a storage closet not far down the hall and was relieved to find it still there. He changed into one of the spare uniforms and went out the way the others had gone.

  It had been more than a decade since he’d been back in the old family estate. A few centuries sooner than he’d like. He couldn’t help but wonder if his sister was there. If she was, would she even remember him? She’d been so young when he’d left. She was the only thing that had made him stay as long as he did, and the reason he’d finally chosen to leave for good.

  There was no time to think about it now. The less she thought of him, the better. Like their mother, the only thing he could ever bring her was pain and disappointment.

  It didn’t take long to find where Eric’s men had taken Dusk. He’d always been theatrical, and sure enough, the estate’s amphitheater served as the perfect stage for whatever he had planned. Elan just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  When he saw Dusk bound to a chair, very much alive, he was relieved. There was no sign of Leopold, but Arden was there, his gaze on the floor as Eric loomed over him. Elan couldn’t make out what the other vampire was saying, but he knew that whatever reason Eric had for setting up this scene, it wouldn’t end well.

  Elan stayed crouched in the shadows, knowing he needed a weapon if he was going to come close to saving them. Dusk’s eyes widened as he caught sight of Elan, but he stayed silent. Elan followed his glance over to a blade Eric seemed to have laid out just for the occasion and he quietly crept over.

  Before he could reach for it, Eric’s voice filled the room. “Ah, brother! Just in time.”

  Elan froze, but when Eric’s eyes met his, the mischief in them told him that his visit was anything but a surprise. He became aware of the figure creeping up behind him, and while turning his back on Eric was the last thing he wanted to do, coming face to face with a dead man was the last he’d ever expected.

  “Harding?” Elan choked in disbelief as he found himself staring up at the grotesquely disfigured face of the once-human man he’d shared so much of the last decade with.

  One glance was all it took to know that Harding was no longer himself. There were few injuries as telling as that of a ghoul’s transformation, and Harding’s had been a particular gruesome one, judging by the appearance of the left half of his face. What little of his skin was left was torn into shreds, revealing the muscle and bone underneath, and his lips were curled into a fierce snarl.

  Before Elan could overcome his shock, the larger man’s hand swept out and sent him spiraling to the ground. His head struck the stone floor hard enough to render him unconscious immediately.

  Chapter 30

  Arden

  Arden stared in disbelief as Elan hit the ground. The vampire was breathing, if only slightly, but he was out cold.

  “Harding,” Arden whispered, stepping back in disbelief. The unmarred half of the man’s face twisted into a snarl to match his long, dripping fangs as he noticed Arden. Arden couldn’t make sense of it. They’d all grieved their friend and now it turned out that he wasn’t dead at all, but a ghoul?

  “I told you I had a surprise, Puppet,” Eric said warmly, stretching out his arms. “Turns out, he’s far more obedient than you are.”

  “You’re controlling him,” Arden realized.

  “Of course. Just like your boyfriend,” the vampire said in a condescending tone. “That is why you came back, isn’t it? To free him?”

  Arden clenched his jaw. He should have known better than to think he could fool Eric, the man who’d made him. In truth, he was the one who would never be free.

  “You get to make a choice,” Eric continued. “The ghoul or the fae. But choose wisely.”

  “No!” Dusk spat. “Don’t you dare make him do this, you coward. If you want to punish someone, kill me.”

  “And where’s the fun in that?” asked Eric. He turned to Arden, pulling a blade out of his coat. “You do remember how to use this, don’t you? I’m sure at least some of your training has withstood your transformation.”

  Arden took the knife, staring at his former Master in confusion. He only realized what the purpose of arming him was when Eric snapped his fingers and the chains around Harding’s arms fell away. Arden braced for his attack, but he realized, to his horror, that Harding was far more interested in Dusk.

  The fae was hopelessly restrained, and Arden could tell from the look of sadness and resignation in his eyes that he understood Eric’s plan perfectly.

  Harding was going to kill his old friend if Arden didn’t intervene and do the unthinkable.

  “He can’t even fight,” Arden seethed. Eric was cruel, but rarely unfair. This was beneath him.

  The vampire smirked as the ghoul tore into Dusk’s flesh. The fae didn’t scream, but Arden could feel his pain. The bond that had already formed between them called him to action.

  He knew he was playing into Eric’s hands, but he rushed Harding and barreled into the larger man with his shoulder, putting all his force into knocking the ghoul to the ground. Harding snarled like an animal and when his eyes met Arden’s, the chimera knew there was nothing left of him. Eric had done to him what he’d done to Vox, and if there was a chance for them to be saved, he knew it would be too late.

  “Arden, no!” Dusk cried.

  The pain in his voice choked the life out of Arden, not the least of all because refusing an order from his Master was a new kind of betrayal. He knew what he had to do. What Leo would command him to do if he was there, and that outweighed the pain, but it didn’t erase it.

  The regret and resignation lived in harmony within his soul as he plunged the blade into Harding’s chest and watched as the ghoul’s rage faded. Harding sank to his knees and the life left his eyes quickly, confirming Arden’s suspicion that the blade was enchanted. He swallowed hard.

  “I’m sorry, friend,” he whispered, pulling the knife from the other man’s heart.

  For a moment, or just a fraction of one, he could see the man he knew return. Maybe it was just delusion, but he thought he saw acceptance in those warm eyes, right before there was nothing.

  Harding collapsed and Arden felt all his energy drain away with the other man’s life force. Dusk’s cry of grief shook him to the core, and he found himself wishing he could go numb again. Anything not to feel…

  “Look at that,” Eric said, putting a hand on Arden’s shoulder. “Seems as though he hasn’t lost his edge after all. You should be proud, Your Majesty. A servant who’s willing to kill for his Master is invaluable.”

  “Go to hell,” Dusk seethed. When his bloodshot eyes finally landed on Eric, they were full of hatred Arden had never imagined he was capable of, not even toward his enemies.

  Eric made a tsking sound of disapproval and took the blade from Arden’s hand. He wiped it off on his shirt and replaced it in its holster. “Not very fitting language for one of the chosen, is it?”

  “Let him go,” Arden pleaded. “I’m the one who betrayed you. I chose to run.”

  For a moment, Arden was sure Eric was going to strike him. He never had. He’d been content to let others do the dirty work when it came to his Puppet’s training, but he seemed ready to do it then.

  Instead, his gaze softened and he cupped Arden’s face in his hand. “My sweet boy. You truly think he cares for you.” His grip grew tight and Eric grabbed his wrist, forcing him out in front of him. He turned his head to face Dusk, while Arden had been too ashamed to look the fae’s way before. “You’re nothing more than a charity case to him. A little bird whose wing he wanted to mend, then clip so he could keep it in. But a clipped wing and a gilded cage are the same thing, aren’t they, my Prince?”

  Dusk didn’t answer. His head was turned, his hair casting a shadow over his eyes that ma
de them impossible to see.

  “Come,” Eric urged, dragging Arden over. He forced the chimera down on his knees before the fae. “You’re his master now. Why don’t you comfort him?”

  Dusk finally looked Arden’s way, and when he did, the disgust in his eyes made the chimera’s heart sink. He’d expected just about everyone to look at him that way. Everyone except Dusk.

  Now he knew. The fae didn’t actually see him as different. This entire time, he’d just thought it was possible to redeem him, and the moment that blade had gone into Harding’s chest, he had passed the point of no return in Dusk’s eyes.

  “Looks like a lover’s quarrel,” Eric mused. “Or perhaps the novelty of taking a killing machine to your bed has finally worn off and left behind a reality you don’t find as endearing?”

  “Shut up,” Dusk spat. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with, you coward. And get him out of my sight.”

  His words cut Arden to the quick, but he couldn’t bring himself to react. Even when Eric dragged him to his feet, he felt numb.

  “There,” the vampire said in a tone of false warmth as he draped an arm protectively around Arden’s shoulder. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, but you needed to see the truth.” He pulled Arden close to his chest. The moment his arms wrapped around Arden, the longing the chimera had felt for so long was sated, but in its place was something that left him feeling even more hollow. “No one will ever love you like I do. No one ever could.”

  His words settled in with the weight of reality, and Arden’s bleeding heart absorbed them like rainwater on desert ground. He knew it was the truth. The worst part was that he’d ever let himself believe otherwise.

  He could forgive Dusk for hating him. That much was understandable. What he would never forgive him for was making him think he deserved more.

  Chapter 31