Puppet/Master (The Vale Chronicles Book 1)

by Joel Abernathy

  Arden could feel the vampire’s stiff cock against his leg and Eric’s lips sealed around the punctures his fangs had made as he sucked hungrily. It occurred to him that in this moment, as contrived as the thirst made it, he was actually getting what he’d always wanted. For Eric to want him. To need him, even if it was only for a moment. Only as an object.

  When Eric’s body began to sag against him and his drinking slowed, Arden knew he had a limited window of time to determine if his plan had succeeded or merely resulted in his death. The vampire leaped off him suddenly, staggering back with wild, bloodshot eyes.

  “Your blood,” he sputtered, grasping his throat. “It’s… tainted. What have you done?”

  Arden sat up slowly, watching as Eric struggled to keep his balance. As the Chrysalus had promised, the transformation was already taking effect.

  “Don’t worry,” Arden said quietly. “It won’t be painful.”

  “You ungrateful whore,” Eric spat, sinking to one knee. “You’ve poisoned me.”

  “It’s not poison,” Arden explained, climbing off the bed to stand at the end of it. He could feel the change deep in his veins, like ice water running through them. So different from the first time. Then again, he had been forged in the fire of the damned back then. This was an entirely different transformation. “This is just what pure Chrysalus does to a creature as vile and corrupted as you.”

  The realization in Eric’s terrified gaze almost burned. Knowing that his death was the only way Vox and the others could continue to live didn’t make it feel any less like a betrayal. In a way, even as the deal he’d made with the Chrysalus elevated his body to new heights, Arden felt his soul sinking down, hopelessly entwined with his former master’s.

  A part of him would always belong to Eric, which meant they both had to die. For Eric, it would be a death of the flesh. For Arden, a death of the soul he had only just begun to realize he possessed.

  “It turned you,” the vampire realized aloud. “Into what?”

  Arden understood his confusion, but he couldn’t answer it. He’d merely told the Chrysalus he needed a way to kill Eric, and it had given him a promise--in exchange for his body. What the consequences of that choice would be, he still didn’t know. He didn’t even know if he could survive it, but that seemed low on the list of priorities.

  “It’s a little bit ironic, isn’t it?” Arden asked. “I’m the monster you created, and I have to be the one to destroy us both.”

  “You’re a fool,” Eric choked, struggling to stay upright. “Whatever they’ve promised you, whatever you think you’ll gain from doing this, it’s a lie. I’m the only one who’s ever cared for you. The only one who ever could.”

  “I know,” said Arden. He reached out to touch the vampire’s cheek and when Eric jerked away, he realized their positions were truly reversed. It didn’t make him feel powerful. Quite the opposite. Belonging to someone was what had always given him a sense of security and belonging. Without Eric, he was nothing more than a lost child. An object without a purpose.

  It was better that way. For the world, at any rate. And for the Brotherhood, which was all that really mattered.

  “Don’t fight it,” he pleaded as Eric slowly sank to the floor face-down. He stroked the vampire’s hair and this time, whether he was too weak or because he had simply given up, Eric didn’t try to pull away. “It’s just like sleeping. It’s really not so bad once you get used to it.”

  “Why?” Eric demanded, his voice weak and strained.

  Arden laid Eric’s head in his own lap and kept stroking the lush, dark curls he’d both envied and longed to touch.

  “Because you’ll never let go.”

  Rage lit up the vampire’s eyes, giving him new fight when he was so close to fading completely. “You are mine,” he seethed. “You exist for me. Because of me.”

  “I know,” Arden murmured. “I’m talking about Vox.”

  “Vox,” Eric echoed hoarsely. It took him a moment, but he finally hissed, “The ghoul?”

  “I chose you. He didn’t.”

  “And now you’ve chosen him.”

  “Yes.”

  Eric considered it in thoughtful silence. When he closed his eyes, Arden was sure he was gone, but instead, the vampire’s hand closed over his. “My sweet little fool. You always did follow him around like a puppy.”

  Arden’s eyes widened in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  When Eric’s eyes opened, the smugness in them told Arden this was more than farewell taunting. “He was my most promising candidate. So much tenacity and focus. So much anger.”

  “I knew him?” Arden asked in disbelief.

  “Knew him?” Eric laughed, but it was faint and raspy. “You loved him. So much so that you both tried to escape together.” The vampire’s bitter smile made Arden feel sick in his very core. Even on his deathbed, Eric would find a way to be in control. To torment him, one last time. “You were captured, of course. And then, you became mine.”

  Eric touched his face, his hand colder than usual. It made Arden’s skin crawl, just like the satisfaction in his dimming eyes, but he was frozen. “You will always be mine,” he whispered. “Remember that.”

  When his hand fell away, Arden knew it was over. At least, the beginning of it was. Now, he got to live with the consequences. With knowing.

  He had destroyed everything he’d once lived for, and now he knew the truth: It was all a lie. It always had been.

  Chapter 37

  Elan

  Elan knew Dusk was growing more desperate with the realization that Leopold was nowhere in the estate, but when they finally found Arden, the scene they walked in on was anything other than what he’d expected.

  Eric was on the floor, lifeless by all appearances, with his head resting peacefully in Arden’s lap. The chimera didn’t look up when they came in. Instead, he sat there stroking his master’s hair dutifully, as if nothing was wrong.

  “Arden?” Dusk’s voice broke with apprehension as the fae reached out to touch him.

  Elan’s chest tightened. He had dreamed of killing his brother thousands of times. Even come close to actually doing it a few, but seeing him lying there, his skin paler than life, his face still and expressionless…

  Well, he wasn’t sure what he should be feeling, but he knew he should be feeling something. Not numbness. Not emptiness.

  Dusk’s gasp brought him back to reality. The fae jerked his hand back, as if he’d just been burned. Arden finally looked up, but the color of his once-red eyes made Elan startle the way his brother’s corpse probably should have.

  They were a soft, almost translucent violet, too vivid to be real. There was something unnaturally beautiful about them. Beautiful and haunting.

  Arden opened his mouth to speak, but his lips were white. Elan could smell the chimera’s blood as soon as he walked into the room, but there was something else toying with his senses, drowning it out. A strange but familiar essence, almost as if the air was alive. It took him a moment to realize the blood was coming from the two wounds on Arden’s neck. They hadn’t even begun to heal.

  “Is he—?” Dusk looked at Elan for guidance, and although his question remained unspoken, the vampire knew what he was asking well enough.

  “No,” Elan murmured. “He’s not a vampire.”

  Dusk sank to his knees and reached for Arden, more tentatively this time. When his hand rested on the other man’s shoulder, covered in a now bloody white robe, he didn’t seem harmed. “Arden, love,” he whispered. “Talk to me, please. What happened?”

  Arden didn’t respond right away. He kept looking at something behind them even though there was no one else in the room. “There’s too much,” he finally murmured, clutching his chest. He slumped over suddenly and Dusk barely caught him before he could collapse on top of Eric’s body.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Elan asked, horrified.

  “I don’t know,” Dusk said, lifting the smaller man
into his arms. Elan had never seen him look so afraid. His eyes were wide green orbs when they met the vampire’s. “He’s burning up. I think it’s the Chrysalus… there’s so much more of it than there should be, it’s as if it’s overloading my senses.”

  That explained the strange electricity Elan had felt since walking into the room. “We have to get him out of here,” he muttered. “What about Leo?”

  “There’s no time,” Dusk said, carrying the unconscious chimera out of the room. He looked back at Eric, hesitating. “What about him?”

  “Like you said, no time. Not like there’s anything to do,” Elan muttered. He was sure that Eric would have the proper burial he didn’t deserve, but he wouldn’t be the one who gave it. Contrary to what Eric seemed to think, he owed his brother nothing.

  It was a struggle to leave the estate without going back for Harding’s body, but Elan knew that the chance it hadn’t already been destroyed was slim to none. It wouldn’t take long for Lavien to return and realize his lover was dead, and he would be a far more formidable foe than the six guards Elan had slain to escape.

  As soon as it was safe to do so, he’d left Arden and Dusk in a shed on the exterior of the property and gone back for the portal gun.

  When he returned, he breathed a sigh of relief at finding Arden and Dusk where he’d left them. The look of concern on the fae’s face suggested there hadn’t been any positive changes.

  “I got it,” Elan said, tossing the gun to Dusk.

  “Be careful,” he hissed, even though he caught it easily. He gently set the unconscious chimera aside against the wall and aimed the weapon at the floor. He cast a nervous glance at the door and it wasn’t hard to guess what he was thinking about.

  “I can stay behind. Try to find Leo.”

  “He’s not here,” Dusk murmured. He sounded certain, even though there was no way he could really know. They acted like their mating bond was as good as a psychic connection, which had never ceased to vex Elan, but now wasn’t the time to bicker about it.

  Elan walked over to gather Arden up into his arms. His body was completely limp and Dusk was right. He was burning up. It almost hurt to hold him, even through his thick robes.

  The swirling portal that formed on the floor was usually a source of anxiety for Elan, but he’d never been happier to dive in. He landed on both feet on the other side in the mission room and stepped aside so Dusk could land a second later.

  “Where should I put him?” Elan asked, still reeling from the transport. To his relief, the portal sealed shut, locking the vampire world—and Leopold—behind it.

  “The clinic,” Dusk answered, already walking past him. Elan gently placed Arden on the bed and watched as Dusk peeled the front of his robe open so he could place a cluster of electrodes against the chimera’s feverish skin. His heart rate seemed steady enough, but Elan knew that didn’t mean much. He’d had one when he was dead, too.

  “Any idea what’s wrong with him?”

  Dusk looked up, his expression somber. “There’s more Chrysalus than blood running through his veins at this point. I sensed it coming off of Eric, too.”

  “You think that’s what killed him?” Elan asked. “He overdosed on Arden’s blood?”

  “It’s possible. Without being able to ask him, there’s no way of knowing.”

  “That means it was intentional,” Elan murmured.

  Dusk watched him with a knowing gaze. “If you can’t be here, I understand.”

  The fae’s words were cordial, but there was no mistaking the threat in them, or in his posture. He would defend Arden against whatever—and whomever—he had to.

  “He did what I never had the guts to do,” Elan answered. “I’m here. For both of you.”

  Dusk nodded, looking down at the chimera. He took Arden’s hand, stroking it with affection Elan had only ever seen him offer his mate. “I don’t know what to do for him. There’s nothing physically wrong with him, other than the fever, but something’s wrong energetically. It’s like he’s changing.”

  “Changing?” Elan frowned. “Into what?”

  Dusk shook his head.

  Elan thought for a moment before he felt comfortable speaking. “I have an idea, but you’re not gonna like it.”

  “It can’t be worse than nothing, which is exactly what I have right now,” Dusk murmured. “If he was awake, I could channel the Chrysalus, but…”

  “It’s along those lines,” Elan admitted. “If you can’t bleed it out of him, what if we gave him my blood?”

  Dusk’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  “After what happened to Eric, it’s pretty damn obvious concentrated Chrysalus doesn’t mix with the energy of the damned,” Elan explained. “Maybe introducing vampire blood to his system would counteract whatever this is.”

  “Or kill him.”

  “He’s not looking too good right now,” Elan reminded him.

  Dusk hesitated, finally walking over to the cabinet across the room. He pulled out a pair of syringes and screwed the needle caps onto them. He stuck the first one into the crook of Arden’s arm and the sleeping man didn’t so much as wince.

  Elan watched curiously as Dusk brought another syringe over to him. “May I have a sample of your blood? I want to at least test this first.”

  “Knock yourself out,” Elan said, rolling up his sleeve. “Not like it’ll be the most I’ve lost today.”

  Dusk gave him a sympathetic look as he drew the blood. He rushed around the room, gathering a few more supplies before he pipetted a droplet from each sample into a small glass slide. The blood spread out across the slide as Dusk sealed it together and placed it under a microscope.

  “Well?” Elan asked after the fae had been adjusting the dials for a few minutes without an update.

  Dusk finally looked up. “You’re right,” he murmured. “The vampire blood has a dampening effect on the Chrysalus. I think it could change him back.”

  “To a vampire,” Elan warned. “That would undo everything you’ve worked for. He’d be the same soulless killing machine he was before.”

  The resolution in Dusk’s expression left no room for argument. “I made a promise to take care of him, and I already failed him once. Whatever happens, it’s on my hands. Not yours.”

  Elan nodded, walking over to the bed where Arden seemed to be sleeping so peacefully. He raised his wrist to his mouth, preferring his own fangs over the scalpel Dusk had on hand to offer him. As soon as he drew blood, he held his wrist to the chimera’s full lips. Arden’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t wake up.

  “Come on, kid,” Elan urged, gently parting Arden’s lips so the blood could trickle in. He had to massage the young man’s throat to make him swallow, but there seemed to be more life in his cheeks once he had.

  “That’s enough for now,” Dusk said, touching Elan’s forearm. He looked down at Arden, his gaze sorrowful and wanting. “Let’s see how he reacts first.”

  “You’re the boss,” Elan said, trying to ignore his own apprehension. Somehow, it seemed he’d actually gotten attached to the little shit. Unfortunately for Arden, that never ended well.

  Chapter 38

  Arden

  “You should never make a promise you don’t intend to keep.”

  Arden’s eyes flew open and he found himself lying in a bed of flowers. The Chrysalus blooms weren’t supposed to have thorns, and yet they dug into his arms and legs when he tried to move. Thick vines wrapped around his ankles, winding up his body and squeezing so tightly he could barely breathe.

  “Where are you?” he demanded, struggling to see over the tall stalks. The sky was a stormy dark purple that looked ominous in comparison to its usual gentle lavender. Every time the wind shifted, it sounded like snakes were slithering through the stalks.

  Up until that moment, the Chrysalus had seemed like a serene and benevolent god. He felt like the ruse had been peeled back to reveal the sinister truth beneath, and somehow, he knew its intenti
on was to crawl underneath his skin.

  “You know the answer to that, Arden,” it purred with the breath of the wind. “You gave yourself to me. Did you think I’d wait to collect?”

  Arden strained against the strangling vines to no avail. They had his arms spread out helplessly and as the sky darkened, he felt the heavy presence growing closer.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “That’s a silly question,” it chided. “I want what you already offered me. A vessel.”

  Arden swallowed hard. “I’m already your vessel. You want control?”

  “Everything comes at a cost, and vessels strong enough to hold my consciousness don’t come along every day,” it answered. “Do you know what an angel is, little one?”

  “An angel?” he echoed in dismay, still trying to determine which direction the voice was coming from. Not that it mattered. Everything in this twilight realm seemed to be under the Chrysalus’ control. “Sure. It’s the opposite of a demon, and neither one exists.”

  The laugh that echoed through the cavernous skies made him shudder with its ethereal beauty. “An angel is merely a messenger, my love. And I’m growing tired of speaking through others.”

  “So you’re going to take my body and do what?” Arden demanded. “Are you going to hurt them?”

  “Spoken like a myopic human,” it scoffed. “Do you really think this is about your little friends?”

  “Then what?” he asked, deciding that as long as he kept it talking, he had a chance to escape.

  “I have seen the surface through your eyes,” it answered. “What should I do? Linger in this place, while my wretched children plot my enslavement?”

  “That’s why Aeon is fighting,” Arden protested. “They won’t let it happen.”

  The laugh turned shrill. “And I’m to entrust the fate of the world I created to some petulant children? All the good intentions in the world aren’t enough to redeem the surface world. Not as long as the vampires exist on it.”