by A. Vers
His dark gaze swept past us. “It seems even your haven here has fallen under siege. Shame that.”
There was a long moment when I thought Ames would shatter for the tension in his frame. “What do you want, Giroux?” The tone was deadly, and not one I had ever heard Ames use.
Giroux’s black eyes glittered. “Why, I want you to say it. To speak the truth you have hidden for nearly five years. She deserves to know, does she not?” His gaze canted to me. “I had hoped she was intelligent enough to figure it out by now, but I can smell her guilt from here. Her shame.”
Ames’ long hand found the curve of my hip, seeming to shield me even more than his much larger frame was already doing. But I barely felt it as Giroux’s words pulsed through my mind.
“What is he talking about, Ames?” I dared to breathe.
There was a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. “Why?” I knew the question was not directed toward me. “Why now? After so many years?” Ames asked.
Giroux’s smile broadened. “Because I have finally found you both.” His words puzzled me. “It took me much longer than I expected. You did well, boy. Better than most would have.” He took a step over the walkway, his larger frame deathly silent. “But the time for omissions has come and gone. Surely you can sense it.”
Ames stumbled back a pace, his larger frame colliding with mine. I place my hands on the broad swell of his spine, trying to catch his weight. He shook his head. “No.” The word was barely more than a croak from his body, but Giroux’s gaze grew narrow with malice.
“You would still protect them? Even after everything?”
“Never them,” Ames retorted sharply. “Her. It was always her.” Every word seemed to rip from him, leaving his shoulders drooping.
Giroux appraised him in silence for several erratic beats of my heart. “Did you never wonder why your parents never came to visit you, Ms. Read? Why they stayed away for so long?”
Ames snarled.
But my eyes were all for Giroux. “I committed a crime by our oldest laws. I am a burden. A disgrace to our name.” Acid washed my tongue.
“Are you though?” Giroux’s words made my heart skip.
“What?”
Ames turned, his jaw slack and his eyes more luminous than I had ever seen them. “Morgan—”
“Sàmhair.” The word was a bark from Giroux and Ames went taut, his lips opening and closing but no sound came out. My lips parted.
“What did you do to him?” I demanded.
Giroux lifted one fist and Ames’ head fell back as his breathing grew labored. Every breath seemed to be wrenched from his heaving chest. My head whipped between them.
“Did you never wonder why it was the two of you, Ms. Read?” Giroux asked. “Why your parents would choose your chosen husband to be your chaperone? Over every other member of your court?” As he walked closer to me, something like darkness shed from his frame.
His dark hair grew more natural, the temples flecked with gray and soft raven wing highlights filtering into each strand. He was still just as broad, but his skin took on a tanner hue. The coloring deepened from years under the sun.
Finally, the coal black quality of his icy gaze faded under a wash of green fire. The flames arcane and wild. And the fear inside me nearly left me falling to my knees.
I stared up at him. “You’re a druid,” I breathed. “A dark druid.”
There was no happiness in his expression. No pride. “I have twisted my magick for five years. With Nancy gone, there was no balance. No joy.” His teeth bared in a feral snarl. “Do you know what else I have done, Ms. Read? The wrongs I have committed?”
I whimpered.
I could guess.
Dark druids were evil. They sold pieces of their soul with every rite they performed. Magick was their only love. If a dark druid could even love at all.
He stopped walking. “Do you fear me, Ms. Read?”
Swallowing hard, I gave a jerking nod.
“Good,” he said plainly. “You should. But not for the reasons you think.”
He opened his fingers and Ames crashed to the ground, his body caving inward as he panted for every breath. Those too bright green eyes remained locked on me, keeping me from moving.
“You have no memory of the night my Nancy died.”
I looked at him. “It was early in my transition. There are a lot of blank spots, and I—”
“You have no memory because you did not kill her, Ms. Read.” Giroux took another step toward me. “Do you not remember the sun? You did not burn, girl. Your fangs have never taken an innocent life.”
My heart skipped several beats. “No. That’s not …” I shook my head. “That is a myth. I am sorry I hurt her. I did not mean to—”
Giroux growled, silencing my argument with the inhuman sound. “You did not kill her.” His words were tight from between his teeth. “Your body could not hold that much blood at such a young age. Nor could it now. Draining a human requires more than one. It requires many.”
“I don’t understand,” I murmured. “My parents—”
Giroux’s eyes flashed in triumph.
I blinked and something like dread chilled my insides. “No.”
He took another step toward me. “Why?” he asked. “Did you never wonder how they could abstain from taking proper sustenance? Vampires are apex predators, Ms. Read. You take away one source of nutrients, the body will fill it with another.”
Every word he spoke settled like lead in the pit of my stomach. “What … What are you saying?”
“Your parents slaughtered my Nancy, Ms. Read. And they were content to let you believe it was you.”
Chapter 41
Morgan
My jaw dropped. “No. That isn’t—” I took a step toward Giroux, hands balling into fists. “They wouldn’t do that. You’re lying.”
That keen, cold glint refilled his gaze. “Oh, but I have proof.” He waved behind him. “Master Treymore?”
I looked at Ames fast.
His face was hardened into deep-set lines of rage, and the now amber expanse of his irises seemed to roil in the dimness. “Go to Hell,” he spat.
Giroux smirked at him. “I would have thought you would want to come clean, Amesilo. After all, bringing Morgan here was your last ditch effort to see her free.”
My head whipped between them. “Ames? What—”
His jaw rippled. “Don’t listen to a word he says, Mor. He—”
“Ferinn,” Giroux barked, and a blast of emerald energy hit Ames square in the chest. It engulfed his lean frame. His body went taut again as his neck corded from obvious pain.
I jerked forward. Giroux’s massive arm came up, barring my path.
But his gaze was locked on Ames. “They tasked your kin with burying my Nancy. Didn’t they?”
My jaw dropped.
Ames blanched but otherwise remained silent.
“Answer me!” Giroux’s bellow sent chills down my spine.
“Yes.” The word was ground out of Ames, and I could only stare.
“As your family has been tasked with hiding each body the Read Colony has drained,” Giroux continued. “It was the stipulation for allowing you Morgan’s hand, wasn’t it? After the Treymore line lost their fortune, your father sold his soul to Thomas Read. His assistance with such dark deeds for keeping his status among vampire kin.”
The hatred burning in Ames’ eyes was all the answer I needed. And the weight of that truth nearly brought me to my knees. I clasped my hand over my mouth, forcing the scream of betrayal far, far down.
“How could you?” I finally got out.
His gaze shuttered and seemed to die. “Because I love you,” he croaked. His pale skin turned ashen.
That phrase ricocheted through me, and I swayed. “So you lied? You let me believe I was a monster?”
“Oh, he did more than lie about even that, Ms. Read.” Giroux paced away from me, gliding ever closer to Ames’ rigid form. “He whisked you aw
ay to Lokworth under your parent’s orders. He was to watch you. Keep you here until they could cover the whole sordid mess up. But by then, you would be married. And more worried about pleasing your husband and being an upstanding member of vampire society …” His head cocked. “Despite your horrid past.”
Ames shifted as far as the magick filling him would allow. “Please, Mor,” he begged. “I never cared about the orders. I wanted you away from all of that. Away from the lies and the deceit. I thought … I thought if you could be free that you would move on. You could put it behind you and realize that that life was never meant to be yours.”
My incredulity grew. “And I would what, Ames? Fall in love with you?” I demanded, making him flinch. “That was the only life I knew. My family … The colony …” I stared at him, seeing the last four years replay in my mind with startling clarity.
The lack of calls from home. No visits from my family or my old friends. Just Ames. Always in the background. Always watching. Waiting.
His assurance that the sun would not harm me now seemed cheapened. Lessened by the truth he kept from me. A truth that rocked my world to the very core.
My parents are murderers.
It hit me then like a boulder to the stomach. The air in my lungs wheezed out.
How many human lives had my parents taken? How many had they harmed?
They would be hunted. The whole colony would be just by association. It would be disbanded. And I would be—
There was no hope of rehabilitation. One death was bad enough, and the Council would mete out punishment. But …
I wrapped my arms around my waist and backed up. Bile washed up my throat and I turned fast, dropping to my knees as acid spewed from my lips.
Gods.
I spit hard. Again and again I coughed out nothing but grit and burning liquid. Then I climbed slowly to my feet.
The world spun, and I pressed a trembling hand to my temple.
“Mor—” Ames' deep voice was broken behind me.
“Sàmhair,” Giroux said again, cutting him off.
Ames choked, but I couldn’t look at him. Not now. Maybe never again.
“What do you get out of all of this, Giroux?” I asked carefully.
“As I told you in the office, Ms. Read. I want my revenge. And I will have it.”
“You’ll go after my parents?”
“Yes.”
My eyes closed. I had known all along that would be his answer, but I needed to hear him say it. “Let Ames go.”
Giroux made a noise.
I turned then, meeting his gaze levelly. “Let him go, and you will get no interference from me.”
The fanatical gleam in his irises left a shiver skirting down my spine. “You would let them die?”
My lips pressed tight. “Be it by your hand or the Council’s, they will be brought to justice, regardless.” Every word was carefully uttered. “Let Ames go, and I will do whatever you ask.”
He mulled that over. “If I asked you to come with me, would you?”
The sick feeling in my stomach grew once more. “You want me to help slaughter my own parents?”
“To be honest, Ms. Read, I was willing to sacrifice even your sanity if I needed to,” he admitted. “In whatever way was necessary.” He paced a bit. “With the deaths here at Lokworth, I knew it would garner attention. Though, I had hoped it would draw your parents here faster than the hunters.”
“You killed them, didn’t you?” I asked, that icy feeling spreading through my limbs. “You killed the humans.”
“Sacrificed, Ms. Read,” he said mildly. “That is how a druid amasses power after all. We sacrifice in order to gain. And I have sacrificed so very much.” The green flames in his gaze seemed to pulse.
He glanced over at me. “But, Ms. Read, you have surprised me. When I paired you with Mr. Hanlon, I figured it would only be a matter of time before you drained him dry. Like parents like daughter.” His shrug was condescending. “But at every turn, you have done what I did not expect. And after living for so very, very long, it is hard for me to be surprised anymore.”
I just glared at him.
He held up a hand. “Finite.”
The green glow around Ames dispersed into sage scented smoke and he collapsed onto the grass, unmoving.
Giroux started over the ground toward me. “Francis Bacon once said that revenge triumphs over death.” He stopped a pace away. One tan hand came up, and he brushed my hair behind my ear. I flinched away. “And I have thought long about my revenge, Ms. Read,” he muttered, studying me.
Faster than I could follow, his hands closed over my cheeks in a firm grip, immobilizing me as the green flames of his eyes grew ravenous. His smile turned twisted, flashing shockingly long incisors. “And as you are still untransitioned, your death will be the final sacrifice needed.”
Out of the corner of my eyes, the green light of his magick refilled his palms.
It was not warm as flames should have been. But cold. Colder than the grave. I shivered as it seemed to pull at the heat in my body. The vitality.
I sagged in Giroux’s hold. My mouth went dry as a deep ache built in the hollow of my stomach. It was like starving to death.
My lips parted, but no sound came out. I could not scream. Could not cry out. Giroux’s eyes glowed brighter and brighter, casting everything in a sickly green haze.
Darkness crept along the edge of my vision. The distant sounds of fighting faded to a dull roar of sound. Muffled and barely audible.
Giroux’s hands were ripped from my skin. I crashed to the grass as the world seemed to pop back in place with a wealth of pain filling my leaden limbs.
There was an audible masculine grunt. “Morgan. Go.”
My head wrenched over.
Ames had Giroux in a headlock, his hands mottled in the dark. His gold eyes were beseeching, and his fangs pressed deep into his full bottom lip. “Now, dammit!” he shouted.
For a moment, I could only stare at him. His irises softened before he squashed every ounce of emotion on his features. With a deep-throated roar of rage, he wrenched Giroux’s head to the side and his fangs struck deep.
The druid screamed and the sound ripped through the night, jolting me into motion.
Scrambling to my feet, I stumbled off as fast as my legs would carry me.
Chapter 42
Ryder
All around me the world burned as I climbed back to my feet. The flames of magickal fire were reflected in Dad’s eyes, and it was the only warmth left in him.
We circled each other in silence. Everything hurt and one eye was swelling closed. Another drop of blood pooled on my lip, and I scrubbed it away with the back of my hand. Between Morgan’s blood and now this …
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay standing.
Dad’s sidearm was long gone somewhere in the courtyard behind us, but it wasn’t his only weapon, I knew. My eyes flicked to the blade strapped to his thigh, and the slight bulge of his smaller handgun at his ankle.
He never made a move to draw either, and I had no damn idea why he was waiting.
The other hunters battled Harrington, several professors, and numerous students. It was like chaos of magick, fangs, and claws.
The vamps were careful, never spilling blood before leaving the humans in crumpled heaps. The shifters bowled many over with their strength alone. And novice witches sent bolts of power into armored chests as the Fae held the hunters captive with vines and long branches from the forest itself.
But for every human they took down, more seemed to pour from the trees.
There was no sign of Morgan or Ames anywhere, and I hoped the vamp male had gotten her somewhere safe. But with Giroux still on the loose …
I shoved both vampires far from my mind. As much as I wanted to help Morgan, I was no use to her right now.
My eyes rose once more to find Dad watching me in silence. I wanted him to speak, to attack. To do anything besides stare at me with that
same empty cast to his features. Hell, I wanted to pretend this wasn’t the man I had seen looking at me for years, but I couldn’t. Dad was the same. Only I had changed.
A distant familiar roar of anger split through the sounds of fighting, leaving me whirling in place.
It was the only opening Dad needed.
His arms went around me, slinging me bodily to the ground. I hit earth and all the air rushed from my lungs on a grunt of pain. He flipped me over, fist raised and headed right for my skull. I blocked my face with a wince.
Then his weight was gone.
My eyes fluttered, and I peered around.
Dad was feet away, his back to a tree. His dark head lolled on his chest, but the steady rise and fall of his shoulders was easily visible in the dimness. As was the wet smear on the bark behind him. A very familiar curtain of ebony hair swayed before him in the low breeze.
“Morgan,” I croaked, rolling slowly to my knees. “Don’t.”
She peered at me over one shoulder, her lilac eyes filled to the brim with vampire light. “I won’t hurt him, Ryder. Not even for what he has done to you.” The words were carefully enunciated past her dainty fangs. She rose from her crouch, and in that moment, I knew this was the vampire she could have been.
Not the lithe heiress, but a huntress. A true creature of the night.
It sent a shiver down my spine, but I was no longer sure it was from fear.
She walked over, some of that vibrant light fading from her gaze. One moonlit hand extended toward me, and I could just make out the slight tremble in her fingers.
I allowed her to help me up. “Thanks,” I mumbled.
She ducked her head in acknowledgement. “He is strong. I don’t think he will be asleep for long.” It was a warning.
When Dad came to, he would be even more pissed than before. I knew it. But I couldn’t change that either. The only thing I could do was leave, give him time and space to cool off. I hoped.
It felt like the coward's move to just dip, and I hated it. But my only other option was no less grim.
