The Corvin Chance Chronicles Complete Box Set

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The Corvin Chance Chronicles Complete Box Set Page 46

by N. P. Martin


  So I rushed at Constantine, a furious cry coming out of my mouth as I did so. He turned around just in time for me to put my right hand on his chest as if I was going to try and push him back, which he obviously thought I was going to try and do, for he just stood there, effortlessly resisting me with a placid look on his face as if my anger didn’t bother him one bit.

  But I wasn’t trying to push him back. I was trying to do something else.

  Constantine didn’t realize this until a reddish light started to glow out of my right hand. He looked down, seemingly unconcerned, probably thinking I was trying to attack him with some weak spell.

  This was no mere spell, however. This was innate power I was now using to take on every bit of power that he had in him. Within seconds, I had absorbed his every ability.

  "What did you just do?" he asked, confused as he stood back away from me.

  I answered his question by smiling with the fangs that had now appeared in my mouth, and by staring at him with eyes as red as his. "Just an upgrade I got a while back," I said, my confidence growing as I realized I now had the ability to equal him in power and strength. What I lacked in experience, I would make up for with the burning rage flowing through me like hot lava waiting to be unleashed. "What you can do, I can do."

  As if to prove it, I rushed toward him at astounding speed and buried my fist in his stomach, sending him flying back across the room, where he landed against the book shelves, bringing books down everywhere. Even though he jumped immediately to his feet again, I could see worry on his face for the first time. "You think because you have some temporary power that you can beat me? Think again…boy."

  It was his turn to rush me this time, only I reacted slightly quicker, managing to step off at ninety degrees and redirect his movements, all but throwing him toward the window with a strength that frankly belied belief. If I thought I was strong before as a vampire, I was a hundred times that now.

  Constantine was unable to stop himself, and he went crashing out the window at speed, taking the drapes with him as he exploded through the glass and out into the twilight, though he didn’t fall when he did. Instead, he hovered out there about twenty yards from the castle wall. "Come and get me if you dare," he said, seeming to relish the challenge now.

  Still full of anger, I jumped out the window without a second thought, dropping down a few feet before I intuitively worked out how to use the power I had to defy gravity as he was doing. "You’re nothing but a scourge!" I shouted as I flew toward him and threw a punch at his face, which he deftly avoided, so I threw another one, and another one, my rage increasing each time. "You’re a parasite that feeds on the weakness of others!"

  My last punch connected, drawing a small bead of blood from his mouth, which he tasted with his tongue. "I’ve been around for over three millennia," he said. "I won’t let a mere infant tell me what I am and what I’m not."

  He flew at me then, his hand suddenly lit with reddish magical energy, and before I could react, he punched me hard in the chest, and the next thing I knew, I was barreling back through the air like I’d just been slingshot, the wind rushing past my ears as I showed no signs of stopping.

  Until I did, slamming hard against the castle wall, the stone crumbling beneath me the impact was that hard. But so was my body thanks to the power I had in me, made all the more potent by the rage that still flowed through me unabated, as though every bit of anger and frustration I’d ever felt had now come back to combine as one. Even Constantine could see it in me as he hovered in mid-air about fifty yards away, and it more than unnerved him. I could feel his fear from here.

  Pushing off the wall, I flew at him again, this time hitting him with a bolt of red magic which sent him back slightly and distracted him enough for me to rush and grab him by the lapels, holding him up as our faces almost touched. "Say what you want about my father," I growled at him. "He may have had his faults, but I loved him and he didn’t deserve to die."

  "And what about my brother?" he shouted back. "Did he deserve to die?"

  My eyes burned into him. "You know he did."

  I turned him quickly then, and before he could stop me I stated to push him toward the broken window of his chamber. He tried to resist, but the power in me had become magnified by my raging emotions, something he couldn’t tap even if he had wanted to, for he had little emotion to tap.

  When I flew through the window with him, I suddenly threw him toward the floor as hard as I could. The stone tiles cracked underneath him when he hit, and he lay there in a daze, long enough for me to rush over to the bed and grab the stake that was lying in the pile of ashes left by the vamp I had killed.

  In seconds, I was on top of Constantine, using one knee to pin him down as I held the stake up, ready to bring it down on him, to kill him at last and avenge my father’s death.

  But I hesitated when I looked into his now blue eyes, and what I saw there was not a monster, not a vampire, but a man.

  A man that was now afraid he was going to die.

  But a man nonetheless.

  And then I thought about my mother, and what she would say if she knew the kind of spiller of blood I had become in her absence.

  My grip tightened on the stake as if I was preparing to bring it down at last, but once I realized it wasn’t going to happen, I relaxed my arm and got off Constantine. His face registered his confusion as I did so.

  "I’m not going to kill you, Constantine," I said, my rage now all but gone as I tossed the stake away. "If you want to kill me, go ahead. I don’t care."

  Constantine sat up and then slowly got to his feet, his face now twisted further in confusion as he stared at me, clearly not knowing what to say or do. He was probably more stumped than he had ever been in his long life.

  The power I had taken from him was now beginning to dissipate within me. If he wanted to kill me now, there wouldn’t be much I could do about it.

  "Why?" he asked shaking his head, his conflicting emotions seeming to be almost painful for him.

  "Because I’m not a killer," I said. "What good would it do killing you anyway? It’s not going to bring my father back, is it? Killing Iolas’ man didn’t bring my mother back either. And besides, I’ve already taken your brother from you, haven’t I?"

  In a strange way, he seemed more afraid of me now than he did when I was holding the stake over him. "Perhaps I was too hasty in killing your father."

  I nodded. "Perhaps you were. Perhaps he shouldn’t have tried to rip you off either."

  "Yes, perhaps." He smiled to himself and shook his head. "This isn’t exactly how I expected things to go."

  "Me neither."

  "So where does this leave us, do you think, if we no longer want to kill each other?"

  I took a deep breath and let it out, as if I was finally releasing the last of my need for revenge and more bloodshed. "We stay out of each other’s way."

  He nodded, seeming slightly disappointed by that answer.

  "And also," I said. "You need to work shit out with Adrina. She isn’t going anywhere."

  "Careful, Corvin. My business is still my business, regardless of whatever this thing is between us now."

  "It’s a truce, Constantine, and I’m just saying, you might find it easier to broker a truce between you and Adrina as well. Knowing Adrina, even slightly, I know it would be much easier to work with her rather than against her."

  He paced slowly across the room as he seemed to think about what I said. "You may be right," he said eventually. "But time will tell."

  I nodded, knowing that was the best I was going to get from him. "I’m going home to Dublin now," I said. "I hope we don’t meet again soon, Constantine."

  "I’m sure we will, though."

  "Keep the stake," I told him as I walked out the door, unable to keep from smiling as I did so.

  Chapter 22

  As I was walking back through the castle, it felt like a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. My need for revenge
had all but consumed me, and now that it was gone, I felt normal again. Though I’m not going to deny that my recent experiences hadn’t changed me any, especially my confrontation with Constantine. It felt as if there was now an inner strength in me that I didn’t even know I had; a strength that felt greater even than that which I had as a vampire.

  And a strength that I knew I would likely have to call upon again soon.

  The Order Of The Serpent was still out there, and whatever they wanted from me, I knew I was going to need all of my strength to either give them what they wanted, or to resist them.

  Either way, more battles undoubtedly lay ahead.

  As I was walking out the front door of the castle, I soon stopped when I realized there was someone coming toward me from the opposite direction. Thinking it was one of Constantine’s vampires who didn’t get the memo that everything was fine now, I held my ground and prepared to unleash my magic in case the other person attacked.

  Until they stopped walking and said, "Corvin?"

  I shook my head. "Adrina?"

  She came walking forward out of the darkness, a puzzled look on her face. "Did you do it?"

  "Did I kill Constantine?" I shook my head. "No, I didn’t."

  Adrina frowned. "Why not? Where is he?"

  "I’m right here, Adrina."

  Both of us turned around at the same time to see Constantine standing by the front door, staring over at us.

  "What is this?" Adrina asked, looking at me. "What’s going on, Corvin?"

  "What’s going on is, you two need to work things out," I said to her.

  She glanced at Constantine, and then back at me, suspicion on her face now. "Is this some sort of trick? Are you conspiring with him now?"

  I raised my hand to calm her. "No, Adrina, I wouldn’t do that to you. Look at me." She looked into my eyes. "There’s been enough killing, all right? He’s prepared to talk things out. So should you be."

  She stared hard at me for a long moment, conflicting emotions coming over her face. She looked exactly like Constantine did when I mentioned the idea of a truce to him as well, her initial reaction to resist, but also knowing deep within herself that I was right.

  I looked back at Constantine, and then at Adrina one final time. "I’ll leave you’s to it. Try not to kill each other."

  Adrina looked like she didn’t want me to go, because then she would have to face her brother on her own, but I started walking away anyway. A few seconds later, she called out to me.

  "Corvin?"

  I stopped and turned around. "Yeah?"

  She stared at me for long seconds. "Don’t be a stranger."

  I smiled and nodded. "I’ll try not to be."

  Chapter 23

  The next few days I spent at home in Dublin.

  The day after driving back from Belfast, I called both Dalia and Monty to let them know I was still alive and doing okay. They of course asked what happened, and I gave them a shortened version of events, not really wanting to talk too much about it anyway. They were both busy with their own shit, so they didn’t mind not knowing every detail, just as long as I was okay. I also tried to call Amelia, but she wasn’t picking up for some reason.

  The rest of the time up until now I’ve spent mostly in the flat and in the bookshop helping Margaret. I was happy enough just to float around and do whatever, enjoying the fact that I had been cleansed of some deep-rooted and bad emotions that I didn’t even know existed until everything happened in Belfast to bring them out.

  Probably for the first time since before my mother died, I felt happy, or as happy as can be anyway. I even managed to write a few new songs, despite no longer having my old guitar. I actually went out and bought another one from Hacknet’s shop. The new guitar will never replace the old one, but if a thing is gone, it’s gone, and that’s all there is to it. I would just have to accept it.

  In between these blissful bouts of happiness, I continued to try and get in touch with Amelia, growing more worried by the day when I still kept getting no answer from her phone. It was going straight to voicemail now. Yesterday, I even drove to her apartment, not finding her there, and then to the Tasar mansion, not finding her there either. Seemingly no one had seen her in days.

  Then this morning, I finally get a call from her.

  "Amelia," I said upon answering. "I’ve been trying to contact you for days. Where are you?"

  "How soon can you get to my uncle’s place?" she said.

  "To the mansion? If I leave now, then not long. What’s going on, Amelia?"

  "I’ll explain when you get here," she said, and then hung up the phone.

  Puffing my cheeks out in exasperation, I shook my head. Whatever she wanted, it sounded urgent.

  And serious.

  Grabbing my coat, I left the flat and went downstairs into the shop. "I’m going out," I said to Margaret, who was sitting behind the desk reading a book.

  "Oh," she said, putting the book down. "Before you do, this came for you." Frowning, I watched her slide a long box out from behind the counter. "A courier dropped it off a little while ago."

  "Okay…" I went to the box and opened it up, surprised beyond words to see my old guitar case inside, the one I had been forced to leave behind in Belfast. When I opened it up, I was even more delighted to see the guitar inside, along with a note sitting on top. Picking up the note, I opened it up to reveal the most beautiful handwriting I had ever seen, in which was written:

  It was nice meeting you, Corvin. Come see me sometime at the castle. We still have much to discuss.

  Adrina

  There was a broad smile on my face as I put the note on top of the guitar again and closed up the case, moving it to the back of the shop.

  "I take it that was a nice surprise," Margaret said smiling.

  I smiled back. "You could say that," I said.

  Book 4

  Epigraph

  "The more enlightened our houses are, the more the walls ooze ghosts."

  Italio Calvino

  "I am thy father’s spirit,

  Doomed for a certain term to walk the night

  And for the day confined to fast in fires,

  Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature

  Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid

  To tell the secrets of my prison house,

  I could a tale unfold whose lightest word

  Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood."

  Shakespeare’s Hamlet

  Chapter 1

  The orcs let me through the security gates when I arrived at the Tasar mansion. There were two of them standing guard, both effortlessly intimidating, though not the same guys who worked for Iolas. These were different orcs, ones that Amelia seemed to have employed herself. When they let me through the gates without question, I parked the Spitfire in front of the house before crunching across the gravel driveway to knock on the front door, expecting Amelia to answer. Instead, the door was answered by a different elf, a young woman who I’d never seen before. She wore a white pant suit, her blouse buttoned tight to her neck. Blonde hair, almost white in itself, hung past the small of her back, the points of her ears sticking out slightly through the perfectly shiny strands.

  "Hello there," she said with a smile that was welcoming but slightly creepy, I thought, as if she was overdoing it. "You must be Corvin."

  "Yes," I said. "And you are?"

  She let me into the entrance hallway and then extended her hand. "My name is Simoa. I’m Amelia’s cousin. I’m here to help her run things."

  I nodded. "Okay, well it’s nice to meet you, Simoa. What exactly are you helping her run?"

  She smiled, her dark blue eyes never leaving me. "The family business, of course."

  "Of course, yeah, the family business." I had no idea that Amelia had decided to take over the Tasar empire. I was surprised, in fact. Given everything, I thought she would wash her hands of it. "And what is your role in the family business, Simoa?"


  Her smile never left her as she spoke. "Oh, you know. This and that."

  I nodded once more, doing my best to maintain my own smile, even though she was putting me on edge for some reason. She kind of reminded me of a Stepford wife, all surface charm with not much underneath, making me wonder if this was yet another sociopath of the Tasar family. "That’s good," I said as I looked past her. "So where is Amelia? She asked to see me."

  Simoa nodded slightly. "Follow me. I’ll take you to her."

  She started walking across the entrance hallway to the west wing of the house, leading me down familiar hallways until we came to the steps leading down into the dungeon.

  "She’s down there?" I said uneasily, remembering the last time I was down there with Iolas and Amelia, as well as the man Iolas had senselessly killed. "What’s she doing down there?"

  Simoa’s maintained her smile as she stood aside and beckoned for me to go down the steps. "I’m sure you’ll find out."

  I nodded as I moved past her. "I’m sure I will."

  "Can I bring you anything, Corvin? Tea perhaps? Something stronger?"

  I didn’t like the way she said my name, as if she was going to have her eye on me from now on. "No thanks. I’m fine, thank you, Simoa."

  "Okay, I’ll be around if you need anything."

  "I’m sure you will."

  I shook my head slightly as I walked down the stone steps, not only at Simoa’s creepy manner, but also at the fact that I was walking down into a cold dungeon that I thought I would never see again, and I was nervous about what I was going to find. So unless Amelia was down there redecorating, which I highly doubted, I knew I wasn’t going to find anything good, especially with how urgent she sounded on the phone.

  And indeed, when I walked through the archway into the large, dank room, there was Amelia, and she wasn’t alone. I didn’t go any farther as I stood and shook my head, sighing slightly at what I saw, which was a man strapped to the metal chair in the center of the room. The man was in his fifties, with a large build and a look of defiance on his hardened face. This man didn’t appear to be frightened by the situation he was in, unlike the last man who had sat in that chair. I could still hear the snap of poor Arthur Cartwright’s neck as Iolas had twisted it.

 

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