Temptation (League of Vampires Book 8)

by Rye Brewer

  My parents. I should have known.

  “Who are you hiding in here?” Margaux demanded, storming about the small space. “Did you think you could keep this a secret from us forever? I can tell someone is here!” She was a tornado, tearing around, throwing cupboards open as though I had stashed a lover there.

  “Since when is it any business of yours how I spend my time—or with whom?” I asked, finishing my buttoning and turning to face her. “And unless this supposed guest of mine is invisible, I would say it looks as though I’m here alone. Perhaps I wished for a little private time to myself.”

  “When you have virtually an entire wing of the castle to yourself?” she all but screeched. “You are given all the freedom you could ever want, and yet you insist on sneaking off like this!”

  “It’s none of your concern. You barge in here without so much as bothering to knock, just as you do in my office? What gives you the right?”

  Her chest expanded as she pulled in a lungful of air. “This land, the castle and all the buildings surrounding it are your father’s and mine. Not yours. Not yet.”

  “I thought I was the heir to the name and rulership of the clan,” I sneered.

  “Yes—and your responses thus far are hardly what I would expect from the future leader of the De Clerqs.”

  “I’m hardly a child. I do not need you to follow my every movement, to judge what I should and should not be doing with my time.”

  She glowered at me, fists clenched as though she wished she could strike. Mother or not, there was no comparing us in size and strength—either in human form or otherwise. And she knew it.

  Instead of hitting me, she turned to my father. “Is there nothing you feel you ought to say right now?” she hissed.

  My father, who had not moved an inch since entering the cottage, merely looked from her to me. “I will see you at three o’clock tomorrow at Shifter Spire.”

  This chilled me far worse than anything Margaux could’ve said or done. Only the most important clan business was conducted there, normally while in the presence of other high-ranking members of the clan. I’d witnessed banishments, sentencings, even whippings in my very early days.

  And he wanted to see me there.

  I raised my chin. “So be it. Three o’clock.”

  He spoke not another word, but instead took my mother’s hand and led her from the cottage. Her smug face was the last thing I saw before they turned away to begin the trek across the estate, up to the castle. Fog swirled around them, eventually swallowing them up.

  Still, I waited until it seemed they were really gone, with no intention of doubling back, before stripping off the clothing I’d just thrown on, opening the trap door and dropping through it to the tunnel floor.

  And then, I let the wolf take over.

  My own scent filled my nostrils the moment I did, still heavy in the air in the minutes since Genevieve had passed through.

  They couldn’t smell her because she’d fed from me. She carried my scent as a result. Oh, it must have driven Margaux crazy. I smiled nastily to myself as I ran the length of the tunnel, knowing the dips and cracks in the floor by heart, remembering where I needed to lower my head to make allowances for a low ceiling.

  That was why vampire usage of synthetic blood was such a thorn in the side of my kind. Unless a vampire fed from a living source, they carried no scent. We could not track them. This was why Dietrich had been involved in something to do with getting rid of the sources of synthetic blood.

  He’d still never told me exactly how he was going about it. Only that it had to do with humans and blood. And vampires, of course.

  And it had gotten him killed.

  The question of whether someone else had taken charge of his work in the event of his death crossed my mind, but it was merely a background concern when so much of my focus had been consumed by the need to find Genevieve.

  When the tunnel opened into the cave, I followed it until I reached the mouth and then, the forest beyond. The fog which had obscured my parents was even thicker here, and I hoped it hadn’t left Genevieve hopelessly lost.

  My scent was still heavy in the air. I lifted my head, sniffed, and followed the path she had taken. It seemed as though she’d guided herself well.

  Naturally, she would have. She excelled at everything she put her hand to. Yet another aspect of her personality which I found supremely attractive. I loped through the forest, less anxious than before but still in a hurry. Nothing mattered more than her safety.

  The sound of rushing water greeted me, growing louder the closer to the waterfall I came. I hadn’t visited since the time we’d spent there together, and the sight of so much natural beauty struck me just as it always did—though it was less important while I was the wolf, when my sense of smell and hearing were far more valuable to me than the majesty of a rushing waterfall, the droplets glittering like diamonds in the moonlight.

  I sniffed the ground all the way to the rock face, followed the narrow footpath worn over many generations of visits to the secret alcove hidden behind the falls. Dirt turned to stone—slippery, at that, but I was agile enough to make short work of navigating the ledge before slipping into the carved-out niche where we’d spent one glorious day together.

  Only to find my clothing strewn about the floor. The clothing I had thrust into Genevieve’s hands before sending her through the trap door.

  And the scent of blood in the air.

  Blood and other shifters who were not me.

  I ran around the small alcove, sniffing the ground all the while, then burst out onto the other side of the falls, opposite where I’d entered. I focused every bit of concentration on picking up my scent, but it was gone. Only blood and the scent of others. So many others.

  No! No, no, no!

  They had found her. Someone had taken her away. It was the only explanation and it filled me with horror unlike anything I’d ever known.

  I raised my head and howled at the moon, the sound echoing through the forest.

  30

  Anissa

  I didn’t know what I was expecting.

  To see Sara? To arrive at Hallowthorn Landing and find her walking along the docks which lined the water’s edge? Maybe she would be admiring the birds which circled over the sparkling water in the hopes of catching a fish. Or maybe she would be walking up to the fortress from the village, where she would likely be much more welcome than she would’ve been as a mere vampire.

  I supposed I’d expected to find her waiting for me, somehow, though there was no reason she should’ve known I was coming.

  I sighed, looking up at the too-blue sky—it struck me again how hyper-real the entire world seemed when compared to the human world or anywhere else I’d visited—and wished we could go back to when things were just a little simpler. When she wasn’t a witch. What would have happened if she had never drunk that tainted blood?

  How would life had progressed if that had never happened? Would she still be with Scott? Back at the high-rise? Safe, secure, at least as much as one of us could be as refugees from the Carver clan?

  At least I would be able to see her. I missed her so much, it hurt.

  Branwen caught my eye, as she was also looking up—though she wasn’t looking at the sky. She was looking up at one of the many balconies carved into the side of the mountain.

  At Stark.

  My heart jumped when I recognized him. If I couldn’t see Sara, at least I could speak with someone who might know how she was.

  “Excuse me,” I said to both Sirene and Branwen before running from the courtyard up the smooth stone stairs which led to the towering doors of the fortress. Was I even allowed to run around inside, unchaperoned? I didn’t have time to consider it. I needed to see Stark.

  The inside of the fortress was imposing, to put it mildly, with heavy, wrought iron chandeliers and the many impressive tapestries which hung from the walls of the entry hall. There was no time to admire their intricate details
as I took the wide staircase two steps at a time.

  And nearly ran into Stark as he rushed down.

  I grabbed his arm, both to stop him and to steady myself.

  “Stark!” I gasped, smiling. “I’m so glad you’re here! Where is Sara? Is she still on Shadowsbane? Have you seen her? I miss her so much!” It all came out in a single breath, the words running together.

  He smiled indulgently. if a bit distractedly, as his eyes moved to the door I’d left open on running inside. “Take a breath. No, I haven’t seen her. She’s still on Shadowsbane, training with Elewyn. Learning how to be a better witch.”

  I stared at him in surprise. Why did he sound bitter about this? Did he even realize he did? I would’ve thought he’d be glad that she was like him, that she wanted to be even better than she was. At least that she wanted to control her powers and not fry him with a bolt of lightning.

  “Would you excuse me, please?” he asked, looking to the door again. “I… I noticed Sirene came through with you, and she brought her baby…”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Of course, go! See her!”

  “Her?” he asked, smiling hesitantly.

  “Yes. You have a niece.” The almost silly joy on his face warmed me inside, and I hurried to follow him down the stairs and outside, back to the courtyard overlooking the water where Sirene and Branwen still stood.

  It was impossible not to smile when he took his first look at Elena. His face seemed to completely transform. I hadn’t realized until then just how much of his time was spent either frowning or glowering. When he lit up, he looked like a different man.

  “She’s beautiful,” he whispered, smiling from ear to ear as Sirene handed the baby to him. “Though she doesn’t have our coloring, does she?”

  “No, there is quite a bit of Bourke in our Elena,” Sirene chuckled.

  “You can’t have everything, little one, can you?” he whispered to Elena, beaming with pride when she grabbed for his finger and squeezed tight. “A strong girl. A fine girl.”

  He was utterly in love with her, as we all were.

  I glanced at Branwen, who stood off to the side. Her face was a mask, immobile. Only her eyes gave her away, though I had no idea why there was so much emotion just under the surface. What was she feeling? I thought back a few minutes to the look on her face when she stared up at Stark. When he stared down at her.

  They were not strangers.

  Elena let out a little bit of babbling, which drew my attention.

  Stark laughed. “And already so full of opinions, too!” he marveled. “I’m certain you have many thoughts and observations which we would all love to hear, little Elena.”

  He looked up at Sirene. “She seems… mature. Larger than she ought to. She can’t be more than a week old, can she?”

  Sirene exchanged a look with me and was about to reply, but Elena did the work for her. She began to cry all of a sudden, the sort of crying I had already come to identify with sparks. And sure enough, the more upset she became, the greater the energy around her, until sparks started flying from her fingertips. Nothing too serious, nothing like what Sara was capable of when she first gained her powers.

  But nothing an ordinary baby should have been capable of.

  Stark’s mouth fell open. “Elemental powers?” he whispered, looking at Sirene.

  The sweet, loving smile she’d just worn turned to a worried frown. “Yes. That’s why we came. She drank from the same batch of blood Sara did; and she’s gained the same elemental powers.”

  31

  Branwen

  Just when I was certain my heart was far too broken to break any further.

  It should have been our child Stark was holding. Our child he cooed over, fussed over, spoke so gently to. I’d always known he would make a wonderful father. I’d always known he possessed the gentle soul he tried so hard to conceal from the world.

  We could have been so happy. We could’ve had everything.

  Did he know how it pained me to watch? Did he even know I was there? He hadn’t looked at me, rushing to Sirene and Elena without so much as a glance my way to indicate recognition.

  But he’d recognized me earlier, as he stood on the balcony. His eyes could never lie to me.

  Tears threatened to well up, but I fought them back. I had cried more than enough over him. Buckets. Enough to fill an ocean.

  Elena let out a piercing wail, pulling me from my painful thoughts and back into the present moment. Sparks flew from her fingertips, sizzling in the air, making Stark gasp in shock.

  “She’s hungry,” Sirene explained after telling him about the contaminated batch Elena had drank from, taking the baby from him and offering her a bottle of blood.

  The sight of the blood must have shaken him from his shock. “What is this?” he demanded. “She’s a vampire? She needs blood to survive?”

  “Yes,” Sirene replied, calm and collected in the face of his growing panic. “She is a vampire, as her father was.”

  “How—what—where do you intend to find blood for her?” he asked, clearly aghast.

  I cleared my throat. “We already thought about that,” I said as I held up the little cooler we’d packed. The first words I’d spoken to him in so many decades. I had imagined what I’d say to him if given the chance more times than I could possibly count.

  Somehow, reality fell short of my fantasies.

  He took the cooler from me with hardly a glance my way and looked inside. “That’s not enough. It might last a week, maybe less. Then what?” he asked, looking around. “Do you intend on allowing her to feed from us, perhaps?”

  “We hadn’t thought about it yet,” Sirene admitted, looking down at the child who nursed greedily from the bottle of blood.

  “You know that’s against the rules of the League, don’t you?” he asked. “Not that I was ever a fan of them myself, but we do not need to give them any reason to ostracize the child—or worse.”

  “I could always go back and get more blood from the Bourke supply,” Anissa suggested.

  “Wouldn’t they eventually notice the missing blood and wonder who’d suddenly been drinking more than before?” he asked. “I assume none of the rest of the clan is aware of the baby’s presence.”

  “Of course not,” Sirene replied, and I noted the way her arms tightened around Elena when she did. “We couldn’t let them know about her. That is why we came here.”

  “I assumed as much,” Stark muttered. “What happens when she begins to grow—to really grow, in earnest? She will need even more blood then. What will you do when that happens?”

  “Wait!” Anissa held up both hands, and I was glad for it.

  Only her sudden outburst could have calmed Stark once he worked himself into a frenzy, which he was doing at the moment.

  Perhaps she would talk some sense into him and remind him how foolish it was to think so far into the future. Doing so was the surest path to madness.

  Instead, she began to tremble. “Where is Sara getting blood from?”

  I blinked. So did Stark.

  “What?” he asked with a frown. “What does she have to do with this?”

  “She needs blood. She’s still a vampire. How is she getting it if she’s on Shadowsbane?” Anissa wrung her hands together, shaking outright. “Oh, no, what if she’s suffering the way she did before? She was starved once, did she ever tell you that? Tortured. Locked away and only given enough blood to keep from going insane.”

  “Anissa, calm down,” Stark implored, going to her.

  She backed away. “I have to see her! I have to know she’s all right! Oh, no, I should’ve thought… I should’ve asked…”

  “Anissa, please!” Stark held her shoulders, shaking her slightly. “Pull yourself together. Elewyn would not allow her to starve. She’s capable of many things, but not that.”

  Elewyn.

  I gritted my teeth against the cries of disgust which threatened to wrench themselves from my heart. Just the
sound of her name made me sick.

  He had left me for her. For her! That clawing, grasping, evil little witch. Lording her powers over all of us, holding herself above all others just because she was elemental.

  He was just as pathetic as she was, if she was who he’d chosen. I had told myself that very thing at the time and did so again.

  “I don’t believe you. I can’t trust anyone when it comes to her. I’m supposed to protect her, she’s my younger sister, and now… my mother…” She closed her eyes, prompting the tears which had welled up there to spill onto her cheeks. “I have to see her. Please. Take me to her, somebody.”

  I was utterly lost—and, judging from the look on Sirene’s face, so was she. But instead of demanding answers, she looked to her brother. “Take her,” she murmured, nodding. “We will be fine here on our own for a little while.”

  “I’m sorry. I won’t be long,” Anissa promised, still crying. “I just have to know she’s all right.”

  “I know you do. I would feel the same way.”

  Anissa looked at me next. “Will you watch over them for me while I’m gone?” she whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

  “Of course,” I assured her, even as I dug my nails into my palms. He was going to Shadowsbane. He was going to see her. Just as she in all likelihood knew he would, which was why she held Sara there.

  Sara was her way of bringing Stark to her. Like a spider in a web, waiting for her prey to become entangled.

  And there was no choice for me but to stand by and watch as he so willingly went along.

  32

  Anissa

  “I’d forgotten Elewyn changed things here,” Stark said as we stepped out of the portal he’d created. “I’d expected the same stormy gloom as before. It was always that way, for as long as I could remember. It’s a bit of a shock.”

  I had no concern for his memories, or for the weather on Shadowsbane Island. As far as I was concerned, anything was an improvement over the gloom and doom of the storminess we’d encountered on our first visit. As soon as Elewyn had taken charge, she’d swept the storms away to replace them with the same sort of magical, non-threatening sunshine which warmed Hallowthorn Landing.