Fatal Harmony (The Vein Chronicles Book 1)

by Anne Malcom

  Not that I let that on.

  Especially when Thorne’s blood had an ever-increasing pull that was starting to worry me. After the rib-breaking, I had focused on the vein at his neck and had my lips fastened around it before I could blink. Luckily I could pass it off as a caress, with extreme effort. But it was concerning. Very. Especially when I had to report back to the king very soon. Whom I had been artfully dodging for the last two months.

  It was great timing that he had been in Europe doing… whatever kings did. Now he was back and it was time to face the music.

  “Isla.” A deep voice jerked me out of my head.

  Thorne was right in my face, concern rolling off him in waves.

  “Are you okay?” he clipped.

  The very fact that he had moved without me noting it was proof that I was not okay.

  “Yes. Dandy. Just thinking of my outfit for tomorrow. Fashion is serious business.”

  His jaw tightened. “I’m still not happy about you going,” he declared. This was far from the first time he’d made his misgivings known about me actively pursuing those involved with the rebellion. He knew little of my involvement with the king, and he knew nothing of my family’s promise of my Awakening. That would not go down well.

  I was learning that he was possessive to the thousandth degree and would take it upon himself to try and do something suicidal like kill my family.

  Only I could do that.

  I had already had Sophie work her juju to make sure my family’s spies couldn’t trail me, or Thorne. It wouldn’t do well at all to have them know about us.

  The mere thought made me feel vaguely sick, in fact.

  But all had been quiet from them too.

  Another dragon that was sucking in its breath.

  I focused on Thorne and the present. “Thanks for letting me know that,” I replied. “It won’t change a thing, but thanks just the same.

  “I’m coming,” he said suddenly.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You are not. Unless you have a death wish I don’t know about.”

  He held my glare. “No, but since yours is apparent, you’re not going without me.”

  “They’ll sense you within a mile,” I told him triumphantly. “And most vampires won’t react the way I have to you. No matter how pretty you are.”

  Thorne’s gaze darted to Chace, who was finding the ceiling particularly fascinating at the moment.

  “I can do something about that,” a throaty voice declared.

  Sophie’s combat boots thumped against the concrete floor of the warehouse, Silver right behind her.

  I narrowed my eyes at the strange pairing and then at Sophie’s words once she approached us.

  “There’s a cloaking spell that will disguise his aura and make him little more than an average human,” she continued.

  A sliver of a grin edged on the corner of Thorne’s face.

  I glared at Sophie. “Not cool, dude. Why would you betray me in such a way?”

  Her eyes were hard. “You can’t go to Mortimeus alone,” she said. “It’s too dangerous for you.”

  I raised a brow. “You’re telling me it’s too dangerous going to a bar when you were the one who convinced me to crash a demon séance and I almost lost an eye?”

  She didn’t smile. Or even move her lips.

  Something wafted off her that I didn’t like.

  “Jeez, who died? If it’s my parents I’d assume you’d be a lot happier.”

  Sophie didn’t even blink. “We need to talk,” she said, her voice flat and strange.

  I frowned at her. “Well… speak,” I urged.

  She glanced at Chace.

  “Don’t worry, I’m already going to kill him if he spills trade secrets.” I waved my hand to dismiss her concerns.

  She swallowed. “How are you feeling?”

  I stared at her a long moment. “Fine. I’m immortal, so no sniffles for me. Now, what’s the news?”

  She stepped forward, her blank face an omen of what was to come. Even when she’d discovered her boyfriend in the 1960s was trying to kill her, she had a shadow of a grin and said he was bad in bed anyway.

  “No, Isla, how are you feeling?” she repeated, giving me a look that told me she had insight into my current situation.

  Thorne bristled beside me. “What is this about?” he demanded, looking from Sophie to me. “Isla?”

  I glanced at him. “Why are you asking me? I’m not the one who said I had news,” I defended.

  He wasn’t buying it.

  “Remember Belladonna?” Sophie cut in.

  A cool bitterness settled over my body. “The wine?” I asked, playing dumb.

  I got two sets of narrowed eyes at that one.

  “Isla,” Sophie warned.

  “You do a great Thorne impression,” I shot at her.

  She glared at me.

  “Yes, I remember her. Bad magical plastic surgery job, nasty teeth, tried to kill me once or twice until I put her in the ground.”

  Sophie’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I’ve been doing some digging since you told me her origins. That she was part of a coven long banished to live in captivity.”

  “Until someone let the dogs out,” I finished for her. “Now they’re playing for the wrong team.”

  Sophie nodded. “They were bound in that prison together, and from what I can gather from the old books, even upon their release, they stay bound. Each of the other’s magic lives inside them.”

  A heavy silence settled over the room.

  “Am I the only one not getting the punch line?” I asked after a beat.

  Sophie glanced at Thorne, who was doing his best statue impression. Silver had his tattooed arms crossed, looking equally grim. Chace’s face was masked in confusion.

  Great, me and the meathead are in the same intelligence category.

  “Since the four are bound, each spell they cast stays alive until they all perish,” Sophie explained. “The witch’s magic stays inside you even after her death. She practices death magic, spells that thrive from the grave, so in fact, it’s even stronger with you killing her.”

  I threw up my hands. “Oh, I’m sorry I killed the evil witch who was doing her best to roast my blood on the inside out.”

  She gave me a look. “I’m not saying you made the wrong decision in that moment, but if I’d been there like I wanted to be—”

  “If you even try and weave an ‘I told you so’ into this conversation, I’ll find myself a stake and we’ll roast marshmallows off your corpse,” I hissed.

  Thorne raised a warning brow as Silver stepped forward slightly.

  I noted the protective stance with a detached amusement, too focused on myself, but I’d circle back to it.

  Sophie didn’t take notice, merely grinned. “I’d like to see you try. I’d be using your rib cage as a beer cooler.”

  “Jesus,” Thorne muttered.

  Chace grinned. “You chicks are more bloodthirsty than us,” he said in amazement.

  I gave him a smile. “Oh it’s always the most bloodthirsty between girlfriends. You’re just lucky history hasn’t had any wars with two girlfriends pissed at each other on either side. The world would be flattened.”

  I moved my attention back to Sophie, whose smile dropped off her face with alarming quickness. That did not bode well. Sophie didn’t get rattled easily.

  “Spill it, Sabrina,” I demanded.

  She gave Thorne and me a sympathetic look before speaking. “The spell will kill you.” She said it quickly and simply, ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid.

  Thorne’s reaction was decidedly more dramatic than mine.

  Mine being no reaction.

  His being to fling waves of pure unadulterated fear through the air. Though he coated it in a hefty spattering of rage. “That’s not fuckin’ happening,” he hissed, snatching me to his side as if it would stop death from being inevitable. Like taxes.

  Despite that being impossible, I didn’t pull out of the
embrace. Being curled against him wasn’t disagreeable.

  “How exactly will this spell kill me?” I asked evenly.

  I didn’t miss the sliver of fear twinkling in Sophie’s eyes. “It’s a blood spell. First it makes you relive all the blood you’ve ever spilled, as though it’s flowing from your own body.”

  I shivered despite being unable to feel the crisp New York air filtering through the uninsulated warehouse. Thorne’s radiating heat chased the cold away, but not in the right direction; it curled up into the deepest part of me, where even he couldn’t reach.

  Sophie arched her brow. “That’s already begun to happen, hasn’t it?”

  I gave her a nod.

  Who knew one jerk of my head would make Thorne’s arms turn to steel and unleash rage from his pores?

  He turned me in his arms so his quicksilver irises could lock onto mine. “What?”

  That one word had the impact of a mallet to the head.

  “What?” I parroted.

  His hands and my shoulders flexed. That was going to bruise. Or it would have, had I not been vampire and all.

  “Don’t,” he warned. “You think it might’ve been something to tell me that you’ve been experiencing half a millennium of death?”

  I glowered at him. “No, I didn’t. I thought it was nobody’s business but mine.” My words were a challenge, and likely one he would have met had Sophie not cleared her throat.

  “Thorne, you couldn’t have exactly done anything, anyway,” she told him.

  He didn’t take his eyes off me. “That’s not the fuckin’ point.”

  I rolled my eyes. “But the point is to let Sophie get to hers.” I turned my attention back to my friend, who I swore was grinning.

  Bitch.

  “Get back to the story of my demise,” I instructed.

  Thorne cursed under his breath and yanked my back to his front. Even in the midst of an argument, he needed contact, I was coming to understand that, and crave the same thing.

  “After reliving how you took blood in the past, you’ll start to get less nutrients from the blood of the present,” Sophie said. “It will slowly stop sustaining you and you’ll become weaker. Your injuries won’t heal as quickly….” She trailed off, seeing something on my face.

  Thorne couldn’t see my face but he sensed it in the air.

  “That’s already started happening too, hasn’t it?” Sophie asked quietly.

  I shrugged.

  “How long?” Thorne growled.

  I didn’t look at him. “Night at the mansion, when Earnshaw ripped my throat out.

  Even Silver blanched at that news.

  “That was two months ago, Isla,” Thorne said slowly.

  “I’m able to count the passing of days,” I snapped.

  “You’ve been letting my men train with you,” he continued. “Letting them hurt you. Letting me hurt you.”

  What hurt more than anything was the emotion in Thorne’s voice. The guilt.

  “Please,” I scoffed. “Even if I were drinking animal blood for a year, I’d still be able to beat your recruits with my eyes closed.” That time I turned in his arms out of my own volition, reaching up to stroke his stubbled jaw. “Plus, you’re never hurting me. And I like the pain,” I murmured with a thickness to my voice. “It’s not anything serious, like I’ve turned human. A broken bone just takes an hour instead of a minute to heal,” I said cheerfully. I glanced back at Sophie. “That’s as bad as it’s going to get, isn’t it?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “No,” she said quietly. “It’s likely to get worse. It will take longer because you’re stronger and more stubborn.” She winked at me. “But eventually, you’ll be as weak as a human. And as vulnerable as one.”

  Silence followed her statement, thick and heavy, and all seemingly focused on me.

  I was one woman who liked attention, but not like that. Not when I was turning disturbingly into the damsel when I worked best as the villain.

  “So this is a cure to vampirism?” I asked, toying with the idea of being human. Nope. Couldn’t do it. Crow’s feet and gray hair? No thanks.

  Then something else crept into my mind. Wrinkled hands clutching the same ones that were circled around me. Growing old with Thorne instead of watching age ravage him and death take him. Despite his extended life span, he’d age eventually, I’d gleaned as much.

  It was tempting.

  Very.

  “No,” Sophie cut off my dreams. “It won’t turn you human. You’ll still be a vampire. Still need blood to survive. But human blood won’t be what keeps you that way. You’ll weaken and die.”

  I almost choked on the force of Thorne’s grip me and the raw energy radiating off him.

  I stayed calm. “Well I wish I could bring that witch back and kill her twice,” I muttered. “What an inconvenience.”

  “Inconvenience?” Thorne repeated. “That’s what we’re calling your death, Isla?”

  His rage had to be directed somewhere, I guessed.

  I looked at him. “You don’t live for five hundred years without brushing with death at least once a decade,” I explained. “Me and the grim reaper are best buds. Death is a part of immortality. This is not my first rodeo.” I winked at him. “There’s always a way to beat the reaper.”

  I looked at Sophie. “Now’s your cue.”

  She gave me a grim look. “Yeah, there is a cure to this,” she said, almost reluctantly.

  I gave Thorne a triumphant grin.

  “Drinking the blood of a slayer,” Sophie said, her words coming down like a guillotine.

  Obviously, Thorne didn’t take the news well. Neither did I, if I was honest, but I didn’t break as many things nor use enough curse words.

  After his tirade, I’d given him an expectant look. “Finished?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m assuming you’re going to bippity-boppity-boo some other suggestions?” I asked Sophie in a carefully constructed bored tone.

  She nodded. “You bet your ass I will.”

  “Great. Well, I’ve got a renewed motivation to hit some clubs tonight. Maybe I’ll be able to find three dark witches there and can end them all.”

  I went to walk out of the warehouse, to escape the weight of stares more than anything else.

  An iron grip at my wrist stopped me.

  “You’re not seriously fuckin’ thinkin’ I’ll let you go now?” he all but growled at me.

  I raised my brow at him. “No, I’m not seriously thinking that,” I replied. “Because that would imply you have the power to ‘let’ me do anything. Which you do not.”

  His rage enveloped the room in a cloud so thick I was surprised the breathers didn’t choke on it.

  “You’re insane,” he hissed.

  I tilted my head. “I’m not sure what that’s got to do with it.”

  He stepped forward, his hot breath on my face. “You heard Sophie. Every fuckin’ day you’re getting weaker. You want to go into the vampire den like that?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I grew up in the vampire den. I’ll survive.”

  His hand bit into my wrist. “It’s dangerous.”

  “What isn’t? The most dangerous thing you could do would be to put me in a padded room, despite what psychiatrists recommend.” I looked to Sophie, who was uncomfortably watching the exchange like a spectator would a car crash.

  “I’m not likely to drop dead, properly at least, in the next twenty-four hours, am I?” I asked her sharply.

  “Not of unnatural causes,” she replied.

  I held up my hands to Thorne. “See, as safe as houses. Now, I’m going. And I’ll tell you now, you won’t like what happens if you try to stop me.”

  The hurricane in his eyes regarded what was likely the typhoon in mine. “Out,” he growled, not taking his eyes off me but making it apparent that he was speaking to everyone else.

  The echo of feet on concrete told me his command was being obeyed. The retreating heartbeats would have also,
but Thorne’s was a roar in my ears.

  “If this is you going all caveman on me, I’d advise against it. The Neanderthals didn’t fare well in history. I’d have to call some historians to let them know one survived extinction, and they’ll likely put you in a museum quicker than you can say ‘misogynistic,’” I snapped.

  He snatched my face in his hands. “You didn’t tell me. Any of it.”

  I widened my eyes at him. “And?” I prompted, failing to see why it outraged him.

  “And, Isla, I should have fuckin’ known,” he roared.

  “Why? Unless you’re also ruler of the universe in your spare time, you couldn’t have done anything.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not the point. You’re mine. And you’ve been slipping through my fingers, all the shit you’ve been doing, the danger you’ve been putting yourself in.” He shuddered. Actually shuddered. Thorne, who was scared of nothing, chilled at the prospect of me in danger.

  “Well I didn’t know the extent of it,” I protested.

  “Would that have changed anything?”

  I pouted. “Likely not.”

  He ground his teeth together. “Fuck, Isla. Have you got any self-preservation?”

  I jutted my chin out. “I have a lot. I quite like being undead, and I intend to stay that way. It’s not like I asked to be blackmailed by the king into being his 007 in order to get my parents killed and then got myself in a war where witches cursed me, is it?” I snapped.

  “Exactly why you shouldn’t go,” he snapped back.

  “And what should I do instead? Sit patiently and knit while the menfolk take up their swords to be the heroes?” I glared at him. “Clue in. It’s been my sword that’s saved you more than the other way around, and it’s going to be me who saves myself too. Genius though she is, I’m going to have to disagree with Bonnie Tyler here. I don’t need a hero. And I sure as shit am not holding out for one.”

  Thorne gritted his teeth so hard I worried they might shatter. He stayed silent.

  “I’m going,” I declared.

  We glared at each other, each bathing in the other’s fury. Thorne sighed and yanked my body so it was flush to his, resting his forehead against mine.