by Keary Taylor
I smile to myself and blush as I turn back to the kitchen.
He doesn’t have a mixing bowl, but I find an empty, big sour cream container that works. No measuring cups, either, so I have to eyeball everything. But when you’ve worked at a bakery for four years, it’s not too much of a challenge. By the time Ian returns with the maple, I’ve already got them cooking in the same skillet I used as a shield to Ian’s blow this morning.
“Thank you,” I say as I take the bottle from him and start on the syrup.
“You like cooking?” he asks as he leans against the fridge and watches me.
He really should put a shirt on. Because it’s really hard not to stare at those perfectly defined abs and chest muscles.
I shrug, pretending I wasn’t looking. “Before I moved here, I supported myself by working in a bakery. Cooking paid the bills.”
“Well, I’d offer you free rent in exchange for your skills, but you’ve got a much nicer place to stay when all this settles down.”
I glance back at him over my shoulder and laugh. “I’d offer you free rent for your vampire deflecting skills, but I don’t think you’d take me up on it. You’ve got others who need you.”
He gives a little one-sided smile and a tiny nod.
Once breakfast is ready, we sink onto the couch. Me cross-legged, facing him, Ian with his legs stretched out and his feet on the wobbly coffee table.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” I ask around a mouthful of sweet goodness.
“These are so much better than Lula’s grits,” Ian actually moans in pleasure. I just smile in pride. He swallows his bite and licks at a bit of syrup on his lip. “So, I thought we could start with some basic defensive skills. We can talk more as we do that. But I do have to take Elle into town sometime today, and I have work tonight. I’ve got the graveyard shift that starts at ten.”
“To be honest, it kind of surprises me that you leave your family at all,” I say. “No offense, but you seem a little over protective. How do you ever leave?”
He gives me a little annoyed look, but it doesn’t linger. “I may always live on the edge, always ready for something, but I can’t live in fear all the time. It took me a while to realize that. We have to live our lives. And besides, Elle’s pretty damn dangerous, even if she doesn’t look it.”
“Your fluttery, soft-spoken little sister?” I challenge. “Sorry, but that’s kind of hard to believe.”
“Don’t underestimate her,” he says with a lopsided smile. Another drip of syrup clings to his lips. “You see that garden out there?”
I glance out the window. To the side of the house, on the opposite side of the driveway, is a huge garden.
“Everything in that garden is deadly poisonous. That’s my sister’s baby. She started it three years ago. Kind of a morbid fascination, but hell, I thought it was pretty cool. Elle is, as far as I know, the only person who’s made a toxin that can paralyze and all but kill a vampire.” Ian smiles, pride flowing out of him. “She’s deadly with a blow dart.”
“No way,” I say with an awed shake of my head. “That’s amazing.”
Ian raises an eyebrow and nods. “So no, I don’t feel too terrible about leaving the property. Now, if you’re finished, lets head outside and get started.”
I finish my last bite and rinse my plate off in the sink.
I slip my tennis shoes back on as Ian puts together a bag of weapons. He gets dressed, which is both a disappointment and a relief. Two minutes later, we walk outside and around back behind the cabin. I guess I should have expected all the targets that are set up on the trees, but I didn’t.
“Here,” Ian says after he sets the bag down and unzips it. He tosses me a wooden stake. “That yellow one there? That’s a softer target, the same consistency as a body. I want you to throw it from here and see if you can stick it.”
I want to say you’re kidding? but there’s no way I’m going to look weak.
The stake is heavy and about ten inches long. I hold it on one end, let out a deep breath, and let the stake fly.
It smacks the target on the right side, but bounces off and lands in the dirt.
“Here, watch me,” Ian says. He shows me his throw, which of course hits right in the middle of the target and sways back and forth. “Your feet should be like this,” he explains as he demonstrates. “Keep your hand like this. And throw it a hell of a lot harder.”
I do as he says. This time, it sticks, just barely on the bottom edge of the target.
“There you go,” he says with a small, pleased smile. “Just keep throwing those for a while until you can hit the center. I’ll do the talking.”
I reach into the bag for another stake.
“King Cyrus had a son and that son had seven sons of his own,” Ian begins recapping. “The King killed his son when he realized how evil and power obsessed he was becoming. But five of the son’s sons rebelled against the King. They thought the way their father had. They tried to start a war against him. They didn’t stand a chance against the King. As punishment, Cyrus cut them off. Disowned them in the gravest sense of the word. They could no longer claim themselves as his decedents, and they were no longer royalty. See, the King at this point had had a few centuries to gain power and money. Cyrus may not have been born a king, but he’d made himself one.”
I throw my fifth stake and it comes within three inches of the center.
“Nice,” Ian says before continuing his story. “Two of his grandsons did not rebel, though, and King Cyrus rewarded them greatly. Power, esteem, everything a vampire cares about. He charged them and their heirs with the keeping of the world. They were the true Royal Born. All those exiled were simply Born, they meant nothing.”
I release another stake, but I’m so engrossed in the story that I miss the target completely. Ian adjusts my arm.
“The King closely tracks those Born through the Royal line. He knows every single one of them. And nearly each of them is in charge of a House somewhere in the world that consists of other Born with no claim to Royalty.”
I adjust my feet just a bit, let out a deep breath, and put everything I’ve got into this next stake. It embeds itself deeply into the center of the target.
“Again,” Ian encourages. “There are, as far as we know, twenty-seven Houses and heirs throughout the world. You’d think the number would fluctuate and grow every year, but vamps have a tendency of killing each other off for one reason or another. Politics aren’t much different in the supernatural world, but tempers tend to flare hotter and more deadly.”
“Not that you’re complaining,” I say as I launch another stake.
“Not that I’m complaining when they’re killing each other off,” Ian chuckles. “As you can probably guess now, Silent Bend has its very own—very broken—House of Royals.”
“What do you mean broken?” I ask, looking back at him.
“A House doesn’t get any respect, funding, or connections if it doesn’t have an actual Royal to govern it,” Ian says. He twirls a stake between his fingers, much like a drummer might with their sticks. His fingers never falter the entire time. “The House here hasn’t had a leader in years because the rightful heir refused to have anything to do with it.”
“Henry,” I breathe. Because in my gut, I just know.
“Bingo,” Ian says. He launches his stake at the target and it disappears halfway into it.
“A long time ago, Henry came to Silent Bend with his brother Elijah,” Ian starts back into the story that was cut off with teeth in my neck. I lost my copy of that article in the attack. “Henry had never had any interest in politics, but his brother did. Elijah brought with him a clan of his Born vampire buddies when they came to town. Both Conrath brothers established plantations, but Elijah also established a House.
“I don’t know all the details,” Ian says as the tosses a stake in the air and catches it again. “Really, no one does. Most are just legends and speculation and bedtime stories told to scar
e kids into never sneaking out of the house. But somehow Elijah was killed. After that, the House should have been Henry Conrath’s, but he refused to have anything to do with it. Something you should know about daddy dearest, is that no one knew a damn thing about him. He never left his Estate, as far as I know. And the House, at least most of them, they hated Henry for abandoning them. A Royal-less House is a shamed House.”
My head is already spinning. I remember the picture from the article, the one of the four bodies hanging from the tree in town. Elijah’s headstone.
And I finally realize why Ian and Rath were so anxious to get me away from Henry’s house. “So that’s why they’re going to come after me,” I say as my hands settle on my hips. My palms tingle as they break out into a sweat. “I’m part of this Royal line.”
“And that House is yours.” Ian launches another stake before walking over to retrieve the ones stuck in the target.
“I don’t want to be some queen of a tiny domain,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, everyone in the House is a Born vampire, right?”
Ian nods. “They also control a few Bitten, as well.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t rule or control, or whatever, a bunch of vampires who will probably just try to kill me.”
“It’s more political and complicated than that,” Ian says as he hands me a crossbow. He loads an arrow into it, puts my finger on the trigger, and points to a target fifty yards away. “The House may be broken without a true Royal, but they’re still limping along. Jasmine Veltora has been in charge of it for the past fifteen years. They might need you, but there’s no way she’s going to give control of the House to you.”
“Because why the hell wouldn’t it be that complicated,” I breathe, just as I pull the trigger. And the arrow lands dead center in the target.
“Holy shit,” Ian chuckles, his hands on his hips. “I think we found your weapon, Liv.”
I laugh, looking back at him and reaching for another arrow. I figure out how to notch it. Taking aim, letting my breath out slow, I squeeze the trigger. The arrow lands right next to the first.
“It sounds like I’m going to be a pawn in a very complicated world,” I say as I lower the crossbow.
“In not a great crowd,” Ian says. He reaches for the crossbow and loads another arrow. He takes aim and hits the furthest target dead center. “The House manipulates the entire town. There’s a reason no one goes out after dark, why the police never do anything about the attacks that happen all the time—Jasmine controls the mayor. They’ve got a group of willing Feeders who they’ve promised to turn someday. The House is running this town to hell and it won’t come back any time soon.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” I ask. “Just run away and never look back?”
“To hell with running,” Ian says as his brows furrow and his eyes grow dark. “You go into that House with all the educated cards in your deck and you burn it clean from the inside out.”
WITH THE LACK OF A cell phone since mine disappeared the night of my attack and the desperate need to stay in communication with Rath, Ian agrees to take me into town with him and Elle. But I have to ride in the back of the van, where there are no windows, and keep out of sight. As the van bumps and jostles on the dirt road into town, I’m already dreading how hot it is going to get in here waiting while they do their shopping.
After parking at the shop, Ian turns in his seat. “Try to stay out of trouble.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say, giving him a condescending smile.
“We’ll try to hurry,” Elle says, looking at least sorry that I’m having to wait here.
I wave goodbye to her as they climb out. I wonder how much she knows about what’s going on with me. Because Ian has never told her anything with me around. But it sounds like she’s well informed about her brother’s world. I guess it is her world, too, since she lives in this town.
I sit so I can see out the front window, but am still blocked by the seats. I watch the townspeople as they mill about. It’s a beautiful town, old but clean. There’s a lot of history here. Centuries of families living and dying and being born. Paladon, Colorado never felt like this. Some towns have a soul, even if they’re dark. Silent Bend has an old soul.
It’s bright outside and probably pushing ninety degrees with eighty percent humidity. It’s going to take a while to get used to.
I hate this. I hate hiding, feeling like I’m prey and the predator is going to pounce regardless of how prepared I feel. Ian is well trained and looks prepared, but there’s an entire House of vampires that want me. And here I am, practically just waiting for it.
Such bullshit.
The heat is already stifling and I feel a bead of sweat rolling down my back. Heat pools between my breasts. I fan my shirt around me.
Such a stupid idea. I should have just stayed back at the cabin. Like a good little prisoner.
I look back up out the window just in time to see a woman pulling on her giant dog, which is leaping and jumping at something I can’t see. The woman gives one little shriek before the dog pulls her awkwardly off the curb and she goes down on her ankle. Hard.
I don’t think. I just spring from the van, slamming the door closed behind me. There’s no one else close by and the woman is laying awkwardly half on the curb, half on the street as her dog worriedly licks at her.
“Are you okay?” I say as I reach down for her. She grabs my hands, her own shaking. Carefully, I help her to her feet, but she doesn’t put any weight on the twisted ankle.
“Stupid dog,” she says with a honey smooth Southern accent. “Don’t know what he thought he was going to chase after.”
It’s no surprise he pulled her right over. He’s the biggest black Great Dane I’ve ever seen. I’m pretty certain he could eat me if I got on his bad side.
“Come here,” I say, wrapping an arm under hers. “Let’s get you to that bench.”
“Thank you,” she says, limping alongside me. It takes us about thirty seconds to make it the fifteen feet to the bench, and she collapses onto it as the dog licks her hand.
“I’d offer you a ride to the clinic, but I don’t have a car,” I offer as I sit next to her. Everything in me is itching to get back in the van and hide. And I absolutely hate that.
“Oh,” she laughs at herself. “I’ll be alright. Just need to give it a minute.” She looks at me and offers the warmest smile.
She’s a gorgeous woman. Honey brown skin. Highlighted hair that’s woven into perfect soft curls. Curves all over the place. She looks like she’s probably in her mid-thirties. She adjusts her sunglasses, which were knocked askew during her fall.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I say with a smile. “You went down pretty hard.”
The dog shifts over to me and nudges my hand.
“Sorry,” she says. “He’s an attention hog. He just wants you to pet him. He really is a gentle giant. Don’t know what he was doing before.”
I reach out and pet him hesitantly. I love dogs, but this one is intimidating. “What’s his name?”
“Teddy,” she laughs. “He was the runt of the litter when I got him and he reminded me of a short haired teddy bear. It just kind of stuck.”
“Cute,” I say, and it’s kind of true.
“You must be new in town,” she says, studying me with the tilt of her head. “I don’t recognize you, and I know pretty much everyone in Silent Bend.”
“Oh,” I say. My heart has suddenly taken up residence in my throat. “I’m just visiting.”
“I see,” she says with a knowing smile. “You must be Elsa’s cousin. She said you were coming.”
“Yep,” I lie, interlacing my fingers between my knees uncomfortably. “Elsa’s cousin.”
“That Elsa is a sweet girl,” she says, crossing her legs and looking out over the quiet street. A man on the sidewalk on the other side of the road glances in our direction and then does a double take. His pace quickens.
“Uh huh,”
I say. My instincts kick in and I’m fighting the urge to run. I should have grabbed a stake from the van. But I’m an idiot, and I’ve got nothing.
“You know, in a small town like this,” she continues. “You have to be careful. Everyone is always up in everyone’s business and they all think they know you without knowing you. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I think so.” My breathing has picked up and my eyes are searching the shops around us. Which one did Ian say he was going into? Can he see me right now? I’m sure not, otherwise he’d probably be flying through the streets, stake in hand, no matter who witnessed.
“Cause you know, there’s two sides to every story. Have you heard the story about the Hanging Tree?” She looks down the street to the dead tree at the end of the road. And then she looks back at me, except I can’t see her eyes through the glasses.
“No, not really,” I manage to get out.
“About two hundred years ago, this town was dying. There were only a few hundred people here, trying to make a living off the river shrimp. But the bugs, the swamps, and the lack of money kept people away. People weren’t surviving. Things were looking bad, and people started moving away from Silent Bend. Then two brothers came to town, bringing with them all kinds of money. They started two plantations. Created jobs. Started pushing that money back into the community. The town and the people flourished, thanks to these brothers.” The dog finally sits next to the woman, staring vigilant out at the passers by.
“But something strange and unexplainable happened. Something out of the brothers’ control. To the town there was only one explanation. The brothers. So they came after one of them. Attacked him and killed him. Tied him up, gagged his dead body. They dragged him to that tree. And they hanged him up with three of his closest friends.”
I swallow hard, looking out into the street, but not seeing any of it.