Crown of Death

by Keary Taylor

  I fell hopelessly, soul-endingly in love with King Cyrus.

  A man I can never keep unless I am someone I don’t remember.

  Sobbing, I drive my way over to Amelia’s apartment. With trembling fingers, I text her.

  Are you home?

  Just watching TV. What’s up?

  Come outside.

  Three seconds later, her head pops out of their door.

  I lose it the second I see her and with a panicked look, she darts into the passenger seat of my car.

  “Where is he?” she demands. “Point me in the right direction and I will slaughter him.”

  I cry harder and shake my head as I collapse into her arms.

  “What is it, Lo?” Amelia asks, running her hand down the back of my hair. “What happened?”

  “I wasn’t…” I sob. “I wasn’t supposed to love him. It wasn’t supposed to turn real.”

  “Real?” she questions, her hand stilling. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  I shake my head again as tears stream down my face. “I knew who he was, right from the beginning. And I still fell in love with him.”

  “Duh, Lo,” Amelia chuckles. “It’s been pretty obvious for a while. You’re in deep. What’s so bad about that?”

  I shake my head, letting every emotion pour out of me. “Because there’s a good chance that in just a few days, our lives are going to permanently go separate ways.”

  I’m out of my mind. I realize I can’t answer all of her questions, that to her, none of this is going to make sense.

  “Just because his work isn’t taking him to Austria anymore, doesn’t mean it has to end. Nothing bad has happened, has it?” she asks.

  I don’t know what to say. She doesn’t understand everything, she assumes wrongly. “No. The way things are going to go…it’s something that isn’t either of our faults. But it’s still going to wreck me.”

  Amelia thinks for a moment, and slowly, she brushes her hand down my hair again. “Love wrecks us. And even if you do go your separate ways, it doesn’t mean that love ends. Maybe it’s just easier if you still love them, and be happy for what might come for them in the future. And tell yourself that when the time is right, that you’re allowed to be happy again.”

  Her words sink into my heart, and begin to calm my raging storm. I take a slow breath, and sit up. “Why do you get to be so smart and so damn pretty?”

  She gives me a sad little smile. She reaches forward and wipes my tears with her thumb. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on. You’ve kind of been keeping me in the dark when it comes to your first time love life.” We both chuckle at that. “But I know when you love someone, you fight for them. Even if there’s a chance you might not win. You’re a fighter, Lo. So go fight.”

  I reach forward, holding her hand, and squeezing on for strength. “Thank you.”

  She smiles. “Any time. Even if you’re about to be half way around the world.”

  I smile sadly, hating that I have to keep letting her believe the lie. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she says as she pulls me in for a hug.

  Tanner pops his head out of the door and Amelia lets me go. “Call me when you get to your new place.”

  “I will when I can,” I say, the only promise I can make her.

  She waves and climbs out, and walks back into her apartment with her normal boyfriend and her normal life.

  I sit there for a minute longer, contemplating everything she just said.

  It’s too hard. I don’t want to accept it. To be the grown up who can have such an adult frame of mind.

  But this is my life. And it’s rushing at me with supersonic speed.

  With a deep breath, I put the car into drive, and I head home.

  When I arrive, it seems quiet. Though I know most of the House of Valdez has been in the shadows, watching the perimeter, I don’t see any traces of them. Looking around, I get out of my car and head to the front door.

  “Has the repairman arrived yet?” Fredrick says, looking out the door as soon as I walk in.

  “Repairman?” I question as I set my box of things on the table.

  “The internet,” Fredrick says. “It went out yesterday afternoon. The company is supposed to be sending someone to fix it today.”

  “And that doesn’t seem suspicious to you all?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  “Of course it is,” Fredrick says, though his accent is so thick, it’s a struggle to understand any of his words. “Do not think that we won’t be on high alert.”

  My heart rate jumps. “I assume Cyrus isn’t here with the risk.”

  Fredrick looks back at me and glares. “Your challenge seems to have gone to his head. He refused to leave as a precaution.”

  That was in fact my doing. But still, sweat breaks out onto my palms.

  A utility van drives up just then, bright colors and words painted all over the side of it. As a man climbs out, I hear the trees and bushes rustle, and know the Valdez crew has stirred to action.

  The man grabs a bag from the back and walks up to the door where Fredrick and I stand waiting.

  “Afternoon,” he greets casually with the tip of his hat.

  Fredrick doesn’t say a word, but I see his nostrils flare. He takes a deep inhale, smelling the man without being obvious.

  I cover, giving a greeting.

  “The equipment is in the living room,” Fredrick says stiffly. “I’ll accompany you.”

  The man nods and heads into the house.

  “Human,” Fredrick whispers as he follows the man.

  I look out the door, searching for signs of the guards, but see none. I close the door, and wander back inside.

  The repairman searches through a cabinet where the equipment is, quietly speaking with Fredrick. I can feel the tension, rolling through the house like waves. I wonder how many guards are inside, hiding where I cannot see them.

  Satisfied that the repairman is nothing but that, I turn and head up the stairs.

  Somewhere in this house is Cyrus. Being stubborn and arrogant. Demanding he can take care of himself.

  Ugh. That stupid man makes my heart twist into knots.

  I turn down the hall, about to head for my bedroom, when a slight squeak draws my eye to the closet across the hall from Cyrus’ bedroom.

  Fight or flight. My nerves kick into high gear.

  I look around, searching for anything to use as a weapon. I settle for a candlestick on the table in the hall. It’s heavy, solid metal.

  I press myself flat against the wall when the door swings open, this time without making a sound.

  Thunder. Roar.

  My instincts go wild.

  A tiny form of a shadow emerges from the closet.

  Just then, the door to Cyrus’ bedroom swings open and Cyrus takes half a step out. “Logan, is that you?”

  I started diving the second I saw the door opening. A sprint. A giant leap.

  Because I saw that hand swing.

  I saw the sharp tip of a stake.

  Amelia’s words rip through my head as I jump. Maybe it’s just easier if you still love them, and be happy for what might come for them in the future.

  I don’t even get to look at his face. I just jump, wildly swinging the candlestick.

  I hit them hard in the neck with a thump.

  But the tip of the stake buries itself into my chest.

  With a scream, I collide to the floor, my eyes fixated on the face of a man. Dark blonde hair. A longer, unkempt beard. And his eyes glow red with hatred.

  A roar echoes throughout the entire house. An injured lion out for blood. A demon from another world.

  The breath catches in my throat. I try to suck in air, but the feeling is all wrong.

  Blood warms my chest.

  The man is tackled to the floor instantly and Cyrus is a wild, rabid animal. Shedding. Ripping. Teeth flashing.

  The attacker gets one muffled scream before it’s cut off with a gu
rgled blub.

  Feet pound on the stairs and down the hallway.

  Faces swarm, but all I can feel is pain.

  My hands trembling, I search for the stake.

  It’s buried in my chest, on the right side. Angled inward from the fleshy part where my arm and chest meet.

  I can’t breathe.

  I can’t get any air.

  “Logan,” Cyrus’ face suddenly appears in my vision. He’s panic stricken, his face bone white, a stark contrast to his glowing red eyes and the blood sprayed across it. “Logan, why…why did you do that?”

  I feel his arms slide under me and he lifts. A scream of pain rips from my chest, which causes more pain. I scream some more.

  Gently, Cyrus lays me on his bed. His hands fuss around, hovering over the stake.

  Other faces swim into the corners of my vision, but it’s darker where they are.

  I keep looking at Cyrus, trying not to think about how I can’t breathe.

  “She must have a collapsed lung,” a voice says. I think it’s Mina.

  “How did he get in?” Cyrus growls, looking up at the others.

  “The day we found the house in shambles,” she says. “I think…I think perhaps they never actually left the house.”

  “Your Majesty,” another voice says, one I do not recognize. “They had been waiting for you. That stake in her chest was meant for your heart.”

  Cyrus eyes drop back down to mine. He takes my hand, holding it up to his mouth. “Why?” he breathes. “Why would you do this, Logan?”

  Tears well in my eyes. My lip trembles. “You know why,” I whisper. One tear breaks free from my eyes and rolls down my face.

  He leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine. And I realize that he is shaking.

  “At least you get what you want now,” I breathe. My chest hurts. My brain is screaming for more oxygen.

  “No,” Cyrus says, shaking his head. “Not like this. It should never have ended in terror and fear.”

  With my left hand, I reach up, lacing my fingers through his hair. “Better me than you. Had he gotten you, it would have been the end, and I…” The breath runs out of my lungs and I can’t pull any more words.

  Cyrus shakes his head, and it makes me think that perhaps he doesn’t think it true.

  “Logan, I…” his voice trembles. He falters, and my heart hurts even more for him when I see the confusion in his eyes. “Thank you. I am grateful to have the time finally arrive,” he whispers. He looks into my eyes. “So I can finally stop feeling guilty.”

  “Guilty?” I manage just one more word.

  He stares at me, and finally I see something different in his eyes. Me. Just me.

  “The guilt of feeling as if I am betraying my wife,” he whispers. His words sound far away. The world grows a little darker. “Because when I look at you, Logan….”

  Peace. It settles into my chest, overriding the pain. Taking over the fear and panic riding through me.

  A small smile pulls on my lips.

  Even as the strength seeps out of me. My hand falls away from his face, flopping to the bed, useless.

  “I understand if I’m not her and you need to keep searching,” I say. I finally accept what I’ve been so terrified of. “I pray you find her.”

  Tears well into Cyrus’ eyes and one breaks free, landing on my jawline.

  “You deserve to find peace, Cyrus,” I whisper, knowing my words are running out. I let my eyes slide closed. “I’m ready.”

  He hesitates. For a few moments. And in that hesitation, the pain and the suffocation come roaring back. Like a black, inky monster. It spreads from the stake, stretching out to every corner of my body.

  But then there’s another pain.

  A sharp bite. Fangs latching onto my neck, just over my carotid artery.

  And then pulls. Long, strong pulls as Cyrus sucks my blood from my body.

  Numbness spreads from the bite, and I nearly sigh in relief. My brain fogs and I stop caring about anything.

  Pull after pull.

  The world grows quieter.

  The pain becomes less.

  Deeper into the darkness I slip, eagerly embracing its welcome.

  But somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel the sensation of fangs retreating.

  Deeper I slide.

  Words whisper in my ear, but I’m too far down here to understand them.

  The dark mist is comforting. It beckons me to join and never leave.

  I swear, there’s a hint of warmth, just briefly. Soft lips tasting of guilt and love.

  But I’m so far down here, and the dark cloak of death wraps around me, claiming me.

  Chapter 22

  Burning.

  Burning, burning, burning.

  I lie in a vat of bubbling, boiling acid. It seeps into my skin. It eats through it, through every nerve, every muscle. Right down to my bones.

  Everything that makes me a person boils and sizzles away as I burn and burn and burn.

  Silently, I scream. Motionless, I writhe in pain and agony.

  Dead, my heart lies dead in my chest. My lungs rest, entirely still. But my brain rages with infinite minutes of pain.

  The seconds leading up to my death were terrifying and painful. But they were nothing compared to this.

  This.

  Resurrection. Cyrus’ voice cuts through my brain, over and over again. First death. Turn. Transformation.

  Vampire.

  Born.

  Royal.

  Immortal.

  One beat.

  After a few lifetimes in hell, I feel it.

  Another beat.

  For the first time, something grabs at the edge of my brain, something beside the agony.

  A vision. Of rolling green hills.

  Another flash of sandstone buildings.

  Another of a dark interior, stone walls.

  And like floodgates opening, as I feel five consecutive beats inside my chest, they come rushing back.

  Antoinette.

  Helda.

  Jafari.

  Itsuko.

  Edith.

  Backward my brain spirals, searching, scrambling for the right one.

  Deserts.

  Jungles.

  Mountains.

  Each place to a name.

  Each with a lifetime.

  Shaku.

  La’ei.

  Searching, groping through the world, I desperately reach.

  Until there.

  Within the walls of a stone castle carved into the side of a mountain, I find it.

  Thundering, my heart claims me. Forces me to accept this new life.

  My eyes open.

  And the name slips over my lips.

  “Sevan.”

  THE END OF BOOK ONE

  Also by Keary Taylor

  THE HOUSE OF ROYALS SAGA

  THE FALL OF ANGELS TRILOGY

  THE EDEN TRILOGY

  THE McCAIN SAGA

  WHAT I DIDN’T SAY

  To view all of Keary’s books, click HERE.

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  About Keary

  Keary Taylor is the USA TODAY bestselling author of over twenty novels. She grew up along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains where she started creating imaginary worlds and daring characters who always fell in love. She now splits her time between a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest and Utah, dragging along her husband and their two children. She continues to have an overactive imagination that frequently keeps her up at night.

  To learn more about
Keary, please visit her website: www.kearytaylor.com.