Prophecy: Dark Moon Rising [A Vampires Realm Novel]

by F. E. Heaton

  "I will. I will. You have my word.” Valentine held his gaze and then turned away. “Goodbye, old man. I am truly sorry it ended this way."

  Before Caden had a chance to speak, Valentine swiftly brought his hand up and snapped his neck. He lowered the body to the floor and silently prayed that Prophecy would forgive him. He started when the door opened but didn't raise his eyes. He kept them fixed on the floor, his face turned away from the body. His stomach squirmed and the taste of blood in his mouth was sour. He roared at Elena when she neared him, unleashing all his anger and frustration.

  She laughed in his face.

  "You know where she is?” Her tone was eager and hopeful.

  He nodded when her power washed over him, chasing away any modicum of control he had. He surrendered to it, letting it fill every inch of him and rid him of feeling. It was better than to be aware of what he'd done.

  "Go then,” she said.

  He walked towards the door.

  His stomach turned over when she spoke again.

  "Complete your mission. Kill her."

  Chapter 20

  Prophecy looked through the intricate pattern of the wrought iron gates. They were rusting badly, lacing the warm air with a scent similar to blood. The moment the sun had set, she'd left the small airport in a taxi and come straight here. She stared at the house in front of her, imagining the happy days her father and mother had probably shared in it, days in which she might have been here too, in her mother's womb before she'd been turned by a Caelestis.

  She didn't even know which Caelestis was responsible. Had it been Iona?

  Her fingers closed around one of the vertical bars and she tried to open the gate but it wouldn't budge. Something rattled and she dropped her eyes to the heavy chain and padlock that held the gates closed. Caden had probably been the one to put them there. This was his house now. No, he had said it was hers too. She wondered whether he'd said it because it really was, or whether he'd just wanted her to be able to walk in uninvited.

  She stared at the padlock, struggling within herself as she tried to decide whether to break it or vault the gate. For some reason she didn't have the heart to break it. The house had been sealed off for years, possibly as long as she'd been alive. Caden wouldn't have spent much time here after Ophelia's death. From the way he'd spoken about becoming a vampire hunter, she could tell he'd thrown himself into it straight away. She still didn't know what he would have done had he met her mother when she was a vampire. Would he have killed her, or asked her to turn him too?

  Like she wanted Valentine to turn her.

  Her marks ached and throbbed at the thought of him and she raised her eyes to the distant sky. She wondered where he was now. He would be coming for her. Her vision of this place had changed several times, but each time he was here with her.

  She pressed her amulet against the star over her chest and told her heart not to fear. Valentine wouldn't hurt her. He'd never hurt her.

  When the pain subsided, she vaulted the gate and landed in a swirl of leaves on the other side. She paused for a few seconds, taking in her surroundings and reaching out with her senses to check she was still alone. Her eyes scanned over the tall Cyprus trees in the garden and the dirty windows of the house. The veranda was covered in crispy, dead leaves. They skittered across it in the light evening breeze, making scratching sounds as they danced around each other.

  The walls of the house were painted a rich yellow ochre, or at least had been once. Now they were faded and cracked, and parts had fallen away to reveal the creamy white of the plaster beneath. The roof was low and covered with deep earth-coloured tiles that matched the colour of the shutters on the windows. All of it wasn't as blue as she'd expected. It looked warm, not cold and lonely as it had done in her visions.

  Walking towards the house, she trod carefully across the boards of the veranda and pushed the door open. It wasn't locked. She was about to wonder why when a noise shattered the silence and she turned with claws extended. There was nothing there. Her senses detected no danger.

  A caw from a nearby tree made her eyes dart to find its owner. She looked at the big black raven that was sitting in one of the smaller fruit trees. Its eyes flashed ice blue as it blinked at her and then cawed again. She waved her hand at it, shooing it away.

  "Get lost,” she said, still waving her hand.

  It cawed again and this time accompanied it with a flap of its wings.

  It flew down to the dusty ground and then hopped towards her, stopping a few metres away.

  She eyed it closely and it cocked its head to one side as though it was scrutinising her in return. She wondered if it was Hyperion's bird and then told herself not to be so ridiculous. A raven couldn't possibly have followed her from Prague in the same amount of time it had taken for her to fly here by jet. It was hundreds of miles. Besides, she didn't even know if Hyperion had brought his bird with him.

  Something told her that he probably had. He seemed to use the bird as a method of communication between himself and the outside world. She wondered how that worked. Could he use it as his eyes?

  She sighed at herself for getting so distracted by a stupid bird and waved her hand again, growling at it.

  It cawed indignantly and flew off a short way, landing on the gate. Its eyes flashed blue again. She got the impression it wasn't going to leave without a fight so she turned away from it and went into the house.

  It smelt of dust and loneliness, and a lingering scent of warmth from the day. She didn't close the door behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at it.

  "My home is your home,” she said, giving Valentine an invite in advance. She didn't know whether it was a wise idea to leave herself so open to attack by granting him entry, but it was what her heart wanted and her mind didn't have the power to overrule it.

  Her eyes moved from object to object as she wandered farther into her mother's home. She paused to look at a few of the paintings on the wall and saw the one that had been in her vision. It looked the same, the vivid green of the grass making the figure of her mother more prominent. She looked younger than she did in her visions, barely twenty judging by the softness of her face. Had she met her father at this point? There was a carefree look in her eyes and a joyful smile on her lips that spoke volumes. In front of her was a young woman without a care in the world.

  Something told Prophecy that this portrait had been painted before her mother had married Caden and discovered the power she held within.

  She raised her hand in a silent gesture of greeting to her mother's painting and then turned away, looking at the room and hoping to find where the rest of the spells were kept.

  Moving around the house, she idly shuffled papers around in a half-hearted attempt to find the spells. It wasn't just the fact that she knew they wouldn't be kept in the open that was making her not want to bother searching, it was the fact that she couldn't focus. She just wanted to wait for Valentine to show up. He was the real reason that she was here. The spells were secondary to seeing him again.

  She went out of the lounge and back past her mother's portrait again. She paused and looked up at her, studying her face and realising that what Caden had said was true. She did look like her mother. Idly reaching out, she brushed her fingers against the cream shoes her mother was wearing in the portrait and let her hand work its way up as high as it could go without her tiptoeing. She wished her mother hadn't had to die in order to bring her life and give her the power to fulfil her destiny. Meeting her in visions would never give her the happiness that meeting her in real life could have.

  "Where are they?” she whispered, her thoughts returning to the spells. Caden had said they were in the house. She should have asked him where in the house they were. “I know you know..."

  She snatched her hand back when her mother seemed to move, and clutched her hands close to her chest as she frowned at the painting.

  It hadn't moved. It had been her imagination. Paintings were just images, not
things that could have life. She looked down at her hand and saw the amulet was glowing brightly, bright enough that she had to squint in order to see the stone through the light.

  Holding her hand out again, she tentatively touched the painting and then stepped back. Ripples cascaded outwards, as if she'd touched water rather than canvas. Her mother moved again. She saw it this time. It wasn't her imagination.

  Ophelia turned her head a fraction, her smile growing that bit wider.

  Prophecy swallowed hard.

  "Can you tell me where they are?"

  "Follow your heart.” A quiet voice echoed in her head. “Surrender to the power."

  She looked at her chest and then at the amulet. It was hard to do anything with her heart right now. It was so full of fear and thoughts of Valentine. The magic spiralling around her fingers turned red. She realised that her heart had to fear. That's what her mother had meant. Her power was at its strongest when she let her heart lead her.

  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused on her heart, letting it take control. It was like opening floodgates when the dam was already overflowing.

  Thoughts tumbled through her mind, filling it with fear and anxiety. They were about the world, about the future that lie ahead of her, and about Valentine. They were dark, terrifying words she didn't want to hear and images of Hell and inevitable death.

  She focused on them, and on the moment in the ballroom when Elena had kissed Valentine. The memory of that moment alone was enough to bring the power out in her. It flooded her veins, eating through her and pushing all conscious thought to the back of her mind, as though there was no longer room in her body for herself and the magic.

  Opening her eyes, she saw that the house around her had faded to shades of blue, all washed out, giving life to the black shadows that filled the rooms. They seemed to stretch and grow, reaching out towards her. She sidestepped a dark smoky tendril that tried to wrap itself around her foot and glanced at her hand.

  The magic was almost black. Its motion around her hand was jagged and broken, skipping in places as though someone had cut the ribbon of it with a pair of scissors and moved the other half further away. It would disappear only to reappear a few millimetres away along its course.

  Her gaze shifted to her marks and she saw that the one over her chest was glowing white.

  Her heart would show her the way.

  It would show her the path in the darkness.

  The shadow nearest her rose up, swirling and distorting into something resembling a small person with wings and it grew as it drew in more of the shadows around it.

  Pressing the amulet against the mark on her chest, she flinched when it hurt and then closed her eyes. If she didn't see the twisted shapes the shadows were taking on, then they didn't exist.

  Stepping forwards, she kept her eyes closed and followed her heart, letting it guide her feet. She felt the steps beneath her and didn't stop to question the magic. She'd learnt that it was never wise to lose focus when dealing with such potent power. Her heart ached, the star over it pulsing strongly with the magic. Her thoughts of Valentine kept the darkness at bay, but she could feel the coldness of it surrounding her. It was frighteningly familiar. Was this infinite darkness the same as that which she'd had a vision of recently? It felt as cold, if not colder than it had done in her vision.

  She knew what it meant now.

  This was the other place, the other side to her power. When she'd seen Valentine fall in the ballroom, it was this blackness that had filled her. This was what happened when she was overwhelmed by her anger. The magic took over. Her heart feared for Valentine so much that she lost control.

  She pushed back at the chill she could feel around her, silently telling it that she would never let herself get like that again. Something touched her ankle and she knew it was one of the shadow men. Its touch froze her skin. She kept going forwards, breaking through it as though it was nothing more than a cobweb. Turning a corner at the top of the stairs, she walked blindly on.

  She turned twice more and then stopped. Invisible forces made her kneel and her hand left her chest. She didn't dare open her eyes yet and she didn't resist the magic. Her fingers brushed over the floorboards and she gritted her teeth when she pulled them up. The nails dug into her fingertips, cutting them. She heard the wood splinter and tossed each plank to one side. Bending forwards, she felt something solid and cold beneath her fingers.

  It was a box.

  With trembling hands, she pulled it out of its hiding place and placed it beside her. The cold disappeared, the shadows and darkness fading as the magic drained away.

  She opened her eyes.

  It was a metal box. It was ornately decorated and on the front was a lock, its star-shaped recess telling her exactly which key would open it. Licking her fingers to seal the cuts on them, she made sure that they were clean of her blood before she removed the star from around her neck. She held her breath when she clicked it into place. Nothing happened. She frowned and pressed it. Still nothing. Raising a brow, she placed her fingers in the gaps around the points of the star and turned it anti-clockwise.

  The lid clicked and lifted a fraction.

  Removing the star, she placed it back around her neck. She stared at the box for a second, readying herself, and then lifted the lid. It was too dark to see inside it.

  She went to call her magic to help her see and then decided against it. With such powerful spells nearby, it probably wasn't a good idea. Standing, she looked at her surroundings, slipping into her vampire guise to make it easier to see in the darkness.

  She was in a cupboard.

  A frown of curiosity flitted across her brow and she picked the box up, carrying it with her into the larger room she could see. It was a bedroom. A little light filtered in through the dirty window, enough for her to see the dusty bed and the dressing table. There was a tall wardrobe to her left. The curtains hanging on either side of the window were tattered, moth-eaten and about ready to completely disintegrate if someone touched them.

  The air was stale and musty.

  She went to the dressing table and smiled when she found a candle. There was nothing to light it with though. Placing the box down on the bed, as far away from the candle as possible, she went back across the room to the dressing table. She called her magic and willed it to do as she asked.

  Bringing her finger to the wick of the half candle, she stopped breathing and watched a ribbon of magic brush against it. It fizzled and then a flame danced into life. Warmth filled the room as the soft light struggled to illuminate it.

  She cast a glance around at the shadows, making sure that they were no longer moving, and then looked at her amulet. The magic was purple again now, threading smoothly through her fingers. She lowered her hand and the ribbons disappeared, the stone of her amulet going lifeless again. Picking the candle up, she carried it across the room, placing it on an old wooden chair beside the bed.

  She sat on the bed and brought the box over to her. Lifting the lid again, she peered inside at the loose pieces of paper. She took a few out, scanning them and wondering why these had been kept separate from the book. They didn't look any more dangerous than the ones the book contained. Were they?

  Some of them were written in a language she didn't understand, but others were again written in Latin. She studied them, deciphering what they were supposed to do. There were a few spells for love. She smiled at those and placed them to one side. There was one for death too. When she'd reached the bottom of the box, she frowned. There didn't seem to be anything that could help her.

  She picked the box up and gave it a quizzical look when something shifted inside it. There was nothing in it. She looked closer at the black lining and felt around. The bottom of the box was decorated with strange symbols that looked as though they were glowing faintly. In the left corner nearest her was a worn patch. She pressed down on it and the opposite side lifted.

  Removing the bottom of the box, she sta
red at the dark fragments of parchment in front of her. She could almost feel the power calling to her. The symbols on the piece of box she'd removed faded, disappearing completely. Whatever magic they'd had was gone now. She'd undone the spell that had been cloaking these more powerful spells.

  Picking them up with her left hand, her fingers buzzed and tingled. She could feel the magic in her veins as it all gravitated towards her amulet. She looked at each piece of parchment and read snippets of the Latin written on them. They were spells of destruction and she could sense how powerful they would be if she spoke the words. This was ancient magic of apocalyptic proportions. No wonder her mother had hidden them.

  Halfway through the pile, she found a spell that sent a shiver down her spine and made the stone of her amulet turn so dark purple that it was almost black.

  Below that, she found one that took her breath away.

  Hope re-ignited inside of her.

  Her eyes widened when the stone of her amulet turned red.

  A noise in the garden made her freeze.

  She went to the window, ready to curse the raven for scaring her, and then took a step back when she saw a shadowy figure.

  Her chest tightened when his head snapped up to look straight at her.

  His expression was as cold as it had been the night he'd left.

  Chapter 21

  Prophecy raced across the entrance hall to the door. She stopped just before she reached it. He was still in the garden, standing in the same spot he'd been in when she'd been upstairs. He brought his eyes down to rest on her. They narrowed.

  She took a step back when he bared his fangs and told herself that everything was going to be all right. He wouldn't hurt her.

  She repeated it like a mantra in her head when he stalked towards her. His claws extended and his shoulders shifted position, rising up and showing her that he was ready to strike. She stood her ground and attempted to mask her fear by holding her head high, just like she'd done the night she'd met him.