Mercy couldn’t sleep. The ice crackled and popped. It was a familiar sound, a soothing sound. But not on this night. In the far corner, her father was little more than halfway through his day of counting. When Mercy first crept into her furs, she noted a series of smaller notches and fifteen longer scratch marks on the ivory walrus tusk her father held. Now there were two more long scratches. Tap, tap, tap, onto the stone before him went the counting device with a continuous flick of his wrist. It was an uninterrupted sound they would hear for the next thirty one days.
Rolling over did no good. Mercy tried burrowing deeper into the warmth of her bedding. There was something she couldn’t put her finger on. Something that made her rest uneasy. Looking over at the wide-eyed stare of her mother across the ice cave, Mercy knew her mother felt it too. Evil was in the air. In the morning, a new tunnel would be carved and another home would be dug out. Perhaps after the counting period, her father might even risk a move to a new iceberg, though Mercy was told their last move was twenty years ago and she remembered nothing of it.
Moving was difficult when you created each new home carved within the solid ice. It could also be dangerous. Depending on the temperature, outside crevices could form overnight. A few had fallen victim to a glacial whim and found themselves doomed in their bedrolls when the ice beneath them cracked open and split. Already the people’s grip on life was tenacious at best.
Mercy smiled when next she looked over at her mother and saw the words I love you on her lips. She mouthed the words back and cuddled her fur tight envisioning a hug to go with the words, or even a light kiss to her forehead. A shrill scream had everyone on their feet. Another blood curdling scream echoed. Mercy’s breath caught. She could see her father; the ivory he had been concentrating all of his focus on bounced onto the ground, the tip embedded into the ice near the fur he had sat on. His eyes were wide with horror.
Mercy locked her gaze upon her father. The man she loved more than anyone in the world besides her dearest mother. He was her rock, her hero. If he was scared, they were truly doomed. For a second, Mercy could hear her heart pounding in her ears. From the corner of her eye, she saw a blur capture Jarrod. Jarrod was kicking and screaming from high in the air held by his throat like a leather rag doll. A man-beast with glowing yellow eyes was smiling evilly at Jarrod. He pulled his lips back to expose inch-long fangs. A beast, a vampire. They were all going to die.
Mercy heard her mother cry out. Horrified, Mercy watched as her father pulled his ivory dagger from her mother’s breast. Before her mother could sink to the ground Mercy’s father was running towards her. The ivory in his hand was sullied with blood. Mercy knew her father was going to kill her. She had always known if ever they were found out, he would never let her fall into enemy hands. Mercy swayed, blood rushed to her head. The pounding of her heart filled her ears. She should stand there and wait for him. She should trust him, even though every fiber of her being was screaming for escape, for life.
At the last moment, she mouthed her words, “I’m so sorry, Daddy.” He looked terrified as she bolted away from him. Mercy heard him screaming for her to come back, but in that moment he had become the madness. She would rather be killed by murdering beasts than her own father. The betrayal would be too much.
Mercy ran faster than she ever had in her life. She slid down the long narrow tunnel they had been working on. The territory was new and unexplored with natural tunnels veering off left and right. Farther Mercy went, listening to the horrible screams of her loved ones. It was dark, little light guided her way and Mercy slipped when her furred boot hit water. Screaming she fell head first towards an abyss. Down a shoot of rushing water she tumbled wondering if she would drown in the frigid ocean.
Gasping for breath, Mercy was tossed sideways down a new loop of water slide. Her body was whipped around and around, careening in circles as she turned over. Faster she went, up one icy hill down another. For a heart stopping moment she was airborne then hit the ground again. She heard the great ice crack and pop. A thundering echoed behind her. Mercy spun and crashed feet first into a solid ice wall. She groaned from the impact feeling it all the way up her bones as her jaw snapped together harshly in a sold clack. She was soaked, frozen, but unhurt.
There was no water in the cavern she found herself in. Mercy wobbled onto her unsteady feet. The ice was slick and she slipped and landed painfully on her hands and knees. With her arms outstretched, she felt the smooth wet walls with bare hands. She had taken her mittens off for bedtime. The only thing she slept without so she could feel the fur in her fingers. All around she roamed, around again and back. Panicking, Mercy began to cry. She was trapped in an ice coffin. Everything was pitch blackness. The icy hand of death began creeping up her spine. It appeared her father would have his wish after all. With her mother dead and no doubt her father, Mercy knew it wouldn’t be long before she succumbed to the deep freeze, another victim of the ice abyss. Mercy curled herself into a small ball.
* * * *
“Damn them,” Tavish thundered in fury as he gazed around at the senseless destruction.
Tavish and his nineteen men stood inside the ice cave. All around were the human bodies of the older dead. Bodies he and his men would have sucked dry to celebrate and then left behind had they found this clan first. Another coven had beat Tavish to their prey. It was immediately apparent that reckless swiftness, not stealth and deep strategic maneuvering, was involved in the raid. Tavish was certain he knew who had done this. Remo, son of Rakin. He had always been reckless. The spawn of his former enemy had never gotten over the fact The Brethren of Tavish had run his father and their coven away from the preferred grounds. Tavish decided who was allowed to stay.
Each coven that denied Tavish entry in his early vulnerable years, each coven to run him off and treat him unfairly was slaughtered or forced out over the thousands of years as Tavish grew stronger. Rakin’s was the last to fall, but fall it did, and so too did Rakin. It had been sweet revenge to end his miserable life. Tavish should have ended the young vampire, Remo’s life. But the vampire had begged pitifully and was still quite young at the time. Rakin had at one time spared Tavish’s life; he would do the same for his son. Rakin had sentenced Tavish to death in the bitter cold. Remo’s fate had been the same. For thousands of years, Remo stalked the ice even before the ice age. It would appear, because of Tavish’s leniency, Remo had the upper hand in human ice fishing.
“Stupid fool,” Laken said in disgust.
A mere second and Tavish was before his friend. In one fist, Laken held up the body of a dead man by his furs; his throat was ripped out. The other fist held the body of a woman. She had obviously been killed by a human. An older female but beautiful nonetheless, Tavish may have been moved to spare her life. Many of the dead women had been killed by human hands. Including a pretty, petite woman of mid-childbearing years. The sight made Tavish roar in fury.
What a damned waste.
Tavish spun around when Ursus snorted and grunted. She was on her hind legs waving and pawing a scent closer, sniffing and snuffling into the air her huge paws scooped. With a lumbering gate, Ursus waddled her massive body into a tunnel. After awhile she stopped. She couldn’t go further without falling into an ice gorge. Ursus moaned and grunted; she was wearing her snowy white eyes to speak to her master.
Master, a female.
“What is it?” Laken asked. “I don’t hear a heartbeat; I smell no warmth.”
“Ursus is certain there’s a woman down there. Her sense of smell has heightened over the years. The tunnel is much like a seal breathing hole. Only far deeper. She smells the woman’s breath.” Tavish took the beast’s head in his hands.
Again the bear snorted off a series of grunts and growls no one understood but Tavish. Hurry Master.
Tavish nodded. He trusted Ursus’ scent abilities. It didn’t take him long to maneuver the slick ice, hovering just above it. Undeniably the human must have fallen in her haste to run and had become
trapped. The thick tunnel dropped almost straight down. Before long he heard the heartbeat, though the sound was faint and he could sense very little warmth. The human behind the ice wall was dying. Tavish smashed through the barricade.
Oh no you don’t, I deserve something for my trouble, female.
A sodden ball of pitiful fur lay in a crumpled heap and for a moment, Tavish thought he was looking at a small hybrid bear cub. For a fleeting second, his thoughts traveled back in time over thousands of years ago to a female cub that had lost its life and helped forge the friendship of loss between Tavish and its mother. The ball of fur moaned, it whimpered a word, calling for her mother. She was human and she sounded young.
Tavish grabbed the back of the furry human and turned her over. The water she had fallen in had frozen to her outer parka. She was half ice-covered. She looked like she had no hands. Curious Tavish pulled at her sleeves. Her hands were bare and tucked inside. For some reason she wore no mittens. Frostbite was starting. The female wouldn’t last long. Tavish didn’t have much area to maneuver so he hovered while dragging her behind him. She was heavier than he expected, paltry still, but he assumed it was the layer of frozen, sodden ice.
When Tavish emerged he scooped her up and muscled his way past his curious men into the main living area. Ursus made a painful grunt and Tavish knew the bundle of fur in his arms brought back memories for the polar bear too. After a quick glance around, Tavish grabbed dry furs that sat by the still simmering fire. He began tearing off the female’s clothing. Tavish heard the approving whistles and mutters of his men when the young woman lay nude before them. She was stunning. Her long, wet, pale white hair hung well past her shoulders. Her cold skin was sleek as porcelain and satiny soft. She was of slim waist with a rounded rather plump, in a delectable way, behind. Slightly wide hips, perfect for breeding. Her breasts were high, voluptuous and firm and would nourish a child, many children, well.
The woman’s throat, her beautiful luscious ivory throat was so damned tempting. Tavish could feel his long fangs ache to burry inside her. Her gorgeous legs had creamy thighs to her mound he longed to ravish. Tavish couldn’t resist. A careful finger eased gently into her wet heat, probing and Tavish shuddered. She was a virgin. His prize was an innocent. Tavish could feel his eyes cloud and was soon enjoying the look of her lithe body through black-and-white sight. Every part of him burned for her. The irregular black-and-white color blindness defined every part of her pale flesh, helping him focus as his gaze filled with her sight.
Ursus came over and nudged Tavish as he continued to simply bask in the beauty of the woman in his arms. The bear grunted disapprovingly. Tavish nodded and wiped his hand down over his face, regaining some control. He blinked rapidly. The bear had reminded him the woman was already freezing, the heated stares of him and his men wouldn’t warm her. Tavish tucked the warm fur blanket around his prize, and then another. He planned on breeding her, but perhaps not yet. This was the first woman to stir his loins in a long time. Her white-blond hair and vulnerability reminded him of his first and dearest friend.
Ursus bumped him again. “I know, my friend. I will tend to her,” Tavish said in a barely audible whisper. He gave his head a shake. The site of the woman’s pale white hair bothered Ursus. Her hybrid cub had been female but brown. This little female was as pale as Ursus, if wrapped in a white fur she would have looked like a polar bear cub. He stood with the well wrapped woman clutched against his chest. “There is nothing else here for us. It’s time to head home.”
Almost as one, the men left the iceberg and took to the skies for their long flight home. They were all dressed in black and looked like a flowing dark cloud against the now quiet skies. Ursus would follow at her own pace. Right now Tavish sensed her frustration and pain. Tavish released her to hunt her favorite blood—male polar bears. She deserved it. The angst of a vampire was the memories, even a polar bear vampire. They never forgot—anything.
* * * *
Mercy drifted into consciousness. Her gaze wandered around the beautiful room she was in, her eyes blinking. Everything was unfamiliar, clean and sweet smelling. It’s so bright. Sunlight danced across the floor. A floor not made of ice but shiny wood. Objects she had never seen before stood against walls. The thing she was lying on was unfamiliar and soft. It was up off the ground, not a bed made over indented ice filled with furs. In fact, in the room there was not a fur to be seen.
A spiny green thing sat under a square opening that allowed sun in the room. The green thing was odd, somewhat like dead kelp but not dead—it sat in a brown, thick substance. Colorful fish swam round in a huge bowl. Mercy gaped at them; she had never seen live fish. Their tails swished back and forth, and Mercy marveled at the ingeniousness of their physical construction.
So that’s how they move.
Curiously, she sat up. The covers pooled at her waist and Mercy looked down and gasped in dismay. It was a rarity to see her breasts. But there they were. High, white and round with darker-colored nipples. For just a second, she was tempted to touch one. Surely she must be dreaming? It was forbidden—even in dreams, to touch herself. Lower, she searched until she watched her toes wiggle and realized her entire body was nude. Complete nudity was forbidden. Her father would be furious, he would beat her again.
Father is dead.
No, she wasn’t dreaming. Mercy was as certain of his death as she was of her mother’s. But where was this place? The last thing she remembered was falling into an ice cave. She had been wet and frozen. She had been dying. Who had saved her? Mercy looked around for her clothing. There was nothing of her furs. She lay between engaging quilted sheets. She knew of quilted sheets, her mother had had just one. But nothing as fine as this. She ran her hand over the texture, enjoying its feel. Blue, she knew the color was blue.
A new startling fact came to her. She was warm, even nude. Warmer than she had ever felt in her entire life. Oddly, no fire blazed. There was no smell of oil burning or the sharp scent of ice and snow that had filled her lungs since birth. In her iceberg home, there was always a hearty stew boiling. She could detect no food. None of the scents invading her nostrils was familiar.
A throat cleared and Mercy yelped, she scooted back under the covers, fisting them under her chin. From a dark corner emerged a man. He wore black pants, black foot coverings and a black shirt. None of his strange clothing was vaguely familiar. His thick, dark as night hair touched his shoulders. His nose was neither too flat nor too sharp. His jaw was fine and strong. His chest was broad, but Mercy was used to men always dressed in thick layers of fur. Because of that, he looked smaller than the men she was used to so she wasn’t as intimidated. Yet, the garments he wore outlined heavy muscles, thick powerful arms were bare; she wasn’t used to seeing the actual outline of a man. He was intriguing and oh-so handsome. Mercy felt her face burn with the thought; it was forbidden.
Clear blue eyes were locked onto her. In his attire she was able to see his hips, his waist, his muscular legs. An odd bulge in the front of his pants caught her attention briefly. Nothing was emphasized by the illusory bulk. The embodiment of the man was real. He was beautiful, absolutely perfect. The man was tall, taller than her father and Mercy had never seen anyone taller than her father.
“What’s your name?” the man asked. His voice was deep, commanding, controlled. It suited him.
“Mercy,” she whispered, compelled to answer.
The man gave her a gentle smile, he splayed his large hands. “You don’t need to beg little cub. I’m not going to harm you.”
“My name is Mercy,” she said. “My father named me. I was supposed to be killed, I was an accident; he couldn’t bring himself to do it. I was the first child of my mother when she was only seventeen; she begged him to spare my life. Since he was also to blame and the fault was not mine, he offered me a mercy and then thought the name suited me.”
The man nodded. “It does suit you.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
“
Tavish.”
“Where am I?”
“I rescued you from the ice hell you were in and brought you to my home.”
“Was it you who attacked my family?”
The man looked thunderous and Mercy shied back. When a man became angry, he was unpredictable. “A man named Remo destroyed your family.” His words were bitter, regretful.
Mercy was stunned. All of her family was gone? Everyone? “I’m all alone,” she whispered. She had never been alone. Privacy was almost unheard of, but to have no one was more than a shock. What would she do? How was she to live and to hunt? She would die of loneliness with no family to love her.
“You are far from alone, little cub.”
“Why do you call me that—little cub?” Mercy cast her gaze up. Each step brought him closer.
“When I found you, you were curled in a fur ball and looked like a little hybrid cub.”
Mercy thought for a second. “I was trapped; an ice wall surrounded me. I fell straight down. There was no way out. How did you get in? Ropes?”
Tavish smiled at her. “I flew. The ice is no match for my strength.”
Mercy felt the blood drain from her face. A vampire. Was this the vampire who the escaped man had talked about? The one who had no compassion, his men cutthroat murderers? “You’re a vampire, a beast. A killer.”
“I’m not the one who would have killed you,” he replied.
He was right. Her father had been going to kill her. “My father said your kind torments humans, you hate us and yet you are the hybrids. Father told me of a man who had escaped before my birth to tell everyone of the vampire’s cruelty to humans.”
Tavish was only a foot away from her. “What else did dear old daddy say? Was he the one who murdered your mother?”
The Brethren Of Tavish [Vampire Coven Book 1] Page 3