The Dracove (The Prophecy series)

by N. L. Gervasio

  Grant leaned forward, glaring at him. “She knows as much about me as she does about you. An’ Siobhán never would have accepted it.”

  Grant paced. Cianán rolled his eyes the moment he made eye contact.

  “You murdered her,” he finally said.

  Grant abruptly turned his head. “No, I didn’t. I found her.”

  “Believe what ye wish, Grantlund—”

  “It’s not a matter of believin’, I know what happened.”

  Cianán’s voice boomed. “Do you?”

  Grant stopped in front of him and glared. He wondered what Cianán was thinking. He hated that he’d broken their link so long ago. It wasn’t that he could ever read Cianán’s mind, but he usually had a good idea of the thoughts going through the Master’s mind. At the moment, Grant couldn’t even read his emotions. Been away too long. “If what you say is true, then why was I not placed before your court?”

  Cianán bowed his head. “Because I told ‘em to leave ye be.”

  “Why would you that? You hated me.”

  “No.” Cianán reached out to him. “I loved ye, Grantlund. You were my best—”

  “Please give me the dignity of not lying to my face.”

  “‘Tis no lie, my child. I spared ye.”

  Grant tried to make sense of it all. His head spun in a whirlwind. “Stay away from Kylie,” he demanded. “I won’t let you do to her what you had planned for Siobhán.”

  “She’s not yours for ye to demand such things,” Cianán said, raising his voice. “I found her first, but you seem to enjoy intrudin’ where ye don’t belong.”

  “I enjoy nothing that involves you.”

  Cianán raised a brow. “Walk away from her now an’ I’ll leave ye be. Continue this ridiculous game, Grantlund, an’ ye won’t care for its outcome.” He drew in a deep breath. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t visit her, an’ most of all, do NOT touch her.”

  Grant paused for a moment, and smiled at the idea that popped into his mind. “Touch her,” he said with a smirk on his face. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that one.”

  Cianán’s eyes widened. “You lie.” His outrage echoed through the canyon.

  “You think so? Why don’t you ask her yourself? I’m sure that would go over well. How do you expect your ritual to work when she’s not a virgin?” Grant smiled. “Did you honestly think you’d find one in this century that happened to be your Chosen One?”

  Cianán glared. “I’m certain you relish the thought of my failure, dear boy . . . though you could be a part of my success.”

  “I don’t think so,” Grant replied.

  “I should rectify the mistake I made with ye.”

  “But you can’t.”

  “I made you,” he growled. “I can.”

  They faced off, fury raging between them. Grant twitched and Cianán lunged for him, arms outstretched, hands reaching for Grant’s throat. He locked them around his neck. They flew through the air, twisting and turning. Their bodies fell to the ground. When they stopped, Cianán sat on top of him.

  Grant clawed at Cianán’s wrists, scratched at his face until he was able to unlock Cianán’s grasp around his throat. He threw him off, sending Cianán screaming through the air. The nearby boulder stopped him, knocked the wind out of him, and formed a crack down the center of the larger rock. Cianán slid down the front of it to the ground and crouched beneath the boulder. Grant stood and dusted himself off. He leapt over to Cianán, grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head up.

  “You’re weak, old man. What’s the matter, didn’t you feed yet?”

  “Aye, I fed,” he mumbled, barely audible for even the vampyre’s ears.

  “What was that? Speak up.” He pulled his head up higher, tightening his grip on his hair. He heard some of it rip from Cianán’s scalp.

  “I said, aye.” His fangs gleamed in the moonlight. Cianán knocked Grant’s legs out from under him. Grant hit the ground with a hard thud. Cianán stood, towering over Grant, and kicked him in the ribs.

  “That’s for defyin’ me.” He kicked him again.

  Grant flew through the air and rolled onto his stomach. He struggled to get up, but Cianán was soon at his side.

  “That’s for searchin’ for ‘er. An’ this” — Cianán pulled his leg back— “this is for touchin’ ‘er.”

  Grant reached up, stopping Cianán’s swinging leg mid-air. He twisted the leg and pushed upward. Cianán flew back and landed on his side. Grant jumped to his feet and flipped backward, landing so softly, his bare feet hardly kicked up any dust. Cianán sat up, and slowly stood.

  He looked at Grant. “This isn’t the time or the place.” Cianán’s giant bat-like wings took form, spreading out behind him and rising over his head.

  “I’m willing to make an exception for you.”

  “Then you’ll only be fightin’ yourself, as ye’ve done for so many years.” He lifted himself up and disappeared into the desert sky.

  “Asshole.” Grant shook his head and dusted himself off. He felt his side to see if there was any damage; there was none. Even if he did heal quicker than a mortal did, it still took some time.

  He had to get back before Kylie woke up. If she woke up at all during the night. Or before Cianán arrived there, if that was where he’d taken off to.

  Grant treaded softly through the yard. The dew-covered lawn felt wonderful beneath his feet after his fight in the middle of nowhere.

  He heard movement and was surprised she was awake. She’d passed out from the wine. She probably wondered where he was. She appeared in the doorway, looking outside for him. He stopped in the shadows and took in the vision of her. The way the moonlight fell upon her, caressing her soft skin. She’d changed the clothes she’d had on earlier and put on a soft white gown. And an angel shall appear before me. A glimpse . . . .

  “I’m over here,” he said softly.

  She turned her head toward him.

  He stepped out of the shadows.

  “What are you doing out here?” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

  “Enjoying the night sky . . . the moon and the stars. Did I wake you?”

  “Uh, uh.”

  He walked up to her and placed his arms around her. “Then why are you up?”

  “I wasn’t feeling very well, and I had this really strange dream. Someone was fighting . . . .” She yawned. “I suppose it’s nothing.”

  He touched her cheek, leaned forward and kissed her. “All is well. Let’s get you back to bed.”

  He took her hand, leading her inside, and looked around to make sure Cianán wasn’t nearby. He wouldn’t sleep the rest of the night, just in case. He closed the French doors and locked them.

  Not that I’d sleep well anyhow. He heard her climb back into bed, closed the blinds in his room, and let the heavy curtains fall.

  * * * * *

  A few hours after Grant left the next morning, Cianán called. Kylie almost dismissed him; she’d been so focused on Grant from the moment they’d met. If only I could talk to Ana right now—

  “Kylie?” Cianán’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Hmm?”

  “I said did ye enjoy dinner t’other night?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorry, my mind must have wandered.”

  “S’all right, I know ye’ve much on your mind. Did they e’er find out what happened to your friend?”

  “Who? Oh, Rob. I don’t know. I really don’t want to talk about that right now.”

  Her mind wandered back to Grant and the night before. A smile spread across her lips. He’d kept her up most of the night talking. After their second bottle of wine, her thoughts were a little vague. She wondered why she woke up at four in the morning; it wasn’t normal for her to do so.

  Cianán asked another question. Something about dinner.

  Dinner? But Grant . . . “I don’t think I can.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m going out of town in a few days, and I need
to pack and get things ready. Something came up last minute.” Just like that, she’d decided to go. She swallowed hard. Holy. Shit.

  “Out of town? Why? Where are you going?”

  His tone brought her out of her distraction. He’s getting pretty damn nosy for only having one date with me. She was probably overreacting. Her imagination tended to run off, with her dragging reality behind as quickly as possible to catch up and set things straight. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I was only askin’ ye. Do ye not wish to see me again?”

  “It’s not that, it’s just . . . well . . . I’m not sure. So much has happened to me lately. I don’t know if I’m ready—”

  “It’s. Only. Dinner.”

  So much for her imagination. Okay, he’s clearly agitated, but what the hell? “Don’t talk to me like that.”

  The other end of the phone went silent. He cleared his throat. “I apologize for how that sounded. I’d only like to see ye again.”

  “Well, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

  “Kylie, please, don’ misunderstand—”

  “No, Cianán. I’m sorry, I have to go—”

  “It’s him, isn’ it?”

  “I’m sorry?” Maybe she hadn’t heard him right.

  “Have a safe trip, Kylie,” he said and hung up.

  She sat in shock with the dead phone to her ear. When it started beeping at her, she hung it up. A chill raced up her spine.

  What the hell? He did say ‘It’s him,’ right? I know that’s what he said, but who’s he talking about? He couldn’t have been talking about Grant? I’ve never even mentioned him. How would he know?

  She stared out the window and watched Tobak chase a butterfly. It put a faint smile on her face.

  “I think Cianán is a little too controlling for me.”

  She headed into the kitchen to search for something to take away her headache. She knew why she had it, and it wasn’t from the wine. They always followed the nightmares, staying with her until a few days after someone died, then they’d fade away. Much like she’d care for this headache to do. A bolt of pain shot behind her right eye.

  “Where’s the damn aspirin?”

  She wondered if this headache would last longer, since there was no one left in her family to die. God forbid should it never go away.

  Kylie fumbled through the cabinets, and remembered she’d left it in her bathroom. The phone rang again as she started down the hall. She hoped it wasn’t Cianán calling back, and she checked the caller ID.

  She held the cordless phone in her right hand and stared at the ID window on it. “Anonymous? Damn, I hate that.” She really didn’t want to pick it up. Cianán had called from an anonymous number. She reminded herself to enter the code for ‘Anonymous Call Rejection’ later on, when the fourth ring sounded. Voice messaging would pick up after the fifth.

  But Grant had called from an anonymous line the day before, and she hit the ‘talk’ button in the midst of the fifth ring.

  “Hello?” Her voice shook, fearful of who was on the other end of the call.

  “And just what exactly would you like to do this afternoon, my lady?”

  She cheered up immediately at the sound of his voice and let out a small sigh of relief. “Oh, I don’t know, Grant. What would you like to do?”

  He laughed and she giggled like a damn teenage girl when her crush said something to her.

  His voice went deep and husky. “You know what I want to do.”

  “Oh yeah, I know.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that, but if you insist.”

  She giggled again. Where in the hell was that coming from?

  “I just love that giggle. It’s so sexy. But really, what would you like to do?”

  “When are you coming over?”

  “In a bit. Is that okay?”

  “You know it is.”

  “Good, because I’m comin’ over anyway. It took you long enough to answer the phone. Were you tryin’ to decide if you wanted to talk to me?”

  “Yep.” She giggled again. Oh, Christ.

  “Oh, thanks,” he said. “I’ll be over soon so figure something out, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Maybe we could go to another movie or something?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or a picnic in the park?”

  “Possibly.”

  “You want to give me more than just a one-word answer?”

  “Nope.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Yep.”

  “See ya soon.”

  “Bye.”

  She hung up the phone and drew a deep breath. The shakiness from Cianán’s call melted away with Grant’s soothing voice. She felt connected to him, comfortable with him. She wondered how it was possible when she’d only known him for a couple of days. He was such a gentleman. The proof was he didn’t take advantage of her drunken state when he could have, very easily. She was a little embarrassed by her poor attempts to seduce him, but he acted like nothing happened at breakfast.

  Kylie thought of her mom and wished she was still alive so they could talk. She’d love to introduce her to Grant. Her mom would love him.

  “This can’t come to pass again.” Cianán lifted one side of the desk with two fingers and tossed the heavy wood over, sending it slamming to the floor top down. The lamp on it shattered against the wall. Papers flew everywhere and floated softly to the floor.

  “I’ll not let her die before this is finished. I won’t wait another six hundred goddamn years!”

  He kicked the chair over and walked to the balcony. Shadows slowly crept northeasterly, shrinking from the sun rising into late morning. The morning dew on the grass of the courtyard reminded him of home.

  She said she was going away, but where? Grantlund is probably taking her somewhere to keep her from me. He growled.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ring he’d taken from her two nights earlier. The morning light reflected off the silver and the amethyst stone glowed. He was certain she was his Chosen One—a mistake perhaps made on Grantlund’s part, but it was all he needed. Now he didn’t have to search her body for the mark, although he’d have enjoyed doing so. The left corner of his mouth twisted into a smile. He could forget about the others the Fates had shown him.

  Getting Kylie to his homeland could be difficult if she were to leave to who knew where with Grantlund. She needed to step foot in Ireland of her own free will. Unfortunately, that was the only way he’d be allowed to use her during the Rítus.

  “Too many damn rules.” He squinted through his suite’s large glass windows. “I must find out where she’s going . . . even if it means going out in the sun again.” He dreaded the thought of it, but he had no other choice.

  Siobhán crossed his mind. The mark was easy to see on her; it was on her arm. Because of it, she was to be his. Her father, Pádraig, promised her to him long before she was a sparkle in his eye, long before Pádraig even met his wife. Cianán spared his life back then. Pádraig offered his first-born daughter to him, thinking he would never have daughters. He was a man of many brothers, as was his father and his father’s father. Cianán had waited decades for the prophecy to come true. He knew Pádraig would have a daughter, and he marked the back of Pádraig’s neck with the talisman when he saved his life. When the time came, the mark would appear on his daughter, as it did Siobhán. He had no idea the mark would continue down the line, but he hadn’t expected the world to be as it was—that Siobhán would have died before her destiny fulfilled.

  Then Grantlund came along, making her fall in love with him, despite her brothers’ interference. Cianán toyed with him at first, but his attempt to be rid of the boy was unsuccessful. Instead, Grantlund became like him, one of his children. Cianán still wasn’t certain how it happened.

  Grantlund came to him because he’d seen Cianán talking with Siobhán earlier in the day. He told him to stay away from her, not knowing who or what Cianán was.r />
  * * * * *

  1403 A.D. – Ireland

  Grantlund fidgeted with his coat’s collar. “She an’ I are to be married soon, my lord, an’ I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t—”

  “Wouldn’ what, be her friend? Is she not allowed any friends?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Your betrothed, is she not to have any friends? I’m an old family friend an’ Siobhán is like a niece to me.”

  “Of course she is, but—”

  “Then what may I ask is the issue?”

  Grantlund paused, confusion warping his face in the firelight. “Then, my lord, might I ask you, is your intent to be her friend or treat her as an uncle would his niece? I don’t believe uncles look at their nieces the way ye do Siobhán.”

  Cianán grinned. He enjoyed toying with the young man. “You may ask, but I don’ think you’ll like what ye hear.”

  “Pardon, my lord?”

  Cianán crossed the room and stared out at the stars through the large pane window. The boy cleared his throat. His impatience shattered Cianán’s thoughts. He spun around. “Are ye worthy of ‘er love?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t be standin’ here if I weren’t,” Grantlund answered with surety, love, and . . . pride. Cianán tasted the last one on the air. Pride had taken down many a man, and most certainly in the name of love.

  “Are ye sure? I know I am.” Cianán grinned.

  “My lord, if I understand ye correctly, your intent is far more than friendship.”

  Cianán laughed and clapped his hands together. He stepped closer to the boy. “Ye certainly are an intelligent young lad.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Cianán slapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It wasn’t a compliment.” He squeezed his shoulder. Grantlund grimaced. “So, what do ye intend to do, dear boy? I’ll do everything in my power to have her. She belongs to me.”

  “Are . . . are ye challengin’ me, my lord? I mean, I’ve asked for her hand in marriage—”

  “Ah, lad. You’re still young. You’ve not yet discovered the ways of the world, have you? I don’t need to challenge ye, for she is moine, but if ye wish to call it that, ye may.”

  “I don’t understand. She’s spoken for—”