The Dracove (The Prophecy series)

by N. L. Gervasio

  Cianán smiled, flashing fang. “I’m certain ye have many questions. They’ll all be answered, in time. Come with me. I’ll show ye things that before tonight ‘ave only been in your dreams.”

  “Why should I go with ye? You tried to kill me.”

  “I did kill ye or ye wouldn’t be here, an’ now you’re alive again. Now, come.” Cianán extended his hand to help Grantlund out of the deathtrap.

  Grantlund was hesitant, but took his hand.

  Cianán pulled him out. “You ‘ave a new life, an’ I have many things to teach ye.”

  They left the cemetery, and Grantlund began his immortal life.

  * * * * *

  Present day, Ireland

  The day marked the beginning of his life without Siobhán, the beginning of his life in the shadows. A life he’d never asked for, never wanted, but didn’t have much say in its outcome.

  He turned around on the balcony. Through the doors he watched Kylie toss and turn. She wasn’t sleeping well at all. It started when Cianán arrived. She must know somehow. He moved toward her, barely registering the clouds building above his home. Why does she not know about her ancestry, and her destiny? He frowned. What are you dreaming of, my love? He sat on the bed beside her and concentrated on piggybacking the dream. The storm outside continued to build.

  ~She ran down a long hallway, someone chasing her. Terrified, she ran toward a large door—his front door—slammed into it, but couldn’t open it. Whoever or whatever it was chasing her pushed her against the door. She was frozen, paralyzed, fear in her wide emerald eyes. A hand slammed down on the door next to her head . . . and the locket shrieked.~

  A loud crack of thunder swept through the castle. The wind howled. Kylie jumped, screaming, telling the figure from her dream to leave her alone.

  Grant fell off the bed.

  “Kylie!” He climbed back onto the bed and grabbed her swinging arms. “It was just a dream.”

  She breathed heavily, and finally calmed down. Her eyes were wide and frightened, just like in the dream. Tears welled up in her green eyes.

  Grant pulled her close. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re here with me now.”

  “What . . . happened?” Her voice trembled in a way he never wanted to hear again.

  “You had a bad dream, but you’re safe now.”

  “It felt so real.”

  “I know, but it’s okay.” He held her tightly.

  The feel of her trembling body against his agitated the predator in him. His nails grew a quarter of an inch. The bloodsong, already quite the symphony at this point, crescendoed. He needed to calm her down. Her fear alone could bring on his bloodlust.

  He didn’t hear the thunder or see the flashes of lightning anymore. No rain hit the roof. He pulled back and pushed the hair away from her face. Outside, the stars and the waxing moon shined brightly. He wondered how a storm could leave as quickly as it came in. Turning back to her, he raised her head and wiped the tears from her face.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded slowly and stared up at him. “I’ve had this dream before, only this time I was the one being chased.”

  “When was the last time?”

  “The morning I received the locket.” She shook her head. “Strange things have happened to me ever since I got that damn thing, even before I got it.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

  “I don’t know.” She lowered her head.

  “Shh. It’s okay.”

  She hugged him tightly and buried her face at his neck. “Why do these things happen to me?”

  “What things?”

  “These things . . . I don’t know how to explain them, they just happen. For instance, every time I have that dream, someone dies. But as I said, this time I was the one being chased. Does that mean I’m going to die?”

  He shook his head and recalled his dream of holding her soaked, limp body. Maybe she’s starting to realize what she can do, but doesn’t understand why or how. This isn’t going to be easy, not when I have to prepare for Cianán.

  “What did you say?”

  The question startled him. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Oh . . . I thought you did. I guess I’m just tired.”

  “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

  “I don’t think I can go back to sleep after that dream.”

  “Sure you can. I’ll be right here. Would you like a glass of warm milk? I can get it for you.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be right back.” He kissed her cheek and slowly got up. She held his hand tight. “It’s okay, I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  She reluctantly let go and he left the room.

  As he descended the stairs, he thought about what she’d said to him. Did she hear my thoughts? No, that’s not possible. I’d know if she were in my mind, I’d feel it. It’s not possible. He attempted to assure himself, but couldn’t let it go. Well, maybe, there were other times.

  He stopped and looked at the painting of The Morrigan, hoping that maybe, after all these years, she’d give him an answer. She didn’t, of course. Why would he expect a painting to answer his questions . . . or prayers? He shook his head and headed for the kitchen.

  I’ll just have to test her tomorrow.

  Once he’d warmed the milk, he sped up the stairs to the bedroom, hoping she wouldn’t walk out and see how fast he was.

  “Kylie?” He looked around. She wasn’t in bed. Where did she go?

  Kylie stared out into the night, wondering what in the hell was going on. And where did that storm go? I know I heard it. She walked to the edge of the balcony and rested her arms on the stone railing. The moon cast its light down on the landscape, illuminating the grounds around the castle.

  It was almost a full moon.

  And it was almost her birthday.

  She hadn’t said anything to Grant about it yet. She didn’t really like celebrating them anymore. Her birthday landed on Halloween and her parents died on her twentieth.

  God, that was thirteen years ago. Thirteen, lucky number.

  She looked out at the forest in the distance and the rolling green hills—which looked a little gray in the night—and listened to the sea crash against the rocks on the other side of the castle. There wasn’t one cloud in the sky, and she couldn’t figure out why. She’d heard the thunder.

  It even smelled like rain.

  The idea of staying in a castle still astounded her, though Grant was certainly right about the beauty of Ireland. Tobak would love this place. She missed her wolf tremendously. Kylie felt safer with her around. It wasn’t that Grant didn’t make her feel safe; it was just different.

  She heard him call for her and looked toward the door.

  I’m out here. She was sure why she’d only thought it, but a moment later, he stepped out onto the balcony, looking at her in the same concerned way Ana did. She smiled and he walked toward her.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Trying to relax.”

  “Here, this will help.” He handed her the glass.

  “Thanks. You’re fast. I thought it would take longer.” She raised the glass to her lips and sipped it.

  Grant placed his hand on her shoulder and gently massaged. A soft breeze blew through his hair. She was once again amazed at his beauty. The moon lit his face, caressing it with her illuminated fingers, yet his shadowed blue eyes glowed in the darkness. She’d never seen eyes like his before. They completely mesmerized her. The cool breeze off the water sent a chill through her.

  Grant wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Cold?”

  “Just a chill.”

  “We could go inside—”

  “No, I like it out here,” she said.

  He smiled and kissed her forehead. “You love the night, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So do I. There’s such mystery in the night, things you can only see at that time
—”

  “You see more than most people, don’t you?”

  Surprised, he pulled back a little. “Why do you ask?”

  “I guess I just feel that you do.”

  He smiled again, but remained silent for a moment. “Why do you stare at the moon so much?”

  “I’m not sure.” She turned her head toward the glowing orb. “I’m drawn to it somehow.”

  “Kylie, I need to tell you something.”

  She finished the last of the warm milk, and looked up at him. “Sounds important.” Considering the brief terrified expression in his eyes, very important. Her gut churned and twisted into a knot.

  “It is.”

  She swallowed past the nervousness. “What is it then?”

  “Well . . . I’m not sure how to say it.” He looked around. “Let’s go inside.”

  That didn’t make it any better. “Why?”

  He looked toward the forest again. “The wind has ears,” he said quietly, taking her hand and leading her inside.

  Thunder roared. Cianán opened his eyes and gently lowered himself to the boulder beneath him. He looked toward the cliffs in the distance and watched the clouds brew over a castle he knew quite well. In an instant, the storm was gone, as though it never formed. He jumped off the boulder and walked to the edge of the forest.

  Listening carefully, he heard two people speaking. Both voices were very familiar, but he was too far away to understand them. Within moments, the voices were gone.

  Grantlund likely realized he was within earshot.

  Cianán turned and headed into town, where Conor would be with his mortal friends. Cianán didn’t understand why Conor had mortal friends; he certainly didn’t need them. Perhaps Conor kept them around for entertainment.

  As he stepped inside the pub, he saw Conor at the end of the bar. Cianán moved closer and focused on changing his appearance to that of an older gentleman with graying hair and a beard. He sat at the opposite end and ordered a Guinness. Cianán watched Conor until the bar closed.

  And then the boy’s test would begin.

  Grant never showed or told a mortal his true nature without killing them afterward. He felt a little apprehensive about telling Kylie the truth. Sitting beside her on the bed, he attempted to muster up enough courage to tell her his tale, but the words lodged in his throat. Maybe if he showed her he was a vampyre, everything would be all right. She’d joked about it once before, but finding out vampyres were real was a drastic change in what she knew to be reality. Perhaps she’d accept it and all would be fine, or maybe she’d hate him and his love for her wouldn’t matter. Grant wished he was mortal again and didn’t have to explain this part of his life to her.

  If he killed Cianán, he wondered if his soul would be purified. Grant didn’t know if he would cease to be a vampyre once Cianán was destroyed or if he would simply cease to exist.

  The rules weren’t written in stone, nor were myths.

  No one knew for sure what would happen when a Master died, and with Cianán being Master to all of them, who the hell knew? Maybe it was all a lie, like so many other things he’d told Grant. If he didn’t take the chance on it being a lie, what kind of man would he be? Aside from Cianán, there was nothing he despised more than a coward. Even the slayers held higher ranking. Unfortunately, none of them figured out how to kill the Master Vampyre yet. Of course, it wasn’t like they hadn’t tried. Grant inadvertently saved one of them. Why, he wasn’t exactly sure; he’d have to kill her when she came after him.

  If she still lived, that was a definite possibility.

  Grant wondered if it could be as simple as taking off the Master’s head. Decapitating Cianán wouldn’t be an easy thing to do. Even as powerful as Grant had become, he was no match for his Master. The scenario was impossible; Cianán never let his guard drop. Even when he didn’t seem to be alert, he somehow knew everything going on around him. Grant had tested it too many times in the past, though there was that brief moment in the Arizona desert . . . .

  Perhaps the key to destroying Cianán was in the ritual itself. However, he couldn’t be certain, and the woman he loved was in the middle of it. Grant squeezed his eyes tight against the tears that formed at the thought of Kylie getting hurt. The vision of her lifeless body jumped into his mind. He sighed deeply and opened his eyes when Kylie touched his arm.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to tell me this, whatever it is? It doesn’t look like you are.”

  “I’m not, but I have no choice. He’ll be comin’ for ye soon.” He stared at her hands. Her fingers intertwined with his, and gently tightened.

  “Who’s coming for me?”

  “Cianán.”

  “Cianán Lorcan?”

  Grant nodded.

  “You know him?”

  “Regrettably,” he replied. “His real name is MacLeer. Lorcan is his middle name.”

  She frowned, creases marring her brow, and he never wanted to see them again. “What does he have to do with what you want to tell me, and why will he be coming for me?”

  “He has everythin’ to do with this.”

  When he didn’t offer further explanation, she sighed and squeezed his hand. “I don’t understand.”

  “My hope is that ye will.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Grant.”

  “I’m sorry.” He lowered his head. His hair fell forward and hid his face.

  She parted his hair with her hands. He slowly shifted his eyes upward. The glow of his eyes reflected softly off his hair. It startled her.

  His voice came from a place deep within. “Ky, before I tell you these things, things you’ll have trouble believin’, know that I love you.”

  She smiled at him warmly, her hand reaching out to touch his face. Kylie pushed his hair back on one side, tucking it behind his ear. Her fingers traced around his ear, softly stroking the lobe. She gently brushed his cheek. “I love you too. Why do you think I won’t believe you?”

  “Because it’s human nature to dismiss things that are inexplicable; to turn them into myth an’ legend.”

  She tightened her grip on his hand. “This is obviously very important to you. I promise I’ll try to understand.”

  “It’s important for both of us,” he said. “That locket ye wear, you must never take it off.”

  Kylie looked down; the garnet brightened when she picked it up.

  “What the hell?”

  “It’s okay,” he touched her hand holding the locket. “I didn’t finish tellin’ ye what it says. There’s more—Duitsa, gus an déan Dia leis a’ bhás ar dealachadh—tha gaol agam ort.” As he spoke the Gaelic, the garnet flickered like a candle flame. Its light danced in her eyes. “It means: ‘To you, until God shall separate us by death. I love you’.”

  Kylie pulled her eyes from the mesmerizing gem.

  “It’s meant to protect you.”

  “Protect me from what?” Her gaze returned to the locket.

  “More like who.” He lifted her chin. “I know you’re confused—”

  “Who then, Cianán?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why is he coming for me? Is he going to hurt me?”

  He nodded. “Just as he did Siobhán, or was going to, anyway.”

  “Who’s Siobhán? The name sounds familiar.”

  Grant ran his hand through his hair. This was getting to be too much, even for him. “It stuck in my mind all these years. I made this locket and gave it to the woman I loved—Siobhán. It was a gift just before we were to be married—”

  “That’s not possible. This locket is four hundred years old.”

  “It’s older than that,” he said. “Please, Ky, let me finish. You’ll understand in a minute, at least I hope you will. It is possible . . . if you never die.”

  “Immortality? Like in that Highlander movie?”

  “Not quite.” He smiled at her. “I first saw her at a friend’s wedding, an’ we secretly courted shortly thereafter. Her father wasn’t pleased
with her decision to see me. After a while, he found out. He tried to explain everythin’ to me, but I was beyond comprehendin’ the situation because I only had eyes for her. I didn’t want to hear anything anyone said about her unless it had somethin’ to do with me. They say love is blind. Well, I was blinded by my love for her. So blinded, it nearly got me killed. In fact, it did get me killed.

  “I saw Cianán talkin’ to her one day. No, it was more than that, he was . . . . What are the words? He was—”

  “Flirting with her,” she said.

  “No, it was more intense. The look in his eyes; it was . . . evil. I could tell he wanted her, but I didn’t know why. It wasn’t the way a man would normally look at the woman he wants. At first, I thought he didn’t know about us. He lived pretty far from town.” He stared into Kylie’s eyes once again. “Have you ever wanted somethin’ so badly, when you look at it, you’re obsessed with it?”

  He knew Kylie was trying her best to comprehend, but hell, he wasn’t making any damn sense to himself. How could he expect her to understand?

  A few of her thoughts clung to something else he’d said. How can he be that old? Is it possible for someone to never die? He did his best to ignore it, but her mind suddenly went black, blocking him again.

  “That’s how he looked at her; with all-consuming obsession. He looks at you like that. I’ve seen it.”

  She jerked her head back. The predator in him took notice.

  “When have you seen me with him?”

  “It doesn’t matter right now.”

  “Yes, it does. If you’re going to tell me this, tell me everything.”

  “The first night you met him, at the nightclub,” he said reluctantly.

  “You were there?”

  He nodded once. She still doesn’t remember seeing me.

  “Did you follow me?” Agitation leaked into her clipped words.

  “No, I’d never . . . I was followin’ him. It was only the third or fourth time I’d seen you. I didn’t know you were going to be there, I swear it.”

  Kylie nodded. “Continue.”

  “After I’d seen Cianán with Siobhán, I went to his home to speak with him an’ let him know she an’ I were engaged. For years afterward, I wished I hadn’t been so stupid. I had no idea what he was.” He gently brushed his hand against her cheek. “We’d had an argument an’ fought—swordfight—an’ well, that’s when I was changed.”