The Dracove (The Prophecy series)

by N. L. Gervasio

  She’d never seen so many books in a house before. Even Grant’s home library didn’t have as many. Cearbhall must really like to read. She noticed some of them were very old—most definitely older than she was, and probably older than Grant, however old he was. She knew he had to be at least four to five hundred, given the statement Cearbhall made earlier, which still amazed her. But she wasn’t going to dwell on it. He’d tell her someday. She hoped he’d do it before she grew old and died.

  The thought brought their argument back to the forefront of her mind. She scowled and pressed on to find a damn book to read. She didn’t understand how exactly it was his choice. It wasn’t. The choice was hers to make. Her body, her life.

  Kylie’s belly was full from the wonderful meal Frederick made for her. All she wanted to do was curl up with a good book by the fire Frederick prepared in the parlor. It looked so cozy in there—the last thing she expected to experience within the wall of an ancient fortress—and she anticipated climbing into the large burgundy leather chair near the fireplace. She’d spied a big pillow and a blanket nearby too. She didn’t know how long the “hunt” would last; reading would make the time go by faster.

  She walked around the desk and read the spines. One caught her eye, but it was too high for her to reach. Grabbing the ladder, she pushed it to where she needed, and climbed up. She found the book again and pulled it from the shelf.

  “Right on, Dean Koontz.”

  Kylie was rather surprised such a modern work sat within the presence of greatness surrounding it. Cearbhall’s taste varied greatly. The collection was so vast; it included books in other languages, though they were arranged by the English alphabet. She stared at the book in her hand and wondered if it was a good idea to read something written by Koontz. His stories were always a tad frightening. They tended to make her jumpy. She flipped through it, skimming the pages. Strange sounds coming from above caught her attention. She tilted her head back and stared, listening carefully.

  Something was on the roof.

  Rathius’ eyes glowed red. Life pulsed through his veins once again. It has been so long. He slowly lifted each finger and stretched them until all three on each of his four hands loosened from their stone mounts. He looked up to the heavens, and turned his head from side to side, cracking the stiffness out of his neck. Spreading his wings out slowly, he shook them to kick the dirt off. He saw the waxing moon and smiled. The moon was nearly full. The time has come.

  She was near.

  Rathius and his brethren watched over this domain for centuries, unable to move more than a few inches to scare someone off, but he was never quite . . . alive. Only one thing could bring him back to this realm, make him live again. He sensed her attention on him.

  Looking to the ground, he saw movement. “Vampyres,” he grumbled under his breath.

  They assumed he and the others were merely statues, as they were meant to. None of them bothered to look up. Cianán didn’t know Cearbhall hid them upon his rooftop and throughout his property. Rathius grinned again, baring a multitude of tiny sharp teeth and four large fangs. The others slowly awakened.

  He was, of course, the first to awaken. Rathius longed for the taste of fresh blood on his tongue.

  Rathius, what are we to do? Radu, his brother, asked him through their mind link.

  Kill them all, Rathius answered. And protect the Queen.

  A shadow passed the nearby window. Kylie glanced over from ladder she still perched upon. It wasn’t a shadow, and it grinned at her, showing its fangs. Its claws scratched the glass. She cringed from the screech it made. The sound sent a horrifying chill down her spine. She wished they’d stop messing with her. They’d started earlier when she arrived, but it wasn’t quite as evil.

  She gasped upon closer inspection. The creature behind the glass wasn’t one of Cearbhall’s vampyres. They were all with him and Grant. She looked to the other window. Another vampyre grinned at her. It motioned for her to come to it with a finger.

  The hardback book fell from her hand.

  BANG

  She jumped from the noise and quickly grabbed the ladder. Kylie scurried down and ran out of the library, stopping in the foyer. She looked through the parlor windows. A chaotic scene involving more vampyres and creatures she’d never seen before played out through the glass. Mesmerized by the horrific scene she froze in place for a moment. She snapped out of it and moved to get a closer look. The doorknob jiggled back and forth. She turned around in the large entryway, looking for someplace to hide. Her eyes fell upon the stairs. No, I’m not going there again.

  Glass broke in the library.

  “FREDERICK!”

  The vampyres coming through the windows in the library, and the parlor, clapped their hands over their ears.

  “Damn! He didn’t say she could do that,” one of them said. He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the library.

  “What?” The other jiggled his finger in his ear, like it would make the ringing stop. The first one shook his head and nodded in Kylie’s direction.

  They crept toward her from both sides. Kylie would be surrounded soon. The door opened behind her. Unwilling to face a new danger, she backed toward the kitchen.

  Five vampyres met in the foyer, laughing at her. She’d backed herself down the side of the stairwell, near the dining hall and kitchen.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun,” the new one said. “Does she really think she can outrun us?”

  “Let me catch her, please, Matty,” a female begged.

  “No, Lord said it’ll take all of us. She might be too powerful for just one,” another said.

  The female stomped her foot and pouted. “She’s just a mortal.” She huffed and blew her curly brown hair away from her face.

  Kylie vanished from their sight and burst through the kitchen door. She ran over to the butcher block, pulled a knife out, and turned around, not really knowing why she grabbed it. It made her feel safe, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to kill one of them with it. Not after what Grant told her. There would be no decapitation by butcher knife. Even if she could stab one of them in the heart, the other four would get her . . . unless there were more by now. She wondered what in the hell she was supposed to do, and tried to call for Grant in her mind.

  She heard a voice.

  It wasn’t Grant’s. The voice came from the hallway she’d run through. A nearby door opened and closed.

  The noise outside was unbearable with all the screaming and growling. She crouched down and peered over the countertop through the window. She watched two vampyres torture one of the other creatures. They’d shredded its wings and torn off its arms—which it had four of—but all she saw lying on the ground were stones. One of the vampires held it in a kneeling position and the other gutted the creature. Blood flew everywhere, along with whatever organs were inside its body. The vampyre plunged his hand into the gargoyle’s abdomen one final time and jerked up, splitting it in half from the waist up.

  Kylie felt her dinner rise in her throat, but stopped it from coming any farther and looked away from the disturbing sight. She checked behind her to see if the five had followed her yet.

  Stupid, Ky. Really fucking stupid. She crawled toward another door. Please let Frederick be okay . . . .

  She opened the door and crawled inside the dining room. Kylie found another door in the center of the wall. It was barely visible. She rose up on her knees, ready to jump up and run to it. Voices came from the other end of the dining room. She crawled under the large mahogany table and prayed they wouldn’t be able to smell her. She controlled her breathing to stay calm. They’d probably scent her out because of her blood, but she had to at least try.

  Two sets of feet walked by and went through the kitchen door. She crawled out from under the table and ran to the hidden door. She slid her fingers along the seam of the door, searching for the trigger. As though her fingers had found it several times before, her forefinger ran over the button trigger made to match
the wallpaper. She pushed it in. The door opened. Kylie ran in, shut it behind her, and fumbled for the locks in darkness. The lock clicked and she let out a sigh. It wouldn’t hold them for long once they figured out where she was. If they figured it out. She couldn’t take the chance.

  She felt along the wall for a light switch, but remembered how old the place was. Cearbhall hadn’t changed everything. There weren’t any windows in the room, which was a relief. They would really have to search for her then.

  For all she knew, the room was a closet. She moved around carefully, trying desperately not to knock anything over. After moving about fifteen feet, she decided it definitely wasn’t a closet. She felt around and came across something very odd to the touch. It was hard and cold, and she couldn’t quite identify it. Kylie very slowly crawled forward, waving her hand before her.

  “I wish I had a match or a lighter,” she whispered and continued to crawl along the floor, thinking maybe they wouldn’t come near her if she made a torch. It would help if she could see where the hell she was going. But of course, the torch idea was probably from a stupid movie. You watch too many damn movies, girl, Ana’s voice rang inside her head.

  “They’re probably not even afraid of fire.”

  Torches lit up, one by one, around the room.

  “Whoa, that was weird,” she said aloud. Kylie slapped a hand over her mouth and held her breath.

  Nothing came running down the corridor to eat her. Relieved, she jumped to her feet and looked around. The walls throughout the room were a deep red, similar to the color of her garnet. Shadows danced upon them from the torch flames.

  It was Cearbhall’s trophy room, apparently. She walked through the suits of armor lining each side. Each knight was from a different era. It looked to her like they were guarding the room. She walked around a few of them, studying their weapons to see if she could use one. Soon, her attention fell on a sword hanging on the wall at the other end. Different types of swords covered the entire wall, but only the one caught her eye. The butcher knife dropped to the floor. She walked over to the sword.

  You are simply beautiful. Kylie pulled it from the wall.

  Its cool ivory handle felt good in her hand and she ran her finger over the blue sapphires imbedded in its silver hilt. The double-edged blade had intricate details etched into it, symbols she didn’t recognize. The flames reflected off its mirrored silvery metal. She saw her face in the blade.

  The woman who stared back at her bore a troubled expression. At first, she thought it might be confusion, considering all that had happened recently. But, the longer she looked at the reflection, the more she realized she didn’t recognize her emotion.

  Kylie wondered how many wars had been fought with this particular weapon. She twirled the blade around a few times, making certain the weight would be right for her. In the midst of testing the sword, something in the corner caught her eye. She walked over and smiled. It was another hidden door. She pushed it open and a small breeze whipped through the room. A stairway led up, but God only knew where the hell it ended.

  The door she’d entered through sailed across the room, knocking a few of the knights over. They clanged and clattered into one another before hitting the floor and sending a ricochet of racket through the room.

  She jumped through the second doorway and ran up the stairs, not caring where it led, so long as it was away from them.

  Kylie made her way through the passage and cracked the door open at the other end, peering into the room. She stepped out of the dark passageway and into a large bedroom. From the looks of it, the room belonged to Cearbhall, which made complete sense. The man would want easy access to his weaponry. The walls were painted a warm tan and adorned with Celtic crosses every few feet up, down, and across. There were four large crosses, one on each wall, each uniquely embellished with symbols. One of the crosses was directly above the headboard of the mahogany four-poster bed. She found the décor intriguing. Apparently vampyres aren’t plagued by holy relics, either.

  Cautiously, she walked around the bed and over to the window. Her feet sank into the plush burgundy carpet with each step. She peered out the window and down on more vampyres and whatever those creatures were fighting. She surveyed the room, wondering how she was going to get out of the house. Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Kylie jumped behind the screen in the corner of the room and waited. She had nowhere else to go.

  Grant.

  Rathius faced the Master, eyes angry, teeth bared, and claws spread; ready to tear through immortal flesh. They stepped to the side, slowly in a circle until one of them was ready to strike. Their wings quivered and spread, trying to intimidate one another.

  “I have waited centuries for this,” Rathius grumbled, his voice deep with contempt for the vampyre whose name he chose not to speak.

  “Then you’ll wait no longer.”

  Rathius lunged, grabbing for him with all four claws. Talons ripped into the vampyre’s flesh. They struggled, clawing one another. Rathius dug a hole in the flesh of his opponent’s shoulder with his teeth. The vampyre threw him off. Rathius landed on his feet. The earth beneath him trembled like a minor earthquake. He flapped his wings, bringing forth a small gale, and glared at him.

  The vampyre simply smiled. “You must do better if ye wish to defeat me, Rathius,” he said. “Perhaps sittin’ on a rooftop for so long made ye forget how to fight. Had I known ye were up there, I’d’ve destroyed ye as you slumbered.”

  Rathius growled and jumped into the air. The vampyre followed suit. They met in the air high above the battlefield. Rathius struck at him again. He turned and flew past him. The vampyre lashed out, his sharp nails gouging into Rathius’ right wing. The gargoyle paid no attention to the wound and circled around to face him again. The vampyre smiled and waited. Rathius rushed him, his speed increasing in the battle of wills. He knew neither one of them would turn away.

  They crashed, screaming and clawing at one another. The vampyre ripped chunks of flesh from the gargoyle’s side and threw them to the ground. Each piece turned to stone the moment it hit. Rathius tore at the vampyre’s head, ripping out chunks of blond hair. The vampyre’s hand seared Rathius’ chest, burning into him with its red magic. The vampyre clutched his heart, squeezing the life that had recently been renewed. Rathius shrieked. The magic surged through his body. They fell to the ground. The vampyre landed on top of him, the impact of their fall creating a small crater due to the gargoyle’s weight and size.

  The vampyre still clutched Rathuis’ heart.

  “The centuries ‘ave made ye weak, Rathius,” he said, grinning wide and baring his fangs. “An’ ye shall die.”

  “I shall not . . . let you . . . take . . . her,” Rathius choked.

  The vampyre’s grin widened and he glanced at the house. “You’ll not ‘ave a choice in the matter now,” he said. “You’ve failed as only you could do.”

  He ripped Rathius’ heart out. It beat in his hand and he held it high above his head. The gargoyle’s green blood streamed down his arm.

  Rathius felt his life waning, unlike the moon above.

  “My children, I give ye the king.” He threw the gargoyle’s heart into the air above their heads. A beam of red energy hit the muscle, shattering it. They all opened their mouths and took in the king their lord defeated, consuming his flesh and power.

  Darkness enveloped Rathius.

  Someone kicked in the double doors and stepped inside Cearbhall’s room. Two more stepped out of the wall.

  “Where is she, Matty? You said she was in here.”

  Kylie had to bite back the fear rising in her throat.

  “Oh, she’s here,” Matty said, drawing in a deep breath. “C’mon Kylie, give up already. You’ll never escape.”

  She stood perfectly still, barely breathing, keeping her heart calm.

  “Damn, she’s good. I can hardly hear her,” a female said.

  “Hell, I can hardly smell her. It’d explain why we needed to be togethe
r,” Matty said.

  They knocked the screen over. Kylie jumped and lifted the sword, ready to strike at anything coming near her. The apparent leader grinned at her.

  “Kylie, Kylie, Kylie.” He shook his head. “Come now, do you really think you can take all of us?”

  “I can try,” she replied with a growl.

  “Now, now, we don’t need the attitude. Drop the sword, come with us, and you won’t get hurt.”

  “Right. Why don’t you come and get it.”

  “Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It makes no never mind to me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you assholes.”

  He grinned again. “Fine, it’ll be the hard way.” He stepped forward.

  The female grabbed his arm. “No, Matty, let me. You said I could.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine, Cassie. Go ahead.”

  Cassie stepped toward her, hissing in typical horror movie vamp mode. Kylie held the sword steady, waiting for the right moment, remembering what Grant said. When Cassie let her guard down for just a second, Kylie swung the sword with all her strength. The other three stood slack-jawed, watching Cassie’s head roll past Matty’s feet.

  “You little bitch,” Matty screamed. He and the other two jumped her.

  Kylie flew back, each of them grabbing onto some part of her body. They slammed her to the floor, flat on her back. On the eclipse of a scream, the big one with dark hair clamped his hand over her mouth before she could get a note out. He and the other held her down. Matty ripped the sword from her hand and raised it above his head.

  “No!” came a shout from the hallway. They winced. “He needs ‘er alive. If ye kill ‘er, you’ll face trial.”