A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon Book 1)

by Kelsey Quick

  “Right on time,” he says with triumph in his voice. Whatever happened must have been part of the plan.

  Several soldiers suddenly bolt from down the halls, all rushing past us to make their way downstairs.

  “Hurry, let’s go!” Castrel urges, taking long and impatient strides down the flights, one after another until we finally reach the base floor. The rest of the soldiers file out into the hallway, and we merge in, heading toward a huge door displaying a vast and hopeful ray of moonlight. This must be the entrance to the loading docks.

  Thankfully, the pace of the other soldiers is slowed to that of a human’s by stopped-and-staring maids and servants, allowing us to blend in. For the most part anyway. Compared to these vampires, and to Castrel even, I am pretty short. And even though none of the vampires pay me any mind, I can’t help but worry about every little detail. Chatter slowly surrounds us as we near the gated doors to the outside. Each post guard opens their gate, permitting soldiers to exit and survey.

  “It came from the elite tower, I’m sure of it!” A soldier to my right says.

  “What was it? Dynamite?” a soldier near Castrel asks.

  “It must be some malfunction in the power supply. Lord Amaorin will have Majie’s head, that’s for sure.”

  The loading docks’ open gates are so close that I can taste the crisp trees and bitter grass of the open world. My heart races with hope. I can already feel the cool nightly wind that tastes like a mixture of spring and winter. I can imagine the radiating warmth from the hands of both Glera and Ceti as Castrel and I climb into the chariot that will whisk us away to freedom. All of the good things that could possibly come of this horrible situation finally seem real.

  But within seconds that hope is lost. The gate and doors close swiftly, nearly skewering a soldier in the process. We halt in a unanimous confusion. A vampire rushes out from behind the guard post to the left, elevating himself to become visible to everyone. My eyes widen as my body shudders with instant fear. Blond hair, light skin, cool and silvery eyes. It’s Narref.

  “Listen, on behalf of the council,” he calls out over the crowd of soldiers, Castrel, and me. “A supply unit is missing from the supply holdings. A favorite of Lord Anton Zein’s.”

  I swallow hard, barely noticing when Castrel shifts his body closer to mine.

  “You are to stay in this tower and retrieve the supply unit. The situation in the other tower will be handled appropriately by the council,” he informs with a touch of unease. “The human is a female with red hair, green eyes, and freckled skin. Find her and return her alive and unharmed to Lord Anton Zein in the meeting hall as soon as she is captured.”

  The soldiers all dip to offer an obligatory crossing-of-the-heart salute to Narref. Castrel and I promptly do the same. Then, they begin to disperse. Curiously, I watch Narref pace over and over, lost in thought, before Castrel yanks on my sleeve of armor, pulling me back toward the staircase that we had exited.

  “Dammit,” Castrel curses shakily as we fall in line behind a group of soldiers on the stairs—all on route to find me. “That guy sure is paranoid, huh?”

  I nod, but don’t openly respond, and he offers no more to the statement.

  With vampires now so close, we can’t communicate freely with each other… and the silence is starting to kill me. The dock blockade obviously wasn’t part of the plan. This also means that Zein noticing my disappearance couldn’t have been either. My heart thunders through my chest, and my legs go suddenly sore as I seek comfort from Castrel. His mask is fixed and downturned, his body rigid. He’s in as much of a panic as I am. I’ll bet he’s trying to think of what to do now, and that uncertainty drains my hope.

  The floors seem to blur together, each as indistinguishable as the last. It’s only when Castrel pulls me off of the unending cycle of stairwells and into the dim hall do I begin to recognize anything. The supply holdings floor. A twinge of fright pulsates through my brain and down to my lips. The concept of being forced to face Zein again fills my pores with heat. I would have to pretend that I don’t know what a monster he is. I would have to continue feeding him, kissing him, smiling at him. I can’t go back.

  “Don’t tell me that plan B is returning me to the supply room,” I whisper.

  “Of course not,” Castrel says, offended. “I’ll die getting you out of here if I have to.”

  For some reason, these words simultaneously calm my nerves and upset the hell out of me.

  “Don’t say that,” is all I manage, but he changes the subject.

  “That’s where we are going.” He nods toward the pathway ahead.

  A familiar emblem falls into my line of sight. Night’s Way. The stained glass windows aligned throughout let in incandescent hues of blue, red, gold, and green moonlight. They illustrate the possibility of blinding freedom to the open world; another way out. I understand now.

  Most of the other soldiers turn down different hallways, many herding themselves toward the supply rooms as if they’d find me munching down on morning oats in the dining sector. Still, a few follow our lead, to our dismay.

  “Quickly,” Castrel gasps for breath as he full on sprints, latching onto my arm and practically dragging me. I focus all of my energy into running for a moment, matching his impressive speed for only a short period. We make it to the middle of the first stretch of windows, in between the left tower and the huge emblem of Cain, when the two vampires finally pass us. And they do so with suspicion. One in particular stops and turns, and Castrel halts in his tracks. My breath hitches at the realization. We’ve most likely been sweating off all the scent-cleansing dust. I clench my eyes shut for a moment, trying to suppress my desire to run and jump out of a window.

  “Oy, a bit short and slow for vampires, eh?” the suspicious soldier mutters to his companion, his voice muffled by the mask.

  After a few more attempts at scenting us, he saunters over. “Who are you?”

  But Castrel is already flying to the right side of the hall—to the windows—and pulling out a small rod from his leathers. The rod is silver and short with small blades jutting out from each end of its steel body. He whirls, smashing and rendering a window to colorful bits with his weapon, and letting the natural moonlight flood the hall.

  “You-!” the vampire shouts before sprinting toward us, the other follows. It takes less than a heartbeat for them to get nose to nose with me. Unimaginable speed. Before I can even act out my surprise, Castrel’s arm covers me and pushes me toward the window as he takes my place.

  “Go!” he demands of me as his foot-long staff suddenly extends to four. “Get on top!”

  A soldier moves the sole of his foot hardly a centimeter while cocking his spear to the side, signaling Castrel to swing the staff right as they head their attack. The weapon nearly connects with their armored flesh, but instead meets tireless air as the targets evade. To offset his lack of speed, Castrel maneuvers in styles that can be both defensive and offensive, cutting time. Essence Anticipation is what his father used to call it. A way for humans to square up against vampires.

  “It’s diamond-edged.” Castrel warns the soldiers, holding his spear out and shedding hope onto the situation.

  Diamonds and vampire keratin are the only substances that can cut a vampire’s skin…

  Butterflies soar through my stomach. We have a chance.

  Castrel’s eyes find me.

  “Wavorly,” he pleads.

  The urgency in his voice breaks me out of my stupor. I nod and turn around, setting my sights on the huge gaping hole in the window. I guess I wasn’t wrong when I considered jumping out of it beforehand.

  “Whatever you do, don’t spill any blood,” he warns as he takes a few side steps to obstruct the path between the vampires and myself. “And don’t fall!”

  I swallow my emotions. “You’re coming too,” unconvincingly, I say.

  “...I’ll be right behind you.”

  “You’re not going anywhere!” one of the soldie
rs shouts. “Neither of you!”

  The clanking of footsteps and armor ricochet throughout the narrow passageway, eventually melded by the shrilling sound of colliding weapons. Despite my worry, I do everything in my power to ignore the spectacle behind me. Right now, concentrating on my given objective is the most necessary. I remove the mask and of course I have to look down. I am suspended over the loading docks, about twenty stories up. So, a bad scenario would be falling to my death upon the loading dock bricks. A worse scenario would be missing the dock completely and falling dozens of stories to get spearheaded by a protruding castle spike.

  My tongue and teeth fondle my lips apprehensively. The task at hand is too much. How can I scale a wall of windows? A silver lining presents itself in the form of a small landing provided by a horizontal support beam on the outside. There are several beams that connect the windows, actually. Each about five feet apart, spread evenly across the rounded glass hall.

  I can do this.

  My fingers hurriedly, though carefully, jot past the sharp edges of the splintered glass and curl to find the rim of an upper beam. I turn my body so that I face inward, preparing to bring my legs out onto the side. Castrel’s figure catches my eye and I watch for a moment as he skillfully pushes back the vampires with is diamond-edged rod. A smile nearly crosses my lips until several more soldiers head toward Castrel from the hallway behind.

  “From behind!” I warn.

  His eyes shift backwards and then to me. Solemnly, he says, “Focus on you.”

  I will myself not to panic as I recklessly shift my body through the window and land my feet on another support beam’s trim. The heavy wind rushes past me, begging me to let go and fall. I shut my eyes and count to myself in French as I gradually slide my hands and feet along the trim, moving away from the open window.

  un, deux, trois…

  A vibration shudders from my torso outward; a vampire thrown against the stained glass below. This reawakens me. I have to hurry. But as I finally get the hang of shuffling along the beams, a clawed hand shoots through a side window and latches onto my wrist. The searing pain causes me to scream and I nearly lose my footing. The claws of the vampire soldier shred my armor and rake across my skin, drawing blood.

  “Let me go! Let me go!” I squeal. He eventually does, but my guess is that Castrel forced the favor.

  “No,” I curse as I watch the fresh blood trail down my arm. The arument bandages that we had prepared are lodged snugly within my armor and there is no way to get to them while dangling off a twenty-story window.

  “Get on top, get on top, get on top,” I repeat over and over to myself, trying to regain my sanity and control my adrenaline.

  I focus on a channeled rung bolted over the glass; a vertical support that provides relief for the horizontal beams. In between the legs of the support is a landing that forms a sideways “I.” It’s there that I throw my hand out and latch on. Counting to three, and saying a little prayer, I jump to reach for the third horizontal support beam. If I’m successful, the hard part will be done. I’ll be on top.

  But I miss.

  The shock is so overwhelming that I also miss the safety ledge for my footing.

  I fall.

  I’m falling.

  Waves of red fill my vision; my hair catching and streamlining upward from the force of air. My stomach fills my throat and gravity sends me into a thrall of sickness. The once rough, sandstone bricks of the castle walls are now unending planks of smooth wood. And it is this detail alone that harnesses all of my focus as I spiral to my death. Disbelief dissolves my thoughts, one falling meter at a time.

  “Zein…,” I whisper softly, as if saying his name will change something. For some detestable reason I seek the help of my family’s killer while in my final moments. What the hell is wrong with me?

  It is the abrupt impact against my back and legs that resuscitates my sanity.

  I’m still alive?

  I open my eyes, my sight still whirling when I see a familiar face. His right-hand clasps onto a pipe on the side of the left tower, while his left holds me securely to him.

  “Th-Thelor…?” I question as my vocal cords disobey me.

  He glances at me before leaping up and out—seemingly flying. In an instant, I’m on a cold and cemented edifice. Thelor relinquishes his grip tenderly, leaving me to sit upon my knees, gasping, and shaking. He says nothing. Instead, he softly and diligently wraps my wound with an arument bandage.

  “Thank you,” I manage to say somewhat normally. “I don’t know what happened, I—”

  “We don’t have time,” he interjects. “With your blood exposed for so long, all have been able to scent you, at least from the outside. We need to figure out how to get you out of here before Lord Zein discovers where you are.”

  Fearfully, my eyes widen. I lean against him as I stand.

  “What about Ceti and Glera? Are they at the docks with the chariot yet?”

  “I did not see them,” he responds, but his eyes suddenly lock on to something behind me.

  “Stay here,” he mutters as he flies past.

  By the time I turn, Thelor is already mid-fight with a soldier that had scaled the wall. They are so fast and strong that I can barely see them strike. Had the soldier actually climbed up from the windows? Then I remember.

  Castrel!

  My eyes scour around my feet and out toward the passageways to the twin buttresses, on either side of me. I’m on a square island of silver-veined cement. A huge diamond-like crystal is fastened upright only yards away, meaning… I’m on the plane of the large emblem of Cain between the towers.

  I run for what seems like ages before I’m at the edge of the flipped pyramid. Down and along the side of the windows, I scour, searching for some sort of sign of Castrel. Nothing.

  “Wave!” It’s his voice, but from behind. Relief washes over me as I turn, though it quickly dissolves to terror. Panicked and bleeding, Castrel rushes toward me from the opposite side of the pyramid.

  “Watch out!” he screams.

  He isn’t running from something, rather, he is running toward it. I turn to see a soldier, mere meters from me with a sword raised, hysterically shouting, “Found you! Found you! Found you!”

  The only thing I can think to do is cross my arms in front of my face and wince. Once again it is Zein who fills my pre-death thoughts, only this time, a flood of anger accompanies them. A pulsating hate that burns with betrayal, revenge, and... love. It’s a hate so strong that only shattered love can fan its flames.

  FWAAAASSHHH!

  “RAWWWAAAHH!” A horrific roar bellows, echoing across the cement, steel, and stone, and I force open my eyes. The vampire soldier before me convulses upon the ground, whimpering in pain as his skin and muscles melt off of his bones like candle wax. I look down.

  Radiating lavender. Stunning violet. White hot power extends from the joints on my wrists in the form of two long and slender lines. The further out the power extends, the more purple it turns. A soft, although sinister purple. Gazing at them for too long sends a sharp pain into my skull, my eyes branded with recurring spots of yellow, green, and white. Slowly, I lift my wrists, trying to comprehend the extensions as I keep a perpetual peripheral eye on the still-writhing vampire.

  What on earth did I do to him?

  I locate the starting point of the power. The wristlets. The epicenter shoots out from the fleur de lis amethysts that have, at some point, met with the blood from my previous wound. Oddly enough, despite being so close to the violet power, my wrist feels no pain, not even a tickle. I cautiously swipe the opposite hand through the extension and it reacts as if it’s light. In fact, I think it is light.

  “I can’t believe it,” Castrel says laughing, mouth agape as he sprints toward me, “Thank God, how did you summon it?”

  “Summon it?” I murmur, analyzing the strips of thin and condensed power again. “It-it just happened. What are they? How do I get rid of them?”

  Ca
strel’s face falls as he looks around, gripping his bleeding arm.

  “I don’t think you’ll want to put them away any time soon.”

  Several soldiers had been making their way out of the windows and up the walls, all beginning to surround us, albeit timidly. They each take their turns whispering to each other while analyzing me, their eyes burning with confusion, laced with fear.

  Castrel smirks. “They know. They know you’re the heir and now they are the ones that get to fear for their lives.”

  My eyes fly from him to the soldiers, and then to my wrist extensions. This is my power as the heir apparent? It’s... real?

  “But now what?” I ask.

  Thelor shows up on my left with a fresh, bloodied lip.

  “Now, we hold our own until Ceti arrives and pray that none of the purebloods decide to take matters into their own hands,” Thelor says as he drops into a fighting stance, pulling out two diamond tipped daggers.

  As the soldiers near, I drop into my own fighting position, one I hadn’t practiced since the recreation periods at Nightingale. My arms shake, my heart skips a beat, and fear sparks a low boil in my blood. The vampires spring forth toward us with incredible speed, but it seems slower to me, now.

  “We have to last until Ceti arrives. Hopefully that’s soon,” Thelor states as he rushes to meet a couple of snarling beasts in battle.

  “Stay behind us,” Castrel orders me. And it’s not a hard task, because I’m frozen in place, anyway.

  I watch helplessly as Thelor and Castrel take on three or four soldiers with shocking ease, but more are coming. There is absolutely no way they can keep it up for as long as we need. A Basten-drawn chariot with Ceti at the reins is nowhere in sight. The potential for me to encounter Zein increases by the second, and my heart beats faster and faster with agony.

  What would I do? What could I do, if I saw him now? Even though Zein had committed so many crimes against me, could I even trust myself to exact my own revenge? Would I sit there and beg for him to prove the truth false? Would I happily allow him to shield my eyes from the pain of reality, simply because living every day bitter and lonely for the last ten years had been excruciating enough?