“Davina’s soul resides in another body and is calling out to you now.”
“What are you…? So she is a wee bairn? A child I am to…what, raise?” Broderick resisted the urge to slap the woman, who had obviously lost all her faculties.
“No, of course not. She is a full-grown woman.”
He stood with his mouth agape. “Do you hear yourself?”
“I know this may sound…”
“Mad? That it does! And you contradict your teachings. The soul lives once and is destined for heaven or hell. Is it not why Vamsyrians were created…to trap the soul and condemn it to an eternity in hell? A choice, I might add, you have also made.”
“As is my understanding of this arrangement with Satan, and yes…I am a part of those souls now. But if we can fulfill the prophecy, we will be saved. Davina is the key.”
“If we can fulfill the prophecy?” Broderick placed his fists on his hips. “You speak as though we have a say in the matter.”
Color mottled Malloren’s cheeks. “If the prophecy can be fulfilled,” she amended. “As for the soul’s journey in death, there are some who are given the choice to return to earth. Thus is the purpose of Davina’s soul, to return and fulfill the prophecy.”
Broderick’s mind twirled with confusion and he shook his head to clear it. “I have had enough of this.” He stalked away from Malloren, the sea on his left once again, his figure bent forward to his destination.
“And you still walk toward her,” Malloren confirmed. “She has raven-black hair, does she not?”
Broderick slowed his steps.
“But still has the dark-blue eyes of Davina, no?”
He stopped and, again, closed his eyes to resist becoming lost in the dream of her. “How do you know this?”
“I have seen her in visions and this is why I am here. Tell me the dream.”
He breathed deep, his eyes still closed. “She was in the woods. We had a tearful reunion and spoke of our love.” Broderick turned to Malloren. “When I pulled back from our embrace, I saw the dark-haired woman of whom you speak, yet she had the eyes of Davina.”
The Prophetess treaded carefully to Broderick’s side. “In my visions, she holds a wooden tome in her arms, a pentacle surrounded by vines burned into the cover.”
“A pentacle?”
She nodded and knelt, drawing in the dirt with her finger a five-pointed star inside a circle with a continuous stroke of her hand, ending where she began.
Broderick’s brows rose. “Aye, I saw this book, on the ground by her feet. A thick volume, bound with leather laces crisscrossed along the spine?”
“Yes, the very one.”
“But the pentacle. ’Tis the symbol of witchcraft, is it not? The sign I’ve seen used against the accused, which are facing the endless inquisitions that rape these lands? I saw many such trials on my journey here.”
She frowned. “Yes, but unfortunately, the Church has taken this symbol of life and protection against evil and turned it into a tool of hatred. Hypocrites.” She tapped on each point of the star. “Water, fire, earth, air and spirit enclosed within the circle. All of the elements of life in a never-ending knot.” Malloren snatched Broderick’s hand, using him to help her rise, and she gasped, holding tight. He tried to free from her grasp, but she refused to release him until she opened her eyes and grinned. “I see you have made yourself a bit of a nuisance to the Inquisitors.”
Broderick crossed his arms and stepped away from her. “I couldn’t just let those innocent people burn. I heard their thoughts. The church is wrong…as usual.” He glared down his nose at her. “What does all this have to do with Davina?”
“This book holds the next milestone in the prophecy. And she seeks a cure for Satan’s weapon against the Vamsyrians.”
“Now you’re talking in circles, Prophetess. If Satan created the Vamsyrians, why would he need a weapon against them?” He cocked his eyebrow, skeptical of the forthcoming explanation.
“That is the deception of the Prince of Darkness. He lures God’s children to willingly turn their back against their Father, and then slays them with another creature to ensure their souls belong to him. Satan’s sure way to bypass the redemption of the prophecy.”
“You speak of werewolves.” Broderick rubbed his left shoulder, scarred over thirty years ago during his first encounter with Satan’s weapon.
“Yes, and you are treading into their territory. There are many sightings and encounters in this area. I suggest you find aconite to guard your lair during the day. They are not harmed by the sun.”
“Aconite? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It is also known as monkshood, wolfsbane.” She jerked her head in the direction of the road. “You will find Davina in the Village of Kostbar ahead. You are here to reunite with her and protect her.”
Broderick turned his back on the Prophetess for fear he might strangle her again. “And why would she be looking for a cure for werewolves?”
The gentle waves lapping against the beach was his answer. Rick whirled to find the Prophetess gone. “Curse you, woman!”
He wiped his face and paced a few steps before sighing and studying the empty road to the village. The fog from the North Sea crept onto the land and wove through the trees bordering the path, obscuring his view. His wandering had led him here. He would see this through. If Davina wasn’t there and if these were more lies, then he would put this damned prophecy and his grief behind him. But if the Prophetess was right… Broderick’s heart hammered in his chest with a hope he’d not felt in almost a century. Could it be? Will she know me? Will she remember our love? He shook his head. “I am mad.”
Nothing, not even death, will keep me from loving you…my spirit will pursue you until the end of time. Together forever.
“Eternally yours.” Broderick stomped down the path toward Kostbar.
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NOTE TO THE READER:
Thank you for taking the time to read Midnight Captive – Book 2 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles. I hope you enjoyed the story and you’re looking forward to Book 3 – Midnight Hunt! If you did like the book, reviews are always appreciated at Amazon, GoodReads, LibraryThing or your favorite book review website. I invite you to visit my website at www.ArialBurnz.com for updates on my latest tales, appearances, contests, and writing tips. I love to hear from my readers, so be sure to leave a comment on my blog.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Arial Burnz has been an avid reader of both paranormal and fantasy fiction for over thirty years. With bedtime stories filled with unicorns, hobbits, dragons and elves, she had no choice but to craft her own tales, penning to life the many magical creatures roaming her mind and dreams. And with a romantic husband who's taught her the meaning of true love, she's helpless to weave romance into her tales. Now she shares them with the world. Arial Burnz lives in Rancho Cucamonga, California, with her husband (a.k.a. her romance novel hero)—who is also a descendent of Clan MacDougal—along with their dog and two cats.
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