Vampire's Faith (Dark Protectors Book 8)

by Rebecca Zanetti

  I’ve taken Ivar’s phone, and I’ve made sure the GPS is recording. You can track me the second you come up from the chamber. I’m also armed and will hide the jeep in town before the meet. Come when you can. If it is a trap, and if I can’t run with the cure, I’ll hold on until you get there. I promise.

  Faith.

  She read the note quickly. Should she put Love? No. Jeez. She drew in an X and an O above her name.

  If she could find the entrance down to the ritual chamber, she’d search them out and request backup. But what if they tried to stop her?

  But there wasn’t time to even find Ronan and argue about it right now.

  She ran to the armory and equipped herself the best she could.

  Then she hustled to Grace’s room and nearly stopped breathing upon seeing that Grace’s pressure had dropped again on both measurements.

  She kissed Grace on the forehead. Then she turned and ran down the stone hallway, into another gloom-filled rainy day. All of her options were bad ones right now.

  Allowing her sister to die was not one of them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The heat was unbearable. Ronan widened his stance as an unholy force swirled around the four immortals, trying to knock them to the ground. Invisible, razor-sharp knives attacked his flesh from every direction, and he invited the pain in, fighting the pull of gravity.

  He. Would. Not. Fall.

  The rock walls around them began to glow, first neon blue and then blood-red.

  Garrett had gone silent in the middle of the circles, his body contorting in agony. His fangs had pierced his lips, and blood poured down his chin to drop into nothing. The ground below his feet wasn’t visible in this dimension. The way he was moving, it could be made of needles. His pain swelled through the hot chamber, palpable to all of them.

  Ronan had been the first to bind, so he’d been through this ritual numerous times.

  Yet there was no way to remember the sheer horror of it. Every time was different. The dimensions accessed during the ritual had to be hell worlds. There was no other explanation.

  A series of earthquakes assaulted them, and a huge rift appeared in the stone wall, showing a vein of silver.

  His skin felt like it was being turned inside out and burned with hot pokers. And it would be a thousand times worse for Garrett. It was impossible even to know what dimension he was in and how bad it was for his body. The bonding happened in different pockets every time.

  All were beyond hell.

  Adare, Benny, and Ivar remained standing, barely visible through the haze swirling around.

  Ronan felt them. Their spirits and their strength. Each one recognizable as a brother. They’d bonded together, they’d fought together, and someday they’d be reunited in the beyond together. But today was to live. To struggle and accept a new brother, no matter what it took.

  Ronan tried to speak, but the heat and force seized his vocal cords. Come on, Garrett. Fight.

  Garrett continued contorting, his eyes open and still that sizzling gray. He screamed again, the sound tortured. Then his eyes morphed into a wild gold color—his tertiary color. A bright strip encircled the gold, making him look like a primitive animal.

  He dropped to a knee and blood splashed up. The liquid covered his lower chin and his entire chest.

  Ronan tried to move toward him, but the haze held him back. There was no crossing into the other plane. Garrett had to fight his way back himself.

  Garrett partially turned, his head dropping. Sweat and blood slid over his face and down his neck.

  Fire spread across his back, and he arched, his pain slicing across dimensions. One by one, his ribs turned red, then orange, and finally black as they were bound to each other. Then the spaces between filled in, more solid than any surface ever created.

  His head hung down, his hair in wet tendrils.

  Ronan’s back and torso pounded in time with the changes, the agony of the bonding causing his lungs to seize and stop for a moment. His heart sped up until he became light-headed, and the invisible knives continued to cut. He glanced down to see blood pooled all around his feet.

  His blood.

  The stone accepted his offering, which flowed toward the center and to Garrett. Blood streamed from the other immortals toward Garrett as well, all mixing together and hopefully strengthening him. Helping him to heal from the agony his body was currently enduring.

  So many hadn’t healed. Garrett had to survive this.

  Another earthquake hit and a fissure opened in the floor, revealing churning lava. It didn’t seem possible, but the air became even hotter.

  Was the shield between dimensions weakening? Had they made a mistake with the ritual? Ronan had said his words and given his blood, just like before. But had things changed somehow?

  Ronan’s knees weakened and he tightened them. Time stopped having any meaning. An hour passed, maybe two. He felt it the second Garrett was fully bonded, his torso becoming a shield nobody could penetrate. His heart, lungs, and vital organs would never be pierced, taken out, or burned. Even his spinal column was now impenetrable.

  The haze disappeared. The pain wafted away from Ronan.

  Ronan breathed out, his chest working again. “Garrett? You have to fight,” he called out, hoping his voice would reach from one dimension to another.

  Garrett appeared motionless, his eyes open but not seeing.

  Ivar moved toward Ronan, a million cuts on his skin slowly beginning to mend. His feet were covered in blood still. “It’s up to Garrett now.”

  Ronan tried to swallow through his parched lips. “I know.” If Garrett survived the remainder of the ritual, he’d find his way back to this dimension and time, needing medical assistance and a copious amount of blood. If he didn’t survive, the portal would spit back his corpse. “I wish I could go in there with him.” He moved forward, and an invisible force threw him back against the rock wall.

  His shoulders hit first and pain ripped down his spine. He shook his head to dispel the flashing stars behind his eyes as he landed back on his feet. “Fucking portal.”

  “The sad fact is that we don’t even know what it is,” Ivar snarled. “The ritual works, and we performed it as we were taught, but we still don’t understand it all.”

  Some things in life were incomprehensible. This might be one of them, or perhaps their science just hadn’t reached the correct understanding yet. Regardless, comprehending what was happening was far less important than surviving it. “He’s strong. He’ll survive,” Ronan said, hoping to hell he spoke the truth.

  Logan slipped through the crevice, sweat pooling across his gray T-shirt. His eyes widened upon seeing Garrett, and he lunged for the circle.

  The portal threw him up high, and he hit the rock wall with a loud bang. Sharp shards rained down, and Ronan ducked his head to protect his eyes.

  Logan dropped to land on his ass, sending more rocks scattering.

  Ronan hauled him up by the arm. “You okay?”

  Logan shook his head like a dog with a face full of water. “What the fuck was that?” he growled, his gaze returning to Garrett.

  “Don’t exactly know,” Ronan admitted, his entire body feeling like it had been crushed beneath the sea for decades. “But there’s no way you’re getting inside.”

  Logan tugged down his shirt. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Ronan turned to look at the motionless Garrett. Horror still filled his eyes. “His body has bonded. Now his mind, or his spirit, has to survive the process. He’s somewhere else right now.” There was no other way to explain it. “We’ll have fresh blood and medication for him, but we can’t help him until he fights his way back here.”

  Logan swallowed. “There has to be a way to get to him.”

  “There isn’t,” Adare said flatly. “Believe me. We’ve tried
countless times before with other potentials.”

  Ronan focused on the younger immortal. “What are you doing in here, anyway? If you had come in ten minutes earlier, you would’ve been torn apart.”

  “We told you to stay out,” Ivar snapped.

  Logan tore his gaze from Garrett and handed Ronan a soaking wet piece of paper. “Your mate left to meet the head of the Kurjan nation and get a cure for her sister.”

  The words hit Ronan harder than the force had earlier. “What?” He took the paper and quickly read the note.

  Logan shoved his damp hair away from his forehead. “I ran upstairs for the medicine so it would be on hand and saw the note. She took one of the Jeeps.” Regret glimmered in his green eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think I had to watch her.”

  Neither had Ronan. They’d mated, for God’s sake. He turned back to the vulnerable vampire in the center of the circles. “I’ll kill her.” After he saved her ass from the Kurjans. “Why would she do this?” He stared down at the paper. To save her sister. She didn’t trust him to do it. Grace wouldn’t die—she was a Key. Why had Faith trusted the Kurjans anyway?

  Logan wiped his face. “They said they have a cure. She must’ve believed them.”

  A cure. A fucking cure from the Kurjans. So much heat surrounded Ronan that it was a miracle fire could still be ignited from within. “How could she?”

  The chamber remained silent.

  Finally, Ivar spoke. “You have to go, Ronan.”

  Conflicting allegiances pulled at Ronan from every side. Duty and rage tore him apart. “She’s my mate.”

  Adare nodded. “Go. We’ll cover Garrett when he comes out. We’ve got this.”

  Ronan shook his head. “We share a bloodline. My blood will help him.” But he had to save his mate.

  “We all share a bloodline,” Benny said, his voice a low rasp and his lips cracked from the heat. “If he makes it out before you return, I promise we’ll save him.”

  The unspoken words lingered in the air. If Garrett hadn’t made it out before Ronan’s return, then he never would. The impossibility of the situation landed so hard on Ronan’s shoulders that he could barely stand. How could Faith do this to him? Even though he hadn’t explained the ritual to her, surely she understood how difficult it was. And how important.

  “She’s trying to save her sister,” Ivar said quickly, burn marks beginning to fade from his face. “You’d do the same for one of us. Even if it risked your life.”

  Yeah, but his mate didn’t get to risk hers. Ever. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He moved toward the crevice and shoved through, almost welcoming the sharp cut of the rocks.

  Ivar appeared next to him on the other side, coming up behind him.

  “What are you doing?” Ronan asked, stopping.

  Ivar planted a broad hand on his shoulder. “This is the Kurjans. You need backup.”

  “No. Garrett requires more help.” Ronan tried to push him away.

  “There’s enough help in there. I’ve got your back, brother.”

  An earthquake shook the mountain and rocks began to fall. Ronan shoved Ivar toward the stairs and followed him, falling hard. The earth shook for several seconds.

  “We knew this would happen,” Ivar wheezed. “The ritual messes with the earth itself.”

  Ronan turned and looked at the crevice. It was gone. Completely. A mountain of rocks covered the spot where the entrance had been. “Fuck.”

  Ivar dusted himself off and stood, his gaze on the cave-in. “They’re on their own now. They’ll make it out.”

  “I hope so.”

  Ivar shoved him aside and started running up the stairs.

  Ronan settled himself. He’d lost more than half his blood in the ceremony, and his vision was still fuzzy. Yet anger helped focus everything.

  Fury propelled him as he followed his brother to suit up for war.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  After a quick stop at a pharmacy, Faith waited in a cute coffee shop across the street from the Northtown city hall. Rain splattered down on the stately brick building. Even though it was only April, greenery flourished in planters set around the building. A few people were out in the rain holding brightly colored umbrellas.

  Several shops lined the street, with the courthouse next to the city hall.

  Nothing out of the ordinary could be seen. Since the Kurjans couldn’t venture into the sun, could they appear when the cloud cover was so heavy? She hadn’t thought to ask.

  Her hands trembled around the mug holding her green tea. Ronan was going to be furious with her, and a sliver of her felt bad for leaving.

  But if he had a sister, he’d do the same thing.

  Sure, she was taking a risk. But she had a knife in her sock, a green gun that harmed immortals at her back beneath her sweater, and Ivar’s phone nicely hidden inside her tennis shoe. If she had to shoot Yvonne Maple, she’d do it.

  A woman came into view, walking down the sidewalk. In a moment her features became discernible. Dr. Maple. Faith swallowed. She actually hadn’t expected the doctor to come by herself. The clouds shifted and the sun shone down.

  Faith jumped up to yell a warning and then paused. The sun shone directly on the doctor’s blond hair, and she tilted her head up, smiling.

  So the sun didn’t harm them any longer…or the good doctor had been faking her species.

  Then, she pointed her umbrella down and shook it out, tying the strap around it. She opened the door to the coffee shop, and the bell above it tinkled merrily. Catching Faith’s eye, she strode around a gumball machine and reached the table. “Hello, Dr. Cooper.” She held out a hand.

  Faith shook hands and then gestured to the other wooden chair. “Please, sit.” This was all so crazily bizarre. This close, the woman looked incredibly young.

  Dr. Maple removed her trench coat and set it on the chair before sitting. “A helicopter dropped me right outside of town.” She wore casual jeans, high-end boots, and a green sweater that brought out the stunning color of her eyes. “Is it just me, or does this feel like a James Bond movie?”

  Faith chuckled, adrenaline still flooding through her. Was this woman full of it? “It really does. Dr. Maple, you can withstand sunlight?”

  Dr. Maple blinked and then smiled. “Call me Yvonne, and of course we can. Only the poor Cyst can’t because of their genetic mutation. Did Ronan Kayrs tell you otherwise?”

  “Yes,” Faith whispered.

  “A thousand years is a long time to be gone,” Yvonne said. “The world has changed, whether the Seven like it or not. Whether they’ve even discovered it has or not.” She reached out to pat Faith’s hand, her nails painted a pretty pink. “This has to be so bewildering for you.”

  Faith nodded. “You have no idea.” Was this a trick? “I have so many questions.” Could they save other coma victims?

  “I’m sure.” Amusement curved Yvonne’s pink lips.

  “How do you know about the Seven? According to Dayne, Ronan is the bad guy.” Which wasn’t true. There might be a lot of new advances and uncertainty, but that much Faith knew. Ronan was a good man. Rather, male. Even if he had been gone a thousand years and had no clue how everything had changed.

  Yvonne tapped her nails on the table. “Our history pegs him as a killer of the Cyst. He killed many of our people to begin the ritual. You know that’s why the Seven are secret, right?”

  Faith stiffened. None of the Seven would explain why they were shrouded in secrecy. Had they used Kurjan dark rituals to create their brotherhood? Was it possible? They surely wouldn’t want that information getting out. “No. Ulric killed the Enhanced women to bond himself.”

  Yvonne shrugged. “Bonding takes blood. The Butcher used Cyst blood when he created the ritual for the Seven. Ask him.”

  So much violence, no matter whom you be
lieved. The knife was comforting in Faith’s boot. “Where is the serum?”

  Yvonne reached into a large purse and brought out a rectangular box. “Here. I suggest three milliliters tonight and three tomorrow night. It’ll help regulate her heart rate and blood pressure until her body takes over again.”

  “What about the coma?” Faith accepted the box.

  Yvonne nodded. “Another three milliliters the third day should mimic Dayne’s blood and bring her back for you, without the side effects.” She paused. “The most serious of which is death, actually. I really hope this works.”

  “As do I.” Faith kept an eye outside the window, but only the rain was visible. “Let’s just see what we have here, shall we?” She reached into the bag on her seat and drew out hydrogen peroxide, a small mirror, a cotton swab, and an eyedropper.

  Yvonne leaned over the table. “What do you have?”

  Shouldn’t the woman know the answer to that? Faith lifted her head. “Let’s see those fangs of yours now.”

  “I can’t show them in public.” Yvonne rolled her eyes and lifted a hand. A young waiter hurried over, his eyes overly bright. “Could I get a caramel mocha?”

  The kid nodded and almost tripped getting back to the counter.

  Faith opened the box and drew out the vial, using the syringe to take just a little bit of its contents.

  “So much for trust.” Yvonne’s chin lowered.

  Faith ignored her and dropped several dots of blood onto the cheap mirror. Then she took the eyedropper and filled it with hydrogen peroxide. She paused and took a breath. “Right?”

  Yvonne threw her head back. “Stop that.”

  “No.” Faith dropped the peroxide on the red dots.

  Nothing.

  Not a bubble.

  Her stomach sank. It wasn’t blood. She stood and studied this beautiful woman who had lied to her. This was definitely a trap. No movement showed outside the restaurant. She’d hidden the Jeep several blocks away.