“So he went home.” Closing his eyes, Aaron had never felt like such a failure. Only a couple weeks into his charge as trustee and he’d already lost one.
“It’s only a couple hours away. He went to find out what they knew and then come back.”
“When did he go?” Silence met his question and when he opened his eyes, every one of the young men sitting in front of him looked guilty. “When?”
“Yesterday,” Jeffrey said in a quiet voice. “He took the truck and left yesterday morning.”
Aaron didn’t know what else to say. His seventeen-year-old cousin had left to get help, and hadn’t returned. Either he was too scared to come back, or something had stopped him. Nobody spoke for over an hour as they continued to go through their sheets, though with more frequent glances at their cell phones or the clock. They were worried, too.
Opening his mouth to tell the boys it was time to go make dinner, he didn’t say anything when Will’s phone chirped. He pulled it out and a big grin crossed his face. “Stephan’s ten minutes out. Says he has info, help, and pizza.”
Relief struck Aaron even as worry joined it. Help…did that mean Stephan had brought back his parents? He wasn’t sure they were ready for that, or at least he wasn’t. To interact with humans. It was a daunting prospect. Sure, he had dealt with the lawyers after Davis’s death, but he’d been in shock. How would their scents affect him now?
With the news, the mood definitely picked up and there were even a couple jokes as the boys put what they were doing in piles and went to wash their hands for dinner. When the door opened and Stephan called out, “I’m home!” Aaron got off the couch and walked over, yanking the large cooler out of his cousin’s arms and putting it to the side before pulling him into a hug.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he whispered hoarsely. “I thought…”
“Sorry,” Stephan said. “But, well…” He pulled back and grinned. “I’ve got help. This is Cor. He’s gonna make Jaret well again.” Stepping into the room, a tall man with sharp, angled cheekbones and dark brown eyes filled the doorway. His black hair came to just below his shoulders and as Aaron inhaled, he instantly smelled the lemon. He looked like an older version of Stephan.
“You’re a drakyl.”
“Yes, I am. And you must be Aaron.” Cor held out his hand and Aaron shook it. “Sorry for how late Stephan got home. He insisted on meeting me in town to drive me out here and, of course, I couldn’t be out during the day.”
“Come in,” Aaron said, turning toward the room, where four interested pairs of eyes watched. “These are the rest of Stephan’s and my cousins. Jeffrey, Conner, Adam, and Will.”
“And this must be Jaret,” Cor said, walking over to the sofa. Almost instantly, Aaron moved to stand between Cor and his man.
“I don’t know you and Jaret is ill. I’m sorry but I cannot let you close to him.”
“Understood.” Cor didn’t appear to take offense. “Stephan said he was stabbed by a vampyr. With what?”
“Iron with silver in it,” Will informed him, walking forward with his hand outstretched, excitement in his eyes. “He’s quiet, but he doesn’t look comfortable and he hasn’t spoken since it happened.”
“No, he wouldn’t. It’s one of the ways our enemy have devised to torture our kind. The silver opens the veins and the iron poisons the blood. But all is not lost. It happened less than a week ago, yes?”
“Six days to be exact.”
“Good, he can still be cured. Stephan?” Looking over at his cousin, Aaron watched him pick up the cooler and bring it over. On top of it were three pizza boxes. “Why don’t you and your cousins eat while I show Aaron what needs to be done?”
“On it.” Stephan grabbed the pizzas and Aaron expected them to head into the kitchen. Instead, all five of the younger men settled on the floor on the other side of the living room.
“Blood poisoning,” Cor began, “is a long process. It takes thirty-to-forty days to kill a drakyl that way, a debilitating and excruciating way to die. Thankfully, we’ve found that forced blood can change things and the earlier it is caught, the better the chances. At less than a week, Jaret should be able to start communicating within a few days.”
“Forced blood? Like a transfusion?”
“No,” he said, chuckling. “You must feed him blood every two hours.”
“That’s kind of what we’ve been doin’.” Aaron felt relief that they were doing the right thing even without knowing it.
“Human blood? Or animal blood?”
Freezing on the spot, Aaron stared at him. “Animal. Cows’ blood actually.”
Cor’s nose wrinkled up. “Gross.”
“Yeah, it is, kinda, but it works.”
“Well, I brought enough human blood to last you about a week. After that point, you’ll need to get more. Fresh is always best, of course.”
“Won’t animal blood work?”
“It might, but it will take longer and it’s possible that he won’t ever come back.” Cor was blunt, his eyes narrowed. “He needs our natural food source if you want him to survive. That is untainted human blood.”
Aaron couldn’t believe it. Human blood. Of course he knew Jaret loved it and he knew his love would probably always drink from humans, but he had promised not to. And now, he was being asked to feed his man the one thing he had promised not to get involved with. The decision should have been harder than it was.
“All right. What have you got?” Leaning down, Aaron popped the top of the cooler, surprised to see tons of medical blood bags and the warmth coming off them was confusing.
“This cooler can also keep things warm,” Cor explained. “He needs two of these every two hours.”
Feeling a little better because the blood came from some sort of blood bank—as opposed to draining a human—Aaron used a knife to open one of the bags and dribbled the blood into Jaret’s mouth. He knew he was just seeing what he wanted to see, but within minutes, it looked as though his skin was a little less pale.
“I should go,” Cor said after an hour. The boys were still in the living room, though they were lying down rather than sitting up. The pizza boxes were completely empty.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? We have rooms in the basement. Besides, I would like to get to know you.”
The other man offered a quiet smile. “Maybe sometime later. I need to be off. Good luck, Aaron of the drakyl. Don’t forget. Two bags every couple of hours.” After shaking Aaron’s hand once again, Cor took a moment to speak with Stephan. Looking at the two, Aaron could see the physical similarities and wondered what their relationship was. As soon as Cor left, Stephan stood up and walked over.
“How is he?” he asked quietly, taking a look.
“Better, I think. Cor said we’ll know in a few days.”
“Good.”
“Who is he, Stephan?”
Grimacing a little, his cousin fidgeted and scratched his head before answering. “My great-grandfather’s brother on the non-Drakyl side.”
“He’s family. He is always welcome here.”
Stephan smiled, looking relieved. “Thanks, Aaron. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Reaching over, he hugged him again. “Even if it almost gave me a heart attack, you did the right thing.”
“Pfft,” his cousin said playfully, “you can’t have a heart attack.”
“You boys just might drive me to it,” he teased back, feeling much lighter than he had in days.
Chapter Twenty-One
It felt like an endless stretch of time where all he did was burn. His veins felt as though they were on fire and with each beat of his heart, the fire burnt hotter. Sounds every once in a while filtered through his head, but they never made any sense. And yet, when the fire started to leave, he had hope.
Jaret remembered what happened. The memory of watching Aaron attack Kimil and seeing Vinishad turning to take him on. It had happened so quickly. As he struck out, trying to blind the se
cond vampyr by digging out its eye sockets, it had shoved metal into his leg. He knew what it was, the moment the fragment sliced into his vein. Silver and ore, poison seeping into his body. But even worse was wondering what happened to Aaron. Did he escape? Or was he suffering a similar fate?
Something drifted along his hair. It felt good. And he knew that touch. Aaron. He couldn’t resist a smile. Aaron was touching him. Did that mean they won? Or were the two vampyr waiting to strike again?
The fire diminished slowly until it was gone and as the wonderful taste of human blood coated his tongue, he drank greedily. This. This was what brought him back. How Aaron knew to try, he didn’t know, but Jaret knew pure decadence when he tasted it and this was completely untainted blood. No alcohol. No drugs.
“I hope you’ll wake up soon.” The first words he understood and they were in his lover’s voice. “It’s been ten days, Jaret, since our fight with the vampyr, four since you’ve been on human blood. Please, love, give me something. Show me you’re there.”
He was far too exhausted to open his eyes and he probably shouldn’t even try. But hearing the longing and pain in Aaron’s voice made it impossible not to. Taking a couple deep breaths, he focused on blinking his eyelids. It felt like lifting a car. But he would do this.
Picturing Aaron’s face in his head, he thought about his smile, his laugh, that twinkle in his gorgeous blue eyes. Blood pounded a little harder through his veins. And then there were his eyes, intense in passion. Yes, that’s what he needed. Remembering how Aaron looked just before he came, Jaret focused on opening his eyes once more.
This time it worked.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Vinishad glared at the city that was his home. He should have returned victorious, given a hero’s welcome, and the best virgins in the city to drink. Instead, he waited outside the city, unsure of what his welcome would be. Faolen had made it clear he considered the drakyl business closed and that they had more important things to do than to track one measly creature. It infuriated him that the head of their clutch would allow such an insult without recourse. It had been so simple to convince Kimil that together they could take down the offensive drakyl and come back as conquerors. Now it was just him and as he entered the place he’d called home since he was turned, he moved warily. The human streetlamps were almost blinding and not for the first time, he wished they could just take them all out.
Knowing the town well, he stuck to the alleyways and back roads, steering clear of any areas humans might congregate. If Faolen elected to name him a traitor, any human he fed from would just be another mark against him.
The entrance to their underground dwellings was inside a warehouse Faolen owned. The guard inside the door didn’t even look at him as he walked past. Whether because he knew him or because Vinishad’s name was dirt, he couldn’t be sure. Kimil had been well-liked by most of the guard. Why, he couldn’t tell. Yes, he was strong, but he was also an ass-kisser. His death was not that big of a loss in Vinishad’s mind, and not just because it might make him first in line to head the clutch once its current leader was ended. If Faolen didn’t end him this night, he would get someone with brains as well as brawn put into the other position. And that individual could help him plan for the demise of the Drakyl clan.
Lifting up the trap door in the smallest office in the far corner, he dropped four levels down onto the floor. And instantly knew this was it. Five vampyr waited, all wearing the guard uniform. Nodding at them, he strode toward Faolen’s office, for he was sure that was where he would be ordered to. It was early in the night and the corridors were empty. They should have been full of fellow vampyr preparing to go feed, but there were none. Instead of laughter and hisses, the stone walls and floor ricocheted with the sound of their boots as they walked along. What was this, the tune that led him to his final death?
The door stood open at the end of the hallway and that gave him the first nervous feeling he had truly felt. That door was never open. Knowing he would have to fight, Vinishad elected to try and talk himself out of this. After all, their clutch deserved a better leader than Faolen. He had no plans to expand outside of their city whereas Vinishad wished to take over the surrounding areas. If he could convince their leader that the drakyl were a true danger, it might be the only thing that stood between him and sure death.
Faolen sat on his throne at the end of the room. The large wooden chair was the only thing he brought with him when he took over the clutch and Vinishad hated it. He also hated having to call the bastard, “My lorde.”
The guard lined the room and after he stepped forward in front of the throne, he heard the distinct sound of the door closing behind him. There was no way out except through his wits. Vinishad was smart and while his leaders preferred his physical prowess, he also had a mind and he put it to good use on the things that mattered. And staying undead mattered.
“So,” Faolen said, his voice cold, “you are back, Vinishad. I assumed when you and Kimil disappeared weeks ago that you had left for another clutch.”
A few murmured jeers from the guard made him growl softly. So that was his path, to discredit Vinishad with the clutch. “No, my lorde,” he said loudly. “We left on a secret mission for the sake of our clutch and that of all clutches worldwide.”
He received nothing more than a disbelieving glance in return.
“Kimil,” he said, knowing it was best to blame the one that was dead, “had intelligence that the drakyl who attacked our city was something far worse than he appeared. We spoke about it and decided to go alone as while the intelligence seemed unlikely, we could not ignore it.” The attention around the room tuned into him and Vinishad felt a slight surge of excitement. Maybe this would work. “So we set off to track the creature. What we found was even worse than the intelligence stated.”
“What intelligence was this?” Faolen asked, cutting him off. “I saw nothing.”
In that moment, Vinishad wanted nothing more than to leap forward and rip their leader’s head off, but wasn’t sure of the guard’s reaction. Plus, Faolen was twice the size he was and a rather unnatural-looking vampyr. Vinishad had worried from the first day he showed up, that he was something other than their kind, but had never been able to decide what. Until he was sure he could kill him and that the guards would support him in that move, he would stay his hand. “I apologize, my lorde. Kimil said you had asked him to take care of it.” The cold black eyes watching him narrowed, but Faolen nodded for him to continue.
“We followed his trail and found dozens of drakyl scents. The stench was so strong, it was embedded into the ground.” More mutters broke out around the room, but this time, there was worry included. “We found a home for their kind,” he said with a hiss, forcing his body to shudder. “And not just a home. It is some sort of trial, a century-long science experiment to make drakyl stronger and more powerful than we are.” A few derisive coughs came from the background. Whirling around, he snarled. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Kimil’s head was ripped off by one drakyl. A relatively new one at that. There wasn’t even much of a fight.”
“And you,” Faolen said, making him turn. “What did you do while Kimil was beheaded?”
Knowing his next words were the only things that stood between him and total annihilation, Vinishad stood up to his tallest, which was tall, but still much shorter than Faolen’s towering height, and spoke. “There were two of them. The one we tracked is called Jaret. He is an older drakyl and weak like the rest of their kind. The other is his joined. His name is Aaron of the drakyl. A direct descendent of those that lived there, he carries their reek in his skin. Aaron attacked Kimil and murdered him while Jaret attacked me. It should have been simple to destroy him, but I will admit to being horrified at watching my comrade brought down so easily. Kimil the powerful brought down by a single drakyl. But Jaret still fought and when he went for my eyes, I stabbed him in the leg with a dryke.” Hums of appreciation filled the room. The dryke was their favorite weapon
in fighting the drakyl for with one strike, it incapacitated them and whether or not it was pulled out, it would continue to poison them until they died, their body a mess of pain and agony during the entire four to six week ordeal.
“So he is dead.”
“He will be,” Vinishad boasted. “And as Aaron is his joined, it is likely he will come after me.” He hoped the drakyl would. It would be so fun to play with him on their home turf. He didn’t care how strong he was against an individual vampyr, against a few of them, he would stand no chance. And Vinishad would watch him burn by the noonday sun. If he could truly get his wishes granted, it would quickly be followed with Faolen’s death.
His leader gazed at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Thank you for bringing back this information, Vinishad. For any plan to increase a drakyl’s strength is an attack on us.” Raising a hand, he waved away the guard and they left. Vinishad didn’t relax completely, but figured he would at least keep his current position. “Now, what do you plan to do about it?”
Startled at the question, Vinishad was unable to cover the shock on his face, bringing a bark of a laugh from the bastard in front of him.
“You found them. I think it right that you should be the one to destroy them.” Faolen smiled, showing off his horrible teeth. Vinishad still was unsure how the vampyr still had them. Most of his kind lost their teeth while buried in the ground—effects of the cinnabar rock they chewed at the beginning of their change—but this creature still had all of his.
Thinking about it, Vinishad allowed himself a smile. “I would like that, my lorde. To destroy the drakyl of that family line would be a major strike back against their kind. Plus—“
“Plus,” Faolen interrupted dryly, “it will stop other drakyl from running to them for assistance. Yes, go take them down and return to me when you do.” He waved, a definite move of dismissal.
Vinishad wanted to strike at him for that, be he managed to bow his head, before turning to leave. The closer he got to the door, the more motivated he became. This would not be a simple operation. No. He could run it the way he loved. First, he would choose vampyr he trusted and they would observe the enemy. Then, they would make small attacks, just little things to keep the drakyl on edge. When that happened, he would—
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