“Light, as you well know, Nosferatin, can bring joy or it can bring eternal pain. We gave him a taste of one and then replaced it with the other.” The Prince shrugged his shoulders, a move that was definitely not Fey. He’d been watching us, then. How long had the chains of their imprisonment been slipping? “Of course,” he added, “it took a while for the lesson to be learnt. Your twin is very stubborn.”
No, not stubborn. Desperate. The Dark ate him up a little more every day.
Two weeks he’d been here. Two weeks to my four days back on Earth. I made a quick calculation inside my head. Luc had run out of time. Any day now the kindred connection he needed to survive would fail. No joining would save him. The moon would simply rise one night, and my beautiful, loveable, kind brother would fade.
I yanked on my chain, receiving a cacophony of twittering chuckles from around the room.
“So,” Prince Terrin said, clapping his hands together. “Now you have a choice to make.”
Panting through gritted teeth, I stopped my attempts to dislodge the chain. I glared at Terrin, letting my Sigillum blaze. So red. So vicious. So much hate.
Prince Terrin smiled. Even in the midst of rage, I felt its effect. A different type of red emerged on my arm. Not magenta or crimson marking my anger and fury, but a red so pure, so deep and yet so bright, it brought a blush to my cheeks and tears of defiance to my eyes.
Red is for passion. A fiery colour for a fiery emotion.
One the Prince was making me feel when all I wanted to do was take his head. I itched for my sword, even as I swayed toward his body.
His hand came up and cupped my cheek, a small amount of Light bled from his fingertips and danced across my parted lips, then made its way slowly to my breasts.
“I’m going to kill you,” I said, but the veracity of the statement was lost as I pressed my mouth to the palm of his hand.
“A choice,” he said, “and then we’ll get better acquainted.”
He stepped closer, but not in a way that shielded me from view. Every single fairy in the room watched my anger and frustration, watched my embarrassment and degradation. Watched it all with a hunger that fuelled.
“Who will you choose, Enchanted? The vampire who has guarded your brother so diligently? Who has undoubtedly sworn his allegiance to you or your father’s line? Who has risked his life to follow behind the monster into danger most vile and would no doubt risk his life for yours if given a chance?
“Or will you choose the abomination? The twin. The mirror to your soul.”
Terrin leant in closer, his hot breath coasting over my jaw, down my neck. His lips, when he spoke, brushed my skin, sending unwanted shivers down my back.
“He is not who you once loved,” he murmured. “Release him,” he urged. “Free your brother from his agony. Save the vampire. Save the loyal servant. He has Light in him, surely you sense it. He has more than the monster. So much more.
“What will you choose, Enchanted? Dark or Light? Light or Dark? Choose well. For your choice will dictate your fate. Choose one, and I cannot help you. Choose the other, and I’ll make what remains of your life pure bliss. I’ll take you as my mœðr, I’ll treat you as my elska. You’ll be a princess amongst gods.” He laughed, his long fingered hand running down the front of my throat in a sensual caress. “I might even make you a goddess if you behave.”
I looked into heavy lidded eyes, vibrant green a small slither beneath long golden lashes.
Light or Dark, he said.
Hakan or Luc, he demanded.
I smiled. He stilled, sucked in a startled breath.
And then I head-butted the ruler of Ljósálfar, drawing blood.
16
And Then No More
The drawing of blood is an act of war amongst fairies. I was severely outnumbered. Completely overpowered. Utterly contained.
But I was ready.
“Let the battle begin,” I snarled.
The prince backhanded me across the face. I spat blood on the floor and said, “You think that makes us even?” I spat some more. “Not even close, Tinkerbell.”
I flicked my leg out as much as the chain allowed, connecting my bare foot with the Prince’s chin. I followed it up, while he staggered, with a scissor kick, knocking his head back and sending him flying off his feet. I tried to kick his crotch, too, but the chain pulled me up short, making the kick land on this thigh before he managed to scramble away. He’d bruise.
“How’d you like me as your mœðr now, arsehole?” I hissed.
“Kill the twin,” the Prince simply said. He pulled a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and proceeded to wipe the blood off from his face, his eyes boring into mine.
I realised, I was staring back. No swaying toward him. No impossible attraction falsified by his piercing gaze. Just a simmering anger that I let him see, let him feel, let him get familiar with.
“So dead,” I mouthed, the words silent.
“Yes, as your twin will be very shortly unless you cease this nonsense and behave.”
I smiled, a little of the tension released from my frame. Terrin didn't want to kill Luc. He wanted my cooperation. He was using him to gain it. But actually following through with the threat to kill my brother would mean more than he could handle.
What had Kaleth said? “War is upon us. The Dökkálfa amass their Hyrða armies. Their Earthbound alliances are strong. Soon Álfheimr will be defiled with the presence of the Iunctio. Vampyre will walk our lands.”
“In the name of the Iunctio,” I whispered, “I declare war on Ljósálfar.” They heard me. I didn't need to raise my voice. I lowered my chin, looked at the Prince from under hooded eyes, and smiled.
It was definitely on the creepy side of things.
“You can’t do that,” Terrin announced.
“Who do you think I am, Terrin of Ljósálfar?”
“A girl out of her depth.”
I laughed. “I am the daughter of the Champion.” My voice rose a notch. “The daughter of the Prophesied.” Louder still. “The godchild of the Enforcer.” Louder again. “The godchild of the Ambrosia. I was raised by the Council. Sat on every single members’ knee as a child. Trained with them from the age of three. Their Light is my Light. My Light is their Light.” I leant in, stretching my chain, baring my teeth. “I am half Nosferatu, you stupid son of a bitch. The half that will call down the wrath of the Iunctio and have your lands crawling with vampyre.”
Silence for a suspended moment and then the Fey started to scream.
Heh. I was pretty good at this threatening stuff. The Iunctio would do what the Iunctio wanted to do. But considering my father ran the Council, there was a fairly decent chance he’d be enraged and make them comply. But nothing was guaranteed with vampires. Even he would have to consider if it challenged his right to survive.
But Terrin and these pathetically cowardly fairies didn't have to know the intricacies of getting the Iunctio into Álfheimr.
I stood back upright and casually looked around the screaming and hand waving and headless-chicken running crowd. It took a second, but it slowly dawned on me that their reaction was entirely out of proportion to the threats I’d just made. Confusion replaced conceit and then was swiftly followed by doubt.
What the hell had got the Ljósálfar so riled up?
A boom sounded out. The ceiling cracked down the middle. Gilt framed paintings clattered to the floor. Glass shattered. A roar reached the depths of the castle and made tiny pinpricks run down my arms.
It was followed by a hiss.
My dreads swished around my face as I tried to get a bead on Ediz. Too many colours. Too many frightened Fey. I searched for the Prince instead.
And I found him. A small, intricately carved blade in his elegant hand was pressed into the soft skin under Luc’s chin.
“Call him off!” he shouted across the bustling and chaotic space between us. “Call him off, and I won’t slit your brother’s neck.”
“He’s
not mine to call off,” I said, my heart going still.
“He’s here for you. Call him off.”
I shook my head and slowly glanced down the opposite end of the grand hall. Hakan was standing, still chained, but magnificent.
“He belongs to the Mhachkay,” I said.
“Mhachkay?” Terrin queried. “He’s a Mhachkay?” He nodded his head toward Hakan.
“Bey Hakan Bahar, Prince of Mhachkay,” I said, enjoying the Ljósálfar’s confusion a little too much. “You’re not very good at this villainy thing, Terrin,” I shouted, loud enough to be heard over several concussive booms. “Don’t you know to profile your victims first?”
He straightened up, his fingers tightening around the handle of the knife. He tipped Luc’s head back, exposing more of his vulnerable neck. Luc didn’t even bat an eye.
Lucien, I thought. Wake up. Fight him. Fight this.
But my brother remained unconscious. I couldn’t even reach him with my Light.
I gripped the silver bracelet and tugged at it, all the while keeping my eyes on the Prince. The bracelet didn't move. My nails dug into flesh.
“Call him off, Nosferatin!” Prince Trerrin snarled. Then cocked his head. “Or have you chosen?” His eyes darted to Hakan. “You like the Mhachkay,” he guessed, a smirk emerging. “You choose his life over your brother’s.”
And then he released Luc and promptly stepped into thin air, appearing next to Hakan. Hakan snarled, flashing fang. He resisted, but his chains were silver and sapped his strength. His muscles bulged. His head thrashed on his neck. He tried to swipe out with a kick, but the chains held him tight against the wall.
“Call them off,” Prince Terrin said softly.
I heard him. Or I didn’t need to hear him to know what he said. He held the knife to Hakan’s neck now, like he’d held it to my brother’s.
“You don’t think I’d do it to a Mhachkay, do you?” he said. “You think the name of their kind is enough to kowtow me. You know nothing of what the Ljósálfar are capable of. You’ve been fed wives’ tales and fantasies. You’ve been told untruths by our cousins. Our imprisonment was not because we did wrong, but because they feared us. As you should fear us. As the Iunctio and Mhachkay will fear us.”
He smiled, dug the knife in harder, drawing blood, and murmured, “Light is more powerful than the Dark.”
Hakan’s purely silver eyes met mine. Such raw beauty, such elegant control, such power. But none of it was within reach. He held my gaze, lengthened his fangs, and then pushed his neck onto the knife.
I screamed. My Light automatically trying to rise. Pain sliced through my head and blinded me. Prince Terrin shouted. The booms ceased. The chandelier above my head creaked loudly.
And Hakan Bahar, a Prince of Mhachkay, whispered, “Hayatim.”
And then no more.
17
Stop Being A Perv And Bite
I came to in the midst of a battle. Swords flashed, the light of a crookedly hanging chandelier glinted off the silver metal. Blond hair mixed with pure gold. A flash of fang. A smattering of fur. Claws raked across the face of a Fey guard; nothing left but flapping skin and the white of bone beneath. A green Hyrða danced through the melee, slashing to his right, punching out with a gauntleted fist to his left, offering a headbutt to whoever was mad enough to approach front on.
The Dark Shadow coasted through the tussling crowd, picking off one Light Fey and then another. She flashed across the room when our gazes met and sliced down with my Svante, severing the chains that secured me to the floor. A red eye winked and then the Svante was in my hand.
Gone again, Georgia’s vampire-within hunted. A gold head of hair would disappear towards the tiled floor, and then another and another and another. I counted six in the time it took me to slice through the binds that held my wrists. But I couldn’t budge the bloody bracelet.
My heart was heavy. So heavy. My throat constricted. I blinked back tears, sucked in a fortifying breath of air, squared my shoulders and thought of my mother.
Never show fear. Never give an inch. Always stay on guard.
I’d just forgotten to guard my heart.
I pushed thoughts of Hakan’s sacrifice aside and swung my Svante above my head, offering up a battle cry.
Blood flowed. An arm severed here. A foot there. I spotted a yellow leather shoe and thought of the fairy I’d cornered in that alley. My anger boiled. My fury raged. My Light was missing out on the party. But I could do a hell of a lot of damage contained by a band in an arena. I decided I’d show these fairy fuckers what it was like back on Earth.
Sweat beaded my brow, my dreads clung to my clammy skin, blood splattered the see-through white blouse. I danced, and I spun. And when space didn’t allow such acrobatics, I flipped over heads and jumped off walls, and used the broken chandelier as a swing rope.
Heads rolled. Golden strands of hair tangled. Green eyes dimmed to murky white. Pale skin became ashen. The Ljósálfar had brought this on themselves, I thought grimly, downing another. Taking my brother when they could have just turned him away. One more hit the ground. Hunting me. Dead eyes looked skyward. Stealing the power of my Sigillum. Screams pierced the air. Holding me in a cave and feeding off my enchantment. I swung my sword as if an expression of my rage.
The ribbons curled and twisted, danced and knotted. I didn’t listen. All I heard was my fury. Seconds turned into long minutes which turned into body numbing hours. They came in waves. Uncoordinated and unprepared for such carnage; the Light Fey struggled to battle such Dark.
I laughed. It was quite possibly unhinged. I was more Light than Dark, but they’d cut me off from that side of my being. Left the possibility of Darkness to invade. Light couldn't save them now, even though they tried to wield it.
Wherever their prince had snuck off to, his absence fed their doubt. He’d been right; Light was more powerful than the Dark. But without him here in the thick of battle to encourage them, his recently freed people lacked direction, lacked courage. Lacked the necessary guile to fight.
Oh, and it didn’t help that I raged.
I saw Alain grappling hand to hand. His eyes darted to me time and again. Concern was etched over his aristocratic features. I caught a glimpse of the Dark Shadow stilling, watching as I impaled a fairy on my Svante. Then cut its head off with the Kilij. How had that got into my hand? I briefly wondered. Ediz ran passed, his claws scratching the polished surface of the tiled floor, and then he lost his balance in a pool of blood I’d only just taken joy in spilling. He hissed at me but kept going. The green skin of Aliath’s Hyrða turned greener still when I disembowelled a beautifully dressed Ljósálfar woman right before him.
I knew I was close to the edge or had stepped over it. I knew without my Light to guide me, I was already lost. I fought my way through the maddening crowd and fell to my knees by my brother. My safe haven. My balance. The scales of my justice.
Luc lifted his battered face, just slightly, just enough to acknowledge my presence.
“Ellie,” he slurred. “You came.”
Tears spilt down my cheeks, mixing with the crimson of blood. I shook my head, my pink-tinged dreads flying.
“I’ll always come, Lucien,” I said. “It’s what big sisters are for.”
“I’m older,” he managed, the effort required to speak breaking my heart.
“By a minute and that’s because I let you out before me. You were claustrophobic.”
He laughed. My brother who was on death’s door and filled with Darkness laughed. If there was a piece of this goddess forsaken realm that existed in pure beauty this square foot of land was where it stood.
I lifted my Svante and cut through the chain attached to his collar. Then reached up and removed the vile piece of jewellery, throwing it across the floor.
The battle still raged. Hakan was still gone. But I clasped my arms around my brother. Home again of a sort.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered.
“I se
e only Darkness,” he murmured back.
“We’ll find the Light together.”
I only prayed that that was true. Right at that moment, I wasn't so certain. All I could see was shadows and blood.
And all I could feel was a depth of loss which seemed unfathomable.
Time passed. The battle seemed to be separate from us. And then a soft hand came from out of nowhere and landed on my shoulder.
Georgia knelt down at my side, her face impassive. The Dark Shadow within prowling at the edge of my vision.
“We need to leave,” she said. “They’re regrouping.”
“I’m not leaving until Terrin is dead.”
She cocked her head, looked at me strangely, then huffed out a breath of air.
“Do you seriously think he’d let him get away?” she asked.
Who? I pulled back from Luc, felt Alain take his weight from me. Lucien for his part had fallen back into a deep slumber. I refused to call it unconsciousness again. He’d spoken to me. Conversed. Shared a joke. Laughed. My brother was not lost regardless of what everyone told me.
Two weeks he’s been here, the ribbons said softly.
I swallowed back bile and pushed to my feet. The Svante sword in one hand, the miraculously appearing Kilij in the other. My eyes met Georgia’s.
“Where’s Terrin?” I demanded.
“Come on,” she said. “You’re gonna love this. Shit, I love it. Even the Dark Shadow has had a chuckle. I think she kinda likes your vampire.”
What the hell?
We walked across fallen bodies. Several severed heads. My eyes skittered off to the side, and the Fey bracelet sparkled. I stared down at it, rather than look at the carnage I’d helped to create. More than helped. Directed. I’d set the tone and led the way and bathed myself in the blood of Ljósálfar. I felt sick to my stomach, and it had nothing to do with the completely inappropriate anticipatory glee of the ribbons inside my stomach.
I rubbed the hilt of the Kilij into my belly, trying to assuage the unwanted sensations.
Blood Entwined (Blood Enchanted, Book 2): A Vampire Hunter Paranormal Romance Series Page 9