The Reign of Queens: A Kingdom of Diamond Antlers Novel

by Zachary James

  I stagger to my feet and let the momentum of my body push towards the moving and shifting door. Everything is turning and spinning as it comes in and out of focus. How could a person throw a book that hard? Then again he isn’t a person and has immortal strength.

  Gripping the door frame I step into my bedroom and Darwin’s large brute figure climbs into the window sill. I can’t let him leave, I can’t let him escape with the pouch that he had in his hand. Jax seemed seriously attached to it and was willing to fight to unconsciousness for whatever is inside.

  He looks back and laughs at my ragged figure, but his loud cackle only boils my blood. Feeling the soft hum of my magic makes me smile as I project my hand towards him and direct my powers at the man who should’ve died from my arrow. But something goes wrong as a shattering pain laces through my arm and body. A bright flash blinds me temporarily as I see bright purple sparks and swirling smoke like fire twirl from my finger tips and slam into Darwin pushing him from the ninth story window to the cobblestone below. His scream fades and I hear the twin snaps of his legs breaking.

  I look to my finger tips and gaze at the purple oblivion twirling and spinning with unknown power. Something is seriously wrong.

  Chapter Five

  ~Fayla~

  I sit in the alley as the blood leeches from my abdomen and pools in my lap and across the cobblestone. Agony rakes at my burning skin. I cry out in sudden pain at the stinging wound. I will be dead in a matter of hours, maybe minutes. I can’t tell anymore

  The sky is slowly lightening as the sun begins to peak the horizon signifying the start of a new day. I will get to see one last sunrise before I die, before I am forgotten by the world, before I become nothing, but a broken Fae with uncanny abilities. Dying this way is shameful, repulsive. Only vagrants die in alleys of wounds, disease, and anything else that I really don’t care about. I am no vagrant; I know that as much as I know the power beneath my veins, which happens to be very well.

  As if they heard my thoughts, a man saunters into the alley with a gait only a very old powerful immortal could achieve. His blurred figure is shadowed in a dark cloak. A silver sigil glints into my eyes. Squinting, I peel my face away from the man.

  His voice is like a snake’s hiss as he says, “What happened to you?” He smells. Fae typically have a scent that any immortal would know, but this man’s aroma reeks of death; bitter, but also sweet. It’s metallic, coppery in nature. I smell blood.

  Blood gargles up my throat and out my mouth as I laugh through bloodied teeth, “Someone attacked me.” This stranger doesn’t need to know what I did in return. He won’t know that I was the predator, not the prey. “Please help.”

  “I will help you, immortal,” He whispers in a lover’s tone. He squats to my level and breathes in my scent. His breath is cold against my skin. “I will offer you something even better than what you desire.” Oh no. There is a ‘but’ coming in this statement of his and I don’t want to know what I will have to offer in return. “I will make you stronger, faster, and more immortal than any Fae form can.” I shudder at his tone, but as he continues talking my breath comes in rasps. I really do need help. I don’t want my life to end this way.

  “But?” I ask my voice barely above a whisper. He only laughs and waves a dismissive hand.

  “You let me bite you…” I almost laugh at his response. Fae do bite one another in bed when sex becomes primal, ethereal, something I never got to feel. “Do you agree to the terms?” I nod since that is all I have left to do. My voice is gone, my life is slipping and I am bleeding out in an alleyway in front of a stranger who is offering godly gifts. How can I deny his offer?

  He presses his hand into the stone wall next to my head and I lay my skull on his forearm. Brick crackles and splinters beneath his hands and the crumbling dust falls onto my shoulder. He leans his face forward and I get a glimpse at the dark crimson color of his irises. They are flecked with black as dark as night and his pupils dilate as he looks to my face. His breath reeks of blood and I suddenly notice his pale skin, ash hair, and plump lips. I hear a snap of fangs sliding from his gums and I gulp down my scream.

  Fangs puncture my throat and his lips suckle around the stinging pinches of his teeth. Blood seeps from my throat and right when it touches his lips I scream. Light blares in my vision and a ringing squeals in my ears. Small needle like stabs race up and down along my skin and I thrash and writhe through the shocking pain. I don’t know what’s up, what’s down, or even if I’m screaming. He promised power, healing, speed, and immortality better than my own. He never mentioned this. The pin pricks of fire dance along my pores and I thrash one more time before everything goes black.

  <<>><<>><<>>

  I awake in a large bed of red silken sheets and a black wooden frame. The room is adorned with ruby red, onyx, and gold accents. Everything is decorated, carved, detailed in contrasting sharp angles. No longer does pain rake my body. I touch my stomach, no wound, no blood.

  I slide from the bed and immediately feel light on my feet as I approach the silk crimson gown decorated with a large gold belt and slim embroidered sleeves. An opening reveals the cleavage location of the gown. Whoever created this place likes silk, and the colors black and red because that’s all I see other than the small gold details around the room.

  I change into the dress and quickly begin to braid my hair and I scream at the black color hanging from my head. I run my fingers through the long smooth waves and some black smudges splotch along my hands; it’s dyed, and was dyed recently. I step towards the door and I’m across the room in seconds already turning the door knob. He said I would be fast, but how could I be this fast? This is almost impossible. It’s like the jumps I can do through dimensions to new places. I think of where I want to go and I flash into a bright light and appear there. It coordinates with my lightning ability. I don’t know how though. During a storm lightning comes from nowhere and vanishes before arriving somewhere new.

  I step into the hall as the door across from mine opens wide. I see the same guy from the alley. I blink and suddenly his body slams against mine and he pins me against the wall of my room. The door is shut and we’re alone. I think my heart is going to thud and I wait for its comforting beat, but it doesn’t come.

  “What did you do to me?” I venomously hiss. He looks down at me with amazement. His crimson eyes stop for a second too long over my breast, so I wrap my hand around his throat immediately choking him. He stumbles back and before I blink he throws me to the ground and sits on top of me.

  “I gave you what I promised!” he quietly shouts. He looks to the door and sweat beads on his forehead. I have no idea how old he is or what he is, but I am not going to deny the fact that he is dashingly handsome. He smiles as if he read my thoughts and purrs with a lovers tongue, “Thank you.”

  “How did you do that?” I ask confused and amazed although I don’t let either emotion change my resting features.

  “I’m your maker; I hear everything you think and I even feel your blood beneath my skin.” What? He’s my maker? I am starting to think this is all a wicked dream until he looks back down to me. “You’re my prodigy,” he says. His eyes flick to the door and back to me. “You’re my Vampyre.”

  “I’m your what?” I shout and he clasps a hand over my mouth. I bite hard letting my already elongated canines draw blood. Immediately the aroma slams into my nostrils like a punch to the chest. No longer does it reek of copper, but instead its sweet scent reminds me of tarts and small hard candies my wet nurse gave me when I was young. My elongated fangs slide further from my gums. The moving teeth cause chills to erupt on my skin and a small tremble to rattle my bones. My stomach groans in desire. He yanks his hand away from my mouth afraid of this uncontrollable hunger that has taken over me.

  “Control it, someone is coming.” He rises from on top of me and offers a hand. I wave away his gesture and stand on my own as I fluff out the dirt from the crimson gown; the color of blood, the color of
this man’s eyes. I hear the footsteps and instinctively flick my face to the door. My breaths come in heavy pants as my new hunger has become ravenous.

  Put your damned fangs away, He whispers and when I look to him his lips haven’t moved. How? I can speak to you through telepathy. A gift given from our god’s. I roll my eyes and a blond haired man opens the door. I take in his sharp features, pale skin, and dark eyes; he’s a Vampyre. His eyes look to me and the open cleavage of my gown.

  I growl in answer and his gaze flicks back to my eyes. His voice is like a rock scraping along a blade as he says, “The queen demand’s to meet your prodigy.” What? There is a queen of Vampyre’s? Why not a king? Why do I care?

  You care because we serve her. Queen Molaris has been a vampyre since the curse transformed our ancestor’s from Fae to gods of night. What she demands is what we offer.

  She seems like a bitch, I say in my head and his lips go thin along with the heavy glare he shoots my way. A look like that would make most men soil their pants. I am not like men; I don’t subdue to orders anymore. Who cares what Molaris thinks?

  Flicking my onyx waves over my shoulder I follow the blond man who escorts me from, what I only assume, is my new bed chambers and down the hall. We pass many rooms and closed doors, some with guards outside and others that appear as if the door might fall to pieces by a strong wind.

  My maker, if that’s what I can call him, follows me and the blond male up a flight of winding stairs. The dark wood is ornate and gleaming with a fresh polish. Once we ascend the steps, a pair of towering twin doors rise from the floor and touch the ceiling high above our heads. Bowing, the blond male opens the doors to the throne room. Stars twinkle and flurry around the room, like snowflakes frozen in time. The dais is made of stone and the tiled floor is cold against my bare feet. I look to the sentinels clad in dark, pointed armor. The soldiers appear like urchins beneath the heavy metal. A swath of midnight blue fabric is worn as a hanging sash across the men’s waists.

  Molaris is sprawled across her throne of gleaming night. The dark and sharp chair is ominous and wickedly appealing to the eye. Molaris is wearing a skin tight suit of black leather and silk. It looks like a body forming armor, like a second skin. Across her skull sits a crown of silver stars, the shining points gleam against her ivory hair that just reaches her shoulders. A long heavy cloak of midnight blue is draped across her throne like a decoration; she seems like a decoration.

  “Acacius,” Molaris called into the stars floating around her throne room. The small glowing lights, pulsating like heartbeats, illuminate the dark chamber. My maker falls deep into a heavy bow as he drops to one knee. I stand showing no emotion to the queen as she glares. Her white crystal eyes burning holes through me as I barely give her the time in my immortal life. “And who are you?”

  Acacius seems to lean in as if to hear my response because my maker still doesn’t know my name. I am his prodigy anyway. I want to speak the truth, but I don’t. I left Fayla behind in that alleyway. She is dead to me. “Athena,” I say without question or hesitation. No remorse lies behind my words. “Athena Barrow.”

  Molaris conjures a wicked smile and her blindingly iridescent eyes darken. “So, my prodigy has turned you.” It’s not a question, but a statement. She may not question, but I do.

  “Well that appears so,” I groan in boredom. I should be intrigued by all of this, but I also don’t care what this queen thinks of me.

  Watch yourself, Acacius hisses within my head and I ignore the urge to roll my eyes at him. This is going to get annoying quite quickly.

  “Why did he bite you?”

  “She was bleeding, your majesty,” Acacius says blandly as he rises from his knee.

  “So?” The queen questions confused.

  “To death,” I add. Molaris flicks her eyes back to me with a wild eagerness. It looks as if she is hungry and trying to decide which snack to eat first.

  “Was I speaking to you, Vampling?” Her wild eyes again become dark and evil. She is probably thinking about the ways she can use me in her kingdom.

  “What did you call me?” I laugh showing the first sign of amusement or emotion since I had awoken.

  “I said Vampling; do I need to repeat myself again? Is this prodigy missing any form of a brain?” I let my eyes burrow holes into Molaris as she only stares back. Sometime in the future I see a battle that could bring down worlds. She may be a queen of Vampyres, but I highly doubt she has lightning that can melt bone and flesh.

  “Watch it you dead, rotting, whore!” The words leave my mouth and as the word whore rises into the air Molaris is off her throne and hissing her drawn fangs in my face. Her hand gripped firmly around my throat. Long nails painted black are stabbing into my skin. I hiss right back.

  “Do not touch my prodigy,” Acacius growls at Molaris. I’m not quite sure how he even got there. Molaris is crushing my windpipe with her immortal strength and I don’t feel the circulation of air. I don’t need it. I guess Vampyre’s don’t suffocate. Through some Vampyre rules I assume Acacius’ order works on her because she releases my throat and she backs away. Her eyes tell me all I need to know. We will finish this later. She spins on a dark heel and I watch her trailing cape pull swirling dust clouds from the floor. They intermingle with the floating stars creating a dark galaxy before my eyes.

  “Dismissed,” the queen purrs and Acacius pulls me by the elbow out of the throne room. He pulls me away from the immortal bitch who I want nothing more than to rip out her throat with my new fangs. But first I need a meal. I am getting quite hungry.

  Chapter Six

  ~Fayla~

  “Careful,” Acacius moans from his bed. After he dragged me from the throne room and away from Molaris we came into his chambers. Upon our arrival he ordered two fresh humans. I am not going to lie, but I couldn’t control myself when the young girls stepped into the room with nothing on their soft fragile skin. Instantly I was across the room and my teeth sank into a brunette’s collar, right where her shoulder meets her neck.

  I suck, and as her warm blood touches my lips my knees almost buckle at the delicacy. I remember blood always tasting like metal and smelling of copper, but now that I am a Vampyre it smells like pastries and tastes like warm liquid sugar. The euphoric meal makes me completely ravenous and savagely thirsty for more. The frail girl shudders and her fast beating heart slows to a sleeping beat. I look towards her face and her eyes flutter closed. My lips touch the small pockets of scars from past Vampyre’s. Her heart stops. Acacius jumps from the bed pulling me off of her instantly. He screams in anger, “What did I tell you?”

  “What?” I ask through heaving breaths. Trickles of crimson slide down my chin, but I don’t make a move to wipe them away. Drinking has somehow made me tired and out of breath. I’m not sure how I’m out of breath because I need air.

  Acacius lays the brunette down and I notice that her skin has paled to a frightening shade of white; it’s lighter than my skin. He pats her soft face and listens to her chest. My ears don’t pick up any heartbeat, but maybe he can hear something.

  Fire burns in his eyes as he looks at me. “You. Killed. Her.” His growl is angered and his words are clipped. I might be a bit naive, but I am not seeing the problem. She was just a cattle being drained countless times and from the bite I received from Acacius I’d be happy to die. I wouldn’t have been sad to lose my life if I was in her position. Humans and Fae alike are not meant to be cattle, food, or property, but in my circumstances I have to drink blood, I assume.

  I saunter from my maker and the dead girl and run my fingers along the large table stationed before the hearth. Flames crackle and spit small flurrying ashes into the musky room. His chamber is much bigger than my own, but I don’t fancy the layout. My bedroom has a vanity, cloth mannequin, and a closet. His room is just bland and crammed. There’s his oversized bed, the table, a lounge area- which consists of one arm chair before a coffee table- and an armoire with a bathroom right next to it.r />
  “Do you not care?” Acacius whispers. I barely hear his voice above the crackling embers. I shake my head in answer and let his sigh fill the quiet room. He looks to me as he says, “What happened in that alley? Why were you truly bleeding to death?”

  I sit on the armchair and stare at him as he rises to his towering height. His grey tunic is taut across his large firm chest. His white shirt is like a second skin as his corded muscles shift beneath the fabric. He rolls his sleeves in silent wait.

  “Why does it matter?” I question. Pulling my eyes I away I look to the flames, full of shadow and darkness, but light all the same. “I am dead anyway. We are both dead.”

  “You are not what I expected.” His voice is quiet, calm, and unnervingly displeased. Anger flows through my veins like water in a river.

  “And you think you are what I expected?” I shout in anger. He looks to me without shock or emotion. His furrowed brow is nothing more than a mocking stare. “You asked to bite me and I assumed it was just a bite. I didn’t expect to become a damned Vampyre!”

  Acacius stalks to the table and lifts a large dagger with an obsidian hilt from his belt. He slams the blade into the wood table and I notice the blade had gone two inches deep. Someone has a serious temper.

  “I warned you-,”

  “You promised me,” I seethe. He never gave me warnings of the pain or the outcome of the bite. “You told me of god like powers and immortality better than my own. Not death.”

  “Sometimes gifts come with a price, so now answer my question.”

  “What question?” I roll my eyes and pick the dirt from beneath my nails. I need to relax before I rip him to shreds. Although I’m mad he is the only one telling me anything around here.

  “Why were you bleeding to death in that alley?”

  Silence follows his prodding. He doesn’t need to know anything and I will never tell him. I want to leave that life behind. Fayla died when I was born. I am Athena Barrow, Vampyre prodigy, storm caller, and death bringer.