League of Vampires Box Set: Books 4-6 (League of Vampires Box Sets Book 2)

by Rye Brewer

  His obvious delight was a pleasant surprise, and I turned to Sirene. “Gregor is my soon-to-be father-in-law,” I explained, feeling a little sheepish all of a sudden.

  “I didn’t know you and Anissa were to be married!” She crossed her hands over her chest, clearly pleased. “Congratulations!”

  “It’s a fairly recent turn of events,” I explained, then faced Gregor. “You must have seen her only a short time ago, then.”

  “It was a short time ago, yes. Both Anissa’s mother and I are very happy.”

  “Oh? She saw Tabitha, too?” I was glad for that. It would’ve been a treat for Anissa to announce our engagement to both her parents at once. I wished I had been there.

  Gregor nodded. “It’s Tabitha I’m waiting for right now.”

  “Really?” So that was why he seemed as a little boy waiting to open his Christmas presents. Like he was ready to jump out of his skin at any second. “I’m looking forward to meeting her, as soon as possible.”

  “She should be here shortly,” Gregor explained. “I’ve been waiting for quite a while. I imagine it will be any minute now.”

  “We have a few things to take care of at the moment, but let’s make it a point to get together soon. I’m sure Anissa will be thrilled.”

  We said goodbye and headed back in the direction of the old cathedral. So, Anissa’s parents were going to be together again. I hoped for Gregor’s sake, at least, it would be permanent.

  “I’ve always admired this building,” Sirene mused as we approached the cathedral. It dwarfed the two of us, the spires seeming to pierce the sky.

  A massive stained-glass window sat in the center of the front-facing wall, designed in the shape of a rose. Candles burned behind that window, giving it an almost supernatural glow.

  “It’s sat here for many centuries. When I think of the impermanence of some of the structures around New York, and I look at this—especially considering the primitive tools they used back then—it’s awe-inspiring. I can’t tell you how many changes I’ve witnessed even during my lifetime.”

  “This was built as a monument to God—or who the humans consider God to be,” Sirene pointed out. “Such monuments are constructed to last forever.”

  “It’s difficult to imagine there were once homes all around here, that this was the center of the town back then. Where all the townspeople came to worship, where they gathered in emergency or celebration. The focal point of their life.”

  We made our way around the outside of the cathedral, as Sirene took in the size of the structure and what she’d need to do in order to protect it. As it stood at this moment, the grounds of the cathedral were barren, empty, without so much as a plant or a shrub to decorate them. As though the very ground which surrounded it had died when Lucian came into power.

  I knew I was merely allowing my imagination to run away with me, but I couldn’t help it—especially knowing Lucian as I had.

  “I imagine, to the humans who may happen upon it, the cathedral appears very different than it does to us,” she observed.

  “Oh, of course. Though that could also be changing with the disintegration of the enchantment. It’s supposed to look to them as though it’s crumbling, dangerous, overgrown. Not worth approaching.”

  “For their safety as well as yours, naturally.”

  “Naturally,” I agreed.

  We reached the front of the cathedral again, both of us standing in the glow of the rose window. She stared up at it, a soft smile touching her lips as she admired the glass.

  “Beautiful,” she whispered. “Sometimes, humans can create things of real beauty.”

  “Yes, sometimes they get it right.”

  We went inside then, and I showed her around. She examined the stones of the massive columns which supported the vaulted ceiling, the floor, and the walls.

  Walking up the few stairs which led to what used to be the altar, where a priest or bishop would celebrate the Mass, she looked out over the great hall.

  It was where Lucian used to sit during league meetings. Where I supposed, I would sit if we held a meeting while I was still in command of the clans. Or perhaps I wouldn’t. Perhaps I would sit on the floor with the rest of them.

  A wry smile touched my lips. I wouldn’t be the same sort of leader Lucian was.

  She gazed at me from that spot up there, where candles in ancient cut-glass sconces illuminated her lovely face. Her voice carried across the wide space.

  “I’ll need a little privacy when it comes time to perform the spell. Now that I’ve taken everything in, I know what I’ll need to fetch from Duskwood in order to provide full protection against all outside forces.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “I can do the same for the high-rise, if you wish.”

  I hadn’t considered it—knowing she could think of things like that, things I had missed, added a layer of confidence to our working together. I would take that to my siblings, too, and use it as further proof of her value to us.

  “I can go to Duskwood now,” she suggested, crossing the hall. “It won’t take long.”

  “That’s good. I’m going to stay here… there’s something I need to check on.”

  “You’re a very busy person now, aren’t you?” She grinned, touching my arm then walking away. “I’ll be back soon. I’ll portal in just outside the doors.”

  I reflected again on how valuable she was to us, and, for the first time, it struck me as fortuitous Fane had gotten involved with her.

  I turned on my heel and headed straight for the dungeon. It wasn’t lost on me that I’d been standing in the very spot where Lucian had fallen at Vance’s hand. Vance was down there—his body was, at any rate, along with the others.

  I had to check on them, since it wasn’t clear who else was doing it in my absence. The main floor had been ominously quiet. I would have to do something about that, too. I didn’t appreciate the lack of guards.

  I didn’t come across any guards as I jogged down the steps, either, or along the corridor which ran between two rows of cells.

  I heard what sounded like soft crying coming from a cell a little farther down, which I assumed was Genevieve. I wondered briefly if she expected me or anybody else to feel sorry for her—until I came to Vance’s cell, when nothing else mattered.

  Because the cell was empty. Locked and empty. I examined the lock—it hadn’t been tampered with. But it took no skill at all to see there was nothing but a bundled blanket sitting on the bunk Vance should’ve been sleeping in.

  I took a step back, my mind unable to process what I was looking at.

  Vance was gone.

  Which meant Valerius was gone.

  41

  Sara

  I hoped Elewyn was still inside the castle, and she’d seen me walk in with Stark’s hand in mine. It would be best for her to know right away how things stood between us.

  I wasn’t about to let her get away with thinking Stark would ever be hers. He was mine, even if all we’d done was kiss a few times. We were sharing the little cottage just outside the castle. That had to count for something.

  “You’re ready for this? You’re absolutely sure?” Stark stopped for a moment when we reached the courtyard, pulling me to him in an almost playful gesture.

  I nodded, chuckling, stretching up on my tiptoes with the intent of kissing him again. I would never get tired of kissing him.

  “Sara?”

  I gasped, whirling around, still holding Stark’s hand but focused on a very angry, very confused Scott.

  It was insane. It couldn’t be real. What was he doing here? I was struck with the very real sense of worlds colliding. He was my past. Stark was my present, hopefully, my future.

  But Scott didn’t know that, and it was with a sinking heart I reminded myself of that very grim fact.

  “Sara.” Stark dropped my hand, shaking his out, and I realized I had shocked him.

  I jumped back, gasping, holding my hands up as though th
ey were weapons. They sparked and sizzled the way they used to, before my training. I was losing control again.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Only I didn’t know who I was apologizing to. Stark? Scott? Both of them?

  “What the hell is this?” Scott shouted. He wasn’t just confused. He was angry. Furious. And it wasn’t only because of the way I’d cozied up to Stark. He was staring at my hands. “What, are you a witch now?”

  I stammered, trying to find the words. “Please. I can explain!”

  “You’d better explain,” he growled. “I thought you were a vampire. I thought I knew you! But here you are now. A stinking half-breed!” He had turned into something terrible, something ugly and vicious. I didn’t know him at all. Maybe I never had.

  I couldn’t control it, the frustration and rage which boiled over at the sight of his disgust, at the sound of the words he was calling me as he snarled and snapped and accused.

  He lunged for me, and I panicked. I couldn’t help myself. I extended my hands in his direction and sent bolts of electricity straight at him.

  “No!” It was Anissa. She was behind him, warning me off.

  At the sound of her voice, I managed to dial back the strength of my attack just enough to halt him in his tracks. I hadn’t jolted him any more than I’d jolted Stark a moment before—not that he deserved my mercy.

  “You thought you knew me?” I raged, glaring at him, still holding my hands out as a warning. “You’re not the only one feeling betrayed right now!”

  “Oh, so you’re the victim?” he asked, gaping in disbelief.

  “I can’t help who I am! And you should know better than to behave this way with me, when you know who my sister is. You know she’s half-fae. She’s—What did you call it? A stinking half-breed?” I wanted to shock him for it, to pay him back for saying something so terrible. I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought I had feelings for a pathetic, petulant man-child. Not only that, but he had a vengeful heart. He leapt to nasty, hostile behavior, and all because he was disappointed.

  And because of who I was. He was so hateful. At least I no longer had to feel guilty over my feelings for Stark.

  “Scott!” Fane appeared in the doorway.

  Who else is here?

  “Take it easy, son. Don’t do this.”

  Scott ignored him. There might as well have not been anybody else in the world except for him and me. He lunged again—and, this time, his fangs were bared.

  So many things happened at once. I heard the cheering and hollering all around me and realized it was the prisoners inside the castle, watching from their windows, thrilled to pieces at finally having the chance to witness something exciting.

  To them, it was nothing more than entertainment. They clapped and shouted their approval as Scott lunged, and I flung my hands out, ready to protect myself.

  Stark was faster than Scott, though, throwing himself in front of me.

  Scott pulled back in time to avoid attacking Stark. The cheering intensified when it appeared as though Stark was entering the fight.

  “You need to stop this,” Stark warned in a dangerously low voice, holding his arms out to the sides as if to protect me. “Back off.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do?” Scott laughed. “You’re pathetic. Stop blocking your little girlfriend—she can defend herself.”

  I could barely hear him over the jeering, cheering prisoners.

  Stark didn’t budge. “I’m serious. You’ll regret this if you don’t stop.”

  “Get out of my way, you bastard!” Scott roared, and this time he attempted to shove Stark out of the way before coming at me again. He growled, fangs still bared, claws extended. He wanted to hurt me.

  No. He wanted to kill me. I had never known him at all.

  Stark stepped in again—only this time, he used his powers to encase Scott in a cell of ice.

  Scott’s eyes went wild as he looked around, pounding his fists on the icy walls. He opened his mouth in a scream, but it was a silent one from where I stood. The sound of his snarls and curses, the pounding of his fists, were all silenced by the ice.

  The prisoners went silent, too.

  Even the thunder stopped crashing overhead.

  Silence spread across the courtyard. I could hear the sound of my heart thumping wildly, but not much more.

  And then?

  Clapping.

  A slow, measured clapping. I turned away from the ice cell, where Scott still raged worse than ever, and found the source.

  Elewyn.

  She stood in the doorway, her eyes glued to Stark, slowly applauding his performance.

  My knees threatened to give out after what had happened. My head spun. Scott hated me. He wanted to kill me. He might have gotten his chance if Stark hadn’t saved me.

  Stark, who Elewyn watched with much more interest than I felt comfortable with. I wanted to tell her to stop her clapping and leave him alone, but I couldn’t find the words. I could hardly catch my breath, much less speak.

  Stark turned to me, his dark eyes troubled, full of apologies and regrets and, yes, even pride at having saved me from Scott.

  His arm around my shoulders went a long way toward comforting me—but not entirely.

  42

  Anissa

  I couldn’t believe what I had seen. What I had heard. Scott. I had no idea he was capable of something like this. The level of hatred he had shown. His bigotry. When had he turned into this snarling, hateful creature?

  Sara was all right. Stark’s arm was around her shoulders, and she leaned against him slightly.

  It was Fane who worried me. I turned from Scott’s icy prison to where his father stood. I had never seen Fane look defeated, but there he was. His shoulders slumped, his head lowered, disappointment written in every line of his face. It was his son in that block of ice. His son who was going to attack my sister. I was sure neither of us knew he had it in him.

  I was about to go to him, to ask if there was something I could do, when a murmur rose from the prisoners behind us, still watching from their cells.

  The sound of swishing robes joined the murmur, and I glanced around and found six black-cloaked, hooded figures gliding across the courtyard. All of them were tall, slim, with their hands tucked into their long sleeves and their heads angled down so their faces couldn’t be seen.

  Who were they?

  I looked at Fane, whose expression told me nothing except he was on his guard. So was I. Whoever these people were, I didn’t get a good feeling about them.

  “The Witch Senate,” I heard from the prisoners, their murmurs overlapping. They didn’t sound happy, either. More like petrified. It was all fun and games for them until the Senate appeared.

  The six of them stopped, standing in a semi-circle, facing the block of ice in which Scott was trapped. Stark and Sara dropped back several steps to give them room.

  I could see from Stark’s furrowed brow and the way his arm tightened in a protective grip he knew all too well who and what we were about to face.

  The Senate removed their hoods almost as one. There were three men and three women. The six of them had white faces, white as sheets, like they had never seen the sun. Their hair was white, too, as were their eyebrows. Their eyes were tinged pink. I had never seen albinos before. I was staring at six of them at once.

  The tallest man, whose white hair stood up in sharp spikes, asked in a deep voice, “What is this? Who started this?” He glanced around, pink eyes scanning the courtyard.

  I suddenly, fervently wished I was anywhere else but here.

  “The vampire… the vampire…” Those damned prisoners, whispering their tales to the Senate.

  The air filled with accusations. The vampire had started it.

  One of the women raised her chin, also looking around. This time, she was surveying those of us who clearly didn’t belong on the island. “And who brought the vampire here?” she asked in a high, reedy voice that sent shive
rs down my spine.

  “I did.” Fane’s voice was strong with conviction.

  “Ah, Fane,” one of the men said with a smile. “We’ve been hoping to see you.” Something told me they weren’t planning to share a cup of tea and catch up. He pointed at me, and my stomach churned. “Who brought the fae-vampire in?”

  “That was me, as well,” Fane replied, head held high. Defiant, even.

  “And her?” One of the other women pointed to my sister.

  “I brought her here for training with Elewyn,” Stark replied, holding Sara close.

  Training? For what?

  I thought he was the one training her. Why did he have to bring her to this terrible place, where the Senate stared at her with their probing, disquieting eyes? What had he brought her to? I faced Elewyn, who had been applauding Stark only minutes earlier. She didn’t seem half as concerned as Stark did, but there was no mistaking the concern on her otherwise stony face. She was putting on an air of insolence, I realized. She was just as worried as any of us. But for whom?

  “Enough.” The first Senate member to speak held up a bony, white hand. “We will not address this here, in the courtyard.” His gaze darted around, touching on the windows from which prisoners still watched with rapt attention. “A call to chambers is needed in this instance.”

  A call to chambers? Like a trial? I took a step closer to Fane, suddenly terrified of what this could mean for him. For all of us, really.

  “Interrogations will be conducted then sentencing and banishments administered,” the tall, deep-voiced witch continued. “You will all appear in our chambers tonight, and all of you will be prepared to divulge your purposes for being here on Shadowsbane Island. You will report at midnight.”

  Interrogations? Sentencing? Banishments? I turned toward my sister, whose wide, terrified eyes met mine before looking up at a pale-faced Stark. I thought about Jonah, waiting for me to come back to him. I might never get the chance.

  What had we gotten ourselves into?