The Van Wilden Chronicles Box Set Books 1-3

by Jessica Gleave

  Morgana lifted her head and opened her eye. Ragnorok was taking the phone away from Ava and looking at her with a raised brow. “Well?”

  “Press the red button on the screen.” She sniffled. A tear streaked down her cheek.

  Ragnorok did as he was told before snapping the phone in two and throwing the pieces to the side.

  “Hey! Those are expensive, you know.” Ava’s nostrils flared, and her hazel eyes glared at the Forest Clan leader. Quite brave, Morgana thought—for someone about to be drained of every ounce of blood once the wolfsbane wore off her skin.

  “At least it stopped you from crying,” Ragnorok sneered. “The only thing worse tasting than human sweat getting into the blood is tears.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Ava was not an overly religious person, partly because she enjoyed doing research and was always looking for concrete answers to her questions. Religion was just one of those things that had too many unanswered questions for her liking.

  Regardless of her lack of faith, at that moment, she sent a prayer thanking the gods, fates, fairies, angels, unicorns, mermaids, or whomever it was that was looking out for her. She was also thankful for the wolfsbane on her skin, preventing Ragnorok and his minions from slicing into her and draining her like a cow in an abattoir.

  “But, boss, wouldn’t her sweat and tears wash away the wolfsbane on her skin?” the gangly looking vampire asked.

  “Wash?” It was like the Forest Clan leader had never spoken the word before.

  “Yeah, it’s what humans do to get rid of the day’s grime.” The vampire snapped his fingers. “It’s too bad we’re not back at the town lair, we could have hosed her down.”

  “Ho-s-ed,” the Forest Clan leader sounded out the word out.

  “Yeah, maybe I could send some folks out to get buckets of water to dump on her.”

  “And this washing with buckets of water will rid her skin of the apotropaics?”

  “Yeah, good idea,” Morgana’s croaky voice sounded behind them. “Fill her kiddie pool up with ‘toxic’ water before you drain her, then water down her blood with poison. Sounds delicious.” Morgana tried to laugh but ended up choking instead.

  Ava gave her a sympathetic look. Her friend had to be struggling. How horrible it must be to be alive but just barely.

  Ragnorok hissed, “She’s right.” He pointed to the blue tub she stood in. “What do we do with the water that will run into the pool?”

  “Why don’t we take her out, wash her, the water falls to the ground, then we tie her back to the pole?” The gangly vampire glared at Morgana as he spoke.

  Morgana shot daggers right back at him with her one eye.

  “If it will speed up the process, then yes, proceed.” Ragnorok waved his hand. He grinned and turned to Morgana. “Ready to watch your friend die?”

  “Why not just wash her arms?” A vampire who looked like he hailed from the Viking era stepped forward. “That’s the only part we need to cut… that and her thighs.” He looked toward her legs. “She’s wearing breeches. Surely, the wolfsbane wouldn’t have touched her skin there.”

  “True, Nasir. I should have made you my second-in-command.”

  The gangly vampire opened his mouth, looking affronted but was silenced by a look from the Forest Clan leader.

  Ava was untied from the pole. The vampires were careful not to touch her skin as they ripped the sleeves off her sweater. She tried to break free, but their grip was like steel vices around her torso and shoulders. Alastor had truly held back his strength whenever they embraced. The thought of her boyfriend made her heart ache. Oh, how she missed him. She was forced to bend forward in the kiddie pool, her arms straight out in front of her while wet cloths were scrubbed against her skin. Then she was straightened back up, and her body slammed against the pole. Her ankles, once again, were placed on either side of the pole, her arms tied behind her, hugging the pole. Her muscles strained and ached from the unnatural position.

  Ragnorok brandished a knife, grinning at Morgana straining against the chains, her brown eyes blazing.

  “Get ready,” he crooned before slicing the tip of the blade in a diagonal slash across her left inner thigh. Ava screamed, tears brimming in her eyes. “Gah!” she cried, the blade slicing her other thigh. She howled. Thuds sounded as her blood dripped onto the plastic below.

  “Ava!” Morgana rasped.

  Ragnorok looked out the corner of his eye toward Morgana as he walked behind Ava.

  “No more,” she blubbered as the sharp metal tore into her flesh, slicing along the veins. Just when she thought she couldn’t handle any more pain, a slap bloomed across her left cheek, sending her blurred vision sideways. She could just make out the other humans tied to their poles—lifeless, heads slumped forward.

  “I thought I told you no tears in the blood,” Ragnorok growled.

  “She can’t help it,” Morgana grated. “It’s a human hormonal reaction to emotions and pain. They have very little control over it, if any.” Morgana could barely lift her head.

  Ava looked up at Morgana, breathing through her tears. It was terrible seeing her friend this way. Open wounds were riddling her limp body. Morgana was like a ragdoll being held up by the very chains burning into her flesh, blood matting her body.

  It was twisted and in years to come, the guilt of these thoughts would wake Ava up in the middle of the night, but as she gazed upon Morgana, she thought of her bloodletting wounds. She drew strength from the fact Morgana was far worse off.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Gareth’s eyes bulged watching the row of Primus entering the Van Wilden’s living room. The presence they emitted was very old and powerful. He exchanged a look with Alastor before they stood flanking Mr. and Mrs. V, who had begun greeting each one as they entered. All their accents sounded like they were from some old European country. Gareth recalled something about Morgana saying the Primus Vampyr originated in the old country but over the years shifted to the different continents of the world.

  “Is this him?” A frail-looking woman with bright hazel eyes and copper hair streaked with wisps of white walked up to him.

  “Yes,” someone answered.

  Whack. Her hand met with the side of his face, snapping it to the side. He heard spitting, but his vision was dark with bright, colorful dots.

  “Elder Gettybourgh, you will refrain from hitting Council employees,” a deep voice boomed.

  “He should be the one in jail,” she spat. As his eyesight was clearing, he saw her raising her hand again. He cringed, waiting for the next slap.

  “Gareth was suitably punished for his crime,” Oscar said, making the female halt. “And as I recall, it was your son who went rogue attacking my wife, Gareth, Morgana, Alastor, and me.”

  “Refrain from hitting my future son-in-law any further from now on, Cleva.” Vivienne walked up to them, her ice-blue eyes glaring at the female Elder.

  Gareth’s head jerked up. Future son-in-law? He must have missed something.

  “Whoa… are you and my sis getting hitched?” Hector slapped him on the back again.

  Gareth adjusted his jaw, snapping it back into place. “Ah, no.”

  Vivienne cleared her throat. “One day you’ll marry into the family.” She winked.

  Gareth raised an eyebrow. “We better get Morgana back, then. Without her, my options for marrying into this family are less than enticing.” He’d meant to lighten the mood, but glanced nervously at Morgana’s brothers, realizing he may have just offended someone.

  Jonas was stoic until Hector released a deep, guttural laugh.

  Oscar chuckled, placing a hand on Gareth’s shoulder. “Yes, I suppose marriage is the last thing we need to think about right this second. Are you sure you’re okay, son?”

  It was starting to make sense why Oscar kept calling him son. Gareth tested his jaw. “Yeah, it’s fine.” He watched the female Elder grumbling to herself while walking to the other side of the room. She glanced back
a few times, shooting him evil looks.

  “Old woman Gettybourgh, Randalf’s mother,” Hector told him.

  “Yeah, I caught that.” Gareth made a mental note to stay away from her during the battle. In case she tried to stake him. “Why is she here, then?”

  “She has a soft spot for Morgana. Took it hard when things didn’t work out between Morgana and her son.”

  Jonas walked up and handed him a tumbler of blood. “Looks like you could do with this.”

  Gareth took it from him, smiling. “Thanks, you’re a champ. So, who else do we have here?”

  Jonas took a sip from his glass of blood and turned around, facing the room. “Well, the two gorgeous ladies to your left are Jelani of the Kalu coven…” Jonas pointed with his glass in an uncanny resemblance to Oscar, toward a beautiful dark-skinned woman with high cheekbones and onyx eyes. She winked at him. “Next to her is Agnor of the Eydis coven.” The woman standing next to Jelani had ash blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. She gave a little finger wave at the mention of her. “Both are matriarchs of their covens, and two quite powerful women.”

  Hector snorted. “You’re just saying that because you’re banging Eshe.”

  “Whose Eshe? Is she here?” Gareth looked around the room.

  “Jelani’s daughter, and no, she’s not here. She’s out on a mission.”

  Hector added, “Jonas’ fuck buddy.”

  Jonas shook his head, but his lips were twitching. “I prefer the term part-time lover.” He took another sip of blood. “Fuck buddy just sounds so crass. She’s more to me than that.”

  “Well, brother dear, why don’t you step things up with her, then? You’ve both been like this for three thousand years.”

  “Yes, when are you going to marry my daughter?” Jelani raised an eyebrow.

  “You both know I can’t.”

  “Aye?” Alastor piped up.

  “It’s difficult to maintain a relationship between agents. What with being assigned to different parts of the world for however long each mission takes. We’ve just kept it simple.”

  “Oh.” Gareth hadn’t thought much about how his and Morgana’s relationship would go after this mission had ended. Where would it leave them?

  “Don’t worry about you and Morgana. You guys have your bond. You should get assigned together. Most married vampires work well together as a team. You both know what each other is feeling and know where they are at all times.”

  “Yeah, except for when I couldn’t feel her.”

  “True.” Jonas patted him on the back. “But you know where she is now. That’s all that matters. And when you’re in the field, you’ll have each other’s back.”

  Gareth hoped so. After this ordeal, he never wanted to be separated from Morgana again.

  “I wish I had someone in my life who cared about me as much as you do, young Gareth, for Morgana,” Agnor said.

  “You know I’d shag ya, Agnor, if you’d let me.” Hector waggled his eyebrows.

  “You know you aren’t too old to receive a good boxing around the ears, young Hector.” Agnor shook her finger at him.

  “Hey, you may act like an old matriarch, but you’re about as youthful as I am. You’re like a GILF.”

  “A what now?” Gareth said.

  “Grandmother, I’d like to fuck.” Hector grinned.

  Agnor stepped forward, holding onto her skirts with a scowl on her face.

  Jelani placed a hand on her arm. “You know Hector’s just trying to goad you, Agnor.”

  Agnor’s scowl deepened as she shook her finger at Hector in warning.

  Hector put his palms up backing away but smirking.

  Gareth looked between the two of them. “Has anyone actually done that before? Been romantic with an Elder?”

  “Nah,” Hector said. “I joke around to stir up old Agnor, but it would be like banging your grandma. Can you imagine someone of our generation getting with say, someone like old Batheras over there? Yeesh.”

  Jonas and two other male Primus chuckled while Batheras frowned. “These two gentlemen laughing at my brother is the Elder of the Hammadi coven.” Jonas pointed to a bald vampire with copper skin and deep brown eyes, who nodded his head in their direction.

  “We nicknamed him Anubi,” Hector muttered to Gareth and Alastor. “Anubis was the human God associated with death in Egypt. You get it… death, vampires, and the role we play?” He winked at them both.

  Gareth’s mouth twitched, and Alastor had to cover his mouth to stifle his laugh. Now was not the time to laugh at Council Elders.

  Jonas shook his head and continued with his introductions. “Elder Gregorus of the Olderman coven.”

  “It is nice to meet you both.” Gregorus stepped forward, speaking in the same accent all the Elders spoke with. He smiled at them, his deep-set brown eyes were filled with warmth as he held out his hand.

  Gareth took his hand to shake, trying not to flinch from the strength of his grip. He’d forgotten they were all so much stronger than him.

  “Sorry about that.” Gregorus withdrew his hand. “From the reports we’ve received, I tend to forget you’re human-turned.”

  “Yes, you have both been proving to be valuable additions to The Council of Order,” spoke the frowning sandy-haired Primus with the deep booming voice who had commanded Cleva to stop slapping Gareth earlier. Now his odd, teal-colored eyes scrutinized them both.

  “And as you may have guessed by now, this is our fearless leader of the Batheras coven.” Jonas continued, “It was Batheras who came up with the idea of The Council of Order.”

  “Yes, well, something had to be done.” He nodded to Gareth and Alastor before entering into a conversation with Oscar.

  “Batheras’ first name is the same as the family coven name?”

  “For the longest time, we didn’t use surnames. That only began when we decided to integrate into human society. So, a lot of the coven names were taken after their leader.”

  “Aye, makes sense,” Alastor commented.

  “So what have you guys nicknamed him, then?”

  Jonas and Hector exchanged amused looks before answering at the same time, “Archi.”

  “But don’t let him hear you calling him that.” Hector turned his back to the crowd, keeping his voice low so only Gareth and Alastor could hear.

  “Who is she, then?” Gareth looked toward a small woman with jet black hair sitting quietly in the remaining armchair.

  “Elder Eleanor of the Wellchide coven.”

  She turned at the mention of her name, giving them a small smile.

  “And the rest?” There were many more vampires moving and shifting furniture around.

  “More agents of The Council like Hector and I. They’re children and grandchildren of the Elders here. Gregorus and Hammadi even share a granddaughter.”

  “Who?”

  “My PA, Clarita.”

  “Is she here?”

  Gareth scanned the Primus to see if he could spot a new face.

  “No, she chose to stay behind and keep things running for me while I’m here. I’ve still got some other agents out in the field.”

  “Grandchildren?” Gareth asked. “But I thought you all stopped breeding after a couple of generations?”

  “Most of us did. It would have started becoming incestual.”

  “And confusing,” Hector muttered.

  “Confusing how?” Alastor asked.

  “With no one quite sure who was belonging to which coven anymore,” Jonas answered. “Take for example, one of Agnor’s granddaughters, Dontelle, and while she has an amicable relationship with her grandmother, she belongs to the Olderman coven. Agnor’s daughter, Cabrini married Gregorus’ son, Ezra, and entered the Oldermans.

  “Then you have Ohana’s daughter joining the Wellchides. Do you see the two Primus there with Eleanor?”

  Gareth nodded.

  “That’s her son, Hadwyne, and Kaiya, his mate.” A petite young woman with large almond eyes and t
he stoic man standing next to her with a mop of unruly black hair smiled at him.

  “They’re not married?”

  “Yeah, they used to be the same as you and Morgs, but it’s only just recently they decided to tie the knot,” said Hector.

  “Ah yes, they did, too. Elder Wellchide’s other two daughters are back at Headquarters. Neither are married or with mates,” Jonas added.

  “So, is it only the women who marry or join into other covens?”

  “No. Cleva’s first son, Palmar, married Alexandria—”

  “Don’t let her hear you call her by that name, though, bro,” Hector interjected.

  Jonas shot his brother a look but kept talking, “Batheras’ daughter and became part of their coven.”

  “But when you meet Xandria, you’ll understand why,” Hector joked.

  “Agnor’s second son, Endre, also married into another coven to Hammadi’s daughter, Persiphine.” Jonas pointed to a petite copper-skinned beauty with wide almond eyes. She nodded at them.

  “And what about you lot? Didn’t marry or mate with any others?”

  Hector coughed. “Nah, us Van Wilden children have always been lone wolves, so to speak. Well, until you and Morgs shacked up.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Jonas muttered.

  “Aye, we all know how Mariza worked,” Alastor commented dryly.

  “Yeah, it was also quite the surprise when old Randy first asked Morgana to marry him. But I think he just wanted her to join the Gettybourgh coven.”

  Gareth arched an eyebrow. “Well, clearly he didn’t know her all that well because she’d have never done that, especially since I’m the one to have joined the Van Wildens.”

  Hector guffawed and slapped him on the back, earning him another dark look from Cleva.