The Van Wilden Chronicles Box Set Books 1-3

by Jessica Gleave

  “Eshe—” Jelani breathed before her eyes closed for the last time.

  “You stupid fool!” Agnor cried, cradling her dead friend. “Why did you go do such a thing.”

  “I could say the same thing to you, Agnor,” said Oscar.

  She shook her head. “My children are all dead and gone. We’re here to rescue one of yours. I couldn’t let you die before you saw her.”

  Oscar gave her a grim smile, squeezing her shoulder just as Jelani’s body disintegrated into ashes.

  “No!” Agnor wept, staring at her hands covered in their friend’s ashes.

  The sounds of battle were still going on around them. Oscar quickly grabbed Agnor, pulling her to a standing position. “The time for grieving is later. Find that pathetic, stake-throwing bastard and kill him.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The bodies of several dead vampires littered the ground. Oscar shook his head in disgust at the Forest Clan leader, who was nowhere in sight.

  Oscar flipped a vampire onto her back and plunged a stake into her heart. He looked up to see Ragnorok standing outside one of the few remaining huts. Like the coward he was, Ragnorok was allowing members of his Forest Clan to be slaughtered by the Primus and the Van Wildens.

  Oscar growled, tossing vampires out of his way as he stalked toward the clan leader. He followed Ragnorok’s line of sight and saw him glaring at his daughter. Not today. Oscar’s hackles raised. He wasn’t going to let the Forest Clan leader kill another that he loved.

  Ragnorok turned to face him, his gray eyes hardening.

  The two of them stood facing each other, fists curled by their sides. Even though the battle continued to rage on, their sounds were silenced almost as if a vacuum had sucked away all the noise around them. It was just the two of them standing off against each other.

  Oscar bared his fangs and launched himself at the enemy. Ragnorok charged toward him. They collided like two mighty Titans of old. Oscar’s torso twisted to the side as Ragnorok’s right fist flew toward his face.

  The vampire had obviously consumed his daughter’s blood, making his strength and speed close to a Primus. But that wasn’t going to protect him from Oscar’s wrath. He grabbed Ragnorok’s left arm, making him stumble forward as he twisted it to the side. Ragnorok grunted, spinning on his heel, pressing his palm into Oscar’s chest. Oscar’s hold loosened.

  Ragnorok lifted his knee connecting with Oscar’s manhood. His eyes watered, and he growled at the low blow. He charged toward his opponent, who sidestepped.

  Ragnorok wrapped his arms around Oscar’s neck in a chokehold. His eyes darted around seeing they were near the edge of the clearing toward the forest. He staggered back blindly forcing the Forest Clan leader to walk backward, hoping he was going in the direction of a tree. Ragnorok’s groan and his body slamming back into the trunk gave him a slim sliver of satisfaction. Ragnorok moaned, his arm slipping away.

  Oscar stepped forward, taking hold of Ragnorok’s arm and flipped him over his head. He jumped up to slam his fist down onto his opponent’s face. Ragnorok dodged the attack, and his hand shot out to catch Oscar’s throat as he came down. Oscar’s fingers scratched at Ragnorok’s hands feigning panic, a grin spreading on Ragnorok’s face before Oscar’s hand shot out and gripped Ragnorok’s neck. Their arms tangled together as they gripped each other’s throats. Their faces were a hairsbreadth apart.

  “Submit now, Ragnorok. You will not win,” Oscar rasped.

  “No,” Ragnorok gritted. “I’m doing this for Angelique, for Svetlana, and for all my family members you and your kind have slaughtered.”

  Oscar laughed bitterly, a wheezing sound as his airway was being cut off. “Well, I’m doing this for my daughter, Morgana, for Ava, for Brutus, for all of the innocents you’ve slaughtered, and for the good of our kind.”

  “Who’s Brutus?” Ragnorok sneered.

  Oscar’s eyes widened, and he saw red. “My dog!”

  Ragnorok laughed, sounding more like a splutter than a throaty chuckle, “You’re going to kill me over a fluffy little pet?”

  “He was more than a fucking pet!” Oscar managed to yell. He’d had enough of this shit. He leaned down on his haunches, taking Ragnorok with him, and jumped into the air. Ragnorok’s eyes widened. Oscar aimed for a tree trunk, slamming Ragnorok into the wood, the tree groaned in protest as the force of the impact made it sway and bend. Splinters of wood went flying. Ragnorok groaned as pain flashed across his face. His hands loosened their grip around Oscar’s throat. Oscar had about ten seconds to calculate his landing, or it was going to be an awkward impact with the ground. Leaving Ragnorok’s body embedded in the tree, he withdrew his hands and twisted, reaching for a tree branch. He let out a deep breath, his fingers barely grasping a tree limb. Dangling, he looked around for a sturdier bough to drop onto. Spotting a thick branch to his left, he swung over, landing with cat-like precision.

  “You think you have deterred me by bringing me up here?” Ragnorok hissed. “Remember, old man, I lived amongst the treetops. Now I have the home-court advantage.” Ragnorok smirked and leaped toward Oscar, pushing him off the branch, the two of them crashed through the canopy of branches, landing with a heavy thud, sending ash and dirt flying in all directions.

  They untangled themselves from each other before lunging at each other once again. Ragnorok’s fist jabbed at his face, but Oscar blocked with his right palm. A left fist flew toward his face. Oscar ducked into a crouching position, kicking the vampire’s legs out from underneath him. As Ragnorok fell backward, Oscar stood quickly and caught Ragnorok by the throat, lifting him in the air, his left hand clamped around a stake at his waist. Ragnorok’s hand went for his hip, pulling out his stake. Oscar’s nostrils flared as he caught the scent of the wood. The Forest Clan leader stretched his arm out, scraping the tip of the hawthorn stake across his chest, tearing through the fabric. Oscar hissed at the burning sensation that followed. He growled and lowered Ragnorok down so that his knees bent underneath him. His gray eyes widened, and his body trembled.

  Oscar pressed the tip of his stake into his chest. “It seems you have met your end.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Morgana watched the carnage occurring all around her. As Gareth drew closer to her, the bond grew stronger, and she could feel everything he was feeling while he fought—the adrenaline, the satisfaction, and the fear.

  It was like she was vicariously fighting through him.

  They were all fighting around her. She should be joining in. Instead, she remained tied to a pole like a lifeless rag doll, held up by chains that burned her flesh.

  How could they all leave her like this?

  A pathetic human blood bag.

  Her good eye caught Ragnorok fighting her father.

  This was all his fault.

  She glared at the back of Ragnorok’s head, boring holes into the back of his skull.

  Once she was free, she was going to kill him.

  ***

  To Gareth, there was nothing more satisfying than to hear the crunch of bones as his fist connected with a vampire’s jaw. These fuckers had come here to his home, destroyed a large chunk of the forest —partly with Mariza’s help— and turned half of the younger residents into vampires.

  Then they took his girl.

  Killed the family dog.

  Took one of his closest friends—and he was just now realizing he viewed Ava that way. He shrugged, causing the vampire he was fighting with to look at him warily.

  “Just had an epiphany,” he said before staking his opponent through the heart. Ah, that bit never got old. He lit the end of the stake before tossing the dead vampire aside, then looked for his next opponent.

  With each vampire he staked, it brought him closer to Morgana until he was within a few hundred yards of her. He gazed upon her, a smile lighting up his face. Morgana’s one eye narrowed at him, making his grin grow wider. No matter how much trouble he was in with her, he was still happy to see her again. />
  Then he saw her—a vampire approaching quickly in his peripheral view. He turned. She had a determined look on her face as she ran directly past him… aiming for Morgana. She turned back and smirked at him. She was trying to get to Morgana before him.

  While Cleva had looked frail and weak when he’d first met her, she was anything but that now. She’d changed into a dark brown leather vest that flared out around her hips and the same colored leather pants. Her gray and copper hair braided along the sides was pulled back into a ponytail.

  She grabbed a vampire in her path, smirking at Gareth before tossing the large vampire into his path. With her Primus strength and surprisingly good aim, the vampire landed right on top of him, knocking him on his back.

  Gareth grunted from the impact. He pushed the vampire off him, getting his first good look at him. “Jesus, you look like you came straight out of the Viking era.”

  The vampire scowled. “You sound like your girlfriend.” He jerked his head toward Morgana. The vampire’s eyes blazed, and he flung his fist out, grasping Gareth’s jacket. “That was before I shot her.” Disbelief flowed through the bond. Gareth turned toward Morgana who shook her head as best as she could, her one eye glaring at the Viking vampire.

  Gareth turned back to him. “I think you’re a liar.” He reared his head back and slammed it against the Viking’s nose. His grip loosened on Gareth’s clothes as he stepped back a few paces while holding onto his nose.

  Gareth stalked toward him, feigning a stab, aiming his fist into a low jab at the vampire’s gut. Not exactly how Vivienne or Morgana had trained him, but man, did it feel good to fight dirty. Viking vampire groaned and fell to his knees. Gareth rammed his right elbow down on the back of his neck, knocking the vampire out, before following through with a stake and lighting the end.

  Morgana’s lips turned up. Her good eye widened looking at Cleva, a scowl on the Primus Elder’s face as she turned her head toward him. She raced to the nearest Forest Clan vampire—one of the few stragglers left whose stakes hadn’t been lit yet, tossing it in his direction again. The Elder’s little game wasn’t going to stop him. He’d fought all this time to get back to Morgana, and he would gladly do it again. Besides, he needed to fight for Morgana’s forgiveness. Her blazing anger through the bond—directed at him for not setting her free sooner—was worse than any vampire the Elder could throw at him. This time Gareth was ready. Digging his heels into the dirt, he caught the staked vampire. The wooden weapon was slowly withdrawing from the body. He rammed the heel of his palm into the end of the stake, the vampire’s body twitched as he lit the stake and tossed him aside.

  He looked up, his brow furrowed. The battlefield around him was covered with a layer of vampire dust and dead bodies scattered around broken huts. But the pathway to his love was clear. He kicked up the dirt and ash racing toward her. Cleva was also running toward his mate.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Oscar stood over Ragnorok, glaring down at him, the stake firmly in his grip as he pressed in further. “Time for your death.” A firm hand clamped onto his shoulder.

  “Octavius, we should give him a formal execution.”

  Oscar’s hand tightened around the stake. He was torn between getting his revenge on the Forest Clan leader and listening to the Head Elder. His loyalty won, though, and he let go of Ragnorok’s neck and dropped the stake.

  Ragnorok rubbed his neck, smiling in triumph as he scrambled from the dirt. “Well, it seems you have underestimated me.” He turned to flee only for each of his arms to be seized by Hammadi and Gregorus.

  “No, young whelp, it seems you have underestimated the strength and the power of The Council of Order.” Gregorus jerked Ragnorok’s right arm.

  Neither of the two Elders had remained unscathed. Blood and ash matted their skin and clothes. A large slash ran across Hammadi’s forehead, the wound still weeping but slowly healing, but their grip still strong enough to contain the Forest Clan leader.

  Ragnorok struggled to free himself, dislocating his shoulder in the process.

  “Fuck,” he cried.

  “Is this everyone remaining?” Batheras looked out over the group.

  Oscar looked around as well. Vampire ash coated the ground, the wreckage of the huts was scattered all around them. Trees were broken and bent leaning against others. Hector and a few others were moving through the grounds, lighting any staked vampires who remained. The rest of the surviving Primus gathered around them in a semi-circle, their chests heaving from battle and grief.

  Jonas nodded. “We just have to free the girls.”

  “Gather up our fallen ones’ ashes. We’ll return their remains to their kin.” Batheras squeezed his shoulder. “Come, Octavius, your daughter needs you.”

  Oscar nodded and turned to see Cleva standing next to Morgana’s pool and Gareth racing toward them, looking ready to wring the Elder’s neck.

  “Come now, why would you be with the human-turned?” Cleva asked. “You couldn’t possibly want to be with the one who killed Randalf?”

  Morgana raised her head, her eyebrow raising. “The last thing I want to discuss is my love life right now, Cleva,” Morgana gritted, straining against the chains.

  “Cleva, what’s this nonsense about? Just free my daughter.” Oscar frowned as he walked over.

  “No, she must listen to me,” Cleva hissed. “She’s not meant to be mated, especially not to him.” She glared at Gareth.

  Gareth stepped up to the kiddie pool, staring at the Primus Elder. “You’d rather she be alone than with me?”

  “Yes,” she hissed. “Her destined mate is dead. There’s no other for her.”

  “Funny, I never realized you cared enough to be dialed into my destiny, Cleva. I’d think you’d have at least called or some such during the past hundred years since we last spoke.”

  Gareth chuckled. That’s my girl. Chained to a pole and still as sassy as ever.

  “You disrespect the memory of my son by mating with his murderer. You don’t need the human-turned scum!” Cleva screeched. “He killed your fiancé in jealousy and is coercing you into this farce of a bond.”

  Gareth growled, his fists curling by his sides, and he took a step toward Cleva.

  Oscar grabbed his elbow, shaking his head.

  Morgana spoke, her voice icy, “Your son tried to kill me.”

  “Cleva, I suggest your protests about Morgana and her chosen mate be saved for another time. We have more pressing matters to attend to.” Ragnorok’s grunts sounded behind him, reinforcing his point. Oscar looked toward his daughter still strapped to a pole.

  Cleva stepped back, tossing another venomous glance toward Gareth before melting back behind the other Primus.

  Oscar shook his head, turning back to his daughter. “Shall we free you now?”

  Morgana’s one eye flared. “Gosh, yeah, that would be swell.” His daughter’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on him.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Alastor’s chest heaved as he gazed around the now empty battlefield. Death and carnage surrounded him, and the acrid smell of vampire ash polluted the air. His body tired after the onslaught, but he placed one foot in front of the other, his boots crunching on the embers of remaining vampire bones still burning. His eyes trained on the love of his life.

  Ava watched his every movement.

  In his last few steps, he mustered up the remainder of his waning strength to reach her using vampire speed.

  He cupped her cheeks. “Are ye all right?”

  “They didn’t treat me as badly as the others. Morgana had it much worse. Is she okay?”

  “Aye, they’re freeing her now.” He slid his arms under hers and held her up as Vivienne tore the ropes binding her to the pole. The frayed pieces fell into her pooled blood.

  “Oh, Alastor.” Her head fell forward onto his shoulder before she hissed.

  He pulled back.

  “It hurts to move,” she explained.

  “Take my blood, love. It
will heal ye.”

  “No. No more blood.” She shook her head.

  Vivienne exchanged looks with Alastor. “Ava, is that how they’ve been keeping you alive?”

  “Yeah, Ragnorok said he felt inspired by Morgana… something about her vampire side.”

  “Let me have a look at her.” Vivienne walked around the kiddie pool. She gently lifted Ava’s wrist and turned it over to inspect her injuries. “I know you don’t want to, dear, but you should drink Alastor’s blood. Otherwise, these wounds will need stitches, and the hospital is going to ask questions about how you received these injuries.” Vivienne looked up at her. “They’ll think you tried to commit suicide and lock you up for an involuntary seventy-two-hour hold for treatment and evaluation.”

  “But I don’t want to drink blood,” Ava protested. She shuddered. “What if I accidentally turn?”

  “Unfortunately, we have no other choice. We don’t want the local humans becoming suspicious now.”

  Ava sighed. “Okay.”

  “Just close your eyes and think about drinking something else besides blood.”

  “But I won’t turn, will I?”

  “We didn’t just fight an army of vampires to rescue you alive just for you to die on the way home.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good girl.” Vivienne smiled at her warmly before turning her head. “Alastor?”

  “Aye.” His fangs grew, and he pierced them into his wrist and held the open wound to Ava’s mouth. Ava grimaced before closing her eyes, her lips pressed against his skin—not the type of kiss he wanted when he saw her again. Vivienne rubbed Ava’s back for comfort. Alastor’s eyes grew sore and itchy as he looked at her. Mrs. V had certainly been his pillar of strength the last few days, despite her own emotional turmoil.