Dream Walker: Blood Legacy Series Book 1

by Elise Hennessy

  Pointed ears poked from a tangled nest of hair. The fae was everything the Fell wasn’t. Tall and built to be slimmer than a human’s form, his obvious starvation showed the outline of rib bones. High cheekbones made his gauntness more apparent. But all of this didn’t stop the fae from being mesmerizing in his own way. His skin was black as night, crushed diamond flecks just below the surface. Eyes transformed from cold pits into overlarge rounds that glimmered with stars.

  “So, it’s true,” Alex breathed. “Fell…fae. It’s all true.”

  Neala inclined her head. “It is true. Lucia also trapped my friends here this day. Nyah and Chandra.” She gestured to the blonde queen and the Blood Prince next to her, freezing in this memory. “To see them again…”

  “Just a dream. A memory of the past,” Alex said, feeling bad as Neala took in the sight of both of them. He knew that feeling of rending old wounds wide open and seeing the faces of those long dead.

  She pulled herself away. He had a sense of time passing as the dream sped up around them. “One good thing came from this day,” she said wistfully. “Caladorn entrusted me with two fae children. I miss when they were this small.”

  When he looked up, he saw her cradling a newborn baby, cleansed of Fell corruption. The child’s eyes glimmered silver, full to the brim with stars. “My Sorsha.” Neala smiled fondly down at the baby girl before her gaze turned to a fae toddler standing close to her leg. “And Keegan. Do you know if they yet live?”

  He closed his jaw, holding in his astonishment. “I…I don’t know. Sorry. Gwendolyn wants to reunite us with friendly Seelie fae. Maybe they’re amongst them.”

  Neala’s attention turned to him, her expression schooling to an unreadable mask. “You have your proof. Give an old woman some time with her family as she remembers them.”

  The next moment, he was a cat again, waking with a sudden shove of his dreaming self back into his own head. He blinked blearily to find Violet sprawled out across their sleeping bags, the spell book open and laying across her face.

  That tome was full of magic he now acknowledged along with a secret heritage from creatures beyond their world and understanding. They had a lot of work ahead of them.

  Chapter 29

  Julian

  HE HAD TO be dreaming. Reminded of this moment in person, his mind supplied the time and place. Nearly two hundred years ago, Julian prepared for an honorable duel first by praying in the church. He knew he faced judgement later in the night. No one had cut down Marcus Hartson, no matter how many battles he fought or duels he was challenged to. What would make this any different?

  A withered hand rested over his shoulder, startling him. An elderly nun held out a cup of water. “God bless,” she said, offering a shaky smile. With what he knew now, he saw Gwendolyn’s features, easily taking on the disguise of a nun feeling the winter’s chill as she returned to her chores. He hadn’t thought twice about the gift at the time, but when he gulped down her offer, it tasted off. Metallic.

  He drew himself up, heading outside to face his fate. He knew how the night went and swallowed nerves anew. This could easily be a nightmare where he and his friends were instead murdered for their attempt to overthrow his father’s coven before anyone else could die in his pointless wars.

  But something else was off. A woman was waiting for him right outside the sanctuary of the church, raising a hand for his attention. He cast her a glance as she fell into step with him. “Hello, Julian. I’ve waited so long to meet you.” Her voice was a silky smooth purr, putting his hackles up immediately.

  “And who might you be?”

  Moonlight filtered down through trees stripped of their leaves. Slim branches creaked as the woman smiled, bearing too many teeth to be friendly. She was vampiress-lovely, though, her black hair tied back from her face in an elegant twist. A silvery robe hugged her generous curves, cut just low enough to show the vee of her cleavage. But his biggest hint to the answer was her eyes, glimmering like silver coins as she looked up at him. “I am your queen.”

  “What are you doing here?” His eyes roved over the forested path they passed through on their way to a nearby village, where his father warmed up his body and prepared for a duel to the death. He had no weapons at the moment, not that it would matter in a dream.

  “Alexander isn’t the only one who can dream walk,” she purred.

  “But this memory?” he asked, unimpressed by the woman who’d caused such a panic. She was no monster here, just a beauty used to using her charms. Even in his dreams, he knew, no, she wasn’t the one.

  He’d searched high and low for his lifemate, not allowing himself to even consider another woman. It was his father’s fault, the memory of him putting his childhood love to the sword as fresh as his memory of this day. Or perhaps Lucia was at fault for that, as many painful memories started to resurface in the back of his mind. She smiled his way like a cat with its paw over its prey’s tail.

  She was playing, but she still had his full attention. “I just wanted to see the day for myself. My scrying isn’t nearly as detailed as seeing the event from someone who was there.”

  “Got some skin in this game, hmm?” he said, starting to feel a twinge of discomfort from how easily her tone turned to venomous silk, the hint of a threat lurking under her pretty façade.

  “You killed your father,” she stated outright, “a man I knew.”

  He grunted, realizing he’d been right. His father attributed a silver-eyed woman—Lucia—as to why women and love made a man weak. Perhaps she was to blame for his womanizing, murderous ways, but at some point, someone needed to take accountability for their actions. “A man you loved,” he said, seeing the truth across her face and those silver eyes filling to the brim with contempt. For him.

  “He was my lifemate, you wretch.” In an instant, she was a screaming banshee, clawing at his arm with nails suddenly sharpened to lethal points. He leapt away too late, feeling stinging wounds all the way down his forearm.

  Lucia brought her bloodied claws up to her lips, all coy pretense abandoned as she painted her lips red. “Consider this your warning. I will have revenge in his name. Come. Show me your sins.”

  She crooked her fingers, and his feet moved on their own to return him to her side. Sweat started to freeze down his spine on this chilly day when he realized just how much control she had as the older of them. A Sorceress used to getting what she wanted. Her magic wouldn’t allow him to tug free of this chance meeting and wake safely in his body, and this was when he knew he was trapped in a nightmare.

  In an instant, he was before his father, a sword in hand. He and Marcus were identical on the surface, big men with a manner as arctic as their icy blue eyes. The same squared jaw, though Marcus wore a shaggy beard while Julian remained clean shaven. The memory halted as Lucia stepped from his side to Marcus, running her hand covetously down his cheek. “My love, how I miss you,” she said.

  Julian tested the balance of his sword behind her. He didn’t look around, knowing he’d be caught in the nostalgia of old faces. His mother amongst a crowd of worried concubines, each woman a trophy wife for Marcus’s many conquests. The women who raised him and counseled that he needed to be a good, honorable man. Most of them were long deceased now.

  Their children, his half-brothers and sisters, were also gone. The great Marcus’s line was down to two men, himself and his nephew Armando, who stood to one side with the small coven of British vampires who’d taken Julian in. Despite himself, he chanced a glance over at Samuel and Melanie, arm-in-arm, frozen with nervous smiles painted on their faces. Alex was somewhere else, waiting in an animal form to make a nuisance of himself should Julian need the assistance.

  The moment felt so real. Julian wished he could walk the annals of his memories and spend more time remembering. But this long-lost moment was a distraction from the true danger at hand, and she was nearly done whispering to the still image of his father.

  Julian glanced to his sword. He could w
ake himself with pain, yet Lucia’s claws hadn’t done that for him. If he killed his father as Lucia fawned over him, he could be assured she would find a way to keep his sleeping mind here for her to torture.

  But the Sorceress herself…she was the only thing in this scene that didn’t belong.

  He lunged, blade catching a glint of moonlight. Her blood gushed from the stab wound, not silver, but an inky black. “You,” she snarled, turning with his sword still embedded in her body. Lucia’s face split in a sneer, her beauty ruined by a maze of black veins riddling her face.

  Her teeth sharpened as she raised talon-tipped hands glowing with magic. Julian felt her fading as he opened his eyes, wrenching from his dream with a gasp to find his face resting on the floorboards next to his bed. He’d thrashed his way out from under the sheets, waking to a puddle of cold sweat.

  Despite his freedom from the nightmare, Lucia’s deceptively smooth voice was still with him. “You will pay for what you’ve done, Julian, son of Marcus.”

  Julian cursed, dressed, and strapped on extra weapons to face the coming day. He doubted his dream, as many do when waking to a head full of fog, but couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom lingering over his shoulder.

  Chapter 30

  Violet

  VIOLET WISHED FOR the wonders of modern plumbing after waking to another early-evening summons from Gwendolyn. They had four days before the coming solstice, and she imagined there wouldn’t be much time for the softer things in life during that time.

  Alex was already awake and dressed by the time she’d opened her eyes, finding him studying her new spell book intently.

  Her first thought was a mental sigh. Not this again. She didn’t want to fight about something neither of them could prove nor disprove. If she had faith that Gwendolyn was telling the whole truth, that’s what it was. Faith.

  But Alex’s skeptical frown was missing. He was intent on reading something toward the beginning of the book, eyes flickering to her as she sat up. “Evening,” he said.

  “Hi. Have you been awake long?” she asked.

  “Long enough to peel this from your face. Was your night as long as mine?” His lips quirked with humor.

  “You could say my night was totally booked.” She grinned as he muffled a groan within the pages of the book.

  “If you’re punning, does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

  She bit her tongue, realizing how quickly she’d fallen into joking around with him again. It was too easy for him to distract her with a hint of his charm, but this time, he hadn’t been trying. “I don’t know. Are you over trying to boss me off this island?”

  “I am, for real. It’s in our best interests to stay.”

  She worked her jaw, wondering what had changed. This was a completely different attitude than he’d had last night when it seemed like he was about to throw her over his shoulder caveman style and steal one of the research team’s boats to get away from this island and its ancient secrets.

  “Yeah?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Plus, if you’re staying, I’m staying.” He put the spell book aside, gazing at her with such tenderness that it stole her breath away. “I meant it last night, and I mean it now. I’m on Team Violet. Whatever is best for you, that’s what I’ll do. I don’t care about prophecies, Ancient Sorceresses—”

  He was smiling when she interrupted with a kiss. “I wasn’t done,” he teased.

  “It’s fine. I get the idea. And I like it…the Team Violet thing.” As she thought back, she wondered if she’d always been alone in Team Violet, even with her family. Between her parents, there’d been little love. Without role models, she hadn’t seen what such a beautiful emotion should look like.

  But now, it felt like her heart had swelled up. She could face her challenges as long as she had Alex by her side. In time, when she managed her powers, they could be equals rather than always having a gulf of age and strength between them. Hope spread its wings for what lay ahead. For what they could make.

  Was that feeling love?

  If so, it paralyzed her with possibilities. Should she tell him now, out of the blue, or save it for a special moment and hope that he felt the same? It felt too early. In the same moment, it also seemed just right.

  Alex brought her back to herself as he drew his fingers through her hair, drawing her closer. She let her lips do a different kind of talking to show him what she meant.

  Gwendolyn’s impatient voice came some time later while she was still tangled up in him. “Do you intend to keep an old woman waiting in the dark?”

  Violet gasped aloud, earning a languid glance from the content man beside her. “My training! I’m late.”

  He smirked, quite content with himself. “Just tell her you got a little distracted.”

  She felt the heat of her blush reach the top of her ears as she donned new clothes. “Then she’ll know exactly what happened.”

  “She seems smart. She probably already knows.” He followed suit, tousling his hair. It was longer than she recalled, and his beard had passed the shadow stage to cover his jaw. Spending a night in shapeshift form had made it grow at double the speed. Not that she was complaining.

  “We’re coming now,” she said back to Gwendolyn, not saying a word about being distracted.

  “Bring the book,” the Ancient grumbled. She sounded like she had a good guess as to what’d held them up.

  Violet scooped up the spell book as he moved their makeshift door aside. She grabbed a second lantern, fully charged, and used it to illuminate the hallway. The other Blood Princes were gone about their own tasks, their doors also ajar.

  She sighed to herself in relief. Maybe there would be no weird tension today, as all these people and their old dynamics brought out the worst of them. Especially if Gwendolyn was involved.

  “So I walked into a different person’s dream last night,” Alex said, breaking up the monotony of wet stone and parting darkness while they walked toward the exit of the palace. Gwendolyn waited in their first meeting place, the old garden.

  “I thought that’d gone dormant.” Ever since she’d confessed to hearing Lucia’s voice, he hadn’t spent time in her dreams, despite his attempts to control and wrangle the new magic.

  “It seems my inner shapeshifting beast controls the magic to do it. Since I was an animal last night…” he drifted off with a shrug.

  “So who did you go see?” she asked.

  As they emerged into yet another pitch-black night, Alex pointed out a figure in that dark. “Speak of the devil. Neala.”

  The muscular woman was with Sirius in front of the palace entrance, which provided a stage-sized area for them circling each other silently. They held slim pieces of driftwood like swords. Neala’s fury shone through on her face as Violet picked up what he was saying to her. “...talk. Just say something. I’ll let you hit me if you just talk.”

  Violet and Alex exchanged a glance. He seemed keen to watch, though gestured that she should stand behind him. “I helped her out. This is probably safe.”

  “Probably?” she yelped. Being around Neala’s concentrated anger wasn’t her idea of a good time. She watched from her safe spot behind him as the woman lunged. In an eye blink, Sirius had dodged with the fluid roll of a viper. He tapped the back of Neala’s neck with his driftwood.

  “Maybe if you weren’t so useless, you could hit me,” he taunted, leaping away as she lunged. She stopped her forward momentum within a step, whipping around with her face set in a snarl.

  Violet glared Sirius’s way. He had no sympathy, only more hard words as he moved out of every strike with the grace of a dancer. He was too good, able to adjust his body with ease that belied his abilities and age. It seemed time didn’t dull his sharp tongue, however.

  “Goodness, what a bore. If you fought like this against the Fell, I’d be cleaning your guts from my sleeve,” he said, covering an exaggerated yawn disguised as a duck away from her makesh
ift weapon.

  Violet tried to tug Alex away, but he held her hand firm. He didn’t look away from the fight, whispering, “C’mon. C’mon.”

  “Or maybe going to your funeral after Lucia put you out of your misery,” Sirius quipped.

  Violet felt her stomach turn as vibrations hit her ears. She could feel it straight through to her gut before it became audible. It burst into a high-pitched shrill on the heels of a mental scream. “Shut up! Shut your filthy mouth!”

  Neala grabbed a grinning Sirius by the throat, bringing them eye to eye. “You loudmouth cur. More mongrel than man.” She had plenty more insults for him. He was laughing even as his face reddened.

  “I know, I’m terrible,” he gasped, trying to pry her fingers from his neck. “You got me. Hit me good, free shot.”

  She paused in her litany, head butting him and dropping him to the ground. The next moment, they were hugging fiercely. Violet looked on, baffled. “What just happened?” she whispered.

  “I erased most of Neala’s memories of being locked in her own head last night,” he murmured back.

  “Okay, but…they’re not trying to kill one another,” she said, waiting nervously for them to start brawling now that they’d set their driftwood weapons aside.

  “Tough love,” he replied as the two Blood Princes finally seemed to notice them.

  “You there!” Neala’s mental voice was still a force, and now she was pointing directly at Violet. The anger had softened from her face sometime during her outburst. Determination had taken its place.

  “Yes?” Violet asked in a soft voice. She’d never wanted to get the Ancient woman’s attention.

  “Where is Gwendolyn?” she asked, eyes as flinty as granite.

  She swallowed thickly, remembering that Neala had tried to kill her on their first reunion. “Why…I…I don’t know!” she replied in a nervous chatter.