by Sadie Moss
My mouth opened and closed in shock. What? This isn’t right.
The hallway was peaceful and quiet. Farther down the corridor, two vampires strolled by at a leisurely pace.
I swallowed, turning back to the vampire guard. “I… I need to see King Carrick. Right away.”
What I had seen wasn’t wrong. I felt certain of it, down to the very marrow of my bones. Carrick needed to know his people were in danger. Hopefully the brothers were still with him in the throne room. They’d know what to do. Or at least, we’d figure it out together.
The guard leered at me, his fangs peeking out as he licked his lips. “All right, sweet thing.”
He left the other guard stationed at the door, gesturing me to follow him. I could feel his friend’s eyes devouring me as he led me down the hall toward the throne room, but I was so anxious to deliver my message I hardly cared.
When we reached the throne room, the guard pushed me forward, nodding to the two burly men who stood sentry outside the door. “This one wants to see King Carrick. I figured he’d be happy to have her.”
The two tall men chuckled, raking their gazes over me. Then they pulled open the doors.
Carrick sat on the large throne. A woman was with him. But I saw no sign of Jerrett, Malcolm, or Sol.
I hesitated in the entryway, reaching out to lay a hand on the arm of the guard who’d delivered me here. He hissed in a ravenous breath at my touch, and I quickly yanked my hand back. “Please. Can you find Malcolm and his friends? I need to talk to them too.”
He gazed at me for a moment, nostrils flaring. Then he nodded sharply.
Swallowing hard, I continued into the room, aware of the heavy thud as the doors closed behind me.
Carrick cocked his head, watching me with interest. The woman with him was human, I realized. She was draped across his lap on the throne, her fancy dress hiked up over knees and her top pulled so low I could see her nipples poking over the neckline. Small trails of blood worked their way down her neck from the puncture wounds there, gathering in her cleavage before disappearing beneath the fabric of her dress.
Keeping his eyes on me, Carrick bent to lick a path up her breasts to her neck, following the trail of blood.
My stomach turned. Her blood smelled rich and sweet, and it pained me to admit how much I wanted it. But the look on her face made me feel sick. She looked dazed, loopy. If we’d all been human, and I didn’t know magic or vampires existed, I’d have guessed she was roofied.
She might not be protesting, but she definitely wasn’t here of her own free will.
Squaring my shoulders, I marched toward the throne anyway. Carrick might disgust me, but he still needed to know about the threat to his people. I had to believe he would do the right thing when it came down to it.
“Miss Tate.” His voice was deep and rich, just like Malcolm’s. But there was a sliminess to it that Malcolm didn’t share. “I’m delighted you’ve come.”
“King Carrick.”
I hesitated, then dropped into a small, awkward half-bow. I wasn’t sure what the etiquette was, but I didn’t want to start this meeting off on the wrong foot by offending him. I needed him to listen to me.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked, his dark eyes burning into me.
“I have to tell you what I—”
“Have you come to give yourself to me?”
My footsteps faltered. I blinked. “What?”
“I can’t stop thinking of your blood, sweet fae. I need it.”
As I neared the dais where the throne sat, he gave the woman on his lap a push. She stumbled to her feet, blinking at me stupidly before wandering over to one side of the room. Several other women lounged there, all looking as drugged as she did.
“I’ve fed from my very best blood courtesans.” Carrick waved a hand in the direction of the women as if he were a collector showing off his prized possessions. “But their blood tastes like ash in my mouth when I think of what I could have instead.”
A shiver of revulsion and fear rippled down my spine. I knew the brothers craved my blood too. I knew how hard it was for them to keep that need in check around me. But none of them had ever made me feel like a walking blood bag. Not like this.
Gritting my teeth, I fought to keep a neutral expression on my face. I could fully relate to the trouble Malcolm seemed to have maintaining his cool whenever he was around his father. This guy was a major asshole.
“No, Carrick. That’s not what I came here for. I don’t owe you my blood until after I complete the final challenge of my trials. I came to warn you that I saw—”
“My dear, I don’t think I can wait.” Carrick stood, gazing down at me from the dais. He was nearly as big as Malcolm, and from his platform above me, he seemed to loom like a giant.
“King Carrick!” My voice was sharp, desperation and nerves making it crack like a whip. Why wouldn’t he listen? “This is important. The shades are coming! I don’t know when, or how, but I saw—”
“The shades are being dealt with, my dear.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I met with Malcolm and his friends. There have been more attacks, but we have a plan to find them and defeat them.”
“No! That’s my point. You won’t have to find them, because they’re coming he—”
My words cut off as Carrick moved down the steps toward me, so fast I could barely track the movement. One large hand grabbed my face, his palm cupping my chin as his fingers squeezed my cheeks so hard the soft flesh dug into my teeth.
“I told you. It is being dealt with.”
His voice was low and controlled, but the look in his dark eyes was wild. He inhaled deeply, and even watching him consume that much of my essence made me feel dirty. He bent his head to speak close to my ear, and I tried to shrink away from his overwhelming presence.
“You should know I’m a man of my word, my dear,” Carrick murmured. “I would never go back on a promise. But as it happens, I have control over how the trials are carried out. I have, on occasion, made a newly turned vampire complete dozens of challenges rather than three. And in this case, I can decide the trials are over after just two. It is at my sole discretion. And I say you passed.”
Fear weakened my muscles until only the king’s firm grip on my face was keeping me upright.
“No.” My voice shook, and his hold on me made speaking difficult. “I didn’t agree to that. I—”
He spun me in a flash, wrapping his arms around me from behind, one thick arm across my chest and one around my waist. He pressed his nose into the space where my neck met my shoulder, inhaling so deeply it was like he was trying to steal my soul.
All thoughts of the looming shade threat fled my mind as a new fear took its place.
My gaze darted around the room. Aside from the several women lounging in the corner, at least half a dozen guards lined the walls, and two more stood by the door. If I fought Carrick, I would die trying.
And suddenly, I understood why Malcolm had been so angry at the deal I’d made. I’d thought I was doing the noble thing by offering up my blood to save the brothers. I’d assumed Malcolm just didn’t understand that I’d done it to keep them alive.
But what I hadn’t been able to comprehend was that maybe he would’ve preferred to die than to see Carrick drink from me.
I understood it now.
Because I’d rather die than let the king have one drop of my blood.
“My sweet, sweet little fae.” Carrick let out a low, hissing breath, and half a heartbeat later, his sharp fangs grazed my neck.
My reaction was instinctual, primal… and totally unexpected. As Carrick opened his mouth to bite down, I kicked backward, delivering a hard blow to his left knee. I put everything I had into it, and the combination of vampire strength, fear, and rage rewarded me with the satisfying sound of bone breaking.
King Carrick bellowed, falling sideways as his leg gave out. As one, his guards rushed forward, fangs bared. But Carrick held up a han
d from where he’d landed on the stone floor.
“No!” He tilted his head up to me, pure malice in his expression. “Don’t kill her. I want her alive.”
The guards stopped several feet from me, their combined gazes making my skin crawl. They were like dogs barely held in check by their master. One word from the king, and my fate could change again.
Carrick slowly rose to his feet, dragging his bad leg. I could tell it was already healing though; in less than a minute, he’d be good as new. And I wouldn’t be able to surprise him like that again.
“You have spirit, little fae.” His dark eyes held a bloodthirsty gleam. “I’ll give you that. And to be honest, I haven’t hunted in far too long. I think that will make this even more enjoyable.”
He drew his left leg forward, shifting his weight to test it.
The leg held, and Carrick looked at me again, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.
“Well, my dear. Shall we dance?”
20
Willow
Like the true prey I was, I froze.
Some part of my brain was screaming at me to run, but I knew it would be fucking useless. Run where? I wouldn’t get four feet before Carrick or his guards took me down.
If I fought, it would only spur on their bloodlust.
But if I did nothing, I would lose for sure.
Those thoughts circled around and around in my brain until it felt like my skull was on fire. I kept waiting for a better option to pop into my head, one that might actually mean I’d get out of here alive, but nothing ever did.
So I stayed frozen, my gaze locked with Carrick’s, until the king forced my hand.
He rushed toward me, wrapping an arm around my chest and reeling me into his body. I threw out an elbow, driving it into his ribs. He let out a grunt, but tightened his grip on me, ignoring my struggles as he grabbed a fistful of my hair to yank my head back.
A piercing cry escaped my lips, bouncing off the high ceiling and walls.
Then a new voice cut the air.
“Let her go, you son of a bitch.”
The tone was deadly, furious, and dark, but I’d never heard a sweeter sound in my life. I wrenched my head down, though the king’s hold on my hair made my eyes water with pain, and saw Malcolm stride purposefully into the throne room, flanked by Jerrett and Sol. All three looked angrier than I’d ever seen them.
The two guards who’d been stationed outside the door rushed in too. They must not’ve known what was going on in here, or they wouldn’t have let the brothers barge in unimpeded. But now they stood at the ready, looking to Carrick for instructions.
Carrick chuckled, but the sound wasn’t light or friendly. “My dear, misguided boy. Always trying to play the hero. When will you realize that is not our purpose?”
“What purpose is that, father? The one you decided was ours when you turned me? When you ripped me away from the life I wanted to subject me to this eternal hell?”
Carrick’s grip on me tightened, using me like a shield between himself and the brothers. The three men advanced slowly, their movements almost imperceptible. But the guards watched them closely, and I knew at some point my rescuers would cross an invisible barrier that would provoke a counterattack.
“I turned you so you could join me in eternal life.” The king’s voice was fervent. “So we could rule together. So you too could experience what it feels like to be the pinnacle of all creation.”
Anger flashed in Malcolm’s eyes. “We are not the pinnacle. We’re a scourge and a curse.”
Carrick kept a firm grip on my hair as he began to pull me backward, away from the advancing men. I dragged my feet, but it did little good.
“My foolish boy. When will you give up wishing you were human again? I thought I cured you of that with Ariana.”
My eyes were locked on Malcolm, so I saw the change come over him. At the mention of that name, something about his appearance shifted. His fangs extended even farther as his skin seemed to stretch tight over the contours of his face. His irises shifted from deep brown to pure black. He looked demonic, terrifying—like the monster he seemed to think he was.
“Do not say her name!” he roared, saliva dripping from his long incisors.
And then he moved. He charged toward us, so fast I swore he left gusts of wind in his wake. Carrick’s body jerked. He obviously hadn’t expected Malcolm to attack like this.
The king tried to hide behind my body—fucking coward—but Malcolm grabbed his arm, tearing him away from me as the two men went to the floor. In a flash, Jerrett and Sol reached my side, turning their backs to me as they faced off against the advancing guards. Carrick and Malcolm rolled across the floor, lashing out with teeth and fists.
Then something strange happened.
One of the guards closest to us flickered.
There was no other word for what he did. Like a TV channel with bad reception, the image of him was briefly replaced by a large, shadowy form before snapping back to that of a muscular, brown-haired guard.
My breath stopped.
What the fuck?
My gaze cast around the guards circling us, then darted between Sol and Jerrett. “Um, guys? I think—”
I didn’t get to finish, but it didn’t matter. Because a second later, they knew exactly what I’d been about to say. Six of the ten guards surrounding us shifted, morphing into the walking shadows I knew all too well.
Fear and understanding lanced through me.
This is how the shades got into the palace. And this is the attack I saw. There’s no more time to stop it. It’s already here.
The remaining vampires looked around in shock, surprised to find their allies suddenly gone, replaced by undead monsters. I might not like Carrick’s guards, but at least they weren’t stupid. They shifted their attention away from us to the new threat, throwing themselves at the shades.
All hell broke loose as the shadow creatures met the attack head on. Screams, shouts, and grunts filled the air as black claws raked across pale skin and vampire teeth sank into black, shadowy flesh. The guards were strong and clearly good fighters, but the shades matched them in speed and strength, and had the added advantage of being able to go incorporeal.
On the far side of the room, the human women shrieked, huddling together in a corner much like the goblin children had done at that church.
My heart twisted. Innocents kept getting caught up in this mess, unable to defend themselves from these supernatural predators. Thankfully, the shades were too busy fighting vampires to go after the pile of humans in the corner. For now, at least.
Sol, Jerrett, and I fended off a shade who kept darting in for quick attacks, his movements like an asp striking.
Carrick and Malcolm broke apart from their deadly battle, turning to take in the commotion. They seemed to realize what was happening at the same time, but their reactions couldn’t have been more different. Carrick took several steps backward, but Malcolm bellowed in rage and threw himself into the fight, leaping on the shade who was attacking us and sinking his long fangs into its neck.
He ripped his head away, tearing out the shade’s throat. The thing collapsed to the floor, its large, smoky body shriveling into a skeletal gray-skinned corpse.
Panicked screams and shouts came from the hallway outside, and Malcolm’s head whipped around. His face still had the terrifying, almost demonic appearance it’d taken on earlier, as battle rage coursed through his body.
“They’re attacking the castle. Come on!”
He raced for the doorway, and I followed close behind him, Jerrett and Sol on my heels. I cast a look behind us as we reached the door. Carrick, the son of a bitch, was ducking into a small secret passage he’d opened up at the back of the room.
Anger welled inside me. He isn’t even going to fight for his people.
I’d had plenty of reasons not to like Carrick before, but I hated him more than I ever thought possible in that moment.
I didn’t h
ave time to dwell on it though, because as soon as we burst into the hallway, more pressing matters demanded my attention. Specifically, the shade running toward me with a wickedly gleaming knife clutched in its hand. I dodged left, avoiding the blade, and Jerrett leapt on the monster’s back as it passed.
With a feral roar, he wrapped both hands around its head, but before he could snap its neck, the shade went incorporeal. Jerrett dropped to the ground, much more gracefully than I would’ve, and pivoted, launching himself at the shade as soon as it solidified again.
Farther down the hall, two female vampires ran up from opposite directions in an intersecting hallway. Their eyes met, and there was a brief pause as they stared at each other. Then the one on they right dropped her illusion, morphing into a shade. She grabbed the other, whose face was frozen in shock, and threw her into a wall with such force the stone crumbled.
The vampire fell to the ground in a heap, and the shade continued down the corridor in the direction it had been headed.
“Jerrett!” Malcolm’s call drew my attention.
“On it! Come on, you motherfucker!”
The two of them cornered the shade that had attacked us. In a quick movement, Malcolm pinned it to the wall; before it could slip away, Jerrett ripped its head off with a sickening sound.
He dropped the mummified skull to the ground and turned toward us, his long lock of dark hair hanging over his eyes. “How the fuck did these things get in here unnoticed? And so fucking many of them? The guards should’ve smelled their scent a mile away!”
Sol sniffed the air, his lips turning down in a frown. “I can smell them now. But until they shifted, I didn’t notice anything unusual. They must’ve used some kind of spell to cloak their scent.”
“Well, motherfucking shit goddamnit.”
Jerrett kicked the dead shade’s skull like a football and it careened down the hall, hitting the wall of the intersecting corridor at the end. It smashed against the stone with a loud crunch.
“Feel better?” Malcolm asked. His face had returned to normal, though battle fever still lit his eyes.