by Rye Brewer
League of Vampires Box Set
Books 1-3
Rye Brewer
Contents
Redemption
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Sanctuary
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Absolution
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Afterword
Redemption
A vampire slayer by necessity.
Anissa Garnet is a vampire. She’s also a slayer. Anissa is no stranger to taking out the enemies of her clan leader. Her assignment is simple. Jonah Bourke is not to attend the League of Vampires. Ever. It should have been an easy kill. It should have been one and done. It would have been, if Jonah Bourke hadn’t saved her life.
An assignment like no other.
Vampire clan leader Jonah Bourke is that one. He didn’t plan to be a hero. He didn’t want to save the life of the slayer that was sent to kill him. Maybe he wouldn’t have, if he’d known.
Too late now.
Anissa just compounded his problems. Not that he didn’t have plenty: A rebellious twin who wants to claim leadership of their clan and a litany of supernaturals that want him dead.
So what’s a vampire to do when he saves the life of the vampire girl sent to kill him?
Cover Art by
www.mirellasantana.deviantart.com
with Model Mirish – Deviant Art
V.1.2018
1
Anissa
How much longer will I have to be Marcus’s instrument of death?
Marcus Carver, head of the Carver clan. And my chief tormentor. Who was I to complain? I signed up for this gig, didn’t I? Not that I had much of a choice, as far as I was concerned.
It was safe to say I was tiring of that role as I walked down the long, lushly carpeted halls at a brisk pace. Before me strode the two black-clad men sent to fetch me. I did what I could to affect an air of insolence, to prove I didn’t care what Marcus wanted that was important enough to interrupt my studies. He placed a great deal of importance on my education—almost as much as he did on my other activities.
I always had the feeling he didn’t care about my school work, only pretending to because he knew it mattered to me. His way of tormenting me. One of many. He would never forgive me for daring to question him, even as he used my skills. Marcus wasn’t one to forgive and forget.
The hall was so long—miles, maybe, it seemed. Though that didn’t make much difference to me or the pair in front of me. From the outside, to the human eye, the mansion looked like many others along the outskirts of New York City in the fancier neighborhoods. I’d seen many of them while traveling under the cover of darkness, set far back from the road behind fences and gates and emerald-green lawns.
An old enchantment, older than the ruling clans of our territory, made the mansion virtually undetectable in its differences from the sprawling homes around it. In fact, in comparison, the Carver clan’s residence appeared much more modest than the others. But that was only on the outside, and only through the unskilled eyes of a human.
I was glad to live in a time when vampires and humans lived side-by-side. Well, maybe not entirely side-by-side, not totally, and not peacefully, but we allowed each other to exist without much interference.
I’d been raised on stories of humans hunting those of my kind with stakes and holy water and garlic and any number of other tools, many of which made no difference to an actual vampire. Lore had blown things out of proportion, but even though the myths were just that, those earlier days had been dark and dangerous for those of my kind.
What did work? What did kill us? Pretty simple. Very few creatures, if any, could continue existing once their head had been removed and they’d been set on fire. I didn’t need to go to school to learn that.
What else? A blow straight to the heart with a weapon infused with silver would do it. Removing our hearts would do it, too.
But back to my home… The home shared by all members of my clan appeared normal to an outsider, the inside was something far different. It was more like a small city with sections designated for each family within the clan. I could spend an entire day going from level to level, exploring the many rooms and libraries and kitchens and private apartments.
A great ballroom extended along the top floor of the main wing, where we would all gather for parties and meetings. At least, we did before the fire. After that, it had been a long time since happiness had touched our clan.
I told myself to stop thinking about things which didn’t matter. I needed all of my faculties in full working order before meeting with Marcus. There was only one member of my clan whose wit matched mine, and it was his. Sometimes I felt like he was glad to finally have someone of his intelligence to spar with.
I wondered what he wanted. I mean, I knew the gist of it. A kill, I figured. But what more specifically? That I didn’t know.
Not like the guards would tell me if they could. Only Marcus and I knew what I did for him. My side job as he called it sometimes. He loved using words and terms he’d learned in the human world. He thought it made him smarter than the rest of us. As if many
of us didn’t venture into the human world. Though that said, most vampires didn’t pay much attention to the ins and outs of human life.
The guard to my right pounded one ham-sized fist against the heavy wooden door leading to Marcus’s chamber. I steeled myself, stiffening my back, trying to make myself appear taller than I really was. The fact was, my lack of height made me good at what I did. I could slip in and out of crowds. I was more agile. Cat-like. It came in handy.
“Come.” Marcus’s tone was haughty, though distant because of the thickness of the door to his private quarters.
I allowed myself just one eye roll before Mr. Right Guard—yeah, I don’t know his name, and don’t want to—opened the door.
He stepped back to allow my entrance into Marcus’s opulent suite of rooms. Who Marcus thought he was, or was trying to be, I didn’t know. Sure, he was the leader of our clan and probably the strongest of all Carver vampires. He was also completely full of himself and his greatness. One day, somebody would take him down a peg or two. I hoped I was there to see it when it happened.
Be even better if I were there to make it happen.
“Anissa.” There was pleasure in his voice, a voice that seemed to caress me as I approached.
I repressed a shudder.
More than once I’d wondered exactly how much enjoyment he got from the position he had me in—over a barrel, between a rock and a hard place. He had control over me, no doubt, but he liked it. It was obvious. There used to be a time I thought Marcus wanted to make me his consort. There may have been a time I might have given that consideration, but that was a long, long time ago, before I figured him out.
“Marcus.” I stood a dozen feet from the massive, ornately-carved wooden chair in which he perched.
Like a throne. Just another example of how stuck on himself he was. Clasping my hands behind my back, I stood at ease. He waited until we were alone to speak again. The door closed with a soft click.
“How are you?” His nearly purple eyes assessed me.
“Fine, thank you.” I gritted my teeth, wanting to yell at him to get it over with so I could get out of his presence. He made the hair on the back of my neck stand at full attention.
“I’m glad to hear it. How is your sister?” His smile was less than sincere.
I forced myself not to wince. “She’s fine as well.”
You should know. You’re the one keeping her in chains.
I reminded myself to guard my mind since Marcus was adept at gauging the emotions of those around him. Not so much reading, as it was intuiting. Funny, but he’d never seemed to read mine. And I could tell he tried. Nearly everything he thought was broadcast on his lean, handsome face.
Maybe I was the one who could intuit better than he. Though I had no idea why I ever would. I wasn’t nearly as old and powerful as he. Of course, you couldn’t tell, not by looking at us with human eyes. He wasn’t an old man when he was turned, but younger, in his prime. But with vampire eyes, the aura of his age glowed stronger than mine, or any of the others.
He pursed his full lips, eyes narrowing beneath full, golden brows. “I’m glad to hear it. She’s my most special guest.”
“Not a guest,” I said, before biting back the rest of my words. It wouldn’t do my sister any favors if I mouthed off to him. He held far too much power for me to go off on an enraged tantrum. Though God—no, I don’t believe—knew I so desperately wanted to carve his heart out with one of my silver-plated daggers.
The glance he gave me was one of an adult cajoling a child.
I clenched my jaw. I wouldn’t do it. No, I wouldn’t react. I tried to talk myself out of it because I knew my sister would suffer the consequences.
Finally, it seemed he tired of waiting for me to react and he spoke. “No, not a guest. But much more comfortable than she was at first, wouldn’t you say? And if it weren’t for my generosity and your creativity, she would be just as uncomfortable as before. Correct?”
“Correct.” I sighed softly, and my shoulders relaxed, mostly in defeat, because he had me there.
“Let’s get down to business, since I’m a busy man, and you’re about to be busy, too.” He stood, unfolding his tall body from his throne—or, rather, his chair. “I have a job for you.”
Of course, he didn’t request my presence very often.
When I didn’t reply—what was there to say, after all?—he continued. “As you know, the annual league meeting takes place next week.”
League of Vampires.
I nodded. Everybody knew. Even some humans. After all, they’d been the ones to demand we form a league after the Great War.
Vampires existed in clans. Many of them. We’d never had one structure to rule us all, to keep watch, determine rules, make pacts, treaties. None of that. Never.
But the humans had insisted. And we had complied. Had we not, the humans would have stepped in and eradicated us as they had tried to for generations. Our fighting had disrupted their way of life, and if they couldn’t trust us, they would destroy us.
He cleared his throat, pulling me out of my contemplations. “As leader of the clan, I’m expected to attend.” He swiped his hands together as if removing dust or dirt.
“Of course,” I murmured.
“What you may not know is how important this league gathering is for our clan.” He paced back and forth in front of a pair of tall windows which allowed muted sunlight to stream into the room.
Another myth—vampires would burst into flames when in sunlight and evaporate away as ash. No. Not exactly the case. It’s a bit of a mystery as to the specifics. I could be burned by it, but I didn’t burst into spontaneous flames.
No vampire did. In the direct sunlight, some would burn slowly and in an excruciating way until gone.
My sister Sara, she was one of the ones who burned severely. I’m talking, she might die real fast. We’ve never tested it to the full extreme. All we needed to verify her vulnerability was to put her pinkie finger in the direct rays of the sun. The smell was horrific. The third-degree burns were awful. To this day, she was self-conscious about that pinkie finger and kept it tucked in whenever possible. I’d have thought it would have healed fully, without a scar. But then again, I wasn’t that familiar with injuries caused by the sun.
Theory has it, it’s directly related to our ancestors. So, depending on which bloodline you’re descended from, with it comes the immunity—or lack thereof—to the sun.
Needless to say, all vampires take precautions to avoid direct sunlight. Some take more precautions than others.
Marcus’s forehead creased as he paced, the leather pants he wore creaking ever so slightly. Another one of his little quirks, his love of leather. He had the physical beauty all vampires possessed, and the power he’d acquired over the centuries had given him an extra bit of swagger and confidence. He had an effect on most young vampires—I knew plenty of girl vampires roughly my age who had a crush on him or had just gotten over one. As I once may have had.
Because they don’t know him the way I do now.
He paused the pacing and turned toward me with a flourish. “I received the agenda for next week’s meeting just this morning. Much is the same as every year—reinforcing regulations, ensuring our laws are still sound. Times change, after all. Blah, blah, blah. Sometimes even the most reasonable law needs amendment. Then, one item caught my eye.” He snapped his fingers. “Renewal of the pact between our clan and the Bourkes.”
I was beginning to understand his concern, though I still wasn’t sure what I had to do with any of it. The Bourkes were our biggest rival, the clan closest to ours in terms of territory holdings, size, and strength. The pact between us detailed the lands we controlled and the rules of our peaceful coexistence. After all, it had been the fire set by members of the Bourke clan that had finally forced the humans to step in and end our war.
A fire that had proved devastating to the clan I’d belonged to. The same fire which had killed my mother and stepfa
ther. There was little love lost between the Bourke and the Carver clans, but my hatred was fierce. They’d orphaned Sara and me, forcing us to do whatever we could to survive. Pushing us to the outskirts of the clan, where we’d been treated as outsiders. Forcing Sara to break the law. Putting her in jeopardy then forcing me to make the deal which made me Marcus’s slayer.
Or as I hate to be reminded, Marcus’s bitch.
“For the pact to be renewed,” Marcus explained, “the heads of both clans must report to the league. If either of us doesn’t appear, the pact automatically goes in favor of the leader who does. The petition to take over the other clan’s territory will go through. If I’m not there, I lose all this.” A hand wave to indicate our surroundings. “If their clan doesn’t appear”—a wicked gleam lit his eyes on fire—“we get what’s theirs.” Greed was evident in his tone.