Page 51 of Fated In Blood (Nocturne Vampire Clan #1)

51

EVANGELINE

D arkmore Castle looked exactly as it had before I’d planted a brick of C-4 in the wall behind Tyrell’s private chambers and collapsed half the western wing onto the front lawn.

Torches belched thick black smoke on either side of the front doors, while out on the grass guards moved back and forth, along with the huge hulking shapes of…

“We call them revenants,” Blake growled, gripping my arm. “You’d never outrun them; best chance is to dematerialize. Or climb.”

“I almost outran them the night of the auction.” I studied their jerky gait, which looked deceptively awkward compared to how fast they moved once they gained momentum. “Not that I plan to try that again tonight. Or ever,” I added, as they lifted their heads, catching our scents. A long, raspy howl broke the silence. Then another until the air trembled.

Blake was one giant ball of tension as he moved us closer to the doors. “Let’s get inside.”

“Oh, you mean where the monsters have better manners?”

“Let’s hope so.” There was a thread of worry in his voice, a show of nerves that he couldn’t hide. “Rohr should have met us out front. He’s late.”

“Why didn’t we come together?” I whispered as two stone-faced butlers ushered us inside. “Safety in numbers and all that.”

“He has his reasons.” Blake took my hand, and I swallowed at the sight of the soaring cantilevered foyer, those palm trees, and the magnificent carved dragon staircase, restored to its former glory. Bosch waited beside the steps, dark eyes fixed on me, and me alone.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and we followed, the gilt mirrors reflecting us in multitudes as we passed, me practically jogging to keep up. I couldn’t deny there was an unmistakable grandeur to the castle, but beneath the layers of gilt and brocade ran a slimy river of corruption.

I’m going to ward your thoughts, Evie.

Do it. I don’t want to be the one who ruins our plans by thinking too loudly.

That cold, smothering sensation added an extra layer of confidence when we stepped into the dining room, vast enough to seat a hundred people. Tonight there were only seven guests. Eight, if you counted Bosch, who took up position by the door beside his guards, as if any of us were stupid enough to try and flee.

I clasped my shaking hands together, willing myself to stay calm. I’d prepared myself for the past hour, convincing myself I was ready to see Angel again, but I wasn’t.

My sister looked more beautiful than ever before, even with that cruel, calculating twist to her red lips that reminded me so much of Tyrell. Her gown was a sweep of emerald-green velvet, sedate as a nun in front, the back dipping well below the wings tattooed above the curve of her spine, where Tyrell’s hand splayed across her pale skin, right above where the V ended.

I own her , his satisfied smile said. She is no longer yours to claim .

Let it go, little slayer. Blake’s soft warning rang in my head as he moved us toward the table, brushing his hand over my tensed shoulder. This will be a long night. It’s far too early to let him get a rise out of you.

Malachi reclined in a chair on the far side of the table, long hair brushed smooth and a silky white shirt beneath a red crushed-velvet jacket. Collum was in fighting leathers, sizing me up with a satisfied smirk.

I tore my eyes away from my sister and gazed at Riordan, hands clasped tightly before him, his face so expressionless I couldn’t read him. But something was wrong.

I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed, only…there was a strange hum in my blood that put me off-balance. A tremor of foreboding chasing through me like a ghost. Seated between Malachi and Collum, Roirdan was dressed in all black, only the blue flecks in his eyes breaking the somberness of his funeral attire.

The table sagged beneath the weight of crystal and silver and porcelain, an ostentatious display, even for Tyrell, but I slipped into the seat Blake pulled out for me, directly across from Riordan. Tyrell predictably sat at the head of the table, Blake to my left, my sister to my right, and the moment we were seated, servants swept in from the alcoves with trays of delicacies, crystal goblets overflowing with blood.

“Don’t eat anything,” Blake warned softly. “Don’t drink, either.”

Red-stained goblets were set before us, food piled on plates, candles lit, then the servants were gone, as if I’d imagined them. Beneath the heavy tablecloth, I tugged my skirts higher so I could reach my weapon when, not if, I needed to fight my way out of here.

“I must say, I’d hoped you’d defy me just this once, Riordan.” Tyrell lifted his glass, and when the light hit the crystal it turned the dark fluid an angry shade of red. “But I am forever doomed to be disappointed.”

Riordan didn’t take the bait, only reached for his own glass and took a slow sip, the contents staining his lips. I couldn’t explain the quick stab of possessive jealousy that tore through me, or how much I wanted to leap over this table and knock that glass from his hand, but I balled my hand into a fist instead.

He hadn’t glanced my direction once, his gaze drifting from Tyrell to Angel, then to Malachi sitting to Tyrell’s right. I couldn’t tell if his avoidance was some kind of hint…or if he was finished with me now that he had the dagger in his possession.

“How are you enjoying your new life, dear?” I glanced away from Riordan to find Tyrell smiling down the table at me. “Is it everything you’d hoped it would be? If you find Crimson House tiresome, you are always more than welcome here.”

“I am good right where I am.” I peered over at Angel gazing up at Tyrell so adoringly I wanted to vomit. “This place is a bit gaudy for my taste.”

That creeping smile grew brittle before he reached across the plates of food and grasped Angel’s hand. “I wished to extend the invitation, since we’re family now. My beloved mate will be needing help in the coming months, and her sister would be just the thing to keep her spirits up.”

“What kind of…help?” I asked, clenching my fists tighter.

“Why, the arrival of our firstborn son, of course. A momentous occasion for any couple, but of course this birth has special meaning.” That cruel glint in his eyes sharpened. “Since you took Spencer from me, it’s only proper that Angelique provide me with another heir. You already look so radiant, my love, carrying my child.”

I was definitely going to be sick, right here, all over this table.

“Of course, in a few days’ time, you will have nowhere else to go, Evangeline…May I call you Evangeline? Once the blood oath is broken and Riordan and Blake are executed for their crimes, I plan to raze Crimson House to the ground.” He cut into the meat on his plate and popped the perfect square into his mouth.

“I expect you’ll fit in quite nicely. Collum, especially, is looking forward to having a female’s touch around…”

Without warning, Blake launched himself across the table, taking Collum down in a spectacular tackle that sent them both rolling across the floor. Tyrell, I noted, didn’t stop the attack, and I wondered if this, too, was part of tonight’s spectacle.

Blake ended up on top, fists flying so fast they were a blur, only the thick, meaty sounds of knuckles pummeling flesh telling me how fast he was moving. He was going to kill Collum before we even started our first course, and I was totally here for it.

Angel made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a sob, head hanging, shoulders shaking. I reached over and gripped her knee with my right hand, squeezing tight.

My left hand rested on the hilt of my knife, every muscle tensed to take down Bosch, who was ordering his men to secure the door. I would have gutted the fucker, but I never got the chance.

“Sit down.” Tyrell’s voice thrummed through the air, and Blake snapped upright to a standing position, pivoted like a marionette, then jerkily limped back around the table, dragged across the floor under Tyrell’s control.

Riordan’s knuckles were white, hands clasped together so tightly I heard joints pop.

Blake fell into the chair beside me, breath sawing in and out of his lungs. His hand trembled violently as he reached for his glass, lifted it shakily to his lips, and drank the entire thing in one gulp.

“I brought you here to tell you our good news and to explain how things will be going forward. Malachi will break the blood oath, and Riordan and Blake will spend what little time they have left under Valaine’s tender care in the basement of Darkmore. Evangeline, you will tend to your sister in her time of need.”

“I will do no such thing.”

The bastard ignored me, cutting off another piece of meat. “I will put Malachi on the throne, Collum will be his second, and this clan—these fucking vampires—will learn their places, once and for all.”

Malachi preened at the news, but from the dark shadow crossing Collum’s face, Malachi wouldn’t be ruling for long.

“And you three”—he pointed at us with his knife in turn—“You three need to know how badly you’ve failed. Your plot to kill me, using the dagger you stole from the Silverwoods, is not only folly, but you failed to do your research.”

He smiled at my sister and her throat bobbed, her hands clasped tight in her lap. “I think a demonstration for our guests is in order, my love.” Angel reached for her fork, fingers shaking as badly as Blake’s, and a sobbing hiss escaped her mouth the second she touched the gleaming silver handle. Smoke curled around her hand, followed by the stench of charred skin.

“Blake, Riordan, please.”

Both of them gripped their knives, their skin catching fire as Tyrell relished bite after bite, until the entire room reeked of burning flesh. My sister sobbed as I tried to pry her hand off, but I couldn’t break her grip. Blake’s was even tighter, rivulets of sweat soaking the collar of his dress shirt.

“Stop this.” I rounded on Tyrell. “ Fucking stop this .”

“There are important lessons in life, and this is one of them.” Tyrell considered me for a moment. “The dagger cannot harm me. I was Made by Caine himself…”

“You already bored me with that story once.” I pried Blake’s fingers free, tearing the knife out of his hand. Blisters rose on his burned palm, but worse was his clammy pallor, his scar standing out like a lightning bolt streaking down the side of his face.

“Nevertheless, you will listen.” A wave of power wrapped around me, shoving me down into my seat, and Tyrell smiled, terrifying in its conviction.

“Caine created thirteen warriors, the fiercest, most brutal fighters ever seen. One of them was a mage named Magnis. Though I was overlooked to become one of the thirteen Elders, Caine recognized my status as Rome’s greatest general and granted me a boon.” His shoulders straightened, his voice full of arrogance.

“The gift of immunity against all weapons deadly to our kind. I am immune to silver, to wolfsbane, to ash wood, to nightshade. Steel and iron cannot harm me. I have been poisoned, staked, beheaded, and I have always risen again.”

I struggled to reach Angel as Tyrell blathered on about his supposed invulnerability, finally breaking free of his smothering control to kneel beside my sister, unbending her stiff, blackened fingers one at a time, sheets of skin sticking to the handle of the knife as she sobbed incoherently.

“You won’t rise after what I’m going to do to you,” I hissed, heart sinking as I grasped how much power he had over us. “Let them fucking go, you bastard.”

“Sit back down,” he snapped, and his compulsion tightened around me, squeezing and squeezing until I could barely breathe.

No. I would not sit. I would not obey.

My knees shook, thighs trembled, but I forced my body to obey my command, to stay beside Angel, pouring every ounce of my rage into my glare, and for one fraught second, we stared each other down, Tyrell’s lips drawn back in a grimace.

Then the moment shattered.

Him on his feet, face white from duress, and me… still right the fuck where I wanted to be . I bared my fangs and hissed, like some kind of animal, and my rage felt cathartic.

“You will obey like the others, you little half-breed bitch .” He flung out a hand, and once more his compulsion snared me…then the squeezing sensation slid away like oil.

“Fuck you.” I peeled the knife out of my sister’s hand and sent it flying straight toward Tyrell. A dull, harmless butterknife…but he flinched, right before Malachi snatched it midair with a smirk.

“Now, now, Vicious, where I come from that’s bad table manners.” But his clever eyes narrowed, the smirk fading to contemplation as he tossed the knife in the air again and again, blisters forming on his fingertips before they quickly faded away.

“Fuck you, too, traitor,” I growled, yanking out my real knife from my thigh sheath. I was going to slice these two apart and I’d love to see fucking Tyrell rise again when he was lying in pieces on his own goddamned floor.

“Perhaps a different demonstration is in order, Laurent.” Malachi’s grin oozed slime and I decided I’d never despised anyone half as much as him. “Like they say, seeing is believing.”

Draven’s pale eyes shone with malice honed over years, his face tight with expectation. Whatever was about to happen…he’d been waiting for this for a long, long time.

“Very well, though I’d hoped to avoid theatrics tonight.” Tyrell sighed, setting down his cutlery, pinning his expectant gaze on Riordan then Blake. “Come here.”

Riordan rose with the same jerky puppet-like motions as Blake, both of them limping to the front of the room, while Tyrell dabbed his mouth with his napkin and pushed away from the table. Collum hurried over and flipped his chair around.

My chest caved in when Riordan and Blake halted in front of Tyrell, tendons straining in their necks, eyes bulging as they fought him with every ounce of strength they possessed, their pain so pronounced, I felt it inside me like it was my own.

They were the strongest males I’d ever known. And he tamed them with a snap of his fingers.

We were so fucked.

“Kneel,” Tyrell murmured, bored, Malachi watching with that focused intensity.

“Crawl to me.” Bile rose in my throat as these two powerful male’s knees hit the floor with crushing thuds, then they crawled toward this monster, fingers tearing holes in the rug, rigid shoulders shaking as they resisted. “Lick my shoes.”

“Stop.” I burst forward. “Stop this right the fuck now .”

“Hold her.” Angel’s hand caught my wrist, fingers biting into my flesh, blood welling up around her sharpened nails. “You will watch, Evangeline. You will see their helplessness, because you must understand your fight is already over.”

I had to stop Tyrell from…

“Did you know they could have walked away from you that night? They could have left you here and things would have gone back to the way they have been for a hundred years.” He motioned to Collum, who drew his blade and took up position directly behind Blake.

Bosch mirrored his stance right behind Riordan.

Air began sawing in and out of my lungs.

“But since he couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt, Blake played the hero. Something to do with his bitch of a sister, I believe.”

Blake’s shoulders shook, neck stretched to the limit when Collum grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Blake’s head back, the edge of his knife gleaming in the candlelight. “No. Please, please don’t hurt him. Please .” I couldn’t see through the tears, couldn’t escape Angel holding me with such terrible strength.

This wasn’t my sister, this was Tyrell controlling her—controlling all of them.

But not you, little slayer. Somehow, Blake’s eyes found mine. Not you, Evie. Go to the ? —

Whatever he planned to say was cut off when Collum dragged that knife across Blake’s throat, my scream dying when tiny beads of blood bloomed along the narrow gash.

Not a fatal cut.

Not yet .

Riordan’s eyes narrowed in determination as he fought, laboring to save his friend, but Bosch got there first, driving his sword down between Riordan’s shoulder blades, his eyes never leaving my face.

“You’re next, Slayer .”

Riordan’s raspy scream echoed off the walls, right along with mine. The sickening hiss as Bosch yanked the blade back out sent bile shooting up my throat.

“Everything ends tonight.” Tyrell’s creeping voice, so full of triumph, enraged me.

Collum watched his master raptly, spinning that knife between his fingers, waiting for Tyrell’s order to deal the death blow.

“Not quite yet. Let’s make the bastards beg, shall we?” Tyrell nodded and Collum pressed his boot into the center of Blake’s back and flattened him down beside Riordan, the back of his jacket wet with blood.

“Lick my shoes. And put some effort in.”

I was shaking with rage, shaking from helplessness as these two powerful males—who’d given up their own freedom to save me—bent their heads and licked that fucking bastard’s shoe.

I slipped my free hand beneath my skirts and slid one of the knives out of the sheath.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please stop this. You’ve proven your point.”

“Have I?” Tyrell rounded on me, Angel’s fingers digging deeper into my arm. “I don’t think I have. Do you even know what the Silverwoods are? Your bloodline was once considered sacred amongst our kind, revered for its special properties.”

“ Addictive properties,” Malachi added, greed gleaming in his eyes. “One sip, they said, and you were hooked. Power, like nothing you’d ever experienced. Strength, the kind you’d only dreamed of. Invulnerable to any form of weapon.”

Tyrell grinned. “Feeding from your sister has made me stronger than ever. Our child will be something this world hasn’t seen in an age. That’s enough ,” he snapped.

Angel’s hand dragged down my arm, leaving bloody grooves before she sank back into her seat, quiet. I gave my sister’s shoulder another squeeze, gripping the knife tightly, searching for an opening. If I could keep Tyrell talking…

“So we were what? A source of power to you?”

“Only amongst the most influential and wealthiest of our kind. Caine was rumored to keep a Silverwood by his side at all times to maintain his full strength. But a thousand years ago your family turned on us, the hunted became the hunter, and here we are today. Enemies.”

Tyrell lifted his hand and Angel rose from her chair, her tear-streaked face turned toward this fucking monster who’d taken her. Twisted her. “But not anymore. How many girls have been born in the Silverwood family over the generations? One? Five? Ten?”

I clamped my lips together, my gaze dropping to Riordan and Blake prostrated on the floor behind Tyrell, and to Bosch’s armed guards blocking the door. We weren’t getting out of here alive.

“Two.” Unbelievably, Malachi answered. “Only you and your sister. Have you ever wondered why that is?”

“Not especially, no. I’ve had more important things to do than chart the genealogy of my murderous family, thank you very much.”

If I could break Tyrell’s concentration long enough to free Riordan and Blake, then I could take Malachi out and Blake could get one of the guard’s guns…Chances were, they had silver bullets in those clips.

“After the Silverwoods betrayed us, your bloodline was witch-cursed to only produce males, depriving us of our rightful mates. But now…” Malachi licked his lips like some sort of cartoon villain, his consuming gaze fixed on me. “Now there are two of you. One for Laurent. And one for me.”

Okay, that was disgusting.

Behind Tyrell, Riordan fixed his black, depthless stare on the Ancient, a low growl boiling in his chest. He managed to crawl a foot forward. Then another, drool spilling from his mouth. This was going to kill him.

Or Tyrell was going to kill him in front of me to make a point.

Faster than Tyrell could anticipate, I flung my knife, the tip sinking deep into the bastard’s throat, and the Ancient’s control snapped.

Blake became a blur as he crossed the ten feet separating us and gripped my wrist, then we were in the wind.