Page 13 of Of Hearts and Hunters (Fallen Crowns Duet #1)

VERITY

I t’s raining again.

At least the rain turns the snow into slush, making it easier for me to hear if I’m being followed.

The thought–or worry–of being tailed by a Vampyr, or even by a nosy Korama like Chiara, kind of puts a damper (ha ha) on my solo trek through the Heavenstream National Park. I’d never tell anyone, but I’m constantly afraid of being pursued–by Vampyrs. Magicena are tough little buggers, but they only rely on their magic to defend themselves. Sparklies aren’t strong, fast, or self-healing (unless their powers can do that, which is rare, as far as I know). The element of surprise is lost on them. Their senses aren’t keen enough to identify Koramas. So they’re less of a threat to me than Vampyrs.

TLDR: Vampyrs are my biggest fear.

And now I’m working with one of them.

I can’t get over it. At least I have a pretty good idea about Darren and his vamp-ness. He’s still too wrapped up in his humanity (or lack of it) to do anything to me. But his vamp impulses are still there, lying just beneath the surface. He might not be an out and out threat , but he’s still a vamp. And his friends are still vamps. I need to watch myself.

There’s a pack meeting Friday night, and it’s a little after midnight, meaning I’ve got about nineteen hours to get my shit together before my first-ever Korama function as a Kormo. I’m betting that I’ll be pushed out of the Korama Nobility and even the entire pack.

Not killing the Vampyr Prince.

Letting my emotions get in the way.

Almost becoming vamp chow at the stupid meeting with the Queen.

I’m no good to anyone, and I know it.

My depressed thoughts fly off the tracks when I sense something behind me. I’m a decent clip away from my stalker but I only have a couple of seconds to react before they catch up. And I can smell, feel, this Korama from far away–mostly because I can’t stand anything to do with this bitch, even from a great distance.

I yank my phone out of my leggings pocket.

Abort mission. I’m being tailed.

Hopefully Darren hasn’t already crossed the border into Korama Territory. We were set to meet at midnight, so God help me, but I’m a little worried that he’s already here. I can’t smell him yet or sense a Vampyr in the wings, but sometimes the rain and fog mess with my sixth sense. And I’m tired as fuck, which doesn’t help. But I was able to pick out Chiara in this weather shitshow, so maybe luck is on our side for once.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

No dice on the luck front.

I’ve already crossed the border.

If you don’t want to die

“Verity.”

I send the text even though it’s not finished, spinning around to face Chiara. I’ve already tucked my phone away, but I‘m sure she saw it, or at least heard my fingers tapping quickly against the glass.

It’s weird seeing a prissy little shit like Chiara out in the wild like this–but she is a Korama. She was built to be out in nature. Still, her white trench coat and black heeled boots are dead giveaways that she dressed to impress, not to camouflage herself. Her wardrobe won’t do her any favours out here.

“What do you want?” I demand hotly. “And why the hell are you following me, Costas?”

It doesn’t feel right using my Korma’s last name so disrespectfully, but it’s only his sister. Being the Korma’s little sister doesn’t make Chiara royalty, and she knows it. Still, it brings her more respect than she deserves.

“I thought I smelled a vamp,” she responds easily and haughtily, like I should’ve known that was why she’d be here.

Fuck.

She smells Darren. And she clearly knew about his being here long before I did. Double fuck.

If she can smell Darren, why the hell could I not sense him sooner? I’ve had way more exposure to his scent than she would have. Damn!

I guess it could be because Chiara activated her wolf gene a whole year earlier than Briony and me. She’s twelve months ahead of us. Twelve full moons to hone her training and senses. And since she’s the Korma’s baby sister, he spent more time helping her than he did with the rest of us.

No special treatment-slash-nobility, my ass.

I can’t deny that Darren is here. If I pretend or lie, it’ll be suspicious as shit. And if I try to defend him or block her from killing him, it’ll be even more sus. But I know Darren stuck his neck out for me when his Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dipshit tried to kill me back at Vamp HQ. I need to return the favour–much as it makes me want to barf. On the plus side, that’ll mean I get to mess with Chiara. That’ll be fun.

“I know,” I answer just as simply as she did. “That’s why I’m here. Back off, Chi. The kill is mine.”

I see Chiara grind her teeth, eyes twitching in agitation, from where I’m standing and I can’t help but smile. She hates that nickname–but she more than deserves it because she calls me Verity left, right, and fucking center.

“Well, it’s the vamp from the night Jaxon was murdered,” Chiara seethes at me, again with this I-know-everything attitude. “I want revenge. He was a friend of mine.”

Huh. Of course Chiara would hang out with a douchebag like Jaxon. One asshole deserves another. But that’s not my biggest problem.

Somehow, Chiara picked up on Darren’s scent from the murder scene. And if I make it sound like I knew that Jaxon’s killer was the new Vamp Prince, everyone’s gonna ask how I know this. I’m already telling people I didn’t stumble upon the kill-happy vamp and Jaxon in that alley. I can’t risk acting like I know more than I should.

Then again, if I fake not knowing the Vamp Prince is out in the National Park with us, it’ll be stupid as hell because I have his beanie and know exactly what he smells like. I’ll have to come clean–sort of.

I frown. “As Kormo, it’s my duty to kill him. You know that.”

Chiara is quick to snap, “Like you tried killing the Vamp Prince? If you can’t even manage that in your ultimate form, you won’t have a prayer of murdering a Vampyr lowlife as a human.”

I’m so filled with rage, I want to yank her black ponytail right out of her head and shove it up her ass. But I know I can’t disrespect her–too much, anyway–because of my new rank. Then again, she should show me respect, but we all know that won’t happen.

I take a shallow breath before fixing my stance to a more relaxed one. I’ve been in battle mode this entire time. “It’s not some commoner vamp,” I tell her firmly. “It’s the Vamp Prince. I recognize his scent. So the kill is mine.”

Chiara’s hazel eyes widen. “It’s the Prince ?” she breathes, astonished for a split second before anger washes over her like a sprinkler system. “You can’t stop me,” she snarls, racing forward. “The kill is still mine!”

She knows I’m powerless to stop her–not in the way Paxton would. There’s no such thing as a Kormi Voice or Kormo Voice. I can’t force her to stop using my supernatural authority. But I can sure as fuck try and stop her anyway.

I take a brief moment to pull out my phone. Chiara’s already racing away from me, using her wolf speed.

Grtout of here. If you.eketus, pretend to difjt mr off.

I don’t have time to fix my typos or to check if he’s read the text. I don’t even have the time to send one, really. But I have to tip him off–if he can even decipher a warning from the dribble I just sent.

If Chiara gets her hands on him, he’ll be missing a head or a heart.

I sprint after her, using every ounce of agility I have to try and catch up. I’m usually pretty fast but Chiara does have a four second head start on me. I whizz past barren and soaked trees, sliding on slush because I’m rushing and trying to pick out Darren’s scent through the fog and pouring rain. I feel my phone vibrate in my side pocket, but there's no way I’m stopping to look at it. I already wasted enough time warning him in the first place.

I sail over a small decline in the terrain, landing roughly on my feet and propelling myself through the icy sheets of rain. Freezing rain will make the ground slippery–slipperier than before. Thunder cracks in the background as I push broken tree branches out of the way. One slices across my face but I carry on, ignoring the warmth spreading across my cheek and the blood trickling down my wet skin. Darren’s scent is getting stronger and stronger. No time to slow down now.

I finally break through to the small patch of turf that borders the two territories. The treeline is lower here and sparser, probably so vamps can have a better view of any incoming Koramas. A few more paces and I’ll be on Vamp Territory.

I definitely smell Darren now. The stench of vamp is impossible to miss. He must have been on his way out before Chiara ran for him.

I arrive just in time to see Chiara flying through the air and over the border, breaking the five-foot gap between her and a running Darren. She lands on his back. He crashes to the ground in a choking heap of slush and twigs.

Chiara already has her hand plunging through his back, trying to get to his chest cavity. Darren throws his head back and screams. The sound pierces my ears, but I’m already breaking through the sheets of icy shards. I land on Chiara just in time to hear Darren yell again.

I yank Chiara by her hair (my fantasy came true after all) and shove her off of him. Her forearm is painted with Darren’s blood, but no heart is in her palm.

“Are you fucking nuts?” I snarl at her, fixing my stance in front of the wheezing and injured Prince. “You’re on Vamp Territory , Chi! Get the hell out of here! And this is MY KILL !”

I have no Kormo Voice, but Chiara takes a step back at my shout, her hazel eyes not reflecting her retreat, that’s for damn sure. She’s still mad as hell.

“When I tell Paxton what you did–” she begins, crimson oozing off her fingers, staining her stupid trench coat.

“You’re the one who fucking crossed the border, dumbass!” I counter. “Go ahead and cry to Big Brother, you stupid bitch!”

Chiara knows she has no ground to stand on. She crossed the border. If the vamps get wind of this, we’re all screwed, especially with that damned peace party in five days.

“Excuse me for a minute.”

Chiara and I turn, stunned, to see a staggering Darren getting to his feet. When he makes eye contact with me, I give him an angry scowl that I hope screams ‘don’t do anything stupid, moron!’

“I don’t want any trouble. I just want to live.” He coughs weakly, holding his bleeding chest. Looks like Chiara got close.

I’m not sure if he’s being serious or not. He asked me to off him just a few hours ago. But whatever. All that matters is that Chiara believes him.

“Just get out of here–both of you. And let me be,” he bargains, coughing up blood. “And if you do that, I won’t discuss your crossing the border.”

Chiara and I glance at one another. When she opens her mouth, probably to protest, because that’s who she is, I hold a hand up. “Shut the fuck up, already!” I order. “I’m not your big brother but I’m still the fucking Kormo, so can your yap!”

She snaps her trap shut but still glares at me, folding her arms across her trench coat soiled with mud and blood. I turn to glower at Darren, hoping to put on a good enough show to throw Chiara off the scent.

“Fine. We’ll go. But if you go for another nature walk, try not waltzing into Wolf Territory.”

He clears his throat, wiping blood on the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Duly noted,” he responds.

I fold my arms and look at Chiara, then back to Darren. “In a few weeks, we have a date,” I remind him, making it sound like I’m counting down the days until I can rip his head off.

Darren coughs, more blood trailing down his chin. “Charmed, I’m sure,” he musters out through mucus and blood.

I turn to narrow my eyes at Chiara. I hate that she’s taller than me. “Get back to Korama Territory before I boot your ass there, myself,” I hiss, my tone so full of venom I hear Darren’s frenzied heart skip a beat.

Chiara actually does what I say, but I think it’s more about the fact that she knows she broke the Territory Law and less about listening to me. As soon as she disappears behind the thicker treeline, I glance at Darren.

“Are you gonna live?” I mouth to him.

Darren nods, pressing into his side. I hear broken or dislocated ribs resetting themselves. Gross.

“Thank you,” he mouths back to me.

I roll my eyes and dash back over the border, knowing I can’t waste any more time on Vamp Territory. Darren may keep his mouth shut about Chiara and me being here, but another vamp won’t be so understanding.

If Chiara does the fucking impossible and buttons her yap, maybe we can get out of this shitshow unscathed. And then there’s the other problem: Darren and I won’t be able to meet here anymore. No more Vampyr-Magicena talk.

We’ll have to find another way.

They’re planning something big–and Darren, as I suspected, has gotten some intel. We must move quickly, which now includes finding a new secret spot to figure this out.

I’m shocked I made it home without getting killed by a pissed-off Vampyr. The freezing rain intensified over the course of my walk home, making things creepier than usual. I love being out in nature–but not now. Not after everything that’s happened. Every sound, every shard of ice hitting my back, makes my spine tingle with fear.

I hate feeling this way. I hate being controlled by them. Vamps fight dirty. They always have. If they’ll slaughter a grandfather in front of a five-year-old, they’ll waste no time offing all of us. It’ll be the end of everything. And if the Magicena are on their side–

I limp up the walk to my house. I must have hurt myself on the way back to town. It’ll take a few days for my right ankle to feel better. Damn. If there’s a vamp attack, I’ll be first on the chopping block. I’d heal faster if I was a wolf, but with weeks until the next full moon, I’m a sitting duck for both races.

And that’s another thing: the sparklies have been frosty to us, but they don’t do sneaky things like crossing the border and killing us in our sleep. We’ve always been wary of them, but they also never posed an immediate threat. But now that Darren and I suspect they’re teaming up with the vamps, the Koramas are going to have even bigger problems.

The strength, speed, and fucking lethal power of vamps.

The magic, ESP, and God knows what else from the Magicena.

I waste no time in taking the three steps to my front door and unlocking it. Briony must be home because the Hyundai we share is in the driveway. I almost never drive it because I prefer to walk, but Briony likes being behind the wheel.

Briony has been having trouble sleeping lately, so I’m extra quiet when I get home. I’m hit with another wave of guilt when I again realize that my shitty decisions tonight could cost Briony her life if vamps followed me home to get vengeance. I didn’t feel anything on my way through the city, and my senses were on hyper-drive, but still. I didn’t sense anything during the last full moon, and look what happened.

I kick off my boots and leave them on top of the radiator to dry. Waterproof, my ass. I peel my jacket from my limp body, feeling like I’m coming down with something–not a shocker based on what I’ve been up to lately.

Great. Sick and lame. I’m dead, for sure.

I decide to just strip off my clothes in my room and get warm ASAP instead of showering, which is what I really want to do. It’ll just make too much noise; Briony’s room is right across the hall from our bathroom. I climb the stairs quickly even if the burn in my right ankle makes me want to stop and sleep on our three-seater downstairs. I do the next round of steps to the loft and push open the door, holding in a grimace at the exhaustion and pain weighing down my body like a fucking anvil.

After tearing off my sweater, my leggings, and my socks, I’m about to rip at my bra when I remember my phone is in my pants pocket. I dig for it, wondering why my phone is better at taking water damage than my Winter boots, and unlock it after dropping my drenched leggings to the floor. I’ll have to do laundry tomorrow before I go to work. Saturdays are always busy at The Azalea Tavern, so Bodhi usually wants all hands on deck. At least I won’t be doing the graveyard dance tonight.

I see Darren’s text that he must have sent just before Chiara charged for him earlier tonight.

Going back now.

Well, the thing is, he did get back. Chiara was the dipshit who chased him down, crossed the border, and almost killed him. I get that he crossed over to our side, too–breaking the Territory Law–but he didn’t attempt to assassinate a noble faction member. Chiara broke the Law and tried to murder the new Vamp Prince. But knowing her, she’ll somehow get out of this scot-free and I’ll be the one cleaning up her mess. So what if I was trying to keep my own shit a secret? I was also saving her good-for-nothing ass, and she knows it.

Speaking of saving asses, I’m wondering if Daren made it back okay. After seeing his douchebag vamp brothers not giving a shit about what he says, I bet they’ll be trigger-happy morons ready to knock his block off whenever they want. If one of them discovers he’s meeting up with a Korama–a Kormo, no less–they’ll have his head. And that’s probably not an exaggeration.

Did you get back okay?

I send the text, too tired to think about what I’m saying. All I want to do is sleep, but I know I won’t be able to get there. I toss my phone onto my bed and continue to get ready. Once I’m wearing pajama shorts and a tank top (so much for putting on warm clothes–they’re all dirty), my phone gives a dull vibration from my bed.

Just barely. Had to dodge Gabriel.

Who the hell is Gabriel?

My so-called Vampyr brother. You met him the day of the meeting.

Right. The suit-wearing shithead. I guess I remember now. I was too busy getting choked to commit names to memory.

Glad you avoided that dickface.

I’m just pulling down my yanked-up blankets when he sends me another message.

Do I detect a hint of compassion?

Don’t flatter yourself.

Maybe because Chiara is my own dickface , I feel a bit more ‘compassionate,’ like he said. I hate it when she rattles me, gets a win. He probably feels the same way about his brothers. I’d hate my life if I had to be around those assholes all day–and be a Vampyr, too, but still.

Sometimes when I talk to Darren–especially when it’s over text like this–I kind of forget he’s a Vampyr. No vamp stench to burn my nostrils. No uneasy feeling pushing my body to retreat or fight to the death. When we talk like this, he’s just some weird guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. I find those kinds of guys annoying–they’re whiny, overly complicated. And Darren is no different. Still, talking to him doesn’t suck all the time (bad choice of words).

Pleasantries aside, we’ll need to find a new meeting place.

Huh. He’s not as dumb as I thought.

Get back to me when you’ve thought of one.

I toss my phone onto the scratched-up, white bedside table that used to be my mother’s and hop into bed. I have a few souvenirs from my Mom and Dad that are scattered around my bedroom: my mom’s bedside table from when she was my age, my dad’s office lamp from his study, my mom’s literature books that I never open but like having around, my dad’s pocket watch that lives in the bedside table drawer.

When I think about my parents, my grandfather, and their brutal murders by Vampyrs, a hot wave of hatred washes over me as I fight to give into my exhaustion instead of the pain.

But it’s not just hatred for the vamps.

It’s hatred for myself.

I’m not a huge fan of my life, to be honest. I don’t have much confidence in myself. But now, I hate myself more than I ever thought possible. I’m lying to my Korma and Kormi. I’m keeping secrets from Briony. I’m working with a Vampyr.

I don’t deserve to live.