Page 21 of Of Hearts and Hunters (Fallen Crowns Duet #1)

DARREN

There is a strange expression etched on Zander’s face when he answers my knock to his bedroom door. His living quarters are always tidy: his desk with textbooks and maps neatly stacked, his floor clear of tripping hazards, his black bedspread neatly pulled up over his mattress. The TV in his room is paused on some polo match that he must be streaming.

“What’s wrong?” I inquire before he can say anything.

Ever since our attempt to stop Pierre and Gabriel from ‘cruising the bars,’ as Zander put it, Zander has made himself scarce around the older Vampyr ‘brothers’ to the best of his ability. Snapping necks and forcing others to feed on terrified humans are tricks they often delight in doing. I can understand Zander’s need for space.

I have also felt the need for solitude. My shame over murdering that helpless woman still claws at my soul. I’m hoping what I’m about to tell him won’t cause him any further pain–but I know that is pure delusion on my part.

My guilt intensifies to a wrecking ball-sized weight that threatens to destroy my stomach. I do not want to involve Zander in this potential mayhem, but I can no longer sit idly by while the people I care about could suffer. Still, what I’m about to confess to him will throw everything he’s once known about his life into chaos. I’ve been hesitating on roping him in for this very reason. But after the meeting I stumbled upon after the peace party, I know I have no other choice.

Zander pauses briefly before stepping aside to let me in. “I don’t know. Just a feeling,” he responds as I take several steps into his space.

Zander closes the door behind me and leans against it. His actions seem casual, but his body language is rigid–and soon, I understand why. He’s listening for eavesdroppers.

The Princes’ chambers are a floor lower than the Queen’s, meaning Zander and I have the misfortune of sharing this level with Gabriel and Pierre. Whatever Zander is worried about, he doesn’t want our so-called ‘siblings’ to discover it.

“I wanted to ask Maman out to dinner, but when I got to her chambers–” He stops, rubbing his gray t-shirt as if there is dust on it. A nervous habit, I presume.

“But what?” I prompt softly.

He makes firm eye contact with me, his brown eyes full of–suspicion? Betrayal? “I smelled sage,” he tells me. “She’s doing something that she doesn’t want her family to be aware of. And you were asking me about Magicena and herbs just the other day.” He folds his arms, and his expression increases tenfold. “Tell me what’s going on, Darren,” he requests–or demands.

I swallow uneasily, but the newly formed lump in my throat doesn’t dissipate. “It’s complicated,” I admit, knowing that once I cross this precipice with him, there is no return.

Zander narrows his eyes at me, doubling my remorse.

“Tell me.” His words are insistent. “If you don’t know that you can trust me by now, I don’t know what we’ve been doing for the last five months.”

I suck in a quick breath. “I’m sorry, Zander. I truly am. I–”

Zander holds his hand up, crosses over to his bed, and picks up his discarded remote control from its resting place. He aims it at the television and resumes his game, turning up the volume. He tosses it back onto his black duvet. He motions for me to come forward. I approach him, trying to move past the weight pushing on my chest. I know these preventative measures will do a better job of concealing our conversation.

“I haven’t mentioned this earlier because it is dangerous for you to know about,” I continue as we sit together on his bed. “And it doesn’t only involve me.”

I suppress the memory of Verity kissing me, of our very recent conversation about our relationship and my identity. No time to think about these things now–but at the same time, I need to make it clear to Zander that it is not only my life at stake (pun unintended) if this knowledge gets out. I would never even consider telling him had it not been for the fact that I know I can trust him–and because it is clear that the Queen is up to something nefarious if one of her devoted ‘sons’ is now suspicious of her intentions.

“Okay. Now you have to come clean.” Zander kicks his leg over his right knee, regarding me impatiently.

I sigh. “I’ve been in secret collaboration with one of the Koramas–”

“One of the who ? Are you fucking–” Zander begins.

“–Verity.”

“–Nuts? What ?” Zander gasps, brown eyes wide with shock. “One of the Big Three? Have you lost your mind? You’re a walking target for them and you’re–”

“She and I think the Queen and Magicena King are planning a coup,” I all but whisper.

Zander halts his line of accusation and closes his mouth. He’s silent but clearly thrown by my words. His eyes dart to the side, considering. “Damn,” he breathes. “That explains the sage–maybe. What proof does the wolf– er, Verity– have?”

I show him my daylight bracelet. “She thinks the Magicena have spelled these, perhaps at the cost of alliance.”

Zander frowns. “Lore and history say that these items were passed down, or whatever. And then there are the other theories.” He scratches his short-cropped black hair. “I guess it makes sense. And the Koramas are the biggest group here. La Reine and il Sovrano would want something to even the playing field.”

Zander and I are quiet for a while. He suddenly touches his diamond studs. “Maman told me these belonged to her grandmother.” He hesitates. “I wonder if that was a lie.”

I’ve crushed his worldview along with his impression of the woman who has become like a second mother to him. Doubt snakes its way along my back, and I shudder. What if I’m wrong? What if I’ve hurt him for nothing?

No. Something is transpiring between the Queen and Magicena King. I must be steadfast. I owe it to the Koramas, the humans trapped in this turbulent supernatural city, and even Verity–despite the tempest between us–to see this through.

I touch my friend’s arm. “Zander, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He shakes his head quickly. “No way. If there’s a conspiracy, I want to be involved. And we all know Nightwalkers are dying to get their hands on these.” He taps his diamond stud earring. “All la Reine would have to do is use that as incentive and they’d do practically anything…”

“Including a potential raid,” I finish as I release him. Zander nods in agreement.

Zander rubs his face, suddenly appearing tired. “It wouldn’t surprise me at all if that was why sage was burning in her chambers. I didn’t sense any Magicena around. It had to have been Vampyrs.”

“And why use sage if you’re merely talking to comrades?” I inquire, shifting slightly.

If the Queen was merely spending time with one of her many paramours–as is the custom for female Vampyrs in the nobility–why use sage to cover her tracks?

“I know I’ve given you a lot to digest, Zander. But I don’t want you to worry. I’ve made it clear that you and Terry are off-limits if there is any kind of battle between the factions. We need to extend the same courtesy.”

Zander frowns at me, appearing to be changing course in his thinking. Another line of questioning is forthcoming. “So, you and the she-wolf–” He glances at the closed bedroom door before meeting my eyes. “When did you become a thing?”

I shuffle uneasily. “We’re not a thing , not exactly.”

Zander huffs, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Dude, she might be a scary-ass Korama, but she’s still a girl. If you’re saying it like that, there’s definitely a thing going on.”

I rub my wind-blown hair. “I’m demisexual. It takes a long time to develop a connection–if any–to a woman.”

Zander smirks at me. “It sounds like you’ve made a connection–especially if you’re advocating for her safety.” He waves his hand. “But that’s besides the point. I want to know more about what you’ve found out.”

“That’s just it,” I insist. “We don’t know anything else. I know there was a secret meeting the night of the peace party–the sage was burning outside or from one of the rooms on the lower level. And a magical barrier stopped me from investigating further.”

“But all kill orders are supposed to be ancient history,” Zander points out, standing up and beginning to pace the length of his bed. “Why would the Vampyrs and Magicena be involved in a partnership and also get rid of a bunch of laws held for hundreds of years?

“And why use sage and magical barriers outside? That’s high-level magic–not done for kicks. This is serious shit.”

He looks at me before I can respond.

“Maybe to catch the wolves by surprise,” he realizes aloud.

Zander and I agree to inspect the Clair de Lune Manor, splitting up in order to cover more ground. I scour the fifth floor, hearing the ladies in waiting congregating about their bedrooms. They seem unaffected by the sage–maybe because it happens so often, they have written it off as the Queen’s fancy for nature and the like. Perhaps they blindly serve her to the point that they ask no questions, do not think for themselves.

Or they’re all in on it.

The Queen, as always, has her personal chambers locked.

I’m beginning to think that this ‘fact finding mission’ of ours was a futile venture.

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I’m trotting down the steps to the Princes’ floor.

Gabriel and Pierre aren’t in their rooms.

I freeze at this text from Zander. Perhaps they’re trolling the streets, as is their custom, but their absence at a time like this is suspicious. I recall Gabriel marching right past the Queen’s sage-soaked chambers without batting an eye. Is he blindly loyal as well, or is he in on the conspiracy? Gabriel hates Koramas enough to do anything–and loves Lenore enough to bend over backwards to satisfy her.

I’m unsure about Pierre’s potential involvement. He despises the wolves and often tags along with Gabriel, so I’m assuming he, too, would be more than happy to oblige in these deadly schemes.

Even if Zander and I are merely being paranoid, there’s still this ominous sensation hanging in the air, pushing down on my shoulders, making it hard to breathe.

This can’t all be my imagination.

The Queen is plotting something. There have been too many instances to label her actions as ‘coincidences.’

I look at the time on my lockscreen. It’s after ten o’clock at night. The stained-glass window to my right blankets the steps before me with an eerie, rippled glow of moonlight. The full moon is rising, making my stomach sink in response.

Everything about today, this evening–it all screams unsettled .

I finally make it to the first floor, heading to the front of the estate. I’m going to investigate the front lawn, the fringes of the property. I can’t shake this awful feeling that something horrendous is going to befall us all tonight. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m–

I skid to a stop when I see a large cluster of Vampyrs congregated in the front corridor of the manor. Some are leaning against the mantlepiece. Some are warming their hands in front of the dull flames nestled in the fireplace. Others are situated on the lounging couches and chairs. I suppress a bewildered frown, having it express itself as nausea instead.

I don’t know any of these Vampyrs. I know I’m new, but I’ve become somewhat acquainted with the Vampyr Nobility and other distinguished individuals who reside here. These Vampyrs in front of me are unrecognizable.

And then it hits me.

Nightwalkers.

These are Vampyrs who do not possess spelled talismans that enable them to walk in the daylight.

Just as I think this, a few of them turn to look at me. I can feel their resentment and envy lance into me, though none of them address me with words or facial expressions. It’s all in their eyes. They will respect me, as I am a Vampyr Prince, but they won’t like me. They’ll revel in any kind of ill fate that befalls me, in hopes that the Queen will honour them instead.

“There you are.”

I turn, facing Zander. I didn’t hear him approach. I was too absorbed in my thoughts of the Nightwalkers to utilize my senses.

I wonder if these Nightwalkers have been summoned by la Reine. What other explanation could there be? Any visitors to Clair de Lune need to be approved by, or make an appointment with, Lenore herself. Even her beloved ladies in waiting and significant members of the manor like Terry do not have this level of authority.

Zander is wearing all black now. He must have gone back to his chambers to change. My phone vibrates in my pocket as I spy Zander putting his away. I wait a casual moment or two before pulling out my device.

“Just wanted to go for a walk. I should have mentioned that earlier,” I respond as I unlock my smartphone.

I bet she hired these dudes.

To kill Koramas? They’d be vulnerable during transition time, wouldn’t they?

I don’t know too much about the wolves, but if Sierra’s supernatural TV watching is any indication, these creatures undergo quite the ordeal every full moon. What if that was la Reine and il Sovrano’s plan all along–facilitate this supposed peace treaty and then ambush the wolves weeks later?

Zander must have his phone on Silent Mode, but he leans his head over to look at my phone. “You and your IG reels, dude,” he scoffs, slapping the back of my head. “Get a real hobby, eh?”

“Like polo?” I tease back as he rolls his eyes, a huge grin on his face.

“At least it’s a sport,” he counters, giving me the smallest nod of his head–in answer to my written query.

We begin to walk down the aisle, passing the strangely silent Vampyrs along the way. We continue our friendly banter, hoping our charade is working. So far, we are ignored and avoided as we make it to the double doors. I open one, holding it open for Zander. We ease out into the night, the soft and resounding thud of the ornate door telling us we’re only halfway through the ordeal

We laugh and joke until we reach the very end of the property, the full moon casting a strange glow on the wintry lawn. Zander and I turn to look back at the estate. Dimly-lit interior, homey outdoor lights, sparkling water fountains. Not at all the scene of a colluding race about to embark on a night of gleeful genocide.

“Something big and bad is going down,” Zander tells me, so low and tranquil that I never would have heard him without my Vampyric senses. “I’d warn your friend if I were you.”

I yank my phone out of my pocket as cars abruptly swerve into the enormous driveway of the manor. Zander and I shift our position on the front lawn, watching the five vehicles drive along the curve in the road and park, beside and around the stationary cars that belong to the Nightwalkers already present within the estate.

Zander and I make shocked eye contact with one another. All these Vampyrs can only mean–

“My God,” Zander breathes, his brown eyes wide with alarm. “It’ll be a fucking massacre.” He pauses, rubbing his forehead, which is glistening with a slight sweat. “I get that we have this animosity, but… Well, I don’t hold anything against them. They’ve never done anything to me.” He looks over at me, tearing his gaze away from the Nightwalkers piling out of the now-parked vehicles.

“We might be the only ones here who feel that way,” I murmur softly as the Nightwalkers freely enter the building–clearly here by the Queen’s invitation.

“We need to stop this. Or at least warn them.”

“We’ll risk getting caught in the crosshairs,” I remind him quietly, even though I know this notion won’t make any difference to me. “It will most assuredly get messy. Are you alright with that?”

Zander takes a quick beat before answering. “Totally,” he asserts. “Going against the promise of peace from the treaty is dirty. There’s no way they’re not up to something.”

We slink into the nighttime shadows, ready to wait as long as it takes to see what happens next. It’s not easy to lie in wait for something cataclysmic to take place when all you want to do is take initiative and stop it–but we have no other choice. My racing heart does not relent with each passing minute spent in this agonizing state of limbo.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take much longer for whatever covert operation the Nightwalkers have planned with Lenore to commence. Vampyrs are rushing for parked vehicles, tires squealing against asphalt as they peel out of the drive. Zander and I have already taken shelter behind an overly-demonstrative pair of angel statues, wishing to conceal ourselves while keeping a lookout for further clues.

Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I check my phone for new notifications.

Verity hasn’t opened the message I sent her earlier.

Just what I feared.

She’s probably in transition.

Zander gives the slightest motion with his hand to get my attention. “One of us has to warn the wolves,” he mouths to me, likely suspecting we aren’t out of the woods just yet.

“I’ll go,” I volunteer silently. “The kill order has been lifted. They’ll be less likely to attack me.”

Zander raises one eyebrow. “You hope.” He smiles, but the gesture never reaches his eyes. He’s worried about me. My chest swells with tender, brotherly affection for the Vampyr that has quickly become a fixture in my undead life.

“I’ll hang back to see what I can find out. Keep your phone close,” Zander urges, glancing warily about the property.

I nod once. “Thank you for helping me,” I tell him, hoping my eyes convey the friendship and camaraderie I’ve developed with Zander since my transition.

Zander grins at me, more emotion on his face than before. Once again, his actions warm my core, my very being. I haven’t experienced these sensations in a long while–since my death, as a matter of fact.

Being with Zander… It makes me feel more alive. Human.

“Hey, what’re brothers for?” Zander asks.

To anyone else’s ear, his question would be rhetorical in nature. But to me, it is filled with acceptance and the promise of a lifelong friendship.

I clasp his arm, overcome with the notion that though I may be a Vampyr–a monster, an undead creature of the night, committing heinous acts my human self would abhor–I still have a family in this life.

Zander smacks my arm in return, his nonverbal response conveying the same feelings I have for him. Without a word, he’s springing to action, rushing headlong through the shadows of the front lawn, closing in on Clair de Lune.

I don’t know what will happen as I race through the woods. With Zander taking point at the Vampyr estate, I need to go into wolf territory alone–under the full moon, knowing full well what will happen if I run into aggravated Koramas who might conveniently forget about the treaty.

Despite my tumultuous relationship with Verity, I’m certain she wouldn’t hurt me (not in wolf form, anyway). However, the rest of the Koramas remain deadly and not without prejudice. If they spy a Vampyr Prince traipsing about their territory on the night of the full moon, they might think the worst and ambush me. That leaves me with one option, and one option only.

I need to find Verity.

That is all I think about as I make my way through the ghostly National Park, closing in on the border separating the Vampyrs from the Koramas.

I don’t have time to think about my relationship with Verity, how I feel about her, how she views me. But it’s impossible to get it out of my mind. I finally submit, allowing myself to think about her, the kiss, our conversation, as I disappear into the shadows, hearing the frantic scrambling of forest animals in my wake.

It was difficult to explain myself to her, impossible to watch her walk away the night of the party knowing she had the wrong impression about me.

Her kiss took me by surprise–no, it was a complete shock. I’ve been trying to decode my feelings for her, which is about as simple as seeing through a blanket of thick, unyielding fog. I know what this means: I’m not close enough to her to form an opinion, an attraction, or any type of relationship she would want to have with me. I do know I care for her–she’s been one of the few who have made this ‘undead life’ worth living. Our unlikely partnership gave me that–despite the kill order, her snark (which is kind of endearing after a while), and our opposing races.

I might not know how I feel, but I do know I need to do everything in my power to keep her alive.

It begins to snow, the air heavy with the threat of further precipitation as I cross the border, practically feeling the shift in atmosphere as I step into what could be my undoing. I skid to a halt, yanking my vibrating phone out of my pocket.

Hurry. More are leaving. I think I saw Gabriel with them.

Gabriel?!

If he is involved–

Just crossed the border. I’ll hurry.

I frantically check to see if Verity has opened my message. My chest clenches painfully when I confirm that it remains unseen. I finally call her while I continue to whizz through the Heavenstream National Park, hopping over undergrowth and narrowly avoiding fallen tree trunks from the last storm as I roam helplessly through the woods.

She doesn’t answer.

I inhale shakily against the howling wind, dialling her number again before resuming my frantic pace.

How will I ever find her? It’s not as if I know where she lives. I’ll never be able to reach her in time.

Wait.

The tavern.

She works there. I’m sure she’s not working now , but if the owner is there, he might be able to point me in the right direction. When it comes down to it, I need to warn everyone–but especially her.

I finally burst through the barren trees, racing clumsily for the city streets fringing the National Park. I’m less prudent as I move, knowing if any humans are out and about, they’ll see a strange-looking man with abnormal agility rushing through the city.

It’s as if my limbs weigh thousands of pounds as I catch sight of the old-looking building, the sign out front welcoming patrons to The Azalea Tavern. I slip on some ice and slam into the double doors, rapping fervently on the glass.

“Hey! We’re closed, buddy!” calls a voice from inside. I sense a Korama (big surprise). The voice is familiar. It might be the owner.

I step back half a pace when a man appears behind the glass, hands on his hips. A stained dish towel is draped over his shoulder. I immediately recognize the Korama’s gray eyes, balding salt and pepper hair, and firm lips as he regards me with caution. He remembers me, too.

“I need to talk to you!” I persist, banging on the glass again.

He doesn’t react an iota as he stares me down. For an older gentleman, he’s quite intimidating. I wonder why he isn’t in transition like the rest of the Koramas–but now isn’t the time for speculation.

“Too bad! I’m busy, kid!” he hollers over his shoulder after turning around. The pub may be shut down for the evening, but the lights are on toward the back of the establishment, supposedly for the guests residing in the inn upstairs.

“It’s about Verity!” I insist, desperation swelling in the back of my throat.

The man halts his pace as soon as the words leave my mouth.

“She’s in danger! You all are!” I continue, my hands pressed against the fogging glass, my body frigid with distress.

The older Korama turns to look at me. In a flash, he’s back at the door, opening it in a flourish. He all but yanks me inside, slamming the door behind me and locking it furiously.

“What’s this about Verity?” he barks, frowning at me as if he’s gauging the sincerity of my statement.

“My–my brother and I have reason to believe a massacre is about to take place,” I breathe, panting heavily, exhaustion threatening to push my body into the worn floorboards.

The tavern’s warm and peaceful environment hangs over me, tugging at my nerves. My body yearns for relief–but I refuse to relax. Too much is at stake. Every moment counts.

“Nightwalkers and Daywalkers alike have congregated at the manor. We believe they’re heading for the border.”