Page 1 of The Vampire’s Mercy (Blood Melody #1)

CHAPTER ONE

PARIS

The darkness screamed with a thousand tortured voices.

Mine was the loudest.

Cold. So cold. Wrapped in a blanket of frozen thorns, trapped in the darkness. So lost. So broken.

Let me out!

Let me out!

Let me out!

I couldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.

Let me out!

Let me out!

Let me out!

The blanket constricted, icy barbs burrowing into my flesh and my soul. Whispers crawled into my head, telling me I’d never be free. That I was done, done, done. Forever lost, that I should buckle and get ready for endless sorrow.

Let me out!

Let me out!

Let me out!

My eyes shot open, a strangled cry tearing from my throat, searing pain in my skull. A blaze of sunlight greeted me, forcing my eyelids closed. I kicked out in panic, sliding across something wet.

Sunlight. Not darkness. And the cold kiss of the wind upon my face, the wetness pressing against the back of my head.

Shit. Had I been dreaming?

I caught my breath, getting a grip on myself. Shivering, wet from ice.

Ice? Was I lying on ice?

The cold caress of reality slithered across my body, seeping into my bones. Eyes adjusting to the light, I blinked up at an azure sky, wisps of white cloud rolling by.

Huh?

I sat up, rubbing my eyes and scanning my surroundings, condensation puffing from my mouth with every shaky breath.

To my right sat Oreflame City’s huge Nightingale Theatre, its concrete-and-iron structure completely coated in glacial blue ice.

Great. But why was I staring at it, shivering my balls off?

A suppressing fog suffocated my brain, things not quite piecing together yet. I knew where I was but not why. I was missing something here. Something super important.

Come on, brain! Wake up!

Up ahead was a half-collapsed bridge, the fallen half of the gray concrete structure sticking out of the frozen river at a jaunty angle.

West Bridge?

River. I’m on a river…

Yeah, I knew that, but—

Oh, bollocks! I was out on the frozen Albion River like some sitting duck.

What the hell?

Before my time, this whole area had been a major entertainment hub along the river’s central section, now lost to the frostbrood.

An area I shouldn’t be hanging about in, unless I had a death wish.

Synapses firing properly, I got to my feet. Dread brought a sour taste to my mouth as I scanned my surroundings for any impending attacks from the icy menaces nesting here.

“Fuck!” I hissed through gritted teeth, shivering in the bitter wind.

The frostbrood were creatures from another realm, made of ice and all things majorly unpleasant. Seeing themselves as a supreme race, they sought to cleanse this world of every other living creature to make way for their dominance.

They’d claimed parts of the world as their own, creating areas of ice and snow known as nests.

There were vast networks of tunnels below the ice, only the first ten feet accessible.

The rest were impenetrable, no matter the serious efforts to break into them.

Damn icy pricks couldn’t be wiped out, only contained, free to breed away down there.

The tunnels were scanned and mapped with a combination of magic and technology, but that was it. Not even a bomb designed to burrow worked. So, magic kept their nests contained, with the odd escapee popping out to cause chaos now and again.

By Aidan! Things weren’t sweetcream for me right now.

How the hell had I managed to bypass the watchtowers, cross the magical veil, stroll onto the river, and take a nap? And why was I only wearing a jumper, jeans, and trainers? If I didn’t get out of here, I’d either be slaughtered or freeze to death in this pocket of frosty horror.

Neither of those options, please.

Okay. Plan of action. Get off the river, head for the Waterlow Road. Someone would see me there. Chew me out for being an idiot, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t endure.

After all, I’d survived life at Executioner Academy in one piece.

With a sharp pain dancing in my skull, I headed for the south shore. I was pissed off with myself for being here, furious at my apparent memory loss.

Minus a hundred points for me tonight.

I checked my watch to see that it was already 13:21. I should be at home, prepping for tonight’s mission.

There was a vampire king to kill.

With my elvish trait of lightfeet, I was able to avoid a slippery stroll. Staying vigilant, my senses were on high alert for any sounds, smells, or sights that registered as danger.

I might not be properly armed for a frostbrood scrap, the permanent presence of my stakeblade designed for vamp slaying only, but I retained my kick-arse spirit.

I was a beast on the dancefloor of violence, trained to kill, injected with the blood of the other races of the world to survive and fight.

Motto to live by: Always come out swinging, no matter what.

I noticed something on the ice a few feet away, glinting in the sunlight.

A blade?

Gingerly, I moved closer, crouching over the object jutting out of the ice. A crystal dagger, the half of it not entombed in the ice exposed. Its hilt was decorated with thin filigree silver swirls, and a heart-shaped crystal above the silver cross guard.

Interesting. My twin sister, Pearl, would have loved this. Before everything went to shit, she’d been training to work in the forges at our Executioner Academy.

A vicious kernel of sadness flared in my chest, heating with each cautious step I took toward the blade.

Pearl…

My sister, my world. A year gone, my nights haunted by grief, my heart forever broken.

Pearl…

Ripped from my life one bleak September morning. Murdered. Brutalized. I’d never hear her laughter again or feel the warmth of her hugs or feel myself perk up with one of her elite pep talks.

Gone forever.

I drew in some deep breaths, shutting down this wander into pain. My nightmares were bad enough. I didn’t need to be dealing with cruel daydreams too.

I had a frozen river to leave and a life to keep living.

For her.

And how about I focus on tonight’s big mission? The biggest mission I’d ever undertake. World-changing, the biggest honor I could give to my sister’s memory.

The end of the vampire king.

Cracking my freezing knuckles, I drew a line down the middle of my chest—the elvish blessing for good luck—and crouched before the crystal blade.

I tapped the hilt with a tentative finger, the surface warmer than expected.

Nothing happened.

I tapped it with two fingers, just to be sure there wasn’t any kickback. Yeah, I should probably get out of this nest rather than faff about with the dagger, but I couldn’t walk away now.

Curiosity, man. What a pain!

I wrapped my right hand around the hilt, giving it a tug. The dagger came free so easily I lost my balance in surprise, landing on my arse.

Bollocks! I’d been expecting some resistance.

Back on my feet, I inspected the weapon. Other than the markings in the hilt, the rest of the blade was pure, polished crystal. Deadly sharp and strange, it wasn’t like anything I’d seen before.

“Who are you?” I asked it.

It gleamed in the sunshine, giving nothing away.

Time to move, my inner alarm bells warned.

But I found myself enchanted by the blade, my hand trembling. A hum of energy passed through my veins, pushing me into a trance.

Blade on the ice…

With me.

Blade and me.

“Why?” I whispered.

My numbing fingers twitched, my head foggy.

“What is this?”

Nothing answered but the cold wind, snapping me out of this bullshit.

Okay, enough delaying and being a target. I took off for the shore again, happy to be armed.

Blade on the ice…

With me.

Blade and me.

The dagger vanished in a puff of silvery smoke. I stumbled forward in shock, almost losing my footing again.

“What the hell?” I grumbled, regaining my balance.

Daggers didn’t just disappear. Right?

Checking around me to see if I’d dropped it, I found nothing. It really had vanished.

Really?

“What-fucking-ever,” I seethed, forcing myself onward.

Fuck the dagger. Fuck this irritating bollocks. I wanted a hot bath, to be around my plants, and to take a shot of Hal’s cockle-warming rum.

And maybe a shot of him…

I reached Theatre Pier, the whole thing still intact, a sloping path wrapped in curved glass, icicles hanging on its underside. Empty. No frostbrood lurking inside it. Still, I moved cautiously, alert to any surprise attacks.

Clearing the pier, I reached the promenade outside the theatre, my trainers crunching in the snow. I picked up my pace, heading east.

All I had to do was cross Osborne Gardens, stay alive, then figure shit out.

Anger bubbled inside me, the heat dialing up by the second. People like me didn’t put themselves in compromising positions, especially unarmed. Not to blow my own trumpet, but I liked to think I was a pretty smart cookie.

I should be, after all my training.

Steeling myself against any panic, I carried on, glancing left as I passed the stairs leading up to Central Bridge.

Frozen human bodies littered the stairs, half buried in ice, twisted into all sorts of positions like something from a nightmarish painting.

Long-dead victims from when the frostbrood first arrived here, unable to escape, locked forever in the ice.

No. Not forever. Soon they’d be laid to rest properly.

I’ll make it happen, my thoughts echoed in my head.

First the vamps, then the icy scum. Because there was always a way to make something happen if you prayed to Aidan hard enough.

Put your faith in Him, and all things were possible.

One dead guy reached for the sky as if begging for mercy, his hands gnarled into claws.

“Rest easy,” I told him and all of them, hoping their souls were in the heavens with Aidan. Our blessed deity would look after them.

Fucking vamps. Their invasion gave the frostbrood access to our world. They’d brought them over from their rotten realm by accident, the frosty fuckers a pain in their arses too.

Wherever that realm was. Apparently, King Silvanus had severe memory loss, which meant they were all affected, seeing as he was their source of life.

Take him down, end them all.

Some said the vamps were from Hell, or from some place they’d drunk dry, no more blood available, Quintrealm the next best thing.

So many theories, but no definitive answer. And it didn’t matter. They were scum, end of.

Passing under the bridge, the cold air burning in my lungs, I veered left toward the gardens. Despite my determination and resilience, the cold would start getting to me soon. I had about twenty minutes, I figured.

In the name of Aidan, I wouldn’t die here. This rotten place wouldn’t be my grave.

Hard pass, cheers.

“Move it!” I hissed, picking up the pace again.

Cross the gardens, get to Waterlow Road, I repeated in my head like a mantra.

Ore’s Eye loomed over the gardens, leaning slightly toward the river.

Icicles hung from the huge iron wheel, turning it into some weird, almost snowflake-like decoration.

I’d seen videos of it in full flow from the days before, tourists having a whale of time, enjoying the spectacular views the tall wheel provided.

One day, that thing was going to come down with a mighty crash, taking out a chunk of the ice-covered north shore.

Both sides of the river, for five miles in both directions, were lost to the frostbrood. So many old buildings consumed by ice, many of them historical landmarks of midtown built back in Oreflame City’s glorious mining days, when the city wasn’t a sprawling metropolis.

Snowy gardens cleared, nothing there but dead trees and a rusted park, I wove through the graveyard of vehicles and bodies spread across the adjacent street. Humans, fellow elves, werewolves, merfolk—all united in death. Even the odd animal.

The cluster of concrete-and-iron skyscrapers towering around me were all potential danger spots. An airborne frostbrood could leap out of any window at any moment, bringing all the gut-wrenching drama.

I’ll still come out swinging!

Thankfully, I crossed the next three roads without incident, reaching the top of Waterlow Road.

It sloped downward, cutting under the old Albion South train station, now used as a checkpoint for this side of the nest. Watchtowers jutted out of the gray concrete; all traces of its ornate ironwork removed.

Gun turrets and cameras worked overtime, a shitload of guardians on constant alert for activity.

Man, I’d never been so happy to see the ugly building.

A faint veil of white mist shimmered in the sky, the magical energy keeping eighty percent of the nest’s frostbrood contained. A line of ice resembling piped rosettes on a cake formed the border of the nest, due to the reaction between magic and the ice.

Thank Aidan no more nests had been created since the mass containment around the world. Although I often wondered if that would change further down the line.

Hopefully not.

A woman near the tunnel entrance under the station shouted me over.

Buzzing with relief, I hurried down the sloped road. Within seconds I’d be stepping into the spring warmth, freezing nest be damned.

Yay for April.

I’d be sweetcream in no time. In that bath and hugging Hal, back on the right track for tonight.

What about the crystal blade?

Couldn’t I just file that away as a freaky ‘what the fuck?’

Something cold snapped around my neck, crushing my windpipe. My eyes widened as the guardian roared something, more joining her.

Oh. Shit.

The frostbrood spun me to face it.

“Where does the elf think it’s going?”