Page 21 of The Vampire’s Mercy (Blood Melody #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

PARIS

“Let go of her!”

The vampire dug her teeth into my sister, others lurking in the dark, scarlet eyes shining, laughing, laughing, laughing. Ready to taste. Ready to kill.

“Pearl!”

I tried helping, but my body moved slowly, as if in water. The distance between us never closed, all hope sucked away like a leech snacking on my blood.

“You’re leeches!” I screamed. “You’re all fucking leeches!”

Laughter, agreement even. So many voices, so many sets of eyes mocking me.

The coral flush in my sister’s skin faded to gray. Her silver hair withered, and her body crumbled into tiny pieces while the vamp continued to drain her dry.

“There’s nothing left!” I cried, trapped in that damn slow motion. “Pearl! Oh, Aidan! Pearl!”

The darkness swallowed her and me, the vampires snuffing out.

“Pearl…”

A howling wind snatched me off my feet, sending me spinning into the dark. I roared, grasping for purchase on something, anything.

Thunder pealed, lighting forked around me, and the darkness spat me out into a heavy downpour.

I landed awkwardly on my feet, slipping on the soggy ground, pitching forward, smacking my forehead on a rock jutting out of the ground. A jagged edge tore my skin, blood streaming down my face.

“Dammit!” I cried, the honeyed taste of my blood landing on my tongue.

I rolled onto my back, sobbing, calling out for help, begging for my sister to come back.

Icy rain soaked me through in minutes, the cold seeping into my bones. My lungs burned, my head pulsed with agony.

I lifted a hand to shield my eyes from the torrent of water, just able to make out dark clouds choking a night sky. But a cloying darkness surrounded me, hiding everything.

Where was I?

Slowly, I got to my feet, shaking like a mouse in a trap. My crop top and jeans clung to me, filthy, useless in this weather.

Damn. Still wearing that damn outfit, eh? I’d be doomed to wear it forever, never finding my jacket, never allowed to slip on a hoody and sweatpants again.

“Well, bollocks to you,” I spat into the dark.

The pain in my head thundered like the rumbles in the sky, my chest a tangle of thorns. I had to get out of this rain and find help. Maybe then I could piece some of this together. Do something to save my sister, to make things right.

Be free from grief’s dirty grip.

Fire flared to life on my right, revealing a doorway. Two torches burned in sconces under an arch, light dancing on the wooden door. More fires came to life in murky glass windows above the door, spreading upward in a spiral, culminating in a beacon at the top of a tower of gray stone.

“Whoa,” I whispered, staring up at it.

The fire at the top went out, the other fires following, leaving the doorway torches to burn alone.

A shiver licked up my spine, my insides a roiling mess.

The thunder crashed, a burst of super bright lightning stinging my eyes. The rain fell harder, a sense of utter dread creeping up my spine.

I have to get out of here…

Should I head for the tower? What if it was a trap? Some new sting in this rotten tale?

The rain fell harder still, a bitterly cold wind moving in, quickly becoming unbearable. If I didn’t get to shelter soon, I’d be dead. Dead in the mud. Dead like Pearl.

She’s not dead. She can’t ever be dead. Those words bounced around in my head, a symbol of my struggle to accept reality.

Fuck reality.

Fuck living without her.

This isn’t real…

I made for the tower, crossing the soupy mud easily.

Pearl…

My heart thrummed in my chest, fear a tight cocoon around me. I teetered on the edge of complete collapse, ready for unconsciousness to grant me some mercy for a while.

You are unconscious…

I arrived at the tower doorway, tears brimming in my eyes, my hands curled into fists. My shoulders shook as the sobbing escaped, anguish my best friend.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

My limbs weakened, every last ounce of strength sucked away. Any moment now, I would keel over and wait for the cold to kill me right here. Because what was the point anymore? When did things stop being so exhausting?

Being dead meant failure.

Being dead meant never getting anywhere or achieving my goals.

And I’d never know peace. A guy like me didn’t get to the light at the end of the tunnel by giving up. He found it by being proactive, strangling the whining shit and wielding Aidan’s love like a sword.

I snarled, straightening my spine. Anger injected fresh strength into me, bringing a bright kernel of hope to my core. Violent hope. One where I dropped a piano on the king’s head purely for shits and giggles before I staked him.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Goodbye to the scum.

This is a dream. You’re not here, but back there on the bathroom floor.

Huh?

Steeling myself against my thoughts before they got the better of me, I rapped my knuckles on the door.

I woke up in a forest, something blissfully soft against my back. Fairy lights glistened in the vines and greenery above, and jasmine filled my nostrils.

The king’s chambers.

Yeah, I’d been dreaming.

I sat up, rubbing the back of my neck, my mouth tasting like a sewer. My head ached as if I’d guzzled too many beers last night and was now paying the price.

That dream. Pearl. I often saw her die in different ways, my brain attacking me with invented horrors. But that tower was new. Were my nightmares evolving?

Great. I couldn’t wait.

I shivered, still feeling the cold touch of that rain.

What time was it? The glass of my watch face was broken, the screen blank.

Wait. Was that sunlight pressed against the glass? I rubbed my eyes to be sure. Yeah, the glow of the sun shimmered in the window like a flood held back, its golden glow pooled into a swirling mass of light. None of it spilled onto the floor.

Super awesome glass, huh? I wondered what would happen if I broke it.

The threat of violence got shot down, a short burst of pain in my temples.

Yeah, yeah. I understood.

I got to my feet, my stomach rumbling. Did a thrall get to eat breakfast that wasn’t the king’s blood? I mean, I craved some toast and coffee, so that told me yes. And I’d kill for a mistrock cig.

There was another hunger in me, too. On the fringes, ready to taste the king again.

Bloodthirst.

Dammit. I didn’t want him anywhere near me again.

Yes, you do…

Wait a minute. The bed was gone, nothing but grass there.

I blinked away the haze of sleep. “What the hell? Silvanus?”

No answer.

Did the bed disappear at daytime?

His scent lingered in the air, twinned with the jasmine. I ignored it, not wanting to start conjuring images of his body or remember how good his blood felt inside me.

Shame there wasn’t more of him inside me…

With a frown creasing my forehead, I scanned the room properly.

Over in the left corner was a single bed of green sheets with big, fluffy pillows.

It sat beside an ornate wardrobe; intricate floral woodwork carved into the doors with keys sticking out of the locks.

Jasmine draped over the top, more of it tied to the bed’s headboard.

I gave it a wave.

Was that where I’d be sleeping, seeing as I had to stay here with him? Either that or the floor, because I wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him.

I’d rather mount a cactus.

But not really…

There were more shelves around the room, carved from wood and made to fit into the foresty aesthetics of the décor. Pretty awesome, really. I liked the vibe of this space, kind of wishing I could pull this off in my flat.

Over by the balcony doors was a rock with a cave mouth carved into it. Moss decorated its left side, a tangle of vines around the dark maw, the leaves growing a little in response to my presence.

I folded my arms, doing another sweep of the room. The king clearly enjoyed forests and books. Man, there were a lot of books on those shelves.

“What do you like to read?” I asked, heading for the closest shelf.

It was then I noticed amber eyes watching me from the rock.

I froze. “What—”

A hiss killed my question.

I called to my stakeblade, but my new thrall nature kept it firmly in its metaphysical pocket. A sharp rejection, like an electric shock, nipped at me.

Bollocks.

The snake slithered out of the dark. A python covered in emerald scales made its way toward me, big enough to squeeze the life out of a body three times my size and swallow them whole.

By Aidan, the creature was a bejeweled ornament sliding across the floor.

Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.

It stopped a few feet away, lifting its top half, the rest of it coiling into a swirl beneath it. Its tongue flicked at the air, those eyes creeping me out.

“Leave me alone,” I warned it.

It stared, not moving, no signs of aggression.

The door opened behind me. “Good morning.”

I turned and dashed past the figure standing there, slamming into a wall. I fell onto my arse then rolled to the side, springing to my feet.

“Are you okay?” a man asked.

I didn’t look at him, taking in my surroundings instead. A corridor of onyx with circular crimson lights in the ceiling. Long stretches running east and west with no ending in sight on both ends. No windows, no other doors, no way out.

Damn.

“Hello?” The elf man closed the bedroom door.

Man, he looked so clean, so put together in his green jacket with leaf-like brocade patterns, a white lace shirt, and green leather trousers. An emerald choker around his neck looked super expensive.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile. “I’m Elio, fellow thrall and here on behalf of King Silvanus while he day rests.”

I slid my hands into my pockets. “You’re a thrall?”

“Yes.” He offered me his hand, rings decorating his long, tapered fingers. “Nice to meet you.”

I rejected his handshake. “What’s going on? Why is there a snake in there?”

He dropped his hand. “I’m here to guide you through the day.”

So, it was morning.

“As for the snake,” he added, “her name is Medusa and she is beloved by His Majesty.”