Crowned by blood, p.30
Crowned by Blood, page 30
part #3 of Daughter of Cain Series
“Let me go,” I whisper, tugging at their grip.
My betas hold me fast, and I contradict my own request as Cain’s next blow makes me unconsciously shiver closer to them.
Samuel loses his other arm. Then a foot. The other foot.
Left to crawl on the dirt like a worm, and there’s nothing I can do.
Most soldiers—no matter how grand they are—piss themselves at the knowledge that death has finally come for them. Not Samuel. He just keeps fighting. My brother struggles his way closer to the trap and the perceived safety of his allies. None of us move a muscle. We all know it would be pointless.
My face is wet as I meet his desperate eyes. His lips part.
“I’m sorr—”
Cain sinks his sword into Samuel’s spine, pinning him to the earth like a bug. My brother’s final apology cuts off, his face contorting with agony as Cain pulls the blade out, then sinks it in again. Blood splatters my sire’s suit, but he keeps stabbing, three times, four… until I lose count.
Samuel’s age means he stays alive for all of it. His eyes slide closed, but he’s not dead. Cain will have to behead him and stake his heart with silver for that.
I have no doubt that’s coming. Cain just wants him to suffer first.
“Thank fuck,” Frost breathes.
My attention snaps to him, and I frown as I fail to see what he’s on about. We’re losing. Finn may have taken the tiltrotors out, but more of Cain’s men are still pouring onto the battlefield. Still, both Frost and Gideon are grinning like loons.
Their shrieks blend in with the cries of the dying for a moment before I manage to separate the two. By that time, I see them.
Ghouls, in numbers I’ve never seen before, crawl out onto the battlefield and start tearing into everyone, living or dead.
“Sorry I’m late,” Grigoriy mutters, appearing beside us on the edge of my circle. “I got a bit lost in the subway… the tracks were a lot closer together than the map said…”
He was late because he got lost? My mind wheels at the impossibility of it.
If he’d been here—I cut off the thought. Such ‘what if’s’ don’t belong on the battlefield.
Silas groans. “Subway maps are never geographically accurate.”
He glances at Frost and Gideon, undoubtedly thinking that had the two of them not left Grigoriy, this never would have happened. Fortunately, he has the sense not to say that aloud.
I look back at Cain. But my sire’s full attention has been consumed by the new arrival.
Incandescent fury eclipses his smug smile. He kicks Samuel over, and stabs his sword through his neck, severing the spinal cord with brutal efficiency. I don’t even see him pull the stake from his pocket. As far as I’m concerned, it simply appears, sticking out of my brother’s chest.
Cain abandons the lifeless, disintegrating corpse of his son in favour of advancing on the first ghoul.
In answer, Grigoriy calmly steps into my circle, leaning against the silver coffin. He flicks the latch, and Ivan topples out. He’s not been burned, but his neck is red raw from the rough healing that his body has been forced to do over and over again since he was captured. His body has shrunk, becoming sickly thin with undernourishment, and he barely retains the strength to crawl to his feet.
“Fancy seeing you again, brothers.” Grigoriy offers Cain a congenial smile. “All three of us, together at last.”
“You foolish girl,” Cain curses. “You’ve unleashed your worst nightmare.”
Grigoriy grabs Ivan by the collar of his shirt and hauls him to his feet. “You’re missing your lapdog.”
Cain takes another step forward, but he hesitates at the edge of the circle.
Until a blonde blur leaps from the shadows behind him, knocking him forwards.
“That’s for Bella, you conceited, tiny-dicked prick!” Callie screeches as Cain turns his murderous gaze on her. He takes a step forward, and she flinches, but Cain’s progress is stopped as soon as he tries to cross the circle, where he’s instantly rebuffed by red flames.
That shove was just what we needed to get him inside.
Callie’s eyes meet mine, and I offer her the smallest perceptible nod of thanks. It’s not enough, not really, but it’s all we have time for.
Cain snarls like a trapped animal, fangs finally dropping in the first uncontrolled display of temper I’ve seen in decades. This is Cain at his most dangerous, and my body reacts instinctively by freezing my breath in my lungs.
My pack moves in, surrounding me in a protective semi-circle as I face down the monster who made me. Our allies form a wall, protecting us from the battle still raging.
“Bravo, Evelyn,” Cain says, his voice a hiss. “Though, I must say, your magic is nothing compared to most of your treacherous kind. That barrier you left in my mansion couldn’t contain a fly. And you, Callista, I wasn’t going to waste my time by making your death hurt, but perhaps I can reconsider.”
It’s my turn to smirk, though I hardly feel like it.
Instead, I do the unthinkable; I turn my back on my sire.
“We have no sacrifice,” I mumble. “Does anyone know who Samuel had in mind?”
“Himself, predictably,” Callie says, interrupting us with her typical brusqueness. “Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure his corpse isn’t cut out to be sacrificing anything, so I suppose you’ll have to make do with me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
EVELYN
Even after Callie drops her bombshell, she acts as if nothing has happened. She carefully traces a long, escaped strand of blonde hair back behind her ear and uses her pinky finger to delicately separate her long, mascara covered lashes.
I’m so thrown by the fact that she wore a full face of makeup to a battle that it takes me a second to process.
Draven isn’t as slow, and he steps between us faster than lightning. “You, sacrifice yourself? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
Callie shakes her head and uses a single finger to push him to one side. “Honestly, Draven, now isn’t the time for melodramatics. I’ve made this decision, so move out of the way and let dear, perfect Evie cast whatever magic she needs to so we can get this whole sordid affair over with.”
I grab her arm. “If this is some trick…”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me, but let’s be real here. I die here, a hero, and you build statues in my honour. Or I die later, when either you or he”—she jerks her head back at Cain—“decides to hunt me down like a dog for my crimes.”
Shaking my head isn’t dispelling the rigid outline of her from in front of me. If this were anyone else, I could believe it. But this is Callie.
Sure, she’s probably the only person who could’ve knocked Cain into the circle, the only one he never saw as a threat. Yes, I know she wants vengeance, but her MO has never been sacrificing herself to get it.
She shakes her long blonde hair back and growls. “I’m sick and fucking tired of all this. I signed up for a quick death, not the inquisition, so—”
“Even if you’re not trying to pull something,” I interrupt. “You realise this is not an easy death, right? The spell will make you irresistible, and those three will literally eat you alive until there’s nothing left.”
She hits me with a look. “You mean to tell me that the great, bleeding-heart Evelyn didn’t add something to numb it?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t have the time or the knowledge. If you’re lucky, the white oak will reach your heart quickly.”
It won’t kill her, but it might knock her out.
Maybe one day I’ll have the ability to craft my own spells, or alter old ones, but it just wasn’t possible in a few weeks.
Cain is following the conversation with his eyes narrowed. He can’t figure out Callie’s game either.
Looking into my sister’s grey-brown eyes, my mind flashes back to her words back in the pack house, and I realise she means it. Callie doesn’t see another way out and—perhaps selfishly—neither do I.
“I wouldn’t advise trusting Callista with anything more important than spreading her legs,” Cain comments dryly. “And even then, she’s woefully disappointing at that.”
A single tear drips from my sister’s right eye, but her face is angled so that our sire can’t see.
“This isn’t the only way,” I whisper to her.
She shakes her head. “Of course it is. The alternative would be what? Me grovelling for your rabid dog’s forgiveness and trying to pretend I feel even the smallest inkling of guilt for murdering his pathetic family? Please. We both know I didn’t, and I won’t debase myself pretending otherwise. Mortals are less than animals.”
Her words are cruel, and they have the intended effect. Draven snarls and lunges, and Cain laughs.
“Oh, this is precious. A final, lasting bid for attention from the most disappointing of all my daughters.”
Callie’s hands fist by her sides, and her shoulders stiffen before she forces herself to relax and begins to twist the bracelets on her wrists over and over in a soothing motion.
“Get on with it,” she growls. “We don’t have long.”
A savage growl fills the air, and a second later, Cain attacks my barrier with all his strength. It holds, but he goes for it again. Then again. Even knowing the barrier is as strong as I can possibly make it, I tense, waiting for it to shatter.
Grigoriy grabs his arm before he can level another punch, and plants a vicious uppercut on the vampire’s jaw.
He’s distracted, but not for long. I unclasp the satchel at my belt, tipping the herbs into my palm carefully.
I cast an evaluating look at Callie. “Last chance to back out. Once this goes in your bloodstream…”
She rolls her eyes, then snatches the fistful of herbs from me and slashes her own wrist.
Shit.
Without thinking, I slash my own palm and slam it over the bloody mess of her arm. Each word of the incantation feels like a peal of a heavy bell inside my chest, ripping free until my hand burns. Callie muffles a little gasp.
Inside me, that ancient presence I’ve come to associate with magic groans, stretching its claws.
The heads of all three original immortals snap up, no doubt scenting her enchanted blood on the wind.
When it’s done, I step back, unsure what to do. Should I hug her? She’s my sister, in all ways that matter, despite how much we’ve done. Now, I’m sending her to her death… should I…
Draven takes the matter out of my hands.
“I hope it hurts,” he growls.
“Why?” she quips back. “Hoping my screams will drown out the memory of your son’s?”
Then, with her typical, sashaying walk, she crosses the threshold.
Cain tries to hold back, but his fangs are already extended past his chin. When Callie reaches up and rips her own throat wide open…
He doesn’t stand a chance.
The three men fall on her like starving dogs, ripping her apart with the force of their hunger. One of her pale hands goes flying, the bangle slipping free and rolling away in the dirt.
Their demise happens slowly. Their frenzy ebbs first, and when Callie is little more than a bloodstain on the ground, the three men sit around with a dazed expression on their faces.
“Morana?” Grigoriy whispers, as he slumps to one side. “Is that you, my love?”
He’s gone in the next instant, his clothes falling away as his form dissolves into ash. His coat thumps to the ground, the distinct rectangular outline of a book visible beneath the fabric.
Ivan is next. The butler’s eyes are fixed on Cain, though they’re slowly becoming glassier with each shuddering breath. Then suddenly, he just stops. In the next instant, his ashes join Grigoriy’s.
“You know, Evelyn,” Cain mutters, meeting my eyes as he rasps his last words. “An empire is nothing… without a legacy.”
And I could swear those cold, grey eyes gleam with sickening pride a second before he joins his brothers.
It’s over.
Callie is dead.
Samuel is dead.
Noha, Grigoriy… and countless others.
All in the pursuit of this.
And now, I’m just numb.
CHAPTER FORTY
FROST
The announcement is made at six in the evening on the following Tuesday. Holographic signs broadcast the message on every channel in the world, translated into a thousand different languages. Within the span of seconds, the whole planet knows.
The news anchor they chose to read it aloud isn’t the usual prim vampire Cain regularly chose to deliver his edicts. The leaders of the resistance agreed that it would be too similar to the announcements Eve’s sire made. Instead, they choose an older human woman, with soulful blue eyes and soft white hair. She beams as she talks, radiating relief and calm in the way most grandmothers do.
“Last Saturday morning, Cain was killed after a long and bloody battle with the resistance,” she begins, glowing. “He was finally defeated for good, thanks to the united efforts of all the races. His daughter, Lady Evelyn, has ascended to his place as leader of vampirekind.”
The vampire in question shuffles against my side, curled up under the covers of our new bed, and I tug her closer as I continue to watch the projection on the wall opposite.
“Her first acts in power were to abolish the mandatory lycan resettlement program—best known for requiring first-born alphas and betas to join the armed forces—and to begin the process of enacting fair and democratic elections for a cross-species council of advisers. These, we’re told, are just the start of her reforms to the autocracy her sire single-handedly created. Trials are being set up to judge those who were members of Cain’s court, and blood donation programs worldwide have been scrapped or made voluntary.”
Eve groans, and I press a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask. “Want me to turn it off?”
She nods against my side.
“Video off,” I call, and the projection disappears, taking the sound with it. “Want some breakfast?”
She’s been drinking more than usual since Cain died, and it hasn’t escaped my notice that her own blood is becoming more powerful, too. Whether that's due to her witchcraft, or simply the result of being the oldest living vampire—besides Morwen—I can’t say. Maybe it’s just Eve.
None of us has tried to initiate anything beyond feeding her since the battle ended. She may not show it, but she lost two siblings, and almost lost a third, and that’s bound to leave a mark.
Eve nestles her face against my neck, sinking her fangs in slowly, and I can’t help the groan that slips free. Is it my imagination, or is her venom getting stronger, too? I swear I can feel each draw on my vein directly in my dick.
God, it feels so fucking good, I’m already on the verge of orgasm. Damn it, I’m supposed to be giving her space.
“Eve,” I murmur. “Do you want to maybe hold back on the venom? You’re killing me here.”
In answer, she digs her fangs in harder, pumping more venom into my veins. My hips move of their own accord, thrusting against the covers for the slightest bit of relief.
I’m not going to last. I’m—
“Fuck.” I grimace as I erupt into my boxers, my cum trapped against my skin by the fabric.
Eve seals the wound slowly with a provocative lick, then relaxes against me.
“What brought that on?” I ask, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and dropping a kiss to her lips.
She shrugs. “I missed you.”
I squeeze her a little tighter, even though I know she doesn’t mean it that way—I’ve barely left her side since Cain’s death. She’s talking about the lack of intimacy we’ve shared since we returned from freeing Grigoriy.
“You were stressed,” I answer. “I wasn’t going to pressure you into sex while you were dealing with so much.”
“Is she saying we’re neglecting her?” Silas asks, pushing through the bedroom door without even trying to pretend he’s not eavesdropping.
He’s fully dressed, and it doesn’t take a genius to realise he’s been to check on Mia and Morwen. He and Vane have been popping down to their apartment just below the penthouse every second they can, helping their sister adjust.
No one is certain what will happen with Mia. Her status as a failed hybrid would once have been a death sentence, seeing as such creatures were rarely allowed to live long in Cain’s perfect world. Mia herself is hopeful that she’ll gain immunity to sunlight and control of her bloodlust in time, as most vampires do with age, but we have no frames of reference.
Fortunately, vampires have developed every conceivable technology to keep their newly turned alive since the Triumph. And with Morwen fully devoted to her protection, I don’t think the beta could be in better hands.
“Don’t worry,” she murmurs, pushing up to her elbows, looking adorably sleep-rumpled. “I still have that recording Finn made if I need a little help taking care of myself.”
Silas’s grin is blinding. “Hey, Vane,” he calls behind him. “I think Evie’s been feeling neglected.”
His brother’s heavy footsteps precede him into the room.
“Feeling bratty this evening, princess?” he asks.
Evie just blinks her sleepy blue eyes at him innocently.
“She said she missed us, and then she said she was using that recording Finn made to take care of herself.”
Vane prowls across the room, eyes fixed on Evie. “Princess, you have six thralls. You don’t ever need to take care of anything by yourself.”
In a flash, the covers are gone, and I grimace as the dark stain on my shorts is exposed to the light. Vane doesn’t comment beyond a raised eyebrow, but Silas’s chuckle makes me roll my eyes. Yes, it wasn’t my finest moment, but her venom is something else.
“Eve, I think Silas just offered himself up to be next,” I murmur, pressing a last kiss against her neck before Vane comes to whisk her away. “Take it easy on them, love.”
