Vampyre | Book I of Bloodlines

THE RED MYST

Viola

Sophie's voice cuts through my sleep, and I awaken to find her worried expression hovering above me. "Viola?"

"Sophie, what's happened?" I scan the room, searching for Darius. "Where is Darius?"

Ignoring my state of undress, Sophie grabs my wrist and guides me to the window—she's seen it all.

"Look," she points outside. "I was packing, and I felt his presence out there. It's that Vampyre from before."

I peer out and spot Darius standing near the forest's edge with someone very tall. As soon as I hear the man's voice, I recognize it with a sinking feeling.

"Oh no," I turn to Sophie, "it's Stefan, Darius's maker."

I try to reach out to Darius through our connection, but all I encounter is a thick, red myst that blocks me from reaching him. Darius would never intentionally cut me off, especially in a situation like this, where communication would be vital.

Something must be wrong. I can't underestimate Stefan's abilities. Darius said he can manipulate emotions, but he hasn't seen him in over a hundred years—Stefan may have developed new powers that Darius isn't aware of.

As Darius adjusts his stance, Stefan's visage emerges into view. A wave of emotions floods through me, stirring a primal instinct nestled deep within my gut. Every hair on my skin stands on end as if electrified. It's reminiscent of the sensation I experienced when I witnessed Stefan with Elliott—a potent mix of fierce rage and an insatiable drive to protect. But this time, with Darius in the picture, the intensity of these emotions swells beyond containment.

I rush to get dressed. "To hell with this, I'll kill him myself,"

I recall Darius's words, reminding myself not to let anger cloud my judgment. His insight about witches resonates deeply—we are nurturers. But now, I'm not just half witch; I'm also half blood-thirsty beast, and Darius needs me, which means it's time to embrace my whole self.

"Sophie, go get Elliott and meet me in William's office," I instruct, urgency lacing my tone.

Utilizing my Dhampir speed, I rush towards the secret passage. There's a sword in William's office that Darius can wield in this confrontation—I need to get it to him.

Upon entering William's office, I witness William himself tearing down the mounted case, his eyes ablaze with a crimson hue in the dim light. It's Darius—he's using William to take the sword.

He hurls the frame to the ground, shattering the case and sending the sword clattering to the floor. But then, William clutches his head in agony, dropping to his knees and emitting guttural cries of pain.

"Darius?" I approach him with apprehension.

William gazes at his hands, seemingly bewildered.

It's not Darius. The crimson mist severing my mental connection with Darius must have also cut off William from Darius's influence. Stefan is somehow blocking Darius. Could it be the charm? Perhaps he's using the charm, using its magic over Darius without his awareness.

He's somehow projecting its protective shield around Darius to dampen his magic. He's not wearing it and using it for his own defense—he's leveraging it to weaken Darius.

As William's trembling hand reaches for the blade, his fingers encircle the hilt.

"No, not Darius," he mutters, contempt dripping in his tone.

William rises to his feet, turning to face me. A few days ago, the icy coldness in his eyes would have instilled fear within me. But now, I feel only annoyance—William stands in my path, squandering precious time.

The knowledge that I carry Darius's child ignites something within me. Previously, I was willing to sacrifice myself for him. Now, it seems I'm prepared to relinquish my humanity to safeguard him. And right now, William obstructs that path. The true peril lurks beyond these walls, not within.

"You will pay for what you and Darius have done," William threatens.

A smirk dances across my lips, anticipation coursing through me as I contemplate exacting retribution for his transgressions. The raging storm within me churns with a myriad of biting retorts, but soon, he'll be nothing more than a memory. I intend to spend eternity with Darius, and William is merely an obstacle to that destiny—a mere pebble in my shoe.

As William raises the sword and moves to strike me, my brows furrow in confusion—he's moving so slowly that it gives me all the time in the world to grab his wrist as it comes down toward me.

William's eyes snap to mine, and the fear that flickers within them is all the satisfaction I need as payment for all the things he's done to hurt me.

I smile and catch how William's eyes dart to my elongated fangs, itching to be sunk into his flesh.

"That's right, William. Your wife is a monster who spent all night fucking Darius Kane and is now pregnant with his child," I add insult to injury.

I twist my hand around his and push upward, feeling the bones snap like twigs. The sound is oddly mesmerizing and satisfies the creature within me. I can't afford to indulge the darkness within me for long and sink my fangs into William's neck without hesitation.

William's blood, rich and sweet, fills my mouth, and each pulse of his heart reverberates through my fangs like a symphony, signaling the nearing end of his life. As I drink, I sense something else stirring within my mouth—venom beginning to form. Yet, I resist the urge to release it, willing it to remain contained.

The idea of transforming William into a Vampyre, the very creature he despises, the entity he has spent his life hunting, flits through my mind. Would he loathe himself enough to bring about his own downfall? The irony of him becoming like Darius is not lost on me, but deep down, I know William could never truly emulate Darius.

No, William deserves nothing less than to decay in the earth—at least he'll be useful to feeding Mother Nature's offspring.

I see Sophie approaching from the dark tunnel leading from the library, cradling Elliott in her arms, I'm relieved to hear his steady breaths—he's still sound asleep. It's for the best—I wouldn't want him to witness the gruesome death of his own father. Even if he has no emotional attachment to William, there's no telling what effect seeing such a sight might have on him. I'd hate for Elliott to fear me or be traumatized by the scene.

I release my mouth from around William's neck, listening to his heartbeat slowing until it ceases altogether, and watch the light fade from his eyes.

A dark part of me, once small and feeble, suddenly swells, as if nourished by the life I've taken. I'll savor William's demise later; for now, I can't risk Elliott seeing his father in such a state. I pick him up by the back of his jacket, open the door to Darius' old prison, and toss him inside like an oversized rag doll. I close the door and reach down to pick up the sword I came for.

As Sophie enters William's office, she freezes in her tracks. I straighten up, revealing my blood-covered mouth, and lock eyes with her. She stands frozen, her gaze fixed on me, her expression a mixture of shock and apprehension.

"Mon Dieu," she whispers, her gaze fixated on my mouth as I lick my lips clean.

"Stay in here until I return. Do not let Elliott go in there," I motion to the door leading to where William's corpse lies and make my way past Sophie.

Before I leave, I turn to Sophie, a thought forming in my mind.

"Wait, Sophie, if I drink from you, I may gain the strength to face Stefan alone. You're a full-blooded witch," I suggest, already knowing Sophie well enough to know she's a proud woman who would never allow such a thing.

The glare she shoots me speaks volumes, accompanied by a flurry of colorful French expletives.

I shrug. "Worth a try."

Right, it's time to go help the man I love destroy his creator.