Chapter Seventeen

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Chapter Seventeen (Nicholas)

Mark was a pureblood.

He was a pureblood human born to two vampire parents. How was that even possible? I wanted to ask Kristophe, but he was still pissed from earlier. He'd been ranting for at least half an hour as we drove around Red Field for a while, passing surburbs and trailer parks.

It was a genetic mutation, Kristophe had seethed. The vampire gene apparently cancelled each other out, leaving Mark to be a human. His parents had hidden the fact that they were vampires from their own son.

They had been members of the Drakon Clan, a member of the Court of Seven. To escape Vladimir's iron fist, they'd pretended die and took off for Wolf Creek. They hid there and Lily Drakon had given birth to a human pureblood. They hid this for two reasons.

One, Vladimir would be furious when he found out they weren't dead.

Two, Vladimir would be intrigued with the fact that they had produced a human pureblood.

However, someone had turned Mark into a vampire. Someone ruined one of histories most stunning mysteries as well as something that would be fun to experiment on. At least, that's what I interpreted from Kristophe's ranting and raving.

Mark was apparently very dangerous now. He was a pureblood vampire and he didn't know it. If he ever found out, he'd take advantage of that and destroy Zephyra. Although personally deep down I couldn't care less if he destroyed Zephyra or not, I knew I had to.

Zephyra was now my clan. I had made a deal and now I had to uphold it. So whatever was a danger to Zephyra was a danger to me and I had to destroy it.

Not only did I have to kill Storm now, but I had to kill Mark. Or at least take him into custody, Kristophe advised as he drove down the road, turning onto a street with a dead end sign. However, at the very end of the street was a large two story home. White paint chipped off the siding and front deck. A gravel driveway went around the entire house, revealing a couple SUVs, a Silverado, and a sleek Ferrari.

There was also a barn out back, but it was completely shackled shut. Kristophe pulled into the driveway, parking in front of the barn before we got out. I looked up at the house through the darkness, frowning.

"Why are we here?" I asked, closing the door. Kristophe reached into his pocket, withdrawing a cigarette and lighting it up before blowing a stream of smoke into the night air, glancing at me.

"You are going to meet more of your true family. Now come. Follow me." He gestured and I obeyed, following close behind him as we approached the back door where a small window looked in at a pair of green curtains. They slid apart and I was surprised to see Kelsey peering out at us before she shut them. The sound of locks being undone followed by the door opening as Kelsey greeted us, gesturing for us to enter.

"Ooo, glad you're still around, Nicky." Kelsey exclaimed brightly with a smirk, then shut the door behind me. I glanced at her curiously before looking up into a warm, cozy kitchen decorated in things that you'd probably see in an occult shop.

Wreaths and pentagrams, daggers and statues lined the walls along with thousands of glass jars of herbs and liquids, making me blink. I expected some kind of weird names on the bottles as we passed, but most of them I recognized, like catnip, honey, strawberry jam, etc.

I looked up as we went through a hallway, passing a bathroom and closet before coming into a large living room lined with bookshelves that were occupied mostly by books. Although, a few jars, candles, and statues also filled the shelves.

Then there were the people in the room.

Four people, excluding myself, Kristophe, and Kelsey. The one who sat closest on the end of the sofa was male. His hair was platinum blonde, styled like the stereotypical punk. His cat green eyes were outlined in black, making him almost look like a raccoon. He wore a black jumpsuit with a turtlneck and no sleeves, a leather vest over top with tons of pockets and chains. His hulking boots were laced up to his knees and looked like a weapon themselves.

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