15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
R owan sank to the stone floor, her back against the unyielding door. Every inch of her body was in pain, her limbs leaden with exhaustion. Frustration gnawed at her insides like a rat in a grain sack. She’d tried everything—picking at the lock with one of her hairpins, shouldering the door with all her might. But it remained as immovable as a mountain.
She’d spent countless hours in this gilded cage, her mind racing with thoughts of Casimir and the Reaper. A rasping sigh escaped her lips as she drew her knees tight against her chest, resting her forehead on them.
He could have just taken my blood, she thought as she stared off into space. The Reaper could easily have drained her dry by now. Yet he hadn’t. Why not?
Her mind whirred, twirling this puzzling piece of information around like a key seeking a lock. Perhaps even monsters had rules, invisible lines they refused to cross. Or maybe the Reaper was merely being sadistic, making her feel responsible for Casimir’s torture. If that was the case, he’d been successful in his plan.
Every second spent trapped in this room was another moment Casimir was bound and helpless. The realization that she was doing nothing while he suffered caused a wave of guilt to crash over her, consuming her every thought. Rowan fiddled with the hem of her tattered skirt as tears traced a path down her cheeks. She’d come here seeking answers about her past, but never had she anticipated the heavy price it would demand.
The silence was deafening; it pounded against her eardrums relentlessly. She let out a sharp exhale, steeling her resolve. She wasn’t going to sit around any longer. Rising from the floor, she started pacing around the room like a caged lioness, needing to do something, anything —
A subtle click interrupted her thoughts. Her body went rigid, becoming as still as a statue, her senses heightened. She strained to locate the direction of the noise until her gaze landed on a grand tapestry hanging on the far side of the room. The artwork depicted the profile of a warrior queen glowing with a mythical radiance, cloaked in armor and astride a regal steed.
Rowan grabbed the candelabra she’d previously brandished as a weapon, steeling herself. She held her breath as the edge of the tapestry lifted ever so slightly, revealing a hidden passage.
Her eyes locked on a stunning woman emerging from the shadows. Silver-blonde hair cascaded over her delicate shoulders, framing a face of surreal beauty. Her sky-blue eyes held a depth that seemed almost otherworldly.
“Who are you?” Rowan demanded, her voice steady despite the cold sweat breaking out at the nape of her neck.
“Someone who’s been waiting a very long time for you, Rowan,” the woman replied.
Rowan stared at her, growing more wary by the second. “You didn’t answer my question. Who are you and how do you know my name?”
The woman’s eyes were filled with sorrow, a deep well of secrets and silent pain. “My name’s Lilith,” she said. “Sweetheart . . . I’m your mother.”
Rowan’s world tilted.
“My mother? How can this be? How are you here?” Her voice cracked as she looked Lilith up and down. She couldn’t dispute the uncanny physical resemblance and the half-forgotten memories of being rocked as a child that resurfaced in Lilith’s presence. “If this is some ploy, I won’t hesitate to defend myself.” Rowan swung the candelabra to emphasize her words.
Lilith replied with a wobbly smile. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Slowly, she approached, wrapping Rowan in a tentative embrace. Rowan remained rigid, still holding the candelabra at her side. “My darling, you’re even more beautiful and courageous than I could have ever imagined. I’ve thought about you every single day.”
Rowan pushed away from the embrace and studied Lilith’s eyes, so similar in shape to her own, searching for the truth. “If you’re really my mother, describe what you left with me at the orphanage. In detail. ”
Lilith let out a weary sigh, tears streaming down her face. “You have every right to doubt me. Our family has handed down the Renasci sigil for generations. It represents both power and protection, and it’s only ever passed down from mother to daughter. It’s all that I could risk leaving with you, along with your name.”
Rowan glowered, her knuckles white from gripping the candelabra so tightly. Years of hurt and anger blazed inside her. “Do you see me as so unlovable that you could discard me like trash?”
“I swear, I never wanted to leave you.” Lilith’s eyes filled with a desperate plea. “It was because I love you more than life itself that I had to send you away. Eamon’s sadistic nature knows no bounds. I had to protect you from his darkness.”
Emotions swirled in Rowan as she struggled to process the words. She wanted to believe, to forgive, but almost two decades of abandonment and pain sliced at her heart, cutting open old wounds. “Your ‘protection’ left me at the mercy of the Brotherhood, where I suffered every single day.”
Lilith’s hands flew to her face as she let out a pitiful wail, backing up a step. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry,” she said, her voice quivering. “I did everything I could to save you. Please try to understand. Whatever hardships you faced there were nothing compared to what Eamon would have done. I’m bound to him, unable to defy or escape him. Have faith in me when I tell you that everything I did was out of love for you.”
Rowan’s lips pursed. “Bound to him? Unable to defy or escape? Then how are you standing here in front of me now? How did you escape his clutches to seek me out?”
Lilith’s eyes darted around the room, her hands wringing in front of her. “I haven’t escaped him. I’m compelled to obey any direct orders he gives me. Occasionally there are loopholes and ways around his commands when I’m clever enough to spot them. He underestimates me, always has.” She paused a moment, her chest rising and falling unevenly. “Eamon’s a master of manipulation. He keeps me under his control by using a powerful bond between us that I can’t break. But today there was an opportunity.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow in question. “Opportunity?”
Lilith nodded, twisting her hair repeatedly. “I overheard my guards speaking about a beautiful young woman whose mere presence was like a siren’s call to vampires. I put two and two together.”
Rowan’s forehead creased.
“It’s a trait passed down through our maternal bloodline,” Lilith continued. “The Reaper never expected me to find out you were here, so he didn’t think to give me a direct order to stay away.” Her mouth turned up slightly in a defiant smile. “He’s also been consumed by some new plan, a new obsession. It’s distracted him enough to allow me to get to you undetected.”
“Maternal bloodline. Are there more of us?”
Lilith’s beautiful features pinched in sorrow, and she cast her eyes downward. “No. You and I are the last of our clan.”
The room fell quiet as Rowan absorbed this news. Her brain churned with questions and suspicions while her heart waged a war with itself.
She folded her arms across her chest. “And what happens when he realizes you’re gone?”
“He’ll take his anger out on me.” Lilith’s throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly. “But I’ll gladly face whatever punishment comes my way if it means I can see you safe.”
“Why should I trust you?” Rowan’s words were guarded, but her anger had softened in the face of her mother’s despair. Lilith was either telling the truth about her intentions, or she was an exceptional actress.
Her mother reached out hesitantly and traced Rowan’s cheek with trembling fingers. “Because you’re my daughter.” She took Rowan’s hand tenderly in hers. “I’ve been forced into silence and compliance with his orders for too long. I’ll do anything in my power to save you from the same fate.”
Their heads turned simultaneously at the sound of footsteps advancing towards the door. The Reaper’s guards making their rounds.
Lilith tugged on Rowan’s arm. “We need to leave immediately.”
Rowan hesitated for a moment, then nodded, allowing Lilith to lead them into the concealed passage. She didn’t have time to process what was happening. She only had time to react, to follow Lilith’s hurried pace, trusting that her mother truly wanted to help her and that this wasn’t one of the Reaper’s manipulative games.
“Silence is our ally,” Lilith said, her voice barely audible in the narrow tunnel. “Vampire ears miss nothing.”
Rowan inclined her head, her senses heightened to an almost painful degree. Every sound seemed amplified and ominous. The passageway was a narrow, suffocating tunnel carved into the stone walls of the castle. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and moss, and the walls felt like they were closing in on her, making breathing difficult.
They moved with cautious haste, Lilith leading the way, her silhouette obscured in the gloom. Rowan’s mind raced as they traversed through the dark, fearing that each corner would conceal a nightmare waiting to pounce. She trailed her hand across the rough wall for reassurance and stability.
Her claustrophobia was back with a vengeance. She was flushed and dizzy, stumbling on the uneven ground, her breathing fast and shallow. She tried to suppress any sounds of pain or surprise as a cascade of pebbles clattered along the path, creating a deafening sound in the silence. Rowan froze, holding her breath as she waited for the end to come at the hands of the Reaper’s guards.
Time stretched out as, on the opposite side of the wall, vampire guards halted. A murmur of suspicion rose and faded. After a tense pause, the sound of the guards resuming their rounds penetrated through the thick layer of stones.
Once they had moved safely out of earshot, Lilith leaned in close. “Be careful. We can’t afford to be caught.”
Rowan grimaced. “I need you to lead me to the dungeons. We have to rescue my friend, Casimir.”
Lilith’s eyes widened. “Casimir? Do you mean Casimir Blackwood?”
“Yes.” Rowan’s protective streak flared. “How do you know him?”
“Eamon rants about him frequently. Calls him that meddlesome vampire .”
“We have to save him,” Rowan whispered fiercely, making Lilith halt in surprise.
“Surely you understand how dangerous that would be?” She gripped Rowan’s arm tightly. “We’re more likely to get caught if we try to rescue him. And besides, vampires aren’t trustworthy. No matter how charming and alluring they may seem, their ultimate goal is always blood, power, or both.”
Rowan’s response was firm and unwavering. “He saved my life. I won’t abandon him.”
“We don’t have time for this. You must understand that vampires can’t be trusted. Not ever. If he saved your life, it was a strategic decision to ensure you would be in his debt. Vampires are master manipulators, always cunning, always selfish, always ten steps ahead.”
Rowan remained unmoved. “I’ve seen his kindness and his bravery. He’s not like the Reaper.”
Lilith’s gaze hardened, a familiar stubbornness mirrored in both their faces. A tense silence stretched between them, neither willing to back down.
Rowan was the first to speak, playing her final card. “If you refuse to help me save him, I’ll yell and bring the guards down on us.” She pushed her shoulders back and jutted out her chin. She would stand her ground, no matter the consequences .
Lilith hesitated, regarding her with exasperation before relenting. “Fine. I can see I can’t change your mind. Just remember my warning once I help you escape.”
The tunnels led them into the depths of the fortress. The walls narrowed until their shoulders brushed against the cold stone with each step forward.
At last, they arrived at the dungeon, emerging through a concealed passage. The stench of blood and despair hit Rowan like a physical blow. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp at the sight of Casimir. His once-imposing figure was now battered and broken; deep wounds inflicted with merciless precision marred his pale flesh. His eyes, filled with torment, found hers, and something unspoken passed between them.
“Bloody hell!” Rowan fought back the bile threatening to rise at the gruesome sight of his unhealed injuries.
“Quickly. We must free him.” Lilith sprinted to the silver-lined prison cell and expertly used her hairpin to pick the lock.
“Can you walk?” Rowan crouched beside Casimir, hands hovering uncertainly over his injuries, afraid to touch, afraid to cause more pain.
He tried to force a smile, but it rapidly faded away. “You lead,” he managed to rasp.
Rowan slid her fingers under Casimir’s arm and lifted him to a standing position. Each slight movement seemed to take an eternity as they struggled against the weight of his injuries. Despite her desire to comfort him, words felt trivial in the face of such suffering. Instead, she met his gaze, conveying support and encouragement in her expression.
Rowan’s arms wrapped tightly around Casimir as they raced through the tunnels, trying to keep up with her mother. They turned yet another corner—and five vampire guards emerged from the darkness, their eyes filled with cruel delight at finding prey.
The dim light glinted off their vicious fangs as they drew out lethal blades. Rowan’s hands trembled, ready to tear apart anyone who would dare cause further harm to Casimir. But before she could move, Lilith’s arm shot out, barring her path.
“Stop,” her mother commanded, her voice carrying an otherworldly resonance that boomed around the stone walls.
The guards abruptly halted, their bodies becoming rigid as if being controlled by invisible puppet strings. The air in the passage grew dense and oppressive, filled with a palpable, unnerving power.
“Leave us.” Lilith spoke with authority, her will enveloping the vampires like a dark cloud. Their expressions turned blank, their minds dulled by the weight of her command. They sluggishly shuffled away, obedient and silent, leaving behind only the sounds of their retreating footsteps.
“How?” Astonishment laced Rowan’s voice as she digested the scene before her.
“There are things you need to know about our family history.” Lilith paused briefly, as if she was struggling to find the right words. “We come from a long line of necromancers.”
Rowan gaped at her mother. “Necromancers?”
Lilith nodded. “We hold dominion over death. It’s why Eamon manipulated me so he could enslave me. It’s also why I need to hide you from him.”
“Then why not use your power against him?” Casimir interjected, his voice strained but insistent as he fought to stay standing, watching the exchange with intense, penetrating eyes.
Lilith’s face fell, a shadow passing over her features. “Eamon has control over me—a bond I’m unable to break. I’m bound to his will. There’s so much more I wish I could tell you. So many actions I wish I could take.” She sounded defeated. “I can’t explain certain details or take any direct action against him. It’s one of the ways he maintains control.”
Rowan’s heart twisted at the lines of pain bracketing her mother’s face.
“We need to leave,” Lilith insisted. “My control over his guards won’t last long, and once it snaps, the Reaper will be alerted. He’ll come after us.”
Rowan nodded and tightened her grip around Casimir’s waist. Lilith forged ahead, leading them through the winding tunnels to an exit.
“Come with us,” Rowan said as they emerged into the open air, her voice a mix of desperation and hope.
Lilith shook her head, the silver-blonde strands of her hair catching the waning daylight. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t.” Her words were like stones, heavy with resignation. “He’s given me explicit orders to prevent escape.”
“There must be some way to sever his control,” Rowan protested.
“It’s not that simple. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Lilith led them to a nearby stable, where a solitary gray horse pounded its hooves restlessly. “Find an earth witch named Cora at Cascading Falls. The Reaper doesn’t know about her. You’ll be safe there. Trust no one else.”
“Cora?” Rowan’s eyebrows lowered, then lifted in recognition. “The red-haired tavern owner?”
“Yes.” Lilith’s eyes widened. “You’ve met her?”
“Once. ”
“Good.” She pushed Rowan toward the gray stallion. “You’ll need someone like her.” Lilith leaned in to whisper directly into Rowan’s ear as she gave her a final parting hug. “Remember to never trust vampires. They might pretend to have noble intentions, but eventually, the darkness inside of them always surfaces.”
With a nod, Rowan mounted the horse. She reached down for Casimir, who reluctantly accepted her help, swinging up behind her with a groan.
Rowan kicked the stallion into motion, and the animal broke into a gallop. They rode through the encroaching twilight, the forest closing around them like a protective shroud.
“How are you holding up?” she asked over her shoulder, the wind snatching her words.
“Your presence,” Casimir said, his voice ragged, “is making it hard to think straight when I need to feed so badly.”
“Try to hold on. We’ll figure out something soon.”
After what seemed like hours of riding, a figure appeared on the road ahead, outlined by the moonlight.
“Rowan,” a voice called, with a familiarity that was both comforting and alarming.
Count Marcus de Beaumont’s posture was relaxed atop his black horse, a stark contrast to their harried appearance.
A lopsided grin revealed his perfect white teeth. “It seems like you could use some assistance.”
“Marcus,” Rowan greeted him warily. “What are you doing here?”
“Let’s just say I have a knack for being in the right place at the right time.” He dismounted with effortless grace, approaching them.
Casimir grunted behind her, the sound laden with suspicion. “We don’t need your help,” he managed through gritted teeth.
“Actually, we do,” Rowan said before Casimir’s pride could get the better of him. “He’s badly hurt, and we’re being hunted.”
“Then it’s settled. Follow me. I’m staying at the Stag’s Head Inn nearby. We can take refuge there.”
She hesitated for a moment. They urgently needed shelter. Although Marcus was one of the potential suspects who could have betrayed them to the Reaper, his offer was still their best option for survival.
Rowan suppressed the distrust that caused her stomach to clench. “Lead the way. ”
They followed Marcus through the dense forest until the warm glow of an inn pierced the night. They slipped through a back entrance, where he led them to his private quarters. Rich tapestries and heavy wooden furniture decorated the room.
“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Marcus’s eyes lingered on Rowan for a moment too long. “And perhaps you would like to freshen up,” he added, subtly wrinkling his nose.
“Um . . . yes.” Rowan flushed. She could feel the grime on her skin and smell the putrid stench of the sewer still clinging to her. The idea of washing away the filth was highly appealing.
Marcus gestured to an adjacent room. “There’s hot water and scented soaps in there. Please feel free to take anything you need.” Then he turned to Casimir. “Come, Casimir. You need to feed.” He led the weakened vampire outside.
Rowan exhaled a long sigh once she was alone, stripping off her soiled clothes and stepping into the bath. The hot water soothed her cold skin and tired, aching muscles and joints. The lavender-scented soap smelled divine, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself a few moments of comfort and vulnerability.
When she emerged, clean and wrapped in a towel, she realized she had nothing to wear. Their supplies were gone, and there was no way she would ever put on that soiled dress again.
A rap at the door drew her attention. “We come bearing gifts,” Marcus called eagerly.
She gingerly opened the door a crack to see Marcus proudly holding out a blue dress for her. His pupils dilated as he took in her barely covered appearance. He looked her up and down brazenly. “Although I must admit, I prefer what you're wearing now.”
“Knock it off, Marcus,” Casimir growled from across the room, his voice low and menacing.
Rowan snatched the clothing out of Marcus’s hands and slammed the door. The sound of his boisterous laughter trailed behind her.
After hastily changing, she found Casimir, whose face was no longer pale. He looked at her with renewed energy. His gaze heated her from the inside and caused her heart to beat erratically.
“Feeling better?” she asked, fighting the flush that crept up her cheeks.
“Much. Thanks to you and Marcus.”
“Speaking of which . . .” Rowan turned to Marcus, who was leaning casually against the doorframe. “What now? ”
“Outside, two freshly saddled horses await to whisk you both to safety,” Marcus said with a hint of pride.
He appeared to relish the role of hero, but Rowan couldn’t help but doubt his intentions. While the count had provided crucial aid, he still might have been the one who had told the Reaper about their presence, since the Reaper would undoubtedly have had spies looking out for anyone with the distinctive necromancer hair coloring. Marcus being a vampire added another layer of suspicion, especially given the warnings from both Cora and her mother. Despite her lingering doubts, one thing was certain: she wouldn’t reveal their destination to anyone.
“Thank you.” Rowan’s tone was measured. “But we can handle it from here.”
“Suit yourself, fair lady,” Marcus replied nonchalantly, though a flicker of disappointment flashed across his features.
“We should go.” She took Casimir’s hand in hers. His touch was cool and strong, a reminder of his otherness. Yet it pulsed with an energy that felt like a burst of sparks along her skin, heating her from the inside.
“Marcus.” Casimir nodded toward the count as they reached the stable where the horses were prepared for departure. “I’m in your debt.”
“Think nothing of it.” Marcus gave them a dismissive wave, though his eyes lingered on Rowan. “I assist where I can, especially in dark times such as these.”
They approached the horses, and Casimir helped her onto the saddle with a tenderness that belied his size and strength. She settled into position, the scent of hay, horses, and leather mingling with the cool night air.
She gripped the reins tight enough to whiten her knuckles. “Ready?”
“Always.”
Their gazes locked. In their shared glance was a recognition of all they had endured, a strengthened bond, and something deeper.
“Let’s ride.” Casimir urged his horse forward.
Rowan followed suit, her mount springing to life as they raced out of the stables and into the night. The inn faded behind them, its lights shrinking to tiny dots before vanishing altogether.