Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Rain pelted the glass windows like a death toll while Skarde trudged to the opposite end of the castle.
Down sixteen flights of stairs and through a maze of hallways, he slowly trekked.
He dodged leaks with buckets beneath and made note of new drip rivulets on the floors.
Thunder echoed through the drafty hallways.
Stormy weather never used to bother him, but now his pocketbook bled every time the wind blew.
The ancient stronghold’s previous owner too easily handed over ownership as payment for ridding the place of a demon-possessed priest, moving himself a few towns over into a newly constructed manor.
The dilapidated stone atrocity, a survivor of several wars, had grown on Skarde.
It offered a level of security few other structures could with its maze of secret passages.
All exits and entrances could be sealed closed to resist attack.
It also projected the ambiance of wealth gone sour, which kept the freeloaders away.
A single lone figure stood in the reception hall, their back to him in front of the wide fireplace one of the domestics must’ve lit.
Most people were dwarfed by the fireplace, but not this individual.
The incongruity of this particular vampire guest in his dark battle leathers with his long, black hair neatly fastened at his neck surrounded by pink velvet sofas with spindly legs arranged in a rectangle in front of the fireplace was ludicrous.
Most of the furnishings were courtesy of the previous owner.
“It’s cold in here.” The stark face that turned his way was utterly calm despite the hostile light in his dark gaze.
Hints of the green irises from his youth remained, but no longer did they contain a shred of joy or the wicked humor Skarde remembered his brother used to have.
“Upgrade this fucking place. You don’t live in the Dark Ages anymore. ”
“Cade. Why are you here?” He watched the vampire’s hands. If Cade chose to attack, it’d be fast and with a knife. They’d always agreed when it came to their weapon of choice.
“The Directorate is displeased.” Cade scrutinized the tartan draped across Skarde’s body. Genuine emotion flickered before it disappeared.
Skarde shrugged.
“Not even going to ask why?” The dead calm affect Cade maintained was a facade.
The Directorate’s punisher, with his neatly styled dark hair and smooth face marred by a white scar across his left cheek, was aggression personified.
For a split second he wished Cade would do something spectacularly stupid.
A fight might help him burn off some of the disappointment from the skirmish with the human male.
When it became obvious Cade wasn’t going to be the one to start an offensive, he waved his hands in a get-on-with-it gesture.
“You’re harboring a human. It’s coming with me.”
Easy breaths. Give away nothing.
“Do you mean the man I picked up for breakfast? I doubt you or any of the Directorate would want to sink your teeth into the scum. Those of us left to feed on bottom dwellers aren’t picky.”
Cade cursed softly and shook his head.
“Is this about the prophecy again?” He gauged the distance between them and the number of seconds it’d take Cade to reach him using normal vampire speed.
“When it comes to the one, all of us want to be sure she is handled before the prophecy becomes a problem. Before you are tempted.”
“I’ve never been tempted.” Liar. So much a liar. Gemma tempted him to the point that not touching her with his teeth, not drinking her blood, hurt. “There’s no lassie stashed away for a turning ritual later.”
Cade glowered. The punisher could perceive lies. It was his gift. “Don’t become something we have to resolve.”
“Duly noted. Are you done?”
Cade watched him in a disturbing way that was meant to intimidate. If he didn’t know Cade well, he might be persuaded to blather about the mindfuck that was Gemma.
After several more interminable seconds Cade finally said, “You’re not doing yourself any favors if you don’t come clean.”
“You’re a good little errand boy for the Directorate. Message delivered. Warning received. What you seek isn’t here. If it was a divination from the witch you keep imprisoned, then her timing is off.” He scowled. “Is there more?”
Cade flinched.
Not good. “Did Magdalene say something new about me?”
How he hated the blind witch and her eerily accurate visions.
The vampire fidgeted. Cade never fidgeted. Big screaming hell yes on the witch imparting a new foretelling.
“I can’t wait to hear the new way fate’s decided to fuck me over.” Is it not enough I rid the world of evil shits and refuse to turn humans? Am I not punished enough simply being alone?
Cade’s jaw tightened.
Skarde scoffed. “Go ahead, kill me if you think I’m a problem.”
“If I cut off your head, you’d probably find a way to reattach it and persist in being a pain in my ass.”
He couldn’t figure out if that meant Cade was refusing a Directorate order to assassinate him, or if he believed Skarde would be too tough to kill. Either way, it raised his brother in his esteem.
“Are you here, witch?” Skarde called out. “Magdalene, for the record, I always thought Cade should set you free. He’s held you captive how long? Fifty…a hundred years?”
A muffled female voice came from Cade’s coat pocket. He drew out a compass-looking device, but it was so much more disturbing. The eyeball within its wooden cell moved around until it found Skarde.
“The fact that pieces of her can work without a body isn’t right,” he muttered. “Why don’t you put her back together and let her go?”
“She’s useful.”
“You’re scared of her.” He didn’t remove his fixation on the witch eyeball. Even small pieces of witches could be deadly. “You hear that, witch? Get free and you’re already in his head.”
The eyeball emitted a screech and began chanting. He caught the words the second time around: “The human from another realm chooses her maker who will become a stake breaker.”
Could his day go any further to hell? Another rhyming gem that sounded like it was about him. Had to be about him. Otherwise, Cade wouldn’t have bothered to make the trip here.
Human from another realm? Gemma.
Choosing her maker? He wondered if she’d choose a vampire other than him. He suspected not. But he wouldn’t volunteer to do her changing. The thought of another vampire, perhaps Cade, with his fangs in her neck… that was a big, fat oh-hell-no.
To hide the dread clamping his balls he said, “That has nothing to do with me.”
Cade shoved the eyeball that continued the phrase on rapid repeat back into a pocket.
“What do you think the stake breaker part means?” Skarde asked to distract him. Its meaning was obvious.
“We believe it means the vampire she chooses to be her maker will become resistant to normal vampire hazards. If this woman is the same one in your prophecy, you can see why the Directorate has concerns.” Cade stilled.
Fail to protect the one you turn, the world will burn. Your soul she will steal and incite an immortal burn. Amongst your people evil will churn.
“It’s simpler if you hand her over to me tonight.” The gravity in Cade’s gaze filled him with dread.
Cade had been told to kill him to get to her.
The Directorate clearly wanted to fight amongst themselves over who got to turn her and become the most powerful, if her turning granted the maker freedom from normal mechanisms that killed vampires.
All that assumed whoever chose to do the turning deed would be able to complete it.
That was the key, since no vampire seemed certain anymore that his or her blood would work.
Like hell Skarde would turn her over and risk someone trying—and failing—to turn her.
He should’ve sent Gemma back to her world.
“I’m not harboring anyone from ‘another realm’ who wants to become a vampire here.
” It was the truth. Gemma didn’t want to become like him.
“How about I send you a message if someone shows up who isn’t from around here?
Won’t be me doing the turning. I don’t want to burn for all eternity or incite our people to pure evil. ”
“Some of that was truth.” Cade pulled out a knife and began cleaning beneath his nails. “I don’t do games and, considering the amount of shit on my plate right now, I don’t have time to fuck around. I’m trying to be decent to you—although I’m wondering why I bother.”
“Get out or die.”
“Your strange ethics have bent you into a bleeding heart, which is problematic.” Cade charged, knife out.
Thank hell.
Skarde bent out of the way of the impending slash to his neck and punched Cade mid-back with the butt of his knife, not the pointy end. He could’ve ended this and killed Cade. That’d be too easy for both of them. Besides, he didn’t want his brother dead.
Cade growled in frustration and sliced downward—admirable chest stab technique. But not fast enough to strike his target.
Skarde easily sidestepped, whirled, and punched Cade in the jaw, sending him back several feet. To the other male’s credit, he didn’t go down. The whites of his eyes reddened as he did a super speed charge and tried to pin Skarde’s head for a neck slice. He side stepped again with a smirk.
Lucky for Skarde, ever since he’d had a near-fatal altercation with a demon last year, he’d somehow become faster and stronger.
Serish theorized he’d absorbed some of the demon king’s power.
Perhaps he had after king super shit tried to possess him.
The evil entity had been inside him for close to ten minutes before Skated managed to remove it through a combination of spells, a potion from Serish, and willpower.
Bonus for him, now he was faster than almost anything in the world when fighting.
Skarde punched Cade again and emitted a deranged laugh as they traded jabs. Fighting someone trained was a treat to relish. He held back and didn’t invoke his full power, which would end this.
Cade didn’t fall backward at the repeated hits.
Instead, he leaned into the strikes and punched right back.
Cade’s solid hook to his lower jaw would bruise, as would the one to his shoulder.
Cade was lunging again, pushing him backward with the force of his thrust until Skarde’s back slammed against the wall.
He caught Cade’s knife hand, twisted with his enhanced strength, and broke his grip. The metal clattered on the floor.
Cade’s eyes widened. He thought himself the best, the strongest and most fearsome of their kind. Surprise, surprise, little brother.
He kicked his legs out, hooking Cade’s in a tangle that sent the huge male backward. He pounced, landing with his knee on Cade’s chest and knife to his throat.
Cade had somehow managed to bring out a second knife, the blade of which now dug into the skin of Skarde’s neck.
Skarde grinned. “You’re getting slow.”
“You got faster. How is that possible? What happened to you?”
“Let’s call it a draw.” He wasn’t into having a heart-to-heart with his brother now. Or any time in the near future.
Cade panted and didn’t drop eye contact. Emotion skittered across his face. If he chose to push his knife, Skarde could let him. This could be a way out. But Cade was right. It might not work. Second…
Gemma.
Promises he made to her about survival aside, he wouldn’t leave her to the Directorate’s plans. No doubt the soulless assholes would torture her before they tried to turn her. They might kill her out of misguided fear. Or, more likely, they wouldn’t be able to complete the turn.
He’d fight them, but he didn’t want to kill his brother unless he had to.
As if Cade picked up on his resolve, he pulled away his knife.
Skarde jumped off him. “Good choice.”
As Cade adjusted his coat and retrieved his lost blade, he avoided making eye contact. The vampire the world thought the most dangerous, the one whose job it was to be the best kickass for the Directorate, had just gotten his ass handed to him.
On his way to the door, Cade stopped. He lowered his head and said in Scots Gaelic, “Tha fuil nas tiugh na bullshit.” Blood is thicker than bullshit.
“One day you may have to prove ye believe that.”
“I just did.”