Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Scottie
T he engine of the zodiac hums beneath us as the speedboat skims across the dark water. The Halifax skyline twinkles along the shore, casting long rippling ribbons of light over the dark void of the watery surface.
The spray of mist on the evening breeze is icy and sends a chill racing up my spine—or that’s the foreboding of what’s in store for us tonight.
I keep my eyes trained on the horizon, the imposing shape of Seafarer Island looming closer with every wave we cut through.
I’ve never been there myself, but Zane gave Huntley and me a brief rundown about what to expect. As we bypass the public dock in favor of the secluded arrival point for the Fondatori, my skin itches.
Zane warned us about the invisible boundary securing the vampire sanctuary and how invasive it would feel. The witch warding cast here is a subtle but palpable surge of magic to keep humans out.
It rolls over us and my squire magic bursts to life in my cells. My powers don’t like the probing sensation, and I lock my jaw to keep from shaking it off.
The air shimmers as our launch driver continues forward and we breach the barrier of the security spell. For a moment, the boat is held within the gateway between the human world and the Otherworld.
Then, as if we had been suspended in an overinflated balloon suddenly speared by a pin, the tension snaps and I breathe to the full depths of my lungs once more.
Zane meets my gaze and arches a dark brow as he speaks into my mind. Unsettling, isn’t it?
Yeah. More so, because my squire magic doesn’t seem to appreciate the witch’s magical signature.
Zane’s attention shifts to Huntley, and I follow his gaze. Our Viking is scanning the grounds beyond the docking point, his expression a mix of determination and uncertainty. He’s worried—we all are—but his fierce resolve pulls at my heartstrings.
The weight of what lies ahead, of what Lazarus plans to do tonight, hangs heavy in the air.
We take one moment at a time, Viking . Zane says into our minds.
Huntley dips his chin, the tension in him visible in the flexing of his chiseled jaw. Don’t worry about me. Just stay alive and keep the dagger safe.
We will, I assure them both. I may be new to the bodyguard role, but I’m highly motivated to keep Zane intact and in possession of the Diamond Dagger.
Agostino will make his play—we all know it’s coming—but we’ve spent the past two days readying for it.
As we pull up to the dock, our driver kills the engine and we drift into position to disembark. The waves lapping against the hull rock us as Huntley jumps out with the rope to secure us.
Once the three of us are out of the boat, our escort climbs out to finish tying things off.
“Good luck, sire,” our escort says, dropping his gaze. “I don’t know what this is about, but I’ve heard enough of the whispers today to know there’s trouble. For what it’s worth, I was deeply sorry to hear about the passing of your father. I wish you nothing but success in your reign of Toronto.”
Zane extends his arm, and the two men clasp wrists. “Thank you, Edgar. I appreciate you saying so.”
Huntley and I wait until Zane leads us up the steep incline toward the buildings. The Seafarer’s Sanctuary stands like a sentinel—stoic and grand—its ancient stone presence watching our arrival.
I’ve dreamt about moments like this for years, picturing myself as Zane’s queen, standing at his side during pivotal events in his rule.
And here I am…only I’m standing as his Sacred Squire instead of his queen. It’s not how I pictured it, but if it’s better or worse, being his warrior is a better fit than being his wife, anyway.
Or maybe I was always destined to be a warrior wife.
I also didn’t picture his reign being contested.
Still, our fathers didn’t raise quitters. We’ll take the hand we’ve been dealt, and we’ll come out stronger because of it.
Zane’s hand brushes against mine. Damn right we will.
I turn and meet his gaze. Is this going to be a thing, now? Are you going to just listen to my thoughts uninvited?
I’m still getting used to the squire bond. I didn’t mean to hear, but you were thinking very loudly.
I chuckle. I’ll keep it down.
We climb the slight embankment, the two of them becoming more focused with every step. The air feels charged. It’s as if danger lurks just out of sight.
Which it does.
The main building is a great stone castle and Zane told me it was deconstructed in Europe and brought over and reconstructed stone by stone.
It’s imposing and damned impressive.
Zane approaches the access panel with purpose. He wraps his fingers around the edge of the Diamond Dagger sheathed at his hip and pulls it free. I admire how confident he looks despite everything he’s facing.
Ready? he asks.
Ready, Huntley and I both reply.
With a deep breath, Zane wraps his fingers around the polished blade and drags the dagger free from his palm. Blood wells up immediately, painting his hand crimson before he presses it onto the identity scanner.
When the green light appears on the scanner, Zane slots the dagger into the notch at the center of the door and twists it.
A soft ‘click’ signals the release of the door, and Zane turns to meet our gazes. Be safe, everyone. I love you.
Zane holds the dagger out and Huntley wraps it in a cloth to clean the blade. When he’s finished, Zane takes it back and sheaths it at his hip.
If Huntley answers him, I don’t hear it. And that’s fine. After everything they’ve been through, they deserve every moment of happiness they share.
Huntley steps closer and bends to brush a kiss over my lips. “Be careful, princess. Take care of each other because I want both of you to come back to me in one piece.”
“Same. Right and tight, Viking.”
“Head on a swivel.”
“Locked and loaded.”
“The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in combat.”
Da had a dozen ‘ready for battle’ sayings and it makes both of us smile to toss a couple of them out.
Zane and I linger at the entrance for a moment longer than necessary. I don’t want to leave Huntley, and it makes my chest ache, knowing he’ll be alone out here.
But we all have our part to play and none of us knows what Agostino has planned.
I take one last scan of our surroundings. The manicured gardens framing ancient stone walls. The long shadows being cast by the moonlight. The darkness swallowing up sections of the property that could be hiding turned mutts, ready to ambush us and seize control of Zane’s rule.
There’s nothing to be done about any of it—at least not yet. I meet Huntley’s worried gaze and wink. “See you soon, Viking.”
Zane
I enter the gathering hall with Scottie at my side, her presence both comforting and concerning. Having her here will bring her importance to me into focus for a lot of powerful and dangerous vampires.
Fondatori are said to be allies but my father always taught me that given the opportunity, even allies will take your weaknesses and exploit them.
It’s the sad truth of royalty.
Head held high, shoulders back, I enter with every ounce of confidence and arrogance I can muster. They need to see that I am a man, not the orphaned son of a prominent leader.
The elaborate chamber stretches before us, its ancient stone walls having borne silent witness to centuries of vampire politics and power plays.
The round table dominates the center, its polished surface reflecting the warm glow of overhead chandeliers. There is no head, no foot—just equals in a circle.
At least in theory.
My gaze sweeps the room, cataloging faces both familiar and foreign. Many of these vampires have ruled their territories since the formation of the new world order kings when my father first left the old country.
Francesco Vasari was first generation Fondatori.
The weight of their combined age and influence presses against my skin like a physical force.
Ashikaga turns from where he’s speaking to one of the squires, his features as serene as a frozen lake. He strides over to greet us and bows slightly. “Vasari-san, you are looking well, young king.”
I return the bow and meet his gaze. “It has been a difficult time, but kings must rise above such matters in order to best represent their people.”
“True enough.” He turns his attention to my right. “I am Ashikaga Hikotaka, King of Kyoto.”
“Scotland McCullough. It’s an honor to meet you, Hikotoka-san. My father spoke often of your honor and long-term support to Francesco and the Vasari clan.”
He dips his chin. “Your father was a man of great honor himself. I am humbled by his praise. He is a man not soon to be forgotten. May he rest in peace.”
Scottie accepts his condolences with grace. “Thank you.”
As we step apart, I take in the other faces turned toward us. Some look sympathetic, while others have a glint of reservation in their eyes.
Other than Ashikaga, I wouldn’t trust anyone in this room to have my back.
Movement catches my eye, and my attention is drawn to a man who—by his resemblance to my father—could be no other than my cousin, Agostino.
He’s standing with Nikolai Gruzdev, the weaselly Russian king that has fallen short of every standard set by his father, Zhdan.
The two of them have their heads bent together in conspiratorial closeness.
I study the man who cost me and my clan so much. He has the same old-world Vasari features as my father, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. The same proud nose, the same thick black hair. But where my father’s eyes held warmth, Agostino’s gleam with cold ambition.
Nikolai says something that makes Agostino laugh, his voice carrying across the chamber. The Russian’s reputation for mindless arrogance is well-earned.
Together they form a dangerous alliance.
If you get distracted by the little fish splashing and blowing bubbles, you won’t be paying attention when the sharks circle.
I hear my father’s words of warning as clearly as if he were standing here with me.
Don’t worry, Father. I’ve got my eye on the shark.
“The Fondatori will come to order,” Ashikaga announces, his voice cutting through the quiet murmur of conversation.
I stride over to the throne upholstered in oxblood leather, with silver and black accents. Agostino makes to move toward it, but I see it’s a ploy simply to get a rise out of me.
I don’t give him the satisfaction.
I take my seat, and Scottie stands behind my chair, her gaze impressively neutral considering the emotions lashing within her.
He’ll never touch you again, Scots. I’ll slaughter him in this sanctuary and risk the wrath of the Fondatori laws before I allow him to hurt you further.
You’ll do no such thing. That’s what he wants. We’ll abide by the laws of parley. This building is a safe haven and no violence will be tolerated. We’ll play this exactly as our fathers would have.
She’s right, of course. We may not be centuries old like most of the Fondatori, but we were raised by two of the most strategic, honorable, lethal men to ever live. Our fathers will live on through us forever.
Around the table, the most powerful vampires in the world settle into their places, ready to weigh in on my future. Agostino is offered a chair on the opposite side of the room. He isn’t invited to sit at the table of kings, which I’m thankful for.
When the room falls quiet, Ashikaga nods at me. “Zane Vasari, you have the floor.”
I rise from my seat, my hand resting on the jeweled hilt of the Diamond Dagger at my hip. “In the hours after my father was assassinated, I contacted every one of you as a courtesy. I stand before you not as a supplicant seeking approval, but as the rightful heir of Clan Vasari. This gathering, while a courtesy to address your concerns, changes nothing about my position or authority.”
My voice carries across the chamber, firm and unyielding. “The Toronto Seat of Power is mine, as my father intended. Agostino, this stranger who claims our blood, appeared from nowhere with an army of turned vampires and threatened the lives of our young. My father’s death was not a failure of leadership—it was a calculated sacrifice to protect our children and expose our enemies.”
The disgust on many of their faces is a good sign.
“You targeted the clan children?” Talon Erebus asks.
“But they are of your clan,” Lorenzo Valdici says. “What honor is there in threatening children?”
Agostino’s face twists with disdain. “None of the children were harmed. They are fine.”
I scoff. “You infiltrated their home, slaughtered their teacher in front of them, and had your turned brutes hold them prisoner while killing their parents and friends. If you think no harm was done to them, you’re as obtuse as you are cowardly.”
Agostino stands, the legs of his chair scraping across the floor. “Cowardly? How dare you?”
“I dare because you never faced my father like a man, but sent your turned fanger mutts in your stead. I dare because you threatened children instead of proving yourself the stronger man. I dare because you play politics and siphon money and hijack shipments instead of funding your coup with a fortune of your own making. You are a leech.”
“You call that weakness. I call it cunning.”
“And do the other Fondatori agree?” I gesture to the vampire rulers around the table. “Are those the actions of a strong ruler?”
It’s obvious in the frowns and looks of disdain that they find his tactics as unpalatable as I do.
“And in response, I have taken you down at every turn.” I toss a thick folder onto the table and flip open the front cover. Glossy photographs slide onto the polished surface.
“This is me after I shredded the traitor who let you into our compound into unrecognizable bits.” I toss out the gruesome image of me bathed in Benoit’s blood.
“And this is me after I tracked and slaughtered sixty of your tainted-blood mutts.” I toss out a dozen shots of the massacre we left behind in the psychiatric hospital.
“And while Agostino hid behind politics and thievery, I cleaned house and protected our people. I may be young, but I’m the son of Francesco Vasari. My clan. My life. My fucking rule.”
The others around the table are quiet. Some are staring at the photos, some are staring at me, but none of them are looking concerned any longer.
Ashikaga nods slowly. “The law is clear. Zane Vasari is the heir. He holds the dagger, and is the ruler of his clan. Unless any of you have an actual claim to the contrary, the purpose of the meeting has been satisfied.”
“This meeting is a waste of time,” Nikolai growls. “The boy hasn’t proven?—”
“—I’ve proven everything!” I shout, cutting him off. “My father is dead, and this man didn’t even have the balls to look him in the eyes. He’s a parasite and doesn’t deserve to walk in the shadow of Francesco Vasari. What he calls cunning, I call cowardice.”
I point to the photos. “I claimed blood, justice, and victory. I am my father’s son, and I will lead Toronto with the same iron will that made him great. I respect that losing first Heinrich and then my father was a blow, but I won’t be questioned again. I wish you all a good night, but we are finished here.”
I straighten and stride out, with Scottie at my back.
The heavy doors of the sanctuary close behind us with an ominous thud. Scottie’s hand finds mine, squeezing tight. You did well. I’m so proud of you.
I squeeze her hand in response, but it doesn’t help. I’m angry and hurt and I know to the depths of my soul that this isn’t over.
My muscles coil with anticipation as we descend the stone steps. The night air carries the scent of the ocean, but beneath it, something else.
I reach out through our bond to Huntley. We’re finished and coming your way, Viking. It’s on.
The attack comes fast—too fast. There’s a blur of motion and suddenly pain explodes across my chest. I look down to see three parallel gashes torn through my suit jacket, blood already soaking the fabric.
“Zane!” Scottie’s cry of alarm turns to a grunt of pain.
I spin toward her just as a net of crackling energy descends from above.