6. Chapter 6
Chapter six
“ D oesn’t she have anything better to do?”
Following Keegan’s gaze to the other side of the diner, Noah sighed when he spotted Karleigh standing near the fireplace, the flames throwing shadows across her face. Narrowed, focused, those blazing blue eyes cut across the distance, and they were locked on him.
Hell, she didn’t even try to be subtle about it.
He could practically feel the loathing radiating from her, and while unsettling, it would be a lie to say he didn’t know why she hated him. The fact that her stalking had escalated in the week since he and Finn had made their relationship official only cemented that understanding.
In Karleigh’s mind, Finn belonged to her. Worse, she was partly right. As his sire, she shared a unique connection with him that couldn’t be replicated. Although not as deep or intense as a mate bond, it wasn’t that far off.
And that scared him.
Not because he feared Finn would choose Karleigh over him. It didn’t have to be a competition. Moreso, he worried the female would use that bond to wield control over his mate.
Obviously, Finn didn’t know the answers to his questions, and he hadn’t wanted to freak the guy out by bringing it up anyway. His first choice for information would have been another vampire, but he didn’t know of any in the village.
Rune, despite being old as dirt, had been stupidly unhelpful.
He had considered talking to Orrin about it but had dismissed the idea just as quickly. While the elf would likely have the answers, he’d also force Noah to sit through a two-hour lecture on compassion before he gave them.
Luckily, Orrin wasn’t the only god he knew.
“Why not just drop her in the river? Problem solved.”
Keegan wheeled around in his seat to stare open-mouthed when a stranger appeared at their table, seemingly out of thin air.
Though he knew his twin almost as well as he knew himself, this time, he couldn’t decide if Keegan looked startled by the male’s sudden appearance or offended by his homicidal solution.
Probably a mix of both.
“Who the hell are you?” Folding his arms across his chest, Keegan looked the guy up and down through narrowed eyes.
“I asked him to meet us here,” Noah interjected before his brother could say something too stupid to take back. “This is Rebes.”
“Wait…like Erebus?”
The god glanced at Noah before nodding. “Yes.”
To his bewilderment, Keegan started to laugh, the sound so exuberant it drew the attention of nearby tables. “You are so not what I expected.”
“You two know each other?”
Erebus, god of primordial darkness, sniffed haughtily and flipped his ebony hair over his shoulder. “Certainly not.”
“We’ve never met,” Keegan confirmed, struggling to regain his composure. “Let’s just say I have been on the receiving end of one of his temper tantrums.”
A low, threatening growl slithered past Rebes’ lips, and his inky eyes flashed with icy blue light. “I do not have tantrums .”
Unaffected, Keegan shrugged. “So, how do you two know each other?”
“It’s a long story,” Noah hedged.
When he had first arrived in the Village of Lost Souls, he hadn’t known anyone. Things had been different back then, quieter, and the loneliness of those first few years had been crushing.
More for a distraction than anything else, he had started exploring the outer edges of the village, trying to find out what lay beyond its boundaries. He had hoped there might be forests, mountains, or maybe even caves.
He had found only the kind of total, disorienting darkness that neither light nor sound could penetrate. That hadn’t stopped him, though. Reckless and stubborn back then, he had pushed on, putting one foot in front of the other with no clear direction.
He didn’t know exactly how long he’d spent in that void. It could have been hours or days, and more than once, he had worried he would never find his way out. The sensory deprivation alone had almost driven him mad.
Then, suddenly, he had found himself standing in front of a small cottage with a thatched roof and a bright red door. Instead of the black skies and dusky twilight he had become accustomed to in the village, there, the heavens stretched out in an endless blanket of pale blue.
There had still been no sun. No bright washes of golden light. Yet the air had felt different, lighter, and the illumination that had existed seemed warmer, like the world just before daybreak.
He’d barely had time to take it all in—the breeze, the forest beyond the cottage, the scent of rain on the air—before Rebes had appeared. Standing all of five foot tall and probably weighing a hundred pounds dripping wet, he hadn’t exactly been intimidating.
Until he’d opened his mouth.
He’d spent ten minutes cussing Noah, calling him every insult in the book, some in languages that didn’t even exist anymore. Apparently, no one had ever made it past the god’s wards before, and he had been none too happy about it.
Then he’d sent Noah back to the village with nothing more than a snap of his fingers. Two days later, Noah had headed right back into the void, and again, he had succeeded.
Things had gone on like that for almost three years before Rebes had finally given up. That day, when Noah had arrived at the cottage, instead of a tongue lashing, the god had invited him inside and poured him a cup of coffee.
In the years that followed, Noah never quite knew what to expect when he returned.
Sometimes Rebes would greet him with cryptic riddles, other times with a silent glare, and on rare occasions, a begrudging nod of approval.
The cottage became a respite, a sanctuary he entered only by proving himself.
Strange things happened inside those walls. Time tumbled over itself. Rain fell indoors, and the forest pressed up against the windowpanes, ancient and watchful.
Sometimes Rebes waxed poetic about the old gods and the way the world used to be. Other times, he’d demand Noah fetch impossible things—a feather spun of pure gold, a stone that remembered its own name, a dream caught in the palm of his hand.
With time, he learned to navigate the god's moods, figured out when to keep quiet and when to push back. Until eventually, a subtle shift took place as Rebes’ anger cooled to a sort of reluctant respect.
In the village, nothing changed, but knowing he could retreat to the cottage kept the shadows at bay just enough to allow him to breathe. At first, he had considered these small mercies a stroke of luck.
Now, he understood they were gifts from one lost soul to another.
And the rest, as the saying went, was history.
“So, what is it you want to know?” Rebes asked, drawing him back to the present. “I’m assuming it has to do with the female?”
Noah dipped his head. “Her name is Karleigh, and she is my mate’s sire.”
“I see.” Leaning back in his seat, Rebes crossed one slender leg over the other and adjusted his loose-fitting silk pants so that the hem draped over his ankle. “And you’re jealous.”
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but just barely. “No, I’m not jealous. I just want to know more about the sire bond. Can she make him do stuff he doesn’t want to do?”
“Yes and no.”
“Meaning?” Keegan prompted, his tone dripping with impatience.
The god’s eyes flashed again, the ring of blue around his irises glowing intensely. “A sire does exert a certain level of control over their progeny. In the early days, that can be the difference between life and death. Not only for the fledgling but for the general public as well.”
“So, they just have to do what they’re told?” Keegan looked appalled at the very thought.
“The bond is such that a fledgling will follow commands without coercion, simply because he wishes to please his sire.”
“Sounds kinky,” Keegan mumbled.
Noah kicked him under the table. “Shut up.”
His brother glared at him as he reached down to rub his shin, but for once in his life, he didn’t argue.
“Okay,” Noah said, directing his attention back to Rebes. “That sounds like the yes part. What’s the rest of it?”
The god sighed as if he found him quite slow.
“It is not absolute. If a fledgling has strong convictions, his sire’s will does not override that.
Obedience is not compulsory.” He reached for the chipped mug in front of him on the table, then seemed to think better of it, and refolded his hands into his lap.
“For your mate, this is all rather moot, though.”
Noah perked up at that last part. Resting his arms atop the table, he leaned toward the god, ignoring the way the entire structure tilted beneath his weight.
“Why is that?”
“At death, the bond is severed.” Rebes shrugged, the move somehow elegant in its casualness. “As both your vampire and his sire are no longer living, no connection exists beyond maybe basic recognition.”
“Yeah, well, tell her that,” Keegan muttered, his gaze flickering to Karleigh again. “I don’t think she got the memo.”
Despite the distance and the drone of conversation that separated them, Karleigh remained fixated, her body language suggesting she had been hanging on very word. Judging by the way her upper lip curled over her fangs, she didn’t like what she’d heard either.
“Yes, I see what you mean.” Rebes tilted his head, studying her with a thoughtful expression. “There is a darkness in her.”
“Do you think it’s because she was turned?”
“I think not,” the god responded after a moment. “It runs too deep for that, but her transition would have made it harder to control those impulses.”
“She’s just in love with Finn.” Keegan snorted. “That doesn’t sound so dark. Just clingy.”
“She killed him,” Noah pointed out. “Twice.”
His brother ducked his head but not before he caught the wince. “Yeah, okay. That’s pretty dark.”
“Love is not the same as obsession,” Rebes added. “I do not think her capable of love. Rather, she wants to possess him.”
“And that makes her dangerous,” Noah guessed.
“Very.”
“Okay, so what do we do about it?”