4. Vasile
Chapter four
Vasile
Each step Deacon takes pains me, though clearly not the same way it hurts him. Not one of us believes he is truly fine. I do believe that Ophelia has healed him, but her warning—that he will still feel the effects of the wolfsbane for a while—rings true.
We make it to the building Kieran and Sam reside in without incident, and it is the work of a few seconds for him to adjust the wards and allow us through. I have been here before, of course, after Tristan was killed, but the mood is somehow even more subdued as we make our way up the stairs and towards the flat.
Ophelia lets us in without knocking and I am unsurprised, too, to see that they are all here, piled into the small living room and waiting almost anxiously.
Kieran is already on his feet as we enter, and he waves a hand when he sets eyes on Deacon. Adam slips out of the chair he was sitting in, and Deacon takes it, letting out a heavy sigh. Kieran studies me, too, and I let him, watching as his attention shifts to Sam.
“What happened?”
I should not be amused that we have been so easily dismissed, but I cannot help but admire his instincts. I knew there was something else in him the first moment I set my eyes on him—when he met my gaze and held it. If he had a wolf—Even without it, I know why Tamesis is so anxious to be rid of him.
He is dangerous. More so for having so many people so close.
Wolves are always more dangerous when they have a pack to protect.
“Crai?” Lucien’s soft voice drags me from my thoughts. He leans against the counter that divides the small kitchen space from the living room, and his eyes are far too knowing for my liking.
Kieran and Sam speak in low voices. Deacon watches them, jaw set in a way that tells me he is still hurting.
“We were attacked,” I say, though that much must be clear. “I came here because another vampire is dead.”
Across the room, Adam stiffens, and Drew moves with him, sliding an arm around his waist. Lucien shakes his head. “Who?”
“Alistair. He lived in Lazarus’ district.”
“Elle—”
“Elle is fine. She is in the clan house with Njáll.”
“How did he die?” There is more Lucien wishes to say. I see the pinch of guilt in his expression. He has not come to me, yet, to request leave of the clan, but I know it is only a matter of time. Adam is already committed to this pack. So is Lucien, in truth, though I doubt he has made it official yet.
“He drank a corpse’s blood.”
Adam hisses from across the room, making Drew jump and drawing attention to our conversation.
“How?” Lucien asks.
“That is what I came here to ask.” I look at Sam. “Is there a way to disguise it?”
He sighs and perches on the arm of the sofa, one hand falling to the back of Drew’s neck in what appears to be an almost automatic gesture. “Yeah. I mean, what I felt tonight—what I didn’t feel. Yeah, I don’t think it’d even be that difficult.”
Deacon has twisted in the chair and his expression is troubled. “All your vampires…”
“They will have to drink from donors,” I say. “It is the only way we can ensure the blood they receive is safe.”
Sam frowns, looking at Ophelia and Dante. “We could check the bags.”
I shake my head. “If there are mages out there attacking, then that is where your focus needs to be. We will manage.”
“How many vampires have died?” Kieran asks.
Ophelia is sitting in the other chair, Dante cross-legged on the floor beside her. He stands between me and them, waiting for an answer.
“In the city? Four, so far.”
“And outside of it?”
“I suspect Tamesis has been killing them for some time. The first one we suspected…” I sigh. “I believe he began killing powerful vampires and clan leaders around seven months ago.”
Kieran’s eyes flick to Lucien, then back to me. Yes. There is little point in saying it aloud as I am certain we will never set eyes upon him again, but—
Nathan.
A hunter invited into our clan. A hunter Lucien invited into his life, and I cannot blame him for being misled because we all were.
I wish he had killed him. Or that I had arrived faster, before the others. It would have been a headache, but things would have been over.
Still, for whatever unknown reason, this event seems to be what triggered Tamesis to move. I do not understand why. He has never met Lucien before.
“So how many are dead in total?” Kieran asks.
“We suspect around twenty,” I reply.
“Suspect?”
“Vampires are not so easy to keep track of,” I say. “Some were old, and we have only marked them as missing because of their positions of responsibility within their communities. They are as likely to have wandered off, to have chosen some other place to reside, as they are to have been killed.”
Kieran nods. “And two wolves so far?”
“Three,” Deacon says. His voice is rough. “I came from the third, tonight.”
“Why were you heading here?” Kieran asks.
Deacon sighs, looking up at the ceiling, but when he moves his head, I see the faint pink on the back of his neck, the tips of his ears. My chest warms. He worries for them, for his new pack.
“I was concerned,” he says. “And I wanted to invite you to the alpha meet on Monday. I should have asked before, but things have been hectic.”
Drew sits up straighter at the mention of an alpha meet. Ophelia, too, and Kieran’s eyes widen. “You want me to…?”
The uncertainty in his voice has Deacon looking at him sharply. “It’s not about wanting, Kieran. You’re an alpha. You’re their alpha.”
He looks around the room, and Kieran nods. “Yes.”
“Then you’re coming. Bring your second. We need to discuss what we’re going to do.”
Kieran nods again, apparently speechless for a moment, but Sam steps up. “It’s not just the vampires and wolves, you know.”
“Hunters?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I don’t know about that. But that mage who attacked you tonight, they’re not the only one in the city. There’s been a few of them with magic like the ones with Adelaide a few weeks ago. Like Faye.”
“Like you?” Deacon asks, and Sam shakes his head.
“Don’t know any of them but Elliot, and he’s long gone. If he survived, that is.” He sighs. “I think he really wanted to get as far away as possible before Tamesis got here.”
I cannot blame him. Deacon turns his head, meeting my gaze for a second. No, neither of us can. At least when I met Tamesis for the first time, I was full-grown. Married, a father.
Everyone in this room is an adult, but if Elliot and Nora’s family were involved in the mage wars, then they were likely alone for a long time before Tamesis found them. I know how persuasive he can be.
They never stood a chance.
“Other people have noticed, too,” Kieran says. “They’ve been requesting to join our pack.”
“How many?” Deacon asks, frowning.
“A few. They’re not all… Whatever we are, either.” He pulls a face, then says, “A couple are wolves. One vampire.”
Deacon runs a hand through his hair. The vampire—are they from the clan? Has Tamesis sent someone—
“I’m not letting any of them in until I can be sure where they came from,” Kieran continues, like he can read my thoughts. “But they’re worried. They want protection.”
“Fuck,” Deacon mutters. “We need to stop being so reactive. We’ll never get ahead of him that way.”
I don’t see how we’ll ever get ahead of him at all.
Lucien shakes his head. “We cannot devise a plan now. You need to rest, alpha. So do our mages.”
He gives Ophelia a pointed look, and she rolls her eyes, but a smile tugs the corners of her mouth. Deacon sighs and nods.
“You’re right.” He eases himself up from the chair, wincing. “I should go back to the pack house, see what Chaya—”
“No.” I’m surprised that Sam’s the one to say it, that the word didn’t escape my mouth, despite my best efforts.
Deacon frowns at him. There’s just a hint of power in his voice when he says, “No?”
Drew flattens himself against the back of the sofa, but his mate never falters. He crosses his arms over his chest, and I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent the smile that threatens to cross my face. Perhaps the alpha has finally met his match—Sam is not a mage who is unused to dealing with stubborn wolves.
“No,” he repeats. “There was a lot of wolfsbane in that spell. I’m sure Ophelia got it all out of your system, but I’d like you to stay close by for the rest of the night in case there’s something in there I couldn’t detect.”
They stare at each other for a long moment. Kieran presses his lips together, almost as though he is trying not to smile, too.
“Fine,” Deacon says after a moment. “But I do not see where—”
“We’ve got a flat down the hall,” Kieran says, cutting off Deacon’s protests. “It’s bare bones but should be comfortable enough for you to rest in tonight.”
Deacon glares at the two of them because of course he should just leave, and of course he can , but they’ve played him beautifully, not least because I suspect they are both aware of just how much he worries for them and this pack.
“Let me call Chaya,” he says, giving in fully.
He crosses to the front door and steps out into the hall. Sam drops onto Adam’s lap with a little grin, and Kieran rolls his eyes but watches the door.
“You were not injured, crai?” Lucien asks.
“No.” I was not. Deacon made sure of that.
“Will it be safe for you to return tonight?”
“I must.” I pull out my own phone. “I do not know how they were waiting for us. I only had the driver stop because—”
Because I sensed Deacon.
Because, after all this time, I still can .
If Lucien finds the end of my sentence strange, he does not comment on it. When I look up from the text I have sent to Njáll—informing him what has happened—he is watching me silently, his eyes as expressive as they ever are.
He does not know why I chose him to be a chieftain. He and Elle are of a similar age, of similar power. I could have chosen either one of them. But Lucien is more restrained, though I know he is not afraid to do what needs to be done.
“They will send a car for me in an hour,” I say.
Lucien nods. “Would you like me to come back with you?”
“No.” I know he needs to be here. Adam has taken to this pack so easily, and I know what Lucien is waiting for. He wants a transition that will cause as little disruption to the clan as possible. “No, stay here. Your mate needs you.”
Lucien glances past me at Kieran, who’s still staring at the door like he might be able to burn a hole through it with his eyes. His expression immediately softens, and the love he feels for his mate is clear on his face.
“If I am needed at the clan…”
“I will ask for you,” I say. I have Njáll and Elle. I have my other chieftains, too, as worried as they are after Lazarus’ death.
Lucien nods. He has to know I worry, too. He has more responsibility here than he ever did as one of my chieftains.
The door opens, and Deacon slips back into the flat. Fatigue pinches the corners of his eyes—even if he is not in pain, he is obviously exhausted. Kieran reads it in him too.
“All good?”
“Yes. The flat?”
“C’mon.”
I push off from the counter before I can stop myself. Deacon frowns at my approach, but Kieran simply tilts his head to one side, watching me.
“Fine,” Deacon says with a sigh. “Come on.”
We step out into the hall and follow Kieran down it to another flat. He unlocks the door and steps inside ahead of us, moving aside so we can take a look. The layout is the same as I recognise from the one Kieran and Sam share, but there is little furniture, only a sofa in the living room, and a bed, already made up, in one of the bedrooms.
Deacon nods. “This’ll be fine. I told Chaya I’d head back once the sun was up.”
“Sam can go with you,” Kieran says. “In the morning.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.” There’s bite to Deacon’s words, but Kieran only frowns at him.
“Well, it’s up to you,” he says after a moment. “Should I…?”
He looks at me, then at Deacon, and Deacon sighs. “We’ll be fine.”
Kieran nods. Does Deacon see what I can? It’s not deference to an alpha that I can see in Kieran’s face. It’s… admiration. A desire to protect that I’ve only seen as strongly reflected in one other wolf.
“Kieran,” Deacon says when Kieran gets to the door. “Thank you.”
Kieran looks back at him and smiles, shrugging lightly. “That’s what pack’s for, right?”
He leaves the flat before either Deacon or I can reply, and the click of the door echoes loudly in the sparse room.
Deacon lets out a heavy sigh, dropping onto the sofa. His expression twists in pain and I move towards him, not sure what to do with my hands.
“Are you sure you’re…”
“Vasile, I’m fine.” Deacon leans back when I get too close, so I move away again, putting distance between us.
He doesn’t want me. He hasn’t wanted to speak to me in almost a century, and yes, I haven’t fixed that either, but—
“Vasile.” Deacon’s tone tells me it’s not the first time he’s said my name. “I told you, I’m okay. There’s some pain left over from the wolfsbane, but Ophelia did a good job. I’ll be healed by morning.”
He’s not lying. Even if I couldn’t tell, it makes sense—wolves heal almost as quickly as vampires do.
“You should never—” I cut myself off with a shake of my head. “This should have never happened.”
“But it did.” Deacon’s tone isn’t harsh, but the words still cut me. I flinch, and he sighs again. “It’s not your fault, you know.”
“What isn’t?”
“Tamesis.”
I stop still and stare at him. His trousers and shirt are crumpled, hair a mess from all we’ve been through tonight, but fuck, he’s as handsome as he’s ever been, even tired and injured and—
“You can’t mean that,” I say, my voice coming out fairly strangled. “You can’t.”
He can’t mean it. If he means it, that means—
“You killed him,” Deacon says. “He drank from Kieran too, remember? Whatever’s going on with him, he’s fucking hard to keep down.”
I nod. I don’t dare to speak, not with my throat choked up the way it suddenly is. Deacon was down when I bit into Tamesis, injured by what I did to our bond.
“I didn’t—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, to hurt us —”
“You…?” Deacon stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Vas, you…”
I’m hit by the overwhelming urge to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness. Would he grant me that? Would he forgive me for destroying what we had, for killing Tamesis in the worst possible way—one that didn’t even work ?
“I can’t talk about this now,” Deacon says, and my heart stops for a moment. “I—I’m sorry, I know I brought it up, but I needed you to know. About Tamesis.”
“Yes. I—Okay. I understand.”
I don’t. For the first time in a century, I want to talk about it. I want to know…
I want to know if we can fix this. If there’s even the slightest, most distant opportunity…
“I should go,” I say because I can’t tell him that, not if he doesn’t want to bring it up again. “Call me if you feel worse. Please.”
Deacon looks at me for a long moment. I can’t read his face. “Yeah,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. “Yeah, I will.”
I don’t know if I believe him, but I don’t want to stay and argue about it. I clutch the door handle and all but run from the flat. The car won’t be here for a while yet, but I’d rather wait out in the protection of Sam’s wards than spend another minute hurting and wanting in that room.