3. CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER THREE
A s night fell, a thick layer of mist settled over the barren tundra, cloaking Mercy’s Haven Orphanage in a shroud of secrecy. A lone figure stood like a shadow against the crumbling structure of the building, emanating an otherworldly presence that seemed to bend the surrounding darkness.
Casimir scanned the decrepit structure with a sense of purpose that was almost tangible. His rich bronze complexion appeared flawless, defying his centuries of existence. The moonlight draped over him, accentuating the sharpness of his angular jaw and the predatory grace of his tall, athletic form.
The frigid spring air didn’t affect him, but the vile rumors of abuse made his undead blood simmer with silent fury. With every breath he didn’t need to take, Casimir could imagine the muted cries of innocence corrupted within the stone building. It was a familiar tune for one who had walked the world for as long as he had, a tune that awakened the warrior within him—a protector of the innocent whose blade and fang had been drawn in defense of the powerless countless times before.
A door creaked open, spilling a sliver of light onto the ground, and his senses sharpened, attuned to every shift within. Arch Patriarch Williams, the embodiment of hypocrisy and immorality, emerged from the building, exuding an aura of malice that clung to him like a second skin.
Casimir’s upper lip curled at the sight of the corrupt lackey of the Brotherhood. The rumors that had reached his ears were cries for justice. He could smell the stench of the man’s vile desires. The odor was sickeningly sweet, triggering a darkness within Casimir that coiled in anticipation of the violence he would unleash.
He restrained himself. Patience was the virtue of hunters and immortals alike. He needed confirmation, evidence of the atrocities committed by Williams’ hand. Only then would he allow himself the luxury of teaching the so-called educator what it meant to be prey. For now, he remained still, biding his time for the right moment to strike.
As Williams retreated inside and the orphanage door closed behind him with a soft click, Casimir silently waited—watching and listening. Soon, the unmistakable sound of a woman's shriek captured his attention. Despite the distance, his enhanced hearing picked it up clearly. The sound stoked the flames of rage within him, hidden beneath his icy exterior.
He used his shadowmeld ability, shrouding himself in the darkness that rendered him unseen to the human eye as he navigated the corridors. A muffled voice drifted to his ears, leading him to a gloomy hallway.
The arch patriarch loomed over a young woman. The sight of the man’s greasy hands reaching toward her sparked a fury within Casimir that had nothing to do with hunger. He felt the familiar itch of his fangs elongating, the beast within straining against its chains. Yet it was not the time for reckless savagery. He needed to remain undetected.
The woman’s voice shattered the peaceful night. Despite her delicate appearance, her words dripped with venom, and Casimir couldn’t help but grin at her fiery spirit.
“You pretend your intentions are righteous, but we both know you’ll find any excuse to punish me, even when I’m doing nothing wrong.”
The arch patriarch’s response was a guttural sound, half-growl, half-grunt, that spoke volumes of his vile intentions. Casimir’s grip tightened on the hilt of his dagger, the silver blade a lethal promise of what was to come. The scene unfolding before him confirmed the rumors: the arch patriarch’s corruption ran deeper than the graves that littered the barren landscape.
With predatory grace, Casimir descended upon the scene.
Rowan stared up at Williams, her mind working furiously. She had to get away from him and find safety in numbers. He’d varied the timing of his nightly rounds for the second time in a row and managed to catch her out of bed .
“Watch your mouth.” His oily voice slithered through the air. “Those who defy me have an unfortunate tendency of finding themselves reported to the Brotherhood’s Enforcers for disobedience. Need I remind you that the average life expectancy at the labor mines is less than two years?”
She stiffened and backed up. “I’m simply trying to get back to bed. I must have been sleepwalking.”
He reached out with a deceptive gentleness that made her skin crawl. “Liar. Many young women, like yourself, resist the traditional teachings of the Brotherhood. But eventually, I have a way of breaking them in.” He chuckled at his own words.
She sidestepped his touch with practiced ease. “No need. I understand my place in this world.”
“Do you, now?” He clasped her arm with an iron grip. “I’ve waited patiently, yet you always find a way to evade me.” With his other hand, he gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You need to learn to show respect to your betters.”
She fought against the urge to cower, gazing defiantly into his eyes, void of human warmth. His fingernails dug into her flesh. Rowan bit down hard on her lip to stifle a cry. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear this time.
His sneer faltered—just for a moment—before he slammed her against the wall. “Tonight, I’ll make sure you suffer for every minute of your insolence.”
With agonizing slowness, he ran his tongue up the side of her face.
Rowan shuddered as the arch patriarch pressed her harder against the cold stone wall. Her scream caught in her throat as she strained to break free from his hold. Her eyes widened as Williams’ fingers wrapped around her neck and squeezed. His cold eyes shone with glee as he relished her helplessness, his twisted grin revealing his sadistic pleasure. Her fear and revulsion were almost as suffocating as the hand around her throat. Her chest burned with lack of air.
“You’re mine now. You won’t escape me again, you devious little whore.” He ground his groin into hers with sickening intent—
“Enough!”
An imposing male figure stepped forward, emerging from a cloak of shadows.
“Release her,” he commanded.
“Who dares?” the arch patriarch yelped as he released Rowan and turned to face the threat.
Fangs flashed in the torchlight as the man gave Williams a feral smile. “Death. ”
Rowan cowered in a corner, her pulse racing. An old legend echoed in the halls of her memory. It was a story passed down through generations in this corner of the kingdom. It spoke of a vampire who had roamed these lands when they were still wild and untamed. A vampire of unparalleled cruelty with an insatiable thirst for blood, known only as the Reaper. His reign of terror had lasted for years until he mysteriously vanished, leaving behind a trail of drained bodies and countless bereaved. People rejoiced at his disappearance while fearing his return.
An icy chill crept into Rowan’s veins. If this man was a vampire, then vampires were real . . . and so was the terror that was the Reaper.
“Stay back. This doesn’t concern you.” Arch Patriarch Williams tried to hide the quaver in his voice as he backed away from the vampire. “She’s nothing but a seducing whore who was begging for it. I swear.”
“Everything concerning her concerns me,” the vampire replied starkly, taking another step forward. “And I have no tolerance for liars or wolves in sheep’s clothing.”
Williams pointed a shaking finger at the vampire. “Monster!” He continued backing away, eyes flaring wide as he took in the vampire’s fangs and lethal countenance.
“Perhaps.” A thin smile played across the vampire’s lips. “But even monsters have their uses.”
Rowan huddled in her corner, trembling, desperately wishing to become invisible as the vampire focused his piercing gaze on her.
“Come with me.” He extended a sizable hand toward her. A stray strand of hair fell into his intense, beseeching eyes. “I promise that I mean you no harm.”
The torchlight reflected off his statuesque features, showcasing an uncanny beauty that no mortal could possess. His raven-black hair fell loosely about his broad shoulders, framing his starkly handsome face like a dark halo. Rowan couldn’t tear her gaze away from his mesmerizing icy-blue eyes, which seemed even more striking against his bronze complexion.
“Why are you helping me?” She searched his face, desperate for a shred of truth in a world she had only known to be built on pain and lies.
“Because nobody deserves to be treated this way.” The tension around his eyes softened, and his voice turned tender. “I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”
His words were so convincing that Rowan had trouble discerning whether she was more afraid or captivated by the stunning creature. He had just rescued her from a fate worse than death, and he didn’t seem intent on harming her, for the moment at least. Frozen with indecision, she stared up at him, wide-eyed and unable to move. He remained poised in front of her, his hand outstretched, patiently awaiting her response.
The arch patriarch slowly stood up. “Never. She’s mine!” he screeched, striking the vampire over the head with a heavy silver candlestick.
The sound of metal colliding with crunching bone reverberated through the air as the vampire stumbled backward, dazed by the sudden attack. Williams continued to rain blows on his head in a wild frenzy. Each strike sounded like a thunderclap.
Rowan’s body was rooted, her muscles ridged. But the sight of someone else being assaulted by the arch patriarch snapped her out of it. She shook off the numbness weighing down her limbs and shoved Williams with all her might.
“Get away from him.” Rowan stepped between the arch patriarch and the vampire, whose brows arched in surprise.
“Thank you,” he said. Then, with a wordless snarl, the vampire rose to his full, imposing height before charging forward at a speed faster than the human eye could track.
He hoisted the arch patriarch effortlessly by the neck and held him high above his head.
“I should have known that a spineless predator who targets women and children wouldn’t have enough honor to fight me face to face.” He shook Williams like a rag doll, and the man’s shrill bleating pierced Rowan’s eardrums. “You caught me by surprise, but rest assured, I won’t let that happen again.”
The vampire turned his gaze to Rowan.
“What happens next is up to you.” He reached for his belt and produced a dagger. It gleamed under the torchlight as he held the hilt toward her. “Vengeance is yours to take, if you want it.”
Rowan’s pulse raced as she stared at the dagger. What frightened her wasn’t the weapon, but the weight of the decision he presented. Her eyes flicked to Williams, whose face had turned an alarming shade of purple. He gasped for air as his legs kicked wildly.
Hesitantly, she extended her hand and clasped the dagger’s hilt. It was surprisingly cold and heavier than she’d expected. Rowan pointed the weapon at the arch patriarch while uncertainty clouded her mind.
She’d always been resourceful and determined, but she was no killer. Taking a life, no matter how vile, felt like crossing an invisible boundary from which there was no return.
Williams’ gaze pleaded with hers, the whites of his eyes flashing as the vampire held him suspended in the air. He rasped out something that might have been an apology or a plea, but it came out as nothing more than a pitiful croak .
“I . . . I can’t.” Rowan’s voice sounded small and choked, even to her ears. The dagger clutched in her palm suddenly felt as if it were made of lead, dragging her arm downward. She dropped the weapon, letting it clatter to the stone floor. There was no doubt that Williams was a monster, but that didn’t mean she had the right to play the role of judge, jury, and executioner.
From the shadows, a streak of motion caused the vampire to conceal his fangs. Lyra emerged, her eyes blazing with a fire that Rowan had never seen before. In one swift motion, her small hand darted down and grabbed the dagger from the ground. Without a word, she launched herself at Williams and stabbed him in his chest and torso, over and over again.
The arch patriarch struggled against the vampire’s grip, but it proved futile. He writhed in agony as he gurgled out his final breath. He convulsed once, twice, before he finally went limp.
The vampire let go of his body, and it fell to the ground in a pitiful heap. A trail of blood flowed from the arch patriarch’s wounds.
Lyra stood over Williams’ corpse, her chest heaving. Her knuckles whitened as she held the weapon with a death grip. “He wasn’t ever going to stop. Now he won’t be able to hurt anyone else—ever again.”
The vampire turned his icy stare toward Lyra. “How much did you see?”
Lyra’s gaze didn’t waver from the fallen body. She spoke slowly, as if she were coming out of a daze. “I heard noises and came to see what was wrong.”
“And you saw . . .?” the vampire pressed, his voice strained. The flickering torchlight danced across his face, casting shadows that accentuated his angular features.
“I saw Rowan drop the dagger.” Lyra glanced at Rowan, her eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light. “She couldn’t do it, so I did it for her . . . for all of us.”
Lyra released her grip on the dagger’s bloodied hilt, letting it drop to the ground with a loud clang that reverberated harshly in the silence. Rowan crossed the distance between them in three long strides. She wrapped her arms around Lyra’s slim shoulders, pulling her close.
“Thank you,” she whispered into Lyra’s hair, her voice trembling. It was more than gratitude for intervening. It was an acknowledgment of sacrifice and innocence lost.
“We can’t tarry any longer. We need to leave now,” the vampire interjected, his tone tense and urgent. “Someone else could arrive any minute. ”
Rowan tore herself away from Lyra, rounding on the vampire. “We can’t just leave. What about the children? We’re all they have.”
His jaw clenched, and he sighed. “The children . . .” He paused, his eyes dropping to the lifeless body on the stone floor before meeting Rowan’s determined gaze. “They’ll be safer now without you here. The Brotherhood’s Enforcers will see your friends as accomplices if you try to hide with them. You’ll only put them in danger if you stay.”
Rowan was torn. How could she abandon the other orphans? They were her family, her responsibility. But she also understood the vampire’s logic and knew he was right. This wasn’t about her anymore—she couldn’t risk them being punished.
She looked back at the vampire, seeking reassurance. The sincerity in his expression was enough to temper the storm of emotions brewing inside her.
Her throat burned and her eyes stung with the urge to cry as she saw Lyra’s face crumple. Rowan swallowed hard, tasting the bitter tang of desperation as a plan took shape in her mind.
“I . . .” She trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I’ll take the blame. That way, you can stay and protect the children.” Her eyes locked onto Lyra’s, pleading for understanding. “No one will ever suspect you.”
Lyra shook her head vehemently. “Ro—”
“No,” Rowan interrupted sharply. A surge of determination filled her as she continued, her words directed at both Lyra and the vampire. “This is my decision. I won’t allow the Brotherhood to burn you at the stake for protecting the rest of us. For having the strength to do what I couldn’t.”
Before Lyra could protest further, Rowan hastily tore a strip of fabric from her gray dress. With trembling hands, she used the material to wipe any trace of the arch patriarch’s blood from her friend.
“Go,” she urged Lyra, letting the stained fabric drop to the ground beside Williams’ body. “Keep the others safe. Act like you’ve been sleeping this entire time.” Lyra hesitated, but Rowan silenced her with a fierce look. “I need you to do this, Lyra.”
Her friend nodded, her eyes wide and fearful. The sight twisted something in Rowan’s chest, but she forced a smile onto her face.
“It’ll be okay. I promise.”
Lyra stepped forward and enveloped Rowan in a hug, squeezing her tightly for a moment before pulling away. On shaky legs, she turned and ran toward the dormitory .
As soon as Lyra had disappeared, Rowan looked down into Williams’ lifeless eyes once more. She gnawed on her lip as she dropped to her knees beside him. Drawing in a shaky breath, she reached a hand up to her disheveled braid. With a swift jerk of her wrist, she ripped out several strands of her distinctive silver-blond hair, hissing sharply at the sting. She pried open the arch patriarch’s tightly clenched fist and deposited the strands into his palm, closing his fingers over them.
“That should do it.” The vampire nodded solemnly. “Let’s go. Now.”
Rowan debated whether to make a break for it. The vampire was as lethal as he was captivating, but he hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to hurt her—yet. She straightened her posture and decided to go along with him for now, hoping to lead him away from her friends. Once they were on the move, she could come up with a better plan.
Before leaving, she cast one last look at the dormitory where the children slept, oblivious to the brutal violence that had just taken place. Her vision blurred, tears streaming down her face as she realized she may never set eyes on them again.