Blood of the Gods (Cloak of the Vampire #2)

PROLOGUE

Eight Years Ago

Lewiston, Maine

Darkness spread through the sky when Natalia and her father made their way to the Androscoggin River. They didn’t talk, but Natalia wasn’t bothered; her father was always silent when the time came for the second rite.

It was better than how loud he was during the first rite.

Though a silent monster was still a monster.

Her father came to a stop near the riverbank. Natalia paused next to him, staring pointedly at the river. Yet not looking at that didn’t make its presence less prominent. But then her father started speaking, murmuring the words she’d been hearing every month for her entire life, and like every time, she felt the eerie need to gaze at him.

She’d once heard a few of her classmates’ mothers calling her father handsome. She shared the sentiment, to a certain extent; at first glance, he seemed like a smart, kind man with warm eyes hiding behind a pair of square glasses. It also helped that he was a scholar, a biochemistry professor at the University of Maine.

What those mothers failed to notice was the fanaticism drawn in the depths of his hazel irises.

“Dear Gods of Faith and Divinity,” her father muttered, eyes staring at the river unseeingly, as though he was somewhere far away. “Let us draw from the well of our belief and embrace our true potential as vessels of your blessings.”

He looked down at the large glass bowl he cradled in his arms. His eyes were alight with hot anger. “We have failed you,” he said, voice louder and more bitter. Natalia jolted, perplexed; her father had never deviated from the speech before. “Last time, we failed to provide you with proof of our faith. Rest assured; this won’t ever happen again.”

Natalia felt her heart fall as she returned her gaze to the river. She hadn’t forgotten about last month’s incident. It still haunted her that there was someone out there, other than herself, who knew about her father’s true nature. She remembered her father’s outburst when he had to forfeit the rite a month ago. It was a sight she didn’t want to behold ever again.

And now, her father went to his knees, his body shaking in barely contained rage. “We present you with a worthy tribute to show our unwavering gratitude for all you’ve given us, O Sublime Ones, for our conviction in your powers is far superior to any other.”

He turned his head to Natalia, who realized she, too, was shaking at the utter, zealous devotion in her father’s eyes. “Come now, Natalia. Show them your faith.”

Natalia nodded jerkily as she stepped forward and pulled out the penknife from the pocket of her jeans. She pressed the blade against her inner arm, feeling a sickening sense of familiarity, welcoming the pain as blood spilled from the wound, shining red under the moonlight.

Then she began to chant.

“Deep in the forest, no bird is safe ...”

As Natalia recited the old psalm from the Book of Kahil, she pulled her arm over the bowl in her father’s hands. It was filled with ashes, which slowly turned a light, distorted shade of red from the blood she spilled over it.

Natalia and her father were immobile, frozen in place, Natalia’s soft singing the only sound filling the loaded air.

When the last drop of blood fell onto the ashes, Natalia returned her arm to her side and straightened in her place. “The Morrow Gods have come,” she whispered.

Her father climbed to his feet, stepped toward the calm water of the river, and poured the contents of the glass bowl into it, coloring the deep-blue depths a faint shade of red.

Natalia and her father watched until the last drop of blood and ash landed and rippled over the water. They waited for a few more moments before they clasped their hands together, closed their eyes, and murmured, “May the Morrow Gods bestow the Beyond with their eternal inferno.”

Natalia was watching the Androscoggin River from the window of the living room as her father rinsed the bowl in the kitchen sink when there was a knock on the entrance door. Both Natalia and her father turned to look at the door, immediately alert.

Neither Natalia nor her father had any friends. Once upon a time, the neighbors had tried to befriend her father, but they realized quickly enough he wasn’t interested in trivial things such as friendships. While Natalia had once wished she had friends, being homeschooled with no extracurricular activities didn’t allow for such things.

Meaning there was no reason for anyone to visit them, especially when it was close to midnight.

Another knock on the door made Natalia jump. She put the workbook down and leaped to her feet, then tiptoed toward the door. Silently, she checked the peephole.

What she saw made her pale.

She stepped back from the door as yet another knock echoed in the silent house. She then turned to her father, who gave her an inquisitive look and mouthed, Who’s there?

Natalia parted her lips to speak, but no sound came out. At that very moment, many scenarios went through her head. So many of them, in fact, that she had a hard time breathing.

Her heart raced in her chest as cold sweat dripped down her spine. This is a chance, a little, distant voice whispered in her head. This is the chance you’ve been waiting for.

But there was a louder voice, a deeply terrified one, that screamed, You have nowhere else to go!

She had no time to choose, though.

The door was thrown open, and five police officers entered the house. They passed Natalia, heading straight to her father before one of them grabbed his hands and shackled his wrists. “Amir Zoheir-Henderson,” the officer said in a disgusted, angry voice, “you’re under arrest for charges of kidnap and rape. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Natalia’s father did not resist. Quite the opposite, really; he remained calm as they dragged him toward the door. His eyes then turned to Natalia. “She has nothing to do with it,” he told the police officers. “Leave her out of it.”

She watched as the officers then carried her father out, while one of them, a woman, remained behind, facing her. “It’s going to be all right, Natalia,” she told her, and Natalia saw the sympathy on her face she didn’t bother to hide. “You’re going to be okay.”

Everything had happened so fast after that, Natalia hardly remembered any of it. She was put in a car, and some people talked to her, saying things she didn’t quite understand, and through it all, she uttered not a word and shed no tears.

Until an investigator sat her down and asked, “Were you aware your father imprisoned young girls in the basement of your house?”

That’s when she finally snapped out of her dazed stupor. And the first thing she said in many hours was a lie.

“No.”

And the investigator believed her. Why wouldn’t he, Natalia thought bitterly, when she was merely a thirteen-year-old, supposedly a little girl herself?

In the days after her father’s arrest, Natalia didn’t sleep. Couldn’t, really. She was awake, staring at the ceiling of the motel room the police put her in, wondering what the hell was going to happen to her now.

Because she knew her father’s fate was sealed. She was smart enough to know the police wouldn’t have arrested him without some sort of evidence.

But what about her fate?

Natalia sat in front of the square glass window, a telephone pressed against her ear. On the other side, her father sat, wearing the orange prison clothes she’d seen many times on TV. It was surreal that her father, the one who always wore those nerdy khaki pants and a buttoned shirt, was now wearing that.

“Natalia,” he whispered into the phone. He seemed more tired than she’d ever seen him before; his eyes were bloodshot, with heavy bags under them that reminded her of her own. His dark hair was disheveled, and he had begun growing a scruff, when before he was always so clean shaven. The only thing that seemed normal was his glasses.

“Dad,” Natalia mumbled, her emotions all over the place. She didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know if she could feel again, really, what with the cold numbness that had taken root in her chest since the night of his arrest.

“We don’t have much time, so I’ll make it short,” her father now said, his eyes searching hers. “You must continue applying everything I’ve taught you.”

Something rippled underneath the numbness. Something hot and ugly. “How can you think about that right now?” she hissed, incredulous.

He gave her his disapproving look, the one she used to dread when she was younger. “This is the only thing that matters, Natalia,” he said fiercely, a spark returning to his eyes. “We’re the last Children of Kahil. With me gone, you have to carry on the legacy. To continue to prove your faith.”

It’s not my faith, Dad; it’s yours, Natalia wanted to respond, but she bit her tongue and looked away. She would break him if she denied him this, she knew. He cared far more about the Morrow Gods than he’d ever cared for her, after all.

Her father had the uncanny ability to read what was going on in her mind, however, because he said, “I’m asking this for your own sake. You know I love you more than anything in the world, Natalia. I would do anything for you.”

Lies.

“Look at me, please,” he whispered, and reluctantly, she did. His gaze was desperate. “The Book of Kahil is in my office. Take it. Read it. Do what needs to be done.”

She wanted nothing but to go back to her childhood home and burn that book. Because that book had brought nothing but misery upon her life—now and before her father got arrested. Everything he’d done, all the things she’d witnessed, her part in it all, pretending to be oblivious when she heard screams from the basement ... It was all because of that damned book.

“Natalia, my love,” her father pleaded, and she could look at him no more. “Do not let all of our hard work go to waste.”

She pursed her lips and stared at her hands. He tried to speak to her again, but she wasn’t listening, unable to listen when all he uttered were pleas for her to commit the same crimes he did in the name of a long-lost faith.

Natalia stared at the milkshake Amy, the social worker, had bought her, wondering whether she should show she was trying, after days upon days of barely nibbling an energy bar per day.

She wasn’t hungry, though, and hadn’t been for almost a month now. The Augusta orphanage workers tried to feed her relentlessly, and Amy, too, brought her burgers every time she came to visit. On better days, she pretended to eat while actually passing her food to Carter, an exceptionally hungry boy her age in the orphanage, but usually, she just flat-out refused to eat.

If there was one thing she hated, it was adults trying to control her.

Amy now walked back into the room, and a couple in their forties followed her in. “You should drink the milkshake, dear,” she said kindly, gesturing toward the vanilla-strawberry mix.

But the milkshake was no longer on her mind now. Instead, she stared suspiciously at the couple, who gave her wobbly smiles and hopeful gazes, as though she was the answer to all their prayers.

That did not make her any thirstier for that stupid milkshake.

Seeing that she wasn’t in a cooperative mood, Amy cleared her throat and motioned toward the couple. “Natalia, please meet Ella and Roger Kazar.”

The woman, Ella, seemed to be on the verge of tears as she stepped toward Natalia and crouched so they were eye level, what with Natalia sitting down. “Hi there,” Ella said softly, smiling tearily.

Natalia did not smile back. “Hi,” she said flatly.

“Roger and I have heard so much about you,” Ella continued as though Natalia had said nothing, “and we can’t wait to introduce you to our son, Logan.”

Alarmed, Natalia whipped her head toward Amy, requiring an explanation. Amy smiled widely. “Ella and Roger are your foster parents, starting today,” she said excitedly. “Isn’t it great, Natalia? You get to have new parents, a new home, and even a brother your age!”

Natalia felt her heart sink. She didn’t need a new family. Sure, the orphanage wasn’t the best, but she only ever had one family. Her father. And despite everything he’d done, she loved him. She loved him dearly.

But when she turned to Mrs. and Mr. Kazar, she knew she had no choice in the matter. This had all been settled already. They were simply informing her of what was to come, not asking her if she was okay with any of it.

In their eyes, she was a little girl who needed to be taken care of.

In truth, Natalia’s maturity was far beyond her years.

And because of that maturity, she knew she had to adapt, and quickly, to what was to come. Frosting her heart, she gave the woman a thin smile and said, “Thank you.”

Ella melted. Roger was now crying too. Amy was beside herself.

Natalia was angry.

And that anger made her make an impulsive decision. Something she didn’t think through but felt she had to do. If she was going to pretend she was an innocent, clueless girl who went along with everything she was told, she had to do this.

“Also, please address me by a different name,” she said, causing everyone’s eyes to return to her. She feigned a shy smile in response. “I want to start fresh.”

Ella was perplexed, but she softened and smiled widely. “Of course, darling,” she said, “and what is your new name?”

Certainly not Natalia Zoheir-Henderson. Not with these people. Not when her father was locked away, perhaps forever, and she, too, was about to move from one prison to another.

She would go by her middle name. The one her father had given her, unlike her first name, so she would always remember where she came from and who she really was.

With conviction far superior to any she’d ever had as to the Morrow Gods’ existence, she said, “Aileen Henderson.”