Chapter 44 | Lukain
Lukain
I came on this mission to prove myself to my mother and hand her Sephania Lock at last. Alacine has always fought for me, aided me, and looked after me. Even if I don’t believe in many of the things she espouses—and haven’t since I was young—I simply can’t go against her.
With Sephania gone, my single bloodthrall Kleora dead, and my future as “Overseer Verant” looking bleak because of my failure at Sutlis Spire, my mother is the single remaining ally I have.
I despise what she did to Palacia. The poor interfolk girl’s rape and subsequent torture and death sits ill with me.
If I hadn’t been nearby, listening to her harrowing sounds as my mother took out her frustrations on my former Grimdaughter, no one would have brought her back to life as a vampire.
She would have spasmed in agony, bleeding out on the cold stone floor of that prison.
I’m not sure why I brought Palacia to Skartovius and Sephania.
My mind was not working right after turning the girl, going against my mother’s wishes for the first time since tailing Sephania and not capturing her.
I panicked, knowing I would be in for a world of misery if Mother found out what I’d done to keep Pala alive.
Now, I hope to never see her again. It’s not that I trust Skartovius Ashfen to do what is right with her, because I know that’s an impossibility.
He’s been my enemy for as long as I can remember.
No, it’s because I know Sephania will do what is right.
And now I’m here at her manor with a group of assassins, ready to kill anyone who opposes us and snatch her away from the men she claims to love.
The contradictions of my owns thoughts and actions alarms me, yet what can I do? I have chosen Alacine Mortis to rest my future on, because there is clearly no future with my little grimmer.
As I stare out from the wooded expanse surrounding Manor Marquin, I quirk a smile when thinking about the pet name I created for her.
She was scared of me, once. Then we collided with heat once she was an appropriate age to make her own decisions, and I’ve never been the same since drinking from her Loreblood and making love to her.
Just the thought of our bodies crashing, our moans rising . . .
No, I think, shaking my head earnestly to force the thoughts out before they can undo me. That time is over. Sephania has made it abundantly clear: I am her enemy.
“Let’s go,” I tell my group of silent killers once we’ve scouted the property long enough. We watched as a carriage departed, though I have no idea who was inside it. Could be a diversion.
Mother told me it would happen this way, and I trust her.
“We split our attacks to confuse them, to startle them, little sapling. The noblebloods will want to keep Sephania safe in Manor Marquin while they try to rescue her mother,” Alacine told me shortly before this mission.
“While the bulk of our force attacks the Grimsons’ hideaway in Nuhav, to grab hold of her Loreblood being tested by the alchemist, you will infiltrate the manor and take the girl from her home.
She will be useful to us in the coming days.
We will be unstoppable once we have the whore and her blood. ”
So here we are. A culminating event I know will sever any lingering hope there could ever be reconciliation between us.
The night is long and dark, the wind is up. Upon nearing the manor, I notice two bloodsigns calling within me—two marks of Loreblood stationed in the house. Sephania must be one, I think, but who is the other?
Ever since drinking from her, the pull to find her has been intrinsic, trapped inside me. As much as I simply want to rid my mind of Sephania, I can’t deny her blood always being with me. I can always detect her.
My group snakes its way through the fields, up to the northern end of the manor on the hill. Countless lanterns are alight inside, spotted through the windows—clearly a decoy to make it seem more inhabited than it is. To keep Sephania safe.
We approach at a crouch. My hunters draw their blackened blades, cloaks pulled low, faces marred with pitch to hide them. They are a gruesome, skilled lot.
We hit the manor at different entrances, of which there are a few.
Splitting up gives us the best chance to cover as much ground as possible and find her.
Since Manor Marquin is huge, with countless corridors, rooms, and multiple stories, we have to be diligent and swift in our search.
I don’t know when that carriage will arrive, and I want to be gone—along with Sephania—before it does.
Two of my men take to the walls to scale up to the second story. They leap into the darkness, stealthy, unseen, deadly. The other three come with me: one through the back doors where the smattering of white tents are pitched, and two through the windows.
I take the front door. The double doors creak open once I gain the stairs, surprising me that it’s unlocked. Clearly, the vampires’ rush to leave the manor dulled their minds, making my job easier; making Sephania’s defense weaker. So far, everything has gone according to Alacine’s plan.
Then I hear the first sound of steps that aren’t my assassins’ boots. My brow furrows as a thud signals somewhere down the halls of the house.
I creep through the corridors and winding passages, methodically poking my head into empty rooms. Candles and torches are lit in nearly every one—storage room, ballroom, bedroom, kitchen.
Within minutes, I’m nearing the first bloodsign—a faint signal of Loreblood pulsing in a nearby chamber. The other signal is on the opposite end of the vast manor, also on the first level.
I hope this one is Sephania, because then I can leave this place quickly.
Skulking through a high-ceilinged den draped with tapestries and lined with red rugs, I pass ornate marble columns and beeline for the room with the bloodsign.
I push the door open—
And reel when I recognize the slight, tawny-haired figure in front of me. She looks different now than last I saw her—thank the Damned—with paler skin, a more discerning glare in her red-rimmed eyes, and a sickly pallor to her lustrous blonde strands.
“Palacia,” I eke out past a dry throat. It shouldn’t be her, I think. My pull only identifies Loreblood, not every other kind of blood. It should be Sephania in this room!
She frowns at me. “You shouldn’t be here, Master.”
Palacia casually walks toward a side door as I enter the room. “Where are you going?” I call. “Where’s Sephania?”
She says nothing as she pushes the side door open and disappears.
I snarl, charging after her. “Stop, girl!”
The girl doesn’t stop, which shocks me worse than anything. I am her master, and the ability to command a bloodthrall is absolute. I’ve always known that.
And yet . . . Palacia takes off at a sprint. Her bare feet scamper down the hall as she leaves the room she exited and heads for another one.
I give chase, throwing caution to the wind. Somewhere in the distance, I hear another thud. Then a short-lived scream. Then the hissing sounds of fire.
I become aware things are going very, very wrong.
Could they have led us into another trap? Outwitted Alacine again? Impossible!
I don’t lose track of Palacia, though she’s a quick, squirrelly little bitch. Her green-yellow hair bobs on her bony shoulders, small feet padding along while her loose-fitting tunic breezes across her frail body.
Three more turns in the hallways, and then she finds the door she’s been aiming for. It happens to be the one where the other bloodsign is located.
Surely this must be where Sephania resides then.
Palacia careens through the door and I give chase—
Only to see her vanish into black smoke at the other end of the room. My eyes widen, landing on the tall, elegant vampire standing over his old oak desk, staring down at a tome almost longingly.
I haven’t seen this many tomes and scrolls in my life. They pile the bookshelves lining the walls of the study. Dim candles keeps the warmth inside the miniature library.
Skartovius turns to me once Palacia has magically vanished. His red-gold cloak swishes, and he strikes the very picture of arrogance standing there with his hand on the hilt of my father’s silver sword.
My nemesis in the flesh. Last we met, I was handing him a dying girl—a girl I turned into a vampire to keep her alive because my weak human heart felt empathy to watch someone I had once cared for suffer so needlessly.
The time before that, I had broken into this very manor, into his bedroom, and tried to kill him for killing my father Heskel years ago. My attempt was a failure then, but I wouldn’t have the same outcome tonight.
“I expected Madame Mortis. Not you.”
I blink at his cold words. He says them as if he’s surprised to see me—surprised I had it in me to come here.
Little does he know, I’m just as surprised as he is. You’re supposed to be Sephania, dammit. Did you truly send her into the heart of the beast in Nuhav, to retrieve her mother? Are you that reckless, you fool?
The thought of it makes my slow heart fill with blood and pulse hard against my chest. If Sephania is in Nuhav instead of here, that means she is going to face my mother.
And despite everything between us, the last thing I want is to leave my mother alone with Sephania for even a second.
Not after knowing what she’s capable of.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say, mind reeling.
“Oh, don’t be.” His smile and eyes become wicked, bent on destruction as he stares me down. “I’m thrilled you’re here, Lukain.”
I nod my chin toward the wall Palacia disappeared into. I don’t need to ask what kind of magic or illusion Skartovius has at his fingertips, because I’ve seen similar things from my mother. “Why wouldn’t she listen to my command to stop running? I turned Palacia.”