PROLOGUE & CHAPTERS 1 & 2
Prologue - Victor
“Tell me again why we didn’t kill him?” my twin brother, Talon, asked me as we left the meeting before everyone else. I would have released a sigh had my body allowed it, but I was too fucking tense to even try. Instead, the only response I could offer was through gritted teeth.
“You know why.”
My answer made my brother narrow his eyes back at the main house, the one the meeting had been held at, just like always. We were all known as the Fondatori, the Kings of this world, and many who held the sacred dagger were some of the oldest Vampires in existence.
Just like my brother and I.
Yet despite there being only five minutes between us in age, I was the first born and therefore was known as the head of my family. Much to the chagrin of others and those who shall not be named. But perhaps that was why tonight’s gathering had affected me the way it had.
A bit of spilled blood too close to home.
The knowledge gained from tonight had been simple as much as it hadn’t.
A room full of Vampire Kings had to force themselves not to react to the murderous newcomer taking the seat of the late Heinrich Rainier.
The King who ruled over Berlin had been a friend to many in the room.
Therefore, the murderous bastard now sitting in his place had left more than a distasteful sourness and a lust for revenge in everyone’s mouths.
Leon Miller, the now famed half-breed had managed to kill a full-blooded Vampire.
And by the laws of the Fondatori he had, by right, taken ownership of the tiger’s eye dagger.
Which meant that with it now in his possession, Miller sequentially held a place at the table and had control of the Berlin seat of power.
Just the thought had me gripping my hand around my own dagger’s hilt, the garnet stone pulsing with power as it recognized its rightful owner.
The Erebus family name.
Each King had possession of their own dagger, and it was used to gain entry into the sanctuary where each meeting of the Kings was held. It assured your seat at the table, and each dagger was adorned with the gemstone that signified the different family and the powers they represented.
My dagger, however, was the only one that would shift from crimson to black whenever it was fed the precious source of blood or slipped into the door of the sanctuary.
My darkness possessed its dark red stone for a short while.
It felt my emotions, whereas I gave away nothing to the outside world, even after I was being shown the brutal execution tape that bastard Miller had brought with him as proof. Most around the table had reacted.
I never reacted.
My brother, however, had snarled like a wild beast at my back, barely able to contain his rage. Miller, for all his arrogance, had at least the good sense to look concerned, flinching at the sight if only for a second that most would have missed.
But I missed nothing.
In my cold, hard countenance, I rarely gave any of my emotions away for others to read, unlike my brother. Talon was the polar opposite in that regard. He would have freely killed the treacherous bastard there and then had I let him, and no doubt fucking laughed as he did it.
I looked at him now, wearing jeans, a dark gray tee, and his favorite biker jacket, he looked more like my second in command, also known to many as Sacred Squire, than that of my twin brother.
Two ends of the spectrum we stood, with my dark hair to his sandy blonde, his green eyes to my brown, and his casual clothes to my tailored suit.
The only thing that tied us together as being family was our inherited regal facial features, along with our tall, muscular frames.
Although the bastard did have an inch on me in height and liked to point it out at every opportunity.
“It matters not. We have our own problems to deal with,” I told my brother, who was clearly still stewing on the evening’s events. No doubt the sight of murdering Miller was playing on a loop in his mind.
“You speak of the traitor?” Talon assumed, making me grit my teeth once again as we made our way toward the dock.
Ever since the inaugural families had sailed over from Europe in seek of the new world, Seafarer’s Island had been declared as neutral ground by the Fondatori, a word that literally meant ‘founders’.
The island was guarded by an invisible barrier of magic, allowing only those of our own kind to pass.
It always bristled against my own powers, rattling my shadows and making them want to hiss their way free.
Each pure-blooded Vampire held their own unique gifts, my brother and I sharing our born darkness.
Hence why tonight’s gathering had been so disconcerting, because what had transpired between Miller and the Berlin King, Rainier, was borderline impossible. Never before had a half blood enough strength to kill one of us.
As I walked through the barrier, ignoring our escort who waited by the boat, I stepped aboard with purpose.
“With our products disappearing, I had the foresight to bug the next shipment before it was unloaded from the docks,” I told him, seeing up ahead as the head of the Vasari family was the next to emerge from the sanctuary.
Francesco was a well-respected Vampire and I had high hopes for his son in becoming the same.
They would not have taken this news of Rainier’s death lightly, not when they were known friends.
“Well done, Brother. Now tell me, exactly when and where do I get to spill some blood?” Tal asked me, grinning like some evil villain relishing the idea that he now had someone to kill. I nodded in respect to the Vasari family before turning back to the Nova Scotia shoreline.
“Yonkers…” His face said it all, but despite this he let me continue without interruption…
“There, Brother, is the blood we seek.”
Chapter 1 - Marked (Vanessa)
“This is stupid,” I complained for what felt like the millionth time in the space of an hour.
My roommate had come home with another hair-brained idea for us to go and see a psychic. “For fun,” she said. “To see what the future holds,” she said. “Plus, I was given a coupon,” she said.
I swear, that girl would have bought a discounted donkey if she had a coupon for it. And as for the ‘fun’ she said we would have; well, I was yet to experience any… especially after the cab ride and train hopping we had to do to get here.
“Remind me again, why are we in Yonkers?” I asked sardonically, and my friend laughed despite my lack of enthusiasm.
I mean, I wasn’t exactly all fired up in knowing my future. My main priorities were paying all my bills and having enough money left over to eat. I swear, if I never saw another box of mac n cheese so long as I lived, I would die a happy woman. But Jesus, what I would have given for a steak dinner.
Thanks to my shithead ex-boyfriend, I was lucky if I got to eat meat these days. He was the reason for the pitiful state of my life. The asshole had fucked me over and got me into so much debt I felt like most days I was drowning.
Vanessa Cadell, age twenty-six, hopelessly fucked…
yep, that was me. Which was why whenever Stacey usually asked me to go to these crazy places with her, my first answer was, “I can’t,” quickly followed by having no money.
She rarely accepted my excuses though, but Christ, the girl had bailed me out more often than I changed my bedsheets.
However, this time when she called it her treat, she added a great deal of guilt with it in order to get her way.
About how we never went out anymore, how I complained if she tried to help me, and all the rest of it.
So, in the end, I caved… hence why I was now standing in a shady part of Yonkers after walking from the train station past a creepy cemetery.
“This doesn’t look right,” I said, focusing on our reflections in the dark window. It was like some ominous mirror showing your other worldly self, looking back at you from the other side of the void.
My best friend and roommate, was the total opposite to me. Our reflections were like Ying and Yang.
Her dark purple hair was up in two bunches and reminded me of Mickey Mouse ears.
The comparison was something she always giggled at, and we loved to tease each other.
Her large circular glasses that constantly slipped down her nose made her the cutest girl in existence…
in my personal opinion. Her dark gothic make up and the lip ring with its tiny skull attached only added to her cuteness.
However, sharing clothes was usually out of the question because, let’s just say, her pleated miniskirts and fishnet tights weren’t exactly my shopping bag.
And this went both ways, because my plain dress sense most definitely wasn’t Stacey’s.
We made quite a pair. My wavy, shoulder-length, strawberry-blonde hair and blue-green eyes were usually void of any makeup.
I was fortunate that my lashes were dark and long enough not to need mascara, and my skin was lightly freckled enough that it hid any imperfections.
Good job really, because I couldn’t afford the luxury of beauty products unless they fell under the ‘necessity’ category.
Even if Stacey and I had the same style, it wouldn’t have mattered because I was short with an ass bigger than I would have liked and a bra size that could be considered as more than a handful.
As for Stacey, she was tall and slim enough that she got away with most styles.
She often complained that she wished she had my curves, whereas I would wish for her height and athletic build.
Although with the amount of ice-cream the girl ate, I had no clue how her stomach remained as flat as it was.
All I needed to do was look at the stuff and I would put on five pounds.