CHAPTER 2
KADE
Two Hundred Years Ago — Goreon Kingdom
AN EMPTY BARSTOOL at Lou’s is never a good sign. And the one beside me that’s been vacant for a week has wrecked me.
Chin on my knuckles, I stare at the liquor bottles, glassware clanking around the tavern. Lou slaps a rag over his shoulder and pours out more drinks while my gaze drags to Mother Diane’s barstool.
She warmed the seat since before I started coming here, and we’re pretty damn sure she’s been taken. Mother Diane isn’t the first to disappear—she’s one of thousands the Goreon king has taken over the years—but she was my friend and the mother of a fallen warrior.
The Hunter within stirs, needing revenge.
I grasp the whiskey glass staining a ring into the wood, my rage burning. This bar top should have grooves in the shape of my bone with how many hours I’ve spent on my stool over the years.
Lou pushes the bottle of bourbon my way, and I shake my head. “I’m good. Still saving up for that summer home.”
The tavern owner chuckles as he pours himself a drink before placing it back on the shelf. “For the one month out of the year we see sunshine.”
I snort. “We need a place away from it all, you know?”
He takes a swig of his drink before responding. “Yeah, Kade. I get it.”
I blow out a breath. “Has anyone checked for Mother Diane today?”
Lou leans an elbow on the bar, bushy eyebrows scrunched. “I don’t think so. I went yesterday. House was still empty.”
“Aye. I’ll stop by on the way home.”
Lou pats the bar. “Thank you, Captain.”
I nod. “Of course.”
He leans in closer, voice dropping. “How are the men doing with Tuck?”
Gods, it’s been a shit day.
I shake my head with a huff. “Never easy to lose a Hunter. Even if he wasn’t truly one of us, you know?”
“Lesson learned, eh?” Lou says, sipping through a sigh.
“Yeah. Lesson fucking learned, Lou.” I tip the rest of my whiskey into my mouth as he rests both elbows on the bar to look me square in the eye.
“You tried, boy,” he says. “It was worth a shot. We need more Hunters out there.”
Don’t I know it.
I groan, sore body shifting in my chair, and my glass thuds onto the bar top. Thankfully, I know how to squelch the anger from my losses, to bury it so fucking deep and catalog the pain for later. “Yeah, we do need more men. And I’m about to send half of them to the Night Kingdom territories.”
Lou clears my glass, swiping the rag from his shoulder along the bar in its wake. “Aye, I heard we’re losing ground down there.”
“Yeah, Southern Continent vamps are crossing the channel to take advantage of the upheaval. We can’t give up all that progress.”
“Damn straight, we can’t.” The deep wrinkles around Lou’s eyes crease with his frustration. “We’ve been working on that territory for too long, and Mother Diane’s son didn’t die for no fucking reason.”
“Agreed,” I growl. “Forever may he rest.”
“Forever may he rest,” Lou replies.
We’re taking it from all angles. In the south, the Night Kingdom territory is a mess with no ruler in place, but it’s given us an opportunity to try to eradicate the unstable vampire population that can’t put together coordinated efforts.
Goreon is just the opposite: The Goreon king’s speed and strength, his wealth and army, and his ravenous bloodlust have everyone timid; his court bows to his whims. We live in his world, but the time is coming—we can’t continue with the way things are.
The era of the Hunter will dawn. Soon. And I’ve been training our army while we work tirelessly to protect our towns as far as we can stretch our warriors.
I throw a coin on the counter and snatch my cloak from the stool beside me. It floats over the knives sheathed at my hips, and I stride for the exit.
“See you tomorrow, Kade?”
I wave without looking back. “See you then, Lou.”
The mangled wooden door slams, and my eyes adjust to the darkness within a second, my magic whirring, golden threads spinning and humming in my veins.
Mother Diane lives two streets over, and the doorknob of her cottage rattles in its hole when I let myself in. The house is dark, the air damp with the lack of fire and life.
I slip inside through a curtain of mildew and strike a candle. My eyes skirt to the unmade bed and piled dishes in the single-room home. Empty liquor bottles are littered about.
Remorse floods me. After all these years, I didn’t realize she was struggling with the loss of her son to this extent; it’s been over a decade. And she always wore a sly smile at Lou’s tavern.
My magic is heavy, gold solidifying under the weight of a dead Hunter and the pain his mother endured. Denying her own magic so her children would inherit it, and then losing her son when he was so young, is a cruelty I can’t imagine.
Silence surrounds me as the curling wind blows snowdrift through the door.
She’s not here.
And I wonder if Mother Diane chose her fate to escape this agony.
“Forever may you rest,” I whisper, boots rooted in the entryway, staring at a Mother’s sorrow too profound to hold. I wish I had known she needed us.
Perhaps that’s peace: for this life to finally end.
To discover what exists on the other side with the gods.
The alternative, being turned into one of them, is far worse a fate.
There is pride in death, at least where I come from.
And we usually meet it defending human life, and that is an end I will always embrace.
I secure the door, breath billowing in the frigid air, and head toward home with a hand on a hilt, weaving the cobbled streets of Southend.
After ten minutes of hugging shadows, with magic spinning and sensing for vampiric threats, the twirl of chimney smoke from our rundown, three-story manor beckons me toward warmth.
Climbing the front porch of the Hunter safehouse, I kick snow off my boots on the landing and curse when my sore palm encases the doorknob. I should’ve called it quits on training sooner and saved my grip if I can’t even grab a damn handle.
Shoving open our weather-beaten door that’s always stuck in the jamb, I enter and toss the front door closed, heat brushing my skin. I amble down the foyer of our welcoming home, glad to be here and ready to see my people. They always take the edge off.
I pause under the archway to the living room.
Only one of two things will kill me in this life: a den of vampires that’s caught me unprepared for some unfathomable reason, or the sacrifice I’d make for the woman glaring at me beside our crackling fireplace.
Grace.
My wife, my love—my Gracie.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“You promised,” she growls at me, but I know what’s coming next. The little tug at the corner of her mouth, the twitch she can never hide when she’s not truly upset with me.
“What time is it?” I ask, eyes skirting to the kitchen. The dining table is still empty, and my entire body relaxes.
“Thirty minutes past when you were supposed to be here,” she scolds. And there it is: the hint of the smirk that brings me to my knees every damn time.
Gods, I love her.
“Good thing dinner’s not ready yet, then,” I challenge.
Seated on the faded velvet sofa, she leans back on a hand and quirks a perfect eyebrow at me. “Good thing I started it late on purpose.”
“How did you know?” I ask, my lips already starving for hers.
The playful twist of her mouth disintegrates my restraint. I drop my weapon satchel and rush her on creaking floorboards, capturing her mouth with mine.
“How did you know, Gracie?” I breathe into her lips, her smile spreading against me.
“Your limp was gone this morning. I knew you’d stay and train until something else hurt.”
I grunt in agreement as her hands skirt along my biceps, her touch melting my pain and lighting a fire in my chest.
“I missed you today,” I confess, balancing her beautiful face in my palms. “It was a rough one.”
“Tell me.” Her voice is feminine and fiery, this blend that feeds me and captivates me, and I can’t help but trace my thumb along her jawline.
“We lost another trainee, and I don’t think Mother Diane is coming back.”
“Well, shit,” a deep voice says from behind us.
We whip our heads to the top of the curved staircase as Riot straightens his shirt and shoves back his disheveled hair.
“Nice nap for you?” I jab at my closest friend and Central station leader for the Hunters.
His heavy bootfalls thud down the steps. “Don’t start with me—you know it was my day off. And now I need a fucking drink.” Riot disappears into the kitchen, calling back, “Where’s dinner?”
Grace’s green eyes spark like glinting emeralds. “We waited for Kade.”
Riot leans against the doorframe, tipping the bourbon bottle into his mouth. “Which trainee?”
“Tuck,” I answer, my hands sliding over Grace’s shoulders.
“Damnit,” Riot grumbles and lumbers to the sofa, plopping down next to Grace, the force of his weight bouncing her in my grip. “I just worked with him on his crossbow technique last week.”
“It’s my fault,” I admit.
Grace’s eyes snap to mine. “It’s not.”
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have bent the rules. Warriors with no magic don’t belong in the Hunters. They won’t make it, no matter how skilled. Tuck is case in fucking point.”
Neither of them says anything.
My attempt to bolster our numbers failed with Tuck’s last breath. It isn’t a risk I’ll take again—I don’t care who begs for the chance to defend their loved ones alongside us.
My calloused hands glide down Grace’s soft arms, her skin like silk as I exhale my guilt and stow it for later.
“Forever may he rest,” Riot says solemnly.
“Forever may he rest,” we answer.
Grace cups my jaw in her soft palm, and I melt under the feel of her fingers threading through my hairline. “Let’s eat some dinner, okay?”