Blood Rose (Blood Books Book 1)
Read Blood Rose (Blood Books Book 1) Online
Authors: Danielle Rose
Blood Rose
A Blood Books Novel
Copyright © 2015 Danielle Rose
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1511506466
ISBN-13: 978-1511506465
Cover design by Wicked by Design
Editing by Narrative Ink Editing LLC
Book design by
Inkstain Interior Book Designing
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copy-righted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.
I was twenty-four years old when I was told my life was no longer truly mine—at least, that’s what the prophecy said. I’d never been one for prophecies, and I rarely took the traditional Pagan path. But most importantly, I sure as hell wasn’t going to let some dead elders, an ancient war, and a killer vampire race get between me and life.
My coven’s high priestess, my mother, used to call me a rebel for the cause. She never spoke of any cause in particular, but since she was the most powerful spirit user we’d ever encountered (and the only witch in our coven with the ability to receive visions), I wondered if she knew of my
destiny
since the day I was born.
I was born a hereditary witch with an affinity for spirit, and since my gift was pretty useless against vampires, I had learned to protect myself in other ways: hand to hand combat, advanced weaponry training, and good ol’ common sense.
But my story didn’t begin on the day I was born. My path started to form much earlier—hundreds, if not thousands, of years earlier, actually. It was that pesky ripple effect that affected every single witch and vampire to have ever lived—regardless of whether or not they actually wanted anything to do with the fight.
It all began with a war. No one
really
knew why it started or who made the first deadly move on the board. Naturally, each side blamed the other, and now, the war between mortals and immortals had all but turned to embers.
Ironically, the war led to the exposure of witches in certain villages, which then led to the witch trials that plagued the world. It’s ironic because witches fought to protect humans, but when confronted with something not easily understood, the human race became outraged, murdering innocents in the hope that they’d free the world of those pesky witches.
At one point, humans believed that vampires existed, too, which then led to nearly every culture passing down tales of demons that walked the earth hidden within the shells of humans. But vampires weren’t as easy to kill as witches, and humans who witnessed the existence of
real
vampires usually died.
These days, humans didn’t (or wouldn’t) believe the stories of how those burned at the stake were (mostly) real witches or how there were vampires who walked in the night and fed on the living.
But as a witch, a mortal, it was my destiny to ensure that the fire remained kindled; their kind could never be (re)discovered by humans, nor could there ever be an end that allowed both species to survive. It was believed that The Power was mankind’s gift from the gods, given to witches to help them fight an unfair war against immortal creatures.
With each generation, the gods blessed one witch with The Power, the ability to control all parts of nature: earth, air, fire, water, and spirit. This blessing was considered an honor and was thought to be the key to eliminating the immortal species.
However, being chosen came with a price few could bear: The Power was too much for one mortal, so the chosen witch had to be prepared to give his or her life to the cause. With each witch’s death, that power and strength was passed to the next chosen one. Every previous generation had failed to eliminate the threat.
I was the chosen sixty-sixth generation witch. (Honestly, I couldn’t make this stuff up. I was just one six away from Karma’s cruel joke.)
My chosen status made death all too familiar. Members from my coven and community had died while attempting to protect our home, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t be the next failure. I taught myself to control my ability early on. Armed with only my affinity for spirit, a gift that gave me small control over all elements, I taught myself to fight, to hunt, to kill.
My birth rite, the ritual in which I would obtain The Power, was the following eve, and to calm my nerves, my cousins and I took early to the woods that surrounded our property. I had fought vampires time and time again, but without yet being gifted, and only naturally having an affinity for spirit, I was considered too vulnerable to patrol alone. My cousins, having affinities for two of the strongest weapons against vampires, fire and air, often accompanied me while I hunted. They tagged along for bragging rights, while I fought because it was my calling.
Though I was too stubborn to admit or discuss it, I also fought because of my past. When I was a child, my father had often let me accompany him on hunts. I vaguely remembered listening to his lectures about the herbs that grew on local woodlands, the importance of dedicating myself to the craft, and the easiest ways to kill a vampire. He used to say that I’d one day save the world. He’d explained how my child self might find his teachings moot, but time would change my mind. It was Father who taught me to wield my katana, and it was Father who taught me what was necessary to kill a vampire. Aim for the head or heart, little one, he’d say. Always keep your blade close and your common sense closer. He used to say that daily, but as a child, I hadn’t comprehended the true power behind that statement.
At twenty-four, I had already experienced my fair share of life. I’d had a serious relationship, a degree in biology, and a burning appetite to rid the world of vampires. Protecting those I loved was in my blood; it was the only thing I was truly good at.
The new rules in place forced me to give up the freedom I had been accustomed to. My mother would often lecture me on the dangers my hobby bestowed upon our coven. What would happen, she had asked, if the next chosen one went out and got herself killed before her birth rite? We had no idea, and my coven wouldn’t risk it. My relationship with Mother drastically differed from my relationship with Father. They both held high standards, but Father spoke from the heart. Mother spoke for the coven. Even so, I often found myself wondering if her concerns of me being killed and how that would hurt the coven were just excuses. Inside, I tried to believe that she truly did fear for my life. Not because I was chosen—but because I was her only daughter.
But they knew of my strength and the benefits of patrolling, so they allowed me to continue hunting—so long as I had protection. I felt ridiculous asking my cousins to accompany me on hunts. We hadn’t always had the best, or closest, relationships. But I knew they were the only ones who didn’t really care to protect me. They were more concerned with themselves. Thus, it had been just like before—only now I was constantly telling someone to be quiet, to walk lighter, to breathe softer.
The forest seemed darker than usual—even at twilight. With clouds covering the stars and moon, the gloom worked as both a benefit and hindrance while patrolling. My cousins followed closely behind me. I maneuvered around broken branches and fallen leaves with ease, while they stomped past the trees, brushing bark as they passed.
“We’ll only find ourselves in a mess of trouble if you two don’t be quiet,” I whispered.
I inhaled deeply, letting the cool air blow away my fears over my upcoming birth rite. The smell of pine was overpowering in these woods. I stretched out my arm as we walked and let the needles prick my fingertips. It wasn’t enough to break skin, but it was enough to bring back feelings I had buried.
Winter solstice was drawing nearer, and soon, Mother would send me to collect pine needles for spells and decorations. She would once again explain how essential each ingredient was to our esbats. I would roll my eyes and pretend she was a bore, but inside, I cherished those moments. I wondered how many more I’d have left.
Our property stretched over ten acres of hills, forest, lake, and mountains. Mother often joked that our coven encompassed all of northern California—especially since we were trying to purchase another twenty acres. While most of our property wasn’t maintained, the small part we did keep up was designated living quarters and ritual space.
Our coven only had thirteen practicing witches, but it was composed of at least three dozen people in total: the husbands and wives of practicing witches, the children too young to understand magic, and the elders too old to participate were still considered cherished members of our coven.
Our self-sufficient lifestyle had created enemies among the townsfolk—mainly because this part of northern California was rural, so local businesses relied on the resident population to keep themselves afloat. Keeping to ourselves marked us as outcasts more than we’d expected when we decided to relocate to Shasta.
I had almost forgotten that my twin cousins were trailing behind me when I heard a giggle. We were able to walk a quarter of an hour before they began making noise again. I looked straight ahead and ignored their bickering.
I felt their presence before I saw them. The wind shifted, sending a shiver down my spine that nestled deeply in the pit of my gut. When a vampire was near, goose bumps formed, hair stood on end, and nausea was inevitable. I felt all three symptoms as I walked through the forest, my twin cousins slowly trailing behind me.
“They’re close,” I whispered.
I needed to announce their presence, even though that risked exposure. All witches could sense a vampire, but my coven was inexperienced in the craft of war. I hunted each day, willingly drawing nearer to vampires, allowing my instinctual abilities to strengthen. It only took a few months of regular patrolling to learn control of the physical side effects vampires brought with them.
I exhaled slowly, steadying my heartbeat. I knew what they were, and I knew they were out there. Somewhere.
As we reached the end of the woods, I saw them. They stood in a small clearing. I stopped so abruptly that my cousins walked into me. I raised my hand quickly, signaling for them to step backward, and they obeyed.
I grasped the handle of my katana and slowly pulled it from its sheath. The metal scraped against the leather, a noise deafening in the silence of the night. I watched them as I moved to my right and stepped behind the base of a thick pine tree.
My hair, wrapped in a tight bun, snagged on pine needles, and I bit my lip as I pulled away from the tree. Brown strands fell before my eyes. I prayed they would not hear me—even the slightest of movements would have been enough to catch their attention. I crouched beside the tree, the base wide enough to cover my body and my drawn katana.
The nearly-covered moon cast shadows over the small clearing in which the vampires stood. I silently prayed to the gods that they bless my cousins with the strength to survive this fight. Darkness was more a friend to creatures of the night. I carefully maneuvered my blade so that it would not betray my presence.
I nodded to my cousin Nina, and she called upon air. Fog thickened.
They stood in the distance—too far to touch, but too close for comfort. We were only a short walk from our sleeping quarters. They created a threat that needed to be eliminated.
There were four. Three men and a woman. The men towered over the woman, and her tiny frame was lanky in comparison to their muscular builds. Their black ensembles were strapped with blades of various lengths. Their attire was alarming. The typical vampire usually wasn’t armed and often blended into society.
These four stood out. They were different.
We needed to draw nearer. We needed to eliminate the threat. I waved for my other cousin Everly to move to my side. I signaled her to encircle them in flames, and just as she lit the spark with the snap of her fingertips, I emerged from behind the tree and closed the space between us and them.
I stood behind the protection of the fire, twirling my katana in my hand.
The fire separating us only stretched a couple feet. I kept my eyes focused on them, watching for the slightest movement. We were close enough to lose our lives. But I was confident. I had yet to lose a fight, but I knew in time my confidence would get the best of me.
My internal alarms were firing at lightning-fast speeds. I had spent night after night with vampires to learn control over the physical side effects, but as they stood before us now, I could see my cousins faltering. We needed to make a move—before the vampires made theirs.
“What have we here?” I said as my cousins took their places by my side. I hoped my tone wouldn’t betray my forced confidence.
One vampire stepped forward, putting himself between the others and me. Normally, it would have been more difficult to determine the leader, the one who posed the biggest threat, but he made it quite simple. He was taller than the others. His tousled brown hair sat messily atop his head, a just-out-of-bed style I was sure he worked hard for. He stared as if he could read straight into one’s soul. He had stubble on his jaw, as if he hadn’t shaved in days. I found myself wondering how long they had been hunting in our woods.