Made By Design (Blood Bound Series Book 2) (36 page)

Kendrick crossed the stone pavers and disappeared through the terrace doors to the kitchen. A clink and clatter later he emerged with a stack of plates and glasses. “Not if you can learn to control it.”

I reined in my growing despair. If I ever wanted to have any resemblance of a normal life, I needed to do this. No one else could. No one even knew why I’d been gifted this power, or where it had come from. Know-it-all Vanessa didn’t even have an answer. I was one of a kind, a total freak of existence. Well, except for the guy in my vision who’d also been zapped. But who knew who or what that guy was, or if he was even alive. Or what his life had been like after the lightning strike.

On Kendrick’s continued direction, I refocused the power to my fingertips and attempted to pull back the force as I connected with plate after plate. Each and every time the buildup was volatile, searing from my hand to obliterate its target. The terrace now resembled a bombsite. Porcelain, ceramic, and glass dotted the pavers and glass table, and fluff from exploded seat cushions swirled in the gentle twilight breeze.

Fed up and unable to hold back how pissed I’d grown, I stalked away. My inability to control this new shitty power ate away at me from the inside. Kendrick was in my head, trying to talk me down. But I didn’t want to hear it. Instead I kept on marching, skin tingling all over until I reached the biggest cherry tree in the backyard. In spring the tree was beautiful, decorated with pink blossoms and glossy cherries. Now it was a draping skeleton, its branches weighed down by snow.

Right now I hated the tree. Its natural beauty. Its predictability. Its strength. Standing ten feet back I concentrated all the pain, regret, despair, and anger down my arms and into my fingertips. So much built up that both my hands glowed blue.

With a scream and an instinctual whisper, I threw them forward. The blue propelled from my hands in streams, striking like lasers in the air until they connected with the solid trunk. A crack rang out, the tree splitting down the middle with a black scorch.

“Geez,” Kendrick breathed, stumbling to a stop behind me. “Now that’s a weapon.”

Stunned, I fell back into the snow as my iPhone buzzed. I pulled it from my jeans and couldn’t stop the tears that fell.

‘We’ll get through this. Just like everything else. U R my world. 4EVA Ty.’

~

Apprehension tightened my chest, making it difficult to breathe. Squeezed into a long, black slip of a dress and high-heeled shoes, we’d just been ushered through the Armaya’s thick, iron-braced doors and into its Gothic foyer. It was 9
PM
and the long drapes were tied back to reveal pitch-black night beyond the soaring arched windows. Hundreds of candles decorated the space from sconces, their flames reflecting on the glass. Inside milled with royals, men dressed in sharp suits and women in decadent gowns and elaborate jewelry. The Armaya’s local, less-prestigious residents crowded behind the pews. The atmosphere was more party-like than funeral. Except for the double row of shiny black coffins up front.

Mom caught sight of Caius standing before the dais, and glided his way in her flowing black number. Dorian, all suited up, followed to keep an eye on her. As I tried to catch my breath, I scanned the crowd. Marcus had survived. Hadn’t gotten there in time. I had to see him. Not that I knew how to apologize for my vision coming too late.

A smooth hand curved around my elbow. “It wasn’t your fault,” Kendrick whispered. “You can’t control what you see and when you see things.”

At his squeezing touch, I went to pull away. The static was already rising, and my emotions weren’t helping. But separation wasn’t necessary. Compliments of Vanessa and at Dorian’s request, I wore a pair of satin gloves that stretched almost all the way up my arms. That was the reason Dorian hadn’t come home with us. The insides were rubber lined, which with my below average body temperature weren’t too uncomfortable. And a black shawl hid the rest of my exposed shoulders and neck.

I sighed, letting him lead me through the gatherers to our seats. Mom and Dorian were now positioned up front. Up on the dais before them, Caius was perched on his throne. He watched me like a snake preying on a mouse. I shivered. I hated being so close to him, but he wouldn’t chance pulling a stunt here. Too many spectators.

We took our seats as the others rushed to theirs. Silence fell over the hall and the last royals took their places on their thrones. The one with Vladimir carved into the wood was glaringly vacant.

Caius rose, regal and strong, smoothing his suit before taking control of the gold-plated podium. “Today heralds a great loss to our race. The loss of our oldest crowned royal and all but one of his line…”

The speech went on, the words honest and heartfelt. Women sniffled, using black handkerchiefs to dot their eyes and save their makeup. The men offered consolation. If only they knew the truth. That Caius was somehow involved in this extermination. That he had damned vampires at his command.

I clutched my hands together as a ball of energy battered around beneath my ribs. I so wanted to do to Caius what I’d done to that tree.

Breathe. Rein it back.
Kendrick’s words flowed like a glacial gust over my burning insides.

Still that red returned to my sight, that fury that had to be unleashed. My clutched hands separated and I began to peel down my right glove.

A sudden shift in the air, like the quiet devastation after the wake of tsunami, stopped me. My neck craned to see the open twenty-foot doors behind the pews. Organ music filled the air as Marcus stepped inside. He wore an all-white suit and his hands were above his head carrying…a solid gold casket. His teal-flecked gaze met mine, pain resonating from them before he resumed his blank forward stare.

Only living family members can carry in the coffin,
Kendrick spoke somberly through the bond.

With every labored step forward my heart broke for him. His expression was flat, unreadable, a strong facade masking any and all emotion. Tears pooled and I let them fall, not bothering to wipe them away.

Once Marcus had secured the coffin on a stand on the dais, he relieved Caius of the podium. His pale hands clutched the gold podium, fingers curled tight. “I stand before you all as the last living Vladimir. The only blood left to assume my father’s throne. Lord Vladimir was a great ruler. And I will make him proud in death by filling his shoes and exceeding all expectations. Lord Vladimir lived a long and purposeful life.” Marcus’s hand swept across the rows of black coffins. “This is proven by the number of seeds his blood brought forth. Though they all now lay still alongside. However tragic, this will not be the end of his line. Nor will it be the end of his blood.” His voice rose, becoming stronger and surging with determination. “Mine, now the last seed, will spread. It will create not dozens, but hundreds. The name Vladimir will never become one of those lost from the original twelve. On my father’s death, I vow it!”

The crowd rose, clapping and cheering while I stared dumbfounded. This was my first ever vampire funeral, but it seemed so cold. So political.

My body started to tingle again, emotion at Marcus’s strong words firing up the sparks. “Is that what—”

Words drowned in my throat, something else replacing it. Hunger and anticipation. Reality warped, strobing like a camera flash going off over and over. In the flashes I saw a stately house. A manor. My heart’s beat was level and controlled. Just like my movements as I climbed the front steps. In the next flash my hand came out. No. Not mine. A man’s. Young, unwrinkled flesh with a scar across the wrist. Then the wooden door swung open. Lord Vladimir stood on the other side, smiling. Welcoming me.

Another flash.

Now I had the old vampire pinned to the wall. The voice from my mouth was velvet and sinister. A promise that wouldn’t back down. “End of your shelf life, old man.” My mouth opened, fangs lengthened. Then it was all over.

I gasped as the Gothic hall slammed back into sharp focus. So much noise. So many people. Kendrick was holding me up, sitting back on the pew. Mom and Dorian were crowded around us. So was Caius.

“Amelia, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

Biting my lip, I kept my eyes down. Tasting my own blood helped a little, but it wasn’t enough.

“She’s low on blood,” Kendrick said. “After the news, I don’t think you drank any before we left.”

“No,” I croaked. I blinked away the red haze, knowing I needed to get out of here before I went primal. “I didn’t.”

Caius pushed past my mom, and in spite of Kendrick’s glare, helped me up. With how badly I needed blood, I couldn’t resist or ever remember how much I loathed him. “Take her to the kitchen. There’s plenty there.”

The genuine care in his voice surprised me. His stare wasn’t quite hard, but it wasn’t easy, either. It was somehow contemplative…maybe even regretful.

Holding me up by supporting a gloved arm, Kendrick led me away. Once out of the hall and down a dimly lit corridor he spoke. “Someone else led the attack on the Vladimirs.”

My stomach felt like it was crammed with live bugs, crawling over each other without any space between. I remembered the murderer’s steady beating heart. If only I’d seen his face. “Young. Male. A living vampire.”

~

The following night I stumbled into my dark bedroom and fell back onto the cloud of purple linen on my bed. It was midnight, and after the funeral, vision, and all the flights and driving to get home, I was bone-deep exhausted. Even the static in my body had receded. Rolling sideways I wriggled out of the slip dress. Then I lay back and peeled off the first full-arm glove. As I peeled off the second, something unstuck from my skin and fell onto the duvet.

I sat up straight as a board and my bedroom door swung open. The chandelier beamed to life, sending glossy rays across my wall of motorbike posters. Kendrick rushed forward and I snatched the duvet up to cover my black lace undies and bra. “Warning would be nice.”

“I’ve seen plenty more than that.” There was no comedy to his voice. Not even apology. All he saw was the small folded piece of paper with my name on the outside. “From Caius, I bet.”

Kendrick plucked the note from my bed.

“No.” I snatched it from his hands. The time for letting everyone protect me was far-gone. Time to toughen up. “I want to read it.”

Ignoring my thumping heart and my shaking hands, I unfolded the note. A single message was scribbled across the paper. No name or signature. Still there was no doubt who had sent it. I knew my ex-uncles handwriting.

‘I will not stop until I claim the power that is rightfully mine. You cannot hide.’

“Oh. My. God.” My head became light and I leaned back on my arm. The hand holding the note kept the duvet covering my chest. A not so long ago memory teased the edges of my subconscious. The time I had slipped from the reality of Caius’s office and seen Marcus compel my best friend to poison me. When I’d come to there had been a split second look of surprise on Caius’s face. Because he’d seen my eyes change—blood-red whites and silvery irises—without tapping a vein. “Caius knows I have The Sight.”

Before Kendrick could utter a word, Dorian shot into my bedroom. “I’ll put you on speaker,” he spoke into his mobile.

Kendrick slumped onto my bed, watching my brother. “What’s going on?”

“My hard-working alchemist has figured something out,” Dorian said, pushing a button on his mobile.

“My?” I asked. Had I heard him right?

Dorian flushed. A sight I’d never seen in my life. “Ours, Ty’s…whatever.” He shook his head. “Go ahead Vanessa. You’re on.”

“Okay, so after you lit up like a Christmas tree with that lightning strike, I went searching. My grandfather has some seriously old texts.” In the background I could hear the slice of turning pages. “I’d seen the symbol years ago, but it was just a myth. I didn’t even think about it when you asked. Not until two days ago.”

Keeping covered, I snatched the phone from Dorian. “What symbol?”

“The one Caius used in his ritual when he drained your blood,” Dorian answered. Judging from his answer and the look on his face, he knew what Vanessa was on about.

Kendrick went to place his hand on my shoulder but stopped. Blue sparks were dancing across my shoulders and down my arms. Instead he asked, “You know what it means?”

“Well you already know what part of the symbol means. The circle with a crossed through line is meant to take something,” Vanessa recapped. “And the rest was the thing he was trying to steal.”

My throat felt tight, my lungs punctured all over by spikes. There wasn’t enough air. “The stepping stone he needed to save them.” My voice emerged small as I remembered the jagged bolt centering the symbol. How could I not have puzzled this together before now? “Caius meant to steal my electric ability, before I even had it.”

Dorian’s voice was grim. “That means he knew you would get it.”

Kendrick let a small spark shoot from my shoulder into his finger. “And that his experiments are probably the cause.”

“Thanks Vanessa.” I hung up and handed Dorian the phone. “So does he need to steal my visions or my electricity?”

Resounding silence filled my purple room.

When my eyelids cracked open I knew I’d woken in a dreamscape. The air was clean and crisp, blowing gently inside and curling the black curtains that framed an open window. Minimal light came from a ballooning moon beyond the wall of this room I’d never seen before. I turned to find Ty rising off the end of a king-sized bed that was swathed in black satin. “Missed you, beautiful.”

It was the first time we’d seen each other since I’d shocked him with my new curse. Except Ty had never used this location before. I took a step closer but kept my distance, letting my curiosity override my battling nerves. “Where are we?”

Ty frowned at the space separating us. Then his lips curved seductively. “My bedroom.”

“This is your room?” A long desk took up one wall. Topping it was a laptop and masses of stacked folders and books. The mantle above sported all his swimming trophies and medals. The opposite wall opened into a walk-in closet and personal bathroom. The remaining wall space was filled with objects and color. Weapons hung in a deadly collage in one area. The rest was taken up with pinned newspaper clippings, scribbled notes, and photographs.