Prophecy: Dark Moon Rising (9 page)

When the doors closed, he stood, his eyes scanning the gathered people below him.

He could smell the fear on them, the uncertainty, and could see in their faces that they were wondering why they had been called. It was exactly what he’d wanted. They expected bloodshed. He wasn’t going to disappoint them.

“We have been honoured by the house of Caelestis.” He stood straighter and held his head high. “Those of you who can be spared from their duties will be attending a ball in two nights.”

A wave of muttered comments swept through the room, raising the din until he couldn’t hear himself think. He could sense the discord. When some of the people at the front turned their backs on him, his patience snapped.

“I am lord of this bloodline!” he shouted out over the crowd and a hush descended. A few murmured whispers drifted to his ears and he growled. “If you have something to say, I challenge you to come and say it to my face.”

At first it seemed as though no one had the courage to do so but then the crowd shifted and edged apart, allowing someone through. Valentine removed his coat and laid it over the throne.

“Come,” he said with a crooked finger and a sly smile to the elder in front of him. He knew him, recognised him from the scar tissue down the side of his face where he’d been hit with holy water. He didn’t care that this vampire was at least three times his age. He was lord. “Speak.”

“I will not attend a ball held by weakling scum.”

Launching his hand at him, Valentine caught him around the throat and with his free hand grabbed the fist that the elder threw at him. Valentine growled and then roared when he changed into his vampire guise, extending his claws into the elder’s neck. Twisting around the hand he held, he grinned in satisfaction when the elder’s shoulder popped out of its socket and the vampire cried out in agony. He closed his fingers around the elder’s throat, pushing them into his neck and taking great pleasure from the blood that cascaded from the wounds. It ran down the elder’s neck, drenching his embroidered jacket and making the dark material glisten. Dropping him, Valentine grabbed his hair with one hand and slashed his throat open with the other. In one swift move, he tore the elder’s head off and held it high while the body dropped to the floor.

“I am lord of this bloodline!” he shouted again.

This time no one dared to speak.

He roared at them and they all backed away a step. Some scrambled backwards, pushing their way into the crowd, clearly not wanting to be at the front in case they became his next victim.

He tossed the head into the crowd and there was quickly a gap where it had landed. Kicking the decomposing body of the elder off the throne’s platform, he waited until his family were all looking at him again and then wiped his hand on his trouser leg.

“Anyone else who wants to challenge me for the position is welcome to try,” he said calmly. Eyeing them all, he waited to see if anyone would speak. “It has been too long since I have killed. I will kill you all if that is what it takes. The reign of Lord Aurorea will pale in comparison to the blood that I will spill.”

Still no one spoke.

He drew a deep breath and sighed it out. “You have had your last warning. We will fight as one with the Caelestis, or die alone. Without Lady Prophecy’s power, there is nothing to protect you. I am not asking you to like the fact that I am master of this bloodline, but you will obey all orders I give and you will accept that I am lord. Get out of my sight.”

He dismissed them with a wave of his hand and smiled grimly at the way they scrambled to be first through the doors. His eyes dropped to the decaying body of the elder. It would take care of itself. Although they took time to disappear, vampire bodies never left behind a trace. It was as though on parting from immortality, their human death raced to catch up with them and time sped to transform the body to the state it should have achieved in those immortal years, and after that, it crumbled into nothingness. Time didn’t slow. It knew that a demon body didn’t belong on Earth and was quick to eradicate it.

Something moved just at the edge of his vision and he turned to look at Cornelius. He stepped down from the platform and beckoned him.

“Wake me when the sun sets. We must make preparations for this ball and this war,” he said. “Oh, and Cornelius?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“I have just realised that I have not said whether the current Chosen Daughter and Chosen Son of his household will change. The Chosen Son will. Consider yourself in that position now, although I ask you to continue as my aide also.”

Cornelius gave him a wonky smile while brushing his blond hair from his eyes and standing a little straighter. “Thank you … my … my lord.”

Valentine nodded and then headed for the door. It probably wasn’t the wisest move, but he liked Cornelius and there was less chance of Cornelius attempting to take the leadership of the bloodline from him. The old Chosen Son would have happily come to fight him for it. Now he would think twice.

Pushing the door to his room open, he closed it behind himself and stripped off as he walked towards the bed. He placed his shirt down on it, smoothing the wrinkles in the material, and then removed his boots and trousers. Moving his clothes to a chair, he checked that the curtains were closed and then sat on the edge of the bed a moment, staring at the far wall.

He swung his legs around and lie down, placing his hands behind his head and looking at the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he relaxed into the mattress and expelled all of the air in his lungs. It was easier not to breathe now. The panic it had once inspired in him was gone. He wondered if he’d ever stop completely. It was a handy pretence to keep up in public. People tended to stare if he didn’t breathe.

He didn’t even realise that he’d fallen asleep until he opened his eyes again and saw a thin strip of warm light filtering in through a chink in the curtains. He frowned and stretched out on the bed, listening to his bones cracking back into place. Getting up, he went to the curtains and carefully drew one aside. It was getting dark, but the sun wasn’t quite set. He closed them again and made sure that no light was coming in.

Flicking the switch on the light beside his bed, he thought about what needed to be done tonight. He needed to feed and he needed to get his mind off some things that were beginning to plague him. It wasn’t Prophecy’s fault that Venturi was there in her house. When they had killed Kalinor, he should have insisted that the Tenebrae come and stay in his house, but he was translating the prophecy for her and Valentine knew how much she needed to hear that there was progress on it.

He cursed the sneaky Tenebrae for being clever enough to find a way to stay close to Prophecy while he had to keep coming back to his family’s mansion to maintain order within his bloodline.

Combing his fingers through his hair, he went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. He ducked straight under it, letting the heat of the water raise his body temperature and relax him. Fighting the elder had made him feel marginally better, but he still hadn’t found the release he needed. He had to kill something, and it had to be soon. He’d been cooped up too long for someone who was sorely used to having freedom.

He thought about Prophecy while he washed himself. She was locked in her house again and the longer she was kept inactive, the more chance there was that she wouldn’t be up to a fight with Elena. He hadn’t fought in a while. Had she? Even if she had been sparring, she still needed practice with her magic. She hadn’t found a way into her book, that was for sure. She would have told him if she had.

His hands slid down his body, easing his muscles. He ran his head under the water, rinsing away the soap and soothing his aching head. His whole body felt stiff and tense. He’d gone to bed feeling relaxed and had woken up feeling like Hell.

A knock at the door made him growl.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried himself off enough to get his trousers on and walked to the door while buttoning them up.

“Enter,” he said while he fastened the buckle of his belt.

The door opened to reveal Cornelius. He looked a little confused.

“I could not sleep. There is too much on my mind,” Valentine explained while drying his torso with the towel.

Cornelius closed the door and gave it a cautious glance before whispering, “Prophecy?”

Valentine frowned at Cornelius, wondering why he suddenly felt the need to be secretive about mentioning her name. “What?”

“Prophecy … is she the reason you’ve been so distracted?”

He raised a brow. “She is one of them … this family is the other.”

“It seems as though you love her.” Cornelius edged closer.

He frowned again and gritted his teeth at the blindingly obvious observation. “Of course I’m in love with her!”

“She loves you?”

“Yes!”

“So what’s making you so—” Cornelius stopped himself and looked as though he’d just realised that whatever he was about to say might not be wise after all.

“Say it.” Valentine challenged him.

“Cranky.”

He considered it for a moment. Why was he so miserable when he was here? Surely it couldn’t just be because of Prophecy and his family. There had to be something else. He frowned and clenched his fists when he remembered what he’d been thinking about earlier. Cornelius had always been a good listener, even if he did come out with the most ridiculous suggestions, and he had always kept secret the things he’d been told.

Valentine sat on the end of his bed and placed the towel down beside him. Feeling even more agitated by sitting, he stood again and paced across the room to the writing desk.

“It is being here while she is there with him,” he said, opening the small cupboard in the desk.

“With who?” Cornelius seemed fixed to the spot and Valentine couldn’t blame him for keeping his distance and staying close to an escape route.

The mood he was gradually sinking into, it was probably the wisest thing Cornelius had ever done.

“The Tenebrae!” he said and unscrewed the cap of a clear glass bottle.

“The one that saved your life?”

Valentine growled in his direction, warning him that he was treading on very thin ice.

“I don’t see the problem, my lord.” There was a tremble in Cornelius’ voice that betrayed his nerves about saying those words.

Valentine sighed. “The Tenebrae has affections for her also. He is there … I am here.”

He took a swig from the bottle, wishing for once it would dampen his senses like alcohol used to. He needed something to dull the pain.

“But she loves you.”

Turning swiftly, he stalked towards Cornelius, who backed away until he bumped into the door. “Change the subject! Better yet … leave! I need to pace before I go insane.”

Cornelius fumbled with the door handle and pulled it open. “I shall tell everyone that you’re not to be disturbed.”

“Good. Do that,” he said and then slammed the door the moment Cornelius was through it.

Heaving a sigh, he headed over to the windows and peered through the curtains. Satisfied that the sun was no longer a threat, he threw them open and lifted the latch on the twin glass doors that were the window. He opened them and stepped out onto the small balcony overlooking the garden. The first of the patrols were already heading out.

He swigged his bottle, taking down a great gulp of the alcohol and smiling when it started to quell the fire in his heart and quieten the voice at the back of his mind.

Prophecy paced the study. The soft glow from the lamps between the bookcases that lined the walls and the row of desk lamps on the long dark wood table did nothing to warm her. She felt cold. The drain of the past few days had left her feeling more tired than ever and the constant waiting was playing on her last nerve.

She sighed and turned, heading back in the direction she’d come from. She was probably wearing a hole in the antique rug that ran under the length of the table and chairs, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was getting some sleep, but if she couldn’t have that, she would settle for some answers about the prophecy, or even just some action to alleviate her boredom.

“What’s wrong?” Venturi said.

She’d almost forgotten he was sitting at the table. She’d been so preoccupied with her thoughts and he hadn’t spoken in so long that she’d felt as though she was alone. Her eyes strayed to him. He was watching her with that look of concern he wore only for her.

“Nothing,” she said and continued to pace, turning when she reached the end of the table and heading back along the length of it on the opposite side to Venturi.

“I find it very distracting when you do that.” His voice held a note of annoyance so she stopped walking, knowing that he was referring to her constant pacing.

“Sorry.” She went around the table and looked over his shoulder at the scroll and the journal. “Anything?”

He sighed this time. She took it as a sign that progress wasn’t being made as swiftly as he wanted it to be. He rarely sighed.

Picking up the half of the scroll he’d been studying, she stared at it. Out of the corner of her eye, Venturi swung around on the chair to face her, resting one arm on the table while he looked up at her. His other hand swept the long tendrils of his dirty blond hair from his face. She could feel the intensity of his gaze as though it was a physical thing and struggled against her desire to look at him. She wished that Serenity would return. She’d been gone for almost an hour now, or possibly more. It was hard to keep track of time when it was moving so slowly.

“I wish I knew what it said,” she mumbled at the piece of paper, as though it would magically translate itself for her.

Venturi took it from her and she frowned at him.

“There are a lot of random words as I said.” He placed the parchment down on the table and she leaned over it to look as he pointed them out. They didn’t look like words to her. They were nothing more than chicken scratches.

“What do they say?”

He pointed to them in turn. “Silence. Destructor. Hollow. Still. Motion. None of them fit with the rest of the text.”