Chapter 19

Adam’s face paled as he entered the building, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he realized exactly where he was. He had suddenly found himself in a den of vampires. He felt as if he had brought a stick to a swordfight, and he desperately wished he had left his swords back at the inn, as they made him stand out as a blood hunter.

Every vampire in the entire room gave him an angry stare, and he knew without a doubt they were well aware of what he was. This was not the place he wanted to be.

A few chairs scraped against the wooden floor as vampires stood, as if ready to fight, and one of them, much larger than the others, brandished a crossbow. The unmoving bolt pointed right at him, a threat lingering in the air. If he moved, the vampire would shoot him.

“It’s all right,” Willow reassured the room, putting a light hand on Adam’s shoulder as if to prove he wasn’t dangerous. Which he was. But he didn’t exactly want to get in a fight with a full coven. “He’s a friend.”

A friend?

He eyed her suspiciously. She was his prisoner. He had tortured her, scorned her, tried to kill her…and she called him a friend? If that’s what she considered a friend, he didn’t want to know what her other “friends” were like.

The tension in the room slackened, but the vampire holding the crossbow never set it down. Rather, he didn’t point it at him. The threat still lingered in the air.

“Where is Laurel?” Willow asked softly as the vampires bowed in her presence.

“She’s still unconscious,” a brown-haired vampire with dark red lips and pale, flawless skin said. He couldn’t tell if she had painted her face or if it was her natural look.

“Show me.”

She followed the female vampire from the spacious room, and Adam started to panic. “Wait, don’t leave me with…” His voice trailed off as he glanced from vampire to vampire within the room, all of whom stared at him with either caution or distrust in their eyes. The situation suddenly became unbearably awkward.

He slowly lowered himself into a chair in the corner of the room, not taking his eyes off any of the vampires. There were six others, excluding Willow, Oriel, and Oriel’s sister. And from Oriel’s firm handshake earlier that nearly crushed his bones, he put him at roughly in between one hundred and fifty, and three hundred. He was old. Did that mean all the other vampires here were old too?

It would be suicide to try to fight.

The memory of holding Laurel’s unconscious body in his arms still haunted him, not because she’d almost died, but because he’d helped. He’d aided vampires, the very creatures he’d sworn to annihilate at any cost. As a blood hunter, it made more sense to side with the crusaders, but he hadn’t. Why not?

A pit of uncertainty formed in his stomach, a guilt over betraying his fellow blood hunters. But allowing Laurel to die hadn’t felt right.

He attempted to push his guilt away and instead scanned each vampire, taking in every detail and trying to remember their faces. There was the painted-face vampire, another with his long brown hair tied back, and he didn’t bother retracting his fangs. Either it was a show of intimidation, or he was a very young vampire. He remembered the first year of Zachariah’s vampirehood—his brother hadn’t been able to figure out how to retract his fangs.

The next vampire was Sir Large and Burly who snarled at him as his eyes passed over him. Of course, he didn’t linger long there. The last three had unremarkable features—hair ranging from light copper-brown to dark brown, a couple with freckles on their noses. Their faces could be forgotten in a crowd, but Adam would burn them into his memory.

“You’re a blood hunter,” Sir Large and Burly said in a heavy accent, his voice deep to match his sinewy body.

“N-n-no, of course not.” He grimaced at the way his voice sounded as if it was his first week as a blood hunter. “Only occasionally.” The vampire continued to glare. “All queens need a bodyguard. Right?”

“Queen is a human term,” he growled. “And our kumari is dead thanks to your kind. She lives on through our Shah Dracula and Rani Willow Ardelean.”

He almost didn’t follow, and it didn’t help that the vampire had a difficult-to-discern accent.

“You know Dracula?” he asked, uncomfortably drumming his fingers against the tabletop. The vampires in the room burst into laughter as if he had told a hilarious quip, and heat involuntarily crept up his neck. He didn’t get it. Why was it funny?

It was the vampire with sprouted fangs that answered. “Everyone knows Dracula. It’s often a vampire’s first instincts to return to their homeland in Ichor Knell when they first turn.”

He raised his eyebrows, something clicking inside of him. All those times Zachariah had run off and he had to track him down… He had assumed he had been sneaking off to feed. But maybe that wasn’t entirely the reason after all. It was what had ultimately led to him have to lock his brother inside the vodryx prison.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he said in hopes to dampen the tension. “I’m Adam. And you are?”

The first to answer was the painted face vampire. “Nayden.”

Sir Large and Burly grunted, giving no response.

“Ivolio,” the vampire with his hair tied back answered, grinning to show off his fangs. The sight gave him the chills, and he wished he could flee this place. The only reason he stayed was for Willow.

Nayden cut in, folding her arms as she stared him down. “And who are you to our rani?”

Willow appeared, a blush in her cheeks as she pulled the other vampire aside and whispered something in her ear. He itched to use his blood gem to enhance his hearing, but if he used it here and someone noticed… Well, it wouldn’t be healthy for his wellbeing.

“Oh!” Nayden gasped, her eyes wide as her gaze darted in Adam’s direction. She lowered her voice and curtsied with a bit of fluster in her step. “My apologies, Your Highness. I do hope you forgive my intrusion. Would you like a drink? We have something in the back room.”

He wrung his hands uncomfortably as he realized exactly what it was. Who had they killed? And whose blood were they drinking tonight?

Even more perplexing, what had Willow whispered? And why did Nayden avoid eye contact with him? There was a whole wall of secrecy between him and these vampires, and he didn’t have a key to the door that separated them. It was frustrating.

He was usually the one holding the key, but lately… Ever since he met that storming vampire, his life was no longer the same. Here he was, sitting in a room full of vampires with both his swords sheathed. He longed to hear the metal sing. But like he thought earlier, to attack was suicide. He had no choice but to play the situation out.

“Nothing for me,” Willow replied, and it took him off guard when she glanced toward him. Daggers, she looked beautiful. It didn’t matter that she wore soot as if it was fashionable these days. It didn’t matter that her hair didn’t fall perfectly in place after a night of fighting guards in the square.

Even better, or worse depending on who asked, she was kind. She had swooped in to save Oriel’s sister without a thought for herself. He desperately wished he couldn’t see the good things in her—her kindness, her bravery, her determination. But it still didn’t change anything. They were still close to the Throat of Druxix, the holy water in its rawest form. If he didn’t do it tonight, he never would. And all would be for naught.

“Would you stop brooding, blood hunter?” she smirked. “You are free to leave whenever you please.”

“Not without you,” he said, and somehow, this made Nayden giggle. His brooding frown deepened. Again, why did she laugh?

Willow turned to Oriel and took both of his hands, offering him a warm smile. The sight made him clench his fists, his neck getting hot as a bout of jealousy overcame him. However, he took a deep, calming breath and reminded himself that he was not himself. She was a vampire. He was a blood hunter. There was no logical reason for these feelings.

“I’m glad Laurel is recovering,” Willow said to Oriel. “I advise the two of you to return to Ichor Knell before she is discovered again.”

“Thank you,” Oriel bowed low. “We will leave as soon as Laurel is able.”

His eye twitched as he glowered at Oriel. The vampire was interested in Willow. It was clear from his body language—by the way he stood close to her, how he never turned away from her, the way he smiled. Even the tone of his voice gave him away.

And he hated him. He hated him for being a vampire. He hated him for having something in common with Willow. And he especially hated the age difference. Although he and Willow looked the same age, she was much closer in age to the blond vampire. Did it matter to her?

He immediately shook off the thought. Why should it matter to him? Any of it? He needed to keep focus and not let her distract him from his ultimate goal—to cure Zachariah.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door flew open and everyone leaped to their feet, including him. However, the woman who entered—he assumed it to be another vampire despite showing no telltale signs—appeared unthreatening, everyone in the room let out a collective sigh. He didn’t return to his seat. He felt too tense.

She was dressed lavishly, in the imperial clothing of someone who worked closely with the emperor, her dark blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. She had long eyelashes and an innocent, wide-eyed look about her. If he had seen her in the castle, or even on the streets, he would have thought nothing of it. But seeing her here, clearly out of place, he knew exactly what she was.

An informant.

The first thing the blonde did was clasp forearms with Sir Large and Burly, and more surprising was the way she stood on her tiptoes to rub her nose with the male. The male smiled at her before she moved on to bow to Willow.

He furrowed his eyebrows. Clasping forearms… He had seen Willow do something similar with Zachariah, except clasping wrists instead. But rubbing noses? Were the vampires…together?

“Elena, what news?” Nayden asked.

Elena started to answer with an imperial accent, but she quickly switched to her native accent, as if remembering she was in safe company. “Nothing good, I’m afraid. The crusaders are marching east. They plan on sacrificing some of their own kind, using the blood to draw vampires from hiding.”

Ice crawled up his arms and weaseled its way into his heart. Zachariah was east. If he caught a whiff of the blood…

“There are too many crusaders for any vampire to survive the march,” Elena continued in a whisper, quiet enough that he had to lean forward to hear. “What should we do?”

All eyes turned to Willow. For a moment, she seemed taken aback, but she quickly recovered and took control, despite having been thrown into the mix. “Alone we’re weak. But together… Send out the call. All vampires are to go straight to Ichor Knell.” She glanced hesitantly at him, uncertainty in her eyes, but he couldn’t blame her. After all, he was the wild card. It was his job to kill monsters. It was his duty to report what he heard tonight.

It seems you have chosen a side.

The werewolf’s words repeated themselves in his mind, again and again. He willed them away, but they were always there, like a bright star in a world full of black. If he had chosen to side with the humans, he would have killed the werewolf. Why hadn’t he?

He returned to his chair, grumbling to himself. This was Willow’s fault. Now he didn’t know which way was up and which way was down. Tonight, that would end. Tonight, everything would end. He was out of time. He had to get to Zachariah before the crusaders did. His brother’s life depended on it, which meant by the time the crusaders passed through, Zachariah could no longer be a vampire. Or he would lose him forever.

It startled him when the vampires leaped up in a flurry of motion. He immediately reached for his sword, but they weren’t trying to attack him. They were following Willow’s orders.

“What are you going to do?” Willow said, suddenly by his side.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you wouldn’t dare try to capture me with this many vampires at my backing. Will you join the crusade? Will you betray me?”

He clenched his jaw, his indecision overriding his sense of duty. He didn’t have time for the crusade. He needed to worry about Zachariah. And that meant he needed a cure now. But to get Willow to the Throat of Druxix willingly? She was no longer bound. He had no power over her.

Guilt washed over him, and he had to avert his gaze. It wasn’t fair that he had to choose between her and Zachariah. But he would choose Zachariah. By the time dawn approached, she would either be cured or dead, and Zachariah might have a chance at life.

This didn’t feel right. But he had no choice.

“I am sure you have been wondering why I brought you to Ironfell,” he said, searching for the words to convince her to come with him to the mountains.

“I have. And you have been skirting around the answer.”

He had to tread carefully. She was smart. She would likely be able to see through a lie. Therefore, he needed to keep it as close to the truth as possible. “There is something I need for Zachariah, and only a vampire can help me get it. You are alive because I need your help.” He frowned and looked away as guilt ate at him, and he wished it wouldn’t.

“I don’t think I deserve your help,” that much was the truth, “but I am asking for it. Give me two hours of your time, and I promise you can go your own way.”

What had happened to him? Ever since he met her, things weren’t going right. He didn’t kill the werewolf—another fundamental blood hunter tenet he had broken. Willow was still alive and free of her chains. Zachariah was in danger and still a vampire. And he had sat in a room full of vampires, and not a single one had attacked him.

That didn’t include the intimacy that happened between him and Willow. He was losing his sense of self, and he was uncomfortable with the idea. But as long as he kept his focus on Zachariah, he wouldn’t be lost entirely.

“I already told you I’m actually a reasonable vampire,” Willow said, and he glanced up to see curiosity sparking in her eyes. “If you are asking for my help, I will give it.”

He swallowed the guilt rising in the form of bile. He felt like a despicable human being. “You would lend me your aid in spite of the danger your people are in?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and his heart raced when she placed her hand on top of his. For a moment, he froze as he stared at her fingers. They were slender and gentle and cold, but they brought a warmth to him he was uncomfortable with. He recognized that warmth.

It was the same warmth he had felt when he was a young man whenever he had been around Heidi Shaw. Nothing had ever come of it, but as he gazed at Willow’s hand on his, he realized something could come of this, and he was throwing it away.

Again, he was a despicable human being.

He slid his hand out from under hers and subconsciously brought it to his earlobe where he began to fidget nervously. Zachariah was more important than anything else in the world. Even Willow. Besides, she was a vampire. He was a blood hunter. Nothing could come of this. Not without one of them dying.

“Lead the way,” she said, and for that, he was grateful because he wasn’t sure he could utter a single sentence even if he tried to.

He rose from his chair and sighed as the tension dissolved when they left the den of vampires. Willow fell into step beside him, and his heart pounded as he walked next to her. Just the two of them. Alone in the waning dusk.

His legs felt weak, and he wasn’t sure if it were because of what he was about to do, his last shot at finding a cure for Zachariah, or if it were because he was afraid this was the last time he would ever see her. But he had to remain positive. This would work. It had to. And if it worked on Willow… She would become human. Like him. Then maybe…

There wouldn’t be that mountain standing between them anymore.

He shook the thought away, chiding himself for losing focus. When they found the waterfall at the top of the mountain, he had to be focused. He had to be ready. Because she would undoubtedly know exactly what he was trying to do to her once she experienced the sting of those falls. And he couldn’t afford to let her escape again.

He opened his mouth to say something to give more direction, but he quickly tensed as he noticed a figure leaning casually against the wall in the shadows, watching them. He pulled her close, her breath catching as he whispered in her ear. “Go back to the inn and don’t look back. There’s something I need to take care of.”

She glanced at the figure in the shadows and seemed to understand because she nodded and forked off down another path.

He didn’t flinch as the shadowy figure with twin swords on his back approached him, an onyx stone dangling from his neck—the second most potent blood hunter gem. He knew who wore that stone. John Wyler. In all his life, he had never met a more ruthless man. He was the type of man who would shear a head clean off solely on the grounds of showing disrespect. It didn’t matter if one was a vampire, a witch, or human.

He made it a point to avoid Wyler.

“I thought that was you, Degore,” Wyler said with an overly confident grin. “I haven’t seen you in years, not since you stole that blood gem from me.”

“It wasn’t yours to begin with,” he growled. “Plenty of other blood hunters wanted it too.”

A pit formed in his stomach when he thought of his friend, Matthew, and the way he had stared longingly at the blood gem.

“Which is something I still don’t understand,” he said slowly, uncrossing his brawny arms to reveal bare skin, scars traveling from his wrists to his shoulders. There was a particularly large scar stretching from his neck to the side of his bald head.

Adam had heard he got in a fight with a griffin and nearly lost. Too bad. “Why you? What made you attract the masters’ notice? Why did you get the blood gem when the rest of us didn’t?”

Was he still sore about that? The truth was he hadn’t cared about the blood gem. He had only wanted the training that would give him the ability to defeat the very foul creatures that killed his family.

It was his sheer dedication and persistence that singled him out from the other blood hunters in Sedhyl, although Matthew, Wyler, Leon, and Rune had been close contenders. Master Dalcher had noticed and gifted it to him after he finished training.

“What do you want, Wyler?”

“Nothing more than usual.” He eyed the small lump hidden under Adam’s armor. “However, I am a blood hunter through and through. I won’t take it from you using force. At least not until you’re dead. That woman of yours, on the other hand…” He smiled maliciously, making Adam’s skin crawl. “You’ve got a beaut. She’s on another level entirely. I’ll take her off your hands.”

The unspoken threat lingered in the air.

“Leave her alone.”

Wyler raised an eyebrow. “Protective now, are we? Who is she to you?”

The thought of Wyler trying to steal Willow angered him. Not only that, but it wouldn’t be long until he discovered the truth about her—that she was a vampire. In that case, survival was unlikely. Wyler was ruthless and cunning and strong.

Therefore, he tried to put her in the most favorable position to protect her from the threat of the other blood hunter. The words spurted from his mouth, and he didn’t realize he wished they were true until they escaped.

“She’s my wife.”