Blood Ecstasy (Blood Curse Series Book 8) (20 page)

“What secret?” Deanna asked pointedly.

Braden sighed in frustration, clearly conflicted about how much he should say. “Okay, so I’ll tell you this much: He
is
from the house of Jadon, but he hasn’t lived here in a really long time. And he came back to visit—that’s kind of how I ran into him, just by accident, down by River Rock Creek.” He set the envelope and letter aside on a nearby end table and folded his hands in his lap. “I was trying to make some gemstones from rocks, and he helped me out. Anyhow, he wants his visit to be a surprise, to let his family know he’s back in his own time, so he asked me to keep a secret. Like I said, weird, but probably harmless.”

Nachari cleared his throat. “Can you tell me what he looks like?”

Braden sighed. “I guess. I dunno: blond hair, slate-gray eyes, about six-foot-four.”

“So he’s
not
a Dark One?” Deanna cut in, making an absent reference to the vampire’s hair color.
 

Nachari cocked his eyebrows as if to say,
Then what the hell
?
 

He sat back on the sofa and mulled it over.
 

Something just wasn’t right.

So a son of Jadon came back to the vale after an extended absence, possibly a warrior from another generation, someone Nachari didn’t know; and the male wanted to surprise his family, but he ran into Braden first. And in the meantime, he just wanted another male’s company, to hang out with Braden by the creek.

While that was some truly
strange
shit, it wasn’t necessarily nefarious.
 

But the energy…and the dream…sneaking around Nachari’s mailbox?

There was something else going on.

And frankly, there was something
Braden
wasn’t telling them.

Nachari sat forward on the edge of the sofa, braced his elbows on his knees, and locked his gaze with the handsome young vampire’s, choosing to take another approach. “So, just to be clear: I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me, straight up, that you completely trusted this guy when you met him, that you completely trust him now, and you would feel perfectly comfortable going back to the river to meet with him again.” Before Braden could answer, Nachari added, “Oh, and you don’t find it the least bit odd that he stuffed this envelope in our mailbox in the middle of the night, instead of, say, texting you on your cell phone?”

Braden bit his bottom lip. “I never said all that,” he mumbled.

Nachari nodded. They were finally getting somewhere. “No, you didn’t. And you can’t.” He squared his shoulders to the boy and angled his jaw in a no-nonsense slant. “What aren’t you telling me, Braden?”

Braden chewed on his bottom lip as if he were trying to make a decision. “Well,” he finally murmured, “there were a couple things that struck me that
night
at the creek, some things that I questioned.”

“Wait.” Nachari held up his hand. “
That night at the creek.
You met with this vampire
after
dark?”

Braden nodded. “Well, yeah. I mean, I was there earlier, but he showed up just after sunset, I think.”

Nachari exchanged a telltale glance with Deanna before turning his attention back to Braden. “Go on,” he prodded.

Braden appeared a bit unsettled, but he quickly reverted to his previous train of thought. “Well, first, he did something I’ve never seen anyone do: He emerged out of nowhere, and I don’t mean like just materializing or transporting from one place to the next. He, like, came out of the mist…as if he
was
the mist.” Braden shook his head in frustration, clearly searching for a better way to convey his thoughts. “It’s hard to explain, but it was more like shape-shifting than traveling, something only a Master Wizard could do.” He regarded Nachari with a clear and healthy dose of respect. “The dude was like a ghost, and well, there is something else.”
 

Nachari held his breath, not wanting to interrupt or to distract Braden before he could get it all out.
 

Braden sighed. “It was weird enough—
he
was weird enough—that I took a strand of his hair. You know, just to be sure. He shed it on a rock, and well, when I saw it, I just thought…maybe I should pick this up, hold onto it…just in case.” Nachari’s mouth quirked up in a smile, and Deanna let out an audible sigh of relief, even as Braden’s countenance brightened in response to the couple’s obvious approval. “I was gonna show it to you, Nachari, make sure everything was chill. Just didn’t get around to it yet.”

Deanna smiled, her bluish-gray eyes alighting with mirth. “Perhaps we could’ve started with that information, ya think?” She chuckled softly to lessen the reprimand.
 

Nachari took a deep, cleansing breath and nodded in agreement. “No time like the present,” he chimed in.
 

Braden rolled his eyes. “Sorry.” And then, without further prodding, he rose from his chair. “Ah’ight, I’ll be right back.”

Deanna and Nachari waited quietly, their collective anxiety rising with every moment Braden was gone. When, at last, the handsome youngster returned with a crinkled sheet of Saran Wrap in his hand, the plastic haphazardly encasing a single strand of hair, Nachari couldn’t help but shake his head. It was vintage Braden Bratianu: Uncanny wisdom and foresight all wrapped up in a silly, disheveled package—would the boy never change?

Braden placed the package on the Raleigh coffee table in front of Nachari and sat back down in the armchair, diagonal from the wizard. “So what do you think?”

Nachari leaned forward and immediately stiffened.
 

What. The. Hell?

He turned to his
destiny
and eyed the back of the sofa. “Deanna, go stand behind the couch.”
 

Deanna rose immediately and padded around the arm of the sofa toward the back of the room, taking a distant stance well beyond Nachari, the leather sectional, and the curious package he was about to analyze. She waited silently as the wizard removed the single strand of hair from the Saran Wrap, closed his eyes to quiet his thoughts, and began to gather energy from the elements around him.

Once he felt like an empty vessel, Nachari opened his eyes and began to envision a pure, untainted light before him, a stream that represented truth, clarity, and wisdom, and then he began to pour golden, focused energy into the pristine, untainted channel, wrapping a powerful intention around the strand of hair:
Show me what lies beneath.

 
As the particles in the air, hovering above the specimen, began to coalesce around the sample, yielding to the wizard’s request, Nachari began to chant:
 

Gods of old, please grant me favor;

Lords of light, whose truth I savor;

Let me see beyond the veil ~ assist me in this task;

Make true the lie; make false deception ~ remove the clever mask.

He waved his hand over the hair and drew his fingers back, as if drawing the true essence out of the strand.
 

As all things come from deep within,

Our truest thoughts, our hidden sins,

So the shell may still reveal the soul beneath, asleep and still…

Awaken, now! Come forth! Divulge!

The origins the gods expose.

Show me your true skin.

Just like that, the single strand of hair began to curl inward, the root forming the shape of a flattened, conical head, the end becoming a long, coiled tail, until at last a venomous snake appeared.
 

Deanna gasped behind Nachari, even as Braden shot back in his chair and swiftly tucked his feet beneath him. But the Master Wizard—he smiled, exhaled, and laughed. “So, our vampire is a snake in the grass. He believes he can slither into the house of Jadon, unnoticed, until he is ready to strike. Braden, what was the male’s last name?”
 

Braden cleared his throat in an anxious scrape. “Um, Antonopoulos. Grigori Antonopoulos.”
 

Nachari nodded. “That isn’t his true name.” He extended his forearm in front of the snake, and the serpent immediately drew back and bit him. As the fangs sank deep, Deanna shrieked, and Nachari began to snarl. He traced the poison as it left the snake’s glands and began to counter it with his own vampiric venom, two forces, diametrically opposed, in a struggle for supremacy.
 

The wizard won with ease.

In the blink of an eye, Nachari’s forearm exploded with light, and a mystical flame shot into the mouth of the serpent, growing…glowing…heating until the serpent’s head began to blister. Then just like that, the abomination erupted into flames—sizzled, screeched, and hissed—and then melted into a pile of steaming ash.
 

Nachari sat back in his seat.
 

He checked his arm for signs of injury, puncture wounds, or blood. There weren’t any. He regarded his
destiny
with a comforting glance. “I am fine, my love,” he whispered, and then he turned his attention to Braden…

And froze.
 

The youngster looked almost feral, his high, angular cheekbones nearly calcified with anger. His usual burnt-sienna gaze was glowing stark red, and his fangs were cutting into his lower lip, even as his clearly defined biceps began to twitch.

“Braden?” Nachari asked, sounding as wary as he felt.
 

The youngster snarled, his top lip quivering with rage.
 

“Son, calm down.”
 

“No,” Braden hissed, sounding far more predatory than his limited experience occasioned. He leaned sideways in his chair, extended his legs until his feet were firmly planted on the floor, and rocked forward in his chair, glaring at the smoking pile of cinders. “Let me go back and meet the bastard, Nachari,” he snarled, his fangs extending even further.
 

Nachari held up both hands in a pacifying gesture. “We have much to consider, Braden. Why don’t we just—”

“Nah,” Braden interrupted, his chest muscles contracting. “There’s nothing we need to consider.” He shot a heated glare at Nachari and practically seethed with malice. “I’m as serious as a heart attack…unless…unless you think I’m a punk.”
 

Nachari jolted. “No one ever said or implied anything of the sort, Braden.”

Braden’s voice dropped to a haunting, lethal purr. “Why—the—hell does everyone think they can come after me? The Lycans, that night in the shed; Saber, when he was pretending to be Ramsey; and now, this jackass, who’s trying to infiltrate the house of Jadon.” He curled his hand into a fist. “Why does everyone think I’m such an easy target? Why does everyone think I can just be played…anytime…anywhere…by anyone? No more,” he bit out. “If the bastard wants to meet down by the creek and build some gemstones together, then I say
bring it
on
. Let’s play. I don’t care if you, your brothers, and Napolean’s sentinels have to get my back; you have to let me meet him, Nachari.” He narrowed his eyes with purpose. “
You have to
. It’s a matter of pride.”
 

Nachari took a deep breath and settled into the silence, allowing the young vampire’s anger—and his heated words—to linger. He understood the child’s rage as well as his pain, and he knew that Braden believed he was up to the task. Nevertheless, Nachari was responsible for the boy’s safety, and if this deceptive vampire, this fake Grigori Antonopoulos, had half the power Nachari believed he had, then the child was no match for the imposter.
 

They needed to think it through.

They needed to consult with the sentinels and, possibly, Napolean, and they needed to devise a well-crafted, well-informed plan. “I’ll tell you what,” Nachari said evenly, “whatever we decide, you will be instrumental in the decision.”

“Not good enough,” Braden retorted in an icy tone.

Nachari nodded. He really did understand. “You know something, Braden?” The youngster looked away, but Nachari knew he was listening. “When I was trapped in hell, all those months in the abyss, I submitted to some pretty foul degradation. I
let
demons torture me; I submitted to my own humiliation; and I endured the unbearable, day after day, because I knew I had a plan. Because I wanted to win
in the end
.” His voice grew thick with intensity. “Sometimes, the end game is sweeter than swift revenge. Sometimes, we need to be smart, not just strong, and that isn’t a sign of weakness.” He pointed at the ashes on the table. “That very old vampire—I don’t know if he’s an Ancient or not, but he’s gotta be close—thought he could come out of the mist and toy with a teenager. He thought he could play you like a fiddle, but you? You were smart enough”—he tapped his temple in demonstration—“not to confront him, not to give him the third degree, but just to take a strand of his hair and give it to a Master Wizard.” He leaned forward, commanding Braden’s full attention with a paternal gaze. The moment their eyes locked, he continued, “And that means you have already outsmarted him. Now, we take it to the sentinels; we put our heads together; and we try to figure this vampire out. End game, Braden. It’s all about the end game.”
 

Braden sank back into his chair; his fangs receded in his gums; and his eyes turned back to their normal hue. He relaxed his hands and nodded. “I’m tired of it, Nachari.”

“I know you are, son.”

“I might make mistakes, but I’m nobody’s punk.”

“No,” Nachari said frankly, “you’re not. And you never have been.”

Braden hesitated then, but only for a moment. “End game?”

Nachari nodded. “End game.”

“Okay,” Braden said. He reached across the arm of the chair, took the letter from the end table, and crumpled it up in his hand. “Then let’s do this.”

Nachari Silivasi smiled.
 

Indeed, it was time to investigate Mr. Antonopoulos.

eighteen

Julien sat back on Rebecca’s custom-upholstered couch, crossed one leg over the other, bending his upper leg across his lower thigh, and stretched a large arm along the back of the sofa. “Becca, talk to me.”