The Dark Vampire: Last True Vampire 3 (3 page)

Every vampire living shared in the collective memories of the race. Interconnected like a grove of aspen trees, their blood, their memories, were one. But Chelle appeared to be a species unto herself, an offshoot of the original line, and it served to reason that any dhampirs she changed would become as saplings to her bloodline. Not exactly something that Mikhail wanted to become common knowledge so early on in the race’s infancy.

Especially when Siobhan possessed the very chest that had transformed Chelle.

Ronan had traded the chest for his freedom from a blood troth made to the female and Jenner admired the male’s ingenuity. Knowing that Siobhan disdained all of vampire-kind, he’d been confident that by placing the chest in her safekeeping it would be hidden away where no other dhampir would find it or use it. Mikhail was dubious. Placing power like that in the hands of a female who might as well be his enemy was risky. Which was another reason why Jenner had been stuck to her like glue for months. Mikhail was determined to stay one step ahead of her at all times.

“I’ll make a deal with you.” Siobhan’s lips spread in a
calculating smile. “Let me see Chelle, and I’ll be more than happy to share everything I know about the rogue with you.”

Intel on one rogue werewolf was going to cost Mikhail a face-to-face with Chelle? “That’s not going to happen.”

“Too bad,” Siobhan responded on a wistful sigh. “That is my condition for sharing information. Quid pro quo. Tell your king he can take my offer or leave it.”

Jenner didn’t have to offer her terms to Mikhail. He already knew what his king’s response would be. “Take care you don’t back yourself into a corner, Siobhan. An island is a lonely place to live.”

“I neither want nor need your counsel, Jenner. Now get the hell out of my sight before I have Carrig throw you out.”

Another useless conversation, and still chasing his tail. He would’ve been better off staying with the lusty female in her apartment. Jenner inclined his head to Siobhan ever so slightly. “May the day treat you well, Siobhan.”

“I’m sure it will,” she said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Sun’s about to rise; I suggest you run to your hole,
vampire
.”

Gods, she was bound to cause all of them a shitload of trouble.

Bria Fairchild balanced on the ledge of the high-rise and stared down at the city below. The wind whipped at her long ponytail and she pulled her dark hood up over her head to shield her not only from prying eyes but also from the chill. Under the cover of night, she was free to do as she wished without her uncle’s rigid rules and obsessive protection weighing her down. He’d gone out tonight, which was rare, but she’d used the situation to her advantage. Over the years she’d become an adept escape
artist and could circumvent the locks, high-tech alarm systems, and high fences that protected his coven from a witch who had hunted their family for centuries.

Atop the high building, Bria didn’t fear a threat she’d never seen. She didn’t fear
anything
.

She tightened the backpack against her body and took off at a full run. The wind whipped her hood from her head and her eyes watered. She ran like the traceurs—the free-runners and parkourists—who used the urban cityscape as their personal playgrounds. Bria had studied their movements for decades, long before parkour became an Internet sensation. Her dhampir physiology was perfectly suited for free-running. She could jump high, run fast; her movements were agile and fluid.

These stolen moments in the dark of night were her only taste of freedom. Once per month she allowed herself to leave the confines of her uncle’s coven, and for that night she was
free
.

Bria negotiated a large roof vent. She braced her hands on the metal dome and launched her body over it in a graceful arch. Her feet came down silently and she whispered through the night as quiet as the breeze that stirred around her. With the edge of the building’s roof in sight, Bria pushed herself harder. Faster. Her arms pumped and her breath sawed in and out of her chest. A quick hop sent her up onto the ledge and she used her speed to propel herself into the air.

For a moment she was weightless. Floating. She soared across the space from one building to the next as though hopping over a puddle. When her feet made contact with the roof of the building she let her knees give out and landed in a roll before she came to her feet once again. The landing did nothing to slow her down. She continued to run, vaulted off of another roof vent, and propelled
herself into a front flip. Bria ran, dove, twisted, and turned until her muscles ached and she was out of breath. But still, she didn’t stop. She’d achieved the flow state, where the parkourist’s confidence outweighed everything else. Caution, fear, doubt, no longer existed. Her body was perfectly in tune with her mind and focus. The world melted away.

Bria once again breached the space between one roof and another, and this time when she landed she came to rest. She pulled the GPS from her backpack and checked the coordinates.
Perfect.

The members of their coven were forbidden outside relationships. It was too dangerous, the world too uncertain. Slayers had come to Los Angeles and attacks on dhampirs had become more common. The vampire race had reawakened and the slayers had taken up their ancient cause of eradication. Not even the dhampirs were safe. Of course, the slayers were the least of Bria’s uncle’s worries. What Thomas Fairchild truly feared was wielders of magic. Witches. They were the reason his coven lived in a nearly impenetrable compound. All for his and Bria’s protection. In all of the nights she’d ventured out over the centuries, she’d yet to encounter a single witch, let alone one who had a vendetta against them. Though, when leaping from rooftop to rooftop, Bria supposed the chances of running into another living creature—witch or otherwise—were slim.

She’d never had friends who didn’t belong to her coven. Had never known any other creatures but her own kind. But Bria had found a way to reach out to the outside world. The invention of the Internet had saved her from a life of desperate loneliness. And tonight’s outing was a part of one of her latest Internet obsessions.

She pulled a long metal tube from her backpack and
unscrewed the lid. She tucked an ancient ring, a gold coin, and a length of antique lace inside along with a pencil and logbook before closing it. Bria tucked the tube behind an air-conditioning unit and logged the coordinates for the location of the container into her GPS. When she returned home, she’d leave the coordinates on the geocaching Web site’s message board for another treasure seeker to find.

A smile curved her lips as anticipation coiled tight in her stomach.

These stolen moments of freedom might not have been the life Bria had hoped to live, but she made the best of it. She’d thought about leaving the coven. Of finding another group of dhampirs to take shelter with. She still might, someday. Each time she left the compound her hunger for independence grew. It wouldn’t be long before her uncle could no longer keep her there whether it was for her protection or not.

The first streaks of dawn made their appearance in the eastern sky. Sunrise was an hour, maybe two, off and she needed to return home before anyone realized she was gone. She raced back through the city the way she’d come, across the rooftops where no one would notice her. When she reached the outskirts of the city she kept to the shadows and slowed to an easy jog. Miles melted away under her feet and in the space of an hour she’d managed to find her way back to the compound. Bria came to a halt just outside the chain-link fence that surrounded her home as the cacophony of frightened screams and the sounds of a fight reached her preternatural ears.

Bria’s heart leapt into her throat. The coven was under attack. Whether from slayers or witches she didn’t know, but she didn’t have time to consider her options. Her uncle needed her. Her coven needed her. She dug deep and found that place inside of herself where fear did not exist as she searched for a weak spot in the fence where she
could circumvent the razor wire. She quickly scaled the links and vaulted herself to the other side, where she landed on her feet without a sound.

She would fight whatever creature awaited her inside the walls of her home. To the death if that’s what it took to protect those she cared about.

“Help
us! Please!”

Bria hung limp in her uncle’s arms. She didn’t share in his panic or desperation, which was strange considering she was the one who was dying.

“My king, I implore you. Save her!”

What if she didn’t want to be saved? True, the slayers’ attack on their coven had been both unexpected and horrific, but it had also been . . . fortunate. For her, at least.

Her lids cracked, and through the slits of her eyes Bria made out the shape of a tiny guard station, manned by three hulking males. One held a phone to his ear, while the other two tried to calm her uncle, who shouted not at the guards but into the lens of a camera that was mounted just to the left of a wrought-iron gate.

As though the vampire king would concern himself with one pathetic dhampir’s death.

“She’s not healing!” Blood, warm and sticky, trickled from the wound at Bria’s throat. She’d been cut by a slayer’s blade, likely infused with Sortiari magic. She might have healed otherwise. “She’ll bleed out in a
matter of minutes. My coven is yours if you save her. You have my troth here and now!”

Let me bleed out. I want to die.

Before the slayer’s blade had pierced her flesh, Bria had felt truly alive. There was no greater honor than to die protecting others. Wasn’t that what her father had done? He’d died protecting his family from the Sortiari slaughters. Her uncle had ordered her away from the fight, told her to run and hide. But she’d refused to cower as member after member of their coven fell under the slayers’ blades. For all of her life she’d been sheltered. Kept. A bird in a cage and made a prisoner for her own protection. Forced to sneak out under the cover of night and steal every scrap of freedom she could find. She’d lived a lifetime in a matter of hours tonight, first as she’d run through the city and later as she’d hacked and stabbed at her attackers. None had fallen under the dainty leaf-blade sword, but she’d given it her all. And her valor would be rewarded with blissful death.

Freedom.

Bria’s world blurred out of focus and her mind drifted. The scrape of metal grated on her ears and her uncle rushed forward, jostling her in his arms. With any luck, the vampire king’s guards were about to escort them off the property. She wanted to make a plea of her own. To beg her uncle to let her go. She wasn’t in pain. To the contrary, she felt
nothing
.

I want this
. The words formed on her tongue, but her lips refused to move.
I can’t live this life anymore.

Her uncle’s step faltered and Bria’s eyes snapped open. A house so large it might as well have been a museum loomed above her, shadowed and foreboding in the gray light of dawn. A tall door swung open and Bria’s gaze came to rest on a female with long wheat-colored hair and brilliant gold eyes. Concern marred the female’s forehead
as she ushered Bria’s uncle inside the house.
No!
her mind screamed.
Send us away. I don’t want to be saved.

“Please, take me to the king!” her uncle’s panicked shout rang in Bria’s ears.

“Claire, step away.”

A deep, commanding voice that vibrated with power echoed in the large foyer.

That powerful voice was answered with an exasperated sigh. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Mikhail. Can’t you see that they need help?”

Bria didn’t need help. All was right in her world.

The female must have been the vampire queen. Only the king’s mate would have the audacity to speak to him in such a brazen way. Bria admired the fire in Claire’s voice, the fearlessness she exuded in her tone. Bria had always wished she could be a female like that: fierce and commanding.

“Claire, wait for me upstairs.” It appeared that the king wasn’t too pleased with his mate’s fire. Bria shivered at the chill in his tone. He was a male who would not be defied.

“The hell I will.” For a brief moment Bria willed herself to hold on to life. If only to hear how this power struggle would play out. “Look at them, Mikhail. This isn’t a trap or a trick. She’s bleeding to death all over your overpriced marble floors. If you won’t do something to help them, then
I
will.”

No!
Of course, she admired the queen’s fire, but Bria didn’t want any favors from her. Not when she was so close to leaving this miserable world behind.

Silence stretched between the two and Bria’s uncle held her tighter against his chest, his own breath and heart racing with distress. He would mourn her, but in the end her death would be better for all of them. She would be free of his protection and he would be freed of having to protect her.

“Claire, I can’t help anyone if I’m worried for your
safety.” Had Bria not been dying, she would have swooned at the king’s gallantry. To have a male love her like that! “So step away, love, and put me at ease.”

“Help her, Mikhail, and put
me
at ease.”

The vampire queen was obviously a female who didn’t know how to lose. Bria admired her.

“There’s only one way to help her,” the king responded.

“Yep. And the sun is going to rise in less than an hour. Time’s wasting, so let’s get her upstairs and get to work.”

Another stretch of silence followed and Bria drifted further toward darkness. Her uncle let out a shuddering breath, much too relieved for her peace of mind. It didn’t matter, though. She was fading quickly. She’d lost all sensation in her limbs and the chill of death settled over her skin. It wouldn’t be long now. Her body was jostled as someone helped her uncle to remove her pack from around her shoulders and off of her back, but Bria barely felt it. They could race her upstairs but it wouldn’t change the fact that her heart was about to beat its last. Blood no longer trickled from the wound at her throat. It was time to let go of this lonely existence once and for all.