The Dracove (The Prophecy series) (39 page)

She felt along the wall for a light switch, but remembered how old the place was. Cearbhall hadn’t changed everything. There weren’t any windows in the room, which was a relief. They would really have to search for her then.

For all she knew, the room was a closet. She moved around carefully, trying desperately not to knock anything over. After moving about fifteen feet, she decided it definitely wasn’t a closet. She felt around and came across something very odd to the touch. It was hard and cold, and she couldn’t quite identify it. Kylie very slowly crawled forward, waving her hand before her.

“I wish I had a match or a lighter,” she whispered and continued to crawl along the floor, thinking maybe they wouldn’t come near her if she made a torch. It would help if she could see where the hell she was going. But of course, the torch idea was probably from a stupid movie.
You watch too many damn movies, girl,
Ana’s voice rang inside her head.

“They’re probably not even afraid of
fire
.”

Torches lit up, one by one, around the room.

“Whoa, that was weird,” she said aloud. Kylie slapped a hand over her mouth and held her breath.

Nothing came running down the corridor to eat her. Relieved, she jumped to her feet and looked around. The walls throughout the room were a deep red, similar to the color of her garnet. Shadows danced upon them from the torch flames.

It was Cearbhall’s trophy room, apparently. She walked through the suits of armor lining each side. Each knight was from a different era. It looked to her like they were guarding the room. She walked around a few of them, studying their weapons to see if she could use one. Soon, her attention fell on a sword hanging on the wall at the other end. Different types of swords covered the entire wall, but only the one caught her eye. The butcher knife dropped to the floor. She walked over to the sword.

You are simply beautiful.
Kylie pulled it from the wall.

Its cool ivory handle felt good in her hand and she ran her finger over the blue sapphires imbedded in its silver hilt. The double-edged blade had intricate details etched into it, symbols she didn’t recognize. The flames reflected off its mirrored silvery metal. She saw her face in the blade.

The woman who stared back at her bore a troubled expression. At first, she thought it might be confusion, considering all that had happened recently. But, the longer she looked at the reflection, the more she realized she didn’t recognize her emotion.

Kylie wondered how many wars had been fought with this particular weapon. She twirled the blade around a few times, making certain the weight would be right for her. In the midst of testing the sword, something in the corner caught her eye. She walked over and smiled. It was another hidden door. She pushed it open and a small breeze whipped through the room. A stairway led up, but God only knew where the hell it ended.

The door she’d entered through sailed across the room, knocking a few of the knights over. They clanged and clattered into one another before hitting the floor and sending a ricochet of racket through the room.

She jumped through the second doorway and ran up the stairs, not caring where it led, so long as it was away from them.

Kylie made her way through the passage and cracked the door open at the other end, peering into the room. She stepped out of the dark passageway and into a large bedroom. From the looks of it, the room belonged to Cearbhall, which made complete sense. The man would want easy access to his weaponry. The walls were painted a warm tan and adorned with Celtic crosses every few feet up, down, and across. There were four large crosses, one on each wall, each uniquely embellished with symbols. One of the crosses was directly above the headboard of the mahogany four-poster bed. She found the décor intriguing.
Apparently vampyres aren’t plagued by holy relics, either.

Cautiously, she walked around the bed and over to the window. Her feet sank into the plush burgundy carpet with each step. She peered out the window and down on more vampyres and whatever those creatures were fighting. She surveyed the room, wondering how she was going to get out of the house. Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Kylie jumped behind the screen in the corner of the room and waited. She had nowhere else to go.

Grant
.

Rathius faced the Master, eyes angry, teeth bared, and claws spread; ready to tear through immortal flesh. They stepped to the side, slowly in a circle until one of them was ready to strike. Their wings quivered and spread, trying to intimidate one another.

“I have waited centuries for this,” Rathius grumbled, his voice deep with contempt for the vampyre whose name he chose not to speak.

“Then you’ll wait no longer.”

Rathius lunged, grabbing for him with all four claws. Talons ripped into the vampyre’s flesh. They struggled, clawing one another. Rathius dug a hole in the flesh of his opponent’s shoulder with his teeth. The vampyre threw him off. Rathius landed on his feet. The earth beneath him trembled like a minor earthquake. He flapped his wings, bringing forth a small gale, and glared at him.

The vampyre simply smiled. “You must do better if ye wish to defeat me, Rathius,” he said. “Perhaps sittin’ on a rooftop for so long made ye forget how to fight. Had I known ye were up there, I’d’ve destroyed ye as you slumbered.”

Rathius growled and jumped into the air. The vampyre followed suit. They met in the air high above the battlefield. Rathius struck at him again. He turned and flew past him. The vampyre lashed out, his sharp nails gouging into Rathius’ right wing. The gargoyle paid no attention to the wound and circled around to face him again. The vampyre smiled and waited. Rathius rushed him, his speed increasing in the battle of wills. He knew neither one of them would turn away.

They crashed, screaming and clawing at one another. The vampyre ripped chunks of flesh from the gargoyle’s side and threw them to the ground. Each piece turned to stone the moment it hit. Rathius tore at the vampyre’s head, ripping out chunks of blond hair. The vampyre’s hand seared Rathius’ chest, burning into him with its red magic. The vampyre clutched his heart, squeezing the life that had recently been renewed. Rathius shrieked. The magic surged through his body. They fell to the ground. The vampyre landed on top of him, the impact of their fall creating a small crater due to the gargoyle’s weight and size.

The vampyre still clutched Rathuis’ heart.

“The centuries ‘ave made ye weak, Rathius,” he said, grinning wide and baring his fangs. “An’ ye shall die.”

“I shall not . . . let you . . . take . . . her,” Rathius choked.

The vampyre’s grin widened and he glanced at the house. “You’ll not ‘ave a choice in the matter now,” he said. “You’ve failed as only you could do.”

He ripped Rathius’ heart out. It beat in his hand and he held it high above his head. The gargoyle’s green blood streamed down his arm.

Rathius felt his life waning, unlike the moon above.

“My children, I give ye the king.” He threw the gargoyle’s heart into the air above their heads. A beam of red energy hit the muscle, shattering it. They all opened their mouths and took in the king their lord defeated, consuming his flesh and power.

Darkness enveloped Rathius.

Someone kicked in the double doors and stepped inside Cearbhall’s room. Two more stepped out of the wall.

“Where is she, Matty? You said she was in here.”

Kylie had to bite back the fear rising in her throat.

“Oh, she’s here,” Matty said, drawing in a deep breath. “C’mon Kylie, give up already. You’ll never escape.”

She stood perfectly still, barely breathing, keeping her heart calm.

“Damn, she’s good. I can hardly hear her,” a female said.

“Hell, I can hardly smell her. It’d explain why we needed to be together,” Matty said.

They knocked the screen over. Kylie jumped and lifted the sword, ready to strike at anything coming near her. The apparent leader grinned at her.

“Kylie, Kylie, Kylie.” He shook his head. “Come now, do you really think you can take all of us?”

“I can try,” she replied with a growl.

“Now, now, we don’t need the attitude. Drop the sword, come with us, and you won’t get hurt.”

“Right. Why don’t you come and get it.”

“Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It makes no never mind to me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you assholes.”

He grinned again. “Fine, it’ll be the hard way.” He stepped forward.

The female grabbed his arm. “No, Matty, let me. You said I could.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, Cassie. Go ahead.”

Cassie stepped toward her, hissing in typical horror movie vamp mode. Kylie held the sword steady, waiting for the right moment, remembering what Grant said. When Cassie let her guard down for just a second, Kylie swung the sword with all her strength. The other three stood slack-jawed, watching Cassie’s head roll past Matty’s feet.

“You little bitch,” Matty screamed. He and the other two jumped her.

Kylie flew back, each of them grabbing onto some part of her body. They slammed her to the floor, flat on her back. On the eclipse of a scream, the big one with dark hair clamped his hand over her mouth before she could get a note out. He and the other held her down. Matty ripped the sword from her hand and raised it above his head.

“
No!” came a shout from the hallway. They winced. “He needs ‘er alive. If ye kill ‘er, you’ll face trial.”

A young blond male stepped through. Matty brought the sword down slowly and placed its tip on her throat, just under her chin.

“You’re a very lucky woman,” he said with a growl. “Very. Lucky.”

The blond vampyre placed his hand on Matty’s shoulder. Reluctantly, Matty withdrew the sword from her throat and stood. He stared down at her a moment and stepped over her, taking his place behind the blond.

“Conor,” he said when he walked past him.

Conor gave a short nod. “Kevin, Gino, get ‘er to ‘er feet.”

Kevin kept his hand over her mouth as they lifted her.

Conor stood before her. “Sorry, Kylie.” He wrapped a piece of cloth around her face the moment Kevin removed his hand, covering her mouth with the gag. “But if ye’d come to us nicely, I wouldn’ ‘ave to do this.”

Matty threw the sword to the floor. They carried Kylie down the stairs and out of the house.

Stones littered the yard. Kylie didn’t recall seeing so many of them before. How many of the statues died in the fight? Were they protecting her? Why would they? Her heart sank at the thought of so many dying to protect her from Cianán.

Then she saw the monster himself, covered in blood of varying colors that had nothing to do with Christmas.