Vengeance (41 page)

I
remember everything.
I
turn about in place, searching for my new husband. I know he is here
somewhere.

Vladimir Enescue did
this. He and his horrid brother.

Threads from the
woven tapestries along the walls drift to the floor in charred piles
of irreplaceable ash. The plank walls groan as the foundation of the
church begins to deteriorate.

The fire appears to
leap from body to body before me as I lurch to my feet and weave
among the blue flames, desperately trying to fight against the pain
swelling in my chest. It is not the dull ache of remorse, but a
sharp, jagged pain that steals away my breath. Warm blood clings to
my throat and chest like a second skin, sticky and maddening. My
bronze hairs feel heavy laden as the thick strands slap against my
face, matted with congealing blood.

The scent of boiling
flesh needles at my eyes and turns my stomach rancid. The flames
chase after me as I frantically scour the pews in search of my
sister.

I cannot see my
husband, though I know he is here. I can hear his laughter all around
me, caged within the shadows. I can feel his taunting eyes upon me as
he watches and waits.

Blood rains down
from my hair, splattering against the bodice of my wedding dress,
melding with the crimson design that spans my bodice. I do not know
to whom the blood belongs. Myself? My husband? My sister?

“Adela!”
My voice is hoarse as I grip a pew to pull myself over a slain
cousin, Remus, and his young wife Valeria beside him. I try not to
think of the unborn child within her womb that will never see the
light of day.

My
nails dig deep into the flesh of the pine seatback, crying out as the
pew tears free from the floor and crashes atop Remus. I stare in
disbelief at the flames that crawl up through the new cavity I opened
in the floor.
How
did I manage that? Surely it is because the floor is severely
compromised by the fire.

As
I move to step around Remus, I spy deep indentations where my fingers
lay buried within the wood. I step forward to brush my fingers across
the markings. A sickening squelch from below my foot makes me feel
faint.
Oh,
my Lord! Whom did I tread upon?

I dare not look for
fear of losing my nerve as I pick my way through the carnage.
Dismembered body parts lie scattered before me like a gruesome
puzzle. Is this Lucien Enescue’s doing? My husband’s
brother was the one who butchered my family and stole the life of my
brother as I watched in stunted horror. I have never met a more vile
man.

My hands tremble as
I clutch my stomach and lurch to the side, expelling the acid that
burns in my throat. I wipe my mouth clean, though the taste of guilt
lingers. My chest rises and falls as the sound of crackling flames
consumes my mind. The smoke grows thicker, hanging heavily in the air
before me. Though much of it rises from the blistered slant of the
church gable, the smoke pouring from the walls around me is
suffocating.

The room begins to
spin as I fight back the terror that grips me. “Adela!”

I push back to my
feet, ignoring the flames that seize the hem of my dress. The floor
is unbearably hot on the soles of my feet, yet I press on, gritting
my feet against the blisters that form. Nothing seems as it should,
almost as if I have awoken into a terrific nightmare. If only I could
pinch myself and wake.

My sister’s
golden hair should be easy to spot in the firelight, yet she is
nowhere to be seen. “Adela, answer me!”

I slip on the
blood-slicked floor and crash to my knees before the altar, jarring
my jaw so I nearly bite my tongue in half. Blood seeps between my
teeth. Still, I ignore it as the copious amounts of fabric from my
dress shield my knees from the brunt of the impact.

A terrible crash
from behind sends me scrambling to my feet. I glance back over my
shoulder to find the timbers nearest the door have collapsed, sealing
me inside. I can no longer see my brother upon the far wall.

“Help!”
I stagger up the steps toward the altar, terrified. Flames eat away
at the wooden crucifix before me. Already half of the Lord’s
body has been destroyed; the other portrays a gruesome reminder of
the eternal torment my mother so loved to preach to me about when I
was headstrong as a child.

Am I dead? Is
this my damnation?

My
gaze lands upon a glint of silver and I lurch forward to retrieve a
bloodied dagger, clutching it tightly to my chest as another memory
envelopes me:
Adela’s
wide eyes latch onto mine. Mewling sounds rise from her throat as she
thrashes against Lucien’s grasp. The muscles along her forearms
pull taut as she fights to touch my outstretched hands.

“
It is
time, brother,” Lucien growls as his gaze focuses on the
moonlight streaming in through the windows.

“
Time for
what?” I whimper as I turn to face my new husband.

Vladimir smiles
down at me, curling his finger along my cheekbone. “Do not
fret. It will all be over soon.”

Adela’s
piercing screams tear at me as Lucien waves the silver blade before
my sister’s eyes. She bucks wildly as his arms snake about her
chest and her cries give way to wailing pleas.

“
No,
please!” I beg as stinging tears blur my vision. “Take me
instead.”

Vladimir’s
hauntingly handsome face shows no emotion. “The pain will only
be for a moment.”

“
Roseli—”
Adela’s cry gurgles in her throat as the blade slices clean
through her flesh. A thin red line appears first, and then a shower
of blood cascades down from her neck, staining her pale-pink dress.
Her eyes bulge as she fights for breath. Delicate fingers attempt to
staunch the outpouring.

I fall to my knees
and the dagger clatters from my hands. My hair falls in a heavy veil
over my face as I bow my head. Salty tears stream down the curve of
my cheeks, pattering against the heated floor. Small puffs of steam
rise from where they fall. My shriek of agony weaves among the
rafters of this desecrated church and up into the night.

That is when I smell
it. The heady bouquet that clings to my skin is sweet, delicious. My
throat clenches as the scent rolls over me and I fight the urge to
lick my lips. I lower my gaze and notice fresh sheets of blood
staining my bodice for the first time. It trails down from my throat
and oozes into a deep, cleanly edged wound just over my heart. The
hole has already begun to mend, sealing over with a new layer of pale
flesh.

Reaching up with
quivering fingers, I touch the sticky warmth that adheres to my
chest. “No, no, no!”

I shake my head at
the memory of Vladimir plunging the dagger deep into my chest,
tearing flesh and scoring bone. The pain had been excruciating,
although it paled instantly as a new pain surged through my veins.
The fires burned hotter than any mortal flame, charring everything in
its path. The darkness had come… yet not fast enough.

It
was all real!
I
cannot breathe as mocking laughter draws my gaze upward and I meet
the dark, maniacal eyes of Lucien Enescue perched among the charred
rafters. His long hair drapes about his shoulders, thickly matted
with blood. The flesh of his right cheek is scored deeply with claw
marks, which show rapid signs of healing. His chin is layered red
with fresh blood. As he peels back his lips into a grotesque smile, I
feel faint at the crimson that paints his teeth.

The scent of death
permeates the air around him as he leaps down to the floor before me
in a billow of black silk. There is no sound as his feet connect with
the ground. Only the whisper of air shifting.

“She
remembers.” His words feel like a thousand snakes writhing
across my skin. Goose bumps rise as I flail backward, scuttling away
from his slow, purposeful approach.

My fingers snag in
something moist and stringy as I frantically try to flee. I turn
slowly toward my hand, terrified of what I might discover. Tears roll
unhindered down my grimy cheeks. Lifeless blue eyes stare back at me
as I untangle my fingers from my sister’s stained golden
strands.

“Adela!”
I wail as the room begins to darken about me. My head grows unusually
light as I blink against my shock.

The wooden floor
trembles beneath my hands as something lands beside me, though I only
see my sister. A clean gash is carved into her throat, cut deep to
her spine. I glimpse bone protruding from the wound and realize her
head is only partially attached by a thin layer of stretched skin.
The blood that spilled from her wound has already begun to congeal
against her ashen chest.

It
is not this wound that consumes my attention, but rather the
semi-circle of teeth marks on the tender flesh nestled in the hollow
of her neck. A tremor rises through my body at the taste of Adela’s
blood on my lips.
I
bit her!

“Guard the
door, Lucien.” A husky voice seems to call from a distance. “I
do not want to be disturbed.”

“The fire—”
Lucien’s protest cuts off and I hear him move away.

My vision blurs as a
dark face appears before me. I try to focus as strong hands press me
roughly back to the floor. I know that I must fight back, to scream
for help as my thoughts splinter.

I can feel my skirts
being lifted and a weight pressed down upon me.

“Congratulations,
my dear.” Cold fingers slide down my inner thigh as the hard
voice of my husband whispers in my ear. “Your first kill.”

Tears spill down my
cheeks as my head rolls to the side. I stare into the unseeing eyes
of my sister as my husband takes me for the first time.

Also by Amy Miles
 

THE AROTAS TRILOGY
Forbidden
Reckoning
Redemption
Evermore
 

THE IMMORTAL ROSE TRILOGY
Desolate
 

THE RISING TRILOGY
Defiance Rising
Relinquish
Vengeance
 

THE LOVE & LUST TRILOGY
Captivate

Amy Miles was born and raised in a military family but has now settled
with her husband and son in South Carolina. She is also the author of
Defiance Rising, Forbidden, Reckoning and Redemption. To learn more
about her and her books, visit
AmyMilesBooks.com
or @AmyMilesBooks on Twitter.

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