Shevamp - The Dark One
Indisputable Truth

“Soon, this will spill into their world. Would you care when it is too late?” Marcus demanded, goading her with his pretense of anger.

The familiar spark of blue in her eyes confirmed that he had swayed her.

“Do not insult me, sir. I do what needs doing, and this has already spilled into their world. Three villages were destroyed in a matter of days.”

Turning to him, Rowan’s gaze settled on Alena, and she studied her briefly.

“Take your mate’s advice; allow me to leave,” she stressed the word “mate,” giving it the slightest air of insult.

Her jab at Alena was a ruse to make her sister insult her and provide her with a valid excuse to take off, but he wouldn’t allow it. The conviction in his heart that she was the key to everything remained unmoved despite his lack of evidence.

***

Alena moved to speak but, sensing the trap, pressed her lips together instead. She overstepped her bounds once and would not do so again, not at the goading of another.

Even though Rowan’s opinions did not matter, Victor confined her to Marcus’ care, and angering him would do her no favors. He was hard to figure out and bore many secrets, not sharing much of himself or his past with anyone.

She heeded the warning in his eyes. If she caused Rowan to bolt, he would never forgive her, and she knew better now; she would not underestimate the dhampir again.

She sensed Victor’s intellect behind those strange eyes and his ability to read people. She wouldn’t allow her sister to manipulate her, and the thought stalled her.

When had she started thinking of the woman as her sister? No, such familiarity would not do.

***

Marcus watched them, noticing the way their eyes kept finding each other. They may deny it, but blood, the connection of one being to another through their parentage, was powerful. An undeniable bond.

“Choose your next words carefully,” Alena finally bit out, her eyes bright with anger, but little of her emotions showed on her face.

Victor tutored her far too well. He never allowed the world to discover his secrets, and Alena rarely let anyone see into her heart. If anger overtook him, the earth shuddered in the wake of that outrage. Blood flowed, and people died.

Alena didn’t favor Victor in this. Mostly, she avoided unnecessary conflict, and her father saw her reserve as a weakness. One she never overcame and didn’t seem to wish to conquer.

“Or what? Will you have me flogged? Beaten? Killed? I fear none of those things,” Rowan challenged Alena before turning to him.

There were many layers of conflicting emotions in her eyes.

She hadn’t quite attained their level of control, and her emotions showed under the stress of the situation, but he suspected she wasn’t trying awfully hard, either. To be fair, neither would he if he were her.

It was her way of pissing them off, making them see her as just what they expected and thus dismissing her from their sight, which was what she wanted. Yet the hope that they had answers brought her here.

“You were once human, sir, but you speak of them as if they do not concern you,” Rowan spoke to him but pointed her finger at Alena.

The barb hit home.

The images of his family flashed before his eyes, and he recalled the pain of leaving them and never returning.

It was an old pain he had long since learned to live with. His face tightened, but he refused to reveal any other reaction.

“She was never human, and I am only a half-breed, too human for your tastes. What good will insults do? What good will my unwanted presence do?” Rowan demanded, coming within a few feet of him.

She was close enough that he could kill her if he wanted.

“You said you learned how to bring this to an end?” she asked more calmly, observing his expression.

She would have spoken again, but instead, she stepped back, away from him. Her eyes scanned the darkness, and he realized that she must have misinterpreted his unrest.

“It is no trap,” Alena assured the dhampir before he could react, seemingly more in tune with the dhampir than him.

***

Alena understood Marcus well enough to say that, but why did she feel compelled to ease Rowan’s fears? She would never admit the truth.

“You don’t know, and you wasted my time,” Rowan concluded from something in his manner.

She tensed, like an animal caught in a trap but controlled like a panther in a cage.

Gone were the pretenses, and she clearly regarded the meeting as concluded. They would have to act quickly to reach her. They had to discover if the truths they learned were more than misguided fantasies conjured by a desire to find answers.

“After following these creatures for months, every once in a while, we spotted you or your men,” Marcus explained soothingly.

She spun unexpectedly towards the gate, eyes flaring vampire, and scanned the darkness beyond before glancing at their steeds.

Everything was quiet.

Too quiet, and they sensed it too.

Something was wrong, the quality of the night having subtly altered, seeming off somehow.

His blood spiked, senses heightened as adrenaline coursed through his system.

Danger crystalized into a presence in the air, a cool chill beneath the tepid heat. Nothing moved, not even the breeze, but outside the walls, the night seemed denser, the silence heavier, and they were no longer alone.

They stared into the blackness, and the dark stared back, having turned into a malevolent oppression, watching with anticipation. A shiver skittered down his spine, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

***

Rowan sped to where the horses stood tied up, just inside the gate. Striker shivered uncontrollably, eyes wild and fangs bared, while the other two horses remained unperturbed.

Odd.

More sensitive and alert to changes in the environment than regular steeds, the vampire horse picked up on something beyond the sensory range of the other two.

Whatever was out there terrified the animal, and nothing much unsettled the beast.

Typically, his restlessness translated to the other horses, but they remained strangely unaffected.

Tiny and Ralph seemed to have disappeared, and she scanned the shadows. Had they left? No, not without the horses.

Not of their own accord.

Neither would pursue any course of action without at least alerting her to their intentions.

The listless breeze stirred up the faint scent of human blood.

Why hadn’t she noticed it before?

The fear of loss and the knowledge of disaster doubled her heart rate. A distorted sound made her step away from the horses and approach the gate.

Startled by something bounced over the paving, and rolling to a standstill nearby, a spray of bright red blood marking its passing.

Stomach clenching, her gaze urgently searching the darkness, her keen senses seeming muddled as if something interfered with her perception of what should be right there. Even though she recognized the thing lying at her feet, instinct made her crouch to pick it up.

Studying the night, her manner turned predatory.

Anger welled up inside her, alongside an undeniable fear as her gaze settled on the bloodied object suspended from its hair in her left hand.

Nausea pushed up into her throat, her insides frigid, her heart punching more slowly against her ribcage as her blood turned to ice in her veins.

Vampires were neither dead nor undead, as the peasants believed.

Their bodies were simply incredibly efficient.

The more powerful the vampire, the slower the beat of their heart.

With knitted brows, she examined what she already knew.

How was it Price’s head and not that of Tiny or Ralph?

They left him in charge of their camp, two miles away. Did that mean that her friends were dead?

Her chest ached, and she closed her eyes momentarily as she accepted the truth.

The two best mercenaries she ever met were taken while she talked to Marcus and Alena. What force stole men from under the noses of two powerful vampires and a dhampir?

(Version 4)

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