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Freedom.
And neither the Kings nor my brother will stop me.
Chapter 20
Weylen
Ican still taste her on my tongue. The little vixen who lies sleeping in her bed, unaware of the monster who seeks to ravage her. It has been many centuries since I have felt such a thirst for someone’s blood. Thalia’s unique, exquisite taste is sweeter than the finest wine. It’s the blood of a völve, a witch. In my time, witches were not uncommon, nor were they feared as they later became by the men of God.
Our little lamb is much more than just a typical witch. Her people come from a long line of powerful Romani seers that date back thousands of years. Long before modern witchcraft came into play.
She’s exactly what we need to destroy Jedidiah.
A tool.
A weapon.
That’s what I keep telling myself. There’s a bubble of guilt welling up inside me that threatens to burst, but I push it down. Thalia can’t be any more than a means to an end. No matter how much I want her to be more. Asher agrees with me, but neither of us has been able to get Drystan to see reason. Thalia has been hurt by her family just as much as we have. She isn’t complicit in their dealings with Jedidiah. She’s as much a tool for them as she is for us.
“You don’t own me, Drystan.” Irena’s shrill voice seeps through the hallways. Andre dragged her, kicking and screaming, through the house this morning, her colorful tirade of curses causing the staff to scatter. I was afraid she would wake our sleeping beauty, but last I checked on her, she was still blissfully asleep.
“You know this is a ridiculous move, Irena,” Drystan growls, his tone inching higher. There are very few people in this world who can cause Drystan to lose his temper, and his little sister is one of them. “Jedidiah will fix your fight, and you won’t have a say in what goes down.”
The look on Irena’s face when I enter the room tells me she knows exactly what Jedidiah will do.
“Weylen.” She greets me with a nod, her lips pursing as she turns back to her brother. There aren’t many vampires who are as old Drystan and Irena. They’re known as Ancients. A lineage of vampires that came long before the birth of Jesus Christ. There are less than a handful of them left now. Jedidiah hunted them to near extinction in the mid-nineteen hundreds, inciting a world war just to cover his tracks.
“Irena.” I acknowledge her with a whisper. There are very few people with whom I actively speak. She is one of them, but even Irena doesn’t get to see the side of me my brothers do. Hell, I’m quiet and reserved around them as well, just not as much.
“I know exactly what Jedidiah will do,” she tells Drystan. “I need you to trust me on this.”
Drystan sighs, running a hand down the lower half of his face. “He knows of your abilities, ’ukht.” His tone softens. “Whatever he’s planning, it’s a manipulation.”
“Unless I know that he’s manipulating me.”
Irena has a point. Her visions allow her to see someone’s desires and actions. Jedidiah knows this, which means whatever he’s projecting, he knows she will see it, and he knows she will know it’s a manipulation. Her best offense is to be several steps ahead of him in guessing his true intentions without him realizing what’s happening. Which means she can’t discuss the details with us in case something gets back to Jedidiah. Irena didn’t suddenly become a seer. She inherited it from her sire, who stole it from his, along with a host of other abilities. That’s one of the reasons Jedidiah murdered many of the Ancients: for their abilities.
It’s rare, and growing rarer, but an infinitesimal number of humans who are turned develop abilities as vampires. Many believe it’s because their ancestral lineage can be traced back to a witch or another magical being, but no one knows for certain. What we do know is that the abilities are often discreet, such as Irena’s ability to see the future or Drystan’s ability to heal. There are few, however, that are more dangerous, like Jedidiah’s ability to cast illusions and even manipulate memories.
We’ve all learned to guard our minds from his trickery, but there are many who can’t.
“You know what can happen in that arena…” Drystan trails off with a pained look on his face. We haven’t had a death in over a hundred years, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Or that it won’t. Jedidiah can also manipulate the prize. He could force her to join him as her debt if she loses to her opponent.
“I’m aware of the risk, ’akh,” she tells him firmly, calling him the Arabic word for brother. “If I don’t take it, the path forward will not be in our favor. If you want to use the girl, this is what needs to happen.”
“Why?” I ask, coming around to perch on the edge of the desk. Even after a full night, I can still smell Thalia’s sweet scent in this room, harmoniously mixed with my brothers’. “We can find another way to destroy Jedidiah without using her.”
“Someone is thinking with his dick,” Drystan mutters as he sits back in his chair.
“Says the one getting it sucked by her last night,” I sneer at him. It isn’t often we argue or are not in agreement. This is one of those times. “Asher agrees with me. There must be another way for us to do this without hurting her.”
“Who says anything about hurting her?” Drystan questions with a raised brow. “We only need her to activate the amulet.”
“Which could kill her,” I pointed out. “Come on, Drystan. She doesn’t even know what she is. Or at least, she didn’t. The last witch who activated that amulet was incinerated, and she was said to be the most powerful witch to ever walk the earth.”
That guilt still hangs with me to this day. We should have waited. Tested her more, but we charged ahead, and it cost the witch her life.
“Thalia is the one,” Irena murmurs. “But she’s more than just that. I can’t see it clearly, but…she’s meant for something beyond Jedidiah. She’s a lynchpin that moves us forward. I know it.”
