AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Somewhere in the Austrian wilderness
Frost hung in the air and bit at the small patches of Marcus’s exposed skin. He pulled the collar of his coat further up to brace against the unnatural chill—a futile gesture—and pressed onward.
Marcus hated the cold. He cursed the bone-shivering chill that seeped deeper into his core with each trudging step. This cold was no normal frost—it also held a silent warning. A warning he ignored.
Dusk loomed above the heavy thicket of birch trees, now barely visible through the dense blanket of mist he’d long wandered. Not a single bird chirped. No animal stirred. Only the crunch beneath his boots and the slight rustle of branches in the wind broke the oppressive silence of the bewitched forest.
He’d walked for hours already, though he could not be sure. It could have been hours, mere minutes, or days in the enchanted forest. Marcus steeled his rattled nerves, shoving his freezing hands further into his coat pockets. He would go a little further, wait a little longer.
Ancient magicks hid the infamous castle he sought. Volkov. The Castle of Wolves. Impossible to find—unless one had a death wish. Marcus had no such wish, yet here he was, walking the shadowed path of all the other poor, desperate souls who’d come before him.
The faint sound of water is what finally broke the seemingly never-ending silence. He followed it. A small stream, no more than a foot wide, lay beyond a cluster of evergreens. It trailed along a sloping hill coated in jagged, moss-covered rock and withered tangles of nettles until it, too, disappeared within the oppressive fog. Marcus came to the water’s edge and stopped. He ran his hand through his cropped, pale-blond hair, and then down over his chiseled, sun-kissed face, stopping to scratch at the thick stubble that had settled over his jaw.
It was senseless to keep going. It had been senseless to come here at all.
He glanced up at the mist and let out a heavy breath of frustration. It was no use. He’d known better than to come to this place. Marcus closed his eyes and prayed silently to the Goddess of Light for guidance. It was at the end of that unspoken prayer that the prickle he’d felt since he entered the mist condensed into a shiver that slithered up his spine like the ghostly touch of an ice-cold finger.
Marcus stiffened. His eyes shot open, then narrowed. “Tired of following me?” he asked into the silent void, hoping there would be an answer. Hoping there wouldn’t.
For several long seconds, only his thrumming heart and the trickle of water answered him.
“Why have you come?” a chilly voice eventually replied.
He’d thought himself frozen to the bone before, but those few words proved otherwise. It was not relief but pure ice that rippled through his blood upon hearing that voice again.
Marcus swallowed, tamping down the creeping instincts of the warrior he was, and forced his tone steady. “Hello, Sirus,” he said, slowly turning to face the mist behind him. From the haze of shadows emerged the creature Marcus had sought. His insides twisted and tightened the moment their eyes met. Those eyes were burned into his memory. The piercing, vacant silver eyes of the reaper of souls made flesh.
Marcus had hoped to never see those eyes or hear that voice again, yet here he was. “I’ve come to collect on my blood debt,” he declared. He did not wish to belabor his purpose.
Sirus gave no hint that he’d heard him at all, but Marcus knew well that the vampire had. He knew Sirus wouldn’t have forgotten the blood debt. The silence that settled between them made his pulse quicken. It’d been a risk to come here. To expose himself in this way. Now he would find out if the risk would bear foul fruit.
The vampire looked very much the way Marcus remembered him. His black hair was not as long as before, but trimmed near his ears and curled at the edges. He was of average height. Slender compared to Marcus, with stark features and the deep olive skin of his human forebears. His dark beard was short and flecked with silver. It was strange to see him wearing clothes of the modern day: dark pants, a blue sweater, and a long black wool coat. He looked as if he might simply blend in with a crowd, but there was no mistaking the aura of the creature staring back at Marcus. A minion of death such as this had no place in the world, not even amongst the Folk.
Most believed vampires to be abominations, and Marcus was no different. They were creatures reborn of vile, necrotic fae magicks to serve no other purpose than to spill blood. Creatures forged from the darkness itself. He’d witnessed their bloodlust, and he knew firsthand how soulless they could be.
They’d been young that day long ago on the battlefield. Both of them barely a century old. Yet Marcus had seen countless lifetimes of war and bloodshed in the young vampire’s cold eyes as their swords met. It was only luck that had given him the upper hand on his opponent. He might have just as easily found himself drawing his last breath instead.
Luck or not, a debt was a debt. Marcus could have ended him. He hadn’t. Now he would collect on his show of mercy.
“I will honor the debt,” Sirus finally said, his voice as vacant and cold as his stare, “by letting you leave alive.”
Marcus’s stomach wrenched. To the unknowing eye, he would appear superior in size and strength. A zephyr born to sun and skies, Marcus was broad and muscled, yet agile like a crisp wind. He was an accomplished soldier and a skilled fighter. Few would raise a sword against him without thinking twice beforehand.
Sirus was an opponent of deceptive appearances. An opponent Marcus knew better than to underestimate. He felt the totality of his vulnerability as he kept his hands to his sides, a show of peace. It both disgusted and humbled him to do so. He knew he didn’t have his sword at his hip, the way he usually would when facing such a creature. There was no sign of the two curved, short swords he knew Sirus to wield either, but that didn’t mean he was unarmed. Marcus had not come fully unarmed either. He’d taken a risk, but he was no fool.
“I’ve come to strike a contract,” he pressed. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy. “You owe me no thanks, Sirus. You do owe me your life.”
The vampire turned back toward the shadows of the forest. “Leave, Marcus. Do not return.”
The dismissal was stark. So stark, Marcus’s frustration overcame him. “You think I would have come if I had any other choice?” he bit out. As if any creature who wasn’t desperate would venture into the accursed forest. Marcus was desperate.
Nestra’s minions were searching even now. If they were to succeed in subverting her plans, time was of the essence. He could not risk being away from Court for long. Neither could he spare any of his men.
The true reason Marcus needed the damned vampire was even more grating. He was infamous. A hunter unlike any other, even amongst his own kind. Given how quickly they had to act, Marcus knew neither he nor any of his men could achieve what the vampire could.
Sirus continued on toward the forest, not bothering to reply. Frustration shifted to anger as Marcus watched the vampire slip into the darkness. “Our High Priestess,” he declared, not sure if it would do him any good, “she plays at dark magicks.”
