Their kitchen and living room were tasteful, spotless.
Unlike the owner of the place.
‘Do you know what stopped me falling into madness when my wife was killed?’ Ronan asked as he pulled out an array of knives. ‘My kids.’
The man thrashed, his eyes wide. ‘Please—’
The words weren’t really audible, but Ronan had done this long enough to know what the plaintive singular sound meant.
‘I don’t want to have to do this,’ Ronan said. ‘But I’ve tried to thrive without my powers for so long, and now my children are in real danger. You understand.’
He activated one of Lawna’s soundproofing devices, then put his fingers on the man’s temples, bleach ready for afterwards to remove any DNA, and began.
The man’s screams ricocheted off the device’s barrier as Ronan’s eyes burned and went fully dark. Magic. Archaic, long-smotheredmagic warmed his veins after far too long. Details forged in the molten red behind his eyelids, images of decimation and destruction that reminded him all too much of the life he swore he’d never return to.
But protecting his kids?
That was worth more than a little blood and fear and darkness.
So, until he found the Druid, he’d rebuild his long-sapped strength as much as possible. Kill by kill.
He’d made his wife a promise to protect their children after all, and that was worth breaking any and every oath he’d ever made.
Even if he died trying.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Nicole
THE NEXT MORNING, NICOLE FOUND HERFATHER AND VERINin the Vampire’s chapel. Part of the house itself, not an external church on the grounds, it was a room Nicole hadn’t ventured into much.
She paused on the other side of the door, realising they were discussing something in hushed tones. She wasn’t planning on hesitating and eavesdropping, until she heard Verin’s words.
‘Were you successful?’
‘Yes,’ her father said.
Unease flipped her stomach. Successful in what?
‘You need to tell them,’ the Vampire said. ‘You can’t keep it from them forever.’
‘You know I’m not doing it on purpose,’ her father said tightly. ‘If it was possible …’
‘I know, my friend, but they might finallyneedto be told. I don’t know what the other component in the blood is, but if I’m right, it means they’ve used f—’
He stopped abruptly.
While he might not have heard her tread or breath, Verin likely heard her heartbeat stutter.
Nicole pushed the door open, and her father was now halfway down the red and navy runner of the aisle as if he’d been moving towards the door.
It was a large, bright space, consisting of an antechapel in white, tastefully staged with paintings and antiques. Through a trio of darkwood arches was the chapel proper. Inside, the paintings continued, the upper walls a soft cream and filled with religious scenes that at first appeared to be Christian, but on closer inspection were pagan. The altarpiece and chairs were cushioned in crimson, and bronze sculptures of robed women holding lamps like amphoras of fire lined the room.
‘Nicole,’ her father greeted, a normal smile on his face. ‘Are you ready to go?’
‘Er – yeah. We’re just waiting for you, and I wanted to say goodbye to Verin.’
Someone else’s clipped steps sounded from down the hall behind.
