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“Hmm,” I agree with a frown.
Daithi O’Neely is close to regenerating.
That was his plan if things ever went south.“What good is it being an agent of death if you can’t control it?”
That had always been the ultimate goal of the patriarchs. Those who control death control the world.
Daithi’s methods had primarily been through the death stone, which is an interrealm artifact.
Meaning it can be in two places at the same time. There’s one in the death plane, and then one here, in my damned living room next to the decanter. Fallon probably thinks she destroyed the death stone, but it only retreated.
And it’s been regenerating what the patriarchs had built since the moment Daithi died.
As his soul-captive, I’m spelled, or programmed, to care about his death. The feelings are shallow and unreliable, not dissimilar to the fake fated-mate-bond spell the patriarchs figured out.
I’ve had multiple soul-masters over the years, but Daithi is by far the most repulsive.
And powerful.
“We should talk to him,” my brother presses. He gets up and straightens his suit. “Unless you finally want to be a little rebellious with me.”
I roll my eyes and turn off the screen. “Rebellion has a time and place,” I remind him.
We tried to be rebellious, once.
It nearly cost us both our lives.
He pulls a silver chain boasting a small symbol from underneath his shirt and teases it over his lips. It helps ground him when he hasn’t used his powers in a while. It was our mother’s, so that likely has more to do with its mystical properties than its material.
“The dukes are going to trace residual magic to New York,” Zyran says. “Implicating the syndicates is against our programming. But if we volunteered to help with the investigation, we would satisfy our directivesandwe could get Jasper out.”
I don’t like this idea at all.
Mostly because it’s everything I want. Ever since I reconnected with our brother, I wanted to tell him everything. My programming wouldn’t allow it, but the longer Daithi has been away, the easier it’s been.
I’m a master vampire just like both of my brothers. We’re triplets, an incredibly rare assortment for our race. Procreation is something of an issue for vampires.
But our mother was a religious sort. She prayed to the goddess of death, and as a result, she was gifted with three sons.
And all three of us have unique powers, making us master vampires.
And because of our conception, we’re all connected to the death plane, too—which ironically makes us susceptible to control from death-magic wielders like Daithi O’Neely.
To add insult to injury, the cost for all of this was my mother’s life. As a result, I’m not much for gods or religion. Her gift was a curse, one that imprisoned her sons and took her away from them, leaving them alone with a tyrannical father.
“The dukes won’t let us anywhere near Lapland,” I point out, not eager to revisit memories of my father. I can remember everything except for killing him.
I haven’t shared that with Fallon, either. She would not like the idea that I can’t even remember the moment I took revenge—and she would want to find out why.
Regarding my more pressing issue in the present, transit is most definitely a problem. The only reason I was able to get through to Lapland before was because I traveled by portal.
We’d have to travel by plane this time, subjecting us to papers and security.
My brother grinned, showing off his wicked fangs. “They will if I show them this.” He pulls a box from his pocket and opens it.
Two rings rest inside, both with garnet stones infused with our mother’s blood. They’re our birthrights—proof that we belong to the house of Gold and Garnet.
My eyes widen. “Where the fuck did you get those?”
