Marked Descendant Page 5

  “God, no,” Madalena said, looking so genuinely horrified that Naomi laughed. “Casimir, Elias and Alaric are like the brothers I never had. Ever since my father’s death, the Alliance has been my life. And yes, it’s what my father wanted. But in the end . . . it’s what I’ve chosen,” she said, and Naomi wondered if she was trying to convince herself. Madalena turned to leave, but not before giving her a lingering look.

  “Believe it or not, Alaric is trying,” Madalena said. “He really is.”

  Madalena left her alone, and Naomi’s smile faded. Their conversation had temporarily distracted her from the memory of their argument. Now it all came rushing back, and her remnant anger rose.

  She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. If he was trying, then why did he treat her like a weakling who couldn’t fend for herself? When would he trust her? Because you’re weak, her thoughts taunted her. That’s why another witch was able to get into your mind. That’s why you couldn’t stop her in that alley.

  Naomi shook away the negative thoughts, but she felt overwhelmed. She was fighting with her fiancé, the Order was up to something, there was a rogue witch out there working with them . . . and she was no closer to locating the second Stone.

  She headed up to her and Alaric’s guest room, finding a comfortable position on the floor. Her mind was teeming with anxious thoughts, but she wanted to at least attempt to locate the witch. If anything could take her mind off her argument with Alaric, it was this.

  She closed her eyes, clearing her mind and focusing on every single detail she could recall about the witch. The dark hair shot with grey, the cat-like silver eyes, the fury that contorted her features.

  With the image of the witch in her mind, she murmured a Locator spell. Mei ene si.

  Faint sparks of electricity prickled along her arms. Her magic was responding to the spell.

  She honed in on her memory of the witch’s rage, allowing it to coil around her entire body.

  Where are you? Naomi asked in her mind, before repeating the question in the ancient language. Geres il ere iy?

  An icy chill crawled around her body. Something was happening; she was getting closer. Trying to quell her excitement and maintain her calm, Naomi focused on her memory of the witch’s face, her sharp angular features infused with rage . . .

  Naomi.

  Naomi started. The voice was as clear as if it were in the room with her. Her pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat, but she kept her eyes closed.

  Geres il ere iy?

  You killed my beloved. He only wanted what was right. I will have my vengeance on you.

  Naomi repeated the spell, trying to maintain distance from the words spoken in her mind. But the witch’s voice continued, haughty and defiant.

  You won’t be able to stop us. And you know why, don’t you? Say the words.

  To Naomi’s horror, her mouth began to move of its own accord.

  “I’m too weak to stop you. I’ll never be able to control my magic.”

  Naomi tried to regain control of her mind, but the witch’s words continued, a battering ram against the inside of her skull.

  You will never wed your Blood Beast. I will kill him and make you watch. And then I will kill you.

  When the witch’s words finally stopped, Naomi came to. She had curled up into a fetal position on the floor, and she was shaking.

  The witch’s words didn’t seem like empty threats; they were promises.

  Naomi was wide awake when Alaric returned around midnight. She sat curled up in an armchair by the window, flipping through a grimoire, trying to distract herself by reading about all the classes of defensive spells.

  She’d told Madalena and the others what happened. Casimir had immediately searched through his records for any intel on Raphael’s former lovers, but he’d come up empty so far. At Madalena’s insistence, Naomi had performed several Blocking spells to close off her mind from the witch.

  Now, she looked up as Alaric hovered by the doorway. With the witch’s threat still in her mind, she’d worried about his whereabouts. Her anger had faded; she only wanted to envelop herself in his arms.

  A wave of relief filled her when she saw that he looked contrite. He approached and knelt before her, taking her hands in his.

  “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It’s just . . . this witch frightens me. More than Raphael frightened me. I fear for you,” he said, his voice wavering. “It’s hard for me, because I love you so much. The thought of losing you . . .”

  “I know,” she whispered, “because I feel the same about losing you.” She took a breath. “When you were gone, the witch got into my mind again. She said—“

  “I know,” Alaric said, his expression darkening. “Madalena told me downstairs. There’s only one thing to do.”

  “What?”

  “We prove her wrong. We wed,” he said simply. “There’s no need to delay. We can wed here at the farmhouse. This week.”

  Naomi stared at him in disbelief. She’d thought even a few months from now was too soon to get married.

  “Alaric, she just threatened us. What if she knows where we are?”

  “I’ll repeat what I said in London,” Alaric said. “The threats from our enemies will continue for God knows how long. Why put our lives on hold? We can wed before she—or the Order—can stop us. The more united we are, the stronger we are.”

  Naomi considered his words. She’d been fearful all evening over the witch’s threat, but now her defiance rose. Hadn’t she made a promise to herself to not live in fear? It was why she had joined the Alliance, why she’d allowed herself to fall in love with Alaric.

  “Let’s do it,” she said, but her smile faltered. “I wish Kat could be here. And my friend Emma . . . and Fiona.”

  “They can.”

  Alaric’s gaze was steady, calm. Her heart leapt with hope, but she hesitated.

  “Is that safe?” she pressed. “We are in hiding. If the Order finds us—“

  “I’m confident that Casimir will guard Fiona with his life; and I’ll protect Kat and Emma with my life; I know how important they are to you. They won’t be here for long, no longer than a night or two. I can fly them in and right back out. Don’t forget, we also have Elias and Madalena. We’re all capable of protecting humans from harm.”

  Joy chased away her fear, and her smile widened.

  “We defy the Order by continuing to love, to live. We won’t let them win, sweetheart. We will defeat them,” Alaric said, standing and pulling her up with him.

  He leaned in to kiss her. Naomi returned it, holding on to his words, desperate to believe them.

  Chapter 8

  It was still dawn when Alaric slid out of bed the next morning. Naomi continued to sleep, curled into the empty spot he’d just occupied on the bed, her breaths soft and shallow. A wave of tenderness seized him and he reached down to stroke her hair, careful to avoid her skin; the frostiness of his touch might wake her.

  Alaric turned to slip from the room, relieved when he scented the others in their guest rooms. He didn’t want them to question him about where he was going. He had two personal stops to make in London, and he wasn’t in the mood for Madalena and the others’ prying. They might try to stop him.

  As he made the drive out of the countryside towards London, he dialed Fiona. She picked up on the first ring.

  “Alaric!” she said, delighted, and he smiled at the sound of his daughter’s voice. Her tone suddenly shifted to one of concern. “Is everything all right? Did something happen?”

  “Everything’s fine,” he said, still smiling. Usually it was the other way around; he was the one who worried about Fiona. Ever since he’d turned her a century ago, she had a case of wanderlust, traveling from country to country to explore the world, something she hadn’t been able to do during her human years, as a poor servant. She’d spent time with their group when they were at his estate weeks ago, but she’d left not long after their confrontation with the Order
in Greece. He suspected she wanted to avoid Casimir, but hadn’t pressed the issue when she left.

  “I have good news,” he said. “Wonderful news, actually.”

  He told her about his and Naomi’s upcoming ceremony, and she let out an excited squeal.

  “Of course I’ll be there. I’m in Tokyo now, but I’ll hop on the next flight out,” she said. “I have to say, Alaric. It’s about time.”

  “I know.” After Ileana’s death, he never thought he’d love any woman again. Naomi had changed everything for him.

  “Is Casimir still with your group?” Fiona asked. Her tone was light but forced; she was trying to sound casual.

  “Yes,” he said, after a brief pause. “Is that going to be a—“

  “No. Not at all. I’m heading into the subway, so I have to run. I’ll see you tomorrow, I’ll text you my flight info,” Fiona said. “And Alaric?”

  “Yes?”

  “Hold on to Naomi. She’s perfect for you.”

  Alaric’s smile widened. “I know.”

  Joy continued to hum throughout him as he arrived in London, though he was dreading what he’d come here to do.

  When he arrived in Chelsea, driving past the affluent shops and homes, he had to quell his nerves. He found a residential street to park the car, getting out to make his way on foot to his final destination.

  He stopped across the street from a familiar Victorian townhouse; it looked exactly the way it had a century ago, with its golden brick facade and white rustic framed windows. The only difference was the trimmed hedges and cast iron gates that now surrounded it. He wondered if the residents of the neighboring homes had any idea that one of their neighbors was a deadly vampire.

  Alaric waited in the shadows of an empty side yard, training his gaze on the house. The early morning air prickled at his skin and he shivered, shoving his hands in his pockets. Vampires felt heat, cold and everything in between with more intensity than humans or witches.

  Ignoring the slight chill in the air, he settled into the stillness of the quiet morning. This had been his favorite part of being a Watcher, the relative peace and silence of observation. Being a Watcher had led him to Naomi. He’d enjoyed those days in Athens, watching her as she went about her routine, unaware he was slowly falling in love with her.

  Fury surged through him when he thought of the witch who confronted her in the alley. He was relieved that Naomi agreed to wed him so soon; the witch’s threats convinced him their enemies didn’t want them to be together. It could be out of their prejudiced views of vampires and witches mating, or they knew a witch bond between him and Naomi would add another layer of protection for her. He prayed it was the latter.

  Alaric stilled when the reason he had come to London appeared. Elisabetta stepped out of her front door, her eyes focused on her phone. To the average human, she looked like a beautiful woman out for a morning stroll, not the three-hundred-year-old lethal creature she actually was.

  He trailed her as she walked down the street, making her way to the bustling thoroughfare of Kings Road. He kept his pace slow, trailing her from a block behind, scanning the surroundings as he walked.

  He didn’t believe Elisabetta’s intentions were pure. He needed to find a quiet side street or alley where he could question her about why she really joined the Alliance. And if she was after Naomi . . .

  Rage simmered beneath his senses, and he expelled a tense breath. Elisabetta approached an alley, and he sped up. This was his chance.

  But before he could grab her, she whirled, and in a quick movement she dragged him off the street and into the alley, pinning him against the wall with one arm against his throat, her lips curled back to reveal her fangs.

  “You think I didn’t sense you watching me?” she asked. “I’m not some oblivious human, Alaric.”

  Alaric yanked himself out her grasp, baring his own fangs.

  “I’m here to tell you to stay away from Naomi,” he snarled.

  “If I wanted to harm your little witch, I never would have joined the Alliance,” she said, her blue eyes flashing.

  “Why did you join the Alliance?”

  An emotion he couldn’t discern flickered in her eyes. Regret? Hurt?

  “Perhaps like you I’ve changed. Perhaps I want to atone for my past deeds.”

  “That’s bollocks,” he snapped, “you’re a killer, Elisabetta. Always have been, always will be.”

  There was that flicker in her eyes again. She looked away, when her eyes again met his, they were filled with defiance.

  “If I’m still a killer, then so are you,” she said. “Has it crossed your mind that I want to protect Naomi as well? The only Descendant we’re aware of?”

  “I don’t believe you,” he said. He lowered his voice to a growl. “If you do anything to harm her . . . I will kill you.”

  “She really has lured you in, hasn’t she?” Elisabetta purred. “I suppose she is beautiful. In a wholesome American sort of way, I suppose.”

  “She’s the love of my life,” Alaric said.

  To his surprise, there was no jealousy in her expression at his words. Instead, she looked . . . relieved.

  “Then you should know something,” she said.

  “What?” he asked, bracing himself for a threat.

  “The Alliance can’t be trusted. A member—or more than one member—is working for the Order.”

  Alaric froze; it was what he and the others had suspected, but it was still startling to hear out loud.

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve done some investigating on my own,” she said. “I want the Order stopped. I don’t care if you believe me or not. Even people who aren’t members of the Alliance want them stopped. If you’re so concerned about Naomi’s safety, stop looking at people like me, and look at people you supposedly trust. And,” she added, with a sharp look, “you were mine once, but I’m no longer infatuated with you. This is not about you; I genuinely want Naomi to stay safe and alive. Threaten me again . . .” her voice dropped, eyes darkening, “and I just may kill you. I may be younger than you, but I’m just as strong.”

  She sped out of the alley before he could stop her. He watched her go, conflicted. Elisabetta had been a consummate liar when he knew her, luring humans and witches to their deaths with seductive smiles and promises. She could be lying to keep him off her scent.

  But there was something different about her now. Perhaps she was telling the truth?

  He shook his head. He didn’t know what to believe. He would ask Casimir to keep her under surveillance . . . just in case.

  Alaric left Chelsea to head to Mayfair, parking on a street he hadn’t ventured to in years. He got out of the car, studying the elegant three-story Georgian town home before him. He’d once shared this house with Ileana, the vampire he’d loved a lifetime ago. Ever since Naomi came into his life, he’d thought little of Ileana, something which initially caused him guilt. But he now accepted that his feelings for Naomi eclipsed what he had ever felt for anyone else.

  Still, he hesitated to go inside. It was in this house where he’d found Ileana’s murdered body; nightmares of the discovery had plagued him for years afterwards. Despite the gruesome memory, he’d never been able to give up the house. Perhaps it was time.

  When he entered the house, only a faint trace of sadness filled him, rather than overwhelming grief. He’d long since removed the furniture and decorations Ileana had filled the house with, and it was mostly empty now. He made a beeline to the study in the rear of the house to unearth what he’d come for. He found it nestled in a small box at the base of the bookcase, one of the few pieces of furniture still in the house.

  He opened the box. Inside was an interlocking gimmel ring set with diamonds as the center stones. The yellow gold bands were inscribed with his human family name, Donatien. It was one of the few relics he’d kept from his human years; it had once belonged to his human mother. He hadn’t been particularly close to her, her act of giving him
this ring had been one of her few acts of affection he could recall.

  He’d initially planned to buy Naomi one of those flashy engagement rings humans wore, but he suspected Naomi would appreciate this more. She wanted to know more about his human years, and he wanted to share a part of those years with her.

  Pocketing the rings, Alaric stood, taking one last look around the study before leaving. This time when he left, closing the door behind him, it felt as if he were officially shutting the door on his past to begin his future with Naomi.

  Chapter 9

  Naomi panicked when she awoke to find Alaric gone, calming only when she found a text from him, informing her he’d gone to London to run an errand and would be back later that day.

  Naomi studied the text for a moment, puzzled. What kind of errand? She suspected he’d purposefully been vague. He was doing it again, retreating into a bubble of secrecy. She could only hope he wasn’t doing something dangerous. She debated following him into London, but decided against it. She’d have to trust he would be honest about what he was up to, and his secrecy was a thing of the past.

  After she got showered and dressed, she performed two Blocking spells to seal off her mind. She remained in their room to call Kat, biting her lip as she waited for her to answer. While Kat approved of their relationship, she didn’t know how she’d react to the news of them getting married so soon.

  When Kat answered, Naomi told her about their wedding plans right away, and waited tensely for Kat’s response. At first, there was a long pause, and Naomi braced herself for a tirade. Instead, she heard sniffling.

  “Kat? Are you . . . crying?”

  “I’m just so happy for you,” Kat whispered. “I’ve watched you struggle for so many years . . . you were isolated for so long. Your happiness is all I ever wanted for you. All your parents wanted for you.”

  A rush of relief and joy swept over her; she felt guilty for assuming Kat would be anything but happy for her. Naomi had been isolated for most of her life when she thought her locked magic was a troubled psyche; there was a time not too long ago when she thought she’d be alone forever. Now she’d found her soulmate, who came in the form of a devastatingly gorgeous four-hundred-year-old vampire.