Death's Rival, page 1
Death's Rival
Seasons of Necromancy
Ciara Graves
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Afterword
Death's Rival
Seasons of Necromancy Book Three
Mysterious necromancers. Wicked vampires. Fierce witches. Forbidden alliances. This Academy of Magics will suck you in.
* * *
Aleister’s a great guy—erm, vampire—but things don’t feel right for Emery. The chemistry is off. Is it her magic or his missing magic? Or is it all about Gentry, the vampire she’s never been able to get out of her mind?
* * *
Gentry’s on a mission to get answers about the cultists. That’s all he has left, now that Emery doesn’t want him anymore. He’s risking life and limb to get the answers. Literally.
* * *
Except when he’s injured and Emery offers her blood, binding them in a way that is irrevocable and irresistible.
* * *
As if all of this isn’t bad enough, a new death witch appears on campus with a mission to teach Emery. Except she seems to have an agenda. All of this will make for a difficult semester at the academy for supernaturals.
* * *
Warning: This series will hook you! Violence and blood can be found in this series of action-packed academy fantasy, with necromancers, vampires, and badass witches.
Chapter 1
Gentry
The massive iron gates swung inward as I approached. Jared and the four vampires I’d dragged with me followed. The summer had been exceedingly long. Despite the numerous rumors we’d tracked down, I hardly had anything to show for it.
September had come too damned fast. Though I would’ve preferred to keep seeking out more leads, I had to show my face back at the mansion, and eventually, at the academy.
I tried to tell myself it wasn’t because I missed Emery and was worried about her.
A lot of good that did me.
We might not have found the answers I was hoping for, but we found something, alright. I wasn’t sure yet if it was helpful or made the situation worse. I clutched the pendant in my fist, the one I’d taken off the rampaging spirit at the end of last semester. Finding any more of the cultists connected to that symbol had proved damned near impossible. Figuring out who belonged to the Order of the Frozen Hearts was a bit easier.
None of them, however, felt obligated to talk about it. I’d gone so far as to reach out to contacts across the ocean. They knew about the Order—since it started over there—and the story about the Twisted Thorn Coven being destroyed, but that was it. Nothing about a spiral thorn with a flower budding at its center. Despite no one giving us answers, we had to be getting close to valuable information. During the last couple of months, we’d had a few run-ins. Vampires, shifters, even a few fae, and witches had attacked us out of nowhere. It seemed too coincidental to not be a part of the cultists.
Jared, my closest friend within the House of the Red Moon, nudged me when we were close to the mansion. I shoved the pendant into my pocket, glancing in the direction he pointed.
“Looks pissed,” Jared muttered.
“I expected nothing less.”
“You did let him know where you were, right?”
“Thought about it, but there was no point. I wasn’t here, and that’s all he’ll care about. I’ll deal with him.”
Brolan stood on the wrap-around front porch of the sprawling mansion that had been my home for the past hundred and seventy years. His arms were crossed, his nostrils flared, and his eyes burned red. The anger pouring off him was palpable. If I’d been a younger vampire, or if he’d been the one to turn me, it would’ve stopped me in my tracks. I was neither, so I pushed on until I stood a couple of feet away, staring at him.
Jared and the rest of my small group bowed to our prince and ducked inside after a few seconds of Brolan not acknowledging them. He remained still as a statue, the pulsing radiance of his eyes the only visible change.
The seconds of harsh silence stretched on until I finally decided to screw it and made for the front door.
Brolan’s hand shot out and pressed into my chest, stopping me.
“Three months,” he uttered, voice shaking with anger. “Three months you’ve been gone without a word as to where you were or if you were still alive.”
“I had things to take care of.”
“I told you to stand down. The witch responsible for the murders was caught. There was no reason for you to be stirring up trouble. I told you not to meddle, and what have you been doing? Meddling. Do you know how many calls I received about a pack of vampires intimidating our kin? Going after witches? What were you thinking?”
I stepped back, and his hand fell away. “I needed to find answers. No one else was looking for them.”
“Answers to what? You knew the murderer was identified and is currently being held in custody.”
“According to a witch being influenced by Cassandra Thornheart. Forgive me if I don’t believe a word that comes out of Cassandra’s mouth. There’s something off about her. I don’t know how none of you see that.”
“If you’d stuck around, you’d know the Guard found evidence—”
“Bullshit,” I spat, cutting him, and he flinched. “You’re the one that said trusting her was a bad idea, and now suddenly you do? Why is that? Why are you willing to take her at her word? Perhaps you’re the one being manipulated.”
Fisting his hands in my shirt, he swung me around, crashing me into the stone column on the front porch. He snarled an inch from my face. “Do you have any idea what you made me look like this summer?” he ranted, ignoring my questions. “I chose you for my heir because I believed you could handle the responsibilities. Now, I’m wondering if I chose wrong.”
“Maybe you did.”
He blinked, letting me go. “What has happened to you?”
I tugged on my shirt to straighten it, snatched my duffle off the porch, and stormed into the house. “I’ve tried to tell you, but you won’t listen.”
“Please tell me you weren’t out there pissing off who knows how many vampires all for that witch with death magic?” he raged, charging inside behind me. “What are you thinking? She’s the enemy, and you’re helping her.”
With a furious growl, I whirled around, clenching my fists at my sides. “She’s the one in trouble. She’s the one being attacked. She’s not the enemy.”
“It’s all lies, a game she’s playing,” he insisted.
I barked a bitter laugh. “To what end, huh? There’s some crazy cult of supernatural beings kidnapping people to do who knows what with them, and you don’t give two shits about any of it because their main target happens to be a witch with death magic. What if they’re behind the attack on the House of the Crow? Or the murders?”
“There are no secret cults. And the witch responsible for the murders is in custody. She’s already confessed to the spiritual attacks, too.”
“Confessed?”
“Yes.”
“And what did she say about the spiritual attacks? How did she do it?”
“Using her death magic, that’s how.”
“Just her?”
“Yes,” he shouted, to which I shook my head. “You don’t believe me?” he pressed.
Recalling everything Rose relayed to us about the hex used to turn the spirits violent, I knew there was no way one witch could’ve caused the attack on the vampires. It made it even less likely since she had no death magic. Whatever confession she gave was probably given out of fear for her life and the well-being of her coven.
“She didn’t do it,” I whispered. “They have the wrong person, and you’re going to realize that too damned late.”
“Why are you trying to protect her? She’s a killer.” I threw my hands up, stalking away until he yelled, “You’re not going back to WMA this fall.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I don’t know what that death magic witch has done to you, and until I have you examined, you’re to remain under this roof. Do I make myself clear?”
“Not happening,” I warned, heading for the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Vampires watched from doorways and down the halls. Others peered over the upper railings. I avoided their confused and worried gazes. A few of them looked furious, shooting me my fair share of dirty looks and glares. I felt sorry for them.
A year ago, I’d been exactly like them. Consumed by my need for revenge against anyone with death magic, no matter who they were. I saw them as nothing but an evil presence in our world. So much had changed in the last year. I saw how detrimental it was for me to let those dark thoughts continue to rampage through my mind and threaten to turn me into a heartless monster. I’d come face to face with evil the night our house was attacked.
But I’d also seen real evil in the eyes of those cult members when they tried to kill Aleister and me in the hollow, when they tortured Emery without flinching in the face of her screams. The war with the necromancers ended a hundred and fifty years ago. If Brolan and the rest of my House couldn’t see that, they’d be blindsided when this new enemy finally made their move, a new enemy connected to Cassandra Thornheart. If I could find pro of, maybe Brolan would shut up for two seconds and listen to reason.
“Gentry, get back here,” Brolan shouted.
Ignoring him, I hurried into my room to grab what I needed to leave again. There was no point in sticking around if Brolan was going to continue to deny the truth. I emptied my duffle of dirty clothes, filled it with fresh ones. I tossed in a few other odds and ends I didn’t want to be without, including three long daggers, a few smaller knives, and the only item I had left from Kiley. Worried about losing it, I always left it here. Not sure I’d come back; I wasn’t about to leave it behind. I picked up the black and red twisted metal ring that barely fit my right pinkie and slipped it on. Everything else I needed for the fall semester was already back in my room at the academy.
Bag packed, I slung it over my shoulder and reached the door.
Brolan blocked my way, fuming. “You’re not leaving this house. You’re sure as hell not leaving if it’s to see that witch.”
“I’m not going to walk away from her, not after everything she’s done for me. She’s in trouble, and I’m going to help her. This cult you keep denying exists is still after her, and possibly after Aleister and me. I don’t care if you believe me or not. I’m going to find them and stop them before they hurt anyone I care about.” I walked up to him, waiting for him to step aside. “I politely request you move, Prince Brolan.”
“First thing tomorrow night, I’ll be bringing in a specialist to see what can be done about your situation. If she put a hex on you, we’ll find out. Then you can return to yourself. This is for your own good.”
My eye twitched while I glared. I’d hoped this wouldn’t come down to a fight, but Brolan wasn’t giving me much choice. “If you’d let me explain what I found—”
“I don’t want to hear anymore,” he bellowed. “No more about cults that don’t exist or branded people in the woods, or magical totems, or anything to do with your suspicions of Cassandra Thornheart. She’s a member of the Eternal Ember. Any threat you make against her will brand you a person of interest and a possible threat. Is that what you want? To be carted off in chains?”
“And if she isn’t who she says she is? Why are you protecting her?” I demanded. A second later, it hit me. I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re only willing to side with her because of her stance on those with death magic. All about politics, isn’t it? Staying in control. You think you need her to keep your kin loyal to you?”
“How dare you suggest those under this roof are not loyal. The more who see necromancers for the true threat they are, the better.”
I’d known Brolan for almost two centuries. Over the years, I’d grown accustomed to the subtle changes in his face when he wasn’t entirely truthful. Even the tone of his voice shifted. It was slight, but the difference was there. I stared into his dark eyes, searching for a hint about what he wasn’t telling me.
And for a split second, the vampire looking back at me wasn’t the Brolan I knew.
“What did she do to you?” I whispered.
He bared his fangs, his rage washing the brown from his eyes, replacing it with crimson. He grabbed my arm, almost breaking it. “We’re finished discussing this matter, you hear me?”
I yanked my arm free with a hiss. “You can’t keep me here.” I took a step forward.
Brolan’s punch to my gut caught me off-guard. I raised my left arm in time to block the fist aimed at my face. I didn’t, however, see his other fist. It struck me in the kidney.
I grunted, staggering out of my room and into the hall. Instinct kicked in, and I hit him right back, striking him in the jaw with my fist and landing another strike to his ribs. We fought, landing blows and snarling viciously while the other vampires moved back to let us have at it.
Brolan rammed his elbow into my nose then headbutted me. I nearly fell down the stairs but caught myself on the iron railing at the last second.
“That witch will be the death of you.” He spat blood at the floor near my feet. His split lip quickly healed while he approached.
I wiped the blood from my face, not backing down. “I failed to save Kiley. I won’t do the same with Emery.”
“She’s going to get what’s coming to her. If you stand in the way, I won’t be there to save you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He growled in answer and came at me again.
I struggled to keep his attacks from reaching me, my mind a frenzied mess. Brolan had to know more about the new sanctions Cassandra had proposed for those with death magic. It was the only reason he’d have said that. Which meant whatever she had planned, he was backing her play. They might have the same views on necromancers, but I was sure there was more to it.
That stranger staring back at me wasn’t the Brolan I knew. I didn’t want to believe it, but somehow Cassandra managed to find a way to magically influence Prince Brolan Wolcen.
He wound his arm around my neck, hauling me further down the hall. He was close to snapping my bones. I sputtered curses, needing to get to Emery. Brolan’s words taunted me that whatever was coming next was going to be far from good for anyone with death magic.
I twisted to get free of Brolan’s grip on my neck, but he held on too tight.
“When you heal, you and I are going to have a very long chat,” he muttered. “And you’ll never see that witch of yours again.”
Drawing on what last bit of strength I had, I rammed Brolan into the wall, breaking through the sheetrock and landing in another room. His grip loosened, and I grabbed his arm, twisting it around until I heard a loud crack.
Brolan hissed.
I flipped him over my head, sending him careening through the adjacent wall, clear into the next room. I followed in a blur, standing over him, fists at the ready. He glared up at me, eyes narrow, body trembling.
He made no move to attack.
I went to my room, grabbed my bag, and headed for the stairs.
“If you walk out that door, you’re no longer my heir,” Brolan whispered.
I heard him loud and clear, as did the entire mansion.
He continued, “You will no longer be welcome in this House.”
Not hesitating for a second, I continued down the stairs, out the front door, and climbed into my old black truck.
Jared appeared on the front porch, a grim expression on his face. I might not have Brolan backing me anymore, but Jared would be around if I needed him.
I turned around and drove out the gates.
It would be a long drive to reach Emery and Aleister in Colorado. The trip would give me time to clear my head and prepare for seeing Emery face-to-face again.
I scoffed, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. There weren’t enough hours between now and reaching her to make me even remotely ready to see her.
Halfway through Wyoming, I stopped for gas and blood. Several vampire-friendly stops dotted the back roads route I’d taken, hidden from humans with simple illusion spells. Thanks to my vehicle's specialty windows—made from the same glass used at the house and the academy—the sun wasn't an issue. Gassing up merely had to be well-timed so as to not get burned outside of the vehicle. The small gas station I pulled into had its lights on, a shining beacon in the night. Getting blood and gas had been the least stressful part of my trip.
Figuring out what I was going to say when I reached Emery was a whole other issue.
The second I turned the truck off, the air became thick, and the night was far too quiet.
A cool breeze brushed against the back of my neck, lifting my unruly hair. I sniffed, the strong hint of fresh blood making my fangs extend and my hands reach for the knife sheathed at my back.
The small store appeared void of life.
“Just get the truck filled and go,” I muttered to myself.
Something made alarms go off in my mind. While the gas was pumping, I surveyed the area.
