Page 12 of The Vampire King's War

“We’ve found it,” Joanna’s voice was hushed with reverence. “This is going to change everything, Jack. This place, Vampires, all of it will change the world.”

Christian saw Jack’s expression before Joanna did, before Jack could hide it. And though there was wonder on Jack’s face, there was also grief.

He knows. He knows that discovering this will be the last thing they do. That their time is running out. How did the two of them keep so positive when they knew that doom was coming?

Christian knew that he would have tried to logic his way out of the fear of his own death. He would have told himself that worrying would have been pointless. Everyone who lived must die. At least, he’d thought that before knowing about Vampires.

No one knew when their end would come. It could happen by crossing the street at the wrong moment. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Catching a disease. Going down in a plane. There were simply so many ways one could die. But to have that shadow over him, knowing all that time that he would be leaving his young son to face life alone. Maybe that expression on Jack Harrow’s face was caused by thinking all of this.

But by the time that Joanna had turned to face Jack though all traces of grief had gone and only wonder remained. He wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and kissed her nearest temple.

“You’re right, Joanna, this is going to change the world,” Jack breathed.

“Do you suppose there are any Vampires inside?” Joanna asked him, an almost impish delight in her eyes.

Jack grinned. “Let’s go find out.”

Time sped forward again, but for a shorter time. Christian found himself still in Nightvallen but not outside the gates, well inside them, but, again, in a place he remembered. It was Daemon’s tomb.

Christian’s chest seized. He lifted a hand to his throat where his life had been wrested from him by force. But Selene and Heath were not there. There were no other Vampires stalking the Harrows as he and Julian had been stalked. The two of them were circling Daemon’s tomb.

“Do you suppose he is why the city is empty?” Joanna asked, pointing with the end of her pencil at Daemon’s “stony” corpse. She was clearly sketching the shrine.

Jack stood still by Daemon’s side, hands on his hips, peering down at the sleeping Vampire King. “This does look like a sarcophagus, doesn’t it?”

Joanna nodded as she continued to draw. “It’s like they couldn’t bear to live here after he died. Do Vampires die? The Acolytes tell us that crucifixes, garlic, holy water and whatnot do nothing. And I see nothing here to tie this culture with Christianity.”

“It is most definitely its own thing,” Jack agreed.

“Perhaps he was a king of theirs?” Joanna continued on. “A great king. Just think about leaving a place like this to fade away with all the knowledge we know is here…”

She broke off and shook her head as if she couldn’t imagine the waste of doing such a thing. Christian couldn’t either.

“Maybe, they thought he would come back some day,” Jack murmured.

“What?” Joanna sounded distracted. Her tongue was pushing out the side of her cheek as she erased a wrong line.

“He looks like he’s sleeping,” Jack continued softly. His eyes were fixed on Daemon’s form. “I know its stone, but it is so real.”

“The skill to create such a thing would take centuries to learn. Maybe longer,” Joanna said as she studied her own sketch.

“Yes. Hard to believe it is art.”

Jack leaned over as he reached out and lightly touched the rose that Daemon held. He let out a soft “ah” as his thumb was cut by the rose’s petals. A single bead of blood clung to those petals and then sank into the bloom.

“Jack?” Joanna was instantly alert the moment that her husband had let out that soft cry.

“I’m okay… I’m…” He stared at Daemon.

Christian found himself leaning forward too. Julian was destined to wake Daemon from his endless sleep, but he wondered if Jack hadn’t kickstarted the process with that one drop of blood after millennia of nothing. Jack’s eyes went distant and his mouth opened.

“Jack?!” Joanna’s voice took on a note of concern and she rushed to her husband’s side. She gripped his shoulders, shaking him. “Jack?!”

“Julian,” Jack murmured. “I can see him…”

“What? Julian…” Joanna spun around, looking for their son who Christian guessed was 12 years old at the time.

Tears tracked down Jack’s face suddenly, but they weren’t tears of sadness, but of joy. “Oh, Joanna, he’s grown! Oh, he’s beautiful! Strong! He’s… here?”

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