Page 5 of Darkest Heart

“You know better than to attack me, Niall.”

“Asshole.”

“Careful.” He danced his fingers with warning, seeming unbothered by my attack, but his voice was hoarse. “You may be physically stronger, but I have the magic of a thousand ancestors running through my veins.” He paused. “They don’t like vampires.”

I gritted my teeth, balling my fists as I looked down at what was left of a mortal. I slid my eyes back to him, noticing his clean cloak and pristine hands.

Perhaps this wasn’t him. He was a mortal lover, after all. But I wouldn’t put it past him to sacrifice a bunch of them to do some ancient ritual or something. “What did you do?”

“This wasn’t me. Do you notice a spot of blood on me?”

“You could have cleaned yourself up.” I grimaced, recalling the powers of sorcery. Magic could do almost anything. At least, from what I’d seen over the century. I peered at the dead and slowed my breathing. They were torn apart in the most callous way. The parts that were more intact were drained of blood. If this was a sacrificial ritual, they wouldn’t be in this state. “What happened then?” I asked as logic pierced through the anger.

With Sargon ready to leave, we couldn’t afford any delays. Especially the slaughter of our entire feeding stock. If he knew about this, he could stay. This was mine and my father’s only opportunity to make changes while the king was still alive. The threat of war still loomed, despite my betrothal to Asland’s princess. While I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than have to sit through another of Penelope’s speeches about herself, she was necessary to keep the illusion of peace.

At least, until we placed ourselves back on the center stage, showing the world the power we truly held.

Azia let out a shaky exhale, running his hand over his bald, tattooed head. “It was the aniccipere.”

“No!” I whipped my head around, punching a tree as if it might reverse what had happened. It may not have done much, but I felt a little better as I splintered the wood, then watched the cuts on my knuckles heal.

Of course it wasthem.

Even amongst vampires, the aniccipere was feared. I’d had a few run-ins over the years with demon-bred creatures. While they also use the name ‘vampire’?because the aniccipere also desired to feed on mortals?they were nothing like us. We were the product of gods and a curse. They were the offspring of demons and mortals. I despised the vermin who destroyed our food supply. They were nothing but a nuisance to society. Yet, Sargon had attempted to integrate them into our world. Even the City of Nightmares had a small population of them walking around, pretending as if they had souls and desired anything more than to kill.

Killing wasn’t beyond me. But there was a line, and their nature always crossed into pure sadism. “Why were the mortals out here?”

His cloak billowed out behind him as he walked from the clearing, leaning against the time-chiseled tree. “I’m not sure, but I knew this was coming.”

I arched a brow. “Another prophecy? Like the one about our princess?”

“Your father told you about Olivia,” he stated.

“Yes.” My lip twitched as I tilted my head at him. He was known for his psychic abilities, with every sorcerer having mastered one. His intrusion on the feelings of others was nothing but a constant agitation. “But I don’t take the word of my enemies as gospel.”

He scoffed, then kneeled next to part of a woman. “I am not your enemy, Niall. Although, if you continue to rebel against the monarchy, you will find yourself as mine.”

“You should be more careful,” I pointed out. “If word of that prophecy spreads, it won’t just be the aniccipere who wants to kill Seraphina.”

He grunted under his breath. “I did not tell anyone but the king and queen. Who they trusted with that information was up to them.”

I rolled my eyes. Sargon, at least, told Kalon, who then told me. Velda definitely knew. Gwen, I wasn’t so sure. Velda had always kept her secrets close to her chest. I hadn’t said a word, mostly because I didn’t believe it. If I did, then my entire plan was pointless.

Azia touched the skin of what was left of the mortal woman, then whispered an ancient incantation under his breath. Roots uncurled from the earth, and vines wrapped around her limbs, pulling her deep into the ground. At the end, the only evidence of the crime was a mound of fresh dirt.

Rain clouds reached over us like hands in the sky. Droplets slathered my hair around my face and neck. I wiped my face, looking up as the storm moved slowly.

I watched as he hurried the same incantations over each body, burying them along with the evidence of the attack. As long as he kept his mouth shut, we could pass this off as an escape. Perhaps a dungeon master slipped up, or a guard was paid off. I would say anything so that Sargon wouldn’t suspect the real threat of the creatures from the south, waging a war on us.

But this was an inside job. The aniccipere weren’t organized or clever enough to get into the castle and lure every beating heart out into the forest at night.

“Good,” I said as he buried the last body. “That’ll stop the stench from reaching any more noses.”

He stopped mid-spell and raised his gaze to meet mine. “That’s not why I’m doing this. These people deserve some sort of burial. With what Kalon did to Draven, I thought it best rather than leave them at the mercy of being eaten by your wretched friends.”

That was a bad joke. Even with my tastes, I didn’t agree with what my father did. Killing a mortal was fine, but having people cook him and serve it to the princess was disgusting. Seraphina was of royal blood and the heir and deserved respect. She was a sorceress and immortal, without the curse of vampirism. Serving her body parts was beneath any of us.

I couldn’t eat anyone. Blood was beautiful, filled with the energy of a person, followed by an addictive aftertaste. I could lavish in it all day. But flesh and bone weren’t as satisfying. “It’s revolting what he did to the princess. He could have just killed the boy and burned the body.”

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