Page 71 of Vampire's Breath

I sat back, shaking my head. “And what good would that do?”

“You saw what happened when you were here,” Conall pressed, exasperated. “The three of us working together, with Declan on our side, have a chance of stopping Aiden and finding the Cure.”

“We don’t even know how the Cure can help,” I countered.

“You’re right. We don’t,” he admitted. “But unless we try, we’ll never know. The world is finally returning to how it’s supposed to be. The Coven of the Blood remembers their place—what they’re supposed to be doing—the balance, the light and dark.” He paused, watching me. “And we need to trust Rory and her magic. She’ll be able to see this through.”

“It still doesn’t make sense—why Mother and Father kept everything about the Cure from us. Or why we’re even like this to begin with.” I paused, my mind drifting. “Do you remember how obsessed we were with finding another dhampir when we were younger?”

Conall’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you did.”

I nodded. “In South America. But he didn’t need blood like we did growing up. He didn’t need it until he died, and his vampire half still lived.”

“But did he walk in the sun?”

“Yes. He was more sensitive to it than when he was human. And his blood didn’t protect others.”

Conall’s face twisted. “Why all the differences?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it is something you can ask the Cure when Cormac finds him.”

Conall sucked in his bottom lip for a beat before raising his gaze to mine. “You should ask him yourself, because we’ll only be strong enough to figure this out together.”

He hesitated, his following words soft but weighted.

“And maybe… it’ll bring our parents home.”

I looked out the plane window, the blue skies calling me like the ocean. I ignored the flicker in my chest, the flicker of hope. I swallowed hard and pushed it away—just as I always did. Hope, like love, was a dangerous thing to hold too close.

Briar

Iwalked up the gravel path, the stones crunching beneath my feet. Each step brought sharp edges pushing into the soles of my shoes before they shifted uneasily beneath my weight. The wind whipped around me, carrying the scent of the sea, and the sky hung heavy and gray. It was as if nature itself knew what I was feeling and was doing its best to mirror those emotions. The island was small, barely two square miles, but the trek across it from the pier had given me more than enough time to grapple with the confusion swirling in my mind.

I was finally here, back where my family had come from before Lady Isobel’s conviction. A serenity wrapped around my mind, telling me I was truly home, walking the path of my ancestors. It was like the land itself called out to me, wanting to embraceand claim me as one of its own. I tried to focus on that instead of the uncertainty and anxiety that caused my heart to flutter. I reached the end of the gravel path and stared ahead, confronted by a sight I hadn’t expected.

The howling wind pressed into my ears, and salt stung my eyes. Enormous black stones lay broken at the bottom of what had once been a massive wall. I tentatively stepped into the grass, squishing my foot into the soft ground. Lyons Hold stood before me, nothing more than ruins—a reflection, perhaps, of something inside me.

I fought back tears as I made my way forward, all at once thankful that my mother had never learned about Lady Isobel—had never learned that all that existed was a torn and broken delusional woman who gave up her life for revenge. Wasn’t that what had happened?

I flexed my fingers against the biting wind, the ruins before me screaming a warning. At one point, this all would have belonged to Lady Isobel, but it, and our family, had been reduced to nothing.

I climbed the hill. The thick stones that remained in the wall—some almost a foot across—broke the wind as I walked through what had once been the front door. The cold air swirled around me, carrying the scent of the damp and decay. I wandered forward across the grass. This must have once been the grand hall. I tried to imagine what it would have looked like, but could only see desolation.

To the right, the walls towered over me. I peered through the first door, finding a spiral stone staircase that would have once led to the upper levels. I didn’t dare climb it, as small pebbles and stones sat on some of the higher steps.

Through the second doorway lay a decrepit chamber. I struggled to place what the large space could be. Small shafts of light filtered through the sagging expanse above me. Rustedmetal fixtures adorned the walls at regular intervals. Would they have been sconces?

I walked in, the smell of rotting wood surrounding me. An enormous stone fireplace dominated the space, a coat of arms barely discernible above it. Ivy and weeds snaked in through cracks in the walls, possibly the only living things to remain in residence among these walls since 1810.

I walked to the fireplace, a desire to run my hands over the crest burning inside me. I touched the edge, and a shower of dust coated my hair.

I fought against the knot constricting my throat and leaned against the wall before my knees buckled and I sank to the cold ground. I closed my eyes, the exhaustion overtaking me. The damp stone stole the warmth from my skin, and the wind sang through the empty window frames and mortarless walls. I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, allowing the tears to burn my cheeks as they streamed down my face.

My breath stuttered and a sharp pang shot through my ribs. How could I have let myself believe Lorcan cared about me? I was tired of thinking about him, of the memory of him fucking me, driving me to an ecstasy I had never known playing incessantly behind my eyelids. I didn’t want to be doing this anymore. I didn’t want to be thinking about him. A hollowness settled in my stomach. I just wanted to forget.

I curled my fingers into fists, my nails biting into my palms as the ache in my chest spread like wildfire. I struggled to pull in air as my sobs curled around me. And how fitting it seemed. Lady Isobel had thought the Lorcan of her time cared about her too—that he would save her. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t kept her from harm the way he had promised. He hadn’t made sure that her life would go on unchanged. He had destroyed her life as the Lorcan of my time destroyed mine.

A sound exploded from my chest: half a sob, half a bitter laugh. He hadn’t destroyed my life. He’d destroyed all the walls I’d built around me—the ones that kept me alone despite a wealth of friends. I’d only ever let Amy and Mum in. It had always been safer that way. Unlike this castle around me, my walls never crumbled. People can’t hurt you unless you let them get close. But you can’t fall in love, either.

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