A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(80)

The only blight on his happiness was the fact that he would soon leave her, which was unbearable in itself, but now she’d begun insisting on going with him. She’d told him that she would go and fight by his side and “not let all this considerable badassness go to waste,” or she would return to her coven.

She refused to remain behind at Kinevane. He knew he could talk her from her ultimatum. Surely, she could be brought to see things logically. Yet every day as she got stronger, he was a bit less confident. If she remained resolved in this, his choices would be to give up his revenge or possibly lose her to her coven. Both were untenable, in his mind.

He and Harmann finished speaking of some other business details, and shortly after Harmann scuttled off again, Bowe rapped on the door.

“You know where the scotch is,” Lachlain said.

Bowe had apparently just come from the kitchen and was licking his thumb of something sweet-smelling on his way to the bar. When he poured one for his host, Lachlain emphatically shook his head.

Bowe shrugged and lifted his own. “To creatures that are other.”

“They do make life interesting.” Lachlain realized Bowe was almost not in evident pain. “Are you relieved?”

“Aye. Spotted her tending her plants downstairs, and when I saw you’d claimed her, I was glad for you.” After a swig, Bowe observed, “You marked her a bit…hard, did you no’?”

Lachlain scowled.

“By the way, do you know what ‘heroin chic’ is? She said I should be aware that it’s so last year.” When Lachlain shrugged, baffled, Bowe turned serious. “The elders want to know what happened to you. Have been pestering me.”

“Aye, I understand. When they come here, I’ll tell them everything. I need to anyway so we can begin this.”

“You think it wise to leave her so soon?”

“No’ you, too,” he snapped.

“Just want it noted that leaving her behind is a risk I myself would no’ take. And they’ve no’ found Garreth anyway.”

Lachlain ran a hand over his face. “I want you to go to New Orleans. Find out what the hell is going on.”

“Have to check my schedule.” At Lachlain’s look, he said, “All right. Leaving in the morning. Now, would you like to view the latest in vampire intelligence?” He tossed a file on the desk. “Courtesy of Uilleam and Munro, who look forward to seeing you soon.”

Uilleam and Munro were brothers and two of Lachlain’s oldest friends. He’d been pleased to hear they were doing well, though both still had not found their mates. Probably a good thing for Munro, since ages ago a clan seer had once predicted he would have a harridan for himself.

Lachlain scanned the file, astonished by the developments within the Horde in the last one hundred and fifty years.

Kristoff, a rebel vampire leader, had taken Mount Oblak castle, one of the five Horde strongholds. Lachlain had heard rumors of Kristoff, had heard he was Demestriu’s nephew, and now members of the clan had uncovered the entire story.

Kristoff was the rightful king of the Horde. Just days after he’d been born, Demestriu had attempted to have him killed. Kristoff had been smuggled out of Helvita, then raised by human guardians. He’d lived among them for hundreds of years before he learned who he truly was. His first rebellion had been seventy years ago and had ended in failure.

“So the legend of the Forbearers is true?” Lachlain asked. They were not merely abstainers. The Forbearers were Kristoff’s army, an army he’d been secretly making since antiquity.

“Aye, he’s created them from humans, stalking battlefields for the bravest warriors who’d fallen, sometimes turning entire families of worthy brothers. Think of it, you’re a human lying in the dark nearly slain—I’d consider that a bad day—and then a vampire appears, promising immortality. How many do you think really listen to the conditions of his dark offer—eternal life for eternal fealty?”

“What’s his agenda?”

“No one in the Lore knows.”

“So we canna predict if Kristoff will be worse than even Demestriu.”

“Is it possible to be worse than Demestriu?”

Lachlain leaned back, mulling the possibilities. If this Kristoff had taken Oblak, then he’d want the royal seat of Helvita as well. It was possible that Kristoff could kill Demestriu for them.

Yet there was another twist. Oblak had been the hold of Ivo the Cruel, the second in command of the Horde. For centuries, he’d had his sights on Helvita and the crown, and he’d apparently survived the taking of his castle. He’d been eyeing Helvita when he had his own holding; now robbed of it, he must be aching for Helvita. Would he make a play for it, even knowing the Horde had never recognized a leader without royal blood?

Three unpredictable powers, three possibilities. Lachlain knew Ivo’s vampires were stalking Valkyrie all over the world, obviously searching for one among them, but was Ivo doing Demestriu’s bidding or acting alone? Would Kristoff take the offensive and seek out the target who was clearly so important to the Horde?

Though there was speculation, no one could say with certainty who this person was.

Lachlain feared he could. One or even more of these factions were searching for the last female vampire.



That night Emma lay under his arm as he slept. He held her like a vise, as if he dreamed she was leaving him. When, in fact, he was going to leave her. Uneasy, she ran one fang along his chest and lapped for comfort. He groaned softly.