Blood Solstice: Part Three in the Tale of Lunarmorte Read Online Free Page B

understand. But what am I to do with
this?”
    The Prophet shrugged. “Whatever comes naturally to you, my
son.”
    The seer struggled to his feet, Kirios rushing to help him, a
frown marring his handsome face. “I have taken too
much.”
    “ No, no. You did fine. Most vampyres do not have your
restraint.”
    “ What are you doing?”
    “ Getting you out of here.”
    At that he began yelling at the top of his voice, screaming
for help. When they heard shuffling of feet drawing closer, the
Prophet turned away from the entrance so their captors would not
see the neck wound, only the blood on his hands. Kirios lay on the
ground, his mouth wiped clean of the blood, pretending to be as
weak as ever. It was a masquerade that would end once the Midnights
looked close enough to see the fullness in his body, the healthy
sheen of his skin and hair.
    “ What is all this yelling?!”
    “ I’ve been hurt,” the Prophet grumbled.
    “ Let me have… dear goddess, man, what the Hades have you
done?”
    “ I slipped. I’m bleeding badly.”
    “ Can’t you fix that yourself?” The magik sighed in
irritation.
    “ You haven’t fed me for days. I don’t have the
energy.”
    “ Fine.” The first magik turned to the other. “Take the spell
down.”
    There was only a moments silence and then a rush of sound like
waves crashing on shore.
    “ Go, Kirios!” the Prophet yelled.
    He was gone before they even knew what had happened, running
like the wind itself, brushing by blurred magiks and out of their
citadel. Yes, he was a different creature from the one that had
been thrown into the prison. He was an altogether new breed; a new
breed of justice.
     
    ***
    Paris, 1385
     
    “ I have something to tell you.”
    Kirios turned slowly and narrowed his eyes on the beautiful
woman in his bed. Her long elegant lines were enticing as all Hades
and any other time he would have been perusing them languidly. But
her tone was not something to be dismissed. The faerie in his bed
had been keeping secrets from him.
    “ Are you going to spoil the party, love?” He asked lazily,
deceptively disguising how tense he had grown. The party he
referred to was the one going on as they spoke. The young Charles
VI of France had just been wed to his even younger bride, Isabeau
of Bavaria, and France was holding its first ever court ball to
celebrate. The faerie in his bed was a Daylight spy he had met a
few years ago when tracking a rogue vampyre. She had been gathering
evidence that the vampyre was a dog working for the Midnights and
the two of them had collided on the hunt. Collided and then fallen
straight into bed with one another. Theirs was a casual
relationship, but one of mutual respect and trust. Or so he had
thought. She had told Kirios the Coven had reason to believe the
Midnights would use the celebration of the king’s marriage as an
opportune time to attack the Daylights, who had set up one of their
largest branches of the Coven in Paris. Kirios had been in Scotland
at the time, hunting a particularly nasty lykan with his gang of
hunters, when she had appeared asking for help. He had gladly
acquiesced. They had just heard word that Richard II of England was
sending a small army invasion force against the Scots and Kirios
really hadn’t wanted to get stuck in the middle of his idiocy. It
seemed he was forever dodging the battles involving the English and
the French. Now after twenty-eight years the English were trying to
pull the Scottish back into another damn war.
    Dear Gaia, one war was enough for Kirios.
    His people had assured him they could find the lykan without
him and off he’d gone. It was, after all, a break from the tedium
of hunting rogue Daylights. He much preferred the chance to cut
down Midnights, whether magik or faerie, loving the complete shock
on their face when they realised he was impervious to their magik;
another beautiful gift from the Prophet’s blood.
    “ We did not just meet by chance,” she said softly,