Blood Eternal

Also by Toni Kelly

Irish Dreams

BLOOD ETERNAL

The Blessed, Book One

By TONI KELLY

LYRICAL PRESS

http://lyricalpress.com/

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/

My loving husband and family, your support is endless and I am forever grateful—whether I always show it or not.

a.c. Mason, you’ve taught me more than you will ever realize. You are immensely talented and utterly inspiring.

Acknowledgements

A special thanks to…

My family and friends, who have supported and inspired me.

Mary, my editor, whose encouragement only pushes me to further grow as an author.

1

Curst greed of gold, what crimes thy tyrant power has caused.

—Virgil

A biting chill came to Rome early, like it had the year of Victoria’s death. This time, Luke Evans sensed the sting and yearned for the crisp wetness, which would have seeped inside his bones if he were human. He pulled the lapels of his coat up out of habit and started across Piazza del Popolo toward Santa Maria di Montesanto. The church and its twin, Santa Maria dei Miracoli, loomed ahead of him, whispering words of warning. This he believed because it made sense damned creatures would not be welcome within their doors.

A young girl hurried toward him. The scent of her hunger and desperation, not unlike that of a beggar, reached him first. Holes laced the cuffs of her thin coat. Her slender form was diminished beneath jeans several sizes too large.

“
Signore
, stop,” she said, reached up and tugged the arm of his coat, pleading with her dark eyes. “Please help me. A man has taken my purse. Without it, I have nothing.” Her English held a hint of Roman accent. Perhaps a city native?

Luke would bet his immortality she did not have much within her purse. Not that immortality meant much.

“
Signore
?” The girl grasped his hand, her skin warm in comparison to his. “Please.”

“Luke.” Victoria slipped a hand through his, squeezing it tight. She turned, her pale eyes searching. She was frightened. He needed to soothe her.

No
, he thought.
Not real. Not any longer.
Victoria was gone. Eyes closed, he tried to separate reality from the images his mind recreated.

A scream echoed. This time Victoria lay still, cold. Her gray dress reflected the pallor of her skin. A matching handbag rested alongside her, its contents scattered across a growing pool of burgundy. Blood. It encroached upon the cobblestone beneath them.

“Are you okay, sir?” The girl frowned.

“Yes.” Luke blinked, letting the image of his dead wife dissipate. The girl shifted with edgy movements. Still, her tale hit too close to home for him to deny her request. He gripped her arm, his firm hold a warning as much as a comfort. “Bring me to where you last saw him.”

Her lower lip trembled and her moment’s hesitation puzzled him. A possible lie? Perhaps, but curiosity got the better of him. He let her lead him amidst the shadows of an alley. In any case, no predator worse than he awaited them. He scented anxiety, anticipation. Another human being. A male, based on the musk.

“Reveal yourself,” he said.

The man’s ragged breaths muffled his thumping heart as he stepped beneath a street lamp’s orange-tinted halo. Longish, straggly hair covered part of his face. He held a knife, the blade shaky in his tremulous grip. “Give us your wallet.”

Beside Luke, the girl backed away. He turned, disappointment a bitter taste on his tongue even as her gaze held regret. “If I refuse?” he asked. “Do you truly believe you could overpower me?”

The man stepped forward. “Leave her alone. Do as I say. We only want your cash.” Brows creased, he puffed up his chest. Young, like the girl. Nearly a boy at age eighteen or nineteen, he mistook stupidity for cunning, bravado for courage.

The predator within hungered for an easy kill. He’d gone too long without taking life. His canines lengthened, but he kept them covered. “You know not what you threaten. Do not make the mistake of playing a fool.”

The young man squinted, hesitated. His hand lowered slightly as he pressed his lips together. An insecure child pulled within hunger’s grasp. The boy shoved back greasy hair. “We need this. Don’t try to convince us otherwise. You’re free if you give us your money. We don’t want to hurt you, but we will if we must.”

Damn it. Luke did not have time for children’s games. He attacked with a rush of speed, knocked the knife from the boy’s hand and seized his neck. “You try my patience.” Beneath Luke’s thumb, blood pulsed an almost irresistible tune of temptation. It would be easy, quick. Saliva pooled on his tongue but he could sense the three of them were not alone.

An audience of one stood amidst shadows. A heartbeat too slow to be human. Broderick. The halfling possessed impeccable timing. Without easing his grip, Luke turned toward the darkness. “What is it you are hoping for? Do you find fault with my judgment?” His resolve wavered as he waited for an answer. None came. “Selfish men are thieves. Do you not see greed manifests itself here?”

For a moment the weight on his shoulders seemed insurmountable. It was not enough for vampires to drink life’s essence. Only a kill would calm the angst consuming him. How he loathed the animal inside him.

“No,” the girl cried, tugging at his arm. “We didn’t mean any harm. We’re hungry, desperate. Leave him alone. Please.”

“How touching.” He growled and pulled away, tossed the boy against a stone wall. A gush of air left the boy’s mouth then he coughed and slid to the ground. The girl came at Luke again and he lifted her, a hand braced against her jugulars. Too thin and delicate. He kept his touch gentle so as not to make a mark. At least she felt regret. “Do you know what I could do? What I should?”

“No, Giulia.” The young man coughed again and stretched forward an arm. “Please, don’t hurt her. Take me instead.” This time, the scent of sweat emanated from him. It flooded the atmosphere, choking Luke with its potency.

Interesting, the boy feared more for Giulia’s life than his own. There might still be hope for them. With a sigh, Luke set her down.

She ran to the young man and helped him up, caressing his face, neck and arms in search of injuries. They were in love. Strange how even in the darkest of circumstances, the emotion blossomed.

Luke adjusted the cuffs of his collared shirt. Such luck. In search of wrongdoing, he’d found not true wickedness, but young lovers confined within the depths of hopelessness. Standing before him, they possessed a profound slightness, granted not only by their small stature but through life’s cruelty. “Bloody hell.”

“Who are you?” the young man asked and pushed Giulia behind him.

Luke hung his head. “I am no one.”

The boy opened his mouth as if to say something then backed away, taking Giulia with him.

“Wait.” Luke pointed down a shadowed, cobblestone street. “If you go straight, make your second right and you will see a wooden sign for a small hotel. Ask for Francesca and tell her Dante sent you. She will take care of your room and board until you can earn enough wages to pay your own way.”

The boy’s brows drew together. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“I do not joke regarding favors.” He pulled several euro notes from his wallet. “This should take care of you both for the next couple weeks.”

“We don’t need your charity.” The boy snarled.

“I would say current circumstances prove otherwise. What about her?” He nodded at Giulia. “Do you think Giulia deserves this kind of life?”

“She has clothes on her back. We eat enough.”

“Her person is frail and such clothes shall not protect you through winter’s first week.” Luke rubbed his neck, considering. “I too have found myself facing difficult situations, but I warn you once. What you are doing is never the answer. If you insist, you may pay me back through Francesca. She will make arrangements.”

“
Grazie
,
signore
.” Giulia stepped toward him and accepted the money.

“Thanks.” The young man came forward.

He faced him. “Do not thank me. I could easily have damaged your person. If you choose a thief’s role, be prepared to pay the price. Next time, you might not be so fortunate.” He nodded at Giulia. “Take care of her. And take a bath. Several days’ stench makes for a terrible lover.”

The young man nodded and hurried away, linking his arm with Giulia’s.

“Nicely done. Almost Zorro-like,” Broderick said. “Dante is it? I’d applaud but you’d call me dramatic.”

“Yes, I would.” Luke glared as his close friend and private investigator, Broderick Sullivan, left the shadows and leaned against a wall. “Francesca prefers to call me Dante. She has always been fond of
The Divine Comedy
.”

“There is something fitting about it,” Broderick replied.

“Believe what you may.” Luke preferred not to delve down that path. He was not sure he agreed with Broderick or Francesca. Unlike Dante, his journey did not traverse beyond Hell’s realm. “You did not intervene. I know you wanted to. Why resist your urge?”

Broderick stared down the narrow street where the couple had disappeared. “You had everything under control.”

“You thought differently.” He had heard the uneven skip of Broderick’s heartbeat as he held the boy. His friend had not believed him capable of holding out much longer. Difficult to admit, that Broderick might be right. A shiver of unease worked its way through him but he shrugged it away. “Why did you doubt me?”

“You know why. Your problem is you won’t admit it.”

Luke shook his head. “I would like to think I would not have hurt them. They were young, desperate.” Still worth saving.

“They were thieves. Despite what you’d rather think of yourself, you’ve gone too long between killings. You know feeding is not enough for a pureblood.” Broderick stepped closer. “It’s not a game whether or not you choose to kill your victims. You don’t have a choice. If you keep pushing yourself like this, madness will drive you toward something you regret.”