Dark Craving: A Watchers Novella (13 page)

“On his feet? The only place I’ll see Alrik Dagursson is in his grave.”

Annelise gapes. “You’re taking Dag? You have got to be kidding me.” She’s standing by my side now—she’s
on
my side.

Charlotte’s features crystallize, smoothing like ice. For the first time, I see her truly, as the vampire she’s become, radiating an unearthly essence that goes deeper than fangs. Her eyes narrow on Annelise. “I don’t kid.”

“No? Then I guess you’re just a lunatic, because it’s insane to drag a bleeding, dying vampire—check that—
Directorate
vampire out of here.”

“The only crazy one here is my little brother for wanting you around.” Charlotte stalks toward Annelise, wraps her hands around her neck, and backs her into the wall.

I jump up, broken rib forgotten. “Get your hands off her.”

“Oh, sod off, Ro.” Lottie sneers and shoves Ann away. “You mortals never could control yourselves.”

Annelise stands tall, pulling her shoulders back—it’s a stance I know well, and my every muscle flexes. “Easy,” I murmur to her. I’m on alert, ready to intervene.

But Ann ignores me. “Maybe my math is off,” she says tartly, “but weren’t you a mortal yourself, like, I don’t know, a couple years ago?” She waves her fingers and skips backward from Charlotte, intoning in a low, mocking voice, “Oh, ancient one.”

“Bloody hell,” I mumble, edging between the two. “Ladies, we have bigger concerns just now.” A distant slamming door proves my point. “Like
that
, aye? So let’s take this elsewhere, shall we?”

“I’ve got one more thing to do.” Annelise drops to her knees beside Dagursson. He’s moaning now, legs writhing, skin bubbling. “Time to say good-bye to your buddy, Lottie.”

“You will not kill him,” Charlotte orders.

But Annelise doesn’t budge. “You’re a Viking,” she says to Alrik, “so I guess I need to be bidding you something like ‘Godspeed,’ right?”

Outrage and disbelief distort my sister’s usually flawless features. Even when she was merely human, nobody—
nobody
—disregarded her like this. She storms toward Annelise, but I grab her arm to stop her.

“Wait,” I command, summoning a pulse of power from so deep, it turns my stomach.

Charlotte stops and sucks in a startled breath. Her eyes are wild, and she pins them on me. “Get. Off. Me.”

I give her an even smile. “We’re adults now, Charlotte. Let’s discuss it that way.”

Charlotte’s voice is steel as she slowly tells me, “Don’t do your little tricks on me. Tell that girl to get up this instant. I’ll kill her, Ronan. I swear I will. Unless she gets up right now.”

My sister tries to jerk away, but I don’t let go.

Annelise raises her arm. That strange dagger is in her hand again. She tilts it so it catches the light. “I know I’m supposed to aim for the heart, but from the looks of your other cuts, I bet I don’t even need to aim with this thing.”

“The misericordia?” Lottie shrieks. “How did you get the misericordia? How did she get it?” she demands of me.

I shrug. “That thing was news to me.”

Annelise flashes my sister a challenging smile. “It’s like you said,
Lottie
. We mortals are so impulsive.” And then she sweeps her arm down in a graceful arc. She is power and determination and beauty as she plunges that strange, slim dagger deep into Dagursson’s heart. His corpse erupts, his body roiling, smoking, hissing. It’s the sizzle of molten steel dropped in cold water. Annelise gives me an exaggeratedly apologetic look. “I guess I really need to work on my self-control.”

I don’t think it’s possible to love her more than I do in this moment.

I’m distracted, and Charlotte manages to break free of my grip. “You just killed the only link to our family,” she screeches, her gaze skittering nervously between Ann and me. I see how she wants to leap on Annelise, but for the first time ever, I see fear in my sister’s eyes. She points at Ann. “Who is she? Who is she,
really
?”

Annelise killed a vampire—a powerful, ancient one—which makes her an unknown quantity. Ann is a variable—and with the misericordia in her possession, she’s a dangerous one.

“Who is she?” I say, repeating her words. “Who are
you
, Charlotte?”

The curtain of her black hair sweeps into her face as she swings to look at me. “I am your blood kin, and you should honor that.” My sister is raving, fangs bared, her face a mask of wrath and retribution.

“What did Dagursson do to you? What have you turned into?”

“I’ve always been me,” she says in a voice slow and seething. “Little Ronan, you were a child when I left. You didn’t know me. You’ll never know me. Just like you’ll never know this girl.” Disgust twists her mouth as she scans Annelise from head to toe. “She wasn’t even born here. Who is this girl that she’s more important than your family?”

“Annelise
is
my family.”

“No, you’ve lost our connection to them. If you don’t come with me, you lose me, too.”

“I won’t leave her. I won’t leave Annelise. Not like this.”

“You and I, we can be more powerful than any girl.”

For years, Charlotte was my reason for living. The desire to avenge her death was the only thing that got me to place my feet on the floor every morning. But no more. I’m living for something else now—someone else. Nothing is more powerful to me than this feeling I carry for Annelise.

“Go.”

CHAPTER TEN

Somehow
Annelise and I have made it to my secret spot, a lookout nestled in the dunes. Perched above the beach and below the path, we are hidden, and yet I feel more exposed than I ever have before. She knows too much, has seen too much. She’s witnessed me at my most vulnerable. She suspects I love her—how could she not?—and there’s no going back from that.

I shift, and the movement aggravates my injury. I heal quickly, but I seek the pain now, test its limits. It reminds me I’m more than just this churning frustration and unease. More than this consuming desire.

“You okay?” she asks quietly.

I dare to look at her. She sits so close. The waxing moon has painted silver outlines along her nose, her cheekbone, the upper curve of her lip. I cut my eyes away, out to the water. “Aye,” I say in a rasp. “Thanks to you.”

She didn’t just save my life; she gave me a new one. Before Annelise came into my world, I was driven only by hatred, by the desire to have my revenge, and if it killed me in the process, then so be it. But now? Now I have hope. I still crave vengeance, but it’s because of what I might claim afterward: a life shared with her.

But do I tell her this? Even if I tried, how would I?

The feelings are too much, so I smother them beneath a half-smile, adding, “Though, I do wonder what took you so long to show up.” It’s something she’d do, using humor to conceal emotion.

“You’re welcome.” She leans close and nudges my side. At the touch of her body, I am unmanned. My breath catches, but she must think it’s from the pain because she quickly says, “Oh jeez, I’m sorry. How do you feel?” Before I can reply, she’s hopped onto her knees and is at my back. “May I?”

Her hands are on the hem of my sweater. I don’t know what she’s about to do, but I won’t stop her. I give a tight nod.

She pulls up both my sweater and shirt. The night air is cold enough, but my skin feels fevered, and a shiver ripples up my body.

“Oh, Ronan.” She traces the outline of my injury—the Blood Eagle she saved me from. “That must’ve
hurt
.”

Every muscle in my body tenses. Her tender fingers on my bare skin are too much to bear. “You could say that,” I manage through gritted teeth.

She pulls everything back into place and squeezes my shoulder. Her movements are stiffer than before. Does she sense this tension too? “That Dag was such a sicko. I don’t suppose he used antiseptic on those creepy tools of his, either. Like, sterilize them, or something.” She settles once more beside me, and I feel the agitation rippling off her body. She’s wound up and ready to chatter. Is the nervous energy because she wants to be near me or because she’d rather be near
him
?

“Good thing I’m a Tracer,” I say. Not a vampire. I look at her, willing her to catch the unspoken thought in the intensity of my gaze.

But she only nods. “And then there’s that whole full-blooded Druid thing…” She tapers off. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she seems to curl into herself, beneath a cloak of self-consciousness. She’d be thinking of my sister—I know I am.

“Aye,” I say, not wanting her to think she’s said anything wrong, “there’s that.”

“Are you going to go after her?”

I sigh. “Eventually. I mean, yes. Soon.” There are other things foremost on my mind at the moment.

“You must be happy. That she’s alive, I mean.”

“Of course. But…” I’m not sure how I’m feeling. Am I empty? Relieved? Maybe even a little afraid? “Discovering Lottie alive? I’d have thought I’d feel immeasurable joy. But I find I’m…anxious. She’s smart, my sister. And she’s up to something. She’s a mystery.”

“And you’re afraid of the answer?”

I nod. She’s got it exactly. “Something like that, yes.”

Annelise has an intent look on her face, as though she might say something meaningful or personal. At the moment, I can’t bear either. Lightening my tone, I say, “Enough about me. What about you, you wee dervish? ‘Who’s got the upper hand now?’” I laugh, and it’s not entirely fabricated. “You’re too much. But truly, what were you thinking, bursting in like that? You could’ve been killed.” I shake my head in genuine wonder. “I’m amazed you
weren’t
killed.”

“When Regina found me and told me what was going down”—she shrugs—“I knew right away what you were doing. I thought I could help you. Maybe even kill Dagursson myself. It was okay—I’m stronger than you think. And I’d just fed—”

“Must you remind me?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended. But she was going to tell me how she’d just fed from Carden. Vampire blood, particularly when consumed hot and pulsing from the source, makes one powerful. Their bond had been an accident, but now that they share one, it’s made her stronger. Stronger is a good thing. So why does it feel so dismal? “I get that you’re bonded to him. I get that you’re stronger. I get that.”

I have to turn away and gaze north along the shore instead. She fed from Carden, from his veins. Veins I’d like to cut, bleeding him out until I’m the one who gives Annelise what she needs. Until it’s me, not him, who provides the source of her strength.

“Don’t blame me,” she says gently. Her finger is light and cool under my chin. She draws my face to look at her. “I’d do whatever it takes to save your life. I can’t lose you, Ronan.”

I pull away. “Because you like toying with me?”

She hesitates—and it cuts deeper than any swordplay Dagursson could devise. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, Ann?”
Say it. Say you want him and not me. Or say you belong to me only. Just say something.

But she’s silent.

I stare down at the waves, wanting this to be done, wishing I could just fling myself over the cliff into the sea’s brutal embrace. “I don’t need your mercy.”

“What does that mean? That’s not it at all.” She runs her fingers through her hair, cradling her head in her hand. “You’re…you’re confusing me.”

“What’s confusing?” I twist to face her, cupping her chin in my hand. The move jars my injury, but I don’t care. I lean closer, my eyes glued to her mouth, and burn where my body touches hers. “Do you not want me to touch you?” I whisper. “It seems I must ask outright. But I need to know, Ann. Do you want this?”

Her breath catches. “I’m bonded to Carden.”

“Enough with the reminders. Trust me, your bond is all I think about. Is that what you
want
? Say the word, and I’ll leave. I’ll disappear forever.”

“No.” Her voice is pained. “I don’t want you to leave. Not at all. I want you here. All the time. That’s what confuses me.”

I exhale, my lungs functioning again. “That’s all I need to know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“But Carden…. He’ll kill you.”

“Not necessarily.” My head snaps up with an idea. “We have something he needs.”

She raises her brows in question. “You mean me?”

“No, you he
wants
. But your dagger… May I see it?”

“Please.” She gives me a grateful nod and unzips her jacket. “Honestly, it’s kind of freaking me out. I feel like it’s alive or something.” She reaches into a hidden pocket and pulls out the unusual weapon, holding it up like a torch.

Both Dagursson and my sister had known it on sight, and looking closer, it’s familiar to me, too. I’d seen such a thing myself…on Freya’s hip. “Jesus, Ann.” I meet her eye, deadly serious. “Where did you get that?”

Her sheepish expression is something I recognize, and I brace for the explanation. “Ann?” I prompt.