Prophecy: Caelestis & Aurorea

Alinar Publishing
www.alinarpublishing.com

Copyright ©2007 by Felicity Heaton

First published in 2007, 2007

Copyright © 2007 Felicity Heaton

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The right of Felicity Heaton to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First printed April 2007

First Edition

Layout and design by Felicity Heaton

All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Edited by Maria Morpeth

Cover by Felicity Heaton

ISBN (pdf version only):

1-906023-18-2

978-1-906023-18-8

Lightning split the sky over Venice, echoing the tempest of feelings that Prophecy kept hidden just below the surface.

She calmly swept the strands of her wet dark hair from her face and fixed her eyes on the path ahead of her. She knew where she had to go and what needed to be done when she got there. Anger boiled up inside her when the image of Valentine disappearing through the portal flashed in front of her eyes, but sorrow swiftly followed in its wake, leaving her feeling numb.

She glanced at the man walking beside her, not the man that she wished were there, but another, one she knew hardly anything about. She hadn’t asked for his company. Right now, she would rather be alone with her thoughts and her duty.

A promise had been made.

A promise she intended to keep.

Valentine had saved her once, and now she would return the favour. She couldn’t face the impending war without him at her side. The burden of the prophecy was resting fully on her shoulders and for the first time she could feel the true weight of it. It was too heavy for her to carry alone.

She was alone.

Crossing the wooden bridge to the other side of the Grand Canal, she let the rain wash away her tears, hiding them from her companion even though she knew she couldn’t fully hide her feelings from him. At this close a distance, it would be easy for him to sense her hurt and sadness.

Sorrow had buried itself deep in her heart and she found it impossible to remove or ignore. Only Valentine’s return could fix this emptiness inside her. In her hour of need, she had found that two of the people she believed would stand by her had turned their backs instead.

Dmitri had refused her request for help in finding Valentine. Mia had done nothing to change his mind.

She could understand their reluctance to offer her assistance. After all, it was her fault they had lost half of their army of werewolves in a battle that shouldn’t have been fought. She should have listened to Valentine. She should have trusted him like her mother had told her to in her vision. But then her mother had told her she would make mistakes and those mistakes would show her the path in the darkness. She wished she could make sense of that and see something positive in it. She felt weaker for her mistake, not stronger. Her mistake had cost her Valentine, and subsequently Mia and Dmitri.

The only one on her side now was Venturi, the man walking with her to Elena’s place, and he was the one she’d thought would shun her.

“I can’t see why you came with me,” she said, avoiding his glance.

“I have pledged my allegiance to you and it stands, regardless of what you have done by killing my lord. My family can take care of themselves. They do not need me as their lord to lead them. Tenebrae blood is strong. We are natural leaders and work best without the restraint of a master. They will be fine. Someone must help you since the werewolves will not,” he said in a low voice, as though he was frightened of someone overhearing them.

She glanced around them at the deserted street. The weather had driven everyone inside, leaving the streets mercifully clear of tourists. She couldn’t face them right now, not when she was barely holding on.

Her companion hadn’t spoken much during the journey to Venice, but she had managed to pick up the tiniest trace of Italian in his accent. The rest was as muddled as Valentine’s and the other vampires she’d met, all except Mia. Prophecy frowned when she thought about her. She had believed in her heart that Mia would have wanted to help her find Valentine, but she supposed that the Venia had to do as her husband wanted. Dmitri was a powerful werewolf and commander. For all Mia’s power over him, she knew that when he gave a command, not even Mia would disobey. In time, they would forgive her. Mia had promised to keep her eyes and ears open for anything that would give them a clue as to Valentine’s whereabouts, but that was all she could do.

“They have every right to be angry. They lost so much because of me.” Prophecy looked up into Ventruri’s blue eyes and found he was frowning at her. His look softened a fraction and he turned away, staring up at the sky.

“We have all lost something,” he said.

He couldn’t have spoken truer words. She had taken his lord from him, leaving him as the new master of his bloodline, and in turn, fate had taken Valentine from her. Her chest tightened.

Valentine.

His name brought fresh pain each time she thought or said it. She wished that she knew where he was. All she had to go on was the fact that the portal Valentine had disappeared through was similar to the one she had passed through in order to enter Elena’s hidden home. She wanted to believe that she would find him on the other side of the invisible barrier, but her mind overruled her heart and said different. There was no reason for Elena to take him from her. She hadn’t forgotten the way Elena had openly flirted with him when they were last here, but a voice at the back of Prophecy’s mind reminded her that there was only one man in Elena’s heart and she had lost him to Ineru. It made no sense for her to take Valentine.

Approaching the end of the road, Prophecy stared at the black water on the other side of the low wall. The thought of what she was about to do still scared her. She could still see her mother in the water telling her not to be frightened and could almost picture Valentine when he’d held his hand out to her and said exactly the same thing.

Stepping up onto the wall, she took a deep breath and prepared herself. No matter how much she tried to control them, her emotions still ran riot inside of her. In the depth of her heart, she wanted revenge for what had happened at the castle, but she knew that letting that emotion rule her would lead to her killing Elena before she had any answers. It had been the idea of avenging Valentine’s disappearance that had led to the magic taking control of her at the castle in Romania and then it had ended in disaster.

She had to go in feeling as calm as possible and had to remain that way if she was to get the answers she needed.

Besides, she had no proof Elena had created the portal. She had only ever seen one. For all she knew, they could all look blue.

She turned to face Venturi and smiled when he cocked a brow at her. It seemed as though the roles were reversed. Where she had once been the reluctant one, she was now the leader in this step into the unknown. It was now her companion who had a flicker of fear in his eyes.

She extended her hand into the portal, feeling the cold as it disappeared but not looking at it.

“There’s land on the other side,” she said.

“What trickery is this?” Venturi stepped forwards, his brows knitting tight and his eyes narrowing while he reached out and pushed his hand through the invisible barrier.

“Witchcraft. Very powerful witchcraft.”

He stepped back and looked at her. “You believe this witch has your precious Aurorea?”

“His name is Valentine,” she ground the words out and then relented. Every time Venturi had mentioned Valentine during their journey, he had avoided saying his name. She was growing tired of hearing her love labelled as a child, a youngling or an Aurorea. She was growing tired of correcting Venturi.

He brought his hand down over his face, clearing it of water and then ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair, tousling it further and pushing it out of his face. Thick strands of it fell back down, the tips of them grazing his chin.

When he finally brought his eyes back to her, she gave him a hard look and stepped through the portal.

She didn’t wait for him to follow. He had followed her this far without her asking him to, she was certain he’d continue now. A portal to a magically cloaked world wasn’t going to stop him.

“What?” His tone was one of disbelief and shock.

Not looking back at him, she smiled to herself. “I forgot to mention she has a tendency to dress people a little differently.”

Prophecy glanced down at her clothes. They were different to last time. She was wearing all black and it made her feel as though she was in mourning. Looking over her shoulder at Venturi, she couldn’t stop herself from grinning. He looked so annoyed at his new outfit of dark brown breeches with a white shirt and matching dark brown jacket. She mused that he deserved it for being so obviously amused about being disrespectful to Valentine.

When she came out of her thoughts, she found that his expression had changed. In place of disdain there was a hint of desire in his eyes as he stared at her apparel. He moved closer to her, his eyes lingering on her chest. Her gaze fell there when he reached out towards her.

“What is…?” he said.

She moved the silver star she wore around her neck to one side and then ran her fingers over the black, intricate star that was drawn over her heart.

“It’s just one of many. See,” she said and pulled the shoulder of her dress aside to reveal the star on her skin there. “I was marked all my life without knowing it. The Three of Paris brought the marks to the surface and activated them. They focus the magic within my blood and this allows me to use it.”

He stared at the amulet on her hand when she held it out to him.

“How?”

“I’m not wholly vampire. It’s a long story and one that will have to wait.” She looked at the large house that loomed out of the darkness, filling her with the same sense of foreboding that it had given her when she’d first laid eyes on it. She closed her fingers around the stone in her amulet. There was no point in removing it this time. Elena knew of her power. It was time she knew where it had come from. Something told her the witch would recognise the amulet.

Starting towards the gate of the house, Prophecy took another deep breath and sighed it out. She was strong. Valentine believed in her. She could control her feelings long enough to discover what had happened to him. She was in command of the magic, not the other way around.

Passing the gate, she mounted the steps, keeping her eyes locked on the wooden door.

She stopped just short of it and looked at Venturi who was standing a few steps below her.

“She may try to test you. She’s a necromancer. Resist anything she tries. If she attempts to control you, I’ll make sure she stops.”

He nodded and walked up the last few steps, coming to stand beside her. “I came along to protect you and here you are protecting me.”

She gave him a deadpan look. “I’ve never needed protecting. Valentine could tell you that.”

She noticed the way his eyes darkened when she mentioned Valentine’s name and smiled inside. It was strange to see a man she barely knew so jealous of one he’d only met on the battlefield. She wondered how Valentine would react to having Venturi around. From the way Venturi was acting, she got the impression that he hadn’t followed her all this way just to protect her. She had realised that night at the Creator Day masquerade that her power attracted other vampires, especially the male ones. Venturi raked his eyes over her. Maybe it wasn’t just her power.

Rapping her knuckles against the door three times, she waited in silence, ignoring the way Venturi continued to look at her dress and the mark on her chest. She was tempted to place her hand over it and hide it from view but realised that she would probably just draw even more attention to her modest cleavage. She didn’t want Venturi staring at her breasts. So far, he’d managed to keep his eyes purely on the mark, but she wasn’t blind. She knew he wanted to look.

The door opened and she raised her eyes to see the same maid who had answered it before.