Page 21 of The Vampire's Lament
I hurried downstairs, finding the front door open, swinging in the wind. My heart leaping into my throat, I darted outside. Medusa stood on the garden path, eyes on the skies.
“There,” she said, pointing.
The white copter flew over at that moment with a roar, red lights blinking, gun turrets attached to its underside.
Warchopper, a staple of the Human Domain, rarely deployed since peace was declared with the vampires. Armed with twin gun turrets, and a missile launcher between them. Real beastly things designed to make things go boom.
My guts heaved. “By Aidan—” I swallowed the dirty name, a tight ache of terror in my chest. “Where did it come from?”
What was east of here? There were many islands scattered around the oceans beyond the main continent of Quintrealm. Plenty of outposts with dormant warchoppers ready to be deployed.
Medusa walked further along the path, her eyes trained on it.
Heading west for the mainland and?—
“Oh no,” I gasped, that terror becoming an icy stab in my heart.
A second warchopper flew over the house, followed by two more.
“Shite!” Medusa hissed.
A spear of guilt jabbed into me repeatedly. I couldn’t breathe, legs feeling like they were filled with lead.
I knew why they were up there.
“Paris?”
No. No. No. “They’re…” I’d forgotten aboutthisin all the drama.
“Paris?”
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
“Talk to me,” Medusa said, closing in on me.
After a painful swallow, I finally answered her. “They’re going to attack the palace.”
CHAPTER FIVE
SILVANUS
The lights of Hurlock Island twinkled in the night like a scattering of jewels. A comforting sight, Hurlock Town clinging to the sloped isle, my onyx palace crowning its summit. Moonlight glinted off the eight scarlet spires, winking as if welcoming me back.
Of my eight palaces, this one always felt the most like home. The place where I’d made Paris my thrall, and where my life changed exponentially.
Goodness me. The elf occupied too much space in my mind, plucking my anxiety like harp strings.
Paris Raine. Oh, Paris Raine.
Was he alright? What was he seeing in his vision? If I simply changed direction, I could be back there holding him again, calling to him, seeing those magnificent cornflower-blue eyes sparkle once he returned to himself.
What if he doesn’t? What if he’s trapped and not coming back?
How ridiculous. Of course he’d come back.
I shook off my negative thinking as I landed on the balcony of my chambers. Elio, my elf thrall, waited there. His hazel eyes were wide and tired, his tawny complexion pallid with fear.
Potent sadness scratched down our bond.
