Page 30 of Eternal Obsession

I shielded my eyes, taking small glimpses at the blinding rays that magnified and reflected. A beam of light focused directly upon where Athena lay, and with her screams came the melting of her flesh. The light burned through her and within her. Aflame, she burned from the inside out. The knife that had penetrated her heart fell with a clang.

My blurred eyes blinked at the central stone covered in Athena’s remains.

One of my father’s men gathered up the ashes. He worked quickly, dividing the residue out into cups, scraping it off the sacrificial altar.

It wasn’t over.

Even as we headed back to the stagecoach which had been stationed at the perimeter of the monument. Out of its window was a clear view of my father’s loyal servant positioning a small ladder at the base of each inner stone, then climbing to the top rung. He poured a few ashes into the cracks just below the lintels.

Lord Artimas peered intently at me. “Lord Theron and I have agreed that Alex and his daughter are to be married. Do we have your word that such a union will go unhindered?”

The lightheadedness made it difficult to focus.

“Well, boy?”

“Father, I⁠—”

“I take that as a yes.”

Our carriage lumbered forward with a jolt as the horses responded obediently to the stagehand’s crack of the whip. For Alex’s sake, I had to see a way out of this for him. My eyes closed, and I rested my head on the leather headrest. Immediately, my father chastised me, saying that it was imperative I remain awake. He warned that if I were to sleep too soon after the ritual I would suffer later from memory loss. The thought sounded appealing, but the heel of his shoe convinced me otherwise.

Athena, the goddess of wisdom, would reign no more in her small kingdom of witches. All that was left of her, other than her ashes, was her taste in my mouth. I sucked my bottom lip with utter surprise at my own reaction and wondered when I would be able to drink like this again.

Chapter Fourteen

ORPHEUS

Athena was dead.

The Stone Masters had blindfolded her, fully aware that in doing so other vampires would be unable to track her.

But I knew where they had taken her.

Strategically, they had arrived at Stonehenge minutes before sunrise ensuring no vampire could interfere with their ritual for fear of becoming victims themselves. Their tactics were beyond evil.

I was prepared to go into the very heart of the secret society if that was what it took to destroy them all.

My heart ached for her witches, the ones left behind, forced to wonder what fate had befallen their queen. I set out to find them, to warn them, to ensure those innocent women wouldn’t suffer for their loyalty to Athena at the hands of these monsters.

I grieved for the vampire I barely knew, yet the loss struck like an old heartbreak cut open.

But I was not helpless. The week dragged on with agonizing slowness as I planned and plotted—until, as if fate itself had intervened, the end of the week delivered an unexpected, rare gift.

To mark Jadeon’s initiation into the Stone Masters, Lord Artimas had arranged a grand ball under the pretense of his son’s birthday celebration. The Artimas function was now a few hours away. I held the official invitation, animated at the thought of being welcomed in.

First though, fuckery . . .

I stood naked, gazing at the exit of the chapel. The heady aroma of incense hung thick in the air and filled my nostrils. A small disguise was required. If my plan was to succeed, then the next action was crucial. My paling features were a telltale sign to those in the know. To penetrate the castle undetected and without raising alarm, I had to darken the color of my skin.

The sunset pulled with it the last remnants of shimmering light.

Taking a deep breath I approached the doorway. Perfect timing was imperative. I would have to move swiftly. With my hand on the cast iron handle of the finely engraved wooden door, I turned it and darted back into the shadows, avoiding the sunlight that flooded in. Standing tall, I stepped out of the chapel and into the light, raising my arms out, turning around several times, allowing the rays to caress my body. My skin smarted. I leapt back inside, closing the door on the way, relieved that the tingling soon wore off. The color of my skin was a light golden brown.

Delighted with my success, I returned to where my clothes lay and began to dress, wary of the sun’s fading rays that weakly flickered through the doorway. My ability to tolerate the light was a sign of my increasing immunity and strength. Such is the benefit of senescence. Lost in thoughts of Sunaria, who was named after the sun had cruelly died by it, I could not help but ponder on the irony.

A voice startled me. It was a woman’s . . . no, two . . . a conversation. People headed in my direction, and I currently stood naked from the waist down. Two angelic nuns entered through the doorway. The ethereally dressed women were oblivious to my presence. They revealed their names. The younger of the two sisters was Martha, and the older Catherine.

Although the first nun appeared rather plain, it was Catherine who captivated me completely—an enchantress in every sense. There was something ethereal in the way she moved, carrying herself with effortless grace, every gesture precise yet unstudied, her beauty understated but unforgettable, poised, with a presence that drew the eye and held it.