Prophecy: Dark Moon Rising (22 page)

“I didn’t do it,” Prophecy said.

Her mother stopped and looked at her. It was the first time that Prophecy had seen her frown. She was looking at Prophecy’s chest.

“But the star is gone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me where to find the key? Why? I could have found the spell by now. I wasted so much time because of you!”

Prophecy started to walk away but her mother shimmered into life in front of her, blocking her path. She didn’t know where she was going to go anyway. The only way out of here was waking up, and she felt so tired that she knew that wouldn’t happen any time soon.

“I am not allowed to tell you such things.”

“Like you can’t tell me what spell will save Valentine? I know that you know which one to use. He told me as much.” She held her mother’s gaze, taking in how confused she looked.

“Valentine?”

Prophecy stepped towards her, unsure of whether she should tell her mother what had been happening. Her mother seemed so happy sometimes—dancing and smiling. Would she ruin that if she told her?

“Not Valentine. It was someone else.”

“The young Italian?” Her mother smiled brightly and Prophecy got the feeling that she was being teased about her feelings for the two men.

“He’s not young. He’s a thousand years old, mother. And no, not him either.” Prophecy looked away from her, unwilling to see the pain she was going to cause by saying what she had to. She had to know if it was true. “My father.”

There was silence and when she risked a look at her mother, she was staring blankly into the distance, her face pale and lifeless.

“Caden?” her mother whispered.

Prophecy nodded but her mother continued to stare into the nothingness so she spoke. “Yes. He’s almost killed me twice now, and Valentine has almost killed him countless times. If it wasn’t for the fact that Valentine saw their fights as nothing more than a game, Caden would be dead and I would still be trying to find a way into the book. He recognised the star I wear. It’s yours apparently. I never knew.”

“Iona would have told you, I am sure, but Arkalus didn’t give her the chance.” Her mother hesitated and then looked at her. “Is Caden with you?”

“He came with me to see if he could help Valentine. He is still at the mansion, though he will have to leave soon or I won’t be able to protect him. My family will only tolerate him for so long. Why didn’t you tell him about me?”

Her mother looked away again.

“Is it because he would have stopped you?” Prophecy said and moved around her mother until she was standing in front of her.

Her mother nodded and sighed. “I did what I had to. It was my destiny. It does not mean it didn’t hurt me to do it.”

“I know what you mean.” Prophecy looked at the amulet and saw it was glowing brighter now. Fiery red danced in the depths of the stone. “I don’t care what my destiny says, I’m not killing Valentine. I’ve seen him with me at the final battle.”

“Then it is not your destiny to kill him. You will save him.”

The vision of her mother started to fade.

“Don’t go yet. I’ve still got so many questions.”

Her mother smiled. “Remember … I’m just a memory … I tell you only what your heart already knows.”

Prophecy frowned when she was left alone in the darkness. She looked up at the dim light above her. It was about time she woke up. Sitting here being frightened of her future was going to get her nowhere.

Fluttering her eyes open, she smiled at Valentine. He was looking at her. His green eyes were heavy and full of sleep, and it brought tears into hers to see them back to their normal state. She shifted closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips and running her fingers through the shorter hair at the back of his head. She sighed into his eyes and stroked his cheek. His eyelids slowly closed, as though they were too heavy for him to keep open any longer.

Sitting up a little, she brought her right hand over his heart and sent him back to sleep.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the tears slipped down onto her cheeks. “I wish I could find a way to help you.”

She pressed a kiss to his forehead and then padded quietly across the room to the book. Opening it, she flicked through until she reached the last spell she’d read and then moved onto the next.

Her eyes scanned the pages with renewed hope. Her mother had said the cure was in the book and she was going to find it. Nothing was going to stop her. She wasn’t going to let Elena take Valentine and she wasn’t going to let Elena hurt anyone else she cared about it.

The door flew open and her head shot up to see who it was.

Serenity’s eyes were wide with panic. She looked pale and there was blood on her hands.

“What’s wrong?” Prophecy said, her gut twisting and fear clenching her heart.

“There’s werewolves in the lobby and a woman … she’s … I’ve never seen anyone so badly hurt.”

Her stomach dropped and ice entered her veins.

“Mia.”

Prophecy ran down the hall, leaving Serenity lagging behind. She grabbed the banister as she reached the top of the stairs and vaulted over it. Dropping to the ground, she sprung to her feet and bolted towards the lobby. When she got there, a young female Caelestis was cleaning the blood off the floor.

“Where?” Prophecy shouted at her. The girl pointed shakily towards the study.

Prophecy turned and sprinted towards the door. She pushed it open so hard that it slammed against the wall and her eyes darted about the room, searching for Mia. Two wall lamps behind her and the fire in the grate lit the room just enough for her not to have to use her heightened senses in order to see. In the shadows at the back of the room were shifting shapes. Their scent told her that they were werewolves. She could make out eleven signatures.

Her eyes stopped when they found the broad back of Dmitri. He was kneeling beside one of the chairs near the fireplace. Venturi was standing next to him.

“Mia!” she said and hurried across the room. The smell of blood hung heavily in the air, and specks of the crimson liquid marked a path from the door to the chair.

Dmitri moved to one side as she approached. Her eyes widened when she saw Mia. Her face was bloodied and cut, deep ragged gashes lining her left cheek. She was holding her arm tightly and Prophecy could see the sleeve of her top was torn and soaked with blood.

“Prophecy … I—”

“Not now, Dmitri.” She cut him off, knowing what he was going to say. She’d forgiven him long ago for what he’d done. Besides, this wasn’t about him. She was here because of Mia.

She knelt down in front of Mia and gave her a sorry smile.

Checking her over, she could see that her left arm was severely injured. There was blood all over it, seeping from wounds that looked as though she’d been bitten, but not by a vampire. These wounds were ragged, as though whatever had done it had torn chunks out of her flesh.

They were deep too.

Deep enough that Mia was losing too much blood to heal herself. If she didn’t heal soon, she would die.

“Mia?” She looked up into the Venia’s face. Behind the layer of blood and dirt, she could make out black bruises. Mia’s mouth opened, drawing Prophecy’s attention to the fact that her lip was split and swollen, but she didn’t say anything. Prophecy looked at Venturi and Dmitri. Both men were pale, as though they were staring at the very presence of death rather than a woman who just needed to heal.

Taking hold of Mia’s hand, she held it tightly and smiled when Mia looked at her.

“This is going to hurt. I’m sorry, but there’s no other way,” she said and Mia nodded weakly. Prophecy turned to Venturi. “Get him and his men out of here and keep him out until I come for him.”

Venturi immediately turned to Dmitri and took hold of his arm. Dmitri tried to pull it free of the Tenebrae’s grasp, but stopped when Venturi growled at him. She gave Dmitri a look that she hoped was reassuring and then returned her attention to Mia.

When she heard the door close and sensed they were alone, she held Mia’s hand a little tighter, pressing the stone of the amulet into it. She could feel the blood on her skin. The smell of it was driving her insane with hunger.

Taking a deep breath, she looked straight into Mia’s eyes and held her gaze.

“Ready?” she said and before Mia could respond, she called the magic. It was going to take a lot to heal Mia, possibly more than she had left after having to repeatedly cast a sleeping spell on Valentine.

She clenched her jaw, steeling herself against the pain that tore through her until she felt as though the magic was transferring all of Mia’s wounds to herself. Her hands shook where they clasped Mia’s, and she struggled to keep her focus as her head began to throb, making her skull feel as though it was too small for her brain. Mia screamed when Prophecy held her hand tighter, willing the magic to work quicker. She didn’t let go when Mia tried to take her hand away. Instead she moved the grip of her left hand up to Mia’s forearm, effectively putting an end to any chance of escape that Mia had had. She watched Mia’s flesh knitting beneath her fingers, the deep tears gradually closing as the magic worked to speed the healing process.

Mia roared at her and went to hit her with her free hand. Prophecy grabbed it before it reached her and forced it against Mia’s chest, pinning her against the back of the chair. She growled at Mia, telling her not to move, and raised her eyes to her face again. The cut on Mia’s lip disappeared and the dark bruise under her eye faded as the deep gashes on her cheek closed.

When Mia’s skin was smooth again, all of the wounds gone and only the blood left behind, Prophecy let go of her hand.

She sat back on her heels and waited.

Mia’s eyes slowly opened and she looked at her arm with an air of disbelief.

Prophecy smiled at her and stood up, giving Mia a moment to gather herself and recover from the pain of being healed so quickly. Prophecy stood still for a few seconds, her knees trembling and her whole body shaking with fatigue. It had taken almost every last ounce of her strength to heal Mia. She needed blood to heal her body and a long, peaceful sleep to bring back her strength, but she knew that although she could easily get the former, the latter wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.

She went to the door and opened it. Dmitri pushed past her and she watched him rush to Mia’s side. She smiled at the way his hands fluttered about her, his expression full of worry and relief at the same time. Her smile faded when she remembered that not everyone could be healed so easily and she looked up at the ceiling, her thoughts with Valentine. She wished she could heal him like she’d healed Mia. Lowering her gaze, she looked straight into the rich blue eyes of Venturi.

“You look tired,” he said, his voice gruff and quiet.

“That’s because I am.” She leaned heavily against the doorframe for support and sighed. “The magic is draining me. I need blood to heal, but have no time to get it … I need to keep searching.”

“Still no luck?”

She stared at his boots and cursed them for reminding her of Valentine. Sometimes Valentine and Venturi were so alike that it scared her, other times they were so different. Her eyes roamed up Venturi’s dark trousers and shifted across to his hand when it came into view. He had his fist clenched, a sure sign that he didn’t really want to ask about Valentine. He wanted to comfort her, to reach out and touch her, and the only way he could stop himself was to ball his hands into fists and keep them fixed at his sides.

She wanted to reach out and touch one, wanted to see what he’d do if she did. Would he give up the fight and surrender to his desire to comfort her, or would he step away and place more distance between them? It was hard to tell sometimes how he’d react.

“I will find the spell. I know it’s in the book somewhere.” Her eyes traversed his chest and finally met his. When one of the maids walked past, she held her hand out. “Could you please bring some warm water and a cloth? Oh, and some blood for our guests? And wine if we have any. We also need rooms prepared. Somewhere for our guests to find some peace after their journey.”

The maid nodded and carried on walking.

Prophecy looked over her shoulder at Dmitri. He was holding Mia, his broad build almost blocking her completely from view. At the back of the room, she could sense the other eleven werewolves. She hoped they were just Dmitri’s commanders and not the remains of his army. Prophecy turned back to Venturi, giving the couple a little more time alone before she disturbed them.

His gaze was full of concern.

“I will hunt tonight and bring you back something fresh,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” she whispered, feeling more than a little awkward by his offer to look after her.

“It is no problem. Bottled blood will not give you the strength you need, and you don’t have the time to hunt for yourself. You must keep trying to save the man you love.”

Her eyes lowered to his feet again and she stared at the tiny distance between them. She couldn’t refuse such a heartfelt offer, so she nodded, letting him know that he’d won—she would let him look after her like he wanted to.

She remembered that it wasn’t just him wanting to look after her. The feeling went both ways. She wanted to look after him too. She could still remember the taste of his blood, even though she’d had nothing more than a sip of it by sealing his cuts. The strong, rich sweetness of it had stayed with her, refusing to leave. It had been wrong of her, but it had felt right on so many levels; the feeling of him close to her, his breath on her neck, and his blood on her tongue.

She closed her eyes, shunning the thoughts and the feeling of desire they stirred. Pushing them away, she reminded herself that it was Valentine she loved. She couldn’t act on any feelings she had for Venturi without hurting Valentine, which meant nothing could happen between her and the Tenebrae.

Opening her eyes, she raised her head and looked at Venturi.

He was waiting for her to speak. That same look of concern was in his eyes. He probably thought it was tiredness making her quiet, or at least she hoped he did.