Royal Secrets: The Vampire & Werewolf Chronicles, #6

By Chrissy Peebles

This is book 6. 

On the hunt to take down the Falcar and stop Halo from rising, Sophie stops at nothing, even risking her life as she travels to a lost city in the Rainforest to obtain an ancient sword. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dark Shadows Publishing
• Release date: Jun 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386151739

Book preview

Chapter 1

My life was caught in a web of confusion. I’d been committed, literally, to a mental institution, because I apparently dived, head first, into some fantasy world. Part of me expected it; my own biological mother went insane at an early age, too, so DNA was not on my side. The make-believe world all seemed so real though. The medication they gave me to combat those thoughts made me foggy-headed, but my adoptive parents came in once a week to encourage me to get better, and that helped a little. According to them and Dr. Davidson, I was making great progress, and if I exhibited that I could hold on to reality for any significant amount of time, that would be my ticket out of the looney bin. My mom and dad even enticed me, with news that they had a bedroom waiting and ready in the new place they’d be moving into.

I glanced across the room at the crying person, weeping about something I couldn’t even comprehend. Another attendee of the mandatory group session bawled about her toothbrush being stolen. A guy who couldn’t have weighed more than 100 pounds soaking wet screamed and punched the walls, frustrated that he kept seeing monsters and hearing voices. Join the club, buddy. I have the exact same problem, I thought as a team of orderlies rushed in to sedate and restrain him.

While they hauled him away, kicking and flailing and wailing bloody murder, the nurse in charge tried to calm the rest of us down by reading some stupid picture book to us, a fairytale meant for 5-year-olds. She even held up the pictures and pointed, inflecting her voice to play the characters in the story, like we were in kindergarten. And that’s why we shouldn’t believe in vampires, werewolves, ghosts, or elves, she said as she closed the book.

I rolled my eyes, none too happy that the moral of the story was that we were all fools for believing the fantasies conjured up in our crazy heads.

On my way out the door, the nurse tugged on my elbow. Have you had any visitors lately? she asked.

Uh...my parents. Why?

Anyone else?

No.

Hmm. That’s odd. I’m sure I saw you talking to someone outside in the courtyard. But there was nobody there. Are you admitting no one was there, Sophia?

His name was Drake, I said flatly, scowling at her condescending tone.

Drake? Is he the elf or the ghost?

The vampire.

I see. Does he sparkle?

I shook my head and sighed. Why would he glitter in sunlight?

Well, the hero in Twilight did. Okay, anyway. What did this Drake have to say?

He told me you’re all full of shit.

Hmm. Is he your boyfriend?

I don’t have a boyfriend.

I thought you were making progress. You’re just imagining—

"See? You are full of shit, I said, cutting her off. Drake talked to me, just as real as this conversation I’m having with you right now. It was not just a hallucination."

Life can be overwhelming, and sometimes the mind just...cracks. You’re here to heal, and we all want that for you. You know that, right? You’re in a safe place, with people who love you. I’m going to set you up for a meeting with the doctor as soon as he gets back.

Feel free. May I go now?

Your parents will be devastated to hear that you’re backsliding.

Backsliding? What is this, some sort of cult? Besides, my parents are shapeshifters. They should know better.

She audibly gasped and clutched her chest as if I’d stabbed her in it. Why would you think that? Did this Drake tell you that too?

Mm-hmm, I said, grinning evilly at her.

Surely you realize how, um...distorted that sounds.

You can say crazy. I won’t be insulted, I mocked.

What about me? Am I a shapeshifter too?

Worse. You’re a mere human but a master manipulator. You should get the Oscar for your performance.

I’m truly worried about you, Sophia.

I suddenly lost my resolve and my wall of defenses and dropped my head into my hands. Truthfully, I don’t know what to believe. I’m confused. What’s real, and what isn’t?

Sit, she said. After I reluctantly complied and collapsed into the nearest chair, she continued, You were a normal child, but you had an exaggerated hero obsession.

A hero obsession? I mean, yeah, I thought Ironman was hot—still do, in fact—but I wouldn’t call it an obsession.

No, I mean... Well, you longed to save the world, to be blessed with some sort of superhuman powers so you could do that. You also yearned to be the center of attention, to be like a lightbulb on a hot summer night, attracting every moth to you.

So I’m an attention whore?

I didn’t call anyone a whore.

Well, I think you’re wrong. I was normal. I had a lot of very normal friends, stayed on the honor roll, and loved my life. We had the typical nice house, with a big yard, and I don’t even think I had any enemies.

It’s a classic trope. You feel as if these powers or this magic or curse or whatever you imagine was forced upon you, yet it is really something you fantasized for yourself.

All I really want is to be normal, but I’m not, no matter what you say. I can’t control what happens, what fate has planned.

The human mind sometimes glitches, just like a computer or so-called smartphone. We should be able to process all thoughts rationally, but sometimes, it doesn’t work out that way. It isn’t your fault, nor is it your mother’s or father’s or anyone else’s. They experienced a flurry of emotions when you were diagnosed with a serious mental illness.

And what, pray tell, is that illness?

To put it in simple terms, chaos feels normal to you, so you keep creating it in your life, over and over again. You drift off into that make-believe world, where chaos abounds, and when you are separated from these imaginary friends you’ve invented, you miss them. You will only get better if you focus on the real world. For instance, what career are you interested in? And please don’t say you want to be the Tooth Fairy! she said with a smile that didn’t feel genuine at all.

Well, when I was little, I always wanted to be a nurse. I want to help people.

You have a big heart.

I guess caring about others is my strength. I want to make a positive difference in people’s lives. When that earthquake hit Haiti, I saw this news report, and there was this group of little kids, crying next to a building that fell down. My father bought me this brown teddy bear when I was little, and I couldn’t help thinking, when I looked at that bear, how much comfort it brought to me. I wished I could comfort those little kids like that, so I started a toy drive at school. There was an article about it in the local paper, and a local TV and radio station got involved. Before I knew it, the thing went viral on the internet. In the end, we were able to send 25,000 teddy bears and about $30,000 to that hard-hit island nation. A woman at my church took the reins, and the charity continues to collect toys, clothes, shoes, and school supplies. We still help out every year.

How admirable! she said, clapping her hands together. See? You have real talent you can put to use in the real world. Instead of trying to be Wonder Woman, you should consider taking classes, to become a nurse or social worker. You really are a sweet girl, and you’ve proven that your efforts to improve lives will pay off when you put your mind to them. You are an angel, Sophia, full of compassion. You shouldn’t waste that on fantasies.

Thanks...I guess, I said, standing.

Anytime.

I hurried to the next thing on my agenda, some stupid lecture from a man with a buzz cut about the evils of noncompliance. You cannot get better unless you take the medication we administer, he said, yet another load of crap.

Right on cue, a nurse walked over to take my vitals and hand me another cup of pills. "They’re having popcorn at recreational therapy in an hour. They’re playing Mary Poppins."

Really? I love that movie, I said, wishing I could find a flying umbrella to carry me out of the nuthouse. Once again, I hid the pills under my tongue and in my cheek, and once again, I spat them in the closest toilet, just as I’d been doing for days, just to give my head a chance to clear.  

Wow. Talented, a girl said at lunch, admiring the artistic creation I’d made on my plate with my carrots and peas.

Hey, thanks. Maybe I’ll become a sculptor or painter or something. Picasso was insane enough to cut off his ear, right? I teased.

As I walked out of the cafeteria, an idea struck me. I made my way to the main office to ask if my parents could be called. I miss them and need to hear their voices, I rehearsed, even managing a few tears.

As I approached the office, I overheard the nursing supervisor on the phone. Yes, Drake was here. How the heck did he get in here? And I have no idea what he said to Sophie. A pause. I don’t know. He could’ve filled her in. I’m sure he did if he made contact with her. Another pause as the person on the other line spoke, then she spoke again. I’m not sure why didn’t he whisk her out of here. My guess is he wants Violent since they’re friends and live in the same town. He probably gave Sophie a message to deliver to her. We’ll just play up the crazy card. Make Sophie think Drake is a figment of her imagination. And we need to double security...now!

That was all the validation I needed, and a sadistic smile crossed my face as I realized they were really all full of shit after all.

Chapter 2

Drake and everything he said was real. Cindy, Fred, Logan, and Violet were not just figments of my imagination, and now I had to wake the hell up and find them.

My greatest fear was that I would be sent home with that fake set of parents, the ones who claimed they were moving. Someone wanted me out of the paranormal picture, to distract me from making sure Logan and Cindy hightailed it to the altar to stop the awful curse.

Darting my eyes down the hallway, left and right and left again, I cautiously made my way to a door and knocked on it. Logan? It’s me, Sophie, I whispered through the door.

Hey. Come on in, he said from the other side. That name sounds very familiar.

Logan is your name.

If you say so.

Listen, I said as soon as I walked in, I don’t know who’s doing it, but someone is keeping us here, trying to drug and brainwash us. I know it sounds crazy, but you need to know your true identity. You’re a werewolf, and you have to marry Cindy, or the curse will be reinstated.

Cindy, huh? Is she a werewolf too? More importantly, if I have to marry her, is she hot?

Shush, you, I scolded. She’s a gargoyle...but yes, she is also hot.

He laughed. Wait. I think I’ve met her. Is she a blonde?

More than that. She’s your fiancée and your best friend’s girlfriend.

Whoa. Kinky!

Look, I know you don’t remember, but you and Cindy don’t really get along. You have to marry her on a technicality, to save the vampires and werewolves from destroying each other.

Lady, you’re in the right place. You’re freaking crazy. Did you forget to take your little pink pills or something?

Screw those pills, and quit being so stubborn! I yelled, far louder than I intended to. You’re a wolf, and you need to accept that and—

And you need to get outta my room, before I have to call the goon squad to squeeze you into a straightjacket and a rubber room.

No!

I don’t know about you, but I want out of this hellhole. I’m working hard to get better, and I don’t need this.

Logan, you’re stronger than this, I said, my voice pleading.

Okay. If I’m a wolf, where do I live? Where’s my, uh...den?

Not a den. You live in my castle, with me and our friends.

A castle, huh? So I’m some kind of king?

Just a prince, the last surviving royal in your werewolf tribe.

Sure.

Good. Now, do you know where Cindy is? Can you take me to her?

Anything to get you out of here, honey.

I really couldn’t object to him calling me that, and deep down, it flattered me, even if, in his current state of mine, he didn’t mean it. I smirked as I picked a sketchpad up from his nightstand. Who’s she? I asked, pointing at a pencil drawing of a woman who looked very much like me.

It’s the woman of my dreams, literally. Beautiful, isn’t she?

I peered up at him. But it’s me! I said.

I barely know you. This one just keeps popping into my head.

Then why are you fighting what I’m telling you?

It’s just a dream, he argued.

But it’s not. I’m standing right here, I said, holding the sketch next to my face to emphasize the resemblance.

"You’re not her. You can’t be. I don’t even know you, but I get the feeling this chick is someone very special, very close to my heart, a woman I can’t stop thinking about."

Aw. Even when he’s brainwashed, I’m always on his mind, I thought with a sheepish smile. What was your dream about? I asked.

You’ll laugh.

Try me.

Fine, but remember that it’s only a dream, not real life.

Got it.

Okay. Well, I dream that this woman and I have a connection like no other. She’s awesome. Not only is she smokin’ hot, but she also makes me laugh, makes me forget about the pain of my past. I know it sounds corny, but it really does feel like some happily-ever-after fairytale.

Tears welled in my eyes, this time of their own volition. "I’m sure she’d love a happy ending more than anything.

"Well, anyway, I’m going to find her