Prophecy's Power: Prophecy Series, #3

By Brenda Dyer

For Natalie Tortelli, everything comes down to a hard-won fight. She's survived an insane mother and a cold, indifferent foster care system. To stand apart from everyone and everything is to trust in herself. But all that changes one night when she happens upon a handsome stranger murdering another. The killer takes her captive and claims he's part of a vampire race that protects humans from demons. Caught in a dangerous world she doesn't understand, Natalie has no choice but to trust him. But her pride won't allow her to fall for the sexy kidnapper.

 

Soren from the Fourth Clan of vampires loves his life. With an endless supply of demons to fight and willing women to share his bed, why wouldn't he? Love is an emotion he cares nothing about. But the foundations of his philosophies are shaken to the core after he has to detain Natalie. She's unlike any woman he's ever come across before. Together he and Natalie attempt to unravel the secrets of her past, which might tie both of them to the Vampire Prophecy. But their passionate relationship is more than either expected. Both hesitate to trust the other, but if they don't, death may be the only thing that unites them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brenda Dyer
• Release date: May 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201949051

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Prophecy’s Power

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Book Three in The Prophecy Series

Brenda Dyer

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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All Rights Reserved

Copyright June, 2014 by Brenda Dyer

http://www.brendamdyer.com

Cover by Designs By Duff

https://www.facebook.com/DesignsByDuff/

Prophecy Series:

Love’s Prophecy: Book 1

Prophecy’s Child: Book 2

Prophecy’s Power: Book 3

Prophecy’s Language: Book 4

Prophecy’s Healing: Book 5

Prophecy’s Awakening: Book 6

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This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Dedication

To my husband, Paul. Thank you for being the wonderful man that you are.

To my sons, Tyler and Trevor. I love you guys.

To my mom. My mother is a true warrior. I miss you so much.

To Lisa, my crit partner and friend. I can’t thank you enough for all of your help. Also, a special thank you for your unwavering friendship and support. I couldn’t have made it through some of the hardships that had befallen me without your love and comforting words.

And lastly, I’d like to dedicate this book to my dog, Rocky. Sadly, we lost him to old age. He was my best friend. I’ll miss him lying at my feet, keeping me company, as I escaped into my vampire world. I’ll miss you forever, my old friendie.

Vampire Prophecy

In the depth of time

when all sorrow shall climb

The gods shall send

the ones to help bring about the end

From these shall spring

The saviors to whom all shall cling

From light and dark

look for the mark.

The time will come

when the two shall make one.

Small warriors of light

dark warriors of might

From light and dark

look for the mark.

Chapter 1

Friday, December 19th, 8:12p.m

Surrey, British Columbia, Canada

Soren parked his jeep behind a tall brick building, making sure his vehicle was obscured in the deeper shadows of the structure. He shut off the engine, killed the lights, and stared out into the night.

A wave of weakness coursed through his body, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

I feel like crap wrapped in a layer of shit. Damn. He shouldn’t have waited so long to feed. Two weeks without blood was pushing it, but three was total stupidity, not to mention reckless.

Last night he’d had the perfect opportunity to assuage his bloodlust. But instead of simply feeding from the hot brunette he’d set his sights on, he’d decided to take it slow and seduce her in hopes of getting more than blood. And all was going along as planned—the woman had been more than eager for a quick romp in one of the back rooms of The Green Tree—until Ace and Black called for back-up. He’d left with an empty belly and a raging hard-on.

Pins and needles stabbed his toes and traveled up his legs.

After making sure his dagger was well hidden under his coat, Soren opened the driver’s door and stepped out into the night. Frigid air blew over his face, carrying with it the scent of car exhaust, grease from fast food restaurants, and the faint but tantalizing aroma of blood—human blood. His nostrils flared and his stomach cramped.

Time to hunt down a willing candidate.

When he pushed the lock button on his keychain, the headlights from his red jeep flashed. He dropped the keys into the pocket of his black ski jacket, then extracted a pack of cigarettes and lighter.

As he fished out a smoke, he surveyed his surroundings. Across the street was a strip mall containing the usual shops: a drug store, small-chain grocery store, a Subway sandwich shop, pizza joint, and a gym named Sculpting Curves. All the storefronts were decked out with bright Christmas lights and plastic Santas.

An old Christmas carol played in his head, with an added touch of his own: Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fuckla, la, la, la la, fuck it all.

The parking lot yielded a few humans dashing to their cars, trying to escape the cold wind.

Dizziness made him sway. He sucked in a gulp of air and closed his eyes. Shit, if he didn’t feed, and soon, he’d pass the fuck out. But none of the people in the parking lot would do. There was no place to feed in privacy. And a vampire needed privacy since secrecy was the name of the game.

With a shaky hand, he lit his cigarette and inhaled deep. Nicotine made the lightheadiness worse.

Soren turned from the lights and activity of the strip mall and headed up the street toward town. By the time he finished his smoke, his body was a mass of quivering muscles. Each step became harder to accomplish. Although a steady stream of pedestrians passed him, the opportunity to single one out hadn’t presented itself.

He stopped at an intersection. Fuck. Now what? With each second that ticked by, his strength dwindled.

But luck at last reared her beautiful face. Across the street in the parking lot of a convenience store, three women—two blondes and a redhead, probably in their early twenties—stood beside a green truck. And since luck decided to play nice, they were predominantly hidden in the shadows cast by a cluster of tall hedges.

Perfect.

Soren’s heart kicked up the pace as he waited for a break in the traffic. His mouth filled with saliva in anticipation for the warm, energy-giving blood that would soon be coursing down his parched throat.

One of the women broke from the group with her cell phone pressed to her ear. She was shorter with bigger curves than the others. She looked appetizing. Well-rounded hips rocked as she walked toward the building. Even from this distance, Soren sensed her agitation. She flipped red hair over her shoulder, apparently engrossed by whatever the caller was yapping about.

Well, well. Could this get any better? Nope.

The traffic light turned red. He jogged across the intersection on weak legs, his gaze riveted on the two blonds —probably sisters judging by their similar features and coloring—as they chatted. His thoughts reached out and merged with the blond closest to him. Like a drill, his psyche burrowed deeper, pushing through her stored memories. Images of a house party flashed through her mind. She stopped talking and rubbed her forehead, then her expression went blank.

The moment he stood next to them, their blue eyes swung his way. Fear, smelling like burnt leaves, spiked through their lithe frames. Two hearts raced, pushing blood faster through their veins.

The beast within roared to life. His fangs poked through his gums, but he forced them to retract. With his mind still combined with the first woman’s, he planted a thought. Ignore everything around you. Continue talking about the house party. You’ll linger in a trance until your redheaded friend speaks to you.

The other flaxen-haired beauty frowned. Hey...What’re—?

Before she could voice her obvious concerns, Soren focused on her. Their gazes locked and he planted the same thought in her brain.

They disregarded his company and resumed their conversation. He scrubbed his image from their memories as if cleaning a spill with a damp paper towel.

His fangs punched down. And this time he left them exposed. Bloodlust raged through him like a speeding dump truck without brakes. Time to eat.

He turned to the redhead. She stood with her back to him. The moment his thoughts entered her mind, he sensed her annoyance. She was arguing with her boyfriend.

Hang up.

Without saying good-bye, she ended the call.

Soren stepped in front of her. She glanced up. When her gaze centered on his fangs, confusion registered in her hazel eyes. Let her look. It didn’t matter. He’d clean that memory from her anyway.

Come with me. You won’t resist, and you won’t scream. Nod if you understand.

She nodded.

He clasped one of her hands and laced their fingers. If any onlookers watched, they’d think them nothing more than two lovers out for a stroll. With his other hand on her lower back, he led her behind the building.

She followed like a robot into the blackness. Soren guided her behind a clump of tangled blackberry bushes and shrubbery. This wasn’t the most private place, but it’d have to do—he couldn’t wait any longer.

Staring deep into her eyes, he allowed his thoughts to flow into her. Let your mind go blank, and relax. I’m not going to hurt you.

The tension left her body as she stared straight ahead.

Good. He positioned her back against his chest and tilted her head, exposing her pale throat. Her perfume, a nauseating musky scent, which tried and failed to imitate vanilla, wafted up his nostrils. Jesus, he hated perfume, especially cheap shit.

Soren trembled as he opened his mouth. Take it easy. Don’t lose control, he warned himself. Gently, he positioned his fangs over her jugular and bit down. A breathy gasp escaped her, but she didn’t struggle. Warm blood filled his mouth, the taste rich and sweet. Her blood was potent—clean of illnesses and drugs. A deep groan of satisfaction escaped him. His fangs withdrew into his gums, and he swallowed. The moment the thick fluid hit his stomach, power exploded throughout his limbs. A roaring like the wind sounded in his ears. Smells became sharper, and his vision cleared.

He gulped down another mouthful. His strength returned. The quaking in his muscles ceased.

Oh, yeah. Much better.

Closing his eyes, Soren drank deep, careful not to leave a pink blush on her skin. His cock hardened against her ass, but he ignored it. Although cute, she wasn’t his type. Too young and too innocent. He liked his women sexually experienced with no desire for a commitment. Exactly like him.

After he swallowed his last mouthful, he took a moment, allowing the raging energy a chance to mellow to a more manageable level.

The woman remained quiet in his embrace, her arms hung loosely at her sides, her mind still melded with his. Soren licked off the thin trails of blood trickling down her neck, then sealed up the two holes.

Shit, he did leave a slight pink mark. No matter. It’d fade soon enough.

Soren extracted the cell phone from her fingers and placed it on the middle of the gravel path that led back to the parking lot. She couldn’t miss it.

Now to remove all traces of himself from her recollections. He flipped through her memories. Ah, there I am. He smiled. Fuck, I’m a handsome bastard. Nice shot of my fangs too.

Once his image was gone, he planted another thought: You lost your phone and decided to check back here.

While the redhead lingered in a daze, he walked down the path, away from the convenience store. He released his hold on her mind as he disappeared out of her line of sight.

What the hell? Soren heard her say. Oh...there’s my phone. But how did it get here?

He laughed. You’ve just been my unwilling blood donor. That’s how. He continued down the pathway, feeling like a new vampire.

He followed the trail for a few more minutes, wondering what to do next. Maybe a drink or two at The Green Tree before the nightly demon hunt? He checked his watch. Eight-thirty. Hunting didn’t usually start until ten. Lots of time to get a nice alcohol glow on before he met up with Sin and Ace.

With his mind centered on an alley behind The Green Tree, his body trembled and his surroundings distorted. But just before he dematerialized, he stopped and shrugged. The night was crisp and clear. Perfect evening for a stroll. Plus, he felt rejuvenated—alive, and he could use the exercise.

A deep laugh rumbled from his throat. He patted his rock-hard abs. Exercise, my ass. I’m in perfect shape. A shape the ladies love.

A rush of wellbeing filled Soren. Even the Christmas lights didn’t put a damper on his good mood.

Half a block from The Green Tree, a familiar sensation flooded him. The hairs along his neck and arms rose, and the scent of rotten flesh signaled a demon was close.

Soren stopped, sniffed the air, and opened his mind. The creature’s sinister essence slammed into him. Scrap that. Make that three demons, and they were heading away from the nightclub.

Like a shark following the scent of its prey, Soren pursued the invisible trail. Eagerness quickened his heart rate. His muscles shivered and his hands curled into fists. This night couldn’t get any better. A fight was exactly what he needed.

He jogged up the sidewalk. Pedestrians, buildings, and cars whipped by, but he paid them no heed. His mind was firmly locked on his targets.

Soren rounded a corner. The Green Tree, a long rectangular building, sat back from the road. A green palm tree, set atop the flat roof, cast the area an unnatural pale green. A line of diehard clubbers spread from the double doors and down the sidewalk.

Must have a live band scheduled, which most likely accounts for the early lineup.

Excuse me, Soren said as he shoved his way through the crowd.

Hey, asshole, a young male said, grabbing Soren’s arm. No buddin’ in.

Soren stopped and pegged the prick with a hard glare. The young man’s face went pale. He slowly released Soren’s arm.

Leaning forward, Soren snarled in the guy’s face. "Word of warning, asshole. Careful who you grab. Next time you may lose your hand."

Soren continued his pursuit. The demons’ essence became stronger. They weren’t far now.

His body’s reactions strengthened the closer he got to the enemy. The hair along his arms rose, and his blood pumped faster.

Finally, he spotted them. Three male demons dressed in dark overcoats, carrying briefcases, sauntered up the sidewalk. So far they appeared ignorant of his presence. Time to change that.

Soren quickly closed the gap between them. When he was ten feet behind the trio, the demons stopped and whipped around. Their clean-cut expressions hardened.

Fuck, they looked like bankers. Probably were. Since demons housed their spirits inside human bodies, they could blend in, and work alongside humans. This advantage gave them the perfect edge to corrupt and turn humans from their Creator, allowing Lucifer to then steal their souls.

The tallest of the three cocked his dark head, indicating for Soren to follow.

Soren nodded. Both vampires and demons knew the importance of secrecy. Would do neither side any good if humans found out about the existence of vampires or demons, not to mention the war for their souls.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and trailed after Lucifer’s shit-spawn. Maybe he should call for backup? Surrey was Mel and Kal’s hunting territory after all.

Ah, screw it—he didn’t need backup. He could take these three pieces of monkey shit, no problem. He wasn’t second-in-command for nothing. His fighting skills were unrivalled. And besides, he’d just fed. Power pumped through him like a living entity.

Flexing his muscles and smiling at the bastards’ backs, Soren bided his time like the soldier he was.

Soon they entered the packed parking lot of the neighborhood Walmart. Soren knew exactly where the demons were headed: to a small wooded area stretched between the big-box store and a sprawling subdivision.

Ideal place to hold a battle—that was if it was clear of humans. Well, they’d soon find out.

Soren’s luck held. The woods were deserted. Good fortune for him, bad for the demons. They’d be heading home—back to hell and their master—tonight.

The demons stopped beside a towering fir tree. Lights from the back wall of the building filtered through the fir and cedar limbs, illuminating the well-groomed quality of the creatures’ faces. Three sets of eyes glowed red. As one, the demons dropped their briefcases and shrugged out of their overcoats.

Jesus. Their synchronized routine reminded Soren of the Three Musketeers. He fought to suppress a laugh.

So, is it just you, or should we wait for the rest of your merry band of maggots to arrive? Mr Tall, Dark, and Soon-to-be-Dead—and apparently the leader of this trio of banksters—asked as he unbuttoned his black sports jacket, and slowly withdrew an eight-inch dagger. He twirled the knife in a circle. Dim light reflected off the serrated edge.

Nope. Just me.

Ready to meet your Maker, I see. Head Honcho smirked.

Soren unzipped his coat. From the sheath strapped around his waist, he pulled out his dagger then glanced at his faded jeans, green T-shirt with a picture of a Harley on the front, and black hiking boots. He shrugged. Nah, not dressed for it. He waved his blade at the demons, indicating their dark business suits. But you guys on the other hand, are all gussied up in your Sunday best.

The leader laughed. Three against one, vampire. Odds are stacked against you.

Lucky for me I root for the underdog.

The two lackeys hauled out their blades—blades Soren knew were coated in silver, which just so happened to be deadly to vampires.

"And a dog is exactly what you are—"

Soren cut the piece of shit off. Look, ladies. I’ve a date with a cold beer, so can we hurry this along? He crouched into his fighting stance.

A smarmy smile curled Boss-Man’s thin lips. As you wish. Like the Three Musketeers—more like synchronized swimmers—the demons charged forward.

Soren grinned. This was going to be fun.

***

Natalie Tortelli stepped from the shower at the Sculpting Curves gym, and wrapped a white towel around her. She tucked the ends over her breasts as she headed to the lockers. The change room was deserted. Just the way she liked it. And thankfully, only a few people had decided to take advantage of the workout and weight rooms this evening, including the old perv on the exercise bike who kept smiling and nodding at her.

Right, Gramps. As if.

She dried off and pulled on a pair of jeans, a baggy red hoodie, and thick wool socks before lacing up her steel-toed work boots.

Once dressed, Natalie towel-dried her hair. She moved to the mirror. Ack. What a rat’s nest. She rummaged through her backpack until she found her brush, knowing full well without styling products and a blow dryer, brushing her long curls would make the situation worse.

Whatever.

She scrutinized her face. There wasn’t much she liked about her features...well, maybe her eyes. Big and brown with long, dark lashes. Turning side to side, she leaned in closer. Hmm, very, very weird. Besides being pale and a little drawn from lack of sleep, she looked exactly the same as she had at twenty-five. She hadn’t aged a day. Most people couldn’t believe she’d turned thirty-five last month. On occasion, she still got asked for proof of age at liquor stores.

Maybe a little makeup would help her look older?

Pfft, why bother? Her job didn’t require her to look good.

She chuckled. Yeah, being a drywaller was such a glamorous career—not. By the end of each work day, she was white from head to toe with drywall dust and mud. But it was hard, honest work. And she was damn proud of herself. It was tough enough for a woman to work in a male-dominated field, let alone own her own company. Her business had steadily grown from a one-man—woman—operation to three since opening it five years ago. Larry and Mike were not only competent employees, but they were her best friends. Well, her only friends.

Natalie shoved a red toque over her damp curls, shrugged into her work coat, shouldered her backpack, then left the change room.

The moment she stepped outside, a cool breeze brushed her face. Ah, much better. The crisp air felt good against her overheated skin.

She walked across the parking lot of the strip mall with her head down, trying to avoid the Christmas lights blazing from the storefronts.

God, she hated Christmas. All the fake good cheer and bullshit. Yeah, the only time of year people pretended to be nice. What about the rest of the year? What a joke.

But the real problem she had with Christmas wasn’t the lights or the fakery; it was the in her-face reminder that she didn’t have a family.

Well, technically she had a mother, but she was locked up in a home for the mentally insane—where she belonged! Besides, it wasn’t like good ol’ mom had provided Natalie with any fond memories of Christmas. Quite the opposite. It was her mother who had instilled this hatred for the Holidays in her. No lights, no tree, no presents, no warm, happy moments waiting for Santa Claus to squeeze his fat ass through the door of their single-wide mobile home. All Christmas had been was another excuse for her mother to get shit-faced drunk or high on whatever drug she happened to be using at the time.

As she marched up the sidewalk toward home, memories clamored to gain a foothold. An ache in her chest sprouted. Her throated tightened as tears burned her eyes.

Oh, for fuck sakes. Stop it.

But she couldn’t stop. The night she’d been taken from her mother filled her mind and heart with poison. Although her recollection of that evening was hazy, two things stuck out: The feel of cold steel slicing into her flesh, and the feel of her mother’s boyfriend holding her down while forcing her legs apart.

Natalie’s heart pounded. A chilly sweat drenched her skin. In a flash, she relived the most traumatic event of her life. The bastard’s groping hands ripped off her pajama bottoms and panties. The sound of tearing cloth loud like a cannon shot. Natalie screamed and struggled, but she was no match for the burly, drunken man. He slapped his hand over her mouth, pushing so hard her teeth cut her lip. The iron taste of blood filled her throat.

He laid his knife against her cheek. I’m in the mood for some lovin’, and your cunt mother is down for the count. He squeezed one of her breasts and laughed. And I like young meat. Light flashed off the blade as he sliced away her top.

The knowledge she’d be raped as her mother slept off her drug and alcohol stupor in the next room added more fuel to the terror already building inside. She kicked, catching him on the chin.

You fucking little cunt! His red-rimmed eyes narrowed before he grabbed her flailing leg. Natalie struck him in the gut with her other foot. He swayed then toppled over her. Intense pressure in her abdomen gave way to a freezing sensation, then pain.

Aw, now look what you made me do. He yanked the tip of the knife free. Blood dripped down the flat sides.

Agony detonated from her stomach and radiated outward. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Blood welled from the slit next to her bellybutton. It pooled in the hollow cradle of her pelvis before spilling over.

Suddenly, strength flooded her thin frame. Fear drained away, and hatred filled her soul. She was no longer a weak thirteen-year-old girl—she was warrior. Natalie gripped the sides of his face. He screamed as if her hands were made of fire. She pushed with all her newfound strength, launching him across the living room. He writhed like a snake, clawing at his head. Smoke billowed through his fingers, and his screams pierced the air. She couldn’t look away as his face melted, his skin dripping onto the carpet in clumps. His body vibrated, then exploded into a shower of gray powder.

A loud honk yanked Natalie back to the present. She blinked away the vision and glanced around.

Shit. She’d made it all the way to The Green Tree, a sleazy nightclub she’d frequented often back in her heavy drinking days. Now she’d have to double back.

Natalie hoisted her backpack higher as self-pity kicked her ass. No. Not happening. She’d wasted enough of her life hating her mother and wondering what the fuck happened to her attacker. People didn’t just turn to dust.

She didn’t have the answers, and of this moment, she vowed to forget about it. Life was about moving forward and leaving the past where it belonged. She’d made it out of the trenches...finally.

As she turned back the way she’d came, the urge to stop at Walmart struck her. But...she didn’t need anything—well milk, but that she could pick up at the convenience store. She took another step. The urgency became stronger.

What the fuck?

She tried another step, but couldn’t do it. Invisible hands turned her until she faced the direction heading to Walmart. A sudden gust of wind pushed her from behind.

Okay, this is nutty.

A whispery voice floated through her mind. You shall find the answers you seek.

A shiver passed over her. Nutty? More like I’m losing my fricken’ mind.

Although, milk was cheaper at Walmart and really, did she want to sit in her one-bedroom basement suite, watching reruns? Not while painful memories still clambered on the outskirts just waiting to gain entry again. Being out in public was better than being alone tonight.

With a shrug, she headed to Walmart. With each step the urgency grew. She picked up the pace. The word hurry beat against her skull.

Once at the big box store, she raced through the parking lot. Her mind was blank. She moved as if someone else had control of her muscles.

Her body trembled. The hairs along her arms and neck rose. A familiar yet unfamiliar sensation zipped through her nerves.

Like a bloodhound locked onto the scent, she weaved through the trees behind the store. Sounds of fists pounding flesh pulled her forward. Grunts and groans showed her the way.

She stepped around a large fir tree and froze. In the clearing, a large man with short blond hair—the biggest man she’d ever seen—slammed one meaty fist into the bloodied face of a thinner man wearing a dark suit. Fear swamped her. But she couldn’t run.

The giant man jerked an arm up. Clutched in his hand was a cruel-looking knife.

She screamed, but no sound escaped.

Time’s up, motherfucker, the knife-wielding male said before plunging his blade into the other’s chest.

A roar filled the air. The suited man stumbled back. He swayed, clutching the knife hilt with both hands. Then his head tipped back. A black smoke-like mass tore from his gaping mouth. His body vibrated violently before it exploded into a shower of dust.

The scream that had lodged in her throat burst free. Nooo!

The blond giant swung his gaze to her. Shock painted his harsh face. Ah, fuck.

No longer rooted to the ground, Natalie took off as if the very devil chased her.

Chapter 2

A high-pitched scream ripped through the clearing and pierced Soren’s ears as grey demon dust exploded all around him. He spun round with his dagger raised for attack.

A woman wearing a red toque and a green-and-black Mac jacket, belted out another shriek.

What the flying hell? He hadn’t heard her approach. But then again, he’d been kinda busy fighting three demons.

Ah, fuck. Soren sheathed his dagger. He needed to scrub what she’d witnessed from her mind.

Before he could take a step, she bolted.

He swore again, then dematerialized. He took form a few feet ahead of her. When she saw him, she slid to stop. She stumbled backward with her hands out in front, a warning gesture for him to stay away. The scent of her fear was like burning plastic. Her deep brown eyes flew wide, her complexion flushed from exertion.

For some reason he couldn’t comprehend, her obvious fright made him feel like an ogre. Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. Soren held out his hands, palms up.

She continued to back away. I just witnessed you murder a man, and you expect me to believe you won’t kill me, too? Yeah, sorry if I don’t take your word for it.

Her shaky tone made a mockery of her brave words. It’s not what you think, trust me. Trust me? He almost laughed at how absurd that sounded.

Her lips curled into a trembling smirk. She crouched lower with her fists raised, all the while slowly making a wide circle toward the parking lot and safety. "I don’t think so, asshole. And just so you know, I