The Darkness Therein: Ancient Blood, #1

By Kate Hill

Jocelyn has chased his nemesis for centuries. He swore that nothing or no one would stand between him and revenge on the creature that destroyed his life. That same rival leads Jocelyn to the one person who can reconnect him to the human race.

Art student Charlie has no idea that her family history binds her to a creature of legend--until he appears in the form of a tall, beautiful man with a thirst for revenge. The last thing she wants is to follow his orders, but if she intends to stay alive, she has no choice.

Note: The Darkness Therein was previously published. This re-edited version contains additional scenes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Hill
• Release date: Nov 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005536329

Kate Hill

Kate Hill is a vegetarian New Englander who started writing many years ago for pleasure. When she's not writing, she enjoys reading, watching horror and action movies, working out, and spending time with her family and pets. She also writes under the name Saloni Quinby.

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Ancient Blood 2: The Darkness Therein

by Kate Hill

Copyright 2022 Kate Hill

Smashwords Edition

First electronic book publication Dark Star Publications 2000

Second electronic book publication Ellora’s Cave 2004

First trade paperback publication Ellora’s Cave 2011

Cover art © 2019 by Winterheart Design, winterheart.com

This book has sexual content and is for those 18 or over.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, and events is purely coincidental.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One: Are You Inviting Me In?

Chapter Two: She’s My Favorite

Chapter Three: I Am Retribution

Chapter Four: I Wasn’t In Shock

Chapter Five: Pretty Quick for a Guy Your Age

Chapter Six: Charlie’s Fan Brush

Chapter Seven: He’s a Vampire. I’m a Vampire.

Chapter Eight: I’m Just a Snack to You

Chapter Nine: Deadly, Sensual Rhythm

Chapter Ten: Memories of the Past

Chapter Eleven: Aim for My Heart

Chapter Twelve: Tonight Is Yours

Chapter Thirteen: Curcio Ferrer

Chapter Fourteen: Five of His Best

Chapter Fifteen: The Dark-Haired Warrior

Chapter Sixteen: The Temple

Chapter Seventeen: What He Took From Me

Chapter Eighteen: Wicked Prey

Chapter Nineteen: Revenge

Chapter Twenty: The Professor

Epilogue

Extra Scene One: Adam

Extra Scene Two: The First Father

Author’s Note

About the Author

Also by Kate Hill

Prologue

1987

Jocelyn gazed at the dark water of the river Thames. This might be the last time he’d see London. It had changed dramatically since his youth, yet it was still home, not that home meant much to him anymore. Everyone he’d ever loved was long dead, and he would never love again. It was too painful and too heavy a responsibility.

It would suit him quite well if he never returned, if he perished along with the fiend he intended to destroy.

He’d spent centuries preparing for this.

Jocelyn’s thoughts drifted back to his maker, to a specific night when they huddled around a fire, deep in the wilderness.

"Our lives are long, Jocelyn, but even our kind won’t last forever. If you ever find yourself alone—"

"I’ll always be alone." Jocelyn lifted his chin and glanced toward the distant forest. To human eyes, it would have been black, but he could see the outline of trees, the movement of a deer, and the flapping wings of a restless bird settling back into its nest.

A faint smile tugged at Gamel’s lips and he shook his head. You’ve always been stubborn. Anyway, if you ever find yourself with questions about our kind that I’m not here to answer, seek out Jia.

"The woman you spoke of. The one who supplied the poison deadly to our kind."

With that poison, they planned to kill the monster responsible for destroying Jocelyn’s life.

"Yes. She’s quite remarkable and knowledgeable. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be of more help to you than I’ve ever been."

Only after he’d lost Gamel had Jocelyn taken his old friend’s advice and sought out the lady. His search had taken him across the world to China.

Jia wasn’t what he’d expected. Like Jocelyn, she had suffered great loss, and she had a stubborn streak.

His thoughts raced ahead several decades, to the time after Gamel’s death.

Firelight danced across Jia’s dark hair and pale skin. She stared at him with a discerning but lustful expression in her dark eyes.

Her tongue flicked over his muscle-ridged abdomen. Straddling him, she leaned forward, brushing his lips with a kiss while running her fingers through his hair.

"I’m afraid I can teach you no more, she murmured, sliding onto his thighs. You’re an expert with the spear."

Though beautiful and a pleasure to bed, Jia had never managed to capture his heart. She had his respect, even his gratitude. That was the most he would ever offer anyone again.

She rose to her knees and loomed above him. Her lashes lowered over her sultry eyes and her lips parted, revealing the tips of her fangs.

"I dare almost any of our kind to fight you and win." She gripped his fingers and squeezed.

"That’s what I want," he said.

"Yet even the finest warrior may one day fail. Why won’t you let me teach you more than just another way to fight? There’s so much I can tell you about what we really are."

"I know enough about what we are to hate the Originals who spawned and deserted us."

"They didn’t desert us. They—"

"Weren’t careful enough! The rest of us have paid for their mistakes. The less I know about our kind, the better I like it! There’s only one blood drinker I care about. The one I’m going to kill."

"More of us than you think would help you."

"I’ve had enough help from our kind! No, Edrik is mine and mine alone. One day I will destroy him and send his soul—if he still has one—to hell."

"And would you sacrifice your own soul along the way?"

"My soul died long ago."

"I’m sorry for you, Jocelyn."

In a swift motion he knocked her onto her back and covered her body with his. Grasping both of her wrists in one hand, he held them above her head. His teeth ground with scarcely suppressed rage. The last thing I want or need is pity! I’m grateful for what you’ve taught me, but you know love is something I can no longer give.

"I don’t want your love." Her calm gaze revealed the truth of her words.

"Creatures like us aren’t fit to live, let alone love or be loved."

She laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist. You are so very young, Jocelyn. We are no less fit to live and love than anyone else. Not all of us are evil. Haven’t I, at least, taught you that much?

"As I said, I only care about one evil—"

"I know. I know. Edrik."

"And you’d best tell your acquaintances as well as anyone else who’ll listen, that he is mine and to stay away from both of us."

"Most would agree to that. Vengeance is taken seriously among our kind. Most of us would allow you to have what’s owed you."

"You’ve been a very good teacher. His voice softened and he released her wrists. Perhaps even better than the one who made me."

"You mustn’t hate Gamel."

Jocelyn drew a deep breath and tried to ignore the familiar ache in his chest. He should hate his maker. For a long time he had.

"Without hatred, we wouldn’t know love." His voice dripped sarcasm.

"One day, Jocelyn, you might find someone who won’t walk away when you order it."

"That will be their problem." He growled, baring his fangs.

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head to the side, exposing the lovely, white column of her throat.

Without further thought, Jocelyn sank his fangs into her smooth flesh. Clinging to him, she drove her sharp nails into his back.

Desire tore through him, but the feeling faded all too quickly. He’d learned long ago that sex was simply another weapon, something to be used to get what he wanted. It had gotten him Jia.

At least that’s what he’d told himself back then. The truth was, no one manipulated Jia. She would have shared her knowledge without sharing her body. At the time, they had both needed physical release. Nothing more. Everything she’d taught him had been freely shared, and when he’d left, there had been no looking back for either of them.

Gamel had been right about her. A master of both the fighting and magical arts, she had been a great teacher. Jia’s knowledge combined with that of his maker had finally given him the means to destroy the most vicious creature that had ever walked the Earth.

Jocelyn had spent centuries putting that knowledge to use, tracking Edrik and doing battle with him, but the monster had always managed to escape. With so many years of hatred behind him, Jocelyn was more than ready to snap off the serpent’s head—with his teeth.

Drawing a deep breath of London air, Jocelyn glanced around. Big Ben and the Parliament loomed in the distance. All around him the sight, sounds, and scents of the city and its people filled him.

Yes, this might be his last time here. Edrik was in America, and Jocelyn was duty-bound to follow him. Back in the day, he’d never imagined the war between them would finally end on American soil. He’d always imagined destroying him in the place where Edrik had ruined his life.

Yet it didn’t matter where he killed Edrik, only that the monster would finally be wiped from this world.

Chapter One

Are You Inviting Me In?

Massachusetts, 1987

Charlie glanced over her shoulder and strained to see in the darkness. Not a single streetlight glowed in the quiet suburban neighborhood.

Shivering from more than just the autumn chill, she hurried down a subtle bend in the road. In the distance loomed the silhouette of the old Victorian house where she worked as a caretaker while the elderly owners resided in Europe for several months. It had been a welcome opportunity for a full time student with a part time job and she hadn’t regretted accepting the position—until now.

A particularly strong breeze stirred the dry leaves lining the sides of the road. She broke into a run, wishing she’d spent the night at her friend Mara’s. Less than an hour ago, they had been sitting comfortably in the disheveled three-room apartment, munching bagel chips, watching rented films, and discussing their disheartening lack of boyfriends. Then Charlie had felt the obsessive, almost psychic urge to hurry home and complete her most recent painting.

Thinking about her work comforted her somewhat and slowed the frantic beating of her heart along with the pace of her steps. She’d been a gifted artist since she’d picked up a pencil and brush as a child. All her life there had been certain works, inspired by a passion she couldn’t explain, that came to her like visions. With those particular paintings, she couldn’t rest until she finished them, and she couldn’t part with them once they were completed. Only such a painting could force her to venture out alone so late on a starless night.

She’d almost convinced herself that her fear of being stalked was a result of the intense emotions regarding her painting when an unfamiliar voice, as soft as the caressing wind, said close to her ear. If I were you, I’d keep running.

Shrieking with terror, she spun toward the slender, blond stranger. They stared at each other.

For the briefest moment she saw uncertainty in his earthy brown eyes. Then she jabbed her knee at his groin. Unfortunately, he was quick enough to avoid the blow. He grasped her shoulders, his lean fingers bruising her skin.

You’re wasting time! Get inside… Before he finished, she slashed his shoulder with her house key, wincing at the revolting rip of fabric and flesh.

He loosened his grip on her, though he ignored the blood soaking the sleeve of his black shirt.

Glaring, he tightened his grip on her. I’m trying to help you!

Charlie shoved him as hard as she could, and he released her.

She raced toward the hill, her gaze fixed on the house. The moment she reached the end of the long, cobbled driveway, the fiend slipped from behind a neatly-trimmed bush and grasped her neck, dragging her backward into his deadly embrace. Moonlight glinted off lava-red hair. Pasty, eel-like lips drew back over wolfish teeth. He tilted his head backward. Was he going to bite her?

Without hesitation, the blond ran several steps and leapt at the demon, kicking him in the back with an extended leg. The monster lost his grip on Charlie and they fell onto a patch of grass. Stunned and gagging from his stranglehold, Charlie looked up from where she lay.

The two men fought with a viciousness she’d only seen on wild animal documentaries. Though of similar height, the blond was paler, of slighter build, and far more graceful than his redheaded opponent. While she staggered to her feet, they traded potentially fatal blows that drew blood from both. The pale one’s slender build belied a strength that held up remarkably well against the other’s thick fists. It was the redhead who fell back first, his head crashing against the trunk of an oak already stripped of leaves.

The redhead spat a mouthful of blood, a sneer on his lips. You’re hungry.

And you’re clumsy.

But not stupid. The redhead ripped off the lowest tree branch and swung.

Charlie winced as the blond used his forearms to block the branch, certain the blows would shatter every bone in his hands and arms. Finally the edge of the branch struck his temple. He staggered.

She’s yours! You need her more than I do. The redhead sneered, but Charlie noticed a glint of fear in his eyes before he disappeared into the darkness of the trees.

She needed to get inside and call the police, but she hesitated, concerned by the blood dripping from her protector’s forehead. In spite of his alarming first approach, he had risked his life to help her. She recalled his initial words of warning before she’d impulsively slashed him with her key.

I’ll call an ambulance for you. She stepped closer to him, but he shook his head, probably in shock. You better come with me. Can you walk?

He followed her silently, swiping blood from eyes that scanned the area with the sweeping awareness of a cat. He’s gone. Damn.

What do you mean ‘damn?’ He could have killed us. I hope the cops catch him. Maybe I should run for the phone. You’re bleeding a lot.

Mostly from a certain woman’s key, he quipped. She wondered how he could sound mocking when she could scarcely control her panic.

She unlocked the heavy oak door and stepped aside for him to pass.

Are you inviting me in?

Unless you want to bleed to death on the front steps. When he still hesitated, she looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Yes. I’m inviting you in. Do you need it in writing?

No. The spoken word is fine.

She hurried to the phone, but before she picked up the receiver, his hand closed over hers. She jumped, not only from surprise, but from the odd warmth that melted through her at his touch. His large hand completely covered hers. In spite of their size and strength, his oval-tipped fingers were long and sensitive. A rectangular black cameo set in gold adorned his pinky and a gold snake ring curled around his thumb.

Regaining her composure and ignoring the feelings he aroused, she looked up at him. That guy tried to attack me. I’m calling the cops.

Police can’t help. That’s why I’m after him.

Are you a cop? FBI?

He offered a quirky grin. If you could spare some towels and water?

She bounded up the circular staircase to the bathroom where she gathered several fresh towels, bandages, and antiseptic. Downstairs, large drops of blood in the hall led the way to the lighted kitchen.

Her guest stood shirtless by the stove, heating her longest carving knife over one of the burners. Though lean, with every bone and muscle showing beneath smooth skin, he was exquisitely proportioned with sculpted arms, shoulders, chest, and back. A tattoo of black symbols covered one sinewy arm from shoulder to elbow. His narrow waist tapered to snake-like hips and a tightly- muscled buttocks curved sensuously beneath black silk pants.

Heat radiated from the knife’s blade. He pressed the scorching metal to the key cut that was creating a pool of blood on the tile floor.

Charlie winced. Hey, you’ll probably get an infection from that.

The reek of charred flesh gagged her. Ages seemed to pass while he held the knife in place. They listened to the sound of his skin frying before he rinsed the blade under cold water and dropped it in a barrel by the sink. He glanced at her, his skin even paler under the kitchen light and in contrast with the dark patches of drying blood. He took an unsteady step. She wondered how the hell was he even standing.

She tossed the first aid supplies onto the countertop and quickly brought him a chair.

Not that it’s any of my business, but I think you really need a doctor.

I’ll be fine. Honestly. I’m sorry about the mess I’m making, and I appreciate your help more than you know.

God, she loved the sound of his voice! It was so quiet, patient, and strong—the sort of voice she would trust to guide her through a dark, unknown tunnel.

I should be apologizing and thanking you. She brought him the towels and antiseptic. Maybe if your approach hadn’t scared the hell out of me, I wouldn’t have acted so…

Masterfully? he supplied. The carefully chosen, if archaic, word sounded natural coming from him.

Violently.

For the next few minutes, neither spoke while he finished bandaging his arm. Once he’d cleaned the blood from his face, she saw him clearly for the first time. Though not conventionally handsome, he possessed an attractive, timeless quality. His dark, wide-set eyes gazed from above a long but well-shaped nose. His slim lips were almost feminine in form and looked so incredibly kissable. She hoped when he felt better he’d allow her to paint him. His gaze shifted toward her, and she glanced away, embarrassed. It was as if he’d caught her peeping at him through a crack in a door.

Is there anything I can get you? she asked.

That dog. The barking is driving me mad.

Charlie had been so preoccupied with her unexpected guest that she’d ignored the persistent barking of Bell, the rottweiler who had been left in her care along with the house.

I’m afraid if I let her in she’ll go crazy. She doesn’t like strangers.

I have a way with animals. We understand each other.

Charlie shrugged. If you want to risk adding a dog bite to the rest of your injuries, it’s up to you.

Eager to inspect the house, the dog bounded through the back door the moment Charlie opened it. The floor shook beneath the weight of her massive paws. Saliva flew from her jaw with every deep, ear-shattering bark. She leapt at the stranger in her house.

Bell, no! Charlie shouted.

The blond held out his hand and stared at the dog with his penetrating gaze. Immediately Bell dropped to a sitting position, her stubby tail swishing across the tile floor while her tongue lolled from the side of her leathery black lips. The man confidently approached the dog and patted her head.

Awed, Charlie furrowed her brow. "How did you do that?"

I told you. Dogs and I don’t have a problem with each other.

You mean it’s just that red-headed maniac you have a problem with?

Maybe now he’d provide more details about the near-disaster outside.

He held her gaze, but he didn’t speak.

We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I’m Charlie. She extended her hand, her heartbeat quickening at the memory of the thrill that had rushed through her the last time they’d touched. Had she imagined it? No, she hadn’t. As soon as his hand closed around hers, a jolt of power that was nothing short of electric shot through her.

He drew back. Had he felt it, too?

Jocelyn.

Now there’s a name you don’t hear often—on a man, that is.

It was used more during the thirteenth century.

I’ll have to remember that. Yeah, he was unusual, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that drew her to him.

Psychic ability ran in her family. Her grandmother’s dreams had often come true. Her father could pull thoughts out of a person’s head easier than he could pick flowers with his arthritic back. Her mother was perhaps the most gifted of all, having aided police in finding several missing persons over the years. Charlie’s abilities were limited to the paintings she created of places and things she hadn’t yet seen, but often turned up unexpectedly. She’d never had such a reaction to a person before. These feelings Jocelyn stirred were undeniably psychic.

The phone rang, and she hurried to the living room to answer it. Finally, a chance for a break from his disturbing presence.

Charlie, thank God! You’re all right! Her mother’s voice was shrill with relief. I’ve been calling all night. There’s something important I have to tell you.

Mom, you won’t believe what happened to me. I—

Charlie, keep quiet and listen. A man named Jocelyn is coming to see you—

He’s…He’s here, Mom. Did her voice reveal her sudden terror at knowing her life was about to change?

Good. He’s going to tell you some incredible things, but he’s not lying and he’s not crazy. Take every word he says seriously. Do what he tells you, and I’ll be there tomorrow night. I’ve booked the next flight to Boston.

Someone tried to attack me tonight. Did you know about it?

Not until this evening. I nearly went insane trying to warn you. Jocelyn will explain it all. I have to pack for my flight and then call your father in Spain.

He’s not there on business, is he? Even deeper fear gripped Charlie. Her father had traveled to Europe on the pretense of a business trip, but a feeling of unearthly perception told her otherwise.

No. It’s to do with the coven. Talk to Jocelyn. Charlie’s mother hesitated before hanging up. I love you, honey.

You, too, Mom. I’m glad you’re coming.

Charlie drew a trembling breath and hung up the phone. Turning, she crashed into Jocelyn’s bare chest. He caught her by the shoulders. The heat of his palms and the slight pressure of his body against hers aroused her. Despite his weirdness, he was the sexiest man she’d ever met. What was her problem? How could she think about sex at a time like this?

His gaze, the color of warm chocolate, fixed on hers. Your mother?

She said we should talk.

Tossing her another odd smile, he guided her to the couch across from the fireplace. They faced each other from opposite ends.

Do you remember me at all?

She shook her head, narrowing her eyes at him. I don’t, yet you’re not unfamiliar.

You saw me once when you were very young, when you were initiated into the coven.

Charlie’s family held what some called Pagan beliefs. Those beliefs had been shared for hundreds of years by a small group of families belonging to their coven. They worshipped nature, gods and goddesses of their own choosing, and preserved their ancestors’ memories. Children were initiated into the coven at five years old during a special ritual followed by a celebration. Charlie scarcely remembered her initiation, except for the scent of the incense, the color of the candles and ritual robes, and the feeling of belonging to something important, something secret. Later she learned that without secrecy, they were in danger of persecution from their ignorant neighbors. As a teenager, it had frustrated her that she was forced to keep her beliefs hushed while her friends worshipped freely in the churches of their choice. Her bitterness caused difficulty throughout high school. It was only in college when she met curious, open-minded Mara that she found her first best friend. She trusted Mara enough to tell her a little about the coven. The two women hoped that Mara would eventually be allowed to participate in one of their rituals.

Think about it, Jocelyn interrupted her thoughts.

Charlie tried recalling every fuzzy detail of the initiation.

She remembered her parents and the other children crowded into the large, refinished attic room where rituals were often held. Different families participated then. Many of them had moved to various places over the years and kept in touch by mail or phone. Charlie scarcely remembered exactly who was at her initiation. Wait. In the back of the crowd had stood a tall, spectral blond with eyes as dark as the pooling wax of the ritual candles.

You were there, Charlie murmured. At my initiation. You’re part of our coven.

I’ve been part of the coven since it began.

Her heartbeat quickened. Fear and then denial crawled through her, and she broke into nervous laughter.

This isn’t a joke, Charlie. I was there when the coven was formed. I know why it was formed, and I know that you are more important to us than you realize.

She stopped laughing and swiped tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. Are you supposed to be a ghost or something?

Would a ghost bleed?

Then what are you?

Chapter Two

She’s My Favorite

Legends say that if properly invoked, the spirits of evil will become incarnate. Once called forth, there is little chance of returning them to the hell from which they came. The most we can hope for is to imprison the evil. Only another immortal has a chance of destroying or imprisoning such a demon.

Charlie shivered at the ominous words spoken in Jocelyn’s cultured voice.

I know those stories, she said. They’ve been passed down in our coven since the middle ages. But there are no monsters or demons. Nature is what you make of it.

And more often than not we make it evil. Long ago, before even I can recall, one of these evil souls preyed on others, surviving on flesh and blood while seeking to master the world. He killed the one who unwittingly conjured him but the conjurer, realizing the horror he’d unleashed, passed to another the power of immortality, giving him the means to imprison the evil soul.

Locks of golden hair shadowed his dark eyes. His stony expression made her shiver. She smiled in a poor attempt to disguise the fear that crept like a scorpion into her soul.

I can’t believe two adults are sitting here talking about demons and curses.

Do you think what happened tonight was amusing? Do you know what he planned to do to you?

Rape and murder?

Only if you were lucky.

Her smile faded. Are you trying to tell me the guy who attacked me is some sort of conjured spirit, some blood-sucking vampire?

If that’s what you want to call him.

And I suppose you’re another immortal sent to kill him?

"You’re not taking this seriously, and I couldn’t care less, except