Castle of Blood and Secrets: Vampire Assassin Chronicles, #1

By Michelle A. Darnell

A vampire princess with a death wish… 

 

As the daughter of the King of Assassins, Adina knows better than to trust anyone, especially family. When her grandfather, Sujani, summons her from exile, he gives her two choices: remain an outcast and on the run from her own murderous father, or play the pawn and apprentice to the most powerful vampire in the world. But to train with him, Adina must agree to coexist with her sworn enemy, Sir Elrich, the general who helped slaughter her village. 

 

A dark knight with a dangerous secret… 

 

Sir Elrich fears the other vampires will discover his greatest shame: as a human, he ordered the invasion that massacred Adina's beloved city… and family. Held captive by his own regrets, he longs for absolution from the woman he tried to save on that fateful night nearly a century ago. If Adina finds out who he really is, she'll introduce him to Final Death without a second thought. 

 

A race on the verge of extinction…

 

Trapped in a deadly chess match between her vengeful father and cunning grandfather, Adina must decide if she can trust Elrich, not only with her life, but with her heart. And the longer Adina spends with him, the more she realizes that he's not the monster she thought him to be. If the knight has his way, they'll all escape with their unlives. But if her grandfather can't harness her magical life force in time to balance the deific energy he seeks to resurrect, it will result in a cataclysmic extermination of the entire vampire race. 

 

Castle of Blood and Secrets is a thrilling paranormal fantasy exploring found family, morally gray characters and forgiveness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hidden Lake Publishing LLC
• Release date: Oct 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781962809009

Book preview

Chapter 1

King’s City, 1152 P.C. (Post Cataclysm)

Mistakes were made. But no one had ever accused Adina of being a perfect vampire. Or a perfect assassin.

The door latched behind her, sealing out the mob’s clamor. They’d been chasing her for two nights now.

The hit was easy. A spoiled count’s son. How did she manage to screw it up so badly?

Seeking refuge in the shadows cast by the hearth’s fire, Adina slumped against the door frame as her leg muscles crumpled. She pulled back her cowl. Her head throbbed, and one arm hung at an unnatural angle. The other grasped at the adobe wall, taking the weight off her trembling knees.

Adina swallowed and licked her lips, a nervous habit from a previous life. She took stock of the one room abode. The wood floor creaked beneath her feet. Hana? Help. Her voice, squeezing past her parched throat, whispered through the space. Empty.

Shit-shit-shit.

Hana! Adina’s voice echoed around the empty room.

The other woman couldn’t be away. Did she not know what was happening outside?

She whispered, Hana?

The flames crackled, indifferent, under Hana’s cauldron.

If she waited, her friend might return, but Adina didn’t have time. Her father was coming.

Adina ground her teeth and silently screamed at the ceiling. She grew tired of never being good enough for her father, of never being wanted. Now that she was finally trying to leave, her father led the mob to assassinate her, and her best friend was nowhere to be found.

If she’d had the strength, she’d smash Hana’s favorite mug against the wall.

As she stumbled to the hearth, a pungent odor assaulted her nose from the sticky-sweet concoction boiling over the flames. Belladonna. Adina waved her hand, sending the smallest tendril of her Talent toward the brew and smiled as the power revealed its contents—the potion contained a few other surprises for the unwary, it seemed. This recipe still needed several days to distill and purify. Hana was the best poison master in the region, as well she should be—the other vampire had perfected her craft over the last two centuries. And she owed Adina a favor.

She glanced around. There had to be something here she could use. On the floor near the fire, a wineskin sat close enough to the flames to stay warm, but far enough away to avoid the flames—not an accidental placement. Snatching the heated bag in her hands, she popped the top open, and inhaled the welcome smell of life itself.

Thank you, Hana. We’re even.

She should never have doubted her friend.

Without hesitation, she drank the blood in deep gulps. From the hot liquid, an accompanying energy wave dampened the pain and strengthened her muscles. The parched feeling in her throat abated. This would give her the strength she needed to escape, though she’d need a lot more to fully heal. Adina cast a suspicious glare at the room’s darkest shadows, but nothing stirred…yet.

A stray desert breeze blew sand against the front door as it passed by, thousands of minuscule claws scratching at the door.

She’d lingered too long. Adina brushed her hair out of her face and looked around the room. This was too obvious a hiding place. She’d be damned if she let him catch her so easily.

A sheet of paper fluttered where the wine skin had lain. Adina snatched it with her uninjured hand and shook the note open.

A —

Your father is in one of his rages. Rumor says the Count’s son is dead in a botched hit. Your father expelled you from the Guild, and he’s sworn to kill you himself if you evade the mob.

Adina blinked twice. To her knowledge, the Assassin’s Guild excommunicated no one. It was much easier to just assassinate them and be done. Did her father actually expect her to escape him, the King of Assassins? She shrugged. In her book, excommunication was preferable over Final Death any day.

Take what you need. I pay my debts. I’ll do my best to hold off your father without risking his wrath. My horse is in the stable—do NOT eat him.

May the gods protect you, my friend.

— H

Tossing the note in the fire, Adina hurried toward the back of the room. As she reached the door, she turned and stared at the pot containing the unpurified belladonna and blood bane, a dangerous mixture to her kind as well as mortals.

Take what you need.

She could coat her blade with Hana’s custom poison and use it to slice her father’s neck. That would put a lovely end to all her problems, and she could leave this mess of a life behind. A bleeding throat alone wouldn’t kill one as powerful as Septimus, but the venom working its way through his veins would. Slowly. With much agony.

She’d have to make sure she was in top form to even have a chance at succeeding.

Adina smiled, flicked her functional wrist, and sent a ray of power to the solution. At her command, the concoction separated into two awaiting bowls—one filled with a black viscous waste and the other a clear liquid smelling of sugar—the belladonna alkaloids. Purifying the solution was a quick thank-you to the Poison Master, for she also paid her debts.

Adina grabbed a small vial off the shelf. Snatching Hana’s dropper, she sucked up several measures of the sweet belladonna. She dropped the liquid into the container, capped it off, and slid the compound into the folds of her robe.

Poison wasn’t her preferred assassination tool, but one could never be too prepared where her father was concerned. And Hana’s concoctions were prohibitively expensive.

With her damaged arm, Adina struggled to saddle Hana’s horse. She glanced over her shoulder once more, breath caught in her throat. She’d lost the mob, but she wouldn’t put it past her father to make good on his threat to rid himself of his unwanted failure-of-a-daughter once and for all.

He’d catch her for sure if she didn’t hurry.

A whimper of relief escaped from her throat as the last strap snapped into place. The saddle finally secured, Adina hauled herself up with more brute force than grace. Behind her, a cloud of darkness swallowed Hana’s house.

He was here.

She spit on the ground and flashed her fangs at the gloom. You’ve failed, Father. Sorry to disappoint yet again.

Smiling, Adina grasped the reins with her working hand, kicked the horse’s sides and fled the city, leaving her father, friends, and problems in the dust. She’d start over—this time, somewhere Septimus would never think to hunt for her.

Chapter 2

The twelfth day of the fifth moon, 1201 P.C.

Adina, daughter of Septimus,

Greetings. I have sent this introduction via Baron Arthur as he is most likely to know how to get in touch with you. I am currently working on a project at Taldea Pass on the northern Brachian border and request your presence.

Come alone, and do not kill anyone until we speak.

Sujani

Adina pulled out the letter, smoothed the wrinkles, and scanned the note again. For the hundredth time. The words were the same as when she first read them. No fine print said You’re walking into a trap or This is another of your father’s attempts to lure you into the open, so he can kill you.

Baron Arthur was smart, and privy to enough of her particular brand of family drama he wouldn’t fall for some ploy by her father. Right? But then what on earth was she getting herself into?

The breeze danced through the twisted, stunted branches of the Brachian forest, pulling at her robes, like it was urging her down the path. Nothing else moved on this trail so late at night.

She’d heard of Sujani. He was some old vamp recluse, supposedly super-powerful. Rumor said he owned a fortress somewhere in Gorlinia. Ugh, Gorlinians. She never found any reason to dig into him beyond that. Survival meant keeping her head down and staying out of the older vamps’ paths.

So what did Sujani want with her? The best-case scenario was an assassination contract of some sort, something to help rebuild the reputation her father meticulously shredded fifty years ago when he excommunicated her. But guild contracts weren’t handed out in randomly delivered letters.

She’d been excommunicated, anyway. Adina puffed up her chest and smiled. The only vampire ever kicked out of the Assassin’s Guild, and the only one the King of Assassins, her father, had tried to kill and failed.

Septimus had connections, though. He wouldn’t be above trading a favor to another vampire to trick her out of hiding. This was probably a trap. And she was the moron walking right into it.

She stared at Sujani’s note again. Holding the paper to her nose, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Yep, it still smelled like Arthur. Butterflies mixed with the shame that coiled in her gut at the thought of him. But she’d been half a century younger back then, more stupid, and less capable of handling her own problems. What would he think of the woman she’d become?

She and Arthur had fought over the letter—one of their few fights. Adina still wasn’t sure who’d won. Despite Arthur’s insistence in coming along, she didn’t need his protection. Thus it was a victory that she was here without him. But he’d achieved his goal, too; despite her best judgment, she was walking into an almost certain trap simply because he’d asked her to. Men were so frustrating sometimes.

Folding the message, she slipped it into her saddlebag. Pulling her horse’s head up from the grass he nibbled, she nudged him forward. Adina glanced north, toward Taldea Pass. Just a few more nights, and it would be over. One way or another.

As she crested the next hill, the shadows congealed in front of her, a pool of blackness where moonlight should reign.

Damn it. A hard lump of ice hardened in her gut. She checked the vicinity. There was nowhere to hide. It was too late, anyway—he knew she was here.

Pulling her swords loose, she leapt from the saddle. Asil, into the trees, she said in Hakkid. She wouldn’t put it past Septimus to maim or kill her horse, just to prevent her from getting away.

The animal obliged, wandering about ten feet off the trail before finding a clump of grass to graze on.

A wall of ebony muscle stepped from the darkness. A gold loop dangled from his earlobe, matched by the gold-plated handle of the falchion that hung from his belt. Black riding trousers ballooned over his lower legs, secured tightly at the waist and ankles. He left his blood-red vest open, showing off his impressive chest.

Septimus planted his legs in a wide stance and crossed his arms. He flashed his fangs and twisted his face into the sneer he reserved only for her. Daughter.

His deep voice reverberated through her bones, like fingernails on slate. Spots danced in her vision as the world tipped on its side. Adina took two deep breaths to calm her pounding heart.

She didn’t stand a chance against him in a fight, but there was no way she’d let him see the icy fear creeping through her veins.

She walked toward him, spinning her swords to warm up her wrists. Her lip pulled into a snarl to match his. She flicked her gaze to Asil’s saddlebag, which contained the vial of Hana’s poison she’d pilfered fifty years ago. What she wouldn’t give for thirty seconds to prep her blades. Well, no reason to expect life to give her a fair hand this time when it never had before.

She thrust her chin forward and gave him a hard glare. Father. What do you want?

He snarled. What I’ve wanted for the last hundred years. You, dead and out from underneath my feet.

She snorted. No surprise there. If you didn’t want me as a daughter, then you shouldn’t have made me into a vampire. You should’ve let me die as a human. She gave him a brazen smile. And you need to come up with a new tune. I haven’t been ‘under your feet’ in fifty years. You couldn’t kill me then. Think you’re man enough to do it now? She planted her feet, and held her swords between them, ready.

The breeze, so eager to speed her on her journey moments ago, shifted. Now, it seemed to urge her away from Septimus. He smelled of the sun-beaten sands of their homeland. Even though she hadn’t laid eyes on it in a century, the familiar scent twisted her gut.

She needed to get ahold of herself. Now was not the time to be getting homesick.

He flashed his fangs and growled. Insubordinate child! Do you have any idea what you’re doing? What Sujani does to those in his grasp?

What she was doing other than figuring out a way to survive a direct fight with the King of Assassins? Please, oh wise one, enlighten me. Sarcasm dripped from her fangs as venom from a viper. Why can’t you just leave me alone to live my own life? He acted as if he hadn’t been the sole person responsible for bringing her back to unlife. Why he hated her so much was baffling.

Septimus stepped forward.

He was so much stronger, physically and magically. Blocking his attacks would jar enough to throw her off balance, and cost her the grip on her weapons. Her best bet would be to dodge, and hope for a quick opening.

Snarling, Septimus drew his oversized falchion and lunged.

She ducked his swing. As she stood, he kicked up a pile of gravel and dirt. Using his shadow force, he flung hundreds of dark needles into her face. Partially blinded, Adina scrambled back, holding her swords crossed in front of her. She rubbed her eyes on her sleeve and blinked to clear the grit.

That’s low, Father. Even for you.

Not one to let his advantage go to waste, he leapt at her again, no more than a dark figure in the night. Swinging high as a feint, he directed shadowy daggers low to her left.

Her ankle burned as one pierced her flesh, slicing through to bone. The strike landed a few centimeters short. He’d been shooting for her tendon, hoping to cripple her.

Adina blinked. She’d left herself wide open—he shouldn’t have missed that shot. Maybe luck was on her side, after all. She feigned a limp.

He smirked as he closed in for the killing blow. Flashing his obsidian blade at her, he took his time, oozing confidence. Now your unlife ends.

But she was ready. Hopefully his overconfidence would be his downfall. She focused her blood and pushed all her strength into a leap. Springing away from the attack, she bounced off a tree with feline grace and caught him across his lower back with twin slices of her blades. Still favoring her ankle, she stepped back to a defensive posture. Thin trails of red dripped from the tips of her swords. The scratch wasn’t deep enough to damage one of Septimus' age and power, but she still smiled at his scream.

He whirled around, his eyes, dark pools of shadow, promising Final Death.

Tonight might be the day he finally got his way, but she was going to make him work for it. She danced away from him. Come on, old man. You can do better. She threw the same taunt at him he’d said to her in the early years of her unlife. Or do I need to go hire you someone younger who can keep up with me?

He followed, more quickly than a man of his size should. His face distorted with rage.

The swing of his curved blade was too swift, too perfectly aligned, for her to dodge this time. She braced for a crippling blow. This would hurt.

Septimus’ sword bit deep into the meat of her right bicep sending a shock of pain through her body. Her weapon tumbled to the ground with a clang as her arm lay at her side, now useless. She blinked in surprise—he didn’t sever the limb. Adina’s knees trembled as her strength dribbled out in streams of blood. She was running out of tricks. Maybe she could pull enough ambient moisture from the surroundings to make a shield or barrier to block the next blow? It wouldn’t succeed, but at least she’d go down fighting.

With a loud thunk Septimus jerked forward as if something hit him from behind. He stood there, blinking, as his body wavered back and forth slightly. His eyes unfocused, staring out into the distance. His mouth opened and closed, as if he were fighting for breath.

Which was silly, because vampires didn’t need to breathe.

Whatever. She’d take whatever blessings the gods saw fit to bestow.

With the last bit of energy remaining, she swung her sword and caught the tip in his earring. Following the blow through a full arc, she ripped the gold ring from his earlobe.

He howled as the hoop tore loose, and collapsed to his knees. His head lolled to the side, leaving his neck exposed.

With a light toss, Adina reversed her grip, and stabbed her blade into Septimus’ throat with a spray of black blood.

Her father crumpled at her feet, a half-circle indent in the shape of a horseshoe on his lower back. Behind him, Asil stood, smugly gazing over his shoulder at her. Septimus disappeared in a cloud of shadows.

Adina smiled and patted him on the rump. Good boy, Asil. Thank you. Collecting her sword, she climbed back into the saddle. Leaning forward, she spurred the horse, and tried to focus on healing the damage to her body. She’d smell of blood until she could change, but at least she wouldn’t be actively bleeding.

Her throat burned with the expenditure of energy. She would need to hunt soon, or risk losing control to The Hunger that plagued all vampires.

A broken spine and the neck wound would slow the King of Assassins down for a little while, but not for long. He was too old, too powerful, for that.

The sooner she got off the trail and to Sujani’s, the better.

Chapter 3

Sujani

Sujani stood in the center of the clearing. Behind the western mountains, the sky lightened from midnight to navy. It was clear with a new moon—the stars sparkled, despite the late hour. One of the best things about this existence, beyond the nearly unlimited power, of course, was always being awake to view the night skies.

A slight breeze sent his ankle-length cape swirling around his legs. He closed his eyes. Fresh air and solitude.

An owl hooted somewhere nearby.

Sujani held out a hand and waved it in front of him. The underlying current of power that ran below this land sent a shiver down his spine. He looked forward to figuring out how to tap its potential. If he was lucky, he’d use it to end his nemesis, Damon, once and for all.

Stroking the well-trimmed tuft of salt-and-pepper hair on his chin, he surveyed the area and smiled mentally, taking care not to let the expression spread to the rest of his face. Emotion exposed weaknesses for his enemies to exploit.

This was where his new keep would be built. Well, technically everything here belonged to the human king, but Sujani had no intention of giving up the stronghold once it was completed. His research placed the crux of the ley lines somewhere in this immediate vicinity. Besides, this human’s expiration date approached faster than most—he appeared almost as old as Sujani himself. No, that was cruel. The mortal had another decade or two of life in him, but that was the blink of an eye in the vampire’s existence. Humans died so quickly.

Sujani turned an appraising gaze to the sleepy hamlet below. At least there was a small human population here, and a sizable livestock herd. He couldn’t afford for his minions to waste their time hunting in the wilds for sustenance when their time would be better utilized with the manual labor.

His eyes wrinkled as he glanced around the clearing, and the piles of boulders scattered around like a giant’s marbles. It looked like the mortals already had most of the quarrying done. His two laborers should be around here. Somewhere. Younger vampires, whose fathers owed him personal favors, were more amenable to taking orders and performing menial tasks, such as building castles.

The mage flexed his bicep. Despite his apparent age, he could construct the keep himself, of course, but he was above such tasks, and had more important things to do.

The owl went silent, as did the crickets singing in the background.

Sujani studied the pitch-black woods beyond his clearing with narrowed eyes. Someone was here, watching him.

The only vampire stupid enough to attack him directly was Damon, a fellow blood mage. But shadows were the providence of Sujani’s son, Septimus. Did Septimus still hold his century-old grudge, and would he be so bold as to ally with Damon against his own father?

Bracing himself, Sujani faced the woods and stuck his right hand out, two fingers extended straight up, his ring finger and pinkie curled. He waited. His cloak’s embroidered designs flashed silver. Clouds formed above, darkening as they stirred. They drifted at first, but as he drew power, they picked up speed, gathering energy until they swirled in a dynamic and sinister mass. Thunder rumbled overhead. The earth beneath his feet trembled as the elusive ley lines that ran through the area responded to his Talent.

The mage nodded, and the breeze shifted. He inhaled. No scent of either Septimus or his rival, Damon. Of course, if Damon wasn’t using his Talent, Sujani wouldn’t be able to smell him until it was too late.

The third shift of wind put Sujani downwind of the newcomer. A gray bear stared at him through the trees before lumbering off into the forest. His shoulders turned heavy, and he fought to prevent them from slumping as he sighed.

Of course Damon and Septimus weren’t there. His mind was merely over-stressed.

Facing the shadows, he dropped his hand, letting the weather fall back to its normal patterns. The land groaned as it settled.

His granddaughter wasn’t here yet, either, it seemed. But she would come in time. The Baron had promised him.

And if she didn’t, the Baron was a dead vampire.

Chapter 4

Elrich

Sir Elrich of Gorlinia sighed in relief as his carriage lurched to a halt at the top of Taldea Pass. Even though he wasn’t mortal, the constant jostling over the uneven road bruised his tailbone. He opened the door and stepped out of the cab with a nod to his driver.

The night sky roiled with a mass of angry clouds as the scent of ozone permeated his nostrils. He studied the brewing storm. A mountain pass was a less than ideal place to be if a thunderstorm struck.

Samuel! A voice screamed in a strong Champeauxian accent from the other coach that had tailgated Elrich’s all the way here. Where did you learn to drive? An arm gestured to the navy sky through one of the windows. And see how close to dawn you cut it, you imbecile!

He winced. Champeauxians. In his experience, few in Champeaux had the spine to look beyond their own noses at the rest of the world.

The driver opened the door. Apologies, m’lord, he said, cowering as the Champeauxian strode from the carriage. I will do better next time.

The newcomer huffed as he stepped to the ground, striking an intimidating pose. See that you do. Or you won’t need to worry about your failures. Ever again.

Elrich frowned. Threatening one’s human servants was a quick way to end up staked while day-dormant.

The moon peeked through the dissipating clouds as the earth rumbled beneath his feet. He tensed, keeping his balance while the tremble subsided.

What odd weather, even for Brachia.

Finally noticing Elrich, the other vampire strutted over and extended his hand, casting his imperious demeanor aside with a debonair smile. Lord René d’Bayeux of Pierrevalle, son and heir of Duke Marcos d’Bayeux.

Elrich took the man’s hand in a firm shake. René squeezed as the bones in Elrich’s hand shifted in response to the pressure. He matched the other vampire, pressure for pressure, staring into his eyes.

Samuel finished unloading René’s bags and shifted his weight back and forth several times.

Elrich’s mouth tightened. This has gone on long enough. He dug his fingers into the other vampire’s palm and squeezed until something snapped.

René withdrew his hand, fighting a grimace.

René was strong, even for a vampire. But he was nowhere near as muscular as Elrich. And his Talent gave him strength Lord d’Bayeux couldn’t fathom.

Smiling wide to show his pointed teeth, Elrich replied, Sir Elrich von Heinrich. Son of Alaric von Heinrich. And you should treat your servants with more respect.

René scoffed, his judgmental gaze traveled from the tip of Elrich’s head to his feet as he flexed his fingers. His eyes traveled over his worn boots and polished but well-used armor, up to the plain sword and shield. The white tabard with its red knife proclaimed Elrich a member of the Gorlinian knights of old… The Knights of the Bone Shard Blade, the order tasked with locating the mythological sword.

It was unfortunate the order had failed.

Don’t tell me how to handle my servants. René dropped his voice, whispering to himself, Outdated relic in hand-me-down armor.

Elrich hid a frown. Most noblemen were better skilled at hiding their derision. René wouldn’t last long in any court without the protection of someone very powerful.

Abruptly, the sky cleared as though the clouds had never been. He inhaled as pressure he hadn’t even noticed lifted from his shoulders.

René rolled his eyes and glanced around the empty clearing. In which direction do you think the pretty ladies in this area live?

Elrich narrowed his eyes, but offered no response. The ground shuddered again. He studied the surrounding peaks. None of them bore the telltale signs of a volcano.

René pushed his lips together as the silence lengthened. His jaw clenched. Very well, I’ll hunt for them myself. He turned to face the few small dwellings in the crook of the valley and frowned. So few houses. It’ll be hard to find acceptable women.

God’s Teeth, the idiocy. This was exactly why he made a point to avoid court. And Champeauxians.

Elrich glowered, crossed his arms, and pointedly stepped in front of René. "Do you