The End of Hatred Read online

  The Slayer sighed and rolled her eyes, releasing her death-grip on Arderin’s hair. “Good grief, are all Vampyres so dramatic?” Looking to the male Slayer in the room, she said sarcastically, “Remind me to brush up on Days of Our Lives this week so I can deal with Susan Lucci over here.” The chestnut-haired male Slayer stood immobile, arms crossed over his chest, except for the slight lift of the corners of his lips.

  “Look,” she said, turning back to Arderin, “regardless of what you think, I have no desire to kill an innocent woman, even if she is of an inferior race.” Arderin felt her nostrils flare with fury. “However, I will torture or even kill you if you don’t give me what I want so you have three hours to decide. After that, no more Ms. Nice Slayer, okay?”

  When Arderin didn’t answer her or even nod, the Slayer continued. “I’m guessing you’re understanding me even though you’re not answering. Our house doctor, Sadie, will be in later with some blood for you to drink from our infirmary. She’s a hell of a lot nicer than me so I expect you to be kind to her. Understood?”

  Shaking her head at Arderin’s lack of response, the Slayer turned to leave. “You have three hours, Vampyre. Think hard about how important living beyond tomorrow is to you. See you soon.”

  Arderin watched the Slayer exit the room, her male counterpart following behind. The door closed with a firm thud. Closing her eyes, she let the emotions swarm her, the pain overtake her, and allowed herself to cry.

  The Vampyre Compound of Astaria

  Something was very wrong. Sathan knew this in his gut even though he had no proof. After ruling his kingdom for a thousand years he had learned to listen to the voice in his head. Instinct was something to be treasured, especially in these dark times, and it now had him coiled in its dark web.

  Arderin was missing.

  After she blew up at him she had stormed out of the castle. Frustration led to him letting her go, realizing she needed to calm herself. She would’ve headed to the riverbank, her favorite patch of vibrant green grass under the oak tree beckoning to her. He had watched her stew in that spot many times after arguments, albeit from afar and without her knowledge. When they argued he always felt terrible, promising himself he would be more patient with her next time.

  His sister was a frustrating creature. The epitome of his beautiful mother, whom had been slain before his eyes when he was only ten years old. He had never forgiven himself for what happened that day. Had he only stepped in, only pulled out the knife from his belt, all would be different. But he had stayed silent, frozen with fear. His inability to save her was his greatest failure.

  He had vowed from that day forward to avenge his mother, his father and his people. Even at the tender age of ten he knew that he would be the sworn protector of the realm. His need to protect his sister consumed him. As she grew into a woman and went through her immortal change in her twenties, she began to look more and more like Calla. Ensuring that she lived a full and happy life was his vow. He would protect her as he hadn’t been able to protect his mother. He realized that this angered her and sometimes stopped her from seeing how desperately he loved her. Family was sacred and he knew that his two brothers, Latimus and Heden, agreed.

  Looking out the window of the king’s royal office chamber, he could no longer ignore the feeling of anxiety in his lower stomach.

  “No sign of her,” Latimus said, his voice brisk as he rounded the corner of the entrance to the large room. “We have to send out a search party.”

  “Yes,” Sathan said with a nod. Turning to Latimus, he sighed deeply. “I should’ve never engaged with her last night. She was having fun and I was embarrassed that she had been drinking so much—”

  “Regret is a waste of time,” Latimus interrupted. His brother, less than two years younger than he, was known for his terseness and lack of giving a damn about politeness or courtesy. He was a man of few words and even fewer emotions. As the commander of the vast Vampyre army, Latimus was a warrior first and always. Pleasantries had no place in his world of war and strategy.

  “I know,” Sathan said, rounding the large mahogany desk to come to stand in front of his brother. Of all the siblings, Latimus favored Arderin the most. They shared the same raven-black hair, angular features, ice blue eyes, and long, thick eyelashes. Sathan had made fun of Latimus’ eyelashes once when they were teens, comparing them to a girl’s. His brother had proceeded to bash his face in and, although Sathan put up a good fight, it had been a losing one. He’d never picked on his brother’s appearance again, that was for damn sure.

  Such was the way of brothers. Although he and Latimus both had alpha personalities, dominant and domineering, they had an unbreakable respect for each other as men, soldiers and brothers. In a dire situation he could think of no better ally than Latimus.

  “Let’s mobilize a search party within a fifty-mile radius. I’m sure she went to the river to stew after we argued. The dogs should be able to find her scent there.”

  Latimus nodded. “We’ll find her.” His boot steps sounded under his six-foot-nine-inch frame as he exited.

  Sathan ran his hands over his face, his heart clenched with fear. “Damnit, Arderin, where the hell are you?”

  Silence was the only answer from the empty room.

  Excerpt from The Ancient Manuscript of the Slayera Soothsayers

  Book 4 – The Blade of Pestilence

  Our powerful lord and protector, King Valktor, used the Blade of Pestilence to strike down the evil King Markdor and Queen Calla at the Awakening.

  Afterward he traveled to the Cave of the Sacred Prophecy.

  The Blade had been fashioned from poisoned steel so that the Vampyres’ self-healing abilities could not save them from its wrath.

  Inside the Cave our King drilled into a large rock and placed the Blade inside.

  Using his omniscient power, he placed a spell on the Blade.

  It could only be excised if lubricated simultaneously by the combined blood of the first-born of a generation of his lineage and the first-born of a generation of Markdor’s lineage.

  The combined blood must fall straight from both first-borns’ vein.

  And so, with the War of the Species, the Blade is destined to sit still and unused for eternity…

  Chapter 2

  Arderin woke with a start and rubbed her tongue to the roof of her dry mouth. It tasted like sandpaper and salt. Thirst consumed her and she wondered how long she’d been captive. Twenty-four hours? Forty-eight? Too much longer and she would be at risk of falling unconscious due to lack of Slayer blood.

  She struggled against her binds and a soft voice came from beyond the foot of the bed. “Oh no, no, please don’t struggle,” the tiny Slayer said quietly as she approached Arderin on her right side. “It will drain your strength and the binds are so tight it’s a waste of your energy. Here, drink this.”

  The Slayer lifted a metal cup to Arderin’s lips, full of life-sustaining blood. Swallowing heartily, she licked her lips when finished. “Thank you. You must be Sadie. The Slayer bitch said you’d be nice to me.”

  “So, yeah, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Blasphemy against our princess is a capital offense leading to severe punishment.” She went back to the table at the foot of the bed and continued rummaging around. Arderin couldn’t see much in the darkened room so she listened to the Slayer’s movements for any sort of clue on how to escape. “I can’t see your face,” Arderin said.

  The Slayer’s motions ceased as the room grew quiet. Slowly she approached the bedside again. “Do you want more?” she asked, her face obstructed by the hoodie she wore. Arderin could only make out the tip of her tiny nose and the shadow of thin lips.

  She shook her head, unable to fathom drinking any more blood right now, as her stomach was queasy. “Do you hide your face on purpose?”

  The Slayer returned to the foot of the bed and the clink of the cup could be heard as she sat it down. “I took a blood sample from you,” she said softly. “As
part of my Hippocratic oath I feel compelled to tell you that. A patient shouldn’t be tested without their knowledge.”

  Walking back over to the bed, the Slayer rested her palm against Arderin’s forehead. “Due to your self-healing abilities, the cut on your neck is completely healed and you don’t have a fever. Miranda will be able to tell by the purity of your blood how old your lineage is. If you are an aristocrat I would tell her before the results come in. She is determined to use you but I think you misunderstand her intentions.”

  Resting her hip on the side of the bed, she bit her lip with white teeth barely visible under the hood. Arderin got the sense she was choosing her words very carefully.

  “I don’t want to overstep but our princess has become very progressive lately, diverging from her father, our king, on many matters to do with Vampyres. She is a kind-hearted leader looking to find a way to regain her people’s freedom from persecution. Sometimes one’s greatest foe can become a great conspirator if they find a shared interest.”

  The Slayer rose from the bed. “Think about it.”

  “Wait,” Arderin said, reaching for the Slayer but coming up short due to her bindings. “You are a trained doctor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you train?”

  “I have trained with the humans in several specialties over many centuries. My small stature allows me to blend in with them quite nicely.”

  Arderin nodded. “I would like to train to become a physician one day as well. My family has a hard time understanding this because Vampyres have self-healing abilities, but I’ve always believed that knowledge can be used in many circumstances if one only chooses to look.”

  The Slayer might have smiled under the hood but Arderin couldn’t be sure. “It is a noble profession and one that has brought me great joy. I don’t have much in my life and being able to heal has given me a purpose.”

  “Is this why you conceal your face?”

  The Slayer sighed and lifted her hands to the hood. Slowly, she eased the fabric from her head and Arderin gasped. The woman’s entire right side was burned to a mangled pulp. Grafts upon grafts of skin were layered together in a puzzle whose pieces would never fit. Saying that her appearance was grotesque would be putting it mildly.

  “I was burned in the Purges of Methesda when I was young,” she said, her tone sad. “There was nothing anyone could do.”

  In the dim light of the room Arderin could see that the left half of her body appeared completely normal. She had pretty, light-hazel eyes and short, chestnut brown hair, although it only covered one half of her head. “I know someone who could help you.”

  The Slayer’s expression lit with a brief flash of hope that was extinguished just as quickly. “I’ve visited the best human burn centers on the earth and no one can help me. But thank you just the same. I have learned to live with my scars and understand that my life was meant to be spent helping other people.”

  Even in her distressed state, kidnapped and bound, Arderin felt sorry for this woman. She reminded her of the wounded birds she sometimes found by the river. She would do her best to nurse them back to health but even when their wings were repaired their spirits never regained the will to fly. “I know someone who has more knowledge than any human doctor—”

  “You’re very kind,” Sadie interrupted. “Please, show some of that kindness to our princess. She is very interested in saving our people and if she feels that you can help her do this she will be amenable to getting you home safely. Good luck.”

  With that statement of finality the Slayer lifted her hood back over her head and turned to leave the room.

  Arderin’s thoughts began to churn and for the first time since her abduction she felt a surge of hope. She was going to find a way to ingratiate herself to the Slayer princess bitch and get the hell out of this mess.

  * * * *

  Miranda exhaled in short, quick breaths as she neared the end of her workout. James Hetfield beckoned her to take his hand off to never-neverland and sleep with one eye open. Good advice. Humans were pretty useless in the broad scheme of things but they sure knew how to make some damn good music.

  Finishing her run, the black belt of the treadmill came to a stop and she grabbed for her towel. Rubbing it on her face, the water bottle beside her was drained in short order. Kenden entered the workout room as she stepped off the machine.

  “Still listening to that human garbage?” he asked, one eyebrow arched.

  “Blasphemy!” she joked, throwing the empty bottle into the blue recycle bin. “You’ll hurt my boyfriend Lars Ulrich’s feelings.”

  “If only he was so lucky,” he said. “Speaking of, do you even care that Kalil is scheduled to visit next month?”

  Miranda rolled her eyes. “Of course I don’t care. Father’s been trying to get me to marry him since before the eight-shooter was invented. You’d think he’d get the hint by now.”

  “Your father or Kalil?”

  “Both,” she muttered. “What’s going on? Are the Vampyre’s blood results in?”

  Kenden nodded. “Her blood is purer than I’ve ever seen in all the samples we’ve collected from fallen soldiers over the years.”

  “Meaning?” Miranda asked.

  “I think she’s the king’s sister. I looked through the soothsayer manuscripts for Queen Calla’s picture and she’s a dead ringer.”

  “Holy shit,” Miranda breathed. “We hit the jackpot.”

  “Yes,” Kenden said, but his tone was hesitant. “I’m just not sure I trust the circumstances. I mean, the sister of the Vampyre king washed up on shore just like that? It seems so…” he gestured with his hand, searching for the right word, “convenient. What if it’s a trap?”

  “Set by whom?” she asked. “Her brother, to entice us to contact him and then ambush us when we try to return her?”

  “Maybe. Or perhaps by Crimeous. Perhaps he kidnapped her from Astaria and is trying to instigate further conflict between us and the Vampyres. The more we fight each other the less time we spend tracking down the Deamons and destroying their caves.”

  Miranda inhaled deeply, contemplating. “Well, we know Crimeous isn’t above such actions.”

  Kenden’s expression transformed into the same one of love, pity and anger that it always did when they spoke of her mother’s kidnapping and eventual murder by the Dark Lord of the Deamons. “Yes, we do,” he said softly.

  “I don’t know. It does all seem a bit convenient but it’s also is a huge opportunity that I don’t want to waste. I’ve been looking for a way to get the upper hand on the Vampyres for centuries. Those bastards have terrorized us with their raids long enough. If she truly is the king’s sister, I have to take advantage of it.”

  Kenden nodded. “And what about Marsias?”

  Miranda rubbed her forehead in frustration. “Father will never understand any attempt to negotiate with a species we are at war with. All he understands is conflict and battle. It’s so fucking annoying. Instead of fighting with guns and fists we could will them into submission. If she is the king’s sister, he would most likely agree to anything to save her life. Even releasing his captive Slayers or stopping the raids.”

  “That’s a large bet to place on a brother’s love. Especially when it would be traded for the nourishment of all of the people of his kingdom. Most leaders would choose to sacrifice one for the sake of many, even if it were their sister.”

  “What if it was me?” she asked, looking up into his chestnut brown irises. “What would you do?”

  He looked to the ceiling for a moment and considered. “I would find another way. One where I could still feed my people but also get the person I loved home safely.”

  “Okay.” She sat on the black padded workout bench and thoughtlessly tapped her fingers on her bottom lip. “What is the ultimate goal here, beyond the Vampyre woman and all the raids and battles? It’s to end the fighting. To resume our lives without war with any species.”

  “Yes, th
at would be ideal. How would you accomplish that with one Vampyre hostage?”

  “What if we could use her to help defeat the Deamons as well?” she continued, lost in her musings.

  “I’m not sure we have a play with the Deamons here.”

  Standing up, she brushed off his mild objection as the gears in her mind shifted and swirled. “What if I could leverage this to get our hands on the one thing we know will defeat the Deamons? What if I could finally get the Blade of Pestilence?”

  “The Blade of Pestilence?” Kenden said, taken aback. “Randi—”

  “The king’s blood for his sister’s life,” she interrupted. “Don’t you see, Ken? It would allow me to have the upper hand over both species!”

  “And you think the Vampyre king will just hand over the Blade to you once you pull it from the bloodstone?” he asked, his tone incredulous.

  “I’ll let him think I want a truce,” she said, excitement for her plan overtaking her as she plodded on. “I’ll tell him that we’ll return his sister to him in exchange for helping me release the weapon. That we’ll become allies and defeat Crimeous together and that our people will bank our blood for his again.”

  “But this will be a lie?”

  “Yes,” she said, running her fingers over the tiny black tail she’d pulled her hair into before her workout. “Once our shared bloodstream releases the Blade, I’ll plunge it into his black eight-chambered heart.”

  “Miranda,” he said softly, always so calm in the face of her emotion. “You’d never be able to do it. To lie like that? To live with yourself afterward? To murder another in cold blood under less than honest circumstances? It would kill you.”

  “Bullshit,” she said, frustrated that he couldn’t see the brilliance of her plan. “Those monsters have raided our compound for centuries and killed our people without giving so much as a damn. I don’t care what circumstances I kill them under. Any of them!”