Primal Kill (The Order of Vampires #5)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

T he bedroom Juniper selected was on the third floor and removed from the rest of the house. The narrow staircase, hidden behind a small door in the second-floor hall, wound upward to another door. Something about the space’s oddness filled her with a sense of protection. The air wasn’t cold like a cellar, nor did it carry the faint musk of damp earth. She liked the additional security of a latched second door but also the smallness of the attic room, dwarfed by rafters, lit by dormer windows and jutting peaks where she could oversee the distant outside world for miles.

She would be safe here.

A soft laugh hummed through her throat as she found deep satisfaction with the view. Letting the sun-bleached curtain close, she scanned the room once more. Everything that wasn’t painted putrid mint green was wallpapered in olive and jade floral hues. But she liked it.

She liked the sunlight that spilled through the windows and the sense that she wouldn’t get lost in the space. Most of all, she liked the secret servant’s passage she found in the paneled wall that led to a hidden stairwell and opened into the kitchen pantry.

A half inch of dust covered the bedding and furniture, but everything she needed was there. The dresser was full of handmade sweaters and scarves. Ruth was quite the crocheter.

A foot chest nestled against the dormer wall, brimming with clothing that smelled decades old. When she lifted a pair of stiff denim bellbottoms from the chest, a small metal disk clattered to the wood floor—a campaign button. The sharp point of the pin had rusted, and when she flipped it over, she grinned. The front read KENNEDY FOR PRESIDENT.

As she rummaged through the trunk, she found countless handmade items. The stitching was neatly done but not professionally made. Ruth kept everything. She had fringe vests, macramé halters, jeans, jumpers, bags, and even atrophied shoes.

Juniper stole a pair of bellbottom blue jeans and a pink cherry blossom top that tied at the neck. There was no salvaging the stiff, dry-rotted shoes.

Her hand hesitated as she reached for an emerald green acrylic hairbrush. Was it wrong for her to use such personal things?

Her mind drifted to Adriel, confused by the humiliating way she’d held Juniper in the bathroom only minutes ago. Why had she done that? They barely knew each other, and up until then, she wasn’t sure if the vampire even liked her.

Immortal , Juniper mentally corrected.

Despite looking close in age, she needed no reminder that the woman was centuries older. Seniority seeped from Adriel’s aura in a way that told of innate confidence, the unobtrusive kind women often hid but rarely boasted about. Yet, there was also a strange innocence about her.

When Adriel gathered Juniper in her arms a momentary sense of safety cocooned her, like when Aunt Mabel used to read bedtime stories and tuck her in at night after a bad dream. But then, there was something else. Something not at all familial.

Juniper couldn’t think of Aunt Mabel now. Her emotions were already in tatters, and she was holding on by a thread. Instead, her mind went back to Adriel.

Would she stay in that hideous Amish garb? Probably not. Yet she seemed in no rush to strip away the proof of patriarchal chauvinism misogyny that clothed her. Or did she not see their superiority as a slight to her own identity? Could she possibly feel a sense of safety from those who filled Juniper with such a deep sense of peril and fear ?

Juniper had heard whispers of revered females in The Order, but everything she witnessed of the species warned the opposite. Was there a certain criteria for such reverence? Clearly, a calling came with no grantees if Adriel was terrified of her own mate.

She had questions that needed answers. She wanted to know why there seemed to be so many exceptions to the rules. Were all vampires so devoted to the same idea of destiny? Were they all Amish? Did they have to worry about more than Adriel’s ex coming after them? How many were out there? Were they an endangered species or just hiding really well? Did Adriel know others? Would she have ways of helping Juniper find her mother? What kind of powers did she have?

Honestly, her questions were endless, which only further proved there was something wrong with her. After years at the mercy of the so-called “good ones,” only an idiot would voluntarily hang out with an immortal. Yet here she was.

Maybe she should leave. What if teaming up with Adriel was a terrible mistake?

Uncertainty played like a tennis match in her head, each little consideration amplifying her trust issues. Three problems kept her here—fear, poverty, and utter exhaustion. Also, she didn’t want to abandon Adriel because part of her was starting to really like her, aside from the whole vampire thing. But who was she to throw stones at glass coffins?

Once she rested, she’d think more clearly. Then, she could figure out a plan to make some money. She was never going to feel safe until she found her own independence and her own place to stay, a place free of bloodsuckers and far removed from the drama that now consumed her life.

Was such an existence even possible anymore? She needed to learn as much as she could about vampires while she had access to one—damn it! Immortals! Why couldn’t she get that straight?

Setting the brush on the dresser, she gasped and spun, certain she saw something move, but nothing was there. Her eyes played tricks on her as trees cast shadows on the windows reflected in the mirror. It was enough to chase her out of the attic for a while.

She found Adriel and Ruth on the first floor in the front room with the wide bow window. Ruth’s chair sat alone on a braided rug facing an old television. The wood floors had three deep grooves where a grand piano might have once stood.

Juniper stepped into the den but lingered by the door, measuring the room's energy. It felt safe and oddly warm, as if they were actually welcomed here. That glamour trick had some horsepower.

Adriel turned from the window and silently studied her for a moment. “Are you feeling better?”

Juniper hated that she had witnessed such a weak moment. She nodded. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing of importance.” Adriel moved to the chair beside Ruth’s, but her gaze never drifted to the television. Juniper supposed such modern technologies would be foreign to someone who spent centuries living on an Amish farm.

She glanced at the older woman. “Is she okay?”

“She’s comfortable. You can talk to her.”

Juniper looked at Ruth but said nothing. It had been so long since she’d interacted with anyone normally. She forgot how to make small talk, so she formed a fake smile and turned her attention back to Adriel.

“You should rest.”

Were immortals nocturnal? Did they sleep? Despite how cozy they seemed, Juniper didn’t like the idea of leaving her here alone with Ruth.

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I tried. But you should rest.”

She was exhausted, but sleep would leave her vulnerable. “We both should. We don’t know what will happen next, and we need to be ready for anything. That means rested and strong—both of us.”

Adriel touched Ruth’s hand and whispered something to the woman. The little old lady’s eyes glazed.

Adriel stood. “My head has a strange ache.”

“You mean a headache?”

“Immortals do not suffer such things. But it does pound.” She glanced at the plaster wall where a dated electrical switch hung. “I’m not used to this buzzing. My senses are overwhelmed, and I feel…drained.” Her head cocked. “Are those Ruth’s clothes?”

“I guess. I found some stuff in the attic.” Juniper leaned into the thick wooden molding. “Pretty vintage, huh?”

“Vintage?”

“Yeah, you know…old.” Recalling Adriel’s age, she cleared her throat and clarified, “ Classic .”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Juniper frowned. “I guess you Amish don’t follow fashion the way the rest of the world does.”

“No.”

When the silence stretched between them, Juniper gestured to Ruth. “Can she hear us?”

“She’s not listening.”

“Then maybe this is a good time for us to talk. I need to know everything you can tell me about who we’re running from and why.”

Discomfort clouded Adriel’s expression as she paced to the window, ensuring that the drapes were drawn and no one could see in. “ We are not running from anyone. I’m running. You’re welcome to leave at any time.”

Back to this. Juniper was glad not to be a prisoner, but she needed some time to find her bearings. “You’re always trying to get rid of me. I can help you?—”

“This isn’t about your value to me, Juniper.” Adriel studied her for a long moment and frowned. “You’re young. It’s not too late to start over. You can do whatever you want now.”

“Not without a place to live or money. Regular people don’t know how to live off the land and build barns in a day.”

“Don’t you want to move on and find happiness?”

“Happiness?” She laughed at such a notion. “How am I supposed to move on when I have absolutely nothing?”

“You just do.”

“Right. And what about you? Will you move on?”

“Circumstances are different for me. I’m still in danger. You’re free to go your own way?—”

“This isn’t as simple as a Fleetwood Mac song, Adriel. I have no money. No family.”

She frowned in confusion. “What is a Fleetwood Mac?”

“Fleetwood Mac. You know, Stevie Nicks. Anyway, that’s not the point.”

“What is the point, Juniper?”

“We…need each other.” At least right now, they did.

Exhaustion pulled at Adriel’s eyes as she looked away, appearing frail and frightened. Juniper remembered how she’d comforted her upstairs but had no clue how to reciprocate.

“I can sit with Ruth for a while so you can wash up and change out of those dirty clothes.”

As if only then considering that her attire might need freshening, she glanced down at her smock-like dress and frowned. “I suppose that’s a good idea. Were there dresses?”

“A few, but not the kind you’d like.”

Soon after Adriel went upstairs, the pipes rattled with rushing water. Juniper smirked, wondering how a hot shower must feel to someone who lived on a primitive farm since the days of colonization and copper coins.

Once Ruth dozed off, Juniper lowered the television volume and wandered the house. The air smelled of paper and dust. Antique furniture filled every room. Gray particles gathered in the intricate eyelet designs of doilies. Even the candy jars wore a sprinkle of time.

Spotting a black spool of thread on a sewing table, Juniper pried open the narrow drawer and dug out a blue bobbin for protection. Snapping small strands of thread from the spool, she draped tiny pieces over latches and locks throughout the house.

She scanned the parlor, wondering what they would do if someone got past her flimsy security system. Would they choke an intruder with a lamp cord? Or maybe throw a paperweight. As far as weapons went, they were fucked.

The water shut off, and she glanced at the ceiling, reminded of the lethal weapon wandering around upstairs. Did Adriel even realize how strong she was?

Juniper tracked her footsteps. The old floorboards betrayed her every step with creaks and moans—another welcome security measure.

After checking on Ruth again, she quietly drifted upstairs, curious if she could sneak up on Adriel. When her hand reached for the knob, the door flung open.

“Why are you skulking around?”

“I wasn’t skulking.”

“You were.”

Juniper glanced down at Adriel’s clothes and smiled. “You found a dress.”

“More like an undergarment.” She turned away from the door, leaving an unspoken invitation at the entrance.

The room lacked the putrid green charm of the attic bedroom but made up for it in Pepto-Bismol pink ruffles that lined every chair, pillow, curtain, and coverlet. Juniper sat on the bed.

Adriel fussed with her hair, her fingers fluffing the short, copper spikes as she frowned at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel bare without my things. I never thought I’d miss wearing a kapp, but, without it, I feel…incomplete.”

“You look normal.”

She turned. “You’re sure?”

Juniper shrugged. “You look nice.”

Adriel glanced down at her dress, tugging at the pink material barely brushing her knees. “I’m used to more modest attire.”

“Isn’t vanity, like, a sin? ”

Her sharp green stare cut to Juniper. “I’m not acting vain.”

“Sure you are. I’m not judging. That’s what girls do.”

“Well, I do not.”

How did she bounce from a fresh-faced innocence to a lethal predator so seamlessly? Perhaps it was a gift, a survival tactic from living within a stringent patriarchy. Was the innocence an act or genuinely part of her character? Such questions made her wonder how self-serving Adriel might be if this ex of hers found them.

“Why didn’t you help me?”

“I beg your pardon?” A cold chill rushed through the air.

She hadn’t meant the outburst to sound so accusatory, but she needed to understand her part in all of this. “You were there, outside of that room, whenever they held those meetings. You could have helped me.”

“I couldn’t?—”

“Bullshit. You’re small, but you’re far from helpless. I watched you attack that man an hour ago.”

“I did not attack him. He was sedated. And that’s different. He was mortal?—”

“So am I.”

Adriel’s frown deepened. “You’re not. You’re something… other. I can scent it in your blood, and your body heals without the aid of intentional magick.”

Apparently, they had both been studying each other. “Well, I’m at least half mortal.” That was the half she liked.

“And the other half? There’s more than sorcery in your blood.” When she remained silent, Adriel sighed. “Had I helped you, there would have been severe consequences. The elders forbid us from interceding in council business.”

So, despite injustice, she put her own safety first—just like the others. Good to know.

“Juniper, if I could have done something, I would have?—”

“Do you know what they did to me?”

Her lips pressed tight, but she did not look away. “From the hall, where I sat, I could hear most of the inquisitions.”

Juniper’s jaw locked as memories of torture flooded her mind. She wanted Adriel to admit she’d been complicit. How could anyone have simply sat through such awful treatment?

What if, on some level, she believed Juniper deserved their cruelty?

“Hearing isn’t the same as living through it.” She couldn’t hide the anger in her voice. “First, they removed all of my clothes. Could you hear that?”

Adriel lifted her chin but didn’t respond.

“I had to stand there, in front of a hundred immortal men, as they searched my body for markings. Could you hear my tears falling? Probably not because of that filthy blindfold they forced me to wear. Had I not been gagged like a bridled horse, you might have even heard me cry.”

“If I’d had a choice, I would have helped.”

“You did have a choice. You chose to sit there and do nothing.”

She didn’t deny it. She just held her stare, not looking remorseful or self-righteous. Just… there.

“Could you hear me when they brought in a basin and held me underwater?”

“Please stop?—”

“Yes, that’s what I screamed against the muzzle. But no one heard me.”

Her gaze dropped. “They would have punished me for interfering. Females are not permitted inside of council meetings unless summoned by an elder.”

Juniper’s jaw trembled as she lifted her chin. “Would they beat you? Burn you? Try to drown you? Touch you without consent? Because that’s what they were doing to me—for months—while all of you just sat there like I didn’t matter. And maybe I didn’t. I’m not one of you. You couldn’t feel?—”

“We do feel. More than you realize.”

“Really? Did you feel what I did to them last night? Could you hear their screams?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When I escaped, they were all gathered around a burning building. The fire had them preoccupied. They didn’t see me coming.”

“Juniper, what did you do? ”

“I showed them what pain is.”

Adriel looked away, her brow pinched and her mouth a firm line. “My son was there.”

“I earned a right to revenge.”

“You make these blanket assumptions about my kind as if we’re all cruel when we’re not. Christian would never?—”

“Your son wanted me dead.”

“That’s enough.”

“I said that too. Begged, actually, but they didn’t care.”

She covered her ears. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Juniper yanked her hands away from her head. “I want to believe you’re prepared to fight. I’m laying my neck on the line for you. When shit hits the fan, are you going to fight? Because the days of meekly sitting on a bench are over, Adriel. There can be no hesitation. Do you understand? I need you to unlock whatever closed-off part of yourself you’re hiding in there. Fuck propriety. Fuck the rules. This is life or death, and I didn’t come all this way to die.”

“Then why did you come with me?”

“Because we’re stronger together! But I have to truly believe we’re in this together. We’re the only two people who matter now. I protect you, and you protect me. That’s where our loyalty has to lie. Not with your son. Not with the elders. And not with other immortals. I’m the one here with you.”

She nodded her understanding. “You’re right. We were taught to be pacifists, especially the females.”

“Well, fuck that. You’re tougher than you realize, and you don’t need a man’s permission to survive. You do whatever is necessary. From here on out, we only answer to each other. Got it?” She held out a hand.

Adriel stared at it. “What do you want?”

“I want you to shake it. It means you agree.”

Their hands locked and Juniper exhaled a sigh of relief. “Good.” She released her grip. “Now, tell me about Dane.”

“Dane? What about him?”

“He’s different, but I don’t understand how.”

She bit her lower lip. “Dane’s mother was a mortal.”

“And his father?”

“Was not.”

“Like…” Me, she almost announced. “How old is he?”

“Young. Perhaps twenty. He and his sister arrived on the farm after Isaiah killed their adoptive mother.”

“Adoptive mother? Was she like you?”

“No, she was mortal.”

“Does he know who his real parents are?”

Adriel’s gaze dropped. “His mother left behind journals. At first, we weren’t sure, but after some tests we found a link in his blood that connected him to Christian.”

“Christian, your son? ”

Her mouth pursed and she nodded. “It turns out…they have the same father.”

“Oh, shit. You mean your psycho ex?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s how I knew Cerberus was free.”

“What do you mean free ?”

Her brow pinched, and she noticeably swallowed. “In order to escape him, we needed to detain him. Cer has always possessed extraordinary strength, so I needed help. Many of the males who later formed the elder’s council came to my aid.”

“If he was so terrible, why didn’t they just kill him when they had the chance?”

“He was my mate. They did what they thought was best. Had I been able to speak at the time, I would have told them to finish him, but I could not. I was pregnant and badly injured.”

“But you got away?”

She nodded solemnly. “They dismembered him and buried him deep in the earth, sentenced to wait out the healing process without blood or water. Dane’s existence warned me of Cer’s return, but we can assume he was trapped in the earth for more than a century.”

“Are you telling me you buried him alive, and he was rotting in the ground for over a hundred years?”

“I imagine the slow passage of time was an intolerable sentence, but without his limbs, he’d have no way to escape. The elders believed it would give him time to think and repent. ”

“The elders are fucking idiots.” She blew out a breath and plopped down on the bed. “No wonder this guy wants to hurt you. Fuck, Adriel.” Juniper rubbed her head. “I really need to expand my skillset if this guy’s as strong as you claim.”

“He’s terrifying. I’m not sure we can?—”

“Stop right there. He might be terrifying, but we have to keep an optimistic attitude. We just need to think up a brilliant plan.”

Should she tell her about her father? Perhaps there was some special key to unlocking whatever half-breed powers she possessed. “You helped Dane when you discovered he was part immortal?”

“I offered some guidance and always answered his questions as truthfully as possible.”

“Was that because he’s related to your ex?”

“No, it’s because I consider Dane a friend.”

So did Juniper, but she wasn’t sure if Dane saw her the same. She did know that he trusted Adriel, however.

“Do you see me as a friend, Adriel?”

She studied her for a long moment. “Yes.”

Then maybe she could help her the way she helped Dane. “Then I have to tell you something.”

Adriel lowered to the vanity chair. “Go ahead.”

“My father was immortal.”

Her posture noticeably tightened. “Who was he?”

Juniper shrugged. “I don’t know. He lives in Europe, and his name’s Niro. He and my mother abandoned me when I was still a baby. That’s why my aunts raised me.”

“And now your aunts are both gone.”

She nodded. “Along with any information about my lineage.”

Adriel frowned. “That’s why you were asking about Dane?”

“I figured if you helped him, you might be able to help me.”

“But you’re nothing like Dane.”

“Why? We both have immortal fathers.”

“Juniper, when two forms of supernatural blood blend, they veer into the unknown and create a sub-species. Dane had a mortal mother. You did not. Your mother was a witch.”

“So what the hell does that mean? Am I, like, some supernatural freak?”

Adriel laughed. “Not at all. It means you’re far more powerful than you probably realize.”