To Vanquish Darkness (Le Sombre #1)

Chapter 18

18

1836 NORTHERN NORMANDY, FRANCE

A malie stood at the edge of the courtyard, gaping at the pastel sky mixed with dark thunderheads beyond the castle spires. It was better to look there than at the pile of weapons at her feet.

Days prior she’d catalogued the same items in Mordelles with Olivie in preparation for their attack on Theo. Now there were no torches, whistles, or bells. There was no need when the vampires were willing participants.

Theo stood ahead of her, his chest splayed and arms bound behind him with braided leather cord. Ren had laughed as he’d tied them himself and pulled the knots tight. Theo wore no shirt, only trousers, and Amalie felt sick seeing his broad chest rise and fall. The fact that guilt crept into her heart only fueled her anger.

"What the hell were you doing outside of your room?" Moments before, Theo had prowled in front of her once they were behind closed doors. His hair was mussed, his eyes wild.

Amalie had argued. " You told me my blood was masked ? — "

" I told you to stay in your room! ”

She wasn’t proud of how she’d reacted. She’d just been accosted by one of Theo’s vampires in the stairwell, then forced to converse with other humans who were delighted to be fattened up for slaughter.

She’d taunted him. Needled. It wasn’t as though he didn’t deserve it, but there hadn’t been a point. Being there at the castle had made one thing clear. Amalie didn’t only hate Theo. She hated the world she lived in.

Theo glanced up at her, and the rest of their argument replayed in her head.

“You’ve made it clear you own me. Isn’t that enough?”

“That won’t matter.” Theo raked his hands through his hair, then drew a deep breath and dropped his hands.

"So this is my life. I stay locked away in my room hiding from your vampire coven who wish to kill me until I can bring you the sword?"

Theo shook his head. "They wouldn't kill you."

"More stories? To keep me clinging to you in the streets? Safe in my room where only you can access me? Does it make you feel powerful to force humans to do your bidding?”

Amalie gasped as Theo shot through the air like smoke, stopping with his chest pressed against hers. His eyes burned. "This is protection. If my coven caught the scent of your blood, they would rip themselves apart to possess you, and they're not even close to the real monsters you need to worry about."

“You should start, séductrise. The sun is nearly set.” Etienne’s voice snapped her back to the rooftop. He rubbed his hands with anticipation, and Amalie noticed the ring he wore on his finger. The same as the one Paul had been wearing in the parlor.

The courtyard teemed with members of Theo’s coven, and they all had silver glinting on their fingers. Was a simple ring what bound them? Or did they have marks on their skin like Theo? What commitments had they made to be there? What did Theo offer them? By the gleeful looks on their faces, she wouldn’t call them his friends.

She turned to Theo, bound and shirtless. His pants hung low on his hips exposing the tight V of his abdomen, and the inky marks on his skin seemed darker now than they had in his bedroom.

She should have felt nothing.

But "nothing" was the opposite of what Theo brought out in her.

“I am not a seductress,” she muttered.

“You caught his attention, did you not?” Ren raised an eyebrow, then turned to Theo. “That’s difficult to do. If I didn’t know better, Theo, I’d think you’d lost hope.”

Theo clasped and unclasped his hands, the blood already struggling to force its way past the cord around his wrists. “Don’t mistake my interest for affection, Ren.” His eyes were cold as he looked up at her.

Amalie scoffed. Of course, not. Theo wouldn’t care about anyone. But what was Ren referring to? What would give a vampire hope?

She cleared her throat. “Can someone else take the lead so I can observe? I’m much more comfortable collecting evidence.” Even though the vampires now knew she wasn’t Theo’s besotted lover, she didn’t want any of them to think she was a threat.

Was that the only reason she didn’t want to wield the weapons?

Amalie’s stomach flipped. Compassion or empathy should never have entered her head, and yet she couldn’t push it away. Life wasn’t something to toy with. Suffering shouldn’t be entertainmnent, regardless of how terribly a creature deserved it.

But this hadn’t been her idea, and Theo Vallon, along with the rest of his coven, were monsters. Who knew how many times they’d murdered without remorse. I can’t survive without blood. Do you feel guilt?

No. She would not allow his words to prey on her mind. The Grimoire didn’t give an explanation for why Le Sombre chose to curse those he did. Perhaps they’d earned it. By the actions she’d observed, they’d certainly done their best to keep their place with the Shadow ever since.

This wasn’t survival. This wouldn’t make the cities and villages of France safer. This was entertainment.

“A woman with arms like this does not sit inside at a desk.” Ren’s hands were suddenly on her, and Amalie’s entire body went rigid.

“Ren,” Theo growled.

Ren dropped his hands and grinned. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.” He turned to Amalie. “Did Theo tell you that bringing you here meant he’d staked a claim? I assume you understand all about our hierarchies.”

Amalie nodded, though Theo had barely alluded to this the night before.

“Once a human steps foot on this island, they belong to the vampire who brought them.” Ren ran a hand through his hair. “Forever.”

Amalie flinched. She thought of the humans in the study. “Do you ever let them go? If they’re . . . not a good fit?” She wanted to believe that was possible. That Marie, Sarah, and Penelope could one day walk down the steps and back onto the sand flats at low tide.

A female vampire sitting on the wall behind Ren sighed. “Oh, they always become a good fit. In the end.”

Amalie nodded once, trying not to let the hatred in her soul bleed out through her expression.

“But I didn’t answer your question, did I?” Ren looked down at the pile of weapons. “I think it would be best if you did the killing. Just so you know we didn’t use any tricks. Plus, I’ve never seen what happens to a human when they’re violent up close.”

Amalie had mentally prepared for this. She’d decided to start with the easiest, least violent option. Exposing Theo to sunlight.

She stalked forward. “Can we move him over there.” Be docile. Uncertain . She pointed to the swath of sunlight warming the stones to their left.

Theo nodded once and stepped forward, then hesitated as his boots neared the light. Amalie put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him forward, not giving herself time to consider it. The sooner this was finished, the better.

But as Theo’s face hit the light, nothing happened. He drew a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment, then turned to face her.

“I don’t understand.”

Ren clapped his hands together. “Ah, I should’ve stopped you sooner, but I wanted to see if you’d actually do it.” He stepped forward, standing close enough the cloth of his shirt brushed hers. “None of us understand. The sun would roast any of us alive—burn our flesh—but Theo has never had that problem. Well, not never. Only after Helena?—”

“Would you like me to tell your life story? We could start with the vial.” Theo snapped. Something dark flashed through Ren’s eyes.

Helena. Had Amalie seen that name before? Yes. She was sure of it. But where? And what had the book said?

Theo turned to Amalie with a smile. “Did you hear that? I’m one of a kind.”

Ren forced the smug look back onto his face, then stepped back. “Here. I believe this was what you were after.” Before Amalie could process the movement, Ren grabbed Etienne by the collar and hauled him into the sunshine.

She stumbled back, knocking Theo to the side. She was not prepared for the smell. Or the sounds that tore from Etienne’s throat. Her entire body went rigid as the muscles of his back grew taught under Ren’s hand, still fisted in his shirt.

She coughed at the acrid smell of charred meat laced with the distinct smell of sulfur as Etienne’s skin began to blister and crack. It wasn't only the flesh on his hands and arms. Since his entire torso faced the setting sun, every inch of him above the waist sizzled and split, revealing raw muscle and sinew underneath.

Amalie's breath came in wheezing gasps as she whirled around, covering her ears to keep the guttural screams from piercing her to the core. When she could endure it no longer, she lunged forward and grabbed Etienne by the arm, yanking him back into shadow and out of Ren’s grip.

He stumbled and fell, landing on the stone and staring up at the sky from a face stripped of flesh. His chest gaped, revealing bones and organs burnt beyond recognition. Like she'd pulled him directly from the coals in her hearth.

He was dead. He had to be. Half his body was eaten away, and the other half lay lifeless. There was no breath in his lungs, no thump of his heart.

“Some friend you are.” Amalie wiped at the tears streaking down her cheeks, only then noticing that she was on her knees next to Etienne's body, her chest cinched so tight, she thought it might crack. Killing in one shot to the heart was one thing, but making someone suffer—even a vampire—left bile sloshing in her throat.

Etienne’s cries still echoed in her ears as celebratory hoots and laughs sounding all around her, and Amalie’s head snapped up. Paul, wearing a shirt today, was doubled over, his shoulders shaking. Clémentine was gaping, a broad smile stretched across her perfect face. And Ren, he was the worst of them all. Howling at the thin crescent slice of the nearly transparent moon like a fool. And Theo. He stood there, his hands still bound, watching her.

Why had he been able to withstand the sunlight? Since when?

"What is wrong with you?" Amalie pushed up from the ground. Had they no shame? While she wasn’t going to cry over one less vampire in the world, Theo had said vampires were loyal. Now here they were dancing over their friend’s grave.

Ren sighed, clutching his stomach. “It probably seems cruel to your human eyes.”

“Yes. It does.” Amalie glared at him.

The smile faded from Ren’s lips. “Strange to find a human with compassion for our kind. Don’t you think, Theo?”

“I told you. She’s a historian.”

Ren shrugged. “When you’ve lived for thousands of years, even pain is better than boredom. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” He looked at her like a father would look at a sniveling child. “But this little experiment hardly gives unequivocal proof. Why don’t you try this instead.”

Ren pulled a long, sturdy stick from the stone floor and held it out for Clémentine to tie what looked like an old dirty rag to the end of it. Then he shoved the cloth into a bucket and pulled it out, sopping.

Amalie shivered. Two thousand years. They’d lived through wars and revolutions. Watched humans suffer through reigns of terror, pestilence, and plague. No wonder they were cruel. Humans must seem the equivalent of ants crawling under their boots.

Ren held the stick out to Paul who fished a flint and steel from his pocket. He struck for sparks, and in seconds, the rags were aflame.

“Care to do the honors?” Ren held it out, and Amalie took it from him.

She turned, taking in Theo’s rigid posture, then turned back. “Who is this for?”

Ren’s eyes sharpened. “Theo, of course. Unless I sense . . . affection?”

Amalie turned back, blood rushing in her ears. What part did Theo want her to play now? There was no affection, and yet he’d asked her to pretend in the beginning. If she’d done a more believable job, they wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.

Why couldn’t she have drowned in their glamours and flushed when they appeared in the doorway? Oh, yes. Because she’d spent her entire life hating their kind and working to overcome their seductions.

But could she do this? Could she purposefully light Theo on fire? Amalie thought back to the night in the courtyard. How she’d run and stabbed Theo through the heart. She’d been sick. Disturbed. But she’d done it.

Now she had to do it again. Not only would it prove that she was an obedient little mouse, but she’d have more than Theo’s word that the other strategies for vanquishing vampires were obsolete.

Yes. She could do this. She had to do this. Marcel, Olivie, and the Pourfendeurs were counting on her.

Before she could second guess herself, she lunged, thrusting the flaming torch against Theo’s chest.

He didn’t move. Didn’t try to stop her. As the flames licked up his shirt, he simply closed his eyes as his lips curled, baring his teeth.

Again, the scent of burning flesh. The growls ripping from his throat. Amalie turned, unable to watch as acrid smoke filled the air. She flinched as Theo’s body hit the ground behind her, his cries interrupted only by scuffling against stone. She squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her jaw until the sounds died out.

Ren’s eyes were alight. “Beautiful work. Truly.”

Amalie gasped for breath. Was it done? She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and see the wreckage.

"You have to pay up." Paul wiped the tears from his eyes and put out a hand. Clémentine scoffed and handed him a thin metal object. He slipped it into his pocket with a cheeky grin.

"What was that?" Amalie snapped.

Paul sauntered over the stone. "Clémentine didn't believe you'd do it. She thought you were only trying to impress him, but that you'd end up licking his shoes before you ever caused him harm." Amalie's eyes flicked to Clémentine. The woman winked at her. "I have to admit," Paul continued, "this is the most fun any of us have had in ages."

“Perhaps not Etienne.” Ren grinned. He walked past her and nudged Etienne’s lifeless form with his boot.

Without thinking, Amalie shoved him. Hard. Ren didn't even wobble. He caught himself, spinning and moving close enough that she could hear his intake of breath. "Feisty. I can see why Theo likes you."

" Liked ," Amalie corrected.

Ren's face split into a grin. He nodded toward Etienne's body, and Amalie followed his gaze. She held her breath, readying herself to view grotesque, mutilated flesh, then froze. Her brow furrowed as she stepped back and dropped to the stone.

What was happening? Moments before, Etienne had been lifeless. Burnt to a crisp, and now . . .

Her head shot up, and she scrambled across the ground, landing next to Theo. He looked worse. His skin and muscles were ash, his bones charred. Bits of hair melted against the few pieces of flesh that hadn’t been consumed by the flames.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, about to be sick. But then she saw it. Fresh. Pink. Amalie ran her fingers over the new, perfect skin forming over his shoulders, his arms, and?—

She yanked her hand back as Theo's heart started beating in his chest. The fibers of muscle flushed red, then squeezed and released once, twice, before flesh and muscle corded over his ribs and in a flash, sealed shut.

Ren sighed above her. "Impressive, I know."

Amalie yelped and scrambled back as Theo pushed up from the ground. "You—I saw you. You were dead."

"I'm beginning to doubt your observational skills." Theo shot her a look, then curled over, as if taking stock of his limbs. A sheen of sweat coated his skin, and his face held a ghoulish tint as dark shadows bloomed under his eyes.

"You can regenerate,” she hissed.

"So it seems." Theo grunted and hauled himself to his feet.

Amalie forced herself to stand next to him, only then noticing that Etienne was on his feet next to the others. The whole world seemed to spin. "How is this possible?"

Ren leaned against the wall. "Le Sombre was thorough in his cursing."

Thorough. They couldn’t escape it.

Amalie's mind reeled as they crossed the roof toward the rest of Theo's coven. That was why they'd been laughing. They hadn't been concerned for either of them in the least. Did all vampires know this? Had they all experienced death at some point without giving up the ghost?

"What's next on the list?" Ren rubbed his hands together. "Garlic first. I love how that makes your mouth burn, and then . . ." He reached down and lifted the stake from the pile.

"No." Amalie shook her head. "I’m sure about that one."

Etienne gave her a strange look, and she realized her mistake.

“You’ve seen a vampire stabbed?” He twisted the sharpened ash wood in his hands.

Amalie swallowed hard. “Once.”

“The Pourfendeurs in the city. They’ve grown more brazen. Trying to show off their skills in public.” Theo stopped next to her, and his glamour hit her with full force. Her emotions were compromised, and she didn’t have her normal walls up. Amalie swayed on her feet, pulled like a moon to orbit a planet of greater mass.

Theo turned his head, and though a smile was on his lips, something pooled behind his eyes. Pain. Sadness. How had she never noticed it before?

She shoved her hands into her pockets to keep them from trembling. I feel it. She'd set him aflame, heard his groans of agony. Was she going to continue with this?

Was it truly possible that Theo was above death like he’d said? That all of them were? That there was no mortal weapon strong enough to take their lives?

The rest of Theo’s story began to carry more weight. If this was the best entertainment they had to look forward to, why wouldn’t they want to be released?

There it was. Another pang of compassion.

Amalie gritted her teeth and turned away from Theo. Her eyes settled on the smooth arc of a blade protruding from the weapons pile. Maybe it couldn't be a mortal weapon. Theo had said this sword he hunted had supernatural power. Maybe there were other blades with similar qualities. Especially one blessed of the gods.

"Is that authentic?" Amalie pointed, and Ren's eyes glittered.

He reached into the pile and pulled out the sword, its sharpened edge gleaming in the waning light. Platinum. A naturally weak metal fortified by the gods to exceed even steel in its strength. It was mined and traded, forged and fought for throughout history.

Ren passed her the handle, and Amalie coiled her fingers around the carved wood. The sword was weighty. Top-heavy.

Ren’s smile was wicked. “This is capable of more than stopping his heart.” His eyes landed on Theo’s neck, and Amalie swallowed hard. Her own wounds, the marks he’d given her, throbbed under the strip of fabric around her neck.

Theo leveled his eyes on hers. “Where would you like me to be?” His tone was low and soft, and Amalie’s center dropped out of her. Why was she agreeing to this? Why was he allowing her to torture him at Ren’s command if he knew he’d continue living?

He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, and Amalie’s heart picked up speed. This was unfair. It was wrong. Vampires prowled in the shadows hunting humankind and then here she stood feeling sorry for one?

Anger solidified within her like shaken cream. Her father wasn’t given a second chance when his head was split by a rock and water flooded his lungs. Her mother wasn’t given mercy when Theo set his sights on her blood.

I didn’t kill your mother.

Her breath came quick. He had to have been the one to kill her. She’d seen no one else.

Amalie pointed to a stone lifted up from the rest of the courtyard. She had to know. If this blade wouldn’t kill him, how could she be sure the relic he hunted would?

Theo’s eyes flickered, but he nodded, clasped his hands behind his back, and crossed the space toward it. The edges of his form blurred in the quickening twilight as he dropped to his knees.

Amalie took shallow breaths, hoping to clear her mind of his scent. She shook the memory of his smoky eyes peering out from under long lashes and hair falling over his forehead as she clenched the handle of the sword and strode forward. This would be quick. It wouldn’t cause him pain if she struck clean.

She lifted the sword higher as Theo bowed before her, laying his cheek on the stone. His collar gaped, baring the tanned skin of his neck. Blood rushed in Amalie’s ears.

He couldn’t survive this. Even if he could regenerate muscle and flesh, he couldn’t heal a severed head.

He was evil. Darkness.

She could feel nothing. She could earn her mark.

Amalie gritted her teeth and planted her feet, raising the weapon over her head with both hands. Years of grief and fear swelled like a symphony, and a ragged cry burst from her lips as she threw all her strength into her shoulders.

This was for not having her mother there to teach her how to plait her hair. For not having her there to teach her how to wash the stains from her clothes. For not having a mother to teach her how to raise her little sister, for the years she’d spent questioning her memory and yet still shivering under her blankets every time the sun dropped below the horizon.

Amalie’s strangled cry echoed through the courtyard as she swung the sword in a smooth arc toward the stone below.