To Vanquish Darkness (Le Sombre #1)

Chapter 20

20

1836 NORTHERN NORMANDY, FRANCE

A malie’s hands shook as she heaved again over the wall. Her stomach was empty, but she couldn’t settle it. A hand rubbed in slow circles over her back, and another held her hair away from her face.

“You’ve never seen that, then, have you?” A male voice chuckled. Ren.

No. She had not seen that, but it wasn’t the visual of the sword slicing through Theo’s flesh. It wasn’t even the feel of it. The blade hitting bone, then giving until it hit the stone beneath. The crunch of his spine, the ting of the metal.

It was the flash of an image through her head. Theo wrapping his hands over hers. Showing her how to hold a broad sword, how to position her feet to keep her balance.

The scene was so real, she could smell him. Feel his stubble on her cheek. Hear the smile in his voice.

Amalie heaved again, her stomach clenching so hard, she clutched her middle to keep from bruising a rib. It wasn’t real. Theo’s clothes had been strange and they were in a clearing she’d never set eyes on. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

“Ah, shhh.” Ren moved his hand to her shoulders, and his fingers grazed the tie around her neck. “It’s not as bad as all that. He’s already half repaired if you want to?—”

“I’m not looking.” Amalie swiped the tears from her cheeks as she flinched away from his touch. She didn’t like that he was close. That he’d been the one to swoop to her side the second she’d dropped the sword and bolted for the wall.

Ren considered her, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He held it out between them, and Amalie finally took it. She wiped her nose and lips and focused on the branches of the tree in front of her to keep the images of pooling blood and raw bone at bay. She could barely remember why she’d done it in the first place.

Amalie looked over the wall at the encroaching sea. She felt the cloth between her fingertips. She was here with Theo’s coven. She’d come to find a way to vanquish vampires, to kill Theo Vallon and avenge her mother’s death. To take that knowledge back to the Pourfendeurs so they could finally protect their villages.

Her breathing finally slowed, and she turned to face the wreckage. It hadn’t worked. She’d severed his head from his body, and Theo was still alive. She wanted to weep.

Ren sighed, leaning back against the sun-bleached stone. “I have to say, Etienne was right. I spent the last two weeks in Paris, and this was far more entertaining.” Despite her best efforts to keep it, Ren took the soiled handkerchief and shoved it in his pocket. “I’m not afraid of a little bodily fluid.” He grinned, and Amalie clenched her jaw, willing her stomach to stop roiling.

She had to get off this island. Peering over Ren’s shoulder, she inspected the ground below. Water still lapped at the rocks, but it was lower than it had been when they’d come out onto the roof.

“It will be low tide in an hour or so. If you wish to run,” Ren taunted. “I’d like to see that, actually. Theo having to chase after someone for once.”

Panic surged through her as the depth of her situation settled like a thick blanket. What could a sword do that a platinum blade couldn’t? And how was she going to find it in the first place?

“Are you satisfied?”

Amalie’s head snapped back at the sound of Theo’s voice. He stood next to Ren, his ashen skin marked with a new deep purple line around his neck.

Tears pricked her eyes a second time. Theo had held her with such tenderness. He’d helped her, he’d?—

No. That imagination wasn’t real. A Theo like that had never existed.

Amalie turned to Ren. “I’ve seen enough.”

Theo nodded once, then stalked across the stone courtyard to the door leading to the staircase they’d climbed earlier. “Clean this up,” he barked to the onloookers, motioning to the pile of weapons and his own blood that still stained the stone.

The members of his coven no longer laughed.

“If you’re going to run, I’d do it now. Seems he’s in a poor mood. Bit distracted.” Ren grinned, then turned and crossed the rooftop toward Clémentine.

Amalie had to run to catch up to Theo. She barely saw him disappear through the door and bolted after him, taking the stairs down to his quarters as fast as she could without slipping on the narrow steps. She was breathless when she put out a hand to stop his bedroom door from slamming shut in her face.

"Why did you do it?" She slipped in, and the door closed behind her. She kept her hand on the knob. After Theo had allowed her to do her worst, she doubted he'd turn on her now, but she was still wary.

"You wanted proof of my integrity. Now you have it."

Pain. He felt it. Amalie's hand rose to her neck. Her cheek. She'd burned him alive, then sliced through his flesh and bone. He'd felt all of it, and it was as if the ghost of his wounds hovered over her own skin.

Ren’s goading had worked. Not in the way he’d hoped, no doubt. But despite her commitment to not believe a word out of Theo’s mouth, her resistance was weakening. She was alive after being bitten, and Theo had proven definitively that he couldn't die.

Her questioning mind had gone silent.

Theo stalked to the washbasin and plunged a cloth into the water, then wrung out the excess water and began washing his own blood off his skin.

“Do you not have a tub?” Amalie asked.

Theo glanced up, his eyes hooded as he shook his head.

Amalie frowned. “You’re the master of the house, and my room is better outfitted than yours?”

Theo rinsed his blood from the cloth. “This isn’t my normal room.”

Amalie’s heart stuttered. She couldn’t ask the question that sat on her tongue because hearing the answer would only confuse her further. Monsters didn’t give up their rooms for humans. Even if they wanted their help.

Theo dragged the cloth over his side. Over the marks on his hip that she’d never seen the end of.

He didn't look like a monster.

He never had.

That was the problem.

"Tell me more about the sword." Amalie's heart began to pound, and she lowered her eyes. She didn't want to see more of him. Not when his glamour still drew her in like a moth to a flame.

“All it took was a severed head and you believe me?”

Amalie’s stomach churned. Standing near him felt more difficult than it had before. Heavier. Everything she’d done on the roof had leached her anger, and she couldn't even cling to fear. Theo wasn't going to hurt her. It didn’t make sense, but she knew it with a surety.

He’d allowed her to set him aflame. To slice through flesh and bone.

Amalie's hands moved to her middle as she curled into herself. It was only then that she became aware of a strange pulse through her center. Had that been there before? It felt like a hum, a warmth. Sitting directly over her spine.

“There’s something wrong with me.” Amalie stumbled forward, bracing herself on the edge of his bed. In her peripheral vision, Theo set down the blood-soaked cloth and dried his hands and chest with a towel.

“What do you feel?”

Amalie froze. The words he’d used. Not, “Do you feel faint?” or “Would a cool compress help?” but “What do you feel?”

Theo watched as if waiting for something, and her skin pricked.

She hunched over her knees, forcing a deep breath. “Just start talking. I need a distraction.” What was happening to her? Was she breaking down like she had after stabbing Theo the first time? As much as she’d trained with the Pourfendeurs, she didn’t seem to enjoy the realities of violence.

Theo turned and stalked toward his armoire. "It's said that in the fifteenth century, a female warrior discovered the sword within the depths of an old church. The walls were crumbling, ivy curling between stonework, overtaking what had once been holy ground. There was no light inside save for the slivers pushing through stained glass windows high above." Theo paused and glanced up through his lashes, studying her face. "She brought it back to their castle, discovering almost by accident that it was capable of vanquishing creatures of the dark."

"Creatures like you," Amalie murmured. She had never heard this story, and the detail in which he told it was unnerving. The Grimoire spoke of ancients, but nothing in the last century.

Theo nodded and took a step, pausing at the end of the counter. "That weapon was misplaced.”

“The warrior lost it?”

“It was taken from them.”

Them. Amalie’s heart picked up speed. Talking with Theo was like treading water and then suddenly being yanked below the surface.

Had he lived during that time? Had he known the warrior who found and lost the sword?

Amalie wracked her brain. What did she know about that period of human history? Not much besides turmoil and suffering. Witch hunts. A war with the King of England.

A knot tightened behind her ribs. “I know nothing of any sword, Theo.” She straightened, her stomach beginning to settle. “Do you believe someone in my family line stole it? I assure you, if my ancestors held onto such a powerful relic, they’ve kept their secret well.”

Theo shook his head, pulling a shirt from a wooden hanger. “No, I don’t believe your family has it. I believe . . . You may have a connection to it.”

Amalie stilled. “To the relic?” Theo nodded. “How would that be possible? I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”

He took another step toward her, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "I've spent centuries looking for a way to end my curse. You—” He cleared his throat. “Your lineage leads back to those who first discovered its power. I've traced your bloodline through generations of guardians."

Her hands began to tingle. He’d been tracing her bloodline? He was still keeping her in the dark. The realization was like straight oxygen over coals. “What else do you know, Theo?”

He regarded her a moment, then a door seemed to close behind his eyes as he strode to his writing desk. “The gods created guardians because they couldn't reverse the curse of Le Sombre. Not without risking another rift between light and shadow."

Another history lesson, it seemed. Amalie focused intently on the carved wood of Theo’s bed, ignoring the thrum in her core at the sight of him shirtless.

The Grimoire spoke of Solène and Le Sombre. How they were once bound as one god, then ripped in two when they sought to create beyond their natural order. Their rift threw the world into an eternal spiral, spinning between light and dark.

She ran a finger over a knot in the wood of Theo’s bedpost. It was split with a dark crack. "And you think this sword is like that? A work-around. A way to release you from a curse you’re supposed to be tethered to for eternity.”

Theo nodded.

Would he become what he was before or would losing the power of Le Sombre be enough to finally allow him to pass from the world?

It was silent a moment, and just as she was about to brave a glance to the side, Theo appeared in front of her, still holding the shirt in his hands. A slim cord of leather wrapped around his neck, a key dangling from it. The key to her room.

He seemed oblivious of his indecency. "That's what I want."

Theo pulled the tunic over his head, and she swallowed, forcing her eyes away from his flexing abdomen as he pulled the sleeves over his arms. Her mouth kept moving even though she willed it to be still.

She could draw her own conclusions after experiencing the rooftop, and yet she couldn’t keep the words from spilling past her lips. “It seems you have everything you want. A richly adorned home. The freedom to go wherever you wish, the ability to seduce humans to satiate your . . ." Amalie pursed her lips.

"My what?" Theo faced her, his hair disheveled and almost boyish.

Amalie's throat grew thick. She thought of their entrance through the gates. The other vampires praising him for his lasciviousness. Inspecting her like a prized hog. Ants beneath their boots.

But Theo didn't look at her that way. He scoffed and teased, but when his eyes met hers, it was as if they were trying to send a message he couldn't speak with his lips. He didn't look amused. He looked tortured.

She cleared her throat. "You know what I meant."

Theo straightened his shirt. "I'm not sure I do. I have plenty of needs, and I assure you, not all of them are sated."

Amalie's cheeks flushed. Heat flashed across her thighs, and she took a step back. "I only wondered why you wouldn't want this life."

"Because vampires are monsters. Your words." Theo blew a breath through his nose. "Or perhaps, like Ren, I'm sick of it."

Amalie watched, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't. He simply shrugged, then turned and plucked his discarded shirt from the bed post, then placed it in a basket next to the window. Amalie's fingernails dug into the soft underside of her arms.

Was he still playing a game? Pretending to be civilized so she'd let her guard down? She couldn't tell anymore. But suddenly she felt so tired, she wanted to collapse to the floor and close her eyes. She would have done it if she had any hope she'd wake from this nightmare. She'd already slept once and it hadn't changed a thing.

Theo poured himself a drink. "Some secrets are so dangerous, they’re hidden even from ourselves."

His words swirled around her head like warmed fat on a skillet. Secrets? He had the audacity to bring up secrets? “If you didn’t kill her, why were you there?” Amalie snapped.

The pit inside her grew wider. Every second she felt torn between her desire to help her friends, to protect those she loved, and her hunger for the truth about her mother’s death. With everything Theo told her, both objectives seemed to knit into one.

Whoever killed her mother knew of the guardians. Finding the sword would allow her to take revenge and protect her family, but only if she knew who it was.

If she could find them. If she could discover the sword. If the sword worked as Theo expected.

It was too many ‘ifs.’

Theo didn’t ask her to clarify. “I told you, I don’t know.”

“Was it someone here?” She rounded the bed, scrutinizing his face.

“No. I don’t believe so. I?—”

“You knew her last name, my last name. You admitted you’ve been following my line. How could you not know?”

“Amalie—”

“Why did you choose me instead of her? Why couldn’t my mother have found the relic for you? Or—” A thought struck her like a battering ram. “Did she try? Did you ask her to do this for you, and—” Amalie clapped a hand to her mouth. Had her mother been hunting for the sword and someone had killed her for it?

“Stop. I didn’t ask her.”

She glared at Theo through the tears welling in her eyes. “Why not? Her ancestors are the same as mine.”

Theo growled in frustration. “I understand you want answers, but there are forces beyond my control?—”

Amalie dropped her hand. “What forces!” She charged forward. “If you want my help, I need to know what I’m working against. Besides knowing the briefest history of this relic, you’ve given me nothing to go off of.”

Theo crossed the room giving her a wide berth. “There’s a reason for that.”

She threw out her hands. “Please! I’m all ears.”

“Go back to your room, Amalie.” Theo turned to the window.

“I will not.”

His form was black against the twilight beyond the glass as if drinking in the shadows from every corner of the room. Amalie felt like she was going to rip at the seams. She wished she was back on the rooftop because she would have no problem swinging the blade a second time.

She grabbed the glass from the table and hurled it at his head. He spun, snatching it out of the air. “You’ve decided to throw a tantrum?”

“You’re treating me like a child. May as well act like one.”

Theo’s grip on the glass was so tight, she thought it might shatter. “Fine. It seems I’ll have to throw you out.”

Amalie held her ground. “Don’t touch me.”

“Then leave.” His eyes were black, his lip curled.

And suddenly, Amalie wasn’t standing next to Theo’s writing desk. She was in a dark room made of stone. A torch hanging on the wall. She wore a white cloth that was wrapped around her torso and draping over her sandaled feet.

Theo stood in front of her wearing a leather breast plate with a cloak over his shoulders. “Life would be easier for you if you followed the rules.”

“I don’t like Alain’s rules.”

Theo laughed, sweeping his cloak over his arm. “Well, unfortunately for you, I’ve been tasked with enforcing them.”

The vision fractured, and Amalie stumbled back, knocking into Theo’s writing desk and sending his glass bottles crashing to the floor. “I—you were there. I saw you in a different time—a different place.”

A muscle in Theo’s jaw flinched. “You need rest.” He put out a hand and grasped her elbow.

Amalie yanked her arm away, but instead of ripping her arm free, she lost her balance and snapped against Theo like a cracked whip. His scent filled her nostrils. Jasmine. Citrus. And suddenly she remembered it. Not from the courtyard. Not even from her bedroom. From a place so deep in her soul, she couldn’t sense the bottom.

“I know you.” Speaking the words sent an ache thrumming through her, gripping her throat and searing her insides.

“You’re mistaken.”

Amalie’s eyes snapped open and she reached up, catching his face in her hand and forcing him to look at her. “I’m not. Don’t lie to me, Theo. Not about this.” Theo’s cold expression softened for a split second before he tried to pull back, but Amalie held tighter. “Why didn’t you ask my mother to help you? Or my uncle, my aunt, someone else in my family line?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Answer me!” Her voice was hoarse, her breath coming so fast, she was becoming faint.

“Because the ancestor I needed was you ,” he rasped. The room seemed to swirl around her. The tips of her fingers turned white. “You’re a guardian, Amalie. Guardians are reborn.”

The word pounded against her skull. Reborn . She couldn’t make sense of it. What she was hearing, what she’d seen. She knew him. She’d been with him, somewhere. Hundreds, possibly thousands of years ago.

Theo didn’t bend to comfort her, didn’t wrap an arm around her shoulders. He stood there, stiff and cold, even as she dropped a hand to his chest. Felt the beating of his heart. Amalie squeezed her eyes shut as her world fractured into a million pieces. “You believe I was the one who took the sword.” Stolen. That was the word he’d used.

Theo shook his head. “I don’t believe anything. I saw it firsthand. You found it, Amalie. You were drawn to it.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s not.”

Her eyes flew open. “I’m not a warrior.”

Theo scoffed. “The stake to my heart begs to differ.”

Amalie’s eyes narrowed. “That was self preservation.”

“Do you know how few humans and guardians alike are willing to fight to protect themselves? Since you seem to have forgotten every last scrap of the last two thousand years, let me give you the answer. Not many.” He finally pulled away from her, and Amalie curled into herself.

Two thousand years. The numbers stamped themselves across her consciousness. Reborn. Warrior. She strode toward the door, a sob building in her throat.

“I tried to wait. To make this gentle for you.”

“Don’t say another word.” Amalie hissed. He’d lied to her, they all had. Was this what Uncle Oren had planned to tell her on her birthday? That she’d lived before? That there were creatures who walked the earth who’d known her as . . . as what? A warrior?

Theo had known her. He’d seen it with his own eyes.

She grasped the handle and pulled, but the door didn’t budge. Amalie yanked again, and that time she saw Theo’s palm pressed against the wood.

“You need to listen?—”

“I’m done listening for the moment,” she whispered. “Let me out.”

“Amalie—”

“You knew who I was. You’d been watching me since when? Since my birth? Plotting this moment? Wondering how old I’d need to be before you could use me?”

Theo shook his head. “No. I made a promise. I watched your family, made sure they were safe?—”

“A promise to who?”

Theo’s eyes darkened. “Amalie?—”

“STOP SAYING MY NAME.”

Theo pulled back as if she’d slapped him. He stared at her, unblinking. “Hate me. You can hate me. But don’t doubt that what I’m telling you is the truth.” He snatched his hand away from the door. “I didn’t know it was you. Not at first. Not until I smelled your blood.”

Amalie scoffed. “It was that recognizable?”

“Yes.” Theo answered without hesitation. “I’d know it anywhere.”

Her throat grew so thick, she thought she might asphyxiate. Amalie turned the door handle. “I’m leaving. Tonight.”

“Do what you need to.”

“You won’t try and stop me?”

Theo’s eyes were cold. “No. But I can’t promise the other members of my coven won’t.”

Amalie’s eyes shot to the window. Dark. The sun had set after they’d left the rooftop.

Everything she’d seen, everything she’d learned since Theo appeared in her bedroom seemed to ignite and turn to ash. Amalie threw the door open and fled from Theo’s room with rage so hot and choking, she forgot all about the thread of light that grew inside her.