To Vanquish Darkness (Le Sombre #1)

Chapter 36

36

1836 COUNTRYSIDE BEYOND MORDELLES, FRANCE

A malie stared at the man who’d been like a father to her. She blinked several times, not understanding what she was seeing. Her guardian—the man who’d raised her after her mother had died—was standing next to Theo.

A vampire.

Who, up until a week ago, he denied the existence of. “You know each other?” She gritted her teeth, desperately fighting the urge to curse her uncle out in his own home or run to him and make sure that what she was seeing was real.

He looked like himself. He didn’t have marks on his neck. “I heard you were attacked,” she rasped, her emotions locked in hand-to-hand combat.

Oren’s jaw worked. “You said you’d be here in the morning.”

Amalie’s jaw dropped. “That’s what you’re saying to me right now?” He was alive. He was human. That mattered more than the fact that he’d lied to her again, didn’t it? She nearly choked on the rage punching its way through her chest.

Theo lifted his hands. “Let me explain.”

“Explain?” Amalie’s eyes burned. “Do you plan to explain this like everything else?”

Oren’s brow pinched, and he turned to Theo, his face flushing red. “You know my niece?”

Amalie laughed out loud, clawing her hands in her hair. “This is unbelievable!” She spun in a circle, searching for something she could punch or shatter.

Amalie whirled, her eyes filling with tears. She ran to Oren, throwing her arms around him.

“Amalie—”

“How are you here?” She squeezed him tight, and after he’d gotten over his shock, he returned the embrace. “Are the girls safe? Maurielle?”

“Yes, of course.” Oren pushed back, cupping her face in his hands. “Amalie?—”

“You.” Amalie rounded the desk, storming up to Theo. “You knew about this and forced me to stay behind?”

Theo rounded the desk, his eyes dark. “Knew about what?”

Amalie opened her mouth, but the words died on her throat. What had he kept from her? Oren was here. Safe and sound. She frowned, thinking back to Ren sitting outside her bedroom door. He’d told her that Allard was the name of the attacked Guardian. Had it been a mistake? Had he gotten the surname wrong?

Theo took a step closer. “Amalie, it isn’t safe for you here. The attacks?—”

“If there are attacks, then none of us are safe.” She looked between the two of them. “Why are we not taking the girls somewhere? Why is a vampire in our home? ”

“Amalie, sit down.” Oren pointed to the chair in the corner by his bookshelves. The last thing she wanted to do was sit, but the room was beginning to spin. She’d traveled all day. She hadn’t taken a single breath that didn’t ache.

She did as he asked, her throat beginning to burn. Theo was there. Oren knew him. She’d been with Theo for days and he’d said nothing. She’d lived with Uncle Oren her whole life and he’d said nothing.

Oren exhaled. “Your sister is well. Bethany is out back in the garden with Maurielle and my girls.”

A pang shot through Amalie’s middle. She’d been here. Standing in this very room, a ring dropped on his desk as proof that vampires existed. Now he stood here with one of them while the girls he was supposed to protect were out back picking flowers? Amalie’s chest cinched so tight, she could barely breathe.

Oren ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Theo has been working with us for years to protect the guardianship. Your mother made me promise—made me swear I wouldn’t tell you about our history until you were eighteen. I’m sorry—” His voice broke, and Amalie felt the urge to go to him.

She didn’t. “I didn’t realize ‘our history’ included colluding with the vampires that killed my mother.”

Theo’s jaw ticked. “We have protected the guardians since the beginning.”

“Who’s ‘we?’” She couldn’t take any more of his cryptic talk.

Theo turned to Oren, and something flickered over her Uncle’s face. Oren turned to her. “How do you know Theo, Amalie?”

“I tried to kill him.”

“More than once,” Theo muttered under his breath.

Amalie’s eyes flashed. “With your permission .”

Oren stared at her a moment too long. Finally, he turned to Theo. “You believe it is her?”

Theo nodded. “I know it.”

“Have you tested?—”

Theo shook his head. “Her blood won’t work on me, and I haven’t had access to anyone outside of my coven.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Amalie stood, her hands shaking. “My entire life you told me these creatures didn't exist. Now you want me to believe you're in league with them? Why would Theo care to protect us?"

"Because you asked me to . " Theo’s voice was raw.

His words didn’t make sense. They never made any sense. Amalie stood. Her body felt so heavy it could sink through the floor.

Uncle Oren sighed. “Amalie?—”

“No. You two can have your secrets. I came to make sure you were safe.” Her eyes flashed as she pulled off Olivie’s cap and let her hair fall around her shoulders. She turned to Theo. “Ren followed me from the sand flats to Servon. I believe I lost him, but I’m not sure. I assume since he’s not here with you, that’s significant.”

Amalie spun on her heel and stalked from the room. Neither of them followed her up the stairs, and she was glad for it. She needed time to think.

It felt like years since she’d entered her bedroom. Had it only been a week?

She closed the door behind her, and took in the narrow bed pushed against one wall and the armoire standing guard opposite. She gazed over her rumpled covers. Her mother's face swam before her eyes, smiling gently as she brushed Amalie's hair back from her forehead. How many times had she sat on this very bed while her mother told her a story? How many nights had she woken from nightmares only to be comforted by her soothing voice?

Amalie’s throat burned. It had been more of Maurielle at the last. Had she ever thanked her aunt for that? When her mother had been gone, she’d been the one to rub her back and sing her to sleep.

Amalie crossed to the window and yanked open the shutters. The window made her think of Theo, and she gritted her teeth as she sucked the cool evening air down like water, trying to calm the racing thoughts tumbling through her mind.

Her mother had known all of this. She’d had the answers, and she’d asked Oren to keep them from her. Why?

There had been so many times when she could have asked her questions, but she hadn’t known she held secrets. The mother she’d seen was such a small sliver of the woman she might’ve known and loved.

She would have told her. Amalie had no doubt about that. Had she learned of vampires, her mother never would have lied like Uncle Oren. If she’d been there, Amalie never would’ve left. She never would’ve thought she could vanquish vampires.

Amalie collapsed onto her arms and let the emotions of the past two days wash over her. She still wasn’t safe. Her family wasn’t safe. Even if she found the relic, how could one sword be the answer?

A bird chirped and she lifted her head. The little starling sat on a bougainvillea branch. The flowers were gone this time of year, and yet . . .

Life went on. The vine deepened its roots. Birds called. The sun rose and fell.

Amalie swiped the tears from her cheeks and closed the shutters, then dropped to her knees beside the bed, her fingers scrabbling at the loose floorboard beneath. The wood lifted easily, revealing a hollow space where a small wooden box lay nestled among the dust and cobwebs.

Amalie pulled it out, setting it on the bedspread and tracing the intricate carvings. This had belonged to her grandmother, then her mother, and now it was hers. They’d touched it. Held it in their hands.

She tried for the thousandth time to open it. It wouldn't budge. Her fingers burned as she dug her nails into the seam between the lid and base, prying until her fingers ached, then switched tactics and tried to press along the edges. When that failed, she stood and searched the room for something to use as a lever—a letter opener, a hairpin—but found nothing suitable.

Finally, she returned to the bed and glared at the box, her breath coming fast and shallow. "Open," she hissed through gritted teeth, gripping either side of the lid. It refused to give way.

With a growl, she raised the box above her head and hurled it across the room. There was a crack of wood, and splintered pieces flew in all directions.

What if there had been something delicate inside? Something irreplaceable?

Amalie stared at the shattered remains of the box. Jagged pieces of wood and scattered trinkets lay strewn across the floor. She dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she reached for the fragments.

She sifted through the debris, moving splinters of wood as her eyes burned. The box had been a precious link to her mother, and now it lay in ruins. But she could’ve made it easier to open.

Amalie yanked her hand back when a sharp sting pulsed through her finger. Panic surged through her, her mind flashing back to her pulling on a piece of skin. To her window surging open. To Theo Vallon standing in front of her.

Amalie pulled the sliver out quickly, bringing her finger to her mouth to suck on the wound and stop the bleeding. Stupid.

She held her finger out to dry and watched. It was a small enough prick, the bleeding didn’t last long, thankfully. She resumed cleaning, that time more carefully, not allowing her thoughts to drop to Oren’s study below.

After forming a small pile of wreckage, Amalie paused at the sight of a delicate paper swan with crumpled wings. The sight of it hit her like a bag of bricks.

Her mother's hands folded in her lap. "Take this piece, and fold it over."

They sat together in the garden after lunch while the sky darkened with rain clouds, making birds from the colored pages in her storybooks.

"You make it look easy." Amalie fought with the edges of her bird.

"It's all about patience and attention to detail. You're almost there."

They’d finished their swans just before the storm broke, running inside and setting them on display next to her bed, where they'd stayed until they moved away a few months later. Amalie clung to the memory, unable to believe how easily she'd forgotten those moments. How focused she'd been on losing her instead of remembering.

She clutched the mangled swan and shifted her focus back to the pile before her.

Next, she found a small notebook bound in leather. Its cover was worn, the pages inside were empty. Another image of her mother sitting up late at night by candlelight, her quill scratching across the yellowed pages of those same notebooks. There were dozens of them shoved behind books on the kitchen shelf and others scattered around the house.

“Why do you write everything down?” she’d asked once, annoyed that her mother couldn’t take her outside because she needed to finish whatever she was working on.

“Because someday I’ll forget.”

Those words hadn’t made sense to Amalie then, but now . . .

Amalie tugged the end of a delicate gold chain from under the armoire. Her mother’s locket. She remembered it hanging around her neck, which meant her mother had found a way to open the damn box.

She turned over the gold oval charm in her palm, again searching for a clasp that didn’t seem to exist. Perhaps it was only decorative. Her mother had never opened it, at least not in her memory. She slipped the chain over her head and pulled her hair free of the it.

Only one more item lay within reach. Amalie picked up a glass vial, turning it over in her palm. It had no cork and wasn't much larger than her finger—empty except for a bit of residue stuck to the bottom of the container. What would her mother have used something like this for? Perfume?

Dust from the floor finally caught her nose, and Amalie sneezed twice, holding her arm over her mouth and blinking into the dim light. Where could the other items have landed? She crawled forward, peering beneath her desk and feeling for anything that might’ve fallen between the cracks.

A flash of silver caught her eye at the corner of the room, and Amalie’s blood rushed. She scrambled toward it on her hands and knees, reaching out and grasping it tight. She turned her hand over, and frowned.

A ring.

Masculine.

Amalie furrowed her brow and shifted closer to the window. She hadn’t realized how low the light had gotten.

As soon as the light hit the face of it, her body stilled. An oval. Tilted on its axis. Half light, half dark.