Read Online Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7) by Amber Kallyn - Free Book Online
Authors: Amber Kallyn
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clear fir Anca.
Coronado had been well known for his bloodlust. A vampire Judge who'd broken from the Laws of the Arcaine, the tales of how he made a legion of vampires to serve him were full of nightmares.
With barely a sound, she asked, "Were you one of Coronado's vampires?"
"I was."
"He turned you?"
"He did."
"He was one of the Judges you watched destroy villages?"
"He was."
"And here, in this new world, you were one of his conquistadors, fighting alongside him." The statement held no blame.
For those who survived and woke as a vampire, the first battle was against the all consuming lust for blood.
Then the fight to control all their newly awakening powers, before the magic burned them up.
But the struggles to survive the turning weren't the worst part.
Because for the vampires who made it through found themselves under their Sire's control. The stronger the Master, the more control exerted. Until even a man once ruled by peace, would without hesitation take up arms against the innocent.
"Coronado died in 1554, in Mexico City," Anca finally said.
"Of consumption." His tone was bland.
They both knew well their kind didn't die of illness.
Matt would have been a vampire for just over fifty years. If he was truly as powerful as his King said, as she suspected, he could have taken out his Sire.
To kill a Judge, even a Rogue, without approval of the Council was punishable by death.
To kill one's maker was punishable by death.
Anca had a feeling he'd done both. And she suddenly wondered about those other two Judges, who'd just disappeared after ravaging parts of Spain and Europe.
A tight heat grew in her chest at the thought. She forced that line of thinking far away. Because if Matt had done such things, committed such crimes, wouldn't it be her duty to carry out the lawful punishment?
The idea struck her cold.
There were some recently who contested a few of the ancient Laws of the Arcaine. One happened to be the unwavering penalty for killing one's Sire. The protestors claimed that sometimes, there was a good reason for a vampire to do so.
If Anca recalled correctly, the petition came from this very town.
With a bloodthirsty Judge as one's sire and forced to do unspeakable things for his perverse pleasures, if anyone had a good reason to kill their maker, it would be Matt.
She shoved such thoughts away and concentrated on the now. "I'm sorry for what you must have suffered. I assure you, none of it was sanctioned by the Magic Council. They had Judges on the trail of those who'd become corrupt."
Matt's voice was hard. "If you say so. Are we done here?"
At her nod, he strode away, keeping enough distance between them to insure quiet.
It worked for her just as well.
She didn't like the puzzling things stirring inside of her. The man was distant. Aloof. And irregardless of what he'd said, he harbored a dislike for her. For being from the Magic Council.
Yet she'd felt the need to try and comfort him. Both with what she told him, but also, the inkling of an urge to draw nearer when the pain of his past slammed into her.
One that matched the hurts buried deep in her heart. She understood him. His fury. His emptiness. The desperate aloneness in the back of his gaze.
Caught up in her thoughts, Anca didn't realize where they were until the diner's parking lot loomed ahead, packed with a late lunch rush.
Matt led her to his SUV. "We'll have to drive to the rest."
They headed out of town, to a deserted farm with acres of scrubby fields around a charred husk of a building. Once a house, or a barn. From the appearance of the blackened frame, the fire had only happened a few months ago.
Matt parked in shadows stretching from a forest to one side of overgrown fields. "This place," he told her, "was used by Montgomery himself, then more recently, a demon."
Anca got out of the SUV. The moment her feet touched the earth, magic sprung up, closing around her and jerking her into the memories of the spirits living
Coronado had been well known for his bloodlust. A vampire Judge who'd broken from the Laws of the Arcaine, the tales of how he made a legion of vampires to serve him were full of nightmares.
With barely a sound, she asked, "Were you one of Coronado's vampires?"
"I was."
"He turned you?"
"He did."
"He was one of the Judges you watched destroy villages?"
"He was."
"And here, in this new world, you were one of his conquistadors, fighting alongside him." The statement held no blame.
For those who survived and woke as a vampire, the first battle was against the all consuming lust for blood.
Then the fight to control all their newly awakening powers, before the magic burned them up.
But the struggles to survive the turning weren't the worst part.
Because for the vampires who made it through found themselves under their Sire's control. The stronger the Master, the more control exerted. Until even a man once ruled by peace, would without hesitation take up arms against the innocent.
"Coronado died in 1554, in Mexico City," Anca finally said.
"Of consumption." His tone was bland.
They both knew well their kind didn't die of illness.
Matt would have been a vampire for just over fifty years. If he was truly as powerful as his King said, as she suspected, he could have taken out his Sire.
To kill a Judge, even a Rogue, without approval of the Council was punishable by death.
To kill one's maker was punishable by death.
Anca had a feeling he'd done both. And she suddenly wondered about those other two Judges, who'd just disappeared after ravaging parts of Spain and Europe.
A tight heat grew in her chest at the thought. She forced that line of thinking far away. Because if Matt had done such things, committed such crimes, wouldn't it be her duty to carry out the lawful punishment?
The idea struck her cold.
There were some recently who contested a few of the ancient Laws of the Arcaine. One happened to be the unwavering penalty for killing one's Sire. The protestors claimed that sometimes, there was a good reason for a vampire to do so.
If Anca recalled correctly, the petition came from this very town.
With a bloodthirsty Judge as one's sire and forced to do unspeakable things for his perverse pleasures, if anyone had a good reason to kill their maker, it would be Matt.
She shoved such thoughts away and concentrated on the now. "I'm sorry for what you must have suffered. I assure you, none of it was sanctioned by the Magic Council. They had Judges on the trail of those who'd become corrupt."
Matt's voice was hard. "If you say so. Are we done here?"
At her nod, he strode away, keeping enough distance between them to insure quiet.
It worked for her just as well.
She didn't like the puzzling things stirring inside of her. The man was distant. Aloof. And irregardless of what he'd said, he harbored a dislike for her. For being from the Magic Council.
Yet she'd felt the need to try and comfort him. Both with what she told him, but also, the inkling of an urge to draw nearer when the pain of his past slammed into her.
One that matched the hurts buried deep in her heart. She understood him. His fury. His emptiness. The desperate aloneness in the back of his gaze.
Caught up in her thoughts, Anca didn't realize where they were until the diner's parking lot loomed ahead, packed with a late lunch rush.
Matt led her to his SUV. "We'll have to drive to the rest."
They headed out of town, to a deserted farm with acres of scrubby fields around a charred husk of a building. Once a house, or a barn. From the appearance of the blackened frame, the fire had only happened a few months ago.
Matt parked in shadows stretching from a forest to one side of overgrown fields. "This place," he told her, "was used by Montgomery himself, then more recently, a demon."
Anca got out of the SUV. The moment her feet touched the earth, magic sprung up, closing around her and jerking her into the memories of the spirits living
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