Blood Doll (The Vampire Agape Series Book #3) (The Vampire Agape Series #3) (16 page)

The numbers don’t add up. Is he including future children in the count? “You said a group of six would lead the revolt.”

“Your children and two other male babes–also twins–are the only ones on earth with that genetic make up.” I’m surprised to hear that there are two more agape/vampire children out there. Three sets of twins. Three males. Three females. I’m a father of daughters so I don’t like the direction this conversation is going.

Anteros addresses Chansey and Curry, “Your son will take one of Avery and Solomon’s daughters as a mate and your daughter will pair off with one of the males born outside of this coven.” He turns to us and I can predict what he is about to say. “Your other daughter will be a mate to the other male twin.”

Anteros motions toward the entry from the foyer and a couple enters the living room, each holding an infant. “This is Abel and Jenna Bennett. And these are their sons, Judd and York. They are joining Landra and will be living with you at the compound. The children must be raised together so they can train side by side to become invincible if they are to conquer Marsala Delphine.”

Curry’s entire body jerks in a rigor when he hears her name. “Marsala is dead.”

“No. She used black magic to make you believe she is dead but she’s biding her time.” Curry rubs his chin with his hand as he always does when he’s stressed. “Something happened to Marsala when you thought you were running that stake through her heart. Her once obsession turned to something different. Something darker.”

He’s clearly shaken by the news that Marsala is still alive. “Darker? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“It is. She’s gone mad and wants to rule the vampire species so she may eradicate all agápes.” He’s speaking to all of us now. “She wants Curry to suffer the pain of losing Chansey and his children if she can’t have him. Marsala is powerful and determined. That’s two very dangerous characteristics so she’s the reason the three of you can’t remain agápes. You must be able to protect yourselves in case she gets through your mates. Once the babies are old enough, you will all need to be changed.”

Curry isn’t disturbed by this the way I am. He was planning to turn Chansey anyway but this isn’t what I want for Avery. “No. I refuse to do it.” Do I have the right to refuse Anteros?

“Solomon, I know what happened with your betrothed but it wasn’t your fault.”

How was it not my fault? I’d love to believe I wasn’t the cause of Lisette’s wrongful death. “I tried to turn her and she died. I killed her.” End of story.

“Avery wasn’t born during that time but once you were changed into a vampire, she was destined to become your intended. That means there could never be another for you. That’s why Lisette didn’t survive. Your blood couldn’t supply her body with the things she needed to transition so it wasn’t your fault.”

I feel numb. “I’ve spent the last two hundred and seventy-five years believing she died because I made a stupid mistake.”

“There was no wrong done on your part. It just wasn’t meant to be.” I wish I had known because neither of us would have chosen that fate for her. She loved life and deserved to live.

Sebastian steps forward. “There’s one last bit of news.” He appears happy–probably the happiest I’ve seen him. “Anteros has the ability to reunite me with Ella in a parallel world–much like the one where you join your agápe when you share your special connection. It’s what I want but joining her means leaving all of you behind and I’ll never return again.”

Ella is Sebastian’s heart so he deserves nothing less than our full support. “We’ve had a great run, my friend. You’ve taught us well and your work will continue to be done here but it’s time for you to be reunited with your beloved.” I hug my teacher. My confidant. My friend. “You will be missed greatly.”

We say our goodbyes but I’m not sad about Sebastian’s departure. I’m happy for him because the vampire mate within me understands. He must go to his agápe.

And in the blink of an eye, he is no longer with us. Vanished–gone to be reunited with his beloved.

But Anteros remains. “Curry and Solomon, you will train Abel in the ways of the Landra. The fighting techniques you use to apprehend and tame out of control vampires will become vital if you are to defeat Marsala and the army she is building.”

“And our agápes?” Curry asks.

“They will be turned and trained after your children are weaned.”

I’m frightened for Avery. I’m not sure she’s cut out for vampirism and battles.

“I can do this, Sol.” She senses my fear.

Anteros hears the exchange of words between us. “None of you should waste time worrying about your agápe’s transition. They will adjust quickly and become exceptionally powerful because of what they already are. Their strength will double yours and triple that of any young vampire they meet on the battlefield.” That was a plus. If Marsala was building an army then they would all be fledglings.

I want Avery to be strong if she’s to fight but I’m not sure how I feel about her having the ability to overpower me.

She laughs because she’s so good at deciphering my thoughts. “Don’t be that way, Sol. You might like being subdued. It could be really hot but let’s face it. I’ve never needed physical strength to have my way with you.”

So this is my fate. A beautiful agápe wife. Two lovely, healthy daughters and more happiness than I deserve. Not bad if I do say so myself.

I entered Vincent Godfrey’s house months ago believing I was part of the plan to rescue Avery–a mysterious blood jewel–yet she was the one to rescue me. I couldn’t have envisioned her in my sweetest fantasy but Avery Violet Ferrand Alexander isn’t imaginary. She is real. And my dream come true. For eternity.

The End

About Georgia

Georgia resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back.

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It has been such a pleasure corresponding with some of you via Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, email, and by my blog. I love being in touch with my readers so don’t hesitate to contact me at any time. I love you all and thank you for your support through this journey.

Love, Georgia

Young Adult Books by Georgia Cates

Blood of Anteros

The Vampire Agápe Series Book 1

Blood Jewel

The Vampire Agápe Series Book 2

Blood Doll

The Vampire Agápe Series Book 3

Going Under

A Going Under Novel Book 1

Shallow

A Going Under Novel Book 2

Adult Books by Georgia Cates

Beauty from Pain

Beauty Series #1

Beauty from Surrender

Beauty Series #2

Inescapable:

The Premonition Series

By Amy A. Bartol

Chapter 1–Moving Day

As I drive past the placid façade of Crestwood College’s stately clock tower, I realize that this is the building they refer to as Central Hall. It’s the trademark of the school, and they stamp its image on everything they use to represent them. My acceptance letter had been embossed with its seal. The scent of autumn drifts through my open window along with the deep, echoing bell from the clock as it tolls out the hour. The loud, desolate sound sends a chill over my skin. It is funny to me how something as harmless as a clock tower can be winsome and sinister at the same time.

In the car behind me, my Uncle Jim gives me a couple of short honks of his horn. As I gaze at him in my rearview mirror, I see him gesturing for me to turn left at the next stop sign. His paranoia that I will miss the street to my dorm makes me smile, so I turn on my signal to relieve his anxiety. Crestwood’s campus has only a few streets; if I miss the turn, it won’t be fatal.
If I manage to get lost here, then I don’t deserve the academic scholarship they gave me,
I think to myself, using my mirror to refresh my lip-gloss.

I ride slowly under the tunneling oak trees that line the pavement. I had always thought that I would go to a larger school—one in a major city, like New York or Chicago, but when Crestwood offered me a full ride with no strings attached, I couldn’t pass up such an amazing opportunity. I mean, who needs a sprawling city if you’re totally broke all the time? And Crestwood is consistently ranked as one of the top private schools in the country for academics. Plus, this way I get to stay in Michigan so I can visit Uncle Jim more often. He’ll only be a few hours away—and he needs me. I’m his only family, just as he is mine.

Unease creeps over me as my dormitory comes into view. I don’t know a single person at Yeats Hall, or even Crestwood for that matter. I had met a few coeds on my brief tour of the school last year, but I had been just a prospective student then, so none of us really bothered to make friends. A fresh wave of panic hits me, or maybe it’s remorse for all the familiar things I’m leaving behind.
Don’t stress
, I tell myself while taking a deep breath.
This place will be the making of you. Everything will be fine.

I park in a spot under a shady elm tree and cut the engine, waiting for my uncle to slip into the spot next to mine. Pulling up next to me, he parks his truck and leaves it idling. With his stereo blaring Baba O’Reily, he is head-banging and playing air guitar to the raging bass.

Normally, something like this would horrify me, especially since he is drawing frowns from the other parents hauling boxes and desk lamps out of their cars, but not today. Today, I’m trying to take a mental snapshot of this moment because it’s so quintessential Uncle Jim.

We had basically raised each other, he and I. When my mom died soon after I was born, he stepped up and assumed guardianship of me. It couldn’t have been easy; he’d been a kid himself at the time, only twenty years old.

As my eyes rove over him, lip-syncing with his mouth curling in a rocker-like scowl, I smile, knowing he is doing it for me. He is trying to make me laugh so that I won’t be nervous.

As I climb out of my old Jeep, I pretend not to notice when small pieces of the rusted door flake off as I close it. “You rock a mean air guitar,” I say after he cuts his engine and grins at me through the truck’s open window.

“I know—missed my calling. I was born to rock,” he replies with hubris, climbing out and joining me.

“Undoubtedly,” I agree. He slips his arm around my shoulder, trapping my long, auburn hair beneath it as he gives me a quick squeeze before letting it drop.

“You ready to check in?” he asks me as he runs his hands through his dark-brown hair, which immediately falls back over his forehead again.

“Yeah,” I nod, handing him a comb from my purse.

He smiles, taking the comb from me. “You know what I like most about you, Evie?” he asks me.

My eyebrow arches. “Umm, I’m not sweaty?” I ask.

His grin deepens, reaching his gray eyes as he shakes his head. “Well, that, and the fact that you think of everything. It makes me worry less about you because I know that you’ll cover every angle before you attack a problem,” he answers.

I give him a furtive glance as I retort, “You know what I like most about you?”

“My musicality?” he asks with a straight face.

I grin because we both know he is completely tone-deaf. “Well, that,” I agree, “and the fact that you always manage to say just the right thing.”

“You liked that?” he asks me while we walk up the sloping sidewalk to the entrance of my new residence. “Good, because I practiced it in the car all the way here.”

“It sounded very parental,” I compliment him as he holds the door for me to enter.

“That’s what I was going for,” he acknowledges, approaching the wide mahogany table in the lobby.

“Evie Claremont,” I say to the perky brunette seated in a wing-backed chair behind the table.

She scans the roster before looking up and asking, “Genevieve Claremont?”

“That’s me,” I breathe nervously, “but everyone just calls me Evie.”

She glances from me to my uncle, and her smile becomes toothy. My Uncle Jim and I both pretend not to notice when she begins flirting with him: me because I’m uncomfortable and him because he’s not into females my age. Anyway, I’m used to it—it happens often; I think that every one of my female friends was in love with my uncle at one point or another.

As she begins outlining all of the upcoming dorm activities for
him
, I take the time to gaze around at the old building. I know that it was once a home to a wealthy Crestwood family, but they had donated it to the school around the turn of the previous century. The interior is elegant, with ice blue, silken wall-coverings, crown molding, rich deep-brown wainscoting, and leaded-glass windows.

Uncle Jim nudges me before handing me my new keys and motioning with his chin toward the stairs.

“She was friendly,” I tease him as we climb up to the second floor.

He nods his head and feigns ignorance, muttering, “Very nice.”

Locating my room, we open it, and I set my purse down on the low table by the door as I enter. The room comes fully furnished with a single bed, a desk, a dresser, a bedside table, and a small lamp. A bathroom-style sink and a closet are the only other appointments to it.

“Home,” Uncle Jim says with a sanguine glance at me. He must be reading the dark excursion my mind is taking because he adds hurriedly, “Don’t worry; when we get your stuff in here, it won’t feel as strange.”

“I’m not worried,” I say, flashing him a faux grin.

“C’mon,” he says, putting his arm around me and tugging me to the door. “Let’s go get your stuff.”

We get to work unloading my swag from his truck. After bringing a few boxes up several flights of stairs, I stay in my room and begin unpacking them. “Where do you want me to put this box?” my Uncle Jim asks me, breathing heavily and staggering through the doorway.

Narrowing my eyes, I murmur, “Umm, let me think,” while looking for available space on the floor. “What’s in it?” I ask, sifting through the box in front of me.

He grunts before saying, “Judging by the weight, I’d say it has to be either your ex-boyfriend’s dead remains or…books.” Pressing the front of the box against the wall, he tries to keep from dropping it.

“Ah, it must be books—all of my exes are buried in the backyard at home, so pleasant dreams when you get there tonight,” I reply with a smirk, putting my alarm clock on the nightstand near my bed. “You can just set it down by the desk, thanks.” Shuffling across the room, he heaves the box down with a loud
thump
.

“I was wondering what happened to the last one. The one that took you to the movies…” he replies. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his Ramones t-shirt. Poor Dee Dee Ramone on the front of it looks a little soaked.

Giving him an ironic smile I shrug, “His name was Greg, and like I said…backyard.”

“Good, I never liked him,” he says with the same kind of smile. “Do you want help unpacking these?” he asks, indicating the boxes strewn around the room.

“I’m not sure where I’m going to put everything yet. Maybe I should just do it myself,” I say almost as a question.

“I’ll set up the Internet connection so you can send email and surf,” Uncle Jim says as he finds my laptop and places it on my desk.

“Thanks. I register for classes tomorrow, so I’ll email you—let you know how that goes,” I promise.

He bypasses the dormitory’s LAN and gives me my own Internet access and firewall so that I can maintain my privacy. I can probably do it myself because he taught me how, but I’m grateful that he is taking care of it.

Finishing the set-up, he turns his grayish-blue eyes to me, smiling in triumph. I think my mother also had the same color eyes as her brother and I do, but I have to rely on old, grainy photos of her in order to see them. As for the rest of my physical characteristics, like my auburn hair and my tall, slender frame, they could’ve come from my father’s side of the family, but since neither of us knows who he is, it makes proving that theory slightly difficult.

Uncle Jim loses some of his smile as he looks around and sees there isn’t much left for him to do now. “So, you have your cell phone,” he states as if going over a parental checklist in his head. “If you need anything, you can call me. Do you need any money?”

“You already gave me money,” I say, seeing him reach into his pocket for his wallet. I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “I have more than enough money for all of the beer and drugs I plan on experimenting with,” I tease him gently. “When I blow it all on Internet gambling, I’ll call you.”

He smiles back at me, and I watch the way his eyes crinkle in the corners. I love that. I like to think that I’m responsible for most of the laugh lines around his eyes. “Did I tell you how proud I am of you, Evie?” he asks, his voice soft with affection.

I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks. “Oh, once or twice,” I reply. “Anyway, with me out of the house, you can focus on all of those things you’ve been putting off—maybe check out the Internet dating scene. But…don’t do any background checks on your dates, it takes all the mystery out of it,” I tease him.

It’s sad that I can’t even remember his last girlfriend’s name. Uncle Jim hasn’t had a date in a while. I believe I know the reason for this and it has to do with his line of work. He’s sort of a computer nerd. Working primarily for private investigators, Uncle Jim handles mostly divorce cases, specifically, cheating spouses.

He gains access to the alleged cheating spouse’s computer and clones the hard drive, always with the express permission of the suspicious spouse, since it’s usually considered joint property. Then he delves through emails and bank accounts at his leisure. So, one can make the argument that infidelity keeps our little family afloat, if one is so inclined. I like to think that it’s the reason why he doesn’t really date and not that he took himself out of the game to raise me.

Taking my comment in stride, he replies, “Just for that obnoxious crack, I’m turning your room into a home gym. You’ll have to sleep on the weight bench when you come home to visit.”

“How dare you!” I reply with mock outrage, but I’m trying not to let him see my anxiety. He will be leaving soon and I will be staying here. It has always been just the two of us; I’ve always had him to count on. Tears immediately spring to my eyes at the realization that things will be different.

“I miss you already,” Uncle Jim says, seeing my tears.

I begin to panic at his words, so I run down my own parental checklist. “I did the grocery shopping yesterday, so you should have enough food to last you at least a week. I bought you new razors, and I put them in the drawer in the bathroom. Oh, and I took your suit to the dry cleaners. You have to remember to pick it up on Wednesday because you have to be in court for the Henderson’s divorce case on Friday.”

“I’ll remember,” he says with an indulgent smile.

Inhaling deeply so that I can hold in my tears, I whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies. Seeing the hint of anxiety in his eyes, he adds, “I want you to call me, you know, if you start having those nightmares again.”

Looking down at the floor, I mumble, “I think now that I’m here they’ll go away.”

“If they don’t, I want you to call me,” he replies, touching my cheek.

“Okay,” I reply in a small voice, and he drops his hand.

“I should get on the road now—I want to avoid the rush hour traffic near Ann Arbor,” he says with forced cheer in his voice. “Everything’s going to be great here. You’re going to love it at Crestwood, Evie,” he says with a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’ll be stellar,” I reply with forced enthusiasm. “Anyway, you should go—beat the traffic. I’ll walk you out,” I say, pretending that I’m not about to bawl my eyes out.

Holding his hand, I walk with him out to his truck. He gives me a huge bear hug before getting into it. “I’ll come for Homecoming, okay?” he asks through the window.

“Can’t wait,” I say with a ghost of a smile.

As he starts the engine, I bite my lower lip so it won’t tremble. Seeing him smile at me through the glass, my heart accelerates in fear. Uncle Jim gives me a small wave, and I mirror the action, although my hand shakes just a little. When his car drives out of sight, I walk slowly back upstairs.

Turning the key in the lock to my single room, I push the door open. About to step through the doorway, I freeze when I see a shadow move quickly across the wall. It startles me. “Hello?” I inquire, but no one answers me.

Rubbing my eyes, I blink a couple of times before I close my door. I hurry to the windows on the far wall, looking for someone outside my window on the fire escape. It’s empty; the heavy iron grate of the landing is rusty in spots from disuse, appearing as if no one has been out there in a while.