The Devil's Liege (The Mathias Saga Book 2)

The Devil’s Liege

Copyright © September 2014 by Danielle DeVor

Cover Art Copyright © September 2014 by Buffi BeCraft

All rights reserved

Eirelander Publishing

www.eirelanderpublishing.com

Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this story may be reproduced in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher/s.

Published in the United States of America.

For my father, Mathias’ biggest fan.

Acknowledgements:

I’d like to thank my awesome beta readers: K. Latham, Maer Wilson, and Tabitha Settle. This book would never have developed as well as it did without you. I’d also like to thank my family. They put up with so much during the writing process. Their support means more to me than they will ever know. And, finally, I’d like to thank Buffi BeCraft and Lee Morris from Eirelander Publishing. You guys are awesome.

Chapter One

“Thias.”

The voice was near to his ear and seemed breathy. Sleep was his friend. He hunkered down further into his pillow. The darkness was a comfort to him. Safe.

“Thias.” It was closer this time—right next to his ear. He didn’t want for this to be real, prayed that it wouldn’t be.

Snick. Snick.

Mathias jerked awake. His heart hammered in his chest. He looked around the room. Everything was where it was supposed to be. It was still too fancy for Mathias with the polished wood, the gold brocade curtains and the velvet chair next to the window with his stack of books beside it. Nothing was wrong. There was no insane woman about to cut him with a pair of rusty shears. With his eyes the way they were now, with his vampire’s ability to see in the dark, he didn’t need to reach over and turn on the light. He could see everything perfectly. It must have been a dream. At least, Mathias hoped that’s what it was.

There was no one was in his room but himself. “Fuck.”

He closed his eyes for a minute and sighed. Ever since he’d killed Nic, the sorcerer who had caused him to become a vampire, Mathias had been dreaming about
her
and the past. It honestly was something he wished he could forget.

Lilith, the former Queen, had tried to kill him just so he couldn’t tell the vampire world about the horrible things she’d done to him in a past life. She’d cultivated this kind and generous persona that wasn’t really like her at all. It wasn’t Mathias’ fault that Vlad had chosen to cross him and make him into a vampire. Being a vampire hadn’t been his choice. Hell, he would have rather had his parents back, but he guessed fate was just one of those things.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand. Along with the dreams, he’d been breaking out in cold clammy sweats. Why the dreams were happening now, he didn’t know. It would have made more sense for them to happen after Nossy had killed Lilith, his mother, but maybe his brain was still being stupid. It wouldn’t surprise him.

He got up, walked across the room to the window, and pushed the plush red brocade curtain out of the way. Staying with Vlad again was weird. The room was just too fancy. He preferred Nossy’s clutter. It felt more homey somehow. But, with Nossy being king, it was easier for Mathias to stay with Vlad. He understood that. He just wished things were less complicated.

Outside, the frost on the ground was so thick that it made the grass look almost white. That was Siberia. Winter came early here. Snow had been hitting the ground in intervals since October, with it now being November, well, the frost was a little bit of an improvement. That meant it wasn’t as cold today.

He wrapped his wings around himself and sat down in the chair next to the window. It was still weird to have wings. They were longer than he was in order to support him in the air. They weren’t unlike the wings of a fruit bat, sort of. The glass reflected what Mathias still viewed as his new face. His brown hair was still long, his blue eyes were still jaded, but he was big now.

Part of him still expected to see that fifteen-year-old kid in the mirror. Needless to say, the last year had been one hell of an experience. He looked at the bookcase opposite his chair, but nothing sparked his interest enough. Still, no sense in trying to go back to sleep now. The dreams would just start again. Mathias just wanted to rest, but his mind had other ideas.

He leaned over the side of the chair and picked up the book he’d left on the floor. It wasn’t a fun read, but necessary. It was an old tome about ancient fighting techniques. Mathias thought that if he could learn about how the old techniques were taught, then maybe, he could rectify everything he remembered from the past with that things were like now. He sighed. His plan wasn’t working very well if his dreams were any indication. He didn’t want to remember more of
her.
It was getting to the point that when he saw a woman with long black hair, he’d have to suppress a shudder. Not normal at all.

He let the book fall into his lap and stared out the window again. The frigid scenery was something better to focus on.

I’m tired of being alive.

The thought just kind of popped into his head, unwarranted and unwelcome. He hadn’t even been thinking, not really. He’d actually been trying not to think. But, he had to admit to himself, it was true in a way. The stress of his “testing” by Lilith, trying to remember who he was, and then finally getting his revenge on Nic kind of took the wind out of his sails. There was nothing left to look forward to now. People who wanted to live forever had no idea how boring it was. And hell, in this life, he was only sixteen. It probably would have been better if he’d never remembered his past at all.

He drummed his claws against the book, softly though, so as to not damage it. Suicide wasn’t an option. Being a vampire, he wasn’t very easy to kill and it wasn’t like he could cut off his own head. He didn’t think he could at least. It wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do. So, he was stuck like this—probably forever. No wonder all the vamps he knew were fucking nuts.

This never ending existence was the very reason he never wanted to be a vampire. The only things he had that meant anything to him were Nossy and Vlad. Too bad they weren’t enough. What he really wanted, and what he didn’t want to admit, was that he just wanted someone to take care of him. His pride wouldn’t let him ask for it.

* * * * *

Tallus stroked the parchment lovingly. This was his child after a sort. The candlelight made the parchment glow slightly golden. It was perfect. True, it had been a great expense to have the document forged, but that was no matter. Not when he’d have it all. Then, expenses would be something he had no reason to fret with.

He chuckled at the cost.

Some paid much more than others. The one who performed this forgery had paid the most. He was now lying underneath several layers of ice—all covering his head. It was a great loss, but Tallus was willing to bear the guilt of the sacrifice. It was all for the greater good after all.

He lowered the parchment to the table. When
she
had been around, none of this was possible. Lilith had always been so … suspicious. He didn’t dare try to act on anything then. In fact, he was always careful to be thinking of things not related to his try for the throne in her presence. It was safer that way.

Tallus grinned. Her death had made things so much easier. Without her paranoia to make him hide in the shadows, he had everything he needed for his plan to work. In contrast, Nosferatu was an easy mark. He was too trusting, and sadly, the King thought Tallus was his ally. That was likely his first mistake. For being as old as he was, Nosferatu really was rather naive.

He picked the parchment up off the table and kissed it. It was all so perfect. Soon, the plan could begin. He couldn’t wait.

* * * * *

Later that morning, after Mathias finally heard Vlad roaming around in the sitting room, he got up and went to see what the elder vampire had planned for him today. He hadn’t wanted to wake Vlad up for no apparent reason.

Plus, studies could start at any time. It wasn’t like he had to be on a specific schedule or anything. His schooling was different now. Because his “old” brain could read Latin fluently, he didn’t need those lessons anymore. Instead, Vlad had been teaching him about the laws that governed their world. In depth this time. It would have been better if the man had taught him that part of it the first time. He would have, at least, had some warning when the shit with Lilith went down, but no sense in dwelling on crap no one could change.

“You do not look well, Mathias,” the elder vampire said. His green eyes were deeply set and his black hair was brushed back from his face. He was wearing his customary red velvet coat. It looked like one of those smoking jackets men wore in the 1940’s. He’d seen them in old movies. For some reason, Vlad loved wearing them. Mathias watched the man stare at him for a minute, then finally rest on his face.

He stood next to the table, not sure what Vlad was going to do next. It wasn’t like any of this would kill him. A few nightmares, some stress, vampires didn’t have heart attacks. “Lack of sleep will do that.” Mathias moved over and sat down at the table. Then, he perused the landscape of fruits and meat, grabbed a cherry between his claws, and popped it into his mouth. He still remembered being surprised that he had to eat and use the restroom just like he had when he’d been human still.

It was so very different from his former Myrddin type of vampire he’d been in his past life. Things were so simple now that the bloodlines were combined, but long ago, he’d been of the “evil” side. Or, at least that’s what Lilith would have had people believe. Really, they were just a mutation because they were created by an ancient sorcerer. Her line, the “Lilitu”, were the natural vampires. No sense dwelling on the past though. Food was good. He grabbed the goblet of blood that had been left out for him and swallowed it in one gulp.

“The dreams still?” Vlad asked.

Mathias nodded and grabbed another cherry. They were good today. Very sweet. “I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever be rid of them.”

“In time,” Vlad said. Mathias watched him place a linen napkin in his lap. His wings twitched, and then settled. “I could be wrong.”

Mathias paused. He had to force himself not to react. The man had been wrong lots of times. The former Queen for one. It was just funny that he was now admitting it. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised. Vlad had to maintain his righteous persona.

Vlad swallowed. “But I think you have what the humans call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

Oh, God. Where the hell did he pull that from?
“I’m not going to some vamp shrink.” He could just imagine the “how does that make you feel” questions already. Hell no. There was no way he was going to discuss how feeding turned him on or anything like that. It was nobody’s goddamned business but his.

Vlad cleared his throat. “Nobody said you had to.”

Mathias looked at Vlad and waited for a beat. “Good.”

“Eat your breakfast and stop being so pedantic. We don’t have time for that today.”

Mathias closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then, he bit his tongue. Strangely, he was starting to learn that if he just kept his mouth shut, he gained more information. Plus, it let them see him as more than a kid, though the aging process he’d gone through a few months ago had helped with that. Still, to survive in the vampire world he needed to be treated more like an adult. And, from past experience, you never got anywhere when fighting with Vlad. It was better to let the man blunder along until the right way to do things hit him upside the head.

* * * * *

“Stuart!”

Thud.
The pain radiated down his spine. The trial of the day was about to begin. Wonderful. He didn’t even want to fathom what this was about.

“Dammit, Nossy. What?” He ran out of his bedroom holding his head. He could smell the small amount of blood where the skin of his scalp had split, but by the time he reached up to hold his head, the cut had sealed.

Nossy laughed. “Do I even want to know what you were doing?”

He was rocking back on his heels with an amused grin on his face. What did he have to be so happy about?

Stuart rubbed his head. The blood smeared on his fingers. He deftly popped them into his mouth and licked it away. Then, he pulled his fingers out of his mouth and put his hands on his hips. “I was looking for some shoes. In my closet. Next time, knock before you come in.”

Nossy chittered. His bat-like features made him look comical, sort of. That is unless you angered him. With his bald head, pointed ears, and front fangs, Nossy could look a bit creepy. His brother was going to be the death of him.

Stuart could still remember the sting on his behind from being spanked by Nossy when he was a child. His looks were deceiving. That amusing face could easily turn into something nightmares were made of.

“I am so sorry, Stuart,” Nossy said. Then, he bowed to him.

Stuart knew he didn’t mean it. There was that smart-assy tone to his voice. He straightened up and rolled his eyes. “Enough with all of this.” He motioned in a sweeping gesture around Nossy. “What is it you want?”

Nossy suddenly looked completely blank and paused for a minute. “I forgot.”

You have got to be kidding.
The man just stood there. No, he wasn’t. Stuart closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. The old bat was getting crazier the older he got.

“If you remember later, you could text me, you know,” Stuart said. It was an honest viable option. Also, it would have worked to begin with. A text would not cause him to hit his head on the frame of his closet so hard he split open his skull, but whatever.

Nossy frowned like a scolded child. “No.”

“Why not?”

Nossy held up his hand. His fingers were incredibly long and the claws at the end were beyond sharp. Anyone would have nightmares seeing those things peek out from under a coffin lid. “Do you see me texting with these?”

Stuart snorted. “You could if you cut those damn things.” He kept his own pretty short out of a manner of practicality. Nossy, however, must have been the least practical being he’d ever known.