Into Darkness: The Akrhyn Series (Book 1) Read online

  Groaning, Sloane opened his eyes and sat up, looking into the shadows. “When did you get here?”

  A figure came out of the shadows, tall with a slim build that Sloane knew was deceptive – there was muscle under the robes he wore. A hood pulled over his head, hid his face, but Sloane knew the features too well. Dark hair over angular features and grey eyes would greet him when the hood was pulled down.

  “I have been here for some hours, I did not declare myself of course,” long tapered fingers pushed the hood back.

  “You know it’s against protocol to portal in here, Cord,” Sloane muttered as he looked at his brother. “I am not covering for you, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I was with Salem or Marcus all day.”

  “No matter, I will tell Salem I teleported. His wards are weak, I will revive them,” Cord sat on one of the couches, arranging his red robes around him.

  “When did you start wearing the robes?” Sloane asked as he eyed the robes with distrust.

  “A few months ago after I passed the Testing Trial. I had an indeterminant Cast affiliation, so I chose Crimson Cast. It matches my eyes no?” His voice was mocking.

  “Last time I looked brother – your eyes were grey.”

  “So pedantic as always, I am surprised the female didn’t appreciate your stoic-ness.” Cord placed his hands in the front pocket of his robes. “Are you not going to congratulate me?”

  “No,” Sloane looked away. “You knew what Cast you were choosing before you took the test. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t manipulate the results so you could choose.”

  A low laugh escaped Cord. “You amuse me, brother. Only you speak your mind to me; most are too afraid.”

  “That’s not a good thing, or something to be proud of,” Sloane snapped.

  “How long has the female been here?” Cord asked changing the subject.

  “Since yesterday,” Sloane admitted.

  “And you haven’t told father, tsk tsk.”

  “No one actually says tsk tsk, Cord.” Sloane rolled his eyes.

  “It matters not what people say, what matters is what you didn’t say. Father will be disappointed,” Cord looked at his younger brother with amusement. “It is a good thing I have not already told him.”

  “Cornelius will be disappointed no matter if I tell him or you do. I could have told him the moment she arrived and it would still be too late,” Sloane picked at a thread on his jeans.

  “That is true,” Cord watched his brother with amusement. “So, she is your cousin. More family for you.”

  “Yes,” Sloane regarded his brother warily.

  “I am pleased for you,” Cord looked at the door. “She is quite talented by all accounts.”

  “Leave her alone,” Sloane warned.

  “Why, brother, I am not sure what you are implying,” the wicked look in Cord’s eyes were not lost on Sloane.

  “She is not to be toyed with,” Sloane leaned forward, ensuring his brother knew he was serious.

  “We shall see, brother.” Cord stood and adjusted his robes. “Come, take me to Salem, then we will both tell our father how his niece is here.”

  “Cord, can’t you let it rest? She needs more time before father interferes.”

  “No, he needs to be told before Salem tells him. Think brother, you need to remind him why you are useful here.”

  Sloane winced at his brother’s words. “I don’t need the reminder, brother. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you? You could have fooled me, and you have never been able to fool me, little brother.” Cord walked to the doors. “Come, lead the way and look as if you are pleased to see me.”

  Sloane snorted at his brother’s words but walked past him and opened the doors. “He’ll be in his study.”

  “I know,” Cord smirked as they walked along the hall. He ignored the hushed whispers and dark looks he got as he walked alongside his brother. As they continued, he remained straight and steady as he paid the other Sentinels no mind, but he noticed his brother visibly seemed to sink under the weight of the stares. “Remember who you are, brother. Stand tall.”

  Sloane pushed his shoulders back even as he glared at him. “You already unnerve them, seeing you in crimson has added to it.”

  “I am neutral.”

  “You’ve never been neutral in your life, Cord,” Sloane snorted. “You wearing this Cast colour can only be a trick.”

  “No one knows me better, brother,” Cord nodded in greeting as they passed two Elite Sentinels, “but you are wrong.”

  They stopped outside Salem’s office door and Sloane turned to face his brother fully. “When it comes to you, I am never wrong.” Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door and hearing the voice on the other side biding entry, he opened the door to the study as Cord chuckled quietly beside him.

  “Come in,” Salem’s voice was heavy and tired as he called out the order. He was a Principal Elite, head of his family and father of the next Heir, he was used to dealing with unexpected events. He ran these Headquarters as his forefathers had done before him. However, Leonid Novikov turning up at his Headquarters with Celeste’s daughter in tow had been more than unexpected. He hadn’t slept since she arrived, his hours filled with memories and regret. It was taking its toll on him. The door opened and his jaw clenched when he looked past Sloane and saw his older brother with him. Salem looked at Cord with reservation as he took in the red robes.

  “Principal,” Cord greeted him, his head dipped slightly in deference for Salem’s rank, but like so much of Cord it was done with mockery, almost seemingly with contempt.

  “You portalled into my Headquarters without leave?” Salem cut straight to the chase.

  “Testing your defences, Principal,” Cord’s eyes were full of amusement. “They’re weak, I will strengthen them before I leave.”

  “Do you think that will appease me?” Salem scoffed as leaned back in his seat. “I see you got your wish,” he indicated to Cord’s robes.

  “The Great Council were acquiescent to my request,” Cord’s head dipped again in reverence.

  “Acquiescent to my request,” Salem bit out a laugh. “By the Ancients, you get more like your father every day.” He didn’t miss the flash of annoyance in Cord’s eyes as the younger male sat quietly.

  “I would like to think not,” Cord murmured quietly.

  “Did you know he was coming?” Salem asked Sloane.

  “No, he scared the shit out of me in the library,” Sloane admitted as he relaxed in his chair. He ignored his older brother’s self-satisfied smile. “I didn’t realise you knew he chose his Cast?”

  “I am Principal, I don’t actually have to answer to you, Sloane – despite you and Michael’s misguided notion I am here at your beck and call,” Salem answered dryly. “Although, I was not aware the Cast had been chosen, I merely knew your brother had an unusual result.” Salem’s eyes flicked to Cord’s who was sitting quietly, his posture relaxed.

  “Sorry, it’s been a tough couple of days,” Sloane conceded to his Principal.

  Salem nodded in agreement. “It really has,” his mirthless laugh filled the room.

  “She seems to be very skilled,” Cord said into the following silence.

  “When did you see her?” Salem focused once more on the Castor.

  “In the library, she’s feisty.” A small smile hovered on the young Castor’s lips, causing Salem to frown.

  “She is of no interest to you, or your Cast.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Cord shrugged. He watched the Principal shift in his seat, barely concealing his amusement that he was affecting him with his apparent careless words. Nothing Cord did was careless, and he was enjoying making the Principal squirm.

  “Ignore him, Salem, he is merely being annoying,” Sloane interrupted the staring contest.

  “Am I?” Cord asked, as he regarded his brother coolly. “My father needs to be informed she is here,” he carried on, enjoying it when Salem stiffened and al
so his younger brother’s look of incredulity. “Cornelius gets tetchy when he is left out of things and he is not going to appreciate that he is in the dark about this.”

  “I plan on telling your father when the time is right,” Salem answered tersely. “Tegan needs to settle here first; she has had enough family thrust into her life as it is.”

  “Unacceptable,” Cord stood. “Sloane will inform our father tonight.”

  “I will not be disrespected like this, Castor. I don’t care how powerful they say you are,” Salem snapped. “This is of no concern to the Crimson Cast.”

  “Indeed, it may not be, but it is of concern to my House and my House has my loyalty,” Cord’s dip of his head again was mocking, “I am the Heir.”

  “Your Cast should be your only loyalty,” Salem growled at the young male.

  “Come now, Principal – even you don’t believe those lies,” Cord mocked. “I will make use of the Castors Chamber when I am here,” he walked to the door. “Sloane, come, I will make a fire message for you.”

  Sloane sat for a moment before reluctantly getting to his feet. “I’m sorry, Salem, I have to let him know.” His head was down as he followed Cord from the room. When they exited the room, Sloane wasted no time slamming his brother against the wall in the hall. “What in name of all that is Ancient was that?”

  Cord’s laughter unnerved him, and he dropped his hands from his brothers robes as he stood back. “You know you cannot best me, Sloane, I don’t know why you lash out at me.” Cord straightened his robes as he resumed walking along the hall.

  “You could have handled that better,” Sloane rubbed his jaw as they both walked down the hall.

  “He annoys me,” Cord shrugged.

  “Everyone annoys you,” Sloane snapped irritably.

  Cord looked at his brother from the corner of his eye, “You don’t,” he murmured quietly. He took perverse pleasure when he saw his younger brother falter.

  “Well, that may be,” Sloane recovered quickly from the shock admission. “But it was still a dick move,” Sloane grumbled.

  “Probably,” Cord shrugged, he had lost interest in the conversation and wanted to get the fire message off to his father. “Once we have done this, I want to meet her.”

  “Tegan?” Sloane asked in confusion. “Why?”

  “She’s your cousin,” Cord grinned at him. “Do I need a reason?”

  “Because you’re you… yes, you do.”

  Cord’s laughter was genuine as he clasped his brother on the shoulder. “I have missed you, little brother.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” Sloane muttered as they ascended the stairs to the rooms above. “You sure you want the Castors Chamber? You can sleep in the family wing.”

  “I don’t think I want to be that close to temptation,” Cord winked conspiratorially towards him.

  Sloane slowed to a stop and he looked back at him in confusion. “Tegan?”

  “What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” Cord scoffed. “Salem. I don’t want to put wards up in the night so I can sleep – it’s nice to have a full night’s sleep without maintaining wards.”

  “He would never,” Sloane defended the Principal Elite Akrhyn vehemently. “He isn’t Cornelius.”

  “True,” Cord conceded as he pushed open the door to the Castors Chamber. It was furnished with soft furs and velvets. He hated the room, it always seemed overly opulent to him. He was pleased to notice his younger brother look at the room with derision also. “Ugh, it’s so fake and over the top. No wonder most Akrhyns hate us.”

  “Yeah, it’s your taste in furnishings that puts Akrhyns off,” Sloane mocked his brother. “Nothing to do with your creepy magic, blood sacrifices or love for the darkness.” Again, Cord surprised him when he laughed, it was unnerving seeing his brother carefree. Was this what selecting his Cast did for him? Sloane wondered, as he regarded his brother shrewdly. He grudgingly had to admit, a carefree Cord was better than the intense son of a Drakhyn he usually was. “You’re freaking me out being all happy and shit,” Sloane crossed his arms as he watched his brother.

  Cord sobered as he looked at his little brother. “I’m not allowed to be happy?”

  “I never said that, it’s just weird seeing you something other than moody.”

  “You wound me,” Cord smirked at his brother as he started to pull powders and small bottles of coloured liquids from his robes.

  “You really want to do this now?” Sloane asked, his voice betraying the fact he was resigned to it.

  “No time like the present,” Cord answered distractedly as he sat down, sorting through his ingredients.

  “I hear the past was a better time,” Sloane’s half-hearted jest fell on deaf ears however, his brother lost to his art. Minutes passed before Cord declared he was ready to send the fire message. Sloane kept his admiration at the speed and skill of his brother’s ability to Cast to himself – he didn’t need any more encouragement at being an overbearing, egotistical jerk.

  “What are you going to say?” Cord enquired as he created a fire in the middle of the floor. Sloane watched the flames burn on nothing as the flames licked the air around them but gave no heat. “Sloane!’ Cord snapped at him, bringing him back into the present.

  “Hey, dad, so Leonid Novikov turned up at Headquarters with Aunt Celeste’s lovechild, who is already an Elite Elder, and is possibly Heir instead of Michael. Okay, so yeah, congrats, you’re an Uncle. No need to visit Headquarters, bye.” Sloane sat down on the chair dejectedly. “What do you think? Needs work??

  “I hope not, I sent it.”

  Sloane froze. “Tell me you’re playing a joke of Velvore,” his rapidly beating heart was loud enough to deafen him.

  “No, it was fine, said all you needed,” Cord dusted his hands and started to rearrange his powders.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Yet I did,” Cord looked up at him and grinned. “Don’t worry so much, brother. Cornelius will appreciate it without all the stuttering and stammering you usually do.”

  “He’s going to lose his mind!” Sloane yelled.

  “I would argue he lost that already, but you know, I’m maybe not objective,” Cord shrugged like that was an actual problem.

  “I cannot believe you sometimes,” Sloane slumped in the chair.

  “His message is coming,” Cord warned quietly before the small magical fire in the middle of the room roared with intensity.

  Sloane watched in sick fascination as the flames contorted into the shape of words.

  Sloane Ivanov, have you no respect? The voice was that of his father and even though his father could not see him, Sloane still slumped further into the seat, ignoring Cord’s knowing smirk. How dare you make such a disrespectful joke, my sister was my world and you mock her memory with your lies!

  The flames soared higher, telling both males that the sender was not happy.

  “Father, it is Cord,” his eyes narrowed as he watched the flames. “I arrived a short time ago. I have seen the girl myself and my brother does not lie.”

  The magical fire in the middle of the room was still for so long, that Sloane was just about to ask his brother if he lost the connection when the words took form in the flame again.

  She is Salem’s?

  “Yes,” Sloane answered when Cord gestured at him to continue. “He did not know of her,” he added.

  And the Vampyre? Where is the cowardly leech who took her from me?

  Sloane flinched at his father’s vocabulary. “He has left,” he informed him reluctantly.

  Tell them I come. The flames died, indicating that his father had cut the connection.

  “Guess he didn’t listen,” Cord was completely unphased by the events.

  “I need to go warn Salem and Tegan I suppose,” Sloane stood, glaring at his brother. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “No, I didn’t, but you did. You are an Ivanov, no matter how much you want to be in this family, you are and always will be,
an Ivanov.”

  “Do not worry, brother, I am reminded of that fact every day,” Sloane walked angrily from the room, leaving his brother looking after him in thoughtful consideration.

  Cord was unperturbed by his brother’s reaction. Their father needed to know and the sooner he knew the better it would be for Sloane. How he didn’t realise that, baffled Cord. His brother was the typical Akrhyn male, full of ideas of honour, valour and nobility. Idiots, the lot of them, Cord thought. Drakhyn didn’t care that they had honour, or valour, Drakhyn only wanted to kill them. Their hatred and bloodlust for Akrhyn was unrivalled. Drakhyn sought out human females for procreation because they were weakest in defending themselves, but their most desired target was that of an Akrhyn female. Their bodies were stronger for carrying the Drakhyn child to term and carried the added bonus of killing an Akrhyn when the spawn was born. The Drakhyn wanted the first blood its child tasted to be that of an Akrhyn.

  A soft knock on the door brought Cord out of his Reflection. Answering it, he regarded the young female Akrhyn standing timidly in front of him with indifference.

  “Castor,” her head dipped in reservation “Marcus of the Golden Pack seeks you to attend him in his chamber.”

  “Attend him how?” Cord bit back the smile as the female flushed at the implication – he knew there were rumours about Marcus that were whispered in the shadows. Why else would the alpha of a pack choose to live in solitude? Why did the alpha have no Heir? He watched the Akrhyn struggle with her composure, he enjoyed making people uncomfortable. As she stammered an apology, he let loose a small laugh. “Collect yourself, daughter of Arflyn, I will attend.” The young Akrhyn practically ran from the doorway. Still amused, Cord closed the door behind him as he stepped into the hall.

  “It’s cruel when you do that.”

  He turned to see Michael leaning against the wall, watching him. “It brings me humour,” Cord shrugged and began to walk, Michael falling into step beside him.

  “That’s because you’re twisted,” Michael answered easily.

  “Most certainly,” Cord agreed. “I thought you went running after Zahra?”