Dark Obsession (Vampire Royals of New York #3) - Sarah Piper Page 0,38
animals for that matter. He was obsessed with humans. Always.” Colin’s eyes had taken on the crazed appearance of the very madman they were discussing, sweeping the rest of them up in the majestic wonder of it all. “Yet consider the name he bestowed upon the manor.”
“Ravenswood,” Dorian whispered.
“You yourself thought Father had intended for us to find the blade and the book. Perhaps you were right, and all of this—the journals, the name of our very home—is all part of the trail he left for us to follow. I didn’t want to see it at first, but it’s all here, Dorian. Written on every page, inked over the original text.” He handed the Corvidae book to Dorian. “The first entry was written from the ship, right after we set sail for America.”
Heart pounding in his chest, Dorian opened to the first page, focusing on the black hand-written letters floating above the text.
“At long last the Blade of the Raven King is in my possession,” he read. “Kendrick was a fool to confide in me its purpose and location, but I shan’t make the same mistake. I confide in no one but this very parchment—not even my own sons—not until such time as I deem it necessary for them to know. This alone shall ensure the longevity of our great house.”
“Keep going,” Colin said, his dimples flashing in the dim light of the cavern.
Dorian cleared his throat and continued. “In the darkness that followed the turning of the Redthorne line, for many years did I pray for guidance, yet none heeded my call. Not until the demon Azerius came to me in my dreams did I see the faintest glimmer of hope. The white raven spoke to me thusly: ‘So shall a demon cross your path who shall rid you of your tormentors and allow you to ascend to your rightful position as king in the name of your forebears. In return, he will ask you to retrieve for him a gift befitting the lord of demons. You will retrieve this gift from the manor of your oppressors, but you must never reveal it. For if the Blade of Azerius and the Book of Lost Souls were to fall into the hands of a lesser immortal, chaos shall reign eternal…”
Dorian glanced up from the book, his memory echoing with the words his father spoke the night he’d buried the Mother of Lost Souls and the book in the coffins behind Ravenswood.
A gift befitting the lord of demons—may his eternal reign darken our doorstep only until we’re ready to see the light…
Colin took the book from Dorian’s hands and continued where he’d left off. “The very next evening, the demon Nikolai approached me in the tavern, and after introducing himself as a messenger of Azerius, there we discussed my plight, though he was already well aware of my desperate need.”
“Chernikov,” Dorian said, and Colin nodded.
“Only such a demon,” Colin read, “with the help of his coven of dark witches, could have assisted me in destroying the ruling vampire family that enslaved my line. Yet this help did not come without cost; in return, he demanded the very gift Azerius had spoken of: a blade with the power to cure this world of demons as surely as I might one day cure it of vampires, for a single drop of demonic blood spilled by the raven’s wing shall imprison his essence within it for eternity, never to return to conscious awakening, not even in a human vessel. Used against humans, it shall expel the human soul to hell, creating a demonic vessel requiring neither consent nor contract.”
Colin gasped, his fingers skimming over the words as if he needed to absorb them by touch in order to believe them.
“So lemme get this straight,” Cole said. “Your old man made a deal with Chernikov—via this Azerius dude—to wipe out the ruling vampire family and ascend to the throne?”
“It makes sense,” Dorian said. “I’ve always wondered how father managed it. House Kendrick was well-guarded, and the entire family was home at the time of the murders. Father’s version of events never made sense, yet he always refused to answer our questions.”
“He said it on the first page,” Colin said. “‘I confide in no one but this very parchment—not even my own sons—not until such time as I deem it necessary for them to know. This alone shall ensure the longevity of our great house…’ Though, I can’t see how his secrecy ensured anything but resentment