Ascended (War of the Covens 3)

“I came here because you said you had urgent news,” Kirios reminded him.

“I am sorry. I could not get away.”

“Fine. What is the problem, Alex?”

Alex grinned. “Anna. She is with child.”

The vampyre’s pulse leapt. Yes. This was it. This would help change everything.

“Then we must work out a plan.”

The young man smiled cheekily. “I thought that was what you would say. You want to teach him, don’t you?”

Kirios nodded. “We have to. Your children must know the truth of this war, Alex.”

Petrovsky grew very serious. “Of course, Reuben. No child of mine will be contaminated with Midnight insanity.”

New Jersey, USA, 1950s

“Holy—” Kirios yelped, his glass of blood going everywhere as he jumped. His gang of Rogue Vampyre Hunters were all out and about in New York, prowling the night for their varied predators. He was taking a moment for sustenance when a familiar magik popped up before him, inches from his face.

The Prophet smiled sheepishly and took a few steps back. “Sorry, I’ve never quite got the hang of a communication spell.”

Kirios shook his head. “What … how?”

The Prophet looked like a sixty-year-old man now, but his bright blue eyes convinced Kirios that the magik in front of him was definitely the seer he hadn’t seen in almost two thousand years.

“Still as articulate as ever, Kirios. Or is it Reuben now?”

He nodded shakily. Not many things could unsettle him, but the sudden appearance of this guy definitely did. “What are you doing here?”

The Prophet tapped his head. “Had a few more visions I thought you might be interested in.”

Excitement rushed through every cell in Kirios’s body. “Seriously? No joke … things are finally going to happen? Jeez, I almost gave up hope—”

“I liked you better when you couldn’t talk.”

He scowled at the Cassandrian. “Fine, what’s going on?”

The magik raised an eyebrow before settling onto Kirios’s sofa. “Nice place you have here.”

The vampyre itched to hit the words out of the magik’s mouth, but he tried to remember this was the man who’d saved his life.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the seer finally smiled. “Okay. Here’s what’s going on. I’ve seen this girl. A Midnight. The daughter of a Council member, to be more precise. She is, shall we say, against the war. Her name is Atia.”

“What has she got to do with anything?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Is she … the mother of the child?”

“Don’t know.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Kirios stared open-mouthed at the empty space on the sofa.

“Fucking fortune-tellers.”

Some fifty-odd years later

He watched the girl as she stared up at the moon from her bedroom window, her pale hair like a beacon drawing him in. Kirios sighed. He had found her. At last. After seeing the evidence of her powers at the house in the woods, of what she’d done to her uncle Ethan, Kirios knew that Caia Ribeiro was the one he had been waiting for. All these years. All the mistakes.

When the Prophet had come to him about Atia, he had followed her, watching her for any sign of what was to come. She was beautiful and powerful. Petrovsky told him she stayed clear of the war, suggesting she was, as the Prophet had said, against it. But her beauty was enough to entice the Head of the Coven, Devlyn, to ask for her hand in marriage. Her family wouldn’t let her say no. Kirios had known at that moment, had seen his chance: she was going to be the mother of the child from the prophecy.

So he revealed himself to her, and along with Petrovsky’s help, explained all they had planned. Through her they received information direct from Devlyn himself, and he never knew because Kirios masked her trace. Atia helped willingly. She despised Devlyn.

For a number of years, life went on that way, and during them, she mothered two children with Devlyn, playing her role as mother and wife and her other role as spy for the Daylights. Kirios, on the other hand, was growing despondent. He had no idea how to proceed. Atia was supposed to mother the half-Daylight half-Midnight child. And there had been no sign of that eventuality so far.

Then one momentous day, Saffron had come to him and told him about her mistress, Marion, and the affair Marion recently had with a member of a small lykan pack. Saffron felt sure there was something about this pack, something important, and since her instincts had always run true, Kirios listened attentively. She told Kirios of their Alpha, Mikhail, how special and strong he was. He had an aura. At her description, Kirios smirked; if it’d been three hundred years before, Kirios would’ve put it down to the fact that Saffron was susceptible to a handsome face, but she’d been gravely hurt by a warlock since then and was frosty to almost every man she encountered. So Kirios believed her and set about planning a meeting between Atia and Mikhail. He knew what he had to ask of them was cold and clinical and completely degrading. But if it would bring an end to the war?