Vamps: Dark Horizon, page 1
Praise for the VAMPS series
‘Fast-paced and enthralling’
The Sun
‘A slick new series of romance and intrigue’
Observer
‘Everything you want from a vampire novel’
United by Pop
‘A refreshing take… This school-set coming-of-age tale will appeal to teens who can’t get enough vampires’
Booklist
‘[A] sexy, dark academia-tinged debut… Fans of non-horror vampire stories and Olivie Blake’s The Atlas Six should put this on their radar’
Publishers Weekly
‘An alluring and fast-paced read for fans of The Atlas Six, A Deadly Education and True Blood’
Library Journal
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To my parents
Chapter One Patagonia
Dillon
The yacht’s sleek prow cut through icy, blue-black water as a wild wind tore at the tightly roped-in sails. A condor flew above the main mast, wings spread wide. Barren mountains dipped icy fingers into the wide channel on either side of the boat, dwarfing it as it see-sawed through the waves.
A faint light illuminated banks of purple cloud rolling over the snow-pitted mountain peaks and rested softly on the pale features of the preternaturally still young man and woman standing on the foredeck. Only when the wind tossed an arc of freezing sea spray over the bow did the young man shiver slightly and wrap his coat more closely around him. The woman didn’t flinch.
‘Not long now, Dillon,’ she said, her strong features softening as she looked across at him. ‘We’ll fly the last bit. Dawn is not far off.’
Dillon nodded without looking at her. He studied the condor soaring above them instead. Watching its mastery of the skies with awe, he forgot to be angry with her for a second.
‘What’s it like up there, Bi… Bibiana?’ He stumbled slightly over her name. It was one step better than ‘Countess Fassano’, but he still refused to call her ‘Ma’. After eighteen years apart, it was too soon. He scowled the moment he thought it, knowing she had the power to read his mind.
‘Not easy. The wind is powerful here,’ she replied with a wry smile, as another strong gust swept the gleaming dark hair off her forehead.
He couldn’t tell if the smile was for his refusal to call her ‘Ma’ or for the timely gust of wind.
‘I try not to intrude on your thoughts, Dillon. That said, it is not always easy. Soon you must learn to shield them yourself.’
Inwardly he cursed. If she wasn’t reading his mind, he knew his emotions must be etched on his face. Surreptitiously, he glanced at her cool, unreadable expression. He needed to learn that skill fast and he especially wanted to control the heat that crept up his cheeks whenever he was angry or embarrassed. If anything exposed him as a dhampir, it was that, and in the strange new world he was in, it was a sign of weakness.
‘I need you to take the wheel, Dill!’ the striking older man, who bore a strong resemblance to Dillon, called from the helm and pointed at the water ahead to the right. ‘There’s the entrance to the inlet where we’ll anchor.’
Even in the faint light, Dillon was able to discern the narrow opening in the wall of rock; his newly enhanced eyesight was definitely a bonus. ‘Coming, Da,’ he shouted back. Balancing easily despite the pitching deck, he covered the length of the boat in two light bounds and joined his father.
Gabriel clasped his chest. ‘You still put the heart across me when you do that,’ he joked in a thick Irish brogue.
Dillon shook his head. ‘Come on, Da. You’re messing with me. Besides, you’re no slouch yourself.’ His own Irish accent had become more pronounced over the months he had spent with Gabriel on the yacht. Not long after the shocking revelation that she was his mother, Bibiana had been called away to deal with an emergency in the vampire world. She’d only recently rejoined them.
Something in Gabriel’s eyes, so like Dillon’s, gleamed momentarily. ‘Put it down to years of trying to keep up with your ma!’ He smiled. ‘Here, take the helm. Wait until I’ve eased the main sheet and turn her away from the wind.’
Dillon watched him begin to untie the rope that held the main sail taut. They were both experienced sailors, having learnt to sail on the rough seas along the west coast of Ireland.
‘Now!’ Gabriel yelled at Dillon over the wind.
As Dillon turned the wheel towards the inlet, Gabriel let out the rope, allowing it to slide through his hands. Instantly, the sail filled, ballooning to the side, and the yacht pitched forwards through the narrow gap and into a sheltered lagoon. The furious wind dropped almost immediately to blustery flurries that raced across the surface of the water, whipping up small, white-tipped waves.
In the opalescent pre-dawn light, Dillon could make out the forest and the emerald-green skirt of moss that dressed the rugged mountains rearing up from the surface of the lagoon, only giving way to barren rock and snow at the highest peaks.
‘We’ll drop anchor over there, Dillon.’ Gabriel pointed to the far corner of the lagoon as he began lowering the sails. ‘It’s the most sheltered part.’
While Dillon steered, Gabriel dropped the anchor and the yacht scudded forwards for a few metres until the anchor caught. Bibiana picked up a rope attached to the bow and, smoothly taking off from the deck, flew low towards the shore where she secured it to a tree. Flitting backwards and forwards, she did the same with the ropes on either side of the stern until, in a matter of seconds, it was held tight against the swirling winds at the centre of a rope web. The condor above, its feathers shuddering as it banked against the wind, shrieked its approval.
The practised ease with which his parents completed the drill convinced Dillon that this was where his father had spent most of his time since they had said goodbye outside Arnes in Switzerland the November before. It was no wonder Gabriel had been so hard to contact with the fierce isolation of the place.
‘Collect anything you need, Dillon,’ Gabriel said, covering the rolled-up sails with tarpaulin. ‘We’ll leave as soon as we’ve secured the boat.’
Dillon jumped down through the hatch. He landed lightly, his vision adapting instantly to the darkness of the main cabin below. Moving swiftly to the back of the boat, he opened a narrow door, revealing a glowing, pod-like metal coffin that took up almost the entire length of the small sleeping cabin. Sliding his hand along its smooth, cool surface, he opened the lid and felt for his phone in the velvet pocket on one side. Even though Bibiana had banned him from using it, fearing that the signal could be tracked, it was the only link he had to his friends. Retrieving the phone, a gift from Jeremiah, set off another thud of shame over his treatment of Jeremiah on their last night together at VAMPS.
It wasn’t Jeremiah’s fault that he’d been brainwashed, but Dillon had almost died as a result, and he’d needed time to recover from the deep sense of betrayal. He hadn’t seen Jeremiah since, and with each passing week he had grown more consumed with guilt.
‘Dillon, we must go now,’ Bibiana called from the hatch, interrupting his reverie.
Carefully inserting the phone into his inner coat pocket and zipping it up, he closed the coffin lid. He smiled at the memory of how much he had dreaded sleeping in it when he had first arrived at VAMPS. After giving the coffin a final pat, he re-joined his parents on the deck.
‘Ready?’ Gabriel asked.
‘Yeah,’ he nodded.
‘I’ll fly with Gabriel, you fly with Chiro – and stay alert,’ Bibiana instructed in her low, powerful voice. ‘Here he is now.’
From high above them, the condor pitched into a steep dive and, with his newly acquired acute hearing, Dillon heard the whistling sound it made as it sliced through the sky towards them. Just as it neared the boat, the condor levelled out and, with perfect control, transfigured back into Chiro’s vampire form moments before he landed on the deck.
As always, Bibiana’s bodyguard, the vampire she’d entrusted to watch over Dillon, appeared awkward – clumsy, even – on two legs and revealed his fearsome, razor-sharp teeth as he grimaced at Dillon. Dillon had spent enough time with him now to know this was Chiro’s attempt at a smile, and he grinned back at him.
‘Have fun up there?’ Dillon asked.
Chiro’s red-tinged eyes gleamed. ‘It’s the best place in the world to fly, but it’s not easy. You’ll have to concentrate on your technique,’ he rasped in his strong Brazilian accent.
‘Come, we’re running out of time,’ Bibiana said, examining the sky beyond the mountains. She clasped Gabriel’s hand and Dillon stepped up next to Chiro, the human side of his heart suddenly pounding with determination not to muck up his take-off in front of her. He had hardly practised at all on the long journey to Patagonia.
Bibiana glanced at him. ‘It’s extremely unlikely we’ll run into any trouble down here, but remember, Dillon, if anything untoward happens, do not leave Chiro’s side.’
Dillon nodded and felt his tension ratchet up a couple more notches. Chiro glowered at him and Dillon didn’t need to read his mind to know he needed to get his act together. He closed his eyes and focused on the power of the blood running
He directed his mind deep inside himself until, right at the depths of his being, he found the ember of energy that he needed. Dillon focused on it with everything he had. Taking him by surprise, it flared bright and he felt a surging power as it detonated, driving a golden-hot heat round his body, catapulting him off the deck. ‘Feck!’ he gasped as he soared upwards, having half forgotten what a buzz it was.
A particularly strong blast of wind buffeted him, throwing him off centre. Over the roaring sound of the freezing cold air in his ears, he heard Chiro shout, ‘Concentrate; keep close to me. We’re about to enter a thermal. Straighten out and spread your arms. Try to keep upwind of it. They’re unpredictable in conditions like this.’
Dillon wrestled for control as he felt a hidden force punch him backwards. Chiro steadied him. ‘Glide,’ he instructed. The technique was unfamiliar to Dillon; at VAMPS, they’d been taught to fly with their arms tight to their sides to make themselves as aerodynamic as possible. Tentatively, he spread his arms and felt them judder as the fierce gusts tore at them. He suspected that it was only his vampire strength that was preventing the wind from ripping them from his body.
The air inside the thermal current was like a warm bath, and he felt it lifting him up. ‘Circle to stay within it,’ shouted Chiro again. ‘Let it do the work. Conserve your energy.’ As it propelled them, fast, up towards the clouds hanging moodily around the mountain peaks, Dillon snatched a last look at the lagoon and the now tiny yacht. It had been a sanctuary of sorts, helping him come to terms with the trauma of his last night at VAMPS and the discovery that Bibiana was his mother, as the weeks had turned into months.
Abruptly, they flew out of the thermal into freezing air once more. With a sickening jolt, they plunged a few metres before finding another warm current that lifted them back up and carried them onwards. It was the most incredible feeling once he began to sense the differences in air pressure and make the small adjustments that enabled him to soar effortlessly.
As spears of dawn light began to pierce the clouds, the white tops of the jagged mountain range some distance in front of them began to glow a golden orange, reminding Dillon of the fiery stone in the necklace he wore around his neck. When Gabriel revealed Bibiana was his mother, only a few months ago, he had known that it was true because of the identical stone around her own neck. He suspected the stone had come from somewhere near here, since Jeremiah had once told him that Bibiana’s family ruled the vampire clans across Mexico and South America.
Bibiana, flying alongside them, one hand entwined with Gabriel’s, caught Dillon’s eye and gave an imperceptible nod. I’ll tell you more about your history when we arrive. We need to hurry now. Focus on flying.
He started as she spoke to him with her mind, something she hadn’t done since the first night on the yacht. So much for her declaration that she didn’t listen in on thoughts.
One side of her mouth lifted slightly. Like I said, it’s hard when I’m near you, Dillon. My mind connection to you is strong and I confess, having been starved of you for all these years, I perhaps lack the strength of will to block everything out.
Just as he had done when she had let him feel her agony over their eighteen-year separation, Dillon hardened his heart. He found it hard to believe that a vampire of her standing couldn’t have found a way to contact him.
He didn’t look at her, but he felt her silence in his head. Finally, she spoke. Fly now, we’ll talk later.
The mind connection broke off and he glanced over at her again. Her expression was blank and focused. Gabriel’s face, in contrast, was alight with joy and his eyes had taken on an unusual golden colour that reflected the emerging sunrise. They were flying over breathtaking scenery – rugged, uninhabited mountains, deep fjords and mountain lakes that mirrored the dawn-streaked indigo clouds above. A spectacular glacier frozen into flowing ridges of spectral light-blue ice appeared to glow from within, as if it had lit up for their arrival.
‘We track the glacier now,’ Chiro rasped into the still-strong wind.
Dillon copied him as they burst out of the mountain thermals back into the cold air above the glacier and half plummeted, half swooped down, flying low along the undulating river of ice. Close up, Dillon saw that the jagged, blue ice shards were hundreds of metres high and pitted with honeycomb holes, forming a collection of breathtaking, otherworldly sculptures.
Still grasping Gabriel’s hand, Bibiana increased their speed and moved ahead, flying straight over the edge of the glacier where it flowed down the rocky mountainside before petering out above the surface of a small lake encircled by mountains. Leading them into a fast dive, she skimmed the lake before effortlessly soaring up the other side.
Dillon struggled to control the abrupt changes of direction. He was out of condition. His vision blurred and his stomach flipped. Feck! He was going to tank it. As he began to buckle, losing his clean flight line, Chiro hissed and reached a gnarled hand out to steady him.
‘The sun is almost up. When we’re about three quarters of the way up the rock face, on my signal, execute a flying twist. Keep your arms close to your sides now,’ Chiro instructed.
Dillon felt his stomach muscles burn as he and Chiro pulled into a steep vertical ascent.
‘Now!’ shouted Chiro, twisting sharply to the left, pulling Dillon with him.
‘What the f—’ Dillon exclaimed as he followed Chiro through a narrow fissure in the dark rock of the mountain face. Flying in pitch darkness now, he strained every muscle to keep away from the rough, icy granite just a few inches on either side of him.
The air was stale and close, the walls cold and damp. Behind him, Chiro cursed. Seconds later, Dillon felt a disturbance in the energy of the passage, followed by the faintest sound of gossamer-thin wings beating the air. Chiro had transfigured into a bat, his favourite form.
After a particularly narrow section where the rough rock scraped against his sides, the fissure opened out into a wide ridge protected by overhanging rock.
Bibiana and Gabriel were waiting for them. ‘Well done, Dillon. It’s not easy in these conditions,’ Bibiana said, her already low voice further muted by the heavy rock hanging over them. ‘If you hadn’t managed to keep up, Chiro and I would have been in trouble.’
Dillon shoved the momentary pride down, irritated that her praise could mean so much to him. ‘It was Chiro,’ he muttered. For a fleeting second, her dark, mesmerizing eyes registered hurt and she turned away, sheltering in the deepest part of the overhang from the faint dawn light.
Dillon stood right on the edge of the ridge. Squinting, he drank in the wild, unspoilt bay almost completely enclosed by steep-sided mountains. It was virtually inaccessible by sea or land. Even so, a flutter of wings passed by his ear and there was a faint popping noise as Chiro transfigured from bat to condor, enabling him to fly in the sunrise for a short time to check that the area was secure.
‘Come here, Dillon,’ Gabriel said. He and Bibiana were watching him with an air of expectation. Once he was sure he had Dillon’s attention, Gabriel pressed a key fob remote and a thick metal security door, clad with rock so that it was barely distinguishable from the dark mountain wall, slid open.
Chapter Two Dominican Republic
Jeremiah
One kilometre beneath the surface of the mountainside, deep inside his father’s gold mine, Jeremiah’s powerful muscles undulated across his shirtless back as he wielded the heavy pneumatic drill.
In the hot and humid atmosphere, the machine roared, spitting out dust that swirled like theatre smoke in the light of his head torch as he drilled a pattern of holes in the hard quartz ready for the explosive that would blast the wall deeper into the mountain. Despite his advanced thermoregulation, sweat poured off Jeremiah and he took another gulp of blood from the discreet tube attached to the bag at his side. He had no need of the protective helmet or the head torch, but wore them to blend in with the human miners.
