Vampire by Birth: A Paranormal Romance Mystery Novel (Faeted Vampire Book 3) by Cyndi Faria

Author:Cyndi Faria [Faria, Cyndi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Paranormal Romance Mystery Novel
Publisher: Sugarbird Publishing
Published: 2021-01-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Tricia

As the animals and flaming arrows continue to fall, I have a brief thought I’ve caused this attack through my dreams or judgements, like the lighter that exploded in Gavin’s hand. The last thing I want is to hurt people bound by a curse, but through my and Riley’s connection, I heard two of the animals beg to die.

I call my power, feel my own magic trickle down my arms to build hot in my palms. Everything I do is based on rescuing the oppressed. My drive doesn’t stop because I’m in Faery. As the queen, my people depend on me to save them.

Sometimes, saving someone is the ability to be the one who brandishes the power to decide how and when they die.

The first shot I release knocks me back, but I widen my stance, estimating the backfire. I’ve never used my power in Faery. I never thought I’d be defending myself in my own lands. How can I be queen when I’m feeling powerless to protect my people?

This whole pregnancy is messing with my center of balance as well. Using one of the roots, I secure my footing. I fire again, the energy ball hitting my target until the animal falls into a lifeless heap.

“Again! End their suffering. Take all of them down.” Riley fires again, the sound ricocheting off the bluffs, trapping us in a gorge filled with death and danger.

Regardless that tears stream down my face, I fire. My guards join me, but they ignore my turmoil. Maybe my devastation at the orders I’ve dealt works against their duty to protect me. How can I kill my people knowing they’re cursed? Even as the vampires continue to wrestle the beasts, even as the vampires and a few of my guards are gored, I feel helpless and inadequate as a queen in this kill-or-be-killed situation. Telepathically, I reach out to Riley. “We can’t take many more losses.”

“Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Their numbers are dwindling. We just have to hold on a little longer.”

The words thump me in the heart. It’s what I begged of my adoptive mother Ella: to hold on a little bit longer when she was dying of cancer. I pleaded. I promised her she’d get better. I swore we’d wear pink shirts with a survivor ribbon every day. Even though I was the one who signed over her care to hospice, I still believed she’d win her fight. After, I blamed myself for her last day, her last smile, her last words, her last breath.

Cancer is like dark magic, devouring the very host that keeps it alive.

These animals, these cursed men deserved peace just as Ella did.

“Tricia, I’m here.” Ella’s form wavers like heat off august asphalt.

My adoptive mom had been a witch and she crossed to another plane the day I buried her, shocking the daylights out of me. “Ella? You’re here. I didn’t want you to worry. That’s why I didn’t tell you where I was headed after the shower. But I’m so glad you’re here with me.

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