Lost Kingdom: The Darkfell Vampire Clan : 3 Read online

  LOST KINGDOM

  THE DARKFELL VAMPIRE CLAN : 3

  L.A. MCGINNIS

  Copyright L.A. McGinnis 2022

  All rights reserved

  Editor: Chris Hall: The Editing Hall

  Cover Design: Janus Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or distributed in any printed or electronic form or by any means, without express permission from the author or publisher. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  Please contact the author for any use in a review.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, including businesses, companies, events or locales is purely coincidental. This author acknowledges the trademarked status of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-970112-44-3

  ISBN-13: 978-1-970112-45-0

  Published in the United States of America by Fools Journey Press, 2022

  Please visit my website at www.lamcginnis.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Epilogue

  Also by L.A. MCGINNIS

  Prologue

  Seraphina

  My dream was always the same.

  Deston seemed real when I ran my fingers down the sharp planes of his face and felt the rough burr of his whiskers. When I tasted the faint trace of my blood on his lips. Felt bones jut out of his too-thin body as I hugged him closer, trying to keep him warm.

  His prison cell was little more than a rock shelf overlooking stark mountains and craggy snow-dusted ravines, where the stench of brimstone and black magic corrupted the air. His dark, staring eyes devoured me, nuanced with warning and anger.

  But despite everything, when I was inside the dream…

  I never wanted to wake up.

  “I told you not to come back here, Seraphina. I meant it.” Deston’s voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, as if he’d been screaming for hours.

  And perhaps he had. Katarina’s mountain held too many horrors to count. Oftentimes when I visited him in my dreams, my mate was bloodied, as if he’d been warring with the beasts that roamed the crevices and crags of Brasov Castle.

  “And I told you, you’d never keep me away.”

  For one second—the blink of an eye—he closed his eyes and leaned into my touch, let me cup his bruised cheek, run my thumb over his lips.

  Before he pulled away.

  It was funny how illusion felt this real when you missed someone enough to hurt.

  “There has to be some way to break the soul-bond, Deston.”

  I didn’t know how many times I’d said this before. Thirty? Once for every miserable night we’d been apart? “I have more resources now. An army. Let me break you free.”

  He pulled away, and I curled my empty hands into fists.

  “I thought we agreed not to speak of this anymore, mon amour?” His tattered voice turned rougher. “There’s not a chance en enfer of you getting within ten miles of this place without Katarina knowing and killing you.”

  “Deston…”

  “And if you so much as mention this again, Seraphina”—his voice turned silky—“I will slit my own throat to stop you.”

  I assessed him, saw that he was deadly serious. This was how things had gone, ever since Katarina took him away.

  Me, insisting on a rescue attempt.

  Him, saying the most awful things to deter me from coming after him.

  “Really? You would do that to me?” I asked softly, resting my arms on his shoulders, the planes of his body hard against mine. “You’d leave me alone for the rest of my life, under the guise of keeping me safe?”

  “I would freely give my life to make sure you live out yours.” But he couldn’t help reaching up, running his hands down my arms, the curve of my hips. “Katarina is too strong for you to face, Seraphina. Give me more time, ma petit. I swear, if there’s a way, I will return to you.”

  Then all I embraced was a wisp of dark smoke, my eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling in my bedroom.

  Deston was right. No matter how strong I became, Katarina would always be more powerful.

  Soul-bonds were unbreakable. The only way to sever one was for the controlling vampire to die. Even if I did rescue my mate, Katarina would only call him back. So, between Deston’s cruel warning and the fact my attempt would be pointless, I’d done what any smart woman would do.

  Find a loophole. After four weeks, I was still looking.

  On the surface, I had everything a woman could dream of.

  I was Queen of the most powerful vampire clan in America. My two best friends warmed my bed at night. I had a royal court filled with friends and allies. Powerful magic that did my bidding.

  Most of the time.

  But I could never kill Katarina.

  But there had to be a bigger monster that could.

  1

  Seraphina

  The tiny, rat-like creature darted toward me, opening up a mouth full of jagged teeth.

  “Stay inside the circle, Seraphina,” Cyrus warned softly, and I pulled my toes back into the ring of light cast by the LED lamp positioned near the door. “Most likely, their bite is venomous.”

  “Fabulous.” After weeks of slogging through my royal duties, I'd volunteered to help Luthor and Cyrus clean out the lower levels of the dungeons. Well, not so much volunteered as strongly insisted.

  After winning the heated, over-my-dead-body argument with my males, I regretted my decision. The little monster skittered back into the edge of the shadows, revealing black, scaled skin beneath the clumps of gray fur, its naked tail—same texture—waved like a broken needle.

  Rat-fiend hissed at me and, I clearly saw, those were definitely teeth.

  Ugh. Whatever this thing was, whatever it had been, it seriously needed to die.

  “What do you think it was?” I asked Cyrus, gathering a bit of magic at my fingertips and trying not to breathe. Besides the mold, the stench down here was unbearable. “You know, before it
got corrupted by magic?”

  “Hard to say.” Cyrus tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the thing. “Bigger than a rat. Cat maybe?”

  “Oh God, please don't let this be someone's pet,” I prayed aloud, even though that meant I had to sneak in a breath. “It has to be a rat.”

  I could kill a rat. Especially a rat-fiend.

  The thing lunged out of a corner, nothing but churning, stumpy legs and gnashing, flesh-colored teeth. I jumped back into the circle of light, and it scuttled away into the darkness that rimmed the cell.

  “The ankle biters are the worst,” Cyrus said, perfectly serious. “Look out, it’s heading your way.”

  The little monster was coming for me, and this time, bright light didn’t deter its mad dash.

  Come on magic, don't freeze on me now.

  Faster than I could see, the thing circled behind me and sank its teeth deep into my calf. Cyrus winced but made no move to help me.

  “The only reason you’re here, is because you swore you wouldn’t hesitate,” he reminded me before kicking the thing away. Sharp teeth tore out a chunk of flesh before it landed in the shadows with a wet squelch.

  “Yet here you are, love. Hesitating.”

  “What if it was someone's pet?” I hedged. “Like a fluffy little kitten? Or a golden retriever?”

  “Does that look like either of those to you?” His green eyes danced with humor. “If you want to keep the nasty thing as a pet, we’ll take it back to the palace, buy a little monster bed, and it can sleep in front of the fire.”

  The smile fell off his face. “It’s corrupted with black magic, and we have to kill it, Fina. Just like everything else in this place.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” I twisted around to get a better look at my bloodied leg.

  There was a horrible snip snip snip sound coming from the shadows. It sounded juicy. Teeth gnashing together. Lots and lots of little, sharp teeth.

  “Cyrus,” I whisper-screamed. “There’s more.”

  “Like I said, the ankle biters are the worst.” He gathered his long hair into a tight tail. “Get ready. They usually hunt in packs.”

  “Remind me again why I volunteered for this?” I muttered.

  “Because you thought you were missing out on all the fun,” Cyrus joked, but he’d shifted closer, ready to take the brunt of whatever attack the little monsters launched. “What do you think now?”

  Little glowing dots began appearing in the shadows, one pair at a time.

  “Honestly? I think I would rather exterminate vermin down here, then talk to them up there.” I hooked my thumb toward the ceiling, where they were preparing for my coronation celebration. Tessa and I had laughed until we peed over that ridiculous rhyme.

  “Why do you think I volunteer to come down here every day?” Cyrus explained patiently, widening his stance. There was a dry shuffling from the darkness as the lizard-rats solidified their positions, ready to charge.

  “Don't screw around, Seraphina.” He had a deadly knife in each hand, and he was fast enough to exterminate the whole room in seconds. “One controlled burst should do it. Not too hot, or you’ll scorch my beautiful eyebrows right off my beautiful face.”

  “We wouldn't want that, would we?”

  There were hundreds of eyes now, watching us from the dark.

  “You know how much I hate this part.” My magic worked with gruesome efficiency, and I hated it. “You might want to look away.”

  Like an old, soiled carpet being rolled out, innumerable feet crept from the shadows, covering every inch of the stained floor. They didn’t stop, and I couldn’t figure out how there could be so many, until one fell from the ceiling, clawing a chunk out of my nose on the way past.

  Cyrus kicked the lamp on high with his toe, revealing the walls around us, completely covered with lizard-rats, funneling down from the ceiling until they completely surrounded us.

  “Now would be a good time to stop dithering about, Fina,” he suggested calmly. As they closed in, the stench turned septic-level gross. He spun until we stood back-to-back, and I blanketed one side with my magic. Like a well-oiled machine, we turned together, and I took care of the remainder, my magic a star-filled shadow that spun up the walls, then overhead.

  I closed my eyes. Tried not to listen to the squealing.

  My magic was one hundred percent effective in killing stuff.

  By flaying the target and turning it inside out.

  I cracked open one eye, then squeezed it shut. Not quite done yet. The walls, floor, and ceiling looked like they were writhing, dripping in red blood.

  Seconds later, ash drifted down, covering us both.

  “Well, that wasn't so bad,” Cyrus lied, a horrified expression on his face.

  “Look, I didn't choose how my magic worked. Just be glad it did,” I told him as we trudged back upstairs.

  “I think that does it for this floor.” Cyrus picked ash out of my hair. At least, I hoped it was ash.

  “How many more, do you think?”

  “Hard to say, since every time we think we’re done, we find another door, another passageway, another level of cells. It’s like this place has no bottom.”

  Which was what they’d told me last night, and why I’d insisted on coming along today.

  To see for myself.

  I’d seen, and I was revolted.

  Along with becoming the new Darkfell Queen, I inherited centuries of dirty secrets, the biggest one being these dungeons. Located on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain, they’d been here since vampires first arrived on US soil.

  Old magic permeated the ground. Power that corrupted everything it touched, including whatever those creatures had originally been.

  “Big night, tonight,” Cyrus said casually, giving me the side-eye.

  “Yeah, don't remind me.” I stifled my inner groan. “Tessa has made me try on at least a million dresses, ten gajillion pairs of shoes, and don't even get me started on my hair and makeup.”

  “Oh, you poor thing.”

  “Don't you even start. I know for a fact, you picked your tux out a month ago. The second you found out we were having a ball. You love this shit, Cyrus. I hate it. There's a big difference.”

  “Are you accusing me of being self-absorbed and vain?” He laid his hand on his chest in mock outrage. “Me? I’m the epitome of restraint and decorum.”

  “If tuxes still came in purple, you know you’d have one.” I shoulder bumped him on the way up and thanked my lucky stars that I had him.

  Between Cyrus and Luthor, I might actually survive my first royal ball. The whole affair was ridiculous, antiquated, and expensive, as it turned out. But my chancellor insisted we stage a public event to drum up support from the royal houses.

  We had enough enemies. We needed allies.

  A month ago, tonight seemed so far away.

  Now my stomach was upset and anxiety made it hard to breathe. Killing things hadn’t helped my mood. In fact, now I was missing a chunk of my nose, and my leg was burning like dragonfire.

  I brightened up.

  If my leg got infected—or the venom was potent enough—I wouldn’t have to dance. Maybe I’d be rendered unconscious and would miss the ball altogether. My spirits were higher when Cyrus and I emerged into a dismal Louisiana winter. December was always dreary, but within the prison’s protective wards, things looked especially grim.

  “Are you sure you didn’t do this on purpose, just to get out of tonight?” Cyrus—who could read me like a book—inspected the bites on the back of my leg. “And yes, I know exactly what you’re thinking right now.” He frowned when he saw my nose, and I wondered just how bad it was. Even cross-eyed, I couldn’t gauge how much was missing.

  “I'm not sure why you always insist on being in the thick of things, when you could be living in luxury at the palace, where people are just dying to wait on you hand and foot.”

  “First, you know how ridiculous that sounds, right? Secondly, I hate having p
eople do things for me.”

  “Clearly,” Cyrus muttered, trapping my face between his hands to get a better look. “At least your dress will cover the wound on your calf. The nose is a whole other matter. Luthor will kill me, you know.”

  I patted his cheek. “My beautiful Cyrus, he won’t kill you. You’ll just have to listen to his lecture on precautions and safety for like the hundredth time. You know the one.”

  “Oh, trust me, I do.”

  Even in the dull light, the air tinged with ancient dampening spells, Cyrus was a doomed archangel, fallen to earth. With his long blond hair, finely chiseled body, and otherworldly green eyes, no one would ever mistake him for human. But his sense of humor was what won me over completely.

  Cyrus was my confidant, my friend. My lover.

  He never ever lied to me. Never let me down. Never hesitated to call me out when I was making a bad decision. He was who I turned to when I needed a shoulder to cry on. In short, Cyrus was pretty much perfect, and between him and Luthor, they’d kept me grounded these last weeks while we built a brand-new vampire kingdom from nothing.

  And when I said nothing, I meant nothing.

  The previous king had spent everything he could get his hands on.