Blood Song: Division 7: The Berkano Vampire Collection Read online

  Table of Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Blood Song

  The Berkano Vampire Collection – Division 7

  Lindsey R. Loucks

  Charmed Legacy

  Copyright

  Blood Song: The Berkano Vampire Collection – Division 7 © October 2017 Lindsey R. Loucks

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Description

  No talking, stay out of the shadows, don’t go out at night, survive…

  Fin Vee is the chief hangman's daughter at the Church of Hangmen. Everyone has high hopes for her to continue the witch ritual that keeps the Berkano vampires away. When she steps on stage to sacrifice the little girl with the dazzling blue eyes, and doesn’t, the Berkano come fast and furious to demand their sacrifice.

  The only safe place is within the walls of the Church, but the Church casts Fin out, leaving her only with the annoyingly silent Hendry to guide her.

  The Berkano only speak telepathically, so speaking out loud in the city’s streets is a death sentence. But as Fin discovers the truth about her beloved city and her Church, she finds she has a lot to say. And so do her new allies: a band of cowboy witches intent on overthrowing the Berkano, whatever the risk may be.

  Even if that risk is death.

  BLOOD SONG is a standalone contribution to the Charmed Legacy Dark Fae Hollows collection. Stories can be read in any order.

  To learn more, visit CharmedLegacy.com

  Contents

  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

  16. Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  In the Church of Hangmen,

  Death brings life from the Berkano.

  We silence the sins of our brethren,

  A gift of peace for the next tomorrow.

  My voice rolled across the lyrics and carried them to the rafters high above my head, where, knotted around the sturdiest wooden beam, a noose hung. The thick rope’s loop circled my face without touching it, like a weathered halo that had tipped off my head and stayed suspended in the air mid-fall, as if waiting for me to right it. Every time I stood in front of the congregation and sang about the coming sacrifice, I imagined any sour notes that accidentally pushed from my lips would snag on the wiry fibers of the rope and stick there. Despite my rattling nerves at leading my first sacrifice, those fibers were currently spotless.

  Voice of an angel, Dad always said. An angel without a halo and banished to the baptismal, because according to High Witch Allison Parris-Williams, I didn’t have church tongue.

  When I was halfway through the second chorus of the ritual song, the side door at the back of the nave opened. A flutter lifted through my chest, and I took a breath when I shouldn’t have. My fingers twitched into my black shirt, balling themselves tighter into my palms, but I stopped them. I needed to stay loose, controlled. As the chief hangman’s daughter, this sacrifice should be as natural as blinking.

  Through the eye of the noose, I spied Dad sitting next to Allison in the first row. Twilight filtered between a crack in the boards and chicken wire that covered the stained-glass window at his left. It painted his cheek in a sliver of red, as if he’d been sliced across the face. It matched the ugly patterned scarf Allison wore around her neck, the one she liked to slap his arm with when she rubbed herself against him while he politely backed away. Dad sported a dreamy smile like he always did when I sang, but Allison’s upper lip was scrunched in her usual expression of disdain. Pretty sure she was constantly smelling her own ass since she’d shoved her head up there long ago.

  I wished it were she who would soon be led through the side door at the back of the nave with a wool bag over her head. It would mean she was on her way up to the noose and my lynching hand. Or her giant of a stepson, Hendry Williams, who sat alone in the balcony like he always did. That morning, he’d made it a point to tell me not to fuck up—the only words he’d ever spoken to me—because since this was my first sacrifice and all, that was exactly what I needed to hear. I’d told him he would never be the man his stepmom was, and that he could take his shitty wisdom and choke on it with his own cock.

  Yep, no church tongue.

  My song ended on a lilting, haunting note, one that always dragged a chill up the back of my neck. Two figures stepped inside the doorway, one tall, the other monumentally smaller. The heads of those seated turned as Kit led the shorter one with a bag over their head around the back of the congregation and down the middle aisle toward me.

  Not just small. A child. My heart stuttered, and a cold sweat chased a shiver across my scalp. We never hanged children as part of the sacrifice. It was always the elderly, the sick, or someone who no longer wanted to be controlled by the Berkano vampires. Monthly sacrifices seemed to appease them, and if it didn’t, they would make it known.

  But we never hanged children, like this girl who couldn’t be older than ten. Matted blonde curls grazed her shoulders underneath the sack on her head. What once had been a frilly lavender dress and shiny patent leather shoes had been scuffed and muddied. Twin wounds marked her knees and dribbled blood down to her lacy socks. She looked like she had been ready for church once upon a time. But not this one.

  The congregation stayed silent as they watched her slow progression up the aisle. All eyes aimed at her and Kit, who kept his meaty hand on her shoulder. Except High Witch Allison’s, whose icy green gaze stayed pinned to me, as if gauging my reaction. Was she behind this, the choosing of a child? It was always Dad who did the choosing, but I couldn’t believe he’d be so heartless.

  Kit stooped toward the little girl’s ear. “Three steps up,” he said gently, more as if he were walking her toward a nice game of pin-the-tail-on-the-demon than to her death. “Ready?”

  My hand fluttered to my stomach, and I forced a swallow down a bone-dry throat. I couldn’t do this. No way.

  Movement from the balcony caught my eye. Hendry stood, clutching the banister in front of him. Even from this distance, his shoulders seemed wider than Sandreka, the golden goddess of the sun, whose picture
hung behind me. His words from earlier pinged against the goddess and banged through my skull in great pulsating knocks: Don’t fuck up. Three words, three steps, as the girl came closer to the noose.

  Kit moved her so she faced the crowd. Did she know what was about to happen? Once she stood next to me, her tiny hands that were bound behind her back balled themselves into fists. She sniffed, and a slight tremble rippled up her dress.

  A whimper slinked over my tongue, but I rolled my lips together to keep it contained. She was scared, just like me.

  I glanced at Dad, praying he would step in and put a stop to this madness, even though this was supposed to be an honor I’d inherited from him. And I’d been excited, thinking it was a way to change people’s opinions about me, a way to earn back my fallen halo because I didn’t have church tongue. Now, he nodded with lifted eyebrows for me to carry on and suck it up. He didn’t see anything wrong with what was about to happen. To a child. I guessed I wasn’t supposed to see anything wrong with it, either.

  With a jerky arm that seemed to belong to someone else, I reached out for the bag on the little girl’s head. The rough fibers scratched my fingertips when I pulled it off, and a pair of stunning blue eyes connected to mine. Purple pockets rested underneath them, stark against her pale skin. She gasped, shrinking in on herself as she took in me and the rest of the congregation. I wanted to comfort her, tell her everything would be okay, but I didn’t want some of the last words she heard to be lies.

  Instead, I opened my mouth to recite the rest of the ritual before the sacrifice. It came automatically, in a monotone voice that sounded foreign inside my own head. If I didn’t complete this, the Berkano would swarm and shake the foundation of our church until there was nothing left. We’d been holed up here for the entirety of my eighteen years. Few of us would survive outside without walls to surround and protect us. We didn’t stand a chance. Which meant I couldn’t fuck this up.

  The words continued to pour from my mouth, but under the girl’s clear, wide eyes, I wasn’t sure I meant them. She was just a girl—nothing special, I tried to tell myself. This had to be done to protect us from the Berkano vampires, vicious monsters who preyed on witches and humans.

  I snatched her thin, bony arm and yanked her to where I’d been standing behind the noose, desperately trying not to think. The rope didn’t feel real against my palm when I looped it around her neck or when I tightened the hangman’s knot. It felt as if I were pantomiming inside an empty room.

  She watched my every move, perfectly still except the tears tracking down her dirtied cheeks. “Was that you who was singing?”

  Her raw, breathy voice scraped goose bumps up my arms. It sounded as if she hadn’t talked in a long time, like her throat had dulled from neglect.

  I blinked down at her. How long had it been since she’d spoken? She seemed older than her size and unnaturally quiet compared to the unholy terrors about her age who lived in the church. The Rift, which was the cause of the division between witches and vampires, was said to have happened on a Sunday, a sacred day. I glanced down at her stained dress and shoes. A church day. But that had been almost twenty years ago.

  “Meet your salvation,” I whispered, but it was directed to her and not the rest of the church.

  I floated away from her toward the end of the rope that would be her undoing. This little girl, this survivor, had more courage than I did. I wound the rope around my fist, not really seeing it, then wandered my gaze over the sea of about a hundred people watching me expectantly, not really seeing them, either. They depended on me for their safety. I couldn’t risk their lives to save one girl’s. That wasn’t fair to them.

  As soon as I tugged at the rope behind the pulpit, the girl’s heels lifted off the ground. Still, she didn’t make a sound. She just watched me with eyes the color of a storm-filled sky, something I had only seen pictures of in books. I pulled tighter until the tips of her church-going shoes dug half circles into the carpet.

  An annoyed cough sounded from the first pew, and I didn’t even have to look over to see that it had been High Witch Allison. Dad had always made the sacrifice quick, and I was drawing it out inch by slow inch. I wished I could cover the girl’s head with the sack, but that wasn’t part of the ritual.

  With a deep breath, I glanced again at the balcony. Hendry was gone, likely because he expected me to fuck up.

  I jerked the rope hard. The girl’s feet lifted high in the air. Her legs kicked, her face turned crimson, and her eyes bugged. I was killing her. A little girl who had just as much right to live as the rest of the congregation, and I was killing her. Who was the vicious monster now? The Berkano? Or me?

  Something clicked at the back of my throat in time to the little girl’s jerks and spasms. A scream, I realized too late, one that crawled over my tongue with monstrous claws and erupted in a shattering, “No!”

  I released the rope. The girl plummeted to the carpet, and the rest of the world blurred past as I dashed toward her and scooped her up in my arms. Without missing a step, I plowed around the second pulpit on the other side of the dais and then behind the piano. We could cut through the hallway behind the baptismal into the choir room and then…what? Outside? The Berkano were likely flocking here because of my botched sacrifice.

  The piano player stood when I passed, her jaw dropped to her chest, and the top edge of her bench knocked into my kneecap. Hard. The pain brought reality rushing back in a symphony of shouts, shifting gears, and the heavy thud, thud, thud of steel beams falling into place to keep us all locked in one room in case of an emergency. Which this was.

  I hugged the girl tighter and ran harder. Before I slipped into the hallway, something pounded the ceiling hard enough to flicker the overhead lights. The congregation cried out, their voices panicked. The Berkano vampires were here. They knew what I’d done, and there wasn’t any place we could go. I had about as much chance of survival outside as I did in here because footsteps pounded after me.

  The narrow hallway was dark, but I didn’t dare flip on the lights. I went by feel alone. As soon as my foot touched the slight buckle in the tiles, I flashed my right hand out to the side, careful to keep hold of the girl with the rest of my arm. My knuckles scraped a doorknob, and I turned it and shouldered my way inside. I leaned us against it to close it again with barely a click. Two breaths later, footsteps thudded past, punctuated with loud wheezes. That was Kit, running when he shouldn’t because of his asthma. But more would be coming.

  Above our heads, a terrible screeching chased a shudder down my back, followed by another. And another.

  The little girl trembled in my arms, offering the smallest bit of comfort that I wasn’t alone with my fear. We couldn’t stay in here because there was nowhere else to go in the foot of space we shared. Junk crowded this room in almost a completely solid wall from floor to ceiling. What to do?

  Before an idea could form, the door at my back burst inward, and all the air in my lungs flushed out. The light switched on as I slumped forward into a cardboard cutout of the smiling Sandreka sun goddess. She crumpled inward at the waist as if to shield the girl and me, but even a goddess couldn’t protect us right then.

  I whirled around to face my pursuer. A wall of tall muscle blocked the door, curly, reddish-brown hair hanging in his intense hazel eyes. Hendry. He wore a black button-up shirt rolled to his elbows, jeans, and dirtied cowboy boots.

  I opened my mouth to say something—an apology for fucking up when he must’ve suspected I would—but no words could capture just how sorry I was.

  “Hendry?” Allison called from far away, her voice pitched to hysterical.

  He stared at me for a long moment, the muscles in his jaw jumping fiercely, then dropped his gaze to the girl in my arms.

  “Please,” I finally said in a soft plea. “I’ll make this right if you just let her go or find somewhere she can hide.”

  Something crashed into the ceiling in another area of the church, shaking down its foundati
ons and making the three of us jump. More Berkano trying to come in.

  “You’ll make this right?” Hendry’s eyes flashed. He shook his head, a slow grimace crawling over his mouth, and he looked more than two years older than me in that moment. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

  I blinked down at the girl, at the raw skin around her neck, the full extent of what I’d just done digging between my eyebrows with a blade sharp enough to draw tears. “I don’t know.”

  “I knew you didn’t have it in you,” he said. “Hope it was worth it.”

  “She’s just a girl,” I said through gritted teeth. “Since when do we kill children?”

  “Since we have a new female hangman with loyalty to the church equal to that in my pinky,” he snapped, waving said finger in my face. Then he braced his hand against the doorframe and leaned back into the hallway. “In here!”

  Heat roiled through my blood. Hendry was the only one who ventured outside to gather supplies or collect those who wandered near our church. Only him. No one else who’d gone with him had ever come back. Had this girl wandered too close? Or had this been his mother’s plan as a fun social experiment to test my devotion to the church on the most important day of my life? Either way, I’d been played.

  With Hendry still leaning back in the hallway, balanced only on the heels of his boots, I barreled into him with my side, shielding the girl with my body. He tipped into the opposite wall, his hands whipping out to catch himself.