While she rummaged through the carriage, searching the front where the driver had been, Lucius took that moment to dig his fangs into one of the other humans. Once he had his fill, he wiped his mouth, satisfied his hunger would be quenched for now.
“I found one,” she said, coming around the front. She looked at Lucius, then at the body at his feet, and at the blood dripping from his snack. “Do I need to worry about being your next meal?”
Silver flashed, and she had a blade up, pointed at Lucius’ throat.
He smirked. “Not yet, my sweet.”
He held out his hand, urging her to hand over the transporter rod.
These devilish little devices made travel easy. Simply click the rune, visualize the place you wanted to go, and a portal would appear, taking you miles away. The possibilities were endless. The magical tech was one of Saol's greatest inventions, outside of the magical dampeners for anyone who wanted to suppress magical powers.
Though Lucius’ parents, when he was young, believed he had some trickling of illusionary magic—mainly because they were moon fae and he seemed exceedingly lucky—Lucius could wield fire, which made things exceedingly convenient for a vampyre.
His natural affinity for heat kept him alive when others of his kind had to run from the sunlight.
He assumed it was why that trickster fae had seduced him into giving away all his secrets and then selling him to the Brotherhood for experimentation purposes.
But that train of thought was for another time. For now, Lucius needed to return home.
Before they left, he thought it would be best to remove any evidence of his survival.
“Stand back, pretty dove.” With his right hand, he shot a funnel of fire.
The fae at his side gasped, most likely because a vampyre wielding fire seemed contradictory.
Slowly, Lucious burned the bodies, the caravan, then his coffin.
A burning anger rose within him, matching the ferocity of the fire. Lucious would not let that rage consume him.
He wasfree.
Something he never believed possible, and he would not squander this moment.
Though . . . there was one thing he needed to retrieve before he could leave the horror of all those years spent in a coffin.
With the fire destroying the caravan, Lucious turned his back on the blaze.
He took the transporter rod, placed his thumb on the rune, and visualized his home, nestled in the forest, away from any village.
The portal opened, and he held out a hand.
“Ladies first, but I do think proper introductions arein order before you come into my home. I am Lucius.” He gave a small bow.
“Tavia,” she said, tucking her hair behind her pointed ear, then whistled, and a furry little squirrel rustled up her clothing to sit on her shoulder. “And this is Wiley.”
“Beautiful name,” Lucius said.
As expected, she did not thank him for the compliment and stepped into the portal. He followed her, closing the portal behind them and slipping the transporter rod into his pocket.
The illusionary spell he had paid quite a lot of money for had still held after all these years.
To anyone else, it would appear to be just trees—a very dense forest. But Lucius knew what really hid behind that illusion.
“You live here?” she asked, looking around, her gaze scanning the surroundings, most likely searching for a home that did not appear to be there.
“I do,” he said. “It’s quite a lovely home.”
“I don’t see anything.”
