Vampire's Assassin: The Original's Forbidden Vows

The Eclipse and the Shadow

“Where exactly are you taking me?” Luther’s asked, voice roughened by pain.

I kept my gaze fixed on the rainy road ahead, “Somewhere safe. At least until I figure out why the hell I’m helping you.” my lying tongue knew it was half-truth. I didn’t mention the faint psychic probe I’d sensed back at the clinic, one of Vesper’s spies, no doubt, already sniffing for signs of deviation from the Academy’s precious assignment. One problem at a time.

He grunted, a sound that might have been amusement and leaned his head against the passenger window. “You hit me with your car. Most people would have accelerated and called it a regrettable instance of roadkill.”

“Most people aren’t me,” I replied. My fingers tightened on the leather grip, knuckles whitening. Helping him wasn’t mercy; it was opportunity wrapped in calculated risk. Six months left before the next Blood Eclipse ritual for my ascension. The thought filled my mind, like it was purposeful, and potentially harmful if mishandled.

Luther studied me sidelong, “What should I call you? You never gave me yours.”

The surname slipped out before I could hold it back. “Lena. Lena Winchester.” It carried the faint weight of a life I barely remembered for I was stolen at eight, molded in Shadowveil’s merciless halls. Something about this man made secrets feel like they were loosed.

“Winchester,” he murmured, tasting the word as if they held red blood. “That name carries... influence. In boardrooms and back alleys alike.”

I risked a sideways glance, “What kind of influence?”

“The kind that invites death,” he said, adjusting with a suppressed wince he tried and failed to hide. His voice dropped, “Listen, Lena. I’m in deeper than blood debts tonight. The Obsidian Council didn’t just wipe my team, they’re systematically erasing the last remains of the First Brood of vampires. My people. The Turned lines I created centuries ago are fracturing under their hunters’ blades. I need to reach the Vanderbilt estate in the old quarter. There’s a man there, Philip Vanderbilt. He can figure out what I need.”

Philip Vanderbilt. The name stirred faint Academy briefings containing old money and occult secrets, he must be someone who controls things between human syndicates and hidden worlds. “And you think I’m your hired service now?” My lips curved in a humorless smile.

“You already dragged me from certain death,” he said, his tone measured. “Werewolves might howl about honor, but my kind repays debts in cash and alliances. Help me reach him, and you’ll find the scales balanced.” There was no plea in his words, only the quiet confidence of a man who had outlived his enemies by becoming inevitable.

The storm intensified, I weighed his offer against the ticking clock in my veins. Another sacrificial target, but this one is well connected. Perfect for the ritual but I don't want to get into something I can't get out of.

Yet every glance his way stirred up that feeling in my chest that insisted I play along with him. I dismissed the feeling as Academy conditioning makes it improper for me to be attached emotionally. “Fine,” I said, gripping the wheel firmly. “Vanderbilt’s estate it is. But if this happens to be a trap, I’ll finish what the Council started. I'll make sure of that.”

A smile touched his lips, transforming his face into something almost inhuman. “Fair enough, Lena Winchester. Though I suspect being true to your words is your specialty.”

Luther dozed off restlessly as I drove through the worsening downpour, his breathing stayed steady but shallow, the occasional pain he felt made the corners of his eyes to tighten. I kept one eye on the mirrors, the other on the road, my mind planning so much about what to do with him.

The old buildings in the quarters emerged like a relic from another era. How come these old mansions still exist in year 2026? I followed Luther’s precise murmured directions until we reached a fortified estate that blended USA 19th century wealth with modern security. Armed silhouettes patrolled the perimeter, their postures screaming deadly trained professionals rather than mere hired cops.

The black gates swung open at an unseen signal. I drove into a gravel courtyard lit by light bulbs that cast long shadows. The moment we stepped inside the lobby, a tall man descended the high curvy staircase with the unhurried steps of someone who commanded time itself. His dark hair was mixed with silver at the temples, and his sharp, assessing eyes missed nothing, not the bloodstains on Luther’s clothes, not the calculated distance I maintained.

“Luther,” his voice drawled so smoothly as of whiskey. “You look like you’ve been dragged through hell and back. And you’re late.”

“Philip,” Luther replied, straightening despite the fresh stitches pulling at his side. His tone held equal parts of respect and the quiet authority of a king in exile. “Circumstances change. Time is evolving so fast and the technology used now is really weakening though not enough to kill me, but then, I'm not healing instantly as I should. This is Lena Winchester. She... extracted me from an ambush.”

Philip Vanderbilt’s gaze snapped to me, filled with recognition that sent a cold prickle down my spine. “Winchester? Well, well. The prodigal bloodline resurfaces at the most opportune and perilous moment.”

My stomach tightened, but I kept my expression hidden keeping my cool just like the one drilled into me through years of astral interrogations. “You know my family?”

“Enough to know your name unlocks doors in circles most avoid... and seals fates in others,” Philip said, gesturing us into a dimly lit study room lined with leather-bound books, antique weapons, and a massive wooden desk that must have been used to make deals for centuries. “Sit. Both of you. Luther, that alliance you’ve been looking to have is more critical now than ever. The Obsidian Council is fighting so hard to wipe out what is left of your existence. Your Turned are scattering, and without legitimacy, I mean, without a bridge to the old human power structures, they’ll pick you off one by one until the First Brood is myth. You don't want to truly die too. Do you?”

Luther sank into a high-backed chair with controlled movement, his jaw set in a line of unyielding determination. “I know the book. That’s why I need a strategic wife. Someone with a recognized bloodline, influence in the right classified places. A union that speaks protection.” He looked at me, his eyes unreadable, weighing not just my relevance but something deeper he hadn’t mentioned.

Philip smiled moving his fingers, glancing between us like a chess master surveying a board mid-game. “Destiny, it seems, has a voice in most difficult times. Lena Winchester is precisely the kind of bride the old European houses and certain neutral syndicates would respect." Our eyes met "Your lineage carries weight, Lena. Visible enough for legitimacy, ancient enough for the occult to agree. We can have a contract marriage, then six months or less, to secure the introductions. In return, I provide what you seek about your own fractured past. And how you can get back the wealth your family is known for that has kept them in the highest order of control before they fell. I'll tell you much about it if you're interested though.”

I let out a sharp laugh that echoed off the wooden walls. “You’re proposing I marry a man I fished off the highway like roadkill? He is even a dying man, look at him. I’m not some pawn in your immortal chess match to begin with.” But even as I spoke, my mind raced ahead, thinking about information on the Winchesters, why I was taken, what my blood truly meant. This could be the key to more than ascension, it could mean actual freedom.

“You want truths about your family? Agree to this and you'll have all secrets told you.” Philip countered smoothly, his tone filled with the patient logic of a man who had negotiated with devils.

Luther watched me in silence, because he doesn't yet understand part of what is said about me. “The choice is yours, Lena,” he said finally, voice low and deliberate. “I won’t chain you with false promises. But I protect what’s under my roof. And debts like yours... they matter to me.”

The magnetic pull flared, calling as his gaze lingered. I could use him, so I thought. Marry in name only without attachment, gather intel, fulfill the ritual under the Eclipse. Walk away empowered. Yet something in his steady stare warned me that extracting his heart literally or figuratively would affect mine in ways I'll live to regret.

“Fine,” I said, lifting my chin with the boldness born of eighteen years of survival. “But on my terms. Luther will not touch me without my permission. Physical boundaries must be respected at all costs. Once the alliances are locked on every levels you seek to make it known and my questions answered, we dissolve it cleanly. There shall be no lingering entanglements.”

Luther’s lips curved in a slow, dangerous smile that sent an unwelcome heat running down my spine. It wasn’t triumph I see on his face, it was the quiet acknowledgment of a worthy adversary. “Deal, gorgeous witch.”

I froze, every instinct screaming. Did he know already? He couldn’t know—

Philip chuckled, the sound rich with dark amusement. “Oh, this arrangement promises to be exquisitely entertaining. Welcome to the board, Lena Winchester. Try not to ignite a war before the ink dries on the contract okay.”

As we left the study to formalize preliminary arrangements, Luther’s hand deliberately brushed mine, this time, a contact that sparked like live wires meant to test my softness. I pulled away, but the warmth lingered on my skin making me desire his full touch.

Outside, the rain was now drizzling. “Now we head to Eclipse Manor,” Luther said, opening the car door for me with a gentle gesture that looks different from his battered state. His voice held the weight of command calmed by unexpected consideration. “It will be... an adjustment for us both.”

I got in the driver’s seat, glanced at the ancient vampire beside me, I wondered which outcome would destroy me more thoroughly. The academy's requirements? my inherence? or the unwanted attraction for him trying to find expression.