“Tell me what it is,” Tucker demanded.
The king sighed. “There is an amulet around Hadrian’s neck. It is what holds his strength. It contains the power of the warlocks he’s stolen from and slaughtered throughout the years, collecting their abilities. Making them his own.”
“Without the amulet, he doesn’t have the abilities?”
“It’s not so easy. First of all, it would take an immortal stronger than Hadrian to procure it. One hardly exists. And he guards the stone as though it’s his life, because it is. However…” Jonas rubbed at his forehead. “The amulet is cursed. It weakens anyone who holds it. Anyone but Hadrian. If you or I had it in our possession, we would be dust within seconds.”
“Then I’m asking you for my second favor.”
The king’s brows went up, but the dread was already kindling in his eyes. “Tucker, no. Absolutely not.”
“I’ll get the amulet.” Tucker was already breezing past Jonas toward the garden gate that led to the front of the house. “You get me close enough to him and I’ll handle the rest.”
“Don’t you see? If we defeat Hadrian, you can have her back,” Jonas snapped behind him.
“She doesn’t want me,” Tucker growled, rounding on the king, a finger jabbing in the air. “Worst-case scenario, her plan fails and she belongs to Hadrian forever. Best case? The Assembly returns and she leaves with them, her family intact again. That’s her dream. Not me. Not some portly minion for the king. I can’t keep her if she doesn’t want to stay. And can you imagine how she’ll feel about me with fucking eyesight?” Tucker’s laughter was raw, harsh, a lot like the pain in his chest. “Mary’s marriage to Hadrian will bring back the Assembly. She will have what she needs by the time I take the amulet.”
Sympathy lived in Jonas’s expression. “Tucker…”
“Done deal, boss.” Tucker forced a smile and punched the king playfully in the shoulder. “Tell me more about our new friendship with the slayers. Because I smell a prank war.”
* * *
A while later, after saying goodbye to Jonas, Tucker re-entered the house, his chest burning with the need to see Mary. To make sure she was all right. When he entered the bedroom and found her curled on her side, sound asleep, relief and wonder rattled through him. God. God, she was so beautiful. These days and nights would be the last thing that went through his mind when he turned to dust. An event that would be happening much sooner than he imagined, but at least it would be for a worthy cause.
The safety of his friends.
The throne remaining in the hands of good, not evil.
Maybe he wasn’t so dead set against quests after all if he was invested in the outcome.
Not wanting to wake up Mary, Tucker went back out to the living room and sat down heavily on the couch, staring down at his loose hands a moment before lying down completely. If he wanted to be successful in the mission ahead, he needed sleep. It was difficult to close his eyes when the concern for Mary’s safety never ebbed, but he forced his eyelids to fall, folding his hands in a pile on the mound of his belly.
Tucker didn’t sleep deeply like other vampires. He’d never truly understood why he could nap so briefly, wake up a short time later and be refreshed. It was a trait he’d inherited from his mother Farah. Sometimes they would bake cakes in the middle of the night, they needed such a small amount of sleep. Come morning, there would be cakes of every size and description on the kitchen table. His father would emerge yawning and it would quickly transform into a laugh. Then Farah would dance through the kitchen handing out forks, seeming to almost float—or maybe that was just his embellishing childhood memory—and they would all dig in. Cake for breakfast. What happened to those happy times?
It was with that question ringing in his head that Tucker dropped into shallow unconsciousness.
Tucker walked through the quiet, unlit kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Flecks of neon yellow adorned every surface. Cabinets. Drawers. His mother had a habit of labeling everything. “So your father won’t forget where things are. I can’t always be around to remind him, can I?” That was her usual explanation, made while furiously scribbling onto Post-Its, looking around the room for more things to label.
Tucker ran a finger over the note marked Tape/Scissors/Tacks and ventured out into the field behind the house, finding Farah sprawled out on a blanket.
“Mom?”
She didn’t even jolt, simply levering up onto an elbow and smiling, a little wistfully. “Hi, Tucker. Fancy meeting you here.”
Relieved that she didn’t urge him back to bed, he crept forward barefoot and sat down beside her on the soft earth. “Why are you out here? At night?”