Cameo and the Vampire by Dawn McCullough-White Read Free Book Online Page A

is—"
    "Kyrin ... isn't it?" the lad asked, grabbing an apple that had been left as a gift for the gods.
    "Kyrian."
    "Ah, Kyrian, so close!"
    "Very close. How did you know?"
    He tapped his temple with one finger. "A dream. I dreamed you would come."
    "Oh." He was warm now. The room was hot. A single drop of water trailed down his face, much to his chagrin.
    "Why don't you remove your coat?" Sage suggested.
    "Hmm, yes," he said, absently running a hand over his wet hair, rumpling it.
    "You've had a rough walk. I can see that now," she said, taking his hand in hers. "Why don't we get you something to eat?"
    "Thank you."
    "It's late. Should we make up a bed in Carrington's room?"
    The girl rolled her eyes, "I doubt Gibson would appreciate that very much. Why not your room? You've plenty of space."
    "Oh, all right."
    "I think you'll live, Caith!" she called to him as he moved away from them.
    He smiled, "It's fine. Poor lad, he looks worn out."
    Kyrian followed Sage into a dining room, and she commanded him to sit as she moved into the pantry to get a few food items.
    The lad sat down heavily. He had spent the last few days doing nothing but walking, trying to reach the people who had been mentally calling out for help. Nearly from the very day that he, Cameo, and Opal had set foot in Villoise, Cyrus had been bothering him to go back, go south. He ignored his spirit-guide's advice. He knew that he had to save Cameo, that it was the test of his faith—the test that Cyrus, when he was a living, breathing, man, had entrusted him with. Cyrus felt that Cameo had the spark, like Kyrian did—the call to help others, the spark of healing—although now, after all that she'd been put through, she would never be able to use that gift. But that's what she'd been meant for, and he wanted to save her from the evil of Haffef. To save her from herself. In the end, it seemed too much. She chose to rescue Opal, to kill more men, and after a while he had to say goodbye to his dream of saving her soul and of proving himself for the priesthood. His task would never be fulfilled. Still, though, he could help others.
    A plate of food was sitting in front of him. A few pieces of red meat, pickles, and beans.
    "Most of it is leftovers from dinner, I'm afraid. Just some smoked meat and, well, they do a lot of canning here, so we have plenty of canned beans and pickles."
    "It looks delicious," he murmured.
    "You really are famished."
    "Yes, I am."
    "You'll be tired of canned food soon enough." She set a mug of tea before him as well.
    Kyrian took a bite. "Are you going to join me?"
    "I'm not hungry." The young woman sat down at the end of the table and watched him eat. She was remarkably beautiful, with fine features, and a slight frame. He was feeling a little self-conscious about gobbling down the food. "Now then," she smiled, "what temple were you an acolyte in?"
    "Um, Temple of the Moon in Yetta. Just outside the graveyard there."
    "The moon? Forgive me, but you're wearing an amulet of the sun."
    "Oh, yes. I was going to study at the Temple of the Sun in Kings Basin ... but it burned to the ground."
    "Didn't the Temple of the Moon burn to the ground as well?"
    Kyrian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then regretted being quite so common in front of her. What was it Opal had said about manners? "Yes. An assassin with the Association known as Jules Maethelmaf burned them both. Murdered my grandfather ...."
    "I'm so sorry."
    He waved the notion away, "Thank you, but it's all right. You know, death is not the end; Cyrus is still with me."
    "I know," she patted his hand, not seeming to care that he had just wiped his mouth on it. "It's still hard to endure such violence."
    Kyrian sighed. It was the first time he had thought about it since it occurred. Being on the run with Cameo and Opal, he hadn't had much time to feel sorry for himself; there was always someone new trying to kill them, and someplace new to run to.
    "The Temple of the Moon,"