Never Give Up on Love (The Soul Mate Tree Book 7) Read online

  Table of Contents

  NEVER GIVE UP ON LOVE

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  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

  Table of Contents

  NEVER GIVE UP ON LOVE

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  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

  NEVER GIVE UP ON LOVE

  The Soul Mate Tree

  MAGGIE MUNDY

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  NEVER GIVE UP ON LOVE

  Copyright©2017

  MAGGIE MUNDY

  Cover Design by Wren Taylor

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-68291-049-8

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  For my husband, Alan,

  and my daughters, Jenny and Rachel,

  who are my greatest fans.

  For my wonderful sister Nora,

  and my mom, Eileen,

  who is no longer with me.

  She would blush if she read it.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to say thank you for the opportunity to be part of the Soul Mate Tree Anthology.

  I acknowledge the support from my fellow Soul Mate authors who share their knowledge and expertise. They are truly a wonderful group that I am proud to be a part of.

  Special thanks go to my editors Char Chaffin and Cheryl Yeko whose patience and understanding during the editing process was outstanding. Thanks for believing in me and my story. I would also like to say a big thank you to Debby Gilbert for her constant belief in myself and all the other authors at Soul Mate Publishing who have been involved in the Soul Mate Tree anthology.

  THE LEGEND OF THE SOUL MATE TREE

  I am old, I am ancient,

  my purpose is clear

  To give those who are needy

  a treasure so dear.

  They who come to my roots,

  touch my bark, stroke my leaves

  Find the soul of their lives

  if they but believe.

  When I call and you listen,

  your prize will be great

  If your heart remains open

  and you don’t hesitate.

  Do you yearn? Be you lonely?

  Is your time yet at hand?

  Reach for me and I’ll give to you.

  I’m yours to command.

  For your trust, for your faith,

  keep my secrets untold

  And I’ll gift you forever,

  to have and to hold.

  Prologue

  London, 1858

  Vincent awoke in a disused tunnel.

  He’d always wondered what it would be like to die. Now he knew. It was worse than he could have imagined.

  Death should be the end of torment in a painful life. Instead, he’d been resurrected—by a vampire—into agony, his world changed forever.

  And not for the better.

  Dim light filtered in to show it was nearly dawn. Would the creature return? Vincent’s legs barely held him as he stood and stumbled from the tunnel.

  Would he die in the sun this day? It would be a fitting end. I should be dead anyway.

  His legs gave out, and he fell to his knees, his back arching as blisters formed and split his skin. Soon his body would disappear to ash.

  Screaming in anguish, his eyes slammed closed as he waited for the end. The suffering he’d endured, through years of consumption, was nothing compared to this.

  Then, as if by magic, a cool breeze wafted over his body.

  Opening his eyes, Vincent gaped at the mist surrounding him. It had come upon him so fast, he couldn’t find the road.

  A light shone in the translucence before him. Was someone there with a lantern, guiding his way, or was this the light to the afterlife? Rubbing his eyes, he peered through the glow and spotted a gnarled, yet beautiful old tree.

  If I touch it, I’ll find peace. He didn’t know how he knew that, but somehow, he did.

  Someone sat beneath the tree, a young woman whose red hair glowed as if the sun were shining upon it and setting it alight. She stared straight at him. Her clothes were strange and she wore trousers like a man. The brown leather clung to her body and showed her feminine shape. At her waist hung a wooden stake on a cord.

  She blew him a kiss. Vincent peered over his shoulder, wondering if she were looking at him or someone else.

  When he turned around, she had spun away and now held the stake above her, ready to strike. With a yell, she lunged to her feet, attacking whoever else was in this odd world with her. Vincent tried to touch her, but she disappeared into the mist.

  Incredibly, his new vampiric heart ached in his chest as if he had let something special go.

  He stared at the area on the grass where she had stood. The pain hit harder, the sun blazing hot as he scrambled back into the shade of the tree branches and protective leaves.

  They shone, as if illuminated by tiny glow worms and twinkling stars. I must be delirious. Pain surged over him in waves, until he lay exhausted.

  Death did not come.

  Then he noticed someone staring at him from the branches.

  A pixie-like sprite leaned down and whispered, “You can’t die, Vincent. She’ll be waiting for you. The one who changed you will kill her if you don’t survive.”

  “Who is she
? I must know.”

  “She could be your death or your salvation. Your love or your sorrow. It will be both yours and her choice. Now rest and live. The tree will protect you.”

  Sunlight dappled over the pixie’s delicate, pointed ear-tips as she disappeared.

  ~ ~ ~

  Vincent leaned up against cold, damp bricks. Am I back in the tunnel? Maybe he’d dreamt about the tree and the woman with red hair. He lay on the ground, trembling as he wrapped his arms about his body.

  There were footsteps, and he tried to lift his head and see what new danger awaited him. Each movement hurt.

  A figure stood there, wearing a great coat and large, brimmed hat. Slowly he approached. It wasn’t Vincent’s attacker from earlier, nor was it anyone from his vision.

  “Who are you?”

  The stranger just smiled, and knelt beside him. He picked Vincent up as if he weighed nothing. “Where are you taking me?” he slurred, too weak to fight.

  No answer.

  Vincent closed his eyes, wanting to give up on life, but the memory of the girl with the red hair beneath the tree stopped him. If nothing else, he would live and find her.

  If not to love her, then to save her.

  The stranger placed him in a carriage and wrapped him in a blanket. It did little to stop the tremors ripping through his body. Voices murmured outside the carriage, but Vincent couldn’t discern much of their words.

  “I hope you're right, Tristan.” One of them finally spoke louder. “If he shows any intention of following the ways of the tainted, I shall be the one to kill him, and you won’t be able to stop me.”

  “If that is the case, I’ll help,” someone else retorted. “He’s like us. Henry’s blood is flowing through him like sludge that his body doesn’t want to accept. We should leave this place before that bastard and his followers return.”

  “I’ll take the reins. I’ll follow the backroads so no one can hear his screams as he transforms,” the other voice said.

  Vincent groaned at the constant pain. Holding onto his consciousness was becoming a losing battle. Henry. Was that the monster who’d bitten him?

  The carriage moved, and every jolt and bump reverberated through his body, increasing the agony. He didn’t bother to fight the dark as it overwhelmed him.

  ~ ~ ~

  Coming awake with a start, Vincent sat upright. He was in a strange bed, with heavy drapes and expensive coverings. Had it all been a dream?

  Then he noticed someone sitting in the corner of the room, and tensed, recognizing the stranger who’d carried him from the tunnel.

  The man stood and approached. Dressed immaculately, his looks would have any woman swooning, whether he had money to match or not.

  Pouring a large glass of water, the stranger handed it to him. Was it poisoned? But why would the man save him, only to kill him now?

  “You should drink. Your body needs fluids. Water now, blood later.”

  Vincent didn’t like the sound of that, but took the glass and drained it.

  “My name is Tristan Bowers, and you’re at my home.” He refilled the glass and placed the jug next to the bed.

  Uncertain the fluid would stay down, Vincent couldn’t imagine drinking a person’s blood; the concept repulsed him. The water filled his belly, but didn’t quench his thirst.

  “Thank you for your hospitality. I assume I didn’t imagine that I was attacked last night, and I’m now a creature of the night.”

  Tristan smirked, yet Vincent failed to see what was amusing.

  “Yes would be the simplest answer, though it doesn’t really answer your questions, does it? You were changed by a monster called Henry Rushton.”

  The name meant nothing to Vincent, but he would remember it from now on.

  “Henry Rushton controls a band of vampires who attend to his every need. We observe them, and find he changes poor homeless souls from the streets of London. No one cares if a person here or there goes missing. The rich care about themselves, and the poor are struggling to survive.”

  Who to trust? “If I was changed by this creature, why have you brought me here?” There was no point in pretending. Emptying the contents of the jug into his glass, Vincent drank it down. The desire for blood swamped every part of his being, but he would fight it, for now.

  “He changed me too,” Tristan replied. “For a small group, Henry’s tainted blood hasn’t driven us to despair. We aren’t sure why. I watch Henry. When he changes someone, I observe to see how the victim’s body and mind cope with the blood. Your mind seems pure and your body isn’t affected. I also sensed a woman you need to save. You should forget about lost loves now. It’s pointless. You’ll live on long after they die.”

  How pure would Vincent stay if he drank blood? His incisor teeth ached to be free. To bite, then kill? Though he sensed nothing from Tristan, could he read his thoughts? Would this man throw him out on the streets?

  Tristan cocked his head and regarded him closely. “I sense you suffered an illness before you died.”

  Vincent nodded. “Consumption. My lungs were filling with blood. My sister and mother, gone the same way. I failed to save them.” Vincent had few friends, but this man’s eyes held sadness for him.

  Tristan clapped his shoulder briefly. “My disease caused me to bleed. My blood was weak, and I’d bruise easily. My life had been one of pain and deformity. Henry offered me his blood and I took it willingly. When I saw his frenzied feeding afterward, I knew we were not the same. Once he finished his debauchery in London, Henry would have come back for you. We found you first.”

  Vincent frowned. He still didn’t know who to trust, but needed information. “So, you drink blood?”

  “My friends and I drink animal blood. It doesn’t last as long as human blood, but we survive with some dignity. We also kill those of Henry’s group who attack people. Like you, we found ourselves bloodsuckers by accident. You seem a decent man, but you have a choice. Join us or die.”

  Silently Vincent sipped the water that did nothing to replenish him. In the past he had wanted death, but not now. Throwing back the sheets, he stood on trembling legs, stiffening his knees, refusing to show any weakness to his future comrade.

  “I’ll take you up on your offer to join your group of hunters. I may be grateful to Henry for turning me, but I have no wish to kill humans, even if I’m not one of them anymore.”

  Tristan tossed him a pair of pants and a shirt. “Your clothes were covered in blood and filth. I discarded them. These should fit. I think we’re about the same size.” He paused. “It’s best you don’t return to your home and family. It makes things . . . difficult.”

  “I have no friends. They deserted me once what resources I possessed dissipated and I became sick. And as I said, the illness took my family.”

  “I am sorry for your loss.” With that, Tristan left the room so Vincent could dress in privacy.

  The clothes were of a quality Vincent had never experienced. This new life bore no resemblance to his past. Would it ever feel normal?

  Shortly, Tristan returned for him. “You must feed soon,” he explained as he led Vincent down a long hall. “If you’re not fighting, you can go a few days without blood. If we extend ourselves, then we drink daily. In the past, we’ve fed off each other in our little band.”

  “Little band?”

  Tristan smiled, but the humor did not reach his eyes. “Time to meet your new brothers.”

  Opening a door at the end of the hall, they stepped inside a large room with hundreds of books adorning the walls. Servants attended to fires and prepared food. Did the retainers know of their master, his friends, and their appetite for blood?

  “I have only a few staff, and they understand our special needs. Some, I knew before I changed. Others are the famil
y of people Henry Rushton killed. We have a mutual dislike.” Tristan gestured toward a table set with fine linen and silver. “You can still ingest human food, but it will provide little sustenance. It will, however, make you appear more—human.”

  Four gentlemen lounged in comfortable chairs. They all stood when he drew near. Noting their clenched fists, Vincent suspected he would be attacked if Tristan gave the word.

  Tristan held out a palm to stop the advance of the others. “He’s decided to join us.”

  After some hesitation, a tall, dark-haired gentleman came toward Vincent with his hand out.

  “So, here he is at last. Another fellow to merge with our group. I’m Cole.” He nodded toward the others. “This is Drake, Tequin, and George.”

  After handshakes all around, Tristan poured a large whiskey and passed it to Vincent. The liquid burned his throat as it went down, yet made him feel connected with humanity in a small way.

  Cole regarded him somberly over his own dram. “You are to have a baptism of fire, my friend. It seems Henry had planned for you to be part of a show at his estate. He’s taken more souls from the East End of London and plans to kill them. Are you up for a fight?”

  Vincent nodded. In his new body, he considered killing Henry Rushton his first order of business.

  “You’ll need this to slice off their heads.” Moving to the desk, Cole opened a case containing a long, curved blade. The glow from the table lamp caused the smooth surface to shimmer. “There are straps to fit it on your back under your coat.”

  Within the hour, Vincent was ready for his destiny of protecting humans and eradicating vampires. As he headed into the night, he couldn’t forget one other person. The memory of a girl with the red hair, with a wooden stake attached to her belt.