Blinding Light (The Bloodmarked Trilogy Book 2) (10 page)

“Lucy, you made it,” she said with a smile, but I saw the ‘It’s about time’ in her eyes.

“I’m here,” I stated, unsure of what I was supposed to say. Thank you for uprooting me from my home didn’t seem very grateful. That was the bitchiness of a 21-hour trip talking. I knew it wasn’t her fault I was here. I needed to act more appreciative for her help, but I still knew nothing about this woman, other than the fact that she knew my mother.

It was nearly dusk, and I just wanted to unwind and put off this whole vampire hunters-R-us meet and greet for as long as possible. Helen ushered me in and dashed any hope of relaxation.

“Everyone is so excited to meet you. They’re in the great room anxiously awaiting your arrival,” she explained.

“They aren’t even the least bit scared of me?” I asked in a sharper tone than I intended.

“Well, they don’t have any reason to be, right? Unless you give them a reason,” she said sternly.

Was she implying I would purposely attack them? I couldn’t quite decipher her intentions. I knew I should show some gratitude, but this woman was starting to get under my skin already. Maybe it was that whole type-A personality thing surfacing again. I really did have issues with authority figures, but I decided to play nice and give her the benefit of the doubt.

Glancing around, I was taken aback by the grandeur of the foyer. An old world iron chandelier hung high above the center of the vast space, alight with real pillar candles, not the fake LED kind. I stepped forward onto the sprawling floor rug, elegantly patterned with rich golds, reds, and blues.

Beyond the spaciousness of the entryway were twin staircases that began on opposite ends and swirled upward to meet in the middle of a huge second story landing. Behind the ornate wood railing, an upstairs sitting room opened up and was outlined on two walls with solid mahogany built-in shelving, which housed hundreds of books. The back wall contained floor to ceiling picture windows to highlight the wintery Canada landscape.

“The others are this way,” Helen said, guiding me between the two stairways into a wide hallway.

She turned to the right, and I followed her until the corridor opened up to the left, revealing a massive parlor. Before it came fully into view, I heard murmuring and heartbeats fluttering erratically. I counted eleven pulses, not including Helen’s.

Rounding the corner and taking two steps down into the giant living space, a large sectional and two plump recliners emerged. They were all occupied, as well as the floor space around a solid, central coffee table. A deck of cards was scattered over the table, and beyond that, a couple people sat on the edge of a grand stone hearth with their backs to a fireplace so big I could probably walk into it without ducking. Although the overhead lights were dimly illuminated, the blazing fire cast dancing shadows across the floor and darkened everyone’s faces.

It didn’t keep me from noticing every single eye in the room was aimed in my direction. Great. I was the brand new attraction at the zoo today.

“Everyone, this is Lucille. As I’ve mentioned, she’s going to be staying with us awhile, and we’re going to help her with her training and self-control,” Helen said, sounding a bit like a teacher in front of the class.

There was a round of muffled heys and some threw their hands up in a lazy wave of acknowledgement.

That whole ‘self-control’ thing was a surprise to me, but I guess one can’t be too cautious when throwing a sugar fiend into a cupcake shop. Speaking of cupcakes, what was that tantalizing smell? It seemed to be growing stronger.

Helen kept acting as mediator while I tried to decipher the delicious scent. “I want you all to make her feel welcome and introduce yourselves.”

Some of them stood and made their way over while others hung back to observe cautiously from afar. Meet and greets weren’t really my thing, and all I could think about was shutting myself in a room and washing off the stink of a full day’s travel. Not to mention my growing hunger.

The first brave soul approached, and I was instantly assaulted with the most offensive smell imaginable. It was like a combination of cleaning products. I realized it was cologne, but from up close, my nose broke down the ingredients one by one, so I smelled them individually. From farther away, it wasn’t as repulsive.

“Hi, my name is Nick. Nick Elcott,” he said confidently as he reached for my hand.

He was a couple inches taller than me with golden blond hair and denim colored eyes. He had a decent build and was a definite pretty boy, which he obviously knew how to work. He reminded me of a cocky frat boy. I eyed his hand hesitantly before finally taking it and introducing myself.

“Hi. I’m Lucy.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucy,” he replied in a lower tone, his eyes never leaving mine. His hand lingered longer than I liked. Oh, crap. I was so not in the mood for this.

“It’ll turn into a nightmare if you don’t let go of my hand,” I threatened.

“I’m sure it would be a dream come true,” he chimed.

“Sorry, Cassanova. Not interested,” I said, pulling my hand back and turning to the person next to him.

“Hi, I’m Brody. Don’t mind him. He hasn’t gotten any in awhile. It’s making him delusional,” Brody said, offering his hand.

He was a few inches taller than Nick and had wavy brown hair and whiskey eyes. His greeting seemed a little more genuine and less of an attempt to get laid, so I shook his hand readily.

“I know the feeling,” I replied. Before the snickering escalated, I quickly continued. “Except, instead of a lack of certain physical activities, it’s a lack of blood that makes me delusional.”

At that, Brody’s pulse gave a kick and he shrank back, releasing my hand. Several heartbeats ramped up, followed by that enticing aroma.

Ah. Fear. Everyone’s combined scents, mixed with their growing fear, were making me ravenous. And touchy. I couldn’t stop myself from becoming irritable, and it was only a matter of time before I snapped and did something that would haunt me for the rest of my miserable existence.

It was wise to have a healthy fear of me for their own protection, but I hadn’t realized how that would affect my homicidal vampy instincts. Living with so many meals on wheels was going to be much more taxing than I originally thought.

Helen sensed my unease and intervened. “Well, I think Lucy’s had enough excitement for one day. I’m going to give her the tour, and you all can introduce yourselves properly another time.”

“It was nice meeting you, Lucy,” Nick said with what I imagined he thought was a panty dropping smile.

I noticed he said it from a safe distance away. I wanted to laugh and crack a joke, but my thirst was too strong at this point, and I was done being sociable.

“Can you guys do me a favor? Stop being so afraid. I can smell your fear. And it’s making me very, very hungry,” I warned, my tone serious.

I realized my mistake when the fresh waves of panic became so palpable my fangs retracted. Several gasps filled the silence, and Helen abruptly turned on her heel, gesturing that I follow.

We swiftly departed the sitting room and followed a new turn toward the back of the house.

“I guess the next stop on the tour will be the kitchen. The kitchen and dining hall take up the entire first floor of the right wing,” she explained.

We glided expeditiously down a large corridor, bypassing several paintings lining the walls and coming to an extra wide entryway on our left, where a formal dining room could comfortably sit 30 people at the long oak table in the center. On the far wall were several tall windows that looked out to a snowy, deserted courtyard. Drapes made of fine material the color of an eggshell encased the windows.

Helen briefly showed me another large eating area at the end of the hall that looked more like a cafeteria. Several small tables were scattered around the room, and the light from the moon shone brightly through the many windows to keep it from being too depressing.

When we finally found the kitchen, I was too thirsty to care about the layout and decorations of the house. We waded carefully through the maelstrom of kitchen staff hustling to prepare dinner for the residents. I mumbled a few hellos whenever Helen made quick introductions, but she hurried me to the walk in cooler, which housed the largest blood supply I had ever seen. Did this place double as a hospital, or was this their way of being overly cautious with an unpredictable, bloodthirsty monster in the house? Better safe than sorry.

Downing five bags satiated me enough to rejoin the living. The chef, Eric, gave me a quick handshake in between dicing and chopping. He looked to be in his fifties and had a full head of white hair.

“Welcome to Wolf Creek, Little Hunter,” he said, smiling warmly. The greeting seemed personal, and I worried my bottom lip over such an easy display of affection.

“Thanks,” I mumbled and turned toward the door.

Exiting the kitchen, I angled myself toward Helen. “Does everyone here know about me and my kind?” I asked, hating that the phrase ‘my kind’ just came out of my mouth.

“Yes. Most of them used to be hunters when they were younger but now dedicate their lives to the Keepers in other ways. Some have houses in the nearby towns and keep us informed on any unusual activity they hear about. Others have rooms here in the house.”

“So it’s kind of a secret society thing. Once you’re in, you’re in for life or you pay in blood?” I mused. She made it sound so permanent.

“No, it’s not that they can’t leave, but could you shut your eyes to acts of cruelty or suffering once they were opened? After years of battling in this war, would you be able to simply walk away from it? These Keepers have put so much of themselves into the fight already and continue to play a role in it by doing whatever they can. They’ve seen too much. They don’t want to leave. It’s all they know, and it’s what drives their ambitions.”

I fought back a laugh. She spoke on their behalf like she was their leader who could get them to drink the Kool-aide if it meant stopping the vampires.

“So it’s kind of a cult thing?” I asked, regaining my sarcasm for the first time since the first hunger pang struck.

“No,” her voice was clipped, and it was clear she had little experience with a sense of humor.

Conversation drifted off into the scuffing sounds of our footsteps as I contemplated this. The mansion was at least the length of a football field, and Helen showed me several other areas including the library, game room and training room. She led me upstairs toward the room I would occupy. We turned down the left wing and passed several closed doors. I wondered if this used to be a hotel for the rich and half expected to see little ‘Do not Disturb’ signs hanging from the door knobs.

As we came to a stop at the end of the hall, Helen produced a key from, well, I had no idea where, considering I wasn’t aware skirts had pockets.

“This is your room. You are the only one in this wing, in an effort to provide you with more peace and quiet, and, well…” she trailed off.
And less temptation for the random acts of bloodsucking
, her eyes finished for her.

I got the distinct impression she wasn’t exactly thrilled to have me here, but her duty to the prophecy and my particular bloodline prohibited her from voicing her true opinions. It offered no further clues of the mystery that was Helen Lancaster. I made a mental note to eventually unravel that mystery.

Stepping through the door to my new abode shocked the hell out of me. I was not prepared to walk into a queen’s living quarters. I was also not prepared for the most awkward and ridiculous grin to form on my face. It was nice to know said grin wasn’t just reserved for arrogant, infuriating but sexy as sin vampires with commitment issues, who abandon a girl once she spills her guts and her heart all over the ground at his feet.

Breathe, Lucy. Breathe. Don’t think about him right now. Just appreciate your luxurious new room.

Luxurious didn’t even describe it. Maybe opulent, grandiose or spa-like. The floors were a dark hardwood covered by a huge ivory floor rug that looked softer than a pile of down feathers.

My eyes drifted toward the main attraction. A king size bed sat against the wall in the middle of the room. It was framed in the same dark wood as the floors, and the slender posts held an ivory linen canopy that gathered at each post and draped gracefully to the floor.

The chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling was similar to the big hula-hoop in the foyer. Large arched beams stretched out above me. A gorgeous fireplace outlined in shell and ivory colored glass tiles was situated on the wall opposite the bed. Above it hung a 60-inch LCD screen. An old fashioned couch upholstered in fabric riddled with elegant script sat in front of the fireplace surrounded by two wingback chairs on either side, each covered in crimson and ivory stripes.

On the far wall was a set of French doors leading out to a cozy balcony. Two tall, arched windows sandwiched the doors and allowed for the most breathtaking view of the snow-covered forest beyond the property line.

The snow had stopped falling at some point during my tour, and the clouds were pushed out of the way to expose thousands of glittering stars on top of a rich velvety midnight sky. Although it was faint, my keen eyesight detected the occasional dancing green auras that permeated and bled through the dark shimmering canvas. I always wanted to witness the Aurora Borealis first hand.