Blood Price
BLOOD PRICE
An Ellora’s Cave Publication, May 2004
Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
Hudson
,
ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-935-5
Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):
Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML
BLOOD PRICE © 2004 KIT TUNSTALL
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Edited by
Mary Moran.
Cover art by
Christine Clavel
.
Blood Price
Kit Tunstall
Chapter 1
Atar hadn’t known what to expect when the queen of Corsova summoned him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the guard escorting him led him into an archaic throne room. He certainly hadn’t expected the sentry to lead him into the private chambers of the king and queen. Nor had he anticipated her serving him tea in the sitting room.
He held the delicate cup in his large hand while he watched the queen through the veil of his lashes. His gaze occasionally darted to the protector’s lifemate, whose gaze never wavered from Anca. He liked that about Demi Golina, who had once been a commoner, as was Atar, though Demi had always belonged in Corsova, while Atar didn’t.
“Thank you for coming.” She held her cup without sipping from it. “Petru, the Chief of Security here at the castle, recommended we call on you.”
His colorless eyes narrowed at the mention of Petru’s name, a man with whom he was vaguely acquainted. “I have little to offer the royal family.”
“Not true,” Demi said. “We’ve heard your kind is adept at tracking.”
He shrugged. “The Makheet race has a way with such tasks but I’m not a tracker. I live my days in solitude in the
“Please.” There was a trace of pleading in Anca’s voice. “We need your assistance, Atar.”
He leaned forward from the wingchair to return his full cup to the tray on the table. “Really—”
“It’s not just for us,” Demi said. “You might be saving our entire way of life and several human lives in the process.”
He quirked a brow. “How so?”
The queen turned her cup on the saucer but still didn’t lift it. “Few people know the whole story of what happened two years ago, when I took the Blood Oath.”
Atar nodded.
“My half-sister tried to take the Oath in my place. Nikia nearly died, ending up in a coma. There are no long-term care facilities here in Corsova that were equipped to deal with her situation, so we sent her to
Constanta
…” Anca trailed off, her eyes appearing troubled.
He waited for half a minute for the queen to continue before saying, “What does this have to do with me?”
“She woke up,” Demi said. “She escaped a high-security facility.”
“She’ll be coming for me,” Anca added. “She believes the throne should be hers.”
He shrugged. “Why not wait for her to come to you and lay a trap for her?”
Demi’s brow furrowed. “She could do much damage during the time she’s free. We’re concerned about her killing humans. Not just because of the bloodshed, though that worries us. We’re afraid human authorities might apprehend her. If the world finds out about vampires, our haven would cease to be.”
Atar winced at Demi’s subtle warning. Oh, yes, the man had obviously taken the time to learn about him before they summoned Atar to Castle Draganescu. Losing his sanctuary in Corsova was the only thing that could motivate him to take on this obligation. “What should I do with her when I find her?”
Anca and Demi traded a look. The queen’s shoulders bowed. “Bring her back alive, if you can. If you can’t…”
He nodded once and got to his feet. “I’ll deal with her but in return, I want your assurance you’ll never send for me again. I have no desire to be the solution to similar problems.”
Anca frowned. “Petru said you’ve done this before.”
Atar nodded. “I assisted your grandfather once. When I was a youngling, I learned all I’ll ever want to know about imperial service during the reign of Charlemagne.”
Anca’s eyes widened. “But that was twelve hundred years ago!”
Atar nodded. “Makheet are long-lived. All I ask is to spend the remainder of my centuries in peace.”
“If you do this for us, you’ll be assured a place with solitude in Corsova for the rest of your life.”
“You seem confident,” Demi added, scowling. “How can you be sure you’ll find her?”
“I have my ways. Do you want a breakdown of them or do you want me to find Nikia before she kills someone?”
Anca stood up. “Please find her as quickly as you can.”
He nodded. “I’ll leave tonight on the last train. I’ll have her in my custody by tomorrow night.” How difficult could it be to track down a lone vampire? Once he merged with her, it would all be over for Nikia. “I’ll need to know everything you know about her—where she was held, how she escaped, where she’s likely to go next.”
He waited for the queen to send for Petru, grimacing at the inconvenience. He didn’t relish tracking this fugitive but it was worth a few days’ bother to assure his solitude in the future. He would deal with her quickly, bring her back to Corsova to face the queen and return to the mountains alone. That was how he liked it.
* * * * *
Nikia pushed her way through the crowd gathered in the large warehouse converted to a dance club. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she swore eyes followed her. She’d had that sensation for the past three days, since escaping the hospital but it had intensified tonight. Before, the sensation had come more from paranoia without proof but now it had sharpened. Her senses were warning her.
She didn’t doubt someone was following her. As soon as Anca had learned of her escape, she would have sent others to apprehend her. They wouldn’t be a large force, because her sister wouldn’t want to draw attention. The size didn’t matter, because in her weakened state, one or two vampires or werewolves might be more than she could deal with.
She hugged herself, burrowing deeper into the oversized men’s denim jacket as she slipped along the edges of the crowd. A speaker nearby thundered techno music, contributing to the constant headache she’d had since awakening three days ago. Someone jostled her and she whipped around, seeking the source of attack. When she realized it was a drunken idiot, she slumped and continued on, searching for an exit out the back.
Two streets ago, when she’d sworn she heard the scrape of footsteps behind her on the cobblestone avenue, Nikia had ducked down the nearest alley, following a twisting series of streets, before reemerging in an industrial section. The only signs of life came from the club and she had gone in out of desperation.
In retrospect, it hadn’t been a wise decision. The people following her must surely have realized she was inside. Even now, they were probably moving among the crowd like silent shadows, seeking her out.
She moved past the most crowded area and saw a hallway to the right. She turned sharply, ignoring the couples making out along the corridor. She saw three doors at the end of the hallway and she increased her pace.
Two of the doors were restrooms but the third was a way out. She could have sobbed when she saw the shiny padlock barring exit. If she gathered her strength, she might be able to tear it away but someone was bound to notice. It would get the attention of those following her, leaving her trapped in the hallway.
She shivered at the thought, speculating about what awaited her in Corsova. Life imprisoned in the tower would probably be the least she could expect. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn Anca had ordered a death sentence.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she wiped them away with the sleeve of the jacket. It wasn’t fair that she might be facing a death sentence when she was finally getting the chance to live, but crying wouldn’t change anything. She didn’t have time to mope about her circumstances right now.
She glanced behind her and froze when she saw a tall man with long hair step into the hallway. He wore a similar leather outfit to those favored by most of the other patrons but there was something different about him. He didn’t fit in with this crowd any more than she did in the cotton trousers and denim jacket she had stolen on her way out of the hospital.
Her gaze darted down the hallway before returning to the doors. She ducked into the ladies’ room, praying for a roomy window or at least a few minutes to think things through.
She was disappointed to find it was a communal bathroom with stalls. There was no way to lock the main door. Nikia hurried through the restroom, checking the cubicles. She saw feet in three but the other four remained unoccupied.
Next, she examined the windows, finding just one. It was so far out of reach, she couldn’t possibly get to it. If she could manage to reach it, the window was too small to squeeze through, even though she had lost her generous curves during the two years she had been in a coma.
She stiffened when the main door opened behind her. Nikia whirled around to confront the person entering. Her shoulders sagged with relief when she saw it was an unfamiliar woman in leather pants and a loose vest. She was tall, with long, dirty-blond hair and strange eyes that lacked any pigment. She didn’t pay any attention to Nikia as she walked to the sink.
Nikia returned her attention to the problem of escaping the bathroom, eyeing the window again. Reluctantly, she accepted there was no way out of the room. She could lock herself in a stall and wait for them to come get her or surrender.
She twirled a lock of her short hair, toying with the idea of bursting from the bathroom and slamming through the door barring her exit. If she moved quickly enough, she could tear off the lock and run away before they had a chance to get hold of her.
If she could muster enough strength. Nikia sighed, feeling a sense of weakness in her entire body. She must have received physical therapy during her coma or she wouldn’t have been able to walk at all but she was in no condition to be breaking through doors. Until she had a chance to feed, her strength would remain tenuous at best.
She jumped with fright when someone touched her arm. Nikia started to turn but the person behind her moved faster, snagging both of her arms and pulling them behind her back. They held her wrists together. She felt the cold steel of a handcuff bite into one and screamed. Nikia kicked her legs and tried to dislodge the person holding her but he or she cuffed her other hand before releasing her.
She turned around and backed away from him. Her eyes widened when she saw the same man from the hallway. She looked around for the woman who had entered but she wasn’t in sight. Nikia’s eyes narrowed when she realized this man had the same shade of hair, clear eyes and almost identical garments. How could that be?
“Nikia Draganescu,” his voice was rich and deep, with an accent she couldn’t place, “I’m here to return you to Corsova. Will you come quietly?”
Nikia bowed her head when a fierce pain shot through it. She gritted her teeth, struggling to block out the commands of Illiana that urged her to strike out at the man. She bit her tongue, hoping that small pain would help her withstand the pain in her head. The agony still thundered over her in waves, making her scream. She fell to her knees without realizing it. As the man walked forward and lifted her over his shoulder, she was barely aware of his touch. “No,” she screamed, as Illiana’s voice echoed in her head. She wouldn’t give in to it, even long enough to get away. She knew if she lost herself in Illiana again, she would never return. Nikia sought escape in unconsciousness, willing herself to sleep. She didn’t know what to expect when she returned but she couldn’t let Illiana win, even if it meant she ended up back in Corsova, facing death.
