Blood Rights (41 page)

The rush of power hit her with its familiar numbing warmth, needling through her veins with the stinging prick of morphine. If vampires had a drug, it was comarré blood. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the heady swirl of life. Her heart began to beat. She listened to the bleak cadence and was reminded of how weak she’d been as a human. Of everything she’d had to endure. That life was thankfully behind her. She had been twice reborn as a creature of unparalleled power.

Power that would see her through the coming battle.

One of the Nothos scouts had reported two others lost in a fight at the Primoris Domus. Losing the two Nothos was unfortunate, but all that mattered was that the girl was
here
. And coming to her. Even now, Mikkel watched the perimeter for her approach. Once the girl was secured, he would be free to decimate the rest of her party. It seemed the least reward Tatiana could offer him for his help.

The perfection of it all thrilled her. Her greatness was immeasurable. How long would it take before there was no vampire more powerful than she? None would be better suited to rule. The House of Tepes would rise to terrifying heights under her guidance. Another swell of power rippled through her. She would rule all the Families.

The girl would bring her the ring and take her aunt’s place as
the sacrifice. Why use the old comarré’s blood when Tatiana could have the younger one? Was the old woman even still alive? Tatiana hadn’t checked on her since bedding Mikkel. Why bother? With the niece on her way, the old woman no longer mattered.

Sweet, dumb Mikkel. How wonderful that he’d been the inadvertent key to her figuring out the sacrifice.

How clever that comarré blood would unlock the ring. How had she not seen it before? Pure blood. Pure power.
The covenant shall be broken.
Then all manner of hell would be unleashed. Tatiana laughed, unable to contain the wicked, heady joy filling her soulless body. What would it feel like when she slipped that ring onto her finger? She craved it with an almost greater hunger than she desired blood.

A powerful presence filled the room, followed by an unmistakable scent. She forced herself not to shudder. The time was at hand. All fear had to be pushed aside. The fearful did not rule, only the strong.

‘Master,’ she whispered, opening her eyes and slipping off the chaise to bow.

He held out his hand for her to kiss his ring, and after she had, bid her, ‘Rise, my child.’

She did as asked, keeping her head down. Tremors of excitement skittered over her skin. She was so close to getting everything she desired. For once, she did not dread the presence of the Castus. She would do their bidding and gather her reward.

The room darkened around him as though his being overpowered the light. ‘You have just fed?’

‘Yes, master. I am prepared. The ring and the sacrifice approach.’

‘You are sure?’

‘Yes.’ She raised her head. Nothing could stop her. Everything was in place. Everything was perfectly aligned.

The Castus smiled. Tatiana forced herself not to look away. ‘How soon?’

‘Within the hour.’ She assumed. She hoped a more accurate answer wasn’t required.

‘Very good. The prophecy will be fulfilled at last.’ He laughed, shattering the mirror over the mantel. Glass rained down, slicing a thousand tiny cuts into her. They healed quickly, leaving traces of blood behind.

He lifted her hand and dragged his forked tongue over the beads of blood on her hand and arm. ‘Now then, when you have the ring and the sacrifice in hand, this is what you must do … ’

M
aris inched down the hall, careful not to scrape the heel of her bad leg on the floor. She’d found enough weapons along the way to arm herself with a short dagger and a cutlass. Not her first choices, but those had been the easiest and quietest to remove from their mounts.

The house reeked of vampire. Not the subtle spice she’d once found so alluring on Dominic, but the pervasive mustiness of death and decay. Like old paper money left too long in a damp place.

Tatiana had killed in this house. There was no other explanation. Maris’s lip curled in disgust. This Tatiana lived like the world owed her something and she was determined to claim it.

A noise up ahead sent Maris into a side room. A small guest room, nothing more. No closet either, just an armoire that would cause considerable pain to her hip should she have to climb into it. She pressed her ear to the door and listened as footsteps went by.

She opened the door a slit and peeked into the hall, gripping
the dagger close to her side. A servant disappeared down the corridor. She ducked out. Time to move. She couldn’t expect to remain undetected forever. At some point, someone would realize she was no longer tied to that chair and an alarm would be raised.

The hall split north and south. The stench grew stronger to the north so she went that way. Assuming Tatiana killed in her quarters was taking a leap of faith, but Maris had nothing else to go on. Step by arduous step, she closed on Tatiana, praying it wasn’t much farther. The beatings had left her bruised and weary, her hip a knot of pain.

An interior door opened and closed. Frantic to find a hiding place, Maris tried the closest room, but it was locked. Snapping herself against the wall at the side of a large display cabinet, she readied herself to attack. The cutlass blade rested against her cheek, the hilt held snugly by her breast. From here, she could strike out and slice the throat of whoever came by. Maybe even decapitate them.

Footsteps approached. Soft. Sluggish. Weak. Not the stride of a vampire. At least, not Tatiana. Her steps were much more determined, full of arrogance and carelessness.

Maris held her weapons, waiting to see … the air changed, the mustiness tempered with a sweeter scent. More like home.

A comar stumbled past. She couldn’t see his face, but one hand clenched his opposite wrist. Blood stained his gilded fingers. The wound would heal, but his wobbly gait indicated the blood loss had been great. Her heart went out to him for a thousand different reasons, but she had work to do and little time to accomplish it.

Bittersweet emotion filled her. She now knew where Tatiana was, and that Tatiana had just fed. She would be strong. Hard to
defeat. But Tatiana’s careless use of her comar stirred Maris. The vampire needed to die. She was a blight on her own kind.

Maris swallowed down her fear. She’d lived long enough anyway. When the comar was safely past, she stepped out into the hall and walked as boldly toward the way he’d come as her bad leg would let her. That boldness didn’t mean she’d willfully throw away the element of surprise however.

She pressed her ear to a flat spot on one of the carved double doors he’d likely exited from. A distant conversation reached her ears, too muted to understand. Sounded like it came from far inside the room. Beyond the room, maybe. She eased the door open and listened again. Definitely another room. Satisfied the first room was empty, she slipped in and closed the door quietly.

A small salon, well furnished but ill smelling. Another set of double doors. She listened at those and heard more clearly the conversation that had eluded her.

‘… after the ring is on your finger’ – a deeply scarred male voice rasped. Maris winced. The voice grated like teeth scraping bone – ‘you will drain your sacrifice to death.’

‘Yes, master,’ a female voice replied. Tatiana. ‘I only hope the elder comarré lives long enough to watch me do it.’

The horrid smell increased and the crack of a slap reverberated in reply. Then the harsh male voice spoke again. ‘Your only hope need be that what I ask of you is done.’

Holy mother.
Her hand went to her mouth. The sudden recognition of whom that odor and voice belonged to sucked the strength out of Maris. Cold fear burrowed into her joints. The weapons in her hands became thousand-pound weights, her own body difficult to support. Her bad leg trembled like a sapling in a stiff breeze.

If Tatiana was willing to subjugate herself to those ancient
evils, there was no limit to what she could do. And whatever this ring was, it was going to bring about something awful. The ring Tatiana believed Chrysabelle had.

Maris eased her way out of the room, desperate to put distance between herself and the monumental evil in the next room.

She scanned in both directions. All clear. But which way to go? She scoured her mind for the lessons drilled into her so many years ago. The fog of time lifted and the logical answer showed itself. Now to find a way into the bowels of the estate. She moved in the direction the comar had gone. Something made her think Tatiana had not reserved the best rooms for him.

Was he the comar Tatiana planned on using for a sacrifice? Herself? Chrysabelle? Holy mother, not Chrysabelle.

Maris shivered as she hurried down the empty corridor. This revelation changed everything. She had to stay alive long enough to warn Chrysabelle of Tatiana’s dangerous alliance. Maris had done too much and gone too far to allow that wicked blood-sucking autocrat to harm her niece. Tatiana had to be stopped. Permanently.

After that, Maris would find a way to die usefully. Like covered in the ashes of as many vampires as she could take with her.

‘So much for the Trojan horse idea.’ Mal shook his head as he stared into the car. A more loathsome display of innards he could not recall. Even the voices recoiled. It was as though the Nothos had somehow exploded. Fortunately, they were parked on the public road that ran through Corvinestri’s human cemetery. Not much chance of disturbing anyone here.

Dominic peered in beside him.
‘Mamma mia.’

‘I didn’t have a choice,’ Mortalis grumbled. ‘I’ve never tried to possess one for that long. Hell, until yesterday, I’d never
possessed one at all.’ He scraped his hands along his arms, depositing big sticky clumps of Nothos remains onto the limo floor.

Doc stuck his head over the car door and wrinkled his nose. ‘That’s just nasty.’ He smirked at Dominic. ‘Glad I’m not paying that cleaning bill.’

Dominic smirked back. ‘As if you could.’

‘Enough,’ Mal said. Chrysabelle approached, but he held up his hands. ‘Stay over there with Fi and Solomon. You don’t want to see this. Or get any closer to the smell.’

Shreds of Nothos plastered the car’s interior. Pools of yellow blood soaked the carpet. Strings of sinew and tendons hung from the bar. Rusty black bones lay strewn about. Lots and lots of bones. Mal’s eyes watered from the stench.
Too bad it’s not you.

‘I’m sure I’ve seen worse. And I can already smell it.’ She stopped next to Mal, blinking hard. ‘Wow, that is nasty.’

‘Yes, thanks for pointing that out again.’ Mortalis wiped more entrails off his face.

Chrysabelle poked at a lump of flesh on the interior door handle. ‘Wonder why it didn’t turn to ash?’

Mortalis tapped the tip of one filigreed horn. ‘Too much silver contact, maybe.’

The driver pushed his door open and rushed behind a marble monument. The sounds of vomiting followed. Mal lifted a brow. Stepping off the public road and onto the hallowed cemetery ground would be like walking on razor blades. Maybe fringe didn’t feel it as strongly as the noble-blooded. Or maybe the driver thought getting sick in front of everyone else was worse. Mal had never seen a vampire – even a fringe – lose his accounts over a little gore. He looked back at the car’s interior. Okay, more than a little gore.

The driver hurried back to the road. Wisps of smoke curled off his skin. No way was stepping foot on that soil better than puking in front of people.

Mal grimaced, then turned back to Mortalis. ‘What did you do to it exactly?’

‘I turned it inside out.’ Mortalis climbed out. Everyone backed up. ‘Trust me, it was halfway there on its own trying to get at me.’

Dominic cursed in Italian. ‘Now what? That Nothos was our way in.’

Mal shut the car door. ‘We’ll figure out a different plan.’ Maybe they could force their way in?

‘We’re wasting time,’ Dominic said. ‘Marissa could be dying. There’s no telling what Tatiana will do to her.’ He patted his chest and glass clanked from his breast pocket. ‘I came prepared to blast us in if need be.’

Mal snorted. ‘So much for subtlety.’

Dominic scowled. ‘You have a better idea?’