Blood Wyne (40 page)
Camille’s eyes were wide as she shook her head. “No, in fact it was . . . exhilarating. I’ve been avoiding Vanzir since we first bound him through the Ritual of Subjugation, and now I know why. When he was feeding on my energy, it was like he was a crazed monster—gobbling up every speck of light and brilliance in my soul.”
I winced, not wanting to hear but feeling like I had to. I had to understand what had gone on if I was going to help hold things together when Smoky found out. “That bad . . .”
“Yes. And then, when I forced his attention to my body, then he was overwhelming in a passionate way. I love sex, but he was . . . the attention, the focus and drive were almost too much. It was as if he owned me in a way that I’ve never given anyone permission to own me before. He was . . . more than a part of me. I don’t know how to explain it—but I don’t think I ever want to experience it again, even though the actual sex was incredible.”
“He’s demon—that probably has some play into it. But Morio, he’s a demon, too. Isn’t it like that with him?”
“He’s a youkai—not the kind of demon that Vanzir is. There’s a difference.” She fell silent. After a moment, she added, “I feel like I’ve betrayed all three of them. Menolly, I enjoyed it.” She glanced at me out of the side of her eyes. “I don’t want to admit it, but the fear and the worry—I was so high-strung, and then Vanzir began to feed on me and I panicked.”
“I’d be surprised if some part of you
didn’t
enjoy fucking him. Camille, look at who you are.” I bit my lip, trying to find a way to make her see what I could see. “You’re a highly sexual woman, and you are our father’s daughter. The Fae in our blood drives you. And any time you’re running an adrenaline rush, of course that side of you is going to be on high alert.”
didn’t
enjoy fucking him. Camille, look at who you are.” I bit my lip, trying to find a way to make her see what I could see. “You’re a highly sexual woman, and you are our father’s daughter. The Fae in our blood drives you. And any time you’re running an adrenaline rush, of course that side of you is going to be on high alert.”
She let out a shudder that was almost a sob. “I don’t want to tell them, but I have to. I know Trillian will understand, but Morio—how will he feel knowing that he was lying there dying while I had my legs wrapped around Vanzir?”
I couldn’t answer. But I
could
tell her what she needed to hear. “It will all be okay. Just wait for the right time. The rest of us won’t say a word. Just think before you speak. Don’t let your guilt eat at you. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
could
tell her what she needed to hear. “It will all be okay. Just wait for the right time. The rest of us won’t say a word. Just think before you speak. Don’t let your guilt eat at you. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
Roman’s limousine appeared in the driveway. I pressed her hand, then stood. “I have to go. What we’re doing tonight is important, not just for the vampires of Seattle, but for the FBHs, too. Because vamps like Terrance feed on the innocent. Wish me luck. I’ll be home before morning.”
And as I headed down the steps, leaving them to sort out the mishmash of things that had happened, I knew Camille was right. She and Delilah would be at my back always. We might grow our own separate ways, but we wouldn’t grow apart. I just wished I could have made her feel better the way she had me. But that was my sister: always the rock of the family.
Roman was dressed in black jeans and a tight black sweater, and his hair was caught back in a French braid. I gazed at him.
“I should tell you, I’m going through with a pledging ceremony with my girlfriend come spring. I can be your official consort, but I can never be your wife.” Camille’s words about betrayal were ringing in my ears, and though I’d already talked to Nerissa about Roman, I wanted to make my stance perfectly clear.
He inclined his head. “And as I said, I have no problem with that. I will place your intended under my protection, as well. I assume she is not vampire?”
“No, she’s a werepuma.” I paused, staring out the tinted windows. “We caught the serial killer. He’s dead.” I gave him a quick wrap-up of what happened. “Do you think we should look for his sire?”
“Why would we do that?”
“I don’t know . . . she’s siring innocent victims. Look what her actions cost—five lives. Six, if you count Charles.”
“No need. If she continues to be a problem, we’ll take action, but for now, let it be.” He gazed at me with his frost-ridden eyes. “Once the Regency is secure, she won’t be welcome in the city.”
After a moment, I looked ahead through the dividing glass at the driver. “Who is your driver? He a vampire, too?”
“Yes. His name is Hans, and he’s been with me for three hundred years, as a horseman, a buggy driver, and now, my chauffeur. He was turned in the year 1210, on a raiding party.”
Old. These were old vampires. “How old is Terrance? I don’t know much about him. Delilah tried to ferret out information but couldn’t find more than a scrap or two on him.”
Roman shifted. “Terrance is not so old—younger than Hans, even. He was born into his second life in the year 1815. He was a petty thief, a con man, and a murderer in his former life. He lived in the Southwest—was born and bred there. Died young, around twenty-five. He had aspirations, shall we say, to become a famous card player. He didn’t play well enough to keep from getting run out of every town he drifted into. The last one, he was forcibly evicted by the sheriff late one night and fell into the hands of a vampire.”
“How did he become so . . . so . . .”
“So worldly? So educated?”
“I was going to say
so popular
, but that works, too.” The Terrance I’d met seemed older than a scant two hundred years, minus a few. He came across as smooth, suave, and sophisticated, not like some two-bit con man traveling from city to city, trying to make a buck.
so popular
, but that works, too.” The Terrance I’d met seemed older than a scant two hundred years, minus a few. He came across as smooth, suave, and sophisticated, not like some two-bit con man traveling from city to city, trying to make a buck.
“A man may become educated through school, he may learn manners through a tutor, but he will never develop class unless it is in his nature and heart. And Terrance has no class. He’s greedy, grasping, and though he’s not an actual threat to the throne, he’s an impediment.”
Roman shifted, crossing one leg over the other. “My mother is harsh, but she has a regal air that lends itself well to her position. She is never crass or boorish. Terrance is a poor specimen to represent our kind, and that is why he must die. For, unlike your young friend, he will never step down if asked.”
“What’s the plan?”
“The plan is, we meet my associates at the club, walk in, and take out Terrance.”
“I’ve been in the Fangtabula before. There’s a lot of security there.”
“You were not there with me, or my guards.”
“True.” Actually, he’d piqued my curiosity. Just how big was his army, and who was in it? Before I could ask anything, we pulled to a stop.
The Fangtabula was down in the Industrial District—in south Seattle. This was an area of town you didn’t want to go strolling through at midnight. Although there was talk of expanding the district to include more residential areas, it hadn’t happened so far, but if people kept moving to the city, no doubt the high-rise condo buildings would find their way down into the grungy concrete jungle that was a maze of train tracks and old warehouses. In fact, the Fangtabula was in what had once been a meatpacking plant.
As we pulled into the parking lot, the club stood out as it always had, with bright red doors against walls patterned with black-and-white stripes. Three stories tall, the Fangtabula did a lot of business, even though it was on Chase’s to-close-down list. A number of underage girls and boys were rumored to hang out there, and though Chase had managed to call a couple raids on the place, Terrance was always two steps ahead and nobody carded ever came up as a minor.
“It looks like we’re here. Come, my dear. We’ve got work to do.” Roman stepped out of the limo and held out his hand. I took it and allowed him to help me out of the car. “Stay by my side, whatever you do. This is going to be bloody.”
As I stood up and looked around the parking lot, I saw four other cars pull up—all black sedans—and out of each car stepped four vampires. Mostly men, but a few women in the mix, and they were all dressed in the same black jeans and turtlenecks as Roman, with a signature crest woven in white on their shirts. They wore black sunglasses—Ray-Bans, by my guess—and fell into two lines, standing at attention, arms crossed.
Roman turned and I saw the same crest splashed across his back, and it was easier to make out what the picture was. A pair of crossed white swords in the center of a circle. The circle rested atop the back of a mighty lion, with a chalice clasped in its paws.
“Your family crest?”
He nodded. “
My
crest, but the chalice indicates my lineage—that I’m a child of Blood Wyne. And all of these”—he stopped to nod at the vampires gathering around us—“all of these are my children; I’ve sired every one of them.”
My
crest, but the chalice indicates my lineage—that I’m a child of Blood Wyne. And all of these”—he stopped to nod at the vampires gathering around us—“all of these are my children; I’ve sired every one of them.”
As I looked from face to face, I saw only one commonality—an unquestioning loyalty. Roman’s children were his, and his alone, and they would live or die for him depending on his whim.
The vamps fell into two lines behind us, and we headed toward the club. Security saw us—the two vamps guarding the door suddenly stood and one disappeared inside. We weren’t making a secret entrance, that was for sure.
Roman pulled out a pair of glasses like those of his children and slid them on. “I believe we are ready.”
We paused, waiting for Roman to give the order. I was used to leading the charge when it came to fights, but I gave over to him. This was his battle—more so than mine—and it would affect every vampire in the region and would cement Roman’s authority.
Roman glanced around. “Remember, guests of the club will be allowed to leave. If they side with Terrance, they are fair game. No mortal is to be harmed unless you have no recourse. Stun them, charm them, knock them out, but do not kill them and absolutely
no drinking
from anybody! We’re here to make a statement, not have a party. Understood?”
no drinking
from anybody! We’re here to make a statement, not have a party. Understood?”
As one voice they answered. “Understood,
Liege!
”
Liege!
”
“Forward—and do not flinch.”
As Roman and I led the columns of vampires toward the building, people began spilling out of it, running every which way. Half-dressed, some drunk, they were making sure they were out of the way. Word of our coming had spread. Relieved, I steeled myself for battle. It was good that my sisters weren’t with me, after all. Vampire against vampire caused some of the bloodiest battles around.
In the parking lot, the snow had turned to slush from the number of cars driving through, and the ridiculous image of Terrance and Roman lobbing snowballs at one another raced through my mind. I tried to brush it away, but it kept teasing me until I let out a short laugh. Roman glanced at me. I shrugged, pressing my lips together. I wasn’t even going to bother trying to explain.
The crimson doors slammed open as we approached, and four burly vampires stepped out to block the way.
Roman straightened his shoulders, removed his glasses, and unleashed his full glamour. He was power incarnate, glorious and godlike. His aura preceded him, weaving a spell as he stood, magnetic and alluring, commanding countless armies. He stared at the vampires standing in his way, his stature shouldering the millennia he’d seen. I fell under his gaze, caught in the hoarfrost and silver waves that crashed against his face.
“On behalf of the Throne of Blood, I, Roman, son of Blood Wyne, Queen of the Crimson Veil, order you to stand back and let us enter unimpeded. I give you one chance to obey.”
Two of the vampires immediately dropped to their knees, crouching as they scuttled away from the door. The other two looked terrified, but held their posts. Roman put his glasses back on and started walking toward them, and I fell into place beside him. His children had our backs.
As we came to the door, the two vamps who had not deserted their posts quivered as the son of Blood Wyne moved within arm’s reach. Roman gazed at them but did not issue another warning. Instead, he reached out with one hand and pressed it against the nearest guard’s chest. The vampire did not move, so petrified was the look on his face.
Roman smiled, faintly, and then quick as lightning he was holding the man’s heart in his hand and the vampire stared down at his gaping chest, as if surprised to find he was no longer whole, and then a roil of smoke rose up and he turned to dust, as did the heart in Roman’s hand. The guard’s partner took one look at us and ran.
“Let him go,” Roman said. “It’s time for bigger game.”
And we entered the Fangtabula, ready to raise hell.
CHAPTER 24
When we broke through the doors, all the memories of the last time we’d been here came flooding back. The red and black and silver color scheme, the gigantic chamber with a staircase descending to the main floor, tiled in a checkerboard of black and white. The twenty-foot ceiling still stretched overhead, an awesome vista, but the cloth panels that had draped down to produce a labyrinth of billowing walls were gone.
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