Magick Marked (The DarqRealm Series) (2 page)

“How much?”

She shook her head. “I don’t talk money before setting the terms and conditions. And it’s rude to leave me standing on the porch, by the way.”

His brows lifted at her obvious accusation, pausing for a moment before his eyes narrowed. “Fine. You can come inside. But pull any vampire tricks, and I’ll light you up with ley line fire.”

Given the grim look on his face, it wasn’t an empty threat. He stepped aside to allow her through the doorway, and she strode into the house. The man’s eyes never left her, his distrust in her kind evident. Not unusual. Vampires were a dangerous combination of stealth and predator. Hell, half the time she didn’t trust members of her own coven, and they were considered family.

A black cat darted across the entryway, and Rho took a quick step back.

“That’s just Abra. Ignore her,” Eldon said, unfazed as he drifted past her and toward a room to their right.

Swallowing her nervous energy, she nodded.

She’d been deathly allergic to cats as a human, so her knee-jerk reaction to the furry little devils had always been to run in the opposite direction. Of course, now she could cuddle with them up close and personal and never so much as sniffle. Still, old habits were hard to kick, and cats made her cringe. Especially creepy black ones.

She followed him silently through the entryway and into a small side office. He motioned toward a petite Victorian chair opposite a massive redwood desk. She sat down. Rather than take a seat, he stepped back through the doorway.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

Rho nodded, and he closed the double doors. He certainly planned on warning his sisters of their new house guest. A small part of her wanted to be offended by his skittish behavior, but the other part knew his concern wasn’t without merit. Her nature was dangerous.

The small room held elaborate and expensive artwork showcased in gilded wood frames. Jade and ivory knick-knacks on a heavy wooden bookshelf. Vacuum marks still on the carpet. No dust in sight. Either they cleaned in here often, or they had a maid. And given the décor around this room alone, she’d bet they had money. Lots of it.

The door opened again and Eldon stepped inside. “Sorry about that. Wanted to tell my sisters you were here.”

As she’d suspected. So she couldn’t kill him without someone knowing about it. Smart move.

He stepped around to the opposite side of the desk and sat, leaning back in the rolling leather desk chair. “What can I do for you, Rho Vasile?”

Rho pulled the red rock from her pocket and placed it on the desk. “I need spells to protect this.”

His brows furrowed. “What is it?”

“Don’t know. And I couldn’t tell you if I did.” Well, the first part wasn’t entirely true. She knew it held some magick. Other than that, she hadn’t a clue.

“Then why do you need it protected?”

“Not your business.”

“And you came to me.” More of a statement than a question.

“Yes. My boss said the Collective recommended you, so I’m here to see what you can do to protect this relic.”

“What kind of protection are you looking for?”

“The best. The very, very best. No holds barred.” She’d been ordered to keep it safe at all costs. She took the instruction literally.

“That’ll cost you,” he warned.

She waved a hand in the air. “Irrelevant.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Really.” His crisp blue eyes were distrustful as he studied her from across the desk.

“So what can you offer?”

Meddling with magick without the proper training was akin to poking a sleeping lion. It might not kill you right away, but the more you dabbled, the better your odds of poofing yourself straight into the afterlife. This guy must have major firepower if the Collective was willing to recommend him, especially to a vampire.

He considered her, stroking the light stubble on his chin. Leaning forward, he placed both hands on the desk in front of him. “If you want to protect this rock, your best bet is to use a blood spell and a vocal spell. Very few magick movers can handle either of those spells, and very, very few can handle both.”

“I take it you can.”

“Yes.”

“Then we have a deal.”

“Five thousand dollars, vampire.” He stared at her expectantly, as if he were waiting for her to balk at the price.

Rho tried not to smile. She’d expected to pay double that amount. “Done.”

Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out a thick stack of hundreds and laid the bundled bills on the desk between them. With a brow arched, she glanced up at him. “That should cover it.”

Eldon nodded and extended his hand without a word. Rho reached out and shook it, the silent accord struck. His hand was twice the size of her own, his flesh warm against her palm. There must be so much blood beneath the surface of that skin. So much heat.

Pulling her hand back quickly and tucking it in her pocket, she fought the immediate hunger. “So when can I expect the spells to be done?”

“Two weeks,” he answered.

“No sooner?”

“Two. Weeks.”

Clearly she wasn’t going to get anything more out of him tonight. She watched as he plucked the rock off the desk and placed it in his pocket.

“Are we done here?” she asked.

Eldon nodded and stood up. “I’ll call you.”

“You don’t have my number.”

“I know how to reach you.”

Well, wasn’t that a little disconcerting. Rho stood and proceeded through the door Eldon held open, then followed him through the house toward the front door. “Thank you for seeing me after business hours.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.” The door opened on its own.

“Have a nice evening,” she said over her shoulder, heading toward her black Porsche 911 Turbo.

The door slammed shut behind her. She rushed toward the car, skin crawling with the sensation of eyes watching her every move. It wasn’t until she left the property that she was alone again with the night.

Yet here she stood, silver daggers in hand, carrying the title of executioner.

Sure, all vampires were expected to contribute to their coven. She’d thought her training and service on the Guard for the past two years fulfilled that obligation. Apparently the Lamia King didn’t agree. The promotion had chapped some asses, hers included. She’d had no idea why he’d selected her, but she didn’t dare decline the offer. Everyone knew better than to tell the king no.

Who needed friends, anyway?

She tugged the sleeves of her black cashmere turtleneck down over her wrists. The king required her to keep her tattoos covered in public. Frederick, the prince, wasn’t a huge fan of them either. She wasn’t sure what bothered him more— the fact that so many of the designs signified someone she’d killed, or the fact that he’d ordered those killings.

Stalactites dripped from the ceiling, showcasing the monstrosities Frederick liked to call thrones. The massive room held dozens of vampires, their voices quieting as she advanced to her seat at his right hand. The heavy ebony wood thrones were inlaid with mother of pearl, carved with intricate scrolls and fitted with marble seats.

Beautiful, sure. But literally a pain in the ass.

Taking her seat beside the prince and scanning the assembly of vampires, she tried not to fidget. Their answering stares offered her only a callous combination of fear and resentment. No surprise there.

Frederick tilted his head, his bleached blond hair and pale skin contrasting starkly against his black suit. “Good evening, Rhowen.”

Man, she hated that name. She’d asked him a hundred times to call her Rho, like everyone else, but he never did.

“Good evening, my lord.” She offered him a small smile despite her dismal mood.

After all, they only called her in at this stage of the trial for one reason.

Crossing one leg over the other, she propped an elbow up on the arm of the chair and rested her chin on her hand. Yes, court proceedings were important. Yes, holding people accountable for their actions was necessary to ensure they knew who held the power. Blah, blah, blah.

She really didn’t give two shits about procedures and decorum. They only stalled the inevitable. If she’d been summoned, the vampire in question was guilty, and the prince had already made up his mind. The pomp and circumstance was an excuse for a public execution to set an example, which she didn’t care to be a part of.

“William, child of Marcellus.” Frederick’s booming voice snapped her back into reality. “Why are you in my court tonight?”

She sized up the vampire lying on the dirt at their feet. His eyes were a muddy shade of hazel, his dark hair trimmed close to his skull. The shirt he wore had been ripped and his jeans were covered in filth. He was a youngling, less than a year old if she had to guess. Older vampires didn’t bother breathing or blinking, but the young ones hadn’t been undead long enough to lose the habit. The guards had clearly worked him over once already.

His gravelly voice muffled against the floor. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

Like she hadn’t heard that one before.

“Who brought the charges against him?” Frederick glanced at Rho.

She peeked at the docket sitting on the table by her chair. “Marcellus Antonescu.”

A long, blond lock escaped the bun she’d twisted earlier. Discreetly, she tucked the misplaced strand behind her ear and tried to pretend it didn’t annoy her.

“Thank you, Rhowen.” Frederick gave her a quick nod. “Marcellus, come forward.”

Shoes scuffled against the dirt floor as people made room for the tall man, his shoulder-length black hair swaying with each step.

Eyes so dark they were nearly black met hers as he strode forward, towering over the crowd. A smile touched his lips, and she couldn’t help but stare at him. Something about him felt familiar, though she’d swear she’d never seen him before.

He paused in front of the thrones. “My lord, this man must be held responsible for his actions against the vampires of the DarqRealm.”

William sprang into the air, a wooden dagger in his hand. The room erupted in voices as Rho vaulted from her chair and landed on the ground, then curled her body and rolled across the floor.

Silver-tipped blade firm in her grip, she settled into a crouch between the prince and his would-be assassin. How the
hell
had he managed to sneak a weapon into the courtroom?

He lunged toward Frederick with the wooden point, but months of training made her far faster. His outstretched arm met her blade, the sharp edge melting through his skin like a hot knife through butter.

A bloody hand fell to the floor. He screamed, the silver coating of her wooden blade burning his vampire blood.

She clasped a dagger in her left hand and hovered over his writhing form, “That was really fucking stupid. You just bought yourself a one-way ticket to the other side, my friend.”

Her voice projected cool detachment, but her mind was hot with anger. Frederick was her boss and her only friend in this dark world. That stunt would cost this vampire his life.

A guard stepped up to restrain William upon the prince’s signal, pinning him to the floor. Rho turned to reoccupy her seat.

William let out a bellowing laugh.

She stopped mid-stride and whirled around to face him. “Are you mocking this courtroom?” Surely he wasn’t that stupid.

He grunted, the pain from the silver no doubt still coursing through his blood as he held the stump close to his body. The limb would grow back, of course, but the process would take hours and hurt like hell. Not that it mattered, considering her plans for his future.

Silver burned like a son of a bitch, but it couldn’t take out a vampire in a permanent way. A sharp wooden object to the heart, on the other hand, would kill instantly. The Guard’s daggers were silver-tipped wood, reserved for the worst offenders. And a threat to the royal family was a significant offense.
Really
significant.

Rho studied the man lying on the ground for a moment before turning the dagger’s grip with care and tucking the sharp end into the sheath at her waist. He was lucky he didn’t rip her slacks, or worse—ruin her shoes. She didn’t dress out in her leathers for court sessions. Usually didn’t have to.

Frederick raised a hand to hush the crowd.

She slumped back into her seat and crossed her legs, one hand holding firm on each arm of the chair. Anxious, she wiggled her black stiletto back and forth.

Nothing like a little attempted assassination to put her on edge.

Frederick continued as if nothing happened. “You know killing a coven member isn’t necessarily punishable by second death. Explain yourself.”

Marcellus nodded. “Certainly, my lord. Death alone is not the cause. I ask because he murdered a mated coven member.”

Hushed whispers thundered against the cavern walls as the spectators realized the magnitude of William’s offense. Rho gaped. Murdering a mated coven member was a cruel and malicious crime, one of the worst for their kind.

As far as Rho knew, vampires were the only race in the DarqRealm who could be soul struck. The connection was supposed to be immediate and life-altering. She’d heard that when struck, the vampire’s souls cease to exist independently, that they actually bound together to create some special union. Humans called that sort of thing love.