Of Blood and Passion (7 page)

“We’ll saddle the horses and have them ready,” Arturo told her.

Quinn nodded, then turned and joined Mukdalla.

The Trader woman took firm hold of Quinn’s hand. “You must be careful tonight, sorceress. For your sake and theirs. It’s dangerous business to sneak into Cristoff Gonzaga’s castle, especially for you.”

Quinn made a face. “Believe me, I’m aware.”

Mukdalla’s eyes softened. “Yet you do not hesitate. I know your primary concern is for Zack, but I thank you anyway. Your terrible risk might just save my husband.”

“I don’t do this just for Zack.” Not entirely. Quinn squeezed Mukdalla’s hand. “And I won’t fail.”

But as she climbed the stairs to join the others, a hundred doubts crowded her mind, tearing at her courage.

Heart pounding in her throat, she prayed she wasn’t being a fool for trusting Cristoff’s snake, yet again.

Chapter 7

T
he night was dark as the three vampires and Quinn rode away from Neo’s, but then every night—and day for that matter—was dark in Vamp City. Stars dotted the sky in a way they never did the skies of Washington, D.C. It always twisted her scientist’s mind how the moon and stars shone in V.C., just as they did the real world. But never the sun. As she’d been reminded more than once, magic was the predominant force in Vamp City, not science.

As she stared at the vastness of the night sky, the stars bright against the endless black canvas, she found herself mesmerized by the dark beauty of this place. There was no light pollution here, for there was very little electricity—only that created by a handful of generators. She’d always loved the dark. As a child, it had been her only real refuge from the stepmother who’d hated her.

At the feel of the cool breeze, Quinn was suddenly glad for the hooded sweatshirt Amanda had thrust into her hands at the last moment. It was late September and even the real D.C. would be embracing fall weather by now. Arturo had once told her that whatever weather the real world experienced—rain, snow, wind—Vamp City did as well, though V.C., with its lack of sun, was always cooler. Sometimes, as now, she could feel the warmer D.C. air trying to merge with this world’s coolness. The scent of the horses filled her nostrils, along with the exotic spiciness unique to this world—the scent, she suspected, of magic.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could just make out the twisted shapes of the trees that grew in abundance here, trees that appeared, for all the world, to be dead. As far as Quinn knew, the trees were the only living things that grew in this place other than a bit of mold and mildew.

Silhouetted against the trees were her three riding companions. And while she felt like herself in her jeans, boots, long-sleeve tee, and Amanda’s hooded sweatshirt, anyone who saw her would see, instead, the apparently imposing Egor in his guard uniform. At least until her glamour wore off.

They rode in silence, the only sound that met her ears the steady hoofbeats of the horses. There were no natural night sounds since there were no insects or animals in V.C. except those brought in by the vampires. She’d never ridden a horse before arriving in this place, but she found she enjoyed the feel of the animal beneath her.

Vamp City was such an odd juxtaposition between the Washingtons of 1870 and today. Horses and carriages were by far the most common—and most practical—form of transportation, given that in 1870 the roads had not been paved, and the vampires certainly hadn’t seen to that detail in later years. But there were modern vehicles here, as well. Arturo himself owned a yellow Jeep Wrangler, though it drew far too much attention for their present purposes.

In the distance, a man’s bloodcurdling scream rent the night air, chilling her to the bone. Screams were a horrifyingly common sound in this place.

“Every time I think they’re regaining their souls…,” one of her companions muttered. With their voices glamoured, she couldn’t be certain which one.

“I fear some are too far gone,” another replied.

“They will reclaim them.”

Quinn recognized the glamoured voice of Arturo in the last and she wondered who he was trying to convince—the rest of them, or himself. He’d told her over and over that he continued to hold out hope that his once beloved master would reclaim his soul, too. Apparently Cristoff had been a pretty decent guy for a powerful vampire master before he’d moved to Vamp City. She had a hard time believing it, given the monster he’d become.

The vampires she knew were of the Emora race, vampires who fed on blood and emotion and needed both to survive. Each vampire was slave to a different need—Arturo and Kassius fear, Micah pleasure, Cristoff pain. According to her friends, the Emoras were once actually quite humane, most shunning any desire to cause the emotion on which they fed. Arturo had told her stories of how they used to roam the human battlefields together, Cristoff feeding on the pain of the dying while Arturo drank of their fear. The American Civil War had lured hundreds of Emoras from Europe for just that purpose, and many of those had become the first inhabitants of Vamp City.

But slowly the poison of Blackstone’s hatred had begun to corrode the vampires’ consciences. While at first, humans were given the choice of whether or not to serve vampire masters, soon the Emoras began to capture humans against their will and enslave them. As their souls became further compromised, the once human Emoras turned cruel, brutally so, feeding their hunger for pain and fear through torture and murder. The coliseum built for vampire soccer matches became the arena for the Games—death matches between untrained humans.

In the past two years, as the magic of Vamp City began to dissolve, so too had the last of the vampires’ restraint. Humans were captured and driven into the slave auctions like cattle—their wares displayed for all to see—then sold to the highest bidder to be enslaved, raped, or simply tortured to death.

Though the human world remained unaware of the vampires among them, they’d certainly noticed the scores of people disappearing off D.C. streets. The cops had no idea what was going on and couldn’t stop it if they did. Now, though, it seemed that some of the vampires were starting to reclaim their souls. Just in time to lose their lives when the magic crumbled, destroying their world.

Quinn heard one of her companions pull up. As the others did the same, she followed. By her estimate, they’d traveled a couple of miles.

“We’ll separate here into two teams and regroup at the rendezvous point,” Arturo said. “Micah and Kass take the north route. Quinn and I will come in from the east.”

“Ax…”

Quinn glanced warily between the voices, wishing she could see the men’s expressions in the dark.

“Let one of us ride with Quinn. If you’re caught with the sorceress…”

“I won’t be. Once we reach the castle, Quinn will accompany Kassius while I discard my glamour and report to Cristoff as myself. But for this short leg of the journey, she will ride with me.” Arturo paused. “If she is in agreement.”

Quinn wished she could see his expression in the darkness. All she could really do was listen to her gut as Amanda had suggested. And her gut said she was safe with him. Which had always been the case, right or wrong.

She nodded, which was enough of consent since the vampires had excellent night vision and could see her clearly.

Moments later, two forms moved away and she heard the pounding hooves of Micah and Kassius’s retreating mounts. As the third form started forward again, she followed.

“I do not betray you,
amore,
” Arturo said quietly. “I know I have given you much reason to doubt me in the past, but I am not that man any longer. I had hoped you knew that.”

She wished she could see his expression. “You’re keeping secrets from me.”

“Only because I must. For your own safety as well as mine.”

For a long time, she didn’t reply. But finally, she sighed. “I trust you. At least I trust you enough. Your actions will be the proof, won’t they? Don’t betray me, Vampire, and I’ll trust you completely again.”

“It will be done. Calm yourself,
tesoro
.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Even if Arturo was completely loyal to her, she had plenty to be worried about. Cristoff had put a price on her head that had most of the creatures in Vamp City hunting for her. “Calm isn’t a possibility. We’re lucky I haven’t started to hyperventilate yet.”

He was silent for a couple of moments before he said carefully, “A fear feeder will taste your nervousness.”

“If you’re trying to settle me down, that’s not the way to go about it,” she muttered, swiping at a low-hanging branch to keep it from hitting her face. A nervous Gonzaga guard might become quickly suspect and hauled before Cristoff.

“It was not my intent to make you more nervous,
cara
, merely to remind you to be calm.”

“Right. I’ll put that on my to-do list.”

“You are stronger than you believe, Quinn. There is nothing you need fear. Your magic will come to your call when you need it, if you will simply believe it is so.”

“You think it’s that easy? Just believe?”

“I know it is. Your own doubts are all that stand in your way.”

She grunted. “Until very recently, I didn’t even believe in magic.”

“Then believe in yourself,
cara
,” Arturo said simply. “And believe in me.”

“I’m trying, Vampire. I’m trying.”

As they rode though the dark, they passed a house, windows lit by firelight. She wondered who lived there, whether they were friend or foe. The only thing she was fairly certain of was that they were not human. Humans, even the immortal Slavas, were hunted by too many in this place to ever feel safe on their own out in the open like this.

As they rode through another dark copse, the scent of diesel teased her nose. “Do you smell that?” she asked her companion.

“A truck. Yes.”

He’d once told her that smells occasionally carried into Vamp City from the real world. But never sound.

They continued on in silence but for the clop of the horses’ hooves in the dirt, leaving the trees behind for the shells of dark structures—the doppelgangers of buildings built before the Civil War and left to rot. The five hundred or so vampires who’d originally moved into Vamp City had not needed the housing the human residents of D.C. had, especially when most preferred the simplicity of living in their masters’ castles. Throughout Vamp City, there were nine vampire masters, each the head of his own kovena, or vampire family. Gonzaga was just one kovena, though arguably the most powerful.

They’d seen no sign of other vampires, nor heard any. Only that one scream as they’d first set out. Vamp City was quiet tonight, its inhabitants undoubtedly sobered by the threat of their impending demise.

Ahead, something large loomed in the dark, a huge building of some sort. It had an odd shape, almost like an egg halfway tilting out of its cup.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“The corner of Independence and New Jersey.”

“New Jersey…” Quinn’s eyes widened with shock as realization slammed into her. “That’s the U.S. Capitol building.”

“Yes. Quite unlike its modern day counterpart, no?”

“What happened to it?”

“Age. Neglect. It was never occupied by the vampires. The dome slid off its base some forty years ago.”

Damn. Just when she thought she’d seen it all—the White House sitting half-collapsed in swamp water, the Washington Monument still only a third built. Now this.

As her mount continued to follow Arturo’s, she tried to make out the features of that ruined monstrosity, wishing for some light. Suddenly, Arturo’s voice spoke telepathically in her head.

Two Gonzaga guards approach on our right,
cara.
And they are the real thing.

Chapter 8

P
retend to be injured and keep your head down.

At Arturo’s telepathic words, Quinn tensed. They’d discussed this earlier, that Egor, like almost all vampires who’d been around for more than a century, was an excellent rider. And while she might look like him, she certainly didn’t ride like him. They’d decided she needed to pretend that she—or Egor—had been injured by a bolt of magical energy thrown at him by the sorceress.

Quinn curved around her arm as if she’d been slammed hard in the stomach. As the adrenaline pumped through her veins, she squeezed her eyes closed in case they began to glow as they often did when she felt threatened, triggering her magic. In the dark of Vamp City, glowing eyes would give her away in an instant.

Do not be afraid, cara. All will be fine.

Quinn scowled. Easy for him to say.

“The sorceress!” Arturo called in a voice belonging to the vampire whose face he wore. “We came upon her not five minutes ago. She attacked us and fled, but she cannot be far. That way!”

She couldn’t see which way he pointed, couldn’t see the vampires he spoke to, but she heard the pound of additional hoofbeats. Her heart thudded, her body tensing even as she told herself she was safe. Nothing bad would happen, no one would realize she was really the sorceress under glamour. But the words did little to calm her.

As the vampires’ mounts began to retreat, the earth began to rumble—another earthquake, as strong as the one before. And suddenly noise burst all around her, a cacophony of sound that didn’t exist in this world—traffic and electricity, rock music and laughter. The real world must have broken through nearby. If she weren’t forced to keep her eyes closed, she’d be able to see it and, if she chose to, walk right back into the real world through the breaks.