Darkfell vampire clan bo.., p.15
Darkfell Vampire Clan Boxset, page 15
“Viktor’s drinking from his guards? Like… what we did?” I couldn’t even look at Cyrus as I replayed what Luthor and I had done.
Blood.
Sex.
Life-changing intimacy that was years away from a cold morning in an empty graveyard.
“He has to be thieving magic from at least… twenty or so mid-level vamps, is my guess. I can’t imagine anyone sharing power with him, so he has to be taking it. You saw him.” Cyrus met Luthor’s eyes while I hesitated in front of the doorway. Glancing up, I could barely read the moss-covered name over the lintel.
FONTAINE.
“He’s not a year older, and his magic… he blew through those wards like they were nothing,” Cyrus added, barely hesitating before he disappeared into the darkness. I followed, forcing myself to get over it and stay calm.
Still, there had to be a thousand other places we could hide.
Why was a building where dead people were stored our only option?
“The stairs could be slippery. Just follow Cyrus, and remember, I’m right behind you.” I heard the rough scrape of the door closing, and all the forest sounds were cut off as we were plunged into darkness that stank of wet stone.
I pulled out the flashlight, though I could actually see better than I’d first thought. Enough to make out the steps ahead of me, and Cyrus’s head bobbing as he jogged down them.
“I forgot about this place, Luthor. Surprising, it’s still standing.”
“The wards held for a hundred years, so this will do for a day or two.” Luthor’s hand slid to the small of my back and became a reassuring pressure. As we descended, it struck me… I’d never go back.
I could wish for normal all I wanted, but I’d never find it again.
Not in the human world.
Whatever my life would become, I’d have to reinvent myself in the most extreme way ever.
A vampire queen. Internally, I was laughing when I really wanted to cry. At least I could rely on Luthor—Cyrus, too, as long as he stuck around and didn’t try to eat me.
“You two worked together, didn’t you?”
“Worked is a relative term. We both served Queen Lyra, but I was just a junior guard, only serving for about forty years.” Cyrus’s laugh was little more than a chuff of air. “Luthor was our commander, more concerned with weapons training than the finer things in life.”
“If you were thirty…” I tried to calculate how old that made him and gave up. “How long did you serve, Luthor?”
I sensed his hesitation before answering. “Two hundred years. Give or take.”
I couldn’t even respond to that. The numbers were too absurd. Gram was over a hundred years old, Luthor was even older, and my mind went back to something Gram had said. “Do either of you know how old my mother was?”
She’d always seemed young to me, her face smooth and her eyes laughing. A stark contrast to Gram’s salty demeanor.
After she died, and it had just been Gram and me, I’d missed her.
But most of all, I’d missed her laugh, her playful joking, her kindness. Gram equated kindness with weakness and hardly ever laughed.
She never, ever joked.
From the way they traded looks, I thought not, at least until Luthor cleared his throat. “Claire said she was pregnant when she escaped Viktor. I’d say she had your mother within the year. Which was 1918.”
1918.
As in World War 1. As in pre-stock market crash. As in no electricity, vaccines, or indoor plumbing. As in… holy hell, it was no wonder Luthor felt inadequate navigating my world.
About as inadequate as I felt navigating his.
Once again, I was hit with the sheer absurdity that a whole world coexisted with ours and managed to remain invisible. Maybe it was the scientist in me, but I just couldn’t reconcile the fact that they’d managed to keep such a huge secret.
“A lot has changed in a hundred years,” I observed, not to make the difference known but to reassure them. “This must feel like a different planet to you both. But some things don’t change.
“Most of our roads have been around since this area was settled. The cars are faster, shinier, but they still use gas, still have rubber tires. Food’s easier to come by, as are most necessities.”
“Be that as it may, we all have a lot of work to do,” Luthor murmured apologetically against my ear. “I know this place isn’t much, but it’s secure and safe. Until Cyrus procures us better quarters.”
My eyes had fully adjusted by the time we reached the bottom, a huge room stretching out before us. Luthor struck a match, and after a few tries—and a few matches—the tip flared to life.
He lit a bank of candles, dropped the match to the floor and scrubbed it out with his bare foot. He was right. There wasn’t much. A wooden, cobweb-covered table, a threadbare rug on the stone floor, and a sagging bed with moth-eaten covers that I vowed to never sleep in.
Breaking the silence, my stomach growled in a definitely unladylike way.
“We have to get clothes. Shoes. Food,” I decided, my palms sweating as I made a mental list of what we’d need, which was pretty much everything.
“Water, maybe some sports drinks with electrolytes.” I wanted to ask if we could live on blood alone, but that was a whole other conversation.
Besides, my stomach wanted food.
Preferably something salty.
“After that, we talk. I want to know everything about your world.” Not only did I want to know, something told me I had to know everything to survive.
Since Luthor’s limp slowed him down, and his scar made him memorable, I explained to Cyrus what a Walmart was, what we needed, and hoped for the best as he flashed me a wide grin and vanished.
26
SERAPHINA
Luthor’s burned back was already healing, the blisters disappearing like magic, his skin turning pink, then white beneath the thick coating of grime.
I was fascinated.
This accelerated healing… it defied logic, not to mention the laws of physics, which I now realized were created by humans to explain human phenomena.
Vampires, it seemed, lived by their own laws.
Despite numerous attempts, I could not make more black shadows flow from my fingers and decided I must have imagined it.
I set the painting on a narrow stone shelf jutting from the wall, my throat burning as I thought of Gram taking the time to give it to me.
What she’d said.
It took Cyrus several trips to gather what we needed. I tried not to think about surveillance cameras and security footage when he dumped his loot on the floor, then left for another foray into the retail extravaganza that was the twenty-first century.
He was naturally curious and had a serious affinity for brightly colored candy. I sorted a few more boxes of sour gummies into his Halloween-sized candy pile, next to the brand-new Coleman lantern.
We had milk, cereal, bread. Peanut butter—crunchy—and several boxes of trail mix. He’d gotten a king-sized comforter, pillows, and clothing for all of us in various shades of sedate gray and bright, pastel colors.
I didn’t have the heart to complain about his dubious fashion sense as I ripped into a bag of beef jerky, tearing the safety strip off with my teeth before offering the contents to Luthor.
He gave the beef a derisive sniff before biting into it and chewing thoughtfully.
“It’s probably like prison food.” I kicked myself for the thoughtless comment, but he answered immediately.
“We didn’t have food, Viktor liked to starve us. It prevented us from healing. The hunger kept us half-mad. Do you remember what you felt like, when you first woke up?” I nodded.
“Imagine that feeling, day after day. That’s what prison was like.”
“How are you not dead?”
“Viktor would never allow his favorite toys to die. He’d feed us just enough to survive, but we couldn’t fight back. He enjoyed torturing us, knowing we were too weak to heal. That’s what happened to my leg. And Cyrus’s neck.”
I chewed another piece of jerky, then unscrewed the milk cap and drank from the carton, ignoring the sour spike of sadness. Gram never liked when I did that, and I expected there would be many things, over the next weeks, that would remind me of her.
After Mom died, everything reminded me of her.
So many things seemed to trigger this deep, smothering melancholia. From the scent of a flower to something someone said, Mom had been everywhere I looked for months.
Then she’d faded away, until the only time I thought of her was if I tried.
I resisted the urge to check the divot on my arm, but knew Luthor was right about Viktor. I believed they called people like him psychopaths. “He likes to leave marks on people, doesn’t he?”
I remembered his cold satisfaction when he saw my arm.
“One of the many things he enjoys,” Luthor agreed. I stretched out on the comforter, not even caring about the stone beneath it, nor that I was filthy, only relieved I was finally off my aching feet. “He liked to see how far he could go and still keep us alive.”
I shivered.
Both at the image those words conjured up, and the deadened, resigned tone that crept into Luthor’s voice. I’d been in that place for hours and was scarred. Those memories would keep me awake for a lot of nights.
Luthor spent two lifetimes in there.
“I’m sorry.” I’d apologized before, not even knowing what I was sorry for, but now… I felt Luthor’s pain in my soul.
What Viktor had done—was capable of doing—that was psychotic-level shit. That Luthor survived it… no, more than that… that he was still a solid, decent male despite it, was nothing short of a miracle.
There was a loud crackle, and I realized I was crushing the plastic bag in my fist.
“Nothing that happened to me is your fault, Seraphina.” Towering over me, Luthor’s face tightened as he indicated our surroundings.
“You deserve a palace. You deserve a feast, fine clothes, and this is all I can offer you…”
“Right now,” I finished for him, pulling him down to me. “Right now, this is all we have.” I kissed him, savoring the taste of him, even through the dirt and blood. “But nothing lasts forever, and once we figure out what comes next…”
I never got to finish because the second our mouths crashed together, Luthor rolled me beneath him in one smooth move, and I locked my legs around his hips, pulling his cock against me, feeling the hard ridge rub exactly where I needed it.
I sucked his tongue into my mouth, then shivered as the tip of his fang sank into my bottom lip, blood flooding our mouths. Then it was a matter of holding my breath as he dove deep, licking and sucking, my body undulating against his like a goddamned wave.
I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d gone from tears to hussy in such a short time, but the friction between my legs was definitely a good distraction from sorrow.
“Seraphina.” How come every time Luthor said my name I got wet? Was it like a Pavlov’s-dog thing, or was it just that sexy accent that triggered some deeply buried part of my primitive brain?
Whatever it was, he could just keep it up.
Speaking of which, Luthor thrust against me, the friction sending my brain to La La Land. I wiggled until he was deliciously nestled just-so in my crotch, and I didn’t even feel self-conscious.
Not until I heard footsteps.
We broke apart seconds before Cyrus hit the last step, candy and clothes spilling from his arms when he stopped dead.
The smell of sex was heavy in the air, and with the way I was blushing, it didn’t take a genius to know what he’d interrupted.
“Shit. I uh… need to… guard duty,” Cyrus stuttered, averting his eyes while he dumped the rest of his haul on the table.
“We need a guard, and I need to take the first watch, and then you can take over at nightfall, once you’re… uh, done.” He turned to go, but I stopped him.
“You should eat first, Cyrus. You’ve done all the work so far, and I know you’re hungry.”
“I’ve eaten two bags of the cured beef, and lots of the sweets.”
Pushing to my feet, I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. His eyes were spot-light-bright from his sugar high, but he’d crash soon with nothing solid in his stomach, and we couldn’t afford him out of action.
I opened the box of plastic cutlery and shook out a knife, spread two pieces of bread with peanut butter and handed it to him.
“Eat that.” I shoved the gallon jug at him. “And have some milk to wash it down.”
We didn’t have cups, and I tried not to think about backwash as Cyrus tipped it to his mouth and glugged half the gallon down.
From this angle, I saw his scar clearly, and my stomach lurched. It was thick and white and went all the way around his throat. The exact kind of scar that might be made by cutting off someone’s head.
If they didn’t die, that is.
I made him another sandwich, then buttered up another while Luthor watched in amusement.
“He’ll keep eating so long as you make those. You can take first watch, Cyrus.” Luthor met my eyes, and there was no mistaking what we’d get back to once Cyrus was gone.
“It’s time for Seraphina to learn about her new world, and the telling will take some time.”
Cyrus’ warning was half-smothered by his mouthful of peanut butter and bread. “Make sure you explain about the courts and the royals. She needs to be prepared for those assholes.”
I wasn’t sure if that was pity in Cyrus’ eyes when he looked back at me, but he was halfway through his fourth sandwich when he climbed back up the steps.
27
LUTHOR
“Is it true?” Seraphina’s voice stayed deliberately calm, even though rage flowed from her. “Viktor really tried to cut off his head?”
I didn’t want to talk about Viktor.
I didn’t even want to talk about Cyrus, but we didn’t have the luxury of postponing secrets. My job, as her first, was to lay everything out for her, make her understand what was at stake.
Which meant Seraphina was about to get a crash course in all things vampire.
Most importantly, she had to understand… we needed her. She couldn’t just walk away.
If Viktor’s cruelty was what convinced Seraphina to fight for the throne, then so be it.
“I need to start at the beginning because the Darkfell Clan is a complicated web of royal houses, power struggles, and old betrayals. Vampires hold grudges forever, and some of them go back centuries. The more you know, the better you can navigate your new world.”
I stretched out on the blanket—she called it a comforter—and patted the spot next to me. My eyes went to the book-sized painting propped on the shelf. It meant something to her, and I’d seen Claire slip it to her when everything went to hell.
But that story could wait.
She settled beside me, dipping into the brightly colored bag of preserved meat. It was some of the worst shit I’d ever tasted, tainted heavily with chemicals, but at least it was food. While she seemed to like it, I prayed she didn’t make me eat any more.
“As long as vampires have existed, which is over two millennia, they’ve been ruled by a queen.”
“Vampires are savages, but they instinctually recognize blood hierarchy. It’s hard-wired into our DNA. They’ll perceive the power in your blood and your magic, and they will obey you.”
I didn’t add—before they betray you.
“A true queen only comes every few hundred years, strong enough to survive Ascension, and strong enough magic to hold the throne.”
“What about this court Cyrus mentioned? He seemed pretty sure they were a threat.”
Damn Cyrus and his big mouth.
“The royal court is made up of eight royal houses—Cormier, Bouderaux, Carpathian, Rayne, Dubois and Gauthier—plus us, the Marvelles and the Fontaines.
“Some will be allies, some enemies, but when they come together, it’s a deadly maze of deception and scheming. A place where loyalties change daily, and anyone can stab you in the back.” I cupped her chin gently and raised her face so she saw the truth in my eyes.
“To make sure you understand the danger, I mean that literally.”
She tilted the open bag to me, and I reluctantly took the proffered slice of dry meat.
“You will have enemies. Some you can woo to your side, some you’ll have to destroy. You will have to leverage your allies. All the while making decisions that affect everyone. Decisions that will be resented by some.”
“Well, that sounds like a lose-lose scenario with very little upside.”
“Any position of power usually is.” I lay back, forced to use my hands to adjust my bad leg, though Seraphina didn’t notice. “I do know this. Viktor has terrorized the clan since he took the throne, leaving plenty of bodies in his wake—royal bodies. The clan must be ready for change.”
“I find it interesting you’re led by a woman.” Her voice turned thoughtful. “The human world is mostly run by men. It’s hard for a woman to even reach a position of power. We call it the glass ceiling. You can see where you should be, but you’ll never get there.”
“That’s because humans never understood that women make better leaders.” While she wasn’t looking, I tossed the meat into the shadows, praying there were no rats. “Humans have short lives and even shorter memories. They tend to repeat the mistakes of the past.”
“So true.”
“How often has your race gone to war in the past century alone? Men settle their differences with bullets and bayonets. Women use words.”
I saw by her expression she didn’t understand where I was going with this, and it probably sounded like one of Claire’s boring history lessons.
“Unlike humans, there are not many vampires in existence. Last I knew, there were a handful of clans in the states, several larger ones overseas, plus some lone wolfs whose affiliations were unclear. If vampires spent time warring with each other, we would have gone extinct long ago. But under a queen’s rule… the vampire world has thrived for centuries.”
