Vampire Bonds (Darkbloods Book 1)

by Delia E Castel

  Alaric lowers himself into the driver’s seat, and a spike springs out from the steering wheel. He presses his thumb onto its tip, which glows red from his blood. I’m way too stressed to marvel at the blood magic, and gulp as the engine roars to life.

  The drive to Jaeger is over too quickly, and Alaric enters an underground parking lot that’s nearly as large as Agia Square. In one corner is the kind of intercom found in a drive-thru that’s attached to a metal platform large enough to hold a pick-up truck. Alaric parks on top of it, presses a button, and announces that he’s here to see Alice. With a flash of light, the parking lot disappears, and we’re in a similar space except in front of a brass elevator, complete with a matching panel of buttons set within the concrete walls.

  Alaric steps out of the car, but I don’t wait for him to open my door. We head to the elevator, and I read the etching on the brass panel. ‘THE BLACK BEAN CAFE.’

  I turn to Alaric, my eyes wide. “Is this where the seer works?”

  He wraps his arm around my waist. “We’re going to the attic.”

  With a hiss, the brass door opens, letting in a hot gust of sulfur-scented air. Carved mahogany walls make up the left and right of the elevator but opposite is a painting of a fiery scene from Dante’s Inferno. Ignoring my quickening heart, I let Alaric guide me into yet another confined space. The doors close, plunging us into the dark, and the elevator lurches up, leaving my stomach behind.

  “How far down is this parking lot?” My knees buckle, and he wraps his arms around my middle, holding me upright.

  “I never thought to ask.”

  The goods elevator stops, and we step out into a darkened hallway that smells of damp wood and dry rot. Dust motes swirl within the light streaming in through closed window shutters, and we walk over creaking floorboards that crumble underfoot. I clench my teeth, hoping we won’t fall through to the floor below, and continue up a staircase that I swear is one creak away from collapsing under our weight.

  I raise my head to find a small figure standing at the top of the stairs—a little girl with blonde pigtails who looks the same age as Jude’s seven-year-old sister.

  “An Augustine slayer, my prince?” she drawls, with the jaded tone of someone who has seen it all. “You never change.”

  “How do you—” I stop myself from completing the stupid question. Despite her appearance, this little girl is the seer.

  “You’d better come inside.” She disappears around a corner.

  I turn to Alaric, whose expression hardens. Now isn’t the time to ask about his history with my ancestors, but I’d be an idiot if I didn’t suspect that our meeting on the flight, on the year that I would receive Theodora’s Blessing, was a coincidence.

  We reach the top of the stairs and step into a vast, white attic space of painted walls that slope to a pitched roof. Although the space is bright, I see no source of illumination. Our immediate surroundings consist of three ivory floor cushions—a round one positioned ten feet away from two squares. An empty tray lies between them, and I wonder if that’s a form of barrier.

  The seer stands in the middle of the room by two ropes that hang from a beams that link both sides of the roof. They’re attached to a wooden plank that looks like a swing. At the other end of the roof, a thick mattress lies on the floor.

  “Be seated.” The seer sweeps her arm toward the square cushions and jumps onto the swing.

  “Thanks,” I say. “We need—”

  “I know,” she snaps. “And you’re focusing on the wrong problem.”

  “What?”

  Alaric lowers himself onto a cushion and pulls me down onto the one next to him. Like the cushions downstairs in the Black Bean, it’s actually more comfortable than it looks. I cross my legs and rest both hands on my knees.

  The seer closes her eyes and exhales a long breath. Freckles dust her button nose, and she reminds me of a girl working herself up to a tantrum.

  After several minutes of nothing, I turn to Alaric and whisper, “What’s happening?”

  He pats my knee. “She’ll come back to us soon.”

  The seer bares her teeth. “As I was about to say before the interruption, the cure for the monster that bit you is simple.” My lips part, but the seer raises her small palm. “The bigger issue is your mother.”

  Swallowing down a lump in my throat, I try not to think about an older, red-haired woman suffering under the tender mercies of a master vampire. Try not to imagine her losing hope that Grandma will come to her rescue. The skin around my eyes heat, and my vision blurs with the beginning of tears. I wrap my arms around my middle, holding myself tight, and wait for the seer to speak.

  “Alice,” Alaric murmurs. “If there is anything you can share about—”

  “Let the girl ask three questions. After the third, you will leave.” She grins, and her silver eyes sparkle with mischief.

  Words tumble from my lips. “Where’s my mother?”

  “Close.” She holds up her index finger. “That’s your first question.”

  I jerk forward on the cushion, and Alaric’s hand squeezing mine is the only thing keeping me from screaming. What kind of answer was that?

  “Focus,” he whispers into my ear. “Don’t waste your questions.”

  I snatch my gaze away from the seer’s mocking smirk and clench my teeth. Little girl or not, she’s a warlock—a mage who operates outside the jurisdiction of the Council. Deep, shuddering breaths heave in and out of my lungs as I force myself to stay calm. She senses my deepest desires and will manipulate them for her amusement. I should not underestimate her.

  She huffs. “You’re no fun. Raphaella Augustine would have fired all her questions and condemned herself to life as a foul beast.”

  All the blood drains from my face, replaced by an ants-crawling-across-the-skin sensation. I raise a trembling hand to my brow and wipe off the sweat. That’s exactly what I would have done if Alaric hadn’t been here to stop me. Maybe I should have asked the seer how to find Mom, but that answer might have been equally as vague.

  “Alright, then.” I raise my head and suck in a deep, calming breath through my nostrils. “How do I stop myself from turning into the winged monster that bit me?”

  She wags her finger, and the corners of her eyes crinkle with mirth. “Nicely put.”

  The tightness in my chest loosens. If I hadn’t qualified that question with wings, she might have given me a useless answer related to having been bitten by Alaric.

  “The Council of Mages lied, you know.” She hops off the swing.

  I clamp my lips together and clamp my hand over my mouth. There’s one question left, and I’ve got to follow Alaric’s advice and use it wisely.

  Next to me, the vampire in question gives me a nod of approval.

  The mage pads toward us across the attic on bare feet and arranges herself neatly on the round cushion. “Slayers can bond with supernatural beings other than mages.”

  A series of symbols appears over the tray on the ground between us. They’re the same glyphs the Magus used to bond the slayers to our conciliars but arranged in a circle instead of one encased within another.

  “Prince Alaric had the right idea.” Her eyes unfocus, and she traces a circle with her finger in mid-air. “His blood will stop the transformation once it occurs, but even a vampire as old as him won’t withstand your appetites.”

  Nausea ripples through my stomach. What is she trying to say? That the curse has already taken root?

  “Exactly.” The seer winks. “Don’t worry, I won’t count that as your third question. Consider that my consolation for trying to trick you into joining Michaela and Clarissa on a futile quest.”

  My chest tightens at her implication that Grandma will never find Mom. I smooth out my features and try to straighten the anxiety out of my posture, but my actions only make her grin.

  The symbols glow, float off the tray, and drift toward us. I shoot Alaric a nervous glance, and he turns to me with a reassur
ing smile. He wouldn’t have recommended this seer if he didn’t trust her to some extent.

  “You are a warrior of pure heart and steadfast courage but lacking a brain,” she says, mockery dripping from her voice. It’s like she’s play-acting with a bunch of little kids. “The road to what you seek is fraught with peril. Do you accept my challenge?”

  “Yes,” I say in my firmest tone.

  She tilts her head and gives me a tight smile. “Not you, dear.”

  I turn to Alaric. “But—”

  “Let me do this.” He straightens.

  “But you don’t even know what she’s asking.”

  The seer claps a delicate hand over her mouth and giggles. My fingers twitch to give her a hard shake and make her take the situation seriously, but I doubt it would make any difference. Maybe seeing all those lives, all those outcomes has flipped a switch in her mind, and nothing that others suffer is real.

  Alaric cups my cheek and slides his fingers through my hair. Our gazes meet, and the sincerity in his dark eyes overwhelms my heart. “I won’t let you turn into that thing.”

  My chest constricts so tightly that I can barely breathe. None of this makes sense. We’ve only met a few times. He’s a vampire, and I’m a slayer. Why on earth would he agree to some challenge on my account?

  “Alaric—”

  “Brave, independent Gabrielle,” the seer says in a baby voice. “So blinded by lofty ideals, she can’t accept love unless it’s presented to her in a Tiffany-blue package. Do you know what I see in your future if you refuse the prince?”

  With a gulp, I turn back to the seer and try not to think about last night’s excruciating transformation. “No.”

  “The end of vampires, of course.” She stirs the air with her finger, making the glyphs rotate.

  My mouth drops open.

  “You and the cherub traveling from city to city, ridding the world of the scourge of vampires.”

  I choke on air. Cherub? Angels don’t even exist, and if they did, they wouldn’t look like desiccated monsters covered in teeth.

  She leans forward, her lips spread into an insanely wide grin, her pale eyes incandescent. “Within five years, there will be no blood-drinkers. Not even Justinian and his generals. All you need to do is let the magic take its course.”

  “She will not,” says Alaric.

  I raise a hand. “Wait.”

  The seer rocks back on her cushion, and the manic excitement on her face fades to a serene smile. “Yes?”

  My dry throat convulses. I’m at a crossroads, and I don’t know where each decision will lead. Every slayer who accepts the call knows the risk of dying in combat. Is there a difference between having my throat ripped out by an angry vampire and becoming an unstoppable slayer? Even if it meant I would never revert to being Gabrielle Augustine, I would save the native world.

  I peek under my lashes and meet Alaric’s frantic gaze, and my heart weighs heavily with guilt. Not all vampires are evil. Some, like Alaric and his family, choose not to feed on humans. They don’t deserve to die

  Alaric’s words roll to the surface of my mind. The monster was trying to reproduce. What if the seer wasn’t telling me everything? If I turned into the monster and bit another slayer, eventually, every slayer would transform into monsters and kill the vampires.

  My breaths turn shallow, and possibilities swim through my mind. Then what? Would we attack our former enemy, the mages? Then the other supernatural beings? The room spins. When would it stop?

  His hand squeezes mine, and his touch anchors me to reality. “Let me do this.”

  I swallow hard. “Alright.”

  The symbols whizz toward us and burn a hole through Alaric’s shirt. A scent of seared flesh stings my nostrils, and he falls back with a scream.

  I scramble off the cushion to his side and tear the fabric open. The symbols glow like fire above his heart and look like they’re burning him alive. I cry out, “What did you do?”

  “Anchored your humanity to a vampire,” she says, her face twisting with malice at Alaric’s writhing form. “Before the full moon, Gabrielle will plunge a stake into your heart. You have done a very foolish thing, my prince. I’m sure the vampires of the world will appreciate your sacrifice.”

  Fury explodes in my chest, and I turn to the seer, my eyes wide. “Wait!”

  She raises her hand and forces me back with a beam of bright light. When it clears, we’re both sitting in the leather seats of Alaric’s Mercedes Benz.

  Chapter 14

  I twist around in the front passenger seat as Alaric slumps onto the steering wheel with a pained groan. The engine roars to life. I shoot frantic glances around the darkened parking lot, but the only source of light streams from the symbols on Alaric’s chest. Gagging on the scent of seared flesh, I push him back to examine his burns and hope that the seer isn’t burning him from the inside-out.

  Light from his chest stings my eyes, and it takes a moment to focus. Alaric’s face is a rictus of agony, with fangs fully retracted. He’s breathing hard with sweat pouring down his brow, and a spot of blood on his forehead heals from the spike on the steering wheel.

  “Gabrielle,” he says through clenched teeth.

  I tear open his shirt, and buttons ping across the digital dashboard. Heat from the burning glyphs on his chest warms my fingers, and I don’t dare to touch his skin.

  “Do you know what’s happening?” I ask.

  He shakes his head from side to side. “She has never been this vicious.”

  Panic ripples through my chest, squeezing my heart as it travels up to my tightening throat. He’s suffering because of me. Me and that monster disguised as a little girl. I smoothed sweat-dampened hair off his brow.

  “What can I do?” I try to keep the anxiety out of my voice. “Do you need blood?”

  Through labored breaths, he says, “Galla.”

  “Alright.” I release his head, turn to the door, and ease it open.

  Uncle Fred taught me how to drive, but what was in the family estate and on his automatic. I have no idea how this would translate to a decades-old car converted for the modern vampire, but I’ve got to manage it somehow.

  After running around the back of the Mercedes, I pull Alaric out and prop him on my shoulder. He grimaces and groans and gasps with the movements, making me wince with his every pained breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur.

  “No,” he groans as I lay him on the back. “I chose this.”

  I close the door and take the driver’s seat. The engine rumbles. I shift into gear, release the handbrake, and navigate the winding slopes of the underground parking lot. It's dark and empty, with only the exit signs providing direction. I’m sure the seer is toying with us by swapping the signs around, and by the time I pass a level occupied with parked cars and reach the exit, we’ve lost the rest of the day.

  Heavy, gray clouds hang low in the sky, making it seem darker than the five-forty-seven indicated on the dashboard, but the distant mountains obscure the sun, which means the clock is correct.

  Alaric moans directions, and it takes a few minutes to reach the long driveway that leads to his home. It’s a two-story limestone building that reminds me of Versailles Palace only much smaller, with balconies and tall windows.

  Three figures wait beneath an entrance porch supported by four columns. As soon as I turn into the drive, they descend the steps and wait for us in the courtyard out front.

  Galla opens the back door. “What happened?”

  “The seer anchored my curse into those runes over his heart.” I turn around. Alaric breathes hard, his chest rising and falling like bellows.

  “What does that mean?” Galla places a hand on his cheek.

  “I’m…” There’s no way I’ll tell them about the stake I’m supposed to plunge in Alaric’s heart. “I’m not sure.”

  “Take him to his room,” Galla draws back, and Thoris hooks his hand under Alaric’s arms and drags him out of the car. S
he turns to Leo. “Prepare a pain poultice, while I look up these symbols.”

  As Thoris races Alaric into the house with Leo on his heels. I open the doorstep out into the courtyard. Galla is halfway up the stairs when I ask in a small voice, “What should I do?”

  “Stay out of our way,” she snaps.

  I step back at the harshness of her words and wrap my arms around my middle as she disappears into the house. The Mercedes’ engine is still running, so I get back into the car and drive it around the house to the courtyard where the vampires keep the other vehicles.

  Pulling on the hand brake stops the engine, and I stare out into the sky. The clouds thicken over the horizon, obscuring the light. A chill settles over my skin. In an hour or so, it would be dark, and I still don’t know if I will transform and murder the vampires.

  I leave the car and walk around the house. The wind rustles through the trees, and the cool air forms goosebumps on my skin. It’s October, and the weather is usually cooler, but that doesn’t stop me from hurrying around the house.

  Leo stands on the front steps with a warm smile. “Alice Kyteler is a talented seer, but her fondness for mischief is one of her lesser qualities.”

  “Is Alaric alright?” I follow him up the steps.

  “He will be when Galla dulls the pain.” Leo pushes the door open and gestures for me to come inside.

  Our footsteps click over the polished mahogany floors of a vast entrance hall that leads to a wide, marble staircase with a brass rail supported by delicate swirls of iron. The portraits on this level are what I expected from the home of a vampire and I recognize the styles of Michelangelo, Raphael, and Caravaggio.

  Leo turns to me, curiosity brimming in his eyes. “You were gone for a long time. What did she show you and what did she ask for in return?”

  I shake my head. “She mostly sat on a swing and tried to trick me into asking the wrong questions.” My gaze sweeps up the marble staircase. “She didn’t ask for payment.”