The Supernaturals of Las Vegas Books 1-4

by Carrie Harris

  Isabeau drew herself up, looking rather imposing for someone who was barely five feet tall, and said, “I will spare her life, sire. I respectfully abdicate my status at court. As a commoner, my thralls would not need to meet the tasting requirements, and we are already in compliance with the gender restriction.”

  It was almost too much for Liss to believe. Members of the vampire court enjoyed stature. Wealth. The best thralls, the most influential positions. Isabeau had been a countess for almost two hundred years; she was giving up more than status. As a commoner, she’d be the one manning the doors while the nobles cavorted and drank inside. She’d be stuck with the crap jobs no one else wanted. Everyone would look down on her, and there was very little chance of regaining her power once she relinquished it. Over a baby that wasn’t even hers.

  Liss could see why Oliver loved her.

  The king wasn’t thrilled, though. His mouth curled in disdain, and he released Mrs. Archambault with a snarl. The gesture was more forceful than it needed to be, more shove than anything else. She crumpled to the floor, her eyes wide and panicked.

  “Abdicate?” Viktor barked, the veneer of civility stripped away. The change in his was so abrupt that even though Liss had sensed the cruelty in him, it still took her aback. His lip curled derisively. “My order stands, Countess. I will see it carried out, whether you abdicate or not.” He gestured to the baby negligently. “In fact, I would very much like to see you do it. Here. Now. And then we will discuss the terms of your abdication.”

  Liss couldn’t believe it. Her eyes went to Gregor, to her mother, to Isabeau…someone had to stand up to him. That baby didn’t deserve to die. Faulty genes or not, Claire had a right to prove herself, to make mistakes, to live. What did he know about life? He should have died ages ago, and at that moment, Liss wished him dead for good. If anyone in the room deserved it, he did.

  He stalked toward Isabeau, who handed the baby off to Oliver once again and stood there calmly as the king advanced on her. The cold, hard glint in his eyes quite clearly communicated his intent to end her existence right then and there. Oliver froze, torn between concern for his sister and the love of his life.

  The air became heavy with tension. Liss couldn’t breathe as the weight of the king’s anger settled on her. It felt like iron bands squeezing her chest, like thunderclouds on the horizon. Even Gregor staggered underneath the mental powers of the king. They all did.

  The king took Isabeau by one shoulder and flung her into the wall at least twenty feet away. She hit with a crunch and fell motionless to the floor, leaving a cracked hole in the damask wall covering. Vampire constitutions were even stronger than thralls, but Liss wasn’t sure if she’d ever get up again. He was strong and unstoppable. She could see why the other vampires bowed to him; their terror was written all over their faces. No one dared move. His will still beat down on them all, an almost physical smothering sensation, driving them down to their knees. Liss staggered. Gregor’s eyes locked on hers, and he took a single step toward her, struggling to reach her side.

  Viktor reached out to take Claire from a frozen, hunch-shouldered Oliver. Oliver’s mouth worked as he tried to force his body to move, but he was barely staying upright. All seemed lost.

  Liss felt her nose bleeding down her face. Her head pounded, hammered by Viktor’s psychic abilities. She’d never felt anything like it, and her brain raced, trying to find some way to make it stop. Some way to make him stop.

  The book.

  Tait had given it to her when she left for college. A book of glyphs, supposedly meant to work blood magic. At first, she took it for a joke, but then he explained that he’d taken it from the vampires-only section of the library at the Renaissance. Possession of one of those books could mean death for them both if the Librarian found out what he’d done. He’d taken it on a dare, he explained, but none of it worked. So he asked her to keep it safely hidden until she returned from college. He’d need her help to sneak it back into the collection once the Librarian was no longer on high alert.

  She’d read it, one night when she was bored in her dorm room and all of her roommates were off at some fraternity party. She’d stayed home to study for a final, and she’d run across the book while looking for one of her textbooks. She’d tried some of the glyphs that night, and a few times after. If she could believe in vampires, why not blood magic? But none of it ever worked even though she knew the basic theory. You drew the glyph in blood, and the spell would take effect. It seemed like a strange thing to believe in, but if vampires were real, and they considered this book dangerous enough to lock up, then it could be real.

  With effort, she moved her hand to her face, wiping some of the blood from her upper lip. It glistened on the tip of her finger. Then she moved her hand, drawing a complicated glyph in the air before her. It had been too long; she couldn’t remember which glyph went with which spell. She could only hope that it did something. Maybe if she could show them blood magic, Viktor would be so impressed that he’d forget about killing the baby. Maybe she could bargain with him. The book of glyphs for Claire.

  Moments before grabbing the baby’s squirming form, Viktor froze. The pressure on Liss’s head eased. Next to her, Dagmar’s hand went to the side of her dress, probably the site of some hidden weapon. Gregor crouched, calculating the distance between him and Liss, watching the king with a wary expression.

  Viktor turned, his actions turning into a herky-jerky pantomime, his face contorting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t make any sound come out. He half walked, half waddled down the dais. Courtiers moved hastily out of his way, afraid to catch the backsplash of his notorious temper. One of the few people who didn’t move was Duke Mieville, who was reclining in an antique Queen Anne chair with the blasé attitude of someone who had seen many babies killed and didn’t really care if he saw one more.

  The king grabbed the chair, toppling the Duke onto the floor with a muffled oath. His hands flexed spasmodically, ripping one of the legs free. Everyone gasped. Liss tensed, trying to figure out whether she should run or fight or what. Gregor launched himself in front of her, shielding her with his body like his father might decide on a spur of the moment to javelin her to death with a chair leg.

  Liss saw a flicker of movement at the back of the room; Oliver paused at the doors with the baby in his arms. He’d taken the opportunity to flee while he could, and Isabeau gestured, urging him on. Tears shimmered on his cheeks as he looked back at her. He was torn.

  Oliver didn’t need to see what was almost certainly going to happen next. Liss waved her hands at him, urging him out the door before the king regained his senses. In all likelihood, Viktor was going to stake Isabeau right there to prove his mastery over everyone. From the way his eyes were rolling in their sockets, he’d clearly lost all pretense of humanity.

  The door closed behind Oliver and Claire, and Liss let out a slow breath of relief. At least the baby was okay. But her relief was short lived. The king turned back toward the dais. His bulging eyes met hers for the briefest of instants before he plunged the broken length of wood into his own chest.

  Chapter 6

  In the wake of Viktor’s death, the entire court stood motionless. Gregor included. He felt rooted to the ground by shock, but gradually, this strange sensation rose in his chest. Relief. For years, Viktor had been the first thing on his mind when he woke up at night and when he went to sleep in the morning. When he’d been made vampire, he’d been desperate to please his sire out of a combined feeling of love and fear. He’d seen what happened to people who displeased Viktor. Even before he’d been king, he was ruthless. But gradually, Gregor’s feelings had melted into a haze of uncaring obedience. And now he was free. He supposed he should be mourning the loss of his sire, or at least the loss of the king. His absence would leave a hole in the vampire community, and although Gregor was the crown prince, he realized abruptly that he didn’t want the crown that he supposedly stood next in line for.

  He co
uld happily retire from court this very moment. Viktor wasn’t there to stop him. He had the money—all he had to do was sell his shares of the Renaissance. Chandra would love to have them. Then he could take Liss and the rest of the Lorenssons away from all of this. Buy a house in the country, as far from civilization as possible. Retire in obscurity and never have to worry about vampire politics again.

  As quickly as the dream came to mind, it popped. He couldn’t leave just like that. The Lorenssons wouldn’t want to go—they enjoyed running the Renaissance. And he’d seen what Liss had done just before Viktor died. Many of the vampires weren’t old enough to recognize the glyph, but Gregor was. One of Viktor’s thralls had been a blood mage, and his sire had used her to take the throne, then killed her once his authority was complete. Gregor, horrified, had asked him why, and Viktor had explained that he couldn’t allow any threats to his authority to live. Clearly, he’d never seen Gregor as much of a threat, or Gregor would have followed suit. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or offended by that.

  Now, Liss had used blood magic, and Viktor had died. It didn’t take a genius to put the two events together, and even those vampires who didn’t know about blood magic would catch up quickly. Some would be relieved at Viktor’s absence, like Isabeau. Others would be out for Liss’s blood, like Chandra. All of the vampires would be debating whether Liss was useful enough to keep alive or dangerous enough to be put to death. Gregor had to protect her, as he would do for all the Lorensson family. He told himself it wasn’t because she was special, but he knew deep down that it was a lie.

  All of this flashed through his mind in a matter of moments. The decision came easy after that. He might not want the crown, but he had to take it. Liss’s safety depended on it, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be good at leading. Better than Viktor at the very least.

  The crowd began to back away from Liss, murmuring uncertainly. It was as if she was in quarantine, like the blood magic might be catching. Gregor had to act fast, before the members of the court could think to oppose him.

  He put a hand on Dagmar’s shoulder and spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear. “Liss is mine,” he said. “If anyone attempts to lay a finger on her, cut it off.”

  Dagmar met his eyes for a moment. She didn’t change expression, but her eyes flickered as emotions warred behind them. He couldn’t imagine what she was feeling, but he knew he could count on her as he always had. Sure enough, after a moment, she nodded. Then she drew a short silvered blade from the sash at her waist and stood before her daughter. She didn’t bother with fancy poses or menacing expressions like a Hollywood action star. Instead, she stood ready and loose, weight balanced on the balls of her feet. At some point, she’d kicked off her shoes. Gregor hadn’t even noticed.

  Liss stared down at her bloody hand in shock. She didn’t seem to understand what was happening. Gregor assumed it was her first kill. Once she snapped out of the shocked stasis, she might scream or panic. Dagmar couldn’t protect her if she was out of control, so he turned to Tait and Konstantine.

  “Take care of her,” he said.

  They both nodded and moved to flank her, taking her arms and murmuring soothing comments into her ears. Gregor hoped it would work, but he didn’t have the time to watch. He had his own part to play.

  He made his way through the crowd. They parted for him with cautious respect, waiting to see what he would do. When he stopped, Viktor’s broken body lay at his feet. It had already begun to turn to ash. Within the next five minutes, it would be gone entirely. He stooped down and took the ruby signet ring off Viktor’s finger. Viktor had never worn an actual crown, but he’d stolen this ring off the last king, and it seemed symbolic enough.

  Gregor fit it onto his finger. It settled there like it had been sized for him, although there was a bit of grainy stuff caught between the band and his flesh that may or may not have been some of Viktor. It irritated him, which seemed symbolic, but then it fell out or disintegrated, and that did too.

  He made his way onto the dais, turned at the top of the steps, and addressed the crowd.

  “I am the progeny of King Viktor and his chosen crown prince,” he declared. “I claim his throne. I promise you a fair and just kingship, where all of us can exist in safety and prosperity. To celebrate this day and to show that I mean these words, I offer all vampire members of the court shares in the Renaissance Casino. If you will give me time to make these arrangements with my thralls, I will provide instructions on how to claim your shares before the evening is out.”

  It was obviously a bribe. Gregor knew they would pick up on it. But he also knew that what he was offering wasn’t a weak sop. It was a valuable gift from a king to his subjects. And it would buy him time. Even those of them in the audience who would rather face the true death than see him on the throne would wait to see what else they could get out of him before they made their moves. But he would stay one step ahead of them.

  Besides, Liss would be safe for now, and that was all that mattered to him.

  At first, Konstantine and Tait were less than thrilled about Gregor’s Renaissance shares scheme, but then he explained his rationale. Sometimes, they’d struggled with a few board members who had no idea that the owners were undead. By opening the door to more court influence, they could identify other high quality thrall families and reward them with more shares and positions within the casino. The Lorensson family would have backup within the organization by people in the know. Once they understood what he was trying to do, they were on board wholeheartedly and began shooting implementation ideas back and forth. Gregor left them to it.

  Liss still sat in the corner of the room with her mother standing guard. She looked less shocked now, but nearly on the verge of tears. The enormity of what she had done must have hit her. He began to make his way across the room to comfort her, but only made it a few steps before he was intercepted by Chandra.

  “A word with you, Majesty,” she said breathlessly.

  He looked down at her. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that her square face was flushed with excitement, but that couldn’t be true. No blood ran in her veins. None went to her cheeks. It had to be makeup, but still. Something had agitated her. As much as he wanted to see to Liss immediately, he’d better hear it out. Perhaps it might be some danger that might threaten his thralls or his position. If he didn’t find out about it now, he might regret it later.

  “Yes, Chandra,” he said. “What is it?”

  “I have a proposition for you,” she said.

  She kept fluttering her lashes and casting glances at him from beneath lowered brows. It was the same simpering attitude she used to exhibit when talking to his sire. Was she afraid of him, as she’d been of Viktor? He could understand the feeling and immediately wanted to put her at ease.

  He put a hand on her shoulder. Vampires didn’t go much for physical contact, so the gesture meant quite a lot. It was a sign of trust and reassurance.

  “You don’t need to worry,” he said. “I’m not my father. I will treat you fairly.”

  She smiled at him tentatively.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not usually so forward, and it’s gotten me uncommonly nervous,” she said.

  “Rest assured that you can speak freely to me. Even if I do not agree with you, I will always respect your opinion.”

  He meant it too. As much as he’d dreaded Chandra’s appearance in the past, he realized now that she was as much of a victim of Viktor as he was. She’d done as she was asked, just as he did. So how could he hold that against her now? He would treat her with respect and consideration now and see what came of it. Perhaps she might agree to stay on at his steward, to help ease the transition. That gesture might help to persuade some of Viktor’s old supporters who were on the fence about his coronation, like Mieville, who kept shooting glares at him from across the room, shares or no shares.

  It was a good idea, and he was just thinking about how to approach it when she spoke.

  “I’d li
ke to talk to you about my position in your new court,” she said.

  “I wanted to discuss that as well,” he said, smiling. “I was thinking…”

  “That we should marry, of course,” she interrupted, clutching at the hand still on her shoulder.

  He withdrew it hurriedly as if stung. “I beg your pardon?”

  She blinked. This clearly wasn’t the reception she’d been looking for, but she recovered fast.

  “Well, I was thinking that you have a problem,” she explained. “Some of Viktor’s supporters are saying that you don’t deserve the throne just because you had your thrall kill him. In their mind, they have just as much of a right to the throne as you do. But they’d be set at ease to know that someone from Viktor’s inner circle sat on the throne with you. You have the support of those that didn’t like Viktor. I have the support of those who did. Together, we could unify the court.”

  She spoke sense, but still. Gregor didn’t like it. He might be willing to give Chandra a chance, but that was a far cry from marrying her. Besides, a part of his mind went to Liss, and all of those strange feelings that she created in him. He couldn’t in good faith marry someone else—even if it was of the politically expedient type of marriage—without resolving those feelings once and for all. It wouldn’t do for the king of the vampires to pine away of a broken heart.

  “That’s a very intelligent argument,” he began, but once again Chandra interrupted him, grabbing his hand and pressing it to her cold, dead bosom. It was such a contrast to Liss’s warm vitality that he couldn’t help it. He recoiled.

  Chandra gave him a stricken look. She spoke quietly, as if embarrassed about what she was going to say next.

  “It’s not just political. I have loved you for centuries, and you never noticed,” she murmured.

  “I…I am truly sorry.” He meant it too. “But this is too soon. I cannot in good faith make this commitment to you now, and for that I apologize. I do not wish to play with your heart, but so much has changed, and so quickly. I cannot make any decisions in haste, lest I regret them later.”