kindred 08.6 - blood enchanted

Home > Paranormal > kindred 08.6 - blood enchanted > Page 3
kindred 08.6 - blood enchanted Page 3

by Nicola Claire


  The third and fourth arrows met their fate. I wasn't even breathing hard yet.

  I stilled, sword raised, and waited. No more arrows. They'd gotten what they'd come for. I am faster than a human. As fast as a vampire. Which makes me faster than a Nosferatin. I hide a lot of things, but my speed is not one of them. My opponents today had not found out anything new.

  Finally a tall man emerged from the right hand shadows and crossed the space to where I stood. A crossbow perched on his shoulder, firing end pointing to the sky. I didn't lower my guard. My eyes met forest green in his, a colour unnatural for a vampire, even if I could tell he was a shifter instead. Too close to the sun for a vamp to be challenging, but something told me this shifter had a master. He wasn't acting alone.

  "Impressive," he announced, once he'd made it within four feet of me. His accent was European. Narrowed down the field a little, but not by much. Only coincidence placed him in Hakan Bahar's camp. Coincidence and a nice tan.

  I studied him, without offering a reply. People talk too much, enough can be said with silver. Even shifters disliked the sting of that particular metal. But what type of shifter was he? Not a Taniwha, not local. He'd be peculiar to his place of birth. But where exactly was that?

  "My name is Ediz," he offered. Score two for Hakan's man. "You do not look like him," he continued, studying my features with a slight frown. "But you fight like a child of his would."

  I didn't let the unease or anger show on my face. I'd been trained young to hide my emotions when needed from vampires. The same practice could be levelled against any enemy, and as this creature had just participated in the firing of multiple arrows at my head, he was firmly on the enemy team. But his statement was not unfamiliar. I'd taken pains to not look like my father and mother. Dyed my hair blonde, wore it in dreadlocks down my back, heavy make-up to change the shape of my eyes. Always covered my Sigillum.

  My parents had gifted me a lot of things at birth, the most unusual and annoying being their combined mark. Sigillums represented possession. I was part of their family, so was Luc. Theirs to protect until we were of age, and even then my father would have you believe he was my only chance at safety. The iridescent tattoo-like designs were their Sigillums. Mine worn on the left arm, Luc's on his right.

  Most Sigillums just exist, but something in our blood made ours unique. Right now mine would be a mixture of colours; sage for unease, magenta for anger. The leather of my jacket sleeve felt too hot. I forced myself not to show my imagined discomfort and shift my arm.

  "What do you want?" I demanded, sword still raised. I could hold it like this for over an hour and not tire. Punishment for misdemeanours in the Durand household had taken many forms, this was my mother's favourite.

  And I'd been a wayward child.

  "Merely to introduce myself," Ediz said. "And see if the rumours were true."

  I didn't ask. The rumours could have been about any of my known skills, speed definitely one of them. So I was going with that.

  "Bey Hakan Bahar sends his regards," the shifter announced with a flourish of arms and hands. A movement that had to mean something somewhere, but which made him look like an idiot instead. I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

  "Allow me to offer mine in return," I murmured, spinning in Nosferatin flight through the air and slicing my sword down his right arm, the one holding the crossbow. The weapon fell to the ground instantly, but I was already several feet past the shifter, and didn't turn around.

  An horrendous growl sounded out through the air, actually raising the hair on the back of my neck. But I'd passed the halfway mark and entered Travis' territory. I heard the telling sound of automatic weapons loading, the whir of mechanics as they moved to cover my back. That raised goose-flesh feeling didn't abate however. The growl had turned into an ominous threat.

  I paused, just outside the shadows that led into Trav's residence - if you could call the dilapidated building he'd commandeered as his a home. I didn't look over my shoulder, just turned my face so Ediz could see my expression as I slid my Svante into its back sheath. I flicked my hair free to cover the sword, a smirk gracing my lips I knew the shifter would notice.

  No gunfire sounded out as I bounded up the rickety steps to Travis' visitor entrance, so Ediz had heard our threat as well and decided not to act.

  I pressed my thumb against the scanner hidden to the side of the titanium and silver coated door, and felt the prick as it stole my blood. Fifteen seconds later, having determined I was close enough to human, the door sprang open and I entered Travis McLeod's world.

  "You been making some strange friends, Ellie," Travis called out as I emerged into his control room. I crossed to the monitor he was sitting in front of and watched the shifter, Ediz, standing in the centre of the open spaced courtyard.

  "What is he?" I asked, unable to look away from the sight that met my eyes.

  "At a guess," Trav murmured, "some sort of cross between a tiger and a giant mutant lizard. Fugly!" he added for good measure. The word lengthening to make several syllables instead of its usual two.

  I nodded absently, taking in the four inch claws on fur covered, thick arms and the many serrated teeth in a muzzle-like maw. Ediz, in his animal form, threw back his head and roared. The sound tapering off to a hiss at the end, leaving pinpricks of unnatural and basic fear skittering across my skin. I rubbed my arms, trying to dislodge the sensation.

  "Whatever he is, he's old," Trav muttered. "Like crawled out of the primordial ooze old."

  "Yeah," I agreed, uncharacteristically dumbfounded.

  I've seen a lot of unusual supernatural creatures in my twenty-five years of life. Sooner or later they all come to pay homage to the Champion of the Iunctio, the leader of the organisation that is there not only for vampires, but all supernatural creatures. But I'd never seen this.

  "Find out where it's from," I instructed. "Origins, strengths, weaknesses. And it's connection to a vampire called Hakan Bahar."

  "Oh, you've met the illustrious Lord," Travis quipped.

  I rounded on my friend. One of only a handful of humans who had made it into my inner circle. Travis McLeod was not just your average Norm though. Don't let the wheelchair fool you.

  "You know about him?"

  "Not a lot, just what's been spread on the network," Travis replied. The network he was referring to was not the "vampire network" that made up part of the Iunctio. There would be something on that particular supernatural bandwidth about my mysterious middle eastern vampire, and I could swallow my pride and just go ask my father what there was on there. But that would involve a lecture about my responsibilities and upcoming joining. I could also take a chance that Alain would treat me with something other than over-protectiveness at my father's behest, and see if the spy master knew of Hakan. But the chances of Alain doing that were next to none.

  I was at best a kid sister. At worst, a precious treasure that should be locked up and kept safe.

  I ground my teeth, my jaw beginning to ache with the familiar frustration.

  No, my only course of action was the ghoul network, already pressed to its limits tonight. Or Travis.

  "So, what's your network of cameras and spies tell you then?" I asked, slipping my jacket off and throwing it over an armchair in the corner, then unbuckling my Svante sheath and removing that as well.

  Travis ignored my striptease, he'd seen it all before. When in the company of those I trusted, I bared my arms. It was the only time I could truly be me.

  He clicked away on the keyboard of his computer for several seconds, making different screens in front of him light up with images; all of them cage fights throughout Auckland. I knew each location, had fought in them time and again. One was Reggie's Bar.

  "Six fights. Six wins. None of them took over five minutes," Travis explained, as he started the video clips all running simultaneously.

  My eyes flicked from one to the next in rapid succession, managing to take in each fluid strike, each obscenely s
wift dodge, and each whip-like counter measure. It was like watching a wild animal, only this animal had such beautiful, death-defying grace. He flew through the air similar to how a Nosferatin spins. On more than one occasion, his movements matched mine.

  I sank into a chair beside Travis, my mouth hanging open, utterly stunned.

  "He moves like you," Trav whispered, either quietly so as not to surprise me further, or because he knew the statement was redundant and I would snap. I could see exactly how Hakan Bahar moved.

  And it was divine.

  "Any weaknesses?" I managed to articulate.

  "None that I can determine," came his hushed reply. Then, "You've challenged him?"

  I shook my head, my eyes still scanning the screens, looking for a fault that I already knew would not exist.

  "Well, that's at least something then. Maybe you can just plead absence and get away with him being in town."

  "He has Luc," I said, my voice unnaturally rough, my throat so very dry.

  Travis' wheelchair spun toward me, almost knocking my knees it came so close. I inched back on my chair.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Ghoul info," I supplied, and his shoulders sagged. Ghouls were notoriously good at giving correct intel.

  "Then he's challenging you."

  I nodded. "Reggie's setting up a fight."

  His wheelchair returned him to face the monitors, his fingers flying across the keyboard before the machine came to a halt.

  "I'll see if there's anything I can find on where he's staying. Have you checked The Plaza?"

  The Plaza was my father's upmarket hotel. Also the seat of the Iunctio. Vampires did stay there, if they had nothing to hide. Visiting dignitaries certainly did. What had Travis called Hakan?

  "You called him a Lord. Is that an official title?"

  "I'll have to check," he replied distractedly, already nose deep in surveillance footage. I'd lose him soon enough. "But he was referred to as Bey by one of his contingency. As far as I can recall, Bey was the title of a lord in the Ottoman Empire."

  "Oh, crap," I muttered, but Travis was gone, head in the electrical circuits and pixels of his screens.

  I stood up and wandered into the attached kitchen, weary of the day already and the sun had only just risen. Ottoman Empire. It would figure that this Hakan character would hail from there. My father hated the Ottomans. The type of hatred that fed the black part of your soul. There was history there of some description; an old mentor of his who was killed by marauders from where I now suspected Hakan came from.

  This was getting complicated, but maybe starting to make sense. But what would a five hundred year old hatred have to do with the disappearance of my brother? Why now? Just when we're about to join?

  It had to be connected somehow, and unfortunately my father was at the root of the problem. His history. His position. His power. His son.

  I blindly toasted bread and then smeared it with peanut butter. It tasted as good as it smelled. Luc had been gone one week; one week post his twenty-fifth birthday. I couldn't believe that wasn't significant. And now this. A connection to an old foe of my father’s.

  The Ottoman Empire no longer existed, at least not for humans. Vampires are a whole other ball game entirely. They don't age. They don't forget. They very rarely move on.

  The toast gone, I cracked open the fridge and hauled out a bottle of beer. Travis was used to me eating here. Hell, most of the time I hid here all day as well. I might have to start paying him rent.

  My cellphone buzzed in my back pocket, I hauled it out and checked the screen.

  I sighed loud enough for Travis to hear me, reminding me he never really switched off from the world around him, merely gave the impression he did for peace of mind.

  "The boss man?" he called out in question.

  No, this wasn't my father. This was worse by far.

  His spy master. His second in command. My betrothed kindred.

  The text message read, Open the damn door.

  Even uptight French vampires could come across as rude.

  3

  Game On

  I walked back into Travis' control room.

  "Your door camera not working?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

  "Looks fine to me," he said, nodding towards the image of the landing outside the door I'd just used to come inside.

  I leaned closer to the screen and studied the shadows intently. Travis had good gear. HD images, crystal clear.

  "You still got that UV light fitted?" I asked, casually. Travis stilled. His fingers hovering over the next letter he was about to type, in the code he was writing in his search for Hakan Bahar's accommodation.

  "On my doorstep," he muttered. "Is it the French git?"

  "Yeah, the one and only."

  "Bit hot for him, ain't it?"

  "The sun's never stopped Alain before."

  "And you want UV? You're gonna piss him off, Ellie."

  I smiled, it was a little wicked. "He'll be expecting it."

  Travis sighed, it was similar to my earlier effort. "The switch is over there." He indicated which one with the nod of his head.

  I kept my eyes on the screen and pressed the red button, holding it down for the count of five. When the light went out a singed and furious vampire stood on the top step, small whorls of smoke drifting up from his cheeks and nose.

  "Ooh, nice tan," Travis murmured, returning to his code.

  "Can I let him in?" I always asked. This was Travis' home, his safe haven from the creatures of the night. Alain wouldn't hurt him. At least not without knowing I'd stake his undead heart if he tried. But Travis had reason to hate vampires, even if he helped the daughter of one almost every single night.

  "Sure." The word was punched into my gut with force.

  "I'll contain him," I promised. He didn't bother to reply.

  We trusted each other, Travis and I. But how far the trust could stretch, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

  I replaced my Svante sheath and sword, but not my jacket. I was fully armed, and my Sigillum were blazing magenta. Let Alain see my rage.

  I crossed to the door and keyed in the code to unlock it manually. Travis didn't use this door for himself, the wheelchair wouldn't handle the rickety steps. His access was well hidden. Even I hadn't used that. But I was sure it led to his car, housed below.

  The door clicked open. Alain didn't push it, the silver coating on it would have burned his flesh, adding to the sickly smell of char-grilled vampire that floated on the air.

  "Very mature, Éliane," he murmured, once the door swung fully open. I glared at him. I hated my full name. Too feminine. So not me.

  He strode past me and walked directly to the kitchen, avoiding Travis' space as if I'd asked him to. Alain was too perceptive for his own good.

  "Your father wishes to see you," he announced, not beating about the bush. I just leaned back slowly against the door-jam and studied the man I was soon to share blood with.

  Joining ceremonies are fairly simple. A slice in one palm, another in your betrothed, and then you clasped hands, letting the blood mix. Of course, we weren't entirely sure how that would go for Luc and I. Our blood was not normal Nosferatin blood. It was something we had to risk though, without trying we may die.

  But then attempting a joining, when we didn't know what the complete outcome would be, was tantamount to craziness as well.

  Welcome to my world.

  Alain studied me back. But where I was cataloguing his typical vampire prettiness, he was making sure I was unharmed. His blond hair had been cut recently, an unusual move for a vampire several hundred years old. A lot of them keep the longer hairline, shoulder length, tied back; a homage to their past. But Alain was never one to be stuck in history. If anything he looked to make it. The bluest of blue eyes flicked up to mine. In another life I could believe he felt something other than responsibility toward me. But Alain had made his intentions very clear.

  "This joining will protec
t you, Éliane," he'd said at the time my father announced who he wanted for my kindred. I was twenty. I’d refused.

  "You're too old and when I join it will be with someone I want." I had meant love, but one does not speak of love to a Master Vampire in charge of spying for my father.

  He'd eyed me sceptically, something of calculation behind those vivid, but slightly cool eyes.

  "I'll tell you what," he'd murmured, holding my defiant gaze with casual ease. "If you find a suitable vampire to love..." He'd had no issues using the 'L' word. "...by the time you need to join, I will step aside."

  I didn't believe him. Vampires, although professing their word as true, could be conniving at the best of times. And Alain was the slipperiest of the lot.

  "Just like that," I'd challenged.

  He'd smiled, it was everything you came to expect of a vampire; spellbinding, mesmerising and wicked. "Just like that, Bébé." Alain always used the nickname to rile me, he knew I didn't want to be considered a "baby" by anyone, least of all him.

  I stared at him now, wondering why time had run out and still I hadn't fallen for a vampire. Not for lack of trying. But it took a certain type of Nosferatu to join with those born to hunt them. My mother still sleeps with a silver stake beneath her pillow. My father has been burned too many times to count while still out cold in bed.

  "Have you seen your brother recently?" he asked, breaking the silent stand-off we'd been having and making my heart speed up at the mention of Luc.

  Alain stilled, vampire statue still. He'd heard the increase in heartbeat.

  I willed myself to calm, but the damage had been done. My Sigillum had turned a combination of greens. Sage for unease, mint for fear, and lime for worry. Belatedly a magenta twined through the greens announcing my anger. Of all the talents I'd inherited at birth, my emotional-based Sigillum was the most hated. My hands fisted at my sides, but I refused to hide the evidence now. It would show a weakness I couldn't even contemplate displaying in front of my father's most favoured vampire.

  "Do you have something to tell me, Éliane?" Alain asked. His gaze hadn't alighted on my arm, but I knew he hadn't missed a thing. A soft cyan pulsed within the normally deeper blue of his eyes. Vampires' eyes change colour with emotion, which would explain the connection between my Sigillum and having a vampire for a father. Luc's and my eyes are a steady brown. But the Sigillum? A straight line to how we're feeling.

 

‹ Prev