"What would you give me in exchange? He is a valuable possession. One I won fairly, according to our laws. Even your father could not argue that fact, so I doubt you would have any chance of succeeding."
I glared back at him. We were going round in useless circles. And I was acutely aware of the truth that laced his words. Some of the older, more antiquated, rules of vampire society had not yet been changed. My father and the Iunctio council were working on it. But uprisings, and vampire hate politics, and supernatural day to day events, meant things had taken a damn sight longer than originally anticipated.
The Iunctio was Lighter than it had been before my father became Champion, but it alone could not fight every battle. Ours may not be a democracy, but you cannot lead without some support from the masses. The Iunctio tread a very careful line between change and status quo. Tip too far over in one direction and you have war.
Some things had slipped through the cracks. Including possession of slaves according to archaic vampire law. Not too many vampires bothered with it, but the law existed. If the debt owed was steep enough, you could take the payment out in servitude.
What the hell had my brother entered into when he attempted to fight in the arenas? How much had he lost? I had no doubt that Hakan would not divulge that information, but someone, somewhere would know. And I was thinking, with a stomach churning, bile inducing feeling, that I'd have to go to the Source to find out.
Not the source of the bet, meaning Hakan and Luc - one person of which I couldn't even find. But the Source. Frank. Head of the Auckland ghouls.
It was going to be expensive, but what choice did I have?
"Don't underestimate me, vampire," I whispered, rolling my stake around in my palm.
"I would be disappointed if you weren't a worthy opponent, hayatim." I wasn't going to ask what that word meant, Travis would know. There were more important things to worry about right now.
Like getting this vampire out of my home.
"So, you came, you saw, you found out how compatible we are. Now it's time to leave."
His smile turned wicked.
"And if I refuse?"
I twirled my stake on the flat of my palm, tip up, silver reflecting in the little bit of Light I let free from within.
"Oh, Éliane," he said, with a twist of his lips. "How you tempt me."
Hearing my full name fall from his lips felt disturbing. It was one thing for Alain and my father to use it, they could be quite uptight when they tried. But Hakan Bahar, although possessing the presence of a prince, was not above rolling around in the dirt.
And that, unfortunately, appealed to me. So I said, before I could stop myself, "My friends call me Ellie."
Oh, heavenly light show. His eyes blazed the crispest, clearest ice-blue I'd ever seen, silver rimming his irises.
"Are we to be friends then, Ellie?" he asked, voice a seductive vampire purr.
I chuckled. Heard it all before.
"I keep my friends close..."
"And your enemies closer."
A short nod of my head was the only confirmation he received.
"Now if you won't hand over my brother, it's time for you to go."
"How do you plan to get him back?"
He asked the most ridiculously naive questions. It was almost comical to hear what would come out of his mouth. But then I saw his eyes dart down to my Sigillum and I sighed internally at my faux pas. He knew I wouldn't answer. But my mark? That was a whole other thing.
This clever vampire was sure to know every hue I'd ever flashed and what it meant. Possibly because he'd studied Luc and his Sigillum, but our shades are not exact replicas. So if he was using Luc's colour changes as a basis for understanding mine, then the magenta and electric blue he was seeing right now would not mean anger and incredulity, but something else.
I sifted through Luc's Sigillum colours in my mind and a small smile tipped up the edges of my lips. Oh, this was too good, I could only hope my guess was right.
Magenta and electric blue for Luc meant he was bored and extremely tired.
My eyes met the amused silver and blue of Hakan's. We studied each other for a second or two, then he took a step away from the wall. The first real threatening move he'd made since he’d arrived, and even then that wasn't quite right. Unless you call the anticipation and desire I saw in his features a threat. Which I guess you could and should. But that damn gut deep feeling kept telling me this vampire meant me no harm.
Which made no sense at all.
I struggled with what my brain and upbringing was telling me, mixed with what my new talent was making me feel, but kept getting more and more confused inside. Sky blue would be the most predominant colour on my arm right now. Still, I lifted my stake in warning, only to receive a typical vampire growl of appreciation in reply.
He stopped two feet away. I realised my back had hit the doorway to my bedroom. His eyes lifted to look over my shoulder briefly, clearly acquainting himself with my personal space. But they were back on me in an instant, hunger and need evident in their intent gaze.
"I cannot leave," he managed to say, voice low and uneven, fangs glinting at the edges of his lips.
"What do you mean, you cannot leave?"
"I used a spell to enter your home undetected. An ancient Persian spell that requires the shedding of blood to break. Without which I literally cannot be forced past your wards."
"That's ridiculous. I've never heard of any such spell. And you already shed blood when my stake broke your skin."
His head shook. "Not my blood. Yours."
Oh, for crying out loud.
"Nah-ah. Nice try. Now, get the fuck out!" I knew it wouldn't work, I hadn't invited him in to begin with, but I had to try. So I added, "I rescind your invitation."
Nothing.
Zip.
Just a strained silence, full of echoes and shadows, as though the old vampire invitation spell was trying to work but we couldn't see it or hear it, at all. As though it existed outside of this realm and was doing its thing somewhere else.
"Any other ideas?" he asked casually. "Because all it would take is one small taste of your blood and I would be gone."
I stared at him. He was mad. A bubble of incredulous laughter spilled out of my mouth.
"How gullible do you think I am?" I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.
"Very well," he replied, and then proceeded to sink down to the floor and make himself comfortable.
"What are you doing?"
"Waiting for you to fall asleep and then breaking the spell."
I sucked in a sharp breath. Not going to happen.
But I was tired. That Light attack I'd used on Alain had drained me dry, only adrenaline had allowed me to continue to function so far. Adrenaline and that deep seated sense of anticipation and desire. It was playing havoc with my body right now.
But there was no way I could let this vampire stay. He held Luc against his wishes. He'd invaded my home. Damn it all to hell, I should be staking the bastard, bugger finding out where Luc was. Hakan would never tell.
My stake was still in my hand. I fingered it.
This wasn't the only course of action available to me. I could pull my cellphone out and dial Alain. He'd have his daylight servants here in an instant, or he'd brave the sun and come himself. He'd surely have a way to break this spell, if the spell existed at all.
But calling Alain went against everything I was too. Asking for help had always been my greatest character flaw. I could handle this. I could deal with this and avoid recriminations from my father's spy master, or from Papa himself.
I'd fought hard for my independence, for the right to live outside of the Plaza's walls. My mother had backed me, had placed her will behind mine. I couldn't let her down. I couldn't let myself down either.
I watched as Hakan closed his eyelids, without a care in the world. His breathing slowed and deepened, purely a vampire trick of appearing disarmed. He wouldn't be, he'd be alert to
my blood pumping furiously through my veins. To the scent of my frustration and confusion. To the subtle shift of my body for a fight. He acted as though he was falling asleep, but he wouldn't be.
But would he expect me to stake him?
Inside my stomach twisted, that ribbon of awareness twirled with ever increasing speed.
Don't do it, it seemed to be saying. He means you no harm, it added with a flourish of peace and comfort, trying to make me feel something other than I should.
I couldn't trust it. I didn't understand it. If it was on my side or not, I just did not know.
Sweat beaded my upper lip, my hand shook as I raised the stake. My flash across the space between Hakan and myself was clumsy, my legs wanting to refuse the command to move forward, my arms wanting to deny the charge to attack.
Hakan's eyes flicked open as the stake entered his chest. Surprise and hurt registered there, swiftly replaced with respect.
I missed the vital organ. He wouldn't meet the final death. And as a level one Sanguis Vitam vampire he could survive the staking, as long as he had a powerful vampire remove the stake from his chest. In the meantime, he was compromised, and I'd lose a precious silver stake.
I'd ended up straddling his thighs, my chest rising and falling too quickly, moisture threatening my eyes.
"No regrets," he whispered. "You are Nosferatin."
No Sanguis Vitam accompanied the words. I missed it. Too late.
"You knew I'd do this," I murmured, my lips numb with the knowledge of what I'd done. My gut instinct had been right. He wouldn't have hurt me. He was still testing the kindred he had in his sights.
"Of course, hayatim. I should have been disappointed had you not." He smiled, it looked pained. He was hiding the effects of the silver well. "What now?" he asked.
He was mine to kill or pardon. He was completely mine to condemn.
There was no way in hell I could bring him the final death. I hadn't when I staked him. I couldn't now when he was weakened by my attack. I refused to think too closely on why, even as the answer blared loudly inside my mind.
You are mine.
I shook my head, lifted my hand to one of his fangs. He opened his mouth to accommodate the move, a growl emitting from the back of his throat. More purr, than threat. A small prick on the pad of my thumb, a bubble of blood pooling on the tip, and I swiped it along his bottom lip.
For a moment he just held my gaze, then his tongue darted out and he licked the blood clean. His eyes rolled back in his head, his chest heaved, which must have hurt with all that silver piercing skin, and then he shuddered.
Words in a foreign language spilled from his tongue. Beautiful, lyrical, incomprehensible.
Then with a snap of his lids upwards, ice-blue and silver stared back at me.
"You are mine, hayatim," he declared.
My lips parted, the words almost escaping on their own. I tensed my jaw and refused to utter them. I was nobody's to command.
He huffed a pain-filled laugh, lifted a heavy hand to wrap gently around my throat, holding me captive, when we both knew he hadn't the strength.
Then he murmured, barely audible now, as sweat graced his skin in a sickening show of his pain, "Let the games begin."
I stumbled backwards, heart pounding, blood surging, my stomach doing somersaults of delight, while my consciousness screamed in defiance. And Hakan Bahar slowly faded into shadows and disappeared into the darker recesses of my home. For a second I thought he was still there, but my stomach had settled, that new talent quietening as though it hadn't caused a monumental amount of shit for my life.
Oh, freaking Goddess. Just what the hell had I done?
7
Gotta Get Your Kicks Where You Can
Well, there were two things I could take away from this debacle, at the very least. Hakan Bahar did not intend to kill me. And he was a level one Sanguis Vitam vampire. All the rest - the hunger, the respect, the words - could all have been an act.
Bahar was a political player, of that I was certain. Being drawn here, if he had in fact been drawn here at all, was for more than just a woman.
He wanted power. Power talked.
I refused to believe there was any other possible explanation. Hakan Bahar wanted power, and he was using my brother to get it.
My hands fisted, nails biting into skin. Memories of this morning - visceral and real - surged through to my very core. I rolled my head on my shoulders. Sucked in a cleansing breath of air. And then knocked hard against the closed door before me.
Frank would have known I was already here. He would have known the moment I entered Newmarket; I’d felt eyes on my body for the past few minutes. What accompanied those eyes I could only guess. But shooting the daughter of the Champion in the back was not the wisest thing for the head of the ghouls to be involved in.
The door to the Guts & Glory sports bar opened, displaying a darkened interior within. No one stood on the other side; they were either behind the door itself, or Frank was being overly cautious.
“I come in peace,” I offered, taking a step across the threshold. The sickly sweet scent of years worth of spilled beer met my nose, as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.
The large screen TV was on down one end of the bar, something nondescript flickering across it. Darts hung suspended on a dart board; forgotten. Half empty glasses and a basket of spare ribs sat on a table just to the side. A wash cloth lay crumpled on the bar’s surface. A cigarette burned down to the stub in an ashtray next to it.
I’d interrupted.
I stepped into the middle of the room, my back itching with the need to check behind the door. It was no use, I couldn’t help it, I was nervous enough as it was being here, knowing what was about to transpire. I glanced over my shoulder just as the door swung closed. No one was standing there.
The ghouls were twitchy.
“Frank,” I called into the strained silence.
“You’ve got a flippin’ cheek, showing your face here,” a gruff voice said from behind the bar. The shadows shifted, and Frank materialised. It was a neat trick, one his predecessor, Pete, hadn’t quite mastered.
That’s why Frank was in charge now.
“Your ghoul almost reneged on an info exchange,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders, approaching the bar.
Frank held my steady gaze with an emotionless one of his own. He was tall and lean, had nondescript brown hair and a bushy beard. Sharp hazel eyes, long face, and high cheek bones. All of it hiding the strength, both in physique and intelligence, that he commanded.
And he wouldn’t be alone. I forced myself not too look too hard into the shadows.
“You open for a trade?” I asked, slipping onto a stool in front of the bar. I swung my hair off my shoulder, giving those watching surreptitiously, from safely within their dark corners, a glimpse of my Svante.
It may not possess a dancing dragon hilt, but no supernatural would mistake what it was: A replica of my mother’s own sword.
“Depends,” Frank hedged, pulling out two glasses from beneath the bar’s surface. He started filling one from the tap. Dark ale, my usual drink of choice when I came here.
“Not like you to miss an opportunity to learn something,” I commented mildly, but inside my mind was reeling. Frank was playing the part, I should have been relieved, but he was clearly nervous. Sweat had started trickling down his neck, and into the bushy edge of his beard.
“You’re unpredictable, Ellie. You damn near had my ghoul in fucking tears.”
I smirked. The imagery was entertaining. But my gut was also twisting. Something wasn’t right.
“He had it coming, and you know it,” I offered. Glancing around the empty bar, my eyes snagging on the spare ribs. They were dripping in a red sauce; thicker than blood and I’d bet a lot spicier. But underneath they were still raw.
Ghouls tended to eat their meat raw… and in private. They fiercely guarded their heritage. But that wasn’t what had my new gut churning abili
ties humming. Twisted ribbons of unease flipped and flopped inside.
The basket was full.
The beers half empty.
They’d had an impromptu guest.
My eyes met those of Frank’s. He didn’t look away, almost a challenge.
Their guest was still here.
Now who would scare a ghoul?
I took a sip of the ale, letting the cool liquid drain down my gullet. Foam settled on my upper lip; I brushed it off with the sleeve of my jacket.
“So are we trading?” I asked, placing the beer stein back on a coaster. Guts & Glory might smell like your typical sports bar, but it was meticulously clean underneath the kitsch and cliche. Pete had insisted on that, and Frank had not seen fit to alter it.
“What you got?” he asked, picking up the crumpled white cloth and folding it. I watched his hands work, folding the material in half and then half again. Once he had it neatly settled, he slipped it down on the bench out of sight.
We wouldn’t be trading today. Frank always wiped the bar top when negotiating.
His eyes met mine.
Nothing. There was nothing there to say we were being watched. But I didn’t need a look. I didn’t even need my gut telling me to get the fuck out of here. Any halfwit with half a brain and an observant eye could tell something was off.
And if something was off with the head of the ghouls, then shit was about to hit the fan. Big time.
“I don’t know, Frank,” I drawled, feeling the weight of my sword down my back. My fingers itched to draw it. Light thrummed invisibly inside. “What I’ve got is worth a heap. Can you match a stellar trade of info?”
“Stellar, you say?” he grumbled, leaning his hip against the bar, acting as though the world was his oyster and he owned all the pearls in it. He was good. But he was still sweating. “When have I ever given you reason to doubt?”
I smiled. The ribbons spun faster and faster. Chills skittered down my spine.
My mother can seek out vampires. It is one of her prophesied titles. The Blood Life Seeker, or Sanguis Vitam Cupitor. Nosferatins can sense the Dark in a vampire, but they have to be facing the vampire to feel it. I couldn’t do what my mother could do. She’d been chosen by Nut.
kindred 08.6 - blood enchanted Page 7