by K. M. Shea
Celestina waved her off. “Thank you for the update.”
Julianne bowed. “I will leave you to it, then, and wish you well!”
Celestina turned back to me. “Now,” she began.
“Let me guess,” I said. “I have to carry my katana while I run.” I’d been eyeing the area, which was suspiciously free of benches or sword stands.
“Exactly,” Celestina said with some surprise. “You are smart for a wizard!”
“Wizards aren’t stupid.”
She looked unconvinced, but said nothing more as she indicated to the tree-lined path. “We’ll take this circuit. It’s the shortest—only a single mile.”
“Oh, well, if that’s all,” I said.
Celestina laughed. “I imagine it will seem long at first. But don’t worry—I can monitor your breathing with my hearing. If you need a break, we will walk. It will do you no good to push your body into an injury.”
“That does actually make me feel better,” I admitted. “As long as you actually know human breathing patterns?”
“I am familiar, yes. Shall we begin?”
I stared down at my sword. If my parents could see me now, what would they think? I then remembered what they’d done, and silenced the thought.
“Yeah.” I had to crane my neck back to meet Celestina’s gaze. “Starting sounds great.”
I switched my grip on my sword—getting more smudges on it—then rolled my shoulders back with determination.
Celestina nodded in approval, then trotted off—still in her high heels—at a tolerable jog. Well, a jog for me. Judging by how little her sun-blocking umbrella bobbed, I’m pretty sure it was a fast walk for her.
My arms had settled into a dull ache even though I toted my sword. Speaking of which, can I say I was so glad Josh decided to give me a smaller katana? I can’t imagine how terrible it would have been to drag one of the bigger ones around. But my thighs burned. Like, there was a distinct possibility I wasn’t going to be able to haul my rear upstairs to my bedroom once this was all over.
I wasn’t wheezing much—which surprised me until I realized it was probably due to all the sprinting and running away from potential bullies I did. But the pain from weightlifting had me scrunching up my face and limping along. “Shower,” I reminded myself. “Think of the shower.”
Celestina made an amused noise as we left the shady lane and the path meandered toward the back of the property. “Motivating yourself?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Is this the way to the pool?”
“Not quite. This path doesn’t go that far back…” She trailed off as she gazed out over the lawn, her dark brows bunching together in a look of concern.
“What is it?” I asked.
Celestina slowed down so she was barely moving as she carefully surveyed our surroundings, her red eyes tracing over the back of the mansion, the gardens, and the trees a little off to the side. “I smell something that doesn’t belong here.”
“What?” I jogged a little farther, then slowed to a walk as I studied her face.
“Death,” she said bluntly.
I wondered about that—vampires were technically dead, after all. But I wasn’t about to ask such a rude question, plus Celestina looked legit worried, so I started scanning the area as well.
Celestina left our jogging path, making for the trees.
I trailed behind her, adjusting my hold on my sword so Celestina could grab it if she needed to—perhaps the fae had dumped another monster off?
Celestina ducked under a low hanging tree branch, froze, then muttered under her breath in Spanish.
She yanked her cellphone out of her suitcoat and pressed a speed-dial number.
I peeked around her shoulder, freezing when I saw a pair of booted feet poking out of a bush. It was a body.
My skin turned clammy, and I thought I could detect the faintest whiff of blood. Somehow, I didn’t think the owner of the feet was as lucky as I had been. My stomach protested, and I rapidly backed away.
“Your Eminence,” Celestina said to her phone. “The murderer struck again, and I believe I found his latest victim.”
Two hours later I was showered, dressed in a suit that fit me surprisingly well, drinking tea from a real bone china teacup…and surrounded by vampires.
We were located in a meeting room—or the at-home, vampire-version of a meeting room. A long wooden table that had dragons carved into its legs stretched through the center of the room, but as big as it was, it still wasn’t large enough to fit all the Drake vampires who were present. The unseated vamps stood at the edges of the room, their eyes glittering ruby red in their fury. The room was as lavish as the rest of the mansion—expensive paintings hung on the wood paneled walls, and the marble fireplace probably cost a fortune—but I found it a little off putting because it also lacked any windows and was so dimly lit I could barely make out the flower pattern of my teacup.
A male vampire exchanged shouts with a female vampire, and Celestina stood in an attentive position at the door, holding a handgun aimed at the floor.
I sank lower on my rickety chair and tried to make myself as unnoticeable as possible. The meeting had only started ten minutes ago, and there had already been a lot of slamming fists on the table so it cracked ominously.
It turned out the body Celestina and I found belonged to Layton—a Drake vampire, and the first victim from Killian’s lineage. Unsurprisingly, the powerful Family was not taking the news well.
“We must take action,” Rupert declared. “Layton was killed on Drake Family land. That’s reason enough for us to declare war!”
“Declare war on what?” asked a male vampire with chestnut hair. “We have a serial killer on the loose—other Families have had losses as well.”
“And they have been too lazy and incompetent to find the murderer—or murderers—themselves,” a female vampire hotly said. “We cannot afford to hope they will shake themselves out of their apathy—our race will die out before then. We must find the murderer and mete out justice—for Layton’s sake!”
“Might I remind you, we’ve also lost a servant and two blood donors,” Josh said. He leaned against the wall, nonchalantly studying the bare blade of a dagger that he balanced between his fingertips.
“Obviously.” The female vampire rolled her eyes. “There has been collateral damage. But it is inexcusable that we lost one of our own in a time where every vampire is needed to assert our power, and turning new vampires is nearly impossible!”
I bristled at the implication and started to shift in my chair, before I remembered who I’d been placed next to and froze.
But I was too late. Killian—seated at the head of the table, with me directly next to him, though I had voluntarily scooted against the corner of the table—glanced over at me.
I kept my eyes on the teacup and pressed my lips together.
Why was I even in this meeting? Killian meant to make me into a soldier, but this was Drake Family business. I absolutely didn’t want to be here—but Celestina hadn’t given me much of a choice. As soon as my hair had dried enough that it wouldn’t soak the collar of my suit, she had dragged me here and forcibly served me tea before the other vampires had arrived.
She probably had been ordered to by Killian, given my spot, but I understood even less why he would want me present.
Killian blinked slowly, and kept staring at me as the heated discussion continued.
“Obviously the murderer is backed by the Night Court,” Rupert said, naming one of the biggest local fae Courts. “For too long they’ve threatened us and opposed our movements in the Regional Committee of Magic. It’s time we finally teach them a lesson.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the other vampires.
“The Night Court,” Josh said, his voice simultaneously speculative and wistful. “The darkest of fae Courts who embrace the breath of death into their lives.”
The female vampire standing on Josh’s other side, sighed. “That
lacked sense.”
Josh morosely studied his dagger. “For those who do not share the burden of life, yes.”
The vampires all stared at him for a moment, before collectively turning the discussion to a new point.
“If the others would help us, we could get this murderer much more quickly,” said one of the vampires I’d seen at the gym.
“They said they would help,” Julianne—the vampire who had reported to Celestina right before we found the body—sourly said. “The problem is they won’t prioritize it.”
“And they never will,” a vampire snorted. “Everyone is too concerned with holding onto their own power—that’s why the wizard is here.”
I felt like a bunny in a bear den when the vampires all shifted their glittering red eyes to me.
Though my heart pounded and my survival instinct screamed at me to run, I carefully set my teacup down and did my best to look angelic.
It seemed to appease them, and they looked away.
“The other members of the Committee don’t help us out of concern for themselves.” Rupert slammed his fist into the table with enough force to make my teacup rattle. “They’re happy to see us struggle. It’s why they won’t try and rein the Night Court in even though they must be behind all of this!”
I frowned at my teacup as I listened, not sure how much I liked hearing all of this. (But I didn’t think trotting around Drake Hall in ignorance was great for my health, either.)
“Hazel.” It was the first time Killian had spoken since sitting down, and it brought an instant and smothering silence to the room.
I hid my hands under the table and made myself meet his eyes. “Yes?”
“What do you think?”
Agog, I stared at him.
What did I think? What did it matter what I thought? Why was he asking me this in the middle of a heated discussion I had no right to be a part of!
My heart beat faster and faster, and I finally understood how it was possible for wild animals to die of fright. “What do I think about what?” I asked in a surprisingly calm and solid voice.
Killian motioned to the table. “The discussion.”
I stared at him for a few moments longer, waiting—and hoping—for him to laugh at his own joke.
He didn’t.
He was serious.
Whhhhyyy? I never wished for powers of telepathy as much as I did then. Why, why, why was he throwing me under the bus? If I said the wrong thing one of his little minions was sure to kill me—at bare minimum Rupert would give me a weightlifting workout spawned from Hades, and I’d die in my sleep.
I cleared my throat. “I think the pattern over the last few decades has been that the various magical races will keep to their own. I wish it was different, but it’s the way things have become—as I’ve learned.” I paused and sucked in a breath before I made myself soldier on through. “I think what’s most worrisome is that the murderer is going after vampires and those they associate with—servants and blood donors, too. The killer isn’t doing this just out of political motivation, or they’d choose their targets more carefully. Besides, everyone wants to avoid getting the humans worried. The more humans killed, the less likely you’ll be able to keep this out of the public eye, and this will have a domino effect on everyone.”
I glanced around the room and was met with thoughtful and surprised gazes. Celestina gave me a faint smile, and Josh a nod of approval, but everyone remained silent. I snuck a peek at Killian—who was still staring at me.
“And?” he said.
He wanted me to keep going?
I frantically pulled my stray thoughts together, trying to come up with a conclusion that would get me out of this. “It means whoever is doing this doesn’t care about that possibility,” I said. “Humans greatly outnumber us and are more than capable of killing us off in masses. So I guess a serial killer is possible, unless…” I wanted to suck my neck into my shoulders, but I made myself sit straighter instead. “They’re doing this on purpose—killing the servants and blood donors—to make you look weak.”
Killian smiled at me, and the smothering silence finally evaporated.
“Obviously,” Rupert grumbled under his breath. “We’ve known that from the beginning.”
“But to have a wizard see it, too, can only strengthen our hypothesis, given she is coming at it from an entirely different viewpoint,” Celestina said.
This spawned thoughtful looks on most of the vamps present.
Killian finally straightened in his leather chair, going from languid to predatory in the blink of an eye. “Regardless who the murderer is, they are almost certainly sent by the Night Court. The Committee has turned a blind eye to the Night Court’s antics for too long—they don’t care how many laws the Night Court breaks as long as they only hassle the vampires. But that’s fine—it’s their prerogative.” His eyes were black in the dim light as he smiled, revealing his elongated fang teeth. “But I will make them feel pain, too. At the next meeting, I will strike down the request for land usage submitted by the local fae Courts and werewolf Packs.”
“What did they want to use land for?” a male vampire asked.
Killian shrugged. “They wished to turn it into a land preserve that werewolves and fae could use for magical purposes. But it doesn’t matter. They won’t get it.”
The vampires laughed and grinned. The mood of the room was still pretty grim and tense, but they clearly found joy in subverting the others’ plans.
I pressed my lips together more tightly and stared at my teacup.
I could actually sympathize with the vampires—possibly for the first time in my life.
House Medeis holds life as precious, and while we’re somewhat infamous for banning killing—even in self-defense—I understood the horror of what was going on. Someone was picking off innocent people—and vampires. It wasn’t during battle; it wasn’t even in an official fight. It was on Family land—a place that should be safe. (Well…safe for them.) No matter what politics were going on, killing innocents was never okay.
But I didn’t like Killian’s plan to get rid of the park. Not because I felt strongly about the park—though I did recall it was something the werewolves had been excited about for a while—but because it wasn’t right to use his position on the Regional Committee as a way to extract revenge.
I couldn’t argue, though, that no one else cared about the murders. But cooperation between the races wasn’t common. Too much blood had been spilled, and too many wars had been fought for us to really cooperate.
I moodily picked up my teacup.
Nothing seemed fair or right. Killian’s vengeful tendencies were too much. But I couldn’t say the peace-loving ways of House Medeis were totally right either, or I wouldn’t have been sitting here with sealed magic, hiding from my own House.
But it didn’t matter for now. All I could do was hang on and try to survive—both the vampires and whoever was committing all these murders.
Which is why I didn’t dare breathe a word that, given how easily the murderer/serial killer seemed to slip Drake Hall’s defenses, there was a possibility it was an inside job. Because even if it was a valid thought, I was pretty sure the vampires would take offense and possibly react with violence.
Chapter Eleven
Hazel
A week passed, and there were no new murders.
My life mostly revolved around exercising and taking Epsom-salt soaks in the giant bathtub of my private bedroom. (That was, perhaps, the only major positive in this: the huge room upgrade. My bathroom was the size of my bedroom back in House Medeis, and if I had a death wish I could ransack it for serious money between the soap dispenser that was leafed with real gold and what I suspected were real rubies welded into the giant mirror frame.)
I wasn’t seeing much improvement in the physical fitness area, but Celestina assured me I would soon. I was able to hold my sword in the sword forms now without my arms shaking. But that meant giving credit to Rupert fo
r the weightlifting, something I was morally opposed to.
“Switch to a defensive stance next,” Josh instructed. He circled, keeping a critical eye on my movements. “For as inevitable as the final kiss of death is, I imagine you desire to fend it off for as long as possible.”
Josh had taken over my sword training for the past two days, during which I’d come to learn a lot about him. For instance, he wasn’t judging my lack of fighting abilities—though I wish he was—but rather just being…Josh. I’d never met a vampire as morose and fixated on death as Josh before. (I mean, vampires are immortal. If anyone thumbed their nose at death it was vampires. Josh, however, didn’t seem to agree.)
I maneuvered my body so my sword pointed down, but was positioned in a way that would protect my stomach.
“An excellent choice,” Josh said. “This stance in particular is helpful against werewolves, who are prone to going for the guts of their victim—though the smarter ones will focus on your neck.”
“Fabulous,” I said. “Something to look forward to.”
“When you add magic to your sword stances, you’ll find you are much more capable of fighting than you imagined.” Josh stopped in front of me with his hands clasped behind his back. “Magic is something of a cheat code when fighting.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Totally. That’s why everyone is scared of wizards.”
Josh tilted his head as he studied me, his forehead wrinkled. (I think I confused him about as much as he confused me.) “Very well, it seems you require a demonstration. Take up a kata—overhead cut.”
A kata is a Japanese sword form—sort of. It’s really a set of choreographed movements, but since I was a total newbie to the art form the only kata I had learned were pretty limited in length. They all have fancy Japanese names, but Celestina had decided it wasn’t worth trying to teach me when she laughed so hard at my initial attempts she almost impaled herself on a wrought-iron fence.