Don't Cross This Line (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 14)

by Michael Anderle

  She looked to the dark blue at the edge of the black sky, a hint of pink working its way up along with the rising son, and struggled to say, “Dad…”

  He barked a laugh and said, “Dad? Dad is going to appreciate the truth, if I ever get around to telling him. Why he dotes on your worthless, spineless ass, I don’t know. Now, he will be sad for maybe a day or two and then he can continue the effort to plan the eventual takeover of the New York City State by yours truly.” Donovan glared down at her, disdain heavy in his voice as he said, “Not by a little whore who disgraces all vampires with her inability to act.”

  He watched her for a minute, lying there, broken and bleeding then he smiled. “Darling sister, you look sick.” With a laugh, he kicked sewage water in her face, “You must stay hydrated.”

  Behind closed eyelids, the embers of her anger started to burn slowly; the sewage runoff like gas for the burning hatred in her gut.

  Now? Now dying wasn’t an option. His ass was hers if it was the last thing she managed in this life.

  Donovan and his goons walked off, laughing as she worked to figure out how she could beat the sun from stopping her in her vengeance…No, not vengeance.

  Justice.

  She tried to move her hand, but all she could manage was whimpering in pain. A tear, laced with blood, joined the water beneath her face.

  ***

  Sandra ran through the corpses of the slaughtered, her heart hardened to yet another conquered village. She had thought she'd enjoy witnessing one more conquest in the Blessed's gradual move to the coast. During training, she had listened with fascination of the stories, always amazed by their courage. They had come this far from Old Paris and had managed to take down or absorb into the Duke’s kingdom every group they found in the barren and forsaken lands.

  The dying lands.

  None of that mattered right now, because if Sandra didn’t find her Valerie, her Mistress, it would be her head.

  No, that wasn’t what Valerie had said…It would be her heart. On a platter, served cold for Valerie’s other servants to consume while she watched.

  Part of that threat terrified Sandra, but part of it made her laugh. Sure, she’d seen the darker side of her Mistress. But they’d also spent evenings together staring out over the wasteland that had once been known as Paris... the toppled Eiffel Tower and lines of abandoned cars, all the while wondering what the days had been like before the collapse of civilization.

  They’d talked, they’d laughed, and they’d touched. Her Mistress’s hand had found hers, and then her lips, gentle, yet firm. A kiss, given in friendship and maybe something more?

  It had never happened again, and Sandra had been sworn to secrecy. But…it was enough to make her doubt Valerie would ever cause her any real harm.

  So yes, fear drove her in this search, but more than that. It was loyalty, and the deepest love for a friend one could have, when said friend was a vampire princess and one’s supposedly ruthless Mistress.

  The feeding contributed to the loyalty, she couldn’t ignore that, of course. The taste of Valerie’s blood when she offered it wasn’t what Sandra would call sweet, but it flowed through her, making her feel younger, healthier, and in complete bliss.

  The only problem was that it was addictive as hell.

  She reached the top of the pile of rubble and, in the distance, saw the rays of sun peeking out over the trees. The other Blessed, as the father of them all titled his Clan, were pulling back to the cover of darkness. The father, Le Duc Eckhart was simply referred to as the Duke, his French title from the old days.

  That had been before he’d gone into sleep mode and slept right through the end of days, or the “Second Falling of Rome,” as he called it. Now, he orchestrated these attacks and insisted on war camps set up at a retreat point, guarded by loyal Weres during the day. A raid would occur, then Eckhart’s children and their children would retreat during the light of day while his other troops cleaned up and established another outpost in his name.

  Even the Duke couldn’t survive in sunlight, which meant Valerie definitely could not. Being a non-modified human meant Sandra could, but it didn’t matter. She’d either die here searching for her Mistress, or be torn to pieces when she returned without her.

  “Valerie,” she called out in a hoarse whisper, her voice overused from calling out for her master. One minute Valerie had been at the front lines, charging in to attack with Donovan, and the next she'd wandered off, aimlessly.

  Shadows were beginning to creep along the roads, and one moved. At first, Sandra refused to get her hopes up, figuring it was simply a forgotten victim, but then she saw the eyes—red, glimmering, searching.

  In the flash that it took her legs to carry her to her Mistress, Sandra was kneeling beside Valerie. She gasped in shock at the sight of her master. In the past, Valerie had returned home with gunshots, Werewolf bites, and worse…but nothing like this. The beating she must have taken to be in this state was unheard of.

  Then it hit her. No human could have done this to her Mistress.

  “Who betrayed you?” Sandra asked, hands shaking in anger. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you earlier, I searched, but…where’d you go?”

  Valerie almost smiled, but the tears of blood running down her cheeks gave her away. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “We have to get you out of the sun,” Sandra said, and then bent down to help her up.

  But the motion sent a spasm through Valerie and she screamed in pain.

  Again Sandra glanced at the horizon. The thick, billowing clouds were orange now with highlights of purple, and the tip of the sun was barely visible.

  “Drink, Mistress,” she said, holding out her wrist for Valerie. “It’s the only way.”

  ***

  Valerie stared up at this lowly human. Her servant, yet so much more. There was no way around it, if she hoped to survive long enough to escape the sunlight and one day truly bring justice about, this was the way.

  Every bone in her body snapped and cracked as she tried to move for the bite, but the pain caused her to collapse in agony.

  “Please,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her mouth. This was humiliation galore. Valerie the vampire princess stooping to such lows.

  But to not do so meant Donovan won, and that she could not allow.

  “Please,” she said again, and this time Sandra heard, judging by the look of shock in her eyes.

  Without hesitation, Sandra pressed her wrist to Valerie’s mouth, flinching only slightly when the fangs pierced her skin.

  Warm blood flowed forth and it tasted of life—sweet, aromatic, and soothing. At first, Valerie felt she would close her eyes and just sleep forever, but then a surge of energy and power came over her. She knew that nothing could ever stand in her way.

  Skin pulled itself back together and she felt her bones mending themselves. She licked her lips and drank more, closing her eyes in ecstasy and then focusing on the warmth of the blood as it filled her and nursed her back to life.

  A soft moan. She looked up to see how pale Sandra had become in a matter of seconds, and what she hadn’t seen at first hit her—sunlight forming a halo around her servant’s head. The sunrise had found them.

  With one last, sensual lick, Valerie pulled herself back from Sandra’s wrist and told her, “I am forever in your debt.”

  Sandra collapsed beside her, falling into the shadows and out of the sun’s path.

  Valerie tested her strength and was glad to see it returning. The pain was there, but bearable as she continued to feel bones mending, muscles re-attaching. She put an arm around her servant, and then, spotting a building still mostly intact, drug herself and Sandra through shadows until they were safe inside.

  “The others,” Sandra managed as they leaned against the inside wall, recuperating. “Your father won’t like that we’re not with them.”

  Valerie's eyes flashed red, “My father can kiss my vampire ass, as long as he doesn’
t suck any blood from it.”

  Sandra turned with a jolt. Nobody talked of the Duke that way.

  Valerie painfully held up a hand to stop whatever Sandra might say, finality in her voice. “We’re not going back. Ever.”

  “Then, we’re no better than Forsaken,” Sandra said. “On the run, hunted. I—”

  “You’ll do as you're told,” Valerie said, then glanced at the younger woman’s wrist and cringed, thinking of her honor. “That is, if you’re willing. I cannot force you to make this journey with me.”

  Sandra’s eyes went wide at this offer, but then considered the options her heart provided and nodded.

  She wasn’t going anywhere.

  “What is the plan, Mistress?”

  “We get to America before Donovan and his people, set up a base of defense, and see to it that my brother’s journey across the ocean will be his last.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Somewhere Across the Atlantic

  Diego snuck through the large, open cargo bay of the anti-grav blimp, his nose tingling. He hadn’t been sure what upset his senses when the ship first set off. The scent of goods, en route to supply the few remaining city-states in North America, had been strong enough to cancel out his Were senses.

  But now that they were floating out over the open seas, he was sure of it. The smell of fish, salt, and vampire.

  The streets of Spain had taught him how to stay out of trouble. Groups of Weres claimed different territories of Old Madrid, with the wolves on one side, a splinter group of the Sacred Clan—Were cats—in another. But he was a runt, which meant none had accepted him. Small when transformed and not much taller than five-six as a man, he’d been laughed out of dens when he tried to pitch himself to the various packs.

  No Alpha wanted him as a liability.

  He had tried to tell them that he had his own unique skills. Speed. A brain that worked twice as fast as most others, and the ability to sneak.

  “So go join the Sacred Clan, pup,” one of the henchmen had told him, right before Diego put a blade in the Were’s throat.

  So yeah, sticking around after that discussion hadn’t been an option. Asia had too many risks, with the legends of Yuko and Akio, vampires nobody wanted to mess with. Staying in Europe meant the packs would be after him if he tried to hide out in Spain or Portugal, and anywhere else risked more Vampires. Forsaken or not, he’d heard what they did to stray dogs and cats, and didn’t want to find out if those rumors were true for himself.

  But right now, his dreams of making it West looked like a long shot. For all he knew, this vampire was here to kill him, paid off by the Were who he’d nearly killed—and would have, if the blade had been silver. Even if the vampire didn’t know anything about him, it was likely to throw him overboard simply to avoid complications.

  Diego paused by one of several round, thick glass windows, and watched the setting sun.

  If the vampire had traveled during the day, that meant… No, that couldn’t have happened. Only the old vampires of legend, from the days before the fall of the world, could walk in the sun. Even that could be fiction as much as fact. Diego, for his part, believed it was simply the stories vampires told to scare other members of the UnknownWorld.

  “Where are you?” he hissed, stepping away from the window and trying to make sense of it. But only one conclusion came to mind. The vampire had help. Whether that meant in the form of humans or something else, he couldn’t be sure.

  He’d have to proceed with caution.

  And then a thought struck him—if they were down here in the shadows, the sunlight wouldn’t matter. He’d forgotten the part in the stories that said they didn’t actually need to sleep in the day, that little detail had been made up from fiction long ago lost.

  Mierda, he thought, as a breath touched his neck. He froze, waiting for the fangs, but none came.

  Instead, it was a woman’s voice. “You were looking for me, and now you’ve found me.”

  She hadn’t attacked, and that was her mistake. His claws extended as he spun on her—only to be thrown aside as a second person, or vampire more likely, based on how fast they moved, sent him flying.

  ***

  Valerie had been waiting for the Were to walk right into her trap. Part of her waited like this because she wasn’t sure she’d fully healed from the night before—she still felt a bit queasy. The other part of her simply liked to toy with Weres.

  She’d gambled correctly on feeding Sandra some of her blood, after healing so that they could both be recuperated in case anything went down. In this case, it also served to make the servant girl smell like a vampire.

  He growled and swiped at her with his claws, drawing blood across Valerie’s face. It would heal, but crap it stung!

  “Quiet or they’ll be after us,” she hissed, pinning him to the floor with one hand as the other went to the hilt of her sword. “And I’d prefer not to have to kill the people who know how to fly this thing.”

  The fierceness in his eyes faltered, and he lowered his clawed hand.

  “You’re not killing me?”

  “Not yet decided, but I’d prefer not to mess up my karma.” She looked him up and down, noting his small stature for a Were, even an Asian looking Were. “But you haven’t told me why you were snooping around down here.”

  “Snooping? I smelled vampire, and figured I was being hunted.”

  “You’re so important that we’d send our own to track you down?” She looked at him like he had just taken a walk off the short plank into a pool of stupidity.

  He blinked at that, clearly affronted.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said, then stood and waited for him to get up. “Tell me fast, Were, what you’re doing here.”

  He stared at her, defiantly. Fine by her, she could play this game all day—as long as the top of the blimp didn’t fly away and leave her exposed to sunlight, which was unlikely to happen. Then again, she’d rather get back to hiding before they were discovered and would have to explain themselves.

  Crews of the blimps were known for their ferocity. They had to be strong, in the face of pirates. Thule inspired anti-grav technology, left over from the days before the fall, meant that they could get blimps flying. Other means of travel across the seas were challenging, as fuel had become incredibly scarce after the great fall of the world. So it was back to the old days of sailboats, if one could gather enough of a crew and figure out brave the ocean, or these blimps. Either way, pirates had made a comeback—some human, others not. Most kept to the waters, but if they managed to get their hands on a blimp and shoot you down, you were pretty much toast—burnt, soggy, salty toast.

  For all she knew, half of this crew was made up of pirates looking for an honest buck between pirating bouts.

  “I’m not going to sit here having a staring contest with you all day,” she said. “Speak up, or I feed you to the sharks.”

  “Why not eat me yourself?” he said, with a glare like he dared her.

  “Do you really understand so little about my kind?” She laughed, then turned to Sandra. “Would you please explain?”

  Sandra stepped forward, hands folded before her. “My Mistress is referring to the fact that vampires aren’t big on Were blood. So, my assumption is she’d at least prefer to give you a swimming chance, or better yet, make the sharks happy with a meal that came to them.”

  With a cautious glance, Sandra stepped forward, eyeing the Were up and down. “But you don’t strike me as dangerous, because you’re not. Isn’t that right, Mr. …?”

  “The real name’s Xianliang,” he said, his eyes clearly announcing his annoyance. “But I had a street name in Spain, if you must… The guys called me Diego.”

  “Huh. Diego… I kinda like that. I’ll use that when I like you. Ass-cat otherwise.”

  He glared and waited.

  With a nod from Valerie, Sandra introduced the two of them. And then they waited. Finally, Diego blew out his breath and leaned up against a crate.


  “The old world has nothing for me anymore,” he told them. “Better to follow the path of those before. Head out west.”

  “It’s as simple as that?” Valerie asked.

  He eyed her out of the corner of his eyes, then shrugged. “Nothing’s ever simple. But yeah, honestly. There are stories you hear, right? This one's about a place they’re rebuilding up north, what the old days referred to as New Jersey. Well, rumor has it that’s the place to be. I’m talking food, shelter, and even some sort of order.”

  Was this Were serious? Valerie shared a look with Sandra, but she didn’t look surprised. More like sympathetic. It wasn’t that Valerie didn’t realize people and those of the Unknown World lived in poor conditions, but being the creation of the Duke meant certain lifestyle differences from the general populace. And she rarely had to deal with it. Even when they had set up their various outposts around France and she had gone to inspect, the worst must have been hidden from her, as she was now beginning to understand.

  Everything was hidden from her until she had insisted on going on the raid. The Duke had said no, at first, but had capitulated at Donovan’s insistence. Now it all made sense. He knew she’d freeze up when she saw what it was really like, this underground war they were fighting—us against everyone else. And now she was getting a different view of it.

  They found a hiding spot near the back of the supplies, and soon she found that she didn’t think this guy was half bad.

  Diego told her all about the streets of Spain, how he’d been a Were as long as he could remember. Maybe even born into it, but he hadn’t ever known his parents.

  It had been survival first, everything else a distant second in his experience.

  “How about you?” he asked at a lull in the conversation. “I mean… am I just talking nonsense here?”

  Sandra looked like she was about to answer, but Valerie held up a finger and said, “No, it was the same for us.” She noticed Sandra’s look of confusion at her lie, but went on. “We never fit in with society, always on the run. It’s the same now, and who knows, maybe we’ll come to this city of gold you mentioned.”