Bloodspell

by Amalie Howard

  The limousine pulled away from the curb and Christian leaned back into the seat. He had just succeeded in antagonizing two of the most powerful vampires in the House of Devereux and quite possibly in the whole of Europe, which probably had not been the wisest move. But if it kept his brother from realizing who Victoria was and kept the Council in balance, then it would be worth it.

  Christian thought about Lena. She, on the other hand, was a different story—she was one of the deadliest and most lethal vampires he had ever met. He should know, after all, he had made her.

  He stared out the window at the passing shops and restaurants, and thought back to the first time he had met Lena. An Austrian baroness, she had been stunning, mesmerizing, and both Christian and Lucian had been enraptured the minute they had seen her dueling in Vienna. It was in the last decade of the nineteenth century on a day neither of them would ever forget.

  Her delicate feminine beauty had belied her strength and furious force of will, not to mention her skilled grace with a rapier. They'd watched her as she fought against three men, two twice her size, her weapon spinning at impossible speed. Her blond hair had whipped free of its covering, and people around them gasped. They'd thought her a boy.

  "She's magnificent," Lucian had announced, staring at his brother in unspoken challenge. "I want her." Back then, competition had been a natural force between them—it had made the prize more exciting and much more satisfying when won.

  "I want her, too," Christian had said.

  And so it began.

  They had pursued her relentlessly, fueled by the competition from each other, and fascinated by everything about her; her disregard for propriety, her flagrant disrespect for the rules, and her insatiable appetite to try anything—she did what she wanted when she wanted. She could speak nine languages, fight with all manner of weapons including her fists, having grown up with seven brothers, and she was fearless.

  In the end, Christian had been first to petition the Council to allow her to become his companion, and they had granted the request. He'd told Lena the first time he'd taken her to his bed, and afterward, Christian offered Lena the gift of immortality.

  "How could I want anything more than to be with you forever," she'd said.

  There'd been no mention of love, and Lena had embraced becoming a vampire, and him, with open arms. Lucian had been a gracious loser, but in hindsight, Christian recognized that things had changed between them after that day.

  It was during a time in his life when the monotony of immortality had weighed its heaviest and he had been looking for something, someone, anything, to offset the incredible sense of emptiness that had plagued him. Lena's uninhibited zest for every part of life had been like a spike of adrenaline to his system.

  But despite his being her maker, a true bond between them had never formed and his attraction to her had worn off. He didn't love Lena, and the things that had drawn him to her in the first place, her fearlessness and lust for life, became the very things that he loathed the most. Like Lucian, she reveled in the kill, she reveled in being immortal, being stronger, faster, better, and she was willing to do whatever gave her the biggest thrill. In the end, she couldn't change who she was, a deadly killer who thoroughly enjoyed being one.

  So he had left the House without any regrets, and she had stayed with Lucian. Over the years, she had remained eternally beautiful, but had become a thousand times more lethal.

  As they drove through the city, Christian caught a glimpse of the gilded top of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, beautiful and majestic, and he felt an urge to just stop and breathe in the magic that was Paris. He instructed the driver to head toward the Arc de Triomphe. He felt like taking a walk.

  He got out of the car and dismissed the driver for the night, saying that he would get himself back to St. Germain. The night air was crisp and cold, the Champs-Elysées beautifully lit with trees covered in tiny white lights meandering down either side of the grand avenue. Brightly lit storefronts glittered as far as the eye could see and the occasional glow of headlights pierced the darkness. He loved the sounds and the smell of Paris. It was like old world glory, infusing his blood with the sense of life and warmth that he barely remembered from his mortal existence. He knew it would always be home in his heart even though he only visited once a year.

  Perhaps one day he would bring Victoria here. She would love it.

  As her name crossed his mind, he felt the familiar stirring in his heart and wondered whether she was thinking about him. Christian had tried to communicate mentally with her but for some reason, he'd been unable to, and when he'd tried to call, it went straight to voicemail. He didn't like not being able to reach her, but there was nothing he could do but keep trying.

  He clasped his hands behind his back and walked down the avenue as groups of young people with their ruddy happy faces swirled past, laughing and talking loudly. He watched as a young couple, hands laced, kissed passionately on a bench, and felt the familiar sensation unfurl in his belly. He hadn't fed since arriving in Paris. Normally he could last a week between feedings but the fight with Lucian had drained him more than expected.

  His gaze remained relaxed as he slowly swept the area. He didn't have acres of woodland to work with as he did in Canville, but at the end of the day, blood was blood. He supposed he could go to Lucian's, there were enough willing human donors there as he had seen from the housekeeper's lurid bruises, but everything about it repulsed him, making the cattle analogy a little too real for comfort. He kept walking, his predator's mind alert and searching.

  Soon, it seemed like hours had passed, and Christian had considered and just as quickly discarded several handfuls of people passing by. Frustrated, the sensation in his stomach becoming more insistent with each vibrantly alive body, he faced the truth of the matter—he knew exactly what he wanted, someone like her. Despite how terrible it seemed, a small part of him wanted in some desperate way to mirror the act, with someone who at least looked liked her. The mere thought of it excited him.

  He walked past the Place de la Concorde and into the Jardin des Tuileries, where he sat on a small green metal chair and waited, watchful. Something stroked his awareness and he focused on a girl who had just crossed the far end of the gravel path. She smelled nothing like Victoria, but her long dark hair, coloring and height were enough to make his heart beat faster from a distance. Curiously, she did not appear to be nervous when he approached her, asking if she had the time in flawless French. She smiled coquettishly, attracted despite herself to him, a handsome, mysterious stranger. He had forgotten how naturally the magnetism came to him.

  It wasn't difficult to persuade her to accompany him to a wooden bench in the shadow of a small tree, his silver eyes compelling, his vampire power hypnotic and irresistible. She had no chance. They sat and he leaned into her slowly as her hair fell forward in a dark curtain, her neck long and slim and inviting. Warm. Pulsing with life. He felt his jaw tighten, his teeth lengthen, and a single thought crossed his mind ... Victoria.

  To the random passerby, they looked like any other couple in love, sharing a fevered embrace, her expression beatific, arms resting on his shoulders. Christian took what he needed and watched as the puncture wounds healed, facilitated by the enzyme in his saliva until the only sign of entry remaining was a slight, reddening bruise. He thanked her for her assistance and watched as she woozily made her way to the main road. She would not remember the encounter other than a stranger asking her for the time.

  Although the blood had satiated his hunger, he felt strangely empty, and the edge of his desire remained, taunting him with its presence. It was a longing that only Victoria herself could assuage.

  Christian couldn't sleep and spent half the night sitting on his balcony in the blistering cold, staring out at the night sky. He missed not being able to communicate with Victoria at any moment and his anxiety was getting the better of him. He wanted to call her, knowing that it would only be nine in the evening there but he
didn't want to seem obsessive. After all, she hadn't called him either.

  After another hour of arguing with himself, he finally picked up his phone and dialed her cell number. It went straight to voicemail and he didn't bother to leave a message. He went back to staring blindly at the dark sky.

  CHRISTIAN TRIED TO call Victoria several times throughout the morning with no success. He decided that he would try the ski lodge once his meeting with the Council was over. It had only been a couple days, but he needed to know that she was all right.

  The limousine cut west neatly through the afternoon traffic on the way to La Défense, the business center of Paris. The Council was a powerful body that owned several wealthy corporations and made use of their boardrooms to conduct other business like special Council meetings. Real estate was just another of the perks of immortality.

  The limousine pulled to a stop, and the chauffeur opened the door. Looking up briefly at the overcast sky, Christian stepped out, leaving his overcoat in the car and walked briskly over to the Tour Areva, one of the tallest skyscrapers in La Défense. The building was entirely black, fitting for its owners, with dark granite walls and darkly tinted windows, a massive onyx structure rising more than six hundred feet into the air.

  Christian walked into the lobby and immediately turned heads. Despite his youth, his height commanded attention, and the authority and confidence he emanated, held it. Dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal Italian suit, crisp white shirt left open at the neck with no tie, and polished Dior loafers, he certainly looked the part of an executive. He looked young, sophisticated and entirely too dangerous.

  Normally Christian preferred a more casual look but at these Council meetings, appearances were everything, especially for someone considered vampire royalty. By human standards, nineteen was young. By vampire standards, a hundred and seventy-five even more so. Still, after so many years, the pretense came naturally to him and his act was flawless.

  He took the private elevator to the top floor where a gorgeous brunette showed him into the conference room. Human, with not a mark on her perfect, bronzed skin that he could see. He smiled and was rewarded with a warm look of unmistakable invitation. So maybe the marks were elsewhere. In a delightful breathy voice, she said, "They'll be here soon. Is there anything I can get you?"

  Christian smiled again and declined, allowing himself to relax a bit after she left, although he wasn't naive enough to think that they weren't watching him, so he continued to play the part, lounging in his chair and looking indifferent to being kept waiting.

  When the receptionist came back in to let him know that they would be in shortly, he stood up and strode over to the floor to ceiling windows. The city of La Défense stretched in an undulating wave below, and even when he heard the door open behind him, he didn't turn around until he knew they were all there.

  "My Lords," he began, using the formal address, "I am here at your request." He stared around the long table, his gaze impassive yet respectful. Despite knowing the part that he was expected to play, he was also well aware of the power at this table. Some of the Elders were thousands of years old. He recognized many of the faces and nodded politely to those he knew. Others were unfamiliar, younger members more recently inducted to the Council. Though Paris was its headquarters, the Council was global, with twenty members from all over the world. Christian also noticed with some surprise that there were now two female members on the Council. Things were changing.

  On the whole, he did not detect any measure of blatant hostility, although some of the newer faces were wary. Good, that meant that they knew what to expect.

  Enhard, one of the Council speakers, stood gesturing for Christian to sit at the last remaining seat at the table. Enhard was handsome, his unlined youthful face belying the fact that he was several hundred centuries old and considered an Elder. Christian sat with a gracious inclination of his head.

  "Your Grace, thank you for coming," Enhard said. "As the first matter of business today, we raise the issue of the prophecy. We fear that the actions of your brother, Lord Devereux, will bring war upon us. The witch clans have made claims that he has murdered innocents in his blind desire to discover Le Sang Noir. The worst offense was a thirteen year old witch killed in full view of her entire coven." Enhard paused. Christian's face remained impassive. "There is a centuries-old truce based on a violent past between vampires and witches; we don't hunt them and they don't attack us. Our agreements have been tenuous at best, and our truce is now in jeopardy. His flagrant disrespect of this law, among others, must be addressed."

  Enhard stopped, his dark gaze intense. The tension in the room was palpable.

  "We respect the power and lineage of the House of Devereux, and it is in deference to this ancestry that we have come to you. Lucian must be controlled." Enhard's voice was soft, but the veiled warning in it was unmistakable. Other members of the Council nodded their heads in vehement agreement.

  "What is it you expect me to do, my Lords?" Christian said coolly. "I will tolerate no attack against my brother."

  His manner was deferential yet imperious. There was a muttering as if they hadn't quite expected him to respond in that manner. What they didn't understand was his loyalty. Regardless of what Christian thought of Lucian and his reckless activities, he would never throw him to the wolves of the Council, no matter the cost.

  One of the younger council members called Avael spoke. "You must speak to your brother and advise him of the consequences if he chooses to pursue this course of action!"

  "And what are the consequences?" The astonished looks he received were almost worth the price of asking the audacious question. He leaned forward in an attitude of expectant inquiry.

  "Why, execution, of course," said Avael. Christian's expression hardened. Enhard rushed to amend Avael's overzealous response.

  "What Lord Avael means, of course, is that the Council will be forced to take immediate punitive action against Lucian. The massacres he has orchestrated against the witches are bringing undue attention to us. Our society is at risk. He must be stopped," he said.

  Christian stood and walked to the wall of glass overlooking the business district, clasping his hands behind his back. He knew it was not considered good manners to turn his back to the Council, but it was a strategic move. He waited several long minutes, feeling the stares boring into his back, before he turned and addressed the Council.

  "What of Le Sang Noir?" His simple, direct question sent a ripple of anxiety through the conference room. Christian was resolute. He had to understand what they knew about the fulfillment of the prophecy. Several sputtered as if in shock. He could see that Avael was contemplating saying something rash. He liked to keep them off-balance. They had far too much confidence in their own power.

  Enhard responded, as Christian faced them, waiting. "Our Watchers have revealed movement in the magical spheres, something big. We believe that Le Sang Noir has reappeared and caused this disturbance."

  "And have you pinpointed its location?"

  The Council members murmured and Enhard raised a hand slowly for silence. He knew they believed that he was going too far, sharing this much with Christian Devereux, despite his lineage and status in the vampire world. Enhard knew that if it came down to it, any animosity between Christian Devereux and the Council could only end badly. Even Christian didn't comprehend the full power of his lineage, not his human one, but his vampire lineage. It was the main reason Enhard had petitioned him for help against Lucian. Any other course of action would have meant declaring war against the House of Devereux, all in all, a very foolish proposition.

  "Yes," he said, and Christian's heart lurched. "We know that she is somewhere in the Americas."

  Christian resumed his position at the table, knowing that the Council would interpret the gesture as a positive action. He placed his elbows on the table forming a steeple with his hands. His body language was non-threatening, and he could feel the Council members relax now that the worst
had passed. Or so they thought.

  "Regardless, what makes you think I would do anything to hand my brother over to the Council?" he asked. Enhard glanced at him sharply, recognizing his double-edged tone of voice and Christian returned his gaze evenly. "Especially now that you have confirmed the existence of Le Sang Noir."

  Several Council members jumped to their feet in angry response, and Christian pushed his chair back deliberately, his long, lithe body signaling danger, forearms braced against the edge of the table. His face was as hard as sculpted marble.

  David, another Elder, stood along with Enhard and commanded everyone to sit down. Christian remained standing, his stance uncompromising. David spoke, his ancient voice thready.

  "Your Grace, I understand your reluctance to agree, but Lucian is dangerous. His desires outweigh his judgment. All we ask is that you get him to see reason. We simply cannot risk war with the magic world." He hesitated. "You are correct to be wary of Le Sang Noir, but so should we all, for if the witch clans harness its power against us, we are lost."

  Although Christian saw the undeniable truth in David's eyes, he wasn't naive. He knew that if he had given in to the Council about Lucian, they would own them both and the House of Devereux. He'd had enough.

  "As you wish, I will speak to Lucian," he conceded. "But on my terms."

  He inclined his head graciously and walked out of the conference room without a backward glance. He had almost reached the elevator when a voice called out behind him. Christian turned and saw that it was Enhard, whose face was cautious as he approached.

  "Thank you, Christian," he said. "I know this must have been hard for you."

  "Come on Enhard, you've known Lucian as long as I have. When has anything he has done not been hard for me?" Enhard chuckled in response and Christian relaxed.

  Enhard had been more like a father to the two of them than he cared to admit. In fact, Enhard had been one of the vampires who had found them on the edge of death. Ever since they had been turned, he'd stayed close as a mentor and guide throughout the years.