by A. M. Hudson
“Knock, knock,” Mike said as he opened my door. “Hey, baby. Brought you coffee and toast.”
I pushed my hands into the mattress to sit up. “No garlic today?
“Garlic?” he said.
“Never mind.” I shook my head; he clearly didn't know about David's visits.
“You okay?” he asked, setting a tray down beside my leg.
“Mm-hm.”
“How’s your throat?”
I touched my fingertips to my neck, lifting my chin slightly. “It stopped burning a few hours ago. How are the knights?”
“Fine. They’re starting to notice changes—small things, like their hearing.”
“Have the bite marks healed?”
“Blade’s has.”
I grabbed a coffee cup off the tray and sipped the brown liquid casually. “I think I had my teeth in his flesh longer than the others.”
“You did?” He sat beside me and grabbed a cup, too. “Why’s that?”
“I…I don't know.” I looked down at my fingertips, wrapped around the warmth of my mug, while my mind flipped to the darkness of last night. The fire had burned down to embers, and the only remaining knights were the ones who were still human—the ones I had to change, aside from Mike and Falcon, who stayed to watch over us, since they were the only sober men at Loslilian. There was so much anticipation in the air, a kind I understood, because once, I had been human, and once, I had wanted David to change me.
As it got later, Blade took my hand and led me through the trees until we could no longer hear Mike and the boys talking. I remembered my heart skipping in my chest as he turned to face me, taking both my hands in his and gently helping me to the forest floor. I knelt in front of him, breath responding to my panic, and he so sweetly brushed my hair over my shoulder and planted a very soft kiss to my cheek. I felt each sharp rise of bark under my bare knees, down the length of my shins and my ankles, but the fear of what I had to do consumed more of me.
“You're so scared,” he whispered, cupping my face.
I closed my eyes and rolled my cheek into his warm, human hand. Each time his heart beat, his blood pulsed, making his flesh rise like ribs with a breath. I listened to the sound, heard his blood, thick and rushing, move through his veins. With a deep breath, I pinpointed where it pulsed closer to the surface—the place I needed to bite. I knew what I had to do, but wasn't really sure how. When I had bitten Mike, just a small nick in his skin was enough to change him, but it took him weeks to transform. When I bit Falcon after electrocuting him, I left my teeth in him until his heart started again, and he was fully transformed within a few days. I weighed up the two options in my mind.
“Would you like me to take your mind off it?” Blade said, pushing the shoestring strap of my top down my shoulder. “I can make you think of other things.”
I shook my head, and he slid my strap back in place, taking his long, warm fingers up my neck, around the base of my jaw and over my chest, right between my breasts. I felt myself go hot—hotter than I should for another man’s touch—and quickly dismissed it as fear.
“You are so lovely and warm.” He pressed his hand more firmly to my chest. “I can feel your heart beating. It feels too fast.”
“It is.” I swallowed, looking at his neck—at the pulsing vein.
“Are you afraid of the pain—the burning?”
I nodded.
“Then hurt me.” He grabbed my hand and positioned it around his throat. “Hurt me while I hurt you—make me feel your pain.”
With a deep, shaky breath, I closed my eyes and wet my lips. One bite, that's all, just one and it will be over.
“Wait?” Blade pulled back. “Not there. If you bite me on the neck, you have to do that with the others—it’s too intimate.”
“You're right. I didn’t even think of that.”
“You can bite me here.” Blade studied my lips carefully, his breath coming through his own with the hope of touching mine, I could feel it, and he slowly pressed his wrist to my mouth…
“So? What do you think?” Mike asked.
“Oh. I, uh—” I blinked a few times and set my coffee cup down.
“Ara? Were you even listening to me?”
“Sorry, Mike. I kind of got a little lost.”
He shook his head and groaned. “Not much has changed, really, has it?”
I shrank into myself, smiling sheepishly.
“In a strange way, though, baby, that’s kind of comforting to know.” He winked and handed me a plate of toast. “What I was saying is, I thought I might film the coronation for David—that way he won’t miss out.”
“Really? That's a great idea, Mike.”
“I know.” He winked at me. “So? You nervous yet?”
“Nope.”
“Liar.” He grinned and sipped his coffee.
“Chief!”
I jumped out of my skin when Ryder burst through my bedroom door.
“Ryder, what’s up?” Mike dumped his cup on my nightstand as he stood.
“Orion detected a vampire—“ Blade said, charging straight to the window. “Somewhere on the border of the manor.”
“Falcon was on it though, Chief.” Ryder came back in from my bathroom and started checking behind my curtains, then dropped to his knees to look under my bed. “He ran before the alarm even sounded.”
“What, he knew?” Mike turned to face Ryder, who stood, satisfied there were no Bogey Men under my bed.
“Dunno, Chief. He just started running. Didn't have time to ask.”
Mike pulled the curtain across with his fingertip and peered outside. “Right. Come on.”
Ryder and Mike fled my chambers, leaving me, half frozen with shock, alone with Blade.
“It’s okay, Your Majesty. They’ll catch him.” Blade stood by my bed and looked down at me, a lustful grin shifting the concern from his eyes.
My mouth dropped open a little, a silent huff carrying my insult; I covered my slinky summer nightdress with my sheet and scowled at him. Somewhere outside, an alarm was ringing, pulsing and howling for all to exercise caution; I could hear the chaos and confusion of the House and guests all over the manor. But in my room it was calm; just Blade and I, and my barely-covered body. “Do you think it’s an attack?”
Blade shook his head and sat down on the bed next to me. “Doubt it.”
“Well, what will they do to the vampire if they catch him?”
“Depends what he's doing here. If he’s here to kill you, they’ll rip him apart—if not, they’ll just smash him up good and bring him to you for questioning.” He laughed. “Let’s hope it’s no one we know, or they’ll get a bit of a bloody greeting.”
I covered my mouth, suddenly realising the vampire sneaking onto the property could be David.
“Stop worrying.” Blade patted my leg. “I’ll stay here—protect you.”
“Not sitting there, you won't.” Mike waltzed in and closed the door.
Blade stood tall, his arms by his sides.
“Mike?” I threw my covers back, happy Blade had distanced himself, and ran over to Mike. “Did they catch him—the vampire?”
He grinned. “Yeah. They got him. No time wasted with my knights, Ara. Got him good, too. Heard he’s lookin’ pretty bad.”
“Mike?” My eyes met his. I needed him to read my mind right now. If that vampire was David, we had a conspiracy to cover up. “It wasn't…?” But I couldn’t say it. Not with Blade in the room.
“What?” Mike looked at me, totally confused.
Erg! So much for higher intelligence. He could practically read my mind any other time, why not now? “It wasn't my old weapons instructor, was it?”
It took him a moment, but then his eyes widened and he shrunk back. “Oh, shit. I dunno. I—”
“What?” Blade placed a hand between Mike and I, forcing us apart. “What are you talking about?”
“David,” Mike said.
“Mike?”
“It’s all righ
t, Ara—he knows,” Mike said.
“He does?”
“Yeah,” Blade said, grinning. “Mike told us all yesterday, while you were being tortured by mystical-woman-with-long-stories.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were telling them?”
“Come on.” Mike grabbed my wrist. “No time for this now. We need to get down to the Throne Room. If that's David, we gotta conceal it quickly.”
“Never mind that,” I screeched. “Blade said the knights will rough him up pretty bad. He could be really hurt.”
“Ara, that is the least of our problems,” Mike said, dragging me—nightdress and all—to the corridor.
We burst through the Throne Room doors and Mike threw the curtain aside, dragging me past the back of the big gold chair to the edge of the landing it was perched on.
Blade leaped onto the balcony at the back of the room, and Quaid flung open the double doors leading out to the forest.
“See anything yet, Blade?” Mike called.
“No, sir. Just trees’n’shit.”
Mike turned back to me. “You okay?”
I nodded and sat down on the steps.
Satisfied, Mike wandered over and stomped on the panel that opened the Round Room. “If it’s him, we’ll get him straight into hiding. It’ll be okay, baby.”
“I know,” I said breathily. But it wasn't our little ‘David's dead’ conspiracy I was worried about.
“Hey, wanna know a useless piece of information?” He placed a hand to the step and fell into it, spinning to sit on his butt beside me. “Might help distract you.”
“Sure.”
“Those marble columns that hold the roof up.” He pointed to the six cream pillars along the length of the room, sitting in the gaps between each giant window.
“Yeah.”
“They’re fake. They’re not structural at all. Lilith had them placed in here after she saw a Roman palace.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. That’s my room up there—” He pointed to the roof. “Its foundations are set in the external bricks—same as yours. But no one knows these are fake, so don't tell anyone, okay?”
“Well, how do you know that?”
He smirked. “I know everything.”
I smiled, backhanding him softly. Sometimes, his own self-loving could be charming, and it always made me feel better somehow.
The gentle scent of clay and pine came through the doors at the back of the room, and the absolute silence felt almost peaceful. It was the calm before the storm. I looked up at the fake marble columns and the pale colours, everything tinted with touches of gold, kind of like Lilith was making extra effort to disguise her throne and her Court as the real deal. I wondered if anyone took her seriously—believed in her. For some reason, judging by the fake grandness of this room, I felt like they didn't—like maybe she was just like me.
“Chief?” Blade called down from the balcony outside. “I can see them coming up this way.”
“Great. How’s the prisoner look?”
He walked back inside and leaned over the railing, into the Throne Room. “Looks bad.”
“Is it you know who?”
Blade appeared beside us then. “Couldn’t tell. Looks too big—too built to be him. And his hair was all shaved, like mine.”
I breathed a soft sigh of relief. There’s no way David would ever shave his head.
“Good. Let’s hope it’s just some dumb kid looking for a place to crash,” Mike said.
“Hope not. We’ve only got two or three guest rooms left,” Blade said, hands on his hips, watching the double doors.
“We’ll throw him in the Core then—plenty of rooms at the barracks,” Mike said, standing up, and they both just stood there, watching the back doors.
It felt like time just ticked by, like the knights were taking forever to get here. Mike reached back, pulled me up to stand, then dropped a quick kiss on my head. “It won't be David, baby. He’d never shave his head.”
I laughed. “I know.” It was nice that Mike knew that, too.
“What’re you so worried about then?”
“Um.” I frowned, going back through my last few thoughts. “I…I think I was actually thinking about your room.”
“My room?” he said, looking up for a second. “Why?”
“I was thinking about Lilith, you know, and if we were anything alike, and then I was thinking about the stained glass dome above your bed.”
Mike stiffened. “I tacked a sheet up over it.”
“Did you?” I half laughed.
He nodded. “I couldn’t look at that anymore. It’s sick.”
I smiled to myself. He didn't know it, but Morgaine actually told me what the picture was; a depiction of Lilith’s death—a woman, her legs forced apart by the hips of a man as she cried, reaching out to the nothing, while another slit her throat. Mike had gone to great lengths to keep that from me—even barred me from his room.
“Anyway, why were you thinking about it, baby?”
“I guess I just feel a kind of connection to Lilith. I…I felt sad for her. For the fact that she set this room up to look all grand, and then she had it all taken away.”
Mike opened his mouth to speak just as the knights burst through the doors.
“Got him, Chief,” Ryder called.
As soon as I saw the thick, rounded skull and the wide, broad shoulders of the man they dragged between them, I relaxed. This guy looked like he was of European descent—maybe Italian or something, certainly not the unmistakably Caucasian appearance my David had.
Ryder and Falcon dropped the bloodied vampire to the floor; he landed on his hands, then gave up and flopped down, his face bleeding all over the velvet rug below the steps.
“Why are you here?” Mike asked, squatting beside him.
He groaned, trying to lift his head. “I—”
“Speak louder.” Ryder shoved the man with his foot.
“Hey, ease off!” I walked over and stood with Mike.
“Drake. Has.” The man coughed and rolled over, clutching his stomach.
“Drake has what?” Ryder leaned over him. “What has he done?”
“Give him a break!” I yelled, pushing Ryder aside, then knelt down beside the man, who, up close, was no older than me. He was bloodied badly, his lip split, dirt and small pebbles lodged into his temples and cheekbones, and the whole left side of his body was practically limp. “What’s your name?”
“Nate,” he wheezed, struggling to speak.
“And what happened? Why did you come here?”
“For safety.”
“From Drake?”
He nodded, wincing, his eyes becoming small with pain. “He’s…something about blood oaths.”
“What about them?”
He coughed, and the gash across his chest pulsed blood as he rolled back.
“Oh, God, you’re bleeding bad.” I held my wrist out. “Here. Drink.”
“Wait!” Mike grabbed my arm and looked up at Quaid. “Get him a human. Lilithian blood won't be enough.”
“A human?” I practically barked as Quaid ran off.
“Relax, Ara. I won't allow any biting or killing.”
I reached out and placed my hands on the guy’s chest, forcing pressure down on his wound. It felt like forever before Quaid finally came back, escorting a young girl. She looked so small and so nervous next to him. “Here,” he said, and gave her a soft push in our direction.
“Hi.” I smiled sympathetically at her.
“Hello,” she said, bowing her head as she knelt beside me.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Danni.”
“Well, Danni, have you ever had someone drink from you before?”
She shook her head.
“We won't let him bite you, okay?” I said, pushing down harder on the vampire’s chest, feeling the flood of his blood pulse up with each breath he took. “And if you don't want to do this, you don't have to.”
>
She looked at Quaid; he winked at her, and she gushed, blushing. “I don't mind.”
“Okay.” I slowly pulled my hands back from the bloodied mess and held them out from my body, resisting the urge to lick my fingers, gross as that sounds.
Mike squatted right beside Danni and guided her hand to the vampire’s lips, squeezing her wrist as he made a cut; she looked away, scrunching her eyes tight.
The warm, dead animal smell of her blood wafted up to my nostrils, making the sweet, desirable scent of vampire on my hands seem suddenly so unappealing, like eating a doughnut in a room where someone farted. Quaid held the head of the newcomer so he couldn’t lift it, and Danni’s blood spilled, drop by drop, against his lips.
The bruising along his jaw receded and his eyes changed from black to a bright hazel colour as he sat up and took a deep breath.
“Better?” I said.
He nodded and looked right into Danni’s eyes. “You okay?”
She nodded.
“Thank you for that,” he said, touching her arm.
“You’re welcome.” She blushed again, and Blade helped her to stand, leading her away; she turned back to wave at Quaid, but he was too focused on the man to notice.
“Now. What's going on?” Mike said.
“Drake turned volatile, started slashing people apart.”
“Why?”
“I heard it was something to do with oaths. Apparently he wiped out every member of the Blood Army—went to each Set, killed everyone who’d ever sworn an oath, then came back here and finished them off.”
“He killed the army?” I felt weak, dizzy. “Why would he do that?”
“Because,” Mike said, standing up. “When you take your oath tomorrow night, any man whose allegiance is sworn to the throne will switch to you.”
“Really?” I said.
“Yep, and that would have included Drake’s army.”
I looked back at the young vampire. “So, you haven’t sworn an oath?”
“No.” He sat up properly, his chest completely healed; he looked down at it, parting his shirt to give the skin a little poke. “I don't really care for politics. I just heard screaming, looked out my bedroom door and saw Drake slice a man’s throat open.”