Royal Blood

by Debra Dunbar

  I thought of Russell’s sister, now known as Bella. She’d been dead before being turned as a vampire and although she had some memories of her human life, she was a child in her mind, and disabled to the point that she needed a caretaker. Dario had turned her, and his devotion and love for her had meant she’d survived and was enjoying a happy life when most vampire Balajs would have put her down. Had the same sort of thing happened to Fulk? He didn’t seem mentally disabled to me, he just seemed like a normal, happy dog, but I guess he hadn’t been dead for over an hour like Bella had.

  Raven was on the other side of the veil. And she’d tried to communicate with me. What had she been trying to say? To tell me? Was she safe and happy? Did she need help? I glanced at Fulk once more and looked up at Russell.

  “Do you think it would be possible to communicate with Raven? If she was strong enough to slip through that one time at the animal shelter, then do you think you could call on her? I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

  Russell met my eyes with a long, hard stare. “And what exactly do you plan to do if she’s not? What will you do if her spirit is in distress, or hurt, or possibly in hell?”

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I just…I just need to know.”

  It was a lie, because I’d do anything to help Raven out. It might take me years, but I’d do it. I’d try to contact Reynard again. I’d find another mage to mentor me. I’d read every book in my father’s library, in the Temple itself. I’d light thousands of candles in thousands of churches and ask every holy person I came across to intervene. I’d help her, because she’d given her life to help me.

  Russell nodded, and I got the feeling he’d seen right through my lie.

  “Okay. Come see me Saturday morning and I’ll do my best.”

  I thanked him, collected my dog and left, hoping that Saturday would give me some answers—and that those answers would put my worries at ease.

  Chapter 4

  I got home with barely enough time for a quick workout before I showered and prepared to meet Dario, but I managed, even squeezing in time to curl my hair and put on more than the bare amount of makeup. Satisfied that I looked as good as I was going to get, I checked that the leak from my ice maker wasn’t any worse and that the towel was in place, then I grabbed my keys and got ready to head out. That’s when I got the text.

  Problem with a group of rogues at the north end of town. Need to reschedule dinner. Tomorrow? If I can wrap things up before dawn, maybe I can swing by your place.

  I gritted my teeth, torn between disappointment, frustration, and worry. He had a responsibility to what remained of his family. I couldn’t fault him for putting their needs and future before romance. Part of me longed for the days when he was second in charge and had more free time, but if I was honest with myself, even then he’d been at the beck and call of Leonora and been just as busy.

  Heading down to my parents tomorrow night for the holidays. If I don’t see you tonight, then let’s do Friday night instead. Be safe. I finished the text with a heart emoji, trying, knowing full well that I’d make the same decision in terms of priorities if I were in his place, and that it would be hypocritical of me to think otherwise.

  Still, here I was, hungry, dressed up, with makeup on and my hair done, and nothing to do for another hour until the band started at The Ottobar. I looked down at my phone and texted Brandi.

  Want to meet for a late dinner? Pregame before the band? Dario had to work tonight and I’m starving.

  A few seconds later my phone dinged.

  We’re at Maisy’s on Charles getting pizza and beer. Come join us!

  I glanced in the mirror, thinking I might be a little overdressed for pizza and beer. Five minutes later I was in jeans and a fitted t-shirt, my curled hair in a ponytail, and my makeup a little less smoky eye. Dinner and drinks. A cool band. Some time with my friends. And hopefully I’d come home to a sexy vampire waiting for me.

  Hopefully.

  The Ottobar was a hipster homage to a grunge dive bar. There were bar stools with tall tables, booths, couches, a pool table, and scribbled graffiti on the walls, pillars, and beams in black Sharpie. Opposite the bar was a pinball machine and a row of gumball and candy dispensers that looked straight out of the ’70s. The band was setting up on the small stage fronted by an equally tiny dance floor. We were there early, and the place was already crowded.

  “Beer or booze?” Anna asked as we wove our way to the bar.

  I’d had a few beers with the pizza and was definitely feeling a buzz, but with that buzz came a sense of freedom. Screw it. I hadn’t indulged in ages, and I deserved to cut loose a little. If I got drunk I could just Uber home. It’s not like anyone would steal my car or lift the worn tires. And if Dario managed to come over before dawn, he could watch my drunk ass sleep it off. I’d worked my butt off today. I’d fallen over a dead homeless man while jogging this morning. My boyfriend was a vampire.

  I totally deserved to tie one on.

  “Vodka and cranberry,” I told Anna, knowing that I’d need the cranberry to cover up the taste of the cheap rail vodka. Back home I would have sipped expensive whisky, but that was out of my budget here. Honestly, vodka and cranberry was out of my budget, so after this one, I’d probably have to go back to the cheapest draft beer they had. Unless some guy was kind enough to buy me a drink, that is.

  Hey, I had on makeup. It could happen.

  I dug some money out of my wallet and passed it to Anna, standing behind her to help carry the drinks as Brandi and Grace went off to search for any available seating.

  Stepping back, I bumped into someone and felt a splash of something wet and sticky on my arm.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I turned around and looked up into a pair of blue eyes.

  “My fault.” The man smiled and wiped the beer from my arm with his sleeve. He was tall and lean with over-long brown hair and a thin angular face. It was his eyes that held me—deep-set between high cheekbones and a heavy brow, they were an odd gray-blue, like shifting storm clouds over the ocean.

  “I’m Aria.” I held out my hand—the one that didn’t have beer on it. “Aria Ainsworth.”

  “Rick Dimond.” He shook my hand, still trying to wipe beer from my other arm. “Let me buy you a drink. It’s the least I can do after practically dousing you with mine.”

  In spite of his concern, it had barely been a splash, and my arm was hardly injured by a little bit of beer. But I recognized the offer for what it was, and I wasn’t averse to having someone buy me a drink, or chatting with a man who clearly was admiring my appearance.

  “I’d love a beer,” I told him. “Whatever you’re drinking.”

  Yes, I was absolutely okay with trolling for free drinks in a bar, but I wasn’t about to take advantage of the situation by making this man buy me some top shelf booze. I had a boyfriend, and although I got the impression this guy wasn’t looking for a hookup, I didn’t want to give the wrong idea. Besides, there was a vodka and cranberry waiting for me somewhere with my friends and although I intended on cutting loose a bit tonight, I didn’t want to get so drunk I ended up facedown on the floor, or waking up on someone’s couch—or in their bed.

  So beer it was. I waited while Rick flagged down the bartender, then thanked him as he handed me a frosty mug with some kind of local IPA.

  “So, are you local or in town visiting for the holidays?” he asked as I sipped my beer.

  “I just moved to Baltimore this year from Virginia, where I’ll be headed tomorrow night so I can eat turkey and stuffing with my family. What about you?”

  “In town for work actually.” He tilted his head. “I’m from Massachusetts, if you couldn’t tell by the accent.”

  I laughed. “I was getting a Boston vibe there.”

  “The only thing I share with the Kennedys,” he quipped.

  “So what’s work?” I asked.

  He grimaced. “Funeral services.”

  I nearly choked on my beer. “
You work in a funeral parlor?”

  “It’s a family business. There’s a seminar tomorrow on facial reconstruction for extreme cases when the family wants an open casket.”

  I stared, open mouthed.

  “And there goes any chance I’ve got of getting a date.” He laughed.

  “In all honesty I’ve got a boyfriend, so your date chances were zero before you told me about reconstructing corpses’ faces. Actually, if I didn’t have a boyfriend, that would have considerably upped your chances of getting a date.”

  “Good to know.” He saluted me with his beer. “So, what do you do for work, Aria-with-a-boyfriend?”

  “I work at a coffee shop as a barista.”

  I don’t know why I didn’t tell him I was a Templar. It would have been a heck of a lot more unique and impressive than making espresso for a living. Maybe I didn’t feel like explaining what the Order did and didn’t do, or go into convoluted explanations of our actions during the Crusades, or why I hadn’t taken my vow of Knighthood. I wasn’t going to see this guy ever again. We were just chatting over a beer. No need to impress him or to feel ashamed that I worked in a coffee shop.

  “Cool. Hey, I like coffee probably more than I like beer. Are you going to college?”

  Everyone assumed that if I worked at a coffee shop part-time, I was in school.

  “No, I graduated a few years back. History degree. Which is why I’m working in a coffee shop,” I joked.

  “What kind of history?”

  “European. I specialized in the tenth through the fifteenth century. If you like, I can deliver a riveting lecture on the Baltic campaign to recapture Edessa in 1147.”

  “Oh, there’s probably not enough beer in this bar for that one,” he teased. “I can see why there wouldn’t be many job opportunities for that kind of specialty unless you ended up getting your doctorate and teaching at some university. Or becoming Indiana Jones.”

  “I was hoping for Indiana Jones.”

  “They’re showing Indiana Jones? I thought there was a band tonight?” a woman interjected, pulling the mug of beer from Rick’s hand and taking a swig before handing it back. “Hi. I’m Liz. The sister. And now I know why I was left all by myself at a table, wondering where my brother was with my beer.”

  I shook her hand. “Aria. I think I’m probably drinking your beer.”

  She rolled her eyes and punched her brother in the arm. “Figures. A pretty face and he forgets all about his poor thirsty sister.”

  “I’m getting you a beer right now.” Rick laughed and turned to flag down the bartender again.

  “So you work in the family funeral home, too?” I asked Liz.

  “He told you that?” She shook her head. “The man has no game. He might be my older brother, but I swear he’s thirteen when it comes to picking up women.”

  “I think he was doing pretty good. If I didn’t have a boyfriend meeting me after he gets off work, I might be interested,” I told her.

  “Ah well. It’s not like we’re here for more than a few days anyway. We’re leaving tomorrow night to head back home, and in my experience long distance romance doesn’t last.”

  “The seminar.” I nodded and polished off the rest of my beer. “The day before Thanksgiving is a weird choice for that sort of thing.”

  “I know, but when we got the invitation we had to come. This is a really specialized skillset and not a lot of people know how to do this sort of reconstruction. If we can offer this, we’d be serving a niche that no one else in the county, or probably even state, can serve.”

  Rick turned back around and handed Liz a beer just as the manager got on stage to introduce the band.

  “I’m heading over there to my friends,” I told Rick. “If you want to dance later, or if you two want to hang with us, then come on over.”

  They both nodded, replying something that was completely drowned out by the band introduction. With a smile and a mouthed “thank you” for the beer, I headed over to our table.

  “He’s cute.” Anna screamed in my ear as the band began their opening number. “It’s okay if you ditch us for him.”

  “I’ve got a boyfriend,” I shouted back. “But I told him and his sister to come over and join us if they want. They’re cool. They own a funeral parlor.”

  “They own a beauty parlor?” Anna yelled. “That is cool.”

  I didn’t bother to correct her and gave up on trying to communicate, just enjoying the band and my drink, dancing with my friends when we got tired of sitting. I caught a glimpse of Rick dancing with a blonde woman and assumed he’d moved on to a more available female prospect for the evening. His sister was sitting at a table chatting with two men, and seemed to be having fun, so I turned my attention away from them and just enjoyed the night out with my friends.

  Going on past midnight, I’d danced my little feet off and had drank way too much. Switching to water, I headed through the crowd to find the restrooms. They were on the opposite side of the bar, around a corner and down a short hallway. Thankfully there wasn’t much of a wait. I stood behind a sweaty woman with blue hair and crossed my legs, hoping the line moved quickly. That’s when I saw Rick. He was in a corner over near where the fire door was. The blonde he’d been dancing with was with him. She and the wall were pretty much the only thing keeping him upright because he seemed to be so drunk he could hardly stand.

  Huh. I hadn’t really expected that of him. He hadn’t exactly been pounding his beer earlier, and I just didn’t get that “I’m going to get wasted” vibe from him. Whatever. Maybe he’d gotten talked into one shot too many.

  The blonde turned and caught me staring, then frowned, turning back to lock lips with Rick in a passionate kiss—one which he seemed to return wholeheartedly. Well, at least as wholeheartedly as a really drunk guy could. Pushing him hard against the wall, the blonde grinded up against him. I felt my cheeks heat and turned away.

  Whew. I certainly hoped to be doing something like that with Dario later. In fact, I was wishing I was doing that with him right here, right now but I hadn’t expected that of Rick. I mean, yeah, I’d gotten the idea that if I’d been willing he might have been interested in some light smooching over in the corner and maybe exchanging numbers, but I didn’t think he was the make-out-in-public type. Of course, I didn’t think he was the drunk-in-a-bar type either.

  I decided not to be a creepy voyeur and studiously keep my gaze averted, inching forward as the line moved. It took forever, and by the time I finally got into a stall to relieve myself I was practically dancing around. When I came out of the restroom, I couldn’t help glancing over in the corner, but Rick and the blonde were gone, no doubt either back on the dance floor or perhaps taking things to a more private location.

  Grabbing another glass of water, I caught sight of my friends on the dance floor and made my way to them, noticing that Liz had left the two guys at her table and was on an intersect course with me.

  “Hey! Come dance with us!” I told her, figuring that with her brother otherwise occupied, she could probably use a friend or two to hang with.

  “Later. I’m trying to find Rick. Have you seen him?” She scanned the room with a much better vantage point than I had with her height.

  Ugh. Here’s where I bust her brother. Sorry dude, but the woman asked and girl-code meant I needed to be honest.

  “Yeah, he was in the corner by the fire door, drunk as all get-out, with that blonde all over him.” I winced. “If they’re not here, they might have headed outside and back to his hotel or something.”

  Or something meaning her place if she lived nearby, or one of their cars if they were the impatient sort—and the blonde definitely looked to be the impatient sort.

  “He’s not drunk,” Liz protested. “He only had the one beer. Rick doesn’t really drink much.”

  Well then, that might be why he was so drunk. If he didn’t drink much, a couple tequilas would totally do him in. “Maybe he did a few shots with the blonde?” I a
sked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Gah, he’s such an idiot. We’ve got the seminar tomorrow. He’s going to be useless if he’s hungover. And I can’t believe he left me here. He’s got the car keys.”

  “He’ll probably be back soon,” I assured her, thinking he’d be indulging in a parking lot quickie and returning. Or he’d be passed out in his hotel room while the blonde caught an Uber back home. If the latter, the poor guy was going to get an earful from his sister. A massive hangover would be the least of his worries.

  I saw Liz glance over at the two men at her table, and something about the tension in her face made up my mind.

  “Dance with us. Sit at our table. I’m too tipsy to drive, but you can share an Uber with me later.”

  She smiled gratefully. “Thanks. It’s just I don’t know anyone in this city and those guys are a little handsy and pushy with the booze. Not that I really know you, but…”

  I totally understood. We’d spent all of two minutes conversing, but I wasn’t trying to get her to do body shots or come back to my room. Plus there was safety in numbers. And if those two guys tried anything…well, I might not have my sword on me, but I was perfectly capable of improvising when it came to defensive weaponry, and I did have a spell or two up my sleeve, or in my pocket.

  I introduced Liz to my friends and we all danced. I was completely sweaty and starting to sober up a bit when a pair of strong hands grabbed me from behind and pulled me against a muscular chest. I would have elbowed the guy if I hadn’t felt the static buzz of vampire the moment he’d come in the door. And this particular static buzz of vampire was as familiar to me as his face.

  Dario.

  “Hey, babe.” He nosed my hair aside and nibbled on my ear, swaying to the beat in time with my hips.

  “Hey, you.” I turned to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “How’d you find me?”