Graced

by Amanda Pillar

  Dante thought about it and then checked his watch. “Thirty minutes and nineteen seconds ago.”

  The werewolf rolled his eyes. “You’re a freak, you know that?”

  “So I’m told,” Dante replied.

  “Can you sense Elle?” Clay asked him.

  He didn’t have to think about it. “No.”

  Clay took a step closer to Dante, almost like he was trying to threaten him, Dante gathered. “You should be able to, with the bond. You sure you can’t?”

  Shutting his eyes, still rubbing his neck, Dante tried to think about Elle. About the annoying, infuriating person that she was. And he felt nothing. Not a single thing. “No?”

  Clay let out a gush of air. “You’re coming with me.”

  Dante let go of his neck. “What?”

  Clay started walking and when he realized Dante wasn’t right behind him, he stormed back into the room and grabbed his arm. If he wasn’t in so much pain, Dante would have resisted. As it was, he tagged along behind the wolf.

  “I think someone’s taken Elle,” Clay said.

  “Why?”

  “I was outside with her, then went in to grab her some pig’s blood, and when I came back, she was gone.”

  “I would be too,” Dante muttered.

  Clay snorted. “But she wasn’t anywhere in the house or the garden afterward; I searched.”

  “Did you check to see if she went for a walk?” Dante asked, back to rubbing his neck.

  Clay shook his head. “No one saw her leave.”

  “Doesn’t mean much. If I wanted to—or you either, for that matter—no one would see us leave.”

  The wolf nodded slowly. “Let’s go back to the garden and check. This time, we’ll follow our noses.”

  *

  Melissande fought the hands that were holding her. She couldn’t see anything, it was so dark. Something was wrong, something was very wrong, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Something about her daughter?

  “Where’s Emmie?” she asked.

  “Ssshhh, Mel, you’re okay. You had a fit, but you’re okay now.” Olive’s voice.

  Wait…she’d had a fit? Melissande had never had a fit in her life. Why couldn’t she see?

  “Sometimes these things can happen. I need you to rest.” Olive again.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  “You’re at my house. You’ll be okay.”

  “Where’s Emmie?” Melissande tried to get up, but strong hands were holding her down. She was on a bed, she realized.

  “She’s here too. Sshh, now. Just sleep.”

  Her eyes heavy, Melissande gave in.

  Chapter 58

  Dante didn’t like where they were going. Clay had dragged him down past King’s Park and toward the river, only to lead them through the docks and back up to Court Road. They were standing on an intersection that would lead them back over the river and into the industrial area of the city.

  “Where are we going?” Dante asked. It was such a circular route.

  “They hired a hack or something, and they’ve actually gone a lot further afield than this,” Clay said. “But I’m following the scent, and it crossed here.”

  “How can you do that?” Dante asked. He had “delicate” senses, but even he was struggling to tail the cab in the stench of the city.

  “I’m that good,” Clay said with a brief toothy grin.

  Dante just looked at him.

  “Come on, I think they’re heading back toward the cit area.”

  Following behind the werewolf, Dante tried to ignore the stares that were coming their way. For once, he knew why he was receiving them. Clay was wandering around in a loose shirt and buckskins, and the day was chilly. And Dante was following—a were and a vampire hanging out together?—in formal pants and shirtsleeves. Aristo vampires they passed had actually gasped at his appearance. How dare he walk outside without a cravat or jacket?

  Idiots, he thought.

  “Dante?” someone said.

  “What?” Dante replied.

  Clay stopped walking and Dante almost slammed into the werewolf. “What?”

  “I dunno. You said something,” Dante replied, shrugging. His neck was starting to feel a bit better.

  “Dante?”

  Looking around, Dante frowned. He said to Clay, “Will you quit saying my name, you’ve got my attention.”

  Clay raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I didn’t say anything. Did I mention you’re a freak?”

  “Dante, it’s not Clay, you idiot. It’s me. Elle.”

  “Oh.”

  “Moron, don’t speak out loud. Think your reply to me. Do you see what I have to work with here?”

  “Where are you?” Dante thought back, ignoring the insults. At least it meant Elle wasn’t dying.

  “I can’t see anything, my eyes haven’t adjusted yet.”

  “Okay, give it a few seconds.” He nodded to himself.

  “Who the fuck are you nodding at?” Clay asked, making Dante jump.

  Realizing that he’d stopped in the middle of Court Road, Dante quickly pulled Clay to the side, near a doorway that led to an apartment above two shops.

  “Elle is talking to me.” He tapped his head.

  Rather than calling him a freak again, Clay said, “Where is she?”

  “Says she doesn’t know yet.”

  “Hellloooo, are you paying attention to me?”

  “Yes!”

  Clay was right up in his face. “What? Did she say where she was?”

  “No, sorry, replying to her.”

  “Well, ask her. And ask her why she doesn’t know where she is.” Although from the look in Clay’s eyes, the wolf probably already knew the answer.

  “Hellooo, need a little help here.”

  “Just shut up for a sec!” Dante snapped.

  “Me?”

  “Me?” Annoyance radiated from Elle to him.

  “Both of you! I can’t carry on two conversations at once.”

  Silence.

  Thank the blood.

  Taking a deep breath, feeling completely adrift, Dante said, “Now Clay, I’m going to talk to Elle. Keep quiet, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Finally.”

  “Why did you pick me, rather than Clay?”

  “You were easier to find. Dunno why. Maybe the bond?”

  That stupid fucking bond.

  “Hey! It’s working for me now. Don’t knock it.”

  “Okay. So why are you chatting like this rather than just coming to find us?”

  “I was kidnapped, moron.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “I thought I was bitten by a bug—”

  “Not likely. Bugs don’t bite vampires.”

  “—but it was a dart. And it would have been nice if my Chooser had actually told me about bugs.”

  Dante winced. Scorn hurt when it was delivered straight into your mind.

  “What did they poison you with?”

  “Dunno. Then they snapped my fucking neck.”

  “Shit.” He couldn’t stop saying that aloud.

  “What?” Clay jumped on it.

  Dante ignored him. “Guess that’s why my neck aches.”

  “Your neck hurts, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Hey!”

  “Life’s a bitch. Either way, my neck is starting to heal, faster than I think they thought it would.”

  “Do you know who took you?”

  Radio silence, then, “I think it was my mother and grandmother.”

  “Why did they take you?”

  “Graceds shouldn’t become vampires; at least, that’s what my gran reckons.”

  He could feel her rage and…fear. Finally, he knew what they felt like. And he didn’t like them, not one bit.

  “We’re coming to get you.”

  If his neck hurt like this from her having her neck broken, imagine what he’d feel like if she died?


  “You better fucking be. Hurry, before they stake me.”

  “On our way.”

  Dante turned to Clay, locking his gaze. “She was kidnapped and she thinks it was her grandmother.”

  Clay licked his lips, eyes blazing. “I know where she is then.”

  Chapter 59

  Feeling was slow to come back to her torso, arms and legs. Fucking assholes, she thought.

  At first, she hadn’t known if it had been her grandmother who’d taken her or if she’d been a victim of a mugging, but then she’d remembered seeing her mother. After speaking with Dante—while waiting for her vision to return—she’d figured out that she’d been dropped in the corner of her gran’s green room. There hadn’t been much light, but she hadn’t needed it, not once her eyes started behaving again. Green walls, green floor, her gran’s favorite chair. It had been pretty obvious.

  And why, for blood’s sake, hadn’t Gran just killed her already?

  Elle had been lying in her corner, mentally abusing Dante for what felt like ages, and yet there’d been no sign of Gran or anyone. And there wasn’t really anyone close enough for her to spy on effectively. The most she could hear were random thoughts.

  “How far away are you?” Elle shot at Dante.

  “We’re trying to work out a way of getting in without being detected.”

  “Good luck, moron. You’re in a telepath’s home. She’ll sense you.”

  “Us?”

  “You. Clay has got something funky going on where Greens can’t hear him.”

  “Lucky him.”

  “Watch it.”

  When she got out of here—if she got out of here—she was going to smack Dante upside the head. Even if it gave her a headache. The vamp had a lot of attitude stored away under that creepy exterior.

  “Hey! I’m not creepy.”

  Oops, she must have sent that last bit.

  “No…you’re not creepy at all.”

  She smiled when she realized he didn’t have a comeback for her. If he and Clay managed to save her ass, she might even hug Dante. Then smack him.

  Footsteps began winding down the stairs toward the green room. At least two pairs, she heard. One slow, one heavy. Muffled voices reached her, but she couldn’t hear them well. The room had been soundproofed. The door opened and light entered, causing the figures to be silhouetted, but she didn’t need to see their faces to know who they were.

  Gran and Bjorn.

  She wondered when Bjorn had gotten involved in this shit. He was meant to be a bodyguard, just muscle.

  She still owed the bastard for dislocating her shoulder.

  “That should keep Melissande out of the way,” Gran was saying.

  “I didn’t think she’d fight it so hard.”

  Olive walked into the room, her footsteps slow and sure. “She’s always been protective of those girls. Who knows why? Wastes of space, both of them.”

  What. A. Bitch.

  Elle hated her gran, but that feeling had just spiked past rational and off the scale.

  “You should check on Elle to see if she is awake,” Gran said.

  She quickly shut her eyes as she heard Bjorn turn and walk in her direction. “Maybe turn up the light?” Bjorn asked.

  Perhaps they wouldn’t stake her until they thought she was conscious? Not that she knew why they hadn’t staked her already. If she’d been them, she wouldn’t have kept her alive, that was for sure.

  “It’s too bad she got Chosen,” Bjorn said as he walked up to her. “I would have married her, half-blood though she was.”

  Elle had to fight to keep relaxed.

  “I said you could have her, although I would have preferred someone else, someone fully Graced.”

  Marry Bjorn? Even a leech would have been better. Blood, she’d have taken Dante over Bjorn.

  “Sure I can’t keep her now?” Bjorn asked.

  Elle thought she vomited a little into her mouth.

  “Even after she’s fucked a werewolf and is now a vampire?” There was a pause. Elle could picture the sneer on her gran’s face. “She’d be dead by now if you hadn’t begged me to spare her.”

  Bjorn touched her neck, checking her pulse. Did she even still have a noticeable one? She was going to kick Dante’s butt when she got out of here. He had to give her a list of “100 Things About Being A Vampire You Should Know.”

  Bjorn moved away from her. “She’s just confused from being Chosen. And we need to know if she told anyone about Graceds.”

  Elle wanted to wriggle her toes, to confirm that feeling had returned to them, but she couldn’t risk it.

  “She can’t give you children. And if she did, imagine what monstrosities they’d be.”

  She could hear Bjorn walking away from her. “You wanted to breed Emmie with that wolf, Clay.”

  What!

  “Oh good, she’s awake.”

  She heard her gran walking toward her, but all she could think about was Clay having sex with Emmie. She did vomit in her mouth. Sour, rotten blood.

  “What the fuck! Dante, ask Clay if he was going to rape my sister.”

  “Uh, okay?” Silence. “He says no, with a few expletives.”

  “Ask him if he’d planned on siring a child on her.”

  “He says your gran asked him to.”

  “Just get the fuck down here. I don’t care how much noise you make or who you hurt, but leave my mother and sister alone.” Elle flashed the vampire images of the woman and girl, so he’d know to avoid them.

  Elle’s eyes snapped open, causing her gran to jump back a little. The woman had been right in her face.

  “Abomination,” she hissed.

  “Says you.” Elle spat in her gran’s face.

  The woman, hand shaking from what Elle presumed was rage, wiped Elle’s blood-stained saliva away.

  “You risk everything we are by being alive!” Olive yelled.

  Elle was seething with fury, her gut burning. Feeling had definitely returned to her torso. If only she knew her arms would work properly…

  “And you don’t risk us every day? By trying to control aristos through emotional addiction? Through controlling people’s minds?”

  “I do it for the good of my people!”

  “You do it for your good. What about trying to breed a half-blood off a little girl?” Elle was yelling now. “Emmie’s a fucking child.”

  Olive jerked back, affronted. “He said he would wait for her to grow up.”

  Oh Clay, Elle thought, you have some explaining to do.

  Launching herself up, she tried to grab her gran by the throat, but her arms weren’t quite hers to control, and her clumsily thrusting hands merely managed to push the old woman off balance. Olive landed with a thump on her backside. Hope you broke a hip, Elle thought.

  Before Elle could kick her grandmother while she was down, she was thrown against the wall as Bjorn rushed her. Elle felt something pop. Her shoulder. Again. She tried to move, but it was as if she were jammed between two concrete walls. Bjorn was using his TK.

  “Your sister is good for nothing!” Olive shouted from the floor. “She has developed no abilities and she’s a drain on my time and resources. She has to do something to prove her worth. Breeding is all she can do.”

  Like your mother.

  Elle blinked. That hadn’t been her thought; it had been Gran’s. Swooping down with her mind, she began battering at Gran’s mental shield, clawing it, ripping at it. She saw snatches of images—the freshest one a burning brand: Gran hiding in the shadows, forcing Melissande to knock on the gate at Greystoke House. Like a master with their puppet.

  With a scream, she threw herself off the wall, not even stopping to think how she’d managed it. Bjorn looked up, alarm spreading across his features as Elle dove for the old woman. He blocked her, throwing her with his shoulder. She landed on the arm of a couch with a painful crack. There goes my spine. Forcing herself to move her arms, since her legs had gone numb again, she shoved herself
off the chair, just in time for a stake to come slashing down where she had been.

  “You are a monster! Trying to attack your own grandmother.” Bjorn was panting, stake poised again.

  Bjorn held the weapon high above his head while shouts and thumps sounded from the hall. As he drove the wooden spike down, Elle rolled, screaming as the wood pierced her shoulder. An answering yell emerged from the hall.

  Dante, she realized.

  The doorway was suddenly filled with men. Some fighting, one grabbing his shoulder yelling, “Mother fucker!”

  Elle felt a half smile form, even through the pain. “Great entrance,” she thought at Dante.

  Seeing Clay, she could finally lock onto his mind. She thought one thing: “Kill Bjorn.”

  Chapter 60

  Clay watched Dante as he gripped his shoulder and howled, “Mother fucker!” Seeing no wound on him, he realized what had happened. Elle had been stabbed.

  Fighting his way past a group of Grays, jabbing with elbows and knees and throwing punches whenever he could, he made it through the door. Dante wasn’t doing too badly, either, despite the shoulder. With his uncanny speed and ability with a blade, men fell in bloody heaps, and when Clay looked at the leech, Dante merely looked back, fangs out.

  “Elle’s hurt,” Dante said, between his teeth.

  “No shit.”

  Clay froze when he saw the Gray bastard, Bjorn, with a bloody stake poised over Elle. Dimly, he heard Elle scream into his mind, “Kill Bjorn.”

  He didn’t think, he just rushed him. Next thing he knew, he was flying back against a wall. As he struggled against the invisible force pushing against him, a sharp pain dug into his shoulder. A dart. He began to feel dizzy.

  He met Bjorn’s eyes. “Tipped with silver nitrate, dog. Won’t kill you, but it will fucking hurt.”

  Idiot, Clay snarled at himself. He should have thought they’d do something like this. Fucking Grays. Pain began burning its way from his shoulder and down his arm.

  Eyes never leaving the Graced man, he watched in horror as Bjorn raised his stake again, and then stared in shock as a knife slammed into the Graced’s chest.

  He shook his head. Was the poison making him see things? It was certainly making him feel things. Bad things.