The White Lily (Vampire Blood series)

by Juliette Cross

  Mikhail appeared with twenty of the stealthiest men of his guard, all strapped with lethal weapons in shoulder sheaths. “Ready, Your Grace.” He handed over a harness with his short-sword.

  Friedrich strapped it over his shoulder, cinching the buckle at his chest, the blade falling at an angle along his back. “Grant!”

  Grant looked up from where he stood with the boys, then jogged over. Pulling him slightly aside with a hand on his shoulder, Friedrich said low, “Get Brenna and the children inside. Then direct the rest of the guard to barricade the castle, man every tower, and do a perimeter sweep of the grounds.”

  Grant nodded, clenching his jaw with a glance toward Mikhail and the others readying to go. Grant couldn’t go with them, though the fierce and hard set of his eyes said he wanted to. He couldn’t keep up with them. Not as a human. A pang of guilt settled in Friedrich’s chest. Grant had formed a fondness for the children and wanted to go with them to try and save Helena.

  “Brother.” Grant’s eyes shifted sharply to Friedrich. “I need you here. I trust no one else to protect her. To protect them.” It was the truth. While Grant may not have the speed or senses of a vampire, he was the deadliest man with a blade Friedrich ever known.

  With a hard nod, Grant strode to Brenna and placed a firm but gentle grip on her elbow, “Come along, Miss Snow. We need to get you and the children inside.”

  She followed with him, looking over her shoulder at Friedrich. He couldn’t manage a smile, so he turned and met Mikhail’s fierce countenance. “Let’s go.”

  At once, they moved, speeding past the stables and down the first hill then out in the open across the snow-covered fields. The drop in temperature combined with their wind-cutting speed brought tears to his eyes, but he didn’t relent. Not until they crossed out onto the western edge of Terrington and were on the lonely lane where the smell of smoke and ash still lingered in the air.

  They shifted down into a human pace then slowed to fan out in silence. Mikhail partnered with Friedrich, going straight to the pile of blackened lumber and stone where the house once stood. The pristine white snow dusting the charred remains of Brenna’s home made him wince in sadness, like nature trying to clean the remains of sorrow. He glanced away and focused on finding signs of Helena. Of vampires.

  Dmitri had already made the far perimeter and was on the outside of the partially fallen fence closest to the woods. He gave a high whistle with a wave. Silently and swiftly, they met him where he was bending down and touching his finger to a dark droplet in the snow.

  “Blood,” he whispered.

  “Fuck,” swore Friedrich, his emotions boiling to the surface. He’d kept himself under control for Brenna’s sake, but he feared Helena was already long gone.

  “Wait,” said Dmitri, sniffing the stain on his finger. “It’s not hers.”

  Friedrich crouched. “How do you know?”

  He cleared his throat, nervous agitation in the sound. “I know her scent.”

  Friedrich shot him a lethal look. “Excuse me?”

  “Your Grace. She’s eighteen. And beautiful. She has a”—he swallowed hard and spoke fast—“a distinct scent. Very strong.” Dmitri let his eyes fall to the ground, his sin of lust—for flesh or blood—written in the guilty lines of his face. Of Mikhail’s crew, Dmitri was the youngest vampire, his frank honesty refreshing despite the fact Friedrich wanted to throat-punch him.

  Friedrich felt his blood pulsing faster, a strange turmoil knocking him off balance.

  “Your Grace,” said Mikhail quietly. “Not one of us would ever touch her. She is an innocent though on the cusp of womanhood.”

  “I should hope not. Because I’ll slit the throat of any man who does.” He was acting as protective of her as a...well, as a father. When did he come to think of these children as his own? He wasn’t sure. The shock nearly knocked him onto the ground. He shook his head. He was giving threats and there was no promise they’d even get her back. Alive. That would break Brenna’s heart, and thus his own.

  “Your Grace!” bellowed Gregorovich in his bass voice. His thick frame was bent over the snow as he pointed out something to another guardsman.

  They joined him. Friedrich studied the impressions in the snow. Gregorovich pressed his broad hand into the hollow space and closed his eyes in concentration. Mikhail was at the duke’s side, whispering. “He can see flashes of memory when he touches the footprints where someone has recently stepped.”

  Friedrich didn’t know he had a memory reader in his employ. It was quite an advantage for a vampire on the hunt.

  “Or in this case,” said Dmitri at his side, “where someone has lain.”

  Friedrich clenched his jaw, swearing to eviscerate her kidnappers if they harmed her. For it was quite plain these deep imprints were the result of a struggle of bodies on the ground.

  Finally, Gregorovich opened his eyes, the midnight blue sparking with gold flecks. As if seeing the fear on the duke’s face, he said, “They did not molest her. At least not here. Three vampires. One in all black like the huntsman we caught in town. The other two in the garb of King Dominik’s royal guard.” He stood to his full height. “They bound and gagged her. She fought them. Clawed the huntsmen when he took a long whiff of her cloak. It’s his blood here.”

  Mikhail had touched his fingers to the snow and smelled them. “I can smell Miss Snow’s scent here.”

  “Bloody hell,” mumbled Friedrich, tightening his fists till his knuckles cracked. “Brenna said she’d loaned Helena her cloak. They think Helena could be her. The White Lily. Which way did they go?”

  He pointed over Friedrich’s shoulder. “Northwest.”

  Friedrich turned in that direction, a tic jumping in his jaw. “Toward Izeling Tower.”

  ...

  Mikhail dangled a newly killed lamb just out of reach of the prisoner, blood dripping from the slaughter’s neck onto the cell floor. The starving vampire was on his knees, fighting against his restraints, the chains clanging as he snarled and twisted to get free.

  “Whenever you’re ready to give me the information I need, you’ll have your meat,” said Friedrich.

  The creature cut his full-black eyes on Friedrich, seething malice leaking from every pore of the vampire’s body.

  “I can’t! And you fucking know it!” His lanky hair slicked to his skull, his cheeks sinking in from lack of sustenance. New vampires needed blood more often. And new vampires infected with sanguine furorem needed to feed almost constantly or they teetered near madness.

  “The pain of defying my uncle’s elixir is fleeting.” Friedrich leaned back against the bars, arms crossed. “Answer me one question. Just one. And we’ll give you the lamb.”

  Holding the lamb by the hind legs, Mikhail swung the bait in the air, a stream of blood spattering in an arc close to their prisoner. He howled and clawed with grime-encrusted fingers, touching one drop and bringing it back to his mouth with a doglike whimper before falling to his side, curling in on itself and body jerking with pitiable sobs. If Friedrich hadn’t seen the creature tear open the throat of that innocent girl in town, he might feel sorry for him. But he didn’t.

  Friedrich crouched down, well out of range should the beast lunge, but putting himself on a more intimate level. “One—question,” he compelled him with his dominant inflection, the tone that made bigger and stronger men flinch, knowing he wielded the power of Varis blood in his veins.

  The sniveling beast lifted his head, black eyes hollows of madness as he sought out the duke’s gaze. “Just. One?”

  “Only one.”

  Drool seeped out of his mouth onto the dirty floor, his yellowed canines so long from the smell of fresh blood they were cutting into his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes shut and whispered in desperation, “Ask.”

  “Answer me quickly and the pain will be sharp but more fleeting,” commanded Friedrich. Though he’d never been a victim of his uncle’s powerful elixir, he knew well enough from those who had been that t
he elixir wore off over time. It was strongest at first bite. And it had been days, possibly even weeks since this creature had been marked by King Dominik. Friedrich also knew that the pain would still be severe, but if he limited the question to only one he could answer quickly, then the torment would dissipate just as fast.

  “Do you understand?” asked Friedrich.

  The pathetic vampire pushed up, leaning on an elbow, gasping for breath. The presence of the blood and the lack of feeding quickened his pulse. “Ask your question, Duke.”

  There was hatred in his eyes and in his words. Dmitri shoved off the back wall, aiming to correct the fiend with a blow. Friedrich waved him off with a flick of the hand and shake of the head.

  “Your instructions by the king were to seek out the woman whose scent you smelled on the leaflets of the White Lily.”

  He pulled back his lips, baring his sharpened canines and serrated teeth. Far more beast than man. The pain had already started zinging through his body before Friedrich had even spoken the question.

  “Ask your fucking question!” he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth as he jerked his chains, vacant eyes staring at the lamb.

  “What were your orders when you found a girl or woman with the scent of the White Lily? The scent on those leaflets?”

  “Bind her…” He hissed and writhed. “Bring her to Dragon’s Eye…unspoiled.”

  “Where is Dragon’s Eye?” asked Friedrich.

  “No!” He bellowed like a demon. “You said one question!” The creature shrieked before bowing his spine and crumbling into a whimpering mass of cries. “No more, no more, nomore, nooomoooore.” The beast howled in pain then fell unconscious.

  Dmitri stepped within range of the beast’s grasp and stopped. Pushed his shoulder with a boot. No movement. The pathetic vampire was truly out. Dmitri crouched and felt for his pulse at the throat.

  “Is he alive?” asked Friedrich.

  “Barely.” Dmitri shook his head. “Must’ve passed out from the pain. He may not wake at all.”

  Friedrich caught Mikhail’s gaze and nodded toward the creature. Mikhail tossed the lamb, which fell into the crook of his body where he’d curled in on himself. A horrific contrast of innocence and monster, wrapped together in death and silence.

  “We’ll get no more from him.” Friedrich headed out of the cell. “Even if he comes around, he won’t answer another question. Not after that.” They strode toward the stairs, Dmitri locking the cell behind them.

  Mikhail stepped in stride with him. “These huntsmen have been forbidden to harm the women whose scent they recognize as the White Lily.”

  “Yes,” agreed Friedrich, a spark of hope filling his chest. “This is fortunate for Helena, but unfortunate for any woman who has touched these leaflets and whose scent circulated back to King Dominik. The king knows not everyone who touched them is the White Lily, but he’s counting on one of the women his huntsmen kidnap to be the traitor he seeks.”

  His stomach dropped like a stone from a cliff, considering all these vampires were seeking Brennalyn. His beautiful, fair Brennalyn.

  “So Dragon’s Eye is the king’s fortress,” added Mikhail. “And that’s where we’ll find Helena.”

  “Most definitely,” agreed Friedrich. “And I’ll guarantee that it’s the center for his army as well. Where all the people from those villages are being held captive.”

  “But where?” asked Dmitri. “If we had even an idea of the vicinity, I could sweep the area and discover it without anyone knowing I was even there.”

  Dmitri’s speed could certainly do that. The problem was that of all the kingdoms, the north was the largest with the wildest, most rugged and mountainous terrain. And they needed to find Helena fast. Without an idea where this Dragon’s Eye might be, it would be like looking for a white hare in a field of snow.

  As they came out of the dungeon and clanged the door shut, Dmitri locking it behind them, Friedrich rounded. “Mikhail, I may have a plan. Join me in my parlor. Dmitri, please send for Grant and Miss Snow. I leave you in charge of the night watch. We need to make continuous perimeter sweeps. Understood?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Dmitri snapped to attention with a sharp bow and spun away, vanishing in a blur.

  He and Mikhail made their way up to his parlor in silence. Friedrich steeled his resolve for step number one—convincing his tigress of his plan without her clawing him to death. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d get out of this next battle unscathed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Leave?” Brenna felt the blood drain from her face, her stomach churning with anxiety. “I’m not leaving. Have you lost your mind?” She planted her hands on her hips, squaring herself in front of him. “I need to find Helena.”

  She ignored Grant, smirking off to the side, leaning against the bookshelf. Mikhail remained stone-like and silent near the door. And Friedrich stood with his hands casually in his pockets, staring down at her with an odd expression of bemused severity.

  “Brennalyn, I will find Helena. But in order to do that, I’ll be leaving here. And I’ll need my men. Half of the guard will take you and the children to the Black Lily’s hidden training camp far to the southeast. It’s the only place where you will be safe from these huntsmen roving the northern territories. I simply can’t leave you here at the castle. It’s too dangerous now. These last huntsmen were too close.”

  Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “But Helena. What if she needs me when you find her? I’m her mother.”

  Friedrich read the desperation in her eyes. She could tell the way the lines turned down around his eyes and the tight line of his mouth softened as he gazed at her.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This is the safest course for you and the other children.”

  She paced away from him then back, crossing her arms. “So what’s your plan? Let me hear it.”

  He rubbed his index finger with his signet ring across his chin as if considering.

  She scoffed. “Don’t even think about withholding information from me, Your Grace.” She narrowed her eyes in warning. “This is my child. I want to know what the plan is.”

  Grant chuckled. Friedrich shot him a look, then he strode to her with long, powerful strides.

  She backed up, bumping her bottom on his desk and gripping the lip with her hands. He stopped within an inch of her, eating up her space the way he liked to do, leaned close, his arm reaching behind her where he snatched a piece of parchment and stepped back, holding it out to her. Her heart rate tripled with that little episode. She took the parchment, recognizing it at once.

  “It’s an invitation to a ball at Izeling Tower. My uncle’s castle.”

  “A ball?” she asked, lowering her gaze to the thick-woven paper with perfect filigree in the corners and silvery ink that shimmered by the candlelight.

  “Yes. When my uncle was here last, he mentioned it so I was expecting the invitation. Apparently, my grandmother, the queen, plans to make some sort of royal announcement. And that has my teeth on edge as well.”

  Brenna tilted her head, considering. It was never good when a woman dangled a secretive proclamation like a minnow to a crocodile. Especially a woman like Queen Morgrid.

  “So you plan to go to the ball and then what?”

  “We managed to get the prisoner in the dungeon to tell us Helena has been taken to my uncle’s stronghold.”

  Brenna stepped forward in eagerness, clenching her hands into her skirts as she often did when she was nervous or agitated. “So you believe she’s alive.” Her voice broke but she held her emotion in check.

  Friedrich nodded deeply. “Yes. We are sure of it. One of the Bloodguard has the ability to see flashes of memory. He saw that she was taken away unharmed. And our prisoner downstairs verified that any captive with the scent they were seeking was to be brought back to my uncle’s fortress unscathed.”

  She moved to the settee and sank down, whispering on a heavy exhale, “Thank
God.” Her gaze snapped back up. “Then why did he kill Marianne at the town ball?”

  “That was a mistake on his part. The blood madness got the best of him.”

  Brenna shuddered at the memory of the poor girl on the dancefloor, red pooling around her pretty dress and golden hair. Shaking the vision away, refusing to believe Helena would end up the same, she asked, “So you believe she’s being held at Izeling Tower?”

  He moved to sit in the chaise across from her, keeping his distance. “No. We believe she’s being held at a fortress where the other villagers are also being held captive. The people he’s enslaved to feed his growing army. Likely it is also where he’s doing the training of his new vampires.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands casually and speaking on an intimate level. “But we need to discover some idea of where this fortress is. The north is too vast and we’ll waste too much time if we go searching without any clues to its whereabouts. But a ball will be filled with vampire royalty, soldiers, and human aristocracy loyal to the crown. With the overflow of wine and merriment, it is likely I’ll be able to get the information easily enough.”

  Brenna glanced down at the invitation. “The ball is in just three days’ time.”

  “Correct,” interjected Grant, from his position now next to the hearth, “which means King Dominik will almost assuredly be overseeing preparations at Izeling Tower rather than interrogating prisoners at his stronghold, wherever that may be.”

  “King Dominik oversees his balls? Since when do men care about such things?”

  Friedrich nodded to the invitation still in her hand. “Because his mother, the queen, will be there for some kind of an announcement. I need to be there regardless, or it would be suspicious.”

  She folded the invitation in her lap and straightened her posture. “Right. So you, the wayward nephew who has been under suspicion on occasion, plans to somehow divine where this secret fortress is right under your uncle’s nose. That’s your plan.”

  A scowl pressed between his eyes as he shifted back on the sofa, draping an arm along the back as he was wont to do. “Yes. You have another plan?”