Two of the queen’s guards lingered in the hall, but they did not follow as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. She paid no attention to me as she approached the duchess. I was nothing more than a royal guard tonight. Saving her life—the life of anyone in House Lilith—was no longer a noble gesture worthy of praise, but part of my job description.
“Your Majesty.” Ursula dropped to her knees. “I beg you, spare my errant children—”
“Rise,” the queen snapped. Ursula obeyed, standing instantly. “You could have come to me twenty years ago before the council demanded such involvement, and I would have gladly aided you.”
“I couldn’t—” Ursula closed her eyes and choked back a sob. “Not after…”
“Morgan was my first scion,” the queen said. “I grieved for her, too, but I did not abandon my family. Now, your children have been sullied by the world. They are untamed and out of control. Ridiculed, reviled, and no longer fit to rule. You will call them to you, and you will accept whatever judgement the council passes on them without resistance. Do you understand, Ursula?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she whispered.
The queen took Ursula’s hand and pressed the dagger into it. “Do this for me, for our family, and I will keep you from harm. Fail, and I will accept the council’s judgment on you.”
The queen’s eyes migrated across the room toward me, and I made a point to lower my gaze and bow my head. I heard the door open and close, and when I looked up, I was alone in the room with Ursula.
The duchess held the sheathed dagger in both hands, regarding it with a pinched brow. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and then, as if remembering that I was there, she tossed the blade onto one of the beds and stalked back toward the window.
“Can’t you do…whatever it is you’re doing just as well from the hallway?”
“I’d love to.” I turned and headed for the exit. “Surely one of the other guards is just dying to bear witness to your vampy telepathic ritual and then seal it in blood for the council.”
Before I reached the door, Ursula was on my back, ripping me farther inside the room. Her hand slapped over my mouth, her thumb and forefinger pinching around my nose as I thrashed against her. The Eye of Blood painted the room red with my panic.
“On second thought, vampling, why don’t you stick around?” she said, her breath rushing out in a desperate pant. “I’d much rather christen the eye on your secrets than my scions’ ruin.”
My fingernails scratched and clawed at my face as I tried to pry her off, and my muffled screams went unheard. This was not happening. This couldn’t be happening.
Ursula’s free hand clasped my shoulder, and she spun me around, pushing my back against the wall. Reason had abandoned her, and a wild arrogance filled her gaze. I recognized the look—I’d seen it before in the eyes of her scions.
With one hand still smothering my face, she wrenched my arm up and sank her fangs into the pit of my wrist, scraping bones and nerve endings. There was nothing gentle about her bite. I’d been attacked by dogs with more decorum.
My blood flowed freely, and with it, an ugly truth that could destroy us both.
Chapter Twelve
“Raphael,” Ursula gasped, caught in a memory that wasn’t hers. “No. Don’t.”
My blood dripped from her fangs and bottom lip, spilling onto the pale lace of her dress. I couldn’t see how much was revealed to her, but I could guess.
My death had been messy. Remembering it roused phantom pains in the bend of my neck—agony I knew Ursula now felt, thanks to the Eye of Blood and the way it bequeathed the memory of a mortal passing in its entirety.
The duchess’s shoulders trembled, and her face twisted with agony as she wilted to the floor. She leaned over her bent knees and sobbed. The sound was an echo of the noise I’d made in the warehouse basement as I took my final breaths. It made me feel vulnerable and pathetic all over again.
I gripped my wrist where Ursula had bitten me and slid my back along the wall, using it for support as I tried to put some distance between us. I didn’t want to be within easy reach once the vision released her. I didn’t want to be in the same country.
In the short time I’d known her, the duchess had proven to be unhinged and unpredictable. There was no telling how she’d take the news of Raphael being my sire. I somehow doubted a tender family reunion was in the cards.
“Then it’s true.” Her eyes refocused and snapped to me, freezing my progress toward the door. “But it was clearly an accident. Your existence is purely accidental. Dumb luck.” She let out a dry laugh. “I suppose that sums you up, doesn’t it?”
“I’ll take dumb luck over willful ignorance any day,” I said, cradling my wrist to my chest. Blood smeared across the slick material of my catsuit as I balled up the hem of my cloak and attempted to staunch the flow. If I survived the night, I would have to find out if the theater had a laundering service.
A knock sounded at the door, but before I could call out a warning, it opened. Dante took in the scene with wide eyes, and then his head jerked to the side, and he threw out his hand.
“You will have to come back later,” he said.
“I was told to come now.” I heard Mandy huff. “What am I supposed to do with this blood?”
“Put it on a hot plate,” Dante snapped. Then he slipped into the room and slammed the door behind him, flipping the deadbolt so that no one with a key card could barge in unannounced.
The smashed baubles on the floor and the blood smeared across Ursula’s face seemed to confuse him. It made me wonder if he were trying to decide how the two were related, but then he did a double-take at the wad of cloak coiled around my wrist, and understanding lit his eyes with horror.
“What have you done?” he hissed at me.
“Me?” I glared at him and lifted my injured wrist. “What have I done?”
“She is too fragile right now,” Dante said as if I’d somehow forced Ursula to bite me.
“You knew.” Ursula’s attention shifted from me to the duke, and her eyes filled with black like a mushroom cloud engulfing the sky after an atomic bomb. “How could you keep such a thing from me?”
Dante held up his hands as she rose. “It is complicated, cousin—”
“Don’t you cousin me,” she snarled. “Does the queen know—no. Of course she doesn’t. The little fiend is still alive, so how could she?”
“Ursula,” Dante pleaded, edging away as she advanced on him. “If you’d just let me explain—”
“Explain what?” She laughed maniacally. “How you managed to find me but not Morgan’s murderer? Or how you employed my own grandscion to hunt me down like an animal?”
Dante’s back hit the wall, and he finally broke free of the recoiling dance he’d been pacifying the duchess with. He took her by the shoulders and matched her venomous glare with one of his own.
“I did not know whom she belonged to at the time,” he said, clenching his teeth. “She was a vampling and a new hire. Do you really think I expected her to find you?”
I huffed out an offended noise before I could contain my resentment. It hadn’t occurred to me that the duke had been so sure I’d fail to solve my first case. That he’d actually set me up to do so. I would have been proud if I weren’t so insulted.
“You know who she is now.” Ursula gave him an accusing glare. “So why is she still here? Why haven’t you told the queen?”
“Oh, cousin…” Dante blew out an angry sigh and gave her shoulders a gentle shake. “The council wants to punish you on the grounds of being a neglectful sire. Do you suppose unleashing the knowledge that your scion produced an illegitimate vampling will help your cause?”
“Slitting her throat should help with that, no?” Ursula countered, shooting me a vicious look that sent a tremor up my spine.
“Is that what you really want?” he asked. “To see your grandscion—your only blood descendant of any reputable worth—perish?”
&nbs
p; The duchess considered his words, conflicting emotions playing out across her delicate face. “If I had more time, I could save Raphael. He could be well again.”
“Raphael is dead,” Dante confessed. “And I’m well aware that Scarlett was his.”
Ursula’s mouth dropped open. Her fangs descended in a panicked hiss as she broke free of his hold and retreated to the window.
She hadn’t known. As much as I despised the duchess, my heart bled at her mourning. She cupped her hands over her mouth to stifle her sobs, and her curls trembled against the lace back of her dress.
“You should be glad that your grandscion is here.” Dante crept up behind her, slowly resting his hands on her shoulders again. It was a comforting touch this time that he delivered with a soothing voice. “She possesses the eye, as well. Together, you should be able to blood call Scarlett. It is your only hope of leaving here of your own free will, cousin.”
“The council will not be satisfied until I’m locked in a coffin.” Ursula’s voice seeped resigned melancholy.
“Call Scarlett,” Dante said, rubbing slow circles on her back and shoulders. His tired eyes sought me out across the room. “And have faith. Your grandscion is quite the lucky charm.”
* * * * *
It was all I could do to keep from begging the duke to take me with him when he left. Though the worst of Ursula’s mood seemed to have passed, she was no picnic to be around, and I had no idea how this blood call was supposed to work or what would be expected of me.
Ursula sat down on the bed she’d left the queen’s dagger on and picked it up. Then she motioned for me to hand her my cloak.
“Yours is already mucked up,” she said. “No sense in bloodying mine, as well.”
I stripped out of the robe and tossed it across the room, earning an annoyed grunt when it nearly hit her in the face. The ragged holes in my wrist were raw, but they’d begun to crust over. I was sure my morning blood intake would heal the worst of the damage, but I still regarded the duchess with cautious skepticism as I joined her on the bed, leaving plenty of space between us.
“So, what’s the blade for?” I asked. “Do you rub it like a lamp? Spit on it for good luck?”
“This is Lilith’s ceremonial blade.” Ursula gaped at me in horror. “It’s been used in the creation of every scion of House Lilith since the beginning of time—well, except for you.”
“And any other grandbastards you might have out there stalking the night.”
She harrumphed and unsheathed the dagger. “It’s a blood call. What do you think we’re going to do with it?”
“Use the tip to punch in Scarlett’s phone number?” It was unlikely, but I wasn’t ready to cave just yet. I greened at the idea of letting her anywhere near me with yet another sharp, pointy object.
“Don’t be such a baby fangs.” She huffed and snatched my hand, dragging the blade across my palm without warning. I winced as my skin opened, but before I could examine the new wound, Ursula slashed her own palm and pressed it to mine, clasping our hands together. I made a gagging face, and she loosed another exasperated sigh.
“We should have at least tried rubbing it first, don’t you think?”
“Pay attention,” she snapped. “We don’t have all night, vampling.”
“Really? That’s a relief.” Playing bloody pat-a-cake with Granny Long Fangs was not what I’d had in mind for my evening agenda.
“It’s easy.” She dialed down her patronizing tone so I’d hear what she said and not just how she said it. “Repeat after me, only replace the ‘child of my child’ bit with ‘child of my sire.’ Make sense? Can you do that?”
“We’ll see,” I said, hoping like hell I didn’t botch the ritual. I really didn’t want both hands getting sliced and diced if we had to do a second take.
“Child of Lilith, child of my child, heed my call in your blood this night,” Ursula chanted. I waited for her to say something more, but when she only stared intently at me, I realized it was my turn.
“Oh! Child of Lilith…child of my sire…heed my call in your blood this night?” I echoed.
Ursula’s hand tightened around mine, and our thickening blood tickled my palm as it worked its way down to my ravaged wrist and dripped onto my outstretched cloak.
I kept waiting for some sparkling, firework effect. Some sizzle or zap to shoot through my veins and let me know our mojo was working. But nothing happened.
“How long do we have to hold hands like this?” I whispered.
“Shhh.” Ursula gave me a sharp look and then closed her eyes as if concentrating. I tried to do the same, picturing Scarlett’s hateful face. Maybe that would help. The exercise was grating, and I soon grew bored.
“What if Raphael sired more than just Scarlett and me?” I asked. “What if a whole army of vampires shows up when attendance is called tonight?”
“Shhh.” Ursula reprimanded me. “If you never speak again, it will be too soon.”
I waited another few moments before I couldn’t take it anymore.
“You said we didn’t have all night, and I’m hungry and bleeding.” I hated how whiny I sounded, but either the blood call would work, or it wouldn’t. One way or the other, I needed blood, and at least ten more feet of personal space. Stat.
Ursula squeezed my hand tighter until I yelped, and then she released me. “Call for our morning tea and clean yourself up. You reek of stale blood.”
“And whose fault is that?” I snapped as I yanked my cloak off the bed and clenched it in my palm to stop the bleeding.
Ursula ignored me. She placed her own hand in her lap and studied the gash in her palm as if reading her future. Extra-long lifeline. Broken heart line. Blood line straight from hell.
“Heed my call in your blood this night.” She whispered the words in a despairing prayer, over and over until guilt sucker punched me.
I slumped to the bed and timidly slipped my hand back into hers. Ursula’s eyes met mine, but whatever hope she had was quickly fading. She didn’t even rebuke me as I altered the wording of her plea.
“Heed our call in your blood this night,” we chanted. The droning harmony of our voices increased with each pass. It was almost…soothing. I felt myself drift into a trance.
Scarlett was out there somewhere. Ursula didn’t seem as attached to her as she was to Raphael, but it made sense. She wasn’t Scarlett’s true sire, and the girl was pure, psychotic evil. As much as the thought of seeing her again terrified me, I did hope she heeded our call.
And I hoped it was the last call she ever answered.
Chapter Thirteen
The long-distance blood call to Scarlett took longer than I would have preferred, but it didn’t last all night. Thank goodness. Ursula was a tough one to pity for long, considering her winning personality. After we’d finally called it quits, she slunk off to the bathroom to shower while I buzzed the harem room Mandy was in and asked her to come back with our blood—and my overnight bag. I was ready to get out of the catsuit and into pajamas.
As I waited, I picked up the broken bits of ceramic and glass from the floor and deposited them in the tiny trash bin under the desk. No one needed to find any of that in the bottom of their foot. Then I snapped the stems of the white roses down to size and placed them in a paper cup I found near a coffeemaker. The room was put back to rights by the time Mandy arrived, though she didn’t rely on her eyes alone to sense trouble.
“Why do I smell your blood?” she asked as I greeted her.
“The duchess was ordered to perform a ritual—” I gave her a tight-lipped smile as my eyes darted to the closed bathroom door. “Let’s just say that Scarlett may or may not be dropping in for night two of the trial.”
“What?” Mandy shoved my duffel bag at me and hurried inside the room, closing the door behind her. She set the tray with the blood pot and the hotel coffee cups down on the night table and put her hands on her hips. “Come again?”
“It’s a little hard to explain right
now,” I whispered as the sound of the showerhead cut off. “But you’ll be safe and sound in the harem suite, so chill.”
Mandy’s chest rose and fell rapidly as if she were on the verge of hyperventilating. “Chill?” she scoffed, then her eyes dropped to my hand pressed against my stomach, the damaged side hidden from view. “I’ll bite her face clean off—”
“It was voluntary.” I snatched her arm as she turned for the bathroom and gave her a pleading look, hoping she refrained from asking more questions. “I’ll fill you in once this is all over and we’re back at the manor. Cross my heart. Just…keep it on the DL for now, okay?”
Mandy huffed and ripped off her cloak. She tossed it down beside the bed and began stripping off her catsuit next.
“What what what are you doing?” I dropped the duffel bag and pressed my un-maimed hand to my forehead.
“I’m shifting,” she snapped. “You want me to chill? You want things on the DL? This is the only way I’m keeping my mouth shut around Big Bad Red until sunrise.”
“Uuuugh. Okay. Fine.” I turned around, more to spare my eyes than her modesty. Mandy had none.
The sound of bones and sinew realigning sent up the hairs on the back of my neck. Shifting was painful. Mandy didn’t have to spell that out for me. I didn’t even have to see her do it. Being torn apart and put back together in a different order made the kind of noises I expected a body to make if it were being crushed like a soda can.
When I turned around, Mandy was fully changed. Her yellow eyes stared at me through black and brown fur. The lighter color also tipped her tail that sliced through the air behind her as she jumped onto the bed closest to the door—the one I’d be resting in for the day.
Thicker Than Blood (Blood Vice Book 5) Page 10