Thicker Than Blood

by Angela Roquet

  “Your Majesty, I—”

  She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “By your age, I had sired both of my children. You have one year. Our family must grow.”

  Dante slapped a hand to his chest. “I am not ready. Ursula was not ready, and look what happened.”

  The queen closed the gap between them before I could blink. Her hand clamped onto his shoulder, the glossy nail of her thumb grazing the underside of his Adam’s apple. Her dark eyes were nearly level with his, and they drank him in with enough intensity that I couldn’t find my next breath.

  “Our enemies conspire to overthrow us,” she whispered. “We lost Morgan to them, and we nearly lost Ursula tonight. There is power in numbers.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Dante answered breathlessly.

  No one dared mention Scarlett. After her exile and coffin-locking, I guessed she no longer counted as a viable member of House Lilith. I didn’t think the queen counted me, officially, either. That left Lili, Alexander, Kassandra, Dante, and Ursula. The whole of House Lilith, in the same room under a foreign roof. Probably not the best place for a family meeting.

  The phone in the room rang, and the queen finally released Dante and nodded to the prince to answer it.

  “Your car is ready, my queen,” he said, covering the receiver with one hand.

  Kassandra’s face flushed as if she were offended by his affectionate tone. She caught me staring, and her eyes narrowed, sapping the sincerity out of the pathetic smile she offered.

  Something told me this was too good of an opportunity for her to pass up. Dante had to suspect the same. He lingered behind as Alexander and Kassandra exited the queen’s suite, and then tugged at the hem of my cloak.

  “Do not leave Ursula’s side,” he whispered. “Go with Murphy and have Donnie wait for me with the second car. I’ll be along shortly.”

  I nodded and hurried after the duchess—my new sire.

  God help us all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mandy didn’t try to grill me again, but I could tell she wanted to. I didn’t even know what to say. How was I supposed to tell her that the vampire who had made the lot responsible for so much of her suffering was now my sire?

  She’d already packed up my belongings, anticipating—likely praying—that we wouldn’t be staying over a second day. We’d only been at the duke’s manor for a week and a half, and I never would have guessed that I’d be this eager to return to it. I wanted to close myself up in my room, away from the council and Kassandra. Away from Ursula.

  The duchess sniffled as she stuffed her toiletries and robe down into a suitcase. I was waiting for her to order a harem donor to finish the task—or worse, order me to do it. My original vision of being whisked off to London by some dashing vamp to dance the night away was obliterated. The queen had turned my fantasy into a nightmare. A fifty-year-long nightmare.

  As miserable as I was, wallowing in my self-pity, there was also a twinge of humiliation that I hadn’t expected. Ursula seemed even more distraught about the arrangement than I was. As if I were the worst thing that could have happened to her.

  “The queen should have let them take me,” she said, more to herself than to me. “She obviously doesn’t know the full extent of what she has inflicted.”

  Ursula zipped her suitcase and forcefully dropped it on the floor beside mine. I jumped, surprised she hadn’t taken the opportunity to club me with it. The look she gave me suggested she wanted to.

  “I’m not thrilled here either,” I snapped. Twitchy nerves made me testy. “You don’t exactly have a great track record.”

  Her hand planted in the center of my chest, and then my shoulder blades bit into the wall behind me. Mandy growled, her eyes going wolfy, but she stayed back a step. This was dangerous territory. Understanding and horror strained her expression, but she wouldn’t intervene unless I signaled her to.

  Ursula scoffed and shot Mandy a sideways glare. “Go ahead, little wolf,” she taunted. “I was ordered to foster this one. Nothing was said about sparing her harem.”

  “Leave her out of this.” I squirmed between Ursula’s hand and the wall, trying to free myself. “She’s suffered enough because of your incompetence.”

  Ursula hissed in my face. Her eyes filled with black as her fangs extended. “The duke’s leash on you was far too lax, vampling. I will not tolerate your mouth for fifty years. Speak ill of me again, and I will stuff you in a coffin and muzzle your mutt. Do you understand?”

  She pressed harder against my chest, sliding my back up the wall until only the toes of my boots grazed the floor. I felt my bones ache in protest. The pistols holstered under my arms were within easy reach, but going for them would spark outright war. I was displeased with the queen’s decision. Not suicidal.

  “Yes,” I rasped.

  “And you will address me properly from now on.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “That’s a good vampling.” Ursula released me. I dropped back to my feet and wheezed in a tender breath. “Now call for Murphy. I’m ready to leave this hellhole.”

  Mandy gathered up our bags to take to the harem’s SUV. She gave me a sympathetic scowl and touched my shoulder as soon as Ursula turned her back to us.

  “I’ll find Murphy, drop off the bags, and then bring the car around,” she whispered, buying me some extra time to compose myself. Not that that was likely while in the same room with the duchess.

  I nodded, still too breathless to speak. Not that I had anything smart to say—well, nothing wise anyway.

  Pointing out that I’d helped with her stupid blood call—for whatever good it did—and that I’d agreed to guard duty to keep the council from using me against her wasn’t going to earn me any brownie points in her current mood. And I had fifty years of this undead PMS nonsense to look forward to. Joy.

  Murphy arrived a minute later, and I almost hugged him when I answered the door. My breath finally steadied, and I set my disappointment aside to focus on getting out of there in once piece.

  At least half the vampires in the theater had not been satisfied with the council’s ruling. Then there were the three council members from fancy, well-staffed households that would have preferred to see the duchess locked away. With Kassandra lurking about, that meant we weren’t even safe on the floor reserved for the royal family.

  “Donnie’s waiting for the duke,” Murphy said as we escorted Ursula to the elevators. “And Lane already left with the harem.”

  I nodded absently, scanning the hallway for threats. Most of the guards and blood donors had cleared out, but a few remained behind—likely the queen’s people since Dante was still with her. Donnie stood near the queen’s door, his back pressed against the wall. He dipped his head in a small nod when he caught sight of us. Then the elevator door opened, and we loaded inside and headed for the lobby.

  Many of the vampires who had attended to witness the trial had remained behind to fawn over the elite council members and the royal family. Ursula tensed as we stepped out into the crowd. Several scathing glances were sent her way, but there were also the odd, over-enthusiastic vamps who called out their support, as well.

  “I knew you were innocent all along!”

  “True love never dies!”

  “Long live Duchess Ursula!”

  Ursula’s brow pinched, and she urged Murphy and me to hurry, pressing a hand to each of our backs as we tried to navigate the throng. The three sets of double doors that lined the front of the theater stood open, and outside, a sprinkle of snow dotted the night sky, glowing against the lit Gateway Arch in the distance.

  The chill of winter filled my lungs, but any relief it might have offered was stunted by Kassandra’s smug face. She approached Ursula, and for a moment, I hesitated rather than let her pass. When she turned her viper grin on me, I inched back a step.

  “Your Grace,” I mumbled as if only just recognizing her. She had enough reason to want me dead. Revealing that I was onto her would only add
to that list.

  Kassandra took Ursula’s hands in both of hers and offered air kisses to either cheek. “Cousin,” Kassandra cooed. “It’s been too long. Congratulations on the favorable outcome of your trial.”

  “Thank you.” Ursula stared vacantly at the younger duchess. She’d go through the required motions for the sake of all the eyes glued to her, but she had no intention of embellishing the show. “My car is waiting,” she said, ending the conversation before it had a chance to really go anywhere.

  “I look forward to visiting more with you at Imbolc,” Kassandra said as she stepped out of our path.

  Mandy pulled up to the curb a second before we reached the sidewalk. One look from Murphy and she hopped over the console, surrendering the driver’s seat to him. I opened the door for the duchess and waited for her to climb inside before circling the car.

  As I opened the door across from Ursula’s, I stole one last glance at Kassandra. She stood farther down the sidewalk from the mob spilling out of the theater, a cell phone pressed to her ear, expression twisted with thinly veiled rage. Whomever she was speaking to was getting an earful. Her emerald eyes snagged mine, but I quickly ducked into the car.

  I knocked on the dark partition glass, cuing Murphy to get us the hell out of there, and we pulled away from the curb and Kassandra’s hateful face.

  My shoulders felt permanently squared, and it was only half due to my temperamental foster sire sitting on the opposite side of the plush, leather seat spanning the back of the car. Ursula rested her elbow on the armrest of the door and gazed out at the buildings as they blurred past us. The snow swirled against the windows, blown asunder in the car’s wake. The moon had already set for the night, but winter seemed to have a blue light of its very own.

  This stretch of the city was quiet during the witching hours. We were away from the interstate. The human bars had long since closed, and none of their daytime businesses would be open for some time yet. Only the gentle hum of the car’s engine broke the silence.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” I blurted, positive I’d misheard the duchess.

  She turned her head, exposing tear-stained cheeks. Her eyes were bloodshot, and they encompassed every emotion on the spectrum. “We got off on the wrong foot, but we have to make this work—for both our sakes.”

  “It’s been a traumatic night,” I offered, not quite ready to forgive and forget, but also not ready to start a batfight in the back of a moving car.

  Ursula opened and closed her mouth, struggling to find her next words. But before she could get them out, we passed an intersection, and a trash truck plowed through the stoplight—coming right for us.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Armored cars could take a lot. That’s what they were designed to do. Unfortunately, that also meant they lacked crumple zones, so their occupants absorbed the brunt of a crash. Especially if the other vehicle had more mass and weight. A trash truck had quite a bit more of both.

  I grabbed the duchess as the truck hit us, dragging her across the seat. We were immediately thrown to the opposite side from the impact, and then my head smacked the ceiling as the car rolled, and the glass partition behind the front seat shattered.

  Mandy screamed, but I couldn’t reach her. Not while Ursula clung to me and I grasped for anything to hold on to.

  The trash truck didn’t slow. It pushed us across the street, and I felt another jarring bump as we hit the curb, and the vehicle rolled onto its roof. We landed on a sidewalk that bordered one of the tiny parks tucked in between the buildings.

  “Son of a bitch!” Murphy hollered. “My leg is stuck.” He was the only one not slumped against the ceiling of the car. His door was caved in all the way to the steering wheel, and his window was spiderwebbed, though somehow still held together by whatever voodoo went into ballistics glass.

  My door was scuffed but intact, and through the window, I watched three men climb out of the trash truck—each wielding an M4 rifle. My blood vision brought them to life in startling detail.

  Cruel, rugged faces sneered in our direction. Their massive frames were backlit by the streetlights, casting long shadows over the car. They were dressed in jeans and heavy coats, stocking caps pulled down over their heads. Two of them were unfamiliar, but the third I knew—or at least, we’d met once before. The assassin from Ursula’s room at the manor.

  “Wolves.” Mandy gasped and heaved herself upright, crouching against the roof of the car so she could keep an eye on our assailants through the tinted windows.

  “You can smell them through the glass?” Murphy stopped his struggling and gave her a skeptical look. Its intensity was somewhat lost from his upside-down position. His face was red from the rush of blood to his head, and his cloak spilled down to the car’s ceiling.

  “I recognize them. They’re with the Moreau Pack.”

  “Ursula?” The duchess lay across my back, limp. I tried to be careful as I squirmed and wriggled my way out from under her, but when the wolves opened fire, I gave up and shrugged her off, freeing my pair of Reaper TDs from their holsters.

  The windows on our side of the car splintered, shots randomly peppering the glass. We were up against novices. An expert would have focused their fire until they drilled a hole. Regardless, the windows wouldn’t last forever.

  I re-holstered one of my guns and ran my hand over the top of the back seat, frantically searching for the lever that would fold them down—or up in our case.

  “What are you doing?” Mandy shouted. A growl raked through her voice, and her eyes glowed yellow, lighting up the inside of the car.

  “The armored plating will take longer to get through than the glass.” My fingers hooked onto a plastic latch, and I pushed the seat up, revealing the dark cave of the trunk. “Help me move the duchess.”

  Mandy crawled toward me, crunching through the broken partition window. Murphy took the opportunity to stretch across the front of the car and bearhugged her seat, using it for leverage as he kicked his door with the leg that wasn’t stuck. It creaked and then flung open as he dropped to the ceiling of the vehicle with a grunt.

  “Now we’re in business!” Murphy hobbled out—obviously injured and clearly not giving a damn—red cloak flapping behind him like a bullfighter’s muleta. I couldn’t see this going well at all.

  Mandy and I wrangled Ursula into the trunk and pushed the seats back in place. The windows were so battered now that I was sure even if wolves could see through tinted glass, none of them had seen where we’d stashed the duchess.

  I crawled toward the front of the car while Mandy stripped out of her cloak and catsuit.

  “You can’t shift in here,” I said. “The glass is about to go.” The fire had lessened, thanks to Murphy’s departure, but it hadn’t stopped.

  “Then I’ll do it in the park,” Mandy snapped.

  “Make it quick. I’ll cover you.”

  I yanked off my cloak as I reached the mouth of Murphy’s open door. I wasn’t as eager to get shot, so I didn’t plan on rushing out into the open with a glaring target on my back, but I didn’t have much else to work with. And I needed every advantage at my disposal right now.

  I balled up the cloak and tossed it over the belly of the upturned car, hoping it would offer enough distraction as Mandy and I made a run for it. I stayed behind her, trying to conceal her pale backside and firing a few rounds at the pair of wolves near the trash truck. I guessed one of them had gone after Murphy.

  We neared a cluster of shrubs that bordered a monument, and a round chipped the concrete base, taking a chunk out of it as we hesitated.

  “Shit! Shit!” Mandy hissed, clutching her arm. I reached for her, but she waved me off. “It’s just a nick. Go. Keep them away from the car.”

  Bullets zipped through the air between us. Red cloak or not, my blond ponytail was as good a target as any. The gunfire trailed after me as I darted away from Mandy’s hiding place. Vampiric reflexes were a definite bonus, but I was st
ill a mere vampling. Dodging bullets was not a skill I had honed.

  I drew my second pistol and doubled my fire as I cut through the trees, slipping into the shadows between a pair of parked cars at the curb. My breath fogged, and snowflakes landed on my cheeks and in my hair as shots ripped through metal all around me. A bullet grazed my thigh, and I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out.

  Sirens crooned in the distance. I wondered if they belonged to metro or Blood Vice. Either way, I didn’t have time to wait and find out.

  I rolled onto my stomach and peered under the car I was using for cover. Something dripped from the motor—fluid from some reservoir or another—and a fast food bag was crushed under one of the front tires. The Eye of Blood illuminated all, but I tried to focus on what mattered.

  My breath stilled as the chill of the damp pavement soaked through my bodysuit, sending a shiver through me. I pressed my arms down harder, steadying my aim at the pair of boots drawing closer on the opposite side. Then I fired.

  Blood exploded from the werewolf’s ankle, and he landed flat on his back, his gun smacking the concrete beside him. He swore and then loosed a sound that no one would have mistaken for human. I half expected him to shift, but his yellow eyes found me first, locking on mine from beneath the destroyed car. He reached for his M4. Luckily, my pistols were still aimed in the right direction.

  I lit him up, none too eager to take a round of 5.56 to the face.

  When I was sure he wouldn’t be getting back up, I rolled onto my side and swapped out the two Reapers’ magazines. My blood vision had faded, but I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, and it returned. Then I crept around the back of the vehicle, scanning the park and crash site.

  A shot rang out, and I heard a wolf yelp. My heart throbbed as it pulsed against my breastbone.

  Please, don’t be Mandy.

  A quirky whistle snapped my attention to the upturned car. Murphy squatted behind it. He wagged his eyebrows at me and cocked his head toward the trash truck. I turned in time to see a shadow move between the wheels.