Less than a quarter of the hands rose in agreement, mostly from people she didn’t recognize. Anyone who knew her well realized how much pride she took in her work and how hard she was working to solve the blood dilemma. Was the Court even going to let her speak, to tell them about her progress and her plans? Would she be allowed to defend herself and her program?
Savage turned to her, speaking loud enough for the entire khiss to hear. “Dylan, we appreciate the work you do at ReVamp, but yesterday a suit was filed against the haven. The accusation is that you’ve purposefully introduced an infection to the blood supply to amp business, to get your clients to visit more regularly. If you cannot find what is tainting the blood in one week, ReVamp will cease to exist.”
Words escaped her. Hopes and dreams built solidly on her professional foundation shook and started to crumble. Tears pooled on her lashes. She blinked them back. Who would accuse her of such a thing?
Savage squeezed her again. “I’m afraid if you cannot isolate the infection, we’ll have no choice but to put you up for removal from our khiss.” He released her on shaky knees. She didn’t know why, but she shot a glance at Slade. His bloodshot eyes glared at the floor tiles like he wanted to pull them off one by one and chuck them across the room. Savage continued, “Enough with the bad news, don’t you think?”
Dylan felt the burn of eyes boring into her face as she shuffled back to her seat. It was hotter than her memories of the summer sun. She couldn’t hear whether people clapped or gasped, cheered or talked amongst themselves as she left the podium. Her head spun in a pool of confusion, pulling her deeper into chaos.
Smiling ear to ear, Savage dove into his notes. “I’d like to make an announcement; one that will affect us all. The next Valcdana ceremony will take place on Winter Solstice.”
Overly-enthusiastic clapping flowed from the khiss. It’d been too long since the last ceremony had taken place—a year or more. Royalty was hard to come by these days—as was trust, it seemed.
Once they quieted, Savage continued. “This union is one that will pride the khiss immensely. It was once believed only royals could share the intense pain and remarkable pleasure of Valcdana. Draining one of his or her blood within an inch of death is not to be taken lightly. Although followed by one of the most extreme pleasures of the greater world, most vampires don’t live through the initial process to find out how great it truly is. It was once believed only strong, well-bred royal lines could withstand the pain. But the ban has been lifted by our Primus. He believes there is another who is strong enough to be blessed with this honor.”
Whispers spread through the khiss like wildfire, each pair of eager eyes searching the next for answers.
“Erock, would you please rise and approach the podium.”
A dark form emerged from the back, Erock’s cocky swagger visible through the anonymity of his robe. Dylan did a mental victory dance. She’d finally be free from his possessive attitude and controlling ways. Maybe if he had a mate to worry about, he’d stop keeping tabs on her all the damn time. Not that she’d be spending much time away from ReVamp now anyway. That place was going to become her permanent address until she found some answers.
“His royal lines will serve this race well.” Erock approached Savage, bowed, and took his place at his left. “Winter Solstice will be an important Court session, yes it will. Because it is the night one woman will prove her strength in two ways: first, that she can discover what is tainting our blood supply under the watchful eye of the khiss, and second, that she is strong enough to withstand Valcdana. Dylan, rise and meet your future mate.”
Through the gasps and applause of the crowd, Slade cursed, louder than he should’ve. What was he doing? Erock’s eyes locked on his. Damn it. The last thing that newborn wanted was to draw attention to himself, especially from someone like Erock. Didn’t she tell him to keep his mouth shut and his eyes low?
“You got a problem, newbie?” Erock hissed over the roar of the crowd.
“Only with you.” Slade grit through clenched teeth.
Erock made a single pissed-off step before Slade lunged at him, fangs bared, nails outstretched. As Slade reached the corner of the podium, two cloaked guards grabbed him and dragged him away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Crimson Census States Vampire Population Reached All-Time High in 1933. Therians Shift Focus Away from Crimson Bay Area. Skeptics Fear Therians Regrouping near Los Angeles. Blood Banks Full for First Time in Twenty Years. Mundane Casualties Bottom Out.”
—Crimson Chronicle Archives: Headlines for June 1934
“I should whip you for your insolence!” Savage boomed an inch from Slade’s ear. His chamber was darker than night, but he could sense Slade’s defiance as if the harvest moon shone upon it. “How dare you disrespect the khiss, your Primus, your newly designated status . . . and me!”
Erock paced the back wall of curtains, waiting for his turn to strike.
Slade stood rigid, jaw clenched, hands cemented to his sides. But his ears worked. And that was all that mattered.
“I should strip you of your status right here and now and toss you into the street like the garbage you are.”
“Then why don’t you?”
Savage sucked in a crisp breath through his fangs. “Watch your step, Slade. You’re lucky I respect my Primus enough to follow direct orders. If I had my way, I’d slice your head off and leave it as therian bait.” He stalked around Slade’s backside, measuring his stature and foolhardy confidence. “Though I’m not sure they’d even take a piece of raw meat like you.”
“You know, you’re right. I hear they like sugar and unfortunately I’m all spice.”
A lightning quick backhand across Slade’s cheek reminded him who was boss. If Savage couldn’t kill him, he sure as hell would assert some painful authority. Slade glared at him with a hatred meant to fuel Satan himself. For a split second he thought Slade might’ve retaliated.
Erock slid up to Savage’s side, placed a calming hand on his shoulder, “Easy, Savage. This piece of trash is playing you, and I can think of better ways to make him comply. Let me take him to the basement and I’ll show him a real party.”
Slade smiled. “You know, that sounds like a real hoot, but I’ll have to take a rain check. Hope you can find another date on such short notice.”
“You disobedient fool,” Savage said, breathing hard in his ear. “Who do you think you are? You think you run this show? As soon as the Primus returns, your head will be on the chopping block faster than you can retract your snappers.”
Slade clicked his back teeth together in a mock bite. Then smiled.
Oh, how Savage wanted to smack that smile right off his smug face and rip those pearly whites out. Later, he reminded himself. There’d be time for that later.
Erock paced around to Slade’s other side and leaned into his ear. “You listen here, Slade. I’ll make this real clear so you don’t fuck up the message. Mating rituals are reserved for royalty, not blood-brains like you. Even if you did have royal blood, the decision isn’t yours to make. Dylan is fated to be mine. Period. End of story.”
Slade turned, meeting his gaze dead-on. “Glad you cleared that up. Too bad that’s not how I roll. Where I’m from you don’t take orders from demented sick suckers. Especially not when it comes to matters of friends and women.”
“We’re not in your world anymore, Dorothy,” Erock hissed. “You’re in our khiss now. If you wanna live here, you’ve gotta play nice and keep your trap shut. Got it?”
Ruan thrust open the chamber door, looking unsurprised to see the three of them having a face-off in the middle of the room. “Savage, I’ve got a message.”
“Put in on the desk and leave us.”
“It’s, ah, not for you.” Ruan walked up to Slade and handed him a sealed envelope. “It was delivered by our courier during Induction. It’s from someone high-ranking, you can tell by the seal.” He waited for a response. When he got nothing but a blank star
e he continued. “Is there something you’d like to share, newbie?”
Slade flipped the white envelope in his hand and shook his head. “Don’t have anything to tell. This is a surprise to me as much as it is to you.”
“Bullshit,” Erock snapped. “Open it.”
Slade pocketed the letter, and gave it a soft theatrical tap. “I think I’ll save it for later. Am I dismissed, Mother? Father?”
Savage’s blood boiled. His fangs lowered, ready to fight to the death.
“Savage, I’d like a word if it’s all right with you,” Ruan said, stepping between them. As much as he hated the interruption, it was probably for the better. Slade was getting a rise out of his response, he pressed the kill switch on his anger and met Ruan’s eyes.
“Get lost, Slade. And watch your back.”
Slade stormed out of the chamber without so much as a hesitation or second look and slammed the door for effect.
“Erock, you head out too. You should probably go check on your new woman.”
Turning, Erock hissed a response and left the room.
“Now’s probably not a good time, Ruan.” Savage ground his teeth together so hard his temples flared, bordered on bursting. He wondered if anyone had ever gone to ReVamp’s Necrotic Dentistry Unit for sheering their teeth down to nubs. He’d have to ask Dylan if he could schedule an appointment before they closed their doors.
“Pardon my saying so, but I don’t think there’s going to be a better time.” Ruan hovered near the door; smart move, considering Savage’s mood. “I don’t mean to question the orders of the Primus . . . but Erock and Dylan? Is that really necessary?”
“You said she needed to be reined in and that she was becoming a problem. I found a solution. You shouldn’t be so quick to question my methods. Primus ordered Dylan to be next in the Valcdana. I just picked the person who could keep her out of the most trouble.” Savage took a deep breath, sat in his chair, and forced himself to lean back, to relax. “Would you have rather I picked someone like you? You think you could’ve kept a better eye on her?”
“I want her to be safe. I’m not sure Erock has the strength to pull her out of the ritual.”
“He’s got royal blood.”
“He’s a prick.”
“No arguing there.” A smile crept across Savage’s face. “You’re turning green, you know.”
Ruan scrubbed a hand across his face. “Can you reverse it? I mean, what if I found what was tainting the blood before Winter Solstice? What if I upped the number of therian kills this month? What would you have me do to reverse the order?”
Savage stood and walked Ruan back to the chamber door. “What’s done is done. Now drop it, would you? You’re starting to sound like a whiny newborn.”
Ruan’s emerald eyes shadowed over. “I don’t like this.”
“That’s just the thing, Ruan. I don’t give a therian’s ass what you like. Now hit the streets and make yourself useful. Find me some Intel on the uprising.”
Ruan nodded and left the room looking beaten and somber, a fraction of the warrior he’d been when he entered. If he didn’t toughen up, he might have to join Slade on the chopping block. It was damn time Savage surrounded himself with true warriors. Ones who got the job done without bitching and moaning.
When he was again left to the dark and his thoughts, he sighed. Things were only going to get worse from here.
For them.
Moses couldn’t believe the plan was actually working. No news from Slade or his inside leech meant good news. He made it in alive.
How the hell did he manage to find a therian dumb enough to shift into a vampire and infiltrate their haven? Slade didn’t exactly fit the bill of someone with a death wish, but on second thought what did he really have to live for now anyway? When you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain, desperation . . . and stupidity . . . would seep in eventually, he supposed.
He laughed, kicking his heels up on the desk in Mirage’s back office. He’d spent his centuries as Sheik making twisted deals with the Devil in order to keep his status. One soul for another more captivating. Two souls for another couple years’ reign. Now it would all come out in the wash.
What was an eternity in hell anyway?
He’d already lived this world lifetimes over, void of pleasure and pain. Either of those would feel pretty damn good right about now, if only to remind him that he was still capable of feeling at all. When you looked upon an eternity as bland as the one he’d faced once upon a time, even the fiery pits of hell gained appeal.
As long as he wasn’t sharing the cozy tip of a flame with one of those worthless blood suckers, he could deal with any brimstone Satan dished out.
He pressed the mouse on his Dell, jumpstarting the therian-locator program. How many therians would it take, he wondered, to rid all the vampires from the Crimson Bay Area completely, San Francisco included? Fifty? A hundred or more?
He scanned over the map of California, noting the shades of red indicating hotspot vampire activity, and the small black dots showing the skittering of therians. Tonight it seemed everyone was on the move.
Local khiss numbers had dwindled—true—but those parasites were strong and healed incredibly fast. He couldn’t fail in his plan. Maybe calling more therians to San Francisco just to be safe wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
He highlighted a region containing a hundred little black dots, give or take, and sent out a mass message, bringing them to the city for a rendezvous in a single week’s time. They’d better get their asses here on schedule, as if their last shifts depended on it.
Once he got the all-go from his inside leech, he needed to be ready to strike.
Slade would look like one of them, of course, and would find himself caught in the middle of the firestorm. Would he fight alongside the leeches, holding strong until the last moment so as not to blow his cover? Would the Assassin in him hold out that long? Or would he shift back immediately, knowing the war had begun, and fight in his proper place beside them?
No point in musing over Slade’s actions, he supposed. Either way he’d be a casualty of war. . . .
And Moses was mighty fine with the idea.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Duty before self.”
—San Francisco Haven Rule #5
“Don’t look so surprised, sugar,” Erock coaxed. “And would you quit walking so damn fast? Where are you going?”
“Really? Are we starting that already?” Dylan picked up her pace to her studio, slipped inside, and shut the door right as he approached.
He checked the handle then pounded on the door. “I know you can hear me in there.”
God, she didn’t want to. Didn’t want to hear anyone right now. What she really wanted was to clock in at ReVamp and dig into her research. She couldn’t think about Erock or the Valcdana right now, for fear her head might spin right off her shoulders.
“I know this may not be the idea you had for your life,” Erock continued, lowering his voice, “but we’re a good fit, Dylan. If you give us a shot you might realize that. I could make you happy if you just listened to me.”
Really? Is that what it took to be happy? Obedience? The nerve!
Dylan wasn’t sure, but she could’ve sworn he mumbled something about not having a choice. She barely stuffed down the urge to open the door simply so she could slam it in his face again.
She stepped out of her Induction robe, back into jeans and a hoodie, and shoved her laptop and thumb-drive back into her Coach. Erock was still pressed against the fogged glass, regurgitating some BS about royal blood lines, yada yada, so she figured she could fix herself a glass before heading back to ReVamp. Lord only knew how long it would be before she had another chance to grab something to drink.
It took five whole strides to get from her bedroom-slash-livingroom to her kitchen, although she’d hardly call a table and mini-refrigerator a kitchen. Hell, she could hardly call her living arrangement livable once she thought about it.
A twin bed with a red flowery duvet doubled as a couch along the side wall. A cherrywood dresser and a single closet next to the bed managed to hold all her clothes. And in the corner, her lifeline, an oversized desk brimming with paperwork and books on blood research put the final touches on her studio, making it her home.
It was a good thing she lived most her days and nights at ReVamp.
She unscrewed the lid on a chilled B+ Alvambra bottle. Her dinner went down warm and smooth and tasted fine to her. If there was an infection in the blood supply, wouldn’t it taste different? She thought, licking traces of red from her lips. Wouldn’t there be people complaining of the quality of blood? They hadn’t had a single complaint since their opening almost fifty years ago.
Which made the revelation that a suit was filed against them even more staggering.
Tipping back the last drops of her dinner, Dylan remembered they were expecting another delivery tonight. She had to get back to the office ASAP.
She wondered when Sample X was going to donate again. They could really use the strength of his blood right about now. Hell, she could use it to replenish her system for the upcoming month; it was going to be a doozy.
Sample X was all Dylan ever drank. Not only because of his long-running record of having uncontaminated blood, because truth be told she didn’t know his blood would be the stable sample when she started feeding all those years ago. It simply tasted better than the rest—it was sweeter somehow.
Everyone who visited the clinic had preferences. If they started with generic palates, it didn’t take long for them to notice minute variations in the blood and shift one way or another when it came to placing private orders.
To each their own.
For her, there was Sample X. As long as he continued to donate.
Dylan didn’t hear Erock grumbling in the hall, so she grabbed her things and pressed her ear to the door, just to make sure. Coast was clear.
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