Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion)

by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  “Would you please quit with the pet names.” My words were accompanied with a glare.

  “They bother you, sweetheart?” he asked innocently.

  Oh, for Christ’s sake. “Infuriate.”

  “And sicken,” Nate added.

  “Why don’t you just tell us what you found out yesterday?” I asked.

  “That’s all I’m good for? Just information?”

  “We’ll see what other talents you have later,” I promised with a grin. I hated to admit it, but I liked having him back. Nothing like someone who seemed to absolutely adore me to put me in a good mood.

  “Well, it turns out there’s a hefty bounty on the kid,” he said, nodding at Nate. “There’s a helluva lot of money to be made for anyone able to produce the head—literally, the skull—of any prominent members of the main covens that might have escaped, and all apparently put out by the same person...but it turns out there are a few different people after Junior here.”

  “And yet you haven’t sold us out yet,” Nate replied dryly. “Touching. All to impress Zara?”

  “Hardly,” Jamie snorted. “I’m sure she’d find it much more impressive if I brought you all in and used the money to take her on a cruise around this lovely world of ours.”

  I waved my hand in the air between them. “Hello—still here.”

  “Anyway,” Jamie continued, but not without a quick glower in Nate’s direction. “I’d hand you over in an undead heartbeat, but it turns out the same person seeking the death of the rest of the witches if offering a sizable reward for any vampire caught alive.”

  “But why alive?” I asked no one in particular. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know—not all vampires are as attractive as us,” Jamie said with a grin.

  Nate rolled his eyes. “Could the two of you maybe get over yourselves for just a minute?”

  “Well, he’s right,” I said. “The number of ugly undead far outweighs the pretty kind.”

  Heaven returned with a hotel staff member. “We’ll put them in that one,” she said, indicating one of the bedrooms. “I’ll just add a guard to the perimeter squad.”

  The man nodded and went back upstairs.

  “But there’s three—” Jamie began.

  “I’m not sleeping with them—” Nate said at the same time.

  I clasped my hands together gleefully. “Oooh, a threesome! Happy birthday Zara!”

  ****

  So it turned out the idea was actually to put a cot in the room with the double bed.

  That didn’t seem to relieve either of the boys, though. Nate repeatedly tried to get his cot moved to the living room, even suggesting sleeping on the couch instead, only to be rebuffed by Heaven. Jamie joined in the argument as well, but neither warlock nor vampire could convince her to rethink the sleeping arrangement. She didn’t want us there in the first place, so wasn’t about to give us any more space than necessary. The fight ended with her retiring to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her, Jamie and Nate glaring at one another, and me doubled over in laughter. From the dramatic way they were carrying on, one would think their having to sleep in the same room was the end of the world. I just thought it was funny.

  Since we wanted to keep a low profile long enough to meet successfully with Peter Fields the next day, we decided to forgo any evening excursions outside the hotel property. Even within the hotel, we had to wait in the awkward air of the cramped downstairs apartment until around one in the morning to venture into the relatively empty upper building.

  Nate was set to meet Peter sometime during the afternoon, so the three of us resolved to go to sleep just before sunrise and after much liquor consumption in the closed hotel bar. It took quite a bit for vampires to get drunk; Heaven was going to have a substantial tab to pay later.

  I had to admit I was impressed with the clothes Nate’s friend picked out. There was even a cute dark red silk pajama set with short-shorts for bottoms and a fitted top. That was some quality sleepwear. I made a mental note to get the name of the store at some point.

  “You had better not snore, kid,” Jamie said. He hopped into bed next to me and wrapped his arm around my waist. My side faced Nate’s cot—an arrangement I thought would be best, lest I awake to find Jamie snacking on our warlock.

  “Why do you insist on calling me ‘kid?’” Nate stretched out on the cot and flipped off the light.

  “I have over a century on you, boy. Why—do you have a problem with that name?”

  Nate mumbled his response under his breath.

  “Did you say something, Junior?” Jamie asked.

  I raised my voice. “Will both of you just shut the hell up?”

  Neither of them spoke again.

  About twenty minutes later, Jamie shifted onto his elbow to glance over me at Nate, then sank back down.

  “I think the kid’s asleep,” he murmured, and followed his words up with a kiss on my earlobe.

  “What’s your point?” I whispered back.

  In response, he turned me over and kissed me.

  Jesus Christ. “I don’t think so.” I elbowed him and rolled to face the other way.

  “C’mon—he’s out like a light,” Jamie said. “We’ll be really, really quiet—”

  “I second her objection.” Nate’s loud voice startled us both. My vision had adjusted to the blackness and I saw him facing us with his eyes wide open.

  “Just put the pillow over your head,” Jamie suggested, then sat up in bed. “In fact, I could hold it there for you, quite firmly, for a period of five minutes or so.”

  Nate muttered something, and beside me I felt Jamie fall down limp on the bed. I twisted around to see him lying there unmoving.

  “Jamie?” I touched his shoulder tentatively and shook him. Nothing. “Oh my god—did you kill him or something?”

  “Unfortunately, no. He’s just asleep.”

  “A spell?” I settled back down on the bed, then yanked the covers from Jamie and cast them over me. He was completely out—he’d never know that I was a blanket hog.

  “The second part of one,” Nate said.

  “When did you do the first part?”

  “A few herbs in one of his drinks at the bar. Just in case he had a problem resting.”

  “How considerate of you,” I said wryly.

  “I don’t understand what you see in him.”

  “Says the guy who married the devil’s granddaughter,” I replied.

  Nate ignored that comment. “He’s obnoxious, thoughtless, vain...oh, wait, maybe you two fit perfectly together.”

  My turn for ignoring comments. “He’s also fun. Have you ever heard of that? ‘Having fun?’ Amusement, playfulness, the opposite of brooding? Ring a bell?”

  “I don’t know—does it also include fawning over you?”

  Oh, never mind—this was fun. “Jealous?” I asked with a grin.

  “Hardly.”

  “Then what’s your problem with him?”

  “Besides the fact that I’m certain he’d sell me out the first chance he got?”

  “Hell, I’d sell you out if I thought I could do it without getting caught myself.”

  “Thanks, that’s really good to know.”

  “I don’t, in actuality, owe you anything, Nate,” I said. “Do you think we’re friends or something? Like maybe that means after all this is over we’ll meet sometime for coffee or exchange Christmas cards? Give yourself a few centuries, and you’ll see how superficial the entire concept is. Mishka was my friend, remember, and look what happened there.”

  “She was also my wife, but I wouldn’t say no one should ever get married again because of my experience.”

  “Nor would I—I just say don’t take it so seriously. Mortals wither and die. Even if Mishka had been an honest, loyal, thoughtful friend, that wouldn’t do me any good a century from now.”

  “Long term thinking?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And how does Jamie figure in
to the long term?”

  I was starting to see the wisdom in Jamie’s idea to smother him. “He doesn’t. He’s fun for now, and wicked hot. Are you purposely trying to sound like a jealous boyfriend?”

  “I’m just trying to gleam a bit of wisdom from your considerable experience in such matters.”

  I sighed and rolled over to face Jamie. “I tire of your sarcasm.” I closed my eyes to sleep.

  Though I was certain we were both still awake, neither of us spoke for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  History Lessons

  Heaven arranged for us to have a conference room in the upstairs of the hotel the next day. Honestly, I think she was just sick of having us around, especially with Nate and Jamie bickering like little old ladies.

  There were windows along one wall, but blinds and big heavy curtains kept the sun out. Jamie sat in a huge armchair at the head of the conference table, while I was lounging on the tabletop itself when Nate walked in with Peter Fields. He was Nate’s age, though not as tall, and had short, unkempt black hair. His complexion was olive, his smile friendly, and his dark eyes lit up the moment they landed on me.

  “Zara Lain?” Excitement tinged his voice, which was hella weird. There was a faint accent to his words, betraying his many years of living and studying in Britain. I liked Peter immediately, which is rare with me.

  I nodded and glanced at Nate for an explanation, but he ignored me and took a seat at the table. He hadn’t spoken to me since the night before when we both pretended to sleep while we were actually conscious for hours.

  “This is an honor,” Peter said when he reached me. I accepted the hand he extended, and he shook mine gently. His fingers lingered on mine for a moment as he looked me up and down. “I’m just speechless.”

  “Um, why?” I asked, delighted that meeting me elicited such a reaction, but confused nonetheless.

  “I specialized in vampire studies.”

  Weirdness. “I had no idea the subject was so popular in university.”

  “Oh, it’s not actually. It was strange for me to take. No one teaches about the individual vampires themselves, so I had to go straight to the source. I heard much about you and I cannot believe I’m finally meeting you.”

  Though Nate accused me of having a huge ego, I didn’t, in fact, think I was legendary or something. Just another vampire, albeit a pretty one. “And who did you hear about me from?”

  “An older vampire by the name of Dragomir, and his lover, Ilona.”

  My lips quivered, threatening to drop the smile I forced on them. “Oh, are they still together?”

  “Until Dragomir was killed by Venatores Daemonum about four years back.” Peter’s thick black brows furrowed slightly, as if something in my body language tipped him off as to how uncomfortable his mentioning them made me.

  “I thought I heard a rumor to that effect,” I said.

  “Who are they?” Jamie asked.

  “Dragomir was my maker,” I told him. “Ilona was his wife.” I slid off the table and into a chair. This trip down memory lane wasn’t agreeing with me at all and I wanted to get the meeting over with. “Shall we get down to business?”

  “I would very much like to hear more about Zara,” Jamie said with a grin.

  “Well, if Zara doesn’t mind...” Peter took the seat next to mine.

  “She probably doesn’t want to,” Nate said.

  The three of them looked at me with unabashed expectation. Jamie wanted to know, Nate possibly did too, and Peter seemed more than willing to share, so why not allow it? It was the past. There was nothing there that could hurt me anymore. Plus I didn’t have to recount anything; that was up to Peter.

  “Why not?” I said lightly, hoping my smile didn’t seem too fake. “But I’ll warn you, in reality I’m very dull.”

  “Not at all,” Peter insisted. “This woman has one of the most fascinating tales of awakening I’ve come across. Her name was Ana and she was barely eighteen, married for less than a year into the Fidatov family before she was turned—and feel free to correct me if I am in any way mistaken in this, Zara.”

  I smiled instead of commenting, and gestured for him to continue.

  “Rumor has it her husband only married her out of a family obligation.”

  “Was he blind?” Jamie quipped, probably thinking the compliment would be well received on my part.

  It made me feel worse.

  Peter didn’t miss a beat. “Not to my knowledge. Anyway, her husband sought someone to kill his lovely bride. He went through a few different people so the crime couldn’t be traced back to him. Dragomir learned of it and took the job. But, as you have now guessed, rather than kill her, he turned her.”

  I pretended to look bored as he told the story of my life. Ana Fidatov...God, that seemed like a lifetime ago. I suppose in some ways it was more like several.

  “Now generally it takes around ten or eleven years before a vampire awakens for the first time,” Peter continued. “And it’s just before that when her maker would find and retrieve her from where she was buried. A new vampire’s muscles are atrophied from spending so long in stasis. Usually the muscles rebuild just in time for a vampire’s awakening, but sometimes that doesn’t happen, and they can’t move or do anything right away.”

  “Don’t forget the fact that we’re batshit crazy when we’re newbies too,” I added. “Starving with heightened senses, comatose for a decade...it fucks with the brain.”

  “That too. But while none know why, Ana did not remain unconscious for the full time. Dragomir told me he estimated she awoke after only seven years or so—and is the only known vampire to have done so. Unable to move, speak, or feed, she must have spent several months lying completely awake in the sarcophagus.”

  In the dark place, I corrected him in my head. A shudder made my arms twitch and I couldn’t suppress it. I focused my attention instead on the people in the room. Jamie leaned forward with his elbows on the table, wholly engrossed in the tale. Nate was quite the opposite, resting back in his chair with his arms crossed at his chest, and looking wholly engrossed in my reaction to the tale.

  I decided to stare blankly at the faux wood finish of the table in front of me.

  “Ana was eventually able to move and broke out of the family mausoleum. What she didn’t know was that the children her husband had with his new wife had been hearing noises coming from the building, and had been telling people the place was haunted. This is what, initially, tipped Dragomir off that something might be wrong. The children were out there the night Ana was at last able to move and they provided her with her first meal.”

  I chuckled dryly. “Nothing quite as tasty as little Romanian children.”

  No one seemed amused, so Peter resumed the narrative. “Dragomir and Ilona heard about it, so they found her and taught her about what she was.”

  “Try locked me in a cellar,” I corrected him. “Can’t have a half-mad vampire running around eating children...but Dragomir probably left that little bit out of his story.”

  “Yes,” Peter said, “he did. Could you perhaps continue from here?” Though he seemed to genuinely want me to take over telling the story, it would require me to reach back into my memory and retrieve the details I didn’t want to think about.

  I blinked. Saw the dark place in my head, playing behind my closed eyes. The smell of corpses seemed to suddenly linger in the air, the sound of my voice echoing in the crypt ringing in my ears. “No, you’re doing okay,” I brushed off his request. “But contrary to what he told you, he didn’t let me out—I broke the door down while they were out feeding.”

  “Well. Ana broke out and went to her husband’s home. And this part is bloody brilliant—in a rather grotesque fashion. She systematically took out the family servants and everyone else living there, until she was left with Pavel and his wife...”

  “Ecaterina,” I filled in for him. I got a series of questioning looks from the three men so I elabo
rated. “He kept screaming it out as I made him watch while I tore off her arm and beat her to death with it. It’s the sort of thing you remember. Go on, Peter.”

  “After Ecaterina died, Ana eviscerated her former husband. She disappeared that very night. Dragomir and Ilona believed her dead. From all of my sources, she didn’t reappear for another two decades in northern Europe with the first name ‘Zara,’ and eventually adopted the last name ‘Lain.’”

  “See?” I said. “Totally dull.”

  “Wow...” Jamie reached across the table to take my hand. “That must have been horrible, sweetie, to be stuck in your coffin like that.” Concern filled his eyes, but to me it looked like pity.

  I nervously shook out of his grasp and offered a relaxed smile. “Well, at least I don’t need to pay a shrink to tell me why I’m claustrophobic. So, Peter, do you know anything about Jamie?”

  Peter glanced over at the other vampire in the room. “No, I don’t think I’m familiar with him.”

  Jamie actually looked hurt and his mouth dropped wide open. “What do you mean? How can you not have heard of me? I’m interesting!”

  “How about we get back to why we’re here,” Nate suggested.

  “No,” Jamie said stubbornly. “This guy has been studying vampires, and he doesn’t know who I am?”

  “Do you have a last name? Have you always been known as ‘Jamie?’” Peter asked.

  “Well, no,” he admitted. “I’m from France, originally—”

  “That’s it.” A look of understanding crossed Peter’s face. “Louis. You changed your name back in the early eighties after popularity of those Anne Rice novels.”

  “Nothing like people confusing you with a fictional character,” Jamie muttered. “You should hear about the troubles my teenage friend from Verona, Juliet, has had.”

  “Yes, I recall now—you were a nobleman. Paid for your immortality, from what I heard.”

  “Christ, you even make my story sound interesting,” I said with a laugh.

  “Perhaps we can discuss this after we figure out who’s been killing the coven members?” Nate interrupted. There was a dark, agitated tone to his voice, and I began to worry about what possible spells he had prepared for a roomful of people who wouldn’t stay on topic.