Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion)

by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  A troubled look filled Peter’s gentle face as he scrutinized his friend’s expression. “You’re using magic again, aren’t you?”

  “Certain events have called for it,” Nate replied sharply.

  “How can you tell?” I asked.

  “He gets irritable,” Peter explained. “Usually he’s a lot more...patient.”

  “Does he always brood this much too?”

  “We’re talking about who’s trying to kill us,” Nate snapped.

  Peter sat up straight and tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “Quite right. I have heard it’s a secret government special task force.”

  Silence followed his words. He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that it took a few moments for it to register.

  “So the North American governments have a secret, supernatural-eliminating team?” I said. “Wow. Didn’t think they had it in them. But I should have suspected something here in Canada—I knew the Liberals were up to something being in power for all those years.”

  “No, let me rephrase that,” Peter said. “It’s a special tasks force owned by the secret government. Or, rather, a member of it.”

  “Oh...because that makes so much more sense,” I said. “The Illuminati did it. Of course.”

  “The Illuminati was made up to keep conspiracy theorists busy,” Peter said. “The actual secret government exists on this plane and a few others. As you probably guessed, they aren’t the most agreeable bunch. Some are half-demons, others are warlocks and witches, and there’s even the odd human who has managed to buy his way in.”

  Alrighty then. There was a) a secret government, b) they had a special tasks force, and c) wanted to kidnap me. That made perfect sense.

  If everyone was incredibly stoned.

  “Why are they killing covens and kidnapping vampires, then?” I asked.

  “They aren’t exactly doing it, per se. It turns out they have an opening in their little circle. A couple of mortals were in the running, and it looks like the one taking the lead has been causing this. He—or she—was given a few resources from the shadow government, then left to his own devices to fulfill his plan. It seems wiping out the most powerful covens was quite impressive.”

  “But why take vampires alive?” Nate asked.

  “That is a mystery to everyone I talked to,” Peter said. “As is the identity of the individual behind it.”

  Back at square one, then. Wheels turned in my head as I laid out everything we knew already and tried to form some semblance of a pattern. “Do you know the names of some of the people vying for the position?”

  “I’ve heard rumors about a couple.”

  “How about Mishka Thiering?”

  Peter nodded after a while. “Yes, I recall a few sources have suggested that. What was she—half-demon as well as witch?”

  “Daughter of something or someone called ‘Lord of Oblivion.” I smacked my hand over my mouth and let my eyes grow wide. “Oops, I forgot Heaven said we aren’t supposed to say his name. Question: If I say it three times, does he appear behind me?”

  “The rituals are a little bit more complicated than that.”

  “Oh well, worth asking. So yeah, Mish was his daughter. I guess that technically makes her quarter-demon.”

  “Ah. Yes, she would have been a significant threat to whoever is behind this.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s why she was so eager to unlock her power,” I said to Nate. “And what she wanted the extra money for.”

  He met my gaze, but didn’t answer. I suppose after all his bitchy wife’s betrayals, nothing surprised him anymore.

  “So where do we go from here?” Jamie spoke up. “How are we supposed to stop this guy from kidnapping us and stuff?”

  I glanced at Jamie, tilted my head to the side, and grinned. “Use you as bait?”

  He gave me a mock-glare.

  “The solution remains to be seen,” Peter said.

  Despite the answers he had provided, we were still mostly screwed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Details, Details...

  I wasn’t interested in repeating everything Peter had said to Heaven, so I stayed behind as the guys went downstairs to confer with her. My excuse was that we had emptied the apartment’s mini-bar, so I was stocking up on the supplies in the conference room bar.

  But Peter’s retelling of the events of my birth into vampirism left me jarred. Even after three hundred years, the thought of the dark place and the time directly after it made me shudder.

  I saw Pavel and Ecaterina’s children in my mind, tasted their blood on my lips, and cringed at the memory. They were just kids. Little, tiny children...wasn’t their fault their father was a murderer and their mother had no problem hopping in another woman’s bed within weeks of her death. Still, some part of me enjoyed it. When I was babbling in madness later and Dragomir explained what had happened, who I’d killed... There was a moment of pure glee. Because I’d already taken away the first pieces of the family they’d built after my murder and realizing how my husband was probably hurting in that moment stoked the righteous rage burning in me.

  I was a monster. I had no illusions about it.

  The best moment was the look on my husband’s face as I stepped into the bedroom we once shared. His eyes widened in disbelief, then alarm, and finally in absolute terror. Grinning with my fangs showing, dress covered in blood—I really made an impression on a guy.

  But my delight didn’t last long. The pleasure I took in dismembering and torturing my replacement was overshadowed by that painful, hungry void I’d awoken with. And when my final act as vengeful spouse was complete, and I stood over Pavel’s corpse watching the blood from his exposed entrails seep into the hardwood floor, I didn’t feel peaceful. I didn’t feel righteous.

  I didn’t feel anything.

  Alone.

  I gave my head a shake, blinked hard, and kneeled behind the bar. Whiskey. In massive quantities, it could solve anything. I sorted through the bottles and snatched a few containing the hardest liquor. If we had to spend much more time in the basement with Heaven, we might as well be good and hammered.

  I stood, liquor bottles cradled in my arms, and I nearly dropped them when the sight of Nate at the door startled me.

  “Need some help?” He gestured to the vodka and scotch.

  “Nah, I think I can rob the bar on my own.” I grinned. “I’ve had a few years of experience.” Of course, robbing liquors stores for real wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded in theory, but I tried not to tell people those stories—it ruined the romance of the idea. I passed him, balanced the bottles in my arms, and reached for the door.

  “Listen, Zara...”

  Oh hell. I so didn’t want to do this. Fucking pity—I could put up with a lot of shit, but not that. “‘Blah blah, I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge, blah blah, that must have sucked, yadda yadda yadda,’” I said for him. “There—did that sum it up?”

  A faint smile touched his lips and I forgot my irritation as my heart rate sped. “More or less.”

  “Well, its water under the bridge, or over the bridge, or wherever that stupid saying claims it goes. The water is where it is supposed to be, so we can move on.”

  He took the bottles from me and placed them on the table behind us. The air turned heavy with unspoken expectancy, and I knew it would be too much to expect I’d get to leave without a discussion. With a sigh, I hopped on the table’s edge and waited for him to get on with the apologies.

  “You’re right, I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge.” He raked both hands back through his hair, staring ahead and sighing with frustration. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me. Well, I do actually. When you’ve got this much magic running through your body—pleading to be commanded—it starts to build up. I don’t even realize how I’m acting.”

  “Yeah, magic is a lot like sexual tension that way,” I said with a smirk.

  “Seriously...” He held my gaze for a seve
ral seconds and I promptly forgot exactly what we’d been talking about. “I should have listened to you, when you said someone had betrayed you.”

  “Well, there’s no way of knowing whether or not I would have actually told you anything,” I said. “Even if I’d been given an opportunity. So don’t beat yourself up over it too much. Maybe a little, but not a lot.”

  “Everything he said was true, then?” Nate asked.

  Oh god. I’d been dreading this part—the curiosity. The questions. He’d want details. He’d want to listen. Especially after shutting me down earlier, now it was a pity party with Zara at the center of attention and expected to entertain.

  “Yup, totally factual.” I bit my tongue hard enough to wince, swallowing back the rest I didn’t want to reveal. He knows about Pavel. That’s all you wanted to tell him, so keep your goddamn mouth shut...you don’t need to milk it...

  He didn’t move, expression didn’t change. “You’re certain?”

  “It was three centuries ago,” I reminded him. “And I don’t have the best memory on a good day.”

  He waited there in front of me expectantly for a moment. When he seemed satisfied I wasn’t going to say any more, he reached for the liquor.

  “I was seventeen,” I blurted out. Stupid mouth, moving when it’s not supposed to.

  “I’m sorry?” His hand froze in midair and he looked at me.

  Damn you, Zara. “When I was turned.”

  “That’s right, Peter said eighteen.” Nate pushed the bottles aside and sat next to me. Eyes on mine, his attention felt...weighty. Real and focused, centered on me.

  For a moment, relief touched me, and I realized I was glad. Glad I was getting this out, glad I was talking about it. Peter would’ve listened, no doubt, but purely from an academic standpoint. The idea of Jamie knowing personal stuff about me was no good. But Nate...he just learned I ate small children, committed brutal acts of revenge, and he still wanted to listen. Had it confirmed I was the worst kind of murderer—a child killer—and he looked at me like I was the only person who existed in that moment.

  I shifted under the intensity of his gaze and swallowed dryly. “Not for another ten days. It wasn’t like Dragomir had a birth certificate or anything back then, so he couldn’t be expected to know.”

  “So technically you can’t even vote?” He offered a grin that was sad around the edges.

  The thought of him feeling sorry for me made me squirm so I kept my tone light. “Yes, and that definitely would keep me up at night if I didn’t have a fake ID. What would the Green Party ever do without my support?”

  We sat in silence. I stared at my knees, let my long legs dangle from the edge of the table. My chest tightened, worry building and building and I knew I wouldn’t get out of the conference room without spilling all my guts once and for all.

  “The rest was accurate?” His tone was gentle and quiet. For some reason, it hurt.

  “From what I recall.”

  “No exaggerations? This dismemberment and disembowelment—”

  “And the tasty Romanian children? All the god’s honest truth.”

  “And no one knows why you awoke so early?”

  “No, they don’t.” I licked my lips and swallowed again as a painful lump rose in my throat. Eyed the bottles. It would take nearly the whole bottle of scotch to get me buzzed, but I was three words away from cracking it open and injecting it directly into my veins. “But I do.”

  Nate immediately looked over at me, and I glanced away, avoiding his gaze and letting my hair drape over my shoulder to obscure my face.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. I’m assuming it probably had something to do with the amniotic fluid and stuff.” There. I’d said it.

  “Amni...you mean—”

  “I was with child,” I said, surprising myself with how calm I was. “A few months along, starting to show if you knew how to look. When the vampire parasite turned most of my insides to pulp, something about the child’s cells or my body’s hormones or something must have sped up the process. Nutrient rich, I guess. Like demon fertilizers.”

  Silence. Then: “Did he know?” Voice steady and deceptively calm, something simmered below the surface. That hint of rage I heard sparked a strength in me I hadn’t been expecting.

  “Yes, he did. And he pretended to be happy, every day, all the while he was planning to kill us.” I clenched my hands into fists, digging my nails deep into my palms. “God, I wish he was alive so I could kill him again. I’d do it right this time and make it last for days.”

  “Did he tell you why?”

  “Nope. Dragomir didn’t know either. Given how quickly he took up with Ecaterina, I’m guessing he just didn’t love me. Never did. Just didn’t want to do it himself, so he delegated.”

  Back then, he’d had all of me. I thought the world of that man, twelve years my senior. He was so smart, so handsome. Married off at sixteen, he was everything to me when I hadn’t a clue there existed a whole universe outside of being his wife.

  He didn’t just kill Ana’s body—he killed Ana. He took something I’d never, ever get back, no matter how many years I lived. And so Zara was born: a narcissistic killer who would look out for number one and never lose part of herself to a man again.

  Rest in peace, Ana.

  “So yeah.” I swallowed and blinked in case my eyes got any funny ideas about crying—I was stronger than that now. “I’m kinda like the original Beatrix Kiddo, on a roaring rampage of revenge, except with fewer katanas and more fangs. I would’ve rocked that yellow outfit, though.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head. “I definitely wouldn’t have said all this yesterday. Besides, it would have seemed less sincere with me trying to jump your bones at the same time. But yeah. I understand what you’re going through. Except I was more violent about it.”

  “At least Mishka only lied to me for a few months. And I should’ve known better. Everyone...” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Another brick in the wall, I guess. I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

  I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. Mishka’s Judas act dug in a bit deeper into him, chipped away at the damaged person he already was. My husband destroyed a faithful, loving person who never dreamed such a thing could happen. Is it worse having your trust betrayed when you’re completely innocent, or after you’ve given your heart despite already being jaded?

  I had no answer for that.

  “Zara...” He shifted to face me and reluctantly I turned to look at him. Tense seconds passed with his eyes on mine. His hand went to my face, brushing back a few strands of hair and warming my flesh as his fingers ran over my cheek.

  A tingling started beneath his hand and swept across my skin. It traveled along my face, fanning out in all directions, and leaving a trail of welcomed fever behind it. My lips parted in a gasp. The sensation moved down my body, out to my arms, and down my legs, covering all of me and lasting for a few minutes.

  When the feeling had dissipated, his hand left my cheek and returned to his side; I shivered, gooseflesh covering my arms, and tried to form words.

  “What...what was...” My gaze fell to my hand resting on the edge of the table. What the fuck? I blinked a few times. It didn’t go away.

  The considerable marks left on my skin from the previous day’s overexposure to the sun were shrinking. Right in front of me. I reached up to feel my face, but the only scarred bits of raised skin I encountered faded beneath my touch.

  “I sped up the healing process.” Nate’s shoulders slumped and he yawned, the magic having zapped some of his strength. A few seconds later he eased himself up to stand and picked up the bottles of alcohol. “It’s...sort of like a system boost—I just amplified what your body was already doing to mend itself, so it works a lot faster on you than it would a normal human. Might as well do something with all that magical build-up.” He walked to the door and held it open for me.

  “Well, should you dec
ide to release any other tensions that might be accumulating, you’ve certainly earned yourself my good favour.” This time I was only joking, though, and the exaggerated roll of his eyes told me he knew it too.

  Good thing—my ego had taken enough bruising for a while.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Kids These Days!

  The two guys were seated on the couch, with Peter scanning the pages of a large, hardcover book, and Jamie flipping through TV channels. They both looked up as Nate and I came downstairs and immediately took notice that I was no longer sunburn central.

  “Zara, my dear.” Jamie moved over and motioned for me to sit between him and Peter. He turned me toward him once I was seated, then held me at arm’s length to study me for a few moments. Peter left his book on the coffee table and got up to come to Jamie’s side to take a better look at me as well.

  I had a sudden rush of pleasure at being so warmly admired, and I didn’t stop myself from enjoying it.

  “Love, this is the most miraculous healing I’ve ever seen,” Jamie said.

  My eyes darted to Nate as he started for the kitchen. He shook his head, so I didn’t explain.

  “I’m just a miraculous sort of person, I guess,” I said instead.

  Peter’s gaze also went to Nate, but he too kept his mouth shut.

  “So where’s Heaven?” I loathed shifting the subject from how gorgeous I was looking, but I had plenty of time to be vain later.

  “The lovely Widow Thiering is in her room,” Jamie informed me. “Not liking what our new friend here had to say.”

  “She had a problem with the whole evil secret government dealio that her daughter wanted into?” I asked.

  “The poor thing blames herself,” Peter said.

  “Why shouldn’t she?” Jamie shrugged. “It’s usually the parents’ fault.”

  “Your sensitivity in such matters is an inspiration to us all,” Nate said coldly as he returned from putting the liquor away. Ah, back to the grumpy warlock routine. At least it kept the dialogue interesting.