by Callie Rose
He frowns at me but he does what I tell him. He shrugs into a button-down shirt—all the buttons have been ripped off, and god, I really want to know how or when that happened—and flattens his hair as best he can. Then he shrugs at me defiantly.
“There.”
I roll my eyes. He’s going to attract all kinds of negative attention looking like that, or at least, he will if anyone sees us. But if it gets to that point, it won’t matter what he’s wearing. Besides, I don’t have time to get him dressed properly. I grab his wrist and open the door slightly, just enough to see that the hall is empty.
“Why are we doing this now?” he whispers.
I glare at him and put a finger to my lips. He shuts up, but he doesn’t look happy about it. I’m glad we have to be quiet right now. I’m not real thrilled at the prospect of admitting to him that it’s my fault we have to leave now. I’m the one who blew our cover, and that doesn’t sit right with the part of me that’s always insisted I’ve got this under control.
Even though Rome said he wouldn’t tell anybody, I can’t really rely on him to keep that promise. He could always change his mind. As far as vampire societal law goes, he’d be well within his rights to do that. Like he said, he has a duty.
I drag Nathan down the hall, leading him swiftly down corridors I’ve spent weeks memorizing. It takes longer than I’d like, but we don’t hit any dead ends or get lost in any passages, and after several agonizing minutes, we step into a little hallway that connects to the crossed hallways in the center of the palace.
I never managed to figure out the full code, but I’ll have to make this work with the intel I have. Out of six numbers, I have four, but I have some solid guesses of what the missing two numbers might be, based on where I saw various vampire’s fingers hovering over the keypad.
Dammit, I should have asked Rome, but he probably wouldn’t have told me. His loyalty might be flexible enough to turn a blind eye to my escape attempt, but I doubt he would betray the other vampires outright.
God, Rome.
The thought of the gruff, enigmatic vampire seems to open up a wound in my chest.
I can’t believe I’ll never see him again. Maybe he’ll get himself banished again, and I’ll meet him on the streets. The image of me recognizing him just as I drive a stake into his chest sends a shiver of horror through my stomach, followed by a wave of sadness. He’s the enemy. He always will be, for the rest of my life and long after I’m dead.
“You good?” Nathan asks, his eyes glinting in the dim light as he studies my face.
I scowl, hiding whatever expression it is that he’s reacting to.
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Keep moving. We’re almost there.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
It only takes us another minute to reach the sleek elevator. Our ticket out of this place, if we can figure out how to open it.
“Watch my back,” I whisper to Nathan.
“Where does this go?” he asks.
“Up into an office building. It’s the middle of the day topside. They probably won’t have vampire guards at every door and intersection up there, not in broad daylight. Now shut up, I’m trying to remember the code.”
“Remember” is a bit of a stretch. The numbers I know are etched so deeply into my brain that I’ll never forget them. But for the two missing digits, there’s nothing to recall since I don’t actually know them.
The keypad code is six digits. Zero-nine-three-something-something-four.
I’m pretty sure the fourth digit is either a one or a two, and I think the fifth might be a seven or an eight.
Fuck it. I’ll just have to guess until I get it right, and pray it doesn’t set off an alarm.
I punch some numbers in, trying the first possible combination.
Nothing.
The door doesn’t open, but no alarm goes off either, so I take that as the small victory it is and keep trying.
It turns out, I was wrong. The fifth digit is a five, but after several minutes of cursing under my breath and punching the keypad with shaking fingers, I finally enter the right combo. The arrow on the keypad turns green, pointing upward like a beacon leading to freedom, and I let out a ragged breath.
The elevator door slides open, and I grab Nathan by the arm and haul him in after me.
I want to feel relieved, but despite the brief moment of victory, I know we’re not out of the woods yet. I punch the button for the street level floor—there are two floors between here and there—then stand with my back pressed against the cold glass. Nathan’s giving me a worried look, chewing on his lower lip.
“What?”
“How did you know about this?” he whispers. “How do you know where it goes?”
“Prince Bloodsucker took me up here once.”
Ouch. I didn’t think calling him that would hurt. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything… but I had a connection with him.
Maybe I just need to connect with more human people. I don’t really make a habit of it. I never considered it a weakness before now, but maybe I should have. Loneliness leaves you vulnerable to rotten connections.
And seeing Bastian as anything but a monster is a mistake. Just because he’s been hurt before, just because he’s experienced the exact same pain I have, that doesn’t mean he’s a good person.
It doesn’t mean I should allow myself to miss him if—when—I get Nathan out of this place.
As I try to drag myself from the memory of what it felt like to have Bastian’s solid arms around me, his hand resting on my stomach and his face buried in the crook of my neck, the elevator chimes suddenly.
I stiffen.
This isn’t right. We shouldn’t be stopping. We aren’t at the ground floor yet. Keeping my gaze locked on the doors, I step forward so that Nathan is behind me, reaching back to hand him one of my blades. I raise my other knife as the twin doors slide open.
“What—” Nathan starts to say, then stops.
The five vampires outside the elevator door stare at us. We stare back.
For a second, nobody does anything.
Then we explode into motion.
Striking like a cobra, I leap forward and jab at the “close door” button at the exact moment that one of the vampires hisses and launches himself into the elevator. The rest of them follow, practically landing on top of each other, fangs bared, mouths spewing inhuman snarls.
One grabs my shoulders and lunges at my throat, but he ends up swallowing my knife instead. It bursts through the back of his head, coated in slick, dark blood. More blood and foam gurgle past his reaching fangs, smothering his furious growls. I don’t have enough room to yank the blade out and stick it where it’ll do some real damage, so I kick him as hard as I can. He slams into the button panel hard enough to shove my knife forward, but not quite out of his mouth.
It’s fucking disgusting, but I don’t have time to dwell on that because there’s another vampire attacking me from the other side. He goes for my throat, and I duck down, letting his face smash into the glass wall behind me. If I never hear vampire fangs screeching down glass again, it’ll be too soon.
From this vantage, all I can see of Nathan is his feet, but the frustrated grunts of our attackers and the darkly metallic scent of vampire blood in the air tell me that he’s holding his own… so far, anyway.
The elevator chimes again.
I throw a kick at the vampire nearest to me, connecting with his chest and sending him flying out through the elevator doors as they open. The rest of us tumble out after him. Deepthroat vamp jerks my knife out of his mouth and throws it aside. A mistake on his part. I grab it as it skitters across the floor, then leap up, take aim, and stab.
I should have wiped it off first. The slick film of blood and foam compromises my grip, and I miss his heart. There’s a scuffling sound behind me, and I try to keep myself alert for a sneak attack as I recalibrate my target and go for the vamp’s head. He hisses and leaps out of the way, too
fast even with a chest wound.
“Stop, tribute!” a voice from behind me shrieks.
“No! Don’t stop, Mimi! Run!” The sound of Nathan’s panicked tone has me spinning around, and my heart lodges in my throat when I see him.
They have him. He’s caught.
A vampire holds him in a one-armed chokehold. His other hand curls around Nathan’s throat, his claw-like fingernails denting Nathan’s skin. As I watch, beads of blood pop up under the claws just as beads of sweat pop out on Nathan’s brow.
“Give up, sweetie,” the vampire drawls, grinning darkly at me over Nathan’s shoulder. “Or the boy dies.”
“Don’t do it,” Nathan gasps, wincing at the pain in his neck. “Run, Mikka. Get out of here. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re a liar,” I say around the lump in my throat. “And an idiot if you think I’m leaving you.”
There’s nothing else I can do. I’m pretty good at attacking without telegraphing my movements, but there’s no way I could end this fight before Nathan dies. This is why I try so hard to maintain the element of surprise when I go up against vamps on the outside, and why I always used to hunt alone.
I slowly put my blades on the floor and raise my hands as the vampire holding him chuckles. As soon as I straighten, another bloodsucker grabs me from behind, locking me in a chokehold. I could probably get out of it if I tried, but I won’t. Nathan would be dead before I could manage it.
“Let me kill her, Ahmir,” the one holding me growls, tightening his grip around my neck. “I won’t be talkin’ right for a week after that stunt.”
Ah. That’s why my back is wet. His slowly closing neck wound is bleeding all over me. Gross.
“Nah,” the one holding Nathan says. Ahmir. His grin widens, and it makes him look even more evil somehow. “The Council of Elders will decide what to do with them. Roy, grab those weapons. The prince will want to know what his precious tributes have been up to.”
Fuck.
Cold sweat drips down my spine, and I drag my feet in spite of myself. The stark terror gripping my heart has very little to do with the room full of vicious, ancient vampires I’m about to face. It has to do with the fact that one of those vicious, ancient vampires is Bastian—whose parents were killed by hunters.
He was vulnerable with me when he told me that. He shared a part of himself I doubt he lets many people see.
And now he’s going to hate me even more when he finds out what I am.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The vampire guards who caught us call for backup quickly and send several of the new arrivals to alert the Elders and the prince about what’s going on.
By the time we reach the council chambers, most of the vampires I usually see behind the high table in the dining hall are already there, and I curse inwardly. If I had any hopes of getting a small amount of respite or another chance to escape before we were hauled before the vampire court to face justice, they’re quickly dashed.
The vampire behind me shoves me to my knees, and Nathan drops down beside me. From where I kneel, I can’t see Bastian’s eyes. Maybe that’s for the best, since I don’t think I’d be able to look him in the face anyway.
Damn him. Damn this whole mess.
The rug looks thick and lush under the long table, but the floor beneath me is hard, unforgiving marble. The room is full of vampires, and more are filing in. Whatever word got sent out after Nathan and I were captured, it must’ve reached pretty much the whole damn hive.
“What is the meaning of this?” Bastian demands. “What’s going on?” He isn’t loud, but his voice rolls across the room, full of power.
“We caught these two trying to escape,” Nathan’s captor says. “Blood tributes, both of ’em. The female’s a hunter.”
There’s a long pause, then Bastian speaks. I can hear the restraint in his voice, like a tight rubber band. “These are serious charges, Ahmir. Bring them to their feet. Let me see the accused.”
They aren’t gentle about it. I try to keep my head down, but the vampire holding me is having none of it. He jerks my head back using a fistful of my hair, forcing me to make eye contact with the prince. Bastian’s face is a mask, but his eyes—maybe I’m imagining the pain I see in their depths. Maybe it’s just anger.
Or maybe, like me, he can no longer tell the difference between the two.
“What proof do you have that she’s a hunter?” he asks, his voice dangerously quiet.
Ahmir jerks his head at the vampire who collected my weapons from the floor. The guy dumps my curved blades on the table hard enough to make me wince. That really isn’t good for them—not that it matters now, I guess.
“She might have more on her,” the guy holding me says helpfully. He slides his free hand over my body, groping me with bruising fingers. “I can search her, if you like. Everywhere.”
Bastian narrows his eyes, his nostrils flaring a little as his jaw tightens. “No. Just do your job and restrain her. Raven, remove any remaining weapons.”
A female vampire glides over to me. She moves her hands over me with a wholly clinical briskness, reaching into places better left alone without a hint of shame. When she’s finished, she glances back up at Bastian. “She’s clean. The two knives must’ve been all she carried.”
“We cannot allow this rebellion to stand,” the Elder to Bastian’s right says. “They must be punished. Thoroughly. We must make an example of them, lest others follow in their ill-fated footsteps.”
His voice is a low grumble. He’s old—like, obviously old. He must have been over seventy when he was turned.
The woman to Bastian’s left nods her head energetically. She looks like a teenager everywhere except her eyes, which are deep, ancient, and terrifying.
“Death,” the old man says heavily. “Public. Waste of good meat, but…” He shrugs. He doesn’t look as bothered as his words suggest.
The not-a-teenager on Bastian’s other side scoffs. “Death. How boring. No, no, I have a much better idea.”
Her eyes glow, and she gazes for a long while at Nathan’s face. He pales, beads of sweat popping out across his face. She’s drunk from him before, I realize belatedly—she has a personal investment in him. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I look behind me quickly. The room has filled up with vampires and there, standing in the crowd just behind Nathan, are Althea and Maureen. Their teeth are bared, their eyes hungry. Althea leans forward, closing the space between her and Nathan, and inhales deeply through her nose.
The woman beside Bastian smiles a predator’s smile as her eyes twinkle maliciously.
“I do not believe that your timing is coincidental, tribute,” she says to Nathan, addressing him without really speaking to him. “You run from those who would bond you to them as their own, clearly hoping to escape before the ceremony. Silly human.” Now she looks at him, her eyes black and lifeless as a shark. “We need no ceremony to bind you. Vampires are theatrical by nature—but pragmatic by necessity.”
She doesn’t wait for Bastian to weigh in, just snaps her fingers three times. A lower level vampire disappears from the room and appears again moments later, holding a crystal tray topped with a crystal chalice. Both items are encrusted with blood red teardrop-shaped rubies.
I can see the liquid in the glass, but I can’t tell what it is. The color and texture seem to change as I stare at it. One instant, it’s blue smoke, the next it’s flaming orange ice. The only consistent thing about it is the power it radiates, a magic wave which undulates over the crowd.
The vampires nearest to it seem to come more wide awake, their postures shifting as their eyes dilate, and I have the very definite sense that many of them are aroused.
“Althea. Maureen. Step forward,” the female vampire says briskly.
“Yes, Lizbeth,” they murmur in unison, making goosebumps prickle over my skin. Jesus, I hate it when vampires do that.
They do as they’re told, shaking and practically salivating, their attentio
n caught between Nathan and the chalice. Nathan looks terrified, glancing with wide eyes from one woman to the other. Finally deciding that Althea is the bigger threat, he edges away from her, which takes him nearer to Maureen. Realizing his mistake, he freezes.
It was only a tiny thing, just a split-second, but that was enough. The vampire running the show, Lizbeth, seems to have seen the same thing I did. It pleases her, and she claps her hands.
“Oh what fun! It has been so long. Too long”—that part is directed at Bastian with a subtly petulant expression—“since we’ve seen a tribute bonded to one who terrifies him so. It adds spice to the atmosphere, don’t you think? Puts everything in the right order. Seasons the blood, you know.”
Guilt and terror for Nathan crush into my gut. I fight the urge to be sick all over the floor, then wonder if maybe that would make them less likely to bond me to someone. By her logic, the perfect vampire for me would be James. That thought sends an extra wave of terror through me, but it pales in comparison to what I’m feeling for Nathan.
I try to catch Bastian’s eye, but he won’t look at me. His attention is on Nathan, his expression even more blank and impassive than it usually is during all the dinners he’s presided over since I came here. He might as well be carved from fucking ice right now.
“Althea,” Lizbeth says. “The tribute is yours.”
I assume the blonde one is Maureen, since she’s the one who snarls in response to Lizbeth’s words. The curvy brunette is preening like a peacock, blithely ignoring Maureen’s wordless threats.
“Enough, Maureen,” Lizbeth snaps. “Take your leave.”
“He’s mine!” Maureen hisses through her teeth.
“If you’d taken care of him,” the old man says blandly, “perhaps he would not have run. It would do you well to remember not to break your toys in the future.”
Maureen hisses again, wordlessly like a cat, then stalks out of the room. I’m shaking. Nathan isn’t—he isn’t moving at all anymore. He’s standing perfectly still, rigid, his eyes laser-focused on the crystal tray. Lizbeth rises from her seat and stands in front of the long table, and the servant follows her.