Blood Cure (A Keira Blackwater Novel Book 1)

by K. R. Willis

  I backed up several feet.

  She stepped off the bottom stone step and stopped about a foot in front of me, cocked her hip to the side, and frowned. “So you’re what all the fuss is about.” Her bright almond-shaped eyes scanned me from head to toe, a quick cursory glance that made me feel as impressive as a fruit fly. “Hmph. Don’t know what all the ruckus is about. You don’t look like much.”

  “Who are you? Where am I?” I asked, voice shaking. I rolled my shoulders back, winced at the slight jolt of pain that slithered through my muscles, and forced myself to stand up straighter.

  She circled me, slow and deliberate, the stainless steel chains on her high-heeled boots jangling with each step she took. As she passed, I caught a whiff of vanilla, probably bath salts or, judging by the apple-sized diamond and jade pendant hanging around her neck, some expensive perfume. The sweetness of it warred with the dusty, mold-laden smell that permeated the small space, making me wrinkle my nose.

  “I’m Anica,” she said, her voice bubbly and chipper. She made it sound like she and I were best friends. “As for where you are, you are underground in one of the Council’s holding chambers.” She finished her trek and came to a stop in front of me once again.

  Her words cut right through me, slicing and dicing all the way to my soul. The Vampire Council. Khalid had beaten me unconscious and brought me to them. I blinked hard, and the room blurred for a few seconds. Shit. I took a couple more steps back.

  “Relax,” Anica chirped. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’ve come to escort you to the Council chamber for your hearing.” She turned her back on me, dismissing me as any kind of threat, and started back up the steps.

  The room spun back into focus. “Wait a minute. What hearing? What are you talking about?” I took a step forward as if to follow, but then stopped. Something cold and dark took root in my chest. A sense of impending doom settled deep in my bones.

  Anica paused in her ascent and glanced over her shoulder. “The Council believes you are responsible for several deaths among our kind. You will be judged, and your sentence carried out.” Her soft voice sounded almost sympathetic, as though she knew my fate had already been sealed.

  My heart skipped a beat, pounded out a terrified staccato. The sense of doom I’d felt moments before intensified. I quickly searched the chamber, looking for something, anything I could use as a weapon. Plenty of rocks covered the walls, but they were all either too large for me to lift or they were part of the stone that made up my prison. The bare room held no other weapons I could see.

  Anica’s face darkened. “Whatever you are thinking is useless. This is the only way out.” She angled her body toward me. “If I have to carry you out of here I will,” she said, any trace of sympathy gone. Whatever she felt about my imminent demise didn’t outweigh her loyalty to whoever awaited me.

  Unable to think of another alternative, I forced my feet forward. I’d watched movies about prisoners on death row walking the Green Mile toward their deaths, and wondered what it felt like to take those last steps. It seemed I was about to find out.

  With me obediently in tow, Anica smiled—best friends once again—and resumed her trek. Within seconds, we reached a solid steel door nestled in an arch carved out of the stone at the top of the stairs. Anica produced an ancient looking key, all rusted and worn, and unlocked it. The key quickly disappeared. I couldn’t tell where she’d pulled it from, which squashed my idea of stealing it later to escape.

  The door swung shut behind us, echoing off the walls as it clanged against the metal doorframe. She led me down a narrow corridor that stank of mildew and earth. More dark green patches of moss lined the walls, lit by lanterns spaced about every ten feet. Moisture leached from the stones here as well, creating a humid, almost sauna effect in the tight space, making the floor slippery. My feet slipped a couple of times, and Anica grabbed me—her grip firm, but gentle.

  “Why are you here?” I asked, stumbling for something to say to fill the void of silence as we turned left and marched down a second corridor. This one was longer than the first, and the air seemed fresher, less humid. “You don’t seem as cold and heartless as Khalid.”

  Anica’s brows knit together, her lips pressed into a hard thin line. “Some of us don’t have the luxuries others do,” she said. “We are born into a life where choices are for the privileged.” She tucked a wayward hair that had slipped from her pigtails behind her ear. I hadn’t noticed it before, but a faint scar ran behind her left ear down her neck and disappeared beneath her bustier. The sight of the first scar seemed to remove some kind of veil from my eyes because I suddenly spotted scars all over her exposed creamy white skin.

  Some of them were thin, maybe the width of a suture, and so faded I had to strain to see them. Others were wider, more along the lines of knitting yarn, and though her vampire healing had done what it could, they were red and angry looking enough I’d swear they happened more recently. The only thing I knew that could leave scars like that on a vampire was silver.

  “What happened to you?” I asked, nodding at a particularly nasty looking scar that covered the majority of her hand when she looked at me and arched her brows in question.

  Anica glanced down at the hand I referred to and gave me a sad smile. “I was not one of the privileged as you may have guessed.” She led me up three steps, and hung a right when we came to a T in the passageway.

  I glanced over my shoulder, trying to see where the other corridor we hadn’t taken led to. There was a door at the far end, the same kind Anica had opened for us before, but I had no idea if it was a door that would lead me to the outside world and freedom, or a door that would take me even further into the bowels of this place.

  Still, if I could figure out a way to get away from Anica with the key she had hidden somewhere on her body, and navigate my way through the labyrinth of tunnels back to that door, it might be worth the risk. I filed that into the back of my brain and faced forward.

  As we reached the end of the corridor, the air shifted. It became cooler somehow, fresher, less stifling, though I didn’t know where it came from. We turned one last corner, and the answer stood before us.

  A massive door, at least ten feet wide and twenty feet tall, dominated the space in front of us. Fresh air filtered through a gap at the bottom where it didn’t quite touch the stone floor. It appeared to be solid wood—oak, if I had to guess—with silver swirls embedded in it. It was so large it was split down the middle; two wooden handles, angled downward and nearly curled back on themselves, sat opposite each other, one for each panel.

  Torches on either side illuminated the door, their flickering light glinting off the silverwork. On closer inspection as we approached the door, the silver didn’t just dip and swirl in a meaningless pattern—it spelled words in a language I didn’t recognize.

  “What’s it say?” I asked Anica, curling my fingers into my palm to resist the urge to reach out and stroke the delicate letters. The torchlight danced across them, making them almost seem to move.

  “Enter so that ye shall be judged.”

  With that, the left door panel swung open and Anica pushed me inside.

  CHAPTER 21

  The room I stumbled into was about fifty feet long and half as wide. Gold gilded tapestries hanging from twenty-five foot ceilings served as the perfect backdrop to the raised dais at the far end of the room with five throne-like chairs sitting on it—one large one in the middle and four smaller ones flanking it, two on each side. They were obviously the council members’ chairs, front and center. The rest of the room held every shape, size, and color of vampire imaginable, all of them scattered along the walls, leaving an opening down the middle for the person on trial…me.

  But what drew my attention the most, what had my knees shaking, flanked me on each side of the room. Two men, both of them so black they would have been hard to spot in the dark, hung limp in chains suspended from hooks in the ceiling. The only thing covering their bare, hairless
bodies were leopard-spotted loincloths.

  A metal bar ran along their shoulders, spreading their arms out in a crucified position. Their feet dangled loosely, heads bowed forward, eyes closed. Below each of them sat a metal bowl large enough to stand in filled with their blood. Steel tubes about six inches in length circled their bodies: one in front, one in back, and one on each side for a total of four, spaced evenly around their midsections. Blood leaked slowly through the narrow tubes and spilled into the bowls beneath them like a fountain. Bags full of blood hung suspended next to them, each with a tube that ran into their arms via a transfusion needle. Vampires didn’t have to have their blood straight from the source—they could purchase bagged blood from special vampire-friendly blood banks set up around the country—so my guess was it was meant to elicit fear in whoever came through the same door I had.

  It did a damn fine job.

  A tall, lanky vampire with blond hair that cascaded past her shoulders in carefree ringlets stepped up to the fountain and dipped a jeweled goblet into the bowl. Blood ran down the side in rivulets as she hoisted the goblet to her lips and took a long, slow sip. A low moan escaped her pouty lips, as though she drank a thousand-dollar glass of the finest wine. Perhaps to her, she did.

  Rya moved to the forefront of my mind and inhaled, using my olfactory system to enhance hers while in tattoo form. Blood, she hissed. Lots of it. The coppery tang of blood mixed with the sour taste of fear swamped my senses, nearly doubling me over. I closed my eyes and breathed through my mouth, trying to eliminate the urge to vomit. One…two…three…

  Ease up, Rya. My stomach did unhealthy little cartwheels. She snuffled and retreated to the depths of my mind, releasing my senses. I breathed a small sigh of relief and opened my eyes. She and I were going to have a talk about a few things when this was all done. If we survived.

  Anica brushed past me, her shoulder barely touching mine. She silently glided toward the thrones in that way only vampires could, all grace, and elegance. I hadn’t noticed—what with my fixation on the two men that acted as all-you-can-eat vampire buffets—but the thrones were no longer empty. Five vampires, one male vamp in the middle largest chair, flanked by two females on his right, and two males on his left, filled the chairs. In one smooth sweep of motion Anica halted and bowed before the vampire in the middle chair. He gave the barest of nods. She rose and hurried into the arms of an older female vamp standing off to the side of the dais. Judging by their similarities, I was willing to bet it was her mother.

  At some unseen gesture, two oversized, bronzed tree trunks stepped up behind me and bumped me forward with their spears.

  Spears? Seriously?

  I chanced a glance back at them as I moved forward. Their angular faces showed no emotion, and their mouths set in hard thin lines. Chiseled from head to toe, every muscle lean and well defined, their chests stuck out far enough I wondered if they could see their feet without bending over. Both of their bodies were bare; the only thing keeping them from being indecent was an orange and black, tiger-striped loincloth.

  What was it with the loincloths?

  All the vamps in the room—minus the fountain boys and the tree trunks behind me—wore silk ball gowns with lace, ruffles, and yards of fabric in reds, golds, greens, blues, and black. Lots of black. The men wore impeccable tailored suits with colored silk shirts underneath that matched the ladies. They dabbed at their mouths with handkerchiefs from their breast pocket in between sips from jewel-encrusted goblets, and their charms glinted in the lights from countless jewelry hanging in different places all over their bodies.

  A hush befell the crowd of vampires as I passed; every pair of eyes swiveled and landed on me. A cold shiver started at the nape of my neck, the hairs tingling and standing on edge, then worked its way down my spine, using my vertebra like the rungs on a ladder. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

  Rya eased to the front of my mind again, this time looking out through my eyes. They watch you like predator watches prey.

  Yeah, like I needed that visual.

  You up for a fight? She seemed to be feeling better after healing me earlier, but I wanted to make sure. Something told me I might need her strength and ability.

  I am ready, she said. She settled down in my mind to watch and wait. If I needed her, she’d be there. I smiled inwardly. No matter what happened, I was never alone. This was what having a Spirit Warrior was all about, this bonding and closeness. Rya purred her agreement, the calming vibration settling into my soul.

  Though I still felt like an impala in the middle of a pride of lions, I held my head up a little higher as I approached the dais. No matter what resulted from this “trial,” we weren’t going down without a fight.

  I stopped when the front edge of the dais prevented me from going any further. Five vampires, the boogeymen of the supernatural community, sat not fifteen feet from me, ready to decide my fate. Lucky me.

  The head vampire—or that’s what I assumed since he sat in the middle chair, the largest and most ornate of all the others—grinned at me, somehow making the typically harmless gesture seem threatening. His right hand swirled a crimson liquid in a solid gold goblet, savoring the smell the way a sommelier would a fine wine. He took a sip, let it roll around in his mouth, then swallowed. The look on his cruel face was one of absolute pleasure. I shuddered.

  With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed my two escorts. They each gave a half bow, only bending from the upper third of their bodies, and stepped back several feet. The distance provided the space their master demanded without leaving me unattended. Not like I’m going anywhere guys, there’s over a hundred other vamps in the room! Sheez.

  “Keira Nadine Blackwater….” The lead vamp’s voice rumbled throughout the cavernous chamber, each word tinted with a mild Scottish lilt. “You have been brought before this Council in direct response to the death of several immortals, as well as a handful of our lupine brethren, in accordance with our laws.” His deep set, sapphire blue eyes bore into me, making my teeth grind as I struggled not to squirm. If he noticed my discomfort, it didn’t show. “How do you plead?”

  The question surprised me. Would they actually let me plead my case, or was this just part of the show? “Not guilty,” I declared, proud my voice held as steady as it did.

  The Big Guy smirked as though he’d expected my answer. His goblet clinked on the arm of the chair as he set it down. “Do you have any proof?”

  Proof? I glanced around, noting how some of the vampires had gathered in small groups and whispered to one another, no doubt discussing me. How was I supposed to have proof of my innocence? Did they have proof I was guilty? Is that what they whispered about? A hundred things raced through my mind as I tried to figure out how to answer. My attention returned to the head vamp. His boredom was obvious in the way he slouched as he awaited my answer.

  “The only proof I have is the fact that this has never happened before,” I said. My throat felt tight, as if it tried to swell shut, but I forced myself to keep going. “My blood has provided a cure for your people, as well as the other supernatural races, for the last twenty-two years with no adverse effects. Nothing I have done has changed.” The air seemed to freeze in my lungs.

  Breathe, Rya whispered. Her calmness soaked into my bones, soothing my nerves like a salve.

  “Perhaps your blood has mutated,” a striking Asian woman to my left said. She sat in the second chair to the right of the lead vamp, her hands folded primly in her lap. Her deep brown eyes scanned me head to toe with a sort of disgusted curiosity. The gold rings of her dress—if you could call it that, the rings covered so little of her latte-colored skin it left little to the imagination—jangled with the movement.

  “Mutated?” Damn, I hadn’t thought of that. There had never been another…well, whatever you wanted to call me, so there was no way of knowing what could happen to my blood. Could it have mutated? Yeah, I guess so, but there was no way I would admit that to them. “No, I don’t think so.�
� I pushed as much confidence into those five little words as possible. “I would notice if my blood was different. I feel the same as I always have.”

  “Excuse me, but we have only your word you are the same,” said one of the male vampires, the farthest one to my right. He looked exceptionally pale and cadaverous in appearance. A light gray suit hung loosely from his bones, as though someone had dressed a skeleton. I was no expert, but he looked as though he hadn’t fed in some time.

  Great Spirit, give me strength. “That’s true, you only have my word,” I said, hoping my next words didn’t get me outright killed. “But on the flipside of that, where’s your proof? Why am I being blamed?”

  “We do not need proof, human,” the other male council member who sat next to Cadaver Man snarled, flinging the word “human” as an insult. The goblet he’d been drinking from flew across the room with his outburst, slinging tiny droplets of blood everywhere as it clanged to the floor. He narrowed his dark eyes and sneered at me, showing blood-smeared fangs.

  I dug my fingers into my palms, and forced my trembling legs to hold their ground. The urge to turn and flee like a frightened rabbit was almost my undoing. I had nowhere to go except into the arms of one of a hundred other vampires that were no doubt just as hungry for my death. Rya flooded my system with more of her unwavering calmness, the warmth of it seeping into my very soul, giving me the strength to stay still.

  “Dorian is correct,” the head vampire announced. “As the Council Elders of the entire vampiric race, our words are law.” Dorian grinned. The sheer evilness of the gesture made me shiver and wish I could dissolve into nothing.

  “That is true,” a familiar voice announced from behind me. “As the Council Elders, your words are law. But is it not also true the accused shall receive a fair trial, or is that something only the humans do?”

  Leo, in all his infuriating splendor, walked up and stood beside me. Seeing him there made my heart race and I had to fight the urge to dance for joy. Warmth flooded my body. He’d come for me.