War of the Chosen

by Elizabeth Dunlap

  I adjusted my daughter’s blanket, kissed her pale little head, and set her diaper bag underneath the tree. “Let’s go.”

  Vampire christenings used to be incredibly superstitious. Every part of the ceremony involved exposing the baby vampire to everything that supposedly hurt or killed vampires, in an attempt to appease whatever forces gave us immunity to all of them, so we could continue to see our reflections in mirrors, and use wooden furniture. We liked to change with the times while still honoring past traditions, so the christenings we practiced now were more symbolic.

  The ceremony starts with the parents, or parent in this instance, and godparent carrying the baby over a bridge that crossed running water. Our property had one such place that we made sure would be close by for christenings. Then, a holy man or woman, which in this case was Castilla, who was apparently a holy woman in Spain, says some pretty words before placing three things over the baby’s wrapped body.

  A wooden cross.

  A silver rattle.

  An amulet filled with the blood of their parents.

  After that, the parents promise to instruct their child in the vampiric laws and customs, and then their Order promises the same. The godparent promises to care for the child like their own in the event its parents are no longer there.

  I couldn’t help but wonder, as I held my daughter in my arms, who my godparent had been at my ceremony. Had I even had a ceremony? I certainly didn’t have the blood amulet, or the cross and silver rattle, because all three are supposed to be in the child’s room as it grows up. Maybe I hadn’t been christened. What did that mean though? Was I not… sanctioned? Maybe I shouldn’t be allowed to be leader if I wasn’t christened. Othello would probably know if I had been. Maybe. It could be an orphan thing. Maybe orphans weren’t christened, and it was fine because they didn’t have parents to raise them. I still felt sad, like there was an elite club I’d never been a member of.

  After all the pomp and circumstance, the parents would speak the baby’s name out loud for the first time, forever welcoming their baby to the world.

  Katherine. My daughter’s name was Katherine. Kitty for short. We were a family with nicknames.

  Kitty woke up mid-ceremony and wailed aloud because she had objects on her that she didn’t approve of. Olivier grabbed them so I could hold Kitty to my shoulder. I patted her and she stopped crying instantly. Some of the crowd cooed and made baby noises of appreciation for her cuteness, while the others stared at her like at any moment she was going to jump on them and drain them dry. To the naked eye, all they saw was the first baby they’d seen in 15 years, and she was pretty damn cute, if I do say so myself, except this adorbs baby would probably bite them if she got hungry.

  The only person not cooing at or freaking out over Kitty was standing away from the crowd, giving us a very mournful look that had a puppy-esque feel to it. Damn it, Knight. I’m sure you have better things to do than look pathetic. He was adorable when he looked pathetic.

  I stared at him for too long, and he took it as encouragement to walk over to me. Not everyone had come to the ceremony, so Arthur had stayed behind to watch over the other members of the Council. Olivier was in charge of my safety with him gone, and she stepped in front of me when Knight got within spitting distance.

  “Back it up, partner,” she ordered, flicking her finger in the opposite direction. I couldn’t look him in the face. I focused on the plaid pattern of his shirt, the one from my delusions.

  “I just want to talk to her,” he told Olivier. His voice sent a line of tingles up my spine, and a responding shot of guilt turned my stomach.

  Olivier stepped closer to him and flicked her hands out to extend her claws. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, mutt.”

  I waited for him to complain about her using the word ‘mutt’, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there with that puppy face of his, staring at me. Taking a few steps and falling into his sturdy warm arms would’ve been the greatest pleasure in the world, but I didn’t deserve that anymore.

  “Olivier, back,” I ordered. She stepped away from him and relaxed her battle stance. I met Knight’s deep brown eyes and my inner turmoil rose at the sight of them. It was nice to see his face. Like a painting you hang on the wall and admire, but never touch.

  Kitty fussed in my arms. It took little effort to comfort her, but when I looked up, Knight had come close enough to touch me. I recoiled away from him and Olivier took her place between us with her claws out again.

  “Let’s go,” I told Olivier, and we left him standing beside the babbling river.

  A week passed, and I was still rattled at having Knight nearby. He spent most of his time at the reservation, but found any and every opportunity to come to the castle. He’d be gone soon, I had to keep reminding myself. He’d leave, and then I could continue my life. My empty lonely life where the only drop of sunshine was my tiny Kitty. I’d never be happy, not really, but at least I’d have her.

  There was also the work. I had plenty of that to keep me company. Arthur entered the room not five minutes after I’d come in, carrying another stack of papers, this one thankfully much thinner than usual. He set it in front of me and automatically glanced over to where Kitty slept in her bassinette by my desk.

  “More legal things?” I asked him, flipping over the first page and inspecting it.

  “The legal department is working on terms of the alliance. This is the first draft. We’ll present it at the next summit.” Next. Meaning there’d be more after that one. Negotiating was so much fun. “This one will be at the reservation.”

  I couldn’t help raising my eyebrows at him. “That sounds risky. What will the security be like?”

  “I’ll be there to protect the delegate. The werewolf has also volunteered.” That must’ve been a hard sell with Arthur, but it did make me pause. There would be only one reason why Knight would volunteer to protect a delegate.

  “Whom did they choose?” I asked cautiously.

  “Page 5,” he said with a gesture to the papers. I flipped to the proper page and scanned it to find my name amongst all the legal jargon.

  “They do realize I just had a baby, right? Literally last week. Me. Baby. Had.”

  He shrugged apathetically in the typical Arthur fashion. “You’re the only one who can make sure this happens. And even if I don’t believe that this is the best course of action-” I glared at him. “-it’s still a viable solution if executed properly.”

  “Assuming I don’t wind up as Lycan breakfast,” I muttered.

  “The werewolf won’t let that happen,” Arthur said, making me raise my eyebrows.

  “I’m surprised you’re suddenly trusting a werewolf enough to say something like that.”

  “I don’t trust anyone,” he stated plainly. “I’m merely stating that he, like you, clearly values this alliance. It won’t happen if you’re dead.” He had a point. “Plus he’s still carrying around a torch for you. That helps too. Only regarding your safety, mind you.”

  “Yes, well… we’re not a thing. And he means nothing to me. And this is the last time we ever talk about my love life.”

  “Ever,” he confirmed.

  I signed the papers quickly so he would leave in the awkward silence that followed. I leaned back in my chair and took a deep measured breath. I had several problems to deal with. The alliance, the turned, my ex-boyfriend, a newborn baby, James (the guy who tortured me) was in my house, absent baby daddy, but it only seemed fair to add something new to the mix. I didn’t have a companion anymore, and especially with the double loss of blood with Kitty drinking from me, I was in dire need of one. For the moment, I was drinking bagged blood, like old times. It wouldn’t last, and I would need a solution soon.

  I glanced over at Kitty and there was a timid knock at the door. After being given permission to enter, Sara walked in.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Sara that stood before me was different. She wasn’t sporting that edge of eccentric I�
��d come to love. Her makeup had always been either subdued or over the top, and now she had smoky eyes and deep rouged lips. Her clothes were fashionable and attractive, no more haphazard robes or kitten patterned pants. Her smile was also different when it was directed at me. It was as if she knew exactly how bad I felt towards her, instead of holding a grudge against me, which would’ve been perfectly acceptable given the circumstances. In fact, I quite expected it.

  “I don’t hate you,” she opened. Was she trying to spare my feelings?

  I swallowed and focused on one of the various paintings on the wall. Some rich dude with a foxhound and a codpiece. Gross. “You should,” I said back. “I betrayed everything I believe in when I mistreated you.” My eyes fell to the dark green carpet around her shoes. “I’ve been lashing out at anyone who dared misuse a human because I dishonored you. And I didn’t even bother feeling bad about it, even after I was gone. I was too caught up in my own crap to remember, oh hey, that human that was nice to you? You made her a slave.” I wiped a hand over my cheeks. “I’m no better than James.”

  She laughed at me. Loudly, in a very ironic fashion.

  “You? As bad as that manipulative egotistical pig head?” She snorted several times behind her hand.

  “Isn’t he your boyfriend?” I pointed out. Not that I cared about hurting her boyfriend’s feelings.

  She snorted again. “He’s still a manipulative egotistical pig head. Me dating him won’t change that.”

  “You and him, that’s kind of…” I wiggled my hand around.

  “You’re dating a werewolf. Knowing vampires as I do, they find that miles more repulsive than human and vampire relations.”

  “We’re not dating,” I told her. She looked only mildly surprised, as if she was further on in my story than I was, and didn’t realize I hadn’t caught up to her yet. “You came here for something?” I asked, before she could be the third person to lecture me about Knight before lunch.

  “I just wanted to make sure we were okay. And James is ready at any time to continue talking about the book you have. I know you’re busy with other things, so don’t feel rushed. We have rooms, we’ll stay as long as we need to.”

  Of course James’s status meant he could live here if he wanted to, especially since he wasn’t blood binging anymore. I shuddered to think of how it would be if he decided to stay. Seeing his face every day, this time in my home. His crystal grey eyes would haunt me everywhere I went. Even worse, Drake had the same eyes as his father, so I’d be doubly haunted.

  “I promise we’re not staying,” Sara said softly. She was suddenly close enough to put her hand on my arm. “James understands you’re still dealing with the trauma, and believe me he wishes he could take it all back.”

  I looked down. “It won’t make it go away.”

  “No,” she said. “But you’re stronger now. You have Kitty to protect. There’s nothing that makes a woman stronger than being a mom.”

  I was used to the illusion of a sleepless infant, wailing at all hours of the day and night, constant spit-ups and refusal to be comforted. In the few short weeks of her life, Kitty only cried if I pulled away before she was finished drinking my blood. Anything else was a quick simpering howl until I noticed her distress of a wet diaper or wanting to be held.

  She sucked her thumb as she slept in her crib, the epitome of a sleeping angel. I loved her, and wanted to stay by her side all day every day, but I was hungry from feeding her again. Grabbing the baby monitor, I switched both units on, and closed her door behind me.

  Olivier sat on the couch in my living room reading a book. With me working during the day, it was her job to protect Kitty. Everyone was still wary around her, and Olivier was the only one I trusted with my daughter’s safety. I left her on the couch and went downstairs.

  After grabbing a bag of blood from the kitchen, I made my way to my office. Marie sat at her desk writing on a notepad, but she stood up when I walked into the hallway.

  “Lisbeth, you have a visitor. I showed them into your office,” she said.

  I scowled at her. “Marie, you’re not supposed to let people into my office if I’m not present. Arthur made the security protocols very clear about that.”

  “Well,” she said, biting her lip. “He’s there too. He brought the visitor.”

  I marched into my office expecting an intervention, or something involving Knight. The last thing I expected was Arthur leaning against my desk and James standing next to him playing with my dagger letter opener. They both straightened up and looked like guilty children under the pointing glare of my scowl. I shut the door on Marie and locked it.

  “Arthur.”

  “Yes,” he responded, feeling no guilt whatsoever for this.

  “Why is James here? In my office. Playing with my letter opener.” James set the knife down carefully when he noticed my scowl directed at him.

  “I want him out of this castle,” Arthur explained.

  “No offense taken,” James offered happily.

  Arthur curled his lip. “All the offense.” James made an ‘okay’ motion. “I don’t want him here any longer. He’s a blood binger-”

  “Former,” James quipped.

  I thought Arthur’s tendons would pop from the fist he was making where James couldn’t see. “I only allowed him here because you asked me to overlook his crimes. I request you finish your business with him and allow me to remove him from the house.”

  “Again, not offended.” James smiled at me in a way that reminded me of my previous encounters with him. I felt my spine start crawling and my stomach churned against my will. “Lovely to see you again, Lisbeth. You’re looking well. Sticking to the black and white color scheme still I see. I quite preferred you in purple, if you do recall.” Before my feelings of revulsion could escalate further, the barest of bare sounds came from the baby monitor, and I remembered what Sara said about my daughter giving me strength.

  “James, stuff it. This isn’t a party, and I’m not your subordinate anymore. I am the highest-ranking vampire in this Order, and you will be respectful.” He raised his eyebrows, but stayed silent. “And as for you, Arthur. You will cease to make decisions for me immediately. I know James is awful, but I will choose when to speak to someone.”

  “I hate to interject,” James slid in. I doubted that. “I’m sure Arthur would be more than happy to oblige you, if hating me were his only motive in this meeting.”

  “Pardon?”

  He glanced in Arthur’s direction, since Arthur wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Tell her.” Arthur worked his jaw for a few seconds, and James took that as an opportunity to take over. “You see, my liege, you might be the highest-ranking vampire in our Order, but you are not the oldest.” I felt my stomach plummet again. “You assumed power when Othello was taken simply because I was not there, and should anything happen to you while I am at the Order…” He flipped his hand out towards me.

  “You would take over the Order,” I finished. Arthur met my eyes finally, trying to silently tell me just how much he absolutely did not want to take orders from James. “Could you take my place, James? If you demanded it?”

  “No,” he admitted with a smile. “It doesn’t work like that, the vampires who made the rules saw to it. They had no wish for power grabs or assassinations. You keep your position until you are either dead, missing, or the previous leader is fit to lead again. It’s just as well, because you have nothing to fear from me. I have no desire to rule our kind. I feel those days are behind me.”

  “I’d still like the possibility removed,” Arthur added.

  I nodded to him. “I retract my comments about putting you in the stocks for insubordination.”

  “You never said that.”

  “Really? Hmm. Could’ve sworn I did.” I walked around my desk and unlocked the drawer with Anastasia’s journal. “Arthur, you may leave us. Don’t talk back. Out, please.”

  His fist curled up again, but he nodded and left the room.


  James turned to me and smiled. “Well, Lisbeth. We are alone.”

  “I said be professional,” I reminded James with a blank stare. “I preferred your attitude when you first arrived. Quiet. Repentant. Serious. Mostly quiet.”

  “Yes, I recall. And I shall endeavor to be all three.” I slipped the book out from the drawer and stood it up on my desk. His face brightened at the sight of it. “Ahh, my journal. The recount of the wrath of Anastasia. The forbidden words forever-”

  “Yes. It’s your journal, stop being so dramatic.” He pursed his lips at me. “The conversation we are about to have is confidential and private to the upmost extreme. You speak of this to any living soul, and I will execute you on the spot.”

  His smile faded, and he grew serious. “You’ve changed quite a bit, my liege. I understand the need for secrecy. No one will hear your words from me, I swear on my life’s blood.”

  I relaxed against my chair. “‘Have you ever wondered why there are so few older Born?’ That’s what you asked me in one of our first conversations. Then you preceded to tell me that no one really knew why that is, and what I thought on the matter, all before I told you it was something my Order had taught me not to discuss. Do you recall this conversation?”

  “Of course I do, don’t insult me.”

  “And yet, I find you’ve written the only account of what really happened to vampires, and why there are so few of us left.”

  He pointed to the book. “You also read that I was sworn to secrecy. I was curious what you knew, and that meant being very careful about what I said to you.”

  “Fair enough,” I conceded. “Your account of Anastasia’s life was most interesting to me. Not for the reason one might think, as I have no significant curiosity for the history of our kind, at least not to the degree of needing your input.” I stood up and took the journal with me. “I discovered your journal when I was expecting my daughter. I had some… reservations about her.”