“I know what I said, Gerwalta,” he replied, my full name serving as rebuke. “I mean, I like that you’re calling here home. It is, you know? Even if you’re not a hood. Even if you’re damned mother thinks that chanting some mumbo jumbo that keeps you from being able to bend metal with your mind and get spidey sense for wolves was the right thing to do, our packlands... our pack will always be your home.”
I bit my tongue, marking only the second time I’d withheld the truth from Cody.
You’ll always be my home. “Thanks, Cody.”
“No problem, Little Red. You tell my wolf to call me when he’s off the operating table. I need to make sure he’s okay, and you know I mean more than just his body.”
I gave Cody my word and ended the call.
LATER, THE FIVE OF us sat around a table in Inga’s personal flat, a posh suite of rooms on the floor below Caleb’s. Tension still hung thick in the air, a sense of humidity forecasting the storm that would soon blow into our lives.
“I guess my first question,” I said, eyes looking up from the mug of tea to Igor, “is why Dracula is hiding the fact that he’s still alive?”
“Alive as one of your kind can be, anyway,” Caleb added. “And while you’re at it, mind telling us, if Vlad the Impaler isn’t the infamous Dracula most people think of, why he’s called that?”
Igor’s eyes went to the table. “My clan was powerful, as am I, but we had no renown outside of our own world until I took in Vlad. Within a few years of his leaving my crèche, the whole of the Balkans knew our name. He became Dracula, as far as the Hueys were concerned, even though I am the current patriarch of the Dracule bloodline.”
“And you couldn’t kill him because it would destroy you?” Tobias asked, having gotten the basics from me throughout the night. “If only you had been a little more self-sacrificing.”
Igor took the jibe in stride. “I didn’t think in those days that he was too strong from my control. History buries our triumphs in the shadows of failures. Besides, I still had Inga to protect.”
“Inga?” I asked. “Why would Vlad care about Inga?”
“Because I am Vlad’s daughter,” she said, flat as if she were reading the time off a clock. “Biologically, that is. As a vampire, I am also his sister. No matter, when I helped Igor to contain the Ravens, he swore revenge on me as well.”
“I turned her at Vlad’s behest,” Igor continued. “He made me believe that his rage and anger were because his beloved daughter would die a mortal death. But what he really wanted was much worse.”
For the first time, I saw vulnerability crawl across the vampire’s unblemished, snowy complexion. “He wanted me to destroy Igor. He kept it secret from me that I would die in the process.”
“Vlad valued his soldiers more than his own flesh and blood,” Igor said. “Inga he saw as expendable. What he didn’t see her as was capable of making her own decisions. Once I understood his intentions, I swore to protect Inga over all. She is my daughter as much as if she were of my own human line. I knew, that as long as there was a chance he may return, I had to stay alive. To protect her, and to protect all my line.”
I shifted in my seat, gnawing on the realization that in killing Donovan, I’d killed a descendant of the Dracule. My ease only lifted a moment later when he added, “Those who deserve my protection, anyway.”
Tobias folded his hands and leaned forward. “So, Cynthia?”
“My youngest daughter,” Igor said, “corrupted by Vlad’s ideals. She, too, sought unmated beta and alpha wolf blood. Only, it is so rare to come upon now. Oddly, it is that fact that keeps the Ravens from spreading the secret of their longevity to others. Supernaturals or not, the laws of demand and supply remain true. Until they can figure out how to manufacture ideal supply lines, the Ravens will keep our family’s knowledge contained. Cynthia was attempting to develop a treatment which would undo the genetic-level effects of werewolf mating. I fear that she had come quite close to achieving that goal when Geri killed her.”
Caleb turned to me, eyes wide and smile beaming. “I knew you offed a vamp, but you actually slayed a Dracule?”
I confirmed it in the tiniest of voices, keen of the uneasy glances of the two vampires across the table from us. When Caleb picked up on the tension, he managed to wipe the smirk from his face and clear his throat.
“I mean,” he said, “terrible tragedy. Sometimes these things need to be done.”
Tobias, as with the last few hours since he’d met the slayer, ignored him to the best of his ability. “The last time I saw Kara, we couldn’t read each other. There was no pull between us, like there had been. Is that because of what Cynthia did to her?”
“I fear it is,” Igor confirmed. “And I’m not fool enough to believe that Cynthia wasn’t reporting back her research results to other parties. Geri and I scoured WWL and my own lab records. Wherever she was keeping her notes, it bypassed both systems. One of the Ravens, Timur, is a gifted scientist. Likely, she found a way to deliver her research findings to him to carry on.”
I folded my hands and mirrored Tobias’s stance. “What about you, Igor? Vlad is from the fourteenth century, meaning you’re at least that old. What’s keeping you alive?”
“There is a family in Spain. We have an arrangement. I supplement with the occasional human, of course, but no more than a well-behaved vampire should, and always within the Faust protocols.”
Tobias and I exchanged blank expressions. Caleb, as well, was stumped.
“They are not as widely taught now as they once were. Perhaps when I have less pressing matters on my mind, I will share them.” Igor fanned his fingers through the air. “In any case, very few vampires know the secret of slayers blood, and rarely do they come into contact with wolves or hoods to have opportunity to learn anything of them. Still, my sons have cost this world too much. I thought, perhaps, if I were able to resurrect the slayers, it would in some way make up for the damage my bloodline has perpetrated. If they returned, they could fight the Ravens. The events of today show we must move from a defensive mindset, to an offensive one. Even though we were able to erase the memories of the Huey guards in the lobby, Doug was able to become enthralled despite our preventative efforts.”
A muffled chuckle struck the air. Mine, I realized. “If you don’t mind me saying so, your ‘preventative efforts’ are shit. Pink-colored glasses? All a vamp would need to be able to do is to take some Huey’s glasses off and, boom, there’s a mind slave.”
Igor and Inga exchanged a knowing look.
“That was not the preventative measure,” Inga said. “The elevators are misted with a scentless, almost invisible aerosol that coats the eye and prevents Hueys from being susceptible to enthralling. It naturally flushes out after a few hours. Ironically, it’s the fact that you were relieving Doug of some of his duties that had him using the elevators as much that may have made him usable as a pawn. Our method keeps new enthrallment from occurring, but it doesn’t undo that already in place.”
“And the glasses?” Igor asked. Nice to see I wasn’t the only one not in the know.
“They’re only issued to our trusted staff as a sort of club badge, a device that fools them into thinking they’ve been given some layer of protection the others don’t have.,” Inga said. “It also lets our v-staff know without too much trouble who’s open to being fed upon.”
Igor folded his arms over his chest. “The autopsy may reveal something about Doug. Deep, sustained mind control leaves brain damage. If I find any, it may reveal how long he’s been under the Ravens’ control.”
“Actually, I think you two missed the biggest reveal at all here,” Caleb said. “The bullets he fired weren’t Huey, and they weren’t slayer. Ours are made of wood. They were silver. Whatever it was that happened, that guy was prepared for a random werewolf to come charging in, and without much advance notice by the looks of it. You may think you run a pretty tight ship here, Inga, but seems it’s sprung a leak somewhere.”
r /> The vampire on the pointy end of that accusation took the snip in stride. “That leak will be found, and it will be plugged. Full of lead, if necessary. In the meantime, Igor is right. We can no longer hope for the best. We must go about doing our worst. The Ravens must be destroyed.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Tobias said. “I’m ready.”
Caleb took to his feet. “I’m in, too.”
The female vampire set sail a verbal assault. “Absolutely not. Far too dangerous, and you’re far too young and inexperienced. Besides, you’re a—”
“Slayer,” Caleb completed for her. “I’m a slayer, Inga. Tracking down and killing evil vampires is my reason for existing. Don’t think for a second you’re going to drop me in the kennel and be on your merry way.”
A low rumble vibrated in Tobias’s chest. I laid my hand on his. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.” Then, standing, I added, “I’m in too.”
“Why?” Caleb asked. “What skin do you have in this game?”
I laced my fingers with the werewolf’s. “We’re pack. I won’t let him go into this alone. It might help, too, that I’m still the daughter of the Red Matron. Even if I am relinquished, I doubt many know that. My name is still exploitable. Plus, my body just mended from a silver bullet. I don’t think my mother swept away quite as much of my power as she thought she did. So, the Ravens? What do we know about where they are?”
Inga looked to her father, who, after a moment of contemplation, gave the go-ahead dip of his chin.
“We know exactly where they are, actually,” she said. “Their arrogance leads to notoriety. They keep a residence along the Golden Horn.”
“Right, the Golden Horn,” I said, clapping my hands together. “And where exactly is that?”
“Istanbul,” Caleb said. “Where I was born.”
In the shadows of Paradise dwells the House of Red...
Gerwalta, tobias, and the others will return in February 2018 in The Red Hood Chronicles, Book Three: Rebellious Hood.
What makes a nascent hood turn her back on her birthright, her family, and her own heart? What cruelty was the red matron willing to deliver upon her own daughter to force her hand? find out in Requited Hood, a free prequel to the Red Hood Chronicles.
ABOUT KENDRAI MEEKS
Kendrai Meeks was deported from the American Midwest after graduating college, and held against her will since in California. She really hates sarcasm. She first published in 2011, and has since put out books in romance and science fiction. In 2017, she decided to return to her first love, urban fantasy. She is the founder of the Bay Area Allied Indie Authors group. She has also been a featured speaker on a number of conference and industry panels on topics ranging from Fanfiction, to Audiobooks, to Serialized Fiction. She is a world music devotee and loves to travel (just hates to fly – a conflict, for certain). She enjoys twisting the extant into the exceptional, often basing her work on historical themes or legendary folk tales and mythology.
Acknowledgments
The best part of this new adventure has been the friends I have made in the process. I want to especially give thanks to Laura and Dan Martone, N.E. Montgomery, Tom Hansen, Freddie Kim, Audrey Sharpe, Adam Myhr, R.R. Roberts, Marcelle Liemant, Matt Ryan, and Gary Jonas.
Thanks to the fabulous editors, Amy Teegan and Colleen Vanderlinden.
A HUUUUGGGGEEEE thanks to Tammi. I mean, like huge. A big, freaking mountain of hugeness on which little thank-you unicorns hop and sing and procreate to breed even more adorbs little thank-you offspring, thus adding to the circle of huge.
And a special thank you to Elizabeth Hunter, Scott Hoffman, and Clay Weeks, for cheerleading and commiserating.
Catch a typo?
Relinquished Hood has gone through several layers of editing. If you found a typographical, grammatical, or other error which impacted your enjoyment of the book, we offer our apologies and ask that you let us know so we can fix it for future readers. To do so, click here. In appreciation, you will be entered into a monthly drawing for a $10 gift card.
© 2017 TULIPE NOIRE Press
Kendrai Meeks
Relinquished Hood
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 or under the terms of any license permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
Published by: Kendrai Meeks
Text Design by: The Last TK, with compliments to the resources made available from Draft2Digital.
Cover Design by: Mario Lampic
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