Rebirth of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 6)

by Bella Klaus

  A five-tier chandelier provided most of the illumination, bolstered by crystal floor lamps shaped into candelabras. A gold table stood in the middle beneath the chandelier, with flames burning on its marble surface. I thought back at the candles in Kenwood House’s entrance hall, wondering if it also controlled the wards.

  “Miss Griffin?” asked a voice from the right.

  Caiman emerged from a door, wearing his usual black jacket, burgundy waistcoat, and black tie. Like most ancient vampires, his face had that uncanny smoothness that made him resemble a wax statue from Madame Tussauds. However, unlike the ancients Valentine and I had encountered in Koffiek, Caiman’s blue eyes shone with vitality. My throat thickened. What on earth did the vampire think of me after everything that had happened to Valentine?

  I cleared my throat. “Thank you for agreeing to see me. I need your help. Valentine—”

  “I was hoping you might shed some light on a problem we’re having with His Majesty.”

  My brows drew together. “Are you talking about Kain?”

  Caiman stared at me for several heartbeats before blinking. “King Valentine returned hours ago, collapsed on the palace grounds, with no memory of the past seven years.”

  Cold shock barreled through my insides, and I stared at the butler for several moments, letting his words sink into my skull. Valentine had been a pile of ashes when I’d last seen him—he couldn’t have resurrected without me or November noticing. Besides, I thought November had scattered his ashes.

  I shook those thoughts out of my head. “Are you sure it’s Valentine?”

  Caiman exhaled the kind of long breath old people made when they’d seen everything, heard it all, and now needed to repeat themselves. Perhaps he’d been fending off questions all morning. “The royal physician has verified his identity, checked his health, and confirmed that he is very much alive. What we’re unable to ascertain is why His Majesty is missing his memories.”

  Breathing hard with relief and a touch of excitement, my heart swelled enough to press against my ribcage. He was finally restored, but if seven years of his memories were gone, it meant that he would no longer love me. Seven years ago, I was an intern who worked in his property management company—someone he had observed from afar but hadn’t yet decided to court.

  “May I see him?” I asked.

  The butler leaned forward a few inches, the weight of his magic hanging over me like a thundercloud. “How much of what they’re saying about you is true, Miss Griffin?”

  I tried not to flinch at the accusation and swallowed back a bellyful of bile. Caiman was the first of Valentine’s people who knew about our relationship, the first we’d told about our engagement, and likely knew about Valentine’s plan to let me leave Logris.

  “It was my fire that resurrected him, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said from between clenched teeth. “The Supernatural Council’s verdict about me was wrong. I didn’t kill Valentine with a solid-flame dagger—my blood was cursed and he squeezed its blade to stop himself from draining me.”

  Caiman fixed me with an unblinking stare that made my insides squirm. I pulled back my shoulders, remembering something Father Jude had told Jonathan before the old man had plunged into his mind. Asking permission to see Valentine and answering Caiman’s questions was only a courtesy. If I wanted, I could storm the palace and burn my way through its security to find Valentine.

  “It’s natural that Valentine has lost his memories,” I murmured. “When I connected with his soul, he could only remember events from the start of November. And his preternatural body’s memories only extended to the day we got engaged.”

  “I see,” Caiman said, his expression not moving.

  “Now may I see Valentine?” I asked again, this time adding a little bite.

  The butler turned on his heel and strode toward the hallway on the right. I followed him through a set of double doors, where a quartet of guards in fireproof armor stood against the stone walls.

  My steps faltered, and every instinct in my body flared with the warning of impending danger. “What’s this?”

  “A precautionary measure, Miss Griffin.” Caiman strode ahead, letting the guards walk along my side. “Now that His Majesty has returned to the palace and is in a vulnerable state, we have no intention of allowing him to fall into harm.”

  “I’m not a danger to anyone,” I rasped.

  Caiman glanced at me over his shoulder. “Unfortunately, His Highness’s encounters with you suggest otherwise.”

  He was talking about the battle between Valentine and his brothers in the mausoleum and the huge fight Jonathan and I had with a bunch of vampires outside the Travelodge Hotel. To the vampires, I must have seemed like some kind of siren that lured them with my cursed blood, so they could become preternaturals under my command.

  I shook my head. It was a wonder that Caiman had even allowed me this far into the palace. We passed a portrait of the dark-skinned vampire depicted on the mausoleum’s stained glass. She wore white robes and stood in the foreground, her huge mane of hair illuminated by a phoenix in the background.

  I turned my head, admiring the beauty of both the phoenix and Valentine’s ancestor. Perhaps the butler had already worked out that there was no point in restraining a creature of fire.

  After another set of doors, we continued down a mahogany-paneled hallway toward Valentine’s suite, which was actually a secure wing in the building that took the form of a grand townhouse. This particular corridor housed his offices, where he would receive his subjects and carry out his duties as the King of the Vampires.

  A few of the servants passing us slowed their steps to cast me furtive glances. I recognized them all from the days we were courting and hoped they didn’t think badly of me for Valentine’s death and the subsequent mayhem in Lamia.

  Caiman paused at the door of Valentine’s office and cleared his throat. “His Majesty insists on returning to work.”

  “Right.”

  “I hope you can get through to him,” Caiman murmured. “He was a much happier king with you in his life.”

  My muscles relaxed and the pressure in my chest lightened, making my heart settle back between my lungs. “I’ll do my best.”

  The butler inclined his head and continued down the hallway, leaving me with the quartet of guards. A flock of butterflies took flight in my stomach. I gazed at his retreating back. “Aren’t you coming inside?”

  He paused, casting me another glance over his shoulder. “It’s not the place of a butler to serve as the chaperone between a Vampire King and his consort.”

  I sucked in a breath and gathered all my courage into my chest. Caiman was right. If I hid behind him, I would always need someone else’s support when dealing with Valentine’s subjects.

  Without knocking, I pulled on the handle and stepped into Valentine’s office.

  Chapter Six

  The scent of sandalwood and musk and woodsmoke curled around my senses, turning every muscle in my body to mush. I held on to the edge of the door for support as I stepped into Valentine’s office, a vast room decorated in navy blue, with teak and brown leather furniture.

  Valentine sat behind a leather-topped desk, clad in a charcoal-gray suit, black tie, and a shirt the color of a raincloud. Tension radiated across his posture, making his muscles bulge beneath the fabric of his jacket. Even his hair was stiff, looking like it had been slicked back with gel.

  His violet eyes met mine, widening for a fraction of a second before his features smoothed into an expressionless mask.

  A breath caught in the back of my throat. Until now, I hadn’t known how he would react to seeing me—even without his memories—but this stoic front made my heart sink.

  Standing next to Valentine was Sylvester, the silver-haired brother whose features most resembled his. His gray eyes narrowed, and he bared his teeth, revealing lengthened fangs.

  Dread tumbled through my insides like an avalanche of doom, and it took every eff
ort not to clench my fingers around the doorframe. Of course his brothers would have gotten to him already. I inhaled a deep breath, readying myself for anything.

  The trill of a cat made me drop my gaze to the desk, where Macavity lay curled atop a stack of papers. As soon as I stepped into the room, he rose onto his front paws and yawned.

  A spring of hope bolstered my spirits. No matter what the princes said about me, Macavity could show Valentine the depth of our connection. Raising my chin, I continued across the stone floor toward Valentine’s desk.

  One of the leather chairs between Valentine and me swiveled around, revealing Constantine, his blond-haired brother. He curled his lip. “You’ve got a nerve, turning up here like a failed assassin trying to finish the job.”

  “You’re wrong.” I clenched my teeth and bit back a retort, trying to appear reasonable in front of Valentine.

  Ferdinand rose from the seat on the right, staring at me with wide eyes. I strode past him and stood at the other side of the desk.

  “Valentine.” I scrambled to say something meaningful to remind him of our connection, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “Why did you leave me alone in the slaughterhouse with your cousin?”

  His brows drew together. “I beg your pardon?”

  “We were in Koffiek together.” My words quickened as everything came to me in a rush. “I’d just burned you to ash so you would resurrect. While I was watching over your body, Nonaginta-Novem attacked me, but I managed to fight him off. At some point between then and the time I’d defeated him, you rose from the ashes and left.”

  Valentine squeezed his eyes shut. “My last memory was of boarding a train to Atlantis, and then I awoke in my bed with no memory of the past eight years.”

  I gaped. Had something else gone wrong? My mind flickered to images of Brother David floundering around the Flame, a soulless wreck, but I quickly shoved them aside. Nothing on Valentine’s features implied he was lying about being unaware of my struggles in Koffiek, and he wasn’t the sort of man to run scared while someone was attacking a woman.

  But then, he could have resurrected while I was still wearing Hades’ Helm and not even have been aware of my presence. Or he could have been so delirious that he wasn’t capable of doing anything except stumbling back to his palace.

  Valentine stared up at me from his seat and furrowed his brow. “Wait. Did you just admit to being a fire user?”

  I reared back. How much damage had Valentine suffered from being decapitated?

  “Never mind that.” Sylvester leaned across the wide desk, resting his weight on his clenched fists. His quicksilver eyes darkened with flecks of red. “What are you doing here? The last time I saw you, you were being arrested for the murder of my brother.”

  My nostrils flared, and I bit back a growl at his selective honesty. “Actually, the last time we met, you and your brothers were hunting me through the mausoleum, trying to drain my blood.”

  I glanced at Valentine, who stared at me as though I was a fascinating museum artifact. Perhaps he’d just put the pieces together from what I’d said and worked out that he’d been resurrected by phoenix fire. Perhaps he’d also worked out that I was the phoenix.

  “We attacked you for good reason,” Sylvester spat.

  “You murdered our brother,” said Ferdinand.

  Valentine’s features didn’t change, not even to flinch at the prospect of having been killed.

  Every nerve in my body sagged with the onset of despair. How could I get through to him with these three and their constant interruptions? What could I say to break through Valentine’s exterior?

  I turned away from his unblinking stare and met Sylvester’s hateful gaze. “The only reason I’m still alive is because Valentine rose from the dead to protect me from your attempts to murder me.”

  Constantine snorted.

  I whirled to the left, turning my gaze to the sneering blond vampire. “And the last time I saw you was when you, Lazarus, and a bunch of lackeys tried to capture me, and Valentine commanded you to stop.”

  Valentine rose from his seat and stared down at me with violet eyes. “Hemera Griffin, correct?”

  My heart somersaulted. At least he wasn’t asking me if I was guilty of possessing a power punishable by death. I cleared my throat and straightened, trying to form a strong front, even though my insides flickered like a candle in a strong draft. “That’s right.”

  Sylvester pointed a finger across the table. “The blood cow who fed you her fire-tainted blood, murdered you, controlled your mind, and made you persecute your own people in revenge for being dumped.”

  Uncertainty flickered across Valentine’s face. It was the barest of movements, only appearing on the edge of my awareness, but my stomach still plummeted.

  His brothers weren’t exactly lying—they only told their version of the truth based on what they’d learned from the ruling of the Supernatural Council and their own observations. I couldn’t hate anyone for wanting to protect Valentine, but I sure as hell wished I could make them disappear.

  My throat spasmed, and I leaned across the desk, meeting Valentine’s gaze with eyes that begged him to believe that I would never hurt someone I loved. Our situation was so convoluted and difficult to prove that anything I told him would seem like the lie.

  “You sacrificed yourself when someone cursed me with the blood lure,” I said in a voice that shook with the pounding of my pulse.

  “What’s that?” said Ferdinand.

  Valentine’s brows drew together in the slightest of movements that gave me hope that I’d cracked his cold front. “It’s an ancient curse that renders the blood of the target irresistible to vampires. Used either for assassination or to force a vampire to suffer the consequences of attacking someone of importance.”

  Sylvester scoffed. “I’d hardly call a cow important.”

  I let his comment drift over me like a breeze. Those three could say whatever they wanted. I was only concerned with getting Valentine to understand that I meant him no harm, even if he couldn’t remember me or our love.

  My tongue darted out to lick my dry lips. “We courted for three years—”

  “She was her own blood broker,” Constantine snapped. “It was a paid arrangement.”

  “And you noticed that I was developing fire power,” I said loud enough to drown out the roar of blood between my ears. “We concocted a plan to help me move out of Logris to the human world, but someone cursed me to forget.”

  Valentine’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

  “An enemy.” If I mentioned Kresnik before explaining our relationship, Valentine and his brothers would get distracted by the threat, and I’d lose any opportunity to reconnect. “It was the same person who cursed me with the blood lure. He wanted you to turn into a preternatural, and he also wanted to extract the phoenix in my soul.”

  His gaze sharpened as though looking for signs of my phoenix. A tight band formed around my chest and squeezed. I didn’t want Valentine showing interest in me because of my power.

  Still maintaining eye contact, Valentine rested the tips of his fingers on the desk’s leather surface. “They’re saying I levied taxes on my people, introduced a curfew, and fought at your command.”

  I shook my head. “All those things you did happened while you were under the control of the Mage King. He replaced the magic animating your heart, and—”

  “Lies,” Sylvester snarled. “We all saw you discard her on the night you celebrated your new heir. Look into any of our memories and confirm for yourself. The girl left Logris in disgrace and only returned when she acquired the power to destroy you, your reputation, and your kingdom.”

  “Then why would I bring him back to life?” I snapped.

  “So he could deal with the mess you forced him to make,” Sylvester replied.

  “To make him pay for your rejection,” said Constantine.

  Angry fists pounded against my eardrums, and hot blood coursed through my v
eins. I wanted to slash out at the vindictive trio with my claws, but instead I snapped, “Are you all so gullible as to believe the Council’s lies?”

  All three brothers answered at once, each trying to convince Valentine that I was only here to exact my revenge. Valentine’s gaze darted from me to Ferdinand to Constantine to Sylvester, emotions warring across his features.

  Frustration simmered in my belly, bringing its contents to a boil. I clenched my jaw hard enough to grind my teeth. Talking to him wasn’t working. Not with his brothers so desperate to believe that I was a scorned woman bent on retribution.

  Macavity rose to his paws and yowled at everyone to be quiet.

  “Stay out of this,” Sylvester growled at the cat.

  Valentine raised his hand. “Enough.”

  His sharp voice cut through his brothers’ protests, and they all turned to him with varying degrees of worry.

  “Leave us.” Valentine squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Constantine’s large hand closed around my bicep. “Time to return to the Human World.”

  “No, I was referring to you three.” Valentine steepled his fingers, staring at me as though I was a puzzle with a piece that didn’t fit. “I wish to be alone with Miss Griffin.”

  Sylvester’s jaw dropped. “With the most dangerous fire user since Kresnik? She needs damnation, not an audience alone with you.”

  Valentine shook his head. “Leave. Now.”

  The three brothers grumbled under their breath as they dragged their feet toward the door. Only one of them was missing—Lazarus, who I guessed was still taking care of Beatrice.

  I reached for the Cleopatra stone around my neck, which was still there despite my having shifted into a phoenix. No matter the outcome of my conversation with Valentine, I would go down to Wimbledon and pay her a visit.