Even though their faces could not smile or frown, I knew they hated me. And feared me. Which had been the entire point of my act. To make them think twice. Long enough for me to reassess the situation and make my move. I smiled sweetly at them.
Then I sat. A plate heaping with savory meat and crisp, steaming vegetables sat before me, tempting me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually eaten a real meal. It felt like years ago. I pointedly shifted the plate to the side anyway. “Where is my companion?” I asked, lifting my eyes back to Dracula.
Dracula just smiled at me, having somewhat regained his composure. “Perhaps he’s taking a tour. It is an impressive castle, is it not?”
I narrowed my eyes, allowing a bit of magic to visibly crackle down my arms.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Dracula encouraged pleasantly. “Eat. My wolves caught that fresh this afternoon.”
I pursed my lips, staring back at him. It was no accident that he’d humble-bragged about having wolves as pets. He had an army of skeletons, so why wouldn’t he have werewolves? His grin stretched wider as if he could read my thoughts—that I was analyzing his every word. He was probably having the time of his life. He didn’t get many visitors—only food.
And keeping his existence a secret made it practically impossible to socialize.
He might act like he knew everything and held all the cards, but he didn’t know about my Horseman’s Mask. He only knew that I was powerful. Anything that had happened in the last year in Kansas City was likely news to him because Samael and Roland hadn’t let any specific information about their plan get out—not wanting Dracula to get wind of the assassination attempt. That had been the entire purpose of their plan, after all. They hadn’t even told their own vampires, not wanting anyone to leak the plan to the Sanguine Council, who would have leaked it to him.
But how aware was he of the world at large? If he ran the Sanguine Council, I was betting he had a fair idea of the power players in the world. Did he know about Nate Temple? Or about me and my allies? Why wasn’t he even slightly concerned that we had succeeded in invading his sanctum sanctorum—the place he felt safest in the entire world?
The only thing Dracula could know was that I was either powerful or stupid. Maybe both. That was it. There was every chance he had no idea who I was, as a matter of fact. I’d been gone for a year, after all, shortly after I built the reputation as the White Rose. I was old news, presumed dead.
Did he know Samael? The demon had been locked up inside my ring for quite some time, but both men had been around for a while.
“You aren’t a vampire,” Dracula said suddenly, sounding almost surprised. And…disappointed, for some reason. “You look familiar, yet I do not know your name,” he continued, since my silence made it obvious that I hadn’t intended to respond.
So he hadn’t known I was coming. Thinking back on the red dress, I suddenly had a nauseating thought. It had likely belonged to one of his old victims. I was doubly glad I hadn’t tried it on, now. I thought about his question and decided that it wasn’t really a necessary secret to keep. “Callie Penrose.”
He scratched his jaw, studying me. “I’ve never heard of you.” Which was kind of strange. I’d had a few run-ins with the Sanguine Council, so he should have heard at least something about me from them. Maybe he wasn’t as all-knowing as I had feared. “What exactly did you intend in coming here?”
“You and I have unfinished business. A date, you could say.”
He smiled, flashing brilliantly white teeth. “My dear, we don’t have any business. There is nothing to finish if we’ve never started.”
“Sure we do. My companion is missing, remember?” I repeated in a darker tone.
On cue, Samael suddenly slipped into the room, clad in his tuxedo. And from a door directly behind Dracula. Everyone was so transfixed on me that they didn’t seem to have noticed. I didn’t look, keeping my eyes locked on Dracula. Was Samael going to exterminate the vampire before we even had a chance to go sightseeing? Or…
Samael walked up and placed a hand on Dracula’s shoulder. “She looks familiar because you knew her parents.”
Chapter 5
I heard a faint ringing in my ears as the blood rushed to my head. Samael…had betrayed me. Motherfucker. We hadn’t even been here ten minutes! Despite all the contrary evidence and our Blood Bond, I had known deep down that I would never be able to trust him. Even though I was young by most standards, I was old enough to have learned that magic always had a back door, and that our elders loved exploiting them.
And if anyone would know a way around a Blood Bond, it would definitely be one of the a-holes who once broke a sacred bond with God. What confused me was why Samael would go through such an elaborate ruse to get me here if he worked for—or with—Dracula? Surely, he could have found a simpler way.
There was something else going on here.
Dracula didn’t look remotely surprised by Samael’s proximity or affectionate touch. He did look taken aback by Samael’s comment. “Pardon?”
“She is the daughter of Constance and Titus,” Samael explained, not meeting my eyes. “The same Constance who imprisoned me for years.”
“WHAT?” Dracula snarled, his face darkening as he clenched his jaws. “That’s…impossible!”
“You…knew my parents?” I asked Dracula, incredulous.
He just glared back at me for a few moments. Then he rounded on Samael, hissing. “You could have mentioned her at any point in the last year, demon.”
Samael shrugged easily, still ignoring my glare. “I put a year of effort into getting Roland Haviar here, as we agreed. I thought this girl had died soon after I escaped the Seal of Solomon, but she showed up to interrupt my plans with Roland. After seeing her in action—how easily she defeated Roland—I believe she may even be better than our original plan.” Dracula turned to appraise me thoughtfully, looking entirely too curious. “So I adapted, presuming you might be interested in such a serendipitous catch,” he said in a low, crisp tone. “And remember this—you are not my master. We are allies. Equals at best.”
Dracula grunted dismissively, but I could practically feel the tension in the air—neither man was pleased about their shared position of authority. Men always had to know who was alpha, otherwise they were totally helpless. “It looks more like you wasted a year and are trying to overcompensate for your failure,” Dracula finally muttered. “She’s not even a vampire. And Roland is still breathing. A nuisance I must deal with after…” he glanced over at me disgustedly, flicking a hand, “I tire of this one.”
Samael reached over to pour himself a goblet of wine. “I believe I know a way around that,” he said with a dark smile. “Did I mention that she was also Roland’s student back when he was a Vatican Shepherd? In fact, she is the one who stopped your attack on Rome a few years ago—when you tried to cast the Shepherds into civil war. Perhaps fresh blood is exactly what we need.”
I was too busy trying to figure out what nefarious plan they were talking about to be scared. Samael was a demon, and wouldn’t do anything that didn’t benefit himself in some way. So, was he playing both sides against the middle just for fun or had he already picked his side? Was I a pawn or a secret weapon?
Upon hearing about my history with Roland and the Sanguine Council, Dracula had grown entirely too interested. “Well…” he said thoughtfully. Then a slow smile stretched across his face. “Would you like to work with me, girl?”
I grunted. “I don’t suck on command.”
His smile evaporated. “So be it—”
“You lied to me, Sammy,” I interrupted him, turning to Samael. “We should probably talk about that when the little guy goes down for his nap when the sun rises,” I said, jerking a thumb at Dracula.
Samael sipped his wine, shrugging unconcernedly. “Demon,” he admitted, implying that I should have known better and that I was an idiot for ever trusting him in the first place.
I nodded my agreeme
nt, lifting up my hand to inspect the Seal of Solomon in the light. “I almost forgot.”
Samael’s shoulders tightened infinitesimally, but he retained enough of his composure to smirk at me. “And there is no sunlight here. Of course.”
Motherfucker.
I turned back to Dracula, disappointed to find him so carefully composed after my blatant disrespect. It was also apparent that my attitude had succeeded in turning him away from Samael’s suggestion—that I was a better candidate than Roland for their grand plan, whatever that was.
I hadn’t come here for games, though. I’d come here to kill this bastard, and for that, I needed him on edge. Before Samael convinced him to go along with whatever his scheme was.
I thought about how Dracula had reacted when Samael had mentioned my parents, and a wicked smile split my cheeks. Perfect. “My mother rejected you, didn’t she? Turned you down for a Nephilim. Broke your little heart,” I said, chuckling.
Dracula flashed his fangs at me. “Your mother managed to wound my Beast. Blinded her before narrowly escaping. My Beast has a long memory. Maybe you can talk with her…when I go down for my nap,” he said, smirking icily. “Oh, that’s right. I don’t have to nap here at the seat of my power.”
I kept my face composed, but my heart had skipped a beat. My mother had done the fuck what to his Beast? Good god.
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” I lied. “Your Beast doesn’t seem very dangerous. Look at us, hanging out here like old friends. No one dying…” I trailed off meaningfully. “Maybe she can’t see us.”
Dracula snarled, and the air seemed to grow thicker as I felt the Beast focus on me, specifically, but…nothing else happened. Well, the skeletons grew agitated, their sharpened bones or grafted blades rasping as they rattled against their other bones. As the seconds continued to stretch on, I realized my theory was correct. Dracula…
Couldn’t unleash his Beast on me—I was already inside. If I had been outside, threatening it directly, it could have hurt me. But attacking something within you was much more difficult. Maybe the Beast could make the floor drop out from under me or something, but that would put Dracula at risk, too. I wasn’t sure if I was entirely correct, but I was close enough.
Or else the Beast would have killed me.
I lifted my arms, chuckling blatantly. “You’re an empty legend, Dracula. A hollow hero. An empty nightmare. Your Beast keeps things out, but she’s impotent to protect you from things already inside.”
Silence rang out, and I even noticed Samael staring at me incredulously.
I leaned forward to speak in a loud, theatrical whisper. “And I’m deep inside you, Dracula…” I taunted mercilessly, mentally recalling everything his kind had ever done to bring me pain—murdering innocents, bringing terror to my city, almost breaking the Shepherds in Rome, and turning Roland into a vampire.
This man was behind it all.
My smile stretched wider. “Welcome to womanhood, Dracula. You’re about to get fucked.”
Seeing the unbridled rage on his face, I burst out laughing.
Other than my laughter, the room was eerily silent. An oppressive silence. The Beast had heard me, and she was imagining all the ways she would make me pay for my insolence.
“Bring it, Beast,” I muttered, waving a hand.
Shadows suddenly danced around Dracula, sparks flaring out behind him. “I’ll show you the power of my Beast,” he snarled, lifting a lacy ruffled hand like a badass.
I squared my shoulders, ready for absolutely anything. My mother had banked everything on helping me become exponentially more powerful than her.
If she had been able to blind Dracula’s Beast…I would skin it alive.
Chapter 6
Samael ruined my fun, holding up a hand to stop Dracula from giving me the hug I knew he had wanted to deliver. Dracula visibly shuddered before rounding on Samael with a demanding glare.
“She’s been a particular pain in my ass, and I would take great satisfaction from killing the daughter of my captor. But if I can hold my vengeance in check, so can you.”
Dracula growled. “My Beast’s vengeance trumps yours, devil.” There was a hint of warning in his tone.
Samael grimaced but nodded. “I did not waste years of planning so you could get your rocks off in five minutes.” Dracula’s jaw tightened at that. “Even though she is not a vampire, I think I know a way to make this still work. Perhaps even better. To have your cake and eat it too.”
His tone was cooperative but definitely not submissive. They weren’t friends. I wondered if I could use that.
Dracula turned to him, looking guardedly pensive. “Oh?”
Samael nodded.
“And what do you propose?” Dracula asked, sounding curious. Samael leaned close, murmuring into his ear for a moment. Then he leaned back, waiting. Dracula looked like he’d just felt a questionably dangerous tummy rumble. Then he began shaking his head, smirking as if calling out Samael’s bluff. “I should very much like to see this. I will play along.”
The two turned to look at me as Samael spoke. “I’ll need to get close.”
“Step right up, Sammy,” I said, allowing my magic to crackle down my arms and fists like an electric current. I was confident that I wouldn’t like whatever Samael had suggested, but for Dracula to doubt it?
That made me expect something decidedly worse, and my imagination began to run wild with possible attacks he might use.
In all my scenarios, I hadn’t expected a tag team.
Dracula’s will suddenly struck me with a screaming, unceasing, gale force wind so that I had to lean forward in order to remain upright and keep my balance. I was so focused on not falling down that I failed to notice the skeletons suddenly swarming towards me. They hit me in an avalanche of bones, swarming over me to grab at my arms and legs, my hair and my jacket, gripping anything they could get their necromantic little digits on.
And Dracula’s perpetual blast of force—like a vampiric leaf-blower on steroids—raged on, not affecting the skeletons in the slightest. Only me.
Panic overtook me as I visualized being buried alive beneath their collective mass—kind of like when you woke up in the middle of the night, freaking the hell out because your sheets were all tangled up, firmly restraining you as securely as a straightjacket.
I freaked the hell out.
My angelic wings of ephemeral smoke and fog suddenly erupted out from my back, somehow solid enough to slice a row of the skeletons entirely in half.
Then I spread my wings wide—grateful to see that Dracula’s will slipped harmlessly through them like they were made of screen rather than them billowing out like a parachute. With a hoarse roar, I snapped them forward in a concussive clap, volleying his power back in some way that I didn’t consciously understand.
But it worked.
The force doubled back on him with a thump that shattered glasses on the table, sending him skidding back into the piano as he gritted his teeth, glaring at me. The very walls suddenly began to quake, rattle, and roll as Dracula’s Beast figuratively rolled up her sleeves to take a turn at exterminating the winged vermin causing her host harm.
My fight with her would take place solely on the magical spectrum since she didn’t have a corporeal body, so I needed to conserve my power.
But keeping the skeletons at bay was consuming all my attention, their grabby hands preventing me from simply flying a safe distance away.
So I called upon my Silvers.
Silver blades erupted out from between the fingers of my fists so that each hand sported twin, feather-light claws as long as my forearm.
The White Rose was ready to wield her Silver thorns.
And I began tearing through the skeletal horde, slicing and spinning my way clear from those closest to me, regaining some room to move. I was thankful there wasn’t much resistance. Their bones were so old that my claws ripped right through them—or maybe my Silvers were powerful enough for their density not
to matter. Either way, they fell like reaped wheat all around me. I gained back enough room to use my wings, and abruptly slammed the left wing down like a shield as I used the right wing like a spear to impale a trio of skeletons.
As the skeletons fell, broke, or were sliced in two, the embers and sparks holding their bones together bloomed up into the air like a cyclone of fiery will-o’-the-wisps. Luckily, none of them burned me. I was screaming as I spun, bobbed, stabbed, tore and even stomped on my foes.
Their assault finally relented and I stood there panting, glaring at the heaps of dismantled femurs, tibias, and rib bones. I glanced down to see that a skull adorned one of the claws on either hand, and that they were silently screaming at me, their teeth rattling and clicking—still alive.
I lifted my head to look Dracula in the eyes as I kissed one of the skulls on the forehead. Then I slowly turned to look at Samael as I kissed the other skull on the forehead.
Then I let my Silver magic flow over each skull, encasing them in liquid metal. The skulls stopped trying to speak—perhaps unable to—and I lowered my hands to let them fall to the floor with heavy, metallic clangs.
Then I bent down and scooped up an errant rib bone. I hefted it in my palm. “Women, right?” I asked the two stupefied men, smiling. “God really dropped the ball on that decision, didn’t he? Should have stuck with the dirt recipe.”
I sensed movement in my peripheral vision and flung the rib bone like a throwing knife.
It sunk into the eye socket of a skeleton who had been attempting to sneak up on me. It also pinned him into the wall, shattering through the back of his skull. He struggled desperately to dislodge the rib of his fellow skeletal brother, hissing all the while.
I noticed the blood slaves meekly sweeping up the bones into neat piles and waving their hands over them. Sparks fell from their fingers to fall over the bones, and they suddenly began to twitch and move, rebuilding themselves into fully-functioning skeletons with new embers and sparks for ligaments. I narrowed my eyes. So the blood slaves were going to be a problem.
Godless: Feathers and Fire Book 7 Page 3