I groaned. “Don't threaten the children.”
The beast stopped beating on the door. Sigurd smiled as though he was getting his way. She's getting a running start. “Get out of the way! Get down!”
The door splintered on impact and knocked Sigurd aside. Peter must have gotten in the way because he tumbled through the air. Svetlana rolled to her feet and charged before Sigurd could recover. Too quick to follow. Naked as a jaybird, Svetlana sunk claws and teeth into him. Her body swelled with odd angles, a jaw full of mismatched teeth, and a widening skull. Vamp blood poured between her jaws. He pounded on the back of her head and neck with his fists. He grabbed her by the hair and tore her teeth back from his collar. His clavicle cracked and the bite bled fast. Too fast. She rooted her face in his chest like she planned to chew through to his heart.
I pulled a gun, fired at the dirt, and yelled, “STOP!”
They didn't.
The vampire bit down on her neck. Svetlana roared and threw her head. She punched him so hard his brow bone cracked, but his bite didn’t loosen.
I holstered the gun, sprinted across the porch, grabbed the garden hose, and turned the cold spray on the wrestling monsters. Sigurd and Svetlana shrieked, a sound all mixed up with howls and snarls. Peter grabbed Svetlana and pulled her away.
“Y'all can't act like children when the fate of Phoenix rests on your shoulders,” I said. Adrenaline hummed through my meat. I gripped the hose like a lifeline, worrying they'd go right back at it and I'd be forced to shoot them.
Svetlana trembled. Steam rose from the bite mark as though she was allergic to vamp saliva. Furious red streaks flared from the wound. Sigurd wasn't doing so well himself. White, drained, and shivering, yet somehow more gorgeous. Luminous. And he smelled like heaven. As he panted rapidly, his lungs crinkled. His blood-starved flesh gleamed pearly white. What if he died?
God might strike us down.
“Why are you breathing all of a sudden?” I said.
“His body used up all its oxygen, and now he needs blood to heal,” Peter said. “He’s starving.”
No one volunteered. Svetlana heaved, clenched her wound, and smiled as she prepared to watch him starve to death.
“I don't think you understand who this is,” I said. “If this thing dies, it will devastate your cause. The world will burn you as devils.”
“Vampire,” she spat. “We're both monsters, you and I, both diseased. But you pretend to be God's heir and paint me as the devil's bastard.”
“You are nothing but a petty thief,” Sigurd said. “When I heard you were here, I knew who stole my book.”
Until then, I had forgotten how it started. I clenched the hose and tried to formulate an excuse. Nothing came out. I considered slinking away but my legs anchored to the spot.
“I haven't the slightest idea what you are babbling about,” she said.
“My heritage, my book of life. You stole it! Bitch! Fiend! And therefore you should very well admit to knowing what it is.”
“She didn't take your book,” I said. “That was all me.”
“A book of life? Filled with vampire names?” Svetlana smiled. The grin took over her face and her teeth gleamed. “Kaidlyn, you sly little thing.”
“Return it,” Sigurd said.
“She'll do no such thing,” she said. “We’ll publish it and reveal the names of your people. When humans realize the scope of your true population, when they catch wind of the murders your kind commits, they’ll see you for the threat you are. Hell, humans might decide you are more evil than me. Your empires will revolt and persecute you. And why not? You never know when the religious community has a genocide up its sleeve. Could be all sorts of fun and games.” She grinned, eager about the prospect of a war waged on vampires.
“I want my book. Don't make me get it myself.”
She laughed. “You are fading, vampire. You haven't the strength.”
“Don't be so certain. I have many names.”
“You can have your book back when I am done with it.”
“Who said I'm giving it to you?” I said, but they ignored me.
“Harm the book and I'll kill you,” he said.
“I will not ruffle a single page, but I will copy it and distribute it to the masters of every kennel I know.”
“Fine.”
She frowned. “I will publish your bloodline. I will give your enemies the name of your kin. I will tear up the roots of your lineage and toss them in the open field to die under the sun.”
“Oh, stop with the drama. I don't give a blasted sod what you do with any copies. I want the original back, now. Or by God's wounds, there will be more violence, Svetlana of Moscow. Alexei’s whore. Return my birthright, or I will not be so polite.”
She put her hands on her hips. A puzzled expression wrinkled her face. She could read the beat and pulse of every emotion I had, but she didn't understand him. “You don’t care about my intentions to reveal your kind? Why?”
“The book was a gift.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “From whom?”
“None of your business, hound. You are not the keeper of the book, nor are you my kin. And thank heavens for that!” He lifted the blood-soaked shirt away from his skin and grimaced. “Invite me in.”
“Absolutely not. You are not welcome. Is that in any way unclear?”
“Don't be superstitious. I don't need permission to cross a threshold.”
“That's not it. I simply don't want your stink on my upholstery.”
“I do not stink,” he said, indignant.
“You do, actually,” I said. “Like dusty ginger and prayer candles.”
He glared at me.
“Who told you Svetlana was in town?” I said.
“Alexei the Younger, the Cannibal and Devourer of Hearts. Look here, I’m rather irritated. I want my book, a fresh shirt, and a piece of chewing gum.”
A vampire asking for gum? I blinked. Sigurd licked blood from his fingers.
“Behave yourself or leave,” Svetlana said. “If you try anything rude, I will bleed you.”
“Why, I never! You’re the rude one!”
Svetlana squinted, gauging him. She touched the bite mark on her neck and looked…amused. Sigurd interested her. Granted, the blood on his marble skin reminded me of Christ depicted in marble, and I imagined Svetlana taking him into her arms as in Michelangelo’s Pieta. I shook my head to clear the vamp-perfume. Svetlana smiled like she was planning something messy. Peter touched Svetlana's arm, getting her attention.
“Svetlana, Sigurd is the Golden Disciple. People hang pictures of him beside Christ and the Virgin.”
“Well, then, I suppose his highness can come inside. This once. For a mere moment. Only until we settle this matter.”
“Great,” I said. “See you later.”
I turned around and squished my nose into Peter’s chest. The behemoth stood like a wall, eyes as stern as a librarian’s. “Come inside,” he said. “Have a drink.”
“I’m trying to cut back—”
“Did you or did you not steal the book that started all this?”
Grumbling, I pivoted and nearly smashed into Svetlana. “Cripes!”
She was naked. And wet. She reached for my hand. I drew back, avoiding her and the blood contaminant all over her body.
“You need a shower,” I said.
She set her hand on the small of my back, the weirdest, most natural thing ever. I didn’t move. Without trying to lead me around, she let her hand drop and walked toward the house. A hodgepodge of wet wolves and a bloody vampire followed. Surreal. I went with the flow, entering the den of monsters. Svetlana led us downstairs where I sat on the longest couch in human history. The basement was reinforced, built like a survivalist bomb shelter. She and Sigurd went to shower. Separately, I presumed.
The youngest werewolves, Vanya and Averill, shuffled a deck of cards dealt a poker game in the middle of the floor. The older girls dragged clothes from the
ir rooms, hoping to dress Sigurd like a doll. I sat in a room with a dozen mutts, mostly strangers, and contemplated calling Erik’s boys. Doing so would put them in the line of fire, so I didn’t.
I didn't want to have to worry about anyone, especially since I felt the urge to kiss Sigurd's feet in one instant and the drive to blow his brains out in the next.
I texted Rainer: Crisis averted. Momentarily.
Sigurd reappeared, his hair wet and shining like bronze. He wore a purple robe with a train that dragged behind. The delicate fabric flattered his lithe, statuesque frame. The girls giggled and cooed in Russian. He crossed his arms and stared at me like it was my fault.
“Why did you take the book?” he said. Ah, yes. This was my fault.
“Your attitude pissed me off. It was too much apathy for one day.”
“You burglarized my estate to inspire compassion?”
“I can't explain my emotional response to a creature who has none.”
“I have emotion.” He frowned.
“No, you don't. At least, not human emotion. You're dead.”
“No, I'm not. I'm completely organic.”
“Organic things die and therefore can be dead.”
The vampire crossed his arms. He might have been pouting.
“Don't forget, I saw your face,” I accused. “I saw it. There was nothing there. No humanity, no godliness, nothing but....nothing.”
“Like your face, when you kill mutts?” Sigurd said. “On the news screen, I saw your face, and there was nothing.”
I hated him then, and I didn't have anything else to say. The vamp and I stared at each other.
He smelled like heaven on earth.
Like a scientist examining a sexy alien lifeform, Tatka analyzed the length of his pale body. Her gaze flickered and lingered on his collarbone.
“Your bone is not set good.” Tatka’s words came with a fat Russian accent. “I fix for you with a wrench and sledgehammer.”
Sigurd narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond.
“Want some pain? Maybe like it?” she said. “Scared?”
“Tatka, leave him alone,” Kliment said. “Not your business what he likes.”
“Not your business who I talk to. Vampire, do you have family in Russia? I have family in Russia. Somewhere. Maybe we know each other, as they say, down the road.” Her English wasn’t great, but she was after something. “Maybe you help me find someone, and I help you set bones. Maybe you help me find, or I help you break rest of bones.”
“Finding people is not my job,” Sigurd said. “And for the last time, my bones are fine.”
Svetlana returned cleaner, wearing a man’s oversized white shirt. She poured vodka, drank a huge swig, and refilled her cup.
The youngest L-pos I’d ever seen, Vanya, pranced up to the master vampire. I cringed when he got within arm’s length. Like most kids, Vanya was utterly senseless of danger. The four year-old stared at the vamp and said, “Fangface.”
I laughed. “Where did you hear that?”
“Television.”
“What do they call you, brat?” Sigurd said.
“Vanya,” the little mutt replied, not the slightest bit intimidated by the strange vampire. He pointed at Svetlana and played his trump card: “She can kill you.”
“I can kill you,” Sigurd countered. Svetlana pretending she wasn’t watching and examined her vodka instead. He stared at her for a long while, watching the way her white dress shirt clung to damp flesh. “Control your little orphans. I want my book. Do not make me find it myself.”
Svetlana sipped her vodka. “What do you know about Alexei?”
“I have nothing to do with the rude cretin. Now, about my book—”
“Have you seen his god-plague?”
“What does that mean?” I said.
“Strong vampires can have powers that resemble biblical miracles, the stuff of plagues,” she said. “Alexei controls a blood plague. He can bring blood in unnatural ways at unnatural speed. He can bleed you to death through the prick of a pin. The nearer he is to your heart, the stronger his talent’s effects.”
Note to self: don't let Alexei near me. Easy to remember. I didn’t like that sort of power, the kind reminiscent of magic and gods.
“You brought him to my door,” Sigurd said.
“Are you related?”
Sigurd blinked and did not answer. She rolled her glass between her fingers and rubbed the bite on her neck. Was it painful? She caught me looking and quickly dropped her hand.
“Do you have the book?” Sigurd said. “Or shall I search Kaidlyn's things?”
“Stay the hell away from my things.” The idea of him in my home made me want to shoot him and stomp on the remains.
Svetlana said, “Let Alexei come. I’ll kill him, simply tell me how.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “I don’t want another vampire in my city. I will not tolerate another heart-eater on my streets. No. Absolutely not. Disinvite him, get rid of him, whatever. Sigurd, Svetlana, you’re playing with disaster.”
Sigurd pointed at me. “What good is my book to you?”
“You were being an ass. Look, you already asked me that question, and it isn’t my fault you can’t understand. The truth of the matter is this has nothing to do with you. I needed the book. While I was researching wolf trends and statistics, much of it didn't mash up. Like puzzle pieces from three different puzzles. History predicts every L-pos creature will explode in violence and kill every god-fearing thing within the blast radius. After considerable real-world experience, I learned wolves of a certain caliber and discipline could live with the disease. Hell, some wolves were really old. Like, ancient. Maybe they had been living in secret for centuries.
“Yet suddenly, out of the blue, the lykos plague erupts like wildfire and wipes cities off the map? It doesn’t make sense. Jesus, it feels orchestrated. Yet who would benefit from such a thing? Vamps are doing pretty well for themselves, all gilded and holy and whatnot. I need to investigate further. Maybe the vamps have a clue to the overall riddle. If the book is a list of vampire names and countries they have homes in, it can help shed some light on the problem. Somehow, someone on that vampire dance card has to know how the myths started and how to fix it.”
Sigurd stared like he didn’t care. Svetlana looked ready to kiss me.
She said, “I do not understand why you did not bring this book to me.”
“Would you use it to learn the truth, or would you start killing vampires?”
She caught a bit of vodka from the lip of the glass and sucked it off her finger. I watched, entranced for multiple reasons. Again, she caught me looking. I quickly sipped some tea. It singed my tongue.
“Can I have the book?” she said.
I swallowed. “No.”
Sigurd said, “The audacity! Don't you know who I am? Telling me what to do with my city! You would worship me if I was so inclined. And what a fine vassal you'd make! Offering such a vein from such a body. You'd dig your heart out for me if I asked. You would bow down to the scent of god.”
“And I would shoot you,” I said.
“We have two pressing concerns,” Svetlana said. “Alexei and the book. Now, Alexei will die because he has systematically threatened and murdered my people. His death has nothing to do with vampire lore or politics. I simply won’t permit him to exist any longer. When I am done with him, I will investigate the ledger and discover who turned the world against me.”
“Let's not argue over actions completed long ago,” Sigurd said. “We could be here all night digging skeletons out of closets.”
“Is Alexei of your bloodline? If I kill him, will I have to go through you?” Svetlana said. He didn't offer anything but his blank mask.
“Let's pretend you can kill Alexei,” Sigurd said. “If you take his heart, you know what that may do. You could inherit a trace of his god-plague.”
“Is that possible?” I squeaked.
Sigurd nodded. “It has happen
ed on occasion, especially if the donor and recipient share a spiritual connection.”
“Donor and recipient? You make it sound clinical and voluntary,” I said.
“Sometimes,” Sigurd said.
“So Svetlana might gain vampire voodoo?”
“Radi boga,” she said. “I hope not.”
“Why?” I said.
“Because it would be too much. And it would be…dirty. Vampire powers, eck. I don't want to rule the world, I want to keep my family safe.”
“Gracious of you to say so, but what happens a few years down the road, you may get bored. If we let you stay here now, can we be assured that you won't carve off more of my territory for yourself?” the vampire said.
“Oh, please,” she said. “I've already offered to leave Phoenix.”
“So you say,” Sigurd said. He set his elbows on his knees and leaned in, robe parting, chest exposed, ginger ambrosia drafting outward. “What one says and what one does are often two completely different and very telling things. You come here, steal my things, lure a vampire to my city, and say you do not plan me any harm. How can I believe that?”
“If you will not accept my word that I will not strike out at you, then what other assurances can I give?”
“Give me Vanya,” Sigurd said.
“Excuse me?” I said.
“You know as well as I that it is customary for courtiers to sacrifice before asking favors. I know a mutt who gave twenty of his kennel to honor to my sister. I don't wish to do as she did (I don't care that much for the liver) but I will accept a gift as collateral. Look at those baby eyes, cupid cheeks! What a prize for my court. I shall keep Vanya as my pet collateral, and if you ever decide to strike out at me, I will eat every ounce of wonder from his bones.”
“Absolutely not,” she said. “I sure as hell am not courting you. And whose head would you offer me in trade? You are alone here, and you have nothing worth my Vanya.”
“I can make your life miserable,” Sigurd said. “This is my land. I make the laws here. One murmur from me and throngs of vampires will rise up against you. You won't be able to step over a gutter without someone going for your throat.”
“Gutters,” she said, “that is a vampire's true place. Be grateful for the peace I offer you and do not push me to war. I could spawn a dynasty on American soil before you could realize what you've lost. Before you know it, you will think that Satan himself has built a summer home in Phoenix.”
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