Blood Bound

by R. J. Blain

  Sometimes, I hated the truth. “Probably not.”

  “Should an opportunity cross my path, I will do what I can for her, but you shouldn’t hold your breath…or sleep in my tub again.”

  “It’s your fault for having the perfect tub in your bathroom. If it hadn’t been perfect, I probably would have resisted its charms.”

  According to his expression, he didn’t believe me. Rising to his feet, he retrieved a white, fluffy towel and dropped it on my head. “If you’re not out in a few minutes, I will come back to make certain you haven’t resumed your nap. If you wish to nap, use a bed, a couch, or some other appropriate surface. If you want to sleep in some dark corner of an abandoned building again, the answer is no.”

  As if. I lifted an arm and showed the smug vampire my middle finger. “Says who?”

  “Me.”

  Challenge accepted. I’d let him think he’d won, and then I’d sneak out of his posh penthouse, find the nearest abandoned building, and take a nap. If he thought he’d be like my father and control everything about my day, he’d get a rude awakening. “You’re something else, Lowrance.”

  “Indeed.”

  Nine

  Are you saying I eat magic?

  While Wagyu blood hadn’t been too bad, my first foray into chicken blood resulted in misery, reminding me of my turbulent exposure to pizza following my escape from my grave. I feared Emerick’s bathroom would never be the same, and by the time I finished heaving my guts out, I made even more of a mess of Ben’s schedule.

  Emerick refused to permit me to spar with anyone until the brood’s doctor had a look at me.

  I took a shower to get rid of the creepy-crawly sensation of blood on my skin, and to appease the brood’s master, I sat on the tiled floor so I wouldn’t trip over my feet and bash my brains out on his fancy walls. To add insult to injury, he’d asked one of the brood’s few women to keep an eye on me.

  Salania, born some three hundred years ago, found my plight amusing, but she offered to help wash the mess out of my hair and braided it so it wouldn’t get in the way.

  It would take my hair forever to dry, and when I finally released it from its confines, it would become a wonder to behold and a royal pain in my ass.

  “Master Lowrance informed me you are not adapting well,” she said, giving my braid a tug to make certain it wasn’t going to make its escape the instant my hair left her supervision. “You rose from your grave unsupervised some months ago, or so he says.”

  “Apparently, I’m a vengeful bitch and didn’t appreciate being murdered, so I decided to ditch the grave and get some payback. I’m just using the smug bastard in the other room to do it.”

  The smug bastard chuckled from the bedroom where he’d been evicted to upon Salania’s arrival.

  “I see he is not bothered by your intentions. This is good. It will do our master well to have someone who is willing to tell him no. Are all modern women so bold? You are unbothered by my presence.”

  My body had seen better days, and I regarded my gaunt frame with a shrug. “Beats wearing damned chicken blood.”

  She giggled. “Let’s get you dressed so our master can verify you’re looking better.”

  The chicken blood incident had ruined the new jeans and blouse Emerick had brought for me, and the identical replacement amused me. The sports bra did a decent job and fit well enough, but a man had definitely been involved in the selection of the lace underwear. At the first sign of trouble, I bet the damned things would tear to pieces, although they were more comfortable than I expected.

  After I received my first paycheck, however much it was, I’d make use of the internet to buy underwear I liked.

  Once dressed, I stretched to test how well I could move, and I gave the jeans full points for being loose and unrestrictive. They even did nice things for my ass, which I appreciated. In a few months, I might even pass as almost attractive.

  I never understood how anyone could find a boney stick appealing.

  “Master Lowrance, she’s decent,” Salania announced, heading for the bedroom. She glided more than walked, something I assumed came from hundreds of years of practice at being a bride meant to be seen more than heard.

  She seemed happy enough, with a ready smile.

  Emerick inclined his head. “Thank you, Salania. I’m sorry for calling you away from your duties this evening.”

  “It is my pleasure. I can say I was the first of the general brood to meet your new bride.”

  “She’s not precisely a bride,” the brood’s master corrected.

  “Ah, but she is yours. Do not play games with this old woman, Master Lowrance. You have staked your claim to the brides, and that makes her yours, and you bartered for your right to keep her and bartered a better deal for the gentlemen of our brood. You won that round, but you made a deal all the same. There’s no shame in being a bride, Miss Pepper, and don’t you forget that, just like there’s no shame in a man becoming your groom. He’ll be your property as much as you’ll be his one day, so take pride in that. There are benefits to being a bride including the right to slash and drain any interloper who thinks he’s better than your groom.”

  I raised a brow at that. “Slash and drain?”

  Salania turned to me and raised her hand. Her nails lengthened and curved, reminding me of an eagle’s talons ready to strike. “I prefer to drain my victims by holding them by the ankle while their blood seeps out all over the floor. Only drink the blood of a vampire you know you can control or you can kill before they can control you.”

  “Pepper enjoys staking her prey so she can do with her victim as she pleases,” the brood’s master said in a mild tone.

  “Already working stakes, are you? Good for you. Will you make her a defender of the brood, Master Lowrance?”

  “She’s a corporate attorney, Salania.”

  The woman made gestures against evil, and if I hadn’t had similar thoughts about my fellow attorneys, I would’ve been offended. I stretched and rolled my shoulders instead of rolling my eyes liked I wanted. “Does being a defender let me hunt miscreants?”

  “You can have whatever occupation you please and still do that. Truthfully, would I be able to stop you if you decided you wanted to go on a hunt?” Emerick chuckled and gestured towards the door of his bedroom. “Giovanni has arrived, and I would like him to see to you before I make any further plans. I expected you to spit out your breakfast. Your adverse reaction to chicken blood could be evidence of a more severe issue.”

  If I needed human or vampire blood to survive, I expected to cost the brood a literal fortune to keep alive—or I’d be stuck consuming miscreant blood to keep from bankrupting myself. Emerick led me to the sitting room, where a young man who couldn’t have been a day over eighteen waited for us.

  “Full symptoms?” the young man asked.

  Salania curtsied and excused herself, and Emerick waited until she was gone to say, “She tried some chicken blood and she promptly expelled it before spending thirty minutes retching in my bathroom. She was able to consume Wagyu, but according to her expression, she found it only partially better than a miscreant’s blood. She did not expel it, however.”

  “Avian DNA is substantially different from bovine DNA, and while bovine DNA is different from human DNA, it’s much closer. This results in critical differences in the blood being consumed. She’s been on nothing but humanoid blood until now?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Giovanni circled me, reminding me of a shark in chummed waters. “Much like with living humans, you can’t suddenly change someone’s diet and expect positive results. While this is a little more extreme, it’s not that dissimilar to what might happen to a vegan who is suddenly required to consume a meat-only diet. It would not go well for their digestive system. That she vomits immediately following consumption is an issue, and the source of it is something I’ll have to research. While expensive, she should stay on a humanoid-only diet until she’s a healthier weigh
t.”

  “And the differences between vampiric and human blood?”

  “Once again, fairly substantial. There’s significant magic in vampiric blood, and while that magic is present in human blood, it’s to a lesser degree unless she’s feeding from some sort of preternatural. That same rule applies to other mammals; larger mammals have more magic in their blood than smaller ones, and birds have less magic in their blood than small mammals.”

  Emerick crossed his arms over his chest, regarding the doctor with a frown. “Could the problem be the lack of magic in the blood? The Wagyu blood is substantially infused; it takes a great deal more psychic energy to keep the cows calm before butchering compared to a chicken.”

  “That is a possibility, but I haven’t seen an intolerance to the lack of magic in a vampire before.”

  “She’s only consumed vampiric blood. I doubt she’s ever drank from a human, as it would have lessened her chance of rising. Our brood’s vampires are started on non-human bloods from their first night, so their digestive systems have not had a chance to adapt to only human blood. When you were first turned, you would have also been given a mix, as you were required to hide your presence from humans.”

  Emerick grunted at the reminder, and I got the feeling the old vampire disliked being forced to remember the past.

  Interesting.

  “And she’s the only woman to have risen successfully in recent years. I expect your guess is correct; if she’d been given human blood rather than vampiric blood during the transition, the odds of her successfully rising would have been significantly lessened. She was likely overfed a strong vampire’s blood, and it wouldn’t surprise me if the vampire who gave her unlife was killed in the process. That sort of magic might be sufficient to overcome the odds. Most sires won’t commit suicide to raise a new child, but a vampire might bleed a rival dry trying.” Giovanni huffed. “But what sort of fool would leave such a treasure in the ground rather than raise her properly, in a comfortable bed?”

  “One who thought the experiment failed initially,” Emerick replied. “I definitely got the feeling her maker, or then brood master, wanted to find her. She’s very talented at slipping under the radar, and he may have been sending common gutter trash to retrieve her. He was likely aware when she first crawled out of her grave, but by the time he arrived, she’d already made her escape. I like your theory that he used another vampire to give her unlife, and she drained him dry in the process; he would have only used a minor amount of his blood to seal her to him, which means he wouldn’t have been able to track her.”

  “He may have also provided easy targets for her to feed from and meant for her to run loose.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” The brood’s master sat in what I’d come to think of as his chair, and he steepled his fingers together, watching me through narrowed eyes. “Many of her targets were quite dangerous. She used excellent tactics, and she’s inherently a strong ambush predator who made good choices in terms of her weapons. This could support that she’s inherited a great deal of strength from the blood used to raise her, however. I’ll have the brood look into old, missing vampires, and see if there are any who match her general instinctual hunting practices. After a year, she will have fully claimed that blood and its magic as hers, but it’s worth trying to identify what strengths she may have. Is there a way to test if she’s intolerant to the lack of magic in mundane blood sources?”

  “I can, but it would involve feeding her more chicken blood while I observe. I will need to touch her while she drinks it for a closer look.”

  Ugh. I wrinkled my nose at the thought of trying to choke down more of the vile chicken blood. I would’ve preferred to dine daily on a miscreant’s bitter brew; at least their blood wouldn’t try to kill me from the inside out. “Is a sip sufficient?”

  “It may take a swallow or two, just enough for me to evaluate how the reaction begins. I shall try to prevent another vomiting incident, although it may be inevitable. I recommend a robe for this experiment.”

  Emerick took that to mean he needed to fetch me a robe, which served as an indicator I wouldn’t be escaping without a fight. While I wanted to test my prowess against the old vampire, I wanted to do it when I wasn’t feeling like death warmed over—I’d experienced that once already at the start of my unlife.

  When Emerick returned with the robe, I sighed, took it, and got changed in the nearest bathroom before returning with my clean clothes neatly folded. Would I get to wear real clothes? Would I have a chance to do something other than sleep, question why I hadn’t already attempted to escape, or perhaps question my desire to return to Emerick’s bed and hide in his warm blankets?

  That bed would be my undoing, and when I left, I feared I’d try to take the bed and his bathroom with me.

  I needed to evaluate my priorities, beat my common sense until it began functioning again, and find some way to restore myself to sanity. The exposure to luxury after a year on the streets must have gotten to me. Nobody would blame me. Life on the streets changed a woman, as did killing to survive.

  I doubted my father would recognize me.

  Then again, if I crossed my father’s path right now, I might succumb to the desire to stake him through his black heart.

  His death would solve a lot of my problems.

  Emerick held out the bottle of chicken blood, and I wrinkled my nose at the damned thing. It smelled vile to me, although nobody else seemed to notice its stench. I took it, regarding the brood’s doctor with narrowed eyes. “Are you sure you’re a doctor? Doctors aren’t supposed to try to kill their patients with bad blood.”

  “I’ve been a doctor for over a hundred years, and unlike other vampiric practitioners, I enjoy keeping up with the times. I’ve done my share of robbing graves for experimentation, and I was generous enough to return the bodies when I finished with them. Modern times are difficult; they require specimens to be donated, and it’s much harder to acquire deceased individuals willing to have their guts examined. It’s not like they need them anymore.”

  Yuck. I’d already experienced the grave too much for my liking. “My corpse is not available for your experimentations.”

  “These experiments are hardly invasive, and it’s best if we identify why you are sickened from normal blood. Master Lowrance will have to make arrangements for your care if you cannot handle anything other than human or vampiric blood.”

  “She will drink from either me or Ben,” Emerick announced in a tone warning he was in no mood for an argument. “Usually, she will drink from me.”

  “Then she gets a full disclosure of what that entails.”

  I sighed. “You mean that he can take control of me because I’ve consumed so much of his blood that he can manipulate my body’s functions, like it or not? Or that he’s delicious and I’m known to fixate on foods I like? There was something about developing whatever dark little magic tricks he has, too. He should be more concerned I view him as dessert.”

  “You’re teaching her bad habits,” the doctor grumbled.

  “I’m merely catering to her refined tastes in men and blood.”

  I had a refined taste in men? I supposed any man with redeeming qualities may have counted as refined, although Emerick had his fair share of annoying traits, including his tendency to be a smug know-it-all. He did wear a suit well, and I feared for womankind if he decided to let his hair down and put on a pair of jeans.

  I’d seen a lot of ugly rich men in my days, and even the pretty rich men tended to be ugly in nasty ways. Emerick had the ego I expected from pretty rich men, but none of the nastiness I expected had manifested—yet.

  The nasty men would only share their bed with a woman if sex was involved, and they tended to kick her out before sunrise to preserve their reputation while cutting her a check on the way out the door.

  I bet my father cut a lot of checks the nights he came home later than normal.

  Emerick chuckled. “I’m not teaching her bad habits. It�
��s an honor to be treated like her dessert. I’ve seen what she does to her dinner. She is less inclined to drink too much when she’s after her dessert. The Wagyu blood didn’t sicken her, but she didn’t precisely enjoy it. She has a strong dislike of unwilling blood, which is excellent, but she will drink to survive. She is not eating enough solid food, however.”

  “Adapted digestive system,” Giovanni replied. “She has been stretching her food for so long she is unable to digest food like you expect. Only time and care will change that. In time, she might be able to adapt to non-human variants of blood. That she could consume Wagyu blood suggests it’s an inability to digest blood without the magical component—and bagged human blood might result in similar reactions to Wagyu blood. Wagyu blood has higher magical content than bagged standard human blood. Vampiric blood from the source would have the highest concentration of magic.”

  “Are you saying I eat magic?” I asked.

  “That’s a good way to view it,” the doctor confirmed. “By nature, vampires are magical. Our digestive systems are adjusted to consume blood, and we lose the ability to consume other foods.”

  “Like dairy.”

  “Precisely. I’ve never seen as extreme of a case as yours, but even Master Lowrance has some dietary restrictions due to exposure to magic.”

  Hello. I straightened at that. “Oh?”

  The brood’s master rolled his eyes. “My dietary ‘restrictions’ are more of a matter of taste, thank you. If I don’t get my preferred grade of blood, I will not suffer.”

  “No, you just throw a tantrum and sulk.”

  Hah. Pretty rich man syndrome. I’d seen that often enough. “You’re saying he’s deeply spoiled and requires reminders he can’t be spoiled all of the time.”

  “I see you understand the true nature of our brood master. Excellent. When he has one of his sulks, do not worry yourself, Miss Pepper. He is the first to restrict himself if he feels the brood’s finances are at all hampered from his general activities. As you will require special and expensive care, I expect he will be sulking a great deal in the future. He is quite stubborn regarding the budget, and he didn’t budget for a new vampire in the brood; he prefers to make a new youngling every three or so years. He created a new child last year, and the budget was established accordingly. Of course, the brood will, upon learning of your dietary issues, likely start some side projects to make up the difference. Having a new woman in the brood is a high honor, especially with our current difficulties. You represent hope for our entire species. If we can figure out why you survived, we may be able to save our wives from old age.”