DraculaVille - New York - Book One

by Lara Nance

  He actually reached out and shook their hands before walking around the table to face Maron. She and Drake moved to stand beside him.

  “Well?” Maron glared at the old vampire.

  “It is true, patron. They are indeed armantor.”

  Maron hissed. He eyed Talia and then Drake, not speaking for several moments. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Even if you are armantor, no human can come into the home of this flock and live.”

  Talia sucked in a breath. He would kill her anyway? Drake’s arm went around her waist and pulled her against his side.

  “But Armantor is a sacred relationship.” Maron’s eyes glittered. “Therefore, you must complete the ceremony and become mates in fact.”

  “What do you mean?” Drake’s voice tightened. Talia felt his muscles tense.

  A slow smile spread over the patron’s face. He pointed to Drake. “You must turn her and take her as your armantor in the ancient ceremony. Otherwise neither of you will ever leave this place.” His gaze flashed to Gosen, and Talia understood he meant he would be chain them like the elder for the rest of their days.

  “Turn her?” Drake’s voice shook. “You mean…”

  “Yes.” Maron leered at him. “You must kill her and make her a vampire.”

  Chapter 27

  Talia had been sentenced to death.

  She paced the room where she’d been placed after Maron’s horrific announcement. The evil leader had separated them until they were bound as vampire mates. Her heart ached with missing Drake. His presence calmed her and gave her hope.

  Her mind kept returning to Gosen saying they were armantor. She’d expected him to denounce her claim since she wasn’t a vampire. Part of her had wanted him to refute the possibility because it bound her to Drake permanently and brought her back to the discussion with Lydia.

  However, the pronouncement explained a lot. Now she understood the crazy possessive jealousy. She wondered what Drake thought about it. He’d already stated he knew something existed between them, so he probably wasn’t too surprised.

  She turned in a circle. At least this room provided more comfort than the chilly storage room. It blew her mind there was a typical human bedroom in the basement kingdom. Did all the vampires have rooms like this? Funny. She’d imagined them all in coffins. So much for Hollywood...

  The walls were cinderblock, but covered with velvet hangings. A four-poster bed stood against one wall and the other walls held a dresser, an armoire, and a chair with a stuffed ottoman. Persian rugs covered the concrete floor.

  She tried to turn up the single oil lamp to gain more light, but its wick already extended to its max. Coldness pervaded this room, despite the lush furnishings. Rubbing her hands and arms did little to help, but the pacing warmed her up a bit.

  The scene from the elder’s chamber kept replaying over and over in her head. The memory stayed in a dreamlike realm, refusing to become real so she could deal with it. Drake was going to have to kill her and make her a vampire to save them both. Maron was determined to torture them. And she knew how much Drake suffered right now. He couldn’t refuse, and yet everything in him would revolt at such an act.

  He wasn’t selfish and cruel like these vampires. He’d held onto a part of himself despite the changes he’d undergone, and maintained some element of a soul, unlike these monsters. She suspected he’d kill himself to keep from doing this dark deed except for the fact he knew they would kill her themselves after that, and not in a pleasant manner. He might kill her to save her.

  She didn’t even know what turning involved. Did he have to drink all her blood to turn her? That’s what had happened to him, right? And Pip? She bit her fingernail and paced some more. Finally, the chill got to her. She climbed on the bed and pulled the thick comforter over her.

  She glanced at her watch. It was nearly dawn. The vampires would sleep soon. So nothing would happen until tonight. She sighed. Visions of Drake’s sharp teeth floated in her mind. He had to kill her. Neither of them could do anything to stop it.

  ***

  Talia woke to a knock on her door. It opened and two vampire women entered. One held something black draped over her arm. The other carried a tote bag, which she placed on the floor beside the dresser.

  The taller of the two had dark red hair and a willowy figure. She stepped forward, her flowing black dress dragging the floor. “My name’s Kathleen,” she said, then gestured a thin white hand to her companion. “This is Ella. We’re going to prepare you for the ceremony.”

  Talia yawned and sat up, staring at the two women. They didn’t smile but an air of anticipation hung about them. “So what does that mean exactly? Preparing me.”

  Kathleen held up a long black velvet dress with flowing sleeves. “This is what you’ll wear for the ceremony. You can bathe, and we’ll help you dress. We can also do your hair and makeup.”

  Talia’s insides cringed. It sounded too much like preparing the virgin to be thrown into the volcano for her comfort. “Why all the buildup?”

  “A binding ceremony is a very special occasion in a flock,” Kathleen said. “We don’t have them very often and it’s a big celebration. Everyone is looking forward to this event with great anticipation.”

  “I see,” Talia said and slipped off the side of the bed. She studied the dress.

  “It will make everyone happy, and that’s what Maron wants,” Ella said.

  Kathleen made a hissing sound and glared at the younger vampire. Apparently the vampires in this flock weren’t completely pleased with Maron’s reign. Talia tucked that little nugget of information away.

  The flock surely had vampires who remembered the old patron and had sympathy for Gosen. Maybe friction existed between them and the group Maron had brought in. The patron probably hoped a traditional ceremony like the binding of armantors would placate the older members and settle any conflict that threatened his rule.

  “You may bathe now.” Kathleen reached into the tote bag and pulled out a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. She handed them to Talia and pointed to the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

  She took the offerings and headed into the bath. Surprisingly, she had hot water in the claw footed tub. She ran it full then stepped in with a deep sigh. The warmth felt wonderful, inching out the frost in her bones. Being clean was a big plus, too. She hadn’t had a bath since Friday before the ill fated photo shoot. If only she could stay here in the bathtub forever.

  A sharp rap on the door answered that question. Reluctantly, she crawled out of the tub and dried off. She wrapped the towel around her and opened the door to the bedroom.

  Ella motioned to the bed where a variety of black lacy underwear was laid out on display. “We didn’t know your size so we brought a variety.”

  Talia selected a bra and panties she thought would fit then turned her back to the women before dropping her towel to put them on. Behind her, Ella giggled.

  “Now the dress.” Kathleen held up the garment. They slipped it over her head and zipped the back.

  It clung tightly to her curves. The low cut bodice sported an off the shoulder neckline. Made for easy vampire access to the neck, no doubt. Long bell shaped sleeves draped to the floor, and a train ran about three feet behind her. A sleek black wedding dress.

  Talia glanced at her chest. Hmm. Those delicious meals Drake had made left their mark. Her breasts filled out the top nicely. Felix would be so proud.

  “Sit over here.” Kathleen motioned to an ottoman. “We’ll do your hair and makeup.”

  After she sank to the ottoman, Ella brought her Louboutins and slipped them on her feet. She eyed the women, gauging the amount of useful information they might hold. She had to be careful.

  “Where will the ceremony be held?” she asked.

  “In the main chamber where you were brought the first night.” Kathleen ran a brush through her wet hair.

  Ella filed her nails and applied dark red polish. The younger vampire couldn’t contain her grin as she wo
rked.

  “When was the last ceremony?” Talia gave Ella an encouraging smile.

  “Four years ago,” Ella answered, she paused in her application of polish, a faraway look in her eyes. “We’d all like to have mates, but if we don’t go out, we can’t meet anyone. So it’s hard.”

  “Why can’t you go out?” She hoped Kathleen wouldn’t stop the conversation.

  “Maron doesn’t like us to mingle with other groups.” Ella’s lips pouted.

  “We’re purebloods,” Kathleen snapped. “You don’t want to mix with trash.”

  Ella didn’t reply, but her lips continued to pout. Talia gave her a wink and her smile returned.

  When her nails were done, she held out her hand, fingers splayed, to admire the work. “Why, that’s lovely, Ella. Thank you.”

  The young vampire beamed. “I’ll do your makeup. I’m best at that.” She stood and Kathleen didn’t demur but she did give her companion a sharp glance.

  “Hey, could I get a glass of wine?” Talia asked. “I hate to be a bother, but I’m kinda nervous. This is my wedding day, so to speak. It would really help settle my nerves.”

  Kathleen hesitated, but since Ella busily sponged foundation on Talia’s face, the redhead would have to do it.

  “Please?” Talia put her hands together in a prayer gesture. “Pretty please?”

  “Oh, very well.” Kathleen flounced from the room.

  “I wish there was such a thing as bridesmaids in this ceremony,” Talia said wistfully.

  “Why?” Ella brushed loose power over the foundation.

  “Oh, you know, a girl wants someone with her during her big moment. A friend.” She gave the vampire a big smile.

  “I guess I see your point.” The vampire stopped and bit her bottom lip. “Well, there is usually an attendant in the armantor ceremony. The best friend of the man and woman, called the Servator. Supposedly it’s a symbolic witness to their love for each other.” She sighed at the thought.

  Ella was a romantic. That could come in handy. “Mmm, I wish I had one.” She squinted her eyes, pretending to think. Then glanced at Ella as if a thought just dawned on her. “Ella, would you be my Servator?”

  Ella stepped back and her mouth formed an “o”.

  “Seriously. It would mean so much to me.” Talia gazed up at her with as moony a look as she could muster.

  The vampire blinked, then smiled. “I guess so. I don’t see any reason why not.” She went back to applying eye makeup and hummed a soft tune.

  The redhead swept into the room holding a silver goblet. She gave Ella a cursory look and handed the wine to Talia.

  “Hurry up, Ella, the ceremony will begin soon.” Kathleen studied the younger woman’s work.

  “Very well. I’m finished.” Ella gave Talia a nod of satisfaction. “You look so beautiful.”

  The older woman reached for Talia’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “One final touch.”

  The two women placed a shear black veil over her head. It trailed down her back to the floor, and to her waist in the front.

  They both stepped back and admired their work.

  “Well? How do I look?” Talia spread out her arms and twirled.

  “Stunning,” Kathleen said, not smiling.

  “Awesome,” Ella said, beaming.

  “Okay, well, thanks a bunch.” Talia lifted her veil, tipped up the goblet and drained it. Might as well be tipsy when she died.

  Chapter 28

  Kathleen motioned to Talia. “Your joyous time has come.”

  Talia swallowed and handed her goblet to Ella. Showtime!

  “Look at yourself in the mirror. You look great.” The younger vampire turned her around to a free standing mirror in a wooden frame.

  She moved closer. She didn’t recognize the woman draped in black who gazed back at her. Ella had accented her eyes with heavy black liner and purple shadow. Her lips were deep red.

  “Wow.” She couldn’t manage to say more. She totally looked like a vampire.

  Ella beamed. “Don’t be nervous. You’re going to be so happy.”

  She faced her would-be bridesmaids, glancing from one to the other. “Can’t you tell me what to expect? I’d hate to faint and ruin the beautiful ceremony.”

  Kathleen pursed her lips, and brushed a stray lock from her face.

  “Surely we can tell her,” Ella said to the redhead. “She should know her part.”

  Kathleen’s shoulders edged down a notch. “Very well. I agree that you should know what to do. We want the ceremony to proceed without any mishaps. You’ll go to the grand hall and walk up the aisle between the members of the flock. Your mate will be waiting on the dais with Maron. Once there, you should take your mate’s hand. Maron will proclaim you as a righteous victim.”

  “A righteous victim?” Talia frowned. That sounded completely creepy.

  “It means you come to your mate willingly, to die for him and receive him as armantor.” Kathleen’s eyes glinted in anticipation.

  “Oh. What else?”

  “He drinks your blood unto the near death of your human body. He then offers his wrist. You bite him and receive his blood mingled with your own back into your body.” The redhead smiled. “Then Maron speaks the ancient words of Armantor, binding the two of you forever.”

  Talia forced herself to breathe. Kathleen rattled off the details of her demise as if discussing whose relatives sat on which side of the isle. It was her death they were talking about, damn it. Didn’t anybody get that?

  “Now, are you ready?” Kathleen held out a hand, her face cold and flat. “We will escort you to the hall, as is proper.”

  She gave her a tiny nod. Her limbs seemed frozen, and she gritted her teeth to make them move. Ella followed, tending to her train.

  Four male guards waited in the hall. They arrayed themselves on either side of the three women, and the party marched down the passageway, through several turns and down a level to the grand hall. Talia’s heart fluttered. Fear was too mild for what she suffered. Bone chilling, total terror was more accurate.

  They paused at the entrance to the cavernous room. A hush fell, like a cold icicle slicing through the warm butter of banter that preceded their appearance. Talia’s feet froze to the floor as she gazed at the assembled hoard. Everyone appeared dressed in their finest black outfits, diamonds sparkled, black gossamer scarves and feathers flowed. Exaggerated makeup splashed their faces giving them the appearance of fantasy creatures, staring at her with their shiny amber eyes. A strange music drifted in the air - a haunting melody in a minor key. The vampire wedding march?

  Ella took her elbow in one hand and whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. Just walk to the throne podium. I’ll be your Servator, right behind you.”

  Talia took a deep breath and tried to move her feet. A shove from Kathleen sent her forward, and she stumbled a few steps before righting her gait. Faces stared at her from either side of the aisle, twisted with blended approval and hungry anticipation. She could almost hear them licking their lips, eager for sight of her death and the spectacle of an armantor binding.

  She placed one foot in front of the other. Okay, that worked. She continued focusing on that little achievement and moved slowly along the path. Vampires pressed close, reaching out to touch her with pale, claw-like fingers as she passed.

  The vampire guards circling the dais held ornately decorated swords in front of them, pointed to the ceiling. Their eyes glittered orange in the flickering yellow light from oil lamps suspended from the high ceiling. Terror pressed in, threatening to overwhelm her. It was all she could do to keep her feet moving.

  Ahead of her, past the parting bodies, Drake waited. He stood to the left of Maron on the dais. Two bulky guards flanked him. She found his gaze and held on to their comforting brown depth as she continued past writhing vampires.

  His eyes drooped in sorrow and anguish creased his face. His gaze, strong and sure, provided an anchor in a sea swarming with bloodthirsty mon
sters, however. His strength alone kept her upright as she fought the urge to turn and run. She couldn’t leave him, no matter what. If they perished, it would be together.

  They’d given him back the coat he’d loaned her, and he now wore his full Dracula regalia. His hands clenched into fists as she neared. She sucked in a ragged breath and climbed three steps to the dais. Her hands itched to smack the sneer off Maron’s face, but she’d never get the chance with the guards so near.

  Maron directed a disapproving glare at Ella. “I am Servator,” the young vampire said in a dignified manner.

  He remained silent.

  She moved to Talia’s side and ignored him. A tiny spark of warmth filled Talia’s heart for Ella’s loyalty. Now if she could only figure a way to make that loyalty work to her advantage.

  The men holding Drake’s arms released him and stepped outside the ring of sword-wielding guards. At a flick of a hand from Maron, the guards lowered their swords until the blades pointed to Talia and Drake at the center of the dais. There was no escape from this circle of terror.

  Maron raised his arms, and the strange music ceased. The cavern sank into silence. The assembly strained forward, lips parted in anticipation. Ice ran through Talia’s veins, freezing her in place. Drake’s warm gaze kept her from collapsing in a heap.

  “This is the ceremony of binding.” Maron projected his voice out across the crowd. “This woman is a righteous victim. She gives herself freely to her mate, a made vampire.”

  The vampires raised their voices, shouting approval and urging Talia in her sacrifice.

  “From the oldest times, the binding of armantor is held as the most sacred of our traditions and rituals.” The vampire patron spread out his arms, palms up. “To behold this binding is an honor for all vampires.”

  Talia swayed on her feet, and her mouth went dry.

  “This Servator, chosen by the bride, is according to the ancient rules. She gives witness to the truth of the couple’s love and stands for them.”

  Ella’s breast rose and she raised her chin. Her young face glowed in the lamplight.