Blood Rights (House of Comarre 1)

by Kristen Painter

  Tatiana whirled, clutching Fi one-handed like a rag doll. She backhanded Maris, snapping her head to the side. ‘Shut up, old woman.’ Tatiana inhaled what sounded like a sob. ‘You’re lucky you’re still alive after what you did to my precious Nehebkau.’

  Wincing at Maris’s pain, Fi wished she had one of those Golgotha blades like Chrysabelle carried. Or Doc’s switchblade. This close, Fi could have easily buried it in Tatiana’s heart. Her hands twitched with the thought.

  Maris’s eyes fluttered closed as her chin sagged to her chest.

  Tatiana returned her tarnished gaze to Fi. Her nostrils flared and her lips curled, showing off her fangs. ‘Tell me what I want to know and I’ll spare your life.’

  Fi flared her nostrils. ‘You should brush more.’

  Tatiana shifted hands to take Fi by the throat. Her icy fingers closed over Fi’s neck like a vise grip. She smiled, and Fi’s bravado took a small step back at the expanse of teeth. ‘I like to play games too. Maybe we should play one together.’ She pulled Fi closer and dragged a nail down her cheek. The burning left behind meant Tatiana must have cut her. A second later, Tatiana licked a drop of red off her finger. ‘You should know I always win.’

  ‘Then let’s have a tanning competition. You go first.’ Where was Doc? Even if he couldn’t shift into anything more than a house cat, his half-and-half stage was pretty damn scary. And she could use some pretty damn scary on her side right now.

  Tatiana opened her mouth and pressed her tongue into the sharp tip of one fang. Blood welled up instantly. ‘Do you have any idea how much a vampire bite hurts? How razor-fine fangs are?’

  ‘Actually, you dumb cow, I do. Do you know how much a varcolai bite hurts? You’re going to, because my boyfriend’s teeth are way bigger than yours.’

  With a shriek, Tatiana flung Fi across the room. She fell into a low table, her arm snapping beneath her as she landed. The pain sucked the breath from her lungs but only for an instant. Giddy with the irony that she was about to die a second time at the hand of the undead, Fi opened her mouth and laughed. Living in Mal’s head had exposed her to horrors no creature should have to see. If Tatiana thought a few broken bones were going to—

  Fi stopped laughing. It was entirely possible that Mal and the rest of them had made it into the estate. They could be in the building. If she yelled loud enough, maybe he or Doc would hear her. Both of them had pretty amazing hearing. She smiled at Tatiana. ‘You are so dead.’

  Tatiana smiled back. ‘It’s amusing when my food talks back.’

  Lifting her good arm, Fi flipped Tatiana the bird before screaming as loud and as long as she could. A snap of Mikkel’s hand cut off her air. Bits and pieces of her life flickered in her vision, a mash up of her memories and a few that had to belong to Mal. Her mother’s face morphed into one of Mal’s victims. Her college boyfriend changed into a vampire holding a blindfold. As her world went dark again, she suddenly realized why Mikkel and Tatiana seemed so familiar.

  Mal bent his head sharply to the left and right, cracking the bones in his neck. It didn’t help. The voices scraped against Mal’s skull like teeth on steel. Some of them howled. Some of them cursed. Some of them wept. And each step deeper into the house made them louder. Concentrating had become a chore. He glanced at Chrysabelle. Maybe he should grab her body armor again. The sting of silver cut through the chaos, if only until the wound healed.

  Pain to fight pain. If he’d still been human, he would have gone insane long ago.

  Maybe he already had.

  He closed his eyes for a moment against the gnawing inside his head. The beast was awake. Hungry. It bore up through his gums, made his teeth ache to bite, made his throat tighten at the remembrance of blood. This whole house stank of it. And death. He opened his eyes, newly bitter. For a house this large to carry such a smell meant its mistress was careless with her kills, greedy with her feeding. And yet he was the one considered anathema.

  Invisible jaws chewed at his joints. Feed, kill, drink, blood, blood, blood. What he wouldn’t give to be free of th— a scream rang out through the estate. Human. Familiar.

  Doc’s hand closed over the blade sheathed at his belt. ‘That was Fi,’ he ground out. ‘They hurt her, I’m gonna rip them apart.’ He stretched his jaw, showing off teeth that made Mal’s fangs seem like a starter set. ‘And I’m going to enjoy it.’ His pupils were razor-thin slits, his body spring-loaded. Whatever got in Doc’s way was going to end up dead.

  And Mal would be happy to help. He gripped the handle of his long sword. He’d not hefted the blade in anything but practice for too long.

  Chrysabelle motioned them forward as she broke into a jog toward the direction of the scream. Mal and Doc went after her, with Dominic bringing up the rear. Silently, they covered two halls and a set of stairs, stopping before a pair of double doors.

  Nodding at Mal, Chrysabelle tapped the side of her nose, then pointed toward the doors.

  Mal inhaled. No, no, no, no … The scents of vampires, comarré blood, and Fi mingled in his nostrils. A piercing whine filled his head, lighting his nerve endings with fresh fire. He nodded and reached for his long sword, holding up his other hand and counting down with his fingers.

  On one, they burst through the doors, then through a second set and into the room beyond. The last pair of doors slammed shut behind them. Chaos erupted. Chrysabelle whipped out her sacre but stayed at his side. Doc charged the male vampire standing over Fi, who sprawled unconscious on the carpet, a bruise purpling her cheek, her arm jutting out at an unnatural angle.

  ‘Maris.’ Dominic rushed to the center of the room where Chrysabelle’s aunt was bound to a chair, also unconscious and badly beaten.

  Behind Maris, a female vampire had her back to them. She was spreading things out over a table, but at the noise, she spun and flipped a slim dagger into Dominic’s belly. With a groan, he crumpled at Maris’s feet, muttering, ‘Laudanum.’ No other nonmagical drug slowed a vampire so much as the ancient tincture of opium. Mal had found that out the hard way more than once during his life.

  The female’s eyes locked onto Mal’s a second later.

  Her jaw dropped.

  As did his. ‘Son of a priest.’

  The wailing in his head blocked out all other sounds. The beast within flexed its muscles. His vision darkened around the edges, narrowing to focus on her and her alone. Disbelief closed his throat. All this time, he’d mourned her. Endured the guilt of her death like the weight of a thousand worlds. The beast roared to be let out. Not yet. But soon. The beast’s anger spilled over, giving Mal a voice again.

  ‘How in hell’s name are you still alive?’

  Tatiana stared back, eyes reflecting the anger he was feeling. ‘I could ask you the same thing, husband.’

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chrysabelle almost dropped her sacre. With some effort, she formed her confusion into words. ‘What did she just call you?’ ‘Husband,’ Mal whispered, his gaze pinned to the vampiress now brandishing a sword in their direction. To one side, Doc snarled, claws deep into Mikkel’s chest, a healthy gash opened across one cheek.

  Chrysabelle stared at the woman Mal had once called wife and saw her with new perspective. This dark, exotic beauty had once been Malkolm’s wife. Chrysabelle hated everything that meant. ‘You said your wife was dead.’ Severing a vampire’s neck was about as final as you could get.

  ‘She is. Was. Is.’ He shook his head, never taking his eyes off Tatiana. ‘They beheaded you. I heard the sword. I smelled the blood, felt the heat of it—’

  ‘Guards!’ Tatiana yelled as she stepped over Dominic’s drugged body and, sword firmly aimed at Mal’s chest, walked toward them. ‘Mikkel cast a mimicry spell on a fringe to look like me, then he beheaded her. I’d already fed her enough of my blood to mingle our scents. Genius, really.’

  ‘Mikkel?’ Mal glanced at the vampire struggling against Doc, then back at Tatiana. ‘He was the one with you that night. He and Lord Ivan.’<
br />
  She scoffed, shaking her head. ‘You were easy to fool. So lost in your madness, you didn’t know the difference.’

  The sword point pricked his jacket. ‘But then you never were one to see things clearly, were you? You probably thought I loved you too.’

  ‘Shaya—’

  ‘Don’t call me that.’ She jabbed the sword through the leather. ‘My name is Tatiana.’

  ‘I made you what you are.’

  Bitterness sparked in her eyes, her mouth twisting. ‘You brought me into this life, but that past has been erased. The taint of your blood has been wiped away. I have been given navitas. I’ve been resired by another.’ She leaned in. ‘I have been reborn.’

  So it was true. Tatiana had actually survived navitas. Chrysabelle had never known a vampire who’d undergone the ritual. Nobles who wanted to change houses could theoretically do so if they found an older vampire from that house willing to sire them. It was supposedly a very painful process, and considered an affront to the original sire. It was also rarely done because it often left the resired vampire insane. As evidenced in Tatiana.

  ‘I saved your life. They would have hung you.’ Mal’s voice went dead of emotion. Something in him had switched off. Or was about to switch on. ‘Yet this is how you repay me.’

  ‘I spared you, didn’t I?’ She bore down on the sword. It slashed deeper through the leather and had to have pierced Mal’s skin. He didn’t flinch. ‘I could have had you killed, but I left you in that dungeon instead. Along with another of Mikkel’s special spells.’ She grinned widely. ‘He supplied the magic, but the blood that made it work was mine. The voices were my idea too. How long did it take you to figure out your new victims turned into spirits?’ She looked past him as though she expected to see a crowd of ghosts hovering around him.

  Chrysabelle wanted to cut her. How dare Tatiana pretend that leaving Mal in those ruins to rot was somehow kinder than slitting his throat! And to be proud of that curse. Chrysabelle’s sacre hummed in her hand, the vibration of her anger sung back to her by the sword’s blood magic. How could Mal have ever loved this woman?

  ‘You didn’t kill me because killing me would have made you anathema too.’ Still he didn’t move. Didn’t raise his voice.

  ‘I should have killed you. I’m sure the council would have forgiven me. But leaving you alive kept my hands clean. Besides, letting you live with your demons seemed a great punishment for what you did to Sofia.’

  ‘I saved her from this nightmare.’

  Madness invaded Tatiana’s eyes and she jerked. ‘You killed my child.’

  A strong, spicy metallic scent drifted past Chrysabelle. Blood. Tatiana’s sword had bitten through to Mal’s flesh. He’d not reacted one bit. She studied the skin visible above his jacket collar. The first tendrils of black script unfurled like deadly ribbons. She almost shuddered, remembering the last time the names had possessed him. Did Tatiana have any idea what she’d done to Mal when she and Mikkel had cursed him? Any idea of the beast she’d created? Chrysabelle guessed not.

  Wouldn’t Tatiana be surprised? Chrysabelle snorted a soft puff of air through her nostrils, unwittingly attracting Tatiana’s attention.

  The vampire studied Chrysabelle, disdain clear in her eyes. She turned back to Mal. ‘I might spare your life again for bringing the blood whore to me. You could be useful for my future plans, but her I’m just going to kill. I already have the sacrifice I need, and justice must be met for her patron’s death.’

  ‘Death,’ Mal muttered, but the word sounded like it had been spoken by a ravening crowd. The beast was coming awake.

  The doors burst open behind them and a cadre of fringe guards spilled into the room.

  Tatiana’s smug face spoke volumes. She backed away, tearing the sword free and slicing through Mal’s jacket. ‘Seize these—’

  With a clang, the ring hit the wood floor and bounced once, spinning to a stop with a soft whirr.

  ‘Aha!’ Tatiana snatched the ring up triumphantly, lifting it above her head with an unsettling smile.

  ‘No,’ Chrysabelle whispered. The sword must have cut his pocket open.

  ‘Yes,’ Tatiana crowed. ‘Hold them,’ she directed the guards as she retreated toward Maris. ‘I want them to watch while I usher in the new age of vampires.’

  Hands grabbed at Chrysabelle, only to be yanked away at the sting of her body armor. One foolish guard tried to take her sacre. His hand burst into flames. They resorted to simply surrounding her and Mal with a ring of swords and crossbows. Doc was hauled off Mikkel and put into shackles.

  Chrysabelle trembled with rage. ‘I know what you mean to do, Tatiana. You won’t succeed.’

  ‘Won’t I?’ She shook salt out from a clay pot on the table and into a circle around herself and Maris.

  ‘Nothing you do matters,’ Mal growled with the cadence of a thousand voices speaking together. The seams of his jacket split as the beast took over his body, his face contorting into something out of a nightmare.

  Tatiana faltered, dropping the soil she was adding to the salt circle. ‘What the—’

  The inky names spread like a stain until blackness covered him entirely. The beast laughed with its chorus of voices. ‘This is what you made me.’

  ‘Stay back.’ She shook her head, looking unsure for the first time. ‘I have work to do, and I will not be stopped.’

  ‘Please, Mal, do something,’ Chrysabelle begged.

  The beast looked at her, his eyes two deep pits of unrelenting black. ‘We will not kill her. She brought about our curse, she may be the key to its undoing.’

  ‘I am the key to its undoing.’ Maybe Chrysabelle was, maybe she wasn’t. But she needed him – them – to be on her side, not Tatiana’s.

  The beast scowled, baring wicked fangs. ‘You are the key to our demise.’

  So much for that. She had no idea why his voices thought she was such a threat, but she was about to press her sacre’s silver blade against Mal’s skin to see if she could shock him back into control. A hissing sound stopped her.

  A shadow spun up behind Tatiana. Smoky wisps of darkness spiraled out of the ground and converged into a weak shape.

  True terror suffused Chrysabelle for the first time since they’d entered the estate. The mass crystallized, revealing an unholy evil she’d never dreamed she’d come face to face with. One of the ancients. A Castus. The drawings didn’t come close to the horror of the creature in person. Nothing in her years of training had prepared her for this. Mal – or rather, the beast he’d become – seemed unfazed.

  The Castus laughed as it became solid, a horrid, grating sound that scratched at Chrysabelle’s ears. Fortunately, its attention was devoted solely to Tatiana. ‘Proceed, my child.’

  ‘The light and the dark shall collide.’ Tatiana grabbed a handful of Maris’s hair and notched her head to one side.

  The words sounded familiar. Like one of the old comarré prophets or—

  ‘Sorrow shall bind the darkness.’ Tatiana slipped the ring onto her finger. She gasped as blood welled up over the gold band. The scale-like prongs inside must have dug into her skin.

  ‘Continue, child,’ the Castus demanded.

  ‘It shall devour the light.’ With a guttural cry, Tatiana fell upon the unconscious woman before her, stabbing her fangs into Maris’s gilded neck.

  Chrysabelle cried out as Maris’s eyes shot open. She jerked against the ropes binding her until she saw Chrysabelle. Sadness and regret welled in her gaze. She mouthed the words, ‘I’m sorry’ as her eyes started to roll back in her head.

  ‘No,’ Chrysabelle screamed. She surged forward, using her armored forearms to deflect the guards’ swords and shove them away. Her hands slammed into an invisible wall. She pounded, meeting nothing but air.

  Mikkel snickered, his hands outstretched toward her.

  Helpless to do anything but watch, Chrysabelle’s heart broke at the sight of her dear aunt and Tatiana’s cruel use of her. Tatiana drank un
til Maris was pale and still. At last, Tatiana raised her head, not bothering to wipe away the blood drenching her mouth and chin. ‘And the covenant shall be broken.’

  She rubbed her fingers across her face, letting the blood drip down her fingers to mingle with the blood spilled by the ring. ‘Now shall the darkness arise reborn. So be it written, so be it done.’

  The Castus howled with pleasure.

  Trumpets blared and a brilliant light flooded the room. Every vampire cowered, clapping hands over their ears, save Mal’s beast who just seemed stunned. Fi bolted upright. Inside the light, another shape began to develop. Wings of pulsing white fire spread out behind the being.

  ‘Michael,’ the Castus spat. ‘So good of you to come, brother.’

  ‘We have not been brothers since you were cast out, Samael.’ The creature leaned on an enormous glowing sword and shook his head. ‘How far you are fallen from heaven. How dim the Morning Star has become.’

  Holy mother. She bowed her head. Only one kind of being was powerful enough to call the Castus by his names without retribution. Her hands trembled at the presence of the archangel, glad his blazing radiance prevented her from seeing his face. There was little doubt in her mind such a sight would overwhelm her. Or blind her. Still, his presence brought comfort. As though he were there to protect her.

  ‘Who breaks this covenant created between the Sons of God and the Daughters of Man?’ Michael asked in a tone ripe with power and peace.

  Chrysabelle shivered. The covenant had been put in place after the Great Flood, to protect the dwindling numbers of Castus against the rising swell of human population in exchange for the othernaturals leaving humans in peace.

  ‘I do,’ Tatiana spoke through bloodstained lips. She raised her hand to show the ring she wore. ‘I am bound by sorrow. I have devoured the light. Now I break this covenant and will arise reborn with the power inherent in the ring of sorrows.’

  ‘You must abide by the rules of the covenant, brother,’ the Castus taunted.