Bitten (The Graced Series Book 2)

by Amanda Pillar

  She wondered what her mother would think of her traveling companion. Probably nothing too flattering.

  Catching her staring, he stopped and quickly ran a hand through his scruffy hair. “Better?”

  Considering he still looked like something the cat had dragged in, Hannah nodded. Without a shower, a razor and some new clothes, that was about as good as he was going to get. And it was still better looking than probably half the courtiers who surrounded her mother. “Let’s go.”

  Hannah led the way up the steps and onto the protected porch. Raising her fist to knock on the door, she paused. The wood was old, and was no doubt touched all the time by household staff, and potentially visitors...

  Fin reached past her and slammed the knocker down in three rapid strikes. Feeling foolish, Hannah withdrew her fist quickly and fiddled with the strap of her backpack.

  “It seems pretty quiet here.” Fin shoved his hands in the pockets of his breeches and rocked back on his heels.

  Hannah was about to reply when footsteps approached and the door swung inward. A well-dressed man regarded them slowly. He had pale mauve-colored eyes, and his brown hair was slicked back with a pomade that made Hannah’s nose wrinkle.

  “Can I help you?” The servant’s eyes were lingering on Fin, and Hannah wasn’t sure she liked the intent in his gaze.

  “I am here to see my mother,” Hannah said.

  The servant whipped his head back toward Hannah. “Your mother?”

  A new figure appeared behind the servant, this vampire exuding elegance. He had tied-back black hair, which complemented his smooth skin, and he wore a starched white shirt and a beautiful charcoal-gray dinner suit. Like the servant, he was a little shorter than Hannah. But his eyes were an intense red-violet, the color of a Chosen vampire. Born vampires didn’t have such a mix of red and purple.

  The newcomer smiled, and stretched out his hands in greeting, before noting her ramrod posture and dropping his arms. “Lady Hannah! My, this is a surprise.”

  She wracked her brain to remember the man’s name. So many memories, so many not her own. But the eyes were a giveaway — her mother didn’t keep many Chosen vampires around her. “Mr. Randall, what a pleasure. I was just telling this man that I am here to see my mother.” She forced a smile.

  “Of course, my lady. Come in.” Randall took a step back and indicated the servant do the same.

  The large foyer beyond them had white marble floors, with a soaring, vaulted stone ceiling. The plastered walls were lined with tapestries, and two delicate-looking bench chairs sat at either end of the room. The chairs were there for the visitors obliged to wait for the pleasure of the duchess’ company, or for those not permitted entry into the drawing rooms or remainder of the house. The duchess had had them added to the foyer after Hannah’s ‘condition’ had grown apparent.

  There were three alcoves as well, each holding vases of remarkable age and beauty. One was black, with men and women painted on it in orange, some holding spears, others holding jugs, all wearing strange garments. The second vase was white, and had delicate blue flowers painted all over the surface, while the third was tall and fluted, in a kind of green glass. As a child, Hannah had been curious about them and had touched the black and orange one. She’d only done it once and had been bed-ridden for days, her body helpless while her mind sorted through thousands of years of memories that had been imprinted into the object. Hannah hadn’t let her curiosity drive her to the same mistake again.

  The large wooden door closed behind her and Fin with a thud. “Where is Mother? Or Montrose?” Hannah asked. Montrose was her mother’s most trusted aide. They’d been together for millennia.

  “Montrose is on leave,” said Randall. “She should be back in a couple of days.”

  Hannah shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She couldn’t hear or smell her mother within the estate; maybe Tatiana had left with Montrose? Although that was unusual. Normally one of them stayed at the estate to ensure things were running smoothly.

  Randall smiled. “We weren’t expecting you back at the estate, Lady Hannah.”

  “You have already said as much,” Fin muttered dryly. He took a step closer to Hannah.

  The vampire shot the human a look of contempt. “And who are you?”

  “My name is Fin, I’m a friend of Hannah’s.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Hannah wondered why Fin didn’t give his surname. With a start, she realized she didn’t know it either.

  Randall looked incredulous. “A friend?”

  Hannah didn’t like Randall’s tone, and wasn’t sure she liked the emphasis Fin had placed on the word ‘friend’, either. “I can have friends.”

  Aware of his blunder, the vampire said, “Of course you can, my lady.”

  “So where is my mother?” Hannah tapped her foot, impatient. She suspected her mother was out. Tatiana’s hearing was second to none; she’d have heard her daughter arrive and come to greet her in person by now.

  “She has gone to Pinton, my lady.”

  “Pinton?” Hannah repeated.

  Fin ran a hand over his beard. “That’s another seven days north from here.”

  “Correct,” Randall said.

  “Why would she go there?” Hannah wondered.

  “To visit your brother.”

  Hannah gawked.

  “My brother?”

  Chapter 30

  Pinton City

  “I don’t see why you all need to be here,” Dante muttered.

  Anton and Elle followed him out of the Greystoke carriage and onto the street, the driver shutting the door after them. The black lacquered conveyance remained stationary, the horses well-behaved on the busy street. The driver did a quick bobbing bow before climbing back onto the seat and moving the carriage on. He’d be back in an hour. The three of them were left standing out the front of the Kipling town estate, the towering bluestone walls leaving them in shadow.

  Dante hadn’t been back to his father’s residence since he’d married Anton. Well, since he’d been forced to marry Anton. He hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter — marry the human or get sent to an insane asylum, or worse. As long as Dante had agreed to one of the options presented, Viktor hadn’t cared.

  To be fair, Anton hadn’t had any choice in the matter, either: marry Dante or lose everything. Thanks to a bad investment, Anton’s father had owed Dante’s father a substantial amount of coin. Viktor could settle a debt and get rid of his unwanted son in the same plan; it had been an ideal maneuver. Unbeknownst to him, Viktor had actually done Dante a favor, too. Getting away from his parent had been one of the best things that had ever happened to him.

  Life had been going surprisingly well ever since.

  “The request was sent to me as well,” Anton said, his cane clicking against the pavement as he took a step toward the estate.

  Dante frowned. “That doesn’t explain Elle’s presence.”

  He wasn’t sure that Elle meeting his father was a good idea. Sure, they had technically met before she’d been Chosen, but she’d been acting like a servant then. Viktor would not appreciate her attitude now she was no longer pretending to be meek or mild. The only insolent person his father seemed to like was Dante’s sister, Misty. Everyone else was a problem in Viktor’s eyes. And his father eliminated his problems.

  The Chosen vampire shrugged. Her long red hair was tied back in a bun, and she was wearing her city guard uniform. “I’m nosy. Sue me.”

  “Won’t you be late for work?” Dante asked.

  “My shift doesn’t start for another hour and a half.”

  Dante pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes for a solid three seconds. “This is going to end badly.”

  Elle slapped him on the back in what Dante guessed was meant to be a show of support. “Come on, don’t be such a whiny baby. We’ll go in, see your father, work out what he wants, and get out of there. If he’s being a total je
rk, we’ll beat him up a little.”

  “We can’t beat up the earl,” Anton said, ever the voice of reason.

  “Why not? Dante is his son. Family dispute.”

  “More like domestic violence. Plus, Dante is his father’s social inferior. It would be illegal for him to harm a higher-ranking aristo.”

  Elle eyed Anton. “You guys really know how to suck the fun out of life, you know?”

  “I didn’t make the laws,” Anton said.

  “Let’s just get this over with.” Dante strode to the door and knocked. A servant in a ridiculous mob-cap answered, bobbing an awkward curtsy at him.

  “The Honorable Dante Kipling, Baron Greystoke, and the Honorable Elle Brown here to see Lord Wintermere,” Dante announced. He’d decided to keep the meeting formal. After all, his father had requested the presence of Baron Greystoke and the Honorable Dante Kipling. He hadn’t asked for his son. No doubt Dante was still in the bad books. When you lived a long time, holding grudges became more of a hobby than anything else.

  The servant led them through the warren of stone halls that was the Kipling town estate. They emerged into the exercise yard in the center of the building; the woman was certainly escorting them the long way to his father’s study. There had been at least four turns they could have taken that would have had them there by now. Maybe she was new.

  As they stood in the empty yard — waiting, Dante assumed, while the servant got her bearings — the sound of yelling reached them, followed by shattering glass. Dante looked up in time to see a body soar from the study window and land with a thud on the packed earth floor.

  Dante blinked.

  Anton gasped.

  The servant fainted.

  Elle took a step toward the body.

  The prone figure wore an expensive suit — now covered in dust — and his left leg had turned at an unnatural angle. Dante recognized him at once.

  “Father?”

  Viktor Kipling, the Earl of Wintermere simply did not plunge out of windows. It was completely out of character. And undignified. Viktor Kipling did not do undignified.

  A woman appeared at the study window and jumped after him, somersaulting gracefully, her blood red hair streaming behind her, before landing on her feet in the courtyard. She wore leather pants and a long jacket, with a bright red corset underneath and had over-large, very bright, violet eyes. Straightening her jacket sleeves — was that a tattoo on her wrist? — she came to stand at his father’s feet.

  “Did you just call this man, ‘father’?”

  Dante nodded. “Yes?”

  He’d always thought the familial connection was rather obvious; he was the spitting image of his father, after all. But there were more urgent matters at hand. Who was this woman? And why she’d pushed his father out of a window? Although, Dante had to be fair; he’d wanted to do that once or twice himself, so he couldn’t really blame her. Viktor could be a total ass.

  His father let out a low moan, and then the sound of cracking bone rent the air. The broken leg was healing itself. Although Viktor still hadn’t sat up, Dante could feel his father’s eyes on him.

  The woman took a step toward him. She was about half a foot shorter than Dante, but she had a commanding presence. “You’re Dante Daemon Ernest Romanov Kipling?”

  “That is my name.”

  Elle and Anton both moved closer to him. The servant had wisely maintained her faint.

  “Don’t speak to her any more,” his father ordered from his position in the dirt.

  The female vampire smiled and sliced a hand through the air. “Ignore that idiot.”

  Viktor growled, a low, menacing sound, and sat upright. The woman just kept smiling at Dante and it was surprisingly warm. Then she took a sudden step back and stomped down on Viktor’s other leg. He let out a scream of agony, and the sound of crunching bone echoed in the courtyard. He collapsed, panting.

  The woman held out both hands toward Dante. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, her expression genuine.

  “I thought you said we couldn’t beat him up,” Elle hissed in his ear. Dante ignored her and took the other vampire’s hands.

  “I’m sorry, but what is your name?” Anton asked. Dante’s husband had come to stand by his side.

  The woman assessed Anton, and Dante felt a frisson of something like fear snake through him. She’d just thrown the Earl of Wintermere from a window and broken his leg...how would she take a human questioning her? Humans were far more fragile. He couldn’t let Anton get hurt; husbands were meant to prevent those kinds of things from happening. Dante had read up on it.

  She let go of Dante’s hands and tilted her head at Anton, her expression cooling. “And you are?”

  “Baron Anton Greystoke, Dante’s husband. And this,” Anton added, ever the gracious one, “is the Honorable Eleanor Brown, Dante’s Chosen.”

  “Ahh, I see.”

  Dante had no idea what she saw. But he didn’t want her attention on those more vulnerable than himself. “And you are?”

  She shut her eyes briefly. “Oh, silly me. You wouldn’t know, would you?”

  Dante had a feeling he must have looked as confused as he felt. And he hadn’t really ever felt confusion before Choosing Elle. It was a new experience.

  “My name is Tatiana Romanov, Duchess of Ravens, from Skarva.” She gave a courtly bow, and Dante found himself repeating the gesture. Anton and Elle followed suit, although Elle’s bow wasn’t exactly elegant. He was going to have to get Anton to give her more lessons. Or Clay could do it. He seemed to know his way around courtly gestures.

  “Nice to meet you, Your Grace,” Dante said.

  “Her name, Romanov, that’s in your name, too.” Elle’s voice was barely audible, but he heard it nonetheless. So did the other female vampire.

  She was searching Dante’s expression for something, but whatever it was, she failed to find it. Then she smiled brightly again and re-clasped his hands in a firm grip. “I’m so happy to finally meet you properly. Dante, I am your mother.”

  Chapter 31

  Pinton City

  Alice hadn’t ever thought she would be walking down the streets of Pinton with a viscountess at her heels. It was an uncomfortable sensation. Viscountess Kipling and Tal walked side by side, so Alice strode along in front, medical bag clasped in a tight grip. Rather than go the shortcut, she retraced her steps back toward the City Guard offices, the three of them walking in silence. After all, what was there to say? Alice had pretty much already said all she was willing to.

  Well, she’d more blurted it out: “I think you need to come to the morgue.”

  The viscountess had looked at her with a frown. “Why?” She’d set her glass of wine on the coffee table with a soft clink.

  Alice couldn’t make eye contact with her, for more reasons than one. “There’s been a new murder.”

  “Another one?” Tal had asked, sitting upright.

  Alice had nodded, feeling rotten. She didn’t know what relation the woman in the morgue was to the viscountess, but there was a similarity in their physical appearance. She could be a cousin, aunt, niece...daughter, even. It was hard to tell when vampires aged so slowly. Then again, it could just be coincidence. Alice hoped it was. She knew what it was like to have the shroud drawn back to show someone you loved.

  The viscountess had fluffed her hair. “Why do I need to see the body? Is it another aristo?”

  Alice had just nodded.

  The vampire had scrunched her nose and then sighed. “Your morgue stinks.” But she’d stood up nonetheless, grabbed her purse and headed toward the door.

  “I want this murderer found,” the viscountess said, breaking Alice free from the memory. The streets around them were alive with people, noise and activity. The scent of cooking garlic hung in the air, mixing with the coal smoke that permeated the city. It was the fashionable hour for vampire aristos, and they were out and about. Carriages clattered al
ong the street next to them, while fancily dressed aristos walked down the sides of the road. A few had spotted the viscountess and called out greetings, and she plastered a smile on her face, replying with airy waves. But there was no happiness in her voice as she spoke to Alice and Tal.

  “So do I,” Alice said.

  “Why? Because having a killer run loose makes more work for you?” The vampire’s voice was bitter. “Humans aren’t exactly the victims here.”

  “Misty—” Tal began.

  They were on a first name basis? Alice mentally kicked herself. The viscountess had been over for wine, of course they were on a first name basis. Alice doubted their relationship was professional. But even though Tal might be dating the aristo, and speaking up might damage her friend’s relationship, Alice couldn’t help herself. “No, who cares about humans? They’re just killed here every single day.”

  There was an awkward moment, then a sigh from behind her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But this is unsettling. Vampires are not usually the victims; they’re generally the top of the aristocracy and there’s a reason for that.”

  Alice paused, then looked back at the white-clad aristo. “It’s shitty to feel like prey, isn’t it?”

  The viscountess’ lavender eyes met Alice’s, her expression serious. “I personally don’t feel threatened, but I don’t like thinking that I’m going to lose friends because of some person who has a grudge against vampires.”

  Tal took a step between them. “Alice—”

  “Don’t worry, Tal,” Alice said, continuing toward the City Guard building. “I get it. Probably more than anyone could ever know.”