by Lili Zander
Then Ragnar caught up with us. Turns out Ragnar’s actually a good guy. Still dangerous, still arrogant, still ruthless, but on the whole, not a bad sort. I told him that I’d sleep with him if he killed Gerra Clay for me.
That might have been rash.
We eventually got to Merin. The transfusion failed. Saber, Zeke, and Nero told me they loved me. That was a good day.
Then Ragnar invited us along on the mission to kill Gerra, the blood-sucking bitch. We killed her. Another good day. We were just about ready to try the blood transfusion again when we were hit with the worst news of all.
Harek Levitan went to see Empress Astrid. He told her that if she didn’t blood-bond with him and transfer her power to him permanently, he would unleash the virus on the galaxy.
Astrid has three weeks to give him an answer.
So that’s where we are. Like I said, everything really sucks. The countdown has begun. The five of us, Ragnar, Saber, Zeke, Nero, and me, are on the Valiant, Ragnar’s spaceship, on our way to Starra. We have three weeks to come up with a cure for the virus, and a plan to stop Levitan. If we fail…
We can’t fail. The stakes are too high.
I head to the Valiant’s rec room. Zeke’s there, his head bent over his tablet. I give him a fond smile. Zeke’s a master hacker, and without his skills, we’d be in so much more trouble than we are right now. He’s insanely competent, super-nice, has a friendly smile, a calm, even disposition, and, as I discovered last week, he also has a hidden growly, dominant side that comes out when we’re in bed. Who knew?
Ragnar’s sitting next to him. The two of them are having a low-voiced conversation. Both of them look up when I enter the room. Zeke smiles and pats the seat next to him. “Did you sleep okay?”
No. I slept terribly. My dreams had been plagued with images of burned cities and dead human children, drained dry by greedy, deranged vampires. I walked through fields of diseased vampires, infected with Levitan’s virus, their skin oozing with green pus. Their hands had grabbed me as I’d passed them. Help us, they’d moaned, their faces etched with agony. Save us.
I woke up feeling shaken and useless. Compared to the vampires, what can I do? Nothing. Ragnar is powerful and dangerous. Saber is unshakably good. Zeke has crazy hacking skills. Nero is a skilled pilot. All of them have earned their place at the table. Not me. I’m here because a vampire bit me. I’m not useful; my blood is.
The Empire is in danger. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
“I slept okay,” I lie, not wanting to worry Zeke.
Ragnar’s grey-green eyes rest on me. “Did you really?”
Did I cry out in my sleep? Did he hear me? Sometimes, when I’m very stressed, I sleep-walk. It’s a legacy of the re-education camps. A few weeks ago, before the Night of the Shayde got underway, I thought I was in the middle of a very erotic dream in which I was sucking Saber’s cock. Then I woke up, and it wasn’t a dream; I’d really been doing it.
I avoid answering him. “What are you working on?” I ask Zeke.
His lips curl into a smile. He knows I ducked the question. “I’m trying to figure out what Levitan’s plan is,” he replies, letting me get away with it. “Does he really mean to start a plague on Starra? That’s so stunningly reckless, and the General is, above all, a cautious man.”
“He’s also running out of time,” Ragnar replies soberly. “The time for Astrid’s coronation nears. Once she assumes her rightful place as Empress, he knows he will be sidelined.”
I sit down next to Zeke and study the prince. He doesn’t look too great. Ragnar is a very good-looking man, and he knows it, but today, there are dark circles under his eyes, and his expression is tired and weary. I feel a reluctant stab of sympathy for him. Ragnar can be incredibly aggravating, but he’s also under a lot of pressure, more than any of us. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?” he asks pointedly, and then his expression softens. “No. I worry about Astrid.”
Zeke’s comm chirps, and he walks away to answer it, leaving me alone with the prince. “You’re close to her.”
He nods. “I was four when my father joined Empress Luna’s bô, and we were formally adopted into Family Thorsson. It was… quite a change. I was pretty lonely until Astrid was born.”
I can picture it. A quiet boy with Ragnar’s green-grey eyes, determined to shoulder his burdens alone.
“Everyone always assumes I must be jealous of Astrid, because she is the Empress and the head of Family Thorsson, and I am not. When Gerra’s death becomes public, people will openly speculate that I’m taking out better claimants to the throne, one by one.” He grimaces. “You couldn’t pay me to be Emperor. When I was twelve, Astrid and I were playing in the gardens of the citadel. Her nurse insisted that both of us come in to get ready for some banquet that our parents were attending. Astrid was just three then, but she was already being groomed to be the Empress. She told the nurse she didn’t want to stop playing. She was going to be the Empress, and people had to do what she said, and what she wanted to do was run around in the gardens with me.”
“Was the nurse cowed?”
“Far from it.” Ragnar’s lips twist wryly. “She told Astrid that along with power came obligations. It was precisely because Astrid was going to be Empress that she had to come in and get ready for the banquet.” He leans back in the chair, his legs stretched out. At the lazy movement, a coil of heat licks through my belly. Even now, when Ragnar looks drained and exhausted, he is still formidable, and something in me responds to that overwhelming maleness. He is an apex predator, and a very primal part of me loves it. Loves the fact that his attention is focused on me. Loves the fact that it’s me he’s confiding in.
I shake my head to get rid of those dangerous thoughts.
“I was old enough to absorb the lesson that the nurse imparted. Astrid’s life is constrained by rules in a way mine isn’t. I can jump into pools to escape a boring party. Astrid cannot.”
“She will bond with Levitan if that’s what it takes.”
He nods. “Yes. Levitan knows her well. Astrid won’t shirk her duty, and that’s what Levitan’s counting on.”
I ask the question I hadn’t been able to bring myself to voice on Merin. “Is there any hope, Ragnar?”
He grins at me. It’s a hard, vicious smile, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. It transforms him from a sinfully beautiful man to a merciless weapon of death. “Levitan thinks he has my measure,” he says. “He doesn’t. He doesn’t know the lengths I would go to to protect those that I love.” He gets to his feet. “The galaxy will burn in fire before my sister is forced to bond with that man.”
Every nerve in my body screams with mingled alarm and lust. I shiver in fear and desire at the conviction in his voice. What would it feel like to fall under Ragnar’s protective umbrella? To know that he would kill for you? That he would tear down everything that stood between you and happiness?
I finally get a chance to talk to Saber when we’re three hours from the capital. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” He sinks onto the couch and pats his lap. “Come here.”
Heat trickles through me. “Is that an order?”
His teeth flash in a grin. Saber knows exactly what I think of his arrogance. I want to sit on his lap, but I can’t give in too easily, because then he’ll start assuming I’m putting up with his high-handedness. Argh.
His smile widens to a smirk. “Such difficult choices, Raven.”
“How do you do that?” I grumble as I cross the room and settle on his lap. “How do you know exactly what I’m thinking?”
His fingers tangle in my hair. Very daringly, I’ve worn it loose today. After all, I’m not on Boarus 4 anymore. His eyes lock on mine, and he tugs me closer.
“Am I that predictable?” I whisper against his lips.
He laughs softly. “About some things, yes.”
“Jerk.” I kiss him all the same, because he’s right there, and he’s sinfully sexy, and
arrogant or not, he’s all mine.
“What were you going to ask me?”
I can see the hard outline of his erection underneath his pants. Saber is gorgeous. There’s a rugged masculinity about him that draws the eye. Stubble covers his jaw, and his hair is mussed. He’s holding me lightly, but if he wanted, he could crush me in his grip. For some strange and inexplicable reason, I find that one hell of a turn-on.
It takes me a second to remember what I wanted to talk to him about. Can you blame me? “Levitan could unleash the virus anywhere, right? So why are we so sure he’ll attack in Starra?”
“It’s difficult to explain to someone that didn’t grow up in the capital,” he replies. “Every powerful vampire family has a presence on Starra. Some older vampires make it a point of pride never to venture off-world. Our art, our culture, our museums, and our gardens, they’re all in the capital. It is our home. Starra is the cradle of our civilization, the pinnacle of our power.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “To many families, deaths, even vampire deaths, that happen in other parts of the Empire do not matter. If Levitan means to strike fear in the hearts of the powerful, he needs to focus on the capital.”
“Deaths that happen in other parts of the Empire don’t matter?”
“Two thousand, three hundred, and seventy-five vampires lived on Ghani. The major holo-networks barely noticed.” His expression turns resigned. “What can I say? We are a flawed people.”
“How many vampires live on Starra?”
“At last official count, one-point-seven billion. One-point-five billion humans. Sector Zero, the part of the world where the Shayde government is housed, has a population of four million. Two-point-two million vampires, one-point-eight million humans. Levitan will attack there.” He leans back and closes his eyes. “And if we don’t stop him, hundreds of thousands of people will die.”
2
Raven
We touch down in a private spaceport on the edge between Sector Zero and Sector One. Ragnar strides down the ramp as soon as the engine powers down.
On Merin, we were supposed to have dinner together. Then things got chaotic. It hasn’t come up again, which is probably for the best. Ragnar is a complication.
Nero sees me hesitate. “You okay, Raven?”
I guess. “I used to dream about visiting the capital when I was very young,” I murmur. “These aren’t exactly the circumstances under which I thought I’d be here.”
He puts his arm around my shoulder. “It sucks, doesn’t it? It won’t be all death and dismemberment though. We’ll make some time to explore Starra.” He gives me a sidelong smile. “Let’s head down to the night markets once we get settled in. If you thought Antaras Seven had a lot of variety, you haven’t been to the lower levels of Demeter Tower.”
“You want to go exploring? Now?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been a soldier for seven years. Someone is always shooting at me. Someone is always threatening to destabilize the Empire. The moment you destroy one threat, three others rise to take its place. The work will wear at you and grind you down if you let it. You’ve got to savor the moments.” He lowers his voice to a seductive growl. “Take your pleasure when you can.”
Heat throbs within me at his tone. “Really? Right now?”
He laughs. “Saber’s glaring at me, so maybe not right now. Tonight.”
We emerge outside, and wow. I’ve seen pictures of the capital, of course, but Starra still manages to take my breath away.
Most of the planet—and all of Sector Zero—is domed. Light filters in through the thick glass, tinged with blue. I’m surrounded by massive towers, each one two thousand levels tall. Every tenth level has a walkway that connects it to its neighbors.
The spaceport we arrive at is a large floating platform. The floor is made of the same glass that makes up the dome. I look down and immediately regret it. It’s a really long way down. My stomach does a funny little flip, and my palms are suddenly damp. “How high up are we?” I ask, my voice thin and high with nerves.
Zeke’s gaze rests on me. “You’re afraid of heights,” he diagnoses. “Don’t look down.”
Easier said than done. My knees are shaky, and my heart hammers in my chest. Right now, I’d rather be chased by a pack of s’kal cats than spend another minute on this platform.
To distract myself, I focus on what’s happening. There’s a fleet of sleek skimmers waiting for us. Two people stand by the first one, and when they see Ragnar, they stride forward. I recognize one of them, Tomas Cabal, who is one of Ragnar’s spies. The other man is a vampire, and he’s a stranger to me.
It’s the vampire that speaks now. “My prince,” he says, bowing his head. “It’s good to see you home.”
“Thank you, Mazer.” Ragnar waits for us to catch up. “You know Colonel Saber Hafsson, of course. Nero Calorio, Zeke Ulrich, and Raven Unnuk. Raven, Nero, and Zeke, meet Mazer Basaran, my chief of staff.”
Mazer’s dark eyes take us in. He’s vampire-tall and lean, almost thin. His hair is a pale shade of blond, cut short at the sides, and worn longer in the middle. If I had to guess, I’d peg him to be in his thirties, like Saber and Ragnar. A long scar covers one half of his face, from temple to jaw. He looks implacable.
“A pleasure.” The vampire nods to us before turning back to Ragnar. “I have news.”
Tomas flashes me a smile of greeting but doesn’t interrupt the conversation. Ragnar looks unsurprised. “Of course you do. Where’s Harek?”
“Missing. The General went to see the Empress and made his threat. He hasn’t been seen since. Five unidentified ships left Starra at the same time.”
“Camouflage. I would expect nothing less of Harek.” Weariness fills his face and lingers in the corners of his eyes. “He taught me everything I know. This is going to be challenging.”
Challenging. Ragnar is a master of understatement. This is going to be an epic disaster.
Mazer opens the door of the nearest skimmer. “Yes,” he agrees. “Cabal is attempting to track him down.”
Zeke and Nero make their way, along with Tomas, to the second skimmer. “It’ll be a waste of time,” Ragnar predicts grimly. He gestures for me to get in. I scramble into the backseat, and Ragnar gets in next to me. Saber sits on the other side of me, Mazer gets in the front, and as soon as he shuts his door, the driver starts the vehicle and we get underway.
“Levitan will lay low until his deadline,” Ragnar continues. “He knows that if I find him, I will make him talk. What else?”
“Empress Astrid would like to see you right away.”
“She’ll have to wait until I shower and eat a decent meal. I’ve spent more time in a spaceship than on land in the last week. Tell her I’ll head over in an hour. What word from the scientists?”
Mazer shakes his head. “Nothing good. They thought they had a vaccine, but it didn’t hold up. For the moment, I have guards on Starra’s blood banks. The scientists have created one useful thing; a tester. We have a reliable way to detect if blood is diseased. Just in case we need to distribute them in a hurry, I’ve ordered mass production of the testers.”
“You’re keeping this quiet? The last thing we need right now is mass hysteria.”
“I’ve put my best people on it, and I’m feeding the holos a steady stream of disinformation. No one will hear about the virus until we are ready.”
I have no idea how Ragnar’s chief of staff can stay so calm. It must be in his training. In the face of a threat to my existence, I’d run around screaming in panic.
“We’re playing defense,” Saber says tightly. “Levitan is pulling all the strings. I don’t like it.”
“Me neither.” Ragnar leans back and closes his eyes. “But I know Harek well. He will make contact before the three weeks are up. He will not be able to resist rubbing his victory in my face.” His voice turns to ice. “And when he does, we will have a lead, and we will strike.”
In Starra, the tower you live in is a reflection o
f your position in the Shayde power hierarchy. Ragnar’s in the most prestigious tower, of course. He occupies Level 1999 of Central Tower. Level 2000, the highest story, is reserved for the Empress. The convoy of skimmers makes its way to his apartment, and land on an open terrace. “Thank you, Mazer,” Ragnar says as he gets out. “Join me at Astrid’s in an hour. We can brief her together.”
A half-dozen soldiers jump out of the last skimmer. Ragnar shakes his head and waves them away. Mazer gives him a rebuking glance. “You should let them search your place.”
Ragnar stretches like a coiled tiger. “Mazer, I know what the security protocol is. I wrote most of it. Neither the exterior nor interior alarms have been tripped. I’ve spent weeks dealing with Harek’s machinations. I am tired, and I’m cranky. You’re being paranoid. Go away.”
Mazer rolls his eyes. “You pay me for paranoia.” Ragnar looks unrelenting, and he gives up and shrugs his shoulders. “Fine. On your head be it.”
He gets back inside the skimmer, and it pulls away, along with the others. “Alone at last,” Ragnar says to us, walking up to the door. He holds his hand out in front of the id panel, and it beeps. The door slides open…
And the most awful smell hits us.
Saber and Ragnar exchange glances, and both men pull out their guns. Nero and Zeke move protectively to flank me. I fight not to gag. I’m vampire-bit, and because of that, my senses are more acute than most humans. The smell is putrid, rotten. My stomach roils, and I have to fight the urge to lose its contents on the thick-piled carpet.
I catch glimpses of dark wood, white upholstery, and golden-hued lamps as we move through the apartment. The vampires follow the scent to Ragnar’s bedroom. Then I see what’s caused the dreadful odor.
There is a body on Ragnar’s bed. A woman, a dead vampire. Her dark hair is spread out on the pillow. Her mouth is gagged. Her hands are tied together at the wrists. Her skin is covered with exploded boils. Green pus soaks the white sheets. Her face, what’s left of it, wears an expression of agony.
