by Trisha Telep
“Why are you helping us?” Nikolai asked. “Me, in particular? Your hatred of the Destrati is nearly as legendary as your powers are.”
Kyle considered Nikolai for a moment, and raised an eyebrow at his use of the word ‘us’.
“Are my reasons important?”
“Very,” Nikolai answered. “I remember well the lesson about not questioning the thing set before you.”
“Clever lad,” Kyle replied with a genuine smile that flashed his fangs. “I knew your cause would be a worthy one.” He glanced meaningfully towards the bedroom and Katrina.
Nikolai understood, and nodded.
“Now listen carefully, Nikolai, for I will only explain this once.”
Sarina paced back and forth, though she tried to stop herself. There had been no news from any plane, neither mortal nor ethereal. Her dark eyes met Dominic’s pale ones for the umpteenth time and, for the umpteenth time, he had no words for her, comforting or otherwise.
There was an audible sigh of relief as a messenger finally appeared at the doorway to the Council chamber of Clan Destrati. The messenger began to bow, but was stopped by Sarina’s impatient gesture.
“Speak!” she commanded. “Tell us!”
The messenger looked to the doorway for his reply.
Kyle entered. He met Sarina’s eyes.
“It seems the rudeness of the Destrati extends upwards through the echelons.” Kyle stepped into the room and bowed to Sarina. He inclined his head towards Dominic as he straightened.
Dominic bent his head in return, though it seemed forced and stiff. Kyle smiled and quickly withdrew his power from the back of Dominic’s head.
“No need to curtsey, Sarina,” Kyle said. “No doubt the centuries have robbed you of that knowledge, if ever you possessed it.”
“You are not welcome here Betrayer,” Sarina hissed darkly. “You have no business in our Council chamber–”
Her words were cut off suddenly by an indifferent wave of Kyle’s hand.
Sarina’s hands went to her throat, as if the gesture would restore her voice.
“Of course he has business here, Sarina,” Dominic said, though his own voice trembled slightly as he left the centre Council seat to stand. “Kail doesn’t waste his time on trivial things or make a habit of appearing where he isn’t wanted. Isn’t that so, Ancient One?”
“Playing the sycophant doesn’t suit you, Destrati. You both know I am no Ancient,” Kyle said lightly. He gestured again at Sarina. She immediately went to Dominic’s side.
“You’re frightened,” Kyle said aloud. “That’s good I trust I have your attention then.”
The Sovereign and his lady nodded in unison.
“Since you two would not hear any other voice, I speak as an emissary.”
“On whose behalf?” Dominic asked.
“Mine,” Nikolai entered the room behind his emissary.
Sarina laughed. She spoke before Dominic could. “What is this?” she asked, looking from Nikolai to Kyle and back again. “You can’t possibly be serious. Consorting with the Betrayer? An outcast? An outcast you yourself were hunting to bring to justice. And now he speaks for you?”
“I do,” Kyle said formally. “On behalf of Nikolai Peityr of Clan Destrati, I issue a Challenge for Sovereignty.”
Sarina laughed. “On what grounds?”
“Tyrannical dominance pf the once-wise Council Destrati, its proceedings and even the personal lives of those who claim kinship of Clan Destrati,” Kyle answered, grave and unyielding. “Not even allowed to choose one’s own bride? That is more than tyranny . . . that’s totalitarian lunacy, and no longer tolerable.”
“Nikolai,” Sarina purred sweetly. “We’ve all seen Kail’s Power. We all know of it. It’s mythic. Legend. He’s a Betrayer . . . the Betrayer, with no clan who will claim kinship with him. Are we to believe that you are issuing a challenge of your own will?”
She turned to Dominic before Nikolai or Kyle could reply. “I propose that Nikolai is under the Entrancement of Kailkiril’ron the Betrayer.” She charged, looking to Kyle haughtily.
“We are rather rude aren’t we?” Nikolai muttered to Kyle.
“Quite,” Kyle replied with a smile.
“That’s going to change,” Nikolai said, smiling, before raising his voice that Sarina and Dominic might hear him. “Sovereign, I deny the accusation and remind Sarina that a Challenge may not be issued under Entrancement. Further, the accusation is fallacious in that, if Kyle’s Power is indeed myth or legend, he would not need to resort to Entrancement to obtain his aim, if indeed he wished control of a clan. The Challenge stands.”
“Let the Council of Clan Destrati be summoned,” Kyle pronounced, raising his arms to vaulted ceiling.
When no one appeared, Kyle raised his eyebrows. “Well, that was dramatic,” Kyle said ruefully. He eyed Dominic and Sarina. “You two are the Council then, I take it?”
“Very good, Betrayer,” Sarina spat contemptuously.
“Sarina,” Dominic said quietly, his tone betraying his guilt.
“I didn’t realize that tyrannical dominance of the Council, meant that you were the Council,” Kyle mused with a sidelong glance at Nikolai. “There should be at least ten others sitting at this table. So many attempted to separate Nikolai from his chosen lady . . . don’t tell me you sent Council members out on errantry as well as your faithful minions. Ahhh now I see . . . Sarina. I’m surprised at you. Well not truly.”
Sarina was beginning to look as uncomfortable as Dominic.
Nikolai only looked confused.
“She fancies you,” Kyle said softly to Nikolai. “And thought to keep you either unmarried or for herself when you wished a bride . . . didn’t you, Sarina?”
Dominic looked at his second and, indeed, lover. Sarina would not look at him in return.
“I’ve done everything you wanted,” Dominic said to her, deeply hurt. “Even things I didn’t agree with, because it made you happy. You rule beside me . . .”
“Dominic –” Sarina began.
“Enough!” Dominic growled, silencing her with a hand held up. “A challenge has been issued. We will settle our own issue later. Provided we survive.”
Dominic looked to Nikolai. “Weapons?”
“Power, and Power alone,” Nikolai said firmly.
“No,” Sarina said, horrified.
“Oh, come now, Sarina,” Kyle said with a wicked grin. “Nikolai is a gentleman – of a sort – and wouldn’t dare strike a woman. Well perhaps if she came at him with a weapon. You should have spent more of your time learning to use less pointy means of defence.”
Kyle looked to Nikolai. “The challenge is yours. I leave you to your fate.”
Nikolai offered his hand. Kyle considered it, hesitating only a moment before grasping it firmly. Then Kyle took his leave, effortless and against the protections and wards set about the Council chamber of Clan Destrati. Nikolai shook his head and looked to Sarina one last time . . .
“Love. Wake.”
Nikolai’s voice brought Katrina back to herself. She was cradled in his arms. Funny, she couldn’t remember him moving from the bed. And why was she dressed in a nightgown? Where were her clothes? What . . .
“Shh,” Nikolai soothed. He reached to stroke her hair. “I know you’ve always wanted to be a princess,” he said warmly. “And now you are, albeit of something not quite as you expected.”
Katrina started to speak, and met his eyes. In one moment, she knew everything that had happened. She could hear his thoughts. It was the only way she could explain it, and knew it had something to do with him taking her blood.
Momentary panic gripped her as she realized that weeks had passed. Kyle had kept her safe while Nikolai dealt with his family. Nikolai had challenged, fought for and won leadership of his family. But what about Dan, and her family . . . her job?
Nikolai waved his hand dismissively, as he had at the bar that night.
Katrina raised an eyebrow at him.<
br />
“You were bored,” Nikolai said contritely.
Katrina smiled in spite of herself. He was adorable when he was defensive. She reached to touch his face.
Nikolai looked up at her. “I can fix everything, if you like,” he offered quietly.
“Why me?” she asked.
“Kyle says it is because you are the other half of my soul,” Nikolai replied.
“A soul you don’t have,” she said, studying him.
Nikolai looked away and nodded.
“Why did Kyle help you? You were hunting him, weren’t you? Isn’t he an enemy of yours?”
Nikolai nodded, and then shook his head as she had the night they met. “He is no friend, but no longer an enemy,” Nikolai explained. “Not truly. It was his idea that you play dead until . . .
“Until . . .?” Katrina prompted.
“Until he taught me to use my abilities well enough to challenge the Sovereign of the Destrati and win leadership,” Nikolai continued. “It was time for a change. I, too, was bored, I suppose.”
“Idle hands make mischief, my grandmother used to say,” she said with a nervous giggle. “So you’re Sovereign now?”
“Of the Destrati,” he replied. “Not the largest of the vampire clans, but the most powerful.”
“What makes them so?” she asked. “You?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re united.”
“United?”
Nikolai smiled. “All in time, my love,” he soothed. “For now, you need to rest and refresh yourself.”
“Am I a vampire?” she blurted. “You bit me!”
Nikolai rolled his eyes. “You watch too much television,” he chided. “I’ve made you immortal, not a vampire. Why do you think my clan tried so hard to prevent me from choosing my own bride? Do you think I would damn another soul to Hell? ‘Destrati’ means ‘Destroyers’. I meant to destroy Kail the Betrayer, and found the other half of my soul instead. I mean to cherish it – cherish you, my beloved one – for all eternity. In order to do that, I had to destroy those who would destroy you. The Sovereign and his queen would never have let me become your bridegroom.”
Katrina slid her arms around his neck. When he leaned close to kiss her, she stopped him with a finger upon his lips.
“Did you just say we’re married?”
“Do you need some other formal declaration?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“No, just checking,” she said, laughing a little. “Though you really need to stop the whole ‘doing without asking’ thing. It’s a little outdated.”
“The Destrati are ill-mannered,” he said with a teasing sigh. “As Kyle reminds me whenever possible. Perhaps you could bring us out of the Dark Ages, Katrina Francesca.”
Katrina groaned. “Trina,” she replied “My friends call me Trina. Francesca is so old-fashioned.”
Nikolai looked affronted.
Katrina laughed. “Nik and Trina,” she said, shaking her head. “Won’t Mom love that?”
His eyes widened. “Mom?”
In Which a Masquerade Ball Unmasks an Undead
Colleen Gleason
“My lady, your mother is wearin’ a hole in the floor,” Verbena said as she twisted a final curl into place at the top of her mistress’ coiffure. “She claims you’ll be late for the masquerade ball if you don’t hurry. And something about the Marquess o’Rockley attendin’ and wantin’ to see ye?"
Miss Victoria Gardella Grantworth looked in the mirror, eyeing her maid’s creation in the form of a tall – very tall – coiffure. Her dark hair had been piled to an impossible height and then powdered so that her black curls looked more grey than white. A small bluebird perched at the side of her column of hair and a bejewelled comb rested at the top. Pink and yellow flowers and a variety of jewels further decorated the powdered curls.
“I don’t know that Marie Antoinette’s hair was ever this particular hue,” Victoria said, “but I think it looks lovely. And perhaps I’d best go down before Mother comes up to drag me off.”
She stood and the skirts of her gown rose with her as if they had a life of their own. Victoria was used to wearing the high-waisted, clinging skirts of contemporary styles, but these wide panniers and heavily brocaded layers of fabric at least left her legs free to move beneath without getting too caught up in the skirts. The only other benefit of the yards of material dripping from her body was that there were plenty of places to hide a wooden stake, between all the ruffles, lace and gathers. She felt for the one that rested just to the right side of her torso, cunningly hidden behind a pouf of lace.
“I do hope there aren’t any vampires at Lady Petronilla’s tonight.” Victoria said, drawing on her gloves. “It will be impossible to fight them in this costume.”
“But, m’lady, if there are, you’ll be very prepared,” Verbena told her, a sparkle in her blue eyes. “I’ve slipped one o’ your littler stakes here in the back of your hair.” She poked at the heavy mass near the back of Victoria’s crown. “Just in case.”
“If I pull it out, it is likely my hair will all come falling down,” Victoria replied, gingerly feeling for the stake. “But in a pinch, I suppose it shall do. I only hope I’ll not have need of it. I have been looking forward to one night where I don’t have to make some excuse to sneak out and stake a vampire.”
Verbena handed her mistress a small reticule. “Holy water an’ a cross in here, my lady,” she told her. “An’ you look lovely.”
Victoria might look like any normal young woman, just debuting into society, but beneath her gown – whether it be a fashionable high-waisted one or the retrospective costume she currently wore – she harboured a secret that made her very different from any other girl.
She wore the vis bulla, a tiny silver-cross amulet that gave her superhuman strength, speed and healing capability. Victoria Gardella Grantworth was a Venator, a vampire hunter descended from a long line of slayers in the Gardella family. Her duty, beyond that of her unsuspecting mother’s expectation that she marry well, was to hunt the undead who lurked in the shadows of London society. And everywhere else in the world.
Victoria wasn’t the only Venator. Her great-aunt Eustacia had been a powerful Venator before she became too old to hunt, and then there was Max Pesaro, another Venator, who spent more time disparaging Victoria’s hunting skills than anything else. He, too, was a vampire hunter, though not descended from the Gardella line.
Victoria was rather glad that she would be attending the masquerade ball at Lady Petronilla’s tonight, for Max disdained social functions and would not be there to glower at her and make snide comments about how many men had signed her dance card.
And then of course, there was Phillip.
Thinking of the Marquess of Rockney put a great smile on her face, so that when Victoria reached the bottom of the stairs and her mother saw her, she looked particularly radiant.
“Well now,” Lady Melly twittered, She was a handsome woman herself and had chosen to dress in Greek fashion as Circe. Having been widowed more than two years earlier by a man she’d cared for, but never truly loved, she had just recently re-entered society with a vengeance. “You do look lovely, Victoria dear, and it is certain that Rockley will be enchanted. That tiny black patch on your cheek is just the most delightful touch. Although I do rather think you could do without that little wooden thing sticking out of the back of your coiffure. I vow, sometimes I wonder what your maid is thinking when she dresses your hair.”
Victoria smoothly moved out of the way when her mother reached to touch the stake secreted in her curls. “I like it, Mother. And should we not be leaving? I’m not certain how long it will take me to find Rockley, as we’ll all be masked.”
“Oh, I have no fear of that,” Lady Melly said, ushering her daughter quite unnecessarily out of the front door. The carriage was waiting, a footman standing with the door open and the groom holding the horses. “He shall be dressed as that infamous Robin Hood, and I’ve made certain that he�
��ll know who the mysterious Marie Antoinette is.”
Victoria didn’t bother to ask how her mother had found out how Phillip – as he’d asked her to call him – would be costumed, or how she could have informed him of her daughter’s guise. It didn’t matter one whit. She merely allowed her mother to muse delightfully over her machinations to have her only daughter marry a wealthy marquess.
Not that Victoria minded, for Phillip was handsome, charming and seemed to be as besotted with her as she was with him. He’d been seeking her out at every social event they’d both attended since her debut . . . and had even kissed her once while driving her through the park. That was when he insisted that she call him by his given name, despite the fact that they weren’t married or even betrothed.
When they arrived at Lady Petronilla’s home, Victoria had to succumb to her mother’s last-minute fussing before she could emerge awkwardly from the carriage. Really, those skirts were more than a bit much, and she nearly lost her balance due to their weight and the fact that her heel caught in a hem.
She really hoped there would be no vampires here tonight.
Inside the ball, Victoria and her mother made their way from the grand foyer into the ballroom. The butler introduced them only as ‘Her Majesty Marie Antoinette and Circe’, since they were masked and would remain that way until midnight.
In spite of wishing to appear aloof, Victoria found herself looking for Robin Hood. From the way her mother had wrapped her talon-like fingers around her arm, she knew Lady Melly wouldn’t let her slip into the crowds until they found him.
But then a generously sized Aphrodite bore down upon them, her gown flowing behind her like a great pink sail. Lady Melly released Victoria’s arm and greeted one of her two bosom friends, the Duchess of Farnham.
“I daresay, Victoria, you look absolutely lovely,” crowed the Duchess, who wore a heavy necklace of garnets and a light dusting of crumbs. “Or shall I say, Your Majesty? Perhaps you ought to adjust your mask a bit,” she added.
“Yes indeed,” Lady Melly said, pulling urgently on Victoria’s mask, unaware that a sharp edge was scraping across her daughter’s nose. “It would be a shame if Bretlington or Werthington-Lyce recognized you before Rockley, for I don’t know how you should get out of dancing with them.”
