The Sanction

by Reeyce Smythe Wilder

  In a word, she was stunning. He knew then she was his just like he knew she knew he was hers - pure instinct. He had seen the shock register in her eyes and the way the breaths she had tried so hard to control forced the beat of her heart to thunder. Then came the disgust. It was written as clear as day over her face when the realization sank it. Her reaction stung his pride more than he was willing to admit, and that if nothing else, had caused him to lash out. His anger had burned even at dawn when she was chained beneath the sky. He thought himself ready to see her burn - after all, she did not want a Were for a mate and he did not want a vampire. He had steeled himself, waiting for her to be turned to ash and had even considered joining the men in their cheers when – nothing.

  In that instant Graeme did not know how he found the strength to stand or to pretend that he was angry. He ordered her taken to his room for fear that the men would take matters into their own hands. Now, that was where she would stay until he decided what the hell he was going to do with her. The horde had to be protected. They came first, and a mate with vampire blood in her veins was not worth the risk - no matter how beautiful she was.

  Chapter Three

  Amarinda listened to the heavy footsteps that paused outside the heavy door and wheezed in another breath. She was close to becoming unconscious. Unable to determine how long it had been since she last fed, Amarinda had started taking note of the days that went by until night and day felt like one. The pain of hunger racked her body until she had all but fainted. She recalled screaming, crying out, battering the door until she swore she shattered the bones in her hands, but to no avail. No one came to her aid. She realized then that this was her fate – she was left to starve. It seemed an undignified way to die.

  Now the heavy lever lifted, the sound echoed maddeningly in her head. Her senses were heightened, and had the visitor arrived a few days earlier, she would have had the strength to sink her teeth into her next meal. It was Rhys who paused momentarily in the doorway. She considered him through the cracked lids of her eyes and despised her weakness. None of her limbs cooperated. She could not move even if she wanted to. He did not venture when he sniffed the air and produced a scowl. Amarinda closed her eyes the moment he turned his back to hustle away. If she had to die, she did not want an audience.

  It seemed like hours later voices tapped into her awareness. Graeme’s scent was overpowering, and for an insane moment she clung to the idea of the comfort it was supposed to bring. Rhys was at the doorway again, his voice rose. She winced, wishing for death, needing to feed.

  “This is madness,” he was saying heatedly. “You should kill her, return her, or put her in the dungeons where her screams cannot be heard. Hand her over to the men and let them seek retribution the way only the horde would. It has been days Graeme. There are rumors that the vampires have evolved. If something is not done soon, talk will sweep the masses. When the majority finds out that you have kept her here under lock and key, you will have an uprising on your hands.”

  “She must stay alive for what I have planned.”

  “She needs sustenance to live.”

  “What would you have me do? Offer my own people as food?”

  “If there is no means to feed her then behead her. There is no possible way she can survive that.”

  Panic forced a soft whimper to escape through her closed throat. She heard a grunt and the slamming of the heavy door. For a long time all was silent, and when the slow stride of footsteps announced his still present form, she forced her eyes open wider still. Graeme turned his contorted features toward her and grumbled something beneath his breath.

  “My general is of the opinion that I kill you and be done with it, but I have other plans for you.” He towered above her prone form and sliced his palm swiftly with a blade he had secured. The heated scent of his blood assaulted her senses. Hot tears stung her eyes. He eyed her with repulsion even as she parted her lips to receive the feast he offered. It was thick and rich, and left a sweet aftertaste upon her tongue. Already she felt her body beginning to strengthen – no doubt an effect of the healing properties in his blood. She drank until the burn in her stomach ceased, not daring to look at him least she saw the disgust on his face. She did not dream to fight him then. Even as she licked her lips clean and heard him snort as he turned away, she did not allow her tears of shame to flow until after he had left the room.

  ****

  The following morning Rhys paused on the threshold and spotted her sitting silently in the sunlight. For a moment he said nothing. When she turned to meet his gaze, he did not allow his frown to fall away. “It is new to you,” he stated simply.

  She cocked her head to consider him and offered a tiny smile. Had he not so been adamant about seeing her executed for the sake of the horde, he might have found that smile charming. “Thank you for what you did yesterday,” she offered weakly. Rhys shifted uncomfortably and feigned ignorance. “He was informed so that I would be assisted, is it not so?”

  His eyes hardened instantaneously. “He was informed in the hope that he would put a blade to your throat and end your distress. I wish you dead more than any other, vampire, but it is Graeme’s objective to ransom you. Do not thank me. I am only seeking the well-being of the horde.”

  She considered his words carefully before offering a genial nod. “Be that as it may, I am grateful. And you can tell him that I would indeed need his services again tonight, if he is available.” Rhys stiffened considerably. She noted his countenance and her brows pulled together. “Isn’t that why he sent you? To inquire about my needs?”

  He stepped away as if she were contagious and eyed her before reaching for the door. “I would have your head on a pike before I see him drained.”

  She simply nodded again and turned back to the warmth of the sunshine. Rhys found Graeme contemplating the weapons the blacksmiths were in the process of perfecting. Graeme made a few last minute alternations to the drawing on the parchment, and then gestured for Rhys to follow him outside. As soon as they exited the room, Graeme spoke. “How does she fare?”

  Rhys directed his frown toward the man and thought he sounded a little more than anxious. He kept his opinion to himself when he responded. “Stronger. Have you decided when the ransom will be announced?”

  Graeme smiled slyly. “Tonight I send an envoy to the Hunters.”

  “And your demands?”

  Graeme acknowledged the men that passed and greeted him before allowing his voice to drop an octave. “A hundred heads – Hunter heads to be precise.”

  Rhys eyed him in concern. “They will not annihilate their own defense to retrieve her. Tis folly!”

  “Tis foolproof is what it is,” Graeme countered quickly. “They will do anything to have her returned to them. That’s when we will attack – when they’re at their weakest.”

  Rhys hesitated and chose his next words carefully. “If this does not work-”

  “It will work.”

  “If it does not, we will become a sore to the Cronus Coven. They will not rest until every one of us is killed.”

  “Their female is here – we cannot become more of a problem than we already are. If I return her out of good will they would not forgive her ill-treatment, and if I kill her we have a war on our hands. It is wise to take advantage of this opportunity.”

  Rhys digested the plan and nodded. He would stand by his leader’s decision. “She informs that you are needed tonight.”

  Graeme’s grin was wiped clean of his face. “She informs?”

  Rhys shrugged, as if he could not have been bothered. “If she is to be kept alive she needs to eat. I shall secure the means of her meals.”

  Graeme’s frown was thunderous. “I will not have her feed from my people.”

  “Of course not! We have animals, don’t we? Cattle and swine?”

  “Bleeding the livestock will only confirm the rumors. Leave her to me. In the mean time I want you to gather the men who were present the morning of her failed e
xecution. Have them dispatched as scouts to the border-lands until further notice.”

  Rhys nodded and turned away to do as he was instructed.

  ****

  “I shall tear that dogs’ heart right from his chest when I get my hands on him!” This from Macer. He sat menacingly upon his armored mount, eyes as cold as the Baltic Sea. “He would snatch her from my hands then demand this?!”

  Beside him his son’s horse snorted, but Vilirus was deep in thought, eyeing the castle in the distance. It was hewn out of the very rock of the mountain and housed, as far as they knew, three hundred strong – a considerably large number compared to their meager ninety, but there was a reason a Were thought twice before provoking a vampire. They relied on brute force in battle – a vampire relied on speed and skill, and was considered more than just a worthy adversary.

  “We must inform the Elder,” Silas announced softly.

  Macer snarled. “Father would not grant his request. We are the only wall between those animals and our species. What use is there committing suicide and leaving them unprotected?”

  Silas’ eyes glinted. “She is your daughter. Whatever decision you make now will determine whether we retrieve her dead or alive.”

  “I can sneak in and get her out as quietly as I can,” Vilirus offered.

  “They’ll have you cornered and killed before you can even find her.” Macer’s voice was strained with frustration. “There is no other way. We must pay the ransom.”

  “Then I suggest yours should be the first head we present,” Silas intoned. “You said it yourself – tis foolish to do so.”

  “I meant that we will deliver a hundred vampire heads, not necessarily ours.” He cut Silas a chilling glance. The man was not known for his many words, but his skill with a blade in battle was renowned. His, however, was not as swift or as deadly as the twin brother he constantly grieved. It was this brother whose help they would undoubtedly need. Macer met his clear eyes pointedly. “Summon Sutter. Tell him we have a job for him.”

  Silas inclined his ash-blond head and did not move as they turned their mounts and disappeared into the darkened canopy of trees. He inhaled the sweet scent of the moist wind that swept in from the hills, and identified each odor even as he calmed his riotous thoughts. Sutter, he knew, was the source of his unease. It was not only because of the fact that they shared a telepathic link stronger and more intense than any of the Covens had ever seen, but because, like so many before him, Sutter was slowly becoming Lost. At three hundred, neither of them had found a mate, and although Silas knew that there was a possibility he would have to live out his existence alone and so too loose everything still civilized about himself, he had promised long ago that when the time of insanity came, he would do what was necessary to protect his kind – even if it meant taking his own life.

  Sutter was not of the same opinion. He enjoyed the kill. Lived for it. And the thought that one day his mate might be human made his blood churn so that even Silas felt the disturbing force of his aversion. He was the black sheep, so to speak – the one who was no longer allowed to cross the boarder-lands and enter into the haven of the Covens. The Council would not risk his capricious behavior. Silas knew his brothers’ moments of sanity – and he was well aware of the darkness when it reared its head. These were the moments he could not see. As it was, Sutter had attempted to shut him out completely. It was a battle he had not yet won.

  For a long while Silas waited, projecting the darkened enclosure that served as a meeting place. It was not until a full hour later that he felt a response. His brother was immensely curious, but annoyed at being beckoned. Silas did not know the exact moment he was no longer alone. With Sutter, one minute faded into the other like breathing. His ability to stalk made him a most dangerous adversary.

  “The Coven needs you brother.” There was no response save a soft snort of incredulity from somewhere in the shadows behind him. Silas did not attempt to turn around. For the moment, he was in no danger.

  “Is that all you have to say to a brother you have not seen in so very long?” Voice raspy, Sutter stepped into the moonlight.

  Silas’ first thought was that he had lost weight. His skin, although flushed with fresh blood, was pulled tight across his features, and the length of hair he had once boasted was almost shorn to the scalp. Silas considered him carefully, his emotions in a riot, his brain making quick work of the red taints of his eyes and the wild look he carried about him. The first shot of fear bolted through his body when he noted that Sutter might have been more Lost than he had first realized.

  With their telepathic connection, nothing was hidden one from the other, and Silas caught the snide smile he offered. Sutter cocked his head to regard him through narrowed eyes.

  “Do not be unsettled Silas. I will not hurt you.” His voice dripped with honeyed sarcasm.

  “I do not fear for myself, but for you.”

  Sutter’s hollow laughter made his skin crawl. “Don’t waste your concerns. Now tell me why the Elder needs my services.”

  “We need a hundred vampire heads by the next new moon.”

  “Hunters, or Lost?”

  Silas’ nostrils flared. “Lost, of course.”

  “Of course.” His dry smirk did not go unnoticed. “You shall have it on the eve of the new moon here, at midnight. But let the Elder know it comes with a price.”

  Silas went rigid. “Are you now a mercenary, brother?”

  “I am good at what I do. Sooner or later my own kind would begin hunting me. I must prepare for such a time.”

  “By bleeding your family’s pockets?” he whipped softly.

  The smile was wiped clean off Sutter’s face. His eye glinted in the moonlight. “A family which has disowned me, but uses me when it is convenient – like now.”

  Silas did not think to dispute the fact. “I will make your demands known.” Sutter inclined his head and turned away pointedly. Silas felt his heart pump a little harder in his chest. “Are you not curious as to why we need so many dead?”

  He paused long enough to tap his chin in mock contemplation. “Err…no.”

  “The Weres have taken Amarinda. They demand a ransom.”

  The first wave of anger emanated through Sutter in fierce violence. The strength of it hit Silas like a lash to the head, and he forced himself to block the tidal wave of emotions his brother projected lest it weakened him. From the stiff stance Sutter took, Silas knew he relived what he had gone through at the hands of the Weres many decades passed. Silas did not think to reach out to him. The rage within the confines of whatever sanity that was left was dangerously close to breeching the walls of reason. When Sutter finally looked up, Silas noted that his eyes were once again clear, and whatever feelings that had swept over and through him was now properly contained, so much so that it appeared to have been non-existent. Silas could sense nothing but the barest sense of remorse. He was pushed away and blocked out instantly.

  “The Were leader is smarter than I thought. The Hunters have finally met a foe worth their efforts.” His smile was wicked and dry. “A hundred heads it is. I am curious to see how this all ends.”

  “With less Lost and our niece safely home.”

  Sutter snickered again and turned to leave. Silas watched as he became one with the night.

  Chapter Four

  Graeme finished the tankard of ale and stole yet another glance at the winding staircase with a nasty snarl. For the past two days he did nothing but wait. The envoy had yet to return, and he was having a damn difficult time keeping himself away from her. Graeme didn’t think for a moment that he wanted anything personal to do with the vampire woman. He fed her only because the Coven would not take her starved form lightly. It had nothing to do with the fact that he knew his blood would sustain and strengthen her better than human blood. If he kept her under lock and key, it was not because he did not want her to come to harm. She was a prisoner, and although any dungeon would do, she was a woman, vampire or not. Her
constitution was a bit more delicate, wasn’t it? Those who captured her and all who were present when she failed to burn to ash were sent as far from the stronghold as possible. The last thing he wanted was confirmation that he housed a vampire in his chamber – the less the masses knew, the better.

  He pushed the cup away stiffly before standing. But the gods were cruel! He knew of no other Were who had ever been mated to a vampire. It mattered not that she was beautiful or her scent attracted him like a bee to honey, and it mattered not that the images that crowded his brain were all of her very naked in the throes of passion. And yes, if he were to be honest with himself just this once, he wanted her.

  The admission made his throat tighten in momentary panic. If the horde discovered the truth, he would be butchered mercilessly.

  He made his way up the winding stairs, absently passing his hand along the rough, cold stone. A mate was something Graeme never really considered, although he knew one day someone would be chosen. The last thing he expected was an enemy. He walked until he came to stand outside the heavy door and paused there. Even from the outside he sniffed the sweetly scented air. The scent of a vampire was like a half-rotted carcass – death was left to linger wherever they ventured. To every other Were she would be no different. But to Graeme, she was like the fresh blossoms that littered the hills in the spring.

  The tightening in his chest forced him to take another moment to clear the poetic nonsense from his muddled mind, and when he lifted the heavy latch and pushed the door open, he did so with caution. Wanting to bury himself within her folds aside, he’d be damned if he was fool enough to trust her. She must have sensed it was he, for she was positioned in the center of the room, legs braced apart, and eyes unnaturally wide. The length of her hair fell all the way to her hips in limp tangles, and she had taken on the pallor of ash. Even from this distance he distinguished the fine bones in her features. Her loss of weight annoyed him to no small end, mainly because he knew that she suffered because of him. His jaw tightened considerably as any concern that threatened to develop was swiftly stomped upon. She was a parasite. One did not have compassion for such.