Ruled

by Keira Blackwood

  “Make it two,” I told the girl.

  When she walked away, I looked back to Tyr, who was still watching me.

  “They serve human blood?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “How?” he asked. “Without the ability to glamour, how can a business be maintained that openly offers human blood on the menu?”

  “I don’t know the business stuff,” I said.

  “And for what purpose would humans wish to drink of each other?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “You know how I said they’re vampire groupies?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Some of them tell each other that they’re vampires, and some of them actually believe it.”

  “Really?” He looked around the room, with brows furrowed.

  “Yep,” I said.

  The waitress returned with a round tray holding two stem glasses. She set them down in front of us, and lingered a little longer than she needed to. She looked at me, as if Tyr wasn’t even there.

  “You should really make your friend look more the part next time,” she said. “No one will ever believe he should be drinking that wearing those salesman clothes.” Then she walked away.

  I burst out laughing, and Tyr smiled.

  “I must say, I’m impressed that there is an establishment in town that serves blood,” he said. “It was a good call bringing me here—even if I don’t look the part.”

  “Good stuff right?” I took a sip from my glass. That was good stuff too.

  “Quite,” Tyr said. “So tell me how you came to be a part of this scene.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I guess it all started when I was a kid. I always liked those scary movies with the monsters, not because I wanted to be scared, but because I wasn’t. I liked the idea of magic that no one knew about, that was here all along—werewolves and vampires were my unicorns and fairies.”

  “Do you have family here, or friends that you haven’t been given the opportunity to visit since…”

  “Sure, kind of,” I said. “I mean, there are people I used to hang out with sometimes. Most of my favorites are dead, though.”

  “Because of Yeke?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You seem to be handling the situation better than could be expected of you,” he said.

  “Sure,” I said, “well, Hannah’s my best friend. She’s not dead, and I get to hang out with her. I’m not close with my parents. And that’s about all there is to it. It’s mostly just me, doing my own thing.”

  “I see.”

  Tyr twisted the stem of his glass between thumb and forefinger. I wondered what he was thinking.

  “What about you?” I asked. “When did you get turned?”

  “The year was 873,” he said.

  My jaw dropped. “You mean 1873?”

  “No.”

  “What was that like?” I asked.

  “Different,” he said. “I was a slave. I was alone, much in the sense that you are. I had acquaintances, but no family.”

  His hand touched mine, on accident, maybe, but he didn’t pull away. Neither did I. A connection blossomed between us, deeper than the physical contact, and it made me feel. I wanted more of that, to hold onto it for dear life and never let go.

  “What about your sire? How did you get turned?” I asked.

  “I was attacked,” he said. “Not unlike your experience. My sire was collecting warriors, though I had not been one in my first life.”

  I could see it in the roughness of his hands—that he’d worked hard, in the way his shirt fit—that he was fit. Maybe his sire had seen potential for greatness in him.

  “Is your sire still around?” I asked. “He’s got to be from like, dinosaur times.”

  Tyr smiled, but it was a sad smile. I worried that maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

  “No one that I knew back then is still alive. Though, like you, I never really knew my sire. He spread our kind throughout the Icelandic region, creating small units, families, before moving on to create the next.”

  “Are you sure he’s not still out there somewhere making more vampires?” I asked.

  “I suppose it is possible,” he said. “But my brothers met their end long ago.”

  If it was his brothers that he was close to, their deaths must have been hard for him. Living forever had a downside if loved ones didn’t do the same. I couldn’t imagine how crushed I’d be if something ever happened to Hannah.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “It is done.”

  I guessed that was true. There was no changing the past.

  “How about your progenies?” I asked. “How’d you end up choosing them?”

  “I didn’t,” he said. “They chose me.”

  “Cryptic.”

  “My first was at a time when I was lost,” he said. “I’d gone from soulless creature to vengeful monster. And then I found her—Lyra, just a child, and everything changed.”

  I couldn’t imagine Tyr a monster, or soulless. I couldn’t imagine him any other way than he was now, and that was about as far from monstrous as any man could be—vampire or human.

  “I raised Lyra as my own,” he said. “And when she was old enough to ask for it, and understood what it meant, I turned her.”

  I wanted to ask more about her. Lyra had to know Tyr better than even Walter did, and it would have been awesome to meet her. But the look on his face, that sadness, told me I’d never get the chance.

  “She was why I stopped killing, why I chose never to draw blood when I didn’t have to. Raising her changed me. But that is all long past, as is her life. She was killed by hunters,” he said.

  I opened my mouth to speak, to apologize for his loss, but he squeezed my hand and smiled sadly. It was a look that said he knew I sympathized, and that it was okay.

  “Walter was a doctor, and terminally ill. His work saved the lives of many. When I heard of him, I sought him out and offered to aid in his cause.”

  “I can’t imagine Walter as a doctor. Grumpy soldier, sure, but doctor? Wow,” I said. Turning must have changed him. A lot. “And Bennet?”

  “He was going to die in a mine collapse,” Tyr said. “We were there for Walter’s training when it happened. I had not intended to take on another. But I saw something in him. He—”

  “Oh em gee, you are just about the cutest thing I have ever seen.” A thin guy slid into the booth next to Tyr, and lifted his arm as if to put it around him.

  “Stop.” Tyr looked into the man’s eyes. “You will remove yourself from my seat. You will forget that I am here.”

  “Okay, hon,” the man backtracked, and began dancing as if the whole thing had never happened.

  “I need to learn to do that,” I said.

  “It’s a simple thing,” Tyr said. “Walter hasn’t taught you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Can I get you another glass?” The waitress returned, still talking only to me. “Not too long left until close.”

  Sunrise.

  “No thanks,” I said. “I’m good.”

  I looked to Tyr, just to check if he wanted more. But then I noticed, he had barely touched the glass in front of him.

  “I think it best that we head back,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Okay.”

  I left some cash on the table and headed for the door, wondering what Tyr had thought of the place, of all of this. I’d thought I could read him, but maybe I was wrong.

  Outside, the night was cold, and the walk back felt longer than the one here. We didn’t touch, didn’t lock arms, didn’t hold hands. I’d thought getting to know each other was a good thing. I’d thought going to The Lair would have been fun. Now, looking back, I wasn’t so sure.

  We crossed the pylons, and went back through the magical tunnel, and returned to the basement of the estate. I took a step toward the stairs, and realized he meant not to follow me.

  “Thanks for taking me out,” I said, disappointed with
the way the night was ending.

  “Happy to,” he said.

  “Tyr?” I asked. “Did you like the club? Even a little? I noticed you didn’t seem to be into the drink.”

  He stepped closer, reminding me how much taller he was than me. Tall, with wide shoulders, and an intense gaze that made me feel validated and wanted at the same time. He drew me in and held me captive without saying a word, without lifting a finger. It was electric, chemical, undeniable.

  My whole body grew warmer as he moved in close to me, close enough to touch, to kiss.

  “Even when gifted, I prefer to abstain,” he said.

  He didn’t want the blood at all?

  “And, Ashley,” he said, tilting my chin up so our eyes met.

  “Yeah?” I breathed.

  “I enjoyed the company.”

  I liked spending time with him too. It was crazy that when I woke tonight, I hadn’t been sure about him. I hadn’t been convinced that he wasn’t my enemy. And here I was standing a few inches away, worrying that I hadn’t offered the perfect date, that we’d end the night without me getting the chance to taste those perfect lips.

  “Show me something else tomorrow,” I said. “How to glamour, another tunnel—anything.”

  “Is that a request, my queen? Or a command?” He brushed his fingers across my cheek.

  I closed my eyes and leaned against his palm. It was soft, with just a touch of manly roughness. “Does it matter?”

  “No.”

  His lips brushed mine, soft and tender. I wanted harder, rougher. I reached for him, to wrap my arms around his core, to take the confusion and the excitement, and make it something more.

  But when I opened my eyes, he was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tyr

  When I closed my eyes, she was there—alluring soft curves, genuine smile, and bright green eyes that saw straight through me like no one else could. When I opened them, there was only the dark stone ceiling of the crypt. Helping her was one thing, getting close was another. Letting someone in meant having to deal with the inevitable despair that came with their loss. Getting close to the queen meant flirting with a place on the throne—a temptation to the darker side of me, the side I fought to avoid. The more time I spent with her, the harder that pull was to fight.

  When my eyes slid shut and I drifted off to sleep, I prayed for clarity, and I prayed for dreams of Ashley King.

  August 17, 1117

  Abandoned Undercity of Racaia, The Roman Empire

  Named for the Old English word for peace and protection, The Frith was the first place that ever truly felt like home. It wasn’t that the conditions were better than I was accustomed to—though they were. It was the brotherhood.

  In my first life, I’d found camaraderie, and commiseration. That was the life of a slave. This life was different. Chosen by Odin himself to be more than a mere mortal, I was beholden to no man. There were only my brothers, and those we fed upon. Sigurd, Bjorn, Magnus, Rolf, and I were legend. We were death and shadow, we were nightmares come alive, we were vampires, we were Ulfhednar.

  Fire danced in the heart of The Frith—a pit of flames in the center of the marble dome. Ornate pillars lined the curved walls, flanking arched entries that led to every corner of the bustling city above. Horrific statues of crumbling angels and men were scattered throughout the pathways and the dome. Magnus had collected only the most dilapidated and hideous of gargoyles to adorn our residence.

  The underground catacombs had been built centuries before to house the dead. The city above had long since forgotten their existence, which made The Frith the perfect sanctuary for us. At daybreak we slept beneath their feet, safe in the company of corpses long forgotten. When darkness fell, we feasted.

  Moonlight waned, and as always, we returned to the fire.

  “Who knew wolves were immune to glamour?” Magnus leaned in and peered across the flames from brother to brother.

  Rolf snorted. “Everyone.”

  Bjorn sharpened his seax on the whetstone by his side and didn’t bother looking up.

  Magnus turned to me. “Tyr?”

  I nodded.

  “Seriously?”

  “Perhaps you should have been more attentive in training.” Sigurd leaned back on his palms, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “The fopdoodle lured a she-wolf into an alley,” Rolf said.

  “Fopdoodle?” I asked.

  “I’m trying it out,” Rolf said. “Don’t like it?”

  “Not particularly,” Magnus replied.

  “And the she-wolf?” I asked.

  “I didn’t see her coming,” Magnus said. “Could have happened to anyone. Witch shifted and tore up my leg.”

  He rolled up his pant leg, to my dismay, exposing mangled flesh. It would heal, though not without scarring. Every wound that left a mark was a story of survival, or in this case, of stupidity.

  “No one wants to see that,” Sigurd said, and turned away laughing.

  Bjorn bellowed, laughter deep and true, but kept his eyes on his work.

  The night ended as it always did, with the rise of the sun, and the return to our holes in the walls. At the time, I had felt content, but part of me knew this was just a dream. Part of me knew what came next.

  Blood-curdling screams, cries of horror, and footsteps. None of it was right. My eyes shot open, though it wasn’t time. Though The Frith was dark as night, I could feel the sunlight, a weight that drained my strength. Our kind weren’t meant to be awake.

  The coppery scent of spilled blood overwhelmed me. Heartbeats were everywhere, so many heartbeats.

  My fangs descended, but my vision remained a blur. Flashes of fur and blades raced by. Intense force slammed into my back, a warhammer or the like by the feel of it. There were voices, distant and muffled, none of them familiar.

  Fangs tore into my shoulder, paws pressed down upon my back. Wolves. They were wolves.

  I blinked to focus, tried to turn over, do something to defend myself. But it was daytime, and the strength of Ulfhednar meant nothing.

  A single voice stood out from the rest, deep and commanding. “Let their blood stain these walls, their cries land only on deaf ears. None shall be spared. Kill them. Kill them all.”

  The stone floor beneath me was cold and hard. A puddle of deep red pooled beneath me, soaking my cheek. I blinked and peered into the lifeless gray eyes of Sigurd beside me. He was gone. Everything and everyone was gone. I heard a sound, a disembodied wail of agony that echoed above the voices, the howls, above everything.

  Pain faded to numbness, and as my vision blurred again I realized that sound was me.

  The crypt I woke to was not unlike The Frith I’d dreamt about. But the world I woke to was unfamiliar. Even in the home I’d built, with the family I’d chosen and sired, I felt as alone as I had lying beside Sigurd that day.

  Distance and solitude were easier. And yet, I found myself reentering the world above, returning to her, just as I’d promised.

  There was laughter in the hall, something that hadn’t been since Lyra. It was the joy and carefreeness of youth—something I’d long forgotten, if I’d ever experienced it at all. The sound was both pleasant and alien at the same time.

  “I’ll catch up.” The voice belonged to Charlie, if I wasn’t mistaken.

  The girl with him giggled. “Yeah, okay.”

  Charlie turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. The young vampire had his hands in his pockets, and stared at me as if I were a unicorn. Or a demon.

  I raised a hand in greeting. He did the same.

  “Heya, uh…Pop-Pop, I gotta uh…bye,” he said, before running back the way he’d come.

  Strange. I needed to make time to get to know Walter’s progeny, but he seemed to be in a hurry, and so was I if I was being honest with myself. The desire to see Ashley again drove me.

  I checked the office and found it empty. It no longer resembled
the office that had been mine. Nothing was quite the same as it had been. Life had gone on without me. I wasn’t resentful of the change, merely unmoored. But I didn’t feel that when I was with her, and perhaps that was what drew me back upstairs, drew me to her.

  Sounds of metal clashing, muffled voices, and crashing carried down the hall. I followed the noise.

  “Higher,” Violet said.

  Metal clanged, and I heard her voice—Ashley. “How about that?”

  “Better.”

  They were training.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Ashley laughed.

  “You’re asking for it,” Violet said.

  The door was open, so I stepped inside.

  The metal rack of weapons remained on the far wall, but everything else about the training room had changed. There were no mats, no wooden swords, nor Kendo sticks. The walls were gray, instead of the white I remembered, and covered in holes with purple splatter that resembled abstract paintings of lilacs.

  Both women were barefoot, and dressed similarly—black pants and sleeveless black shirts. Both women wielded katanas. Blades clashed. Violet dove at Ashley, with each strike countered. Back and forth, they sparred, an even match. More impressive than the speed or strength shown, was that both women were so proficient at such a young age. It had taken ten years or more before my seax had felt natural in my hand.

  Violet ducked down and kicked toward Ashley’s ankle. The queen jumped, landing on her instructor’s knee.

  “Ha,” Ashley said. The smile on her face showed her surprise at besting Violet.

  Violet twisted, and Ashley tumbled.

  Violet was first to her feet, and looked toward the door, noticing me for the first time.

  Ashley stood and turned.

  Her blond hair was mussed, wild and beautiful just like her spirit. Her cheeks were pink from exertion, and her gorgeous green eyes held me captive.

  A loud sound boomed through the small space. Ashley raised her hand toward Violet without turning. A bullet froze mid-air before clattering to the hardwood floor.

  Violet threw her hands up in the air. “Without even looking,” she said.