The Vampire Gift 3: Throne of Dust

by E. M. Knight

  Once more, I nod.

  “And you also helped him find my son on the battlefield and isolate him from the rest, so that he could be infected by the twisted blade. So in reality, all fault falls on you!”

  I lick my lips but do not speak. I take the tirade in stride.

  In fact, in recent weeks, the vampires of The Crypts have grown more and more used to the King’s swinging moods. He has been known to go from furious to tranquil in the blink of an eye.

  This is simply par for course.

  “Enough of this.” Beatrice’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I feel her approach from behind.

  I do not look her way. It would be a grievous mistake for a vampire of my strength to turn away from the King.

  “You,” Logan grunts. “Where have you been? You are the cause of all this, you—”

  She shuts him up by stepping up to him and kissing him. Logan has always been a man of stark passions. This woman knows exactly how to incite them… and how to calm them down.

  The King goes from barely reserved to ravenously passionate. I dare a quick glimpse at Dagan. He’s watching the display with complete apathy. But I cannot help but feel the stirring of some very bad, very unwanted emotions in my gut.

  I tear my eye away from the heavily muscled vampire. If anybody even suspected my secret…

  Quickly, I stem those thoughts. Better not entertain the horrendous possibilities.

  Eventually the King lets his woman go. He yanks her to his side and openly gropes her ass. Some of the rage has flowed out of him.

  “You should not chastise poor Riyu so,” Beatrice says sweetly. “If the fault lies with anyone, it is with me. Yes, I let both your lieutenant and his trusted under servant assume the command came from you. I take the blame.” Her voice turns sultry. “So punish me, if you’re going to punish anyone.”

  A growl of deep desire comes from the King’s throat. I don’t know the sort of bedroom games they play, nor do I want to.

  “Later,” he promises. “When we are in a more suitable space.”

  “The King can do as he pleases anywhere,” Beatrice reminds him. “Dismiss all these men, and have me now.”

  A trickle of discomfort goes down my spine.

  “I would, but I am not done with them.”

  “Then tell them what you want. But be quick about it. My recent activities have given me quite the appetite for…”

  She leans in and whispers the final word in his ear.

  It sounds a lot like “lock.”

  The atmosphere in the room shifts. Few know exactly the sort of experiments Beatrice runs underground. But all have heard the agonizing screams, the shrieks for mercy, which occasionally drift up from her “laboratories.”

  Vampires are ruthless killers. None of us shy away from a little blood. But what Beatrice is doing, the mystery surrounding it, and the absolute immunity with which she operates makes even the most hardened vampires just a little bit… tense.

  A sound of pleasure comes from the King’s throat as Beatrice runs her hand up and down his chest. Once more my gaze flickers to Dagan as that hand dips past Logan’s waist and explores the other contours of the King’s body.

  “This is what I want,” the King finally says, once his attention has been brought back to us. “I want The Haven to know the offer of peace is real. There cannot be death on either side while they contemplate it. That means—” the King casts Dagan a hard look, “—that my son cannot be allowed to die. If one of their Elite is struck down while they debate and confer, they will never submit to us. I know the woman who rules that coven very well. She is not the one to stay meek. We have made her meek, we have demonstrated our power, we have shattered the safety of her little world. Now that she knows what she is up against, she is more malleable to our suggestions. But make no mistake. Push her more, and she will fight back like a cornered cat.”

  Dagan goes to one knee. “What would you have me do?”

  “The link exists between you and Raul. You will use it to ensure his continued survival. Until we hear back.”

  “And how long will we wait, my King?”

  “We give them a week. That is enough time to contemplate exactly what we are offering.”

  “A wise decision,” Beatrice murmurs.

  The King allows himself a self-indulgent smile. “Patience is a great virtue of mine,” he says.

  Inside my head, I cannot help but scoff.

  Dagan hesitates. “The link exists, yes,” he says. “But…”

  The King’s eyes flash. “But what?”

  For a glimmer of a moment, I see the black, floating specks swarm in the whites around his pupils.

  “But Dagan can do nothing to control how fast the poison spreads,” Beatrice finishes for him. “Only I can. And for that, I need the one who enchanted the weapon with me. I need Riyu.”

  “Have him then,” Logan says dismissively. “But woman…” a ragged hardness fills his voice, “if you ever go behind my back like this again, the experiments you conduct beneath the earth will pale in comparison to what I do to you.”

  At this threat, Beatrice actually falters. “Y—yes, my King,” she says.

  I think: And now he’s back.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  RAUL

  DEEP BENEATH THE HAVEN

  “All the arrangements are made,” Phillip tells me, only hours after I gave my intentions to leave. “The plane is ready. The guards have been to the airfield and confirmed it’s safe.”

  “And you trust them?” I question.

  “Trust is a little difficult to conjure up at the moment,” he says.

  I grunt. It seems after the fight with The Convicted, we’ve had nothing but a barrage of bad news.

  “But I rely on them,” Phillip continues. “We both do. And they are of our own coven, not vampires brought here by Smithson.”

  “Who’s to say they haven’t been corrupted by his influence?” I ask.

  Phillip regards me for a moment. “I haven’t seen you this way for a very long time.”

  “What way?” I ask.

  “Dark. Brooding. Suspicious.”

  I bark a laugh. “No? Don’t be surprised. It’s in our nature.”

  Phillip shakes his head. “Not like this. You haven’t been like this since Liana.”

  “Do not speak to me of her!” I snap.

  Phillip doesn’t react to my outburst. His behavior is at odds with what I’ve come to expect.

  Then again, he’s changed—grown. Not only from taking April’s blood. That was just the initial push.

  He’s grown leaps and bounds since being made responsible for the guard.

  “That proves it,” he says. “She’s on your mind. Isn’t she?”

  “Who? Liana? No, of course not—”

  “Not Liana. Eleira!”

  I turn away. “Eleira is always on my mind,” I grumble. I trail a hand over the small marble statue in the room. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “And yet, she’s not here,” Phillip says. “You sent her away.”

  “What do you know of it?” I hiss. A hard knot of anger tightens in my stomach. “When have you ever been in love?”

  “I know that you care for Eleira and that she cares for you. I know that you should be together, not apart. Especially at a time like this. I know—” Phillip steps around me so he can look into my eyes, “—that you are a better man when she is near.”

  The knot of anger threatens to explode. I fight it with all I have.

  But the constant pain in my leg augments the perpetual agony. It makes my thinking murky and unclear.

  Still. Still! Who is Phillip to lecture me now?

  “You haven’t seen us together,” I say, with no small amount of venom in my voice. “If you had, you’d realize that same thing I do. That right now, we need to be apart.”

  “Why?” Phillip asks. “What are you afraid of?”

  What does he think I’m afraid of? I want to scream at h
im. It’s glaringly obvious to me, and yet Phillip does not seem to see it.

  I grunt. “Nothing.”

  He takes my shoulders. “Tell me,” he insists.

  With a grotesque snarl, I rip away. It’s all I can do to stop from punching him in the face.

  “I’ve granted you too much leeway,” I hiss, “because you are my brother. No more. You will respect the boundaries set by the vampire hierarchy. You are beneath me, Phillip, and you will not question what I do!”

  But if I expect my brother to back down, I have greatly underestimated him.

  “That’s not you speaking,” he fires back. “Listen to yourself!”

  “Leave,” I command. “Leave me now.”

  With my mind, I push out using the vampiric influence I possess.

  Phillip looks at me in disgust. He feels the force, but resists it. “So it comes to that,” he mutters. He shakes his head. “Maybe you are right. Perhaps you and Eleira do need to be apart.”

  He turns and exits the room. The door closes with a bang.

  I wait for a count of twenty. And then, in a blind rage, I hurl my globe into the wall.

  It shatters into a hundred tiny fragments. It’s not enough. My muscles tense, my claws threaten to come out. My breathing deepens. I feel the need to destroy, to kill, with all my being. My fangs protract, and I catch the very, very faint scent of human blood in the air, coming from the cavern where the villagers are kept.

  I am so tempted. So very tempted, to race down there and feast on their blood. Forget this agony! I could satiate in the reprieve, in the bloodlust, in the rage and violence inherent in me.

  I could kill them all, and who would stop me? Their blood might not stave off the corruption taking hold of my body forever, but it would revitalize me, it would reenergize me, it would make me more into the vampire that I truly am. It would open up the floodgates. I would welcome the beast. I would feast on them all with absolute conviction, the blood would be mine, their blood, theirs, theirs, theirs, so sweet and rich and hot and full of life!

  But then the depravities of my thoughts come to me. I stagger back from shock. My shoulder hits the wall.

  I’m breathing hard—nearly gasping. The wound in my leg pulses with sickening intensity.

  That’s the cause of this, I know it. It’s why I had to send Eleira away. The wound is robbing me of who I am.

  I’ve been given chance after chance after chance. But there is no denying the inevitable. Maybe that is the root of my behavior. Maybe that is the root of all my discontent.

  Because the fear Phillip asked me of? It preys on my mind. Eleira cannot be with me now. She cannot be allowed in my company.

  Because if she is, and she falls even a little bit deeper for me—well, I cannot sentence her to such a fate.

  I cannot doom the woman I love to a broken heart when I die.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ELEIRA

  DEEP BENEATH THE HAVEN

  I’m pissed. I’m pissed, and I think that I have every right to be.

  The moment Raul announced his intention to go see his Father he made it clear that he would do it alone. His explanation—something about my safety, something about my being needed here, in case Morgan wakes—was lame and feeble and devoid of conviction. It was tepid and weak.

  Before I could get a say in, he simply left.

  So I went with Phillip to find the appropriate guards to stand at Morgan’s door. I stayed with the Queen for a bit, but could not help the feeling of utter uselessness that took me every time I glimpsed her still and quiet form.

  So, eventually, I left and started wandering the halls of the underground stronghold.

  That’s where I am now. Walking around, by myself. So far, nobody’s given me any trouble. My new senses alert me to the presence of other vampires.

  They’ve been doing a great job avoiding me, too.

  Maybe they can sense my growing anger. Or maybe they’re all planning, plotting, conjuring up some scheme to—

  I catch myself thinking that. Some scheme to do what, exactly? My suspicions have never flared as much as they are now.

  Why is that? Is it the uncertainty that is playing with my mind? Is it Raul’s strange iciness?

  Or is it the turmoil, this upheaval, the absolute lack of safety that has me feeling like a rat caught in a trap?

  My bloodlust is growing, too. Without the steady stream of drink from the banks, the hunger pangs are a constant. My body needs nourishment—needs it to grow, to prosper. To help become who I am meant to be.

  I don’t shy away from that reality anymore. I am meant to be a vampire.

  No use in fighting the inevitable.

  So I’m not entirely surprised when my path leads me to the entrance of the cavern where the humans are kept.

  The two guards at the door try to stand in my way. “We’ve been given orders not to let anyone through.”

  But I’m not having it. Not in my current mood. I exert my vampire influence over them and say, darkly, “Do you know who I am?”

  “Of course.” One of them bows his head. “You are the Queen’s chosen successor. But we answer to the Royal Court. Our instructions are clear. We… cannot…”

  He struggles with the words as I force onto him more and more of my strength.

  “…cannot… let you through!” He finishes with a gasp. He snarls at me and looks at his companion. “Bitch tried to influence me,” he gripes.

  “Excuse me?” I demand. “What did you call me?”

  The second guard steps closer. “You better run along now, little girl,” he says, hiding none of his disdain. “You don’t want the Royal Court to hear of what you tried to do.”

  Then I realize where I’m standing… and it occurs to me that all I’m really doing is trying to pick a fight.

  That’s so unlike me.

  I huff and turn away—and step right into that grey-haired vampire, Carter.

  “Ah, Eleira,” he says, taking my elbow. “Just the woman I wanted to see.” He looks over my shoulder. “Are either of these guards giving you trouble?”

  “No,” I stay stiffly. There’s something greasy about Carter. He’d obviously sensed me and followed me here—and that rubs me the wrong way.

  “Will you come with me?” he asks, while tightening his grip on my arm. “You would do me a great honor if you gave me but a minute of your time.”

  Somehow, I get the feeling that his “request” is not a request at all.

  “Fine,” I say. I jerk my arm free of his grip. “But I can walk myself there.”

  “But of course.” Carter gives an obsequious smile. “Follow me.”

  He takes me along a twisted route through many hallways and doors. We don’t pass another vampire once.

  Finally, we arrive before a set of grand double doors. They tower over us, stretching all the way to the ceiling. They are made of heavy oak, lined with iron bars, and inlaid with all sorts of precious stones and rubies.

  “What is this?” I ask. “Where did you bring me?”

  “I wanted to show you something I thought would help with your… decision,” he says.

  “Decision? What decision?”

  But instead of answering, he reaches into his pocket and takes out a long, silver key.

  He pushes it into the hole and twists. The heavy mechanism inside the doors rattles as it’s activated.

  Then the door pops open, ever-so-slightly, looming ajar. Carter smiles at me and motions me through. “After you.”

  I don’t like this—but I won’t have him see me intimidated. I push open the door the rest of the way and step inside.

  The sight that greets me is unlike anything I could have imagined.

  There are paintings on the walls. Huge, enormous paintings, framed with elaborate finishes of intricately worked gold.

  Each one of the paintings contains a vampire soul inside.

  “Quite a collection,” Carter notes. The door closes with a jarring th
ud. “Don’t you think?”

  I do a quick count. There are at least thirty paintings on the walls. The chamber contains nothing else.

  Carter senses my wonder. “What? Did you truly think the Queen kept all of her prisoners on display in her home?” He chuckles. “No, no. Those were only the ones who were publically convicted of their crimes. These men and women—” he sweeps a hand around us, “—were vampires who had simply… disappeared.”

  Carter begins a slow walk around the circular room. “They were cast as runaways. That had always been the explanation for a vampire who’d gone missing. He wanted to get away, they would say. He wanted the freedom afforded by the Outside.”

  Carter shakes his head. “In truth? The Haven’s vampires know they will not find anything better out there. Moreover… they know our Queen would never let them escape.”

  He looks at me and waits for the words to sink in.

  “So maybe some of these were runaways, you see. They did not get far. They would be caught, and the spell would be cast that severed their souls from their bodies.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I dart an anxious look at all the portraits. The vampires inside seem to be watching me with shifting eyes.

  “I want to further your education,” Carter replies. “It helps to elucidate you on matters that will be of import to you soon, don’t you think? I simply want you to understand the type of ruler you are dealing with as you cozy up to our Queen.”

  He stops in front of a portrait of a stunning male. “Ah, Lucien,” he says. He traces the outer edge of the portrait. “He was my brother and amongst the very first damned to this fate.”

  I suck in a ragged breath. The temperature of the room has noticeably dropped with those words.

  “It’s why you have not been Outside,” I whisper. “It’s why none of you have.”

  He smiles. “So you understand why I took to the accusation aimed at me so poorly.”

  “So all those things you said—about hunting humans, about going Outside—were those a farce?”

  “No. I want all those things. The Queen has forbidden them for so long. Most of our vampires are not even aware of the prohibition. They simply go on living as they do, with no thought of escape.” He chuckles. “What a strange word. ‘Escape.’ And yet, that is exactly what getting out of The Haven would be.