Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5)

by C. J. Ellisson

  Her voice travels the short distance between us to dance up our spines, like the icy fingers of death on a cold Alaskan night. “And if we’d wanted you dead, you already would be.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Jon

  A bead of sweat forms near my temple, despite the cold, and slowly trickles down the side of my face. Every muscle in my body is poised to fight, to leap forward and smash my fist into the detached faces of the vampires before us.

  But I hold still, very aware they could kill me between one heartbeat and the next—with just a thought. The sounds of the city swirl around us, the scents of the distant food vendors and chatting tourists reminding me we’re not as isolated as it seems.

  “Why?” Vivian asks. “Why did you do all of this? Why the elaborate plan to draw me back in?”

  “We had to be sure,” Persephone says, slipping her hand into the crook of Rolando’s elbow. “Sure you were uncorrupted by the power. Sure that you would not reveal what you knew, even under extreme circumstances.”

  The redhead snorts. “And you thought torture was a good way to determine that?”

  One slim shoulder rises. “It worked. As did the means to get you here, exactly where we want you.”

  Viv gestures with her arm, “Here? In the Plaza de Mayo?”

  A crafty look passes over the ancient’s face. “Is that really where you are? Are you certain?”

  Slowly the sounds drift away, as does the breeze and the smells it carried. The monument shimmers in the background and dissolves, the distant Pink House and palm trees a memory. I feel a rush, like my head is spinning from a carnival ride, and hear a whoosh inside my mind, like the shutting of a door on a strong wind. All at once, an extravagant living room appears around us, a home I’ve never been in before.

  Creams and browns dominate the space, with touches of color here and there in a pillow or piece of artwork. The adjustment to another view of reality sways me and I reach out a hand to steady myself.

  Vivian’s colder hand finds mine, and she squeezes it once in reassurance.

  “How the hell did we get here?” I ask, proud to hear my voice sounds steady and doesn’t reveal how freaked out I’m really feeling.

  “I slipped into your minds the moment you left your car. You walked here under my direction, while thinking you were at the plaza.” She gestures to the brown couches. “Please, take a seat.”

  Vivian steps forward, pulling Rafe and me with her. She doesn’t speak through our mind link, but I understand instinctively we can’t make a move until we know what the hell is going on. All three of us sit on the sofa facing the fireplace, leaving the love seat and chair for Rolando and Persephone.

  The evil couple follows us, sitting close on the shorter couch. With a flick of her fingers, the fire lights in the hearth, flames springing up instantly to lick the logs laid on a metal grate.

  Vivian sucks in a breath. “You! Not Rolando. You were the one who created the magical creatures that killed all those people. There was no imbalance and thinning of the barrier between worlds. You did it and let Justin take the blame.”

  “He took the blame all on his own, thanks to your meddling. He drew an incorrect conclusion based on the information he had. As you all did. Not my fault.”

  “But you aren’t denying you killed those people to get me here?”

  She looks over the three of us, her face an unreadable mask devoid of emotion. “We did what we needed to do.”

  “And George? Did you cast a binding spell for the gato to kill him easier?”

  “An unfortunate death,” the ancient vampire shakes her head. “But we knew you cared for him and it would lead you where we wanted.”

  The air seems to leave Vivian. She slumps into the cushions behind us. “But why? I don’t understand what you want from me. You two obviously knew I was a manipulator, and have for some time.”

  Rolando answers, moving to the edge of the love seat, leaning toward us. “Because we want you to join us. We want to unite all the manipulators on the planet, to rise up and seize control, to ensure we’re never hunted down like prey ever again.”

  “Is that why Coraline came after me? To make sure your dream never came true?”

  “In part, yes,” Persephone says. “She’d always hated you. Once there was a whisper of manipulators surviving, she was convinced you were one and behind it all.”

  “And you,” Vivian says to Rolando, “pretended to be a part of the group, ferreting us out so you could save us for your cause?”

  He nods and my stomach turns. There’s so much wrong with this scenario, I don’t even know where to begin. Good thing I don’t have to say anything and can sit quietly while they hash it out.

  Rolando’s suave accent paves a path of anxiety inside me. “We’ll never regain what we lost all those millennia ago. But maybe we can build a new Atlantis here in the city.”

  A new Atlantis? This guy is freaking nuts. I look to Persephone to see her face mirrors the crazy-light of a true believer as well.

  “Give me a chance,” the ancient says, extending a hand to Vivian. “Let me show you what we once had, let me explain what happened and how we came to Buenos Aires, long before it was ever called that.”

  Seeing that Vivian isn’t reaching across the space to take her hand, Persephone drops it, returning it to her lap. She looks collected and in control, despite the stench of adrenaline that’s bound to be pouring off me, coiling my muscles for an attack.

  Rafe drapes one leg casually over the other, letting them know he’s not cowed by their brute show of mental force in getting us here. “Go ahead. You brought us here for a reason, and it obviously wasn’t to kill us. You’ve made it clear we can’t stop you, so you might as well get on with it.”

  Rolando smiles. “I knew I liked you for a reason. See?” he says, resting a hand on the ancient’s knee. “I told you he would be an asset.”

  Vivian doesn’t react, and I hate to admit, but I’m torn on what the hell to do. They aren’t attacking us, and yet I feel like I’m stuck in a trap with no way out, my death at the end a surety.

  “I sense your tensions and misgivings. All of you,” Persephone says, while staring at me. “But I promise you, we won’t hurt you.”

  Yeah, unless we don’t do what you want. Then all bets are off.

  “It’ll go much faster if you lean back and relax.”

  Sounds like my last prostrate exam. The doctor said something similar then, too. Bastard.

  Vivian reaches for my hand, locking it in a tight grip. We can’t leave until she lets us. She projects into my mind. Protect your deepest thoughts and allow yourself to see what she wants to show us. Then we’ll figure out a way out of this hell.

  I squeeze her hand to show I heard, letting myself sink back into the cushion next to her. This is going to be one freaky-ass ride, I send back to her.

  Without a doubt.

  A look of consternation crosses Persephone’s face. “How about we cover a few things before we begin? Might help you all to calm down. Did you know Atlantis was considered the birthplace of vampires? All breeds of supernaturals visited and worked there, but it was primarily populated by humans and vampires. It was a very big island, around the size of New Zealand, truth be told. And the whole society was ruled by manipulator vampires. It was the true Seat of Darkness before we came here.”

  Rolando shakes his head slowly, dismayed over all that was lost. “Stories have twisted over the centuries, ’til most people think the island never existed. It’s a shame, really. Almost like the lost library of Alexandria, the possible knowledge it contained a myth more than reality.”

  “Really?” Vivian says. “Not everyone believes there was a real Atlantis originally ruled by vampires? Go figure.”

  I squeeze her hand in support. Although, right now, the idea of a big island and all the vampires in the world are stuck there doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

  With a long stare at seemingly nothing, Pers
ephone ignites the candles on the low coffee table between us. I stifle a shudder at her carefree use of magic.

  Vivian is right, the bitch could easily kill us. How do you relax your guard when you don’t trust the person you’re with?

  “That’s a no brainer,” Persephone says, answering my question without me vocalizing it. “You don’t. But what you can do is listen and keep an open mind.”

  “Are you messing with my servant’s head?” Vivian says, bristling in agitation. “I don’t like it. Leave him be.”

  I feel a pressure course through me, and harden. Vivian’s powerful mind expands to encase mine, like she’s erecting a shield around Rafe, her, and myself. After the recent display of strength from the ancient, I’m not so sure her efforts, or mine, will make a difference.

  She shrugs one elegant shoulder. “That’s life, Dria. You had to know you wouldn’t be the proverbial ‘king of the hill’ and the most powerful vamp in the room once you shared space with an ancient.”

  Vivian snorts in false bravado. “I’ve known you for centuries, and yet you’ve never revealed to me that you were a manipulator.”

  “I understand your frustration. How about we start with the basics. You’re aware of manipulator vampires—but have you heard of elemental vampires?”

  Thanks to our new connection, I feel Vivian’s immediate responses as if they were my own. Curiosity for another species simmers below the surface, eager to perk up and listen to what the woman has to say, and it overrides her instinctual fear of Persephone.

  “That’s a new one,” Viv says. “No, I haven’t.”

  Persephone nods. “I thought not. There’s an old phrase that’s been handed down from one turned vampire to another, ‘never turn a witch.’ You’re familiar with it, yes?”

  “Of course. I don’t know its origins, but I can easily follow a simple direction.”

  The ancient looks relieved, as if she was glad Viv wasn’t a rule breaker in that regard. “Good. An elemental vampire starts as a human witch turned into a vampire. It’s not a safe combination. I’ve meet several vampires in my time who didn’t follow the advice. I had to kill them and the vamps they turned.”

  “Why?” I ask. “Did the new vamps go crazy or something?”

  She stares into the fire and then looks at Rolando briefly before turning her attention back to the three of us. “No. I almost wish they had.”

  Shock colors Vivian’s mind. “Why would you wish insanity on a new vampire? Think of all the destruction they could do.”

  “Ah… my lovely Dria. A crazy vampire is easily spotted and stopped, especially by the one who turned them. But this… this is something much different. And much more serious.” She takes Rolando’s hand and motions to the room around us with the other. “I’d like to show you, if you’re willing.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Vivian

  “Hold up now, just like that?” Rafe asks. “You’re ready to share the memory?”

  She nods again, this time with a mix of excitement and sadness on her face. “Once I share the memory with you, as it was shared with me a very, very long time ago, it will be yours. That way others can see the truth if anything happens to me in the future.”

  “Do you think there’s a chance of that?” I motion to Rolando with my chin. “The inner circle out numbers the ancients four to one. With their protection, how much safer could you be?”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she looks at me slyly, “and you know it. Our existence as manipulators is a free license to kill among our peers. None of my fellow ancients suspect what I am. It’s been a secret I’ve kept for over two thousand years.”

  Shock spills through me. “You mean to tell us you’re older than Christ?”

  “Technically, yes. But does the son of God have a real age? Or is he timeless and has perhaps walked this earth before, in another human form?” Her face takes on a faraway expression. “So much is unknown to us, and yet at times it seems like everything is possible—every interpretation, every legend, every belief. If someone thinks it, it has power. The more who believe, the more power the idea has.”

  Rolando breaks in, “We need to keep on track, my dear. You were telling them about elemental vampires.”

  “Yes, thanks for the reminder. Sometimes my head is so filled with the possibilities and theories I get a little lost. Bottom line, I want to show you what happens when a witch is turned. Can you trust me enough to show you all?”

  “Just to make sure I’m understanding this right,” Jon says. “You intend to project a memory to us from over two thousand years ago? You can remember that far back?”

  I know Jon’s question is triggered more from what I went through to forget my past. But my choice to forget is obviously not the choice of all vampires.

  “The memory is older than I am, it’s not mine. You’ll understand when you see it. For now—let’s consider what I’m offering—a trip to ancient times,” she sweeps her arm dramatically, “in the comfort of a living room.”

  Apprehension fills me. I’m worried this might not be a good idea. Letting anyone in my head is not something I relish. “I’ve never shared another manipulator’s visions, only my own. Can you tell me what to expect?”

  “It’ll be exactly like the images you’ve projected to others, except it will be an event in the past and not something a manipulator can change. You will be able to see everything that occurred, as if you were there, living it alongside the occupants in the vision. You’ll see it all as the person who lived it, but no one will see you.”

  “Well of course not. If it’s a memory, how could anyone see us?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you understood. It’s a very disconcerting feeling. Like you’ve been transported back in time, but invisible.”

  I open a conjoined mind link between me and the men. What do you think? Should we go along with it?

  It can’t hurt us, right? Rafe asks.

  Not that I know—especially if it’s a memory. A new illusion crafted to manipulate might contain surprises for whomever it’s projected to, but this isn’t the same. If she’s telling the truth, we won’t have any risk—it will be a memory only—and the person who shared it with her survived the experience.

  Rafe’s assurance sounds in my mind first. With you by my side, I’m willing to try anything.

  Ditto what the big goon said, Jon adds.

  “Okay, we’ll do it,” I say.

  Rolando lets out a sigh. “For a moment there, I feared you’d say no.”

  “It crossed my mind, trust me. But I want to know what happened.”

  “You will be happy you got to see the island. It was a magical place.”

  “How long is the memory?” Rafe asks, always the practical one.

  “Hours. It will be an intense sharing.” She leans back, getting comfortable. “Take it easy, Dria. This isn’t going to hurt.” Persephone smiles again in reassurance while I clutch my husband’s hand in apprehension.

  Never had this happen to you before, huh? He asks through our connection.

  We’ve already covered that it will be a new experience for me.

  His mental amusement trickles through our bond. I meant that you’re not in complete and utter control of a situation.

  My mind flashes back to the recent silver torture. Let’s just say when I have lost control, it hasn’t been a pleasant experience.

  Suck it up, my lovely husband projects. Not everything is bad, and not everyone is out to get you.

  More importantly, Jon adds, we’re right here with you. We won’t let anything happen to you.

  Yeah, like either of them could stop her from mind-raping me during her projection. I don’t like it, but I’m honest enough to admit my apprehensions are probably what Rafe said, the loss of control.

  Persephone looks ready to begin, a wrinkle of irritation on her forehead from my lack of trust. “I know it may be hard to grasp after all you’ve gone through lately, Dria, but I am your f
riend. Without you knowing it, I’ve protected your secret over the centuries. I’ve watched from the sidelines, always ready if you lost control.”

  “Somehow, knowing you watched and were ready to kill me… well… it’s not as reassuring as you might think.”

  Rolando laughs. “She’s got you there.”

  “How about we start?” And without further discussion, the room around us disappears. A young woman with long dark hair cascading down her back, a coil of tight braids circling the crown, stands in the center of a stone bedchamber. Tapestries hang on the walls and big open windows let in lots of light, their door-like shutters folded back against the wall. There’s no glass in the wall openings. By the angle of weak light across the floor, it looks to be the end of the day, the last of the sun’s rays before they disappear completely below the horizon.

  If she’s a vampire, she could be any age over fifty, the point when a vampire can rise slightly before the sun has set.

  A man bursts into the room, with no knocking or announcing his presence. “Esmerelda, it’s time for the convening. You must come now.”

  The young woman follows him out of the room. As Persephone said, it’s not her in the memory, but someone I don’t know. And judging by the appearance of the surroundings, someone I’ll never meet. Just how long ago it is, I have no idea, but the ancient did mention millennia earlier.

  I can tell by her surroundings, Esmerelda is not in a person of position or power. Her clothes are simple and clean, a loose, shirt-like garment in light purple. The style one might have seen worn by a novitiate in training at a Grecian temple. Our vision follows along with her as she moves, without us having to leave the comfort of the couch. Fascinating. A part of me wonders if my illusions are this complex and complete.

  I feel the piece of furniture beneath me and know it’s there, but if I allow myself to drift… to disassociate with my physical form, it’s as if I’m right in the memory with the young Esmerelda. Truly fascinating.

  “You know they hate it when we are late, Esmie. Hurry!”