“Does my master’s abode meet your expectations, yenge?”
That word I knew. Literally, it meant aunt, but it was also used casually the way Americans used ma’am.
“I don’t frequent with fifteenth century Wallachian princes turned vampiric sultans, so my expectation had no basis. It’s a very nice home, if that’s what you’re asking. Does my opinion matter?”
“A question I myself am asking.”
Timur opened the front door, leading me into a hall donned with appointments that reflected the exterior’s luxury. The floor: marble. The walls: fine linen wallpaper. I would bet a ten spot that the frame of the mirror we passed was gold leafed.
“We rarely entertain outside our own community, so the level of luminosity was somewhat debated. Do let us know if it needs correcting.”
Meaning, normally the house was kept dark. Vampires only needed the dimmest light for efficient vision, far less than a hood or even a werewolf. Though, as I realized in reflection, it could also be that any huey victim gathered for feasting might not be able to detect their attackers.
“It’s sufficient. Thank you for the consideration.”
“Of course.”
When we entered the main salon, I would have bet that I’d magically been transported to Buckingham Palace or Versailles. Not that I’d been to either, but I’d seen pictures. Every furnishing evidenced extravagance, every material and means of decorating, precise and expertly arranged. A marble fireplace captured my attention. In the midsummer, no flames danced within. Instead, its craftsmanship blazed, as did the red-haired, fair-skinned woman sitting before it in an ivory wingback chair, a mound of yarn on her lap.
She flashed big blue eyes at me, knitting needles frozen in place. Having expecting the legendary Nosferatu himself, I wasn’t sure what to make of her. She, likewise, gawked at me, unmoving. Was she shocked? Scared? Disturbed at my presence? Her plaintive expression suggested all and nothing.
“Alexandra.” Timur assumed a place at my side in utter silence. “Would you please allow the room. He would like to have a private audience with...”
“Alexandra may stay.”
Mist became man, and myth became material. How I could have wondered if Timur might be Vlad back at the tower dumbfounded me now. Vlad’s artists had painted him well, and the only thing time had touched were his fashions. The coffee-colored hair no longer dropped in gentle waves about his shoulders. It was trimmed, feathered but short, and his face no longer naked, but bearded. His billowy, black pants reminded me of something from a Middle Eastern fairy tale. He didn’t wear a shirt. I traced back memories of my year of study in preparation for this moment, and couldn’t bring to mind one authentic rendering of him bare-chested, but I doubt any artist could have accurately captured it.
Maybe the stonecutter who’d perfected the fireplace, since it seemed to be of the same material.
“Timur, see that our guest has tea?”
As the lesser Raven pushed a tulip-shaped glass to a heated samovar on a nearby table, Alexandra stood, holding her work tight into her stomach. A tiny slipper peaked out from the bundle of yarn. “I’d prefer to leave, my lord. Her kind scares me.”
Vlad grinned. “My dear, what harm do you suppose a relinquished hood could deliver from which I could not save you?”
Timur handed me my tea, even as tension dug into my gut. Somehow, the truth of my condition had found its way to Istanbul.
A faltering smile flickered on to the woman’s face. “None, my love. You would save me from any danger. But I’m weary at the moment. I would, with your leave, rest.”
Vlad took the woman’s hand, planting a kiss. “Of course. Go, I will come to you later tonight.”
My veins iced over from her frosty glare as she passed me on her way out. Only, between her ire and her stately manner, the purpose and source of her disdain sat in a mire I couldn’t digest. When she was gone, Vlad turned his attention to me, replacing tenderness with annoyance.
“My message was meant for Inga.”
“Inga is in receipt of your message.” I assumed by now she’d be awake in Spain. I wonder what Amy had told her?
“If that were true, you wouldn’t be here, Gerwalta Kline.”
It didn’t faze me that he knew my name. Or, at least, that’s what I told myself.
“You took Caleb. I want him back.”
“No, and not merely because Mr. Helsing’s residence with us has been most efficacious,” he said, motioning to another seating area away from the fireplace, in a corner of the room before two massive, arched windows through which the lights of the opposite shore and of the few boats bobbing on the waves shimmered on the water. “Is that why you’ve come, in some vain attempt to recover Inga’s pet slayer?”
My mother’s lessons echoed in my brain. Sitting tall I hoped made me look more formidable, though what effect if any that would have on a legendary vampire, who knew? As I caught sight again of the silver-plated samovar I longed for the abilities of a righteous hood. If I could draw it to me and shape into a disk, I’d just slice this bastard’s head off.
“I’d also like you to tell me who else knows about the power of unmated alpha blood, what the serum is that Cynthia derived to undo the mating bond, and where you store that serum so that I can destroy every last drop of it. But for the moment, let’s start with you returning my mate.”
“Your mate?” Vlad’s eyebrow raised. “I thought only werewolves took mates. There are no werewolves here, not unless your token beast managed to track you across twenty kilometers of traffic. What did Caleb say his name was again? Oh, that’s right?” A grin emerged, one tailored to show off prominently extended fangs. “Tobias.”
I hoped he saw the embers burning in my cheeks. “I’m talking about Caleb. We’re a couple, or didn’t he tell you that part?”
He may have tried to hide it, or perhaps Vlad assumed that a relinquished hood, a de facto huey, had eyesight too poor to see how he winced. In that moment, I knew that part of our lives, Caleb managed to keep hidden. Why, though? Was it because remembering my response to his proposal hurt too much, or because his feelings despite it were strong enough he’d done it in an effort to protect me? If the latter, then Vlad wanted something from him. Something that he was refusing to offer up, and he feared that having me would create leverage the Ravens could use to force his hand. Either way, I’d have to play this out very close to the chest.
The vampire changed directions. “You don’t seem to be frightened, Miss Kline. You do know that it would take me only a few bats of the eye to sink my teeth into your neck and rip out your throat, don’t you?”
“If you’re simply playing with your food before eating it, then I’m dead already and there’s no point in fretting. Even if I am relinquished, I was raised a hood. Women of my kind do not fear men.”
Vlad splayed his hands out. “Perhaps this is why the slayer is so resistant to our encouragements. Perhaps you have trained him to fear you more than he fears any vampire.”
Yes, they were negotiating with him, but for what? “You’d be wise to learn from his lesson.”
The vampire threw back his head and laughed. Unlike the suggestions for any number of horror films I scoffed at through the years, Vlad’s laughter was full-bellied, whimsical. Lightening.
Attractive.
“So, Caleb is yours.” Taking to his feet, he grabbed me by the hand. My untouched tea crashed to the floor, sending a shatter of glass and spray of drink over the tile.
Vlad watched with some amusement as the liquid became a rivulet heading toward the fireplace. His eyes tracked its path, as did mine in turn. The stream ran over the heart and into the fireplace proper. Only, instead of pooling, it fell into oblivion. That fact alone was curious, but I found myself focusing on the cleanest grate I’d ever seen. Silver? With gold leaf on all of the nearby knickknacks, should it surprise me that Dracula burned his winter fires on a great made of precious metal?
“A simple acci
dent. Don’t worry, it will be dealt with.” After a moment, Vlad pulled me up. “Would you like to see your mate, Miss Kline?”
“I wouldn’t like to see him.” Despite the fact that it gave away my excitement, there was no way to slow my racing pulse. “I demand to see him.”
Vlad turned another amused smile on me as he guided me towards a staircase at the edge of the room. “Oh, I find that despite myself, I do like you, Miss Kline. Very much, indeed.”
Whereas the bottom floor had high ceilings and an open concept, the vampire’s head barely gained clearance. We emerged in a hallway dimly lit, wide and long but with few doors. Not a single window in sight, not even at the end of the hall where it reached a dead end. The walls on this floor had been painted a dark blue, crisscrossed by a repeating geometric pattern not unlike those I’d seen decorating lamps and plates in the Bazaar.
“For a Romanian prince, so many of your tastes seem local.”
Vlad gave my comment a nod of acknowledgement. “For many years after my father turned me, I was a raving nationalist, I must admit. Do you know my story, Miss Kline? I do not wish to bore you by repeating things you already know.”
“I know a story about you. Whether or not it aligns to the one you know of yourself, I can’t say.”
“Bravery and wisdom,” Vlad said. “I see why so many are so drawn to you. I, too, have tried to use my many years to gain wisdom. I like to think that in this house, I have cultivated an artifact to that growth.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed. Over the centuries, I’ve even learned to embrace certain aspects of their legacy. For example,” his hand fanned out, indicating the wall, “the motifs. And another system I had not the scope to recognize until I had learned to let go of my human attachments to concepts like nationality and tribe.”
In this course, we reached a door. Surveying left and right, I realized it was the only door on this side of the hall. Vlad’s hand curled around the knob, just as a devilish smile curled the corners of his mouth.
“And though it took me many years to understand how to properly implement it, they also had the best way to assure the survival of their bloodlines.”
When the door opened, I wasn’t quite sure what it was I was seeing. An open space, a room two stories high with a loft above, open to below. Above, a dozen or so beds sat and interval and below, a lounging space populated with cushion, couches, and low tables. And women. Lots of women, as many as there were beds above. Finely dressed, all sitting about on luxurious couches. Some did needle work, some drank tea, some even played instruments in a corner. Alexandra sat among them, her eyes still in her book.
The edges of my face pulled tight as I turned to the vampire. “You keep a harem?”
“With one important difference.”
“Geri?”
I took two steps into the room, pivoted. It couldn’t be. “Caleb?”
There, in a puffed-up imitation of an armchair, wearing three beautiful women as clothing, sat Caleb. Swollen lips and purple blooms over his neck suggested just how warm they had kept him too.
From behind, Vlad leaned down to whisper in my ear. “As you see, he’s simply pined over you since he’s been here.”
The slayer stood, his lampreys falling off with a pop. In the space of a few blinks, he’d crossed the room and stood before me. “Why are you here?”
“To rescue you, of course. Here I was thinking you were being tortured and drained for some kind of Ravens blood bender, and instead, you’ve spent the last twenty-four hours making out with half the harem?”
A low rumble bounced off the walls as the vampire laughed, echoed in moments by any number of the blood slaves sitting at intervals throughout the room.
“Oh, my dear,” Vlad said. “Is that what Inga led you to believe? That the moments I got my hands on your dear mate, I would hang him by his heels and let his precious blood flow into a trough?”
Caleb stepped to the side to look around me at Vlad. “Mate?”
“Did you not know that you were mated to her, Helsing?” Vlad asked. “She seemed quite insistent that you were.”
The mate in question righted himself, his hands balled into oppressive fists. “My recollection about what she wanted from me in a relationship is quite different.”
“Seriously?” I pointed around the lavish suite, at its in-floor fountain, at its pitchers of fruit water. Seriously, fucking fruit water? “This is okay with you?”
“It is, Geri. It’s more than okay. In fact, you can say I’ve had a sort of awakening.”
At that moment, a third hand grew out of Caleb’s side. Or so I thought, until it was soon joined by an arm attached to a body. A body that most girls would kill for. A body that “old Caleb” would have loved to spend some time with.
“Come back to us, Caleb. We’re getting lonely with you.”
Caleb smile back over his shoulder. “In a moment, Konstantina. I have to deal with something first.”
The black-haired beauty rolled up on her feet and pressed her lips to the slayer’s ear, sucking on his earlobe as she slowly extracted her hand from him. When she pulled away and retreated, I didn’t miss the “awakening” going on in his pants.
Taking three steps toward me, Caleb stared me down, his face only inches from mine. “You shouldn’t have come here, Geri. Inga lied. The Ravens haven’t killed the slayers at all. They’ve preserved them. They’ve freed them from oppression.”
“They’ve freed...” The words died at the back of my throat. Who was this man, and what had he done with my Caleb. “How can you say that? They killed your parents. They killed all the slayers.”
Caleb shook his head and stepped back, even as each of the dozen women in the room rose to their feet. The familiar orb glowed atop Caleb’s hand as he held out his arm and opened his palm to the sky. My eyes went wide as each of the women mirrored the act, conjuring tiny balls of sunlight like his. Only Alexandra remained sitting, but her book was now in her lap.
Slayers. They were all slayers.
“These are my people,” Caleb said. “These are the slayers. And it’s with them, not you, that I’ll find happiness. Good-bye, Geri. Good-bye forever.”
I couldn’t find it in me to resist when Vlad’s arm draped over my shoulders. “Come now, Miss Kline. Your mate has had his say. Unless, you’d care to join him here?”
Caleb paused in his retreat, turning his head back over his shoulder. Even as shivers chased up my body, I saw it: the momentary flinch in his expression.
“Like I said, Sultanim, she’s nothing more than a huey now. The woman here would eat her alive. If you didn’t, that is.”
Vlad balanced my fate in his grin. “Either might be entertaining.”
“If you want my continued cooperation, you’ll strongly consider how much her presence disturbs me.”
Wait, he didn’t want my help? He knew that I was still highly capable of kicking ass. We had been sparring together for a year. We knew each other rhythms, and joining the harem would be a ticket to set me up under the nose of the enemy. There was only one thing I could think of to explain his words: he was playing a part. He didn’t want me to be here, either. There was a plan at foot, one he needed Inga to trigger. I was only getting in the way. I was only going to get myself killed.
That, or it wasn’t a plan at all. He really meant it.
Impossible, but without the ability to get him alone, what could I do but play along? I had to be the hood. I had to be in control.
“You’ve enchanted my mate somehow, Vlad.” I swallowed my nerves. “Which leaves me to wonder, are you making me an offer, or an ultimatum?”
“I do not kill in such haste, no matter what Inga suggested.” Again, the prince paid attention to my neck, this time with his mouth, not his tongue. “I have tasted hoods before, but never relinquished hood. The bouquet of your skin is earthen, metallic. Does silver still run in your blood?”
“Not likely.” I was, as he so duly noted, relinquishe
d. “Are you planning on drinking me?”
He pulled back, holding me at arms’ length. “I would love to do so much more than that. Miss Kline, you’ve managed to pique my interest in a way few can. What kind of relinquished hood seeks out vampires and claims, even if in a poor attempt at some ill-conceived rescue attempt, that a slayer is her mate? Most hoods I’ve met would curl in disgust at the prospect of having to partner outside their own bloodline, let alone across the divide. Yes, I would have you, if you would consent, but alas, to what end? Vampires cannot chase scents as do wolves, but did you know we can smell emotions?”
A prickle chased up my spine, sending all my hairs standing on end.
Vlad fingered the ends of my braid, pulling it to his nose, inhaling my secrets. “Heartache, longing. There is a scent about you, a remnant of another who holds your heart, but threw it away.”
Cody. How strong must his hold be that even, two years later, the vampire could sense it?
“It is in this way I know you cannot be had in the way I take women.”
The collection of female slayers dispersed around the room, all still balancing balls of sunlight on their hands, giggled like some sadistic Greek chorus.
Vlad finally peeled himself away from me, circling the room. “They laugh with joy. I love each of my beauties. But in turn, they love only me. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Sultaninimiz,” they cooed in unison.
He ran a hand tenderly over the ebony cheek a particularly statuesque slayer. “I demand complete obeisance. I would be the only man you’d owe fealty. So, unless you’re willing to surrender your love for whomever this man is who wound up your emotions so tightly...”
“Good luck with that,” Caleb mumbled under his breath. At last, he closed his hand, and with it, the female slayers did too.
The vampire feigned disappointment. “Then, to the dungeon with you.”
“What the hell?” My inner Geri erupted out of my mouth before I could stop her. “You said it wasn’t an ultimatum!”
Ravening Hood Page 16
