Blood Rights (PULSE Vampire Series #7) (PULSE Series)

by Kailin Gow

  Molotov…

  Images whipped through her mind – Molotov clawing at her ankles, his grinning and horrible face, Stuart crying out, Jaegar vanishing in the distance, getting smaller and smaller as his words echoed in her face, as he left her to die…

  Kalina opened her eyes, feeling them grow wet and red with tears. She forced her consciousness through the haze that lay over her field of vision like a fishing net. Where am I? She was surrounded by dirt – dirt, everywhere…a palace of dirt….no…Kalina looked up and down her surroundings. She was lying on dirt, that much was true – but the palace before her was anything but. She was in the middle of a luscious garden, filled with tropical plants that smelled sweet and dangerous at the same time: jasmine and enormous red plants she had never seen before, tangled up in vines. She heard the cool, rippling sound of a fountain – she turned around to see what looked like twenty intricately carved marble fountains, all running into one another.

  But the most impressive thing of all was the palace before her. Enormous and yet elegant, simple and white in the classical style, with mosaics on the terrace and whole porticoes of antique columns, this palace looked like a Roman Emperor’s villa. Kalina rose to her feet, still swaying slightly, and went over to the columns. She gasped in surprise as she saw Latin words carved into the smooth limestone VERVS IN ALTARI CRVOR EST.

  Kalina thought back to the Latin she had learned in school. “True blood is on the altar,” she whispered to herself, feeling a shiver run up and down her back. She turned to the other column, where it was inscribed: “SANGVIS VITA EST.”

  “Blood is life…” Kalina said to herself, tracing the words with her fingertips. They gave her an uncomfortable chill, and she shuddered slightly. Was this Molotov’s home? It was so grand – so beautiful – so spacious. She hadn’t expected this. After seeing the horror and degradation of that filthy village in Mongolia, she had half-expected Molotov to live like a monster or a beast in a cave, like some wild creature. But this villa was like something Octavius might live in – gorgeous, elegant. The home of someone who knew something about art or antiques. A collector. Somehow this made Kalina even more nervous. It was one thing to try to fight off a monster. But if Molotov was smart – controlling – that made him all the more dangerous.

  Kalina looked around, but there was no sign of Molotov. Where was he, she wondered, feeling the blood run to her face? It didn’t seem like him to go to all that trouble of kidnapping her, only to just let her go…what had happened to make Molotov leave her so suddenly?

  A hot wind blew across Kalina’s face. She felt a sudden stirring of hope – maybe Jaegar had gotten over his Life’s Blood, maybe he’d come back while she was unconscious to fight Molotov off…she tried to contact him telepathically, but received no answer. She stepped through the Roman columns, passing through the courtyard.

  She was shocked by what she saw. The Roman columns, it seemed, had been a new development of the house. Beyond them Kalina saw a palace so beautiful, so ancient that it took her breath away. Stark and austere, the enormous limestone palace was somewhat battered with age – clearly older than the Roman columns. What could be older than Rome? Kalina thought, going up to the palace walls. But as her eyes fell upon the writing etched in the palace, she had her answer. Those were hieroglyphs – the Ancient Egyptian writings. This was an Egyptian palace.

  Kalina couldn’t help but feel a hushed, reverent awe come over her. She must be in Egypt – that would explain both the Egyptian and the later Latin writing. She had read about Ancient Egypt in her history books, but had never dreamed of going there herself. Now, in the middle of this palace, she felt like Nefertiti or some other ancient Egyptian Queen – the hush and silence of the place overwhelmed her. Its beauty struck her violently. What kind of Ancient Egyptian palace still looks like this? Kalina wondered to herself. After all, most were crumbling ruins by now. But this one was still well-maintained, still lived in.

  Kalina knew that she should be trying to escape, that she should be taking advantage of Molotov’s unexplained absence to run as quickly as she could from this strange palace. But something seemed to hold her back – hold her there. Her blood pricked and burned – she felt as she had felt some months earlier when she had encountered Max: her blood wanted her to be there, whatever the risk. It needed her to be there. She felt, deep down within herself, as if this place held some answer for her – some special significance. She felt as if she had perhaps been there before, in another place, in another lifetime, in another century. But it was familiar to her, as familiar as if she had spent every day of her life there. This house – she felt, deep down within herself, was hers.

  Don’t be silly, Kalina, she told herself. Of course this house isn’t yours. It belongs to Molotov. And if you don’t get out of here fast enough, then so will you.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to leave this place. She knew it. It was calling out her name. Somewhere deep down within her veins Kalina felt that this place was the key to all her questions – the answer to all her searching. This place could tell her who she was, answer questions that even Max could not answer. As if, Kalina felt, she had been meant to come here all along.

  Kalina’s reverie was interrupted by the sound – echoing in the distance – of strange chanting. The eerie, atonal notes seemed to pull at Kalina’s heart, drawing her closer within the courtyard. Kalina followed the instinctual steps of her feet, closing her eyes. She could still smell the jasmine – it almost seemed stronger here than in the garden.

  When Kalina opened her eyes she saw why. Incense was burning within an enormous room – jasmine incense, intoxicating and yet glorious, filling her nostrils, nearly choking her. The room was an enormous one – it looked, Kalina thought, like a throne room for some ancient pharaoh.

  To Kalina’s surprise, she saw the source of the chanting. It was Molotov. He was, to Kalina’s shock, down on his knees, bowed before a large stone encasement, his forehead nearly touching the earth. His voice was soft and melodious – strangely beautiful. Could such a savage creature really be capable of producing such haunting music? Kalina looked at him in wonder, watching as Molotov murmured words in an ancient language she could not understand, his voice echoing throughout the stone. The incense was thick and cloying, the heaviness of the room punctuated only by the clear sound of a bell, which Molotov was ringing after every line of that hauntingly beautiful song.

  Kalina knew that she should run before Molotov caught sight of her, but somehow she could not. Her feet remained fixed to the floor; she was immobile, powerless to resist the siren call. Suddenly Molotov’s words became clear to her – as if he was speaking in English after all.

  “I have brought you The One, O glorious one. The one who is of our kind, and yet not of our kind. She is who is ancient and yet young. The one from the oldest of all, from the most powerful, from the most revered. I have tasted her blood and tasted her strength, felt beneath my hands the supple flesh of youth and the steel of agelessness. Filled with the life of the human spirit and the eternity of the vampire soul. A gift I thought you would appreciate, O great one.”

  Kalina swallowed hard, wanting to escape, wanting to run….but she found that she was transfixed; the music had taken hold of her like an enchantment Was she being glamored?

  “She is the one we seek – the one we have sought for centuries. Worth more than any carrier in the world. She was the one – after years of science, years of searching, years of mixing blood and the very stuff and parcel of life with the strong ichor of the vampires – she was the one that was created. An Immortal Carrier. An immortal human, combining the strength of the vampire with the power of her Life’s Blood. The most perfect being that good doctor could ever have thought his line would produce. And her name is…Kalina. She has been sought after, my great One, by many vampires. All who seek humanity or power wish to possess her. But she has what we need. The strongest blood of all Carriers. Her blood will sustain you.”

  At
that, the spell was broken – Kalina began to shiver violently. Who is he talking to?

  But before Kalina could run, Molotov’s voice began to echo in her skull once again, making it throb where he had hit her. It’s time, Kalina. I’m so glad you could be here for this. She tried to scramble away, but it was too late. Molotov was before her, his hands around her neck. Her limbs sprang into action again – she felt a surge of power coursing through her as she pushed his hand away, landing a flying kick square into his stomach. It was enough to push Molotov back, but not for long. She turned to run, but before she had taken three steps he was before her again.

  But Kalina felt something new – some strange power she had not felt before. A sense of confidence. Something about this place – this incense – this air…it gave her strength. She backed away from Molotov, pirouetting into the air, feeling her body lift above the ground before jumping down squarely on Molotov’s chest, knocking him to the floor. Immediately his head was between her ankles; she was pressing his skull together, hard enough to make it crack like a nut. Molotov moaned with pain.

  “Okay, new plan,” Kalina said between clenched teeth. “You tell me where we are and how I can get home, or I pulverize your skull for all eternity.”

  Molotov chuckled lightly. “Really,” he said. “You don’t have the strength.”

  “That’s not what you said a few seconds ago…” Kalina tightened her grip on Molotov’s neck. “You were talking about my ancient blood, my power.” Molotov winced, gritting his teeth. “So why don’t you tell me where we are. Looks like I’ve got more power than I thought – I must have been just slacking off earlier, huh? Do you really want to take that chance?”

  Molotov didn’t look like he did.

  “So one more time, Molotov, where are we?”

  “Nowhere!” he spat. “We’re not anywhere. In Egypt…but somewhere nobody will ever find us. It’s not on any map. It’s not in any guidebook, you fool…”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “A place long-forgotten. Historians believe it fell into the sea – a remote area nobody knows about. Historians think the Kings and Queens of Egypt were buried at Giza – but those of us who know better, those of us whose makers were there – know better.”

  “This is the City of the Dead?” Kalina looked up, shocked.

  “Not the false one tourists flock to. The real one. Where centuries of Pharaohs were buried. At least, those that were dead…”

  “Who were you talking to, just then?” Kalina asked sharply, tightening her grip.

  “I should have noticed…” Molotov was murmuring to himself. “The similarity. The resemblance. The same dogged determination. I was a fool. Go see for yourself. She won’t hurt you. She’s sleeping like a baby. Just like she’s been doing for thousands of years…”

  Kalina’s curiosity was piqued, but she wasn’t about to let Molotov go free to look. “Why have you brought me here? What does she have to do with me?”

  “Because your blood will awaken her. And she needs to be awake. We need her to be awake. She is the most ancient and powerful of vampires. When she opens her eyes, she will unite us all…”

  Kalina followed his gaze over to the stone coffin. Kalina felt that same prickling of the blood – that same sense of enchantment. Something was calling to her. She was calling to her. Against herself, Kalina found herself leaving Molotov on the floor, walking slowly over to the coffin.

  “See?” Molotov said, grinning. “She heard your voice. Now she’s beckoning you. She calls you. She can sense you – even in sleep.”

  Kalina looked down in the coffin. There she saw a lovely girl about her own age, her eyes closed in sleep. The girl was beautiful – breathtaking, even – with long and flowing dark hair and a long brocade gown covering her slender frame. But the girl’s skin was the color of ash and charcoal; she looked as if she had been turned to stone. Kalina felt a sudden sense of recognition – her blood began to boil. Who is this girl? Do I know her?

  “My maker,” said Molotov. “And yours. I should have noticed the resemblance – but with her features turned to stone like that…”

  “Who is she?”

  “Nereti. The Queen of all Vampires. Beautiful. Intelligent. Nobody alive or dead can resist her charms.” Like Cleopatra, though Kalina.

  And then Molotov was on top of Kalina, holding her over Nereti’s body. Kalina screamed, but there was nothing she could do. Before she could even struggle Molotov’s fangs had sunk into her wrist, and she was bleeding drops of bright blood straight onto Nereti’s lips…

  Chapter 14

  Kalina was reeling, the rapid blood loss causing her whole body to become dizzy and frail. She wanted to struggle, to cry out, to fight off the disorienting force of Nereti’s sharp, ivory-white teeth sucking the blood from her veins, but instead she felt strangely calm. So this is what Jaegar and Octavius’ girls feel like, she thought hazily, swaying slightly. This odd mixture of pleasure and pain – the ever-quickening heartbeats of terror combined with a strange sense of satisfaction, even desire. The reason that girls didn’t run fast enough, or struggle hard enough, to survive. The vampire kiss of death that had the power to bring even a Carrier to her knees, unable to resist the overwhelming sensation of a bite…

  Is this how I’m going to die? Kalina thought sleepily. Why – it didn’t even seem real at first. It was only a dream – a hazy nightmare of death that felt, to Kalina, as if it were happening somewhere else, to someone else, with no relation to the sensations she was experiencing at her wrist. Some other girl, some other Kalina, was afraid; some other Kalina was dying – but she could hardly bring herself to care. She wanted to close her eyes, to fall asleep, to give herself over to the sucking sensation at her wrist, to let Nereti’s blood-red lips close around her wound, to let Molotov’s grip tighten…

  Kalina’s eyes shot open. What are you doing, Kalina? Suddenly, all at once, adrenaline began to pump through her: white-hot shots of energy. Her blood began to prickle, to boil, to burn. Kalina felt a strange sensation – a feeling of power stronger than any she had ever felt before. Her body and her blood were both fighting back against Nereti’s glamoring; her very veins cried out. Wake up, Kalina. You need to fight this. You have to fight this.

  But it felt so good – to give in to the glamour, to sleep, to surrender at last, after so many false starts and exhausting attempts, after so much pain and so much torment. She could feel Nereti’s glamour getting stronger – she could hear a soft and cruel voice in her head, telling her to relax, to give in: there’s a good girl, just let us finish drinking. You don’t want to live anyway, do you? Live through the pain of losing the ones you love. Live with the guilt of having broken so many hearts, caused so many deaths? Why not just give up – let go – end it all…

  But deep down within Kalina, her blood was winning out. It was stronger than this cool, seductive voice. It was stronger than the death that Nereti’s fangs were injecting into her veins. Deep down, beyond the glamoring, beyond the voices, beyond the pain and the pleasure of Nereti’s fatal kiss, Kalina felt one phrase deep within her bones, so deep that she knew them to be true, etched upon her heart:

  I want to live.

  Suddenly, Kalina began to fight back, thrashing wildly against Molotov’s vice-grip, her wrists chafing and bruising as Molotov held them tighter, pressing them to Nereti’s ruby-colored lips. No! Kalina elbowed Molotov in the gut, feeling her gorge rise as anger began to course through her. You think you can convince me to give up? That I don’t want to survive this? You think you can trick me, torment me, use me…

  Think again.

  Fury overwhelmed her, and before Kalina knew what she was doing she felt herself bite into Molotov’s arm – her teeth long, sharp, and polished. Fangs. Molotov yelped in surprise as her teeth tore through flesh, crunching sharply on splintering bone. His cry of pain echoed through the stone chambers of the throne room; immediately he loosened his grip on Kalina, allowing her to spring
out of his grasp. She ducked, but she didn’t have to worry; Molotov had fallen to his knees, grimacing with the pain.

  “Stupid girl,” he growled, as his wound began to heal. “You won’t get away this time…” He began to run towards Kalina, but stopped short, his mouth falling open in shock as his eyes traveled over to the stone coffin. There, Kalina saw, Nereti was beginning to stir, sitting up as straight as the columns themselves, her wide eyes glassy and terrible as she surveyed her throne room. The pupils were dark black and the irises were fire-red, the color of burning rubies, the same color as her dark lips, as the Life’s Blood – Kalina’s blood – that lightly trickled from her marble-white face, filling the air with the sickly sweet smell of flowers. Molotov rushed over to Nereti’s side, bowing at the side of the coffin.

  “More!” Nereti’s voice, loud and echoing, chilled Kalina to the bone. She hurriedly grabbed a wooden stick from the floor, breaking it over her knee to create two evenly sized stakes. She’d have to fight her way out, she feared.