Thicker Than Blood

by Angela Roquet

  “Council officials?” I blinked at Ursula, hoping she might have more to say about what that could mean.

  “Don’t look at me.” She plopped down in the armchair and scooped up her cup of blood. “I told you. At least half the council. I’ve been out of the loop for twenty years, so it’s hard telling which of those pompous scoundrels is at the top of the heap right now.”

  “How many households are we talking about here?” I asked.

  “Two hundred, give or take.”

  My eyes bulged. “So a hundred potential suspects?”

  A bitter laugh escaped her. She finished her blood before replying. “Going into hiding doesn’t sound like such a bad idea now, does it? Thanks for screwing that up for me.”

  “Take it up with the duke. I was just following his orders.”

  I ground my teeth together as I thought of the all things I wished I could thank her for screwing up for me.

  “But you enjoyed bringing me in, didn’t you?” Ursula cracked a scathing grin at me. “Was I a suitable consolation prize for being dismissed from Scarlett’s trail?”

  “Not even close.”

  Her smile grew sharper. “What is it you think you have to prove, vampling? What is it you’re after?”

  “Justice.” The word sounded more honorable than revenge-tinted, but I tasted the lie in my mouth.

  “Justice?” Ursula’s eyebrows shot up. “And who are you to decide what justice is? What justice do you suppose should befall a vampling who has fed from her superior’s pledged scion?” At my shame-faced scowl she added, “Don’t be so quick to dole out justice when you’ve been lucky enough to escape the brunt of it yourself.”

  A soft knock at the door ended our stare-off. I crept closer, remembering Dante’s order not to let anyone in, but then Murphy’s muffled voice reached my ears.

  “It’s just me,” he said. “And a pot of B-positive.”

  I unlocked the door and cracked it open to accept the pot. He hadn’t brought a tray with him, but I suspected he’d skipped it to keep a hand free for his gun.

  “Thanks,” I whispered, stealing a quick glance down the hall where several guards stood near the entrance to the foyer.

  “Better stay put like the boss said.” Murphy turned his back to me and trained his eyes on the opposite end of the south wing, keeping watch where the others weren’t.

  “Will do.” I gently closed the door and turned to refill my cup on the night table, pausing when Ursula cleared her throat. She held up her empty cup.

  “Guests first, little vampling. Goodness, I learned that much as a human.”

  My fingers tightened on the handle of the pot as I crossed the room. I imagined opening the lid and sloshing the blood at her Carrie-style, though her white sweater dress was already ruined. The thought was amusing, but it wouldn’t end well. And I needed the blood if I was expected to tolerate her until the duke’s meeting with the council visitors was over.

  Ursula watched me closely as I poured her drink. Her smug grin suggested that she knew exactly how much I hated catering to her, and she was loving every second of it. I hadn’t tracked her down for the duke so we could have bloody tea parties. This was all wrong.

  There were dozens of guards in the manor. How the hell had I ended up trapped in this room, babysitting the duchess? And why did I suddenly feel as if I were stuck in quicksand?

  Ursula’s grin widened as she watched me fill my own cup and sit down on the edge of the bed. It was unnerving. Whatever dark thoughts rolled through her head, I didn’t even want to know.

  “You have blood in your teeth, Your Grace,” I said, tilting my cup at her in a sardonic toast.

  Her eerie grin didn’t waver. “Mind your tongue, vampling, or it will be your blood that stains my teeth next.”

  Chapter Five

  When the duke finally returned to my room, his haggard expression left me less than relieved. He’d shed his waistcoat and undid the top button of his white shirt, and though his hair was still shiny from whatever he’d put in it earlier, its hold was slipping. Random curls poked free, made worse by the way he nervously raked his hand over his head.

  “Show Ms. Skye to my quarters,” he said over his shoulder to Murphy. “And have my morning blood brought there, as well.”

  “Uh…” I didn’t know what to say.

  A few hours earlier, I’d made a move on him—and not the sexy kind guys usually preferred. The kill ‘em with bare hands variety. And now he was inviting me into his room? All because I’d used a fancy book to slug the creep who tried to whack his twatwaffle of a cousin? I wasn’t sure if more scolding or congratulations awaited me.

  Understanding lit Dante’s eyes as he noted my confusion. “I need a word with my cousin, and her room is not ready just yet. I will be with you in but a moment.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Murphy waved his hand to encourage me along, and I left the room with him, still confused. We passed several guards, but once we were out of earshot, I turned to my only potential ally.

  “What the hell is going on?” I rasped under my breath.

  Murphy shook his head. “I’m not in the business of asking questions. I’m just here to help pretty ladies find the library and to keep bad guys from crashing the party.”

  My eyes narrowed skeptically. “And you don’t ever overhear anything useful?”

  “Nope.” He pointed to his bad ear. “Only the stuff I’m meant to hear. I’m good at my job that way.” His face crumpled, and he shot me an apologetic frown. “Sorry about earlier—leaving you alone like that. I should have told control to call in someone else to check the exterior posts and stayed by your side.”

  “Hey.” I touched his arm. “I was a Blood Vice agent before this Rapunzel gig. I can take care of myself.”

  “Yeah, but I knew you were unarmed. And then the duchess was under attack.” He shook his head. “It all happened so fast, and if I’d stayed put, you wouldn’t have had to go to such lengths to protect her.”

  Yeah, I’d really gone to some lengths. I resisted rolling my eyes and patted his arm. “You showed up just in time, and you shot the creep. I think you did great.”

  “I appreciate that,” Murphy said, though it didn’t sound like he believed me.

  We passed the stairwell and entered the foyer where there were now eight guards on watch—two at the doors to Dante’s office, two at the front doors, and two each at the mouths to the north and south wings. Total overkill, but after the events of the night, who could blame the duke for beefing up security?

  Murphy directed me down a hallway that curled around the office and opened to a secondary foyer mirroring the one at the front of the house. It was narrower but furnished with the same leather benches and more sun shots. Another pair of French doors marked the entrance to the duke’s private quarters, and two more guards were stationed on either side. They opened the doors for us without question.

  Inside, Murphy clicked on the lights. Then he pressed a button on his radio and asked a guard in the harem to have Yoshiko fix a pot of blood while I scanned the room, taking in the quiet luxury and the earthy color palette.

  The duke’s quarters were more spacious than mine or Ursula’s, but not by much. The windows that enclosed the back half of the room were split by a stone fireplace. Two armchairs and a side table were centered in front of it, and I realized that the harem’s lounge must be directly above.

  A bit closer to the interior of the house, the leather-wrapped headboard of a king-sized bed was pushed up against the northern wall, flanked by simple, modern nightstands. On one sat a long-necked reading lamp and a stack of books, and on the other, a digital clock that doubled as an electronics charging station. A phone and a tablet were docked in it, and if not for Murphy’s presence, I wouldn’t have been able to resist snooping.

  Who did the Duke of House Lilith keep on speed dial? I wondered.

  Across from the bed, a Victorian armoire sat between a pair of closed doo
rs. The piece of furniture looked more intricate and dated than anything else I’d seen in the manor. Ornamental molding lined the paneled doors, three in all, and encircled the full-length mirrors fixed to them. The glass was foggy and tarnished at the edges, giving the piece a nostalgic charm.

  “Pretty, ain’t it?” Murphy said. “I think it must’ve belonged to the boss when he was human, but he don’t talk about the past much.”

  I stepped in front of the armoire and looked at myself in the mirrors, trying to picture how I might have appeared in the mid-nineteenth century when the piece was made. When Dante was made. He’d worn a Civil War uniform to the queen’s All Hallows’ Eve Ball, though I wasn’t sure if it was a costume or authentic. Authentic would suggest that he’d fought for the Union as some high-ranking official.

  I touched the handle of the armoire and considered opening it. Maybe I’d find the uniform inside. Maybe I’d find some other deep, dark secret of the duke’s that I could use to make him suffer, something I could take away like everything he’d stolen from me.

  “Oh! Blood’s here,” Murphy called out, halting my meddlesome plans.

  I turned around just as Yoshiko entered the room carrying a tea tray set with a pot and two espresso cups. She’d changed out of the casual lounge clothes I’d seen her in earlier and now wore a sleek, black pantsuit. The tired strain in her expression made me wonder if she’d been tasked with delivering blood to the duke’s council guests, too.

  “Jenna, right?” she said with a halfhearted smile. I nodded as she slipped past me on her way toward the fireplace. “You’re in for a special treat. We reserve the richest blood for the duke, and this batch came from two donors who have been on an offal and green juice diet for the past week.”

  I stuck out my tongue in disgust but quickly reeled it back in when Murphy gave me a chastising glare. Yoshiko left the tray with the blood pot on the table between the two chairs before cutting back across the room.

  “Enjoy,” she said sweetly before giving Murphy a wider smile and exiting the room.

  “It’s not like you can taste the offal or greens in their blood,” he said once the door had closed behind Yoshiko. “It’s just heartier and more filling when they eat food with extra iron and vitamins and such.”

  “Why not just take a supplement?” I asked.

  “They do that, too. But getting what they need through diet is more natural and healthier. The harem donors give a lot of blood, so Yosh does her best to take good care of them.”

  I shrugged and made my way over to the blood pot, breathing in the warm aroma. It smelled nice. The only time I’d drunk any extra fancy blood was at a house party Roman had taken me to. It had come from a harem for hire called the Blood House Geishas, and it was so amazing that I’d made an absolute fool of myself. I liked to think that I was a bit tamer now.

  “Maybe you should wait for the boss,” Murphy suggested as I filled one of the espresso cups.

  “No need.” Dante entered through the French doors behind him. He untucked his white dress shirt from the waist of his pants as he crossed the room. Then he took the cup of blood out of my hand as if I’d poured it for him. The prick.

  “You’re welcome,” I scoffed as he threw the drink back and set the cup down on the tray.

  “No, my dear, you are welcome.” He began unbuttoning his shirt as he turned away from me. “I do not share my pot of morning blood with just anyone. Please, help yourself while I change.”

  Murphy waited by the entrance, looking entirely too comfortable as the duke stripped out of his formal attire. “Would you like me to take that to the laundry, boss?” he asked.

  “You always go above and beyond, Mr. Murphy.” Dante tossed the shirt to him and then opened one of the doors beside the armoire. From my vantage point, it looked to be a closet. Dante stepped inside, and a moment later, his pants soared through the air. Murphy caught them and draped them over his arm on top of the shirt.

  “Anything else?” he asked, shooting me a cautious glance. I was sure my homicidal urges toward the duke weren’t a big secret around the manor.

  “That will be all. Thank you,” Dante called from the closet.

  Murphy dipped his chin in a farewell nod to me. He slipped out the French doors just as Dante reappeared in the room. The duke wore a gray, long-sleeved Henley and a pair of drawstring pants. The look reminded me of the first time I’d met him and how naïve I’d been, thinking he’d solve all my problems.

  Dante blinked down at the tray and the clean cup beside the blood pot. “My invitation was sincere.”

  I snapped out of my gawking daze and poured myself a drink, refilling his cup while I was at it. I didn’t need another lecture like I’d gotten from Ursula.

  Dante picked up his cup, tapping it gently against mine before drinking it slower than his first. He stared out past the sea of windows around the fireplace to the lit patio tucked between his room and the north wing. Three guards were stationed around the covered swimming pool. I spotted another two farther out on the lawn between the manor and the lake in the distance.

  “This manor has never been breached before tonight,” Dante said, almost as if to himself.

  “I heard you lost a guard.”

  “We lost two, and another was badly injured.” He set his unfinished blood down on the tray and held out his hand toward the armchair in front of me. “Please.”

  I circled the chair slowly and sat down without taking my eyes off him. After our violent exchange earlier in the night, there wasn’t much comfort to be had between us. I waited until he took the chair opposite mine before taking a timid sip of the blood.

  An involuntary moan echoed inside the cup, and Dante gave me a knowing grin.

  “You are welcome,” he said in a tone that mocked my prior rudeness and set my cheeks on fire.

  “I’ve had better.”

  “So I have heard.” The heat in my face spilled down my neck and into my chest and only spread further as he went on. “I have been told you sampled much worse, as well. Of the bovine variety.” He shuddered.

  “I didn’t think you brought me here to discuss our blood preferences.”

  “No.” He laughed. “But I am sure you can guess the topic on my mind.”

  I set my cup down next to his and folded my arms. “An assassin and an unscheduled council visit all in the same night—and so soon after you left. Coincidence? Or does everyone enjoy your company as much as I do?”

  Dante’s perpetually sympathetic brows dropped into a flat line that shadowed his eyes, and his jaw flexed. “Do not forget whose home you are currently a guest in.”

  “I wouldn’t be a guest here if you hadn’t burned down my home,” I said, grinding my teeth as I shot him an unpleasant smile.

  “You ignorant, ungrateful child.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

  “Ungrateful?” I snapped, ignoring the ignorant and child bit of his insult. For now. “Are you suggesting I should have thanked you for what you did?”

  “It would be nice, yes. I saved you from a great deal of trouble.”

  “You ruined my life! How was that saving me from anything?”

  “Very well.” Dante clapped his hands together and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Let us get the trivialities of your woeful predicament out of the way first, shall we? I will even give you the benefit of assuming that you would have somehow avoided drawing suspicion with your dusk-to-dawn schedule, your constant refusal of dinner invitations, or your aversion to silver.

  “In twenty years—or even thirty—when your mortal flesh would have no doubt begun to show signs of deterioration, how did you intend to explain your youthful beauty? Your inner circle’s awareness of your condition aside, what did you plan to tell acquaintances and colleagues?”

  I didn’t expect him to humor me with an honest conversation, and I was unprepared for the question. Truthfully, I hadn’t given it much thought. Getting by day-to-day—or rather night-to-
night—had been challenging enough.

  “I had decades to figure that out.” My face burned hotter as I searched for a better answer. “There are some really advanced facial creams on the market—and hair can be dyed, obviously.”

  Okay. Now I sounded like Laura. Dante’s lips curled downward into an unimpressed scowl.

  “And do these fancy moisturizers also extend your life expectancy? What happens when you surpass your hundredth birthday and continue to look the way you do presently?”

  “My hundredth birthday is a long way off. You could have given me more time.” My vision blurred, and I blinked back hot tears.

  I didn’t care how sound his reasoning was. My life was over, and even the new one that I’d begun to build in this secretive world of immortals was out of reach. What would become of me now?

  Dante exhaled a long, pitying sigh. “I allowed your wolf girl to gather your most valued possessions, and I have opened an account on your behalf, where I deposited more than enough to cover your financial losses.”

  “You opened an account in my name?” That was news.

  “It is under my company umbrella at a privately-owned vampiric bank. For now, you are just an ID number, but once your sire is appointed and you have your new last name, we shall go in together to amend the account information.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why didn’t you say something about it before now?”

  “You have been here all of a week. The account was set up two nights ago, after my appraisers submitted their findings. I would have mentioned it before leaving for Denver, but you were not in very a talkative mood.” He lifted an eyebrow, daring me to deny it.

  “And my job with Blood Vice?” I wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. My loyalty and trust could not be bought, and I still felt violated and broken. Mostly over Roman, but I was betting the duke didn’t have a fix for that one. That I’d been the one in the wrong didn’t make it any easier to accept.