Thicker Than Blood

by Angela Roquet

  Mandy growled in warning, but quickly stopped when I shot her a dirty look. Leaving them alone together was not a great idea, but between the nervous sweating and the crusty blood, I desperately needed a shower. I attempted a smile at Ursula. Sharing a bloody handshake hadn’t made us besties by any means, but it had to count for something.

  “If someone breaks in here during the day, you’ll be glad she’s in her strongest form,” I said, bending over to fetch my duffel bag. I slung it over my shoulder before taking up the blood pot and filling the pair of coffee cups. Hopefully, that would keep her happy and quiet long enough for me to get cleaned up. And, hopefully, it would heal up my injuries, too.

  I cradled a cup in each hand and crossed the room, giving one of them to Ursula before slipping past her and into the bathroom with mine.

  “Try not to kill each other while I wash up for bed,” I called over my shoulder. “I somehow doubt that will earn any brownie points with the council—and we definitely won’t get our deposit back.” After Ursula’s destructive tantrum, I was betting that we wouldn’t get the deposit back regardless, but I’d use any incentive I could to get a few minutes of peace to myself.

  With Mandy in the bedroom, and the other two werewolf guards standing watch in the hallway, I wasn’t worried about an assassin trying to take out the duchess. I imagined the half-sired agent had taken up a post in the duke’s suite, and I was sure there were more guards stationed at the opposite end of the hall for the queen and company. Still, I couldn’t relax.

  I locked myself in the bathroom and hung the strap of my bag over the hook on the back of the door. The mirror was steamed over from Ursula’s lengthy shower. She’d forgotten to turn on the exhaust fan. I considered leaving it off so I could hear if things got out of hand in the bedroom, but then I decided the hell with it and flipped the switch.

  The noise granted more privacy than the enclosed space, and I finally released a long, aching breath. I cradled the cup of blood in my bum hand and used my other to clear a spot on the mirror, taking in my ashen complexion and frazzled braid. Add in the black catsuit, and I looked like I just escaped a sex dungeon.

  I kicked aside a soggy towel Ursula had left on the floor and braced myself against the sink before chugging down the cup of lukewarm blood. A shudder rocked through me, hard enough to make my spine pop, and I set the cup down a little harder than I intended, nearly cracking it on the vanity countertop.

  My hand tingled and itched. I turned it over and watched as the skin on my palm and at the bend of my wrist knit itself back together. Red, inflamed marks remained, but a good day’s rest would hopefully fix that.

  I rinsed the crusted blood off my hands in the sink before peeling out of my catsuit. One of the harem donors would come to collect our laundry after sunrise. I wasn’t used to the maid service the royal family took for granted, but at least they paid their help instead of using Jedi mind tricks like the movie vamps.

  The hotel shower stall was nice, but I’d expected nothing less from a suite usually reserved for opera divas and ballerinas. Still, I didn’t linger. I trusted Mandy more than Ursula to remain civil, but she definitely wouldn’t roll over and play dead if things got dicey with the duchess.

  When I stepped back into the bedroom in my flannel pajamas, I was surprised to find Ursula lying on her bed, facing the window. Mandy watched quietly from my bed, her muzzle resting on the tops of her paws, yellow eyes wide and alert. If I’d known they were going to get on this well, I might have lingered longer.

  Ursula’s back rose and fell heavily—the way a human’s might if they’d dozed off. But vampires didn’t snooze. They died at dawn and rose at dusk. Any downtime in between was due to critical injury or lack of blood, not a catnap.

  “There’s another cup of blood in the pot,” she said as if she could feel me staring. “You should have it before it gets cold.”

  “Thanks.”

  The polite exchange felt awkward, but I wouldn’t turn down the extra blood if it were being freely offered. I fetched my cup from the bathroom counter and refilled it at the night table sandwiched between the beds. The drink sent another shudder through me, though not as intensely as the first, even though the blood had lost much of its flavor as it cooled.

  Once I’d finished, I climbed onto the bed with Mandy and stretched out. I didn’t bother getting under the covers. It wasn’t like I’d wake up if I got too cold in the middle of the day. The sun held as much sway over me as the moon held over Mandy.

  I spent the remaining moments until sunrise thinking about the trial and wondering what to expect once it resumed. Lady Beauclair seemed out for blood—in the figurative sense, as well. Something about her persistence and unabashed desire to see Ursula suffer felt…off. Hadn’t anyone else noticed? Or was it normal for big-wig vampires to so openly display their bias in a setting that was supposed to be fair?

  The other councilors had far better poker faces. I’d committed their names to memory, along with anything else Dante had shared about them. For all I knew, I might find myself adopted into one of their households come summer.

  When the sun neared the horizon, my eyelids grew heavy. I reached down to run a hand through Mandy’s fur. Just to let her know it was time. She would have to watch over us now. I trusted her with my life—and not just because I had to.

  Mandy knew everything there was to know about me, and she was still my friend. The same way I knew everything about her, including some pretty incriminating facts, and yet she hadn’t chewed my heart out in my sleep.

  We were in this together, and even if the sun didn’t force my eyes closed every morning, I knew I wouldn’t have had any trouble sleeping with her watching over me. I wondered if Ursula would be winking out with as much confidence, and the thought made me sad for her.

  I rolled onto my side and faced her back, noting the way her shoulders cinched up near her ears. She was waiting to die. Not just for the day, but a true death. Something told me she had been ever since Morgan’s murder. That maybe the only thing she was holding on to was the hollow ache of a memory. Or the fading illusion of vengeance.

  I’d survived on both not so long ago. Like Morgan’s killer, the man who had shot my mother had never been found. Somewhere along the way, I’d found enough purpose to keep going. It didn’t look like the duchess had. Not yet anyway.

  “Rest well, Your Grace,” I said just before my eyes closed and my breath stilled.

  “Rest well, vampling,” Ursula whispered back, her words floating on the cusp of dawn.

  Chapter Fourteen

  If someone had told me this time last year that I’d be a royal guard at a vampire trial, I would have called in a 5150 and had the best story to tell over donuts in the morning. As it was, if I told an unenlightened human that I was a royal vampire guard, I would be considered the 5150. And, unfortunately, vampires couldn’t have donuts.

  I was still stewing over that one. I let it roll around in my mind Saturday evening, trying to distract myself from more important concerns as we waited to be summoned back to the theater by the council. There were no reported sightings of Scarlett, and I feared the blood call hadn’t worked. Donuts would have certainly made the tension at least a little easier to stomach.

  Mandy had headed back to the harem to catch up on sleep as soon as the sun set. So it was just Ursula and me, sipping fresh blood and pacing the room in silence. For hours.

  My catsuit and cloak smelled of lavender detergent. It should have soothed me, but I was wound too tightly. If Scarlett made an appearance, I would do exactly what Dante had snidely suggested and hide behind the balcony curtains. It wasn’t purely cowardice. If we were anywhere else, I wouldn’t have been able to trust myself not to take the law into my own hands—judge, jury, and executioner style. But surrounded by vampires who could inflict a far worse fate on me, I had to be careful.

  A sharp knock made me jump. I set down my empty cup and checked the peephole before opening the door for Dante. He
was in another fancy waistcoat tonight. The black-on-black gave it a Phantom of the Opera vibe. Murphy, Donnie, and Lane stood behind him, the hoods of their cloaks pulled up over their heads. A shadow shifted across the floor, alerting me that they weren’t alone.

  I leaned past the threshold and stole a quick glance around the corner. Four white-cloaked guards waited in the hall.

  “It is time,” Dante said. His jaw flexed as he glanced past me to where Ursula stood in front of the window. “The council has decided that the trial will resume now.”

  “But it’s only midnight,” Ursula protested. “My scions could be halfway across the world. They haven’t allowed enough time.”

  “I have told the council as much.” Dante sighed. “They are unyielding on the matter. I suggest that you…take all the time you need to answer Lady Beauclair’s follow-up questions tonight.”

  His careful wording was for the council wardens in the hall, I was sure.

  Ursula snatched her cloak off the bed and threw it over her shoulders. She’d chosen a beige dress for night two of the trial. The color was neutral and not half as pretentious as a white dress would have been. The innocent connotation would have been an insult to the council. Ursula had been cleared of Morgan’s murder, but there was no denying that she’d been a negligent sire. She wouldn’t leave here tonight without paying for that crime.

  I followed her from the room, stopping suddenly when Dante held up a hand and nodded for Murphy and Donnie to take over the escort duty. They slipped in on either side of the duchess and followed two of the council wardens. The remaining two filed in behind the entourage.

  I fell into step beside Lane, drawing up the hood of my mantle like the other guards. I wondered if Dante had instructed them to do so for my benefit. If it had been an order, I was guessing he hadn’t told them why. Lane didn’t poke fun at me for being afraid of facing the homicidal brat I’d put out of business, anyway. I nudged his shoulder as we followed the duke back to his reserved balcony.

  “Wanna trade places tonight?”

  “Nah,” he whispered. “I’ve been to dozens of trials. This is your first. Enjoy it.”

  Enjoy it? Yeah, right.

  My nerves were raw, and my evening blood sat heavily in my stomach. Grim anticipation clouded my mood, but it wasn’t my newfound pity for the duchess that filled me with hope that she’d be saved from an extended coffin nap. The duke’s promise to keep my sire secret and to help me return to Blood Vice was still at the forefront of my mind.

  It seemed a hefty price for what little I’d agreed to do, but simply showing up had negated the more horrifying task of testifying for the council. I’d been dubbed a useless pawn for the defense—even though I’d been the one to track down Ursula. Though it still irked me that the duke hadn’t explained the testifying process more thoroughly.

  “Did you rest well?” he asked as we settled into the balcony seats. The theater was quickly filling up below, and the murmur of excited voices veiled our conversation.

  “I suppose so, especially since I didn’t have to seal anything in blood.” I gave him a humorless smile, and his eyes widened.

  “You thought…” He made to reach for my hand but stopped himself short of touching me as the queen arrived. A second later, the prince and Kassandra entered their balcony across the way from us, too.

  The prince nodded to Dante with a subdued but genuine smile. He was a handsome man, if a bit forgettable. I couldn’t picture him ever filling the queen’s shoes, but maybe there was more to him than met the eye. Kassandra, on the other hand, commanded attention. Her bourbon-colored curls were pinned back away from her face, and deep green eyes lined with kohl drank me in before she offered a small smile of her own to Dante. He returned the look with matched courtesy.

  Appearances were important. We couldn’t let on that we knew she had tried to assassinate the queen. Which made her suspect numero uno in my book for Morgan’s death and the attempt on Ursula. But without hard evidence, there wasn’t much we could do. Since I was absolutely not going to offer myself up to the council on a silver platter.

  “Testimony is only sealed in blood if it is offered rather than requested by the council,” Dante said, picking up where we’d left off before the rest of the royal family had arrived. “I would never ask that of you.”

  “That’s good to know,” I said, adjusting my hood to better hide my flushed cheeks.

  The bat cave had covered the most common crimes and punishments, but it had left a lot to be desired when it came to explaining trial proceedings. My ignorance proved more annoying every day. I vowed to spend more time in the library once we returned to the manor.

  Showing up for the trial as one of the duke’s royal guards had seemingly changed the council’s mind to have me testify about Ursula’s arrest. It was a smart strategy. I could give Dante that. Though my relief was hinged on doubt.

  If the council accused Ursula of defying them and not performing the ritual, they could very well opt not to call on me to vouch for her. At which point, I had to wonder if Dante would change his tune about me throwing myself on my sword—or some random guard’s dagger—to save his beloved cousin.

  I’d believe that his intentions were pure just as soon as we were the hell out of here.

  The jury councilors began to make their way across the stage to their seats. I paid closer attention to them this time, noting which ones seemed to be friends and which ones might possibly be feuding. It was a tough guessing game, but there were a few tells that I picked up on—and, of course, the previous knowledge of House Starling’s and House Novak’s sordid history.

  Beyond the fancy lords and ladies of high vamp society, in the shadowy recess of the stage, I spotted a coffin lying on a wheeled cart. Two white cloaks stood in front of it, but they did little to hide the terror-inducing prop.

  Once Ursula had been delivered to her chair of shame, the theater grew quiet. Beauclair stood and faced the audience, watching as the last few guests settled and the doors in the back were closed. She was dressed a hair more modestly tonight, in a blood-red bolero over a black slip dress. As soon as she had everyone’s full attention, she turned to Ursula and folded her hands as if she were about to announce something as cheerfully mundane as bingo numbers.

  “I do not see your scions in attendance, Your Ladyship. The council demanded that you call them by blood twenty-four hours ago. Where are they?”

  Ursula lifted her chin and glared at the woman. “They could be anywhere in the world. They need more time—”

  “We all know they are not anywhere in the world,” Beauclair scoffed. “Did you even perform the ritual?”

  “Of course, I did.” Ursula held up her hand to display the pinkish scar dissecting her palm. The same mark that still graced my hand. Lili’s blade had been silver, so the wound was taking its sweet time healing.

  “In the past twenty years, your scions have committed countless crimes,” Beauclair went on, discounting Ursula’s claim. “The notorious Scarlett Inn, where they risked exposing not only vampiric society but the werewolf community as well, has stained the reputation of House Lilith. Not to mention the numerous humans who died at their hands, either directly or through drug overdoses and unsavory and illegal transactions with the scum of the shifter underworld. And yet, you did nothing.”

  “The inn was constantly moving,” Ursula snapped. “I tried. Annie and I even followed them to Missouri when we heard they’d left Denver.”

  “Unfortunately, Ms. Miller’s blood has already been used to pardon you for one crime,” Beauclair said as if she still suspected that Ursula was guilty of Morgan’s murder. A twenty-year-old rumor was hard to shake in one night, I guessed.

  The double doors at the back of the theater were suddenly thrown open. They slammed into the walls, and a chorus of surprised hisses echoed throughout the room, making it sound like a snake pit.

  A few council members stood, and the audience twisted in their seats to watch two B
lood Vice agents I recognized from the St. Louis office haul in a squirming, kicking figure with a canvas sack over her head.

  My breath seized in my lungs as they dragged her down the center aisle, and I remained in my seat, too afraid to move for fear of drawing attention. Dante inched forward in his chair and turned more fully toward the stage, offering me his back as cover, and I could suddenly breathe again.

  “Thank you,” I said over his shoulder. My gratitude was too great for pride right now.

  I leaned past Dante just enough to watch as the agents stuffed their bounty inside the witness box where Annie had died the night before. They ripped off the canvas sack, and a collective gasp echoed up from the audience.

  It surprised me to see Scarlett in jeans and a hoodie, looking no more dignified than an average, punk teenager caught playing hooky. Of course, it was clever on her part. With Blood Vice hunting her, there was no better disguise than to blend in with the masses. Her cutesy dresses and hair ribbons were a trademark that even a vampling like me was familiar with.

  “Did the blood call…work?” I whispered. Dante shrugged and gave me a cocky grin.

  “It might have. Though I suppose the bonus I offered to any unit that delivered her to the theater helped speed things along.”

  “I’d say so.”

  The agents scanned the room until they found the duke, and they gave him a quick salute, making sure he got a good look at their faces before heading out of the theater the way they’d come in. The white cloaks lined up before the front row traded nervous glances, and then one of them moved to join the guards on stage.

  “Did you miss me, Mother?” Scarlett batted her lashes at Ursula. She had to know that Raphael was her true sire—she was perfectly aware of the Eye of Blood she possessed. But I supposed she wouldn’t openly admit that to the council. That would make her an unsanctioned scion of the late baron and earn her nothing short of an execution.