Pity, because Carver looks so hot.
“Ma belle, are you ready to follow me out there?”
I nod and let him lead me through the maze of passages and halls to the main sitting room. Reina’s already curled on a settee and draped over Row’s lap. Sheepishly, I wave at her.
“Hey, didn’t know a bad dream needed a full 911.”
Reina sighs and pushes a blue-tinted pigtail behind her shoulder. “It does since last time you had a vision of Old Abe. Did you this time?”
“Yes,” I answer.
Even though Carver offers me a spot to sit, I stay standing. Maybe it keeps me grounded in this moment. Then again, maybe I’m scared I’ll just nod off again if I’m not on my feet. Either way, I remain upright and even pace as I relate the ins and outs of my vision. When I’m done, I’m panting a little and Reina offers me a sympathetic look.
“I think that wherever Abe’s hidden, that it’s either in Romania or close to that city in the country side,” I finish. “Everything I saw was basically jibberish to me other than the signs for Bucharest, and it was like a big effing neon sign where we have to hunt next.”
Rowland shares a look with Carver, then shakes his head. “Aura, we can’t.”
“Why not?” I demand, putting my hands on my hips. “If we get to Abe and help fully resurrect him, then we have a huge honking ally in this. I’m ready to give him whatever blood he needs for that ritual. Sign me up if it gets the Bitch Queen out of my life.”
“You can’t go, ma belle, because our race doesn’t have any rights to lands in Romania.”
“Your race?” Reina asks, crinkling up her nose in confusion.
“Yes, we have the Kresova, who are the oldest, most powerful and, frankly, most populous of the vampire races,” Carver says. “The others tend to congregate in their own areas. Most of Europe and east of France for one, Russia and Asia for the second, and African lands for the third. The Kresova stick to France westward, toward the Atlantic and the New World. That was the deal the three other races struck with Morana before Christ even walked the earth.”
Reina frowns. “Why would she strike a deal?”
“Because even she didn’t have quite the power to eradicate all competition and all royal lines. She could do enough with her assassins,” Row adds. Then he stops and shrugs at Carver. “I’m sorry my friend.”
“I am one of her assassins, technically active again. There’s no need to hide it,” Carver replies.
“Anyway, she drove enough fear into them with the levels of power she had two millennia ago. Now, the races have kept up a delicate détente,” Row continues. “The way we all survive---all of vampire kind---is that we obey the laws of faction division. We don’t cross the lines.”
Reina snorts. “Is that like ‘don’t cross the streams?’”
“Huh?” Carver tilts his head.
Rolling my eyes, I pat his arm. “Never mind. What matters is that the politics don’t matter this time. If we’re going to get to Abe, we have to go through Romania and probably other parts of Europe to do it.”
Row shakes his head. “And you would be going through the territory of the Draugur. None of us Kresova have jurisdiction there, and if we’re caught sneaking over, then we could start a war that would rock all of vampire kind to its foundations.”’
“And if we don’t go,” Reina says. “That evil bitch will run all your lives for eternity.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and focus on Carver. “But it’s possible that what I saw is true, right?”
Carver strokes the stubble on his chin and eyes Row. “Yes, I think it’s actually brilliant. It’s a bold move to hide Abe under the noses of the ruling race there, right near the Draugur but none of the Kresova would be any the wiser.”
Rowland nods. “It’s impossible for any of us to get him without starting a war. It’s an utterly masterful stroke. Knowing where he is makes it even harder to get him, not easier.”
“But the ruling families of the other races are coming tonight for a party. They’re crossing into Morana’s territory. How does that not cause a riot or a civil war?” I demand.
Carver takes my hand and squeezes it. Some of the anger abates, but not all. It can’t be like this, that I’m this close to being able to find Abehartach, but stupid politics is going to doom everything before we even mount up a mission.
“Aurora, ma belle,” he says. “We only cross faction lines when there’s a centennial for the reigning family or the royal head of the faction specifically request help from their royal counterpart in another territory. There is no sneaking over, no just conducting an off-book spy mission.”
“We’re fast,” I protest, “and there’s only three of us, we could sneak in and out.”
“And they’ll still know,” Row counters. “This is a terrible idea. Abe might be only a few hundred miles away in Romania…”
“Still a ‘might,’” Reina points out.
“…but,” Row continues, “he might as well be on the damn moon for all the good it does us.”
“We have to go,” I say on a shudder. “You don’t understand what I saw.”
“We will make sure Lavinia and the Daks are safe in time, and we’ll find the white-haired girl. We’ll get our king, but we have to be smart, and we cannot start a war, not like this,” Carver says.
I swallow and try and chew back the fear and anger roiling in me. “Then what are we supposed to do?”
“I’m going to take you to the kitchen and get you some breakfast, and Row and Reina are going to the study, do some more research on ways we might yet travel into Draugur territory undetected.”
Sighing, I follow him, even though I feel like even my lover can’t understand the urgency burning inside of me. Abe showed me such horrible things, and I can’t help but feel our time is running out.
Sitting on at the elegantly carved table, I grin despite my bad mood. Carver has had his staff set out a veritable feast for me: eggs benedict with hollandaise, pastries of all sorts, black coffee piping fresh and hot, a mountain of decadent strawberries and melons, and more bacon and sausage than ten people could eat.
I grab a plate and dig greedily into the eggs benedict first. “I don’t need to eat.”
“You still like it, a habit that’ll grow more dull and useless with maturity, but I wanted to do something nice for you. After your nightmare, I think something to help calm you is more than needed.”
“It was a vision, and we’re in trouble. Lavinia and Abe are probably in trouble.”
“Yes, but you have to understand the races you’re dealing with first. The Kresova, Draugur, Baetal, and the Istria have existed as long as time in memoriam. If Abehartach is the father of our race, then there are rulers almost as old as he is for the other factions. They have their own power---not as much as Morana has amassed---but they’re not enemies you wish to cross. Besides, if we start any wars, then Morana will surely figure out what we’re doing and strive to stop us. Cut us down long before we’re ready.”
“And how did any of this come to be?” I ask, setting my food down. The enormity of what we’re trying to accomplish, struggling to fight against, has left me drained and anything but hungry. “Are we demons? You say we have two souls.”
“We’re neither demonic or angelic. Magic helped form us, but it’s like I told you, you’re the one who chooses to how to live and act. You can be a monster like Morana or someone who has lines they won’t cross. There are Kresova who never do more than drink the bagged blood now provided for them.”
“But how did we start?”
“Only the four most ancient kings know our true origin, and all but Abe have been subdued and murdered by their own fledglings. The royal heads who remain are old and powerful, most as old at least as Morana, but none of the vampires still fully undead and roaming the earth know all our secrets. When the time comes, you’ll have to ask Abe everything. Mon Dieu, I’ll be right there with you, trying to get answers to the questi
ons gnawing at my own mind for centuries.”
“And the races? Is it all geography?”
“Not all of it. We each have our own particular skills, or at least we did. The oldest of each race still have preternatural skills, psychic gifts if you will. Most of the vampires if they’re under three hundred or come from weak bloodlines---regardless of race---do not.”
“Wait, so you’re four hundred. What extra skills do you have?”
“My ability to track my prey and almost know what their next move it. Not quite a name for it, but consider it like being the worlds best hunter. Each of La Tieur have the skill.”
“Holy fucking shit.”
“Yes, the Kresova who are powerful enough are gifted with psychic visions. That should be obvious to you with your connection even now with Abehartach.”
“Do you play the lottery a lot?”
Carver chuckles and takes a bite of a sausage before continuing. “I don’t have gifts nearly as strong as yours, dear Dria.”
“Oh?”
He takes a long sip of orange juice and I wonder if, just maybe, my still-human nature is rubbing off on him. “I have instincts, a feeling of what’s coming in battle that makes me hard to sneak up on, a sixth sense for my opponent’s position most of the time.”
“What do the others do?”
“The Draugur can control elements with their minds if they are strong enough. It’s the ultimate weapon. Think about being able to form a wall of fire around an enemies stronghold.” Carver wiggles his brows.
“That’s crazy. Wouldn’t want to piss of their ruler. And the Baetal?”
“Now, they can see into an objects history. They’re like the magical item finders.”
“Shit.”
“Yes, now you know why you can’t start an all-out war with the factions. I realize time is pressing, but we must be smart in how we hunt for Abe.”
“What about the Istria? What can they do?” I’ve got to know whatelse I’m up against.
“They’re power rests in pure magic. They’re said to have created the first witch.”
“And how will I stand up to courts full of witch creaters, magical totem finders, and people who can manipulate the elements?”
“Only the oldest have that kind of control, and their attention will mostly be focused on Morana and whatever machinations she’s trying to force on them.”
I snort and roll a strawberry between my fingers. “So, for once Morana being a rancid bitch is actually going to work in my favor.”
“Just this time.”
“At least it’s a start.”
Chapter 12
While Morana might be terrifying and a fucking psycho, she also knows how to throw a party.
It’s like going to the Academy Awards or that Met Gala Ball. In my bones, I know that if it was only the Kresova here tonight, she wouldn’t bother to maintain a façade of following the rules. There’d be corpses littered everywhere and human slaves to drain. It would be something out of the worst Roman spectacle, like throwing Christians to the lions.
Except we’re the effing lions.
Tonight, though, everyone looks like a member of the gliteratti. Thinking over the estates that Carver has maintained over the years, and the territory Morana has staked out in New Orleans and the heart of Paris, I’m not surprised. After all, the royal lines of all the races have to be rolling in some serious bank. It’s like Row implied, if you’re not a complete moron, you should be able to save up some serious coin over hundreds of years. From what Carver’s told me, the other royals---while not the first vampires---have still had thousands of years to amass their wealth.
Walking arm and arm with Carver, I try to keep my eyes down and stay as demure as possible. Yes, I’m an oddity, the few of the new Kresova fledglings allowed to live. The other handful are all huge, strapping guys, and ones who could withstand the change by being brought to Morana soon enough. I’m a girl and one who did it all on my own. But this fledgling can’t outshine the queen and live. I have no interest in it. I want to be off most of the royal’s radar so that I can survive another day. Survive, thrive, and return to make the Bitch Queen’s soon-to-be-short unlife a living hell.
However, like always, I have to dress the part. This time, Charles delivered the dress this afternoon with a terse note attached from Morana:
Wear this and don’t embarrass me.
The threat of being set on fire or torn apart was implied. Morana’s thoughtful like that.
On the other hand, the bodice of the black, sequined mermaid style dress hugs every curve I have in dangerous ways. Flecks of gold thread sewn into the torso of the dress shimmer under the light. It ends in a dramatic flare of layered tool just above my knees that spreads out into a mermaid tale as dramatic as anything in an old Hollywood classic. Even though I’ve been trying to keep my eyes down and avoid eye contact with any royals unless they initiate it, I have noticed a few of the younger vampires checking me out.
I’ve certainly noticed Carver clutching me more tightly and glaring at a few men as if he could kill them with a look.
When we enter Morana’s countryside estate, we’re shown to the gardens outside immediately. They’re a hedge maze of high greenery that feels impossible to find one’s way through. But they’re also so much more. Every so often a topiary animal peeks out through the hedges---stags, foxes, and even wolves that feel so real at least that the wolves are practically snarling at you. The high greenery around us isn’t plain either. Over them cascade hanging collections of ivy, lilac, and roses. God, so many effing roses in every color from the deepest crimson to even midnight blue. If everything weren’t about etiquette, I’d pluck a blue one for Reina. She’d dig its coloring so much.
We wander into the maze as everyone else present does, and I’m sure Morana loves this part of her game as well, loves that she can leave us disoriented in territory she’s probably stalked a million times over the centuries. Bitch Queen never does anything where she won’t be guaranteed the upper hand. It’s clearly not in her nature.
I unthread my arm from Carver’s. It’s the last thing I want to do, but it’s necessary for both of us to stay alive. When he led me to the door to be announced that, it was one thing to link arms. That’s custom or so he says, and everyone seemed to agree. Now? Well, the only one who’s more jealous than I am is Morana, and no need to piss her off deliberately. She’ll invent some reason for it later anyway.
Eventually, we come to a turn in the maze where Morana stands speaking with a small coalition. I don’t need for her to introduce me to understand instantly that it’s the other representatives from the three races. The Istria, Baetal and Draugur all have distinct appearances, that’s true. The man from the Draugur line has salt and pepper hair and must have been turned later in life. His suit looks even from here to be of the finest linen and has to be handmade, while creamy skin shines against the moonlight in the gardens. The Istria woman is dressed in flowing green silk that flutters in an artful kaftan over her voluptuous body. A forest green hat, one that comes to a high, flat arch over her head, sits prominently over her brow. Her tan skin almost giving away her Egyptian heritage. The Baetal looks young, maybe no older than Charles, but looks in our kind are deceiving. While the shortest of the three visiting heads, I can feel the power radiating from him almost as ferociously as I do from Abe in my dreams. His long silken robes are etched with intricate gold thread patterns and his long beard comes to a studied point well below his collar bone. I could totally see all the Vikings being descended from this guy.
Morana turns, sensing our approach as surely as I can sense the power flowing through the royal lines of the various factions. She doesn’t even turn but only gestures haphazardly at us with her free hand.
“You’ve met the other new Kresova, the best that could be salvaged from the unfortunate rogue sire in New Orleans.”
The Istria royal frowns, and, for an instant, I swear I can see her teeth. “That was most disappoi
nting, Morana. Your secrets are ours.”
The Baetal nods his head. “Exactly, you swear the rogue element has been eliminated, and it better be.”
Morana doesn’t flinch in the face of criticism, although, knowing her, I bet she can’t wait to return to her quarters and rip the heads off humans for days while pretending she’s attacking the other royals instead. “The culprits have been dealt with, and the vampire rejects they created eliminated, non pas? There was no reason to destroy the few good ones we could take advantage of.”
The Draugur strokes at his chin. “Strategy as always, Morana.”
She nods and finally turns to us. It’s only so she can sidle up next to Carver. Her hands roam over him in ways that make me see red, that leave me seething and wishing I had the power to destroy her already. But I can’t. When she rubs at his groin again, it takes everything I have plus a quick, warning look from Carver to keep myself from lunging at that whore.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have need of mon assassin on the dance floor.”
I frown, and even in all of this tension, I can’t keep my big, dumb mouth from blurting out, “What dance floor?”
She laughs like I’m the stupidest child she’s ever met. At least my public humiliation will keep her off guard and realizing anything about me and Carver, that anything more is even between us. Not like she doesn’t have a massive ego about herself, after all. “If you can make it to the center of the maze, there’s a huge cotillion being held.”
Morana yanks Carver’s arm forcefully and they speed off so fast together under her lead that even I can barely follow it. Soon, the other race’s leaders do the same, clearly having no interest in dealing with a fledgling mistake.
Annoyed and ready to kill something---anything---I try rushing through the labyrinth too but only manage to get even more lost in the dense arrangement. I slow down in my frustration and walk through the gardens, my anger rising. Even if I get to the center, there’s nothing I can do but be forced to watch her dirty dance with Carver, and that’s the last thing on earth I could stand. Row after row of hedges greet me as well as the brilliant, vibrant roses covering them. This time, I’ve moved into a section with the palest pink blossoms and, if my lover weren’t in that damn spider’s web, it would almost be enjoyable.
Tempt (The Kresova Vampire Harems: Aurora Book 2) Page 9
