Reluctantly, Raina removed her hand from the shower door. As Brenna shut the door, so too did she potentially shut the door on what had quite possibly been a golden opportunity for both of them.
* * * *
Chapter Nineteen
There was barely an hour left before daybreak when their arrival was finally announced. It was perhaps a silly thing to have not specified an exact time for their first meeting, but she wanted Raina to feel as much at ease and unstressed as possible, in spite of everything else. She had, after all, just emerged from a comatose state and was likely still coming to terms with the initial shock of her Change and its physical aftermath. Quite honestly, it was perhaps pushing things a bit for her to have asked that they meet this soon after Raina’s rebirth. Normally, she was not keen to rush anything. She was immortal, and she had walked this world for over two centuries. Ordinarily, in that respect, what difference would it make to wait a few hours more?
But because of the Countess’s actions as of late, time was something of an issue. She was genuinely surprised that her foe had apparently not yet reached Raina. That foul wench’s intentions were nothing but nefarious, her methods quite underhanded. She had done nothing yet that she could use to justify demanding that she be labeled a rogue vampire, nor had she technically run afoul of the Code as of yet because she had officially (and publicly) challenged each of the people she had killed. The Countess was not nearly as well-connected or as well-funded as the House of Fallamhain – in fact, she was perhaps the only surviving member of the House of von Reichenbach – but what she lacked in political and financial power she could sometimes compensate for with wit and guile. Even in her bloodthirsty quest to seek revenge, the little bitch was being tediously methodical. She knew that violating even the slightest technicality would be the end of her, for Duvessa would bring the full wrath of the IVC and the human authorities down upon her in an instant. She hated it, but she knew that she could only sit and wait for the Countess to make a fatal mistake, either by accident or by finally daring to face her in person. The sooner she could see that nasty little thorn in her side removed, the sooner the Council’s agenda could be set back on course toward sailing smoother waters … and the sooner she could begin restoring her bloodline.
She would have liked to have spent her time in other more engaging activities. A good coupling or two would have been delightful, but blood and the practice of shedding it were more appropriate for these nights. She had spent two hours that night fencing with her guard and she had sated her thirst twice. She was reluctant to admit that she had perhaps been exceedingly rough with him in those activities, and she had sensed that he felt this way, but she was truly stressed. She needed an outlet, and it was in the trading of pain that she had to seek relief, rather than in the preferred solace of pleasure. To remain strong and to keep her mind sharp, she needed blood, not sex. Of course, nothing of those two needs would have pleased her more in that hour than the opportunity to finally sink her teeth into Countess Wilhelmina’s throat. When the opportunity finally came to pass, the experience of drinking away her life away would be simply orgasmic in and of itself.
With Phillip’s dutiful assistance in gathering and presenting her clothing and touching up her appearance a bit, she had been ready to make her grand entrance long before word had come from William that they were in the hotel. She felt rather naked and vulnerable without the guard of her consorts as she walked down the hallway with but two lowly guards to look after her – a female Commoner and her male human servant. The two additional Commoners, Ladies Svetlana and Noriko, who trailed behind them in their elegant red gowns were merely maidservants that her consorts had acquired in negotiations with Russian and Japanese families. They were simply decorative servants, really, as they knew nothing of combat or the methods of protecting others; at best, the most she could hope for would be that they would simply throw themselves in harm’s way in the event of an attack … although she doubted they would even think to do that much. With this in mind, she felt an edge of paranoia that Wilhelmina would appear to attack them the moment that she set foot outside of her suite, taking advantage of her diminished security. The thought made her tighten her grip upon the genuine ivory handle of the ceremonial broadsword that she carried in both hands.
She was comforted only by the thought that she would soon be with William again. As much as she had loved and truly missed each of her beloved consorts, particularly Sebastian, she was most grateful that William still lived to serve her. Their love was still quite young, quite at the forefront of her thoughts. In all brute honesty, it would have been an even greater blow to have lost William first than to lose Cedric, Leofric, and Sebastian in one week. It would be difficult to do so, but she reminded herself to keep her attention focused squarely upon her newest bloodspawn during this historic and very public event. She could not let anyone see how much she loved him, nor how glad she was to see him. It would not bode well for the media to add photographic validity to their presumptions that the Grand Duchess was romantically involved with a mere Commoner. She could not deny her feelings, but she was also not especially proud of them, either. The Council had already been abuzz with the accusation for far too long, and while it was no violation of the Code, it was not a queenly thing to be known as one that shared not only her bed but her heart with lower races. The others would see it as both a sign of weakness and a cheapening of her royalty.
The ride in the elevator car was short, gentle, and silent, and she steeled herself with a deep breath, proudly and immediately stepping out as the doors opened. As per her wishes, the media was respectful enough to have disabled the flashes and spotlights of their cameras, but there was no less clicking of shutters and shuffling about of humans with video equipment that yearned to document this moment of vampiric history. Flanked by her guards, Ian and Lady Mary, they walked calmly down the clean red carpet of the main hall before turning to their right into the grand hotel lobby. This was it. This was when and where the fate of the House of Fallamhain’s future would be decided.
The setting was not ideal, but sufficient. This ritual had taken place before in much worse conditions during much more dire times, such as in the midst of World War Two, covered in mud, surrounded by filth, and cowering in an underground shelter while the occasional thud of German bombs exploding above could be heard. No, compared to those times, this was not so bad at all. She could very nearly go so far as to call this pleasant – almost, but not quite, given the circumstances.
The main floor of the lobby had been cleared for the occasion, all of the usual furniture cast aside and the main portion of the area bordered by a felt rope partition. Decorative indoor trees and flora gave the place less of a formal setting and more a feeling of being in a tropical jungle. The many glass panes of the above sky lighting gave a faint hint of the threat of a dawn to come. The media swarm was chokingly thick, in spite of the relatively short notice of this event, so she was thankful for that perimeter of security that kept her from being made to feel claustrophobic. At least they were relatively quiet for this event, not daring to exhibit their usual rude tendency to shout questions and thrust microphones in her face. To make sure that none of them might be overzealous enough to try to do so, there was a loose scattering of police officers, essentially one at each corner of the mostly squared lobby, as well as two more officials in plain clothes – FBI agents of the Bureau of Vampire Affairs – that had followed lazily behind them from the elevator to the main lobby.
She had seen only vague images of a driver’s license photo and a cell phone picture that an affiliate in the hospital had sent of Raina while she was still comatose and in the midst of her Change. Before that, she had only seen photos and video of the girl when she’d been much younger, following the death of her parents. Even so, she immediately affixed her eyes upon the recipient of her blood from across the lobby, instantly recognizing her more by what she felt rather than what she saw. Even at a distance, Raina certainly was rem
arkable. As she drew closer before stopping in the very center of the lobby, what she’d found to be remarkable soon became enchanting.
Raina Delgado was simply beautiful, and stunningly so. Her attire was elegant and alluring without being elaborate or lasciviously revealing. The features on her face were soft, delicate, and showing as true to the emotions of nervous respect that she radiated telepathically. The tone of her skin was strikingly human and not quite pale, perhaps due to her mixed ethnicity. Her hair and eye color, as well as the very shape of her eyes, were very exotic. She was like no other vampire that the High Court had ever seen in all her years. She could only hope that Raina’s personality and intellect fit the first-impression value of her appearance.
Raina’s clothing was tasteful and formal, at least in a modern sense of those words. Black low-heeled shoes, black sheer stockings, a knee-length dark gray skirt and matching blazer, and a black silk blouse made her appear quite professional and conservative. Her makeup was a bit darker than the average businesswoman’s, however, with a rather natural-looking brown eye shadow that complemented her dark brown, almost black eye color, and the dark burgundy of her lip gloss glistened wetly with a kissable allure. Her hair was wound and bound neatly into a bun, aside from a few slightly curly strands that had deliberately been allowed to fall on either side of her face. She appeared “hip,” as the young ones would say, without surrendering too much of conservative good taste. Already, she liked Raina quite a lot.
She placed the tip of her sheathed broadsword upon the red carpet and rested her hands upon the butt of its ornately carved ivory and gold handle, taking a moment to stare beyond Raina towards her companion. While tall, curvaceous, and very beautiful, Brenna Douglass was somehow otherwise not very remarkable. Perhaps it was how she had chosen to dress herself, perhaps the style of her makeup, or perhaps the fact that her opinion of that Commoner was already more than tainted negatively by their last telephone conversation.
Brenna looked very typical of the “gothic” subculture of modern human youths enamored with vampires, in spite of the fact that she was a Commoner vampire, herself. Her makeup was deliberately too dark and too heavy, although it did make the strikingly green color of her eyes stand out quite nicely in contrast. Her glossy black stiletto heels added even more to her already substantial height, but would have looked more appropriate on a stage with brass poles and flashing lights. Her full-length black dress looked cheap, was slit too far up the side, showed the tops of her fishnet stockings, and offered a lewd amount of cleavage of her ample bust with the deep-cut V-neck of its front. Brenna’s skin was an alabaster white that, combined with her naturally raven-black hair, belied an apparently Slavic heritage of sorts – another gypsy’s ancestor. Perhaps the only concession she had made to appear somewhat formal for the occasion was that her naturally straight hair had been tied back into a thick ponytail.
Aside from that, she looked much like a gothic sex toy, so it was even less of a surprise for her to have learned earlier from William that Brenna was a stripper … or, as such women preferred to be known, an “exotic dancer.” Brenna was a slave to image and style rather than substance. In spite of the fact that she was easy enough to look at – in fact, quite sexy, she could admit – and even though she may have appealed to some other members of the High Court and to the legions of like-minded human fans, Brenna would not assimilate well into the House of Fallamhain. Already, she knew that her inclusion would quickly prove to be more of a problem than she was worth. It would only be a temporary inconvenience, but it was uncertain yet how long she would need to endure this Commoner’s personality before steps eventually could be taken to rectify the situation.
Casting aside her personal reservations of Brenna Douglass for the moment, she softly cleared her throat and allowed a formal smirk to curve her lips as she prepared herself for public speaking. She calmly and elegantly raised her empty right hand aloft in a motionless wave of greeting. With abruptness, the already hushed crowd fell completely silent as one. She lowered her hand and addressed the crowd as a whole.
“I am Duvessa Fallamhain, Grand Duchess of the International Vampiric Council and Head Mistress of the House of Fallamhain,” she introduced herself clearly to the surrounding audience. “I have come to your land in peace to accept one of your own as one of my own, and to help bring to justice the rogue vampire whose crimes have recently been committed against your people, as well as my own. If there is anyone here who wishes to speak out against my presence, then please let them do so at this time.”
Duvessa paused in her speech for a moment, allowing an opportunity for response. This was not entirely a matter of pointless ceremony, as there had been occasions in the past when individuals had actually chosen to protest her arrival – religious and political activists, usually. Fortunately, on this morning there were no such protests. The audience remained still and silent, save for a few muffled coughs. Perhaps those against her, or those against her kind, were at least respectful enough not to provoke or taunt her on this night, considering her recent string of personal and deeply hurtful losses. Of course, if this event were have to taken place somewhere in the Midwest, members of a particular extremist Baptist church organization would have surely been present with signs and wailing chants of hatred, as they were also the same group of wicked fools known to regularly stage protests at soldiers’ funerals.
Without any such interruptions, she was able to breathe a quiet sigh of relief. She turned to Mary, summoned her with a subtle nod to stand by her side, and then carefully passed her sword to her. Mary knelt before her as she accepted the sword with a bowed head, and then stood to place herself behind the Grand Duchess with the sword held carefully in both of her upturned palms.
Unarmed now but for her own natural, innate means of defense, Duvessa turned her gaze to the young Hispanic female directly ahead of her with a warm smile as she spoke again to the crowd. With a come-hither gesture of both hands, she invited her to approach. With graceful but nervous obedience, Raina visibly gulped back her fears and walked ahead. She was unmistakably terrified by the idea of being the center of so much public attention. Duvessa felt Raina’s distinct sensation of nausea with such intensity that she was very nearly overcome with it, herself. Raina’s ability to contain her severe anxieties like this for the sake of public appearance was certainly a reassuring detail. She would have preferred that Raina not be intimidated by appearing before a crowd at all, but she would surely learn to overcome that issue in time.
As William had instructed her beforehand, Raina stopped in her advance when she was within ten paces’ distance and knelt with her head bowed respectfully. In Raina’s left hand, she tightly grasped the sheathed sword that had once belonged to her Maker, Sebastian.
“As you all surely are full aware, the circumstances of my presence here tonight are not for the sake of petty ceremony or political fancy,” she explained to the crowd as she slowly approached a kneeling and visibly trembling Raina Delgado. “Those whom I most dearly loved have recently been stolen away from me. They bravely gave their lives to defend my life, my honor, and my bloodline. While I shall forever mourn their loss, I am eternally grateful for the sacrifices they have made for the sake of their Maker, as well as for the sake of the survival House of Fallamhain.”
Standing over Raina, she paused for just a moment to compose her emotions, holding back very real tears and swallowing down sorrow that threatened to choke the clarity out of her public speaking voice. The sight of that sword meant a lot … perhaps too much. She was quite glad for her own decision to bestow it upon Raina, as it was not only a matter of tradition but also for keeping that impending feeling of doom at bay that had, until recently, threatened to entirely overwhelm her. Already, she had been given too many swords of dead lovers and fallen bloodspawn. As long as this last sword was not being delivered to her with finality, she could breathe easier with the assurance that her bloodline would not end with her own death.
As
someone of her position, it was not proper to show such weakness. No one would fault her for falling into a fit of tears, which she certainly had done in private, but there was a time and place for such things. As Grand Duchess, she had to strive to exhibit the image that she was in complete control of herself at all times, that she was strong enough to endure any suffering inflicted upon her that would otherwise surely break anyone else. An image of strength was absolutely essential for the head of the Council, the governing body of all vampires … especially in light of recent events. A sign of certain weakness would be seen as an invitation to challenge her reign, and that was not something she wished to convey at that time, at all.
“However,” Duvessa finally said, “I am most grateful of all for the blessing you see before me right now. In his final hours, poor Sebastian foresaw the inevitability of his own tragic demise. He wished to see to it that my legacy would not end with his death, and so he entrusted this brave young woman with the continuation of my bloodline. While I do sincerely regret the suffering and personal sacrifices she has had to make, I am nevertheless deeply appreciative to have this individual as a part of my bloodline. I would like to take this opportunity to publicly recognize this young woman for her bravery in accepting the many great responsibilities that come with her new role, and to welcome her into the House of Fallamhain.”
Duvessa glanced to Ian with a nod, and he approached with the ceremonial items. First, he handed her a very old but well-kept dagger in a black leather sheath. Duvessa took hold of the dagger by its sheath and drew it slowly and gently from within by its ornately decorated ivory handle, which had the symbol of an ankh engraved upon both sides of its double-edged blade. Ian accepted the emptied sheath as she turned to look down upon Raina with a gentle sigh.
The Darkest Colors Page 34
