by Zoe Winters
Jane nodded, wisely. “I’d do it for you, except I don’t think Paul would like it. Anthony is his vampire role model. Plus he’s one of the best shots we have in this tournament.”
“What do I care what happens at the tournament?” Charlee had been in Anthony’s world a few days and already she was sick of vampire politics. She couldn’t see how their leadership issues in any way affected her. Even with her new neck decoration.
“Because Anthony is the most sane possibility that has a chance. And you don’t want Linus to win. That is one psychotic vampire. All humans would be in major danger if he got control of the coven.”
Before she could form a reply, Jane changed the subject. “Let’s go get my stuff.”
***
Inside the apartment, Jane made quick work of packing her bags. She slammed drawers and tossed things around the apartment like she was on a mission to ransack instead of pack. Charlee tried to keep a minimum safe distance as the clanging, clattering, and throwing of things continued.
The vampire hibernation issue was still hard for her to grasp. She kept thinking Gregory would rise out of some mist or something and start yelling at them to keep it down so he could sleep. Not that he was overly scary with his bags of blood in the fridge. Still, vampires were vampires, and from what she’d seen they just came in varying degrees of creepy, not completely safe, warm, and fuzzy.
The apartment went silent for a few minutes, and Charlee got worried. She found Jane standing in the bedroom over Gregory’s prone form, with a hand-carved wooden stake poised over his heart.
She could picture Jane secretly carving it a bit at a time whenever Gregory did some boneheaded thing that was probably more from being a male than a vampire. Jane’s knuckles had gone white as she stared down at him. A mask of rage covered her face, and she was crying.
“If killing Greg would break the claim on you, I know I could do it.”
Charlee wasn’t sure that was true. It wasn’t like they were best buds or anything. For all her bravado, Jane cared about the vampire. She raised the stake dramatically like the act would save the world and give her a shiny special spot in heaven, but she brought it down almost in slow motion until the tip indented the skin just over his heart.
She pressed down, and a tiny trickle of blood ran out around the stake. “He breaks up with me, doesn’t try to thrall me, doesn’t even get a different room to keep me out. He sleeps without a shirt on. He is begging for death. Begging.”
Charlee placed a hand on Jane’s arm. “Let’s just go, okay?”
“There is no court that would convict me. There would be no body. When they’re dead, they just kind of rot and melt away. It’s like they stopped being real when they were turned. He’s dead already. This will make no difference.”
For someone who wanted to be a vampire, Jane seemed to hold a dim view.
“Jane.” Homicidal Slayer Jane was starting to disturb Charlee. And in that moment she knew she was never getting rid of Anthony.
Jane looked up at her then as if just realizing she wasn’t alone in the room. “He deserves it. He’s selfish. All he had to do was turn me.”
Charlee pried the stake out of her hand. “Seriously, Jane. Let’s just get the hell out of here.” She led her from the room like a child and sat her down on the couch, unsure what to do next.
They were some pair. The poster children for why vampires thought humans were lame and stupid. The monsters they hated, they couldn’t kill. If not for Paul, maybe they could have come up with some kind of wacky undead homicide pact. She’d off Gregory, while Jane took out Anthony.
She allowed the dark fantasy to swirl through her mind as she went through the rest of the apartment looking for anything Jane might have missed. When all the bags were lined neatly beside the door, she filled Jane’s arms with bags, grabbed her share, and they made the trek back up to the penthouse.
On the elevator, Jane turned to her with a vacant expression and said, “You know, I probably could have poisoned his blood. Wanker.”
Jane would make a fabulous vampire.
Chapter Thirteen
Anthony woke to the ravaging hunger again and a new burn on his arm. He was quite sure he’d made it clear to Charlotte that he’d be very angry if she engaged in such an activity again. Apparently he’d not made his displeasure clear enough, what with being busy trying to save her life and all.
Meanwhile she’d been spending his money and burning him for fun. He jolted when he realized there were people standing over him with varying degrees of worry etched on their faces. The goth girl was standing closest to him, but backed up when he scowled in her direction. Next to her, was Paul. Charlotte was hidden behind him, peeking around.
“Dude, you freaked us out. It’s 7:30; the tournament starts in an hour. If you’re late they’ll disqualify you.”
“I’m well aware of that. Thank you, Paul.” He struggled to stand and swayed on his feet, dizziness overtaking him. Despite the lack of equilibrium, he made it to Charlotte in half a second. She shrieked.
“I can explain about the burn,” she said, holding her arms up defensively.
“Not interested.” He grabbed the wrist she’d presented––perhaps a bit harder than necessary––and pulled her toward him to feed.
Unlike the day before, he didn’t particularly care about the hunger. He couldn’t imagine a situation in which it would be acceptable for her to burn him a second time. He hadn’t believed it was okay the first time.
Charlotte’s blood flowed down his throat, warm and smooth and filled with the one emotion he hated from her. But he was pissed off enough at the moment that he could almost savor gladly the flavor of her fear.
When he felt his strength returning, he pushed her away. “You’d have no need to fear me if you’d stop doing stupid things. I am not your science experiment.”
Her lip trembled as she glared at him. “Jane used my cross so you wouldn’t kill me in your sleep.”
Well, that was a new twist on things. Out of the million and one completely stupid reasons she could have given him for burning him again, this hadn’t even been in the top hundred. “And what were you doing near my fangs while I was out in the first place?”
She looked at the ground as a flush spread into her cheeks. If not for the tournament, and his other two guests, he would have loved to throw her down on the mattress and see if they couldn’t work out their differences.
“The point is, you were asleep. I thought you’d kill me, and there was no other way to get you off my neck.”
Blood dripped down her hand and fingertips onto his hardwood floor. Anthony gently grasped her wrist and moved it back to his mouth. His tongue trailed languidly over her inner arm, stopping the flow of blood and healing the wound as his eyes held hers. “I wouldn’t have killed you. The claim wouldn’t have let me; I would have stopped.”
He could get used to the flavor that now tinged her blood, a mixture of fear and arousal.
“I didn’t know that. Someone didn’t fill me in on all the finer points of being your betrothed.” He allowed her to pull her arm from his grip. She looked away. “Are we going to this stupid tournament or what?”
A part of him wanted to say to hell with the tournament, kick Paul and Jane out of the apartment, and have a round of grudge sex since he was sure that was the only brand she’d afford him at the moment. The image of Linus flared to life in his mind, dumping ice water on his arousal. He sighed and went to take a rushed shower and throw on some presentable clothing.
Everything with vampires was a big display. Nothing was done without pomp and circumstance. Jane refused to change out of her goth wardrobe, though Paul had agreed to call her his pet for the evening. There would be too much going on at the stadium for anyone to care if a minor minion’s pet was or wasn’t dressed appropriately for the event.
Charlotte, however, was a different matter altogether. It seemed that while he was oversleeping, Paul had explained vampire etiquette to her, or at leas
t the dress code.
She was wearing a simple black dress with spaghetti straps. Black heels set off her shapely legs, and her hair was swept up off her neck, clearly displaying his mark. That was smart. If Linus hadn’t watched him mark her, Anthony would want to conceal it, just in case his opponent won. But as it stood there was no benefit to hiding it, and she’d be safe at least during the tournament if the claim was obvious.
The drive to the stadium was uneventful and quiet. Jane and Paul were in the back seat making out like a couple of horny teenagers. Charlotte sat on the passenger side, staring out the window as Anthony’s hand drifted to rest on her leg.
“Don’t do that. I want you to stop doing that vampire crap with me.”
“And I want you to stop doing that whiny put-upon human crap. Really, this is getting old, Charlotte. I did what I had to do to save your life.”
“We wouldn’t be in this position if you’d kept your fangs to yourself in the first place!”
The lip smacking in the backseat stopped. Anthony kept his eyes on the road, his teeth clenched so firmly, one of them chipping wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. If he could reverse time and undo any of the many stupid things he’d done to bring them to this moment, he’d do it.
He could understand how she felt. He’d imprisoned her and ensnared her in a world that was both more complicated and more frightening than the one she was used to dealing with. And he hadn’t asked her opinion or permission on the matter. From her perspective he’d clearly toyed with her life. And the fucked-up thing about all of it was that everything he did for her benefit took her deeper into a world he’d never wanted her in to begin with.
He still wondered why exactly his fangs had been in her throat that morning. In order for that to happen, she would have had to lie down with him. But why would she do that? She’d expressed that she hated him.
He stole a glance at her. He couldn’t conceive of any reason in the world she would have lain close enough for him to get his fangs in her throat, unless she didn’t hate him as much as she believed.
***
When they arrived at the tournament, Anthony disappeared in a blur of movement without a backward glance. Charlee guessed he’d gone inside for registration or whatever preliminary issues they had to sort out. The stadium was an enclosed, dome-shaped structure that looked like it held thousands of people. Upon entering the building with Paul and Jane, it became clear that wasn’t the half of it.
The stands were packed with vampires, and she had the intense urge to flee. To everyone in this stadium, she was a food group. She felt a hand on her arm and her heart rate slowed.
“Not you too,” she said, grimacing at Paul. Damn vampires and their emotional manipulation.
“You were about to jump out of your skin. The less afraid you are, the better it is for you here. And don’t worry, no one is going to make a move toward you. They can smell the mark if they get close enough, but we’ve made it nice and visible so they won’t get that close. Even if you’re human, it’s a claim. And we respect that. Jane here is the one that has to worry.”
“Gee, thanks,” Jane said.
He nipped lightly at her throat with blunt teeth and grinned at her. “But don’t worry, playing with another vampire’s pet isn’t the highest priority right now. You girls just stick with me and it’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know why we had to come along,” Jane said.
“Anthony wants to keep an eye on you, and if he wins tonight his mate has to be here. It’s bad enough she’s human, but if she’s not here it’s like she doesn’t support his bid for king.”
“I don’t support it,” Charlee said. Truthfully, she didn’t care one way or the other, and thought this entire thing seemed rather insane. Instantly she wished she’d kept that thought to herself.
Paul scowled, and his eyes turned dark, very different from the laissez-faire college boy demeanor he usually wore. “When Anthony wins, you will stand by his side and support him, or I will drain the life from you myself. He’s worked too hard for this, and he’s risked his neck for you.”
“Hey, back off her. She didn’t ask for this shit either,” Jane said. “We’re going to the little girl’s room.”
She threw Paul a look just as threatening as his, grabbed Charlee’s hand, and led her toward the bathroom. Paul stalked close behind them, the danger palpably radiating off his form.
Charlee expected there to be a line, but since few people at the stadium were, in fact, people, it was practically empty. She stood in front of one of the mirrors, her hands gripping the porcelain sink.
“You okay, hon?” Jane had a hand on her back, a touch that was comforting because it was comforting, not because a vampire was putting the whammy behind it.
She met the other woman’s eyes in the reflected surface and nodded. Jane had gone for extra black tonight if that was possible. They all looked like they’d stepped out of a goth Hallmark card. Jane had decided to go with heavy black eye makeup and black lipstick. She opened her purse, pulling out several pastel-colored and flowered items before holding out a tissue.
“You have a bit of mascara starting to creep down your cheek there.”
Charlee hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She did a double take at the contents of Jane’s purse. Pastels? Flowers? Her eyes widened as they met Jane’s.
“It’s not all what it looks like on the outside. Now that you’re in this world, you better learn that. Let’s go. Paul might come in after us if we take too long.”
Paul stood waiting for them outside the bathroom, leaning casually against a wall beside an abandoned concession area. Charlee was grateful it was abandoned. She didn’t want to see corn dogs soaked in human blood being sold for five bucks a pop.
He had worked to regain his calm mask, but now that she’d seen what lurked underneath, she didn’t feel so peaceful in his presence. Jane didn’t have the same aversion and rushed up to him. She planted a kiss on his cheek and looped her arm through his like she was off to see the wizard.
“Hey, babe,” he said, his features softening.
He led them to a gold roped-off portion in the stands. A section of a few hundred seats had been reserved for the friends and family of the contenders. Or minions, pets, and claimed mates. Ick.
Paul sat between them. Charlee laid her arms on the arm rests, and he placed a hand over hers.
“Anthony needs you calm for this.”
“Why?”
“With the claim, he can feel your emotions. He can’t be distracted by any human feelings you might have about what’s going to happen here.”
“Well, well, if it isn’t the little human that got lucky.”
Callie stood in the aisle, wearing a striking red gown and matching gloves that extended over her elbows. Charlee felt the calm Paul was pouring into her. Her emotions were like a lake unfettered by a single ripple, but her thoughts still spiraled through her mind, detached and chaotic.
She wondered if vampires felt like this. This eerie, calculated calm. Did they feel this when they hunted and fed? Anthony seemed more animated, so she assumed it was just the false serenity Paul was sending through her.
Callie leaned close to her ear, her voice lowering. “You might wear his mark, little one, but the moment Linus wins, you’re ours. My guy has experience with failed experiments. You’ll make a stunning addition to the collection. We’re going to have so much fun playing with you.”
Charlee knew she should feel terror, unease, something. It disturbed her what Paul was doing to her. She felt like a computer cataloging emotions. Fear, anger, revulsion. All just descriptive words with nothing more attached to them.
With creepy calm, she turned to the vampire and smiled. “When Anthony wins, I’m sure he’ll kill you for that.”
Callie looked as if she’d swallowed a live and wriggling fish. She turned, holding her back ramrod straight and made her way up a few rows to her seat, her entourage trailing behind her.
&
nbsp; The words were something she would have thought in regards to Callie anyway, but she wouldn’t have had the nerve to say them if not for Paul’s steady hand covering hers.
“Way to go, girl,” Jane said.
This no-extreme-emotions thing had its benefits. But she’d still be glad when it was over. The thought flitted through her mind that this sort of thing might never be over, and if not for Paul beside her, she knew she would have been more upset by it.
The lights dimmed giving way to a large spotlight illuminating the ring below them. For the first time, she turned her attention to where the action would take place. It was the size of a football field and had probably been used as such, though now she could swear she was at a Medieval Times. There were several vampires in the ring with horses. The space had been set up for . . . jousting? They had to be kidding.
A hush fell over the audience and a booming voice sounded over the loudspeaker.
“This century we have fifty-one competitors. As we’ve done in the past, we’ll use a jousting event to open the tournament. Drawing blood, death, or being knocked from one’s horse is grounds for disqualification. We will continue until we’re down to the final ten. Good luck competitors.”
Even without Paul to steady her emotions, Charlee wasn’t sure what she would have or should have felt about Anthony down in the ring. He was attractive as ever, wearing a dark silk shirt and slacks, sitting astride a black horse. She was thankful for the emotion muting, because otherwise she would have felt arousal and would have been mortified that every vampire sitting near them could smell it.
She’d expected the jousting and sword-fighting to take a while, but with vampire speed, everything moved so fast the event passed in front of her eyes in a blur. Within minutes, they were down to ten.
The ring was littered with the bodies of injured and dead vampires. The dead were decomposing, flesh rotting off bone, and bone crumbling to dust. As Jane had said, in a sense they were already dead. Once the demon stopped animating the human, the body’s decomposition went to warp speed to catch up to the state it should have been had natural causes been at play in the victim’s death.
