This face I knew, almost as well as Alan's. Dmitri was a massively built man, with the kind of shoulders that would have made a football coach drool. His hair, prone to glorious curls, were in every shade of black and brown imaginable, making them look more like a pelt than actual hair. He had done something with it to make it slick, and had pulled it back into a careful knot at the back of his neck. That was almost as strange as Alan being rude. As far as I could tell Dmitri never wore his hair, which was prone to curl riotously, back, much less held in place by what looked like impressive amounts of product.
“Alan, Genevieve, Vlad is ready for...Lorena?” When he'd started off talking his voice had been careful, precise, and utterly empty of feeling. I had never known Dmitri to be empty of feeling. In fact, part of my problem with him had been the fact that he was prone to having just a little bit too much in the feeling department. He was a brooding artist after all. But he didn't show anything in his voice until he got to my name, which was gasped out with the shock of someone who both did not expect and didn't want to be saying what they were.
I felt thoroughly unwanted. Great.
“Gee guys, I didn't realize you hated me that much.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.
Alan gave me a look. “We could never hate you, Lorena.”
“Not at all,” Dmitri promised.
“It is simply not a good time for you to be here,” Alan finished.
Genevieve raised a perfect pale brow up her equally perfect forehead. “And why not?”
The male vampires clapped their mouths shut, refusing to look at either myself nor Genevieve. I was beginning to think that maybe they were right. Maybe I shouldn't be here. Something weird was going on and I had enough weird going on in my life.
“You have spent a rather intriguing amount of time promising us that we would be right in trusting this little witch, my brother,” Genevieve said, lifting her chin imperiously. She didn't look so much like a bridal doll as that of the wicked queen from a fairy tale. “And yet it seems as if you would deprive us of actually getting to know her.”
Wait, what? There were a lot of things about that statement that I didn't much like, starting with “little witch” and ending with the way she looked right at me as she said it. I found myself tucking my thumbs in my belt loops because I didn't want to do anything rude with my hands. Keeping them in my pockets just wasn't enough.
“Lorena can be trusted,” Alan said. He turned and offered his sister the charming smile that I was used to being pointed in my general direction.
“Then perhaps she should say so herself.”
Yet another voice. I was getting pretty tired of vampires and their sneaky capabilities. Batman, master of the stealthy entrance, had nothing on these guys. This voice was not feminine, or soft like Genevieve's. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite. It boomed with the strength and power of a commander, and was rich with the melodic accent of a distant mountainous land.
I couldn't see whomever was talking. Dmitri had shifted his body just enough to put himself between me and the speaker. That was just a tad disquieting, especially since Alan moved to do the same. Dmitri, was the protective sort, sometimes a little too protective. I had never known Alan to put himself in harm's way. How big of a threat was this person that I needed not one, but two vampires to keep me safe? Answer? Too big for my britches.
And yet, my traitorous mouth was moving before I could stop myself. “I do say so.”
Alan winced. Dmitri stiffened. And I knew that I had just made a very poor life decision.
“Is that what you say, Lorena Quinn?” he asked. He didn't sound happy about it. “Move aside, sons of my blood. Let me see this mortal creature that you have put such faith in that you would offer your own backs to me.”
Apparently, I was not the only one to notice the wall of flesh that had been offered up to protect me. Goodie. Alan gave me a look of apology before stepping to the side.
Vlad the Impaler, because who else could he be, was not so large as I would have imagined, nor was he as buff. When I pictured a heroic leader of an army that won against insurmountable odds and spawned a myth, a whole slew of novels, and a bunch of movies to be made after him I had to picture someone titanic in build. He couldn't have been a few inches taller than me, and he wasn't all that muscular either.
He looked to be around my dad's age, mid to late forties. He was fit, but not intimidating in build, even a little soft around the middle. His long dark hair flowed in rich waves around an angular, not entirely unattractive face. I wondered why his hair got to be down while the other men had theirs pulled back. It was his eyes though, that saved him from being plain. They were dark, richly so, like shadows captured in his gaze. In fact, the more I looked at him the better he looked.
He walked in sure, even steps until he stopped right in front of me, leaving me with barely more than a couple inches of personal space. I could feel, rather than see, the tension radiating off of Alan and Dmitri.
Being a necromancer, I have a leg up on understanding the undead. I knew that Alan and Dmitri were very much not okay with what was happening. It wasn't just the body language. It was a sense. I knew that Genevieve was also tense, but it didn't have the same desire to protect as what was coming from the other two. There was something else going on with her that I didn't fully understand. Vlad, however, was watching me with the intensity that the cobra spared its dinner.
“You are prettier than they led me to believe,” he said, reaching out and brushing a hand through my hair, “younger, too. When they spoke of you I pictured a woman fully formed and grown, not this fascinating creature who has a foot in both youth and maturity.”
Ick? Like, I didn't have a problem with being young, but there was something about the way that he was focusing on my apparent age that made me wanna take a few steps back. I was, of course, far too proud and just a dash too scared to do that.
“Thanks?”
He smiled, and his whole face changed. I liked a good smile, the kind that could be on a Colgate commercial or some other grin-centric add campaign. Wei had an incredible smile. Vlad? His was something else. He went from a five to a ten. That's how good it was. I found myself blinking just to make sure I wasn't imagining anything. Nope. Great smile. A plus.
“You are very welcome.” He lifted one of my hands, which I don't even remember him taking, and brought it to his lips. They were softer than they should have been. I blinked and shook my head. The tension coming off of Genevieve went up a few notches.
“What's going on?” I asked.
“We are mourning the passing of our beloved Wei, would you do me the honor of joining us?” he made it sound like I was getting invited to Cinderella's ball.
“Uhhh,” was all I managed to say before I heard an ungodly screech echoed around me.
A moment later a form slammed into me. I say form rather than person because I was pretty sure that the form wasn't entirely human in shape. It moved quick and hit hard and I tumbled down to the ground, my newly washed jeans getting some impressive grass stains on the legs.
“Nooo!” the shrill voiced screeched again. The person grabbed my arm and jerked it hard enough that my teeth clacked together.
“Yasmina! Stop this!” someone yelled, I think it was Dmitri but I was too busy seeing stars as a She-Hulk sized elbow slammed into my gut. The air whooshed out of my lungs and tears sprang into my eyes. I was hurting pretty bad.
“You will not take him away from us! He cannot have you!” the she-beast screamed at me. Claws as long as my arm swept at me, I got my arm up in time to take the strike anywhere else but the chest shot she was aiming for. Jeez what was she planning? To dig out my heart? She struck with the other hand and I realized that was exactly what she was planning.
I had spent months training with Wei, and he had been a harsh taskmaster where the martial arts were concerned. The forms he had taught me relied on using my opponent’s strength against them. Good. If that was as true as I
hoped it was this fight was in the bag. This chick had a whole lot of strength.
I used my legs to arch up off the ground and roll to one side. The female, Yasmina if I could believe what everyone was yelling at her, lunged at me again, but this time I was ready. I rolled onto my back again and caught her movement with my feet using a push to carry her over my head and send her tumbling.
I did not have time to revel in a perfectly executed throw, because she was after me in a blur of speed that would have left Superman eating dust. She slammed into my back, sending me right back to the ground, this time on my front. I got a nice mouthful of carefully manicured lawn. Her claws raked down my back and I admit it, I screamed.
“I will lap the blood from your cooling flesh once you are dead,” she whispered in my ear. Well, that was vivid. Over dramatic, maybe, but vivid.
“Yasmina, stop!” I head Alan say.
I heard, rather than saw, movement. A heavy weight hit Yasmina in the side. She didn't budge. I turned my neck just enough to see that Yasmina held Alan by the throat. It was too dark and my head hurt too much to get a good look at her. He was snarling and swiping at her, but I knew, even with the delicate claws at the ends of his fingers, that he was no fighter. Besides, the Brides of Vlad seemed to be in a league of their own where ability was concerned.
She tossed Alan aside like he was a sack of flour. He went tumbling. I heard the sound of fabric ripping and I knew that Alan was going to be upset. He really liked his clothes. Heck, I was gonna be upset. They had been really nice clothes.
“Do not protect this whore.”
Okay, that was it. In the past three months people had been making a lot of assumptions about me and the three hims and what I was going to do with said hims and I was pretty much over it. On top of that I was still nursing the last few bits of my sob inducing anger and I had no time to swallow them down. I was a necromancer and I was going to show this crazy vampire just what that meant.
Magic burst out of me like a fist. It rushed up and opened fingers that were not fingers to create what I could only call a ghostly shield around me. The attacker was flung backwards, arcing high into the air and landing on the ground hard enough to leave a divot. If she, and I was ninety-nine percent sure it was a she, was hurt I was pretty much okay with that.
“Yasmina?” Vlad stood to one side of a pretty column, looking down at the dark pile.
“I'm fine,” I croaked, “thanks for asking.”
No one approached me. I wasn't all too surprised by the fact that the new vampires didn't, but I was a little surprised that understandably protective Alan and Dmitri were keeping their distance. As I looked around I realized that people were either looking on the woman on the ground with various states of pity, or looking at me with equally various states of frightful awe.
“What?” I asked.
Genevieve looked the least afraid, in fact she looked pretty impressed. “I have never seen a spectral shield that strong.”
“She is a necromancer,” Alan half coughed as he sat up from his place on the grass. He gave his torn sleeve a frown. Told you that he was going to be hissy about it. “She is a woman born of prophecy. Did you think her magic would be small?”
The words sounded a little rude to me, but brother and sister shared the kind of look that held a wealth of amused secrecy.
“It is most impressive,” Vlad said, standing on the very edge of the aura of my magic, “I wonder if you can release it as easily as you summoned it.”
I honestly had no idea, but I wasn't even going to try until I knew for sure that my attacker wasn't going to be starting things up again.
“I'll answer that question once she is done with her hissy fit,” I said.
“You have my word that she will not attack you again.”
I nearly scoffed. “Yeah, I don't think I'll be accepting that, considering you did absolutely nothing to stop her in the first place.”
Amusement flickered in Vlad's dark eyes and it made me dislike him a little more. I didn't like it when people laughed at my anger, much less my pain, and that look was just a touch shy of a belly laugh.
“As you wish.”
Yasmina stirred a few moments later. She sat up and I got my first clear view of the woman who, by the way, apparently wanted to drink the blood from my corpse.
She wasn't a particularly tall woman. She was probably shorter than I was, which was saying something, but she was rounder than me. A few decades ago someone might have called her pleasantly plump, today she might be called fluffy. She wasn't obese, just round, and pretty. Then again, I had yet to see an ugly vampire. She had golden eyes, creamy skin, and the kind of brown hair that had red highlights in it.
“Keep that shield in place as long as you can stand it,” she spat at me with the kind of hatred that took years to build, “you seek to take him from us. I will not allow it.”
“Who?” I demanded. “Wei?” It was a stupid answer, but the only one I could think of right then. The only vampire I wanted to take away from anything my grumpy and secretive one.
Her pretty face twisted with anger. “Have you not done that already?”
No. I hadn't, but I didn't have the chance to say that.
“Yasmina, you will stop this childish nonsense right this moment.” Vlad's voice boomed with power. It wasn't just that he had been some kind of warrior commander, it was the weight of a true vampire, the first of their kind. It was magic, pure and simple, that rippled across the clearing. All of the undead went to their knees automatically. I felt it through my shield and even with that up I had a problem staying up.
“I...I only did it for you,” she simpered.
A terrible thought wove through my head, one so ridiculous that I refused to even give it the brain power to finish forming.
“Yasmina, you will go to your rooms and stay there,” Vlad ordered.
Her big golden eyes went wide. I was pleased that her hair was messed up. I had done that. Sure, I hadn't done much else, but at least I had managed that. Her lower lip quivered as she said, “but...the mourning dinner.”
“You are no longer invited,” he explained with harsh simplicity. “You will have to mourn in private.”
They kept saying the word 'mourn' like it had a lot of meaning that I just didn't understand.
“What of her?” she snarled, slapping a hand in my general direction.
“She will take your place.”
She looked like a kicked puppy. I was so shocked that the shield I had been holding up flickered away. I could see Yasmina consider finishing what we had started but a harsh command from Vlad in a language I didn't know sent her scampering inside, shooting daggers from her eyes at me the entire time.
Vlad approached me and took my hand in his once more. “Forgive my second bride, she was once a princess of her people and has never forgotten it.”
He tucked my recently kissed hand into his arm and led me slowly into the mansion that had been, for a very brief time, my home. Without saying a word, the small crowd, minus Yasmina, fell into step behind us. I guess I didn't have a whole lot of choice.
“I... uuhhhh...I'm not really dressed for this, and red isn't really my color.”
I held up my wounded arm, blood coated the skin. The scratch hadn't been as deep as I thought, but I was pretty sure my back was terrible.
Vlad looked at the blood on my arm. Not just looked. But stared. His shadow-dark eyes looked it over the way another person might have looked at some fantastic cleavage, or a really impressive set of abs. I lowered my arm. He looked away, but not without licking his lips first. Ew.
“Yes, it would be best if you prepared yourself.”
“I will attend her,” Genevieve said, stepping forward.
Vlad gave her a hard expression. “That is the job of a servant.”
He said servant like it was a bad word. Genevieve bowed her head, but didn't give in. There were just some women who could use submissiveness like a shield.
; “Peter is busy preparing our food, and I do not wish to start too late. Already our festivities have been put on hold. Besides, I wish to know the woman whom my brother speaks so well of.”
I wasn't sure I wanted her to know me, but my back was beginning to really hurt. I must have made some sound because Vlad sighed in disgust and waved us away.
“Do not dawdle.”
Dawdle? Really?
“We will take only as long as we need,” Genevieve said with a smile. It was a sneaky answer. I got the feeling that Genevieve was just a sneaky person in general.
She took me gently by the arm and lead me upstairs. The path we took was pretty familiar. We stopped in front of what had once been my room. She pushed the door open and I knew that someone else had moved in. I was guessing, by the lacy dresses that hung up here and there, that it was Genevieve. I wasn't sure how I felt about her living in the place that used to be mine. I focused on the “used to be” part and let her lead me into the massive bathroom.
House Of Vampires 3 (The Lorena Quinn Trilogy) Page 4
