Summoning Shadows: A Rosso Lussuria Vampire Novel

by Pennington, Winter

  “What do you mean, cara mia?”

  “We’ve been going about this arseways since the start. Instead of convincing them that we’re telling the truth, we need to convince them they should form an alliance with us, regardless.”

  “How?” Renata asked as she searched my face. “They are not going to join and fight with us if they do not gain something in return by forming an alliance with the Rosso Lussuria.”

  “Precisely,” I said.

  “Most every clan has their own wealth.” Renata lay back against her pillows. “I cannot sway them with riches. What then do we have to give them in exchange for an alliance?”

  I fingered the Stone of Shadows on my hand. “Power,” I said. “We offer their rulers power.” I looked at Iliaria and asked, “Can it be done?”

  She cast her gaze to the ring on my hand and I knew she understood my thoughts. “It will be.”

  Whether the clans believed us or not, we would find out how far their rulers would go for a taste of the power that our allegiance with some of the Dracule rewarded us. If it was enough to persuade King Augusten, it just might be enough to persuade the others.

  *

  We passed the day talking politics instead of making love. Iliaria sent Anatharic away to contact the Dracule that were loyal and true to them. It was through them we would gain another Stone of Shadows and use it to sweeten the pot of an alliance, starting with King Augusten. Iliaria and Anatharic could make more, but each ring the Dracule made came at the price of blood and power.

  It was decided that each Dracule that lent a Stone of Shadows to a ruler would become an overseer of sorts, in that they would remain in contact with those vampires who took the deal. Why wouldn’t the Dracule keep watch on those with whom they shared their gifts? It was not purely a selfish move on the Rosso Lussuria’s behalf, but a cautious one on behalf of the Dracule.

  Shortly after moonrise, Istania and two cloaked guardsmen knocked on our door and escorted us before King Augusten. Renata and I had bathed and changed into the garments given to us by the king himself. The dress I wore was a gray several shades darker than the gray of my eyes. The bodice of the dress cinched like a corset and was lined in whirling black velvet designs. The sleeves fell low on my shoulders, leaving my neck, collar, and a good portion of my back bare. Once, I would not have worn such a gown for fear of revealing the scars the Elder Lucrezia had left on me. But Renata had healed them and I could wear the dress proudly.

  When Renata was done tying the stays, she stood back to admire the dress.

  “Very alluring,” she said, smiling softly.

  The gown Renata wore was white and flowing with glimpses of aquamarine silk beneath it. She kissed me and drew away and I fought not to sway back into her touch.

  “We have a king to meet with.”

  “So we do, my lady.”

  I turned to make my way to the door and found Iliaria just inside it. Her strange gaze flicked from me to Renata. What she thought or felt, I don’t know. So many emotions came off her at once I couldn’t tell which was the strongest. I went to her anyway. I touched her shoulder and when she did not back away from me, I stood on the tips of my toes and offered a kiss.

  “I told you once, Epiphany, I do not want your pity.”

  “A kiss is not pity. A kiss is my way of saying that I care.”

  She kissed me, but it was brief. A brush of lips, and nothing more.

  Iliaria stepped out of the room ahead of us and I sighed.

  I felt Renata’s hand at the small of my back. “It is hard to please us both, I know. The Dracule is far more sensitive than she’s willing to admit.”

  “Yes.”

  “You will find a way, cara mia.”

  “Are you so certain of that?” I asked. “One moment, I believe I understand her, and the next, she throws my understanding out of reach.”

  Renata gave me a knowing smile. “You discerned how to please me, Epiphany. Of course, I am certain.”

  She offered her arm and I took it, resting my hand in the bend of her elbow.

  *

  As it turned out, King Augusten did not arrange for us to be escorted to his throne room. Instead they led us to the same dining room in which we had dined the night before. When Renata held the wood and leather cushioned chair out from the table for me to sit beside her, Augusten did not complain or usher me to another seat.

  “Have you enjoyed your stay?” Augusten asked Renata in a tone that was almost perfunctory.

  “We have, Augusten, thank you.”

  Augusten raised his hand, indicating to his servant guards to bring in the first and only course of our meal—the humans we had fed on the night before.

  I felt his gaze upon me as the humans in their sheer white garb spread through the room.

  “You look resplendent this evening, Lady Epiphany. You wear that gown well.”

  “My thanks, my lord,” I said, making sure that my tone was detached yet at the same time polite.

  I wasn’t so certain why Augusten kept singling me out or why he seemed to be paying a great deal more attention to me than was courteous. I sensed strongly it had to do with Renata’s presence, as if, in some way, he was trying to unsettle her.

  Yes, Renata’s voice purred in my mind. She caught the wrist of the woman who nearly passed us. The woman seemed to react out of instinct, offering her wrist subserviently. Renata bit her and she gasped but did not struggle or draw away.

  I waited quietly for Renata’s instructions.

  When Renata raised her mouth from the blood servant’s wrist, her gaze was filled with power like a raging sea stretching toward a beautiful blue sky. Before I could feed, Renata sent the woman on her way. She used the hold she still had on her wrist to guide her from between our chairs.

  Renata drew aside the long curtain of her hair and said, “Cara mia.”

  A rush of excitement filled me and I licked my lips, wetting them as I rose from my seat. Renata caught my hands in hers and pulled me into her lap. Her hands slid up my thighs beneath the dress, splaying over my buttocks and stroking me encouragingly.

  She tilted her head and I bent to place a kiss upon her pulse. Distantly, I was aware of what transpired, aware that somewhere in the room, Iliaria watched us, aware that not too far from us, King Augusten stared, his gaze fixed like a dart in my back.

  I didn’t care. Whatever game he and Renata played was their own, though I knew I was most assuredly being flaunted; a part of me was thrilled at the fact that Renata so brazenly claimed me as hers.

  I opened my mouth and pierced her, taking some of the life she had taken from the woman into my own body. I kissed her neck while I drank from her, sucking the wounds lightly. If I made some show of it, it was not intentional. I swallowed slowly when my mouth was full, full of blood like molten lust.

  Renata did not touch me any more than was appropriate and when I was done, I rested my head on her shoulder, feeling so content I feared I might somehow begin to purr. She raised a hand and stroked my hair back from my temple.

  “Lest there be any question left to ask, Augusten, Epiphany is mine. She is my Inamorata, my lover, and my pet. Not yours.”

  The king had the decency to feign surprise. “You insult me, Queen Renata, to think I was under any other impression.”

  “Do not think a circlet of silver at your brow will keep me out of your head, Augusten. I have one weakness. It is not silver and it is most definitely not one I recommend you seek to exploit.”

  Augusten was quiet for a long moment. “As you say, Queen Renata.”

  Renata took hold of the conversation and changed the subject. “Have you heard word from the other clans?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?” she prompted.

  “No other clan save yours has been attacked by the Dracule.”

  “As I imagined. Do you know why, Augusten?”

  “I do not,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “For all I know, Renata, this could be some p
loy of yours.”

  “It is not.” Renata turned her head and I followed her gaze. Istania sat at the other end of the table. “What do you think?” Renata asked her.

  Istania’s eyelids flickered slightly before she addressed King Augusten. “She is not lying, my lord. There has been truth to their words ever since they entered our caverns. Either that, or they believe their own lies.”

  “We’re not dissembling,” I said. “We have been attacked twice by Damokles. The Dracule managed to infiltrate our clan and to turn some of the Elders against the throne. The traitors have been punished, but Damokles has proved by attacking our Donatore and my queen’s personal guards that he still lives and fights.”

  “Why would he choose your clan alone to attack?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Augusten, have any of the clans you sent word to ever had an alliance with the Dracule?”

  “Not that I know of, why?”

  “That’s why they’re attacking us,” I said, understanding Renata’s line of thought and addressing her. “You told me once, you knew the Dracule. And Vasco had a Draculian lover. We’ve been…entangled with them in the past?”

  “Yes, cara mia.”

  “Ah, but that leaves another question, Queen Renata. You did not request that I send word to any clans that have ever had an alliance with the Dracule. I would not even know where to begin.” After a long silence, he finally asked, “What do you want, Renata? What do you ask of the Bull Shoal?”

  “An alliance.”

  “You do see the trouble with that, do you not? If we form an alliance with you, we side with you and your battles become ours.”

  “This battle will become yours whether you like it or not,” Iliaria said, her tail swaying and sending a pebble scattering across the stone floor. “Which is why the Rosso Lussuria come to you with an offer that sweetens the deal.” She raised her hand and Anatharic stepped forward on his slightly arched legs. He uncurled his furred hands and left a slender ring with an elegant smoky stone before Augusten.

  Augusten eyed the ring with some suspicion. “How long?”

  “A year,” Renata said.

  “That is too long. Six months,” Augusten said, clearly wanting to pick up the ring, though he left it on the table.

  “A year, no more and no less, King Augusten. Were you in my position, you would seek the same.”

  “You say the girl is your lover?” he asked.

  “She is.”

  Augusten raised his gaze to Iliaria and said, “But she is yours, too. I have seen the way you look at me when I look at her. You are both protective of her.”

  I wasn’t really certain why King Augusten was so concerned with whose lover I was. It seemed a strange thing to be concerned about and made me uncomfortable.

  “She is my dragă,” Iliaria said.

  “Nine months,” Augusten said after staring at me for a moment longer, and I relaxed a fraction as the subject changed. “I can give you no more than that, Renata.”

  “Ten.”

  Augusten smiled. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “We need your help, Augusten. I would not be here did we not. If the Dracule is left unchecked, this war will find its way to your doorstep. An alliance will benefit us both.”

  “Ten,” he agreed. “On one condition.”

  “Name your condition, Augusten.”

  “Take Istania and some of my guard with you.”

  Istania’s eyes widened a fraction, and I knew Augusten hadn’t consulted her.

  “We will take your spies.”

  Augusten reached for the ring and Iliaria was suddenly there, holding it. “When the moon rises on the tenth month, this will be returned.” She turned the ring between her fingers, the white gold band sparkling faintly in the fire light. “Unless you desire to barter again.”

  When Augusten nodded, she gave him the ring and he slipped it onto his finger.

  A ruckus sounded from outside the dining hall. A man’s voice boomed abruptly through the passageways, the words echoing in my ears. “Halt!”

  Augusten and Renata exchanged a look as every guard in the room drew a weapon. Vasco, Nirena, and Dominique were suddenly on their feet, their weapons drawn. Istania too had drawn her bow.

  Feet scuffled against the stone floor before they sounded again in frantic slaps as if someone were running.

  “Halt!”

  Istania waited for her king’s orders, her bow aimed at the doorway.

  “Augusten,” she said. “They’re getting away.”

  “Go,” he said. “Apprehend the intruder.”

  In the blink of an eye, she was gone, taking two of the cloaked guardsmen with her.

  “My lady?” Vasco asked.

  Renata offered the barest of nods and Vasco and Nirena went.

  Dominique stayed behind and no one, not even his queen, questioned him. I knew he would not leave her side, even if she ordered him. I believe that knowledge alone stopped Renata from ordering him to join the others.

  I was wearing the fox blade in a sheath at my hip. Strangely, it was the first time the blade had not magically ended up in my hand at the first sign of a threat.

  Cuinn?

  Aye?

  Do you know what passes?

  Cuinn roused from his sleep. His maw opened as he yawned widely, the tip of his tongue curling.

  ’Tis not the Dracule, and considering whoever it is was trying to flee, they don’t seem an immediate threat.

  Voices sounded from the other room again. The sound of someone’s air rushing from them filtered into the room after the clear sound of a punch landing against someone’s body.

  “Move!” Istania yelled. “Give me a clear shot!”

  Another grunt and the sound of someone’s foot splashing in a small puddle. The cavern walls shuddered as a body crashed into one of them.

  “Step aside!” Istania’s voice carried over the others.

  Vasco’s voice rose over hers. “Wait,” he commanded. “Wait!”

  All sounds of fighting ceased.

  “Do you know this man?”

  “Get off me!” a man said in a thick English accent I didn’t recognize. “Get her off me!”

  “Nirena?” Vasco asked.

  “Not yet, Vasco. Who are you?”

  “Does it matter? Get off me!” he said, his voice hoarse and panicked.

  “Not until I know who you are and why you were spying.”

  “I didn’t come here to hurt anyone!”

  “Why were you sneaking around?”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Istania said.

  “Look at him, Nirena,” Vasco said.

  “Let him up. Let the guards escort him before King Augusten.”

  I didn’t hear Nirena get to her feet, but I heard a small pained sound emit from the other room, telling me someone was injured.

  King Augusten pushed his chair back. He looked mildly disinterested when he said, “I suppose we should go see what all the commotion is about.”

  The guardsmen that had not followed Istania into the other room surrounded Augusten, doing what guards were meant to do and using their bodies to safeguard their king.

  The fight to apprehend the intruder had broken out in a wide hallway. As they had done with our party, the guards had their bows fixed on a figure slouched against the wall holding a hand to his chest. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the moist air.

  Vasco stood several feet away from the figure with his sword point resting along the line of his leg. Blood was smeared on Nirena’s gown, as if she had used the material to wipe a blade clean.

  Istania kept her crossbow aloft and sighted on the man before us.

  “Spying on vampires is a dangerous hobby,” Augusten said, his voice smooth and detached. “I will ask you one question and only one. If you answer falsely, you will be executed by my guardswoman. Why were you spying?”

  The man shifted against the wall, his hands coated in the blood spi
lling from the wound high on his chest.

  “Because the Rosso Lussuria vampires need my help.” He raised his face defiantly, his azure eyes filled with stubborn courage.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw understanding dawn over Vasco’s features.

  King Augusten spared a glance at Istania and Istania tipped her head. Yes, he was telling the truth.

  Augusten moved in a blur of black leather. A sword rang from his sheath; the man against the wall raised his hand and swept it in an arc through the air. Augusten’s sword went flying, clanging against the stone before he could point it fully at the injured man.

  Vasco gave a choked sound as if he was trying to restrain a laugh. All faces in the room turned on him.

  A wave of irritation rippled from Augusten. “Do you know this man?”

  “Sì,” Vasco continued to laugh. “Ah, sì. I believe I do. And you know me, if I am not mistaken?” he said to the man on the ground.

  “Sì, padre.”

  Vasco sheathed his sword and strode forward. He held a hand to help the man up. “Does your mother know you have been following her?”

  The man’s eyes, a startling mirror image of Vasco’s, narrowed. “No.”

  Augusten raised his hand in a gesture and his guardsmen turned their bows on Vasco. Istania hesitated, briefly, before she too directed her weapon as her king had ordered.

  Renata stepped forward. “Augusten…”

  “You should have told me you brought one of the Stregha into my kingdom, Renata.”

  “We did not know we were being followed, King Augusten.”

  Augusten turned to Vasco. “Is that so? This man says he is your son, but you are a vampire. How is that possible?”

  “It is so, I did not know we were being followed. It was a very long time ago, King Augusten. Stregherian witches do not age as mortals.”

  Cuinn answered my silent question. They’re descended from Fata blood, remember?

  The Fatas are immortal?

  Aye, and if the Stregha have enough of our blood in their lineage, they age very slowly.

  So some of the Stregha do age?

  If the magic in their blood is weak, aye.

  Istania spoke in Vasco’s defense as she lowered her bow. “He is telling the truth. He did not know the boy followed him,” she said. “And I think if the witch meant any direct harm he would have done more than disarm you, my lord.”