Of Blood and Passion

by Pamela Palmer

  “Who’s Lukas?” Quinn asked. Bringing children into this hell world had been a new low, even for vampires.

  “A friend of mine. Lukas Olsson,” Micah told her. “He’s been rescuing the kids being brought in and has amassed a surprisingly large team of vampires to help him. More than fifteen, last count, from kovenas all over the city.”

  “Children do not belong in this place,” Arturo said tersely. “It has always been the law.”

  “They’re all trapped,” she murmured, watching as Arturo’s features began to waver beneath the magic in Micah’s hands. “So they need you to get the kids back into the real world.”

  “Right-o,” Micah said. “I feel for Lukas. He’d been living on the outside, had fallen in love with a human woman, when he got trapped here the night the trap sprung.”

  “Does she know what happened to him?”

  Micah made a sound, a strangled groan. “She does now, though Elizabeth didn’t have a clue until she walked into V.C. through a sunbeam not long ago. Lucky for both of them, Lukas found her before she could be enslaved. She’s back in the real world, waiting for him to be free to come to her.”

  Which meant either Micah or Arturo had gotten her out. Probably. The Traders could still come and go as they pleased, but of the vampires, only Micah and Arturo could hand humans through the boundary circle.

  “It’s too bad you can’t free the trapped vampires the way you can the humans.”

  “Yes,” Arturo said. “But that would have defeated Phineas Blackstone’s plan to destroy us.”

  Truth. “I’m surprised you’re able to rescue so many kids,” Quinn said, “considering it’s the vampires who ordered them brought here in the first place.” They’d been declared fodder for the next Games, essentially vampire gladiator contests.

  “A reprehensible choice by the committee,” Kassius said. “Though if there is an upside, the depths of depravity of this declaration appears to have awakened many a slumbering conscience.”

  “I think it’s more than that,” Micah said. “I think souls are beginning to reawaken. The magic of Vamp City is finally losing its hold on us.”

  They’d all begun to believe that the magic Blackstone had used to create and renew the city had been filled with such hatred that it had slowly poisoned the vampires’ souls.

  “So what do you do with the kids you free, Micah?” Quinn asked. “You don’t just leave them on the streets of D.C., I hope.”

  Micah threw her a look that said she should know him better than that. “While Lukas and the others steal their memories of all they’ve seen, I slip into the real world and steal a vehicle. Last night, I found a school bus.”

  Quinn’s brow rose.

  Micah grinned. “I drove it to the boundary circle, then carried the kids out, two at a time, and loaded them on board, fast asleep. There were more than two dozen of them. I drove them to a residential street, enthralled the first passerby I saw to call the cops, then waited in the shadows until they arrived.”

  “That must have been a sight when they first realized who was on that bus.”

  Micah nodded. “I didn’t wait around, but I’m sure it was chaos.”

  So many people within Washington, D.C. had gone missing of late. The return of so many of the children would have the city euphoric.

  “Are kids still being brought in?” she asked.

  “Not to my knowledge,” Micah said. “Not since the Games were cancelled.” He studied Arturo with satisfaction. “What do you think, Quinn? Kass?”

  Arturo had disappeared beneath Micah’s hands, replaced by another Gonzaga guard, this one with light brown hair and a wide, genial face.

  Micah turned to her. “Ready, kiddo?”

  Quinn nodded and walked over to him. He’d glamoured her before, multiple times, and it didn’t hurt in the slightest. She was usually barely aware of the transformation occurring. Besides, she trusted Micah implicitly. It was his involvement in that whispered conversation that eased her mind the most. Because although Arturo had given her reason to doubt him in the past, Micah never had.

  As Micah’s hands slid lightly over her face, Arturo and Kassius discussed the plan for tonight—how the four of them would travel onto Gonzaga lands in pairs, each person glamoured to look like a different one of Cristoff’s guards. The only real danger would be if they had the poor luck to stumble upon one of the actual guards they were glamoured to look like.

  Quinn refused to entertain that possibility. They’d make it safely to their destination, she had to believe that. Of course, once inside Gonzaga Castle, any semblance of safety would be nothing but an illusion.

  Micah closed his eyes as the pads of his fingers lightly grazed the surface of her skin and her flesh began to tingle. Slowly, the feeling spread over her scalp, then down her neck and body.

  Finally Micah opened his eyes and frowned. “It’s criminal to make you look like a man, Quinn.”

  She snorted. “Whatever it…” She stopped abruptly at the sound of the deep male voice that had just uttered her words. “This is too weird.” The other times she’d been glamoured, she’d remained a woman. Neither time had her voice noticeably changed.

  Arturo handed her a small mirror and she took it, then stared at the unattractive male peering back at her, one with her own green eyes.

  “You look just like Egor,” Kassius told her.

  Micah grunted. “Thankfully she doesn’t smell like Egor.”

  Quinn glanced at Arturo and found him watching her with those dark, enigmatic eyes.

  “A word of warning,” Micah said. As he reached for her, he overshot her shoulder, then smiled and dropped his hand to give her shoulder a squeeze. “You’re not as tall as Egor, though you’ll appear to be. Keep your mouth closed around others unless you have no choice. Someone paying close attention might notice that your voice isn’t coming from your mouth but the area around your neck. And don’t let anyone touch you. You may look and sound male, because I’m good at what I do, but it’s all an illusion. If they reach for you, get out of the way. The moment they touch you they’ll know you’re female.”

  Micah turned his magic on himself and, minutes later, Quinn found herself surrounded by three strange Gonzaga guards. She knew who they were beneath the glamour, of course. But it brought back memories of the last time she’d faced Gonzaga guards, the night she’d been ripped off her horse by one. The night Zack had nearly been killed. Once more, she questioned how well she really knew these men, these vampires.

  As nerves braided her insides, Arturo pulled something out of his pocket—a roll of SweetTarts—and handed it to her. When she glanced at him, she saw gentle understanding in those dark eyes. He knew the situation unnerved her. He could feel her emotions.

  She took one of the candies. “Thanks, Vampire.” Hearing that deep male voice come from her lips startled her all over again.

  A stranger’s smile creased his unfamiliar face, traveling lightly to eyes she knew exceedingly well. Arturo’s hand rose to her shoulder unerringly, his mouth brushing her ear. “You know me, cara mia. You know me.” Then he released her and turned toward the door, leading their foursome into the community room now empty but for Mukdalla.

  “Be careful, all of you,” the Trader woman said. “We need you back here, safe and sound. Which of you is Quinn?”

  Quinn lifted a hand and glanced at her companions. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

  “We’ll saddle the horses and have them ready,” Arturo told her.

  Quinn nodded, then turned and joined Mukdalla.

  The Trader woman took firm hold of Quinn’s hand. “You must be careful tonight, sorceress. For your sake and theirs. It’s dangerous business to sneak into Cristoff Gonzaga’s castle, especially for you.”

  Quinn made a face. “Believe me, I’m aware.”

  Mukdalla’s eyes softened. “Yet you do not hesitate. I know your primary concern is for Zack, but I thank you anyway. Your terrible risk might just save my husband.
”

  “I don’t do this just for Zack.” Not entirely. Quinn squeezed Mukdalla’s hand. “And I won’t fail.”

  But as she climbed the stairs to join the others, a hundred doubts crowded her mind, tearing at her courage.

  Heart pounding in her throat, she prayed she wasn’t being a fool for trusting Cristoff’s snake, yet again.

  Chapter 7

  The night was dark as the three vampires and Quinn rode away from Neo’s, but then every night—and day for that matter—was dark in Vamp City. Stars dotted the sky in a way they never did the skies of Washington, D.C. It always twisted her scientist’s mind how the moon and stars shone in V.C., just as they did the real world. But never the sun. As she’d been reminded more than once, magic was the predominant force in Vamp City, not science.

  As she stared at the vastness of the night sky, the stars bright against the endless black canvas, she found herself mesmerized by the dark beauty of this place. There was no light pollution here, for there was very little electricity—only that created by a handful of generators. She’d always loved the dark. As a child, it had been her only real refuge from the stepmother who’d hated her.

  At the feel of the cool breeze, Quinn was suddenly glad for the hooded sweatshirt Amanda had thrust into her hands at the last moment. It was late September and even the real D.C. would be embracing fall weather by now. Arturo had once told her that whatever weather the real world experienced—rain, snow, wind—Vamp City did as well, though V.C., with its lack of sun, was always cooler. Sometimes, as now, she could feel the warmer D.C. air trying to merge with this world’s coolness. The scent of the horses filled her nostrils, along with the exotic spiciness unique to this world—the scent, she suspected, of magic.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could just make out the twisted shapes of the trees that grew in abundance here, trees that appeared, for all the world, to be dead. As far as Quinn knew, the trees were the only living things that grew in this place other than a bit of mold and mildew.

  Silhouetted against the trees were her three riding companions. And while she felt like herself in her jeans, boots, long-sleeve tee, and Amanda’s hooded sweatshirt, anyone who saw her would see, instead, the apparently imposing Egor in his guard uniform. At least until her glamour wore off.

  They rode in silence, the only sound that met her ears the steady hoofbeats of the horses. There were no natural night sounds since there were no insects or animals in V.C. except those brought in by the vampires. She’d never ridden a horse before arriving in this place, but she found she enjoyed the feel of the animal beneath her.

  Vamp City was such an odd juxtaposition between the Washingtons of 1870 and today. Horses and carriages were by far the most common—and most practical—form of transportation, given that in 1870 the roads had not been paved, and the vampires certainly hadn’t seen to that detail in later years. But there were modern vehicles here, as well. Arturo himself owned a yellow Jeep Wrangler, though it drew far too much attention for their present purposes.

  In the distance, a man’s bloodcurdling scream rent the night air, chilling her to the bone. Screams were a horrifyingly common sound in this place.

  “Every time I think they’re regaining their souls…,” one of her companions muttered. With their voices glamoured, she couldn’t be certain which one.

  “I fear some are too far gone,” another replied.

  “They will reclaim them.”

  Quinn recognized the glamoured voice of Arturo in the last and she wondered who he was trying to convince—the rest of them, or himself. He’d told her over and over that he continued to hold out hope that his once beloved master would reclaim his soul, too. Apparently Cristoff had been a pretty decent guy for a powerful vampire master before he’d moved to Vamp City. She had a hard time believing it, given the monster he’d become.

  The vampires she knew were of the Emora race, vampires who fed on blood and emotion and needed both to survive. Each vampire was slave to a different need—Arturo and Kassius fear, Micah pleasure, Cristoff pain. According to her friends, the Emoras were once actually quite humane, most shunning any desire to cause the emotion on which they fed. Arturo had told her stories of how they used to roam the human battlefields together, Cristoff feeding on the pain of the dying while Arturo drank of their fear. The American Civil War had lured hundreds of Emoras from Europe for just that purpose, and many of those had become the first inhabitants of Vamp City.

  But slowly the poison of Blackstone’s hatred had begun to corrode the vampires’ consciences. While at first, humans were given the choice of whether or not to serve vampire masters, soon the Emoras began to capture humans against their will and enslave them. As their souls became further compromised, the once human Emoras turned cruel, brutally so, feeding their hunger for pain and fear through torture and murder. The coliseum built for vampire soccer matches became the arena for the Games—death matches between untrained humans.

  In the past two years, as the magic of Vamp City began to dissolve, so too had the last of the vampires’ restraint. Humans were captured and driven into the slave auctions like cattle—their wares displayed for all to see—then sold to the highest bidder to be enslaved, raped, or simply tortured to death.

  Though the human world remained unaware of the vampires among them, they’d certainly noticed the scores of people disappearing off D.C. streets. The cops had no idea what was going on and couldn’t stop it if they did. Now, though, it seemed that some of the vampires were starting to reclaim their souls. Just in time to lose their lives when the magic crumbled, destroying their world.

  Quinn heard one of her companions pull up. As the others did the same, she followed. By her estimate, they’d traveled a couple of miles.

  “We’ll separate here into two teams and regroup at the rendezvous point,” Arturo said. “Micah and Kass take the north route. Quinn and I will come in from the east.”

  “Ax…”

  Quinn glanced warily between the voices, wishing she could see the men’s expressions in the dark.

  “Let one of us ride with Quinn. If you’re caught with the sorceress…”

  “I won’t be. Once we reach the castle, Quinn will accompany Kassius while I discard my glamour and report to Cristoff as myself. But for this short leg of the journey, she will ride with me.” Arturo paused. “If she is in agreement.”

  Quinn wished she could see his expression in the darkness. All she could really do was listen to her gut as Amanda had suggested. And her gut said she was safe with him. Which had always been the case, right or wrong.

  She nodded, which was enough of consent since the vampires had excellent night vision and could see her clearly.

  Moments later, two forms moved away and she heard the pounding hooves of Micah and Kassius’s retreating mounts. As the third form started forward again, she followed.

  “I do not betray you, amore,” Arturo said quietly. “I know I have given you much reason to doubt me in the past, but I am not that man any longer. I had hoped you knew that.”

  She wished she could see his expression. “You’re keeping secrets from me.”

  “Only because I must. For your own safety as well as mine.”

  For a long time, she didn’t reply. But finally, she sighed. “I trust you. At least I trust you enough. Your actions will be the proof, won’t they? Don’t betray me, Vampire, and I’ll trust you completely again.”

  “It will be done. Calm yourself, tesoro.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Even if Arturo was completely loyal to her, she had plenty to be worried about. Cristoff had put a price on her head that had most of the creatures in Vamp City hunting for her. “Calm isn’t a possibility. We’re lucky I haven’t started to hyperventilate yet.”

  He was silent for a couple of moments before he said carefully, “A fear feeder will taste your nervousness.”

  “If you’re trying to settle me down, that’s not the way to go about it,” she mutte
red, swiping at a low-hanging branch to keep it from hitting her face. A nervous Gonzaga guard might become quickly suspect and hauled before Cristoff.

  “It was not my intent to make you more nervous, cara, merely to remind you to be calm.”

  “Right. I’ll put that on my to-do list.”

  “You are stronger than you believe, Quinn. There is nothing you need fear. Your magic will come to your call when you need it, if you will simply believe it is so.”

  “You think it’s that easy? Just believe?”

  “I know it is. Your own doubts are all that stand in your way.”

  She grunted. “Until very recently, I didn’t even believe in magic.”

  “Then believe in yourself, cara,” Arturo said simply. “And believe in me.”

  “I’m trying, Vampire. I’m trying.”

  As they rode though the dark, they passed a house, windows lit by firelight. She wondered who lived there, whether they were friend or foe. The only thing she was fairly certain of was that they were not human. Humans, even the immortal Slavas, were hunted by too many in this place to ever feel safe on their own out in the open like this.

  As they rode through another dark copse, the scent of diesel teased her nose. “Do you smell that?” she asked her companion.

  “A truck. Yes.”

  He’d once told her that smells occasionally carried into Vamp City from the real world. But never sound.

  They continued on in silence but for the clop of the horses’ hooves in the dirt, leaving the trees behind for the shells of dark structures—the doppelgangers of buildings built before the Civil War and left to rot. The five hundred or so vampires who’d originally moved into Vamp City had not needed the housing the human residents of D.C. had, especially when most preferred the simplicity of living in their masters’ castles. Throughout Vamp City, there were nine vampire masters, each the head of his own kovena, or vampire family. Gonzaga was just one kovena, though arguably the most powerful.

  They’d seen no sign of other vampires, nor heard any. Only that one scream as they’d first set out. Vamp City was quiet tonight, its inhabitants undoubtedly sobered by the threat of their impending demise.