by Irina Argo
She followed them in. Arianna was standing right where she’d been when Theores had last left the cell.
“I’m sorry, Arianna. They have to draw your blood,” she said firmly, deliberately avoiding meeting her eyes.
A harsh noise like a snarl filled the room, and then Arianna leapt at them. Theores saw the handlers’ bodies flying through the air like rag dolls, felt Arianna throw her into the wall, too, before Theores could even think to react. Arianna was at the threshold about to rush out of the cell when she suddenly lost balance and collapsed, a silver-steel arrow—the weapon used to paralyze Amiti and their powers—sticking out of her shoulder. Beyond her, Theores saw Anock, a crossbow in his hands. He threw the crossbow to the floor, lifted Arianna and carried her to the cot.
“Do your job,” he commanded coldly as the handlers struggled to their feet.
Arianna’s eyes were open. It was obvious that she was totally aware of what was happening but she could neither move nor speak. She just stared at Theores in silent rage. Theores’s heart was breaking as she pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down.
“I’m sorry, Arianna. Forgive us; we have to do this ... ”
Anock and Leon leaned against the wall, arms folded across their chests. All three watched silently as the handlers followed the protocol, restraining Arianna—even though there was no need to do so—and then inserted the catheter into her vein.
Theores watched the blood flow into the container, her mind in chaos. She hadn’t realized it would be so hard to witness a blood draw. As the blood drained from Arianna’s body, so did her powers. Although she couldn’t stand to look at Arianna’s eyes before, Theores couldn’t help but stare at the evidence of Arianna’s powers receding: her pupils changing shape, one iris turning green again.
When the handlers were done, Theores stood, picked up the jar containing Arianna’s blood, and left the room without looking back.
She sensed Anock and Leon behind her, but she couldn’t deal with them right now, so she hurried to the elevator, got in and closed the door before they could get on, almost in their faces. She just needed to be alone for a minute. She leaned against the wall and broke into wracking sobs. When the elevator stopped on Tor’s floor, she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and stared at her reflection in the mirror on the landing, arranging her face into a mask of indifference.
She entered Tor’s quarters without knocking. Tor was sitting next to the fireplace browsing through papers. She walked quietly to his desk, set the container down and left the room.
But instead of walking away, she turned and watched Tor through the half-opened door. He sat quietly for a few minutes just staring at the jar. Then he picked it up and hurled it against the wall. The container exploded, and the blood ran down the wall, forming a puddle on the floor. Tor dropped to his knees next to the puddle and covered his face with his hands.
Theores quietly closed the door and headed down the hall, torn between sympathy for Tor and a strange sense of satisfaction that the whole thing was ripping him apart as much as it was her.
Chapter 60
Santorini, Greece
The meeting of the Order took place, as usual, in their headquarters in the villa in Santorini. Eight of them were present, the members of the Inner Circle of the Order: two elder Keepers, Oberon and Deimos; two representative Amiti elders who were always invited to the Inner Circle in order to demonstrate that other Amiti were also involved in decision making; and four Avengers: Erec, Kassi, Lexis and Serena.
Cynical, for more than a year, Serena had been observing Oberon’s fruitless efforts to bring Simone to their side. The idea had been abhorrent to her from the very beginning. There was no way that a vampire, even a half-Amiti one, could ever be loyal to the Order. The only viable course of action was to get rid of Simone and let the Queen appoint a new Keeper of Life. But Serena’s views had not been heard; Oberon, as the Keeper, had more power than she did. But not any more. Serena had now completed her quest and acquired her powers as the Keeper of Death; now she and Oberon were equals. Now, when she spoke, both Oberon and Deimos would have to take her opinion into consideration.
As soon as the preliminaries had been dealt with and the meeting was underway, she stated her case. “For the first time, we face the prospect of having five viable Keepers. Obviously the three of us”—she gestured around the table at herself, Oberon, and Deimos—“are on board to turn the Key. And Arianna’s totally committed to the Amiti. She’s suffered a great deal of abuse in the hands of Sekhmi; she won’t shy away from her duty. That means that Simone is the only obstacle blocking us from executing our plan. The fifth Keeper should not hold us back. We weren’t moralistic when we killed our own Queen; why should we let a vampire princess stop us from achieving our goal?”
Serena paused, making eye contact with everyone in the room to make sure she had their full attention. She did.
Good. She was running the show. It was time for a checkmate. She turned to Oberon.
“Oberon, I totally understand your attraction to the girl. But you should know, even better than most, that we cannot let our personal feelings get in the way of our mission. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, Simone is of no use to us. As far as she’s concerned, she’s a vampire; all she feels about her Amiti blood is shame. I demand that she be eliminated. That will allow Arianna to name a true Amiti to be the Keeper of Life, and we’ll have the five we need.
“I suggest that it be one of my Avengers. They all have proven their dedication to our goal. They’ve been with us for centuries, have gone above and beyond any one else in exterminating vampires and protecting our race.”
Deimos looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, “I think Serena’s right. I support her proposal one hundred percent.”
“We can vote,” added Serena, but she knew it would be just a formality. They’d abide by her suggestions. Except for Oberon, none of them knew Simone personally, but they loathed her for the sins of her mother and for being the vampire King’s daughter.
Her gaze rested on Oberon. She wondered if he knew that his sister was blood-bonded with the head of the bloodstock Hunter pride. If he did, he was totally untrustworthy. If he didn’t, he was a complete idiot. Serena had been tempted to tell Oberon about Desiree many times, but each time had decided not to interfere in family business. Let Oberon figure out for himself what to do with his traitor of a sister. Meanwhile, Desiree was a good trump card if Serena ever needed one. It was always a good idea to keep track of the Amiti who were loyal to vampires; they were priceless leverage.
* * *
Oberon was trapped. He knew how the Order would vote. They’d always been extremists. They had to be, especially now: they’d lost the war and their people had almost been eliminated. Ordinarily, Oberon considered himself as extreme as any of them, and was proud of it.
“Yes, let’s vote,” Erec said. Erec was one of the most skillful assassins and a longtime friend of Serena’s. His back, right shoulder, and right upper arm were covered in tattoos of ancient Egyptian letters and symbols. Five hundred and fifty eight of them marched in neat columns across his flesh, each one representing a dead vampire. Like Serena, Erec had been killing vampires for centuries. His kill count currently trailed Serena’s by six. It was an unspoken competition between them, his tattoos versus the beads strung on a cord around Serena’s neck. Two other Avengers, Kassi and Lex, had less than three hundred vampire kills. And killing traitorous Amiti blood-bonds didn’t count; that was considered a pro-bono obligation.
Oberon knew Erec would just love to take Simone’s assassination upon himself, to earn yet another tattoo.
Deimos called the vote, and seven hands raised without hesitation, everyone but Oberon voting in favor of assassinating Simone. He couldn’t do it. Those Amiti who had never had a blood-bond—except, of course, the Avengers, who blood-bonded only for the purpose of killing—didn’t know how heartbreaking it was e
ven to think about killing one’s blood-bond.
The blood-bond connection was incomprehensible to those who hadn’t experienced the depth of spiritual connection and love it made possible. It allowed Amiti to access their blood-bonds’ innermost dreams and desires, struggles, and, most importantly, their insecurities and vulnerabilities. This knowledge altered Amiti’s perception of reality.
Oberon knew that firsthand, because it had happened to him: Simone had revised Oberon’s lifelong concept of vampires. Even his blood-bond with Theores hadn’t managed to do that. Theores had been raised among humans, without exposure to vampire culture and traditions, so even though she’d had all the vampire characteristics, Oberon had perceived her as something like a “vampiric human.” In contrast, Simone, as daughter of the vampire King, had been raised in the very center of Sekhmi culture, embracing their customs and values from her first breath and totally identifying herself with Sekhmi.
During the past year with her, Oberon had learned a lot. He’d seen through her façade of bravado, her confident and self-sufficient persona, to the vulnerable soul hiding underneath. She longed for love and recognition, just as everyone did. But her half-Amiti, half-vampire parentage made her feel defective and misunderstood, unable to believe that others loved her. Trying to make up for it, she tried on one identity mask after another and often felt lost. Learning all this about her, Oberon discovered that Simone had become precious to him, and he wanted to help her find her true self, wanted her to feel accepted and understood for who she was, with all her imperfections.
And his growing intimacy with her had destabilized his convictions about all vampires. In Oberon’s eyes, vampires were suddenly demystified and became more than just bloodthirsty monsters without souls or any redeeming qualities. They became just another species, one among many inhabiting the planet. He’d started reevaluating options, trying to find a solution to the unacceptable impasse they faced. But, sadly, he couldn’t see how the situation could ever be resolved.
As for Simone, he didn’t know whether she loved him or not. He wasn’t entirely clear as to whether he loved her, either. But he didn’t need to know. What he did know was more important: that his entire being celebrated their union.
He also knew, of course, that she was bored out of her mind, sitting in a locked room in a human research station. Setting her free was out of the question because she was a Keeper, so he did the best he could to make her existence bearable. He entertained her by making each feeding an adventure, opening portals to the white sandy beaches of uninhabited islands, the ruins of ancient temples, hot springs, mud baths, a tent on a mountaintop, any exotic location that might bring her surprise and delight.
With each passing week, he became more certain that Simone would never become his obedient plaything. She never gave of herself completely as other females seemed to, particularly Amiti. She maintained her distinct personality and opinions, and he respected her all the more for it. The strength of her character, her refusal to bend to his will, fascinated him. And he knew it wasn’t in spite of her being vampire; it was the Sekhmi blood in her that made Oberon’s blood race wildly through his veins.
“Oberon.” Serena’s voice jolted him back into the present. “The Order’s decision is final. Now, we need to choose who will carry out the execution.”
Oberon wanted to kill Serena right then and there; she’d just sauntered in and taken over the Order. It had only been six months since she had been named Keeper and she was already acting as the Order’s leader. It seemed likely that had been her intention from the beginning; and he wondered how Serena planned to get rid of him. Had she guessed that he had feelings for Simone? It appeared that she had. She was smart. If he helped Simone escape, Serena would try to get him executed as a traitor and assume the leadership position in the Order.
“I offer my service.” Erec raised his hand.
Shit. Of course he did. Killing Sekhmi was Erec’s passion; he’d kill Simone without a second thought, and he’d enjoy it. Oberon pictured Erec torturing her to death, prolonging her suffering as long as he could—and then coming back to entertain his friends with a play-by-play.
"No, Erec, I’ll do it,” Oberon heard himself say in a firm voice that left no room for negotiation.
He needed time to come up with a plan to save Simone—and he had to do it fast, and without any possibility of detection. The Avengers would be tailing him, watching his every move.
“Well, Oberon? Care to elaborate?” asked Deimos.
“No. I think everything is clear. We’re done here. See you all in a month.” He stood and prepared to open a portal.
“Let me remind you, Oberon, that following our tradition, you must send Simone’s head to her family. It will be a well-deserved gift to the King.” Serena smiled, her eyes sparkling.
“Let me remind you, Serena: you are not the leader of this Order. You have no right to command me.” Barely containing his rage, he threw open a portal and stepped into the merciful darkness.
* * *
Not the Order's leader yet, Oberon. Things have a habit of changing. It won’t be long, my friend. Serena waited for everybody but Erec and Kassi to leave the room.
“So, what do you think?”
“He’ll let her go. No question about it,” Erec sneered.
“Absolutely,” added Kassi.
“Follow him. I’ll guide you to where he takes her.” As a Keeper, Serena now could easily track Oberon. “When he lets Simone go, execute the sentence. But not before then. We need Oberon to show his true colors.”
Chapter 61
The Order’s residence, Tuscany
Simone was pissed, waiting to ambush Oberon when he came into her room. But even though her aim was spot-on, his reflexes were faster: he saw the huge book flying toward his head and ducked just in time, so it missed him by a few inches.
“Hey, hey, hey! Are you trying to kill your blood-bond, Princess? What did I do to upset my love?”
“You’re late. Where have you been?” Simone put her hands on her hips and frowned.
Oberon smiled and threw his arms around her waist. “I’m sorry, my beautiful, that I made you wait. I’ll make it up to you,” He lifted her in his arms and opened a portal. “Where do you want to go?”
“Take me to the dungeon so I can punish you.”
She could feel his whole body spring to attention.
He transported her to the dungeon in the basement of the same villa in Tuscany that he’d brought her to for their first feeding. It was one of their favorite places for certain types of entertainment. Probably dating to the fourteenth or fifteenth century, it was humid and murky, with walls made of large stone blocks and only one tiny window at ceiling level, unreachable to anyone below and blocked by wrought iron bars. The ancient restraints had suggested all sorts of possibilities to Simone, and Oberon had been enthusiastic about all of them. Since then, he’d equipped the dungeon with a variety of sex toys: chains, whips, gags, velvet and leather masks, ropes, and daggers.
Stepping into the cell, she immediately unbuttoned Oberon’s shirt. “When I’ve been waiting for you, I get so angry that I promise myself I’ll bite you hard.”
She drew her head back to appreciate the veins throbbing under the skin of his powerful neck. Her gaze dropped lower, to the thick pectoral muscles still half-hidden under the thin fabric of his shirt. She placed her index finger on his sternum and scraped her fingernail a few inches down to the middle of his chest, relishing the red mark it left on his skin, before lowering her mouth to his throat and gliding her fangs slowly along his neck.
She loved tormenting him, making him tremble with anticipation, his breath hitching in his throat. She knew it turned him on, and she’d also discovered that his blood tasted even better than usual when he was aroused.
“Now go to the wall and spread your arms. Make it easy for me to punish you,” she commanded.
Oberon obeyed, leaning against t
he wall and placing his wrists into the metal cuffs embedded in the wall. Simone locked the cuffs and left him like that.
A moment later, she returned looking like Catwoman in a black latex bodysuit, her hair pulled into a high, thick ponytail. She’d accessorized with black leather: thick studded cuffs at her wrists and a braided whip at her waist.
She strode over to an ancient wooden table covered with brown stains that had once been blood and made a show of carefully selecting a dagger from the collection organized there, tracing her fingers along several before picking up her favorite. Walking slowly and deliberately toward Oberon, she sliced through all his clothing, removing it and his weaponry piece by piece before wiping off the dagger and returning it to its spot. Turning back to face him, she tilted her head to appreciate the sight of him: completely naked, vulnerable, and helpless—and hard for her, of course. Good.
Reapproaching him, she showed him her fangs and then lowered her mouth to his jugular and bit into the skin lightly, releasing only a few drops of blood. She lowered her head to his chest, tracing the muscles there with her tongue, and then, using her fangs as daggers, she pierced his skin in unexpected places: his chest, shoulders, biceps, abs, hips. The blood oozed from the cuts, and soon Oberon’s body was covered with crimson streaks that formed random, vivid patterns across the golden skin of his torso and legs.
“You look incredibly sexy,” Simone heard herself saying as she shifted into an altered state, seeing nothing but this tantalizing male body bleeding for her.
She dropped to her knees and slowly began collecting his blood with her tongue, licking it from his legs, up to his abs, digging her long nails into the muscles of his buttocks, feeling with utter satisfaction how he calmed down and submitted to her. Amiti males were incredible. Sekhmi could never be this much fun; they were too consumed with their dominance, and you couldn’t drink from them.
