Vampire Elite

by Irina Argo

  The blue-eyed one, whose whole demeanor conveyed that he was their Alpha, gaped at her as if he’d seen a phantom. “I know her too.”

  His gaze into Zlata’s eyes was direct, kind. “You’re Odji’s mate. I thought we’d lost you. Thanks Sekhmet, you are back. Come on, treasure.” He took her hand. “What’s your name?”

  Zlata’s courage, which had been hightailing it down the road to downtown Brussels, skidded to a halt, turned around, and flew back into Zlata’s body, settling into place and inflating like a hot air balloon. Serena was right; the Sekhmi knew she was Odji’s mate. They wouldn’t dare touch her. On the contrary, they’d protect her as a real blood-bond. Now you can show your teeth, girl.

  “My name is Zlata, Golden.” She used their way to introduce herself. “But it doesn’t matter, because I’m leaving now. And you will let me go.”

  “Nice to meet you, Zlata. I’m Anock. Consider me your brother-in-law. And as your closest relative here, I’m personally responsible for you. Now, would you please come with me.”

  It was incredible, the distance between bloodstock and blood-bond. A year ago she was a nobody, a bloodstock prepared for a sacrifice. Now she was a treasure. Nice.

  She had to play these cards wisely. She might be able to save the Amiti who were going to be sacrificed.

  “Here’s the deal, Anock. If you want me to go with you, then free the Amiti you’re getting ready to sacrifice for your damn bloody ritual.”

  He didn’t respond, just contemplated her with his heavenly eyes.

  Hmm, looked like she needed a much stronger motivator.

  “See these two.” She pointed at two Guardians standing a few steps away from him; they were among her six blood-bonds. She sensed them, and she could tell they recognized her too.

  “If you want them to live, you’ll release the sacrificial Amiti.”

  But instead of following through with her demand, Anock asked, “Why did you save Riona?”

  He was playing games with her. Zlata wasn’t stupid. I’ll play with you anytime, gorgeous, but you’ll have to play my game.

  “Honestly? At the time, I didn’t know. I just couldn’t bear to watch her burning. But I think I know now. Violence creates more violence, and we’re trapped in this endless cycle. I guess I was trying to break it. I’m returning your priestess in exchange for the Amiti.”

  “Okay, you’ve convinced me, golden child. We’ll let the bloodstock go, as you request. But you stay here. That is my condition.” He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up.

  * * *

  Anock had cracked this tiny girlfriend of Odji’s like a nut. She wasn’t a murderer; she wouldn’t be killing anyone. It required certain character traits to kill someone, and she didn’t have them. She was a pure child of the Goddess of Love; the Lioness’s powers were not yet accessible to her. At least for the time being, Odji, Riona, and his six Guardians were all safe.

  Zlata was among those blood-bonds who would rather die than kill, which made her precious to the Sekhmi—but it also made her harder to deal with, because the methods they ordinarily used with Amiti would not work with her. She had more rights than a bloodstock.

  So let’s be flexible with her. Someday I may owe this girl my personal happiness.

  Zlata’s unexpected appearance had turned his Wheel of Fortune. Things were back on track; he was no longer responsible for the disappearance of Odji’s mate. It meant that Odji would have his blood-bond. And so might Anock, someday; Cara hadn’t been among those chosen by the Lioness for the upcoming sacrifice.

  Anock winked at Crian, his eyes cunning, and Crian replied with a subtle nod. Then Anock carried Zlata into the mansion and upstairs to a guest apartment with windows facing the central alley.

  “Now we look this way.” He set her down and talked to her as he would to a child, turning her head so she could see the front entrance. His hand glided along her hair; it was so smooth and soft. She would make a nice pet. Crian was right. Amiti were born to be Sekhmis’ pets. Anock felt a sting of guilt for what he was about to do, but right now it was his only option. Sorry, kitten; I do what I must do.

  They watched two Guardians lead three Amiti, one male and two female, out of the building. A car appeared in the driveway and stopped next to the group. The Sekhmi driver got out of the car and waited until the Amiti had all gotten into the back seat, then closed their door and got back into the driver’s seat. The vehicle sped toward the open iron gates, soon dissolving like a ghost in the gathering mist of the Brussels suburb.

  “You see,” Anock breathed into her ear. “They’re gone. The ritual has been canceled. You saved them. Are you satisfied?”

  Zlata turned to him, her eyes two clear lakes reflecting a glow of sincere gratitude. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” Damn.

  You cheated a naïve girl, hero.

  Shut the hell up! The voice in his head was grating on his nerves. He turned his attention back to Zlata. “I’ll take you to Odji shortly. He’s at the pride’s estate. Unfortunately, he’s still in a coma. But until I’m done with my work here, I need you to stay here in this room and wait for me.”

  “But ... ”

  “Hush. There is no but; there is only yes, Anock. Got it?” He placed a finger to her lips and smiled. “There will be Guardians at the door. I don’t trust you—yet. If you try to run, you go to the cells. The choice is yours. Behave well and you’ll get everything you want. Got it?”

  She blinked.

  “Good girl.” He kissed her forehead. Exceptionally beautiful girl. Odji does have excellent taste.

  He left her room and called two of his Guardians. “She is not allowed to leave this apartment. But treat her well. Bring her chocolates, ice cream, magazines, whatever, anything girls usually like.”

  Anock walked to the elevator that descended to the basement and then to the floor below the bloodstock cells, where the Guardians maintained their sacred chamber of Sekhmet. Crian, Blade, Theores, Ken, and Leon, plus five other hunters and twenty or so Guardians had already arrived.

  Riona, dressed in her ceremonial robe, took her position next to the black marble altar of Sekhmet. Something was not right about her; even though her face had healed completely, her skin was as pale as snow and her eyes had lost their usual spark. They were ... lifeless. Anock understood: to be almost burned by one’s blood-bond was a deathblow to a Sekhmi’s ego.

  Carried away by his thoughts, he missed the grating sound of the heavy metal door opening and saw three bloodstock hunters in white robes leading three Amiti to the altar—the same male and two females who just a half an hour ago drove away from the mansion, for a few brief minutes believing that a miracle had happened and they’d been freed.

  Anock attuned to them and suddenly slipped into a separate reality. He saw himself drowning in a bottomless ocean, surrounded by black water and deathly, dark skies sprinkled with blind, heedless stars. He was struggling to keep himself afloat, but a sinister force kept dragging him down beneath the black surface. He was utterly alone, forgotten and abandoned by everyone. There was no one to hear his final howl or his last breath of agony.

  Anock raised his eyes, fixing his gaze on the Lioness, a statue in the center of the chamber. Do you really want this sacrifice, Goddess?

  He waited. Stillness. In exasperation, he shouted in his mind, projecting his plea through the dark matter of the universe, tearing apart the fabric of space, trying to reach the Goddess’s ears: Talk to me! Talk to me! Talk to me!

  His eyes began to sting and his vision blurred. Was he crying? He blinked and saw a bloody tear slide down Sekhmet’s cold black marble cheek. Anock blinked again, and it was gone; there was nothing there. Had he been hallucinating? He looked around; had anybody else seen it? Everyone’s eyes were on the first Amiti sacrifice, who was lying in position on the altar. No one seemed to have noticed anything unusual.

  “Stop the ritual!” Anock stepped forwa
rd; all eyes turned to him in surprise. Riona froze, her dagger held high above the female’s chest.

  Crian frowned. “Anock, what’s the problem?”

  “The Goddess rejects our sacrifice. Don’t you get it? She sent Odji’s mate to save our priestess. The girl was acting on her behalf. She communicated it pretty clearly; Riona’s life was spared in exchange for the sacrificial victims. Sekhmet doesn’t want them killed; She wants them freed.”

  Anock’s words echoed around the chamber. No one spoke.

  Finally Riona lowered her dagger and placed it on the altar at Sekhmet’s feet.

  “Unlock the cuffs,” she commanded, pointing to the Amiti female spread on the polished altar. “Anock is right. Too many synchronicities. The Great Lioness is definitely communicating with us. We must follow her will.”

  “Or Hathor’s,” Anock quietly added under his breath.

  Chapter 70

  The Royal pride’s residence, Sharm el-Sheikh

  It had only been three days since Simone had regained her freedom. Now she was locked up again, exchanging one prison for another. At least this time it was her own apartment at the pride’s residence in Egypt. She was under house arrest. But what for? What had she done? Sure, she’d attacked Ken and Shakir and threatened to kill Anock, that son of a bitch who’d broken his word and hadn’t come for her alone. He’d captured her blood-bond, her Oberon, and now she had no idea what had happened to him. Their bond was silent; she couldn’t sense him. Could he be dead? No! Just the thought of it made her feel sick. Maybe a shield was concealing him? Whatever was happening, Anock knew where Oberon was. She just had to find a way to reach that bastard. She’d had enough and wasn’t going to sit in this fucking room any longer waiting for them to kill Oberon.

  Simone slammed her fist against the door and viciously kicked it. “Hey, someone, open the door, damn it. Open the door! Helloooo!”

  No response.

  She hated this feeling of helplessness. They had no right to treat her this way. She was one of the pride, the Elite, the fucking princess! She picked up a chair, and holding it like a baseball bat, slammed it against the window. Not even a scratch: the windows were bulletproof and the chair just bounced to the floor. Simone went on a rampage and broke everything in the room, starting with the TV, then the stereo, all the mirrors and the remaining furniture. She ripped her pillows, blankets, and sheets apart. When the feathers flying around the room made her sneeze, she stomped into the walk-in closet and roughly yanked all the clothes off their hangers, enjoying the sounds of ripping fabric, and then kicked her way through the clothes into the bathroom, where she smashed the wall mirror and swept all of her cosmetics and perfumes off the vanity. Then she decided to create a flood.

  She cranked the taps in the bathtub and the basin as far as they’d turn, plugged the overflow drains with pieces of the ripped sheets, and then just stood there, watching the water rise. By the time the it started overflowing the bathtub, her anger had subsided. She sloshed across the soaked floor and dropped, exhausted, onto her bed.

  She was awakened by the gentle touch of fingers stroking her hair. She jerked her head around and found Ismen sitting on the bed next to her. The room was a disaster, broken furniture and shards of mirror glass everywhere. She didn’t hear the sound of running water, so Ismen had probably turned it off, but the carpet looked completely saturated. The bottom half of the drapes was soaked as the water wicked upward, the curtain rods bowing under the extra weight, and she could make out puddles of standing water on the floor, feathers floating in thick layers on their surface. What a mess! she thought, with evil satisfaction.

  Then she growled at Ismen. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I came to comfort you. The pride thought that you might talk to me because I had nothing to do with having you locked in here. I am so sorry for you, Sim, that your own family would treat you this way. It’s horrible.”

  “Go to hell. I don’t want to see anybody.” Simone turned away from her and pulled one of the torn covers up over her head.

  “Don’t be angry with me. It really isn’t my fault. I even brought you something to eat. You must be very hungry.”

  Simone pushed the blanket off of her and sat up. The food did look tantalizing. She was not going to punish herself by staving herself to death; she’d suffered enough already. Snubbing Ismen, she began ravenously devouring the food.

  “I brought you something else, too,” said Ismen as she pulled a glass jar filled with fresh blood out of her shoulder bag. “It might help you calm down. Please, my princess, try it.” Ismen handed her the jar.

  Simone had fed four days ago from Oberon, so she wasn’t bloodthirsty, but what vampire would refuse such an offering? Blood did more than just meet nutritional needs; it was calming and soothing, and the Elite often used it as a tranquilizer. It would help her calm her conflicting emotions and think more clearly. Simone needed a cool head on her shoulders right now to deal with her family; anger wouldn’t help her negotiate with them. She took the jar and removed the lid.

  A painfully familiar scent, like gardenia on an ocean breeze, caressed her face.

  Simone squeezed the jar so hard that she almost broke it, her senses reeling. No, it couldn’t be a mistake. All vampires had a highly developed sensitivity to blood. Once they’d had someone’s blood, they could remember the taste forever and distinguish it from thousands of others. This blood was Arianna’s. Simone would bet her life on it.

  She took a sip. She would never forget this taste. The blood of the Amiti Queen. The purest of the pure.

  “Where did you get this?” She had to be very careful.

  “Get what?”

  “The blood.”

  Ismen shrugged. “Where they always get it; from the bloodstock.”

  “Do you know whose blood it is?”

  “How would I know? I called the bloodstock handlers and asked them to prepare some fresh blood for you. You know how they operate; they’ll get it from whoever’s next in the rotation. So it’s random. If you don’t like it, I can reorder.”

  “No, I like it.” Simone hurried to finish her drink. So Arianna was here, down below in the cells. It wasn’t just some anonymous Amiti who’d been drained for her; it was her sister, who she knew and ... loved. Yes. She did love Arianna. She’d made a mistake. So what? Who hadn’t?

  Simone got up and walked to the window, sloshing through the water on the floor. The old Simone would have had fun and splashed around, but she couldn’t imagine doing that now. She hated Ismen’s scrutinizing eyes; she needed to learn to master her emotions better and stop being such an open book.

  What could have happened? How had Arianna managed to escape from the pride that had kidnapped them both? Had they sold her to the Royal pride? Why hadn’t Simone’s pride told her that Arianna was here? What was Simone going to do now? Was she going to abandon Arianna again, just keep feeding on her blood?

  No, Simone was not the selfish bitch they always accused her of being. She was a female of virtue and merit. In fact, she realized, her heart swelling with satisfaction, her pride knew that: they hadn’t told her about Arianna because they knew she’d try to rescue her.

  Getting Arianna out of the cells wouldn’t be a problem; the area was managed by humans, and Simone could easily hypnotize them. But then what? Where could she take Arianna so she’d be safe?

  She glanced back at Ismen, still sitting quietly on her bed, then down to the floor. Splinters of wood floated on the surface like hundreds of miniature islands. Anavilhanas. Her memory filled with images of Sargas flying with her on his hip, high above the spectacular archipelago.

  Of course! The Legacy. They’d protect Arianna. They had promised her Sanctuary, had given it to her before she’d been kidnapped. Simone just had to get in touch with them and work out a plan.

  First things first, though: she had to have the run of the villa. She’d be no use to Arianna locked up in this
room. She’d have to behave herself, win her freedom back.

  “So, Ismen, the pride sent you to talk to me?” She returned to her bed and sat down next to the Amiti.

  “Yes. They don’t want to keep you locked up, but you were so angry that they wanted to give you time to cool down.”

  “Well, I managed to do a pretty decent job of venting my anger on destroying this place, so I guess that cooled me down. I feel much better. Can you tell them that I apologize for my behavior? Actually, I’d like to do it personally. Ask them if they’ll allow me to join them for dinner.”

  “Of course, Simone; I’ll tell them. We’re all happy to have you back home.”

  In about an hour Simone and Ismen joined the pride at dinner. Simone couldn’t bear to face the disaster of her closet, so she’d borrowed a cute blue spaghetti-strapped dress from Ismen. Dinner was served on the open terrace with a view of the magnificent Red Sea. Colorful party lights and candles decorated the terrace, creating a comfortable and relaxed atmosphere. Quiet music was a perfect addition to the peaceful setting.

  Simone was the embodiment of graciousness. She smiled and joked with everybody, answering questions about her adventures with the humans. There was a lot to catch up on.

  Theores assured everyone that the human research station would be put on the Council’s agenda and that it was a matter of great concern that the humans were experimenting on immortals. Everyone was anxious for Odji to come out of his coma and looking forward to what he would have to say. Not one of them mentioned Oberon or Arianna. They were all casually chatting and appeared to be in a good mood. The life of the pride was back to normal—except, that is, for Tor.

  The King was unusually silent. He made no effort to smile and several times completely missed jokes that someone told. He was reserved and formal. Simone had never seen her father like this. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but changed her mind. She had more significant things to think about, and besides, she didn’t care what his problem was.