Violet Abyss (A Blushing Death Novel Book 7)

by Suzanne M. Sabol

  “I thought so,” Patrick said. “Shall we go in?”

  “I didn’t know I had a choice,” I said, looking for a last minute reprieve. “Cause, then, no. I’d much rather go back and finish what you’ve started.”

  “I apologize for the confusion,” he said and then cleared his throat. “What I meant to say is we must go in.”

  “Nice try,” Dean said with a soft pat. He loved doing that. Actually, he just loved my ass, what little of it there was.

  Patrick held out the crook of his arm for me and I reluctantly took it. With a deep sigh of resignation, I took a step forward up the stairs and prepared to enter the lion’s den.

  At the top of the stairs, the door opened without prompting and we were greeted by a vampire that couldn’t have been older than fifteen. He was tall, lanky, with a scrawniness that most men grew out of in their 20’s. He had acne scars that would never heal marking his cheeks and I focused on him first. Pinpointing all my attention on his face made it easier to ignore the arctic stab of pain that shot through me from the multitude vampires filling the house. Even though he appeared to be young, a teenager, he felt old. Really fucking old.

  Patrick nodded at the butler, I suppose that’s what he was, but he didn’t speak and didn’t stop. The others in our group followed behind without a word, flanking Patrick, Dean, and myself as we stepped into a different world. The house was opulent Victorian with all the woodwork, lush carpets, grand brass chandeliers, and large rooms that went with it. Working with Dean and his construction company, I could tell the difference between original and rehab. This was all original.

  I was struck by wave after wave of pain as power bombarded me from all sides. The most intense felt as if a giant icicle stabbed straight through my body. There were humans too but they were either food or human servants and there weren’t enough of them to dissipate the vampiric power bombarding me. Even the wait-staff were vampires or shifters of more flavors than I could identify. I stumbled back but Dean caught my left arm and Patrick clasped the hand still wrapped around his arm on my other side.

  “You okay?” Dean asked. He’d seen me in a room filled with foreign vampires. When we’d gone to Pittsburgh, I’d been slammed similarly in a vampire club as we tracked down the money behind the assassins hunting me.

  “Yeah,” I sighed, finding my bearings again. “Just overwhelmed. I’ll get used to it. Just give me a second.”

  “We may not have that long. We’ve been spotted,” Patrick said, nodding to Diego across the room.

  I loosened my grip on both of them and stood steady on my own as I let the power wash over me instead of consuming me. In my head, it felt like going with the current instead of fighting against it. Once I figured that out, my entire being stopped hurting and I could focus on other things.

  The room was almost deafeningly loud, the clinking of glasses as liquid sloshed around in fine crystal and the hushed murmurs of conversation was a constant roar. Through it all, there was a tension-filled buzz that was confusing. No one was on the edge of violence and there was laughter too. But this was a group of people who didn’t trust one another. I could definitely sense that much.

  In my worst nightmares, I’d had visions of the entire vampire world stopping and turning on us at once the moment we entered. That didn’t happen. And not that I wanted to be noticed, I didn’t, but it was like they were actively ignoring us. I’m not arrogant but I was still dangerous, damn it! I shouldn’t be ignored.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Patrick answered guardedly. He gazed around at the gathering, his brow furrowed and his muscles tightening beneath my touch. I wanted to ask if he was nervous but wouldn’t dare in a room filled with preternatural beings that could hear a pin drop in the next state. Glancing up at him, I brushed my fingers across my own forehead as understanding lit his dark gaze. His own brow smoothed and the mask he wore for the public, the one I knew well, was back in place.

  Through the crowd, I caught a glimpse of Isidro as he approached, his expression grim and his mouth set in a hard line. He was an attractive man but the devious, cunning nature I knew he hid behind those chestnut eyes, made me wary. Patrick’s second in command, Alex, and he were siblings . . . of a sort. Centuries ago, they had shared a sire. They’d even shared a bed for a time. There were times I knew Alex remembered him fondly but she didn’t trust him. She had never trusted him.

  “Pat?” Dean growled as the other vampire approached. As a member of the Lebensblut board, the overarching authority in all things vampire, Isidro answered to a higher power. He technically would’ve been over Patrick in the hierarchal structure until Patrick had declared us and all his territories independent of the board. It had been a gutsy move but necessary. We couldn’t let them walk all over us. But now, we were at this stupid meeting and here was Isidro.

  “Isidro,” Patrick greeted.

  “Cavanaugh,” he said in response.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, not really caring how I appeared. It felt like the entire place could erupt at any moment and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I wanted to know if the entire room was going to turn on me. I was funny like that.

  “Raine,” Isidro growled. “She’s been murdered.

  At that moment, a man stepped up onto the dais with the band. That’s right, the vampires had hired a band. But they weren’t human. Holy Shit! They had a vampire band.

  The vampire stepped up to the mic and drew my attention as well as the attention of the entire room. His power stretched out, searching, probing until it reached me and dug in. It attempted to latch on to each of my vertebra. My teeth rattled in my head and I clenched my hands into tight fists at my side. “S-s-s-so old,” I stammered and closed my eyes to even out the pressure. The man was not tall and not handsome. His eyes were set too far apart and his forehead too prominent. His dark hair was deep ebony, a shade that had never existed in humankind. His shoulders were overly broad and strong; not muscled but sturdy. I breathed through the pain until the icy chill was a constant throbbing that I could live with.

  “Good evening,” he began in a cultured voice that didn’t match his appearance. “I would like to welcome the Lebensblut Board and all my territorial lieges.” Everyone heard the emphasis on that word and the vampire’s gaze focused on Patrick in a way that was predatory and possessive. I rolled my eyes, defiance in the face of danger. That’s me. It helped me focus.

  “As many of you know,” he continued, “our lovely Raine has met her end prematurely.”

  It was at that point that my image of the entire room stopping and staring at us occurred. It was fucking creepy. They stared at us in accusation and the tension ratcheted up just a bit. I waved my fingers at them in a patronizing little wave and Patrick groaned beside me.

  “Keep a path to the door,” Dean ordered to our people behind us.

  “Do you think we’ll get out of here without bloodshed?” Booker murmured just low enough for us to hear him.

  “Not likely,” Ev answered.

  “Shut it,” Dean snarled.

  “If you have an accusation to make, Konyam, please don’t keep us in suspense,” Patrick said, his forceful and beautiful voice carrying throughout the room. Patrick and Alex had mentioned Konyam many times but I never imagined that he would look positively prehistoric.

  From the crowd someone shouted, “It was your human whore!”

  “Oh,” I said, cocking my hip and slamming my hand down in protest. “That’s original. Like I haven’t heard that one before. Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me,” I sang.

  “Dahlia,” Dean warned with a rumbling growl.

  The scent of black licorice filtered through my nose, a hint hidden in all the other odors of the room but it was enough to stop me cold. “Do you smell that?�
� I murmured unable to keep the dread from my voice.

  “Yes,” Dean snarled, the curl of his lip showing his teeth in outward aggression.

  “How is it possible?” Patrick whispered as a woman stepped onto the dais beside Konyam. At the sight of that long ebony hair and her bright blue eyes the color or a warm summer day, my heart practically stopped beating in my chest. Baba Yaga had come to the party and wore her pretty face.

  Awesome.

  Worst. Party. Ever.

  Chapter 16

  “Who is that?” Patrick asked. Neither he nor Dean had actually seen this version of the Serpent of Winter.

  She was the mirror image of her sister, Riona, the Fae Queen. Where Riona was light, Baba Yaga was dark. In this form, she was one of the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen but I’d seen her other form too. The craggly old woman was something to behold. With missing teeth, she’d rocked back and forth on the front porch of a house that trounced through the Outer Realm’s forest on spindly chicken legs.

  “Baba Yaga,” I hissed, and at the very sound of her name, she met my gaze and smiled a devilish grin of acknowledgement that set my teeth on edge.

  “Do you still think my strategy is a ‘bad idea’?” Patrick mimicked at my earlier concern about a pixie army.

  “It’s looking better and better all the time,” I said.

  “Good,” Dean huffed.

  “I’ll start practicing.” I clutched Patrick’s arm just a bit tighter, never letting my gaze drop from the ancient witch’s. I couldn’t back down. Not to her. Not to anyone.

  The crowd finally calmed as Konyam threw his power out and tiny vampires all around the room quaked under it, forced to their knees. All but Patrick and our people which I found very interesting. Through our shared bond, I felt not a quiver or even a flinch as the power washed over us. In fact, Patrick managed to lessen its impact which enabled me to keep my feet and not stumble. Not a weak knee among us.

  Konyam cleared his throat. “There is no accusation as of yet. When we have more information, justice will be served. But first, Raine’s seat must be filled. An election of the board will take place two night’s hence. Begin your campaigns.” He waved off the crowd as if he was accustomed to having his every order obeyed.

  “What is going on, Grimaldi?” Patrick demanded.

  “The Chalice,” he whispered. “The Chalice of Isis is gone.”

  Patrick’s mouth turned into a hard line of thin lips and rock hard muscle along his jaw. But his dark eyes were deep and contemplative as if working out a puzzle.

  “The what!?!” I almost shouted.

  “I’d been lead to believe the Chalice was gone,” Patrick said, almost to himself. “My sire had spoken of it as an artifact, long gone. Not something that still existed.” He gazed down at me with concern making his brow furrow. “I don’t even completely understand what its purpose was or its value.”

  “The Chalice is important,” Isidro said through gritted teeth as if correcting a wayward child. The tone irritated me. Whether Isidro knew it or not, he was moments away from having his throat ripped out. “It is important that it is missing and that Konyam is already on edge with your little flower in town.”

  “What does this chalice thingy do?” I demanded, stepping between Patrick and Isidro and turning my predator’s smile to the board member. I wanted Isidro dealing with me. He liked to flirt and feel important. Patrick would just antagonize him and we needed more information.

  “Ah,” Isidro said with a hint of regret. “If only you meant that look in your eyes, I could steal you away from your”—he turned to peer at Dean and then Patrick—“protectors,” he finished.

  Garrett snorted behind us and Dean sneered at Isidro.

  “Ah, Isidro,” I said, running my fingers up his hard biceps. “That’s why you could never steal me away. They don’t protect me. I protect myself.”

  “Even so. I also protect myself and I like my head right where it is. Your ploy to siphon information from me is a wasted effort. When you are ready for real power, my dear, I’ll be waiting.”

  Ev stepped up and whispered low in my ear, “I’ll call home and see what Jade can find.” Digging his cell phone out of the pocket inside his tuxedo jacket, he turned.

  As he left with his cell phone to his ear, I said, “I don’t like him on his own in this crush.” However, before I could ask one of the others to follow, Konyam’s voice boomed out.

  “Mr. Cavanaugh, join me in the solarium?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” he answered politely but not as if groveling at the feet of his betters. I turned my head and nodded at Booker to follow Ev. Without a word, he returned my nod and was gone. Patrick crooked his arm for me again and I took it. Dean matched our stride beside me, careful to leave my hand free to draw a weapon. He placed his palm possessively at the small of my back as we moved together as a single unit, a practiced squadron through the parting crowd of enemies.

  Chapter 17

  Cavanaugh, his whore, and the dog moved through the crowd as if the world couldn’t touch them, which just angered Celeste. Hopefully, Konyam would kill them all and she could use the Chalice as it was meant to be used. She stood, her back straight and her shoulders squared with her hair piled loosely atop her head. She contemplated how long she had to stay before her departure wouldn’t be noticed. She had things to do. People to kill.

  As she drifted through her plans for later in the evening, a familiar, cold grip slipped around her middle, tugging her back against a hard chest and stiff erection. For a moment, a single bliss-filled moment, she relished the feel of him, the closeness, and the idea that soon they could be as they once had been. They’d lived this lie for so long, plotting and always moving toward their goal. The end was in sight and she knew that this contact, as much as she loved it and him, was too soon. Too public. If someone saw, suspicion for Raine’s death would shift to them instead of Cavanaugh’s whore. They couldn’t afford the attention, not when they were so close.

  “We can’t,” she whispered. “Not yet. Once I have control of her colony and the relic, then it will be safe.”

  “I’m tired of waiting,” he growled in her ear.

  So impatient. She’d almost forgotten that bit of his nature, the precociousness of his need for instant gratification. Considering it had been three decades since they had begun this farce, she was surprised he’d lasted this long. But three decades was nothing when you’ve lived for centuries.

  “Just a bit longer,” she purred, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “We’re almost there.” Varick’s scent filled her and it would have to last.

  Slowly, his hand slid from her body and she felt his presence dissipate and disappear as her chest tightened with regret. Celeste glanced around the crowd, verifying no one had noticed her sire’s petulant pout, even if she cherished the feel of him no matter how brief. Roaming over the crowd, her gaze met the dark glare of Isidro Grimaldi and his mouth turned up in a knowing smirk. He’d seen too much. Again.

  Chapter 18

  We stepped into a jungle. Lush green plants climbed from floor to ceiling and the scents of flowers, herbs, and thick freshness overwhelmed my senses as I tried to take it all in. Orange trees grew indoors as if this ancient vampire had tried to bring the sun inside with the citrus that drank it in. The path we walked on was carved out of the foliage with twelve-by-twelve square slate pavers. The water from the irrigation system made the air damp and the pavers slick. We curved through the orange grove until the path opened up to a wide expanse with a glass ceiling high enough to accommodate the trees and a pond in the center. As we approached, orange and black koi swam through the water, ignoring the undead standing beside the pond.

  With his back straight and his hands clasped behind his back, another vampire watched us intently from across the
small pond. A question he didn’t yet have the answer to shone bright in his gaze and the effect was fucking creepy. I didn’t like being watched— who did? —but this guy was different. It felt as if he could pluck the very thoughts from my head and I slammed my shields down tight. I definitely wasn’t taking that chance. He was old but not nearly as old as the Lebensblut’s board chairman standing next to him. This vampire had sandy blond hair and sharp facial features that screamed of a German heritage. He reminded me of Kurt with his solid build and strong shoulders. He watched us with striking, violet irises.

  Konyam addressed Patrick, “Mr. Cavanaugh.” His voice firm and blunt which brought my attention back to the real danger in the room.

  “Konyma. Varick,” Patrick greeted.

  “We have much to discuss,” Konyam continued.

  Baba Yaga, slithering through the foliage like the serpent Josephine had called her, stepped around the vampires. She perched on the edge of the wall surrounding the koi pond, her heavy velvet gown of gold spilling around her. She reached out and played with the petals of a black orchid. I wasn’t sure if anyone else was watching, but I was. She manipulated the petal, moving it this way and that before changing its shape entirely with the mere movement of her fingers. Her fae magic burned in my veins as it recognized me as its own.

  Beside me, Dean growled deep in his chest. The vibration of his unease shook things deep within me, fears that were primal and placed in my subconscious long before I was even born.

  Shoving off that ingrained fear, I remembered that Dean would never hurt me. I was his and he was mine. I turned my attention back to Baba Yaga and her display. That’s what it was, after all. She wanted me to know just how powerful she was. I couldn’t help but watch. Would I be able to do that? If I practiced with what Baba Yaga gave me, willingly or not, could I use it to end all of this conflict and finally make everyone I loved safe? Was Patrick right? Could I use an army of dark fae to make us safe? Was it worth the price because there was always a price? I wasn’t sure. About any of it. But watching Baba Yaga change the very shape of a living being before my very eyes, I was willing to find out.