by Anne Schlea
She knows she does. The sapphire blue dress clings to her body all the way to the floor. From the waist down, the fabric falls as smooth as liquid. The bodice is tonal lace applique over a sheer nude fabric. The lace, a mix of blue, black, and silver, wraps around her upper body in a graceful swirl of peekaboo ending at a line of faux buttons running down her back from neck to the small of her back.
He steps away and she drops her long blond curls. Sadly, they cover some of the detail on the back of her dress, but she prefers her hair down. Especially when she’s going to be in a room full of vampires.
Turning, she eyes Kristoff dressed in his tux with a critical eye. “I thought we were supposed to be keeping a low profile.”
“Nosh, we are vampires.” He smiles and checks his cuff links. “This is low profile.”
She rolls her eyes and steps toward his open arms. They go around her, holding her close to his chest for a brief moment. A quick kiss on her forehead and he steps away, not wanting to wrinkle her dress or his jacket.
She guesses the ballroom of the hotel will be safe enough. Kristoff’s men have the hotel wired tighter than Fort Knox and no fewer than fifty vampire soldiers are stationed throughout the building to ensure the safety of everyone inside. Outside the building stands the bustling center of Atlanta: restaurants, hotels, theater, police, and a lot of human activity. There is very little chance any nosferatu will make a play tonight. The building is too exposed.
“Point taken.” Runa adjusts the strap on her shoe and then runs her hand along the inside of her thigh where she’d secured a small knife. Although she doesn’t need a blade to kill, it makes her feel safer with it there. Kristoff doesn’t make mention of the addition to her wardrobe; she takes the blade everywhere, and for that she’s grateful.
“For you, a gift.” Kristoff produces a black velvet box from his pocket. She raises an eyebrow, making no move to take the box from his hand; they haven’t spoken about his request to mate her, but she hasn’t forgotten. He lets out an irritated breath. “Don’t get so excited. It’s not that.”
Relenting, she grins and accepts the gift. Nestled inside is a pair of diamond and sapphire earrings to match her dress and a thick banded bracelet made of the same gems. “They’re beautiful.”
“They pale in comparison to you.” He smiles and removes the bracelet from the box. He holds it out to her, “May I?”
“Please.” She presents her arm for him to affix the heavy jewels. The normalcy of the action strikes her, and she wonders if this is who she could have been in a different life. It’s who she could be still if she wants it. This life is such a far departure from the life she’s lived as a valkyrie that she doesn’t know how to live it.
She takes the earrings from the box and puts them on. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for staying.” Kristoff settles back and looks at her. She can see the depth of thoughts running through his mind. He’s thinking about how soon she’ll have to go and that she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to come back. It’s got to be difficult for someone like Kristoff to accept that he cannot control the outcome; the end of this story is on Runa’s shoulders alone. He shakes whatever thoughts they are away and holds an arm out to her. “Shall we? The hosts shouldn’t be late to their own party.”
Runa slides her hand into the crook of his arm and thinks about the War Council her sisters have called. She’ll have to leave soon to return to her homeland. There’s no choice in her going. If she doesn’t attend, someone will come looking for her – either to kill her or to kill Kristoff for keeping her away, or maybe even both.
The War Council is logical. Vampires are beginning to unite under one banner. The nosferatu have become more aggressive in their war. Sides will need to be chosen soon and there’s no Switzerland in immortal politics. Pick a side or be a victim. Runa’s own kidnapping proves as much. The valkyrie will meet to decide their position and all members of the race are required to attend.
Much like tonight’s vampire summit, going is not optional. Coming back is a big question mark.
Walking toward the ballroom, Kristoff’s bodyguards keep careful pace a few feet behind them. Runa imagines what this new world might look like if Kristoff’s vision comes to be. How much would their world change if more races work together? What would it be like to attend a council session as a representative of the valkyrie?
Runa shudders. The last thing she wants is to be saddled with representing her race. She’d never had a political ambition in her long life, and there’s no reason to start now. Leave the politics to Torhild and heartless women like her long-dead sister-in-law.
Unfortunately, Torhild is not a good leader, she reasons. Torhild dominates and creates fear. She doesn’t lead, she threatens and destroys anyone who stands in her way. In the last months with Stephanie and then Kristoff, Runa has come to see the difference. Antonia, Zartan, Kristoff, even the little she’s seen of Damian - they are leaders. Willing to do what is best for their race, they have all made sacrifices for their vampire clans.
The only thing Torhild has sacrificed is the lives of any sisters who oppose her.
Can Runa follow Torhild to war if it comes to it? She had before, during the Demon Wars. Things had been different then; Runa had been too young to question, had seen too little of life. Not now. Today she knows exactly what she’s getting into if she willingly follows the female who has led the valkyrie for over a thousand years.
All thoughts of Torhild vanish from Runa’s mind the moment they walk through the doors of the ballroom. She stops walking, looking around at the room, and lets out a laugh. “My god, you are ostentatious, aren’t you?”
“I don’t want history to record a new vampire order being born in a dark backroom somewhere.” Kristoff looks at her with a grin. “A new queen should be elected in a court that becomes her.”
A room fit for a queen, it is. The Council tables are arranged in a large circle, allowing every leader equal representation. Spaces had been left for all eight families, whether present or not. Runa realizes this is done so that later, when debate occurs, Kristoff can honestly say the missing clans had been and still are welcome.
The table glistens with silver and crystal, white tablecloths, and candlelight. Crystal stem wear, waiting to hold refreshments during the meeting proper, sparkle in the flickering candles and low lighting. Sprays of red roses are laid on the table in low displays so to not block anyone’s line of sight.
To her right, Runa sees a small raised platform set up for a string quartet. She raises an eyebrow and looks at Kristoff.
“After the council session. Dinner music.” He shrugs and approaches the restaurant’s manager, the man responsible for dinner.
A huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling above the council tables is also covered in fine crystal. It’s light fractures and spreads throughout the room.
It really does look like Kristoff has done his best to take the grand ballroom out of the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg and set it down in the middle of Atlanta. Her sisters love diamonds and silk, but their War Council could take a few notes from Kristoff. She doubts there will be any gems or silver at their meeting.
“Damn. He wasn’t kidding when he told us to wear black tie.” Marcus’ voice floats toward Runa from the doorway.
Turning around, she smiles brightly to greet him. As the night’s hostess on the arm of Kristoff, it is her job to welcome their guests and see him seated in the correct place. At first, she bristled at the idea of serving the vampires, then she reminded herself this is the goal. To survive and return.
Marcus is the tannest vampire Runa has ever met, aside from the dark-skinned vampires from South America who are born of indigenous peoples. His sandy brown hair and dark eyes compliment his smile and his easy-going demeanor. He’s so relaxed that Runa could be convinced he spends his days surfing in the California sun and not running a territory.
A territory in the middle of which sits Las Vegas, a city that attracts demon mischief like
a beacon in the night. Runa, herself, had spent a few scandalous weeks running the streets of that city.
“Marcus, I’m glad you’re here.” Runa offers him her hand, on which he places a kiss. “Welcome.”
“Yeah. I talked to Zartan on the phone.” He allows Runa to lead him into the room. He’d brought two of his own bodyguards who are stopped and thoroughly questioned by Zartan’s soldiers. “He told me what you were up to, so I thought I better be here. I’d like my say if you’re set on causing this kind of trouble.”
“Are you supportive of their plan?” A waiter appears, offering them both refreshment. Marcus waves him off.
“Are you trying to get me to tip my hand early?” He raises an eyebrow and gives her a lopsided grin. She wonders how old he was in human years before his changing. At only a few hundred years old, he’s by far the youngest of the vampire clan leaders. “I might be younger than the rest of you, but I’m not foolish.”
“I’m valkyrie.” It’s Runa’s turn to shrug. “My concerns lie with my own nation.”
“You may be valkyrie, but you are on the arm of a vampire clan leader tonight.” Marcus admonishes her, but his smile remains, and his voice is good natured. “I would like to hear what Antonia has to say for herself. Then I’ll decide. Zartan’s right about one thing, we cannot fight this war separately. There needs to be a change.”
Runa nods in agreement. There must be change.
Marcus is the youngest clan leader among the vampires. Barely three hundred years old, he took control of the American West when it was nothing more than a vast wilderness. Little did anyone know at the time that a gold rush and the railroad would make his territory both wealthy and populated. Runa suspects he’d been given the land to control simply because no one else wanted it at the time, not even Richard, Antonia’s power-hungry brother.
Support from Zartan had kept anyone from seriously making an attempt on taking Marcus’ clan or his lands since the discovery of gold. While a vampire might have been willing to fight Marcus, no one was willing to fight Marcus with the backing of Zartan.
The result is a loosely unified American front. Permission to come through one territory is respected by all territories.
Runa’s conversation with Marcus is interrupted by the arrival of Zartan and Antonia, and almost immediately afterward that of Damian and Tara. Both couples are dressed as extravagantly as Runa and Kristoff, the women in sparkling jewels with perfect hair and elegant black dresses. It’s a pity vampires don’t keep photographic evidence of their existence, Runa thinks, because tonight’s would be spectacular.
“It looks like everyone who’s coming is here.” Zartan, looking less like a pirate and more like a playboy in his black tuxedo, looks around the room. “Shall we get started.”
“Not quite yet.” Kristof smiles and kisses Antonia’s hand respectfully. “I believe we have at least one more guest arriving.”
Antonia, wearing a black, floor length sheath style gown, frowns. Diamonds sparkle in her ears, on her wrist, and on the choker around her throat, her hair is twisted on top of her head in an elegant bun. She looks at Runa, puzzled. “One more?”
Shrugging, Runa shakes her head. As far as she knows, this is everyone. If Kristoff is planning on pulling a rabbit out of his hat, he hasn’t told her.
A moment later, a cold energy rushes through the room, sending shivers down Runa’s spine. Goosebumps rise along her arms, the energy in her body responds in kind. She turns toward the door to look for the source.
Framed in the doorway are two maji. A tall, white skinned male waits a step behind a female. He has dark hair and blue eyes so light they look almost white. Surveying the room, he seems to be sizing up the other males. Finally, his eyes fall on Runa. He smiles at her, but the effect is chilling. Runa has the impression he’d smile the same way before he guts you with his mind.
Then, he surprises her with a bow of his head, acknowledging her as his superior in energy.
Runa returns her smile and bows her head respectfully.
Standing just in front of him is an equally tall black woman. Her coffee colored skin sparkles, either an effect of her magic or from some kind of makeup designed to impress. Short hair is covered by the hood of a cloak that she pushes back. Her brown eyes measure the room, but she smiles brightly when Kristoff starts toward them.
“Zoya, thank you for coming.” Kristoff reaches for her without hesitation and takes both of her hands in his. He kisses her on each cheek, causing a stab of jealousy to run through Runa’s body.
This maji, Zoya, must have sensed Runa’s response. She looks up at the valkyrie and winks. “I have no designs on Kristoff, dear.”
“Good.” Runa tilts her head and smiles. “I’d hate to have to gut you.”
Runa’s threat doesn’t have the desired effect. Zoya laughs and approaches her, and much to Runa’s surprise, embraces her in a hug with the cloak swirling around them. “I think I’m going to like you. Stephanie said I would. She sends her love.”
“Stephanie?” Runa’s heart stops and from across the room she can see Antonia’s head move in their direction.
“She is my apprentice.” Zoya steps back to remove her cloak to reveal a red evening gown. She hands it to the man behind her without turning to look at him and then takes Runa’s hand to squeeze it gently. “I have brought you all gifts and pictures from her. They are in my room. We will hopefully have time later.”
Kristoff glides past Zoya to address the tall male. He shakes his hand. “Ingmar, thank you for coming.”
“Our lord, Samael, sends his regrets that he is unable to travel at this time.” Ingmar also bows to Kristoff, his body moving in the stiff, formal manner of someone raised at court. “He has full confidence in Zoya to represent the maji on this night.”
“Then it seems out gathering is complete.” Kristoff steps toward the Council tables and holds his arm out for the others to move that direction. “Let us get started.”
Chapter 16
Kristoff waits patiently, the uncomfortable silence filling the room like unbreathable air. After an hour of discussion, there are no more solutions than the path they are on. To remain autonomous clans seems to spell doom. To unite might be taken as a declaration of war to the other vampire families.
“Hell.” Damian looks up from his hands to look at Zartan, shaking his head. His face is a grim mask. “I’m in no shape to run a clan without help. Dinah never prepared me for this job and I never dreamed she’d be killed like this, especially not at the start of a war. I’m a businessman, not a soldier. I’m sure as hell no general. My clan will defer to you regardless of this outcome.”
“We should talk. Don’t pick up and disappear from the continent, because the rest of your family won’t like that.” Antonia smiles at him, her green eyes sympathetic. “I can relate. If you’d like to talk, that is.”
“You’re already on speed dial.” His grin is just a grin, but Kristoff can hear a note of hope in his voice. Damian is taking Dinah’s death hard and is overwhelmed at the thought of ruling. He needs all the help and support he can get. The timing of this change couldn’t be better for him.
“What about after this war?” Kristoff pushes the issue with Damian. It’s time to wrap this meeting up; they’d talked the issue to death and have had enough time to discuss with their families. “Will you continue to follow Antonia if she is elected queen?”
Damian takes a breath and looks at his wife. She meets his intense gaze, holding it with her own as the minutes pass by. Then, with a resigned sigh, he nods his head once. “Yes. The Silverblade Clan requests membership in the united vampire nation. I cast my vote, on behalf of my people, to join the nation and take Antonia as our sovereign.”
Tara reaches over and squeezes Damian’s hand on top of the table. Kristoff knows most of the Silverblade clan will accept this choice. They have lived in harmony with the other clans for centuries, and this change alters very little. As Dinah’s biological descendant
, Antonia holds a special place in the family. Taking her as a leader is almost like taking one of their own. To some, it might even feel like returning the ghost of Dinah to her place at the head of their clan.
“You already know where my clan stands.” Zartan moves his gaze from Damian to Antonia. “She’s already our queen. We, too, wish to stand united under one banner. I vote to unify the nation under Antonia’s leadership.”
Marcus, twirling a rose pedal through his fingers, keeps his eyes on the table in front of him. Throughout the meeting, his body language had gone from open and friendly, to stressful and closed off. Now, however, he seems to have slumped in his chair, resigned to a path he might have wanted to avoid.
“The Rattlesnake Clan barely has enough resources to keep Las Vegas in check, let alone fight any kind of war if it extends to other cities.” He looks up, glancing at Zartan and then to Kristoff. “I appreciate the assistance Zartan has given us over the years when things have gotten out of hand. I won’t lie, I’m not excited to hand over sovereignty to someone else. I’ll want to read the binding documents and constitution carefully before I give you my signature and my vow, but I don’t see another way. Kristoff is right, we will all fall if we do this alone.”
He drops the single petal on the table next to the centerpiece it came from. “I vote we unite under one nation and I accept Antonia as the leader of that nation.”
Kristoff feels an unexpected sense of relief. He’d been surprised when Marcus agreed to come tonight and hadn’t expected him to join their vampire coup. With his backing, this fledgling nation will control most of Europe, Asia, and all of North America. Borders will be secure and friendly. With Marcus’ clan allying themselves with the new nation, all of North America will be protected from hostile neighbors who might give sanctuary to the nosferatu.
“Samael would like to thank you for inviting us tonight.” Zoya, the next vampire at the table, can see the meeting is drawing to its conclusion. It seems they’ve all run out of discussion and are ready to move on to a decision.
