She could no longer afford to entertain any silly notions that the real Raina Delgado was simply trapped inside of this pale, glowing monster with pointy ears and fangs, this wicked creature that mostly looked, sounded, and sometimes acted like her. Raina Delgado had died months ago, utterly and completely. Grand Duchess Raina Fallamhain reigned supreme in her place and, just like her Blood Mother, she ruled with a sword kept wet and warm with the suffering of friends and foes, alike.
“I’m sorry, Brenna,” Raina sighed into her hands, shaking her head as hot tears finally squeezed free from her eyes. “I’m so sorry. We were both wrong … so very wrong.”
* * * *
Chapter Eight
“I’m sure she’ll survive,” Lady Olivia reassured her quite dismissively as she knelt beside her in the private office. “What matters most right now is that you’re okay. I’m most concerned about the silver…”
“I’m immune to silver,” Raina interrupted her impatiently. “If I wasn’t, I’d already be dead by now.” She hissed with pain as Olivia swabbed a cloth soaked with hydrogen peroxide at the worst of her injuries, the deep wound to her abdomen. “Actually, if I wasn’t immune to silver, I would’ve been dead after fighting Countess Wilhelmina.”
After being literally dragged away from a then-unconscious Duchess Camille, Raina had soon discovered her legs were too wobbly and her lower-body muscles not entirely responding as her brain was commanding them. Her legs, feet, and toes were a bit twitchy, experiencing strange and mild random spasms that made it nearly impossible for her to stand or walk on her own. When Camille had thrust her foil into Raina, that scraping sensation she’d felt had apparently been the tip poking against her spine. The latent deposit of traces of silver so deeply in her body and so close to her spinal cord was having an allergic effect upon her lower body’s nervous system. She had even had to make a nearly frantic request for Loki to help her to a restroom to relieve her bladder before the spasms could become too severe for her to hold anything back.
Olivia shook her head ruefully, patting her hand gently. “You’re resistant to silver, dear, but you are by no means completely immune. Otherwise, you would not be having the sort of reaction you’re experiencing right now.”
“This isn’t going to be permanent, is it?” Raina asked with genuine concern. “I mean, I know that silver wounds heal slower than others. It took me almost a week to completely heal everything Wilhelmina did to me. But, y’know, because the silver irritates tissues and stuff … well … I’m not going to be stuck in a wheelchair, am I?”
Olivia cringed. “I’m not a doctor, your grace. I really can’t tell you with any certainty because your condition is so … unique.”
“I think ‘freaky’ is probably a more accurate term.”
“Well, whatever you wish to call it,” she said, “I think you’re quite lucky. I’ve seen others die from wounds like yours in the past.”
Raina sighed and shook her head sadly, looking away. “There’s going to be Hell to pay if it turns out that I killed her. If she wasn’t the one that sent those hit men after me tonight, then whoever did is going to try that much harder to knock me off the next time.”
“You needn’t worry about her, your grace,” Olivia reassured her. “Just as well, I highly doubt that you will need to be concerned about quelling any revolts or future challenges to your power, especially after this. All of the Council was very impressed by the way you handled yourself.”
“Yeah, except for the part where I … had to be pulled off of her,” Raina said, pausing to gasp as Olivia again carefully swabbed at the exit wound to her back where Camille’s sword had fully penetrated her.
Raina was seated upon an old wooden footstool of sorts, her blood-soaked blouse in a crumpled heap upon the floor where she’d thrown it after literally tearing it off. She was sure that she looked even more of a mess than she had, earlier, as she was now only wearing a skirt and bra, her entire upper body smeared with blood – her own, as well as a bit of Camille’s. Feeling terribly embarrassed and humiliated by the aftermath of the duel, Raina had literally ordered Loki, Sophie, and Simon to wait outside and see to the closing of the IVC summit. She appreciated their concern, but she was physically unable to see to any further portions of that night’s ceremony, thus she had decreed that the IVC would postpone the remaining matters of the summit for one month while she recovered and dealt with the investigation into the failed assassination attempt upon her.
Setting down the bottle of peroxide and laying the cloth down nearby, Olivia reminded her, “I am sorry to say, your grace, but you were already quite edgy even before the shooting took place. Had I not insisted upon offering you a full measure before we left, things could have been much worse for you, tonight. And if it is any consolation, I have not heard a single negative comment yet made in regard to, ah … what happened after you brought down the Duchess. I have seen far worse acts committed in this Hall, before.”
“By Duvessa, I presume?”
“Not entirely, no. Actually, some of the most atrocious things I have witnessed were committed by Duchess Camille, herself,” she replied with raised eyebrows as she picked up the ruined blouse and held it up for a moment. “You don’t mind if I use this, do you?”
“Go for it,” Raina said with a light shrug. Even that subtle gesture caused her wounds to flare anew with that strange, horrible burning heat that made her voice a bit strained as she spoke. “What exactly … did she do?”
“Well, as you know, the Hall is where many disputes among the High Court and their subjects are settled,” Olivia replied. “Shortly before the Great Reveal, when the debate was raging over the issue of whether or not the IVC should make itself publicly known, a Commoner made the mistake of publicly insulting Duchess Camille. Duvessa bestowed a Debt of Blood upon him as a punishment for gross insubordination, and she allowed Camille to set the price for his Debt however she saw fit.” Olivia met Raina’s gaze with an almost haunted look in her eyes. “Camille had two of her consorts hold him in place while she tore out several mouthfuls of his neck and shoulders with her teeth and spat them in his face. She had started to pull off the servant’s trousers to do something worse when his master, Duke Diego Moreno decided to end his suffering. He declared his own servant to be a rogue and then put a silver sword through his heart.”
“Jesus,” Raina murmured. She was beginning to wonder if it had been a foolish deed to have spared Camille’s life, after all, rather than having taken the opportunity to put her sword through that Elder’s black, wicked heart. “They allowed things like that to take place here? In the Hall?”
“They, being whom?”
“The IVC?”
“Duvessa allowed it, therefore the IVC allowed it. But that was the worst that I ever saw here, yes,” Olivia acknowledged with a nod as she began to rip up Raina’s ruined blouse, using the cleaner sections of it as rags. “Of course, I have not been a part of the House of Fallamhain for nearly as long as Duvessa reigned as Grand Duchess, and I have heard of many things that were much worse which have taken place elsewhere. But then, you have read some of her journals, so … I’m sure you probably know the truth of that more than I.”
“Unfortunately, yeah.” She paused, watching Olivia open a bottle of rubbing alcohol and begin to carefully soak one of the folded-up rags with it. “How’s Svetlana and Thomas?”
Olivia shrugged. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard, yet. I am quite sure that they’re both fine, though.”
“Svetlana almost died trying to protect me.” Raina fought back a sudden lump that began to form in her throat. “I’m going to have to do something for those families … Ethan’s, and the driver’s, I mean. They’re dead because of me. I should do something…”
“It’s already being taken care of, your grace,” Olivia reassured her gently. “The driver’s employer, the company that owns the limousine … their insurance will handle it. Anything that happens in the commission of their duties…”
>
“That’s not what I mean. I’m not talking about money,” she insisted. “I should do something for them. They died because of me. They only died because those men were trying to kill me, and they got caught in the crossfire.”
“Your grace…”
“Raina!” she cried. “How many times do I have to say it? Please, just use my first name for once!”
“It would not be proper…”
“Fuck being proper! Be normal!” Raina nearly yelled. “Can’t you and I just have a normal conversation? For Christ’s sake, it’s just us here.”
“Your grace…”
Raina covered her eyes with one hand, biting her lip as she fought the urge to blurt anything else that she might regret. She hated this, all of this. She was so sick of all the ceremonies, the rituals, the preening, the pampering, and the awkward formalities. She needed a friend, a regular friend, someone with whom she could have some vague semblance of a normal, everyday relationship. Everyone practically worshipped her. She missed having an equal, a partner … just a friend. The people in her life, they were friendly, and she loved them, cared for them. But the whole inherent nature of her title as Grand Duchess had always seemed to stand in the way of having a full, open, completely comfortable relationship with anyone … even Loki.
Now, more than ever, she missed Brenna. She missed the freedom she’d once had to be able to say anything, to ask anything, to not worry about being judged or having everything she said be passed on to someone else. Brenna had always had a large network of friends, but she and Raina had by far been the closest of any … although that had been probably in no small part due to Brenna’s long-held feelings for Raina. And since she had effectively cut all contact with her only other real friend, Lisa – stupid as it was, Raina still felt betrayed by her decision to call the police – Raina had never found anyone to fill that vacancy in her life. Anymore, it seemed a matter of quantity over quality, as she had been forced to surround herself with people she needed due to her position rather than those she wanted for their compatibility. Friendship seemed to come only as a consequence of position and title.
“I’m sorry,” Raina finally said. “I’m … I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, dear,” Olivia said as she patiently held the alcohol-soaked cloth. “I understand what you must be going through. And I know that your wounds are having an effect upon your mood, as well. And on that note … I must warn you, this is going to sting something awful.”
“Is it really necessary to— … shit, shit, shit!” Raina yelped as Olivia not only wiped roughly at the wound but actually dug her finger into it slightly through the cloth, probing at it to cleanse the area. She balled her hands into fists so tight that her fingernails threatened to break the skin of her palms – just what she needed, more wounds needing to be cleaned. She closed her eyes tightly as she fought the urge to scream aloud.
Her wounds had already begun to “gel over” – that is, to form a soft, translucent sort of scab over the sites of injury, a substance that would remain fairly sticky and tacky and would only gradually dry and solidify as the wound healed. However, the alcohol acted as a solvent against those protective formations, and the wound began to seep anew with fresh blood. Though she was blessed with an amazingly strong immune system that was capable of defeating a vast majority of common viral and bacterial infections, the alcohol was meant to cleanse away any severe germs that her body might not be able to defeat … particularly MRSA, which was becoming a more and more common and serious problem for humans and even some vampires.
Olivia seemed to hold the tip of her finger inside of Raina’s wound for a moment before finally wiping the cloth around in a circular fashion and then immediately covering the wound with a fresh, dry section of cloth as she pulled the alcohol-soaked one away. Raina wondered how many times she had done something like this for Duvessa, or anyone else of the House of Fallamhain. She certainly seemed to know what she was doing.
Medical techniques for vampires were relatively simple, but they were often quite different from those of humans, as they required one to take into consideration the unusual healing properties and allergies of most vampires. For example, the bandaging to her left hand had already been removed so that the wound could begin to dry without the bandage interfering with it. If left on too long, the “gelled-over” part of the wound would dry with the bandage sort of woven into itself, and thus when the bandage would later be removed, it would tear open the wound and undo a great deal of the healing that had been done. Raina had learned this the hard way following her fight with Duvessa, as the hospital staff had not been fully trained in treating vampires and she had been left mostly to care for herself once she had been discharged.
“Sorry,” Olivia said, “but I just want to make sure to get out as much of the residual silver as I can.”
“I’d rather just … heal it up on my own,” Raina said, feeling nearly breathless as a bit of dizziness and nausea briefly washed over her. She looked down to her knees. “At least my legs aren’t still going crazy.”
“It’s not too late to go to a hospital.”
She shook her head. “I’ll only go to one to check in on Svetlana and Thomas. I don’t want to be anyone’s guinea pig again.”
“This isn’t America, your grace. The doctors here in London won’t treat you like that. They know how to treat vampires.”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Just … help me finish getting a little patched up so I can get out of this place.”
“As you wish, your grace.”
After a few moments, there was a polite knock at the door. Olivia hurriedly got up and rushed over to the door, opening it only enough to peek out at whoever was on the other side. She turned to Raina with a concerned expression.
“It’s Duchess Serenity, your grace,” she informed her.
“Shit,” Raina cursed under her breath, grabbing her blazer from where it lay upon the office desk nearby. Gritting her teeth against the pain, her voice was strained as she began to put it on to cover herself a bit more discreetly. “I’m really not in the mood for anymore drama tonight, Olivia. What does she want?”
“She wishes to speak with you immediately.” She paused, and Raina heard a voice speaking softly to Olivia from the other side of the door. “She says it’s absolutely imperative that she speak with you.” She paused again, apparently relaying her words. There was an odd look upon her face. “She knows who was responsible for the assassination attempt.”
Raina’s first thought was that some people would say anything just to haggle their way into an opportunity to have a one-on-one conversation with her. Because of her rock star-like celebrity status, people too often had a tendency to try using the same groupie games to gain the equivalent of backstage access. Among the High Court, this was not so much a matter of wishing to rub elbows with a famous name as it was a matter of trying to curry favor with the most politically powerful vampire in the world. And while Raina did consider Duchess Serenity to be something of an ally, the events of that night had seemed to put an entirely different spin upon everything. At this point, Raina was even inclined to be a bit suspicious of Olivia.
Holding the front of the jacket closed in front with one hand, Raina reached over with a grimace of discomfort and picked up the sheathed sword she had propped up against the worn antique oak desk. She did not expect any trouble from the Duchess. Then again, she had not expected to kill three humans that night, either.
“Let her in,” she said with a heavy sigh.
Olivia stood aside as she opened the door and Duchess Serenity gracefully glided into view. Serenity was the youngest of the Elders. In fact, by definition of her age, she was hardly an Elder, at all, as she was just a bit over sixty years of age. Her swift ascent to power and title had come as a result of her strategic and frankly manipulative decisions to court the right individuals. In short, she had slept her way close to the top. And while she was very open-minded and genuinely kind,
it was the nature of Serenity’s rise to power that was the reason Raina felt that she could not entirely trust her.
From the day she had met her, Serenity had tried to profess how well she understood Raina’s situation and how inherently close she felt to her in so many ways. Largely, the basis for this was simply the fact that they both had spent a large part of their lives in Arizona. Serenity was an outspoken proponent of all things New Age. She often relished going on and on about things such as healing crystals, psychic bonds, astrological signs and horoscopes, herbs and oils, the energy vortices in Sedona, and so forth. In the past, Raina’s mother had associated with a few friends that reminded her of Serenity, but they were all middle-aged women that never wore makeup, had frizzy hair, wore lots of beads and tie-died clothing, usually neglected to shave their armpits or legs, and always reeked of patchouli. Like Serenity, they were friendly folk, but a little bit too much on the eccentric side for Raina’s comfort.
Frankly, Raina considered Serenity to be a little weird, but generally harmless. Serenity had never once been known to have drawn her blade in anger, nor had she ever engaged in a duel with anyone. She had proven quite well that not all conquests in the High Court were made possible by the business end of a sword … which made Serenity, in some ways, perhaps even more dangerous than even the most skilled swordsmen in the IVC. After all, Duvessa had similarly appeared to be as wholesome and good-natured on the outside, having gone to great lengths to conceal the fact that she was a manipulative, murderous wench with a hidden past as a Nazi sympathizer.
The Darkest Colors- Exsanguinations Page 16
