Blood Ties Read online

  “Megan,” he hissed.

  She stiffened at the door, turning to him, trembling with the emotions that wrestled inside of her. “Shh,” she begged, trying to quiet him.

  Magnus’s chains slithered against the bars as he leaned forward, his eyes catching the moon, glinting against the black curtain behind him. “Sit. down.”

  She shook her head, a frantic twitch. “Please. They’ll hear you,” she whispered.

  He watched her from the darkness, and she turned quickly, her opportunity slipping away from her. She gripped those handles, opening the door just a sliver, feeling that crisp air bite her skin. Just as her leg twitched forward, a sound exploded through the room, metal scraping metal. Megan inhaled sharply and whipped around, searching the room in a panic. Magnus watched her from the cage, hatred and rage plain on his face, a snarl so vicious it made his lip quake with the anger as he brought his fist up again, crashing the chains against the side of the bars.

  “Stop!” she hissed, closing the door, taking a step towards him, hands outstretched. Those eyes watched her, narrowed, as he sent another clang through the room, opening his lips and letting out a cry of pure agony; the wail of a prisoner.

  “No!” she begged, fresh, boiling tears streaming down her face. “Please!”

  His wailing only increased, louder, as he pounded his fist harder against the bars, and Megan glimpsed oily tears on his cheeks, catching that bright moonlight. A light grew from under the door, a burning torch, menacing against the shadows, and Megan’s eyes widened as she tore across the room, flying back to her bench. Shaky fingers struggled with the collar, with the clasp, and just as she got it on, the front door flew open, the lights flicking on. “What the hell is wrong with you, you dumb oaf?” the vampire heir Ryan asked, thundering across the floor.

  Megan let the gold chain fall against her shoulder, praying that she’d gotten it clasped in her panic, pressing her hands to her mouth to keep quiet. There was no Fausta, no Todd, nobody but her and Magnus, and now Ryan. Her leg still ached at the memory of his cruel dagger, that blade searing through her skin. He wore an old-timey undershirt, billowing loosely against his pale skin. Blood dripped down his chin, a small stream, a few drops crimson against the parchment-colored fabric. In and instant, Ryan had Magnus by the hair, yanking him out of the cage with a fierce movement. Megan flinched, a whimper building at the back of her throat, but her fingers clamped down harder, trapping it.

  Ryan stood above Magnus, anger plain on his face. His red eyes were blazing, his fists clenching the thick chain that hung around Magnus’s neck. Like hers. Except Magnus’s chain was heavy, and left vicious cuts on his collarbones, the skin nearly purple from weeks of repeated bruising. He was a mess, a true, ragged mess, from the beard and the matted, greasy hair. He reeked of filth and sweat. She hadn’t smelled it before, but now that the thick curtain had been lifted, now that he’d been dragged out, the foul odor spread into the room. Ryan lifted his bare foot and sent it crashing into Magnus’s ribs with a gruesome crack. Bile rose in her throat at his ragged howl, his cry of utter agony. Another kick and he doubled over, his hands struggling to decide between clutching his stomach and protecting his face. Megan’s tears welled up, despite the danger they presented. Over and over Ryan kicked Magnus, towering over him and shouting, manic with anger, until the human was a bruised, bloody heap on the floor. A slight moan gurgled out of Magnus, and Ryan got a wicked smile on his face, grabbing the man by his hair and dragging him back into the cage, slamming the door so hard the whole thing rattled. “The next time you stir the whole castle, I’ll sew your mouth shut, you fool,” Ryan spat, pushing a hand through his disheveled hair.

  Megan watched Magnus in horror and disgust. She’d forgotten she was still crying, but as Ryan swiveled his gaze to her, a fresh wave of terror rolled through her veins. The vampire sauntered towards her. She tried to remind herself to stay calm, to not shy away, to use all of Todd’s rules, but none of them helped as she was cornered and alone with the vicious creature. Her fear only seemed to draw Ryan closer, until he knelt down in front of her, inhaling deeply.

  “Vampires can smell tears, you know,” Ryan said, his red eyes intent on her face, slipping to those trails as he flicked his tongue out and tasted one. Megan couldn’t help but cower away, a cry of disgust escaping her lips. Ryan’s smile widened. “Interesting, they are… see, tears taste salty, but to us, they smell sweet.” He captured her panicked gaze and licked his lips like a snake preparing to strike. Just as Megan thought he was going to attack her, to hit her, or maybe stab her again, his eyes slipped down, past her face, past her shoulders, and further still. “But there are other things that taste just as sweet as they smell.” He pushed himself up, his hands rough, jerky with the thrill or high or whatever exhilaration he was riding. With one hand, he undid the remaining buttons on his trousers, pulling them down as Megan let out another cry, trying to push away from him. Icy fear ripped through her, and a wicked grin spread across his face as he brought his hand crashing down above her shoulder, trapping her and crushing her to the bench. His cold lips pressed against her ear, and she smelled the stale blood, the reek on his breath. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a wolf, you know,” he whispered, an amused laugh slipping out as his hands moved further down, the terror stabbing through her even harder. Just as Megan’s fear mounted, surging inside of her with a visceral force, a voice echoed from the hallway.

  “Oh, Master Ry-an!” Todd called, words nearly singsong, a carefree laugh following them. “Where’d you go?” he asked, stumbling into the room with a drunken woman on his arm. Sweat dusted his cheeks, his shirt nowhere to be found. The woman was entirely naked, her eyes far off, sparkling with whatever the vampires had given her. She clung to Todd like she’d fall over without him. A river of red snaked down her chest, between her breasts, dark red against her caramel skin, and smeared by her thick black curls. In a second, Todd saw the situation. Megan’s eyes were wide, her fear and desperation clear as she looked to him, begging him for help, even though she knew he couldn’t do anything against a vampire. Nobody could do anything to Ryan, not with his position. She saw a flicker in Todd’s eyes, and then he acted.

  “You’re going to waste yourself on her?” Todd asked with a slight pout. He turned, wrapping his arms around the woman next to him, kissing her and dragging the tip of the knife down her neck, across her collarbone, light enough to not even leave a scratch. “I guess we’re chopped liver,” he murmured, pressing his lips against hers again. A wide smile spread on her lips, her breathy laugh floating up as she clung to him with drunken, clumsy arms. Todd’s lips remained against the woman’s cheek as he turned slightly, looking at Ryan. “Honestly, she wouldn’t even know what to do with it, master.”

  Ryan hung over Megan, panting like a wild animal, his red eyes fixed on the couple at the door. Everything waited, every person holding their breath, until at last, Ryan’s lips curled into a smile, a drunken laugh slipping out of his mouth. He pulled up from Megan, leaving her there, quaking in terror, barely able to operate her muscles. “No,” he purred, stalking over to them. “I suppose she wouldn’t.”

  “We weren’t done when he interrupted us,” Todd cooed, flipping the silver blade in his fingers with an expert motion, presenting the handle to Ryan with a suggestive eyebrow.

  Ryan laughed again, more relaxed. “No… we weren’t done at all…” he said, walking up to the woman and slapping her ass, eliciting a jumpy laugh from her. Todd smiled again, slipping his hand into Ryan’s as the vampire fell against the woman. Todd pulled him to the door, but the vampire froze and shook his head, his eyes burning with mischief. “No… no, not there. We couldn’t deny Magnus a show.”

  Todd laughed again, his eyebrow quirking at the vampire. “Oh, you’re bad, aren’t you?”

  Ryan’s eyes flashed as he swooped the woman up in his arms and carried her to the rug in front of the fireplace, next to Magnus’s cage. With a smooth motion, he flipped the cu
rtain up, leaving it entirely exposed, grinning at the bruised, bleeding prisoner. Todd took the opportunity to flick his gaze to Megan, his eyes showing the gravity of his concern even as he remained laughing, catering to Ryan’s whims.

  Megan turned, curling into the fetal position to conceal her trembling limbs, pulling the fur blanket over her head and trying to block the world out, to transport herself back to a different room, a different world, a different life.

  It was hours before she heard Ryan leave, listening to Todd’s soft snore as the lights flicked off, dropping the curtain of night and leaving them in peace. She was sweating, drenched under the fur blanket that she didn’t dare move. Only then did she peel the blanket back and open her eyes. The room was entirely black, the full moon concealed behind cloud cover, save for the deep orange glow of the dying fire. Todd and the woman were sprawled out on the floor like empty bottles, naked, no pillow, not even a blanket. She wanted to help them, but couldn’t bring herself to move yet, still rooted to the bench, numb shock gripping her. As her swollen, itchy eyes raked over those embers, she caught another glint from Magnus’s cage. He’d pulled himself up, his bruises horrific against the glowing coals. One eye was entirely swollen shut, but the other was fixed on her, glaring daggers. “What?” she whispered, her voice quaking under his hateful gaze.

  “What were you thinking, you imbecile?” Magnus muttered bitterly.

  His eloquence surprised her; up until this point, he’d been a wailing buffoon, and she hadn’t heard him say anything outside of ‘please’, ‘no’, and ‘stop’. She didn’t even know he could form sentences anymore, after everything Fausta had done to him. But the thought of him, judging her, angry at her, sent her over the edge. “What do you care what happens to me?” Megan whispered.

  “If you end yourself, she’s won.” He shook his head again, a sharp, patronizing dig. “You’re admitting she’s broken you, you realize that, right?”

  “She’s already won!” Megan spat, spewing hot venom into the air between them.

  “How dare you say that!” he seethed.

  She felt his eyes drilling into her, bitter, angry, beady with their hatred. Megan’s face screwed up in a sneer of anger. “Fuck you.”

  “To give up hope so close to freedom…” he muttered bitterly.

  “Freedom?” she hissed. “What freedom?”

  “Have you been paying attention? Fausta will not win a war against Darian Xander.”

  Megan shook her head, pulling her knees up to her chest to stop the shaking. She still felt restless, and she started rocking back and forth, an outlet for the energy. “Nobody can beat her, not even him.”

  “She is just a person.”

  She searched Magnus’s mangled face. “How can you say that? After everything she’s done to us?”

  “Because I had done far worse in my days of rule. I am just a person, too, though I was too deluded to admit it, and she… she is more deluded than I was. The pride before the fall, Megan, the pride before the fall…” He said her name like it was a condescending insult, and it only added fuel to that fire inside of her.

  Megan pushed the anger down, searching for the safe resignment, the futile acceptance, that had enabled her to justify every act of horror she’d participated in. “She’ll find a way to win,” Megan insisted, rocking like an unstable mental patient.

  “Not this time. I would bet my life on it. My godforsaken human life, and that’s a testament in and of itself.”

  “No. She has to win,” Megan moaned, burying her face in her knees. “If she doesn’t…”

  “Then what, girl?” Magnus whispered harshly.

  Images stormed her mind; images of Clay in prison, the ocean of red in the grand hall, of her turning her eyes at the woman tortured by Ryan, of the axe swinging down and of that putrid crimson gushing like a river, all of the horrors she’d experienced during Fausta’s cruel reign. A crushing realization weighed her down, dragging her further and further into despair. “If she doesn’t win, then what was it all for?” Megan whispered, the words barely audible as they dissolved into the cold air around her. Magnus had no answer for her, and she continued rocking, eyes fixed on the swollen moon, emerging from behind a cloud. The full moon that was supposed to be her freedom, that was supposed to release her. Now, it would be her prison, her cage, the force bringing her one month closer to the transformation that would alert the world of her existence and destroy any possibility of freedom.

  Lucidia

  She watched the royal vampire walk off, anger burning inside her as she thought about what he’d relayed to her. After taking a few breaths, she walked back into the room where they were keeping Robin. It was hidden, low down in the catacombs of House Albus. Dawn and Ezra were talking in hushed tones on one side of the shoe closet, and Reykon hadn’t left his ever-present vigil at her side, next to the bed. Chadwick stood next to him, and Darian watched from the shadowy corner like a creepy raven.

  Now, though, her sights were set on the silver haired vampire, and not even magical darkness itself could hide him from her. Her purple eyes were blazing as she stormed up to him. “They figured it out. Remember that refugee?” Lucidia said sharply. “He was a spy. They’ve been leaking intel to Fausta for months, and who even knows what perimeter breaches they could’ve cooked up. I told you this would happen,” she snapped, jabbing a finger at Darian. “A wide net catches a lot of fish, and if you’re not careful, you get a couple sharks too. But did you listen? No! You had to let everyone in, you couldn’t handle a single refugee being turned away, and no background checks, either, not even a heartbeat lie detector test. I mean, Jesus.”

  Darian gave her a look of slate. “Are you done?”

  She narrowed her eyes and let out a pent-up breath. “For now.”

  “At least you’ve got your lungs back,” Dawn said with a sour tone.

  Lucidia shot her a glare, exhaling like a dragon ready to breathe fire.

  “This one’s just as stubborn as you, you know,” Dawn muttered. “I can tell by the heartbeat. She’ll be fine. Conscious soon, too, so she’ll hopefully be able to do that… well, whatever it is she does.”

  “Siphon,” Reykon muttered, deep in thought. At first, he’d been angry, furious, and out for blood, but he’d quickly gotten a wrap on it. Now, Lucidia could see that gears were turning. He was thinking about something, seeing scenario after scenario play out in his mind.

  “I will spread the word,” Darian said, rising and heading for the door.

  “No,” Reykon said quickly, shaking his head. “Just wait. Give me a second to think.”

  “She’ll live,” Ezra said with a scowl. “It’s good news.”

  “I know, but…” Reykon exhaled slowly, through his nose. “Why would Fausta send an assassin to take out Robin before the fight?”

  “To shake us,” Ezra posed.

  Reykon shook his head. “No. Everything about her actions indicates that she waited to attack us because her spies told her that we were harboring the infamous vampire killing weapon. She was afraid of Robin, and she didn’t want to risk throwing her precious vampire supporters into another House Demonte massacre.”

  “You make a good point,” Darian hummed.

  “Listen,” Reykon said. “This is one of the most important decisions of the battle. We have to be careful. We have to think it through. Fausta wants Robin dead. She sent a human after her because she doesn’t want to risk a vampire. So what will give us the ultimate advantage over Fausta?”

  “If she thinks that Robin’s dead, she’ll relax…” Lucidia echoed. “You’re onto something, Thraxos.”

  “Chadwick,” Reykon said, snapping his fingers. “Can you create the illusion of Robin’s body? It’s gotta be as real as possible.”

  “That’s elementary, my dear Reykon. What do you take me for?”

  “Okay, whatever,” Reykon said. “Darian, you’ll go up there, but not to announce Robin’s survival. You’ll tell them that she’s dead, you�
��ll act shaken by it, and you’ll arrange a quick burial, or something to ensure everybody in this place knows about it.”

  Darian nodded slowly. “And after that?”

  “If I know anything about Robin, I know she’ll be pissed about this. After that we just have to wait for her to wake up and regain her strength. She’ll want to attack, somehow, and that’ll knock Fausta off her game bigtime.”

  “Assuming Fausta isn’t already mobilizing through any weak spots she had her spies come up with.”

  “We can’t bank on that. We have to assume she’s either waiting for us to be off guard, or for more reinforcements.”

  Lucidia pushed a hand through her hair. “Okay, so-”

  Harley opened the door and stood, rigid and tense. “Master Darian, you’re needed. Urgently.”

  Darian nodded, his gaze swiveling back to the remaining people in the room. “Stay with her. Nobody goes in or out until we have a better handle on Fausta’s espionage. Lucidia, with me.”

  Lucidia fell into formation after him as he walked out of the room with a sharp pace. They went through the tunnels, to the staircase that led to another crumbling staircase that led to a door that was supposed to be blocked off from the basement. God, the black mold that must have been down there. “She’ll attack soon, Darian,” Lucidia murmured.

  “Yes. The shooting has jarred us, and we rush about, like headless chickens.”

  “There are a lot of children here,” she pointed out, climbing the steps two at a time. “It’s just what she wants.”

  “I am aware of the risks,” he said tensely.