Blood Wars (The Bloodborn Series Book 2) Page 3

  “Yes,” Reykon seethed, hand tightening on the wheel.

  God, they were sick of each other.

  “Because the last time…” she continued.

  He let out a sharp breath. “That wasn’t my fault. It was as good a guess as any.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Lucidia hummed in a sarcastic tone.

  Truth be told, Reykon wasn’t the most difficult strongblood to work with. But when you were racing around the country, following half-baked leads and stuck in a vehicle with the son of a gun for twenty-one hours a day, he got on your nerves like a dog gets on a leg.

  Lucidia had passed ‘annoyed’ a hundred-mile markers ago. Now, she was broiling. It didn’t help that they’d been double crossed by Ivan and hadn’t seen it coming at all. They were supposed to be dead. If it weren’t for her lightning fast reflexes, they would have been, but she hadn’t trusted Ivan fully, and that apprehension had only deepened when he’d pulled over on a secluded bridge. A little obvious, now that hindsight was commentating.

  None of their previous contacts were answering, either, and every agent from every house they knew seemed to be preoccupied, which meant their eyes and ears were gone.

  They didn’t know what was in front of them, and they didn’t know what was behind them. But most importantly, they didn’t know who was coming for them.

  And because of all those little gaps, they didn’t have the foggiest idea where Robin was.

  Lucidia checked her burner phone for the hundredth time and ignored the side glance that Reykon shot her.

  It also didn’t help that neither Clay nor Megan were picking up.

  I’m so going to kick your ass when I see you, Clay, she thought. But her anger was just a smoke screen for the deep-seated fear that now crept into her belly.

  Is this what caring is like? she thought angrily. Because this sucks.

  So far, between Robin and Clay, she’d felt more of that gnawing, soul-sucking fear than she’d experienced in all of her hundred and twenty years combined. She didn’t want to deal with that side of the problem yet. She was new to this whole facing-your-emotions thing, and so far, her journey could be summed up as a train ride directly to procrastination station. She preferred working through tension with her fists. Preferably, smashing into the jaw of someone else. But emotions be damned, because now, they had bigger fish to blow up.

  Speaking of, Lucidia eyed the large building connected to the address that they’d gotten from an underground source, in an underground bar, that was really just a den of wolves and vampires and renegade casters hidden in the jungle of Phoenix. That ‘intel’ was that their contact may or may not be hiding out somewhere in Sacramento, with a bunch of other misfits, supposedly. But then again, this was their fourth attempt, and the others had gone over like lead at a paint eating contest, so at this point, they’d take anything they could get.

  She fixed her eyes on the building, analyzing the layout from its architecture. Tall, looming, likely stairs and elevators. It glittered across the sun baked city of Sacramento. But they both knew it was just a front for some group of paranormal hacker friends, and however many buddies they’d brought along.

  Lucidia grimaced and pulled the brim of her black baseball hat down further. Sun wasn’t her style; she much preferred shadow.

  “Bingo,” Reykon muttered.

  Lucidia’s eyes slipped over to the strongblood’s face. He probably hadn’t even heard himself talk, with the hawk-like focus and burning rage that she could practically smell on him. Lucidia herself had felt the magical attraction between Robin and other creatures that resulted in an undeniable, and often infuriating need to protect her, but Reykon’s aftershocks were something else.

  Something more.

  One thing was absolutely certain: Reykon was either going to find Robin or die trying.

  They pulled over on a side street and Lucidia climbed into the back of the SUV, pulling their duffel out and taking stock of their weapons.

  Robin

  Out of the frying pan and into the fires of Mordor.

  Her heart was a jackhammer as her eyes settled on Darian Xander, the vampire master that had been gunning for her head ever since he’d found out about her existence.

  “You…” she sputtered, backing away from the door.

  “We meet at last,” the vampire said with a smile, eyes flaring with anticipation.

  The back of Robin’s leg met the coffee table, and she skirted it, fear plain on her face. Keeping calm, cool, and collected was one thing when you were faced with the red-headed avenger over there, but it was another thing entirely while staring into the burning gaze of an old (buddies with Zeus, old) vampire. And it seemed that the older they were, the worse they looked.

  It wasn’t outwardly noticeable; when she’d first glanced at him, everything seemed to be in order, and meticulously so. He would have been dashing, under the right circumstances. He wore a tailored dark purple suit, with a billowing cloak and black shoes. All the proper accessories were over-the-top in terms of appropriate attire; he looked ready to go meet royalty, or maybe crash an opera.

  But the longer you stared, the worse it got.

  Pale, porcelain skin that looked like skin but didn’t look right, almost like it was sucking all the light and heat from the air around it and funneling it into those ruby red, hellfire eyes. His silver hair was straight, falling behind him, down his back, his lips a cruel line gashed into his otherwise cold face.

  He was terrifying; more terrifying (in her opinion) than Magnus.

  Magnus had a feverish intensity, a bloodlust that seemed to consume him, and an overwhelming need to be top dog.

  Darian, upon further inspection, was much, much more dangerous.

  He had a cold power, a sort of prowess that reminded her of a puma, stalking its prey silently. It was smart, it was cunning, and it was absolute.

  So why am I still breathing? Robin thought, trying to wrap her head around the situation.

  The smile on Darian’s face deepened, and he crossed the room, nodding to Robin’s grumpy companion. He flicked his cloak behind him and took a seat on the elegant, curved-back couch, spreading his arms out on either side.

  “Come, sit, Robin,” he purred.

  Robin stood, frozen in place, confusion and fear and panic broadcasting like a beacon. She’d like to have fired off any number of quips that Lucidia or Reykon may have thought of, but she’d be lying if she’d claimed to.

  “I… I’m confused,” is what tumbled out of her mouth, eyes trained on the smug vampire.

  Darian gave a charming laugh. She didn’t like the way it fell on her ears and weaseled into her mind.

  “You’re supposed to want me dead…” she continued, glancing to the woman, who’d taken her seat on the chair again, but sat tall, rigid and stoic.

  “Yes, well, circumstances change,” Darian said, picking a hair off his tailored pants and swiveling his gaze back to Robin.

  Robin let out a breath that was supposed to turn into words, but none formed as her mind swam with the situation.

  Darian quirked his head to the side and gave her another charming smile. “If I wanted you dead, it would have been much more convenient to achieve that end while you were in a coma. And if I decide in a few minutes that I’ve changed my mind again, then I can assure you, there’ll be nothing you could ever do to alter the course of events. So there’s no use in not enjoying pleasantries while they’re present, is there?” he said in a voice like silver.

  Robin’s eyebrows crunched together, and she watched him for a moment longer before the fear faded and she was left with a growing sense of irritation.

  “What the hell is going on?” she snapped, throwing her hands up in the air. “I can’t keep track of all this on my own. First you’re trying to assassinate me, then you’re not, then you might… which one is it?”

  Darian gestured to the lounge, his smile never faltering.

  Robin let out a pent-up breath and perched on the ed
ge of the lounge, as far away from him as she could get. Her words held a ferocity that shocked her and reminded her of Lucidia’s anger. “Talk,” she growled.

  “I’m not accustomed to being addressed in such a manner,” he said, his smile fading just a hair.

  “I’m not accustomed to being a human volleyball,” she threw back. “And I’m really sick of it.”

  Darian turned to the woman sitting next to him. “There’s much of our dear Lucidia in her, is there not?”

  The woman’s face remained blank, but she gave a small nod. “From what I hear.”

  “I see you’ve met Harley,” Darian said, gesturing to the strongblood.

  If ‘met’ is what you could call it, she grumbled silently. Harley raised a single hand and wiggled her fingers in a half-assed wave.

  “It’s interesting that you chose the phrase ‘human’ volleyball,” Darian continued, piercing her with those eyes.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I think you know,” Darian said softly, voice like velvet.

  Deep down, she did.

  She felt different. Like a stranger in her own skin, like she’d been scooped out and jumbled up and then put back in place by a toddler with sausage fingers. She felt exhausted and wired and on edge to an extent she’d never experienced.

  But more than anything, she felt like a curtain had been lifted, like there’d been something in the back of her mind, rolling around and slipping in the shadows, and that it had been let out to stomp all over the sandcastles.

  Robin thought about what Reykon would do, she thought about how Lucidia might act. The last time she’d seen her sister had been for five minutes in Cain’s prison, and then for another short jaunt when she’d outed Robin’s existence to the vampire that now sat before her.

  One thing was for sure: neither of her strongblood companions would have given Darian any information freely.

  “What do you know?” she asked, gaze bouncing between the two strangers in front of her.

  Harley gave a short laugh. “What doesn’t he know?”

  His eyes drilled into hers, like he was trying to read her mind with only his gaze, trying to crack open her head and see what he could find.

  Darian remained like ice, still, a little too still; a creepy, staring statue. Robin felt herself subconsciously leaning away from him, which he seemed to sense as well, breaking the strange position and letting out a controlled breath, shifting in his spot. She could tell it was for her benefit and not because he needed to move, which only reminded her that he was a vampire and amplified the creepiness ten-fold.

  “We gathered that Calliope Dragomir used Jadzia’s Comet to alter you on a magical level, and that on that night, tragedy struck House Demonte on a catastrophic scale, but we don’t quite know exactly what you can do,” he said, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “We are also aware of the influence you have on other creatures.”

  Robin frowned. “What influence?”

  “It’s a magical pull that draws creatures to you, making them want to protect you or... otherwise. An enchantment, it seems, though in the case of Master Cain, it did a little more than that, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “How do you know about Cain?” she scowled.

  “Dear, I have eyes and ears everywhere. Do you think it was a coincidence that every one of your disguised strongblood caravans were taken out?”

  Robin scowled. “You… you had a spy? You sent them after us?”

  “Of course.”

  “Reykon almost died,” she growled, fists clenching.

  “Thank the heavens he had you to kill my agents and steal one of my vehicles, otherwise, you might not have made it to wherever it was you two hid out.”

  “A spy…” she grumbled, shaking her head in bitter anger.

  “I am known for my strong inclinations to gathering intelligence. I’m surprised that Lucidia didn’t educate you on that.”

  Robin let out a long breath. “I met Lucidia the day she told you about me. We’d said about ten words to each other before that, so she didn’t really have a chance to educate anybody about anything,” she muttered bitterly.

  “How unfortunate. She really is quite lovely.”

  “Lovely isn’t the word I’d use,” Robin admitted, running her fingers through her hair and pushing it out of her face, annoyance brimming at the purple energy shining in her eyes.

  “I suppose I know her better than you may,” he said with a hint of amusement. “She has her ups and downs.”

  One of the floating purple symbols caught her eye, and her irritation boiled over. “What are these?” Robin asked, holding up her arms.

  “A very necessary precaution for your stay here.”

  Robin suppressed a shiver at that last comment. “What do they do?”

  “Magical restraints suppress any and all magic from being activated, intentionally or otherwise.”

  “I don’t know how to use magic,” Robin said, narrowing her eyes.

  “It’s more of a trial by fire thing,” Harley muttered.

  “Once we find the extent of what Calliope altered, we’ll remove them and begin experimenting with the range of your abilities.”

  Robin set her jaw. “I don’t have any abilities.”

  “You might not have before, but Calliope invested quite a lot in you, and she’s not one to produce unimpressive results.”

  Claws of anxiety curled around her lungs, tightening with each second she stared at the cold vampire. “So I’m a prisoner here?”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily call it that.”

  “But that’s what it is,” Robin said in a flat voice.

  “Yes, if you’d like to be blunt. But many of my prisoners do not get to enjoy such arrangements.”

  “That doesn’t make it any better; you’re still holding me against my will.”

  Another sharp laugh from Harley sent her anger through the roof.

  Darian didn’t seem bothered by her irritation, and instead shrugged his shoulders in an elegant movement. “Whether or not you’re here willingly, you’re here with a beating heart, away from Calliope’s clutches, and that’s more than you would have had if I’d chosen not to intervene and opted to cater to your feelings instead.”

  She glared at him, setting her jaw. The venom in her voice surprised her, more and more with each bout of ferocity that rose to surface. “You only intervened because you wanted a turn with the shiny new toy before Calliope.”

  Darian chuckled lightly again, a patronizing sound, and rose, smoothing out his garments. “You are quite insightful for one raised in the human world, Robin Wright. I think, despite the strange events that have brought us together, this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. Who knows? You may come out on top of this when all the dust settles.” His burning eyes swept up and down the length of her body once more. “Only time will tell.”

  Reykon

  He was so past the art of reconnaissance that it was on a whole other plane of existence.

  A month and a half ago, he would have scoped this place out extensively, checking each entrance and exit before enacting a surgical operation to keep a low profile and achieve his mission’s aim. Now, after so much had happened and they’d chased four dead ends? Reykon was at the end of his rope. Being quiet had gotten them zilch so far, so it was time to make some noise and see what came out of the woodwork. Still, if someone had told him he would have barreled up the stairs of a professional office building complete with a swanky café in broad daylight, he would have laughed at them.

  So much for being careful.

  Glass doors slammed behind him as he marched into the café’s floor, immediately setting his sights on the familiar looking nerd and giving him a manic smile.

  “Georgie, my man!” he beamed, his smile growing even wider as it showed his annoyance. “You’re a hard guy to track down. I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.”

  Lucidia was hot on his heels, walking in with all the intimidation
of a samurai-trained ninja warrior.

  Georgie’s eyes widened, the thick laptop clattering to the ground with his jerky movement. He scrambled to his feet, his chair scraping against the tile floor, just in time for Lucidia to dart behind him and shove his shoulders down, planting him back in the chair and making the whole frame shudder. The tech genius let out a little whimper as Lucidia ran her fingers down his chest and whispered something vicious in his ear. The poor guy’d probably never been touched like that in his life. If only it were under different circumstances.

  Reykon didn’t beat himself up about it, instead swinging another chair over and sitting on it backwards, perching his chin on his hands.

  “You’re a hard guy to get a hold of,” Reykon started, glaring daggers at the sweating keyboard pusher in front of him. “Gotta say, I’m kind of offended. I thought we were friends.”

  “It’s not my fault,” Georgie said quickly, holding his hands up underneath Lucidia’s grasp. “We all cut ties after that shit went down.”

  “You don’t just get to leave and stop answering phone calls,” Reykon growled.

  “You do if you’re a human that wants to keep his head!” Georgie sputtered. “I tore outta there at the first signal.”

  “First signal of what?” Lucidia asked, voice like an axe.

  “We heard whispers, you know, across the grapevine. Casters coming up on the horizon, and then Master Cain’s anger, and stuff…” he explained. The sheen of sweat on his forehead now snaked down, painting his collar. “I didn’t like it so I scrubbed my operation and…”

  “And what?” Lucidia growled, squeezing his shoulder and pulling another whimper out of him.

  “Well, word spread that there were more, um, openings, where people like us were needed. So…”

  “Openings with?” Reykon said, his tone menacing. “You don’t want to mess with me, Georgie, after the week I’ve had.”

  The air behind him shifted, and his neck prickled as eyes raked over him. “Nice of you to join the party,” a voice boomed.

  Reykon turned around to find a team of ten vampires, dressed in everyday clothes, standing tense and ready to fight.