Blood Wars (The Bloodborn Series Book 2) Read online

  Chapter 3 Vested interests

  Robin

  Robin locked the door to the bathroom and let out a long breath, thankful to get a moment alone.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been alone.

  A twinge of sadness pulled at her as she thought back to her journey with Reykon, remembering his dark hair, his sparkling eyes. She pictured the way soft, golden light had fallen on his face in that bar in Portland, the night she’d met him.

  Back when she’d just been Robin Wright, an amateur photographer and graphic designer from Portland. An unimportant needle in a stack of other unimportant needles.

  Her heart ached now, thinking about where Reykon might be. About who he might be with, about whether Magnus still had him chained up in his prison, or if Calliope had found him, and if she had found him, then what she’d done with him.

  Robin cut that thought off right away, knowing full well that if she even considered it, she’d lose every ounce of calm she was trying so desperately to keep.

  Robin locked the door and turned to inspect the bathroom.

  It was about the size of her apartment in Portland; the entire apartment. Sleek silver and black counters shined under elegant lighting fixtures, sparkling in the large, spotless mirrors. It would have been beautiful, under different circumstances. But now, it just deepened the icy chill inside of her.

  It was the same as Cain’s prison cell, no matter how many shiny lights and fancy couches there were. She was still alone, she was still confined, and she was still imprisoned.

  She was still property.

  Now, though, it was less about her and more about what she might be able to do. She glanced at the infuriating purple symbols floating around her. That was why these were on her, after all. Because Darian was afraid of her, to some extent. She took a private satisfaction in that, even if she didn’t have the first idea of what she could do.

  Robin scowled and looked at the mirror. Birthmarks still clawed up to her chin, reaching like tiger stripes across pale white skin. A month, she thought in despair. That horrible night, when she was faced with Magnus and Calliope, when she was forced into that ritual, had happened nearly a month ago.

  But to her, it felt like a blink.

  The last thing she remembered was a scream; a horrible, animalistic scream that had rattled her bones and surged in her ears. But it wasn’t her own voice that had run ragged in pain and sorrow. It was Magnus’s.

  Calliope did that to him… Robin thought, planting her hands on either side of the counter, using it for support. As memories surged like a storm, she felt dizzy, that same overwhelming dizziness that had flooded her that night, during the ceremony.

  It had to be Calliope. Right?

  But that anger that had coursed through Robin’s veins like liquid fire had been so raw, so pure and potent. She’d been powerless, and she’d been in the iron grip of that vile vampire, and in the brief flicker before her world was consumed by the burn, she felt that rage, her fear, all channeled through her, like she was wielding them against Magnus. A last stand. A final attack.

  She didn’t remember what happened. She just remembered a snap. And then, all her rage had been poured out, and the screams had started, and fire burned through her hot and pure.

  Calliope’s fire…

  Or, her own?

  Robin looked into her blue eyes, the same blue eyes that she’d seen her entire life, and searched them for that anger, that burning rage that was so potent it scared her. There was a flicker, a brief-

  “Hey!” Harley said sharply, rattling the handle. “Unlock the door.”

  Robin jumped and let out a huff of frustration. “I’m taking a shower.”

  “I don’t care if you’re painting the Mona Lisa, don’t lock the goddamn door,” Harley growled. “You have three seconds before I’m busting in there.”

  Robin gave a frustrated sigh and unlocked the door.

  Harley tore into the room and glanced around. Robin’s eyes tracked her as she moved throughout the space, inspecting the closet and shower before coming to stand at the doors once more, tense and arms crossed.

  “Find any contraband?” Robin said icily.

  “I wasn’t looking for contraband.”

  “What were you looking for?”

  “Stowaway vampires,” Harley said, turning on her heel and starting out of the bathroom. “The door stays unlocked.”

  Robin followed after her, matching the strongblood’s quick pace. “Wait. What do you mean vampires?”

  “Why do you think I’m here?” she jabbed.

  “I thought you were…” Robin trailed off, unsure of her response.

  Harley arched an eyebrow.

  “Well, supposed to keep me here.”

  A sharp laugh came out of the strongblood, which only infuriated Robin further. “You don’t send somebody like me just to keep somebody like you in a room.”

  “So what are you here for?”

  “I’m your bodyguard.”

  “From…?” Robin asked, her own arms crossing.

  “The vampires. You’re like catnip to them. Or at least, you were.”

  A deep scowl set on Robin’s face. “What are you talking about?”

  “You were busy taking a nice long nap,” Harley said in an irritated tone. “Vampires left and right were breaking rank to come get a taste of you.”

  Robin’s skin crawled at the thought of those burning red eyes and vicious teeth. “What… why?”

  Harley shrugged and plopped down on the couch, legs splayed wide. “Don’t know. But Master Darian commissioned the caster to put those on you, and it all went away. Our guess is that magical pull you’re supposed to have took some steroids during the comet. I’m here in case the vampires get any bright ideas. And between you and me, I’m hoping at least one tries to take a chunk outta you.”

  Robin’s eyes flared in anger. “Why?”

  “Do you know how often the master of the house grants a strongblood permission to beat up a vampire? I’ll give you a hint: never.”

  “So you’re here to protect me?” Robin asked. “From the other vampires?”

  “Spot on.”

  “Any vampire?”

  “Yep. I’ve been given permission to take down Master Darian himself, though I doubt that’ll happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s taken extra precautions.”

  “Like?”

  Harley shot her an annoyed look. “I don’t know. Magic stuff. Not my job description.”

  Robin let out a long breath, pushing her paranoia about the vampires away. It was just another problem on a long (and growing) list of her problems. As she thought about them, another question came to the forefront of her mind. “Can people cast magic without knowing?”

  Harley shrugged. “Over my paygrade.”

  “Do you know anything about magic?”

  “The basics,” she said, turning the TV up a few notches again.

  That was Robin’s cue. She sighed and went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and leaving it unlocked, even though her fingers tingled in frustration to flick that lock over. Problem was, she had no doubt that Harley actually would bust the door in, and probably enjoy it, too.

  Robin took her time, walking over to the closet side of the bathroom, which was an apparent trend in vampire palaces. She was able to pick up on floor-plan patterns because this was the third godforsaken stronghold she’d been to.

  If that was even where they’d taken her.

  Robin dug deep in her mind, trying to remember the location of House Xander. Pennsylvania? Somewhere on the eastern U.S., she was pretty certain. And Reykon had said that vampires rarely leave their strongholds.

  So if they weren’t in House Xander, there had to be a pretty important reason why.

  The more she thought about it, and the more Harley’s words rolled around in her head, she couldn’t help but feel increasingly on edge. So many questions left unans
wered, and they gnawed at her like birds, pecking. Where was Magnus? What had happened in the month while she was asleep? And if Calliope’s ritual was enough to make her a vampire magnet while she was unconscious, what would happen now that she was awake?

  A weapon.

  Made to destroy.

  Robin selected a dress from the overstuffed closet and shuffled over to the shower, turning the water scalding hot and drowning her quickly growing fears.

  Lucidia

  “This is why you do recon,” she muttered, glaring at Reykon from across the bench in the van.

  He returned her look of irritation, wrenching his shoulder away from his seat-partner, one of the attackers that had overwhelmed them.

  Vampires were packed in like sardines, with Georgie sitting at the end of the bench, eyeing Reykon with a panic that looked like he was the one that was going to bite.

  But in the quick (and terribly outmatched) fight, Lucidia had discovered one important piece of intelligence: they’d been attacked by House Prior agents.

  Prior vampires were a breed in and of themselves. She was used to the billowing cloaks and the straight canes and the ridiculously ancient fashion decisions. Prior vampires beat to a different drum.

  These ones wore fashionable yet casual clothing. Button-up’s and khakis, trim, at home in either a stronghold or a hipster’s coffee joint. It wasn’t necessarily that the rest of the houses didn’t like the Priors, but they were certainly the black sheep of the coalition.

  They were weird.

  They blended with the human world in a strange conglomeration of weak principals and lack of respect for paranormal tradition. The Priors did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted to, and they didn’t give a damn what the rest of the world thought. At least, their little underbelly of a world.

  And now, Lucidia and Reykon had barreled head first into a hornet’s nest of them. They had anticipated blowback from whatever group of supernatural creatures had clustered in Sacramento, but they hadn’t anticipated a group of organized Prior vampires to be in plain daylight, in the center of the city.

  “Where are we going?” she asked nobody in particular.

  The leader, presumably, smiled. He was a younger looking vampire (though appearances didn’t mean diddly to an immortal’s true number), wearing a light-colored button up and navy wash jeans. Lucidia looked closer at his dark hair and scowled.

  “Are you wearing hair gel?”

  “You like it?” he taunted, leaning back in the seat.

  “Dude,” Lucidia scowled, shaking her head in disapproval.

  The leader’s red eyes flickered with amusement and he laughed. “We’re taking you to House Prior.”

  “What does Master Cecil care about two rogue strongbloods?” Lucidia retorted, narrowing her eyes.

  “Cecil?” another one scoffed.

  The leader’s mouth curled into a smug grin. “You two really have been out of the loop, haven’t you?”

  “We’ve been busy,” Reykon muttered.

  “Yeah, we know. Busy tearing up half the world, and not being quiet about it, either. Why do you think we set our pal Georgie here up in a sting?”

  Lucidia’s eyes snapped up. “Come again?”

  The arrogant leader smiled even wider. “What better way to lure the fierce Lucidia Draxos and the famous outlaw Reykon Thraxos into Prior territory?”

  Lucidia’s eyes flicked to Reykon’s, and she knew at once that he was thinking the same thing.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Robin

  We’re not in Kansas, anymore, Toto… Robin thought, looking out of the window and into the blizzarding terrain.

  This definitely wasn’t House Xander.

  They could have been in Antarctica for all she knew. Craggly peaks stood up in the distance all around them, nearly invisible amidst the raging storm.

  Just her luck.

  She pressed a hand to the window, ignoring the bright purple glare, and felt the biting cold against her fingertips. There weren’t any panels to open the window, and even if there were, her room was on the third floor. And even if she could survive a three-story drop, it seemed that they were in the middle of snowmaggedon, so what good would it do? The longer she looked at it, the more frustration bubbled up inside of her and the farther she felt from wherever Reykon was.

  Someone cleared their throat from behind her.

  Robin whipped around and looked at the strange figure.

  He was a vampire with light brown hair, pulled back into a small ponytail, wearing clothes you might find in a remake of Pride and Prejudice. It wasn’t until she’d looked him up and down that she saw the burning red around his pupils. He was staring straight at her, with an expectant expression, like she was supposed to say something.

  “Hello, Lady Robin…” he announced. He had a smooth, polite British accent born out of Buckingham itself.

  “What… what are you doing in here?” she asked, peering around him to look for Harley. There was no sign of the fierce strongblood.

  “I was asked to accompany you.”

  Robin let a moment of awkward silence slip in before she acclimated to the new situation. “Accompany me to where, exactly?”

  “Your presence is requested by Master Darian,” he said, stepping out of the way and gesturing to the door.

  Robin watched him warily. “Where’s Harley?”

  “She will meet us at the gathering. But fear not, I’ll be able to ward off any unpleasant encounters just as well as she may.”

  “You’re a vampire,” she said, still scowling.

  A smile of amusement touched his lips. “The last time I checked, yes. My name is Ezra. I believe I’ve been added onto our little posse. That is how we use the term, correct?”

  Robin raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you’ve got it right.”

  “Very well. I do believe we should be going, then. Are you ready, Lady Robin?”

  Robin looked down at the simple black dress she’d chosen out of a wardrobe of fancy evening gowns and glittering ensembles. “Yes, I guess. Do I need anything?”

  “If you do, it shall be brought to you,” he said, the polite half-smile permanent on his face.

  Robin nodded and walked forward, skirting around the couch and approaching the door.

  Before her hand reached for the knob, his pale fingers darted out and opened it, and she drew in a sharp breath of surprise.

  “After you, Lady Robin.”

  She mumbled a thanks and stepped out into the hallway.

  Her vision was immediately drawn upward, to the massively tall ceiling that came together in vaulted arches, complete with large, iron light fixtures filled with candles. Elegant tapestries streamed down, and curtains of deep purple billowed on the pale gray stone.

  Her steps clicked against the cold ground, sounding out, and as she shot a side glance to Ezra, she realized that his weren’t making any noise. How do they do that? she grumbled to herself. Masters of stealth, she supposed, but it certainly didn’t calm her nerves.

  The hallways led to other corridors, each a dizzying array of wealth and old-time furnishings, like she’d stepped into a Tudor castle.

  “How big is this place?” she muttered, as Ezra led her down yet another hallway.

  “As far as strongholds go, this would be considered a summer palace.”

  Like she had any idea what a summer palace looked like.

  “Oh,” she said, not wanting a more in-depth explanation.

  “This way, lady Robin,” he said, gesturing to a set of large doors.

  “Why are you calling me that?” she asked in a short tone.

  “Pardon?”

  “‘Lady’ Robin?”

  “That is the customary title for a lady of the house,” he said. “And since we do not know where you lie on the hierarchy of classes, I prefer to err on the side of caution.”

  “Well, you can call me Robin,” she grumbled. “Just Robin.”

  “Very well, then.�
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  She snuck a glance at his expression, feeling like a jerk for some unfathomable reason. After a few moments of silence, she cracked and let out a long breath. “Thank you. Sorry for snapping, it’s just… It’s a little overwhelming. What am I supposed to call you?”

  “Just Ezra is fine, La- er, Robin,” he said with a cordial smile.

  “Alright then, Ezra.”

  Even in her frustration, and even though he was a vampire and was the enemy, she found it difficult to be rude to him.

  Especially when he was so damn polite.

  He approached the door and listened for a moment, quirking his head to the side before opening it and gesturing for her to advance.

  It was a massive room, nearly circular, with a large open space in front of the fireplace, and a domed ceiling with intricate design work. There was a round table to her right, with ten massive, hand-carved chairs, backs nearly taller than she was. Bookshelves were built into the walls, and a second floor bannister curved around the whole length of the room. Most of the furniture had been moved out of the way, pushed off to the sides.

  Robin’s eyes first settled on a thirty something man that looked like a Yale English professor, wearing a cardigan and painting on the floor with something dark.

  “Ah, thank you for joining us, Robin,” Darian called.

  His voice set her teeth on edge, but she turned and faced him. Harley was standing there, in tactical gear like the kind Lucidia had worn that night at the cabin.

  Darian was in his usual garb, though it seemed he’d chosen an older fashioned style and gone with long robes rather than a tailored suit. Somewhere in her mind she wondered if he just woke up and decided it was a day to go back six hundred years in fashion instead of three hundred, but that question was immediately swallowed up by the ten others that arose.

  First on her list: “Why am I here?”

  “Ever the blunt one, aren’t we?” Darian hummed, with that same superficial smile he seemed to always maintain.

  Robin set her jaw. “Yes.”

  “Very well,” Darian said, gesturing to the table. “Let’s all be seated.”

  The crowd moved towards the table, and she had no choice but to follow, walking up to a chair.

  Just before she’d reached it, Ezra’s pale hand darted out and pulled it for her. She drew in another sharp breath and then let it out slowly. “God, you’ve gotta stop doing that.”