Blood Rights

Chrysabelle glanced back at the vampire and smiled. ‘Yes, he is the one helping me.’

The vampire bowed slightly. Maris snorted air through her nostrils. As though putting on manners would impress her. ‘Why don’t you come in, dear?’

A genuine smile blossomed on Chrysabelle’s face. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’ She started forward, the vampire behind her following.

Maris raised a finger in warning. ‘That invitation is for Chrysabelle only. No vampire will ever cross this threshold.’

Chrysabelle walked into the house and laughed. ‘Oh, I think that’s about to change, comarré.’

‘What?’ Maris rocked back, moving her iBot a few paces away. And then, without warning, Chrysabelle wasn’t Chrysabelle anymore.

The figure of her niece morphed into an unfamiliar female vampire. Maris’s breath came in hard, fast gasps. ‘Velimai,’ she screamed. ‘Velimai!’

The female laughed, fangs glistening. ‘Don’t worry, comarré. I’m not going to drink you dry. Yet.’ She grabbed Maris by the arm.

Velimai shot into the room behind the female, took one look, and charged forward in solid form, the only form in which she could scream.

‘Tatiana!’ The male vampire stuck outside leaned against the invisible threshold barrier as though it was a pane of glass. ‘Behind you. A wysper.’

Tatiana pulled Maris out of the iBot and into a rough embrace, then spun to face Velimai. Her fist caught Velimai across the jaw, sending her to the floor with a split lip. Tatiana’s knuckles were scraped raw by the wysper’s sandpaper skin, but the marks vanished a second later. Velimai stayed down, face contorted in pain and anger, but held her solid form and opened her mouth as she shuffled backward. Maris tensed, prepared to have her eardrums blown out.

Velimai’s shattering cry ripped through the room. Maris winced. The sculpted glass coffee table shattered, spraying safety glass through the room like confetti.

Tatiana’s fingers dug painfully into Maris’s flesh. ‘Mikkel, do something,’ she shouted to the male.

Instantly, he lifted his arm toward Velimai and spoke a few words. The air shimmered darkly around his hand, but nothing happened. The male must be House of Bathory to wield the black arts he’d attempted, but without an invitation neither he nor his power could enter the house. Fortunately, Velimai’s scream had no such boundaries. The veins in his neck and hands began to throb.

Blood oozed from Tatiana’s ears. She howled in pain and dropped Maris, stumbling over the glass-covered floor to get to Velimai. Tatiana’s hands went around the wysper’s throat, choking off the sound, then Tatiana slammed Velimai against the wall. She dropped to the wood floor, crumpling like a rag, her throat ringed in bloody handprints.

Tatiana wiped her abraded palms on her trousers. ‘Disgusting creature.’

Maris had little time to mourn before Tatiana leaped back to her side and grabbed her viciously by her upper arms. Maris twisted, trying to get away. Tatiana spun her around, biting back a sob of anger.

‘So much for your house pet, comarré.’ Tatiana leaned into Maris and inhaled. ‘You may not last that long either.’

Maris jerked away as best she could, managing to get an arm’s length away from her captor. ‘What do you want?’

Tatiana’s face went cold. ‘Your niece. Where is she?’

‘I have no idea.’ Maris had heard of Tatiana but never crossed paths with her until now. Rennata’s warning rang in Maris’s ears. This vampiress was more than trouble. Maris would not be cowed by this bloodthirsty female, not in her own home. ‘And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.’

Tatiana scowled. ‘Do you know who I am?’

That much Maris recalled. ‘You’re Lord Ivan’s pet.’

‘You dare speak to me that way?’ Tatiana laughed and looked at her partner outside. ‘How soon they forget their manners.’

‘You don’t deserve my respect, leech.’

Tatiana cracked Maris hard across the face. Blood spilled into her mouth from the inside of her cheek. She swallowed it down. These vampires didn’t need the added incentive the scent would give them.

‘Then neither does your niece deserve mine, comarré.’

‘I haven’t been comarré in years.’

Tatiana peered at her with ravenous eyes. ‘Then that makes you kine.’ She danced her tongue across her fangs. ‘And I have only one use for kine.’

‘Get out of my house.’ Maris struggled not to tremble.

‘Don’t worry, I’m leaving. And you’re coming with me.’

Mal stroked the oilcloth down the length of the blade as tenderly as he’d once stroked his daughter’s cheek. He moved like a machine, no thought for the action, falling into the past and a wash of memories normally kept tightly checked. Except for rare moments like this. Cleaning this sword, so like the one he’d earned his living with when he’d still walked in the sun, always had that effect. The pain of those memories wasn’t without benefit. Pain like that held the voices to a dull hum.

What more would he feel if he were able to find the same blade he’d once used to earn his keep? Not that he probably ever would. Nothing remained of his human life, and as the years ticked by, it became harder to remember what being human felt like. He’d long forgotten the sun’s warmth on his skin and the scent of a spring day in his daughter’s hair. At times, holding on to the image of his sweet Sofia’s face was like trying to grasp fog.