Blood Wyne

Let me drown forever, let me swim out and never come back. My thoughts were clouded in shades of honey and amber, of incense and sweet perfume. A rush of images raced through my mind—an ancient riverbed, dry as the moon, carving its way through a series of dunes. The thunder of hooves as a group of warriors rode by under the sun, their leader as glorious as the sun that beat down on them. Roman. Astride the lead horse, and the look in his eyes one of victory.



And the scenes changed, a sensual col age of people and places but always, always Roman was there, leading the rush, laughing atop a pile of dead bodies, in the middle of battle, his eyes flashing with life as he staked his claim, and then slowly, the euphoric rush began to fade, just enough for me to disentangle my thoughts, as he gently pul ed away.



“And now,” he whispered, baring his neck. “Come on, baby. Bite me. Suck me. Drink me.”



And I did, plunging my fangs into him, feeling the spurt of blood in my mouth as I coaxed the drops to the surface. They were sweet, like sherry or port or flaming liqueur, and as I drove my fangs deeper, I straddled his cock and languorously slid down his length as he thrust up to meet me. He moaned as I licked the wound, wil ing the blood to fil my mouth. I began to rock my hips against his, reveling in the feel of him inside me, and he encircled my waist with one hand to balance me as he stood, my legs wrapped around him.



The world was a haze of blood and desire, of hunger and touch, and everything dissolved together in a whirl of sensation. And then we were moving—a blur in the night.



Suddenly, I looked up and found that we were standing under the stars. Crystal ine clear, they sparkled in the chil of the night, but the cold of the night didn’t bother me as the stiff breeze gusted around us, howling like a Bean Sidhe.



I pul ed away from his neck, the blood trickling down my chin as he strode across the yard, carrying me through the snow, until we were in the middle of a private grove of cedar and fir. In the center of the clearing was a dais, black marble, and he carried me to the platform and laid me down, then straddled me. I stared up at the stars, remembering another night when the stars were the last beautiful, untainted thing I would remember seeing. Bloody tears began to pour down my cheeks as I began to whimper.



Roman seemed to understand what was happening. He gently brushed my cheek with his hand.



“I am not going to hurt you, Menol y. I’l stop any time you want. I am not your sire, and you are no longer the vulnerable girl you were. Look at the beauty of the stars, for they mirror the beauty I see lying beneath me.”



“But . . . but . . . the stars are so pure and we are . . .” I struggled to find the words, surprised that these feelings of self-loathing stil lurked within me.



He pressed his finger to my lips. “Our lives may be steeped in blood and death, but there is such a beauty to the carnal, to the grave—the beauty of dissolution, the beauty of reintegration with the elements. How can you not believe in your own beauty? In your place in the scheme of things?”



He leaned down and began to kiss me, and his kiss was so caring, so gentle that it opened me up like a flower. And I began to believe again.



Nerissa loved me. She knew what I was and she loved me. And I could love her without destroying her. My sisters loved me, and I could love them without losing them.



At that moment I realized that I’d been so afraid of having everything I cared about stripped away from me that I’d been holding myself back. Yes, I was a predator, and I was deadly and dangerous. But I stil owned my soul. Dredge had taken my life, but he couldn’t touch my soul.



I shuddered, my face streaked with the trail of bloodred tears staining my cheeks. “Roman, make love to me. Fuck me. Take me down, into the darkness, and show me the beauty of the grave.”



He smiled, icy and chil , his eyes mirroring the snow around us, and slowly entered me, his hips thrusting slowly at first and then harder and faster. As the gentleness fled, we became stag and deer in rut; we thrashed, moaning and grunting in the night, as the wind howled around us and then, under the wailing darkened moon, I fastened my fangs in his neck and drank the life force of the dead.



After a long shower in a bath off a guest room fil ed with perfume bottles and fancy clothes and antique dol s, I dressed in my clothes and rejoined Roman in the parlor. He was perfectly at ease, his hair wet and slicked back, and he was wearing a black velvet jacket and a pair of indigo-wash jeans.



He rose silently as I entered the room and held out his arms. Back in control of myself, I hesitated but then let him pul me in. He placed a kiss on my forehead, then a gentle kiss on my lips, then stepped back and gazed into my eyes.



“Tonight, you wil talk to your friend Wade?”



I nodded, slowly. Talking to my “friend” Wade was stil on my Really-Do-Not-Want list, but I’d given my word. “Yes, I wil .”



“Then perhaps this wil help you. The vampire kil er you seek? There are several newly minted vampires in the area. My servants have mentioned problematic incidents dealing with someone new to the life who refuses to answer when cal ed, who seems to have run amok from his sire. Or if he’s stil under the influence of his sire, then we have twin problems.”



“What do they know about him?” I slowly returned to my seat and flipped out a notebook. Delilah had gotten both Camil e and me in the habit of carrying pocket-sized notepads and pens.



Roman considered the question. “Not much. We know that it’s a male, and he can’t have been in the life longer than six months, but my guess is we’re talking younger than that. Reports of vampire sightings have increased around the Greenbelt Park District, and none of the regulars in the area claim territory there.”



The Greenbelt Park District. Crap. That was the area where we’d found our victims. And now that I thought about it, the Greenbelt Park District was also known for being haunted, although I rather doubted the veracity of al the reports. Some of the oldest buildings in aboveground Seattle were there, including several bed-and-breakfasts that played on their haunted nature to attract tourists. Most of the buildings were the original stone and masonry work, and the houses in the area were owned by old-money families or young, rich couples looking to renovate. The area wasn’t considered wealthy, but it was considered historical.



“I know vampires don’t congregate around there, but I haven’t had the time to find out why. Tel me—why hasn’t anybody claimed it as territory?”



Roman glanced at me, then shook his head. “The ghosts. They’re very active.”



“Then they’re real?” I frowned. I’d assumed that most of the sightings were contrived to attract the tourists. “Why are vampires afraid, though? What can the ghosts do to them?”



“The ghosts are very real and very dangerous,” Roman said. “To humans, to Fae, and to vampires. There’s something there that empowers them—some energy, some force. At least one vampire died from spiritual activity. A ghost staked her.”



“A ghost staked her? You’re kidding?” If ghosts were playing Buffy, then we were in trouble.



“Yes. I was there. I saw the ghostly figure and then a stake rose in the air and went zooming through Elizabetta. She died in a flurry of dust, and we ran and never went back.” He moved closer and brushed my braids back with his hand. “If you investigate there, my dear, please, please be very careful. And tel your sisters to do the same.”



CHAPTER 6



As I left Roman’s, I decided to take a drive up toward the Greenbelt Park District and look around.



I appreciated his warning, but I was capable of taking care of myself, and cautious enough not to be stupid. I’d refrain from entering any buildings and just get a feel for the area before bringing my sisters into potential danger. I was a lot more resilient than they were.



As I entered the neighborhood—a short jaunt from the Bel es-Faire District in which we lived—



the city gave way to more greenery. Fir and cedar soared into the sky along the sides of the street, covered with lacy black moss streaming down like spiderwebs. The buildings shifted from old brick to old stonework and masonry, brooding and heavy. They fit right in with the shroud of trees that surrounded the area.



I pul ed alongside a large community park near where the dead girls had been found and jumped out of my car. A strange tang to the air caught my attention, though I couldn’t pinpoint whether it was the storm or something else. Granted, it was snowing and that always brought its own sense of magic, but there was something unsettled here. And if I could feel it, then it had to be strong.



Pocketing my keys, I silently moved to the park entrance and easily leaped over the wrought-iron gates, the heels of my boots lightly tapping on the sidewalk as I landed again. The beads clicking in my hair were about the only sound I made now that I was a vampire, and at times I deliberately wore clothing with buckles and heels and chains so that I’d feel a little more . . . alive.



The park lights were on, even though the gates were locked. I fol owed the cobblestone path through the maze of trees and benches and picnic tables. Every now and then a shift in the light took on the shape of a moving shadow, stopping me. I noticed a dark spot over in the midst of a thicket of cedars, near a picnic table, and I headed off the path, my heels leaving soft impressions in several inches of snow that had piled up.



As I wound my way through the poorly manicured ferns and bushes, I smel ed something. There was only one thing in the world that smel ed so wonderful— blood. Crap.



Fol owing my nose, I traced the scent through the undergrowth, hoping I was wrong. But no matter how much you prepare yourself, there’s no good way to find a body. And find it I did: a young woman lying stark against the snow, her skirt pushed up and her panties missing. Her legs were spread, and blood trickled down from her inner thigh.



Dizzy, I dropped back on the ground, sitting beside the pale victim. One glance confirmed that the girl fit the pattern we’d noticed. Probably five six, one thirty-five, looked somewhere between twenty and thirty. Raped. And by the pale look of her skin, exsanguinated. She was freshly dead—



no rigor yet.



I looked away, listening to the sounds around me. A rustle in the bushes, and the snuffle of the stray dog causing it. The sound of snow falling muffled against the ground. The light whistle of the breeze ruffling through the firs.



Glancing back at the girl, I grimaced. Whoever had done this had left her in disarray, without respect, splayed for anybody to find. I wanted to cover her genitals, rearrange her so she could reclaim her dignity, but I had to wait for Chase and his team to get here.



Sighing, I pul ed out my cel phone and punched in his number. While I waited for him to pick up, something struck me about the girl. Something off. Her forehead—what—?



“Johnson here.”



“Chase, it’s Menol y. I found another victim.”



“Crap. Where are you?”



I told him where I was and how I’d come to be here, and he said he’d be down with a team within ten minutes. Pocketing the phone again, I leaned down to look at the girl’s brow. Her eyes were staring up at me, glassy and vacant.



“I’m sorry. I wish I could close them,” I whispered. “I don’t know who you are, and until Chase comes, I can’t look to find out. I don’t know if you’re stil around here in spirit—that’s my sister Camil e’s territory—but I’m sorry. I’m sorry he did this to you. I’m sorry he left you here alone. I’m sorry I can’t do anything for you except sit beside you and keep the animals at bay.”



I didn’t want to look at her, but as I leaned over her delicate, blank face, I saw it again—



something on her forehead. I pul ed out a pen flashlight and flipped it on, leaning closer. There, something wet. Something faint against her skin. It could have been snow fal ing on her and melting, but when I leaned in close, it looked like nothing less than a cross, drawn in water, on her brow.



Frowning, I leaned back. Most vampires didn’t hold any truck with religious symbology—it was a nonissue for them. I had little to do with the gods. They hadn’t been there for me when I was screaming for them, as Dredge ripped into me. And now, I didn’t need them. As far as I was concerned, the gods could fuck themselves.



So why had the kil er drawn a cross on her forehead after he kil ed her? Or had someone else been here and gone between the time she was murdered and the time I found her?



Pondering the answers, I looked up at the snow fal ing. In the distance, I could hear the faint shouts of Chase’s men as they came racing down the path. They skidded to a halt about ten feet from me, as Chase and Sharah lightly crossed to my side.



“You should get some crime scene tape up. You’l want evidence. Even if this is another vampire slaying, and it is, you need to fol ow protocol.” I stood up. “I haven’t touched her, though I sat beside her before I thought about what I might be disturbing.”



Chase shook his head and motioned for me to move to the side with him as Sharah took over, leading the team into action. “She human?”



“As the sun is bright.” I glanced back, again wincing as they began taking photographs and processing the area. “Do they have to photograph her like that? It’s so undignified.”



“I know,” he said, lightly touching my elbow to turn me away from the scene. “I’m sorry, but we need the photos for evidence.” He glanced back at the body. “I’m sorry you had to find this.”



“I know something about our kil er. Or at least I think I do.” I kicked the snow with my boot. “I think he was religious in life. Or he’s superstitious. He’s not remorseful—he doesn’t leave the bodies in a dignified manner. But he drew a cross on her forehead. I saw it, though it’s probably dried by now.”