One
Gracie looked around the ruined ballroom, trying not to be conspicuous. Something crackled in the night, electric—a kind of energy that sneaked inside a person and made their bones ache for movement.
Maslin, the leader of the Corona Court, was going on trial, and he didn’t even know it yet.
Bo sidled over to Gracie. His pale face was smooth, stuck at age twenty-three, and his only imperfection was his ear, which had been torn at the bottom in a bar fight before he and Gracie had met. His shoulder-length dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making him look more like Clive.
Gracie felt a wash of affection flow through her—they’d stuck together, after all these years.
He whispered, “This isn’t going to end well for our king.”
Gracie nodded. “Shh.”
Ever since Ana, the queen of the Nocturne Court, had come from Paris with a contingent of the Nocturne Court, the newly-formed Corona Court had been on edge. The Corona Court king, Maslin, was…well, there was no other word for it. He’d been twitchy. If he’d had a pistol, Gracie would have taken it from him for fear he’d shoot himself or someone else by mistake.
He had every right to be twitchy, because Ana had been scheming to get rid of him since she arrived. Earlier in the evening, Gracie had overheard Ana telling someone that it was time to make her move.
Ana swept into the room, with three other Nocturne vampires behind her. Lapdogs One, Two, and Three, Gracie called them in her head. She didn’t care to learn their names.
Ana was tinier than Gracie, but powerful. She’d braided her black hair and pinned it to her head in a crown, but the frilly style belied her cruelty.
“Here we go,” Gracie muttered to Bo.
The ballroom where they gathered was missing its ceiling. Argothan Lodge was falling apart, ramshackle like an old stable, and heaps of disintegrated furniture and decorations littered the corners. Gracie had come here once when she was human, scoping the place out while pretending to be a maid. The high-ceilinged ballroom had looked like something out of a dream, with its beautiful furniture and chandelier. It had been filled with the wealthiest men and women Gracie had ever seen.
It was her history here, and Bo’s, that had brought the Corona Court back to the US. Maslin said he was ready to break from the Nocturne Court, and Bo had suggested this place. “Familiar ground,” he’d reasoned, and Maslin had jumped on the idea.
Familiar, yes. But to Gracie it was mostly painful. Her rage had nowhere to go, and now she was confronted with the beauty of the mountains and her inability to appreciate them in the sunlight. She was haunted—and taunted—by her memories of the Corona Mountains.
Faced with the Nocturne queen, Maslin at first straightened to attention, but then he affected an indifferent air—as king of the Corona Court, he didn’t need to pay Ana the same kind of respect they used to give her in Paris.
Ana stood in front of Maslin. “Speak.”
His black eyes flashed with something like annoyance, and Gracie could guess he was pissed. “Your interference in Idaho with the Corona Pride lioness has cost us our good standing with the Corona Pride here in Montana. You jeopardize this colony. You allowed me to form my own court, and now you come here and expect me to pay you obeisance?”
So fast it was a blur, Ana’s hand shot out and slapped Maslin’s cheek. “You ungrateful wretch,” she said. “You’re weak. A blight on vampire courts. We are powerful. A treaty? With shapeshifters? It’s a betrayal to our kind.”
“You have no place here,” Maslin said. “If you don’t like how I run my court, you should return to Paris.”
They faced each other for a long moment in silence, black eyes blazing. The only sound was the wind whistling faintly through the trees outside.
Above them, the sky was cloudless, and stars winked down at them. The night was beautiful, but not half so pretty as the day. Gracie missed the sun something fierce.
“I tire of you,” Ana finally said to Maslin. She nodded once, and Lapdog Three took Maslin in his strong arms.
“You can’t do this,” Maslin said. “I am king here.”
“You disobeyed me. I told you to bring the court here and take control of the territory—not share it with felines. I’m taking over.” She looked to one of her lapdogs. “Set him up in the clearing. He’ll meet the dawn.”
Maslin’s eyes widened in fear. “No!” he shouted. “Please, I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve—”
Lapdog Three carried Maslin from the room. The remaining vampires—four left from the Corona Court, and the handful Ana had brought from Paris, stood in the ballroom, staring anywhere but at each other. Maslin’s pleading could be heard from the forest.
Gracie shrugged and met Bo’s gaze. They’d had a series of leaders; Maslin had just been one of them. Positions of high power held more risk—everyone knew that. Maslin wasn’t the first king they’d watch deposed, and he wouldn’t be the last.
Ana turned to face the rest of the assembled Corona and Nocturne Courts. “For the time, we are one. We will hunt together. We will act together. We will wage war together. The treaty with the Corona Pride has been out of effect since my arrival here. You may act accordingly. Follow their members. Gather intelligence. These mountains used to belong to Astor and me…”
Gracie sucked in a breath at the sound of Astor’s name. Astor, Ana’s consort, and the vampire who had made Gracie and Bo what they were. He still managed to terrify her, even after all these years and across the sea.
Ana was still talking. “…and we will take them back as a show of strength and an example to the other shifters in North America. From us, they have everything to fear, and they are powerless to stop us.”
It was an admirable speech, Gracie thought. But it didn’t stir her into caring. It didn’t awaken the demon within her, the demon who still thirsted for Sheriff Rhees’s blood.
After Astor had given her and Bo the kiss, they’d walked out of the Belnedge jail with him. Along the road, they’d found Rhees, dead from a bullet wound to the heart. That death wasn’t good enough for Gracie. She’d held Bo’s hand and sworn that she still planned on revenge. Wherever he sat in hell, he’d look up and regret that he ever messed with them.
Ana continued, “We will leave this place. It’s already known to the pride, and thus it is no longer safe. Why your former king had you remaining here like cattle awaiting slaughter, well, I suppose that was one of his last mistakes. We’ve purchased a large cabin on the mountainside. Cosette will text you the directions, and that is where we shall spend our days. If you do not wish to meet the dawn like Maslin, you will not share this information with anyone outside our court.”
The assembled vampires nodded their understanding, and Bo caught Gracie’s eye. Together they’d survived so long by keeping their heads down and avoiding politics. They’d follow the Nocturne Court’s instructions in order to survive, not out of any sense of loyalty.
“Now go,” Ana said. “Hunt, feed, and follow the Corona Pride.”
Ana and her contingent gracefully left the crumbling old ruin, and Gracie left, too. Bo was already gone, eager to hunt and slake his thirst, likely, and the others had already melted into the shadows.
Once the dawn came, Maslin, too, would be here one second. Gone the next.
She avoided the clearing where he would be tied up, but otherwise it bothered Gracie that she wasn’t so bothered.
Shaking off her morbid thoughts, she raced to town. Different vampires had different powers. Unfortunately, Gracie couldn’t fly, not like Ana or Bo, but like most of the vampires, she had supernatural speed. Within a half hour, she stood outside of town and watched the house of one of the shifters she’d met before. Rafe. He was the one mated to the witch. Gracie stared at their little cabin. It was remote. Vulnerable. When it came time to follow Ana’s orders, these two would be easy pickings.
She felt sorry for them, though. They were happy. In love. They weren’t thieving or doing anything wrong. There was no Sheriff Rhees to tax them into poverty and then shoot them for taking what should have been theirs. Maybe the court should leave these two alone to enjoy their happiness.
Hearing sounds coming from their cabin, she approached. An argument?
If she’d still had blood flowing through her like a human, Gracie would’ve blushed. Not an argument. These two were making love, and the witch’s moans were loud. She held nothing back, probably not realizing she was so easily overheard.
Gracie stepped back again, allowing them their privacy. The fact that these two could be so physical and so happy hurt her inside. She’d had this kind of joyful intimacy with Clive, at least as much as a young woman could. Eighteen, she’d been, when he died, and they’d been together for two years before.
She missed love in an abstract sort of way.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she quickly silenced it before looking at the text Bo sent. Get over to Hart’s, it’s the bar outside Belnedge. Quick.
Not bothering to respond to the text, she hightailed it over to the bar. She’d been here before, but never gone inside. Looking down at her clothes, she figured she’d blend in okay. Dark-wash jeans, and a dark blue top. She usually wore dark clothes because they helped her be less conspicuous when she was hunting. Easier to get away in time if the prey started to remember something. Usually she was pretty good at memory wiping, but it was best to be safe.
Hart’s used to be an old farmhouse. Back when they were humans, it would have been the kind of place she and Clive could have made a comfortable home in. Small, two-story, no frills. Now, it was packed with people, loud music, and the scents of alcohol and perspiration.
This place smelled alive.
Bo stood in the far corner, a beer in his hand, his gaze intense.
Gracie hurried to his side and searched the room. Something had him ruffled. “What is it?”
“It’s him. It’s the sheriff.”
Gracie felt her whole body go still. Motionless the way only a vampire could be. No breath, no thought, no movement. She was still as a rock. Finally she whispered, “It can’t be.”
“It’s him, look. Back behind the pool table. Over in the corner.”
Gracie stepped sideways, trying to see above some of the taller humans in the room. She’d always been short, and seemed shorter still now that people had better diets and grew taller. She was a product of her time, that was for sure.
Suddenly she saw him. Sheriff Rhees, heavily bearded, sharing a beer with a couple of other guys.
How could this be possible? She’d seen him dead on the side of the road.
She wanted to march over there and rip his head from his neck. She wanted to stab him with shards of glass, over and over, and watch the blood cool on the floor beneath him. If it weren’t for Sheriff Rhees, she and Clive could’ve been happy. They could’ve settled down in a little log cabin somewhere like Rafe and the witch had done. They could have pleasured each other each night, and then in the daytime they could’ve worked in the sun as humans. Watched the sunrise together, and watched the sunset.
They could’ve lived in the light.
But Rhees had taken Clive, and then she’d chosen to get her revenge, and now—look at her. She was a demon.
Bo leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Blood is sweet, but revenge will be even sweeter.”