Drake Chronicles: 01 My Love Lies Bleeding (23 page)

“Of course.” He sniffed the air as if it were laced with perfume. “No one else will do, surely you know that.”

“She’s a child. You love me.”

“Love.” He flicked a surprisingly smooth manicured hand. I would have expected it to have long nails crusted with blood, that’s how menacing his aura was. “Don’t be banal.”

“You’ve let yourself be swayed by talk of prophecies and legacies. But I’ll change that, you’ll see. She’s nearly dead.”

“I’ll have her, Natasha,” he said coldly.

“You’ll die first,” she shot back. “Araksaka!”

At Natasha’s command her tattooed guard swarmed forward to attack. She threw a white thorn stake, fangs gleaming. Montmartre’s Host bared their own teeth and leaped into the fray. The snarling and growling made the hair on my arms stand up.

Vampires turned to ash all around Montmartre, as if he was standing in a dusty field on a windy day.

“A moment, if you please,” he interrupted.

Again, the fighting stopped.

“There’s no need to thin our numbers this way,” he said pleasantly. “All I want is the girl.”

“Stay the hell away from my daughter.” Helena seethed. She flung her own stake, but one of the Hounds intercepted it before it could hit its mark.

“Your daughter needs me,” Montmartre told her. “So you’d best mind your manners when you speak to me.” He held up a chain with a glass vial encrusted with silver ivy leaves. “My Host were tracking in the woods and came across this most curious artifact.” Every single one of Solange’s brothers hissed. “I am assured this was once filled with Veronique’s blood, for Solange here. There are only a few drops left, but it should be enough. It rather looks as if she needs it.” Solange was barely breathing, and she was so pale the blue of her veins made her look nearly violet.

She was dying.

Or about to turn into a Hel-Blar.

I wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Hang on,” I whispered. “Please, please hang on.”

“I am prepared to let her have this,” Montmartre continued, swinging the chain.

The Drakes watched it, as if he were a hypnotist. “But I am going to need something in return.”

“What is it you want?” Liam asked, standing close to Helena, his hand on her arm.

She was straining not to explode.

“Why, I want the queen, of course.”

“I’m the queen,” Lady Natasha barked. Montmartre ignored her, which enraged her further. The whites of her eyes were slowly going red.

“You give me Solange, and I will give her life.”

“No way,” I croaked, though no one paid any attention to me.

Liam suddenly looked old, as if all of his years were hitting him at once. He nodded his head once.

“Dad, no!” Quinn advanced.

“She’ll die,” Liam said. “She doesn’t have any time left. We have no options.” Montmartre gave a courtly bow and strode toward the bier, his Host at his side.

Liam was jostled, trying to hold back his family.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

I felt sick. Montmartre leaned down and picked Solange’s unresponsive body up into his arms.

“No,” Liam said furiously. “Now. You give it to her now where we can see.”

“I don’t recall offering that,” he said. Solange looked so tiny against his chest.

“Now.”

“Montmartre,” a new voice interrupted, sounding young but hard. “Weren’t you going to invite us to the wedding?”

The girl looked about my age, but she was a vampire, so she could have been a hundred years old for all I knew. She had long black hair and wore a leather tunic and bone beads in her hair. There were tattoos on her hands and arms.

Cwn Mamau. The Hounds.

The Host snarled. The girl and her warriors snarled back. These were the vampires Montmartre had turned and who had then turned against him. The Host hated the Hounds on sight. Montmartre didn’t look too pleased either. And for the first time, he looked faintly disconcerted.

“Isabeau. Go home, little girl.”

“The Hounds do not support your claim to the throne,” she told him very precisely, her accent French. She nodded a greeting to Liam and Helena. “I apologize for the delay.” She turned back to Montmartre. “We will not be ruled by you.”

“It hardly matters what you savage whelps want,” he said, but his demeanor had changed. Even I could see it. He wasn’t quite as confident. Fury and something else I couldn’t read colored his movements. He flicked a glance at his Host. “Take her.” Another battle. The Hounds and the Host were evenly matched.

Which was all fine and good except that Solange didn’t have this kind of time.

Blood splattered the floor along with the ashes. It was so fast and so feral, I had a hard time keeping track of what was going on. I did see Nicholas creeping forward, staying low. Then he disappeared into a blur and Montmartre’s feet went out from under him. Solange tumbled from his grasp, landing half sprawled against the bier.

A Hound smashed his fist into Nicholas’s face, then flipped him over two more Host fighting a Hound. He hurtled into a table and then lay still. I cried out.

“Human!” the Hound girl shouted before plucking the vial from the floor and throwing it. It flew toward me, its silver chain catching the light from the candles.

A hand caught it in midair.

Not my hand.

“Are you kidding me?” I screeched. It was Juliana, Natasha’s bored sister, who’d flitted around us when we were first captured. She waggled the vial at me. I wanted to claw her eyes right out of her head. I launched myself at her. What I lacked in finesse I made up for with angry flailing and a stubborn need for vengeance. I was not going to lose Solange. Not again and not when her cure was so close.

I was no match for Juliana unfortunately. That was clear after the first punch to my face. The second I ducked, but I wasn’t quick enough to avoid the third one, to my stomach. I staggered, nauseous and breathless. The vial swung tauntingly in front of me. I grabbed for it and missed.

And then Kieran was suddenly there, swinging with his good arm. The vial dropped next to his boot. Juliana reached for it and I kicked her hard, right in the throat. She swung up snarling, fangs extended. Kieran was closer to the vial and couldn’t fight her off with his broken arm.

“Go,” I yelled at him. “Go, go, go.”

He grabbed the vial and skidded to Solange’s side just as I crashed into a delicate chair that had the good grace to break apart on impact. One of the legs, painted with pink rosebuds, broke off. At least I had a weapon now.

“I’m going to kill you, little girl!” Juliana yelled.

The chair leg didn’t quite pierce her heart, but it was near enough to make her freeze, gasp, and clutch at her chest.

“Lucy!” The stake Nicholas tossed at me finished her off. Ash drifted at my feet, like mist. My first vampire kill. When I got home, I’d have to recite countless malas to appease my mother. And my churning stomach. But not right now; right now I could indulge in a moment of triumph. But only a moment.

Because it was just one of those days.

I hung over the back of a bench, trying to convince my severely bruised diaphragm that standing up really was a necessity. Kieran leaned over Solange, tipping the contents of the silver vial between her lips. Those precious drops ran down into her throat. Still, she didn’t look particularly healed.

“Nicholas,” I croaked. “It’s not working.”

He ducked a dagger with a rusted handle. “It stopped the sickness, but now she needs to feed.” He threw an entire stool at an approaching Araksaka guard. “She needs human blood—it’s better for the first time.” I was trying to drag myself over to the bier, but Kieran was already slicing a shallow cut across his forearm. He held it to Solange’s mouth, urging her to drink, whispering.

“Drink,” he begged her. “I can’t lose you now, not after all this. Drink, damn it.” For some reason, the way he spoke to her, gently and desperately, had tears burning on my cheeks.

Lady Natasha howled, her long pale hair flying behind her like a banner. Her dress was stained with blood. Several of the carved ravens on her throne had broken off. “Montmartre! You love me,” she howled, even as she tried to fight off Helena.

Montmartre’s Host weren’t exactly losing the fight with the Hounds, but they weren’t winning it either. Hunters, vampire rogues, half the royal court under Conan’s direction, and the Drake family all stood against them. Montmartre cursed.

“Fall back,” he ordered. The Host retreated instantly to form a circle around him.

“She will be my queen,” Montmartre promised before flicking his hand. The Host pressed against him and they retreated down one of the tunnels.

Lady Natasha, abandoned on all sides, turned her anger to Helena. Helena twirled a stake until she found a proper grip. The fight stretched on, two determined women with a penchant for ancient weaponry. It was a beautiful dance, in its way, flashing blades and flips through the air. But in the end, Helena’s stake flew true.

Lady Natasha blinked uncomprehendingly and then her empty dress fell in a delicate heap of fine silk, dusted with ash.

The noise and fury in the hall stopped so suddenly, it practically echoed. Even the Araksaka paused.

Each to a one, the vampires dropped to one knee in front of Helena.

In lieu of rightful succession, killing the present monarch granted you the crown.

Nicholas limped up beside me and held on to my hand tightly. I squeezed his fingers, stepping back so that our sides were pressed together, feeling better with his cool skin against mine. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t have to.

On the glass bier, Solange finally gasped once, then swallowed hungrily. When she opened her eyes and saw dozens of kneeling vampires in their best court finery, she groaned weakly, blood smeared on her lips.

“Oh God, I’m not a vampire queen, am I?”

EPILOGUE

Solange

I met Lucy in town. She was determined to force me into a semblance of a normal life, and meeting for coffee every Thursday night was her current plan. She was waiting for me in the park. It hadn’t even been a week since I’d turned, and I wasn’t ready to face the temptation of a coffee house full of human hearts beating all around me. I could ignore the squirrels and the fox hiding in the far bushes.

Lucy was sitting on a bench with two paper cups and a plastic to- go container filled with what was left of a chocolate- covered cherry tart. She wiped crumbs off her hands.

“I’m still celebrating,” she mumbled through a mouthful. “I won’t be able to fit into my clothes if I keep this up.” She eyed me critically. “You’re wearing that?” I frowned at my clay-stained pants. “So? I didn’t know I had to dress up for you.” She eyed me again. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. You’re as bad as my brothers.” I felt better than fine, actually. I felt strong and alert, my eyes amplified every spark of light from the moon, the stars, streetlights. It was a little distracting, I had to admit, to hear her heart beating and smell the warmth of her blood just under her skin. And disconcerting to know my brothers had been right: blood now tasted better than chocolate. In fact, I couldn’t remember much from the night of the caves, just the taste of Kieran in my mouth.

He’d left with his uncle before I could properly thank him.

“Any word from Kieran?” Lucy asked quietly as if she’d known I was thinking about him.

I shook my head, tried not to look like I cared. I had enough to occupy me, after all. My mom was the new queen, which meant the prophecy hadn’t technically been fulfilled. We weren’t sure what to think about that. And we were still replacing an entire wall of the farmhouse, which had been burned out by Hope’s unit. The gardens were full of water and soot. Bruno needed stitches, and Hyacinth wouldn’t leave her room or lift the black lace veil off her face. London disappeared down the tunnels again; no one knew to where. And I’d actually caught Nicholas sending roses to Lucy’s house, and they were on the phone with each other all the time.

And Montmartre was still out there. He’d sent an engagement gift: a diamond ring.

I’d flushed it down the toilet.

So I was too busy to sit around thinking about Kieran Black.

“Oh, here.” Lucy passed me a package tied with ribbon. “A belated birthday present from my dad.” She rolled her eyes when I pulled out a piece of carved deer antler on a leather tong. “When he heard about the deer heart, he said to tell you the deer is clearly your totem animal and should be honored.” I slipped it over my head as she guzzled the rest of her drink. Her eyes watered.

“Ouch, still hot.” She stood up quickly.

I stared at her. “Where are you going? I just got here.” She grinned at me, her gaze flicking toward the sidewalk.

“You have a date.”

I froze.

“Lucy Hamilton, what have you done?”

“Gotta go!” She darted out of the park before I could say anything else. I didn’t have to look to know who it was standing there. I could smell him, taste him.

Kieran.

“Solange,” he said softly. He looked good, even with the bruises on his jaw going yellow and the sling cradling his arm. He didn’t smile, but the way he was looking at me made me feel warm all over. I stood up.

“Kieran.” I didn’t know what else to say.

So I leaned over and kissed him.

Document Outline

• My_Love_Lies_Bleeding
  

Table of Contents

My_Love_Lies_Bleeding