Drake Chronicles: 02 Blood Feud (10 page)

Greyhaven.

He let them bury me, even though he knew I’d had enough of his blood to taint me beyond any normal human death.

Greyhaven.

I wasn’t strong enough to claw out of the earth, hadn’t even realized it was what I was meant to do. It al seemed like some horrible accident, something out of a gothic novel. Earth fil ed my mouth, worms circled my wrists like bracelets, ants crawled through my hair.

Greyhaven.

Greyhaven.

And dogs howling, snuffling, digging with their claws.

That’s when I woke up, every time.

The dogs were real enough; they’d been the ones who’d found me and pul ed me out, even before Kala had pinpointed the right grave in Highgate Cemetery.

And Greyhaven’s name was my first thought, was stil my first thought when I reared out of that nightmare.

Charlemagne’s nose lifted off my face when I stopped whimpering. I hated that sound, hated that it waited until I wasn’t conscious enough to control it.

I was in a bed; someone must have moved us al out of the living room. The wooden shutters were bolted tight across the windows. I fel out of the bed and crawled to the fridge, yanking the door open. The light hurt my eyes and I groped blindly for a glass bottle fil ed with blood. The thirst was sharper in the evening, so sharp that I’d trained Charlemagne to defend himself against me if I spoke a certain word. The hunger wasn’t easily leashed in our first nights. It stil made me gulp the blood greedily, the way I’d eaten cake as a child, but I’d stopped actively worrying for Charlemagne’s safety. This would be the same reason Lucy had grumbled earlier about being moved to a guest room with a double deadbolt lock on the inside and an alarm button connected to Bruno, the head of the Drake security detail. Newly turned vampires had little control over themselves upon waking.

When I’d drunk enough blood to have it gurgling in my bel y, I straightened my leather tunic dress and left the relative safety of my bedroom. Solange and her brothers would sleep for another hour yet, so I made my way downstairs to let Charlemagne outside and check on the puppy.

“Isabeau.”

I halted at the unfamiliar voice. A woman stood in silhouette against a tal arched window in the library overlooking the garden. Rosy sunlight fel into the room. I’d forgotten the glass in the house was special y treated; the wooden shutters in the bedrooms must be for added security and the comfort of concerned vampire guests. I certainly wouldn’t have trusted a glass pane and lace curtains.

The woman turned, her face obscured behind a black veil attached to the velvet hat perched on her head. She wore an old-fashioned gown over a corset and fingerless lace gloves.

“Are you Hyacinth Drake?” I asked, courtesy pinning me in place. I’d heard Connor and Quinn talking about her. She was their aunt and had been injured by a Helios-Ra hunter. The holy water they used, charged with UV rays, had burned her face. It hadn’t healed yet and no one was certain it would. Scars were rare on a vampire, but they were certainly possible. My bare arms were proof enough of that.

“Yes, I am.
Enchantee
.” She flicked a glance at the scars on my arms, then turned back to the window. That’s when I realized she‘d been watching Lucy running through the garden with the puppy, who was barking with hysterical glee. Lucy’s laughter was nearly as loud. Charlemagne left eager nose prints on the glass door, then looked at me pathetical y.

“Go on,” I murmured, letting him out to join the melee. The puppy rol ed over in the air in his excitement. Lucy laughed harder.

“Your scars don’t bother you,” she said. It wasn’t a question, it was more of a flat statement. I shrugged.

“Not real y.” The half-moons and disjointed circles left by sharp teeth had faded to shiny pale skin, like mother-of-pearl. “I wear these proudly.” I touched the puncture scars on my throat.

“These I would burn off if I could.” Since burning wouldn’t help, Kala had tattooed that side of my neck with a fleur-de-lys.

“I was beautiful for so long,” she murmured.

“Then you’re stil beautiful,” I said bluntly.

“No pity from you, Isabeau,” she said, and I could hear the faint smile in her voice. “I find that very refreshing.”

“My people measure beauty by how quietly you can hunt,” I explained. “And by how wel you train a dog or how fast you run.

We have tests to prove ourselves worthy and none of them have anything to do with the color of our hair or the shape of our nose.”

“Then perhaps I should run away to live in the caves after al .” Her tone changed, irony washing over the grief. “But I do so love my creature comforts.”

Lucy was panting in the yard, wiping sweat off her face. The dogs raced around her like a merry-go-round. When she came toward the house, Hyacinth stepped back immediately.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” she said to me before disappearing into the depths of the house.

“Isabeau, you’re up already,” Lucy exclaimed, startled. The

“Isabeau, you’re up already,” Lucy exclaimed, startled. The garden door shut behind her. She brought in the scents of summer rain, leaves, and fresh blood pumping under skin. I ground my back teeth together. “It’s not even ful y dark yet,” she continued on heedlessly. The dogs mil ed at her feet.

“Sometimes, I wake early,” I said. I had no intention of sharing my weaknesses and the violence of my nightmares. Like Hyacinth, I couldn’t stomach pity.

Charlemagne blocked me suddenly at the sound of the front door opening and closing. I tensed. Lucy leaned back. “Wow, you’re scary when you do that to your face.”

“Get behind me.”

“The other dogs aren’t barking,” she said quietly. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.” A tattooed bald man in a leather vest marched into the room, jaw set grimly. I felt her stance soften immediately. “Bruno.”

“Lassie.” He met my eyes. “I want to talk to you.”

“Bruno is the head of security,” Lucy explained.

“But you’re … human.”

“Aye. Hunters like the daytime with most of the vamps lying around waiting to be staked. It evens up the fight.” Though it was at odds with his expression, his Scottish accent put me at ease; the French and the Scots had often been al ies. And I understood his bewildered frustration. His heart was practical y pounding with aggravation. “We have the best security this side of presidents and kings, I want to know why in one bloody week a vampire faction and a Helios-Ra rogue unit have both managed to break through. It’s bloody ridiculous.”

“Montmartre doesn’t care if his Host die. It’s considered an honor, proof of loyalty,” I told him. “I gather you would take it amiss if your people died.”

“Yes.”

“Montmartre just makes more Host. And last night they sent four with the purpose of only one making it to the front door. If they’d attacked outright, I don’t know that they could have taken you by surprise.”

He sighed. “You’re right there, lassie. I was expecting a great deal of violence, not some ijit present.” He shook his head.

“Stil , no excuses.” He unrol ed blue drawings of the farmhouse and the Drake thousand-acre compound with other assorted buildings. “Show me the weak point, would you?” I went through the drawings, matching them with what I knew of the surrounding topography. “They would have moved from treetop to treetop. It’s slower but stealthier.”

“They came from above,” he breathed out.

Bruno was smug by the time Solange and her brothers began to stir and trail downstairs.

“Are you ready?” Logan asked me. I nodded. Lucy scowled at Nicholas. He held up his hands defensively.

“Not my fault,” he insisted. “Mom and Dad think you should stay out of the courts until after the coronation.”

“That is so not fair,” Lucy said. “It’s not like I haven’t already been there.”

“Yeah, you were kidnapped by an evil vampire queen. Hel o?

Not exactly a point in your favor.”

“When my parents come home next week I’m getting my dad

“When my parents come home next week I’m getting my dad to teach me how to ride his motorcycle and then I won’t need a lift on your stinkin’ bike anymore.”

Nicholas grinned. “You think your dad’s going to let you ride through the woods to hang out with a bunch of vampires in a cave?”

“He lets me hang out with
you
.”

“Because I’m not the bad influence in this relationship.” She seemed to soften a little at the word “relationship.” Then she immediately straightened her spine.

“I’m stil annoyed,” Lucy grumbled at him.

“You’re cute too,” he answered, unfazed. He leaned in and kissed her until she was nearly cross-eyed. Connor coughed.

“Dude, get a room.”

Nicholas pul ed away, grinning.

“Are they always like that?” I asked Logan as we left the farmhouse.

“You should have seen them before they decided they liked each other.”

•

It was considerably easier to gain access to the royal courts this time around. The presence of five of the Drake brothers smoothed the way, even if it didn’t completely erase the curious glances or suspicious, disgusted glares. It didn’t bother me, but I noticed Logan was glaring back at every single vampire who dared even to blink my way. It was kind of sweet, if unnecessary.

He was close enough that his arm brushed mine.

“Isabeau!” Magda darted out from behind a cluster of bare birch trees in gold pots. She was wearing pink petticoats under an antique cream-colored skirt. She tucked her arm in mine, elbowing Logan away from me with a hiss. Magda did not share wel . Logan didn’t hiss back, he was too wel brought up for that, but he did look as if he was considering it.

“Are you al right?” Magda asked, glaring at each of the brothers. Quinn smirked at her. She glowered more ferociously.

“They didn’t dose you with Hypnos again, did they?”

“No, of course not.”

The courtiers drifted out of our way as we passed through the main hal , where they’d been hard at work. Since last night, the broken raven throne that belonged to the last queen had been carted out. There were fewer mirrors as wel so that it didn’t feel as if the crowd was twice its actual size. I felt better already.

“How was it here?” I asked her quietly.

“Fine, I guess. Finn is in his glory. He actual y said three ful sentences back to back.”

I had to smile at that. Finn’s long silences were legendary.

“That’s practical y a monologue.”

“I know.” She scowled at a staring young vampire who didn’t get out of her way fast enough. “I feel like we’re some kind of circus show. Some guy asked to see my fangs. Can you believe that? And he asked me if we painted ourselves in mud.” Quinn chuckled from behind us. “That’s cal ed flirting.” She ignored him, even though it was bad form to ignore your host’s children when on a diplomatic visit. It was worse form to host’s children when on a diplomatic visit. It was worse form to attack their daughter’s boyfriend, so I was in no position to criticize. I wondered yet again why Kala had sent me.

Everyone but Logan and Magda drifted away on their own errands. We went through several rooms, each more decadent than the last. One was decorated in red silk and velvet with gilded framed paintings on the wal . Logan made a face.

“Lady Natasha’s tastes weren’t exactly subtle,” he said. “But we’re keeping the paintings and we’ve started adding more.

They’re a lineage of ancient kings and queens and whatever.” There were dozens of portraits, framed and unframed, mostly oil but some watercolors and ink drawings. There were a few photographs near the end of the line. It was like being in a museum. I recognized some of the faces from legend and stories Kala had told us: the Amrita family, the Joiik family, Sebastian Cowan, who’d loved a hunter in the nineteenth century.

“That one’s Veronique DuBois, our matriarch.” Logan pointed to a smal painting of a very dignified-looking woman in a medieval dress and wimple.

“Finn is drawing one of Kala,” Magda added proudly, not to be outdone.

But I wasn’t listening anymore.

On the end of the lowest row was an unframed oil painting of a familiar face. I knew the short black hair, the pale gray eyes, the smug smirk.

Philip Marshal , Earl of Greyhaven.

I took a step closer, feeling distant from everything except that face, as if I were underwater. The paint was stil moist in one corner, gleaming wetly. This portrait had been done recently, hung before it was ful y dried and cured.

I didn’t know what to think of that. I felt my lips lift off my elongated fangs, felt a growl rumble in my chest. At first I thought it was Charlemagne. It took me a moment to realize the pained sound was coming from me. I curled my hands into fists, wil ed myself not to explode.

“Isabeau?” Logan stepped closer, concerned. “What is it?” Magda insinuated herself between us, forcibly pushing Logan out of the way. “I’l take care of her,” she told him darkly, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, barely recognizing my own voice. It was hoarse, but soft as water. I forced myself to turn my back on the wal of portraits, even though I felt Greyhaven’s painted eyes boring into the back of my neck. I needed time to think. It was obvious to me, even without the warm tingle of the amulets around my throat, that something was going on.

“Let’s go,” I said, refusing to meet either of their gazes.