The Darkest Colors: Exsanguinations

By David M. Bachman

Copyright 2012 David M. Bachman

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Chapter One



London, England

Raina was already accustomed to receiving nightly visits from the dead, even before she had become one of the dead, herself. Of course, these visits did not come every single night, nor were they necessarily predictable. But they were frequent enough that she had struggled off and on for years to find various ways to deal with them. The dead were not threatening, or at least they hadn’t been until Raina Delgado had died. They only spoke perhaps a third of the time that she encountered them. She did not always actually see them, but without fail, she always sensed their presence. Sometimes, however, they would do a bit more than simply make a guest appearance. It was on those occasions that they usually chose to remind her of the fact that they were all dead because of her. 
Insomnia was an obvious consequence of the dreams she had. Raina had been pushing herself more and more to stay awake for longer periods of time, busying herself with a variety of things that were both legitimate must-do’s and other things that bordered upon obsessive-compulsive behavior. Anything that kept the dreams at bay, she had figured, would help her hold onto her own sanity. Anymore, she saw sleep as a terrible price for living; it not only tormented her randomly with dreams that dripped bloody guilt, but it also wasted valuable hours of one’s already limited time in this world. Time wasted snoring and drooling, tossing and turning, could be better put to use doing something constructive. There would be plenty of time to sleep when she was dead … or rather, when she was due to stay dead. 
This had been one of those nights for dreams in which the dead spoke to her. It was nothing as obvious or straightforward as someone approaching her at random and saying, “Hey, Raina. You killed me,” or “I’m dead because of you.” Usually, whenever she had bothered to try to describe them to anyone else after the fact, the dreams had seemed relatively benign on the surface.
On this particular night, however, the dream was more of a lucid memory than a random and freshly-created experience. Raina found herself in a familiar but generic Arizona social scene, sitting at a table in a dimly-lit corner of the establishment’s outdoor smoking patio. She picked up a waiting glass of rum and cola, idly stirring the ice cubes about with the thin straw in the drink. She became aware of the fact that Brenna was already sitting across from her when she heard the scratch of a cigarette lighter as Brenna lit up a clove cigar, casually expelling a cloud of smoke politely away from her. She laid the lighter down upon an opened pack of Djarum Blacks upon the table, gave Raina that signature smile of hers, and stared directly into her eyes. 
“So,” Brenna sighed with her soft but sultry voice, “what happens next?” 
Raina simply stared at her. As she looked on, just as helpless now as she had been before, Raina watched with mute horror as a dark, wet stain appeared in the black fabric of Brenna’s dress, right in the middle of her chest. Brenna seemed utterly oblivious to the rapidly oozing wound.
“What happens next?” she asked again. Her tone never changed. She always sounded the same when she asked that damned enigmatic and final question. 
Raina shook her head and began to get up from the table to leave. She knew that Brenna was dead. She knew that this was a dream. She just wanted to leave it, wanted to walk out of this dream and into something else. Raina felt her own throat tightening with emotion as she tried to weave her way between the sloppily-arranged patio tables and chairs. She heard Brenna ask that question once more behind her and Raina tried to squeeze her eyes shut, breaking into a run – useless as ever, for it almost always felt as though she were running through waist-deep molasses. She tripped over one of the patio chairs, fell forward, and landed so softly upon the ground that the impact was imperceptible. 
“My sweet,” Brenna murmured seductively, with a soft chuckle in her voice. Her voice was not loud, but it seemed to surround her. 
Raina covered her head with her arms as she lie face-down upon the floor. Hands were laid upon her, shaking her carefully but firmly, and Loki’s voice called to her softly but urgently from her left. Gradually, as she lay there sobbing, she became aware of the softness of the ground beneath her, the flexing of the surface upon which she lay as she was being shaken, and she eventually returned to the even more unpleasant realization of waking reality.
She awoke in tears, as she had many times before, but she shunned Loki’s attempts to console her. If she allowed herself to take comfort in his embrace, she might actually fall asleep again, as she sometimes did when this happened, and she would only have to repeat the process once again. Raina threw aside the heavy comforter and silk sheets of the bed. Half-blind, she stumbled awkwardly to the nearby bathroom, rather rudely shutting the door behind herself with a bit of a slam. This was her problem, her shame, and her own personal Hell. She did not want pity. She did not want to share this with or force this upon anyone else. She only wanted to be alone. She only wanted it to stop. 
Smoothing her frazzled hair away from her face and squinting slightly against the rather mild light of the touch-activated lamp in the bathroom, Raina faced the unpleasantness of her own reflection at four o’clock in the morning. The dark circles under her eyes from sleep deprivation always seemed that much worse when the pupils of her eyes were forever dilated, and the streaks of tears down her cheeks were already beginning to dry to subtle, salty trails. Her hair was as frizzy as ever from the abundant humidity in the air, in spite of the mansion’s elaborate air conditioning system. Her lips were dry and becoming somewhat chapped, accented with traces of that white “thirsty goo” that often came in the wake of a bit too much booze the evening before.
Considering how she believed her appearance, alone, was enough to be a disturbing turn-off, she was all the more amazed that Loki was willing to put up with her continued alcoholism. Just the same, she was amazed that he was (so far) tolerant of her completely neurotic behavior in general – her nightmares, her OCD habits, her panic attacks, and her random hang-ups. Had she not been the Grand Duchess of the International Vampiric Council and Mistress of the House of Fallamhain, in addition to being his Maker, Raina wondered just how long Loki really would have been willing and able to tolerate being with her. 
She stared at her own image for a minute or so, gripping the edges of the porcelain pedestal-style sink tightly as she forced herself to get control of her own emotions. Usually, just the sight of herself in tears was enough to make her stop crying because she hated the way that she looked in that state. And, as she had been taught to continually remind herself, she was the Grand Duchess. She had to be stronger than this. Other people depended upon her strength. Lives were at stake, and they relied upon her to provide a resilient, inspiring example for them to follow if they, the vampires of the world, expected to survive from day to day in this world. She could not allow herself to buckle so easily under the stresses of her existence as a vampire, much less something as petty as an unpleasant dream. Crying over a nightmare was something for children … human children, of course, and not at all for a vampire of nobility.
After a few minutes, Raina felt that she had sufficiently regained control of herself. She splashed a bit of cold water upon her face, both to wake herself up and to help rinse away the evidence of her tears. Of course, it was pointless to try to appear nonchalant to Loki, but she didn’t want to be questioned by everyone else that saw her roaming about the place at that hour. She wrapped herself in her favorite black silk kimono-styled robe, the one that had once belonged to Brenna, and she paused to meditate for a minute or two to try to calm and clear her chaotic thoughts before finally opening the bathroom door. 
Raina nearly walked right into Loki with a gasp, finding him to be standing right outside the door.
“Bad dreams again?” he asked. 
Raina ran her fingers through her frazzled hair, wincing as she forcefully combed out a tangle. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I woke you up.” 
“It’s okay.” He embraced her with his well-muscled arms, pulling her close to his thick, bare chest. She readily nuzzled herself against him, savoring his warmth and his scent. “They’re only dreams. They’re not real.” 
“They’re real to me,” she replied sadly. “The people I dream about are real. The things they say are real. The fact that they died is real.” 
“But they’re gone now. You have to accept that,” he told her. 
“I have accepted it,” Raina insisted, clutching a lapel of the black robe.
The robe had become something of a security blanket for her. She often wrapped herself in it when she began to dwell too much upon her memories of Brenna. She had taught herself to use the robe as a reminder of the fact that Brenna was dead, that the beautiful body that had once filled that robe was gone. While the realization that Brenna was gone always hurt, the physical token always worked to convince her that it was an irreversible fact. The one thing she hadn’t yet figured out, unfortunately, was how she could also manage to convince herself that she was not to blame for Brenna’s demise. Rather, she instead had a wealth of reminders that always made her believe otherwise. 
She excused herself from Loki to go on another one of her insomniac walks, insisting that it would be best if he didn’t stay awake to await her return. She was done with sleep for that night. She wished that she could be done with it forever, just to get away from the dreams. Reluctantly, Loki nodded in acceptance, kissed her tenderly, and trudged off to return to bed while Raina quietly padded out of the bathroom and slipped out into the hall. 
The Fallamhain Mansion was relatively modest compared to the size of others she had seen, but it was filled with such history as to be a constant source of fascination for Raina. Unfortunately, in spite of all its many relics and its beautiful décor, she had never been comfortable in this place. She had never truly been able to call it home. Her real home was back in Arizona, back in America, just a humble little manufactured home on the eastern outskirts of the East Valley near Phoenix. Someone else owned that place now, presumably giving paid tours of her former residence to fans and curious folk that wished to see the site where Raina Delgado had died and Raina Fallamhain had arisen in her place. 
Duvessa had kept a stable full of consorts. The first of them, Sebastian, had long held a penchant for “overindulgence” that had resulted in the Change of Duvessa’s human daughter, Elizabeth. Rather than punishing Duke Sebastian Fallamhain for his crime, she had tried to sweep it under the rug. Elizabeth had rebelled against her plans, so Duvessa had traded her off to someone else at the first opportunity – a situation of both convenience and cowardice involving German Nazi officials in World War II – and thus Elizabeth had become a bride to Count von Reichenbach, adopting the first name of Wilhelmina. In time, her thirst for revenge had swelled and ultimately boiled over with the seemingly random death of Count von Reichenbach. The Countess had used her sudden ascension to power as a starting point to embark upon a bloody campaign against Duvessa.
In a seemingly random turn of events, Raina had been pulled from her mundane human life and thrown into the violent vampiric drama, injected against her will with the blood of two very different vampires as well as an infusion of human blood. Ultimately, she had become something that was less than human but not quite a full vampire, with the strengths and features of three different races – human, Commoner, and High Court. In the seemingly chaotic series of events that had followed her usual Change, many had died, including both the Countess and Duvessa … and Brenna.
Duvessa had previously lined the halls of her mansion with framed photographs, paintings, and encased artifacts, making the entire place into a sort of museum to the history of the Fallamhain bloodline for the past two hundred years and beyond. Raina had expanded upon this theme significantly over the past year, alone, with recent photographs, framed news articles, and a few relics. The photos were of her Communion of Blood, her first public appearances, and of her duel with Countess Wilhelmina. The items on display included swords once owned by Duvessa and her consorts, as well as Wilhelmina’s, whose blade still exhibited the dried smears of its victims’ blood … one of its last victims having been Brenna. 
Loki often insisted that Raina only did this to torment herself, and others (not speaking directly to her) called it macabre and morbid. Raina simply called it a necessary measure. She dared not to allow herself to even begin to forget how much had been lost. Although she had never admitted as much to anyone else, it was these reminders that she needed to convince herself that suicide was not an option. For Raina to kill herself would have been to declare that everything (and everyone) sacrificed in her name had been a waste. She only lived on now to honor their lives and to respect their last wishes … whatever their wishes may have been in reality. 
Raina passed by the glass-enclosed display of swords, pausing as she always did to reflect upon these things. After a moment, she resumed stepping about the wrap-around balcony overlooking the grand dining hall below. The hall below was empty, its long table and many chairs empty, clean, and gleaming with polish even in the relative gloom. A large, elaborate crystal chandelier hung over the table from the cathedral-like ceiling far above, and what little luminescence filtered in from a light that glowed in another room below made the structure shimmer like so many cold raindrops held in suspended animation. 
She heard a man’s laughter from the room below, politely restrained but sincere, and she recognized its owner. The light was emerging from the nearby den downstairs. There was someone awake in this place at all hours of the day and night, particularly because the mansion’s residents (both humans and vampires) never adhered to a rigidly regular sleep schedule. Although she really wanted to be alone for the time being, she nevertheless decided to go downstairs to investigate and perhaps try to be a bit social. It was raining steadily outside at the time, anyhow, so one of her usual lazy twilight walks through the courtyard was pretty much out of the question. She backtracked to the main hallway, descended the grand staircase leading down to the marble-floored foyer, and quietly padded over through the dining hall and into the den. 
Simon was reclined upon one of the black leather sofas in the den, watching a rugby game on television and holding a bottle of beer in hand as he simultaneously chatted with someone on a mobile phone. Raina did not announce her presence as she stood in the doorway for a minute or two, watching him idly as he went on with his conversation with his buddy apparently about what was going on with the repeat-broadcast game on television. Simon set down his beer upon the table nearby, oblivious to her presence, and laughed on as he made some rude references to the opposing team. 
After a few moments, on a whim, Raina stealthily picked up the beer and began to take a sip. Right about then, Simon reached for the beer, grasped empty air, and realized with a start that it was gone.
Simon turned to look at her with his mouth agape and eyes wide, and immediately he switched off the wide screen television and sprang to his feet. He nearly dropped his mobile phone in his rush to rise, and for a moment he fumbled about with the phone in such a way that he almost appeared to be juggling it before he finally grasped it solidly again. Raina could not help but to make a disgusted, wincing face in reaction to the taste of the stout ale. 
“I’ll call you back,” he muttered into the phone quickly before snapping it shut and snapping his body into a state of attention. “Your grace, I … I didn’t know you were...” 
“How the hell do you drink this stuff?” she asked, ignoring his unnecessary formalities. “It tastes like mud and sawdust mixed with tap water.” 
“I could get you something else, if you’d like?” he suggested immediately with his usual nervous enthusiasm. 
Raina shook her head as she set the beer back down upon its coaster on the neatly-polished contemporary black end table. This was one of the few rooms in the mansion furnished with modern furniture, electronics, and décor, primarily upon Raina’s insistence after making this her new place of primary residence. Until her arrival, Duvessa had kept the entire place almost entirely like a sort of time capsule, with only a few bits of modern technology amidst all of the rest of the contents that were largely over a century in style, design, and actual age. She hadn’t been a technophobe in the least, but she did have a very definite preference for all things of a much earlier time period. It was understandable; Duvessa had been old enough to remember the rise and fall of Napoleon, perhaps even to have met him in person when he was still alive.
“Too early in the morning … I mean … too late in the night for alcohol for me,” she said. “Besides, I don’t want anything that’ll just put me back to sleep.”
“Bit of insomnia?”
“Something like that.”
“I could brew up some coffee…?” 
“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it. I know where—…” 
“Cream and one sugar, right?” he interrupted with a knowing smirk. 
Raina hated to be waited upon hand-and-foot, but as she had learned over the past few months, some people genuinely seemed to take some kind of pleasure or personal satisfaction in being subservient. She reluctantly nodded, sighing, “Yeah, that’d be great.” 
“Right away, your grace.” And just like that, he slipped away to her right down the narrow hall that led to the kitchen, leaving a faint scent of cigarette smoke and ale in his wake. 
She supposed that, at least on this occasion, Simon felt that he’d been caught slacking off. Truth be told, Raina didn’t care if he was or not. She didn’t see him as a human servant so much as an important ally, as well as an all-around nice guy. He was in his mid-thirties, average in height, average in looks, but far, far above average in his general enthusiasm and energy levels. Simon had apparently been Duvessa’s favorite human servant, both from what Raina had been told and what she had read in some of the former Grand Duchess’s personal writings. In Duvessa’s words, Simon was “such an incredibly hard-working and devoted chap, calm and efficient in a professional setting but adorably awkward in private, and always good for a smile.” 
Whereas Loki was more of a flawlessly obedient and stoic trooper, Simon was just flawlessly … well … human. Apparently, people like Simon were what helped to remind her why it was necessary to continue to stress that vampires should integrate and live harmoniously with humans. Others in the High Court tended to isolate themselves from humanity and surround themselves almost exclusively with other vampires or, when necessary, only quite mature humans with very frosty personalities.
Duvessa, however, had preferred to employ and attract a slightly more youthful, vibrant band of individuals, particularly her human servants, while preferring far more mature individuals as her consorts. Of course, by her own admission, Duvessa had done this for the sake of better keeping in touch with the times, to stay “fresh” and “current” with the generation of the day so. She had felt that it had increased the longevity of her popularity and helped her avoid appearing to be out of touch or completely aristocratic, although she had been quite unsuccessful in the latter objective.
As such, Raina had found almost every one of Duvessa’s human servants and young vampire associates quite ready to devote themselves to their new mistress. While she was not fond of the idea of anyone being in servitude to her, at least Raina was able to relate to these people quite easily because of the lack of generational barriers. 
Simon was a bit of an odd duck, though. Raina followed him into the kitchen and watched as he went about the task of preparing a pot of coffee for brewing with the usual frenetic pace he had in doing things for her. She wondered where Duvessa had run across someone like Simon. Surely, it had to have been a completely random chance encounter. She couldn’t imagine that Duvessa would have put out an a want ad seeking a “hard-working man with great professional skills and a keen sense of humor but a tendency to be very awkward in private settings, particularly around female vampires.” What really seemed odd to her was how much Duvessa, in her journal writings, had insisted that Simon had appeared to be quite infatuated with her, if not in love with her, and yet he did not seem to miss Duvessa at all, at least as far as Raina could sense. In fact, Simon actually appeared to now have something of a crush upon Raina, instead. Either Duvessa had been truly terrible at reading human sentiments, having been so full of herself that she had felt everyone had worshipped her, or she had apparently mistreated Simon in such a way that he’d been glad to see her go. Raina, it seemed, had been in the house that had fallen from the sky and crushed the wicked witch. 
“So, did you just wake up, or are you getting ready for bed?” he asked as he began hurriedly tossing a couple of scoops of darkly-roasted coffee beans into the grinder. 
“Just got up. Can’t sleep … as usual,” Raina replied, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand as she leaned upon the doorway. Clumsily, she lightly pricked one of her knuckles upon one of her bared canines. She saw just a tiny dot of blood rise to the surface of her pale skin, and she put it to her lips to suckle it away. Even after several months following her Change, she was still having a hard time adapting to her fangs. 
“Oh, I’m … I’m sorry, your grace,” he said, turning to her with a sudden look of sincere apology. “I thought I had the telly down far enough, but I might have been a bit too loud on the phone…” 
“You’re fine, Simon. Really,” she insisted with a smile. “Even with these big, pointy ears of mine, I couldn’t hear you at all until I walked all the way over to the far end of the dining hall.” 
“Oh.” He seemed genuinely surprised, perhaps even disappointed as he glanced down for a moment. “Was it the dreams again?” 
Now it was Raina that was surprised. She blinked at him for a moment. “Who told you about that?” 
“No one, I … it was, umm … I just … I was reading, y’know, and ah, I … well … the Web,” Simon stammered as he rubbed the back of his neck – one of his many nervous tics. “But I mean … y’know, it was just … this site was, y’know, it was probably rubbish, just rumor, and…” 
“Simon.” 
He straightened up immediately. “Yes?” 
“Relax. We’re just talking,” Raina said with a smile. “You know … like normal people. I’m not going to bite you or anything.” 
“Well, that’s … that’s certainly good to know,” he replied with a nervous chuckle after a moment’s hesitation. He almost didn’t sound sure. 
“If it helps, just pretend that I’m someone else. Don’t be so uptight,” she told him as she folded her arms under her breasts. “You don’t need to be so formal. It’s just us in here right now.” 
His smile faltered and he considered that for a moment. Simon took in a deep breath, stuck out his lower lip slightly, and exhaled with a brief jump of his eyebrows before rubbing his chin. 
“That’s, ah … that’s exactly what … she used to say,” Simon replied. 
Raina’s smile vanished as well. “I’m not her. I’m nothing like her at all.” 
Simon hesitated, smiled a bit more again, and nodded. “Well, you’re quite right about that, your grace.” 
He began to manually grind the coffee in the hand-cranked mill. He appeared just slightly less tense, but she could sense that he still was uneasy. Raina had never quite understood why, but her High Court abilities of empathy – her ability to sense the emotions and intentions of others, not quite true telepathy – were far less effective in trying to read humans, whereas with vampires and particularly other High Courts, the connection was especially powerful. She sensed others’ emotions as her own, and sometimes it was very difficult to discern her own true feelings from that which she was picking up from those around her. As such, the emotions she picked up tended to influence her own. If someone else was extremely angry, she tended to become a bit short-tempered, herself. Another’s feelings of lust in moments of intimacy seemed to fuel her own, as though she fed upon them. And whenever someone was particularly on edge, such as Simon seemed to always be when he was around her, it made her feel rather uncomfortable, too. Even with two centuries of practice, Duvessa had once admitted to having the same tendency to be affected by outside emotions. 
“What was she like?” Raina asked rather abruptly. “I mean, you know … as a person?”
Simon paused in cranking the coffee mill for just a second, glancing at her.
“You mean, as a human?”
“No, like … as an individual.”
He finished grinding and offered a shrug with a curled lower lip. 
“She was … nice.”
As far as she could tell, Simon’s simple description of her was totally sincere. 
“Nice?” Raina echoed after a moment of stunned silence. “You mean … you never saw her get angry with anyone?” 
“Well … she did have her off moments now and then,” he admitted with a shrug as he removed the lid of the mill and shook the coffee grounds into the French press. He froze for a moment, reconsidering his statement, before resuming his actions. “Actually, she had a lot of off moments. But for the most part, I thought she was rather nice. I mean … I’ve worked for people a lot worse than her before, I can tell you that.” 
Raina was still gripped with utter disbelief. “What on earth did you do for a living before you met Duvessa?” 
“I sold electronics in a department store downtown,” Simon answered. “Believe me, it’s much easier to deal with an aristocratic vampire with rage issues than it is to face random members of the general public on a daily basis.” He set down the coffee mill and turned, pointing to her with both hands. “That wasn’t directed at you at all, I swear.” 
“No, I … I know what you meant,” she chuckled. 
“Don’t get me wrong, she was still a complete and utter lunatic. I mean it. I could always tell that, deep down inside, she was a complete nutter. Seriously. She was absolutely stark raving mad,” he explained, gesturing with both hands excitedly as he often did. “But at the same time, she was also extremely, incredibly intelligent.”
“Some of the smartest people in the world are also some of the craziest,” Raina commented. “Sometimes it’s easy to mistake a genius for a lunatic, and vice-versa.”
“Maybe so. But either way, Duvessa was smart enough to know that she couldn’t go around abusing people without a reason, because then nobody would want to work for her. So really, she was always rather nice to me.” He grinned. “She had to be. I was the only one that could get her all those fancy electronics at a discounted price.” 
“Really? You’d never know it by the old-school Victorian look of this place.” Raina considered that for a moment as she watched him fill the French press with boiling-hot water from the special filtered, high-heat tap near the large stainless steel sink basin. “What kind of electronics, exactly?” 
Simon shrugged again as he put the plunger lid atop the press. “A bit of everything, really. She was always fond of technology. This instant hot-water tap system, for example, she thought was amazing. But then, you have to also consider that she was born in the days before indoor plumbing…” 
“Specifically, Simon,” she interrupted him gently, “what kind of ‘fancy electronics’ did she request?” 
He hesitated once more, this time not so much out of his shyness or anxiety. Instead, he seemed reluctant to be surrendering a secret of some kind. 
“Just … things.” 
“What things?” 
“Electronic … things.” 
She rolled her eyes impatiently. “Simon…” 
“Computers … laptops, mainly,” he finally began to confess, “mobiles, radios, monitors, cameras, alarms, locks, that sort of thing…” 
“Wait, wait,” she blurted again, waving her hands as she stepped closer. Simon almost reflexively shrank back from her a bit. “Sorry. You’re talking about security equipment, right?” 
“Mostly, yes.” His eyes shifted away nervously as she stood with his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth onto his heels. “She, um … she had a lot to hide … as I’m sure you already know.” 
“Yes, I do,” she agreed, “and I think I know where she kept a lot of it.” 
Simon drew his lips in, biting them for a moment before speaking. “You want in the cellar, don’t you.” 
“And how.” 
“I’m, ah … not sure you really want to do that.” 
“Oh, I do, Simon,” she assured him with a nod and a smile, stepping closer. “I most certainly do.” 
“Not … if you knew what’s down there … your grace.” 
“You know what’s in there?” 
“I’ve, ah … heard things and … seen … things…” 
“So, you’ve been in there?” 
“Oh, no … no.” He was looking everywhere but at Raina, now. “I mean … well, not exactly.” 
“Meaning?” 
“I’ve taken a peek or two … with the monitors…” 
Raina stopped her advance just within arms’ reach of him. She wasn’t trying to intimidate him, at least not consciously, but she couldn’t help drawing nearer in her piqued interest. She had wanted to get in the cellar for months, but she had not yet found anyone that Duvessa had entrusted with knowledge of how to gain entry. The former Grand Duchess may as well have done the old trick of swallowing a key, because apparently she had taken the access codes with her to the grave. 
Ever since she had first relocated to the Fallamhain Estate and had begun to explore its grounds, Raina had been stumped by what it was that Duvessa had taken such great measures to keep under such paranoid levels of security in the main cellar of the mansion. There were at least three layers of protection that had been heaped upon the two known entrances to the cellar: a heavy steel door with concealed hinges, an electronic keypad door lock (such as she’d seen upon doors of secure areas in the hospital where she’d once worked), and an electronic alarm visibly connected to the top of the door that presumably would be tripped if it were opened without prior access. Given Duvessa’s level of paranoia and the many dark secrets of history she’d kept from so many, Raina had never yet tested the doors, for she feared there might be other security measures involved that could prove dangerous, if not lethal, if she triggered them. At the very least, she didn’t want to deal with a perpetually wailing alarm or an unwanted visit from outside security or police officers, because she had no idea yet how to disarm the system. 
What was within the cellar was anyone’s guess. Raina had theorized that it was likely a collection of historical relics, some of which probably included incriminating evidence that would have revealed her links to German Nazi officials – specifically Duvessa’s association with Dr. Josef Mengele and those of the camp at Birkenau – and could have thus put her at risk of being tried and executed for past war crimes. Loki and others had speculated that it was simply a stash of wealth, including jewelry, gold, silver, and other such things, as Duvessa had amassed an incredible network of riches in her time … some of which Raina was only gradually learning were entitled to her and yet unclaimed. 
“What monitors?” she asked him softly. 
“The, ah … monitors she had installed … had me install for her,” Simon stumbled. He looked at her almost fearfully. “Really … seriously … you don’t want to go in there. There’s nothing in there … for someone like you.” 
She blinked. “Someone like me?” 
Raina tried her best to read him. He was afraid, no doubt, but she was beginning to realize now that it wasn’t about her, now. He was bothered by the past, by memories. She still wondered just what Duvessa had done to him, or how she had at least threatened him, to make him act this skittish. His anxiety around Raina was probably attributable to her obvious resemblance to Duvessa, at least as far as her High Court features of fangs, elongated and pointy bat-like ears, and pale flesh that actually glowed to a subtle degree in times of stress or excitability. But his reaction to the subject of the cellar was strictly that of plain fear, if not horror. 
“No,” Simon said. “You’re certainly not like her … at all.” 
Raina stared at him for a moment longer as she began to understand. She placed a hand gently upon his shoulder and he tensed up even more, if that was at all possible. She rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, hoping to ease his stress before it drove her into an obviously nervous state, as well – her skin was already beginning to glow visibly. 
“Simon … if you’re getting at what I think you might be getting at, and if you know how I can get in there, then it’s absolutely imperative that you get me in there,” she told him. “If there are things in there as bad as you seem to be saying there are … criminal things … then I need to know what I have in this place. I don’t want something like that being held against me by someone else. Do you understand? I don’t want to be put on trial for being in possession of something illegal that Duvessa left behind.” 
“Oh, you won’t,” he said quite confidently. “Nobody can accuse you of anything. Not since the video cameras were installed, they can’t. I can prove you’ve never set foot in there.” 
“That’s not enough. If there’s something terrible down there and someone else knows about it, just the fact that I still have it under my roof is enough to get me in hot water with the authorities,” she told him. “And even if it’s nothing illegal, I sure don’t need to give the IVC Elders any more excuses to question my title. As it already is, I’m practically going to be facing the Spanish Inquisition when I go to discuss the Code with them. The last thing I need is for them to think that I…” 
“They already know … your grace.” 
“They already know what?”
“Most of them already know what’s in there.”
She stared at him. “How?” 
“They’ve been in there.” 
“When? How?” 
“When she was still, ah … here,” he explained reluctantly, “she would host events. Meetings, parties … things like that … and at some point, she would usually go down there with someone. I was told that she liked to … well … entertain her guests there.”
“What’s down there, Simon?” Raina asked him flatly. 
“Sometimes … most of the time, actually … she came back up alone. Or if three of them went down there, only two would come back up.” He gulped audibly. “I’ve heard things, and I … I saw a video once…” 
“What… is … down there … Simon?” she demanded, growing annoyed. 
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “So help me God, I don’t know, but I’m too bloody afraid to find out. But I do know that whatever’s down there … someone like you … you’d never want to see it.” 
Raina gently took hold of his other shoulder and tried to meet his gaze. His eyes were almost closed now and his face turned down and slightly aside. 
“Simon … Simon, look at me, please.” Slowly, he complied. “Do you have the access code?” 
He nodded again, uttering, “Yep.” 
“You can disable the alarm?” 
“Yep.” 
“Then you can get me in there, right?”
“Yep.”
“And you never thought to mention this to me until now?” 
“You never asked.” 
“You knew I’ve wanted in there since I first got here,” she told him. “You could have let me know a long time ago.” 
“Not if I wanted to be able to sleep at night.” 
She smiled. “You’re a night owl. You don’t sleep at night half of the time, anyway.” 
“Figure of speech.” 
“I get it. Simon, you’re a sweetheart,” Raina said, leaning her face in towards his. Simon tensed up as though he expected her to bite off his nose, when instead she quite innocently gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Relax. I told you I wasn’t going to bite you.” 
“Sorry. Old habit.” 
“Why? Did she bite you on a regular basis?” 
He looked aside again. “Well, there was a time or two…” 
“Wait … forget that I asked. C’mon.” She took hold of his black silk tie and gave it a tug, using it as though it was a leash. Surprisingly – or perhaps not so surprising, after all – it popped off. Raina held up the clip-on tie with a raised eyebrow. “Jeez, did she choke you, too?” 
“Actually, no,” he answered as she handed it back to him. He unbuttoned his collar and grinned. “I’m just too lazy to tie a real one.”

* * * *

Chapter Two



There was a small study in the lower level of the mansion that Raina had preferred for her “alone time,” which was usually spent either reading Duvessa’s journal entries, writing her own, or studying various writings and articles regarding the history of the Fallamhain bloodline and other prominent members of the High Court. It was more or less a miniature library with many shelves full of various old leather-bound books and photo albums, a small but well-crafted mahogany desk with a matching (but uncomfortable) chair, and a very cozy lounge chair bound in black leather. After descending the stairs leading down into this small but well-finished room, the door leading into the main chamber of the cellar was to the immediate left.
The level of Duvessa’s concern for protecting the contents of that cellar chamber was quite obvious. The door was a heavy-gauge steel unit painted flat black with stainless steel fixtures, kept shut by a lock that could only be accessed by a numeric keypad directly above the lock. The hinges to the door were concealed within the equally heavy steel frame of the door, so Raina had never been sure if the door opened inward or outward. The wall surrounding it was solid concrete covered by decorative wood paneling that matched the rest of the study. A video camera watched over the entrance from an opposing corner of the study, which Raina had often regarded with a subtle feeling of paranoia, herself, until she had finally covered the camera with a cloth one day so that she could read and write in peace and confidentiality.
“I’ve always wondered,” she mentioned to Simon, halting him by merely touching his shoulder as they reached the bottom of the stairs, “who’s watching that camera, anyway?”
“Oh, nobody,” he replied quite calmly. “It’s automated and only set to record when the main door is opened. I was told she asked for it because she wanted to know who else was going in and out of here.”
“Where does it go?”
Simon turned and blinked at her. “I’m sorry?”
“The video feed from that camera,” she elaborated. “It has to go to some kind of a video recorder somewhere, or at least to a monitor. Right?”
“Oh … yes, of course. That would be in the cabinet next to the desk,” he replied, gesturing to the wall beside the desk.
This was certainly news to her, as she had never seen anything next to the desk, other than a simple wall upon which several framed documents and photographs had been hung.
“What cabinet?”
“Oh, sorry. I just assumed that you’d already seen it by now. Here, let me show you,” he said, hurrying over to the desk with obvious excitement. He knelt down for a moment, reaching underneath for something. “There’s a key hanging from a hook under here.”
He stood up once more, holding up the key with a smirk, and then turned to face the wall. Raina had noticed that the wall did seem to have a gap between the wall, itself, and the left edge of the inset bookshelf in the center section of the wall, but she had never thought much of it. Simon tilted one of the photos, an old black-and-white group photo of the members of the House of Fallamhain taken sometime during or just after the World War II era, revealing a round brass keyhole set into the wood. He poked the small matching brass key into it, gave it a half-turn, and stepped back as that four foot section of the wall beside the bookcase opened up to reveal a bank of small television monitors and related security video equipment, as well as a row of numbered and coded switches.
“She was just as worried about someone physically getting into the cellar as she was about someone taking a peek at it with the cameras in there,” he explained as Raina drew closer with wide eyes of amazement.
“People such as yourself, apparently,” Raina said with a smile.
Simon shrugged. “I set up most of these things myself. So, of course, I had to know how to get access to everything. I was the only person she would allow to service any of it in the event that something should stop working.”
“So, she knew the whole time that you could peek in there whenever you wanted?”
“Well … not exactly,” Simon reluctantly admitted. “I set up the system and set the codes, but I don’t think she entirely trusted me not to be tempted to check things out later. Hence, she had this secret locking door installed to cover up the whole thing. She figured that one little lock would be enough to keep me out of the system, but … well, obviously she didn’t do a very good job of hiding the key.”
Raina watched as Simon poked the power button of monitor after monitor, switching them all on. Nothing was being displayed on any of them at the moment except a blank, dark gray screen.
“I guess she figured that nobody else would be looking for a key under there because nobody else knew this was all hidden behind the wall,” Raina suggested with a shrug. “I sure as hell never had a clue all of this was in here.”
Simon flipped a few simple black switches under the monitors, looking up curiously to see if anything changed. “These control the lights in the cellar, but … oh, wait.”
He entered a three-digit number into the keypad at the end of the row of switches, just above which was a red LED display showing the numbers “001.” The display of the monitors suddenly blinked to life, displaying nine different camera angles that all appeared to show different rooms.
“You have to activate the camera group with this,” he said, pointing to the keypad. “You can also access the other camera groups throughout the estate with this panel.”
“Wait, wait … what? Camera groups?” Raina sputtered, her mouth slightly agape. “I’ve never seen any cameras around this place, other than that one in the corner here…”
“She had the whole estate under surveillance at all times. All the entrances and exits, at least one camera per room in every room … even in the loo,” he replied, his nervous demeanor seeming to mostly vanish as he slid into his technophile mode. “The exterior cameras have a remote link to the security company she had working under contract for her, and you can access them from this panel, as well. But all of the interior cameras are closed-circuit and they only feed to this set of displays down here. She just had this upgraded about a year ago so that she could view the cameras from her laptop in the office upstairs or down here, as well.”
“Jesus,” Raina murmured, watching as Simon cycled through several sets of camera views. “I’ve seen movies about drug dealers with setups like this. Was she expecting a bunch of ninjas to come sneaking onto her property in the middle of the night?”
“Cat burglars, perhaps. There were a few incidents with intruders in the past,” he answered, “but it always turned out to be either thieves looking to steal valuables or paparazzi trying to peek in the windows to snap photos. She was more concerned with keeping out humans rather than other members of the High Court.”
Raina nodded at that, as it made perfect sense. Given the way she ruled the High Court, Duvessa had everyone so terrified of her power and she had surrounded herself with so many capable men and women that a sneak attack upon her main residence would have surely seemed like a suicide mission. If a human was caught trespassing, they would have been prosecuted; if a vampire was caught, they probably would have been executed.
“The thing is,” Simon went on, “she made it sound like the idea behind all of this was to collect evidence against any trespassers we caught. But if you notice where some of the cameras are located…”
Simon switched to a set of interior views that included, as he’d mentioned, cameras positioned in discreet locations in bedrooms and bathrooms, as well as the main library, the dining hall, and the kitchen. 
“Unless her guests were stealing bath towels and pillows,” Raina mused, “I’d say she was probably a hardcore peeping tom.” 
“Not just that,” Simon said, poking a button on the front of one of the shelved devices under the row of switches. A small tray slid out of the device with a compact disc, or rather a DVD, sitting upon it. Holding up the disc, he told her, “She was an amateur pornographer, as well.” 
Raina gaped at the disc he held up. “She … recorded…?” 
“Herself, mostly, but probably whomever else was visiting at the time, as well. She liked to keep these mementos of her favorite nights for later on,” he replied with utmost seriousness, not even showing a hint of a smirk now. “The video and audio quality isn’t the best in the world, of course, but this system is set up to record video from all cameras simultaneously. Each of these four DVD-R units is set up for one camera group each. The recording could either be triggered manually or automatically for up to eight hours per disc. If recording is triggered by an alarm condition, such as if the cellar door was opened, it would record for up to five minutes after the alarm condition is cleared.” 
Raina looked at the disc he held, seeing that it was only vaguely labeled with a “#4” handwritten with a felt-tip marker. “Is there anything on that disc?” 
Simon shrugged, glancing at it briefly as he answered, “Well, I’ve seen worse things on the Internet…” 
“Can I…?” Raina asked as she pointed to the disc and then to the recorder from whence it had come. 
He hesitated, but then nodded almost begrudgingly. He knew what was on that disc. Raina had a strange feeling that he had almost been tempted to remove that disc and either stash it away or destroy it to keep her from seeing it. She could appreciate that he was a nice guy that was often going out of his way to be polite and kind to her – especially her, being his employer, the Grand Duchess, and all that – but she didn’t want to be coddled like a little girl. She had seen a lot of terrible, terrible things in her time. She had done some terrible things, too. She was sure that whatever was contained on a video disc would be nothing especially traumatic for her. 
Simon reinserted the disc into the DVD-R deck and closed its tray, then used the buttons on the front of the deck to navigate through the in-disc menu that displayed on each of the nine monitors. 
“It’s much easier to view on a laptop because you can do a lot more with it. But this works, too,” he explained as he brought up a scene of nine camera angles displaying from the same period of time. 
The video was in color, although a bit grainy from its low resolution, and the sound was very tinny, making the audio seem as though one were hearing everything through a hollowed-out coffee can. There were several people visible in several rooms, and after a few seconds of study, Raina came to identify a few of them: Ladies Svetlana, Noriko, Mary, and Jen, Duke Sebastian, and of course Duvessa. The dining hall view showed a gathering of many people, none of whom Raina could readily identify, and she guessed it to be a night upon which Duvessa was hosting a party of some kind. Mary was, somehow not surprisingly, mixing drinks in the kitchen area, Jen was primping in front of a bathroom mirror, and Svetlana and Noriko were attending to the unidentified guests. Duvessa could be seen stepping away from her opened laptop computer in the study where Raina and Simon were now standing. She had apparently just then manually activated the cameras’ recording, as Duvessa quickly ascended the stairs and hurried up to the dining hall. 
The ghost-like image of Duvessa, wearing one of her many elegant, flowing white formal dresses was, in itself, enough to give Raina a slight chill. She disliked having to see video clips of her predecessor being replayed all the time on television news reports and in documentaries, but she had seen most of those clips so many times that she had eventually grown fairly numb to them. To see this unfamiliar footage of Duvessa in this familiar setting, especially being reminded of the fact that she had once sat at the desk next to where they were presently standing, Raina could not help but to nervously glance over her shoulder as though she expected to catch a glimpse of the actual image of Duvessa ascending the stairs across the room from them. She was not an especially superstitious person, but she could not deny that on some level, so many things of the Fallamhain Estate seemed to give off such strange vibes that she felt it would have been easy to believe that it was haunted. 
“The audio only plays from one camera source at a time, but you can select the audio track independently from the camera angle you’re watching,” Simon informed her as he cycled the audio from one camera to another and to yet another. 
Raina watched silently, enthralled as she heard the voices of people that had been dead for months. The brief three seconds of audio she heard of Mary singing softly to herself in the kitchen as she prepared a tray of several drinks was especially creepy for some reason. The audio from the dining hall was too full of too many people talking at once to be intelligible, but she could see Duvessa entering the room and grabbing the attention of a male that was seated near the far end of the long table. She leaned over, said something briefly to him, and he nodded compliantly before getting up. As though on cue – actually, she saw Duvessa turn and give him a signaling nod – Duke Sebastian could be seen excusing himself from a conversation he was having with someone else at the table, following after Duvessa like a well-trained dog. 
“Have you watched this video before?” Raina asked Simon. 
“A few times, yes,” he admitted. He paused for a moment. “I, ah … honestly thought of turning it over to Scotland Yard awhile back.” 
Raina cringed. “I’m about to see something bad, aren’t I?” 
Grimacing sympathetically, Simon said, “You really can’t see anything graphic from these angles. The cameras inside the cellar are on a separate camera group, and the footage from those is on a separate disc, but I’ve never found any recordings of anything from inside there. She always kept them somewhere else.” 
“Probably in the cellar, along with all of her other dirty laundry,” Raina suggested, watching the trio come into view on the camera view of the lower study. 
Raina watched as Duvessa walked over to the desk in the study and, surprisingly, opened the door to the cabinet of video equipment that Simon and Raina were presently facing. Simon switched the audio over to the camera in the study so that the conversation could be heard. The sound of Duvessa’s voice in casual conversation, as opposed to the more haughty and formal tone she used in public, actually made Raina shudder. 
“…just six months ago,” Duvessa explained to the unknown male. “From where we stand here, you can see everything in virtually every room of my entire estate.” 
“That is very impressive,” said the man with an accent of some kind – Dutch, German, or something like that. “It is almost like being … what, ah … what is the word?” 
“Omniscient,” Duvessa said for him as she turned to face him with a smile. Their faces were much clearer in this view because they were much closer to the camera. Raina could now see that the man with whom Duvessa spoke was a High Court vampire. “This allows me to be able to see all and know all … to be the goddess of one’s domain … or at least within my own home.” 
That was met with a warm chuckle from the other vampire. “Perhaps you could introduce me to someone, so that I may have something like this for my own home. I would like that feeling of, ah… security, I think is the word.” 
“It certainly does give peace of mind,” she replied with a nod. “But of course, it is no substitute for the close company of good people … especially those that you can trust.” 
“Yes, I agree—…” 
The man’s sentence was cut abruptly short as he was grabbed from behind by Duke Sebastian. Giving Raina yet another chilling reminder of past events, she watched with horror as a cloth was placed over the unidentified High Court’s mouth and nose while Duke Sebastian simultaneously pinned his victim’s right arm behind his back. Duvessa sprang forth and seized his other arm as he attempted to reach for something from within his suit jacket’s inner pocket – a cell phone, a weapon of some kind, who knows – and she and her bloodspawn quickly subdued the male High Court. Within seconds, the blonde-haired male’s muffled and barely audible cries became silent and he sagged in their shared embrace. Duke Sebastian hooked his arms under the male’s shoulders and began to drag him backwards while Duvessa calmly stepped over to the cellar door. There were four beeps as she entered the pass code, followed by a loud bang before she pulled the door open. The room beyond the threshold of the door was pitch black from the perspective of the camera in the study, but neither Duvessa nor Sebastian showed any hesitation about dragging the unconscious male High Court in there and shutting the door behind them with a solid thump that was accompanied by the loud clack of the door’s heavy bolt latching shut. 
“Okay,” Raina said with a sigh, “I’m pretty sure I witnessed a murder just now.” 
“Well … I can’t say for sure,” Simon answered, “because that’s about as far as this goes. After this, there’s a few minutes of nothing before Duvessa and Sebastian come walking out of there.”
“When did this take place?” 
“A couple of months before, ah … before she left,” Simon said as he paused the video. “Before she left here for the last time, I mean.” 
“So, wait … you’re saying that guy was…?” 
“Count Klaus von Reichenbach.” 
“And after he went in there, he never came back out, right?” 
“Not that I can see from any of the footage that I’ve got here, no.” 
“So … he was murdered in there?” 
Simon opened his mouth to say something else, thought twice about it, then nodded. “I believe so, yes.” 
“Why on earth did you keep this video a secret for so long?” Raina demanded, not so much angry as simply stunned. “What stopped you from taking this to the authorities?” 
He shrugged. “A lot of things … one of them being that I didn’t want to wind up like the Count. If you don’t mind me saying, I was scared completely shitless when I found this. I mean, Duvessa was scary enough on her own, but her consorts were plenty bloody creepy, too. I knew better than to go blathering about this to anyone, much less the police.” He shrugged again. “Besides, it’s not like the cops would have done anything about it. If one vampire kills another vampire, what do they care? And even if they did care, I’d have never lived to testify about it. She would’ve paid everyone off and I would’ve just disappeared like all the others.” 
“The others? What others?” 
“Her other human servants,” he replied. Simon rolled his eyes. “C’mon, now. I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories of all the people over the years that have gone to work for rich and powerful vampires, only to either wind up disappearing or becoming a vampire themselves…” 
“If that’s the case,” Raina countered, “then what made you decide to work for her?” 
“Money,” Simon said immediately. “Plain and simple, I was in it for the money.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You’ve never struck me as the greedy type, Simon.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured her. “See, back then, I figured I was going to lose my job soon with the department store, y’know, what with the economy going down the tubes. Nobody was in the market for big-screens and video game systems anymore, and everyone was getting laid off, and … y’know, I had to make ends meet. So, I heard from a friend who had a girlfriend that actually knew Lady Mary personally, and she’d mentioned that Duvessa wanted another day courier. Y’know, someone to be her errand boy during daylight hours? I thought it’d just be something I could get into for awhile until I could find something else to do. Next thing I know, I’m making after-hours deals with some old co-workers and negotiating discounts on stuff worth thousands of pounds with my old boss, and then she has me installing things like this whole camera system and such, and … well … the pay was great, the fringe benefits were awesome, I got to tag along and mingle with folks at some of their parties, rub elbows with celebrities, I was surrounded by beautiful women all the time, and…” 
“And you just couldn’t bear to give that up,” Raina said, folding her arms with an undisguised frown. “You could seriously watch something like this and actually decide not to tell someone about it only because of how it might impact you personally?” 
Simon nervously rubbed his chin and began with his hand-gesturing again as he explained, “It’s not as cut-and-dried as you’d think. I took an oath of loyalty to the House of Fallamhain. Now, whether or not I take that oath seriously on a personal level is irrelevant because those people, Duvessa and her crew, they were fanatical about it. If she’d felt that I had betrayed her … I was dead, simple as that. Not only me, but she probably would’ve come after everyone in my family, too, just to be spiteful. That’s the way she was. I saw how she treated her enemies, and I sure as hell didn’t want to become one. So, when I started becoming aware of what was going on, I decided it was best to just play along, try not to get myself in too deep, and…” 
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Raina interrupted, “yeah, I get the idea. But after Duvessa was gone…?” 
“Once she was dead, there wasn’t any point in telling anyone about this, really. The main two people that were involved in this thing are dead, so what good would it do me to go to the authorities with this?” he asked with a shrug. “If anything, it would only make me look bad for keeping quiet about the things she did, because then I’d be an accessory after the fact. And besides, I’d be ostracized by the whole High Court for violating my oath of loyalty, and I’m sure someone out there loyal to Duvessa would be pissed off enough to come after me…” 
Raina stared at him for a few moments, blinked, and then shook her head. “Sorry. Jeez … forget it. You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m sorry, your grace.” 
“No, no, you’re right,” she insisted, placing a hand upon his shoulder calmingly. “I shouldn’t be so judgmental. I can’t honestly say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing myself. You did what you had to do by keeping to yourself. I understand.” She paused. “Anyway, I’m glad you showed me this. I knew that it was the Count’s disappearance that put Wilhelmina at the top of her House and set her off on a rampage, but I honestly thought that the Countess had killed him off and just blamed it on Duvessa to give herself an excuse to come after her. So, at least I finally know the truth about what happened now.” 
Simon nodded and then stepped away slowly, looking rather unhappy as he walked around the desk. Raina followed after and halted him by stepping in front of him. There were almost tears in his eyes suddenly. 
Before she could speak, he sighed, “I’m sorry.” 
“Simon … hey, forget it. I understand, okay?” she told him. “I’m not mad at you.” 
“I know.” 
“Then why do you look so upset?” 
He sniffed his emotions back and straightened his spine, taking in a sharp breath. Exhaling slowly, he replied, “I’m just scared now, that’s all.” 
“Scared, why?” 
“Because I’ve been sitting on this for so long, and … a-a-and I took an oath,” he stammered, his voice wavering and his face contorting as he struggled to contain himself, “and I know that someone else is going to find out about this. Someone else is going to find out that I told you this, and they’re going to come after me, and they’re going to kill me, and my mum, and my sis, and my kid brother…” 
“Wait, wait, hold on,” Raina said, shaking him lightly. “Nobody’s killing anyone. You didn’t tell me anything.” 
“But … I showed you where the…” 
She put a hand over his mouth. “You didn’t show me anything. I found the key on my own when I was down here the other night. I got to poking around and I found this whole thing. Okay?” 
“But … that’s not true! And you know that if someone else, a High Court, if they ask you and you lie, they’ll know it’s a lie, and then…” 
“Simon! Hey! Chill, all right?” She lightly slapped his cheeks to keep him from crying. She couldn’t stand to see anyone cry, much less a grown man, and the emotional empathy she was picking up from him was beginning to affect her, too. She did not want to wind up crying in front of the guy, either. “Dude! Listen to me. Nobody is going to know about this. Okay? Nobody is going to ask. I already wanted into the cellar. I own this place. This is my house, my estate. I have a right to know what’s in here. So, if anyone asks how I found it, I can honestly tell them that I only found out because I got nosey and started investigating things … which is kind of the truth, really. Who I asked and what I asked them is none of their business, and that’s that. You’re free and clear of this.” 
“But…” 
“No buts,” she interrupted, putting a hand over his mouth. “Now, stop freaking out on me, Simon. Please. I’m already pretty stressed right now for a lot of other reasons, and honestly I don’t need this added onto it. Okay? Just take a few deep breaths, chill out, relax, and pull yourself together.” 
Simon nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, doing exactly as she suggested. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, habitually reached for his throat to adjust his tie before remembering it was now in his pocket, and he ran his fingers through his short, spiky strawberry-blonde blonde hair before straightening his spine and letting out a sigh of relief. 
“Okay,” he finally said with a nod. 
“Are you cool?” 
“Yep.” 
“I mean it. Are you cool?” 
“I’m cool.” 
“You’re sure?” 
“I’m cool,” he said again with a forced grin. He paused, turning his head slightly. “Did you just call me ‘dude’ a moment ago?”
“I guess so. Why?”
“That is just … outstanding.”
“How so?”
“You, the Grand Duchess, just called me ‘dude.’ Who’d have ever thought…?”
“I’m just full of surprises,” she replied dryly. “Now, what do you say we go take a peek inside this cellar…” 
Simon’s grin instantly dropped into a look of dismay and his shoulders slumped as he rolled his eyes. “Shit…” 
Raina practically dragged him over to the cellar door by his hand, standing him in front of the door and then stepping back as she folded her arms under her breasts. 
“The sooner we do this, the sooner you can have this off your conscience,” she told him. 
“Yeah,” he agreed with a nod, wringing his hands anxiously, “and the sooner I can worry about how you’ll react to what’s in there.” 
She stared at him impatiently for a couple of seconds. “I really don’t enjoy switching over to Bitch Mode, so don’t make me play the Grand Duchess card on you.” 
He finally held his hands in the air. “Okay, okay. You win.” 
“What’s the code?” 
“Nineteen forty-three.” 
“Ugh,” Raina scoffed, rolling her eyes. “That sick woman.” 
“What?” 
“That was the year she got involved with Doctor Josef Mengele and the Nazi SS,” she explained. “I’d almost bet money she’s got a bunch of stuff relating to that inside there.” 
“Maybe,” he conceded with a shrug as he began to press the buttons of the keypad. “Just a heads-up, the lock mechanism is kind of loud.” 
No sooner had he finished saying that than the lock actuator threw the bolt inside the door open with such sudden force that it sounded almost like a gunshot, making Raina yelp and jump back half a step. The sound was accompanied by the hum of a powerful electric motor for half of a second before it stopped, presumably the sound of the actuator holding the bolt back in the opened position while Simon pulled the door open about an inch. 
“Sorry,” he said, noticing her reaction. “This thing is built the same as the doors they use in prisons. It has a high-current actuator that moves a two-inch bolt that into a block of reinforced…” 
“Okay, okay,” Raina interrupted impatiently, holding up a hand, “it’s a seriously heavy-duty fucking door, Simon. I get the picture.” 
He smiled nervously. “Right.”

* * * *

Chapter Three



It took Raina the better part of that day to settle herself down after emerging from the cellar. She had gone in there under the impression that it would be something like an archeological adventure of sorts, uncovering forgotten relics from yesteryear and things far older than herself. In fact, she had found things long forgotten, including relics that she now wished that she could forget about, herself. She had gone in there alone, as Simon had insisted upon waiting outside so that they could not accidentally be locked inside. She was now all the more grateful for that decision. Simon was already a high-strung fellow, but seeing what she had found in the cellar would have surely made him completely come unglued.
While Raina did explain to Simon, in general, what she had found within the cellar, she did not quite reveal everything. The important thing she needed to figure out at that point in time was what to do with the things she had found. After a bit of deliberation over a couple of cups of coffee, Raina came to a decision.
At her request, Simon rushed out and soon returned with a brand new digital camera with a couple of high-capacity memory cards. She documented everything she possibly could with the camera, having to make two trips upstairs to download the images onto her laptop as she twice ran out of memory. Furthermore, she detailed her findings in the journal she had begun to keep not long after moving into the Fallamhain Estate. Additionally, she printed off several of the images on the high-resolution color laser printer in the main study before finally tucking everything but the laptop into a briefcase, along with the main copy of her draft of the Code. She shut the briefcase, locked it, and then slumped over to rest her head upon the fine mahogany desk for awhile, utterly exhausted.
Before anything regarding the cellar and its contents had become a sudden issue, Raina had already been struggling to find the inner strength and motivation to confront all of the IVC at once for the first time. She had already addressed the vast majority of them on several occasions, particularly during her official introduction to the High Court and coronation as Grand Duchess, but never in the context of something as historically significant and controversial as this particular occasion. But bringing herself to overcome her lingering social anxieties was a small task compared to the other larger issue at hand.
There had been threats made, some veiled and some outright, and Raina was already steeling herself for the very real possibility that she would find herself in yet another swordfight with an angry High Court vampire. It was not so much the threat of combat or facing such a crowd of dignitaries that concerned her most of all. What she had been trying desperately to figure out for some time beforehand was what to do, ultimately, if and when she was able to get past all of that.
They were a society of violent beings whose very existence had been shrouded in secrecy for centuries until somewhat recent history. She needed to think of a means of addressing them in such a way that they would not only accept her as one of their own, but also to subscribe to her vision of what was best for the IVC, if not for the vampiric race as a whole. It was a tall order, even for a whole committee of people, much less one individual such as herself. Her only consolation was that now, having found and documented what was in the cellar, she had some evidence to serve as a bit of show-and-tell to support her effort. This last thought, of course, assumed that she would even be given the opportunity to present it to the IVC without first being cut down.
As reliable as ever, Lady Olivia arrived at the Fallamhain Estate just before full dusk with three of her regulars in tow – Thomas, Ethan, and Sophie. Olivia was the closest to an official advisor as Raina had ever known since becoming Grand Duchess. Simon, an avid fan of Mafia-themed movies and television shows, preferred to call the diplomatic, wise, and strikingly beautiful Commoner vampire the “Fallamhain consigliere.”
Raina had honestly been rather suspicious of Olivia from the start, and the feeling had actually been mutual during the first month or so of their association. Olivia had been fiercely loyal to Duvessa, making no qualms about the fact that she had quite literally killed on command for her mistress in the past. However, by Olivia’s own admission, her oath of loyalty had been to the House of Fallamhain and not necessarily to its figurehead. She had initially regarded Raina coldly and strictly as a matter of duty, but the transitional experience had offered them enough opportunities to air their differences and sentiments, after which Olivia had finally begun to warm up to Raina.
By now, Olivia was actually a good friend of Raina’s. In some ways their friendship was closer than the one that Raina held with Lady Svetlana; in other ways, they were still as distant as absolute strangers, and she doubted that would ever change. Olivia was best at providing professional guidance, wisdom, and know-how, but she could be quite indifferent at most times to some of Raina’s emotional issues, sometimes even appearing to be annoyed by them. Svetlana, on the other hand, was more personally supportive, inspirational, and comforting, but not as well-versed in High Court politics and general life as a vampire. Olivia was among the eldest of any vampires in the House of Fallamhain. She was legitimately documented as being sixty-seven years old, having been a vampire for over two decades, and she certainly carried herself with an unmistakable aura of maturity and experience, though she hardly looked a day over twenty-five.
Raina, still sitting in the main study, could hear her distinctively haughty, formal-at-all-times voice coming from downstairs in the foyer as it carried up through the halls of the mansion. She hurriedly closed out all of her opened video-playback programs on the laptop, impatiently drumming her fingernails upon the desk as she heard the calm but numerous footfalls of several pairs of feet ascending the main staircase. Presenting Olivia with the near-final draft of her Code changes was going to be difficult enough already. She wasn’t exactly eager to see what kind of reaction her close ally might have to learning about the truckload of illegalities she had finally unearthed in the cellar … some things which actually involved Olivia.
Simon popped into view, politely rapping upon the frame of the open doorway of the study.
“Lady Olivia, your grace.”
Already bringing herself to stand and step around the desk, Raina motioned for him to invite her in. “Sure, sure.”
Olivia came into view, pausing to thank Simon with a nod and that well-practiced smile of hers before turning it upon Raina. The sight of her was as impressive as ever. Olivia was far more conservative and formal than Raina in her sense of high-class vampire fashion, dressing in a dark blue knee-length formal skirt and matching blazer with a white blouse underneath, underscored by pale flesh-toned stockings and simple but attractive low-heeled dress shoes. Her shoulder-length, wavy, platinum-blonde hair was neatly secured in a bun that looked just on the verge of being too tight, and her makeup was subtle but complimentary to her pale blue eyes and full lips.
Similarly, Raina was already wearing a very similarly-themed businesslike outfit of charcoal gray, although she was a bit more “edgy” by Olivia’s design – higher heels, shorter skirt, dark sheer stockings, and a black blouse with a plunging V-shaped neckline exhibiting the large golden ankh pendant she had inherited from Duvessa. Olivia had apparently never cared much for Duvessa’s more flamboyant, elegant manner of dress. Raina certainly didn’t like to rub her own status in everyone else’s face with her appearance either, even when it was expected of her, but she also wasn’t especially fond of being told what to wear all of the time.
“Oh, your grace,” Olivia swooned with what seemed to be genuine happiness to see her as she gave a formal bow, “I cannot begin to describe how excited and honored I am to accompany you on this night.”
“I’m very glad to have you at my side, Olivia,” Raina replied with a smile and a nod as she watched the others file into the study, assembling as though by rehearsal on either side of the Commoner.
The others were not dressed quite as formally, but still were very neat and classy in appearance. Black and red were the predominant colors among the two Sabertooths and lone Commoner, the men wearing black slacks and silk shirts with red ties while Sophie, Olivia’s bloodspawn and niece-by-birth (her brother’s daughter), wore a fine red dress of design similar to that of what Lady Svetlana had worn on the night of Raina’s Communion of Blood – full-length, but slit up to mid-thigh level and open-backed, elegant without being too revealing.
Olivia hesitated a moment, her smile faltering just a tick. “Have you changed your mind on the issue of your hair for tonight?”
Raina shook her head as she anxiously ran her fingers through it, sighing, “No, Svetlana will help me finish getting ready in a little while. I’ve just been … preoccupied…”
“Well, dear, I can’t say I blame you a bit for feeling anxious,” Olivia said, clasping her hands together. “This is, after all, a rather historic occasion, being the first mandated full gathering of the IVC since we all made our first appearance before Parliament. I just hope you’re not letting your nerves get the better of you tonight.”
“Me? Nervous? Yeah, whatever,” Raina replied with mock indifference, waving it off. She turned to the desk, quickly unlocked her briefcase, and withdrew the neatly-bound pages of her draft from within. She presented it to Olivia with an unmasked look of uncertainty. “As long as this doesn’t cause a full-scale riot, then everything else tonight should be a piece of cake.”
Olivia’s eyes widened slightly as she took the pages into her hands. “Is this it?”
“That’s it,” Raina confirmed with a nod, folding her arms. “An awfully huge fuss over a few pieces of paper, huh?”
“Mind you, it’s not the paper but the words that have everyone concerned,” she said. Olivia glanced at the cover sheet of the draft for a moment and began to lift the first page when she hesitated, looking up to Raina once more. “It was to my understanding that you wished to keep this an absolute secret until you addressed the Council…?”
Raina shrugged. “It’s not too late for last-minute proofreading.”
Olivia looked confused. “Your grace … your computer has a spell-checking program and…”
“I mean, I’d like your opinion on it,” she interrupted.
“You would trust me with this responsibility?” Olivia asked, genuinely shocked.
“If not you, then who else?”
“But … I am only a Commoner, your grace.”
Raina held up a hand to silence her, shaking her head. “Let’s not get racial. You’re my top advisor and my public spokesperson. You’ve been dealing with vampire politics longer than I’ve even been alive. Frankly, you’re more qualified than I am to be writing up important legal documents like this.”
“Even if that were all true,” Olivia admitted, “the fact remains that you are the Grand Duchess, not I. It has been your decision from the start to change the Code, not mine.”
Raina gestured impatiently as she said, “Just … humor me, would you? Give it a look. Tell me what you think.”
Reluctantly, she gave in with a slight shrug and a lifting of her thin, light eyebrows. “As you wish.”
Olivia took just over a minute to skim through the more than twenty pages of text. Halfway through, she softly requested that she and the Grand Duchess be allowed a few minutes of privacy. Readily obedient, the other Fallamhain associates bowed politely and filed out of the study. Simon followed, although not before giving a concerned glance over his shoulder to Raina. She smiled reassuringly and nodded to him before he closed the door quietly behind himself.
When Olivia flipped over the last page, she drew in a deep breath and let out a bothered, heavy sigh as she glanced over her shoulder to double-check that they were alone in the study. She held the stapled copy of the draft in her hands with a delicateness, wearing an almost disgusted look upon her face as though she were instead holding a paper plate with something warm and foul plopped upon it.
“Great,” Raina sighed before Olivia could even speak, sensing her reaction. “It’s crap, isn’t it?”
“Do you want my professional or personal opinion?” Olivia asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Professional, please.” She could always count on Olivia being direct and honest, but when she spoke personally, she could be downright hurtful with her words, whether she meant to or not.
Handing it back to Raina, she said, “I think you’re deliberately trying to get yourself killed. If you lay this down in front of the Elders tonight, I can almost guarantee you’ll hear at least three challenges being issued at once. And you know what will happen if you are challenged.”
“When the swords come out, someone dies. Yes, you’ve told me before,” Raina acknowledged impatiently, nodding as she began to make her way around the desk. “Look, a lot of people in the IVC would be happy to see me dead, just because of who and what I am. I can’t let the possibility of a challenge stop me. It’s bound to happen at some point anyway. And if my proposals ruffle some feathers … well, so what? I’m not trying to win a popularity contest here, Olivia. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
“The right thing, your grace,” she said, “would be to throw this into the nearest fireplace immediately and simply apologize to the IVC for having suggested amendments to the Code in the first place. At the very least, it would be wiser to make the changes less drastic. Are you aware of how much power you would be surrendering with this? You would practically cripple yourself. Your title as Grand Duchess would be little more than a formality.”
Raina sat down as calmly as she could in the high-backed leather office chair and leaned back a bit. “I’m not stupid and I’m not insane. I just don’t want to see history repeat itself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Duvessa deliberately put herself in a position of power with absolutely no real checks and balances when she wrote the Code. She only used the Elders and the IVC for added wealth and extra protection. She hacked her way to the top of the food chain and then built this huge, multi-layered castle of people around her to keep herself in power,” Raina explained. “She even said so herself. The only reason why she didn’t officially claim the title of Queen was because she didn’t want to cause a fuss with Buckingham Palace. But really, who cares whether or not I have a crown and people call me their queen? I mean, I can rape, torture, and kill with absolute impunity, as long as I’m only doing it to other vampires. It’s friggin’ ridiculous! Not even the King of England has this much power.”
Olivia gracefully sat herself in one of the two chairs arranged on the opposite side of the desk from Raina, crossing one leg over the other and resting her hands atop one another upon her knee as she kept her spine perfectly straight. Raina sometimes wondered if Olivia had learned some of her uppity mannerisms from Duvessa, or if it had been the other way around. From what she’d read in Duvessa’s journals, she had held Olivia in a high enough regard that either scenario was equally possible.
“I’ll be the first to admit that the Code is far from perfect,” Olivia said. “And I agree, there are certain provisions within it that Duvessa obviously designed to favor the ruling Grand Duchess and her bloodline quite unfairly. But the reason why the Code has survived for as long as it has in its original form was not because she was so adamant about enforcing it. The Code has survived this long simply because it works. And because it works, everyone else supports it.”
“Whether or not it works is a little subjective. From where I’m sitting, the whole thing seems pretty dysfunctional.”
Olivia was obviously restraining herself, as evidenced by the way she visibly tensed and began to blink slowly but more frequently. Raina could sense the Commoner’s frustration quite clearly within herself. She was not going to let her advisor’s misgivings sway her from the idea of changing the Code. This was not a situation of “if it’s not broken, don’t fix it,” because the Code definitely was in need of repair. Its failures were not by damage, but by design. She merely hoped that Olivia could help to provide some feedback on how to better phrase the changes, which she was proposing. The basic gist of her changes, really, weren’t as backwards and chaotic as everyone seemed to be making it out to be. The main bone of contention wasn’t so much what she wanted to change as much as it was the very fact that she wanted to change anything. The conservative attitudes of the High Court, as a whole, made even the most right-wing Republicans in American politics seem like absolute moderates, if not left-leaning liberals, by comparison.
“May I be frank with you, your grace?” Olivia asked, her face visibly tightened. Raina nodded. “After all you have been through in your life, and even in your human life, and after all I have taught you, you still seem to have absolutely no real grasp of what a vampire truly is and is not.”
“How so?”
“We … are not … human!” Olivia declared sternly, her eyes widening with something bordering upon anger. “We look human, most of us are born human, and we may generally try to pass ourselves off as human. But I assure you, we are anything but actual human beings. You know this, dear. You know this for a fact, but your sense of denial runs so deep that I fear it will get you killed.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Clearly, your grace. But this is a well-known and proven fact. We vampires are not people, not in the classical sense of the term. The modern systems of government that work for human beings do not work for us. Humans are much more easily controlled than vampires because humans are weak creatures by their very nature,” she insisted. “Why else do you think we have human servants? Why do humans never have vampire servants? We feed upon them, not the other way around. We are not on the same level of the food chain. You cannot expect wolves to live by the same laws as sheep.”
“Stop. Just … stop, already,” Raina groaned, rubbing her temples. “Jesus, I’ve heard enough of that racist Nazi eugenics bullshit from Duvessa to last me a lifetime. Half of her journal entries are filled with that pseudo-intellectual, elitist garbage.”
“Don’t completely discredit something just because of its source. Just because the Nazi Party was a fascist regime obsessed with anti-Semitism does not mean that everything that came out of Germany during those years was rubbish,” Olivia cautioned her.
“Look, I’m not talking about the virtues of Hitler’s anti-smoking campaign…”
“Nor am I, your grace,” she interrupted, bordering upon rudeness, “but the fact of the matter is that you cannot expect vampires to abide by the same system of legal controls as humans. Vampires cannot be governed by democracy. It simply won’t work.”
“I’m sure the British king said the same thing about all those bloody Yankees after they wrote the Declaration of Independence,” Raina quipped. “Two hundred years or so later, democracy still seems to be working out pretty well for America. I’m sure even Duvessa realized that.”
Olivia was clearly put off by that remark, but again she held herself in check, though just barely so. She often acted as though Raina’s youth and inexperience were constantly testing her, but on this occasion Raina could literally sense how close her companion was to completely losing her cool. Raina wasn’t deliberately trying to irritate her; she simply wanted Olivia to understand her motivations for modifying the Code.
“I understand that you may think that this document is a good idea,” Olivia said carefully as she laid a hand upon the stack of pages on Raina’s desk, “but perhaps you need to hear it from someone else to help put things in a better perspective. I presume that is the real reason why you have chosen to show this to me now…?”
“More or less,” Raina admitted with a shrug. “I wanted to run it by you first to see if there was some way I could phrase some things differently. I’m not asking you to try to completely talk me out of changing the Code. If that’s what you’re trying to do, then forget it.”
“Again, may I at least persuade you to make your changes a bit less severe? I’m sure we can agree that any changes to the Code are going to be met with resistance,” Olivia conceded. “However, attempting to abruptly remake the High Court’s entire power structure is potentially going to result in an outright revolt. The risks of this do not simply involve your safety as an individual but the survival of vampires as an entire species. If the IVC falls into anarchy, then vampiric society will turn chaotic all over the world, humanity will lose all faith in its ability to co-exist with our kind, and vampires will be universally exterminated. I know your intentions are good, but there is no good that can come from this.”
Raina threw her hands in the air and let them flop into her lap, exasperated. “What then? What would you rather have me do? Would you rather I just go on and become a clone of Duvessa? Do you really want to see me go mad with power the same way she did? Would it be better if I just went around killing people and doing terrible things to everyone just because I can? Because I promise you, if I follow too closely in her footsteps, that’s exactly what’s gonna happen. Nobody can have this much power and not give in to the urge to abuse it at some point.”
“With great power comes…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,” Raina interrupted, waving off the wise quote. She looked away with a heavy sigh. “God, some of the things I find myself even thinking about sometimes make me sick. I might not be willing to act on them right now, but if I were given enough time … and if I were in a different frame of mind … some of those things might not seem so awful. I mean, up until my Change, I never could have imagined myself wanting to kill someone. And now that I’ve killed someone, it’s like all of a sudden, I have to think of reasons not to kill again. I seriously have to talk myself out of the idea sometimes … and that’s not easy when you’re someone that can literally get away with murder.”
“If I may make a suggestion, your grace…?”
“Sure.”
“You do make several valid points in what you’ve written in this … this rough draft,” Olivia said, touching the pages again as though she wished to take them away and shred them. “Perhaps if you were to keep the changes which are likely to be less severe, and simply omit the changes to the power structure … even if only for now…?”
Exasperatedly, Raina sighed, “Look, why don’t you just come right out and tell me specifically what I should and should not do with this.”
“Again, your grace, it is not my place to dictate policy changes,” Olivia said, meeting Raina’s gaze squarely. “I am only here to advise you. You have asked me for my opinion on this. My opinion is that the changes you are proposing are too severe and they will ultimately cause far more problems than they will solve. I’m afraid I cannot be any more specific than that. I cannot state what details you should omit and what you should leave alone. The desire for these changes is yours, not mine.” 
Raina closed her eyes with another weary sigh and slouched in her chair, shaking her head. She picked up the one and only copy of her new draft of the Code and flipped through its pages for a few moments, re-reading her own words while Olivia sat in silent observation. 
She hated to admit it to herself, but Olivia was probably right. A lot of what she was trying to do was based upon good intentions, but there was no pleasant or perfect way by which to make them happen. Raina had never considered herself to be much of a leader to begin with. How had she ever led herself to believe that she could create a utopian society for a race of creatures whose very genetic predisposition drove them to commit extreme acts of violence and lust? She was a dreamer whose ideas seemed wonderful in concept but were generally useless in practice. The High Court deserved a better leader than this. Already, she felt as though she had miserably failed before she had even begun. 
Raina held the paper aloft with both hands and then made a show of tearing it in half, then into fourths, and then into eighths. Olivia smiled approvingly. 
“I’m not giving up,” Raina informed her flatly as she tossed the handful of paper shreds upon the desk. “I’m not going to let the mess that Duvessa left behind continue to ruin other people’s lives. I’m just going to have to go about doing it another way.” 
Olivia nodded at that. “I’m quite relieved to hear that, your grace.” 
“That’s not to say I won’t still be making some changes, though. And I still do intend to make them known tonight.” She arose from her chair and began to step around the desk toward Olivia, keeping her eyes fixed upon her. “I just won’t be reading those changes from a script.” 
Her advisor’s face went blank, then seemed to pale – as if that were even possible, given the deathly pallor of her vampiric flesh. “I would urge you not to do anything rash, your grace.” 
“I’m only planning to do what’s expected of me,” she informed her confidently. “I am the Grand Duchess. It’s about time I started acting like one … instead of trying to be a politician. I shouldn’t be drafting pieces of legislation. I should be ruling by decree.” 
She gestured for Olivia to stand, and she did so, though a little reluctantly. She seemed almost suspicious of the way Raina had so abruptly changed her mind, and how she now seemed just as confident about her new angle as she had been about her prior one. 
“I hope that I have been of some help to you, you grace,” Olivia said uneasily. 
Raina kissed her chastely upon the cheek. “Absolutely. You’ve made things much clearer for me now.” 
As always, Olivia seemed almost embarrassed by that small bit of physical affection. Raina meant nothing overtly by it, and she would have instead been inclined to offer her a hug. However, Olivia had actually seemed to express more discomfort with hugs than with a simple peck on the cheek. The only other option would have been something along the lines of a handshake, and that was simply too formal for someone with whom she so regularly confided. Again, Olivia was a cold sort of personality, strictly an at-arms-length individual. Just as well, Raina had heard enough from others to know that Olivia hadn’t approved of Duvessa’s “two way street” orientation, nor did she seem keen on Raina’s very brief sexual history with Brenna and Duvessa. Raina simply did her best not to offend her advisor by tiptoeing around her conservative sensibilities whenever it was practical. 
Olivia was as close to a perfectly straight vampire as Raina had ever personally known. Of course, Commoners did tend to be a bit less sexually liberal than other races, namely the High Court and Fallamhain races, so bisexuality was not so much a given rule for its members as much as a slight predisposition. However, Olivia was far, far from a prude – quite the opposite, really, although she did have a rather uppity, aristocratic attitude about her sexual escapades. Both of the male vampires that had previously been in the study moments ago were her shared companions, and she was not the least bit embarrassed to share with Raina (when asked) that she had what she liked to call her “stable of other studs” whom she would call upon from time to time to “service” her. No, she was not sexually repressed by any means; she simply was very conventional in her choice of mates, having come from a generation that saw same-gender relationships as a humiliating, evil, disgusting taboo. Besides … although she was attractive, Olivia’s personality was usually more than enough to put Raina off from even thinking about her in any context other than a professional one.
Olivia narrowed her eyes slightly, studying Raina for a moment. “May I ask you something rather personal, your grace?” 
It was only then that Raina became aware of the fact that she had been staring at Olivia at almost point-blank range for several long seconds. She blinked and tried to shake off her own daze with a slight chuckle of embarrassment. 
“Um … yeah, sure.” 
“How long has it been for you?” 
She raised an eyebrow at that. “How long has what been?” 
“Since you last had a taste?” Olivia elaborated vaguely. 
Her other eyebrow went up. “You mean …sex?” 
“No,” she said, “but perhaps that as well.” 
“Well … we did it last night.” 
“We?” 
“Loki and I.” 
“And did he let you taste him?” 
Raina stared at her for a moment and then looked away rather shyly with a small laugh. “Are you really asking me if I swallowed?” 
“What? Oh, no, no,” Olivia chuckled, “I meant to ask if he gave you a measure of his blood.” She grinned, just barely showing her fangs. “No, as much as I admire your ravishingly handsome consort, I would never be so rude as to pry for details of what goes on in your bedroom.” 
“Not that I would really mind if you did,” Raina confessed with a shrug. She looked away and considered the question for a moment. “Actually, I think it’s been a few days since I had a decent amount of blood … maybe almost a week.” 
“Oh … oh dear,” Olivia gasped with genuine concern, “that just won’t do. I can’t have you going out tonight when you’re running so thin.” 
“No, it’s cool. I can go quite awhile without…” 
Olivia held up a hand as she began to back away. “Really, your grace, I must insist on this. I had thought that you were simply stressed, but this is far more serious.” 
“No, really, I’m fine.” 
“If I let you go out tonight so unprepared, I would be doing you and all of the House of Fallamhain a terrible disservice,” she persisted, backing away to the door. She opened it, peeked her head out, and quietly gestured for those awaiting outside to come in. As she stood back to allow the two Sabertooths and her Commoner niece to file back in, she said, “I wish to offer you a full measure, your grace.” 
Raina stared at her for a moment before she turned to look at the other three. There was not a person in that room whom she would have minded a bit in tasting, either in blood or of the flesh. Of course, she would not think to ask such a thing from Olivia herself, not only because of the nature of their association but also because it would have seemed wrong for her to feed upon her own advisor. But the remaining three choices were simply too exquisite to deny, not just for their visual appeal but for the relatively guilt-free liberty in feeding from them. She never took blood, she only accepted it when it was freely offered to her, and she absolutely refused to accept a drop of human blood on the grounds that it would violate her own personal ethics – and because she worried it would trigger a new and terrible instinctive craving that she could never legally satisfy. 
“Are they willing to offer?” Raina asked, more to the other three than to Olivia. 
While all of them nodded, Olivia replied, “They are yours by right for the taking, your grace. You have their consent by default.” 
At that, she looked to Olivia. “You know that I have rules about this.” 
“Of course, dear,” she agreed, “as do I … although, naturally, your rules supersede my own.” 
“Refresh my memory,” Raina said as she took a moment to meet each of her three choices’ eyes. “Exactly what are your rules?” 
“I do not feed from children, females, animals, or my own blood,” she replied simply as she folded her arms, lifting her chin rather proudly. Whether she meant to or not, she seemed to be presenting her own guidelines as though they were in some way superior to Raina’s, though she naturally would never directly state such a holier-than-thou sentiment to her. 
Raina had been keeping down her ever-present thirst for quite awhile, always knowing it was there but always managing to find a reason or a means to avoid actually satisfying it in some way. She had been trying her best to supplant her blood addiction with lovemaking, but as she was beginning to find, even frequent couplings with the likes of Loki could not leave her completely satisfied when the most basic of her urges was left unfulfilled. She could never completely escape the fact that she was a vampire … especially when her skin had a tendency to glow in the dark on some occasions. 
Seeing these three, feeling their own desires within herself as her own, she felt her own genuine thirst spring to the forefront of her attention in the same moment as the sudden flare of her lust. Raina did not vainly think of herself as irresistible or stunningly beautiful – in fact, she still thought herself to be rather plain. But whether due to her standing as Grand Duchess or perhaps her physical appearance, there were few within the House of Fallamhain (and elsewhere) from whom she did not sense an intimate attraction. Even Olivia seemed strangely drawn to her at times, though only in passing, and only in a few rare awkward moments. 
“A full measure, though?” Raina went on, now stalling for time in her relative shyness. “That’s an awful lot. I wouldn’t want to bring someone that far down. I don’t want to send anyone else into bloodlust.” 
“It won’t be such a great loss of blood,” Olivia explained, “if you don’t take it all from the same individual. I’m sure that you’ll find more than enough between everyone here.” 
At that, Raina could not help but to automatically look directly to Sophie. She was still having a hard time accepting some of the twisted ethical standards in vampiric life. Yes, Olivia was actually offering up her own niece for Raina to feed upon. Of course, this was nothing akin to throwing one’s child into a sacrificial pit of fire, nor was it as though she were prostituting her own child out to others. Among vampires, blood was both sacred and casual. The offering and taking of blood was not always sexual, and in fact, the two pleasures were usually separate, at least in a social setting. Thus, for Olivia to volunteer Sophie to offer a measure of blood was no more inappropriate by vampiric standards than, say, a man asking his son to mow his neighbor’s lawn or to ask a friend to help another friend move some furniture. 
Still, it had only been a few months since she had gone through the Change herself. Raina was still clinging to “past life” standards of human ethics. To her, blood was still a very intimate thing. Sure, as a human she had been a phlebotomist, performing blood draws at a hospital for her day job and, after hours, upon humans and vampires that gave her a bit of extra spending money in return. But she had always clung to the notion that vampirism was romantic, that it was a visceral, carnal sort of act that was just a different shade of sex.
Of course, upon becoming a vampire herself, her preconceptions had been shattered … and, just as well, simultaneously reinforced. It had all changed the very instant that she had sunk her fangs into Countess Wilhelmina’s throat – a moment immortalized from many angles in both photographic and video form by so many witnesses, much to her chagrin. Consciously, she had hated it, loathed it, and felt utterly disgusted and horrified by her own actions; subconsciously and physically, however, she had yet to experience anything even remotely as ecstatic. Ripping into someone’s flesh with her fangs and then drinking them to death was the single most intensely intimate thing that Raina had ever experienced in her entire life.
So, even though neither Olivia nor Sophie seemed to have any issue with what was being proposed, Raina could not help but to feel a bit awkward about the idea. In fact, she was very much inclined to refuse the offer. But she knew better. To decline this would have been an insult to Olivia. Raina needed Olivia’s guidance and wisdom, as well as her influence. She did not want to risk losing that by committing a vampiric social faux pas. 
“Well then,” Raina finally said, “as long as it’s okay with everyone here…?” 
All three nodded pleasantly in agreement, Sophie seeming the most excited of all. She barely knew Sophie at all, having only met her on a handful of occasions. Apparently, she was simply thrilled by the idea of getting to spend some time with the much-hyped Grand Duchess, even if it would cost her a bit of blood. The other two, as Sabertooths usually went, were probably just eager to get physically close to her, perhaps with the underlying hope that Raina might be interested in more than just blood. And, truthfully, she was interested in more, although she had no intentions of violating the monogamy of her relationship with Loki – a silly sentiment, according to Olivia and others, but the closest thing to something “normal” that Raina had been able to establish in this life. 
Stepping behind them toward the door and beginning to pull it shut, Olivia gave a quick formal bow and said, “I will give you some privacy and wait in the foyer downstairs, your grace.” 
“Thank you, Lady Olivia,” Raina said with a rather nervous smile as the door was gently shut. 
For a few awkward moments, Raina simply stared at the three of them – Thomas, Ethan, and Sophie – while they just stared right back at her in silence. The men stood in a sort of militaristic at-ease manner with their hands clasped behind their back, while Sophie anxiously rocked back and forth in her heels with a smile. She was definitely a cute girl, very petite, slightly shorter than Raina, with wavy, light brown hair that trailed halfway down her back, and intriguing blue-green eyes. She seemed perky, youthful, and genuinely sweet. Although Olivia had previously mentioned that her niece was in her twenties, she looked not a day over sixteen; likewise, Duvessa had been over two hundred years old, and yet she had only appeared to be in her early to mid-twenties. Immortality and artificial youth made it nearly impossible to visually gauge a vampire’s true age.
Ethan was built impressively, easily standing over six feet tall, with very broad shoulders and muscles that seemed to stress the material of his shirt, and close-cropped sandy blonde hair that showed off the pointed shape of his Sabertooth ears – not as high-pointed as a High Court’s, but slightly elfish. It had been bodybuilder vamps such as Ethan that had helped to develop a diet for most races of vampire that could almost completely substitute the need for blood and keep its cravings at bay. The discovery had been accidental, however, as the original goal had simply been to find a way to take the average vampire’s already superior strength and develop it further to an almost absurd level. Raina didn’t personally dislike Ethan at all – actually, she barely knew anything about him at all – but she had honestly never cared at all for muscular jocks. It had always seemed that they were trying to overcompensate for something that caused them a great deal of unspoken insecurity. 
Thomas was another matter entirely. He was rather average in height and build, but his face was strikingly handsome, his wavy hair dyed jet black and spilling just over his shoulders and framing his pale face ideally. Raina had a very hard time looking away from his dark brown, almost black eyes. He was the kind of guy that could wear eyeliner and still manage to look very masculine. He also seemed to be very aware of the fact that his eyes were one of his most alluring features. He kept his chin down enough that he was almost looking up to her, deliberately posing himself. The smirk upon his lips was subtle, but knowing. Thomas didn’t need any fancy High Court empathic abilities to know that Raina liked what she saw. 
Finally, Raina stopped nervously nibbling upon her lower lip and broke the silence by clapping her hands together loudly, causing everyone (including herself) to jump a bit. 
“Well then, boys and girls,” she said with a smile, “let’s do this thing, shall we?” 

* * * *

Chapter Four 



Raina stepped around her desk and sat in her chair once more to open the large side drawer. She withdrew her familiar old “tackle box” of phlebotomy supplies that she had brought over from Arizona. From the very beginning, Raina had anticipated that it would likely take some time for her to get used to the idea of drinking blood. It wasn’t so much the blood, itself, that still bothered her as much as the idea of using one’s fangs to extract it from someone else, even if they were a willing donor. 
For one thing, the idea of biting someone to draw blood seemed gross to Raina, at least in a clinical sense. She had always been a bit of a mysophobe, as her mother (a registered nurse) had put the fear into her with horror stories about all kinds of diseases when Raina was young. During her phlebotomy certification classes, the things that she had learned about blood borne pathogens and the terrible things that could get into a person’s body through an open wound had only made those fears worse.
Instead of willfully pushing her bacteria-hosting fangs into someone’s flesh and potentially giving them some kind of terrible infection, she preferred to stick with what she knew to be safe. It was a moot point between vampires because they were not susceptible to common bacterial or viral infections, but she still avoided biting. She took comfort in the clinical sterility of proper phlebotomy – no muss, no fuss. There was little or no pain, the wound healed very quickly, and her donor(s) didn’t have to walk around for a day or two with an ugly wound visible to everyone. Of course, to bear someone else’s “mark” was a sign of ownership amongst vampires, the equivalent of a wedding ring or a personal tattoo. Raina didn’t want anyone to feel owned. She didn’t regard the members of the House of Fallamhain as property. She felt that marking anyone would be akin to branding them like livestock. These were her allies, her friends. Sure, they were vampires, but to her, they were still people.
Just as Duvessa had felt that she could not trust anyone whom she could not love, Raina felt that she could not trust anyone with whom she did not share a mutual sense of respect. Nearly everyone respected Raina by default because of her status as Grand Duchess. However, she could not expect them to trust her if she abused them as Duvessa had. Thus, she almost never drew blood by any means other than clinical phlebotomy. 
“Pull up a chair, take a seat, and roll up a sleeve,” she said to them as she began to lay out her materials carefully. 
Thomas readily took the initiative to be first. He unbuttoned his cuff and rolled up his sleeve before pulling one of the leather chairs up close to the desk and sitting with his pale arm draped across the top. Glancing up as she laid out a few sodium-heparin tubes, sixteen-gauge needles, and safety-lock hubs, Raina saw that Ethan and Sophie were watching her actions very intently with obviously uneasy stares. Thomas, however, was completely oblivious to the instruments that Raina was laying out, instead choosing to focus upon her, meeting her eyes directly. He was still sporting that sly, sexy smile of his. 
“I take it you’re used to this sort of thing?” she asked, trying to make conversation to hopefully distract herself from the swelling lust she was sensing from him, as well as herself. 
“I was one of Duvessa’s regulars,” he replied with a subtle accent not unlike Loki’s, “but she always used her fangs or a knife.” 
“Yeah, well … when someone offers me something as precious as their own blood, I don’t thank them by mutilating them.” 
“Do you not like to bite?” 
Raina paused, setting down a few squares of cotton gauze as she met his eyes. In a very serious tone, she replied, “No. No, I don’t, actually.” 
“May I ask why?” 
She almost told him right away that it was none of his business. Raina considered it for a moment, shrugged, and reached for a few sealed alcohol swabs. 
“I just think this is better,” she told him as finished assembling her equipment and reached across the desk to secure the tourniquet upon his bicep. “It’s cleaner. And I don’t feel like such a monster when I stick someone with a needle. Biting people makes me feel like I’m … I dunno … like I’m some kind of rabid dog or something. Just because I look like an ugly beast doesn’t mean I have to act like one, too.” 
She clicked together the plastic buckle of the tourniquet and cinched it down snugly, although not so tightly that it cut off his arm’s circulation. Without being asked, he clenched his fist a few times, and almost immediately several large, ripe veins swelled into obvious view. Ah, how she much preferred drawing blood from vampires rather than humans. She hoped to never again have to spend fifteen minutes at a time chasing around some elderly person’s thin, fragile veins with a tiny butterfly needle, only to have the damned thing rupture and cause a big, ugly, purple bruise as the vein bled under the surface of their loose, paper-thin, almost transparent skin. 
“You are not an ugly beast, your grace. You are very beautiful,” Thomas assured her as she quickly swabbed at his median cubital vein with the alcohol-soaked square of gauze. 
“Well … I don’t agree,” she said, “but thank you, anyway. That’s very sweet of you.” 
“Are you ashamed of what you are, or just disgusted?” 
She froze for a moment as she began to screw the needle into its hub, looking up to him with an almost offended look. Immediately, his smile vanished as he realized he had mistakenly gone from hitting on her to being nosey. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? What right did he have to take that kind of an almost accusatory tone with her? Her whole Grand Duchess status aside, it just wasn’t the sort of thing a guy should be asking a gal during a typical getting-to-know-you kind of conversation. It was the sort of question she might have expected to hear from an opinionated TV show host. He was wrong to say it, he knew it immediately, and she didn’t bother to disguise the look upon her face that let him know it hadn’t escaped her attention, either. 
“I … I am sorry, your grace, I…” 
“Let’s just dispense with the chit-chat and get this over with,” she said, abruptly yanking the cap off the needle, grabbing his wrist, and none-too-gently piercing his swollen vein. She was never rough with her draws, never, but in that moment, she took some small sadistic bit of satisfaction in poking him with something sharp and making him wince. It seemed fair in that instant, a little bit of his physical pain for the little bit of emotional pain he had (unintentionally) given her. 
She knew that she was extremely on-edge because of her thirst, and so her spontaneously angry reaction was, of course, a bit out of hand. She normally would have just shrugged it off, let it slide, and not even let him know that it bothered her. While the Change had brought with it an end to her monthly cycle, being on the edge of bloodlust made even her worst PMS episodes as a human seem harmlessly mild by comparison. Quite frankly, being a vampire had turned her into a severely moody bitch, especially when she continually neglected her need for blood. 
Thomas’s blood spurted into the vacuum tube as soon as she pushed its rubber cap into the hub of the needle, making a wet gurgling sound as the bright red fluid began to squirt into it. Raina was immediately apologetic, at least on the inside, for having acted so harshly towards him, but she said nothing. She had learned that sometimes, even when she knew she was wrong, it was best not to admit any error or wrongdoing as Grand Duchess, for to do so would undermine others’ confidence in her ability to lead. She did not personally agree with the concept, but with Olivia’s guidance, she had at least been shown that it was at least sometimes a legitimate policy. Olivia had taught her that, as a leader and particularly as the head of a monarchy, one should never be seen as subordinate in any way, however subtle, to one’s followers; as Raina saw it, it was the nature of her position that required her to act like a haughty snot a lot of the time, or at least occasionally. 
The tube filled quickly, and she deftly held the needle and tube in place with one hand while using the other to grab a fresh tube. With just the movement of the fingers of her left hand, she pulled the first tube off and pushed the second one into the hub, again rewarded with that soft squirting sound. Lately, that sound had always seemed to bring back the audio memory of refilling her plastic bottle with cold filtered water from the cooler at the back of the hospital laboratory where she once worked. The fluid that filled this was far smaller in quantity, far redder, much warmer, and admittedly much more refreshing. She actually had to fight the temptation to pop the top off the first tube and knock it back like a shot of booze while the second one filled. Instead, she simply stared at the second tube, fascinated as always by the sight of its filling. 
Without thinking, as soon as the second tube was almost completely full, she withdrew from his vein and immediately clicked the safety cap into position over the needle. Having forgotten to first remove the tourniquet, there was enough blood pressure in his vein to cause a small stream of blood to quickly drool from the puncture site. It quickly trailed around to the underside of his elbow before she even had a chance to grab a couple of squares of cotton gauze and press it over the wound. Not only was she feeling out of practice, she was getting terribly sloppy with her procedures. The sooner she could satisfy her craving, her need, the sooner she could start to mellow out a bit and get herself under control. It appeared that Olivia had been right, after all. Raina was so anemic, she was becoming a jittery wreck. 
“Sorry,” she murmured without even thinking, and then immediately regretted that verbal error, as well. 
Thomas lifted his arm and began to arise from the chair, keeping his elbow up and tilting his forearm down in an effort to avoid dripping upon the desk or the carpet. He began to try to sop up the trail of blood when Sophie suddenly lunged at him from nearby, taking his arm in both her hands. 
“Wait,” she said. Their eyes met for a moment and she smiled mischievously. “Allow me.” 
Sophie brought his arm closer to her face, parted her glossy pink lips, and flicked her tongue out at the small blood trail, working her way up from the back of his elbow around to the front and lifting the gauze to get at the wound site. Just as Sophie sealed her lips around the puncture site, Ethan stepped forth and physically pulled them apart. 
“Hey, hey,” he said, “what’s wrong with you? What do you think you’re doing?” 
Sophie stepped back and just looked at him with wide, innocent, clueless eyes as she smacked her lips, savoring the taste of Thomas. Thomas was momentarily just as surprised as Sophie, but quickly recovered and frowned at her. 
“Nobody gave you permission,” he informed her, pressing the gauze square over the wound again as it began to ooze just one fat, precious drop more.
“Oh, I … I’m sorry,” Sophie finally said after a moment. She turned to Raina, now with eyes slightly widened with growing fear. “I didn’t think that I—…” 
“Sophie!” Ethan hissed in sort of a loud whisper. 
Raina simply stood and looked at them in silence for a few moments. She was still so distracted by the thought that two perfectly good, warm … no, two very hot vials of blood were awaiting her on the desk before her. The longer she delayed, the cooler they would become, and the less pleasant they would be to suck down – the physiological effect would still be there, regardless of temperature, but the experience would suffer. In fact, it was really only with Ethan’s warning to Sophie that Raina snapped out of her momentary trance. She had heard everything, and yet she hadn’t been paying the least bit of attention, honestly – just background noise. 
Trying her best to recover from her awkwardness, Raina gave Sophie a rather devilish smile. “They’re both right, Sophie. You weren’t invited to taste him.” 
“And no one should feed before the highest vampire present,” Ethan added, “unless she gives you permission first.” 
“Thank you, Ethan,” she said with a brief glance and nod in his direction, keeping her attention upon Sophie. Raina slowly wagged a finger at her, clucking her tongue. “Considering that Lady Olivia is both your Maker and your aunt, I would think that you’d know better.” 
Sophie met her gaze a moment longer and then quickly looked away to the floor, only shyly and reluctantly bringing herself to try to make eye contact again. She took a moment to gauge Raina’s sincerity and then, apparently recognizing the smile she saw as genuine, she relaxed with a novice vampire’s fang-baring grin. She had not been a vampire for very long, perhaps not even much longer than Raina.
“I am sorry, your grace,” she said as she clasped her hands behind her back and rocked from side to side. “I didn’t mean to be a bad girl.” 
Raina rolled her eyes at that and waved it off. Unlike her aunt, Sophie was of a younger and more open-minded generation. While Raina still knew next to nothing of the young Commoner, she was willing to bet that Sophie was at least somewhat attracted to other females, based upon what she sensed from the girl. However, it was just that fact about Sophie – that she was only a girl, really, and still very much looked like one – that kept Raina in check. She would not allow herself to even begin to rise to the seductive bait as she had felt herself doing with Thomas. 
Ah, yes, that thought brought her eyes back to Thomas. He was backing away now with that handsome smile of his, again lowering his chin to look up at her slightly as he did so to maximize the effect of his looks. Had she been wrong to commit herself to Loki? Of course, it wasn’t the first time she had asked herself as much, but more and more she was beginning to question the validity of her own determination to remain monogamous with her one and only bloodspawn, her first and only consort. 
Could she really stay faithful to Loki, given her condition? Bloodlust came and went, but love was forever … right? Or had she mistakenly confused the two? Surely, Duvessa would have argued the complete opposite; surely, by her rationale, the inevitability of losing loved ones to death meant that love was finite, whereas bloodlust was a condition with which one would have to contend forever as a vampire. Raina hated to even find herself pondering that, loathing the idea that she was second-guessing the sanctity of love’s very nature.
It seemed as though she had taken some measure of Duvessa’s soul into herself when she had inherited her role. Or, at the very least, in being Duvessa’s bloodspawn by descent (only one generation removed), perhaps it was Duvessa’s blood in her veins that was serving to corrupt her thoughts and warp her perspective. Perhaps her desire to prove that she was nothing like her predecessor was futile and naïve, a losing battle that would ultimately and inevitably result in her becoming the very sort of personality … no, the very sort of monster that she despised. 
Breaking the awkward silence and relative stillness, Ethan stepped forward and sat in the chair where Thomas had been only moments ago. His thick arm was laid upon the desk with a meaty thump. 
“I am happy to offer my vein to you, your grace,” he said proudly, his voice again not quite as deep nor as harsh as his imposing physical size would seem to imply. 
“That’s good to know,” she said as she dropped the first used needle and hub into a compact sharps container inside her equipment box. She held up the next sheathed sixteen-gauge needle she intended to use. “Then I won’t feel quite so guilty for poking you with this.” 
His fearless, somewhat macho act was easy enough to see through, even without her ability to sense his unmistakable fear. She could see his eyes following her every movement as she uncapped the rear section of the needle and threaded it into the hub, his eyes remaining transfixed upon that small instrument in her hand while she grabbed a couple more gauze squares and a wrapped alcohol swab.
Why was it that the biggest, beefiest guys she’d ever drawn blood from were usually the biggest wimps when it came to needles? It seemed almost backwards to her that guys such as Ethan probably wouldn’t have thought twice about letting someone such as herself or, say, Sophie press their fangs – those dirty, germy things – into his neck or wrist. If he was willing to do something that barbaric and grossly unpleasant, it seemed silly that he was practically terrified of having a teeny-tiny little bit of clinically sterile metal poked into a properly cleansed and sterilized site on his body. 
She wrapped the tourniquet around his huge bicep and was surprised to find that she barely had enough length in the device to even latch the thing closed. It barely even required a tug to cinch it down and make his pipeline-like veins practically pop right out within a couple of seconds. His wasn’t the biggest arm from which she’d ever drawn. No, that title belonged to a morbidly obese patient from whom she’d drawn in her hospital days, one whose arms had been so big that she’d actually had to tie together two disposable rubber tourniquets to get enough length to go around the circumference of that woman’s arm. But Ethan’s veins were quite possibly the thickest and most prominent she’d ever had an opportunity to stick. Just as she had actually enjoyed drawing from pregnant women in the hospital, whose veins were almost always ripe and easy to hit due to their condition, Raina had long ago come to take a perverse pleasure in drawing blood from vampires. It wasn’t just the fact that they always, always had huge and easy-to-hit veins, but also the reversal of roles that thrilled her – to suck blood from a blood-sucker. Of course, in the wake of her Change, that latter bit of excitement had completely lost its luster. 
Partly out of habit, and partly because she simply wanted to, Raina ran her finger over the visible ridges of Ethan’s very prominent veins. They felt like thick strands of spaghetti under silk. If she had ever truly felt tempted to give in to a natural urge to forego the needle and try to bite a vein directly, it had been in that moment. She could totally imagine herself lifting that thick arm up to her mouth, opening wide, sinking her teeth down upon it carefully, and feeling her fangs push into him with the sensation of a very soft pop as his felt gave way. She would seal her lips around the wound, withdraw her teeth slightly, and just take in all that hot, deliciousness, probably not even needing to suck upon it at all and simply letting his blood pressure shoot that sanguine wine into her mouth, across her tongue, down her throat… 
“Your grace?” 
Raina blinked and realized that she had been stroking his arm with both hands and leaning across the desk to lower to face to it. She sprang back and stood bolt upright as she let go of him, blinking her eyes firmly and shaking her head a couple of times to clear the fog from her mind. She was quickly losing her grip upon reality. This was not a good sign. She had not allowed herself to get to this stage in months, perhaps not at all since her duel with the Countess. Through a combination of stress, sleep deprivation, and a lack of proper nutrition – specifically, the absence of blood in her diet for far, far too long – she was teetering on a razor’s edge between sane control and outright bloodlust. She needed to get this over with, and soon. 
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insisted, hurriedly tearing open the foil seal of the alcohol swab and rubbing at the inside crook of Ethan’s elbow. 
She was mostly clinging to her phlebotomist training in using alcohol, although it was additionally in part to her lingering mysophobia. Raina did not want to be seen as incompetent by causing anyone to become ill or injured as a result of her feeding upon them. As Grand Duchess, she had already mediated a quarrel between two Houses that were very nearly at war over the exsanguination death of one bloodline’s member caused by the careless feeding of another. The last thing she needed was a grievance to be issued against her, especially at that time, if one of Lady Olivia’s subjects developed some manner of infection and/or injury as a result of her having fed upon them.
Raina’s actions were much more controlled this time, although she was a bit surprised to find that when she pressed the tube into the receiver end of the hub, no blood was produced. Realizing her error, she withdrew the needle slightly and then the blood began to flow readily, as the bevel of the needle had been lying against the inner wall of the opposite side of Ethan’s vein – sort of like a vacuum hose sucking itself onto a throw rug. She not only could feel and hear the contained splash of the fluid into the tube in her hand, she could feel its warmth. Vampires’ bodies tended to run a few degrees hotter on average than humans, and so their blood seemed absolutely hot by comparison to the humans from which she had drawn in the past. 
Ethan had turned his face away to avoid looking at the actual moment of puncture, and even then he still kept his gaze averted. Raina saw him looking up to Sophie as he scowled. A glance to her right revealed Sophie struggling not to laugh out loud. 
“What’s so funny?” Ethan demanded with a near-snarl. 
Giggling slightly, Sophie shook her head as she replied, “You are such a big baby! It’s only a needle.” 
Raina tried not to smile. “It’s not nice to mock others’ fears.” 
“I’m not afraid,” Ethan stated. 
“Then why aren’t you looking at the needle?” Sophie persisted. 
He hesitated, then turned to face Raina as he said, “I would much rather look at you.” 
With one tube full, Raina switched it out and pressed on a second, this time remembering to release the tourniquet before the end of the draw. Was Ethan hitting on her, too? If so, it wasn’t working. All of this attention and attraction was really quite flattering, but the only one whom she felt herself really responding to was Thomas, and she wasn’t ready to accept another fellow into her bed. For that matter, she wasn’t sure that Loki would have been willing to share, anyhow. It was seen by others as something of a problem because it meant that the House of Fallamhain was severely limited in its members. The Fallamhain race was an extremely endangered species, so to speak. Raina was aware that, at some point, she would simply need to look past her personal preferences and think more practically.
For now, it was just too soon to think about such things. She was only moderately attracted to a few individuals besides Loki at the time, and none of them could become a Fallamhain by blood, only in name, for they were already vampires. And anyway, Raina wasn’t into collecting bedmates in the same way that reclusive old ladies collected cats. She’d never been successful at maintaining an intimate relationship for more than a couple of months before, anyway, so she was content to focus upon Loki. Adding more lovers to the equation surely would have been a formula for disaster.
She finished the draw and expertly withdrew the needle with a clean reverse stroke, immediately using the nearby gauze to cover the tiny dot of blood that welled up to the surface in its wake. She held the gauze in place upon his arm, applying slight pressure with her fingertips, and she clicked the needle’s safety guard into place before dropping it into the same sharps disposal container as the first needle. Raina picked up the four tubes she’d thus drawn and tilted them slowly and carefully back and forth to make sure the anticoagulant heparin mixed properly. Nobody liked lumpy, clotted blood. 
“Two down, one to go,” she sighed as Ethan got up. 
Almost immediately, Ethan began to wobble, as though some invisible entity were kicking at the back of his knees. Then, all at once, he collapsed to the floor with a groan. Sophie gasped and dropped to her knees beside him immediately. Thomas actually chuckled under his breath as he also dropped to one leg near him. Raina simply stood on the other side of the desk and looked down with a heavy sigh, shaking her head. The big lug had fainted, felled by his anxiety over the needle for which he’d claimed to have no fear. 
“Oh, God … Ethan? Ethan, can you hear me? Ethan, are you okay?” Sophie demanded with sudden near-panic, helping Thomas roll the beefy Sabertooth onto his back. 
“He’ll be fine,” Raina assured her. “Keep his head level and his back straight, and if he starts to puke, roll him onto his side so he doesn’t choke on it. He’ll come out of it in a little bit.” She reached into the supply box and withdrew another set of essentials, looking to Sophie. “Now, if we can just get this last draw out of the way…?” 
Sophie looked up to her, initially confused, then stunned, and finally fearful. She apparently had some concern that she could potentially have the same reaction to having her blood drawn as Ethan, although another part of her fear perhaps had more to do with the very idea of approaching the Grand Duchess directly. Begrudgingly, although not delaying long enough to cause protest, she arose and sat in the chair, stepping over Ethan’s outstretched legs while Thomas remained kneeling to attend to his fallen comrade. 
Sophie’s arm, as she laid it upon the desk almost timidly, seemed positively fragile by comparison to the one from which Raina had just drawn moments ago. In fact, overall, Sophie appeared dangerously delicate, as though a strong and sudden breeze could knock her over with ease. She wasn’t exactly bony, but she was definitely too thin for her own size. Apparently, the Change had been quite difficult for her and she was still trying to build her weight back up, even months after the fact. Some vampires were just slow to adapt their lifestyle and eating habits to fit their new metabolism. Raina could understand that completely, as she had never returned to her pre-Change weight. In fact, at that time Raina was just a pound or two thinner than she remembered having been in high school.
Raina wondered if perhaps this was because Sophie was as reluctant as her to regularly accept blood when it was offered to her, either because of her own ethics or simply her squeamishness. Perhaps Olivia was not seeing to the physiological needs of her bloodspawn. If it turned out that Olivia was deliberately starving her niece, then Raina would have to begin exercising her authority a bit more firmly. If it came to that, she would need to think of a way to penalize Olivia without damaging her advisor’s loyalty to her. Even as a human, it had disturbed and angered Raina to see Makers abusing or neglecting their bloodspawn, even before she’d met Duvessa. Without exception, she absolutely would not tolerate abuse within her House. 
Raina hesitated for a moment as she was about to break the seal around the third needle’s cap. “When was the last time you fed?” 
Sophie blinked at her almost dumbly for a moment, then she pondered the question for another second or two before shrugging her shoulders and replying, “A couple of days ago, I think.” 
“And who is your steady blood?” 
“We are,” Thomas replied from the floor, raising his hand. 
Raina raised an eyebrow to that. “Olivia gave you two servants?” 
“Servants? Oh, no, no,” she said with a chuckle, “we’re just friends. We drink from each other.” 
She shook her head at that. “You have to get nutrition from somewhere. You have to get fresh blood at some point, or at least something close to it,” Raina insisted. “Vampires can’t live off of other vampires, exclusively. They have to have an outside source.” 
“We take supplements,” Thomas replied. 
“That’s it?” 
Sophie shrugged. “Every now and then we … go out.” 
Raina narrowed her eyes at her. “Hunting?” 
“No, no,” she replied immediately. A moment later, submitting to the intensity of Raina’s stare, she admitted, “I mean … not exactly.” 
“Sophie...” Raina said in a low, warning tone. 
“We go to clubs, you see. We … you know … we socialize,” Sophie elaborated, gesturing nervously with her hands. “It’s okay, though. We do everything legally. We always make sure to have their consent. It’s not as though we hang around alleys and pounce on drunks.” 
“But you do feed on humans,” Raina said for her. 
Sophie shrugged. “It’s not against the law if we follow the rules. Auntie O is very specific about that.” 
“She’s not the only one.” Raina took one final long look at Sophie and finally shook her head. She began to put away her materials as she said, “Never mind, Sophie. I’ve got plenty for tonight. Thank you, anyway.” 
She sat in silence and watched with a clearly disappointed expression as Raina hurriedly closed up her box of supplies, shut it, and placed it back in the drawer before shutting it again. She watched Raina pick up the four tubes she had drawn from the Sabertooth males and tilt them back and forth a few more times out of habit, meeting her gaze. Her reaction was that of unmistakable sadness. 
“You … you don’t want me?” Sophie asked softly. 
“It’s nothing personal,” she assured her, “but I just don’t think it would be a good idea. Quite honestly, you don’t really look like you have any to spare.” 
She glanced down at herself, then looked back up, and actually began to pout. “But … I’m offering myself to you freely! I want to give you my blood, your grace!” 
“I just don’t feel comfortable feeding from you,” Raina informed her flatly. 
“Is it because Olivia is my aunt?” 
“Not entirely, no.” 
“Is it because I’m a girl?” 
“No,” she said again. Then, a moment later, “Not really, no.” 
“But … I thought you liked girls? Y’know, like Lady Brenna…?” 
Raina stopped tilting the tubes and stared at her. For an instant, she felt something welling up within her, and fortunately, this time, Raina recognized it for what it was before it could come out on its own. She stuffed down her automatic anger with a long, deep inhalation of breath that she held for a moment or two. 
At last, Raina said, “I think it would be best if you all went downstairs now.” 
“Your grace, I’m sorry, I—…” 
“Now, Sophie!” Raina snapped loudly, actually making the girl-vamp flinch. 
Raina stood with her left hand clenched in a painfully tight fist at her left side as she watched Sophie carefully rise and formally bow to her before backing away towards the door. Ethan had already regained consciousness, and Thomas managed to help him to his feet as quickly as he could manage without being asked, throwing one of Ethan’s huge arms over his shoulders as he practically carried the other Sabertooth out of the study. Sophie held the door open for him and shut it behind him as they exited, although not before taking one last glance at Raina. For an instant, she somehow looked to Raina like a sad, abused kitten. As with Thomas, she immediately regretted the results of her poor emotional control, but again, she would not apologize. Anyway, the door had closed and Raina was alone now … alone with a handful of hot, fresh blood. 
Raina allowed herself to flop back into her chair as she held the four vials of bright red salvation up and looked at them closely. When it was in a tube like this, she had found, it was a simple thing not to think of it as blood, and much easier to lie to herself and pretend it was something else – perhaps a really thick fruit punch. It was detached from its previous owner, and therefore it longer seemed like what it really was. Drinking it from these containers helped to remove the guilt she would have otherwise felt if she had instead taken it with her fangs, or some other brutal manner that involved placing her lips directly upon her donor. It was clean, sterile, formal, and just so … pure.
Unable to contain herself any longer, she popped the top on one of the vials, put it to her lips, tilted her head back, and downed it in a single gulp, barely giving it a chance to even hit her tongue along the way. The blood of every vampiric race was quite different in flavor, ranging from almost grossly bitter (Nosferatu) to impossibly sweet (High Court). For whatever reason, a Sabertooth’s blood was the closest she had found to what she remembered human blood having tasted like … although she had never actually tasted human blood since becoming a vampire. It was sharp, coppery, and only had a vague sweetness to smooth it out enough to be palatable. Undoubtedly, it was an acquired taste, but she had already come to appreciate it, just as absinthe had recently become one of her alcoholic drinks of choice. 
Raina closed her eyes and recapped the tube as she sat in silent stillness for a few moments, moving her tongue about in her mouth a bit to savor the lingering taste. She felt the warmth of the small drink oozing down inside of her, spreading its warmth slowly throughout her body much in the same way as a shot of good rum. After a moment, she exhaled almost explosively as she realized she’d been holding her breath for quite some time. It felt like a tipping-over point as she finally began a gradual but sure return toward control and relaxation. With a swiftness far greater than alcohol, but every bit as soothing (if not more so), Raina felt the relief and comfort of the blood’s effect taking hold of her, wringing a heavy sigh of gratitude from her. 
She felt herself practically melting into the chair, aware of the fact that she probably was acting like a typical heroin junkie getting their fix. Oh well. Nobody was here to watch her. Nobody could see the real nature of the Grand Duchess Raina Fallamhain, whom everyone seemed to think was so different, so superior to the departed Grand Duchess Duvessa Fallamhain. No, everyone had been made quite well aware of just how brutal and wicked and sadistic Duvessa had been. The image Duvessa had tried to promote of herself all those years had proven to be a lie. Her manufactured image of being pure and good and above all those brutal stereotypes applied to all vampires had seemed almost like a sick joke. Raina was largely to blame for that with the testimony she had given both to the authorities and in a couple of media interviews. Those that had known Duvessa personally had hardly been surprised. She had been selfish, egotistical, power-hungry, and depraved in ways that went beyond sexuality. Really, it seemed that there weren’t many people Raina knew who actually missed Duvessa, now that she was dead. 
But Raina wasn’t like that. No, she couldn’t be. Raina had killed Countess Wilhelmina, Duvessa’s wickedly vengeful offspring, and she was largely responsible for the death of Duvessa, herself. Given, a hail of gunfire from security officers was what had actually killed her, and in all honesty Raina had been only moments away from losing the bloody melee with her Maker-by-descent. Nevertheless, Raina felt responsible for Duvessa’s death. Had she not said what she had, and when she had said it, Duvessa would never have flown into such a rage in the first place. Raina had been the spark to start the fire that ultimately had consumed her mistress. 
But no, Raina was not the same brand of bloodthirsty bitch as the former ruler … or at least that was everyone else’s perception. Raina was just a lower-middle-class working gal that had been yanked from her human life, dragged into the world of vampirism, and then thrust into the middle of a violent feud between two High Court vampires. Good had prevailed, evil had been defeated, and poor, innocent Raina now had to live her days as a hybrid mixed-race vampire forced into the role of Grand Duchess, the queen of all vampires. She had the pointy ears and fangs and glowing skin … but deep down inside, she was just a regular girl like any other. She was nothing like Duvessa, nothing at all. In spite of all outward appearances, at her core, she was still Raina Delgado. 
Yeah, right.
Raina could at least admit that she had been buying into the myth for a few months, herself. It wasn’t a pleasant reality to face, but it was an inevitable truth that she could neither deny nor conceal forever. She was a vampire. She lived for this. She lived to drink the blood of others. She was a monster. Sure, there were synthetic alternatives, and sure, she could go without blood for a great deal longer than most other vampires. But she would always need to quench this thirst at some point. The substitutes were never adequate, only a supplement. Nothing could beat the real thing. And this was the real thing, no doubt about it. 
“One good shot deserves another,” she sighed as she removed the top from a second tube and tipped it back. 
This time, she held the substance in her mouth for awhile, and only swallowed part of it at first. Was she being gross? If she grinned in a mirror right now, her teeth would appear to be stained an ugly, rusty color. If she stuck it out, her tongue would be a bright, gory red color. But nobody else was there. Nobody was there to witness her indulgence, her momentary acceptance of her true identity. Yes, she still had to deny herself the actual biting part. Yes, she still insisted upon drinking from a tube or a glass rather than straight from the flesh. But she was at least accepting that, yes, this really was blood that she was drinking. Yes, she had refused to take as much blood as she easily could have from her donors. And she had already come to terms with the fact that, yes, it was outstandingly, terribly, sinfully exquisite. 
She swallowed the rest of that shot. Oh, God, it was more than just good. It was outright liquid sex – pure, hot, wet, and silky-smooth. Nothing should ever taste that good, nothing.
“That looks delicious.”
Raina turned and, with heavily-lidded eyes, looked over to see Loki standing in the doorway. There was a somewhat amused expression upon his handsome face.
“What, this stuff?” she asked, holding up the emptied tube.
“No,” he replied, “you.”
Raina smiled, gave him her best come-hither look, and curled a finger at him. He smiled a bit, closed the door behind himself, and engaged the privacy lock. His timing was impeccable. Loki was desirable enough in any other given situation, but the addition of a strong blood-buzz made that tall, handsome blonde bloodspawn of hers seem like an oasis to a parched victim of a desert. He either sensed her desire, or perhaps the look she was giving him and her mannerisms made it plainly obvious. Either way, there really was no need for words.
As soon as he was within reach, she latched onto the lapels of his shirt and pulled him into a fierce kiss. Their lips met firmly, and as tongues came into play, the taste of blood that was shared became less a matter of what Raina had just consumed and more a flavor of what was being freshly shed. Fangs and knife-edged teeth were usually more of an unpleasant hazard than anything in most situations, but she had come to love being clumsy about her kisses with him. The intermingling sweetness of bloodshed was an aphrodisiac like none other. He shared the sentiment, as well, for the feel of his thick firmness trapped between their bodies was more than enough to convey his approval.
“I need it now,” she told him breathlessly as she turned her face aside for just a moment, reaching to the front of his slacks and jerking down his zipper. “Right here, right now.” 
He said nothing in reply, though no verbal response was required. His physical state was more than enough to provide a convincing answer. She could not even be bothered to remove anything, for that would have simply taken too much time – only a few seconds, sure, but those were seconds that could be better spent otherwise. Besides, clothed lovemaking was something of a fetish of hers, as every experience could be made so much more different simply by changing outfits. Thus, she simply hiked up her skirt a bit more, moved aside the gusset of her thong underwear, and let him lean into her. 
It hurt. It always hurt. Brenna had once warned her that, as a vampire, every time was her “first” time. No amount of arousal ever fully prepared her for sex. Proper foreplay only made it less painful, but never completely painless. And being that there had been absolutely no time for foreplay, it really hurt. There would be bleeding, she could feel it. And for a brief moment, she was all too horribly reminded of the sensation of Countess Wilhelmina’s sword being thrust into her body … as well as other far less pleasant memories, sadly enough. This intimate form of injury was almost enough to completely kill the mood. Almost … but not quite. 
Raina held her breath for as long as she could until she felt him stop his initial advance, at which point she pushed herself up enough to bury her face in his shoulder to muffle her scream. She cried out in both agony and passionate release, her eyes actually rolling up and back into her head as she then fell back almost limply onto the desk. She reached up with both hands to caress his face from where she lay, but rather roughly, he took charge of the situation by pinning her wrists together above her head onto the desk with one hand. He began to move, slowly at first, giving her a chance to adjust and accommodate him while he coated himself with her arousal and her blood.
The pace quickened as soon as they both felt that everything was in order. He was relentless, swift, and powerful with every movement. Although she had stifled that first scream to avoid drawing anyone’s attention, Raina made very little effort to hold back the sounds that now escaped her – probably not loud enough to be heard outside of the study, but genuine and graphic enough to be embarrassing. She was vulgar, lewd, and breathless with her words of encouragement, as she often was. She loved to “let go” when she had sex. Raina never gave much thought to it when she was in the heat of the moment, but the things that she said and how she said them were very unlike her everyday self. If someone were to record these things and play them back to her later, she would have sworn that the words and sounds had come from someone else.
She endured the hammering for as long as he gave it. Abruptly, he stopped and grabbed both of her wrists, pulling her upright. When he withdrew, she gasped and actually moved to try to return him to his rightful place, until he spoke. 
“Stand up,” he told her. “Hurry.” 
Raina did not mind letting him take charge in times like this. She was not submissive, and in all actuality he was doing more to serve her than she was doing to pleasure him. She desperately needed this, and if it required her to follow a few small commands from a lower-ranking vampire, well, then so be it. Had she been Duvessa, she would have taken issue with it and chosen to do something terrible to Loki in response, punishing him for his subtle indiscretion. As she saw it, though, this act was something a bit less sweet than lovemaking, but not quite as simple as raw sex. As far as she cared, official titles and the like went out the window in times like this. Indeed, she was nothing at all like Duvessa, at least in this regard. 
Her legs were so shaky that Loki actually had to help her stand upright, but soon enough, he turned her around and allowed her to lay her upper body down upon the desk. A moment later, he was back inside, and she felt him much more deeply than before, deep enough that it hardly even seemed safe. The sounds of flesh upon flesh, the slick sounds of sodden reciprocation, and their unsynchronized, labored breathing seemed to fill the room with an invisible aura of passion. She closed her eyes and, for awhile, she continued to do nothing more than take it, savor it, and wish that it would never end. However, her hands again became motivated by thoughts unknown, and one found its way down past the hemline of her skirt to where they joined, adding an additional measure of stimulation … as if it was even necessary. 
As her right hand was busied, she did manage to take conscious control of her left to slightly open the main desk drawer that was to her left. She grabbed the two remaining full tubes of blood, shut the drawer, popped the cap on one, and rather awkwardly tried to drink it. She was not as quick about it as she needed to be, and so she managed to sloppily spill a bit of it from her lips, feeling the warm, thin fluid spill over her chin and slowly down the side of her throat. Oh well. She emptied the rest of the tube as best she could, tapping it with her fingertips as though she could shake out every last drop of it, and then she slapped it down upon the desk’s surface, immediately picking up the last tube and popping the top.
This one she downed more cleanly, and as she held it between her teeth for a few moments and flicked her tongue at its opening to catch every last bit she could extract from it, she slowly melted down upon the desk as the intoxicating effects of this dose began to join with that of the prior tubes in taking hold of her body. She let the tube fall from her lips, not caring if it dripped upon the desk – too late for that, anyway, for there were other fluids already upon its surface – and she swished a bit of that sacred elixir about in her mouth once more before swallowing it. Within seconds, she was as high as she could be, the “buzz” of blood making the intoxication of even the best alcohol seem quite mild by comparison. For awhile, the world consisted of nothing more than the delicious warmth that spread throughout her body from one end and the warmth that was pummeling her from the opposite direction. 
It went very quickly from there. Perhaps not even five minutes from the time they began, she felt his climax arriving far in advance of its actual occurrence. As always, in that she sensed his feelings as her own and vise-versa, they climaxed as one, feeding off one another’s ultimate height of passion, hers triggering his and his making hers all the more intense. He held her fiercely by her hips and ground himself against her as he filled her, his fingers digging into her flesh so harshly that there would surely be some bruising afterward … and she did not bruise easily. Raina’s back was arched so severely that it, too, was a cause for pain, but she was virtually numb to everything else but the totality of orgasm. Her eyes closed, she saw odd, silent bursts of color in her vision, and her gasps were ragged as she shuddered with the waves of her spasms. The finish seemed to last for almost as long as the main event, itself. At last, Raina collapsed upon the desk, sprawling her upper body out upon it lazily as Loki all but fell atop her from behind. They remained like that for perhaps a full minute before Raina could even manage to remember how to speak. 
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Oh … God … I needed that.” 
Slowly, Loki withdrew, causing her to gasp and shudder once more with a fresh aftershock. She very nearly fell off the desk and onto the floor, but Loki kept a hand upon her at the base of her spine, pinning her safely in place. She probably would need a change of clothes now – they both would – but she had no regrets. She didn’t even care if the stains would never come out. She could buy more. She wasn’t foolish with spending her wealth, but she was also aware that she was at no risk of being short on money anytime soon. If having to replace stained clothes on a regular basis was her worst financial indulgence, then the odds were fairly good that her vast fortune would last almost indefinitely.
When Raina finally could manage to support herself with her legs and push herself up from the desk, Loki took his hand away from her and stepped back. Before she even turned around, he had put himself back in order and zipped up. Aside from a few beads of sweat upon his brow and the remaining bulge in his pants, there was hardly anything about him to show for their coupling; Raina, on the other hand, was sure that she looked a total mess … and she loved it. He had ravished her. The sex was always good, and it was usually longer and had more variety to it than this, but she could hardly recall a time before then where it had been so brutally intense. Perhaps only their first time together had been that hardcore … perhaps, although everything about that night was still an alcohol-blurred memory. If sex on the edge of bloodlust was always this good, then there was a good chance that she might develop a dangerous habit of trying to replicate this experience in the future. 
“So … how do I look?” she asked with a smile, holding open her arms. 
Strangely, Loki’s face seemed utterly blank as he said, “I’ll get Svetlana.” 
Surprised by his bland response and strange attitude in the aftermath, Raina watched him turn and head towards the hallway door. 
“Hey,” she called, halting him with that one word. He turned to face her, wiping the sweat from his brow but otherwise looking almost … bored. “What’s wrong?” 
He shrugged in reply. 
“You enjoyed it, right?” 
Again, he said nothing, but he did at least nod in agreement. She could sense it, something that had been in him all along, the entire time they had been doing it, although she had been so caught up in everything else in the experience that she hadn’t been able to focus on it until then. There was an undeniable sadness, deep and sure, and a hurt that seemed to come from nowhere. Was it something she had said? Had he taken to heart the words she had spoken earlier in her brash anger? Or had she been overlooking something for some time before that? 
After a few seconds of silence between them, she finally said, “Love you.” 
“I love you, too, your grace,” he replied. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway before closing it a bit firmly, leaving her alone, bloodied, wet, disheveled, and surrounded by hundreds of volumes of books that held no answers to the questions that now haunted her.

* * * *

Chapter Five



After a long, uncomfortable bout of silence in the back of the limousine, Raina finally asked, “Did I miss something?” 
Lady Svetlana had been lost in her own thoughts moments before then, staring blankly out the window. She turned to Raina with one of her thin blonde eyebrows slightly raised in silent question. Svetlana had been acting every bit as strangely as Loki in the past few days, perhaps even more so, though she was as skilled as ever at masking any outward sign that anything at all was bothering her. She could sense within Svetlana a terrible dread, a constant stress that seemed all the more intense when Raina spoke with her.
She could think of nothing that she had said or done to Svetlana, however, to warrant such feelings. As far as she was concerned, Svetlana was one of the few dear friends she had in this world, someone in whom she could confide without guilt or without fear of judgment. Svetlana was a no-nonsense, straightforward, bluntly honest source of advice in all of the things about which Raina had never felt comfortable discussing with Olivia … which meant pretty much everything outside of High Court politics, really and even a bit of that, as well. 
“Does everyone think I’m committing suicide tonight, or what?” she asked, nervously clasping the hilt of the sword in her lap. 
Svetlana shook her head lightly. “No. We are afraid for you, but we do not say this is suicide.” 
Svetlana had been working to expand her English vocabulary over the past few months, and while her grammar was not exactly horrible, her Russian accent and her sometimes odd way of phrasing things still presented a significant language barrier at times. It was sometimes only through Raina’s High Court sensitivities that she was able to discern what Svetlana truly meant to say when her words failed her. Actually, it was more of an endearing trait than an annoyance. 
“What’s the problem, then?” 
Hesitantly, Svetlana admitted, “Is not about the Elders … but is about … other thing.” 
“What other thing?” Raina persisted. “You mean the stuff in the cellar?” 
“No … but yes, maybe.” Svetlana shrugged, looking down. “I am afraid of you.” 
“You mean, you’re afraid for me,” Raina suggested. 
“No,” she insisted, “I am afraid of you. I … I do not know how to say. My English is shit.” 
Raina smiled. “Forget it. My Russian is way, way worse than your English ever will be. I can’t even order a drink in Russian.” 
Her beautiful Commoner servant was not smiling, though. If anything, her blank expression had been replaced with something of a frown. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Unlike Raina, Svetlana was not prone to exhibiting any strong emotions. Even when her friend, Noriko, had been killed by Countess Wilhelmina months ago, she had shown almost no visible sign of anger. Instead, the more emotionally charged a situation became, the colder, calmer, and more detached Svetlana would act, practically as devoid of emotion as a machine. If he had even been half as emotionless and aloof as Svetlana so often appeared, Loki would have simply been too creepy for Raina to have found attractive in the first place. 
Loki was with Simon and the others in the second vehicle, a Jaguar sedan, as it had become common practice, and they were far enough ahead that they were likely already at their destination. He had insisted upon this routine of transportation, sometimes switching places in the lead vehicle with Raina. Loki did not think it wise to present their enemies with an opportunity to wipe out the entire Fallamhain bloodline with a single car bomb.
Thus, Raina was the only true Fallamhain in the vehicle, accompanied by two Commoners and two Sabertooths. Ethan was ignoring the conversation, instead looking out one of the darkly tinted side windows as small streams of rainwater trailed across them. Sophie and Thomas were listening in, though. Thomas seemed quite indifferent, but Sophie was actually nibbling nervously upon her lower lip. Meeting Raina’s gaze for just an instant, she quickly looked away. The unspoken topic at hand was making her uneasy. Sophie knew exactly what this was all about, but she wasn’t about to volunteer any information unless Raina demanded it. 
“Would someone please just come out and say what the big deal is?” Raina asked, slightly annoyed now. “Apparently, I’m the only one here that isn’t seeing a big pink elephant sitting in here with us.” 
Sophie looked to Svetlana for a moment and then appeared to be ready to speak before Svetlana cut her off by merely raising her hand and then wagging a finger at her. Though they were both Commoners and technically both servants to the Grand Duchess, Svetlana outranked her by House seniority. Sophie slumped in her seat a bit, not so much miffed as concerned. 
“Svetlana…” 
“I can say to you after big meeting,” she offered gently. “Is not a good time for you now … not before big meeting. I do not want you mad. I am sorry.” 
Raina eyed her for a moment, moving her lips to one side for a moment in thought. “This isn’t something that’s going to come up and bite me in the ass and make me look stupid in front of the whole world tonight, is it? I mean, if you know something about one of the Elders or someone in the High Court, or if someone’s planning to do or say something tonight, then I need to know. I don’t want to walk into this thing unprepared and look any more stupid than I’m going to, already.” 
“It’s nothing, really,” Sophie blurted with a forced smile. She looked at Svetlana for a moment with an almost nervous glance. “I mean … it’s not a life-or-death kind of thing.” 
“Then what’s wrong with telling me right now? What’s with all of the secrecy?” Raina pressed impatiently. “Is it about the way I’m dressed? Is it my hair, my makeup, or … or what?” 
“Loki…” Sophie blurted.
Svetlana again silenced her with a raised hand, shaking her head adamantly. Once more, Sophie seemed to shrink back slightly in submission, this time folding her arms and looking away with a sigh. 
“You have much stress now, and we are not good to make more,” Svetlana informed Raina. “We love you, Raina. We do not want to make this night bad. We want to help.” 
Raina met Svetlana’s clear blue eyes and smiled, patting her knee gently before taking her hand affectionately. “I appreciate that, Svetlana. I’m glad that you’re all here with me. I just—…”
“Get down!” Thomas suddenly yelled. 
There was a pop and a crash, accompanied by a loud mechanical sputtering sound that came from outside the left-hand side of the limousine. Tiny bits of shattered safety glass sprayed into the interior of the limo as Ethan slumped forward while Thomas simultaneously shoved Sophie down and aside. In the same instant, just as Raina turned and saw a couple of strobe-like flashing lights to their left, Svetlana lunged at her and threw her arms about her upper body in a sort of sideways seated tackle. It was only as several other windows began to shatter and the entire limousine began to lurch about with sudden braking and swerving that Raina realized their vehicle was being struck with machine gun fire. 
Raina tucked herself down as best she could into the floorboard area of the interior, with Svetlana covering her body with her own while Thomas did much the same with Sophie. The hail of gunfire seemed to last forever, though perhaps in reality it was only ten seconds. The limo driver let off the brakes, swerved the vehicle to the right and then quickly to the left, and then the engine could be heard racing as he floored the throttle again. A second later, after the gunfire had ceased, there was a jarring impact that make Sophie shriek and shoved everyone to the left abruptly. Raina managed to raise her head enough to see the large silver SUV pulling away from the side of the limo for a few moments before swooping back in to ram into their side once more. Thomas cursed loudly in English and Svetlana hissed something bitter in Russian. 
After the second impact, the limo driver slammed on the brakes again, seeming to stand on the pedal for all he had. She did not personally know the driver because they had hired him only for this night along with the limo rental – Olivia had insisted Raina arrive in a limo for this night, just for the sake of ceremony – and so she had no idea whether or not the driver had any real sort of security-related training. She was not sure whether stopping the car completely was a prelude to the driver bailing out and running, or if the driver had some logical, legitimately helpful reason for doing so. Raina would have much preferred an attempt to outrun their attackers. Tires howled outside the vehicle as others skidded to a halt around. Behind them, there was a sound outside of at least one vehicle impacting another – crumpling metal, crunching plastic, shattering glass, and honking horns. They felt the limo come to an abrupt and total halt just an instant before more gunfire began to sound – first one automatic weapon, then another. 
“Oh my God! What’s happening?” Sophie screamed at the top of her lungs as bullets played a staccato rhythm of destruction toward the front of the limo. The slugs sounded like someone with a pair of hammers banging out a drum solo up and down the frame as they tore through the vehicle, shattering glass and sending bits of material all about the interior. 
As soon as the gunfire stopped again, this next volley not lasting quite as long, Raina propped herself up with one elbow and began to force Svetlana off of her by prying one of her arms away from her. Svetlana offered no resistance. In fact, she was almost completely limp, save for a soft groaning sound that escaped her as she weakly clung to Raina, still trying to protect her. 
Raina glanced about the interior. The scene had become much brighter now that the tinted glass had been thoroughly shattered and perforated. The glow of streetlights and the flashes and sounds the surrounding traffic was less obstructed. The situation was quite different, and yet it was horribly similar to another scene from her distant past. The initial shock of it was terribly difficult to overcome with any swiftness in spite of the urgency of her need to act quickly.
Immediately, Raina saw death. Half of Ethan’s head was missing, a mangled mess of meat remaining where the right side of his face and forehead had once been, and blood had drenched his clothes almost completely from several bullet wounds his torso had sustained. Thomas’s face was contorted with pain from a visible wound to his left arm, but he remained dutifully atop Sophie, who presently appeared unharmed but hysterical with absolute fear. Raina could see the front cab area of the limo through the shattered glass partition. The driver was motionlessly slumped over to one side. 
“Get up, get up!” Raina said hurriedly in a hushed voice as she began to push Svetlana off of her. “C’mon, move! We’ve gotta…”
It was only then, as Raina rolled onto her back and began to use both hands to push Svetlana aside that she felt a hot, horrible wetness between her fingers. Svetlana groaned a bit louder as Raina inadvertently put a hand right over the wound in her left side where a bullet had pierced her body, the material of her red silk dress stained even redder with blood. Additionally, Svetlana’s right shoulder was clearly wounded by another round that had punched its way through her flesh, just below her collar bone. Svetlana was alive, and the wounds weren’t likely to be mortal, but she was clearly in a great deal of pain.
Thomas pushed himself up off of Sophie and glanced back over his shoulder out of the shattered and bullet-riddled side window that was held in place only by a film of dark tint. He cursed under his breath and forced himself upright, grimacing with pain from the wound to his arm. 
“Go, go, go!” he urged Raina with a frantic wave as he began to try to lift a cowering and sobbing Sophie, even in spite of his wounded arm. 
Carefully but hurriedly sliding herself out from under Svetlana, Raina was able to sit upright enough to look at what Thomas had seen. Two men wearing dark clothes and ski masks approached the limo from less than a hundred feet away. Their assault rifles were shouldered and ready, and their laser sights cut through the slight haze of steam, dust, and tire smoke left in the wake of the automotive carnage. By the way they moved, their attire, and their weapons, Raina guessed they were either highly trained assassins or terrorists … and well-funded ones, at that. Though she was by no means an expert in using one, Raina dearly wished that she had a firearm of her own in that moment, rather than the custom-made sword she still clutched in one hand. Thanks to England’s draconian gun control laws and further legal restrictions upon vampires, she had essentially been forced to bring a knife to a gunfight. 
“C’mon, folks, we gotta bail,” Raina told Svetlana as she reached over, grabbed the door latch, and awkwardly jerked it open. 
No sooner had she pushed the side door open than another chatter of gunfire erupted from the killers. Sophie squealed and stayed upon the floor, clasping her hands defensively behind her head, while Thomas ducked and began to crouch down. Raina looked back in time to see a burst of red erupt from Thomas’s chest as a round struck him from behind, exiting his upper-right torso, and another bullet visibly struck his right arm an instant later before he could fully drop forward on top of Sophie again. More shattering glass, more metal banging upon metal, and now Raina could even hear the sound of empty brass casings tinkling upon the pavement outside, like someone steadily spilling a handful of pocket change. 
Realizing that the limo would soon become their coffin if they remained any longer, Raina waited only for the first instant that the gunfire stopped again before she practically dove out of the vehicle. She scrabbled about on her hands and knees, not caring that her stockings were being shredded as she did so, and she managed to get her back up against the rear fender, shielding herself with the rear axle and wheels of the limo. She grasped her sheathed sword in both hands and began to wonder what she should do with the last moments of her life. 
Raina heard voices, shouts, and screams from people all about her upon the busy city street, the traffic upon which had either came to a screeching halt or was trying to hightail it out of the combat zone. Glancing back, she saw that the trailing police escort vehicle was nowhere in sight; presumably, they had been paid to leave before the shooting had even begun. Regular commuters and pedestrians were seeking cover frantically, some jumping out of their cars and running for it while others simply dropped to the pavement to duck and cover right where they were. The only people that weren’t interested in seeking shelter were the throng of ever-present paparazzi. They peeked out from behind car fenders and opened doors, not foolish enough to put themselves directly in harm’s way but nevertheless determined to snap those all-important still photos and roll that video footage they knew would be worth plenty of money to the world’s tabloids and news organizations. 
Raina was tempted to scream for help, but just as well she realized that doing so would likely only result in drawing the killers’ attention. Just the same, the only thing those bloodthirsty ambulance-chasers cared about was getting good photos and footage, so it would have been a wasted effort, anyway. Wouldn’t that look great? The Grand Duchess of the International Vampiric Council, screaming for help and flailing her arms to no avail before being gunned down by some hired thugs or fanatical terrorists or … well, whatever the hell they were. That would do little to glorify the sacrifices others had made for her sake, including Svetlana, who had shielded her from greater harm with her own body. What would Brenna have thought if she knew that Raina had met her fate while begging for mercy or pleading for humans to save her? What would the rest of the IVC have thought, the rest of the High Court … the rest of the world, for that matter, if they saw the Grand Duchess in such a helpless state, even if it were only to be in her last moments of life? Was that how she wanted to be remembered? Was that how the Fallamhain legacy would end? 
Raina made her decision, resolving herself to the fact that this was going to end very soon, one way or another. Steeling herself, she drew her sword from its simple black cord-wrapped aluminum sheath. The sword was largely modeled after a common katana, a traditional Japanese long sword used by the samurai, which was the weapon she had chiefly practiced with during her years of shinkendo training. Given, she had practiced all those years without the intention of ever actually needing to actually use those skills in a real combat situation, instead having done so for the sake of sport, self-discipline, and physical exercise. It had been something of a miracle that she had actually found those skills to be superior to those of her enemy when she had defeated Countess Wilhelmina. Alas, she wasn’t sure if there was any hope for using a sword against two trained killers with automatic rifles – again, just a big knife in a gunfight. 
Traffic to the left of her, going in the opposite direction, had now stopped as those far enough away had stopped in advance of seeing the scene that was unfolding, not wanting to come close enough to be at risk of becoming directly involved. The right-hand lanes of traffic were similarly halted, although they had stopped a much greater distance away. Apparently, they had seen the initial attack and had likely slammed on their brakes right away to avoid the mess. The limo was essentially isolated from all of the other vehicles, so Raina had no opportunity to use any of them for cover to sneak around to the opposite side and… 
“Behind you!” someone in the limo yelled. 
A soft mechanical click sounded to her right as she had been looking back inside the limo to try to watch for the approach of the killers. Turning toward the sound, she found the muzzle of a huge rifle only inches away from her face. The click sounded again as the man in black – well, presumably a man, given his size – pulled the trigger of his assault rifle at point-blank range. There was no bang, no flash, no recoil, and no pain … because there was an empty shell jammed halfway out of the rifle’s ejection port on the side. 
“Shit,” she heard him mutter as he immediately dropped the rifle and began to back away. 
As the man began to reach for a pistol he had waiting in a holster strapped to his leg, Raina recovered from the initial shock of realizing she’d been only one bullet away from an unforeseen death. She dropped the sheath of her sword, took her weapon in both hands, and from her crouched position she arose and stepped forth to make a single downward crossing stroke with the finely polished, silver-plated blade, all in a smooth, well-rehearsed, single motion. He drew his pistol and raised it, but before he could squeeze the trigger, thirty inches of steel passed almost effortlessly through flesh, bone, muscle, and fabric. Raina had sidestepped him slightly and turned in making her cut. In a blink, both of the man’s arms dropped, severed cleanly at mid-forearm. 
Raina did not even hesitate long enough for the severed limbs to strike the pavement. She immediately reversed the direction of her weapon in an upward thrust. The tip of her weapon entered just below his ribcage and traveled easily upward, stopping only when Raina felt the hilt of her sword jam against his belly while the leading edge emerged from his back. Her attacker barely could manage a strangled, choked scream of sorts, more so in reaction to the shock of losing both hands than to being impaled by cold steel.
Raina felt no personal satisfaction in doing this, or at least not at that point in time. The actions came to her like a knee-jerk reflex, something that happened as thoughtlessly as swatting away a fly or scratching a random itch. The fear was real, oh yes, but she was so scared and yet so pre-programmed for combat that she felt utterly detached from the moment. She might as well have been watching some kind of graphic action movie from a first-person perspective, as her body seemed to be almost entirely on auto-pilot. 
Raina stood there for perhaps two full seconds as it only then occurred to her what she had just done. The almost immediate and sharp, strong smell of blood in the air brought her back to her senses abruptly. Realizing that her weapon was the only thing holding her foe aloft, she lowered it slightly to allow him to fall backwards and begin to slide off of its blade. As he fell to his knees, the last six inches or so of the lengthy blade remained within him. Raina freed her weapon at last from his torso by placing a stiletto heel against his chest and giving him a shove-like kick that sent him over backward. 
Just as she began to turn to her right away from her fallen enemy, facing the back of the limo, a blur of motion within close proximity made her almost instinctively flinch down and aside. There was a deafening pop and an almost blinding flash as the second attacker fired at her from less than two yards away, missing her head by only a few inches. The report of the gunshot felt like someone stabbing her in the left ear with a knife. In fact, she was momentarily convinced that she’d been hit in the head or at least deeply grazed by the shot.
But she did not give pause, lunging forward and thrusting outward single-handedly with her sword toward the source of the attack. It was a sloppy attack. Only the first inch or so of the blade found him, piercing her enemy at groin-level and slightly to his left, but it definitely was enough to make him flinch. In reaction to the wound and her surprise counter-attack, he fired again. She had already been momentarily deafened by the first shot, her ears ringing painfully, so the gunshots that followed sounded more like a muffled pop, pop instead of a boom, boom. Those two rounds went high and wide as he arched his back slightly and curled slightly to his left, sending them off into the cloudy evening sky. 
Raina’s thrust of the sword and the man’s forward motion as he began to step toward her brought his weapon within her reach. With her left hand, she grabbed the underside of the assault rifle’s long barrel and held it up, and she immediately regretted doing so. Everything was muted and largely drowned out by a painfully high-pitched ringing in her ears, but she could actually feel the hissing of her flesh as it sizzled upon the extremely hot surface of the gun barrel.
Before she could withdraw her blade from his body and then lunge forth again to stab him once more, the burn of the hot gun barrel in her hand quickly became too much to bear, even in spite of the adrenaline coursing through her body. She gasped and reflexively let go of the gun to retract her hand, jerking her sword free of him in the same instant. The move only caused her attacker a brief hesitation of pain, and he was soon trying to aim the weapon at her once more at point-blank range, taking a step away from her as he did so. 
She could not close the distance between them enough to grab hold of him, not to mention the fact that her left hand was now curled into a painful, useless half-fist from the burn she’d suffered. Dropping to one knee to get below his aim as the attacker again attempted to shoot her in the face, Raina made an awkward one-handed slash that drew the blade across his midsection. The cut was neither deep nor anywhere close to lethal, but it was long and (presumably) painful as she saw the material of the man’s black sweatshirt parting to reveal what appeared to be impossibly pale white flesh underneath.
Raina stepped forth to her left, bringing her sword upward and laying its cutting edge against the underside of the killer’s bare right forearm to deflect his aim as he began to swing the muzzle of his rifle downward, either to aim for her once more or simply in reaction to the cut she’d just made. With the sleeves of the man’s black sweatshirt pushed up to his biceps, she could actually see the blade cutting into his flesh slightly as she arose to stand beside him. Raina drew the blade back slightly to worsen the wound as she stood behind him. Forcing herself to ignore the pain of her burned left hand, she nevertheless used it to grab the material of his black ski mask at the top of his head, pull back, and then bring the blade of her sword up to his throat. 
She wasn’t sure, at least in that instant, what it was that made her hesitate to kill him. Her actions had been coming automatically, with barely even the slightest bit of forethought, and she had every intention of laying that length of cold, blood-smeared steel against his neck and drawing it all the way across. She felt no pity for him, not in the least, and she would have been perfectly justified in doing so. But in that one second of hesitation she was afforded between the time she got behind him and put the sword to his throat, she finally had time to think – perhaps the first such moment since before she’d even drawn her sword. The questions that had been racing through her mind from the time the first bullets had been fired finally escaped her lips as she spoke directly into his ear. 
“Who the fuck are you?” she demanded. “Why are you doing this?” 
The man said nothing in reply … or, even if he did, she couldn’t hear him, as her hearing was still mostly ruined. Slowly indicating his surrender, the assassin took his right hand away from the rifle and held up his wounded arm as he held the weapon away with his left for a moment before letting it clatter to the ground. Given the way she had cut him, slicing neatly through muscle and nerves and tendons, it was actually possible that he might not have been able to squeeze the trigger anymore, even if he’d wanted to. Blood was dribbling rapidly from the deep gash in his forearm, dripping off his elbow. She probably could have heard the sound of it trickling upon the pavement if not for the damage done to her eardrums. The air was thick with the scents of wet blacktop, spent smokeless gunpowder, and blood. 
“Who sent you?” Raina yelled into his ear through the ski mask as she pressed the blade more firmly against his throat. 
No sooner had she said that than she saw just over the roofline of the limousine that yet another man was approaching. Seeing that he was holding a pistol in both hands and had already begun to swing its aim in her direction, Raina ducked down slightly below the shoulder-line of the man that she held, someone that was significantly taller. As she did so, glancing down, she saw that her captive enemy also had a holstered pistol strapped to his right thigh. Without thinking twice, she simply let go of her sword and let it fall as she grabbed for the pistol, jerking it free of its holster and bringing it up to aim at the third gunman. 
Even as she was still squeezing her finger back to complete that long double-action trigger pull, shots rang out. With her chest pressed against the man’s back, she felt each of those shots thump against his body. Raina could not aim as precisely as she would have liked, not with a one-handed grip and from such a position, but remembering what Loki had taught her, she simply aimed for “center of mass” and hoped for the best.
The first shot seemed to hit him, but the recoil from the pistol jerked the gun up high enough that when she pulled the trigger a second time the shot went high – a consequence of the trigger now being a shorter single-action pull on the follow-up shots. Raina quickly brought the gun down a bit more as the third gunman sent another two shots her way. She managed to hit him again, a puff of red mist bursting from his right shoulder. The impact of the wound stunned him just long enough for her to take a split second longer to better aim her next shot. With her enemy having reduced the distance between them to less than fifteen feet, she managed to make her fourth bullet count. An almost theatrical spray of bright red blood erupted from the man’s neck as the round tore a rather gory hole through his throat. He dropped his weapon and fell back and to his right side as he clutched at the instantly gushing wound. 
The man that Raina had been using as a shield dropped to his knees. Her tight grip upon the ski mask as she tried to hold him aloft pulled the mask from his head and revealed a white male with short, dark brown hair that was matted wetly with dark fluids. He fell aside at her feet and she took a step back, instinctively aiming the pistol at him … although she quickly realized he was no longer any kind of a threat. A bullet from his would-be partner had plowed through his right temple and out the opposite side of his cranium. Raina only then became aware of the blood and gore that now covered her left shoulder as a result of her enemy’s death. She could see now that the pale white flesh she had glimpsed after cutting his torso was not skin but actually a white bulletproof vest. Obviously, it had done nothing to protect him from the bullet that had plowed through his head, but it had probably saved Raina from the others that had struck his torso. She would later learn that the bullets that had hit him had actually passed through the front side of his body armor before being stopped by the back half of his vest, rather than continuing on into Raina. 
Tearing her eyes away from the ghastly sight of the corpse, she looked about to see if anyone else remained. She heard a screech of tires and a revving engine. Several yards away from the limo, she saw the attackers’ SUV departing from the scene with frantic haste, glancing off the fender of a panic-stopped vehicle in the roadway with a bang. She glanced about the area for a few seconds more, and then turned with a startled gasp at a flash to her left that almost caused her to raise the pistol and fire once again. One of the throng of paparazzi was using a flash now to snap his all-important photos. 
Raina shook her head in disbelief, removed the pistol’s magazine, racked the slide to eject the round in the chamber, and tossed the emptied pistol and its magazine upon the trunk of the limo. It felt weird to her that she had even thought to do that, clearing a gun for the sake of safety. However, in hindsight, she would have been wiser to hang onto the pistol until being absolutely certain that no threats remained in the area.
Squinting against the almost painful brightness of the headlamps of the cars behind her, she stared at the completely insensitive media jackals for a few moments, deeply angered by their callous actions but too numbed by shock to do anything about it. She hadn’t expected them to come running to her aid, but it seemed rather sick to be making a public entertainment spectacle of a terrible, violent event such as this. She fully expected to see magazine covers, newspapers, and web pages splashed with images of herself standing over the bodies of three dead humans – sensational stuff for the bloodthirsty masses. 
Taking a moment to check herself for any injuries beyond the burn to her left palm and fingers, she then returned to the opened rear door of the limousine. Raina was relieved to see that Svetlana, Thomas, and Sophie were still alive. Thomas had pulled himself upright to stand upon his knees, clutching the wound to his right shoulder, and Sophie was helping to apply pressure to the entry wound on the opposite side. Svetlana had only managed to prop herself up with one elbow underneath herself, clearly in far worse shape than Thomas. The wet gurgle and wheeze of her rapid breathing, as well as the blood that trailed from her lips and nostrils, seemed to indicate that she had some severe internal bleeding. Sophie appeared to be the only one fortunate enough to come out of the attack completely unscathed. The only blood that was upon her belonged to Thomas. 
“How bad?” she asked Sophie. 
She hesitated to sniff back her tears before answering, “I’m fine. I’m not hurt.” 
“You?” she asked Thomas. 
He nodded, wincing with pain. “I’ll be okay.” 
She didn’t have to ask Svetlana to know that she was in bad shape. She laid a hand gently to her cheek, causing the beautiful Commoner to open her blue-green eyes just enough to look at her. She said nothing, simply giving a subtle nod as though to say she was fine, but Raina could not help feeling disheartened at the sight of her dear friend in such pain. She knew very little in the way of first aid, having spent far too much of her life in the study of causing harm rather than undoing it. Yes, they were vampires, and yes, they were able to endure far more damage and heal much more quickly than any human, so most wounds generally did not require professional assistance. However, the extent of Svetlana’s wounds was quite severe, even though it appeared she had only been shot once. The kind of help that she would need was far more than Raina could ever hope to offer, and for that she felt utterly powerless. 
“Does anyone here have a cell phone?” Raina asked. 
Sophie shook her head with another sniffle. 
“Thomas?” 
He shook his head and replied through clenched teeth, “No … not here.”
“Shit.” She hesitated, cringing at the sight, and then gestured toward Ethan’s body. “What about … him?” 
Sophie glanced over her shoulder to him and then immediately flinched away with a yelp, as though the sight of his ruined face caused her physical pain. She kept her eyes squeezed shut and her face turned down and away as she shook her head. As she thought about it, Raina recalled having seen Ethan text-messaging someone at one point during the drive earlier. However, given how bullet-riddled his corpse appeared, it was probably safe to assume that his phone had either been destroyed by the slugs that had torn through him or ruined by the gush of blood that had escaped his body. 
“God damn it,” she muttered bitterly. 
Feeling in some ways as though history were repeating itself, Raina stepped away with a heavy sigh. She looked back at the gathering of spectators and saw that more heads were popping up from behind doors, dashboards, and fenders as people realized that the street warfare had ended. There were more flashes now as the other photographers became brave enough to start snapping pictures again. 
“God, I hate people,” Raina grumbled as she began to walk toward them. 
The photographers and video camera operators at first appeared bewildered by her approach, but as she drew closer, they actually began to get up and retreat a few steps in apparent fear. Raina was surely a terrifying sight in that moment. Upon Olivia’s insistence, she had tied back her hair in such a way that her High Court ears were plainly obvious. Adrenaline still heavily coursing through her veins and making her knees feel somewhat rubbery as she walked down the street. The rush was also contributing to the bright glow of her exposed skin, giving her an unearthly appearance. And the blood and bits of one dead gunman’s skull contents that had splattered across the left side of her face, neck, and shoulder were plainly visible in the glare of the stopped vehicles’ headlights. She held her empty hands wide apart to show that she was unarmed as she continued to step closer. 
“Hey! Y’know, I really hate to bother you guys,” Raina shouted angrily, “but does anyone here have a cell phone or something?” 
For a moment or two, they all just seemed to stare at her dumbly. She looked to the nearest person, a male with spiky blonde hair and a video camera on his shoulder as he crouched behind the fender of an idling sedan. She slapped a palm down upon the hood of the car loudly, making him jump back slightly. 
“Dammit, I’m talking to you people! Doesn’t anyone here speak English? Cell phone! A cellular telephone! A telly, a fucking mobile! Does anyone here have a phone, or not?” she demanded. 
“I do!” a man to her right finally responded, holding it up for a moment before putting it to his ear again. “I’ve already called the police, your grace, and they’re on their way.” 
“Finally! Someone with a brain! Thank you!” Raina said exasperatedly, letting her arms flop to her sides. “Could you have them send an ambulance, please?” 
“Right away, your grace,” the man replied with an eager nod before relaying the order to the emergency dispatcher on the phone. 
From her left came a British woman’s voice: “Your grace, are you all right?” 
Raina spun to face her abruptly, still feeling terribly jumpy. Reluctantly, she answered her with a nod. “Yeah … I think so. I’ll be fine.” 
“Was anyone with you killed?” the woman, apparently a reporter, asked immediately. 
“Yes. One or two,” she replied regretfully. “I know that Ethan is dead. I think the driver may be dead, too.” 
“Was Ethan your lover?” 
Raina simply gawked at her brazen question, too stunned to reply. 
“Did anyone else survive?” another man asked from nearby. 
Another voice: “Is anyone hurt?” 
“Were you expecting to be attacked?” asked another. 
“Did you know your attackers?” 
“Were they vampires, as well?” 
“How did it feel to kill again?” 
“Are you going to seek revenge?” 
“Will you drink the blood of your attackers?” 
Around her vision, she could see the media swarm beginning to converge upon her as reporters and photographers weaved between stopped cars to move closer to where she stood. She looked around at them with utter disbelief and disgust. 
“What the hell is wrong with you people?” she cried. “Do any of you have any sense of decency at all? Is that all you care about? Blood and guts?” 
Angrily, she stepped closer to the nearest person with a video camera as she wiped her hand across her left shoulder, scooping a warm, wet something-or-other into her hand. She reached over and smeared it directly upon the camera, painting blood and a couple of gory bits right onto the lens.
“There’s your blood and guts,” Raina told him before turning to walk back to the limo.
Police cars and ambulances arrived in force within a few minutes, their arrival delayed by the uncooperative clog of traffic upon the street in both directions, both human and vehicular. People were clamoring for a better sight of the carnage, snapping pictures and taking video of the scene as usual with cameras and cell phones. The non-media witnesses were just as ghoulishly interested in seeing what they could, although they did so from much farther away. Everyone seemed to very deliberately keep a distance of at least ten yards from the limousine, as though they perhaps expected the vehicle to explode. 
Realizing that her window of opportunity was limited, Raina hurriedly began checking the bodies of her enemies, starting with the one that she had shot. At first, she only kicked at their bodies, jamming the heels of her stiletto shoes into their ribs to provoke a response, just in case it turned out that they were not as dead as they appeared. She then took to unmasking each of them and checking them for identification. Some people standing away on the sidewalks in front of the surrounding tall, historic buildings shouted for her not to touch the bodies, one man insisting that she was affecting the crime scene. She was sure that the police would be able to identify these men one way or another, but she doubted that they would be willing to share any of that information with her. She needed to know who had wanted her dead. 
None of the three men had any form of identification that she could find, although they did have the usual folded cash, change, cigarettes, and the like. All three were human, and all were dressed almost identically in cargo pants, sweatshirts, ski masks, and military-style boots, all black. All had been wearing bulletproof vests, but in all three cases, the wounds they had suffered were fatal in ways that the vests would not have helped at all. Their rifles were military-grade, fully-automatic machine guns with large magazines, and given the strict gun control laws in the UK, they probably had been smuggled into the country. 
The first of her attackers was actually still alive when she reached him, moaning wordlessly and half-sobbing as he mourned the loss of both of his hands. He expired in less than a minute’s time, though, becoming completely still and silent as he apparently succumbed to his rapid blood loss. Raina made absolutely no effort to try to question him, quite certain that he would not willingly offer her any information of value. In fact, she had fought the urge to grab his pistol and put a bullet through his head just to shut him up. The callousness of that very idea would have horrified her at any other time, but not then, not when she’d just seen her people get killed.
Judging by their attire, their weapons, and their total lack of identification, these were contract killers. Revealing the identity of one’s employer was surely a cardinal sin among assassins … not that these men would have even known who really had ordered the attack, anyhow. They were just pawns in a bloody game of political chess. She needed to find out who was their king, so to speak … or their queen. 
The only thing of any possible use that she found, just as the first of many police cars began to near the scene, was a cell phone in the left front pocket of her first attacker. As quickly as she could, hearing the first police car’s siren cut off, she opened the phone and tried to search for the last-dialed number in the phone’s memory. She found it and dialed the only number programmed into the phone at all, putting it to her left ear because her right ear was still ringing and mostly deaf. She held up her right hand to show that it was empty as two police officers approached in a half-run. 
Ignoring the officers for a moment, Raina listened as someone picked up the call almost immediately on the other end of the line. There was a brief pause before a man’s voice, deep and accented, answered with a rather annoyed tone: “What do you want now? Did you do the job or not?” 
“Your men failed,” she replied.
“What? Who…?”
“Yeah, exactly. Who the hell are you, and why do you want me dead?”
The unidentified male responded by hanging up immediately. 
“Shit,” Raina muttered as she tossed the phone onto the dead assassin’s chest and held up her hands in surrender to the police. 
Surprisingly, the police officers did not order her to the ground, nor did they address her with hostility or suspicion. They seemed to recognize who she was almost immediately, instead addressing her politely, asking Raina if she was okay, and asking if anyone else was hurt. She had fully expected to be handcuffed and shackled the very moment they saw her pointy ears or caught a glimpse of her fangs. Apparently, whoever had called in the emergency had informed the dispatcher as to whom she was. 
Raina directed them to her wounded companions in the limousine, and within five minutes, medical personnel were on the scene and administering aid to Svetlana and Thomas. The burn that Raina had suffered to her left hand was painful and had already formed a nasty-looking blister, but she declined to let them do anything more than cleanse the wound and wrap it in a bandage. Having survived much worse injuries before, Raina knew that it would heal on its own soon enough. She was more concerned with Svetlana’s condition than anything else at that time. 
Svetlana was carefully pulled from the limo and placed upon a stretcher before being rushed into an awaiting ambulance. Thomas actually was able to walk on his own to another ambulance. Although he was in a terrible amount of pain, he was able to reassure Raina with a feeble smile as he softly insisted that he would be fine. 
The police were surprisingly kind and sympathetic to Raina and her companions, keeping the bloodthirsty media parasites at a good distance, being very polite with their questions about what happened, and always formally addressing her as “your grace.” They quizzed Raina and Sophie separately, escorting them to the sidewalk and shooing away curious bystanders as they taped off the area surrounding the scene of the attack. Aware that the bullet-riddled bodies of Ethan and the limo driver were in plain sight, the police draped blue tarps over the shattered windows of the limousine to put a damper on the bloodthirsty public’s curiosity, as well as covering the bodies of the three dead assassins.
A steady drizzle of rain had begun to fall again, and Raina was kindly provided with an umbrella to hold overhead, as well as towels to wipe away the blood from her face, her hands, and her ruined blazer … although not before they took a series of photos for the sake of evidence. These same pictures would later, of course, wind up being posted all over the news and countless Internet websites, along with all the other photos and still-frame video shots captured by paparazzi during the attack.
She felt some small measure of satisfaction in witnessing the police confiscate cameras and videotapes from several paparazzi that had lingered after Raina pointed out a few that she had glimpsed filming her as the attack had unfolded. The ghouls protested loudly and angrily about their rights and threatened lawsuits, but the police ultimately got what they wanted. Surprisingly, the cameraman whom she had splattered with blood said nothing at all when asked to surrender his video, as she had half expected him to press charges against her or threaten a lawsuit. 
As she answered the officers’ many questions, she gradually began to unwind the painfully tight coil of tension inside that kept her skin glowing for quite a long time, dulling her bioluminescence to a level where it was no longer discernable in the night full of flashing emergency vehicles’ colored strobes and the glare of the flood lights that were set up at four corners around the scene. The impressive, highly visible re-establishment of order and security in the street set her much more at ease, though she could not fully let go of the stress of so many unanswered questions that ate at her from within. Officers shut the street down completely, directing all traffic away at both ends of the block and ordering all pedestrians away from the area at the same distance. The large reduction in the number of so many naked stares and cameras being aimed at her was a very welcome change. 
With surprising swiftness, the police officers concluded that they had as much information from her as they needed, and after surrendering her bloodstained blazer to them for the sake of evidence, she was informed that she and Sophie were free to go. The only bone of contention that came up was the issue of her sword: being that it had played such a crucial role in the deaths of two humans, they wanted to confiscate it for evidence. However, after politely but firmly insisted that she would not leave without it, she spoke with the senior police official on the scene that reluctantly and conditionally granted her request. He insisted that they be allowed to sample the blood from its blade for analysis and photograph it thoroughly, with which she had no problem. 
Additionally, they stated that she would not be allowed to hold or carry the sword until she arrived at her destination, as it would have been a violation of common weapon laws for her to be roaming about with a large edged weapon. The only reason why it had never been an issue before, the officer told her, was because the High Court tradition of bearing a sword was generally protected under the same clauses in the law that excluded swords intended for ceremonial purposes or martial arts demonstration and practice.
After all, until then, there had never been a single reported incident in the United Kingdom of a vampire attacking a human with a sword, and the only occasions when High Court vampires actually did use their swords for combat was in duels with one another. Vampire-on-vampire violence was still largely regarded as a “victimless crime” by the established laws in most countries … including the laws that she, herself, was responsible for enforcing. 
That would all change soon enough. Raina personally would see to it.

* * * *

Chapter Six



She arrived with very little fanfare at the Hall of the High Court, the primary meeting quarters of the International Vampiric Council and its Elders for at least the past two decades. Stepping out of the back of a police cruiser with only a young and unknown Commoner, Sophie, to escort her up the front steps provided an odd photo opportunity for the paparazzi. They had trailed her from the scene of the shooting to the entrance of the retired and remodeled old church.
The building was appropriately gothic in architecture and its overall theme, actually quite similar to the Fallamhain Estate. It featured an almost sinister-looking wrought-iron fence around its small urban property line, stone gargoyles perched high at the corners of the roof, and intriguing but essentially formless (and non-religious) stained-glass designs in its windows. As she had heard, the centuries-old Anglican cathedral had been abandoned long ago when its original human congregation had moved on to favor a larger, newer, and more modern structure over forty years ago. Its deed had changed hands several times before Grand Duchess Duvessa Fallamhain had quietly acquired it a few months before the coming-out event that officially revealed the existence of vampires to the general public. Had she attempted to buy it after that point in history, religious figures and organizations would have made it virtually impossible for her to purchase any such real estate. 
Raina had called ahead to speak with Loki. She reassured him that she was fine and briefed him on exactly what had happened. At that time, she had only planned to leave the scene of the attack and visit the hospital where the paramedics had taken Svetlana. However, after Loki had handed off the phone, Lady Olivia had insisted that it would be a mistake at that point to refrain from attending the IVC summit, especially after all that had happened. Obviously, someone had been trying to stop her from appearing at such a major event. Failing to show as a result of this attack would cause others to take that as a sign of fear and submission that was unbecoming of a Grand Duchess. Furthermore, Olivia had recommended that she not even bother to clean up or change clothes, promising her that the macabre display of her enemies’ blood would reinforce the message that not only had she survived but she would not be deterred from fulfilling her duties. Alas, at that point, Raina had already wiped away the worst of the blood and gore from her face, hands, and shoulder, but there was still enough soaked into her blazer and blouse to show up quite obviously. 
As Raina ascended the granite stairs of the Hall, she noticed Olivia’s recommendation was not only for the benefit of impressing those of the IVC but also to provide some slightly gruesome publicity. She and Sophie both wore clothes ruined by both human and vampire blood, Sophie’s hair was a tousled and damp mess, and Raina’s black stockings were practically shredded. Still, they both managed to keep their eyes straight ahead as they stepped in through the front doors of the Hall that were held open by a Commoner and a Sabertooth, additionally guarded now by two armed and uniformed policemen. The resulting pictures and video were splashed across newspapers, magazines, and web pages for weeks afterward. Olivia’s PR skills had yet again proved effective. 
Lady Olivia, Loki, Simon, and the others awaited them just inside, standing patiently in the main lobby. They waited until the heavy, reinforced, windowless doors were closed behind them, leaving the cameras and dumb stares of the outside world behind. The very moment those doors were shut, they all advanced upon Raina in a barely-contained rush. Of course, Loki was the only one to actually embrace her, although the others all gathered around her so closely that she immediately felt a bit claustrophobic. Loki held her only briefly, giving her a surprisingly chaste kiss upon her cheek rather than her lips. She could sense that he was genuinely relieved to see her relatively unharmed in the wake of the attack, but he wisely chose to limit his physical affection so as not to draw criticism from Olivia or anyone else present to witness it. As liberal as sexual attitudes were among vampires, events such as this warranted an almost sterile air of formality. 
“You said you were okay on the phone,” Loki told her in a soft, private voice, “but I had to see you with my own eyes to be sure.” 
“I’m just a little rough around the edges, like always,” she replied with a smirk she could not hold back, though it almost immediately disappeared. “I killed people tonight, Loki. I killed three men … three humans.” 
“I know you did.” He kissed her again, this time upon the lips, although again quite chastely. “I know.” 
“She saved us,” Sophie offered from nearby. “If she hadn’t gone after them like she had, we all would’ve been dead meat.” 
Either because of Sophie’s blunt choice of words, or because she was a Commoner speaking out of turn, Olivia gave her a sharp scowl that made her niece hunker down slightly and take a full step away from Raina and Loki. Simon said nothing, but the obviously relieved smile upon his face as he nodded at Raina said enough. The secrets of the cellar were still safe between two living souls, rather than being left only to him once again. 
“Well then,” Raina finally said with a heavy sigh as Loki stepped away and she turned toward Olivia, “I think we’ve kept everyone waiting long enough. What do you say we get on with this thing?” 
Nodding with an absolutely somber expression, there was something obviously hinting in her eyes as Olivia replied, “Of course, your grace. We eagerly await your words.” 
Raina could only take that to mean either, Remember our conversation, or perhaps, Please don’t this screw up. In times such as this, Olivia seemed not so much a mere advisor as an instructor, a tutor, more or less giving her a hands-on crash course in being a Grand Duchess. At times, she almost felt as though Olivia were trying to act as her boss. But Olivia knew quite well where the lines were drawn and that, being a Commoner, she could never be Grand Duchess herself. There was no worry that Olivia was trying to be insubordinate or even slightly stepping out of line in her role. She seemed more than happy to settle for being one of the most politically powerful and publicly-recognized Commoners in the world. 
Still dressed impeccably and stepping forth with the utmost confidence, Olivia led the way as everyone else fell in behind. Simon would remain in the lobby, presumably to watch from afar, as it was by tradition that no human was allowed into the actual Hall of the High Court during any ceremony other than the Communion of Blood. There were no cameras or video equipment allowed in the Hall, no members of the press, only those that had been formally invited or allowed (in writing) by the Grand Duchess to attend and bear witness to the proceedings under this roof.
The general design of the cathedral had not been changed so much as merely adapted. Of course, all crosses and other religious references had been removed entirely from the premises, and those that were either built or carved or engraved into the structure of the building itself had been tastefully erased or otherwise made indistinguishable. The large, elaborate pipe organ that once had inhabited the cathedral had long ago been removed before Duvessa had ever taken possession of the property; Raina sometimes wished they had kept it, but she could think of no reason to justify it, for there seemed to be no appropriate occasion for which one could ever be used. 
There still was no mistaking that this had once been a church, of course, as the rows of pews, the pulpits, and even the altar were original pieces that had been left intact, although cosmetically modified. The only symbols that could be found anywhere were a few large ankhs carved or painted here and there, the most notable being the large gold-plated ankh secured to the front of the center pulpit. The quality, grain, and color of the woodwork everywhere, the shape and arrangement of the pews, and the distinctive steeple shape of the roof from which the faux chandelier lights now hung reminded Raina uncomfortably of the church she had once attended as a child with her parents – in particular, the one in which she had attended their funeral service. She wondered if someday this building might play host to her own memorial service, just as it had when Duvessa’s death was officially mourned in the same evening that Raina was formally recognized as the new Grand Duchess. Someday, she realized, another person would walk down this aisle as she had and receive the same large golden ankh she now wore, stand behind that same pulpit, and face a large gathering of almost every prominent High Court, Commoner, and Sabertooth vampire in the world as they proclaimed their oath of loyalty to her. Yes, someday … but not yet. 
Sporting perhaps the only high-tech gadget in regular use here, Raina clasped in her hand what was essentially a Bluetooth headset piece that transmitted her voice to the very discreetly hidden speakers of the Hall’s closed-circuit PA system. Unfortunately, the wireless PA system was a necessary evil, as she did not have the vocal power necessary to speak loudly enough to be heard by all without actually yelling. Just as well, she could not be wandering about with a microphone in hand like some kind of rock star or televangelist when she needed her hands free for a variety of ceremonial tasks. Thankfully, this was something Duvessa had also commissioned Simon to help install shortly before her death, replacing the awkward and unsightly but more conventional stationary microphones and speakers on stands that had once been used. Raina would wait until she was standing before the full gathering before she would put it upon her right ear. She hated the way the thing felt in her ear, and she felt that the Bluetooth device with its blinking LED light made her look too much like a space alien of some kind when combined with her glowing skin and pointy ears. 
The immediate downside to the wireless microphone was that, as Duvessa had learned after the very first occasion when the system was used, people outside of the building could eavesdrop on everything that was picked up by that microphone, thus limiting the privacy and relative secrecy of the events in the Hall. Anything that was transmitted through the air, even encrypted, was essentially fair game for anyone willing and able to intercept the signal outside. However, Raina needed only to press a button on the device to switch it off and thus ensure that what was said within the Hall would, for the most part, stay within the Hall. 
The only other modern devices in attendance – quite high-tech, actually – were Raina’s high-end laptop computer and a high-definition video projector. Of course, Simon had been instrumental in obtaining and setting up these items, although he had done this well in advance of the guests’ arrival so as not to cause a fuss over a human being present in the Hall. 
Olivia had the distinguished honor of being the one to first stroll down the center aisle of the Hall. As she did so, the many voices of those still in attendance quickly grew silent in respectful anticipation. She rose the three steps from the floor-level center aisle to stand before the center pulpit, turning on a heel and almost militaristically snapping to attention. She spoke without the aid of the PA system, her public voice loud and clear enough to be heard easily throughout the Hall, assisted only by the acoustic design of the cathedral, itself. 
“All those in attendance,” Olivia began with a voice that seemed crafted either for operas or a Shakespearean stage, “please rise.” 
Peeking around the corner, Raina saw the audience of over two hundred vampires standing up as one, moving almost like a large organic machine of some kind. The seating was arranged in a V-shaped formation that angled in toward the center aisle, spaced apart with twice the normal distance usually afforded between standard church pews. As everyone arose, they also turned aside so that they could be afforded a clear view of her entry. The arrangement, Olivia had earlier confessed, was actually of her own design, although it had been designed more in accordance with Duvessa’s egotistical wishes than for any real practical purposes. 
“Dukes and Duchesses, Counts and Countesses, Lords and Ladies,” Olivia declared, pausing a brief moment for effect, “Her grace, Raina Fallamhain, Grand Duchess of the International Vampiric Council, Fountainhead of the Fallamhain bloodline, and Mistress of the House of Fallamhain.” 
Her entry cued, she drew in a breath, steeled herself with a second’s hesitation of closed eyes and a quick murmured prayer of “God help me,” Raina opened her eyes and exhaled quietly as she rounded the corner of the main archway. With her chin up, back straight, and chest slightly out, she put on an appropriate face for the occasion: dead-serious, fearless, and perhaps even a bit angry. She walked calmly up the clean red carpet and glanced only with her eyes to the right and left as she advanced. Her sword was slung across her back in its sheath and ready for an easy draw from above her right shoulder. The back edge of the sheath lightly bumped the top of her left buttock with every other step, feeling like someone jabbing a finger into the top of her hip – a finger, or perhaps a gun. She made a mental note to have the sheath adjusted later, assuming she survived the latter part of this already horrible night. 
Loki followed exactly thirteen paces after her, accompanied only by Sophie. Normally, Raina would have been immediately accompanied by Svetlana and Sophie, followed then by Loki and two or more attendants of his own, but the earlier attack had forced the change in ceremonial protocol. She could see and sense the reaction that some had to the unconventional entry, the diminished public presence of the House of Fallamhain once again being due to recent events of violence. It was in that moment that it was perhaps most painfully obvious just how close to extinction the Fallamhain bloodline was in reality. At a glance, one could plainly see how limited the actual personnel base of the House of Fallamhain was, not counting the many allies, associates, and other assorted contacts that made up the greater part of her web of political and financial power.
There was no helping the fact that her heart was racing as she strode along. Raina had always hated to be the center of attention, always feared having so many eyes looking her way all at once. Perhaps it stemmed from all of the media attention she had received for a few weeks immediately following the death of her parents, due to the high-profile police pursuit, crash, and shooting that precipitated it. Or perhaps it was something as simple as a minor but humiliating mistake she’d made during a third-grade class play where she had tripped and fallen in front of everyone, causing everyone to laugh and sending her scurrying offstage in tears – the teasing had lasted for months. Or maybe it was simply because she was still uneasy after what had already happened that night. She feared that the sheer emotional stress, alone, might push her right back to the ragged edge of bloodlust once more.
Whatever the case, in the dim ambient lighting of the Hall, her surging adrenaline and quickened pulse was causing her skin to glow with an almost embarrassingly intense luminosity. Supposedly, the glow of a High Court’s flesh was something to be admired, a truly wondrous sight to behold; Raina simply despised it because it made it that much more difficult to hide how she truly felt at any given moment, making her too easy to read. The other High Court vampires in the Hall already could sense her anxiety well enough without the addition of a visual cue to confirm whatever they sensed. The swarm of others’ emotions that swirled inside of her was impossible to read, and the confusing wash of her empathic sensitivities was, in itself, an added stress. Just barely, she managed to ignore it enough to remain functional and sane as she finally reached the altar where Olivia stood, finally putting some comforting distance between herself and the crowd.
As expected, Olivia dropped to one knee and bowed her head as Raina neared. Raina extended a hand and gently touched the top of Olivia’s head, whereupon Olivia took her hand into hers and kissed it dryly. Raina then moved to stand behind the lectern while Olivia took her place with the others in the front-row pews on either side of the aisle.
The IVC was, for the most part, a gathering of wealthy aristocrats from around the globe, although mostly European. Frankly, many of them tended to be severe attention whores. A great number of those that had lived during those times before the official “coming out of the coffin” event had come to resent being forced for so long to conceal their true identities; now that times had changed, they relished being in the spotlight, and they tended to dress and act accordingly.
However, this subculture-of-a-subculture only constituted about half of the High Court populace, as the rest were far more conservative and modest. The attention-seekers wore expensive and flashy dresses, suits, and jewelry, sporting elaborate and artistic hairstyles and sometimes gaudy makeup; the others simply looked like ordinary Wall Street business executives, albeit with pointy ears and generally a much fairer skin color. Although there had never been any official stipulation written that demanded such, the center aisle was a perfect divider between the two factions of the IVC, as one could tell at a glance which side was mostly comprised of which political affiliation. Being politically aligned to the left or right was quite a literal concept here.
Unfortunately, neither side was consistently easier to deal with than the other. On either side, there were some that had sympathized with Raina’s situation and been supportive from the start. Just as well, there were some that very thinly veiled their hatred of her for who she was and what she supposedly represented. Some despised her because of their conservative opinions regarding mixed races, her relatively young age, and her desire to change the Code; others loathed her because she was not liberal enough with her views on sex and violence to keep alive some brutal or lascivious traditions, much less to expand upon them.
Raina faced this fang-bearing and sword-toting conglomeration of supposed nobility with a straight and confident face – the best she could manage, anyway, which she hoped was convincing enough. She held both hands up and apart, and then lowered them gently. As one, the IVC sat down on cue. She had always seen priests, pastors, ministers, and the like making the same gesture in church proceedings, so it felt especially strange to find herself, a female vampire, being the conductor of that same gesture with such a large number of people … in an old church, no less.
The proceedings of a traditional IVC gathering seemed to be a modeled after an odd mix of things normally observed in a church, court, and/or a gathering of lawmakers. As Grand Duchess, she was Speaker of the House, Prime Minister, judge, jury, and sometimes the executioner, all in one. She, alone, represented all three branches of government for vampires – Legislative, Judiciary, and Executive. The only check against her unbalanced power was the unspoken understanding that, should someone ever see fit, she could be formally challenged and killed in a duel (and thus replaced) by any one of the leading IVC members at any given time.
Of course, that one clause was itself restrained by the limitations of what weapon(s) may be used in a duel and, of course, the fact that no one apparently believed themselves to be proficient enough to defeat her in hand-to-hand combat. It was not that she was such a great warrior that she could not be defeated; instead, they were comfortable to enjoy their own similar powers over those that were beneath them. It was this fact that explained some of the expressions and emotional sentiments that she faced then, just as in every occasion before then. They weren’t happy to have her as their leader, but they weren’t willing to take action to change the situation, either.
Raina used that momentary pause to place the Bluetooth device upon her ear and switch it on as everyone re-seated themselves. She then withdrew the now rumpled, wrinkled, and dog-eared pages of her speech notes from the inner pocket of her blazer and smoothed them out upon the lectern. When she spoke, the amplified volume of her own voice momentarily surprised her.
“Good evening.”
She stalled for a moment by pretending to clear her throat softly. A glance to the balcony area above the main congregational seating area showed Simon quickly adjusting the volume and tone of the PA system before turning toward her and giving a thumbs-up. This was it. This was where she had to really put on the “queen” persona, the diplomatic and overly well-spoken act that was expected of her to placate those of both sides of the aisle. This was where Raina was most grateful for Olivia’s wise coaching, as she was able to at least appear to be far more educated and eloquent than she was in truth. She was getting better at faking it, and more or less practicing this style of speaking through her journal writings made it feel a bit less awkward. Still, it felt every bit as starchy and uncomfortably formal as some of the outfits she sometimes found herself wearing, again at Olivia’s insistence.
“Good evening, everyone,” she said again with a slight nod, her eyes scanning the audience from side to side. “As always, I appreciate your attendance here tonight in our great Hall. I am especially grateful tonight for your patience in awaiting my arrival. I understand that some of you are not particularly excited to be here, given the nature of this gathering, but I truly appreciate your cooperation. It is my sincere hope that tonight, in the face of many recent events, we may come together and act for the greater good of our people … not only those of a single race, but for all those of the vampire species as a whole.”
Raina paused for a moment before continuing, not only for effect but to swallow back the lump in her throat that threatened to choke her voice. “As you know, an attempt was made upon my life tonight. Obviously, they failed. However, the House of Fallamhain has suffered yet another loss of life, as Ethan Fallamhain was killed in the attack. Others were wounded, but their recovery will be swift. Had it not been for the actions of my servants … my friends … I would not be standing here at this time. And that, of course, is exactly why I chose to be here tonight, in spite of what has happened … and looking like this.”
“Allow me to be bluntly honest for a moment,” Raina continued as she grasped both sides of the lectern. “I don’t know the names of those that attacked me. I’ll leave that up to Scotland Yard to figure out from what’s left of the dead bodies that I left in the street. I do know for a fact that all three of the men I killed were human, very well-equipped, very heavily armed, and obviously very well-funded. I feel it is probably safe to say that they were not acting alone. And while I honestly do not know who paid these men to engage in such a shameless, terrible act of terrorism, I am certain that these men were not hired by other humans. Given the timing of this attack and how it was carried out, I do believe these men were sent by another vampire. I would even go so far as to say that whoever was behind this is probably amongst us in this very hall.”
Those words drew a few soft gasps of shock and many mumbles and hushed comments from the IVC. Honestly annoyed that so many of these people had the audacity to pretend to be so surprised by her accusation, Raina scowled as she held up both of her hands to silence them.
“Let’s not mince words here, people. If these men had succeeded in killing me tonight … really, how many among you would have truly been sad to see me go? Seriously? How many of you really would have missed me?” she demanded, daring to speak a bit more plainly. Surprisingly, a few individuals actually raised their hands.
She acknowledged them with a silent nod before saying, “I am not standing before you tonight as an elected official. I am your Grand Duchess. I came into my position only as a result of the death of my predecessor. I am probably stating the obvious, but there are more than a few of you here that would like nothing more than to see me dead for one reason or another. And given the fact that many of you have heard all kinds of rumors about my intentions for tonight’s summit, I think it would be terribly naïve for anyone to assume that tonight’s attack was anything less than a blatant attempt to shut me up. Whoever did this wanted to kill me before I could conceivably do any more damage to this fine Council than some of you may feel I have already done. And even if we were to suppose that my would-be assassin is not sitting here tonight, there are those of you who surely had at least some foreknowledge of tonight’s attack. If that’s the case, then withholding that knowledge would make you just as guilty as the person who actually ordered the attack.”
Raising her hand to quell a number of hands that were suddenly raised with enthusiasm, she went on: “I will not turn this event into a witch hunt. Because human laws were broken tonight, and because humans were killed, Scotland Yard will conduct their own investigation and will presumably apprehend those responsible. The House of Fallamhain will also conduct its own investigation into this attack. If we happen upon them before the human government does, I will personally deliver them to the authorities. If we are ever going to convince humanity that we are a civilized race and not just a bunch of savage monsters, we all must lead by example.”
“I object, your grace!” a male spouted as he stood up from a pew located near the front of the right-hand side.
“State your name, please,” Raina said as she narrowed her eyes at the protester.
“Your grace, I am Lorenzo of the House of Ricci, Fourth Elder of the Council, Duke of Vatican, Italy,” he declared proudly, his deep, natural voice carrying easily across the Hall and surprisingly accented only lightly.
Duke Lorenzo was one of the highest-profile members of the IVC that Raina saw as a political opponent. He had been the most outspoken of her detractors, right from the very first gathering of the IVC over which Raina had presided as Grand Duchess. It came as little surprise to Raina that he would be the first to want to throw in his two cents, although it annoyed her that he wished to do so before she had even completed her initial speech.
“What is your objection, Duke Lorenzo?”
“The example which you wish for us to follow is that of a weak, submissive race that does not respond when it is attacked,” he declared. “This is not a policy which the race of the High Court can be asked to follow. Our survival depends upon the exhibition of our power, our courage! As Grand Duchess, your example would lead other races to see us as an unworthy opponent. If you do not respond to this attack with one of your own, then it will be seen as a sign of weakness that will only invite more attacks … perhaps upon other Houses of the High Court!”
Raina shook her head at him and gestured for him to be seated again. “Your objection has been noted, Duke Lorenzo. However, my opinion on this will not be swayed. In fact, I must thank you for further reinforcing one of the reasons I had for calling together this summit.”
Duke Lorenzo adjusted his red silk tie with a deeply furrowed brow before sitting down again between his two extremely beautiful consorts. It was the most diplomatic way Raina could have otherwise said, Sit down, shut up, and let me finish.
“For centuries, we have lived as a race of beings confined to the shadows,” Raina explained. “We have lived in such secrecy that our very existence was never publicly acknowledged until only in recent history. Many of our people were accustomed to feeding upon the unwilling. It was an accepted practice for a vampire to kill or maim their donor in order to feed, and it was believed that only blood could sustain a vampire. Of course, advances in modern science and medicine have allowed us to put those brutal and uncivilized ways behind us.”
“My predecessor, Duvessa, believed that we are the next level of human evolution, as do many of you. Quite honestly, I find this hard to believe when I see and hear some of the hypocrisy exhibited by our own people. It’s no wonder that humans still see us as monsters. This culture of instilling fear in others is so deeply engrained within our people that we practice it not only upon humans but upon one another. Murder, torture, rape and sexual humiliation, forced marriages, slavery … some of the worst atrocities of humanity make up some of our official traditions. We glorify these crimes that we commit against one another, and against others, as acts of honor. The Code states…”
“I object, your grace!” a female declared from the left side of the aisle, standing so abruptly that she actually wobbled awkwardly for a moment in her extreme high heels and brilliantly glittering, silver sequined dress.
Not bothering to disguise her frustration, and already knowing who the protester was, Raina sighed, “State your name, please.”
“Camille of the House of Richard, Third Elder of the Council, Duchess of Paris, France,” she declared, rudely and deliberately omitting a bit of formality in her reply.
Like many of the others in the IVC, she had an extensive English vocabulary and excellent grammar, but the accent of her native tongue was unmistakable. Her voice was quite mature, and while she was not ugly, her mouth was too wide, her nose too long, and her dark blue eyes too inherently sad-looking for her to rightly be called pretty.
Raina let the minor offense slide. “What is your objection, Duchess Cam—…”
“You are blaspheming against the Code and disrespecting its author. You ridicule the High Court as a bunch of common criminals!” she declared with much angry hand-gesturing that caused the platinum bracelets upon her wrists to jingle against one another. “I should not need to remind you, your grace, we are proud to be vampires. The pleasures of the flesh are not simply traditions. They are our religion! Who are you to tell us that we should be ashamed of what we are and what we believe?”
“What I am … Duchess Camille,” Raina shot back with undisguised anger, “is the Grand Duchess of this Council! I should not need to remind you that rudeness and interruption are unbecoming of your status as an Elder. I respect your experience and I value your opinion, Duchess, but I will not tolerate insolence and disrespect in this Hall. Do I make myself clear?”
The Duchess stood in silence with a tense, angry expression contorting her face as she balled her fists up at her sides.
“Do … I … make … myself … clear?” Raina nearly shouted, slapping a palm down loudly upon the lectern with the last word. The impact echoed throughout the Hall for several seconds, and it visibly made the French High Court jump. She blinked a few times, literally swallowing back her pride, and then finally nodded.
“Oui … your grace.”
“Then be seated!” she commanded her, and the Duchess obeyed, folding her arms under the deep cleavage of her breasts formed by the pearlescent white Victorian corset she wore over her sequined dress.
This was quickly becoming one of the most intense and trying appearances she had made before any gathering of the IVC. It was certainly the most emotion that Raina had allowed herself to exhibit in front of these people. Olivia, she could see, was nevertheless approving of her performance thus far. As Grand Duchess, anger was an acceptable emotion to display before the Council. Duvessa had no doubt exhibited her rage on many occasions. It would have been an entirely different matter if Raina had instead broken down into tears over the guilt and worry she felt over Svetlana’s serious wounds, something about which she was trying not to think in that moment.
“People of the Council,” Raina declared, “I did not summon you tonight to give certain individuals an opportunity to engage in political showboating or chest-thumping. This is not a time for gaining points with your peers by making rude and irrelevant protests. I have gathered you all here to inform you of the changes that I intend to make to the policies of this Council. I have not yet even begun to explain those changes. And yet, there are some of you that feel the need to object before you even know what it is to which you’re objecting!”
“First and foremost, I am not going to overhaul the Code,” Raina announced, drawing a few more gasps and a lot of hushed conversation between people. Angrily, she slammed a fist down upon the lectern even more loudly than during her exchange with Duchess Camille. “Silence!”
She felt a bit stupid in using that haughty, theatrically cheesy command, but the IVC nevertheless immediately fell silent again. Hey, if it worked, perhaps a bit of theatrical cheese wasn’t all bad.
“I will not overhaul the Code,” she stated again, “and, in fact, I will be leaving it largely untouched. I will not be proposing any changes to the Code tonight. I will, however, ask that we review the Code together at a later date, and consider agreeing to changes that we all could find mutually satisfying. I realize that the Code has remained in place for this long because, at least on some levels, it does work. It is an imperfect system, and I do feel that it needs to be updated and refined. But for now, I wish for it to remain intact.”
Raina held up one hand immediately, heading off any immediate questions. “However … there are changes in our general policy that I believe must be made immediately. As I have said, we must lead by example. The Code is the established law for all vampires. By and large, the other races are expected to adhere to the Code. They are also expected to act within the limits of the human governments’ laws. The High Court race also adheres to the Code, but as a whole, they regard it as being the only set of laws that they must follow. The High Court has essentially told the other races, ‘Do as I say, not as I do’. This is hypocrisy, and I find this to be unacceptable.” 
As expected, there were protests – three of them, in fact, simultaneously. Duke Lorenzo and Duchess Camille, of course, stood immediately, accompanied as well by a rather surprising third, which Raina authorized to speak first by acknowledging her by name. 
“Adela of the House of Prochazka, Duchess of Prague, Czech Republic,” Raina addressed her, already quite familiar with the Elder from several prior conversations and events. “Please state your protest.” 
“Your grace,” she began with a grateful nod, speaking with far less anger than the prior two Elders, “I must respectfully disagree. It was established long ago that the High Court is superior to all other races of vampire. It is the reason why all other races of vampire look to us as their leaders. It would be an insult to our people to demand that we lower ourselves to the standards of Commoners.” 
“Lower ourselves?” Raina echoed with a raised eyebrow. “I find it hard to believe that we can call ourselves a ‘superior’ race when we act with more brutality and cruelty than any other race in existence … human, vampire, or whatever. To kill, maim, rape, rob, and pillage, and then claim these things are justified by the Code … we don’t look like a superior race at all. We look more like a terrorist organization.” 
“And you would say this to us now, covered in the blood of your enemies?” Duchess Adela countered with a calm gesture. There were nods and murmured sounds of agreement from several others. “Would you speak of our hypocrisy when you, yourself, are just as guilty?” 
Loki surprised her by standing and turning slightly toward Duchess Adela, though still looking to Raina. “Your grace, if I may…?” 
“Marco of the House of Fallamhain, Duke of Finland,” Raina addressed him formally. “You may speak.” 
He nodded and turned toward Duchess Adela directly. “The Grand Duchess has done nothing illegal tonight. Those men attacked her. She was defending herself and her people. She did not break any laws when she killed them. The police questioned her and released her. They even let her keep her sword. It was just self-defense.” 
“And what of Countess Wilhelmina of the House of von Reichenbach?” Duchess Adela retorted. “What of our Grand Duchess Duvessa of the House of Fallamhain? How can your Maker condemn us for committing acts of violence when she has killed so many, herself?” 
“Your grace, may I add to your consort’s words?” asked another voice as yet another individual stood. 
Raina nodded, saying, “Connor of the House of Wright, Duke of England, you may speak.” 
“I believe what Duke Marco is trying to say,” Duke Connor elaborated politely, “is that it is unfair of you to accuse the Grand Duchess of hypocrisy when she has, in fact, acted consistently within the limits of all laws. In each occasion where she has killed, she has done so only out of necessity. I am quite sure that if she had, in fact, broken any laws set forth by the human governments, they would have done everything within their power to prosecute her. Our Grand Duchess is not asking us to do anything that she has not already proven herself willing and able to do, herself.” He turned to face Loki. “Wouldn’t you agree?” 
Loki nodded in agreement and both looked to the angry Elder. Not too proud to concede to their point, Duchess Adela finally nodded in reluctant concurrence. All three sat down again, at least momentarily satisfied. 
“Thank you for your clarification,” Raina said to both gentlemen, barely resisting the urge to smile as the French and Italian Elders returned to their seats, as well. Apparently, they realized the futility of sticking with that angle of criticism. “As Duke Connor has kindly pointed out, I am not making any unreasonable demands. If we really are such a great and superior race, and if we sincerely wish to lead by example, then we all should act accordingly.” 
Raina paused for a moment before theatrically raising both hands far apart to shoulder-height, palms facing upward. As one, the IVC obediently stood, and again Raina momentarily experienced that strangely out-of-body feeling of being in a minister’s shoes. 
“As Grand Duchess of the International Vampiric Council, by the power vested in me by this great Council,” Raina declared with slightly more volume, keeping her arms up and apart, “I do hereby decree that from this night forth, all of the High Court, its followers, and its associates, shall obey the laws of the Code in addition to the laws of the land upon which they stand. All shall respect the laws of the human government of the land in which they live, just as they shall respect the Code. If there is any conflict between the laws of the Code and the laws of humans … then the laws of humans shall be obeyed by default. This is my decree as Grand Duchess, and such shall be our law from this night forth.” 
As legally binding as her words were, there was nevertheless a flurry of surprised and alarmed whispers amongst the IVC. Having anticipated this, Raina drew a slightly nervous breath and finally added, “If there is anyone present tonight that offers protest to my decree, let them stand before me now and state their case … or forever remain silent and in full compliance of my decree.” 
This was the moment she had dreaded. This was the most extreme test of her authority as Grand Duchess so far. And as it had been foretold by so many others, sure enough, not everyone was willing to cooperate. There was a surprisingly small number of individuals that calmly stepped out from their place amongst the pews, approached her upon the red carpet of the center aisle, and lined up in an orderly fashion, fanning out below the steps leading up to the altar where she stood. She had honestly expected at least a third of the IVC to come charging at her with swords drawn and fangs bared, rather than this relative handful of calm, formal dissidents. 
However, this band of eight hardcore nonconformists included no less than four Elders. Duke Lorenzo and Duchess Camille were among them, of course. Another whom she had expected to offer protest was Duke Anthony Costa of Manhattan, New York. Sadly, links to organized crime syndicates were more the norm than the exception, but Duke Anthony was so brazen about it that he had been nicknamed the “Don Dracula” by many tabloids. Of course, Raina’s decree would have, by implication, essentially made a great deal of his wealth and assets null and void, being that his associations and actions over the years had violated nearly every RICO statute in existence. Obeying Raina’s new law to the letter would have forced him to forfeit nearly everything he had gained. 
Most surprising of all, though, was Duke Sergey Volkov of Russia. He was the High Court whom Duvessa had put into power and with whom she had brokered an alliance with the help of Lady Svetlana. Of course, his links to organized crime were just as extensive as those of Duke Anthony, perhaps even more so. Even Svetlana was no stranger at all to dealing with the Russian mob, although she had acted more as a translator for Duvessa than anything else over the years. Svetlana held no actual rank with any Russian crime family. Because of his association with Svetlana and his prior friendship with Duvessa, and because he had until then been among the most amicable of the Elders toward Raina, seeing Duke Sergey standing before her in protest was something of a shock. Of course, old alliances aside, she was essentially threatening his way of life, so she could not really see his protest as a personal affront to her. Again, he was a businessman, and this was strictly about the future earnings of his “business” – prostitution, drugs, gambling, smuggling, and everything else that came with those trades. 
The others among them were Count Michael Richter of the United States, Countess Sarah Byrne of Northern Ireland, Count Noah Cooper of Australia, and Count Kimura Haruto of Japan. Raina was not quite as familiar with many of the non-Elder members of the IVC. What little she did know of these others was enough to assure her that their motivations for protesting were much the same as the other mob-tied High Court vampires, aside from perhaps Countess Sarah, with whom her prior conversations indicated her inspiration was more idealistic than anything. 
Raina removed the Bluetooth device from her ear, switched it off with a press of its button, and laid it upon the lectern calmly as she stepped aside and opened the laptop that sat upon the table nearby. Having known in advance that certain individuals would attempt to make this night difficult for her, what she had discovered in the cellar had been a simultaneous curse and blessing. In spite of the damning and horrible things she had discovered, there was at least this bit of potential good to come out of it. She could hardly think of an adequate reward for Simon to thank him for granting her access to that stash of horrors. 
She spoke just loudly enough to be heard by the eight High Court vampires lined up before her. She did not want anyone outside to record anything she intended to say, as she had already likely provided the outside world with more than enough material to publish in their magazines and online blogs. Just as well, what she had to say was meant more for these dissenters than the rest of the IVC, as a whole, as these seemed to essentially be the staunchest of her political opponents. And anyway, there were enough pointy ears and such a blanket of silence in the Hall that anything she said was likely to be heard, anyhow – the PA system was more for show and dramatic effect, really. 
“I can probably guess why most of you are protesting my decree,” Raina told them, calmly kicking off her high heels behind the lectern. “As always, I respect your opinions as Elders and members of the Council. And I admire your courage for having the audacity to stand before me now … daring to challenge my word, which you all know is law.” 
Half of them nodded to her in silent acknowledgement – Count Haruto, Countess Sarah, Count Noah, and Duke Sergey – while the rest simply glared at her with naked anger. Those who showed little to no respect in this time were surely going to prove to be the most difficult ones to persuade. Fortunately, these were the ones on whom she had the most dirt. 
“Some of you have called me a hypocrite. Some of you have said that I am a fool. And yet some of you insist upon clinging to the same ignorant, bigoted, Nazi-like rhetoric that Duvessa tried to cram down my throat from the very first night I met her,” Raina said plainly. “Tell me … what was your opinion of Duvessa? What kind of a person … what kind of creature do you think she was? Really? Do you really think she was as pure of thought and deed as she tried to make everyone believe? Do you still subscribe to all of that nonsense she preached over the years?” 
Speaking a bit more loudly so that the rest of the IVC could hear her more clearly, Raina said, “I know that some of you protested my accusations that she was a Nazi conspirator. In fact, I’m sure that a great number of you still do not believe the extent of her involvement with the Nazi SS officials that ran the concentration camps. Doctor Josef Mengele? Angel of Death? Birkenau? Auschwitz? Any of these names ring a bell?” 
Nobody spoke. None of the protesters before her even showed the slightest hint of being affected by her words. Deciding it was time for a bit of show-and-tell, Raina reached under the lectern, unsheathed the antique knife, and stabbed it into the bare wood at the top of the lectern, causing a few sensitive souls in the audience to gasp and a couple of her protesters to visibly flinch. 
“An SS knife given to Duvessa by Doctor Mengele as one of several gifts for assisting him in the acquisition of several vampires of various races for the sake of his experiments,” she declared. “It’s the real deal, of course … Death’s Head engraving and all. Duvessa used this knife on a few occasions to participate in some of those so-called ‘experiments’ with Doctor Mengele at her side, performing ‘surgery’ on a few individuals … both humans and vampires. Oh, and then there was this other thing.”
She reached under the lectern and pulled out the old semi-automatic German pistol that was, of course, unloaded and rendered inoperable so as to be UK-legal. This had an even more visible impact upon some other individuals in attendance.
“This pistol was also a gift of hers from an SS officer. Looks like an ordinary Walther P38, I suppose … except for the engravings on it. Oh, and then the little story Duvessa was kind enough to describe in detail in this little black book.” 
She dropped the pistol onto the lectern with a clunk that echoed throughout the Hall before pulling out and displaying the rather thick, leather-bound journal. There were more whispers and murmured comments amongst the IVC in response. Quite a few members were visibly fidgeting, including Duchess Adela. She honestly had not yet read all of Duvessa’s more incriminating journal entries yet. To do so would have literally taken years, even if she wasn’t preoccupied with a hectic schedule as Grand Duchess. Still, even with a limited sampling of Duvessa’s autobiography, she had already seen enough names mentioned and enough dirty details laid out to know that she was practically sitting on a goldmine of information. Much of it would have made for ideal blackmail material against quite a few members of the IVC … including more than one Elder.
Raina had chosen to bring along one of the less incriminating journals that had not been locked up within the cellar, so anyone brazen enough to try to steal or destroy the journal she had brought in order to protect their own name would not be successful. She had already created a Plan B and even a Plan C to safeguard against such scenarios, at Simon’s recommendation, and with his help. If Raina lost her head to someone that evening, the floodgates would be thrown open and every damned skeleton in Duvessa’s closet would be set free for the world to see. The Internet was an incredibly powerful tool, after all. 
“Your former Grand Duchess was quite a prolific writer. She left me quite a large library of journals like this to browse through in my free time. She had this one and a few others stashed in a spare room, along with all of her other Nazi mementos, as well as a collection of some other interesting … souvenirs, I guess you might call them,” she explained. Raina dropped the book upon the lectern. “I would have brought you all more goodies for show-and-tell, but I guess I’m a little squeamish about body parts and organs in jars full of formaldehyde. Instead, I brought along a few copies of some very educational videos…” 
Raina calmly reached over to the video projector and uncapped the lens before starting the video playback on the laptop beside it. Duvessa had stored all of the discs and tapes of footage recorded in the cellar in an electronically-locked vault which, of course, Simon had also shown Raina how to access. Of course, she hadn’t been afforded enough time to preview all of it, but just a random sampling had provided her with enough footage from Hell to literally make her nauseous.
Raina did not need to look at the images being shown by the video projector as it displayed the horrors of the IVC’s past. Simon had helped her to convert a few clips into a common video format from one of the many discs, tapes, and film reels in Duvessa’s macabre collection. Raina had seen enough of it to know that she never wanted to see it again, although the sound that played back through the nearby laptop’s built-in speakers was loud enough to remind her all too vividly. She knew that in this first clip, Duvessa could be seen standing over a male she had secured to a custom-made apparatus of some kind that resembled a weightlifting bench. Duvessa and the male both were nude. In her right hand was a knife; in her left was something that she had just cut off of him. His screams were raw and chilling. 
Rather than watching the footage again, Raina focused upon observing the reactions of those before her, particularly those of the four Elders and four IVC representatives. Most of them visibly winced in sympathetic pain at the sight of what Duvessa was doing to her victim, an unidentified Commoner. Only a couple of them seemed largely unaffected. Duchess Camille rolled her eyes, actually looking bored. 
“Duvessa had a nasty habit of keeping just about everything that was cut, pulled, twisted, or burned off of her victims,” Raina explained. “And as I’ve said, she really seemed to enjoy documenting everything that she did in great detail … such as her victims’ names, where and how she met them, how she killed them, how long they took to die … and perhaps most importantly, she also documented the names of all of her accomplices.” 
This finally brought Duchess Camille’s eyes to meet Raina’s directly. Even from where she stood, she could sense the Elder’s sudden swell of fear, so great that it caused those standing next to her to actually turn and look at Duchess Camille as they also sensed it. 
“I don’t suppose many of you remember this Commoner. Most of you probably never met him or heard of him. As far as most of you are concerned, he is probably no more real to any of you than some fictional character in a movie,” Raina said as she held Camille’s gaze firmly. “His name was Jean-Luc. He was twenty-three years old when this happened. He was a new servant to you, Duchess Camille, a fresh bloodspawn that went through the Change not even a year before his death.” 
There was a long pause as everyone else’s eyes remained transfixed in sick fascination by what they saw projected upon the tall, blank wall behind Raina – the same place a large crucifix had once been mounted. These were surely some of the most ghastly things ever seen or discussed within the entire history of these walls. In her peripheral vision, Raina could see the simultaneous display of the video upon the laptop just as it was being projected upon the wall. As she glimpsed the dark form of another figure walking into view, the entire IVC seemed to gasp in horror as one. Raina knew what it was they were seeing: Duchess Camille stepping into view of the camera, naked as well, her face clearly visible in the relative close-up color view of the wall-mounted camera. Duvessa handed her the bloodied knife, Camille accepted it with a smile, and thoughtlessly faced the camera directly as she licked the blood from its blade. 
“We’re not a brutal race at all … are we, Duchess?” Raina asked her mockingly, narrowing her eyes at her. “No, we’re very civil, highly evolved creatures … ones that make a hobby of butchering one another for pleasure.” 
Among those visibly stricken by what was being shown in the video, Duke Sergey abruptly dropped to one knee and bowed his head. 
“I withdraw my protest and ask for mercy,” he announced. 
As though cued, Count Haruto followed suit, saying, “I withdraw my protest and ask for mercy. There is no honor in this.” 
“Bugger this,” she heard Count Noah mutter as he fell to his knee, as well. “I also withdraw my protest and ask for mercy, your grace.” 
Duchess Camille looked to the others with her mouth agape in shock, stunned that her would-be allies were folding. This, too, Raina had anticipated – hence the reason for the video footage. While she was sure that not all of these individuals honestly had a personal distaste for the horrible things they were seeing in the video – obviously, considering that she had other videos that she already knew included other members of the IVC – she was equally certain that they would not wish to have the public stigma of these things attached to their name, either by the media or by others within the IVC. It was not the torture, itself, but the shame that they hated. Perhaps Duvessa had been right to believe that one’s public image was everything, at least among the High Court. 
Without warning, Camille reached to her waist, jerked her sword free of its sheath, and took a step forward, aiming the tip of her weapon at the Grand Duchess. Having anticipated the Duchess’s reaction, Raina drew her sword almost simultaneously as she stepped away from the lectern. The sound of Camille’s rapier and Raina’s katana clearing their scabbards with their distinctive metallic scraping sounds brought an immediate and total hush to the IVC just as quickly as it had begun. 
“I challenge you, Grand Duchess Raina Fallamhain!” Camille declared angrily. “Do you accept?” 
Raina dared to allow a smirk to curve her lips. “As Grand Duchess, I am allowed by right to accept your challenge conditionally.” 
“Name your terms!” she snarled, jabbing the rapier in her direction as the others nearby backed away to give them space. 
“First, this duel will be stopped only by forfeit or death,” Raina replied. “Unconsciousness will be considered forfeiture. Secondly, you will be fighting as a representative for all those present with you that offer protest to my decree. If I win, then my decree stands as law, and there will be no further challenges issued against me tonight.” 
“And if I win?” Camille demanded. “What will be my prize when I kill you?” 
Raina shifted her sword to her left hand and grabbed the golden pendant that hung between her breasts, lifting it overhead and slipping the necklace off. She slapped the golden symbol down upon the lectern with a loud bang. 
“If you win,” she said, “then your prize will be this golden ankh. I will either be dead, or I will walk away in shame, and you will be free to rule this Council however you damned well please as Grand Duchess.” A commotion began again amidst the IVC, and Raina silenced them with an angry wave of her arm. “Do you accept my terms, Duchess Camille Richard?” 
“Oui,” she acknowledged with a terse nod. 
Raina shrugged off her blazer, letting it fall to the floor as she took her sword in both hands. “Then I accept your challenge.” 

* * * *

Chapter Seven 



Raina slowly descended the steps leading down from the altar, gripping her sword more tightly with her right hand than her bandaged and sore left. She realized that she was already at a disadvantage in her condition, but the difference in their weapons was enough to give her confidence. Camille’s rapier had only one purpose, to thrust, and so Raina was aware that her attacks would come almost exclusively from one direction. Some strange part of her had actually wanted to fight Count Haruto from the moment he had surprised her by joining the protest, as the Japanese origins of her shinkendo training would have been an excellent match against his similar method of swordsmanship. Perhaps some sick, masochistic part of her had wanted to re-enact her bloody duel with Countess Wilhelmina, who had similarly trained in Japanese styles of sword fighting. 
Of course, Raina was well aware of the fact that Camille was a very accomplished fencer and had competed in (and won) a series of sport fencing competitions throughout Europe – those that allowed vampires to compete, at least. A few countries thereafter had even banned all vampires from competition, citing Camille’s unfair advantages in speed and agility. But sport and combat swordplay were two completely different things. One could not practice with a ball-tipped foil and expect to know how to truly kill another person bearing a sword, especially when one was accustomed to fighting under the limitations of safety rules. It was one of the many reasons she was all the more glad, if not outright lucky, that she had long trained in shinkendo, a style meant for use in actual combat. She had trained with a wooden sword or bamboo staff most of the time, but they had always been taught to regard those substitutes as though they were live weapons, so the transition to using a real sword in her training came quite naturally. 
Camille slashed the sword about a few times theatrically as she backed away to offer Raina a fair bit of distance. Her rapier swished loudly as it whizzed through the air, echoing off the old church walls of the Hall. They positioned themselves longitudinally to the audience of the IVC, with Camille almost symbolically positioning herself in front of the right-hand side of the IVC. Raina was aware that she was standing near Loki’s place of seating, but she did not look at him. She could not afford to become distracted and give her enemy an opportunity to strike first. However, she did allow herself a brief glance toward Olivia and Sophie, who sat together on the right-hand side pews near Camille. Olivia looked a bit concerned, but still sat bolt upright and proper as ever. Sophie actually clung to her aunt with tears in her eyes, apparently convinced she was about to witness Raina’s death. Hoping to reassure her, Raina smiled just a bit and winked. That was when Camille chose to strike. 
From her classic stance of fencing, with her right foot forward and her left hand raised high in a fist, presenting the slimmest target possible to her opponent, Camille thrust straight for Raina’s heart with the very first attack. Given the distance between them, Raina was able to deflect it easily, although she felt terribly slow as Camille had almost completed her repose before Raina could even begin to counter. As such, the horizontal slash that Raina made was avoided easily as her foe simply took half a step back and leaned away in an extreme but swift dodge.
Before she could even return to any form of a stance, herself, Raina felt what seemed like a gigantic needle being stabbed into her left side as Camille scored her first hit. Surprisingly, the puncture wound hurt a lot more than Raina had expected. The rapier only entered her by perhaps an inch or two at the most, right between her lower ribs. It happened so quickly, in and out in a blink, that the hit felt less like she was being stabbed and more like someone had shot her in the side with a BB gun. Worse still, the wound immediately burned with a terrible heat that soon made it feel as though Camille had just stabbed her with a red-hot iron brand. All this passed within two seconds of the hit as Camille retreated a full step and smiled at her, satisfied. 
“I claim first blood!” she announced proudly, holding her rapier up vertically before her own face as she placed her left hand upon her hip. 
“Well, well … déjà vu,” Raina replied sourly through her clenched teeth as she assumed a different stance that was a more relaxed version of the one Camille had earlier assumed. 
Camille shook her head. “You cannot defeat me, your grace.” 
“I’m not going to defeat you,” Raina said, “I’m going to kill you.” 
Camille surprised her slightly by swinging outward at Raina’s face in a slash. Of course, at worst, the blow would have hurt, but it probably would not have broken her skin. Nevertheless, Raina instinctively parried the slash with her own sword. Camille’s rapier seemed to slide back off of Raina’s katana, withdrawing only slightly before jutting forth and piercing her right shoulder this time. Even as Raina flinched in reaction to the sensation of being punctured, Camille withdrew and thrust at her yet again, this time entering her quite deeply. Raina found herself half-curled over the sword that had practically impaled her abdomen, entering slightly to her right and scraping as it hit something hard within the middle of her torso that made her legs nearly come out from underneath her. 
Camille made the mistake of leaving that sword within Raina for just a brief moment too long, apparently pausing to savor the glory of inflicting that painful wound with a wicked, fang-flashing grin. Raina grabbed the shaft of the rapier and hooked the backside of her katana’s blade against the side of the foil as she twisted her body aside to the right with a jerk. The movement brought her a terrible amount of pain – in fact, she honestly regretted the move – but it also pulled the sword in the opposite direction of Camille’s right palm. Just like that, Raina had removed the sword right from an unsuspecting Camille’s hand, leaving her unarmed. 
Raina continued the rightward spin as her left hand held the rapier that still protruded from her body. She raised the katana with her right, clearing its blade from the rapier, and as she turned fully around, she brought it down and across in a hard slash. Camille was quick enough to avoid being decapitated, but not enough to completely escape injury as the tip of the blade cut deeply across her right shoulder. A thin splash of blood was flung directly across the large golden ankh on the front of the lectern. Camille gasped in shock at first, and then cried out in pain through her clenched teeth. 
For a moment, as Camille stood just out of range with a stunned and hurt expression, Raina stared directly into her eyes as she jerked the rapier out from her abdomen. The agony and weird sensation of something sliding out from her insides nearly made her vomit. Although she winced and shuddered, Raina’s lips remained sealed and not a sound of weakness escaped her. She held the rapier up with her left hand, looking for a moment as though she were offering the sword back to her enemy. Raina then allowed the sword to slide down within her grip until its hilt touched the back of her knuckles. She threw the bloodied weapon aside, casting it over the lectern and far beyond to clatter against the wall at the back of the altar. 
Camille’s eyes followed the travel of her confiscated weapon for a moment, glanced back to Raina, and then back toward the weapon. Clutching her wounded shoulder, blood oozing from between her fingers, she began to lean in the direction of the altar as though she meant to go after her sword. Grasping her sword again with both hands, Raina swiftly swung her katana upward and across, expertly stopping it just an inch or so away from Camille’s throat and causing her enemy’s eyes to go incredibly wide. 
“Don’t,” Raina warned her in a low voice. 
Camille’s eyes flicked to Raina’s once more, considering the seriousness of that threat. Of course, holding the sword before her neck like that was more symbolic than practical. She couldn’t very well sever her opponent’s head with only a couple of inches’ travel, even with her vampirically enhanced strength. She could slice her throat open from ear to ear, however, simply by moving the blade’s edge a bit closer and then jerking the sword back to make the cut … but that was, of course, assuming Camille would be stupid enough to move directly into the blade rather than backing away from it. As had been the case with Countess Wilhelmina, Raina was well aware that Duchess Camille was not stupid. She was, however, foolishly arrogant. 
Rather than leaning away from the blade or heading straight into it, Camille took her hand away from her wounded shoulder and whacked it against the flat side of the katana in a sudden blur of movement. The movement did surprise Raina, and it did afford Camille enough of an opportunity to step out of her range and begin to run after her weapon. However, Camille was a vain sort of High Court. Not only had she chosen to wear a full-length dress that limited the movement of her legs to some degree, she also had made the mistake of leaving on her high heels when she had chosen to issue her challenge. Camille was taller than Raina by a few inches, standing nearly six feet tall in those heels, and she had much longer legs – and yes, Raina was a bit envious of them. But Camille’s poor choice in combat attire allowed Raina to catch up to her before Camille had even topped the last step leading up beside the lectern. 
Camille had pulled her hair back into a tight and elaborately-woven braid in the back, which Raina gladly used as a leash. Switching the sword to her bandaged left hand to reach out with her stronger right, she jerked Camille’s head straight back by that thick braided mane and literally pulled the Elder off her feet. Raina stepped aside as her opponent fell, and Camille slammed onto the bare hardwood floor beside the red carpet of the center aisle with a hard and heavy thud, impacting first with the back of her head and her upper shoulders. Duchess Camille’s eyes rolled up into her head and her mouth remained agape as she lay still in a crumpled, awkward position upon the floor, knocked completely unconscious. 
Raina took a full step back and habitually swung her sword down and across in a traditional gesture meant to fling away the blood from her blade. A small dotted stripe was painted across the carpet and polished hardwood. She watched her fallen opponent for a few moments, surprised to soon see Camille’s limbs begin to lightly twitch with convulsions. Camille had hit the floor hard, but had Raina really pulled her down that hard? The river of adrenaline in her veins made it a bit difficult for Raina to gauge her own strength. If she had pulled upon the High Court’s hair any harder, Raina probably would have ripped it right from Camille’s scalp.
Judging by the strange spasms Camille was making as she lay upon the floor, and as blood began to seep from her ears and nostrils, Raina abruptly went from loathing the Elder to suddenly pitying her. In spite of her words, Raina had not meant to kill her, only to stop her. She had hoped that Camille would surrender. Raina had wanted to shame her, hoping to teach her a lesson in humility. She had not, however, wanted to kill a fourth person in one night. Because this was an Elder, Raina honestly began to dread the consequences of what she had just done. 
“Shit,” she murmured as she lowered her sword to her side. Raina turned to Olivia. “Call an ambulance.” 
Olivia just stared at her with wide eyes, frozen in place. She didn’t appear to comprehend at all what Raina had just said, let alone the fact that the command had been directed at her. Raina stamped her bare foot upon the hardwood floor to get her attention, and Olivia jumped slightly. 
“Call a fucking ambulance, already!” Raina cried, regrettably allowing herself to slip out character in front of the IVC for just a moment. 
“Yes … y-yes, your grace, right away!” Olivia finally replied as she seemed to emerge from her shock-induced trance. She reached within her inner coat pocket and withdrew a cell phone, obviously fumbling about with its buttons as she tried to dial for help. 
Raina’s eyes returned to the sight of her fallen enemy. Camille had stopped twitching. Blood still gushed readily from the wound to her shoulder, forming a small pool upon the floor underneath, but it was not a terribly large amount, nothing at all like the arterial sprays and horrid gore that Raina had earlier seen in the evening. The flow of blood also had begun to increase slightly from her nostrils and her ears. How long did it take for a person’s blood pressure to lower to zero after their heart stopped beating? Did it just stop suddenly, or did it just gradually sort of bleed out, like someone poking a hole in a water balloon? Weird thoughts, of course, but she could not help thinking them as she stared. 
She was not sure why the sight of the Duchess lying upon the floor, either dead or dying, was so disturbing to her. She had just killed three men earlier that night, three human men, and she had killed them in a far more horrible manner than this. But then, she had honestly meant to kill those three men because, after all, they had been trying to kill her and her friends. Of course, it would seem that Camille also had meant to kill Raina. But Raina honestly had not meant to kill her. 
The idea of killing someone over a disagreement seemed stupid to her, a terrible waste. Okay, so they’d had a difference of opinions on something – so what? That hardly seemed like a valid reason to bring about someone’s death. Sure, Duvessa had killed and tortured people for far more petty things in the past, but damn it all, Raina did not want to follow that kind of example. Seeing the apparently lifeless form of Camille upon the floor before her, and then allowing her eyes to be drawn upward to observe the torture scene still being projected upon the wall, Raina began to wonder if maybe it was too late for that. Perhaps she had already become the very thing she had sought to avoid, the brand of cruel, sadistic monster that she had hoped Duvessa had taken with her to the grave.
Raina had wanted to make something useful of herself, to turn the horribly bizarre and tragic set of circumstances surrounding her Change and nomination as Duvessa’s successor into something positive. She had wanted to make Brenna proud, to make her dear friend and lover’s death truly count for something. Raina wanted to believe that Brenna’s death had not simply been a random tragedy. She wanted to use this golden opportunity that she had been given to right that which was wrong, to do something noble with all of this damned nobility that had been forced upon her. Instead, in trying to stop the senseless acts of violence being committed by those of the High Court … she had, herself, committed a senseless act of violence. 
Raina felt something brush across her tongue and she tasted High Court blood, warm and very sweet. She blinked and saw her own left hand before her face, smeared with blood. She had wiped the remaining blood from the blood of her sword and begun to lick the sacred elixir away without even the slightest bit of conscious thought. Either due to her injuries or her emotional state, Raina realized that she was slipping into bloodlust yet again. That taste of blood had shocked her back into conscious thought, making her aware of her own actions, but she was not entirely in control of herself anymore. She continued to lick away the blood from her fingers, sucking at her own fingers as though she had dipped them in red cake frosting. 
High Court blood, the most sacred and worshipped of all, was something she rarely afforded herself an opportunity to drink in any quantity. Just a little taste now and then, either when offered by Loki or when she accidentally bit down upon her lip or tongue, but nothing at all close to her first feeding. No, nothing had ever come close to the feeling of Countess Wilhelmina’s death, that spurting fountain of sanguine wine jetting into her mouth, hot and fresh and beyond sinful in its deliciousness. Never before or since had she felt comfortable throwing herself into such reckless abandon, least of all in front of so many witnesses. She did not clearly remember the specific actions of killing Duvessa’s daughter, only the sensations – the taste, the warmth, and the literal orgasm that had arisen from such an ecstatic experience. 
“Your grace! Your grace, please!” 
Raina felt hands upon her and solidness against her knees as warmth spilled over her chin. She again found herself being dragged back to reality, just as she found herself being dragged away from a groaning Duchess Camille. Again slipping into bloodlust, momentarily blacking out once more, Raina had apparently dropped to her knees and began to suck upon the open wound in Camille’s shoulder. She looked up and aside to find herself behind restrained carefully by Loki, who looked both concerned for her welfare and horrified by her actions. She looked back and saw Duchess Camille’s consorts – two males, one female – huddling around their fallen mistress, only then feeling it safe to approach as Raina was pulled away and held in check by her own consort. Camille’s eyes were not open, but she was writhing about and moaning something incoherent … presumably something in French, although too slurred to be understood by anyone. She was alive after all. She was alive, and Raina had been feasting upon her. Jesus. 
Raina had come to the Hall that night, prepared to show the IVC that the laws of the Code allowed acts of animalistic viciousness and cruelty to be committed with impunity. She had not, however, been expecting to give a live demonstration that would only serve to reinforce her point that, yes, vampires were every bit as bloodthirsty and savage as the human race perceived them. 
Raina had long wondered how it was that a vampire of over two hundred years’ age could have somehow given birth to a daughter that was only just over a century’s age. Female vampires did not give birth, for their wombs were barren, and male vampires were sterile. The bond between a vampire and their bloodspawn was sometimes regarded as a maternal or paternal relationship, but it was almost never literal unless the parties involved had been related by blood as humans before the Change.
It was only then, as Raina buried her blood-smeared face in her hands in a futile gesture to hide her shame, that she fully understood. Duvessa had claimed that Elizabeth Fallamhain, better known as Countess Wilhelmina von Reichenbach, was her daughter. It may not have been as true with other races, or even other bloodlines of the High Court race, but this much was certainly true amongst the House of Fallamhain: a bloodspawn quite literally became their Maker’s child, both in name and in spirit. 
Duvessa’s cruelty, her sadism, her lust, her temper, and even her sense of self-righteousness had found its way into Raina’s veins. It had taken her over completely, corrupting her from within. She was born of blood, daughter to a demon queen. She was a thing of nightmares, suffering, and death. It was truly a matter of nature over nurturing, for she was proving herself to be a product of genetics rather than upbringing. She was lasciviousness and bloodshed incarnate, a daughter of the mad Roman Emperor Caligula in soul, if not by descent. Try as she might to deny it, to feel remorse for her actions and to pretend to be horrified by her own tendencies, she realized that ultimately, inevitably, she would become Duvessa. Countess Wilhelmina’s senseless slaughter of Duvessa’s servants and consorts should have been proof enough that her traits of madness were hereditary. Raina had been a fool to turn a blind eye to that possibility for as long as she had already. 
She could no longer afford to entertain any silly notions that the real Raina Delgado was simply trapped inside of this pale, glowing monster with pointy ears and fangs, this wicked creature that mostly looked, sounded, and sometimes acted like her. Raina Delgado had died months ago, utterly and completely. Grand Duchess Raina Fallamhain reigned supreme in her place and, just like her Blood Mother, she ruled with a sword kept wet and warm with the suffering of friends and foes, alike. 
“I’m sorry, Brenna,” Raina sighed into her hands, shaking her head as hot tears finally squeezed free from her eyes. “I’m so sorry. We were both wrong … so very wrong.”

* * * *

Chapter Eight



“I’m sure she’ll survive,” Lady Olivia reassured her quite dismissively as she knelt beside her in the private office. “What matters most right now is that you’re okay. I’m most concerned about the silver…” 
“I’m immune to silver,” Raina interrupted her impatiently. “If I wasn’t, I’d already be dead by now.” She hissed with pain as Olivia swabbed a cloth soaked with hydrogen peroxide at the worst of her injuries, the deep wound to her abdomen. “Actually, if I wasn’t immune to silver, I would’ve been dead after fighting Countess Wilhelmina.” 
After being literally dragged away from a then-unconscious Duchess Camille, Raina had soon discovered her legs were too wobbly and her lower-body muscles not entirely responding as her brain was commanding them. Her legs, feet, and toes were a bit twitchy, experiencing strange and mild random spasms that made it nearly impossible for her to stand or walk on her own. When Camille had thrust her foil into Raina, that scraping sensation she’d felt had apparently been the tip poking against her spine. The latent deposit of traces of silver so deeply in her body and so close to her spinal cord was having an allergic effect upon her lower body’s nervous system. She had even had to make a nearly frantic request for Loki to help her to a restroom to relieve her bladder before the spasms could become too severe for her to hold anything back. 
Olivia shook her head ruefully, patting her hand gently. “You’re resistant to silver, dear, but you are by no means completely immune. Otherwise, you would not be having the sort of reaction you’re experiencing right now.” 
“This isn’t going to be permanent, is it?” Raina asked with genuine concern. “I mean, I know that silver wounds heal slower than others. It took me almost a week to completely heal everything Wilhelmina did to me. But, y’know, because the silver irritates tissues and stuff … well … I’m not going to be stuck in a wheelchair, am I?” 
Olivia cringed. “I’m not a doctor, your grace. I really can’t tell you with any certainty because your condition is so … unique.” 
“I think ‘freaky’ is probably a more accurate term.” 
“Well, whatever you wish to call it,” she said, “I think you’re quite lucky. I’ve seen others die from wounds like yours in the past.” 
Raina sighed and shook her head sadly, looking away. “There’s going to be Hell to pay if it turns out that I killed her. If she wasn’t the one that sent those hit men after me tonight, then whoever did is going to try that much harder to knock me off the next time.” 
“You needn’t worry about her, your grace,” Olivia reassured her. “Just as well, I highly doubt that you will need to be concerned about quelling any revolts or future challenges to your power, especially after this. All of the Council was very impressed by the way you handled yourself.” 
“Yeah, except for the part where I … had to be pulled off of her,” Raina said, pausing to gasp as Olivia again carefully swabbed at the exit wound to her back where Camille’s sword had fully penetrated her. 
Raina was seated upon an old wooden footstool of sorts, her blood-soaked blouse in a crumpled heap upon the floor where she’d thrown it after literally tearing it off. She was sure that she looked even more of a mess than she had, earlier, as she was now only wearing a skirt and bra, her entire upper body smeared with blood – her own, as well as a bit of Camille’s. Feeling terribly embarrassed and humiliated by the aftermath of the duel, Raina had literally ordered Loki, Sophie, and Simon to wait outside and see to the closing of the IVC summit. She appreciated their concern, but she was physically unable to see to any further portions of that night’s ceremony, thus she had decreed that the IVC would postpone the remaining matters of the summit for one month while she recovered and dealt with the investigation into the failed assassination attempt upon her. 
Setting down the bottle of peroxide and laying the cloth down nearby, Olivia reminded her, “I am sorry to say, your grace, but you were already quite edgy even before the shooting took place. Had I not insisted upon offering you a full measure before we left, things could have been much worse for you, tonight. And if it is any consolation, I have not heard a single negative comment yet made in regard to, ah … what happened after you brought down the Duchess. I have seen far worse acts committed in this Hall, before.” 
“By Duvessa, I presume?” 
“Not entirely, no. Actually, some of the most atrocious things I have witnessed were committed by Duchess Camille, herself,” she replied with raised eyebrows as she picked up the ruined blouse and held it up for a moment. “You don’t mind if I use this, do you?” 
“Go for it,” Raina said with a light shrug. Even that subtle gesture caused her wounds to flare anew with that strange, horrible burning heat that made her voice a bit strained as she spoke. “What exactly … did she do?” 
“Well, as you know, the Hall is where many disputes among the High Court and their subjects are settled,” Olivia replied. “Shortly before the Great Reveal, when the debate was raging over the issue of whether or not the IVC should make itself publicly known, a Commoner made the mistake of publicly insulting Duchess Camille. Duvessa bestowed a Debt of Blood upon him as a punishment for gross insubordination, and she allowed Camille to set the price for his Debt however she saw fit.” Olivia met Raina’s gaze with an almost haunted look in her eyes. “Camille had two of her consorts hold him in place while she tore out several mouthfuls of his neck and shoulders with her teeth and spat them in his face. She had started to pull off the servant’s trousers to do something worse when his master, Duke Diego Moreno decided to end his suffering. He declared his own servant to be a rogue and then put a silver sword through his heart.” 
“Jesus,” Raina murmured. She was beginning to wonder if it had been a foolish deed to have spared Camille’s life, after all, rather than having taken the opportunity to put her sword through that Elder’s black, wicked heart. “They allowed things like that to take place here? In the Hall?” 
“They, being whom?” 
“The IVC?” 
“Duvessa allowed it, therefore the IVC allowed it. But that was the worst that I ever saw here, yes,” Olivia acknowledged with a nod as she began to rip up Raina’s ruined blouse, using the cleaner sections of it as rags. “Of course, I have not been a part of the House of Fallamhain for nearly as long as Duvessa reigned as Grand Duchess, and I have heard of many things that were much worse which have taken place elsewhere. But then, you have read some of her journals, so … I’m sure you probably know the truth of that more than I.” 
“Unfortunately, yeah.” She paused, watching Olivia open a bottle of rubbing alcohol and begin to carefully soak one of the folded-up rags with it. “How’s Svetlana and Thomas?” 
Olivia shrugged. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard, yet. I am quite sure that they’re both fine, though.” 
“Svetlana almost died trying to protect me.” Raina fought back a sudden lump that began to form in her throat. “I’m going to have to do something for those families … Ethan’s, and the driver’s, I mean. They’re dead because of me. I should do something…” 
“It’s already being taken care of, your grace,” Olivia reassured her gently. “The driver’s employer, the company that owns the limousine … their insurance will handle it. Anything that happens in the commission of their duties…” 
“That’s not what I mean. I’m not talking about money,” she insisted. “I should do something for them. They died because of me. They only died because those men were trying to kill me, and they got caught in the crossfire.” 
“Your grace…” 
“Raina!” she cried. “How many times do I have to say it? Please, just use my first name for once!” 
“It would not be proper…” 
“Fuck being proper! Be normal!” Raina nearly yelled. “Can’t you and I just have a normal conversation? For Christ’s sake, it’s just us here.” 
“Your grace…” 
Raina covered her eyes with one hand, biting her lip as she fought the urge to blurt anything else that she might regret. She hated this, all of this. She was so sick of all the ceremonies, the rituals, the preening, the pampering, and the awkward formalities. She needed a friend, a regular friend, someone with whom she could have some vague semblance of a normal, everyday relationship. Everyone practically worshipped her. She missed having an equal, a partner … just a friend. The people in her life, they were friendly, and she loved them, cared for them. But the whole inherent nature of her title as Grand Duchess had always seemed to stand in the way of having a full, open, completely comfortable relationship with anyone … even Loki. 
Now, more than ever, she missed Brenna. She missed the freedom she’d once had to be able to say anything, to ask anything, to not worry about being judged or having everything she said be passed on to someone else. Brenna had always had a large network of friends, but she and Raina had by far been the closest of any … although that had been probably in no small part due to Brenna’s long-held feelings for Raina. And since she had effectively cut all contact with her only other real friend, Lisa – stupid as it was, Raina still felt betrayed by her decision to call the police – Raina had never found anyone to fill that vacancy in her life. Anymore, it seemed a matter of quantity over quality, as she had been forced to surround herself with people she needed due to her position rather than those she wanted for their compatibility. Friendship seemed to come only as a consequence of position and title. 
“I’m sorry,” Raina finally said. “I’m … I’m sorry.” 
“Don’t apologize, dear,” Olivia said as she patiently held the alcohol-soaked cloth. “I understand what you must be going through. And I know that your wounds are having an effect upon your mood, as well. And on that note … I must warn you, this is going to sting something awful.” 
“Is it really necessary to— … shit, shit, shit!” Raina yelped as Olivia not only wiped roughly at the wound but actually dug her finger into it slightly through the cloth, probing at it to cleanse the area. She balled her hands into fists so tight that her fingernails threatened to break the skin of her palms – just what she needed, more wounds needing to be cleaned. She closed her eyes tightly as she fought the urge to scream aloud. 
Her wounds had already begun to “gel over” – that is, to form a soft, translucent sort of scab over the sites of injury, a substance that would remain fairly sticky and tacky and would only gradually dry and solidify as the wound healed. However, the alcohol acted as a solvent against those protective formations, and the wound began to seep anew with fresh blood. Though she was blessed with an amazingly strong immune system that was capable of defeating a vast majority of common viral and bacterial infections, the alcohol was meant to cleanse away any severe germs that her body might not be able to defeat … particularly MRSA, which was becoming a more and more common and serious problem for humans and even some vampires. 
Olivia seemed to hold the tip of her finger inside of Raina’s wound for a moment before finally wiping the cloth around in a circular fashion and then immediately covering the wound with a fresh, dry section of cloth as she pulled the alcohol-soaked one away. Raina wondered how many times she had done something like this for Duvessa, or anyone else of the House of Fallamhain. She certainly seemed to know what she was doing.
Medical techniques for vampires were relatively simple, but they were often quite different from those of humans, as they required one to take into consideration the unusual healing properties and allergies of most vampires. For example, the bandaging to her left hand had already been removed so that the wound could begin to dry without the bandage interfering with it. If left on too long, the “gelled-over” part of the wound would dry with the bandage sort of woven into itself, and thus when the bandage would later be removed, it would tear open the wound and undo a great deal of the healing that had been done. Raina had learned this the hard way following her fight with Duvessa, as the hospital staff had not been fully trained in treating vampires and she had been left mostly to care for herself once she had been discharged. 
“Sorry,” Olivia said, “but I just want to make sure to get out as much of the residual silver as I can.” 
“I’d rather just … heal it up on my own,” Raina said, feeling nearly breathless as a bit of dizziness and nausea briefly washed over her. She looked down to her knees. “At least my legs aren’t still going crazy.” 
“It’s not too late to go to a hospital.” 
She shook her head. “I’ll only go to one to check in on Svetlana and Thomas. I don’t want to be anyone’s guinea pig again.” 
“This isn’t America, your grace. The doctors here in London won’t treat you like that. They know how to treat vampires.” 
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Just … help me finish getting a little patched up so I can get out of this place.” 
“As you wish, your grace.” 
After a few moments, there was a polite knock at the door. Olivia hurriedly got up and rushed over to the door, opening it only enough to peek out at whoever was on the other side. She turned to Raina with a concerned expression. 
“It’s Duchess Serenity, your grace,” she informed her. 
“Shit,” Raina cursed under her breath, grabbing her blazer from where it lay upon the office desk nearby. Gritting her teeth against the pain, her voice was strained as she began to put it on to cover herself a bit more discreetly. “I’m really not in the mood for anymore drama tonight, Olivia. What does she want?” 
“She wishes to speak with you immediately.” She paused, and Raina heard a voice speaking softly to Olivia from the other side of the door. “She says it’s absolutely imperative that she speak with you.” She paused again, apparently relaying her words. There was an odd look upon her face. “She knows who was responsible for the assassination attempt.”
Raina’s first thought was that some people would say anything just to haggle their way into an opportunity to have a one-on-one conversation with her. Because of her rock star-like celebrity status, people too often had a tendency to try using the same groupie games to gain the equivalent of backstage access. Among the High Court, this was not so much a matter of wishing to rub elbows with a famous name as it was a matter of trying to curry favor with the most politically powerful vampire in the world. And while Raina did consider Duchess Serenity to be something of an ally, the events of that night had seemed to put an entirely different spin upon everything. At this point, Raina was even inclined to be a bit suspicious of Olivia. 
Holding the front of the jacket closed in front with one hand, Raina reached over with a grimace of discomfort and picked up the sheathed sword she had propped up against the worn antique oak desk. She did not expect any trouble from the Duchess. Then again, she had not expected to kill three humans that night, either. 
“Let her in,” she said with a heavy sigh. 
Olivia stood aside as she opened the door and Duchess Serenity gracefully glided into view. Serenity was the youngest of the Elders. In fact, by definition of her age, she was hardly an Elder, at all, as she was just a bit over sixty years of age. Her swift ascent to power and title had come as a result of her strategic and frankly manipulative decisions to court the right individuals. In short, she had slept her way close to the top. And while she was very open-minded and genuinely kind, it was the nature of Serenity’s rise to power that was the reason Raina felt that she could not entirely trust her. 
From the day she had met her, Serenity had tried to profess how well she understood Raina’s situation and how inherently close she felt to her in so many ways. Largely, the basis for this was simply the fact that they both had spent a large part of their lives in Arizona. Serenity was an outspoken proponent of all things New Age. She often relished going on and on about things such as healing crystals, psychic bonds, astrological signs and horoscopes, herbs and oils, the energy vortices in Sedona, and so forth. In the past, Raina’s mother had associated with a few friends that reminded her of Serenity, but they were all middle-aged women that never wore makeup, had frizzy hair, wore lots of beads and tie-died clothing, usually neglected to shave their armpits or legs, and always reeked of patchouli. Like Serenity, they were friendly folk, but a little bit too much on the eccentric side for Raina’s comfort. 
Frankly, Raina considered Serenity to be a little weird, but generally harmless. Serenity had never once been known to have drawn her blade in anger, nor had she ever engaged in a duel with anyone. She had proven quite well that not all conquests in the High Court were made possible by the business end of a sword … which made Serenity, in some ways, perhaps even more dangerous than even the most skilled swordsmen in the IVC. After all, Duvessa had similarly appeared to be as wholesome and good-natured on the outside, having gone to great lengths to conceal the fact that she was a manipulative, murderous wench with a hidden past as a Nazi sympathizer. 
Being a sworn Vegan and a staunch supporter of animal rights, Serenity went to almost absurd lengths to avoid using things that were made from animal products or chemicals that were tested upon animals. As such, her choice of clothing may have seemed a bit cheap or lackluster in appearance compared to others of the IVC. She nevertheless managed to look quite stunningly elegant and beautiful in her own right. Her naturally straight, strawberry-blonde hair rivaled the length Duvessa had exhibited, extending all the way down to the back of her knees, and it was always surprisingly glossy and smooth. Her light hazel eyes sparkled with excitement as much as the subtle glitter that shimmered upon her face from the body lotion that she favored. As Serenity drew close to kneel respectfully before her Grand Duchess, Raina could smell the fruity scent of that lotion – peach, melon, pear, or some combination of those fruits. Serenity’s feet were clad in ramp-styled shoes made of hemp, cork, fabric, and wood that may have looked cheap but, given their design, were probably quite expensive. Bracelets with little charms of various shapes twinkled softly about her wrists and ankles. And the plain white, unbleached dress she wore looked quite a bit like a Greek toga, but with the accenting braids and styling of her hair and her natural grace and beauty, it lent her an almost goddess-like appearance. Like Duvessa, Serenity usually favored wearing white for the sake of public psychology – white was good and black was evil – and because of her eccentric beliefs regarding certain attributes belonging to certain colors. 
“Your grace,” Serenity greeted her with that breathy, sweet voice of hers, “I have been so worried for you. You’ve no idea how relieved I am to see you alive. Goddess be praised!” 
Olivia waited patiently by the half-opened door. Raina gave her a nod to let her know she would be fine, and Olivia offered a polite bow before backing out and quietly closing the door behind herself. 
“Thank you, Duchess Serenity,” Raina said, unable to help smiling a bit as she motioned for the Elder to stand. “It’s good to know that not everyone in the IVC wants to see me dead.” 
Lifting her head to meet Raina’s gaze as she arose, Serenity insisted, “Oh, quite the contrary, your grace. The vast majority of the Council was quite happy to see you defeat Duchess Camille. After all, they were very glad to be rid of Duvessa, and everyone is counting upon you to clear out Duvessa’s remaining loyalists from the Council.” 
“They sure have a funny way of showing their gratitude. I’m surprised half the IVC didn’t line up to take a swing at my neck,” Raina quipped. 
“It’s all about saving face, I’m afraid,” she said. “We all want the same thing, I’m sure. That is, we all want to integrate with the humans, and most of us want to put all of this brutality and violence behind us. But nobody wants to admit that they were wrong. So many of us have been going at this for so long that, as you said, it would seem like hypocrisy to suddenly condemn our own actions in the past. The protest against your decree was mostly just for show.” 
Raina raised an eyebrow at that. “So, Duchess Camille tried to kill me just to avoid looking like a hypocrite?” 
“No. I’m afraid she was one of the few that took it a bit too seriously,” Serenity admitted. “She is the most outspoken of Duvessa’s remaining loyalists. As you’ve seen, she was very close with Duvessa. They shared a sick passion for cruelty.” 
“Seems like a common theme with all of Duvessa’s friends,” Raina mused, glancing at the sword in her right hand. “So … about this assassination attempt…” 
“I don’t know exactly who did it,” Serenity said immediately, “but I know someone who does.” 
“Oh, really.” Raina’s smile vanished. “A friend of a friend, I suppose?” 
“Not exactly, no,” she admitted, glancing aside rather nervously. “An associate of mine in America just contacted me with information regarding the attack. She very strongly believes that she knows who was responsible.” 
“She believes she knows, or she actually knows?” Raina asked. “I’m not ready to start chasing after rumors.” 
“She is a very credible, trustworthy individual. I have known her for several years,” Serenity assured her with a nod. “She felt strongly enough about this to call me right away. In fact, she called me just before you arrived here. I trust her enough to say with full confidence that what she claims to know is true.” 
Raina paused, eyeing her closely as Serenity anxiously clasped her hands together at her waist. “Then why didn’t this associate of yours just call me directly?” 
Serenity looked to the floor, her eyes drifting to the small pile of bloodstained rags and paper towels as she replied, “Well … she sees this as an opportunity, I’m afraid … a quid pro quo sort of agreement.” And then, sensing the intensity of Raina’s response to her words, she bowed her head and said, “I am sorry, your grace. I know this must seem terribly inappropriate.” 
Actually, what bothered Raina most was Serenity’s use of the term quid pro quo, as the last person she recalled having used that phrase was Duke Sebastian … minutes before he had rendered her unconscious, sexually assaulted her, and injected her with his blood. She remembered all too clearly the conversation that she’d had with her Maker, that short period of time she had been permitted to get to know the individual that had ultimately destroyed her humanity. But, just the same, the idea that Serenity’s informant was withholding information in order to seek personal gains was also quite unsettling. 
“What does she want in return? Money?” Raina asked after a moment. 
Serenity shrugged. “Actually, she was afraid to ask you for anything. She was asking me for a favor in return.” 
Raina shook her head as she sighed, “If this associate of yours knows something about a major crime that’s been committed, they’re legally obligated to inform the authorities … even if it’s in another country. Withholding information to a crime is a serious offense.” 
“Actually … your grace,” Serenity began very carefully, “that is exactly why I chose to come to you directly with this. You see, what she wants from me is a promise for protection. But … well, I … I don’t know how to say this exactly, but…” 
“You’re a lover, not a fighter,” Raina said for her with a smirk. 
Serenity again bowed her head, honestly ashamed of herself. “I am so sorry, your grace.” 
“No, don’t,” Raina insisted, holding up a hand. “You shouldn’t apologize at all for that. There’s no shame in that at all.” 
“But … it’s a sign of weakness. The other Elders, they have always looked down upon me because…” 
“Because they only know how to rule with violence?” Raina interrupted. “Honestly, I think they are jealous of you, Duchess Serenity. The only way they seem to know how to solve disputes, and the only way to show their power, is by hacking their enemies to death.” 
Serenity’s skin actually began to exhibit a slight illumination. As she had long ago learned, High Court vampires did not blush, they glowed. 
“You are too kind, your grace.” Eventually, she managed to make eye contact again. “Even so … the fact remains that I honestly could not provide her with any sort of protection.” 
“Protection from whom?” 
“She did not say, but I would assume that she meant the person or persons who are responsible for having ordered the attack,” Serenity replied. 
“But … you’re one of the richest vampires in the world! I mean, you’ve got more connections to people in Hollywood and everywhere else than anyone else I can think of in the IVC,” Raina said. “Why can’t you just hire some professional bodyguards for her?” 
Serenity shook her head sadly. “I am sorry to say, your grace, but the only people that would be willing to work for me are people that I would not trust with that kind of responsibility. Not many humans are truly willing to put themselves in harm’s way for the sake of vampires or their human servants.” 
“And what makes you think anyone would be more willing to work for me? I’m just as much a vampire as you.” 
Again, Serenity hesitated. “She believes that they will be less inclined to come after her if she were to become … a High Court bloodspawn. They would not risk the consequences of going against someone powerful if they attacked the bloodspawn of someone in the IVC and … honestly, I am not powerful enough, even as an Elder.” She paused, meeting Raina’s gaze quite directly. “And if I may say so, your grace … considering the risks you face … it would probably do you well to expand your bloodline by at least one more member.” 
Raina fidgeted slightly for a moment, mulling over the idea. On some levels, what Serenity was saying made sense. Serenity was, quite frankly, a hippie vampire. Sure, she carried a sword – a wakizashi, a Japanese style of short sword, to be exact – but its blade probably wasn’t even functional, strictly a ceremonial accessory. Even more doubtful was the idea that she even knew how to use it in actual combat. Serenity was definitely a pacifist, as part of her public fame was based upon being an outspoken anti-war advocate. She had made her way toward the top by pleasing everyone – financially, emotionally, even physically. She had never once been challenged to a duel simply because Serenity was as politically unoffending to the IVC as a fluffy little baby bunny. And being that High Court vampires tended to choose like-minded individuals for their consorts, all three of her male consorts were just as pacifistic as Serenity, herself. Sure, Serenity could be this informant’s Maker, and yes, she would be within her rights to retaliate if someone attacked her bloodspawn. But unless Serenity could make her “magick” spells actually do something in reality, she was more or less an impotent threat to anyone. She could never protect herself from attack, much less her own bloodspawn. It was a wonder that someone in the IVC hadn’t already found an excuse to challenge and slay her, simply because she would have been a pathetically easy victory.
Just as well, Raina knew that the authorities weren’t exactly inclined to get involved, either. Even though an innocent human, the limo driver, had died that night during the attack, and the other three men that had died were human, Raina knew that nothing would really come about of it. Although they were polite and at least seemingly sympathetic to her situation, and even though they never once said anything as much, Raina got the distinct impression that the authorities were looking at this as a “when you lay down with dogs, you get fleas” sort of issue. The actions of the paparazzi were enough to confirm it.
As the humans saw it, all four men essentially had deserved their fates – the three hired killers, simply for being hired killers, and the limo driver, simply because he was employed by vampires. Similarly, if a known mobster or street gang thug turned up dead, the only time law enforcement would go after the killer is if it would add to a case they were already building against someone higher up in the food chain. They were content just to take some pictures, write down some basic notes, bag and tag the bodies, wash the pavement clean, and tell the crowd to disperse. If a vampire was trying to kill another vampire, so what if their hired goons got caught up in the mix? The only humans that would have cared were the ones that were already on their way to the morgue. 
So, Raina was in a position to offer sanctuary, but at what price? Of course, she wished to … no, scratch that … she needed to go after the person(s) that had tried to kill her. It was only a matter of time before they tried again. Ethan and an innocent man were dead because of her. Svetlana and Thomas had nearly been killed on her behalf as well. And the blood of three other men was upon Raina’s hands (literally). Obviously, the opportunity to satisfy her urges for both vengeance and justice was a major plus … but that benefit also came with a free economy-sized can of worms as an added bonus. 
“Let me get this straight,” Raina finally sighed. “You’re asking me to agree to accept a complete stranger into the House of Fallamhain … not as a servant or an ally, but as my consort?” 
“Only as your bloodspawn, your grace,” Serenity quickly added with a gently raised hand. “Whether or not you choose to make her your consort is entirely up to you.” 
“But it’s pretty much the rule rather than the exception, isn’t it? When a High Court creates a new bloodspawn, they’re also claiming that person as their lover,” Raina said with a bit of a frown. Her left leg began to twitch a bit, and she promptly slapped a hand onto her knee and held it firmly in place. 
Serenity glanced at Raina’s restrained leg for only an instant before meeting her eyes again. Rather cryptically, she replied, “You are our Grand Duchess. Your word is law.” 
“Even if I didn’t take this person as my consort,” Raina continued, “you do realize that becoming someone’s Maker isn’t a trivial thing. It’s not like adopting a puppy. It’s more like giving birth to a child.” 
“Oh, you are very right, your grace! The Change is very much like childbirth. It’s a very, very beautiful thing,” Serenity replied with a brief smile. “But yes, I agree, it is quite a serious commitment. But just as well … you could always, ah … arrange for her to become a consort to someone else, perhaps even to someone of another bloodline. That would release her from her obligation to you, and you would no longer be responsible for her.” 
Raina was unpleasantly reminded of the fact that this was precisely what had led to the bloody war between Countess Wilhelmina and Duvessa. When Elizabeth Fallamhain had fallen out of favor with her so-called mother, Duvessa had promptly traded her away to another bloodline in exchange for yet another lover – Cedric Fallamhain, to be exact. Having thusly become Countess Wilhelmina von Reichenbach, Duvessa’s former daughter-by-blood fostered a long and steadily swelling hatred for her mother, the Grand Duchess. Eventually Duvessa’s act of callous betrayal had come back to haunt her when Wilhelmina slaughtered all of her consorts and several of her beloved servants. It was enough that Raina was finding herself more and more to be Duvessa’s daughter by way of inheriting her tendencies. She would not be helping herself by committing the same acts as her predecessor and thus writing a duplicate chapter in history for the House of Fallamhain. 
Raina was inclined to say no, but the arguments for agreeing to the deal seemed equally strong. If she could find a way to make this new addition to her bloodline a practical and reasonable one, then perhaps it would not be such a bad thing after all. Just as well, if she passed up this clear opportunity to go after the ones that had hurt and killed her friends, and to also prevent them from doing any further damage, she would surely come to regret it later on … or perhaps in the form of another assassin’s bullet finding its way through her head or heart. 
“I’ll need some time to think about it,” Raina finally said with a nod. “How soon do you need an answer?” 
Serenity’s eyes brightened as she visibly restrained her smile. “Well … if it’s not too much trouble … maybe … tomorrow night?” 
That soon? Raina didn’t like it, but she was too sore, too exhausted, and she had too many other things on her mind to try to haggle for more time. She was already leaning toward agreeing to the deal, but as usual, she wanted to run it by Olivia first … and Loki, of course, being that he was the only other true Fallamhain still living in this world. And, if nothing else, hopefully her wounds would have begun to heal enough by then that she could think more clearly beyond the pain. 
“You’ll be in London for a few more days, right?” 
“Yes, of course.” 
“Swing by the Estate sometime,” Raina said with a nod. “Make up some kind of an excuse as a cover. Obviously, you don’t need to be drawing attention to yourself over this. Whoever’s behind this mess will probably be just as inclined to come after you.” 
“Of course, your grace. I will visit the Fallamhain Estate to show support for my queen,” she replied with an enthusiastic nod. 
“You mean your Grand Duchess.” 
“Yes, of course.” She knelt before Raina once more, kissing her hand and looking up to her with a broad smile. “Thank you for your time. May the Goddess watch over you and keep you safe.” 
“Thank you, Duchess Serenity. Give my regards to all in your House.” 
“Most certainly.” 
She backed away and reached for the knob of the door, hesitating as she watched Raina struggle to bring herself to stand with the aid of her sword as a makeshift walking stick. 
“Are you sure you will be fine?” Serenity asked with genuine concern. “I would be more than happy to ask my consorts to offer you a measure of blood, if it would help…?” 
“No, no, thanks. I’ll be fine,” Raina insisted with a quick wave of one hand as she stood, her left knee persistently wobbling a bit for a second or two before relaxing. “Believe me, I’ve already seen enough blood for one night.” 

* * * *

Chapter Nine 



A recess had been declared, and the Hall was mostly cleared. The House of Fallamhain was among the last to leave. Raina felt quite feverish and utterly drained, a cold sweat covering her entire body and surely making her look quite ghastly. She was nonetheless able to walk on her own, summoning all of her strength and courage to appear indifferent to the pain of her wounds. A few members of the IVC had lingered to wish her well, and to congratulate her on her bravery and her successful duel. Without exception, each of them tried to use their well-wishes and congratulations as a prelude to ask her for a moment of her time, just as Serenity had done, but the issues about which they wished to speak with her were more selfish and petty. 
Raina politely dismissed each of them, honestly stating that she did not feel up to resolving disputes at that time, and insisted that she would address their concerns at a later time as soon as it was reasonably possible. As in other occasions, she handed them business cards with her private e-mail address printed upon it – of course, courtesy of Simon – and assured them that she would reply to them in a timely manner. A couple of them seemed a bit put off by this, but all were respectful and politely thanked her before getting out of her way and allowing her to exit the Hall of the High Court. 
Dreary as the weather was, the night air hanging thick with the chilling autumn rain of London, she had nevertheless felt so glad to be standing in it as she was in the moment she first stepped outside. Given all that had happened before, and particularly what Raina had expected in reaction to her words that night, she had not entirely expected to find herself alive to experience that bit of gloomy weather, at all. 
Surprisingly, there were even more people now than before – members of the press, as well as a throng of fans, and police officers to keep them all at a distance. A lengthy applause erupted as Raina and the others emerged from the Hall. Loki and Olivia walked closely beside her, ready to catch or aid her if she began to stumble, but she managed to descend the front steps without assistance, even doing so at an almost casual pace. Sophie and Simon followed closely behind. 
Loki had arranged for one of Raina’s other cars to be brought to the Hall to replace the destroyed limousine. Raina and Olivia were led into the back of the Mercedes-Benz sedan. Raina paused briefly to give Loki a brief, loving kiss before their departure, an act that brought the clicks of many surrounding cameras (as it always did). Loki again rode separately from Raina, accompanied by Sophie, while Simon again drove them. The driver of the sedan in which Raina and Olivia rode was only vaguely familiar to her, a polite, handsome, and soft-spoken man by the name of Derry. The ride back to the Fallamhain Estate was, thankfully, uneventful and completely devoid of any gunfire. 
As she had somehow expected, Olivia was quite agreeable to the idea of Raina accepting Duchess Serenity’s deal. After all, she had been practically hounding her to begin looking for another bloodspawn to extend her bloodline, or at least to surround herself with more Commoner and Sabertooth vampires for a bit of added safety and convenience.
One selling point she did offer Raina, however, was that adding a third member to the Fallamhain race would enable her to at least occasionally travel with Loki, as they would not then be placing their entire bloodline at risk by being together in close proximity. As much as they had seemed to be drifting slightly apart as of late, Raina nonetheless cherished every opportunity to be close to her consort. Being made aware of this detail did a bit more than simply sweeten the appeal of the arrangement. 
Raina was insistent about wishing to see Svetlana and Thomas, and so she stayed at the mansion only long enough to shower, properly dress her wounds, put on a fresh set of clothes, and depart again. Loki seemed especially eager to come along, showing a particular eagerness to check up on Svetlana, but Raina insisted that he remain at the mansion. She didn’t want to travel more than it was absolutely necessary, hopefully minimizing the amount of danger to which he’d be exposed, at least for the time being. She did not tell him about her talk with Serenity, instead keeping the deal a secret with Olivia, whose professional discretion she trusted. She did not mistrust Loki, but the fewer who knew, the fewer there would be involved, and thus the fewer lives there would be at risk. He seemed almost hurt by the idea of staying behind … and yet somehow, it didn’t entirely seem to be all about wanting to be close to her, because he knew they would again have to travel separately. 
By the time Raina arrived at the hospital, Thomas was already in the process of being discharged. He was in good spirits and especially happy to see that Raina had emerged from the Hall, alive and victorious. Feeling reasonably safe in the hospital, and equally sure that a second attack against her was still only just then being planned, Raina asked Simon to drive Thomas back to the Fallamhain Estate so that he could be safely inside before dawn broke. 
Thomas had been hit several times, but surprisingly, his wounds were not particularly severe. One bullet had become lodged in his left side, requiring surgery to extract it, but the others had passed right through his body, amazingly having caused only light organ damage – nothing that he couldn’t manage to heal within a day or two. Their attackers had been using NATO-issue full metal jacketed nine-millimeter ammunition, bullets that did not expand or fragment upon impact and, thus, caused wounds that were much less traumatic. His vampiric physiology also had minimized the amount of blood that he had lost, causing the wounds to gel over in a relatively short amount of time. Aside from the minor surgery to remove the bullet near his left lung, all that he had required was a transfusion of one unit of blood. His discharge from the hospital was already in the process of being arranged.
Svetlana, on the other hand, was in sad shape. As it turned out, only one shot had struck her, but the damage it had done was terrible. The bullet had entered through the side window of the limo, losing some velocity before punching into her left side, ricocheting upward off one of her ribs, and traveling across her torso before it finally exited with a large, gory wound below her right collarbone. The slightly deformed pistol-caliber bullet, itself, had been found lying upon the floor of the limo, sheathed in Svetlana’s blood. 
As a result of the projectile’s path of destruction, Svetlana had sustained damage to both of her lungs, her stomach, and her liver. Her left lung had collapsed entirely and her right had partially collapsed as well. She had been in such terrible shape at the time she’d left the scene of the crime that paramedics had barely managed to keep her alive, forcing breath after breath into her on the way to the hospital. She had been on a ventilator for awhile until the doctors had stabilized her, which was relatively unheard of for a vampire. Although Svetlana was now conscious and recovering quickly, she was still in a great deal of misery. The dosage of drugs needed to affect any kind of painkilling upon a vampire was very high. Blinking slowly and barely able to keep her eyes open, Svetlana appeared to drift into consciousness only long enough to see that Raina was there, to offer a feeble half-smile, and then close her eyes again to rest. 
The sight of Raina’s dear friend in that hospital bed, with so many tubes and probes and such hooked up to her, was too much to bear. Left alone by the nurse to visit her, Raina took her friend’s hand into her own, nuzzling her face against it, and finally let go. She cried with guilt, feeling so responsible for all of this that she felt she may as well have pulled the trigger, herself. She sobbed with gratitude for having someone so brave and selfless to have literally used herself as a shield to protect her. But most of all, she bawled simply because she hadn’t been given the chance to do so for what seemed like forever. Nobody was looking. Nobody could see her now. Nobody cared. She let go, and it felt good. God, how it feel so good to finally… 
“No.” 
Raina gasped so sharply that she very nearly choked upon her own tears. She sniffed back her sorrows, hurriedly wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand – her makeup was a mess now, so what – and she arose from the chair placed beside Svetlana’s bed. Svetlana was awake again, looking directly at her with those beautiful, icy blue eyes of hers. Raina gripped her hand a bit more tightly and forced herself to smile. 
“Hey, girl,” she said softly, “it’s okay. I’m here. What’s up?” 
“No … no crying,” Svetlana told her, barely above a whisper. Her breaths were shallow, slow, and visibly painful. 
“Shhh … don’t worry. Everything’s cool,” she told her, patting her hand. 
“No … no crying,” Svetlana said again. 
Raina nodded and wiped at her eyes again. “You’re right. I know, you’re right. I’m not supposed to cry. I keep forgetting that I’m the Grand Duchess. I’m not allowed to have a total breakdown like normal people.” 
Svetlana squeezed her eyes shut as she swallowed painfully, shaking her head slowly. After a moment, she wheezed, “I am … sorry.” 
“Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Raina felt her eyes again beginning to water. “Svetlana, honey, you saved me from that attack. You took a bullet for me. I owe you my friggin’ life.” 
Svetlana shook her head, a bit more vigorously this time. “No … I … sorry for…” 
Raina waited and Svetlana paused again to swallow. She coughed slightly, and that effort seemed to hurt her most of all, causing her to curse something in Russian under her breath. She gathered herself for a moment, keeping her eyes squeezed shut, and finally she freed her hand from Raina’s to gesture for her to come closer. She had to whisper, and her usual broken English was made even worse by her terribly limited lung capacity, her agonizing pains, and the effects of her morphine high. She had to whisper it twice into Raina’s ear before she finally understood … and even then, she still did not entirely understand. 
Raina backed away from her slowly, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t … Svetlana, I don’t think you know what you’re saying.” 
“I do,” Svetlana insisted softly with the barest of nods. “I am … sorry.” 
Raina looked to the bags of fluid, the tubes leading into her friend. “C’mon, it’s the drugs. You’re jacked up on painkillers and talking nonsense. You can probably see a pink elephant standing behind me…” 
“I tried … to tell … in car,” Svetlana reminded her. “I tried … but they … shoot … and now … you say … I lie.” She closed her eyes, and for the first time ever, Raina saw a tear squeeze its way out. “I have … hurt you … and I … am ready … to die.” 
Svetlana’s words were like a hammer driving nails into the lid of a coffin. Raina continued to back away slowly, as though Svetlana were a fire that was quickly swelling and threatening to engulf her if she did not keep her distance. Raina clumsily thumped the back of her head against the window of the glass window and rattled the aluminum blinds before she finally stopped backing up. She stared at Svetlana, holding her gaze from across the small private hospital room and slowly shaking her head. 
“I don’t … I don’t understand,” Raina said after a few moments. “Svetlana, you’re my friend … my best friend. Why would you even say something like that?” 
“Because,” Svetlana said, barely audible from where Raina now stood, “it is true.” She kept her eyes closed. “Please … kill me.” 
“No.” Raina’s eyes were awash with fresh tears and her throat was tight, but she would not cry again. She wasn’t sure that she had anything left inside for it. “No.” 
“Please!” Svetlana cried hoarsely as she tried to push herself up off the hospital bed. 
As was standard fare for vampires in hospitals, a security precaution against sudden bloodlust, Svetlana’s wrists and ankles were secured with shackles that prevented her from getting up. She flopped back down and a croaking sob of sorts escaped her softly as she closed her eyes and turned away. Monitors began to beep with alarms, disturbed by her sudden movement and change in pulse rate.
Raina buried her face in her hands. She would much rather have gone through another duel or faced another trio of gun-wielding assassins than this. She would have much preferred that either of those threats had succeeded in killing her before this. This was too much. This was the last of the last. Raina was done, through with this. She couldn’t take this any longer. She was through. She was out. 
A nurse hurried into the room glanced at Svetlana, and then turned to Raina. “What’s going on? Is everything all right?” 
“No,” Raina said, shaking her head sadly as she refused to sob again. “Not anymore.” 
Before the nurse could ask anything more, Raina turned away and stormed out of the room without looking back. She marched down the hall, her heels clacking loudly with an echo upon the perfectly clean white tile floor. She had to get away, far away, and right away. She was so done with this.
Raina went straight for an elevator, got inside, and stabbed the button for the ground floor with her finger, painfully jamming her nail backward as she did so. Her wounds were still terribly sore and throbbing, burning with pain, but their ache was somehow dulled at that time. Her flesh was brightly aglow, and so when the elevator car stopped only one floor down from the ICU floor where she had been visiting Svetlana, Raina sought to conceal her race by standing with her nose in the corner and pulling her hair over the sides of her face. The long sleeves of her coat and her full-length dress hid everything else, and she kept her hands stuffed within her pockets as four people made their way into the elevator, one of them being pushed along in a wheelchair. 
“Did you hit the button?” a woman asked. 
A male grunted a gruff acknowledgement. A few moments of silence passed, disturbed only when Raina sniffed back a bit of wetness in her nose. Someone else did the same, and after a second or two, Raina heard another woman stifling her own sobs. After the second time Raina did this, she felt something gently being laid upon her right elbow. 
“Aw, missy, what’s the matter?” an elderly lady asked her with a thick British accent. “Are you all right?” 
“No,” she said, “but thanks, anyway.” 
“I’m sorry,” the woman told her. “Have you lost someone?” 
Raina shrugged and then nodded, keeping her face buried in the shadow of the corner and the shade of her own hair. “Yeah … I guess you could say that.” 
“Aw, that’s too bad, dear,” the woman said. “It’s been a hard night for us all.” 
“Yes, it has.” 
“My nephew just passed a few hours ago.” 
“I’m … I’m very sorry to hear that.” 
“Who did you lose tonight, dear?” 
“A close friend.” 
“Oh, dear. I’m so very, very sorry.” 
“Thank you.” 
“Hopefully they found their way to the Lord peacefully,” the woman said. “Our poor Jeffery … he was shot to death.” 
Raina fought the urge to turn and look at the woman in shock. “Really?” 
“Yes, I’m afraid so. Was driving for a big-name vampire, he was, when some men came and shot up the car he was driving,” the woman explained. 
“Fucking bats,” a man commented bitterly. 
“Language, Eddie!” she chastised him. 
“Sorry, mum.” 
“Anyway … it’s a terrible thing,” she went on, “but I can’t say we didn’t warn him.” 
“Mum, please…” 
“Told him that he’d only wind up dead or missing, he would, just like everyone else that worked for that bunch. His friends even told him so.” 
“Mum, please!” the sobbing woman cried. “The vampires had nothing to do with it.” 
“Oh, you hush up now, child. They’re all one and the same,” the old woman said with a feisty tone as the elevator finally came to a halt with a soft chime. “Bunch of no-good, blood-sucking fiends, they are. But that was Jeffery’s crowd. He made his choice to work for them, and they paid him well. But in the end, it cost him dearly. All the money in the world won’t bring him back.” 
“Oh God,” Raina whispered. 
“Anyway … I’m sorry for your loss, dear. Let’s just hope our loved ones have already made their way to a better place,” the woman said, patting her elbow gently. “I’ll pray for you when I get home.” 
It took her two tries to find her voice again before she could finally reply, “Thank you.” 
Even though she meant to exit on the first floor, she remained standing in the corner of the elevator, leaning with her forehead against the cold metal wall while the others filed. She wanted to drop to the floor, curl up into a ball, and scream until her vocal cords were bloody shreds. Instead, she waited until the doors began to close before finally turning away from the corner, stopping the doors from closing entirely, and slipping out of the elevator car. She saw the group of people had moved far enough ahead of her and their attention was focused upon their own conversation. They paid no attention to her as she walked off in a different direction toward another exit. She pulled the hood of her coat over her head and avoided making eye contact with anyone on her way out, though she felt the eyes of a pair of security guards burning upon her with near-suspicion as she left. 
She stepped out into the cold, steady drizzle of the twilight rain and withdrew her cell phone from a pocket inside of her coat, being careful to stand in the shelter of the awning over the hospital side entrance so as not to get the phone wet. She chose the number from the very short list of names and hit “Send” firmly enough that she worried she might crack the phone apart in her hand. After a few moments, there was an answer. 
“Is everything okay?” Simon’s voice immediately asked. 
She did her best to keep her voice as normal-sounding as possible. “Are you at the Estate?” 
“Um … yeah. I’ve got Thomas squared away in one of the spare rooms. Sophie’s helping take care of him right now,” he explained. There was a pause. “Are you all right?” 
“Can you pick me up?” 
“Yes, of course. I’m heading for the car right now,” he replied. “Your grace … is she okay?” 
“Svetlana’s okay. She’ll be fine,” Raina assured him, feeling her voice strain with something between sorrow and rage. “Everyone’s going to be just fine.” 
Reluctantly, Simon pressed, “Are you all right?” 
She wanted to answer, but decided against it. “How soon can you be here?” 
“Ten, maybe fifteen.” 
“I’ll be outside the west entrance.” 
“Right.” And still yet another pause. “If you’d like … I mean, if you’re hungry at all, I could pick up something along the way…?” 
Not caring that she was being rude, Raina snapped her phone shut and ended the call. She pocketed the phone and looked around for a few moments. She was alone. An occasional car passed by on the side street, but this early in the morning, nothing was going on. It felt strange, being out in public and not finding herself immediately surrounded and swarmed by fans and/or camera-toting paparazzi. She was anonymous here. She was nobody. And this just suited her perfectly fine. She felt anonymous. She felt like nobody. She felt utterly empty and hollow, a thing of no more physical substance than a dream or a memory. It wasn’t the first time she had felt this way in her life. But this was the first time she had felt this alone following an event that actually hadn’t involved the death of someone she loved. 
After a few moments, she pulled out the phone again. She dialed Olivia’s phone. She answered, though she sounded a bit groggy. Olivia apparently had already gone to bed, leaving her niece to stay awake to take care of Thomas. Raina asked her if she knew of a number where she could reach Duchess Serenity. As though she had been waiting for such a request all along, Olivia gave her the number within a few seconds. Raina programmed the number into her phone, thanked her, hung up, and dialed the new number. 
“Blessed be,” Serenity’s distinctive voice answered on the third ring. 
“It’s me, the Fairy Godmother,” Raina said. “Remember that thing we talked about earlier in the Hall? Count me in.” 
“I’m sorry? Oh! Oh, that! Excellent! I’m so glad to hear that!” Serenity cheered brightly as she realized who was calling. “I’ll make the arrangements for your flight right away.”
“Great,” Raina said, and then a moment later, “Whoa, whoa, wait … my flight? What?”
“Your flight to America,” she elaborated. “I’ll cover all of the expenses, don’t worry.”
Raina wanted to ask where, exactly, in America, and when, and for how long. But in the same moment she realized that she really didn’t care. Anywhere else but this place was better – anywhere away from here, away from the Hall of the High Court, away from the Fallamhain Estate, and away from everyone that lived within its many walls. This was the closest thing to a vacation for which she could have hoped, and she was taking it.
“Okay. I’ll start packing. Let me know when the flight leaves,” she sighed.
“Right away! I’ll book the next flight tonight, first class.”
“Sounds great. They still serve alcohol on planes, don’t they?”
“I imagine so.”
“Good,” Raina said, “because I think I’ll have their entire stock cleaned out by the time we land.”
“Oh my,” Serenity said with a chuckle. She paused. “Your grace … is everything okay?”
Not this again.
“I’ll tell you about it on the flight. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk.”
“That would be wonderful. I’ll call you back soon.”
“Right on,” she replied before snapping the phone shut once more.
Raina waited impatiently for Simon’s arrival, pacing anxiously back and forth and doing her best to avoid any attention from those that were walking into or out of the hospital. Traffic was slowly beginning to pick up on the street, and more people were coming into the hospital, mostly employees starting their early-morning shifts. Though the sky was thick with clouds and the rain continued to fall, the swelling brightness outside warned Raina that dawn was at hand. She would not burn up, of course, especially when the heavens were overcast and she was so thoroughly covered from head to toe, but the worsening brightness did eventually force her to retrieve her sunglasses from the case in her inner coat pocket. 
The sunglasses allowed her eyes to relax enough that she was no longer squinting, and they helped (along with her hooded coat) to provide an additional degree of anonymity. Raina was at the end of her rope, the last of her nerves frayed nearly beyond use. She truly had no idea what else to do with her life from that point onward. At least people were leaving her alone now, for once. If she had been accosted by cameras or if she had been forced to reveal her identity to the family of that deceased driver, Raina would have completely lost it. Well … not that she felt like she’d ever “had it” in the first place… 
When Simon finally arrived in the luxury SUV, Raina practically dove into the rear passenger seat. It always felt strange getting in on the left side and not finding a steering wheel in front of her, so she usually just chose the back seat by default. Just as well, she despised being carted around all over the place, as she honestly missed the simple pleasure of driving. But unless she went through the trouble of acquiring a driver’s permit here, she could not legally drive in London. It was just as well, anyway. She was sure that at some point, she would forget where she was, take a right-hand turn into the oncoming lane, and inevitably kill or maim someone in a head-on collision. That was just the way things usually went for her. 
The act of getting into the back of the car in such a hurry caused her terrible pain, but Raina simply winced and slammed the door shut as soon as she was inside. Though she felt naked in a car without one, she didn’t bother with a safety belt. It would have hurt too much to put on, as it would have laid right across one of her wounds. If they got into a wreck serious enough that a belt might save her life, she would have much preferred to die, anyway. 
“I hope you don’t mind, but I got you something,” Simon said as he turned about in his seat to face her. He picked up a covered foam cup from the center console and offered it to her. “Mocha latte?” 
“Thank you, Simon,” she sighed. 
“I also grabbed a couple snacks,” he added, turning back around to drive. He looked back at her via the rearview mirror. “I figured that, ah … well, the last time you probably had anything was before we left for the Hall, and…” 
“It was very thoughtful of you, Simon,” she said as she carefully held the latte in her lap. Raina turned to look out the side window as they began to roll away from the hospital. “I just … I’m not sure I can hold anything down right now.” 
He kept glancing at her in the mirror with a clearly concerned expression upon his face. “How are your wounds?” 
“They hurt.” She let her forehead rest against the cool glass of the window as streaks of rainwater drooled across its other side. “Everything hurts.” 
“Is it getting any worse?” 
Raina closed her eyes. “I don’t think it can get much worse than this.” 
There was a long pause of silence as Simon turned onto a larger multi-lane street and settled into a comfortable cruise. She opened her eyes and looked again to the front of the SUV. He kept glancing back at her in the rearview mirror. Raina understood that he was concerned about her, but honestly, it was beginning to annoy her. 
“Is it really that obvious?” she asked him. 
“I’m sorry?” 
“You keep looking at me like you know what’s going on.” 
Simon appeared to be caught off guard. He stammered and stumbled over his own words for a moment or two before finally chuckling and saying, “I don’t know what you mean, your grace.” 
“Oh, please,” she groaned, lying back carefully in her seat. After the pain of that subtle movement faded, Raina asked, “How long have you known about it?” 
“Known about … I’m sorry, what?” 
“Cut the bullshit, Simon. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said flatly. “Did you actually see it going on, yourself, or did you just hear about it from someone else?” 
“Your grace, I…” 
“Pull over!” Raina cried suddenly. “Just pull over and stop the car!” 
Clearly startled, Simon complied with her request as efficiently as possible, settling into a parallel parking spot in front of a few random shops with brightly-colored fronts. He put the transmission into parking gear and set the handbrake before turning in his seat to face her. 
“Listen, Simon,” Raina said, leaning forward to set her cup of mocha into one of the rear cup holders of the center console, “let’s try this again, okay? Let’s just pretend, just for a little while, that I’m not some big, famous, wealthy vampire bitch. And let’s forget that you work for me, okay? Let’s just be people … just two ordinary, run-of-the-mill people, having a conversation over some morning coffee. Okay? Can we do that?” 
“Okay. Sure.” 
“No, I mean it. Don’t call me ‘your grace,’ or ‘your highness,’ ‘my queen,’ or whatever,” she insisted. “Just call me Raina. All right?” 
“All right.” 
“And please stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.” 
“But … honestly, I don’t.” 
“Like hell!” 
“No, really … Raina, I don’t. I swear,” he insisted, forcing himself to use her first name. 
“Then what’s with the whole ‘what’s wrong, baby’ routine?” 
He blinked at her. “I’m sorry. Did I really call you baby?” 
“Not literally, but … you know what I mean.” 
“Because, you know, I only had about four hours of sleep yesterday and I’ve been sucking down coffee like a nutter so, y’know, if I said something inappropriate, then maybe…” 
“Simon!” 
He flinched at the volume of her voice. “Sorry.” 
“How … long?” she demanded sternly. 
Simon looked at her for a moment with his mouth agape, utterly baffled. “How long is … umm … what?” 
“You know what I’m talking about. How … long?” 
He raised an eyebrow, glanced around nervously for a couple of seconds, and finally asked, “My … penis?” 
“No!” Raina cried, the humor of the moment escaping her completely. “Look, you had to have seen or heard something about what’s been going on. You’re in and out of the mansion all the time, day and night. You practically live there. And the way you’re acting now, I know for a fact that you knew what was going on…” 
“Honestly, I was just concerned after what happened to you earlier tonight,” he insisted gently. “I mean, some mercenaries shot up your limo, killed Ethan, almost killed Svetlana and Thomas, you had to kill three…” 
“I know, I know,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I don’t need a full recap of what happened.” 
“I was honestly just … I-I-I don’t know,” Simon said with a shrug. “I was just trying to be … you know … friendly, I guess. Was it a bit too forward? It was, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.” 
Raina let out a frustrated sigh and shook her head sadly, looking out the window once again. Her breath created a cloud of fog upon the inside of the tinted glass. 
“You’re serious. You really don’t understand why I’m upset,” she said more than asked. 
Simon shrugged. “Honestly I … just wish you’d come out with it.” 
“Loki’s been fucking Svetlana,” Raina said at last. Having said it aloud for the first time made something inside of her twist painfully tight again, almost as hard as it had when Svetlana had first made her confession. 
Simon’s eyes drifted aside. “Oh. Oh, that.” 
“Yeah,” Raina muttered, “that.” 
“I, ah … guess you and Svetlana finally talked,” he said. 
“Briefly, yes.” 
“Did you … y’know?” he asked. Raina looked to him and saw that he was making a cutthroat gesture with his fingers. 
“No! No, of course not! Jesus! Why … why would I do that?” 
“Well … because as Grand Duchess, you are within your rights to…” 
“No, I’m not,” she said firmly. “Being Grand Duchess does not give me the right to fly into a jealous rage and commit murder just because someone cheated on me. I thought I made that pretty clear tonight in the Hall with my decree. If humans can’t murder humans, then vampires can’t murder vampires. I don’t have a license to kill and maim with impunity just because I’m in charge.” 
“I thought we were supposed to forget about you being Grand Duchess…?” 
“I’m just making a point, okay?” 
“Well, be that as it may … and even though I agree with you … the fact remains that you still can legally do as you please. I mean, the Code has that big catch-all loophole in it that basically says a Maker can kill their bloodspawn at any time for any reason they see fit. It doesn’t matter if you’re a High Court or a Commoner or whatever because the Code applies to all vampires. So…” 
“So, you’re saying I should kill Svetlana just because she slept with Loki?” 
“No. I mean … not exactly, no,” he said with a shrug. “I’m just saying the option was there, and … well, frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t.” 
Raina gaped at him for a moment or two. “Jesus, Simon, is that the kind of person you think I am? Seriously?” 
“No, no … but … I mean … well, it would certainly seem like a natural reaction,” he tried to explain. “I mean, you see it all the time on the news, a wife comes home and finds her husband in bed with another woman, she comes after both of ‘em with a knife, and…” 
“Okay, look. First off, I didn’t catch them in the act,” Raina said, counting the items off with her fingers. “Secondly, Svetlana is … well, was one of my best friends. Third, Loki is the only person besides me that carries the kind of blood that I do, so I’d be pretty stupid to make myself the only person of my race that’s still alive in the entire world. And fourth … look, I’m getting awfully tired of saying this, but I … am not … Duvessa. I don’t torture people for fun, and I don’t kill people just because they piss me off. I know I’m probably just living in denial, and I’m sure that I’m probably just going to turn out to be another homicidal psycho bitch like her, no matter how hard I fight it. But for right now, I’m just trying to be me. I’m just Raina. And I don’t fucking kill or torture people just because I can. Okay?” 
“All right,” Simon said with wide eyes and a lot of nodding. “All right. It’s cool. I just … y’know … I just thought I’d ask. That’s all.” 
Raina saw a few people slowing in their steps to look at the high-dollar SUV with its darkly-tinted windows sitting outside of the shop. “We’d probably better get moving.” 
Simon nodded, put the SUV back into gear, released the brake, and merged smoothly with traffic to continue on home. There was a long break of silence as they drove along. Simon finally switched on the radio and selected a classical music station. The soft melodies of a string concerto sounded quite amazing through the high-end stereo system of the SUV. Raina tried unsuccessfully to distract herself for awhile by breathing a fog onto the window and drawing a frowning face upon it. On a whim, she added fangs and pointy ears to it. Feeling her sense of humor was utterly flat, she wiped the image away with her palm and sat up in her seat, sipping upon the mocha latte as she thought to herself. 
“By the way,” Simon finally said after awhile, “I’m really very sorry.” 
Caught off guard, Raina abruptly gulped the warm mouthful of latte she’d been savoring. “About what?” 
“For what happened,” he said with a shrug. “Just … for everything that’s happened, in general.” 
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll get over it eventually. I mean, theoretically, I’ve got the next couple of hundred years or so to deal with it. And hey, even if I don’t, and if I get killed within the next day, week, month, whatever … fuck it. None of this will matter anymore when I’m dead. Right?” 
“One way to look at it, I suppose.” 
She took off her sunglasses and pulled back her hood. It was shaded enough within the SUV, with its heavily tinted windows, that she could do so even in broad daylight and not be almost blinded. She set the cup of overdressed coffee back into the cup holder on the console and leaned forward a bit. 
“Have you ever been cheated on before?” 
Simon rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Are you kidding?” 
“No.” 
“Honestly,” he said, “I had this crazy idea for awhile that there was this little devil that followed me around all of the time, ever since I hit puberty. Every time I met a girl, he’d jump out of my pocket, hop on her shoulder, and start whispering things in her ear. Then he’d tell her to snub me in a really cruel and humiliating way, or to take my number and never call me. Either that, or he’d tell them to date me but then go have sex with every guy within a twenty-mile radius except for me.”
She stared at him for a few moments. “God … you’re not a virgin, are you?”
“No! Not at all,” he insisted confidently.
“Oh. But … you’ve probably got a pretty negative opinion of women, right?”
“Not about women, no,” he said, “just about myself.” 
“Why? Did you ever cheat on anyone?” 
He curled his lower lip a bit as he shook his head. “Never saw the point in it. I mean, if you’re really so unhappy with someone that you’d rather have sex with somebody else … why not just break up?” 
“Probably because breaking up isn’t always a simple thing,” Raina replied. “Too many strings attached to just break things off in a hurry.” 
“I assume you’re referring to marriage?” 
“More or less,” she agreed. “I guess sometimes being in a committed relationship makes a person feel like they’re trapped.” 
“That depends on your definition of a committed relationship.” 
“Well … being somebody’s bloodspawn I think would qualify as being a pretty hefty commitment,” Raina mused with a light shrug that made her side and shoulder ache. “What about you? Y’know … with dating regular people? At what point do you consider yourself committed?” 
“I always went by the Three Date Rule,” he said. “If you make it past three dates, then it’s official. You’re boyfriend-girlfriend at that point. Of course, I’ve dated a couple of women that didn’t even wait that long before they started shopping around for a side order of chips and a pint to go with their fish, so to speak.” 
“Maybe that’s it, then,” Raina sighed. “Maybe that’s why he did it.” 
“For chips and a pint?” 
“Maybe Loki felt trapped or … maybe he felt like I tricked him into being with me,” she elaborated. “I mean, they were both serving Duvessa for awhile before I ever came along. Who knows? They might have had a thing for each other a long time ago. Maybe they’ve been doing it all along.” She thought about that for a moment. “If I came along and just stuck myself right between them the way that I did, then maybe … I dunno, maybe I’m the one that’s been screwing things up for them?” 
Again, Simon was so stunned that he seemed to be choking on his own words for a moment or two. “Whoa … wait, ah … hold up a second, there. Are you serious? Are you seriously doing what I think you’re doing?” 
“I dunno … shit, I guess. Maybe,” she replied, feeling terribly lazy and drained. “What am I doing?” 
“Are you seriously trying to validate being cheated upon?” he asked incredulously. 
Raina shook her head and picked up her latte. It was beginning to cool to a point where it was almost undrinkable. Before taking a long sip of it, she replied, “I dunno. I guess I am.” 
“Oh, come on! That is absolutely ridiculous! You’re making it sound like they’re the victims in this deal, like you’re the one to blame for it all. You can’t possibly be serious!” he cried. Simon glanced at her in the mirror with a raised eyebrow. “Are you?” 
“Well,” Raina sighed, “Loki becoming my bloodspawn was honestly kind of an accident. I mean, we both knew it was a risky thing for him and I to do it, but … well, I was really drunk that night and…” 
“No, no … come on, now,” Simon laughed, waving his hand as he interrupted her for the first time ever. He was gesturing a lot with his hands as he spoke, which was a little unsettling considering that he was driving. “That’s supposed to be something that a guy says. ‘Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean to sleep with my co-worker at that Christmas party! I was really drunk!’ I mean, that’s the quintessential excuse every guy on the planet uses to try to get out of being blamed for shagging some other gal on the side! Do you realize how backwards that sounds?” 
“I’m sure it sounds backwards, but really, that’s what happened,” she insisted. “As I remember it, I made the first move, and all he did was go along with it.” 
“Well, then he consented,” Simon said, “and so he accepted the consequences. Nobody put a gun to his head. All he had to do was say no.” 
“It’s not quite that simple.” 
“Why not? If I go out and have unprotected sex with some random woman, is it entirely her fault if she gets pregnant? Seriously, Raina, it’s not like you raped him. Vampire or not, he’s still a man. Women can’t rape men. I mean, it’s almost physically impossible for a woman to have sex with a man unless the guy wants to have sex. The very mechanics of the act just won’t allow it.” 
“No, but … he probably felt pressured,” she persisted. “I mean, not to brag on myself, but I am the Grand Duchess, after all. I honestly don’t think I’m all that great looking, but it’s not always about looks. Sometimes it’s just about a person’s status. So maybe … I don’t know … maybe he only allowed it to happen because he felt like he couldn’t say no? Y’know, because of who I am? And maybe that’s why Svetlana did it with Loki, because she felt she was obligated to be submissive to him because of his race or his title?” 
“You know … Raina … I’ve got to be honest, this is getting a little too weird, even for me,” Simon said. “From where I’m sitting, it’s pretty cut-and-dried. You trusted him to remain faithful to you, and you trusted Svetlana to respect you as your best friend and as your servant. So, they took advantage of your trust, fooled around behind your back, made you feel awful … and now you’re trying more and more to justify what they did by making them sound like victims? I mean, what’s next? Are you going to try to say that he fucked your best friend to get back at you for date-raping him?” 
Raina stared blankly at his reflection for a few moments. “Suddenly, I’m not so sure that I’m comfortable talking with you like this, Simon.” 
Simon cringed and finally rested both hands upon the steering wheel. They drove in silence for almost a minute. 
“That was bit too forward, wasn’t it?” 
“A little bit.” 
“I’m sorry.” 
“Just drive, please.” 
“Right.” 

* * * *

Chapter Ten 



When they arrived back at the Fallamhain Estate, Raina immediately headed downstairs into the vault with her laptop computer. Making sure that she could still open the vault door from the inside, she then closed it and thereby secluded herself from the entire world. The macabre relics, the sick mementos, and the sinister items that accompanied her in the vault were disturbing, but it was easier for her to face that rather than facing her own shame. 
For the second time that morning, Raina let go, this time more completely than ever before. Nobody could hear her, no matter how hard she cried. The walls and ceiling were completely soundproof. It was safe. For awhile, she laid down upon a large wooden bench in the modest-sized main room of the cellar. Whether by memory of the video footage she’d seen or by some kind of psychic imprint, she was abruptly assaulted by a vision of a female vampire lying upon that same bench, naked and bleeding profusely from countless terrible wounds. She jumped up suddenly, doubled over, and crumpled to the cold, plain concrete floor as pain washed over her – again, perhaps either from some psychic impression that had been left behind, or most likely from her wounds that had only begun to heal. 
Simon was right. Raina was blaming herself for this. And why not? Really, when she got right down to the heart of it all, wasn’t she truly to blame for everything that had happened to her in her lifetime? Raina couldn’t stand it when people refused to take responsibility for their own actions, these people that blamed everyone else for everything, who sued others for the consequences they suffered as a result of their own decisions. That wasn’t how her parents had raised her. And, come to think of it, they would still have been alive as well, if not for her. Although … well … that line of thought just wasn’t something she wanted to dwell upon again… 
Of course, it was easy to let one’s self-imposed guilt become completely overwhelming. It was especially hard when she was never allowed to express her remorse in any way. She wished that she had found a way into this vault much sooner. All that time, perhaps an occasional good bout of hard, messy, loud, angry crying was what she had needed, even more so than blood or sex or booze. Raina could never have done this before, not when she was always surrounded by so many others that expected so much of her. She had to put on an act, and she had to stay in character twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And what if she broke down into tears or screamed a stream of obscenities when it became too much to bear? Why, that was just not the sort of thing a Grand Duchess was allowed to do. That was not the Fallamhain way to handle things. 
Fuck this. She was done playing the game. 
Of course, she couldn’t just quit. She already knew that. To her knowledge, a Grand Duchess couldn’t simply resign or step down … could they? No, of course not. And she couldn’t be voted out of office or impeached. Well … not really. She couldn’t even hope to go on the lam and expect that nobody would come after her; they’d simply assume she’d been kidnapped, fingers would be pointed, and wars between bloodlines would likely erupt in her absence. 
And she wasn’t about to kill herself, either, because her thoughts on suicide and religion had her far too terrified to make that kind of a rash decision. She wasn’t sure if all suicides meant a one-way ticket to Hell, or if it only meant Purgatory. She wasn’t sure if Purgatory was all that bad, or if it really was every bit as awful as Hell. And atop it all, she wasn’t even sure if Purgatory, Hell, or Heaven even existed in the first place. She selfishly wished that Brenna could come back, even if only for a minute, just to give her a definitive answer to that mystery. If she knew the indisputable truth, then she would know whether or not it was okay to fall upon her own sword. 
The futility of it all only fueled her tears as she curled up on the floor into a pathetic fetal position. She could not stand to do this anymore, and yet she could not think of any practical means of escape. Funny, she and Simon had been discussing the idea of being trapped in a relationship. How did one break up with the IVC? How did one divorce their own blood? 
In the strange acoustics of the large vault room, Raina heard the familiar sound of her cell phone’s ring tone – the opening notes of Bach’s “Toccata Fugue in D Minor” on a pipe organ, something she’d chosen as a joke. Literally crawling across the floor upon her hands and knees to where her coat lay in a crumpled heap near the bench, Raina dug through its pockets hurriedly and pulled out the phone to silence its ringing. It was a text message from Duchess Serenity giving her a flight number, departure time, and gate number. 
Raina dropped the phone onto the coat and rolled onto her back with a pained groan. Again, this ticket away from England seemed to be her one hope for getting away from this warped version of reality in which she felt imprisoned. As far as she could tell, Serenity was a kind soul, a genuinely nice person … and that was shocking, really, considering that she was also a High Court vampire. Serenity didn’t follow the usual norm of seemingly perpetual bloodlust that always influenced most others in the IVC. Unless Serenity was exceedingly skilled at masking or disguising the emotions that she allowed others to sense, Raina had not yet sensed anything from her that seemed false or anything less than sincere. She actually seemed like the real deal, an honestly good person … a sheep among wolves. Really, how in the hell had someone like her ever found her way into the IVC at all, much less having worked her way up the hierarchy to become an Elder? 
Raina’s tears finally subsided as she managed to focus upon the matter of what to do about the impulsive commitment she had made. Okay, so she was going to become someone else’s Maker, again. She was going to be someone else’s “Blood Mommy.” And this someone, a total stranger whose name and face she still did not know, was apparently a female. Somehow, it seemed a bit like she had signed herself up to become a surrogate mother to an anonymous couple … and frankly, she’d never really considered herself to be the motherly type. 
To become someone’s Maker was an eternal bond. The last woman with whom she had been connected like that was Brenna. She had loved Brenna, and having her as her Maker was an honor, even if she only owed a small fraction of her vampiric traits to her. Brenna had been her best friend, and she had saved Raina’s life; the price for that deed, apparently, had required her to bear Brenna’s blood in her veins for all eternity. The choice had been made for her while she had been unconscious. But after the fact, Raina was okay with it. She had never really wanted to become a vampire, but being that the Change had already been forced upon her, it was good to know that she was not entirely committed to a stranger, nor someone for whom she did not care. As far as that went, Raina had absolutely no regrets.
But this new person? This new woman in her life? Who was she? What was Raina getting herself into here? She could not be certain, not truly, but she had a very strong, dark feeling that she would come to regret giving her blood to someone else, particularly another female. Physical lust and lewd fantasies aside, she simply didn’t want to get into another lesbian situation. To Raina, the whole idea of being with another woman again was still just too damned weird … perhaps even more so outside of the bedroom than inside. 
And anyway, the tabloids were only just then beginning to back away from their insistence that she was gay and in denial. At that point, they were instead trying to brand her as an insatiable slut, as it was assumed she was then bedding every man with whom she ever spoke or even so much as looked at in public. Then again, she recalled having seen magazine articles that said Loki and Svetlana had been having a secret affair for months. For once, they’d actually been right. A lucky guess, perhaps…? 
Anyway, the decision already had been made. She was going to do this. She was pretty much obligated to do so, now that the plane tickets had been arranged. She would hop a flight, deliver the Communion of Blood, come back to London with a brand new bloodspawn, and hope that everything would just work itself out fine. 
Or … not. 
The vault … no, wait, not a vault, why as she still calling it that? The torture chamber was equipped with a water outlet to which a short reel of black rubber garden hose had been attached. In the middle of the concrete floor, there was a drain, and the floor was sloped and angled downward in such a way that gravity would lead things easily down into it. The electrical outlets were mounted high enough in the walls that they were not really at risk of being a shock hazard. Duvessa had set up this place in such a way that she could make as big and gory of a mess as she pleased, and then hose everything off (including herself) before emerging from the cellar in squeaky-clean, innocent form. And indeed, she had used it for that very purpose … again and again… 
Raina looked at that hose for a moment with the brief thought of splashing some water upon her face to rinse away her ruined makeup before heading upstairs, but now the idea of even touching anything in the cellar seemed repulsive. She dragged herself to her feet, picked up her coat, wiped away her tears as best she could with her bare hands, and she hurried out of there, feeling as though the ghosts of the departed were nipping at her heels. She slammed the door of the cellar shut, turned to head upstairs … and then let out a yelp of alarm as she ran straight into Loki’s chest. 
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding her shoulders gently with a smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 
Raina immediately batted his right hand away and began to walk past him without a word. He firmly held onto her other shoulder, shifting his hand down to grab her arm. The strength of his grip against her forward momentum jerked her back in such a way that the wound to her right shoulder felt as though it might be reopened. 
“Ow, you fucking asshole! That hurts!” she cried angrily, surprised by the vulgarity of her own words. 
He looked down at her with an astounded expression. “What is wrong with you?” 
“Maybe I should be asking you the same thing.” She met his eyes squarely. “Take your hand off of me.” 
He let go of her.
“I just wanted to see you. I thought you had left again,” he said softly in that private, bedroom-like voice. He gestured to her face. “You were crying.” 
“Yeah,” she admitted, wiping at her eyes again to be sure they were clear, “girls do sometimes, you know.” And then she turned to walk up the stairs. 
“Raina?” His voice halted her, but she did not turn around. There was a brief pause. “I’m sorry.” 
“Yeah, well … I’m sorry, too,” she told him. 
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 
“And I never wanted to be your Maker,” she replied, “so I guess that makes us about even.” 
“What do you mean?” 
Raina finally turned to face him with a sigh. “Look … I know. Okay? I know why you slept with Svetlana.” She reconsidered that. “Wait, scratch that. I know why you’ve been fucking her behind my back. I was never really the one you wanted.” 
That gave him a moment of pause, causing him to consider his words carefully before he replied, “I don’t regret being your bloodspawn.”
“Don’t bullshit me. You’re lying. I can sense it,” she told him, because it was true. “You might not regret that you had sex with me that one night, but you sure regret the fact you did it without a rubber. You already had a thing going with Svetlana a long time before you met me, and all I did was complicate things for you two.” 
Loki’s eyes seemed to darken as his chin lowered slightly. “Why are you saying this?” 
“Because it’s about time we finally had some truth between us, that’s why. Because I know that if you’d followed your heart instead of your hard-on … you wouldn’t be my consort right now.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Go on. I dare you. Tell me you wouldn’t rather have been hers. Look me right in the eye and tell me that if I hadn’t thrown myself at you while I was drunk off my ass that one night, Svetlana would’ve never become your Maker at some point. Tell me this whole thing between you and me wasn’t all just one big mistake.” 
They locked stares for several long, terrible seconds before Loki finally glanced away. If she hadn’t been so sore, and if she hadn’t had her hands full with that coat, Raina would have surely slapped him. She shook her head and felt an ugly sneer twisting her lips. 
“Well, you can have her. She’s yours,” Raina told him. “Right here, right now, you’re my witness to this decree. I release her from her obligation to me. Svetlana is your servant now.” 
“Raina … please…” 
“I’m not going to kill her, and I’m not going to kill you. But I’m not going to be a part of this anymore. I’m not going to stand between you two anymore. I always knew that something felt a little bit off between us. I guess this is what I get for ignoring the obvious.” 
She felt it welling up again, but she forced it down. She was done crying. She’d done that enough. She was out of the vault, out of her safe area for grief. It was time to be the Grand Duchess again. It was time to put on her bitch face again. And now, suddenly it felt comfortable. 
“I’m going back to America for awhile,” Raina informed him. “I have some things to attend to over there that require me to make a personal appearance.” 
“Raina…” 
She snapped her fingers and pointed straight at his nose. “Don’t make me regret my decision to let you both live. I am trusting you as my consort to watch over this Estate and to take care of anything that comes up while I’m dealing with things over there.”
In that moment, she literally felt as though she were channeling Duvessa’s spirit, allowing that lingering ghost to use her voice. There was even a trace of a British accent in her words as she said, “Of course, you and your servant are more than welcome to shag each other’s brains out while I’m away. If you want to do it with her as soon as she comes back from the hospital, well then, go right ahead. There’s no point in sneaking around anymore, so you may as well just do it right out in the open. And if there’s anyone else you’d like to fuck, by all means, don’t let me stop you.” 
“Please, don’t be like this.” 
“Who knows? I might even want to watch,” she taunted him. “I might even want to join in. That’s what the tabloids say we all do, right? According to them, we have a bunch of wild Roman orgies in here every night. I guess there’s no harm in living up to our reputation.” 
“You’re being mean.” 
Raina stepped close until they were almost nose-to-nose, lowering her voice. “Mean? This isn’t mean. What I did to Duchess Camille earlier tonight? What I did to those three men that tried to kill me? What I did to Countess Wilhelmina? That was mean. I’d suggest you count your blessings that I’m not really being mean to you and Svetlana, too.” She took a step back from him and actually felt a sick sort of smirk curving her lips. “Y’know, I’m trying, Loki. I’m trying really, really hard not to be Duvessa. But God help everyone the day that I stop trying. Because when I do, I promise you … I’ll make that bitch look like a fucking saint.” 
She turned and ascended the stairs without even waiting to see his reaction. Raina retrieved a large suitcase from the walk-in closet of the master bedroom and went about the task of packing her essentials. Although it was late and he had been up for nearly a day and a half, Loki did not come to the bedroom, if not to sleep then at least to try to apologize.
Raina didn’t care. She was so horrified by what she had said that she didn’t even know how to begin to explain herself … something that she would surely have to do later on. She wasn’t blacking out, and she had tasted enough blood that night to surely sate her appetite for awhile. Even so, she still felt as though she might be teetering on the edge of bloodlust. Either she was acting this way because of stress, her wounds, or perhaps the effects of some trace amounts of silver lingering in her system. Maybe, just maybe, Raina was actually being overtaken by Duvessa’s spirit. Whatever the cause, she really needed to get out of this place as soon as possible before it pushed her completely over the edge.
Raina eventually gave in to her nagging pangs of hunger and trudged into the kitchen. Undisturbed, with nearly everyone else in the entire mansion completely asleep and oblivious, Raina used an electric grill to cook up a couple of fresh chicken breasts and microwaved some instant rice, throwing a liberal serving of soy sauce and dried chow mein noodles atop the whole thing for good measure. A heavy dose of carbohydrates, protein, and sodium always seemed to get her back on track in short order. It was a good thing that her diet didn’t require anything particularly fancy, because she had never considered herself to be much of a cook. A large glass of burgundy wine helped to finalize what Olivia would have called a plebeian’s meal but what Raina called a delicious alternative to chomping on someone’s neck. Rather than bothering to take it into the dining hall, she simply ate standing up in the kitchen. In her state of total exhaustion, she might have passed out in mid-meal if she had sat down. 
Between the weight of the meal and the fourth glass of wine she had downed after the meal, in addition to the fact that she had been awake for over twenty-four hours, Raina had to use every last bit of energy she had to practically crawl upstairs to the master bedroom. She didn’t even bother to change clothes or even crawl under the covers. She fell face-first onto the bed and was out within seconds. Amazingly, it was the first good, solid, uninterrupted ten hours of sleep she’d had in weeks. Her dreams were pleasant, random, meaningless, and without any measure of sadness or fright … only because she did not dream at all. She may as well have been dead for those hours of blissful nothingness. It almost made the idea of waking and resuming her life seem like an unpleasant burden that she didn’t care to satisfy at all.
She awoke only when she found Olivia shaking her shoulder vigorously to rouse her from her coma-like slumber. Raina was embarrassed to find that she had drooled quite a bit upon the comforter where she had passed out, and her breath was so horrid that she could taste its sourness. Olivia informed her that Duchess Serenity had called to ask if she would like an escort to the airport. Raina groggily declined, saying she would rather take a taxi. 
“Until we know exactly who it was that sent those men to try to kill you,” Olivia said, “I’m afraid I must insist that someone from our House accompany you at all times.” 
“Really, I just … I’d rather do this alone,” Raina persisted wearily, waving her off as she dragged herself toward the bathroom. 
“Lady Svetlana has been released from the hospital. She’s still healing and won’t be at full strength for at least another day, but I can ask her to accompany…” 
“Forget it. Svetlana stays,” Raina interrupted firmly. “I don’t want her going anywhere with me.” 
Olivia was a bit miffed by Raina’s stubbornness, but she nodded. “Very well. I will send Sophie and Thomas with you.” 
Raina was going to protest that, but her urge to use the bathroom and seek the comforts of warm water, soap, and toothpaste overruled her reluctance. With a dismissive wave, she grumbled, “Fine, great, whatever,” and closed the bathroom door behind herself a bit too firmly. 
Perhaps fifteen minutes later, when she had emerged from the shower, she was both surprised and bothered to find Svetlana standing just outside the shower, holding open a towel for her as usual. Svetlana was clearly tired, sore, and hardly in any condition to be performing such menial tasks as assisting Raina with after-shower details. Just as well, the look in her eyes, alone, spoke volumes about how sorry she was for everything. For a moment, Raina almost pitied the sight of her … and then she remembered their brief conversation in the hospital, the shame and humiliation, and the rage she’d felt when she’d confronted Loki. 
“What are you doing here?” Raina demanded. 
“Lady Olivia tell me to help you,” she replied innocently. “I am your servant.” 
“Not anymore,” Raina corrected her. “I have released you from my service.” 
“But … I want to serve you,” Svetlana insisted gently. “I was wrong and I want … I want to make better.” 
Raina snatched the towel away from her abruptly, even though it caused the lingering pain of her wounds to flare up for a moment. “It’s a little too late for that.” 
“Please … Raina, don’t…” 
“Y’know what? Don’t call me that anymore,” she snapped, wrapping the towel about her body to cover herself. “I think it would be better if we went back to keeping things formal between us.” 
“You don’t want to be friend?” Svetlana asked. The hurt in her voice reflected the pain in her eyes, deep and raw. 
“Friendship requires trust. Trust requires honesty,” Raina told her as she tucked in one end of the towel at her left breast. 
“But … I never lie to you.” 
“No? You don’t think that screwing Loki behind my back was dishonest in any way?” 
Svetlana’s eyes shifted aside for a moment. “It is custom for vampires to make sex. Is not a lie to make sex.” 
“Then why were you being so sneaky about it? If you didn’t think there was anything wrong about it, why did I never just happen to walk in on you two doing it?” Raina asked. “You knew what you were doing was wrong. You knew how I would feel about it. But you did it anyway, and you were sneaky about it. You did everything you could for as long as possible to make sure I never found out.” 
Svetlana was unable to make eye contact with her anymore. “I am sorry … but Duvessa let us make sex with anyone in House of Fallamhain, and I do this with Loki before you are Grand Duchess.” 
“Yeah, I pretty much figured that out on my own,” Raina said, “but guess what? News flash! Duvessa is fucking dead! Okay? She’s dead, gone, and buried. I’m the Mistress of this House now. I make the rules. And one of my rules is that I don’t share my man with anyone. I know that might sound weird and selfish to you, but I’m not into this whole thing of everyone having sex with everyone. If you want to go around screwing everyone, fine, go for it. But I’m not going to be a part of some vampire swinger’s club.” 
She looked a bit perplexed. “What is … swinger’s club?” 
Raina rolled her eyes, sighing, “Look, just … just leave, okay? Go ask Olivia about it and let me get dressed on my own.” 
Svetlana hesitated. Raina resisted the urge to raise her voice and say anything more. She was not angry with Svetlana, not really. Having gone to bed on a full stomach and having had a taste of blood the night before had given her a near-perfect bit of sleep. Being well-rested and “topped off” apparently was the key to making her less of a bitch toward everyone. A good day’s rest had the power to make her mellow enough that she almost didn’t care that she had been betrayed by her best friend. More than anything, she just didn’t want a repeat performance of her last conversation with Loki. 
“I am sorry … your grace,” Svetlana said softly. Her eyes became misty with the threat of tears. “I did not … want to make bad things … for us.” 
“Please, Svetlana,” Raina sighed as she looked away, shaking her head. “Please, just … let me have some time alone.” 
Svetlana turned and glided silently out of the bathroom, gently closing the door. She was a sweet soul, really. She wasn’t stupid – quite the opposite, really – and she wasn’t immature. Svetlana was simply very naïve about some things. She had never talked much about her past as a human, so Raina had no idea what kind of an upbringing she’d had or what sort of things she had endured. Her only guess was that Svetlana had lived an entirely different life in as much as she had once lived in the final years of Soviet Russia, when the Berlin Wall had fallen and Western culture had flooded into her native city of Latvia. Things had been very chaotic and strange for many of her people, and even when they weren’t, Svetlana was still part of a very different physical and social environment. Much of what Raina and others took for granted as social norms or common knowledge seemed completely alien to Svetlana, and vice-versa.
Raina wished that she could chalk it all up to those cultural differences, but she was sure that it went deeper than that. Svetlana had been a prostitute in the past, and she had gone straight from that atmosphere and into Duvessa’s twisted world in the House of Fallamhain. Obviously, Svetlana’s sexual ethics had been formed by following a completely different path in life than Raina had ever known. 
Loki, on the other hand … well … he was just … someone Raina that didn’t want to think about anymore. 
Deliberately going against Olivia’s policy of avoiding the urge to wear black, Raina went all-out: black fishnets, black patent leather heels, and a form-hugging full-length black dress of rather thin material with a deeply plunging V-shaped neckline and long, droopy sleeves. She straightened her hair and let it spill freely over her shoulders. Free to do her makeup as she pleased, Raina went with a dark gray eye shadow and over-extended it a bit toward her brows, and she added an Egyptian-like extension to the corners of her eyes with her eyeliner, finishing the look off with a dark burgundy lipstick that was nearly black.
As expected, Olivia’s reaction to the sight of this outfit was that Raina looked a bit like a witch. Raina’s easy reply was that it was perfectly appropriate, considering that she was expected to be mourning the death of Ethan Fallamhain. Halloween was soon approaching, anyhow – why not dress the part? Olivia warned her that the media would have a field day with her decision to adorn herself so provocatively. The dress was quite sexy, and Raina was honestly tired of deliberately dressing herself down all of the time. But Raina dismissed Olivia’s conservative notions stubbornly. She had more important things on her mind than trying to set trends or appease anyone else’s sense of proper fashion. 
Although she never admitted it aloud, Raina was honestly making an effort to make Loki regret his infidelity. She knew how much he liked it when she dressed this way, and she could easily sense his desire when she passed by him in the hallway without a word. Only barely, she resisted the urge to whisper something in his ear: See what you gave up? 
Sophie and Thomas both clearly approved of her attire, smiling broadly and almost knowingly. Simon was by far the most obviously affected. His mouth was so far agape when he first saw her descend the main staircase that she expected his jaw to actually hit the floor. Raina made a mental note to disregard Olivia’s fashion advice more often in the future. 
Apparently having taken literally Raina’s comment about mourning Ethan’s death, Sophie and Thomas were dressed largely in black. Sophie wore a cute mini-skirt, silk blouse, and thigh-high sheer stockings, all black. She looked quite cute and actually appropriate for her age – whatever her exact age was, anyway. Thomas had opted for a far less formal look, wearing black jeans, a black leather biker jacket over a dark red shirt, and black boots. His long, slightly curly jet black hair was tied back neatly in a ponytail and his eyes, as usual, were accented with black eyeliner. Raina had long thought that men who wore makeup after the Eighties were a bit … well, gay … but she was swiftly beginning to change her mind. Quite frankly, out of nowhere, she had a momentary urge to drag him into another room and do lascivious things to him. And why not? She was within her rights to do so, and given what had recently happened, hardly anyone would care. Her eyes lingered perhaps a bit too long upon him, long enough for him to notice her attention and to smile in response. No, she would not act upon that little fantasy, but the opportunity to flirt without guilt was a rewarding little thrill. 
Loki and Svetlana were left alone as everyone piled into the spacious full-sized Mercedes sedan. The drive to the airport took a bit longer than expected. Traffic was unusually thick as they neared their destination due to a serious accident that blocked all but one lane in each direction. Raina found herself sandwiched snugly between Thomas and Sophie while Olivia rode shotgun up front with Simon driving, as usual. Almost the entire commute was conducted in near silence, with only Simon’s usual polite choice of classical music to occupy everyone’s ears. 
At one point, though, Raina felt something lightly brushing her left knee. She looked down and saw Sophie’s hand upon her knee, and she offered a strange sort of come-hither smirk when Raina met her eyes with light surprise. Sophie was very pretty, there was no denying that, and Raina honestly did like the girl – and that was the problem, right there. Sophie was still just a girl, barely into her twenties … presumably, anyway, although not likely so when considering the way that she carried herself. Sure, even if Sophie was twenty-one, there was a difference of seven or eight years’ age between them, if even that, but … well, it just seemed wrong somehow. She didn’t want to deal with any weird guilty awkwardness in a situation like that. She didn’t want to complicate her professional relationship with Olivia. And most of all, she simply did not want to begin another girl-girl relationship. Raina just didn’t think she was ready for that yet – perhaps never again. 
And yet there she was, heading to the airport with plans to fly to America and come back with another female as her newest bloodspawn. Raina was willing to turn down the advances of someone she knew and trusted, but yet she was on her way to make an eternal commitment to some complete stranger she’d never even met. Yeah, okay, that made perfect sense. But in some ways it was less bizarre and illogical than some other decisions she had made over the past few months, so … whatever. Trying to rationalize things anymore was simply too exhausting. 
Raina chose not to say anything, nor show any reaction to Sophie’s uninvited contact, instead electing to wordlessly stare straight ahead. Not even a minute later, she felt something upon her other knee. She saw Thomas’s hand beside Sophie’s, his nails freshly painted black. When she looked to him, he was smiling, but what she sensed from him wasn’t so much lust as it was humor. He was just messing with her … or was he? Sophie’s hand soon began to slowly creep up her thigh and Thomas took that cue to do the same. Before they were even halfway along, Raina calmly grabbed both their wrists, pulled their hands away, and set them in their own laps without looking at either of them. She couldn’t help but to smile just a bit. Raina could see that Simon had observed the whole thing in his rearview mirror and was quietly grinning about it. Olivia was busy tapping away on her Blackberry with regard to something financial – she was quite savvy with stocks, savings, and investments – and she remained completely oblivious to the minor event. For a brief while during that drive, Raina was completely able to forget about the fact that her personal life was a ragged, tattered mess, and she was once again grateful for the company with which she had been blessed. 
As they arrived outside the entrance for their terminal, everyone but Simon filed out of the sedan and he popped open the trunk. Sophie was lugging along perhaps the largest suitcase Raina had seen in quite awhile, full of who-knew-what, whereas Thomas had everything somehow neatly packed into a simple duffel bag that he casually threw over his shoulder in order to take Raina’s suitcase. Carrying only a briefcase that contained little more than her laptop and a few related accessories, Raina went ‘round to the front driver’s side window and rapped upon the glass gently. The window rolled down with a soft electric whirring sound and Raina bent over and leaned slightly into the open window. 
“Hey you,” she said with a smile. 
“Hey, me,” he replied back, though he looked a bit worried. 
“About that conversation we had,” Raina began softly after a bit of hesitation, “I just wanted to say … you were right.” 
He blinked. “About what?” 
“About … everything,” she answered vaguely. “You really helped put things into perspective. I was really just … y’know, looking at everything the wrong way. I’m sorry I was so rude. You’re a really nice guy, Simon, and you’re really sweet. I’m very glad to have someone like you as a friend.” 
“Well, ah … thank you, your grace.” She could clearly see his cheeks flush. 
“In fact, if things were different…” she began to say, but then stopped herself. Raina shrugged and smiled. “Anyway … you take care of yourself.” 
“You too,” he said. She began to move away when he abruptly said, “Ah, your grace?” 
“Yeah?” 
“You are coming back … aren’t you?” 
Raina considered that for a moment. She hated to make promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. She had no idea what people or events awaited her in America, or what conclusions she might come to during her time away from the Fallamhain Estate. She decided that the best answer she could give was none at all. She leaned in a bit more and surprised him with a kiss right upon the lips. The unfamiliar scratch and tickle of his well-trimmed goatee against her face was a pleasant, strange, tiny thrill. Simon was completely stunned, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted. Raina giggled, gestured that she’d left a bit of lipstick upon his lips, gave him a little goodbye wave with her fingers after he wiped it off, and then finally turned away to leave. 
Olivia was standing with her arms folded and a rather disapproving expression upon her face. “What exactly was that?” 
“Just saying goodbye, that’s all.” And then, just for the sake of being mischievous, Raina surprised her as well with a similar kiss on the lips that actually made Olivia flinch. “See? No harm done.” 
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Olivia asked after a moment with a raised eyebrow. With that, she held up a tiny key on a ring and Raina’s sword, contained neatly within a specially-made black aluminum case, lined with padding and red velvet, and secured with a small keyed padlock. 
Raina looked at the death-dealing instrument for a moment and her smile evaporated. “I really don’t think that’s going to do me any good where I’m going. Gun control laws are totally different over there. I don’t think I’ll be so lucky bringing a sword to a gunfight again.” 
“Even so, you’ll still need it for the Communion of Blood,” she insisted with a nod. “Please take it, dear.” 
With a sigh of resignation, Raina relented and accepted the sword, slipping the key into a side pocket of her briefcase. Olivia gave her a very chaste kiss upon the cheek, so light that she wasn’t even sure that her lips actually made contact, and she took a full step back with her hands clasped together anxiously. 
“Do take care, your grace. I hope everything will go smoothly,” Olivia said. 
Raina shrugged and smiled. “Does it ever?” 
She smiled at that and replied, “I have faith in you, dear.” 
“Glad to know that someone does.” 
“Please do come back safely.” 
“Can’t make any promises.” 
“I’m being serious, your grace.” 
“So am I,” Raina replied with a nod before she turned and led the way into the terminal. 
Duchess Serenity was not far away, surrounded by about six or seven random people. She was posing with her consorts surrounding her so that one of her fans could snap a photograph with their digital camera. Serenity was perhaps the most well-known vampire celebrity alive at the time, second only to Raina, because a part of her rise to fame and fortune had been via her close ties with various people in Hollywood. Again, Serenity had made a career of sleeping her way to the top. Although she had been careful enough to be selective about whom she had allowed to become her bloodspawn – “safe sex” was a more literal than figurative term when it was between humans and vampires – she had developed a reputation as a sex symbol. She was the only High Court vampire to have ever (voluntarily) posed nude for a magazine, which she had done on several occasions to the tune of several million dollars per photo shoot. As long as the person with whom she wished to share herself did not have any practices or associations that in any way conflicted with her religious or personal beliefs, she was pretty much a free spirit. Again, she was the quintessential High Court vampire hippie of the time. 
Serenity spotted Raina from across the terminal and, alas, waved enthusiastically to get her attention. Right on cue, everyone seemed to turn around as one and noticed the Grand Duchess standing there with two of her servants. A couple of people started making a beeline for her right away. 
“Shit,” Raina muttered under her breath. “So much for being subtle.”
It took awhile to make her way over, but Serenity and her consorts met her halfway and, thankfully, airport security politely shooed away the lingering throng of fans. Duchess Serenity dropped to one knee to acknowledge Raina, as did her consorts. Raina struggled not to feel embarrassed as the High Court kissed her hand once again. From afar, a few fans were still snapping pictures of them. She had hoped to keep this trip as low-key as possible, but she was sure that it would only be a matter of time before the photos either turned up on the Internet or were sold to one of the tabloids. Sensationalism in the media and obsessive groupies were such a pain in the ass – flattering sometimes, but still a pain. 
The process of finalizing their tickets and seating arrangements, checking in their luggage items, going through security and customs checkpoints, and finally boarding the plane took over two full hours. As polite as they were, the airline security officers were excessively thorough in their inspection of everyone’s belongings, taking an especially long time to make a very embarrassing and frustrating search of their baggage. Raina was glad she hadn’t brought along anything more incriminating than some lingerie, but poor Sophie had a zippered fabric pouch full of assorted “party favors” which the officers had no qualms about taking out for everyone to see. For as vain and image-conscious as Serenity was, she packed surprisingly light, and so it turned out that the biggest delay was in processing Raina’s and her companions’ items. 
They were seated in the first-class, upper-deck area of the hugely immense jumbo jet. The seats were almost ridiculously large, spacious, and comfortable. It seemed almost unfair for them to sit in such comfort while she knew the rest of the passengers would have to suffer for nearly seven hours in thinly-padded, cramped, narrow seats that were barely adequate to be seated within for less than an hour. There were only six other individuals seated in the first-class area with them, all of them dressed in such a way that they were clearly business executives or politicians of some manner. These passengers eyed the boarding vampires with suspicion, perhaps even contempt, but nobody actually voiced any complaints, and the rest of the passengers boarded without incident. 
Raina hated flying. It wasn’t the actual act of flying, itself, that bothered her. She simply hated the inherent risk of it all. Sure, statistically speaking, flying on a commercial aircraft was far safer than riding in a passenger car on a highway. The odds of getting into an accident in an automobile were far higher than that of experiencing one in a passenger jet. However, the odds of surviving the crash of a commercial airliner were … well … pretty much zero. On a highway, one might hit a deer, hydroplane into a ditch during a storm, or get run off the road by an inattentive driver, but it wasn’t automatically fatal, especially with seat belts, airbags, crumple zones, and so forth. On the other hand, traveling at hundreds of miles per hour, thousands of feet above the Earth, well above the cloud line, the only thing separating her from the freezing, oxygen-deprived atmosphere or a sudden, violent, explosive impact with the ground were a few layers of plastic, insulation, and aluminum. Raina was glad she hadn’t been stuck with a window seat. 
Surely by no accident at all, Serenity was seated right next to Raina. She somehow expected her to talk her pointy elf-like ears off for the entire duration of the flight. Surprisingly, though, Serenity remained rather quiet for a great deal of it, instead choosing to meditate for nearly an hour before inevitably striking up a brief conversation with Raina. 
Serenity was definitely inquisitive. What she lacked in aimless yammering she more than made up for with some very pointed, nosey questions. Of course, there was the almost mandatory discussion of IVC politics, as well as a full review of her duel with Duchess Camille. But a few hours into the flight, she also had managed to pry from Raina an admission of what had happened between Loki and Svetlana, how she felt about it, whether or not she planned to punish them (and, if so, how), and what her plans were for the near future. 
“Honestly, your grace,” she told her, patting her hand, “you’ve nothing to worry about. You made the right choice in showing them mercy. Karma has a way of working things out for you. After all, whatever you do comes back to you threefold. So really, the negativity and unhappiness that your consort and your servant have brought upon you will inevitably find its way back to them in a much stronger form. You’ll see. The Goddess has a way of always setting things back into balance.” 
“But that’s just it,” Raina said, “I don’t want anything to happen to them. I’m not really mad at Svetlana because I don’t think she really understood that what she was doing was wrong. Not entirely, at least…” 
Serenity looked confused. “But … you said that they were being secretive about their affair…?” 
“They were, but I think that was mostly Loki’s idea. He knew better. He had a pretty normal upbringing,” Raina explained. “I mean, given, he was born and raised in Finland and things are a little different there than, say, in Arizona, but still…” 
“Much colder in Finland,” Thomas offered with a smile from nearby. 
Returning his smile briefly, Raina continued, “He grew up in a similar kind of culture where sex is kind of a sacred thing. You know? Where, at least ideally, you’re supposed to be monogamous and just stick with one boyfriend or girlfriend at a time. And if you’re married to someone, that’s it. You’re bound to that person for life because that’s the person you want to be with forever. Or at least that’s the way it’s supposed to work … y’know, in theory…” 
Serenity took Raina’s hand into hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, looking directly into her eyes. “Do you truly wish to be with Loki for the rest of your life?” 
“Well, I guess I did,” Raina said after a moment, “but at this point … no, not really. I mean, I always wanted to be in a stable relationship and get married someday, and even though Loki just sort of came into my life by accident … I was willing to go with it.” 
“Go with it?” 
“Yeah, you know … like … I figured I’d take what life was giving me,” she replied with a shrug. “I figured that being with him was my one good chance for having a normal, happy kind of life, in spite of everything.” 
Serenity narrowed her eyes slightly. “Do you love this man?” 
“Well … yeah, of course.” 
“Are you truly in love with him? Do you truly ache for him, dream of him, and find yourself wanting to be in his arms at all times?” 
Raina blinked and, for a moment, felt incredibly stupid. “Honestly, when you put it like that … not really.” 
“Ouch,” Thomas commented. This time, Raina gave him a stern look and he took the hint to stay out of the conversation. 
“So your love for him is not a love of passion or desire, but a love of … convenience?” 
She frowned at the insightful High Court. “I wouldn’t call it convenience. It’s not like he’s my sugar-daddy or something. And he’s not a deadbeat slacker or a mooch. He’s a good guy. He does everything he can for me.” 
“Except that he doesn’t inspire you,” Serenity said. “He doesn’t satisfy you.” 
“How so?” 
She shrugged. “Does he make you feel special? Does he worship you, and do you worship him? Does he help to complete your life, not only practically, but emotionally … and sexually?” 
Raina glanced over and saw that not only was Thomas looking at her, but Sophie was listening in as well. Great. Raina struggled to find an adequate response, knowing that anything she said would be an embarrassment. 
“I, ah … I’ve never had any complaints, really,” she admitted. 
“But you’ve had better?” Sophie suggested. She wasn’t saying it for the sake of humor, as Thomas would have done. She looked dead-serious. She was genuinely engrossed in the topic, now. Reluctantly, Raina finally shrugged and looked down. 
“I have had better,” she confessed, “but not with a guy.” 
Glancing over, she saw Sophie lean back in her seat with a strangely satisfied smile. She was making her intentions almost painfully obvious. Between her attraction to Thomas and Sophie’s flirtations, she was already sure that something was going to happen between the three of them before this little vacation was over – good, bad, or otherwise. Perhaps she would have been wiser to have only brought along Olivia, instead… 
“So then, the answer is no,” Serenity finally said. “You love him, but you’re not in love with him. He is more of a brother to you than a lover.” 
“Uh … okay. Let’s just stop right there. I’m sorry, but that’s just messed up.” 
“What’s wrong?” 
“I do not love him like a brother because I would never have sex with a brother,” Raina replied. “I’m sorry, but I draw pretty firm line on some things about sex. Me, I’m over here on this side of the line. And screwing your siblings? That shit is way the hell over on the other side of the line.” 
Serenity smiled and shook her head. “That’s not what I meant, dear. I only mean that you love him … I suppose I should say, you love him as a friend, not a brother, and not as a lover. Am I right?” 
"Well, yes and no,” Raina said with a shrug. “Obviously, I think of him as more than a friend…” 
“But you do not feel it.” Raina simply stared at her for a moment. “You say that you love him and you seem to regard him as your husband, but your words and your actions are empty. The emotions are not really there, not adequately enough for you to say that you are truly in love with him. You are playing a role simply because it is expected of you.” 
“I, ah … I don’t think I’m comfortable with…” 
“Please, dear,” Serenity interrupted gently, patting her hand again, “don’t take this as criticism. I am merely trying to help you see things clearly as they are.” 
Raina narrowed her eyes slightly. “Why?”
“I want you find happiness in your life.”
“And again … why?” she persisted with a shrug. 
“If I may be so bold as to say, your grace,” Serenity said, “I think that the IVC would benefit far more greatly from having a happy Grand Duchess than a miserable one. Misery tends to cloud one’s view of things and negatively affect their decisions. So, it behooves me to do anything that I can to help rid you of at least some of this negative energy which I see so often affecting you.” 
“Is it really that obvious?” Raina asked half-seriously. 
Serenity smiled. “My sensitivities go well beyond that which we are already blessed with as members of the High Court, your grace.” 
“So, in other words … you want to be my personal shrink?” 
“Your spiritual advisor, perhaps,” she offered with a graceful shrug of her own. “If you wish to grant me the opportunity, I am quite certain that I can help guide you to a new level of consciousness where you may look upon all things with an entirely new perspective, where you can balance out the negative things in your life with much more positive ones.” 
“No offense,” Raina said with a smirk, “but I think it’s going to take a lot more than just a New Age makeover to iron out a lot of the kinks in my psyche. My list of issues covers more topics than the Library of Congress.” 
“Care to share any with me?” 
“You’ve already heard a few.” 
“Are there many more?” 
“More than I can count.” 
“Well,” Serenity said with a smile, “it is a long flight, your grace.” 
Raina rubbed her temple sorely with one hand. “You’re right about that. This is definitely going to be a long flight.”

* * * *

Chapter Eleven



Gold Canyon, Arizona 

She stared at the blood-red digital display of the clock in the near-absolute darkness of the bedroom. The numbers appeared to stare back at her vertically, the LED display being so bright that a blue ghost image of the digits remained in her vision when she closed her eyes again. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for, but she had a definite feeling that something major would soon be upon her. If her dreams were any indication at all of the future – and they usually were – then it would either be her salvation or her doom. Since waking from that dream, she hadn’t known what else to do but to lay there in the forced darkness of the bedroom. 
Throughout the large house, the windows were covered with both a very dark tinting film and the addition of heavy drapes so that her host could walk about during the daylight hours without discomfort or harm. The night before, he hadn’t let her sleep until he, himself, was ready to do so. He micromanaged so many details of her life that she all but had to ask for permission to use the restroom. That was how he operated. That was part of his game. She was accustomed to his routine because she had been with a man like him before. The only difference between him and the other was that he didn’t even bother trying to disguise his behaviors as anything else. He was a controlling bastard. He owned her. And sadly, for the most part, she had come to accept that. 
He snored, and loudly. She wasn’t sure why, but she had never thought that vampires could snore. Well, this one certainly did. And worse still, so did the other woman in bed with them. Even worse than that, the other woman had a tendency to talk and thrash about in her sleep when she’d been drinking, which she had done quite a bit before passing out. She was a light sleeper, but she had found that if she was ever lucky enough to fall asleep before either of them, she could usually get a fair amount of sleep. This was not one such occasion. She had managed to sleep for awhile, but once she had awoken, that was it. She was done. And thus, she could not go back to sleep, but she was not entirely free to leave the bed, either. 
The cause of her insomnia was not the snoring of the other two in that king-sized bed, but rather the dream that had forced her to wake in a cold sweat. She could not even remember all of the details of that dream, only a few key parts. What she did recall was enough to scare her away from the idea of sleeping any further. Some dreams were memories, some were of things of present urgency, and some were of things that had yet to transpire; her dreams that day had been of all three melded together into one terrifying concept. 
She wanted to leave. Really, she had never wanted to find herself in this position in the first place. Of course, she could not simply grab her things and walk out. She was not physically restrained, but leaving was not a simple thing. Unlike most of the others with whom she worked, she did not pride herself on being anyone’s pet, nor did she consider herself to be a gold-digger. Hers was a strange and perhaps stupid situation that had come about as a result of both fate and her poor personal decisions. She had not deliberately chosen this life, only the means by which she dealt with it. Her financial situation had never been great, and became even worse when Mike had left. It was better now – not great, just better – but her survival depended upon maintaining her so-called “relationship” with this vampire. She was his steady blood and one of his mistresses, and in return he was steadily helping to dig her out of her situation of financial ruin. 
But therein lay the problem. Her financial troubles were finite, something to which a few specific dollar figures could be attached; his lust for blood and sex was not something that could be permanently sated. She needed him only as long as her debts required it. By her original plan, as soon as she had finished digging herself out of the hole she was in, she’d had every intention in the world of starting anew to pursue the dreams she’d held just a few years ago. Of course, the plan had changed. He was acutely aware of her intentions. He wasn’t willing to let her go … at least not so soon, nor so easily. She would only leave on his terms, not her own. He needed her as much as she needed him, and they needed each other for superficial reasons that had nothing to do with love. 
Essentially, because his need for her (or women like her) was endless, he had taken measures to ensure that she would continue to need him, if not for financial reasons then at least for certain protections. First, there had been the “gifts,” as he called them. He would buy her things – clothes, jewelry, even a car – and present them to her as though he was simply being generous and affectionate. But inevitably, he would later claim that she owed him for each and every one of those things. He was even keeping a ledger, a tab of sorts, regarding how indebted she was to him for these things. She had only made the mistake of protesting a few times, and doing so had resulted in more debts being added atop her ledger … in the form of medical bills from visits to the emergency room. 
Very carefully, slowly, and quietly, she peeled back the satin sheets and slipped out of bed. As she had learned, the myth that vampires crawled into their coffins and lay in a state of suspended animation or virtual death during the daylight hours was actually half-true. Put simply, they were notoriously heavy sleepers. According to the articles she’d read on the Internet, as a consequence of a vampire’s natural tendency to run on an adrenaline high most of the time that they were awake, they subsequently crashed and went into a deep, deep sleep when they finally retired at dawn. Their REM sleep cycles were much longer than that of the average human’s – more like an infant’s, spending almost as much as eighty percent of their sleep in the REM phase – and as such, they were generally “dead to the world” during that time. No, she knew it would take a lot to wake him, but she wasn’t so sure about her other bedmate. 
Her left shoulder, side, and neck ached stiffly as she got up and quietly padded across the plush carpet of the bedroom. The bruises weren’t visible when she was dressed, nor were they now in the dark as she walked nude to the master bathroom. It wasn’t direct abuse, but things just seemed to happen too coincidentally. Twice, she had been mugged while leaving work. More than once, she had been stalked by supposedly amorous customers (both males and females) that seemed to learn far too much about her, and far too easily. Once, she had been followed home, beaten, raped, and threatened with death if she contacted the police – “I’ll know if you file a report, and if you ever do, I’ll be back.” She was a careful person, she knew how to fight, and she always took every precaution that she could, but the attacks always seemed to come out of nowhere in such a way that she could not reasonably foresee or stop them. They always seemed to know exactly when and how to strike, always just happening to catch her at a bad time. She was certain that every occasion had been deliberately orchestrated by someone that knew her all too well. 
Her most recent collection of bruises came from a deliberate hit-and-run. Her car – that is, her actual car, not the one she had been given – had been destroyed by an old full-sized pickup truck driven by a man in a hat and sunglasses (at night). Just after she had gotten into her car that night, in the middle of a nearly empty parking lot, the man had backed into the driver’s-side door of her parked car at a high rate of speed, tipping the car over at an angle and nearly flipping it. Immediately, the man had taken off in a rush with his tires spinning in the dirt lot, throwing a hailstorm of gravel that pelted her through the shattered window. 
She closed the door to the bathroom and closed her eyes as she switched on the light, slowly opening them as she gave her eyes a chance to adjust to the glare of the fluorescent lights. The image that stared back at her from the full-length mirror that extended to both ends of the bathroom was as unsettling as ever. The bruise to her left side was the worst, where the arm rest of her car door had struck her. The other marks upon her body had nothing to do with random attacks, but rather the cost of her debts and her willingness to pay them. Scars adorned her everywhere from the neck down – cuts, scratches, punctures, and bites. Being in a dark club with strobes and colored lights and such was one thing, but she hated for others to see her nude in a well-lit room anymore. She knew what people would think of her once they saw all of those marks. She didn’t care about impressing anyone, as she was not vain about her looks; she simply didn’t want to be an object of either pity or condescension. She was keenly aware that she had brought all of this upon herself. But someday, she hoped, it wouldn’t matter anymore. And, with any luck, that day was coming very, very soon. 
She hadn’t always been like this. She had once been a dancer, a good one at that, in the first job that she had taken at the start of her times of desperation. For a brief while, she had felt better than ever – beautiful, appreciated, talented, and even hopeful for the future. But even though he had owned the club where she had worked and he had met her there, and even though he liked to show her off as his most prized possession to others, he had put a stop to her nights on the stage. After that last big attack, he had insisted that allowing her to work a job was too dangerous and that he would provide for all of her financial needs. She honestly missed the stage to some degree, but the new job gave her a feeling of control she enjoyed in a life that otherwise seemed to have spun almost completely out of control. Besides, she had reached a point where she could no longer hide all of the scars, nor could she have continued to miss any more nights while she recovered from her injuries. 
Forcing herself to turn away from the haunting image in the mirror, she reached into her purse on the sink countertop and opened her cell phone. There were five text messages. Three were irrelevant tidbits from friends – that is, the friends that she was still allowed to contact. The fourth and most recent, only an hour ago, was the one she had so anxiously awaited. It was a simple confirmation that help was on its way – They’ll be home in a few hours. There were no further details, no specifics just yet, as she would be contacted later when the time was appropriate. She had learned to be very discreet around him. He was nosey. He checked her messages, sometimes calling numbers that showed up in her history. Until now, she had never done anything to warrant such suspicion. Nothing was sacred; everything was subject to search and seizure. She hated him … but right now, she was too relieved, too overjoyed to be bothered by him. It would all soon be over, one way or another. With any luck, he would simply be an unpleasant memory as she got away and finally moved on with her life. 
She erased the text message and cleared her message history. Sure, he could check a list of numbers and such by later reviewing the phone bill, but she was sure that by the time he had his hands on it, that would be the least of his concerns. She put the phone back into her purse, brushed a few mild tangles out of her straight shoulder-length black hair, and dutifully scrubbed off her makeup before doing it all up again and putting on a bra and thong. She was expected to look her best at all times, even when she was feeling her worst. And really, that was fine. She didn’t want anyone to know just how terrible she felt most of the time. 
Just as she had finished applying her mascara and was poking the brush back into its container, the door of the bathroom was suddenly thrown open. She spun to face the intruder with a gasp, but instead of seeing him coming at her as she’d feared, she found herself being bumped aside as her former bedmate practically dove for the toilet. The nude blonde dropped to her knees and vomited loudly into the bowl. Without saying a word, she walked over to help hold the girl’s hair out of the way as she continued to heave, purging her stomach of the excess alcohol and whatever else she’d had before. It was difficult not to become sick herself, but she closed her eyes and stood back as much as she could. She felt that it was only appropriate, considering that they were both in this mess together. She wasn’t nearly as happy as the blonde to be in this situation, but then again she had been involved for a lot longer. She had been with him for about a year, whereas her sickened associate had only been involved for a few weeks. At the rate this girl was going, it would be amazing if she even lasted a couple of months. 
The speed with which her own life had fallen apart over the past two and a half years was amazing. She had once graduated from high school with honors and was attending college. She’d had a loving and supportive family. She’d once had a large circle of friends. Everything had seemed to be going right for her … up until she had made the mistake of committing herself to Mike. They had met by chance, innocently enough, in a grocery store. They had dated. Things had become serious. There had been talk of a wedding, so she thought it best to introduce him to her family. They had objected. Everything about Mike seemed wrong to them – no college education, no apparent direction in life, wrong looks, wrong religion, wrong race … everything. When she went against her family for the first time ever, even shunning her sister’s advice, her parents had practically disowned her. So, she had moved in with Mike. And that’s when things had gone to Hell in a hand basket. 
Mike had been a tweaker, an abuser of methamphetamines. Had she known this … wait, no … had she not been so blind and so naïve have missed the warning signs, she would have never become involved with him. She had liked him because, in spite of the fact that he had come from humble beginnings and hadn’t made a lot of money, he had been highly motivated – enough that he would stay up for two or three days at a time. He had been ruggedly handsome, strong, intelligent, quick-witted, and most of all, he was very different than anyone else she’d ever known. But after she had moved in with him, burning all of her bridges in doing so, it hadn’t even been a month before she had learned that nearly everything she had liked about him had been because of the drugs he took. By then, it had been too late. 
Like the so-called man that presently ruled her life, Mike had been a controller. He had been paranoid as well, perhaps because of his drug habit. He had somehow convinced her to quit her job in retail sales and become a topless dancer. He justified the idea by citing so many examples of other young women that could easily pay their way through college by only working a few nights a week, still having lots of time and money left over for fun.
However, as it had turned out, his idea of “fun” had either been stealing or extorting money from her and using it for meth. He had stolen her credit cards, maxed them out, and emptied her checking and savings accounts. He had pawned some of her things to pay for his addiction. And when she had tried to confront him about his antics, about his addiction, he had flown into a rage and thrown things around the place. He had never physically hurt her, but he had definitely terrified her. And because she had ignored the warnings of her family and friends, stubbornly choosing to go at it alone, she had left herself with no one to turn to for help. 
One night, Mike had told her he needed to borrow her car while she was at work. He had dropped her off at the club, neglected to offer a farewell of any kind, and then had driven off with a squeal of tires. She never saw him again. She later had begged a ride home from a co-worker. At almost five o’clock in the morning, the police had called to ask her some questions pertaining to what had happened that night. As she had soon learned, Mike had gone downtown, gotten high, and decided to rob a convenience store to get more cash to buy – what else – more meth. A police officer had been pulling up to the store just as Mike had been leaving, and he immediately pursued him. Mike had led police on a high-speed chase for several miles down a highway before losing control of the Honda and running off the road. Video of the news helicopter’s footage of the chase and the subsequent crash was still making its rounds on the Internet. Mike hadn’t been wearing a seat belt, so when the car had rolled over, he was partially ejected and then crushed to death by the tumbling Honda. 
Of course, the insurance company had refused to pay for her demolished Honda because of the circumstances. Thus, she had still been obligated to pay for the remainder of the auto loan, in addition to all of the credit card debt that Mike had accrued in her name, as well as the rest of her school tuition. Unable to cope with the costs, she had been forced to drop out of college to work full-time as a nude dancer. Mike’s tales about making more money and working less had proven to be almost laughable lies – laughable, of course, had she not been the butt of the joke. She had struggled for awhile, but she had begun to turn things around, and she had actually begun to make some progress with her life. Then she had met Mister Dante Giovanni. And from there, things had only gone from bad to worse. 
When the blonde’s heaves subsided, the girl hugged the bowl of the toilet and passed out again. Fortunately, she had never found herself like this, as she had never been one to really enjoy being drunk, and her experience with Mike had cemented her choice to never even try any illicit drugs. She wasn’t holding out any hopes that she could turn this girl around and get her away from Mister Giovanni before it was too late for her, because it truly was already too late for her. She was an alcoholic and a heroin addict, and Mister Giovanni catered to her addictions in exchange for her ready willingness to satisfy his own. She could not save her because the girl did not want to be saved. She was happy to be his slave. And, thus, she would die as his slave, just as the other girls before them had died – alone and abandoned, either in an alley or along the side of desert highway, most likely dead as the result of a massive drug overdose. 
She left the unconscious blonde alone in the bathroom and made her way out into the living room. Outside, the world looked dark, though she knew that opening a window or door to step outside would practically blind her. She was so closely tied-in with Mister Giovanni’s daily routines that she saw as little of the sun as he did. At least she had the option right now of being able to step outside; soon enough, that would no longer be a possibility. However, as she stepped over into the kitchen and began to fill a glass with ice and water, she found herself actually smiling at that. It was one part of a large price she had to pay in order to be free of the even larger price of her life with Mister Dante Giovanni. Soon, he would be dead, and she would be free. She was aware that whatever fate to which she was resigning herself could turn out to be quite unpleasant. Still, there was no doubt that it would be a dramatic improvement. Her options would be limited by her condition as a High Court vampire. But having some options was better than having none at all. 
“To the future,” she murmured to herself, raising her glass in a toast to no one. 

* * * *

Chapter Twelve



They had landed in New York shortly after dawn. Serenity and the others found it necessary to protect themselves with liberal applications of sun block, sunglasses, and clothing that covered them nearly from head to toe as they walked about the terminal between their flights. Although nobody recognized them readily enough to cause a scene, they all received quite a few curious stares as they stood in wait at the baggage claim before heading over to their next departure gate. From New York City, Serenity had chartered a private jet to fly them to their final destination – that term always sounded ominous to Raina – and they were able to sit in even greater comfort and privacy with all of the window shades drawn down on the plane. Serenity was a bit more talkative now, but she was careful not to make herself obnoxious, as she engaged others in conversation as well, rather than focusing exclusively upon Raina as she had during their trans-Atlantic flight. 
The private jet was incredibly smooth and quiet in flight, even more so than the jumbo jet, although the cabin was a bit more narrow and rounded in such a way that Raina again felt like she was sitting inside of a giant cigar tube with wings. Raina tried to get some shut-eye for awhile, but a few occasional patches of turbulence made it impossible for her to relax sufficiently. Since they had the entire plane to themselves, she moved herself to a seat in the far-rear of the plane, and did her best to at least attempt a bit of meditation. By the time she had managed to clear her mind of everything but the droning whistle of the jet’s twin engines, the pitch of the engines changed and they began their final descent – again, an ominous term which she didn’t much love. Their landing was gentle and careful. Once they had taxied to a stop and the plane’s engines were throttled down, Raina had to consciously resist the urge to run down the steps and kiss the ground as soon as the door opened. 
Serenity had not told them in advance where they were going, so it came as something of a surprise to see their itinerary listing their final destination as being Flagstaff, Arizona. To be back in her home state was a pleasant relief. She had previously figured that their destination would be California, where most of Serenity’s bloodline was based. Given, she was not as accustomed to the High Country air, but she welcomed it readily with several long, deep breaths as soon as she stepped out of the plane. It wasn’t home, but its familiarity was enough to make her feel more at ease than she had ever felt overseas. 
The sky was perfectly clear and the nearly full moon was high, the stars standing out with so much greater contrast that it was as stunning as ever to behold. Staring up at the sky for a moment, Raina was caught with a momentary twinge of sadness. She recalled a time that she and Brenna had ascended a large hill near the Superstition Mountains one night to watch the Fourth of July fireworks shooting up all over the city’s horizon. She remembered laying there beside her for awhile after the displays ended, as they had stared straight up into the great void. They had both commented on how tiny and insignificant planet Earth seemed in the overall scheme of things. They both noted how sad it was that so many people lived their lives thinking that the totality of the universe was limited to one continent, one country, one state, one city, or even a few city blocks. Raina felt a hand upon her shoulder and turned to see Serenity standing nearby with a very serious look. 
“I know,” she told her. 
“You know what?” Raina asked. 
“You still miss her.” 
Raina was a bit surprised, but she didn’t question it. Instead, she said, “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble … I mean, I don’t know what kind of a schedule we’re running on, but since we’re here in the state…” 
“Absolutely,” Serenity replied with a nod. “We will take time to visit her grave and pay our respects.” 
She smiled. “Thanks. It would mean a lot to me.” 
“Just as well,” Serenity added, “if you would permit me the honor, I would like to see for myself the area which the former Raina Delgado once called home. We are, after all, heading to stay the day in my own hometown this evening. I think it would help serve to bring us closer by understanding one another’s origins.” 
Raina was a bit uneasy with the idea of getting too well-acquainted with Serenity. She forced her smile to stay and nodded in agreement, anyhow. It had been awhile since anyone had spoken her human name. Raina Delgado was dead, as was Brenna Douglass, Duvessa Fallamhain, and so many others. It had taken her quite some time to come to grips with the idea. Now that it was finally beginning to really take hold, she wasn’t so sure it would be wise to go tearing open old wounds by revisiting her old haunts. She knew that it would be too easy to undo all of the emotional mending she had done over the past few months. Just the same, it was an opportunity that seemed impossible to refuse. Perhaps a dose of familiarity and what she considered to be normalcy would help to bring her out of this severely depressed state in which she’d been trapped since her Change. 
Raina’s first much-welcomed taste of home was a visit to an upscale restaurant in Flagstaff. Serenity explained that she frequented this place quite often and she was always welcomed by the owners and staff. For this occasion, they kept the business open late just for them, allowing their group full privacy and the full attention of the staff. Raina was feeling practically famished. It hadn’t helped that the long flights only offered snacks that could not even qualify as a meal for an anorexic human. Additionally, she was pained by the wounds that still ached sharply whenever she did anything more than stand in place or sit perfectly still. She needed to heal, and in order to do that, she needed to fuel her body. 
Garlic was an obvious concern with any meal. The natural allergy that all vampires had to garlic was, alas, something that even Raina had not been able to entirely avoid, even with her unique genetics. Sometimes this required some awkward reading of ingredient labels or an embarrassing inquisition of restaurant staff members. More than once, Raina had either ordered something at a restaurant or bought something on a whim and popped it into her mouth without a thought. As with her allergy to silver, her reaction to such things was greatly reduced, but she was by no means immune. The anaphylactic shock brought on by garlic that could potentially kill many vampires by swelling their throat shut would instead only make Raina violently ill and confine her to a restroom for an embarrassingly long period of time – a rather humiliating thing when in the company of IVC dignitaries. As such, the restaurant owner assured them that nothing in their cooking included garlic, so they could order anything they wished without fear of such consequences. 
The amount of food a vampire could put away was sometimes staggering. How much one ate always seemed completely disproportionate to their actual body mass. Given, sometimes this necessary form of what could be seen as gluttony did actually result in a bit of a slightly swollen stomach. Still, pigging out on junk food was nothing grotesque or animalistic and certainly nothing as repulsive (to Raina) as tearing into another living person’s flesh with one’s teeth and sucking upon the wound. Seeking simplicity and a bit of “old school goodness,” she ordered a huge steak with a side of mashed potatoes. It may have seemed a bit too conventional, given the company she was in, and even worse was the look that Serenity gave her after she ordered, but Raina would not be swayed on this. Raina had never been a Vegan as a human, and she certainly would never commit herself to something as impractical as that as a vampire. Serenity would simply have to avert her eyes as Raina cut up and savored every bite of that juicy slab of sirloin. Just as well, Sophie and Thomas feasted upon a great deal of shrimp and lobster without any regard for the subtle looks of distaste given from Serenity and her consorts. They may have seen the killing of animals for food as murder, but who would have thought that murder could be so juicy and delicious? 
The only thing upon which they all could agree was wine – red, and lots of it. Raina was by no means drunk by the time they left, but she was feeling good enough that her slowly healing wounds were hardly bothering her at all as they departed. They were led to gather into a pair of awaiting pearl-white Lincolns outside of the restaurant, piloted by drivers with classic chauffeurs’ uniforms – suit, hat, gloves, and all.
Raina was allowed more breathing room in this car ride than in the one to the airport, as she only shared the back seat of the second Lincoln with Duchess Serenity. In the front seat rode one of her consorts, Lord Redhorn, while her other two consorts had crammed into the lead car along with Sophie and Thomas. Lord Redhorn was, as his name implied, a Native American, and his strong features proudly confirmed this. Serenity explained that he was a member of the Yavapai tribe in northern Arizona, and that he (rather than the Duchess) owned the Sedona home in which they would be staying that night. Lord Redhorn was as quiet as the other consorts, not treating Raina with any hint of animosity but also not making any effort to converse with her directly. 
There wasn’t much to see in looking out the heavily-tinted side windows of the Lincoln as they drove along, and Raina had honestly had about as much conversation with Serenity as she could stand for awhile. Feeling almost drugged by the feast and wine they’d had in Flagstaff, she snuggled herself into a corner of the rear seat near the door and began to doze a bit for most of the drive. She awoke with a bit of a start when the car was slowed to a halt at an intersection after exiting the highway, entering Sedona’s residential areas. 
A few minutes later, they had cruised through the main streets of Sedona and into a very upscale, high-dollar neighborhood of houses at the foot of the beautiful red mountains where Cathedral Rock could be found. She had visited this area a few years ago at the urging of one of her co-workers, citing the lovely views that the area offered. It was during a period of time when Raina was flirting a bit with a variety of religions, seeking out (unsuccessfully) something that felt “right” to her. She had felt sadly disappointed not to feel anything particularly different when she had visited a few of the purported “energy vortices” scattered throughout the area in and around Sedona.
Although Lord Redhorn supposedly owned the home, Raina was sure that Duchess Serenity had either financed the purchase or at least encouraged him to pick this particular location because it was so close to the energy vortex at Cathedral Rock. The fact that the homes here were large and beautiful and the surrounding view was breathtaking probably didn’t hurt much, either. 
Both Lincolns stopped outside of a high mortar and metal fence for a few moments while they waited for the motorized front gate to open. The gateway opened to a large circular drive similar to the one in front of the Fallamhain Estate, a place clearly designed for hosting a large number of guests and VIP’s arriving in vehicles with a large turning radius – limousines, primarily. There were three vehicles visible in carports attached to the actual house, two of which were surprisingly humble subcompact cars and the third being a motorcycle. Apparently, the two full-sized Lincolns were only for special occasions such as this where extra passenger room was necessary, a slightly more “green” alternative to the usual large, cumbersome, gas-guzzling luxury SUV’s. The two sedans were parked next to one another under the large cabana that extended from the front entryway of the home, much like the front of a hotel. She was stricken by a brief but unsettling moment of déjà vu, as the last time she recalled stepping out of a Lincoln with another High Court in front of such a building was just after she had engaged in a threesome with Brenna and Duvessa. 
Sensing her unease, Serenity turned to Raina and said, “I assure you, your grace, you are completely safe here. This is a very peaceful city. There is no one for miles around that would wish to harm you.” 
Raina simply nodded and let that go. She didn’t entirely agree, but she wasn’t going to argue the point. Instead, she insisted upon going ‘round to the back of the sedan as the trunk was opened, immediately retrieving her encased sword. She did not remove her sword from the case, but she did at least feel a bit better with it in her hands, again. It seemed odd that such a deadly object with a history of bloodshed could begin to serve as something of a security blanket for her. 
The inside of the house was actually fairly modest. There was not a lot of flash or gaudy decoration. There were only a few framed photographs to be seen anywhere, the rest of the place having an obviously Native American theme of décor to it. The items hung upon the walls and the furniture pieces in the large, high-ceilinged combination living/dining room were extremely simple in appearance, although Raina was sure that they were not cheap, either. The dining area was almost Asian in its arrangement, with little more than a long, low table with a few cushions around it, and the den area was simply a semi-circle of faux suede sofas. There was no sign of a television, but there was a small name-brand stereo perched atop the stone mantle over a fireplace at the far wall to her right. The overall color theme of everything was distinctly earthy, mostly browns, greens, gold, and such. 
“Well,” Serenity said with a soft clap of her hands, turning around to face Raina and her two companions, “this is it. This is my humble little castle. Well, one of them, at least. Feel free to make yourselves at home. Don’t hesitate to ask for anything at all.” 
Right away, Raina felt far more comfortable in this place than she ever had in England. Unlike the Fallamhain Estate, where it felt like she was in some kind of live-in museum, this actually seemed like a real home. The place was expensively furnished, yet it seemed very quaint and cozy. In spite of her publicly vain tendencies, Serenity’s home – technically, Lord Redhorn’s home – was actually quite modest and low-key on the inside. From the intimidating look of the gate to the expensive-looking exterior with expensive environmentally-friendly cars parked in front to this un-flashy, down-to-earth, no-frills interior, it seemed that Serenity became more and more ordinary and practical as the layers of public image were peeled away. 
“I would so … love … to have a place like this,” Raina said with undisguised awe as she looked around. “Seriously, this place is awesome. I could actually feel at home in a house like this.” 
Serenity giggled, stepping aside as her consorts walked past with everyone’s luggage in tow. “Well, thank you! This really is only a vacation home to me, though. I would think that this would be too small and basic for someone such as yourself.” 
“No, I’m not kidding,” Raina said, looking at her directly. “I could really go for a place like this. I don’t like being in a place that constantly makes me feel like I’m walking around on eggshells. This is simple, subtle, and … tasteful. It’s not all in-your-face and flashy. It’s not like every time you look in any direction, someone’s rubbing your nose in their fame or fortune.” She glanced around a bit more. “Is your main home like this?” 
She shrugged, smiling. “It’s much bigger, but there are a lot of similarities. You should come see it sometime.” 
“I’d love to.” 
“Would you care for something to drink?” 
“Absolutely.” 
“What would you like?” 
“You wouldn’t have any absinthe by chance, would you?” 
“Of course! I’m actually quite fond of it, myself. Please,” she said, making a sweeping gesture with her arm toward the den area, “have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable while I bring it out.” 
Raina watched as Serenity turned and began to walk toward the doorway of another room, presumably the kitchen. Serenity almost seemed to be disregarding the fact that Sophie and Thomas were even there at all. Moments such as this helped Raina to keep in mind the fact that she was still dealing with an Elder of the IVC and, thus, there would always be some haughty standards and skewed views on things with regard to other races. 
“Um … Duchess?” Raina called out to her before she could slip out of view. Serenity turned abruptly, her strawberry blonde hair spilling over her shoulder almost cinematically. Gesturing to her companions, Raina asked, “Could you maybe bring three glasses?” 
“Oh … of course,” she replied, as if it had only just then occurred to her. 
As Serenity finally disappeared into the kitchen, Raina turned to find Thomas and Sophie smiling. Thomas gave her a silent nod of thanks. 
“Don’t worry, I’ve got your back,” she whispered to them with a smirk. 
They stepped around to sit upon the sofa nearest the large panoramic window. The cushions were surprisingly firm, yet as she sat upon it, it slowly seemed to give a bit and conform to the shape of her rear and back – a kind of dense “memory” foam, apparently. Sophie and Thomas sat on either side of her once more, as if they had been scripted to do so … and perhaps they had, by Olivia’s prior instructions. While Raina lazily leaned back and threw her arms up on the top of the sofa behind them, they both remained sitting with their backs straight and their hands upon their knees, perfectly formal as ever. 
Raina smiled. “You know, I’m starting to think you two are just too damned well-behaved.” 
“Do you want us to be bad?” Thomas asked with an impish grin. 
“No, I just … I hope you aren’t going to be like this around me all of the time,” she said. “I’d like to think that, at least every now and then, you both could unwind a little bit and not look so uptight.” 
“Oh, I think we know how to unwind,” Sophie assured her with a wink, “but I’m not sure you’d want us to do that in front of you.” 
Before she could say anything further, Serenity reappeared, along with one of her other consorts, Lord Gerald. She carried two large wine glasses in each hand while he carried a bottle of absinthe in each hand and a third tucked under his left arm. Serenity carefully set down the glasses upon the long, broad, low, oval-shaped coffee table in the middle of the den area. As she bent over to set the glasses down, Raina was embarrassed to find her eyes drifting to the deep cleavage that was revealed by Serenity’s loose-fitting outfit, almost being offered an accidentally obscene view. Serenity smiled to Raina as their eyes met, and she wondered if she’d been caught staring – if she had, it was never mentioned aloud. 
“Would you care to have it mixed, or do you prefer yours straight?” she asked politely as she stood up wit her hands clasped at her waist. 
“Mixed, actually,” Raina replied. “I only drink it straight if I feel like getting sloppy.” 
Serenity shrugged. “There is no harm in a bit of private indulgence, your grace. It is in our nature to do so, after all.” 
“I’ll take mine straight,” Sophie said brightly. When Raina raised an eyebrow at her, she replied, “Why not? I’m going to be driving anywhere.” 
“I’ll have mine straight, too,” Thomas said, again giving Raina that devious smirk of his. Apparently, he loved to tease her, and it seemed he would jump at every opportunity he could to be mischievous. It was amusing, perhaps even charming, but Raina worried on some level that it would get him into trouble someday … if not with her, then perhaps with someone else.
As one, they all looked to Raina in silent question, as if they expected her to automatically reconsider her choice. She simply shook her head lightly, sticking with her original preference. Raina may have been a borderline alcoholic, but she would have preferred to think of herself as a functional alcoholic rather than a useless drunk. She was here on business. She had things to do. And presumably, there were still people out there plotting to kill her. She had to stay sharp. Now was not a good time for her to be getting sloshed.
Anyway, straight absinthe was simply too strong to even taste good; the alcohol content, usually at fifty percent or more, meant that upon making contact with her tongue, it seemed to soak in almost instantaneously. The burn overpowered the taste almost entirely. If she cared nothing for tasting what she drank and simply wanted to get bombed, Raina would have sooner asked for straight rum. 
The three fresh, unopened bottles which Serenity presented to Raina were brands and types of absinthe which she had never before seen – one labeled in French, one in Czech, and one bearing the endorsement of a celebrity gothic shock-rocker in its name. Raina asked her to pour whichever of the three she preferred, and so Serenity unwrapped and uncorked the beautifully-decorated bottle of French absinthe. She offered Raina the cork. Oddly, the stuff smelled almost like some brand of men’s cologne with only a hint of anise in it. Figuring it would probably taste better than it smelled, or at least it would change a bit when mixed, she handed back the cork with a nod. Serenity poured a measure approximately equal to a shot and a half into each of the glasses, and then re-corked the bottle before Lord Gerald laid a special slotted metal spoon across the top of Raina’s glass. He turned and went back into the kitchen for just a moment before returning with a small bowl of sugar cubes and a glass carafe filled with chilled water. As he set the items down upon the table, Serenity silently intervened to take over his beverage duties, smiling warmly to Raina. 
“I would not want to miss this opportunity to personally serve our most distinguished guest of honor,” Serenity said as she knelt before the table with inhumanly fluid grace. 
She uncovered the decoratively-engraved bowl of sugar cubes and withdrew a single cube to place upon the slotted spoon before taking up the carafe. Though she was very slow and very careful with the pouring, as was necessary to properly melt a sugar cube on a spoon – it helped with the flavor by more completely dissolving the sugar – her eyes remained fixed upon Raina’s for a great deal of the process. Her smile and the sentiment that Raina sensed from her was unmistakably that of attraction.
Raina found this surprising in that Serenity had never once seemed to exhibit such feelings towards her during their prior traveling and close proximity. Perhaps it was the comfort of a familiar setting that had caused her to suddenly open up, or perhaps the realization that she now had Raina quite isolated from the world and, almost unsettlingly, at her whim. Even though they shared a relatively common geographical origin in Arizona, Raina was undeniably on Serenity’s turf now. She had the home court advantage, so to speak. And if it turned out that the Elder had any unsavory intentions, Raina only had her two companions, Thomas and Sophie, and her sword to rely upon for defense. And, come to think of it, the key to open her encased sword was still inside of the briefcase that held her laptop, which was … well … not exactly within her reach. 
“Why so tense, your grace?” Serenity asked as she was nearly finished pouring. “Have I done poorly to set you at ease?” 
Raina snapped out of her slight daze of worried thought. “I’m just … I’m still a little on edge, I guess. I mean … y’know, it’s only been a little over a day since someone last tried to kill me.” 
“Do you fear that they will try again so soon?” She finished pouring the water, having turned the unusually sapphire-green liqueur into a more milky greenish-white color as the absinthe louched. Serenity lifted the spoon and stirred the drink briefly, lightly. “I must insist that you are quite safe here, your grace. The men that drove us here are professional security specialists. They are highly trained and well-armed. And this home is equipped quite well with an electronic security system. I dare say you are perhaps safer here than even at the Fallamhain Estate.”
Raina waved it off gently. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I just … need to unwind a little.” 
“Well then,” she said, lifting the glass to present it to her, “perhaps this will help get you back on track.” 
Considering how weak Serenity seemed to have mixed the drink, Raina commented with a smile, “Maybe after three or four of these.” 
“I’m sure you’ll find one will be an adequate start,” Serenity replied with a nod and a smile. 
Raina gave the drink a light, quick sniff while Serenity began to pour some straight shots for Sophie and Thomas. Absinthe always had a very strong alcoholic content, especially the way Raina tended to mix her preferred brand. She was not so much attempting to gauge its potency as she was forming a second opinion of it. It smelled much like it did before, albeit a bit smoother and much sweeter now. The similarity to men’s cologne was still very much there, and some lewd part of Raina’s psyche offered up a momentary fantasy of “accidentally” spilling some of the drink upon Thomas’s chest … and then licking it off. 
Rather thoughtlessly, Raina brought the glass to her lips, tilted it back, and took a rather recklessly long sip of the drink. She left a dark mark of lipstick upon the rim of the glass. In the first instant, she was amazed by the potency of the drink’s anise flavor. It was like a liquid form of black licorice, the texture very smooth and thick. But a moment later, as she began to swallow that first measure of the drink, she felt its true power already beginning to leech into her tongue and cheeks. She swallowed, and there was first a very cold chill that spilled down her throat and filled her mouth as she exhaled, followed immediately after by a sudden wash of fire-like burn as she inhaled. The alcoholic vapors caused her to nearly choke, and she had to hold the glass away carefully as she cleared her throat. The burn made her eyes water enough that she had to carefully blink back the tears that would have ruined her eye makeup. 
“Good?” Thomas asked her with a smile. 
Finally able to breathe clearly again after a moment, Raina stared at Serenity with wide eyes. “Holy hell! What is this, lighter fluid?” 
Serenity discretely covered her grin with her fingertips as she giggled, replying, “I’m sorry. It’s a rather strong brand.” 
“That’s an understatement,” Raina replied as she eyed the contents of the glass with a newfound respect. “What’s the alcohol content in this?” 
“Sixty-nine percent.” 
Raina looked to her again with her lips parted in shock. “You’re kidding.” 
“It’s not the highest content I’ve tried, but I’ll admit, it is quite strong,” she said, holding up the bottle for Raina to examine. “If it’s too much, I can…” 
“No, no,” Raina said quickly, “this’ll work just fine. Just caught me off guard a little, that’s all.” She turned toward Thomas. “You sure you don’t want yours mixed?” 
He lifted his glass after Serenity poured it for him and he held it up to examine in the soft glow of the overhead lighting. A moment later, he put it to his lips, tilted it back, and downed the whole thing in one shot. He set down the glass immediately afterward and wiped his pencil-thin moustache with one hand, staring straight at the floor for a few moments. He suddenly gave a visible shudder and shook his head quickly before raising his eyebrows and looking back to Raina with a smile. He was just showing off. Raina clearly could sense his restrained discomfort, and it took him several seconds to find his voice before he finally spoke again. 
“Oh yeah,” he told her with a strained voice that was nearly a whisper, “that’s good.” 
Raina looked to Sophie, who was still holding her glass almost timidly. She smiled rather nervously to Raina. 
“I’m, ah … suddenly not so sure about this,” she told her. “Is it bad?” 
“Not bad at all,” Raina assured her. 
She tipped it back and took just a small sip of her straight absinthe, barely even leaving a mark upon the edge of the glass. She winced at first and then fully cringed, putting the glass down rather quickly before fanning her hands at her face and coughing slightly. 
“Could you, ah…?” 
“Of course, dear,” Serenity replied with a smile, laying the slotted spoon across her glass and preparing her drink similarly to Raina’s. Glancing over her shoulder to look back at her consorts, who stood patiently in waiting, she said, “Perhaps some music, some better lighting…?” 
“Right away,” Lord Gerald responded with a nod as he and Lord Redhorn both went into action. Again, acting as though they were following a rehearsed script – as was the norm for all associates of High Court vampires, it often seemed – one set about lighting candles throughout the living room and dimming the electric overhead lighting while the other selected a particular disc of music and loaded it into the disc player. The music that began playing was, as Raina somehow expected, of the soft, ambient, soothing New Age variety – nothing offensive or annoying, but something that could easily put her to sleep. 
Serenity finished mixing Sophie’s drink, poured another for Thomas, and then arose to stand. Redhorn had disappeared into the kitchen and returned with another glass. He quickly went about the task of pouring and mixing a drink for his mistress from the same bottle of absinthe as she settled upon the sofa opposite the one in which Raina and her companions sat. 
“So, ah … what can you tell me about my future bloodspawn?” Raina finally asked before taking another sip of her drink. 
Serenity shrugged lightly. “Not much, I am afraid.” 
Raina narrowed her eyes slightly. “I thought you said you’ve known her for a long time before this…?” 
“I have,” she confirmed with a nod, “but not personally. We’ve been in communication on the Internet for quite a long time.” 
There was a long, awkward pause. “Excuse me?” 
“She is a moderator for an online message forum that I frequent under a pseudonym,” she explained calmly. “Only she knows who I truly am, and she has been very discreet about her knowledge of my identity. Over time, she has proven herself to be very trustworthy and loyal.” 
“So, you’re telling me you trust this person just because, as far as you know, she never told anyone your online screen name?” Raina asked, incredulous. 
“Yes, well … that, and other reasons.” 
“Do you even know what this person looks like?” 
Serenity hesitated. “I chose to respect her wish to also remain anonymous. Like me, she also is in a position where she would prefer to maintain her anonymity.” 
Already frowning, Raina set down her drink slowly and carefully. Quite suddenly, she was already beginning to regret having agreed to this little vacation. She said nothing, allowing her facial expression and Serenity’s High Court sensitivities to convey her disapproval. 
“I know, it probably sounds ridiculous,” Serenity said, “but I can assure you with the utmost certainty that she is a trustworthy individual.” 
“Because she kept your screen name a secret?” 
“We’ve had many, many very in-depth discussions over the years. As you surely know, people will open themselves up far more completely in online discussions than they ever would dare to when conversing with someone in person,” she explained. “We may have never met face-to-face, but we know one another completely. In fact, more than once, I have offered to become her Maker in the past, but she has declined only because of her personal situation.” 
“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little less than enthusiastic about this whole thing now,” Raina said, folding her arms. 
Serenity looked at her directly with a worried sigh. “Would it be of any help if I told you that she personally knew Brenna?” Raina glared at her, and she clearly sensed her sudden flare of anger, raising a hand before she could speak. “I swear it, your grace, she knew her quite well in the past.” 
“How?” Raina asked simply. 
“Well … she didn’t exactly explain it in detail. Really, she only alluded to it, but given Mistress Monsoon’s online persona, it seemed rather obvious to me. They were both … well … I’m not sure how best to say this…” 
“Just say it.” 
“They were both part of a business of which I’m sure you did not fully approve.” 
“Stripping?” 
Serenity shrugged again. “Among other things, yes … although, from what I gather, their chief association was through the roles that they played in … adult films … and online adult entertainment. She never specified which films or websites, in particular, otherwise I would know Mistress Monsoon’s face. But … well, I have seen Brenna’s work, and she did tend to specialize in girl-on-girl scenes, so…”
Raina had already heard all about Brenna’s “other life,” the adult entertainment career she’d been pursuing under her stage name, Raven Darkwater. Raina hadn’t known about it at all, however, until a few days after Brenna’s death. Brenna had deliberately done everything she could to keep her porn career a secret from Raina because, as she had been told, Brenna worried that Raina might think less of her if she found out. She had truly cared about how Raina had seen her, not only as a friend but also because of the feelings that Brenna had held for her for so long. Brenna had only reluctantly admitted to working as an exotic dancer several months after she’d first met Raina, having previously claimed to be a waitress. Raina had only learned of that much several months into their friendship when a pair of guys had approached Brenna in a bar and spoiled the secret while lewdly trying to proposition her. 
There had already been pictures and videos circulating on the Internet for a couple of years, of course. When Brenna Douglass had become Lady Brenna Fallamhain and subsequently been killed by Countess Wilhelmina, her photos and films suddenly developed a macabre cult-like fan base. As of yet, Raina had refused to let her morbid curiosity get the better of her and had thus far refused to view a single picture or video clip from Brenna’s secret, sordid second (or perhaps third) life. She wanted to remember Brenna in her own way – the way Brenna, herself, had apparently wanted to be remembered. Besides, so many others had crudely offered up so many verbal details of Brenna’s past exploits that Raina figured she didn’t need to actually see any of that material, anyhow. Raina had a terribly vivid imagination. She could fill in the blanks quite well enough on her own. 
It shouldn’t have been any surprise to Raina that Brenna had made some close friends over time in the adult entertainment industry. Not everyone in the business was a scumbag or a gold-digger. It would’ve been rather narcissistic to think that Raina was the only friend she would have had, especially considering that Brenna had been far more physically intimate with others before her. Quite possibly, the men and women with whom Brenna had worked perhaps knew her even better than Raina had ever known her. In fact, members of the media had sought out former colleagues of Brenna just as readily as they had searched for every co-worker, classmate, former date, and distant relative of Raina – not many had much to say of either, and thankfully no one had really dug up any serious “dirt” to catch anyone’s interest. 
Nevertheless, Raina was caught off guard. Her first instinct was to accuse Duchess Serenity either of being a liar or, at the very least, of having been misled. It wasn’t the first time someone had claimed to have known Brenna or Raina personally, and a vast majority of the time it was proven that neither had met the person(s) in question. Raina had already lost count of how many men had come forward to speak with magazines and tabloids, or to post rumors on the Internet, claiming to have been one of her past boyfriends. The actual list was very, very short, and Raina had already publicly named each of them. But she knew a lie when she sensed it – well, usually, anyway – and she sensed nothing of the sort from Serenity. But then again … she was sitting a fair distance away… 
“I don’t blame you for being suspicious,” Serenity said after a moment. “I keep current with the news, and I’ve seen many of the headlines. Sadly, people will say anything to have their fifteen minutes of fame. But I promise you, this is not such a case. This person is genuine. I would stake my reputation upon it.”
Raina tried not to let her surprise show. Serenity’s perception of Raina’s thoughts was bordering upon that of a true psychic. 
“More than that,” Raina warned her after a moment’s hesitation, “you’re staking my life on this. What if it just turns out to be a set-up? People are trying to assassinate me, you know. It seems more than a little coincidental that this person just so happened to wait until immediately after someone tried to kill me before they decided to come forward. For all I know, this could be someone’s ‘Plan B’ effort to get rid of me.” 
“Again, I have known this person for a long time, your grace…” 
“And again, I’m sorry if I sound mistrusting,” she reiterated, “but you have to understand the kind of situation I’m in. I’m not trying to be a coward, but I also don’t want to be foolish. I really don’t want to walk into a trap again and get anyone else killed.” 
Serenity nodded and accepted her drink as it was handed to her. Pausing to gracefully sip at the absinthe, she got up from the sofa and began to walk about the room as she spoke. As always, her movements were fluid-like in their grace, much as was the norm amongst High Court vampires – a practiced mannerism that Olivia had been trying to teach Raina (with very limited success). 
“I know that I cannot realistically offer any guarantee about this person’s identity that I should expect you to accept without hesitation. Just as well, I cannot say that I would not feel exactly the same if I were in your place. You have every reason to be wary of this situation,” Serenity told her as she moved over to one of the large candles in the room. Almost idly, she moved her fingers back and forth through the flame of a slender white candlestick, almost toying with it. “But you know the saying, ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’ I feel that this is one such risk that is well worth taking.” 
Thomas was not gulping his drink down this time, instead choosing this time to sip very lightly at his second round. Sophie was being equally conservative with her drink. Apparently, neither of them were seasoned absinthe drinkers. 
“So, you really think it’s worth me sticking my neck out to meet some total stranger, someone who you, yourself, have never even met in person?” Raina asked. “I really get the feeling I’m walking into a lion’s den with a steak tied around my neck.” 
Serenity calmly removed her hand from the flame and turned to face her. “I feel that if you were not willing to take such a risk, you would not be here with me in Sedona right now.” 
Raina almost blurted out that she’d had other motives for agreeing to the trip, but she kept it to herself for now. Instead, she listened to the soft techno-flavored music, stared at her drink, and swirled the absinthe about with a subtle gyration of the glass, considering the Duchess’s words. She had a point. Raina didn’t entirely agree with it, but it was a good point, nonetheless.
Regardless of her true reasons for coming along, she had agreed to this trip. She had accepted certain risks, certain potential consequences. If one such risk was the potential for recklessly placing herself in harm’s way … well, then, she had no one else but herself to blame for being in this position. Just like everything else before, whatever happened to her from here on out was her own damned fault. 
“I need to know everything that you know about this person. And I mean everything,” Raina said after a few seconds. 
And so she told her. Serenity explained that the individual in question went by a screen name Mistress Monsoon, she was thirty-six years old, an Aquarius, divorced, born and raised in the Phoenix metro area, fond of cats, and she had at least one child – a son of unknown age, but old enough to be in the military. She was also a fan of old horror movies, old music, old cars, old fashions, and generally all things “old school.” Giving more information than Raina really wanted or needed, Serenity also went on to explain that Mistress Monsoon was a “squirter,” she liked bondage, she had a rather large collection of “toys,” she sometimes dabbled in candle play, and she considered herself to be straight but was “open to experimentation.” This Mistress Monsoon character was a moderator for a message forum that specialized in discussing fetishes of every sort – surprising, as Raina had expected there to be a religious connection to Serenity. She was a very, very private person that kept her personal and public life quite strictly separated, and Serenity considered herself to be rather privileged to even know what little she did about Mistress Monsoon. She did not know exactly what Mistress Monsoon did for a living, exactly where she lived in or around the Phoenix area, or even the vaguest hint of her physical appearance, aside from being a thirty-something female with a “thing” for always dressing in black. 
Serenity had become rather over-descriptive in relaying these details to Raina. With each detail, she felt it necessary to relate a story to her of conversations she’d had with Mistress Monsoon. Raina was into her third drink and already beginning to feel the alcohol, which was rather surprising considering how little absinthe had actually been put into each – she could thank the higher content percentage for that. Serenity was matching her drink-for-drink, although her consorts had chosen to abstain and busy themselves with serving drinks and performing other tasks elsewhere in the house. 
Sophie wasn’t just keeping up but also surpassing her, as she and Thomas graciously accepted drinks of their own from Serenity as she soon brought out a bottle of cognac and a tray of ice. She and Thomas were almost completely silent for the duration, except for one point at which Sophie excused herself to go to the restroom. Upon her return, she sat quite closely between Raina and Thomas, “accidentally” placing a hand high upon Raina’s thigh as she sat down and giving her a sly smirk. An occasional glance aside while Serenity spoke showed Raina that Sophie was increasingly daring to be more and more physically affectionate towards Thomas. First it was a hand upon the knee, then upon his thigh, then the soft sound of an occasional kiss. Not long after, her hand again found its way to Raina’s knee. As before, she gently removed Sophie’s hand. This time, Sophie instead placed her other hand upon Thomas’s lap and brazenly groped him through his pants. Apparently, like Raina, Sophie was a bit of an amorous drunk … and a lightweight, too, as her eyes and her actions showed that she was already fairly inebriated. 
“It appears your servants are quite relaxed,” Serenity commented with an amused smile. 
“I’m sorry,” Raina said immediately, turning to Sophie and giving her shoulder a light bop. “Could you two please not do that? You’re being rude.” 
“Oh, sorry … sorry, your grace,” Sophie slurred with a fang-flashing grin as she forced herself to sit upright and place her hands innocently in her lap. “I’m being bad again.” 
“Nonsense, dear,” Serenity said with a loose wave. “I am not offended in the least. Sexuality is the most beautiful and harmless of our natural tendencies as vampires.” 
“Yeah, well … there’s a time and a place for everything,” Raina said with a hinting glance to Sophie and then Thomas. 
“Then what better time or place than here and now, in the safety and tranquility of my home?” Serenity proposed, spreading her arms wide in gesture. 
“I’m sorry, Duchess, I…” 
“Please, dear … Serenity,” she insisted with a slightly unsteady wave of her hand. “Let us dispense with formalities. As members of the High Court race, we are forced to deal with all of that far too much. We must be ourselves whenever we can and not lose touch with whom and what we truly are.” 
“I know what I am,” Sophie told Thomas, grinning and nudging him with her elbow. He replied only with a politely restrained but sexy smile. 
Raina swallowed the last of her drink and set the empty glass down upon the table. “I’m just not comfortable with people making out around me.” 
“It arouses you, doesn’t it,” Serenity suggested, making it a statement rather than a question. “It is sometimes difficult to separate your own feelings from those that you sense from others nearby, especially other vampires.” 
“Exactly.” 
“Then why should their actions bother you?” 
“It’s inappropriate.” 
“But dear,” Serenity pressed, touching her own heart, “that’s simply not the case here. This is the House of Tranquility. Within these walls, love is to be celebrated and shared, not shamed.” 
“Love is one thing,” Raina said, “but being drunk and horny is another.” 
“Love comes in many forms, dear. Sex is merely an expression of one’s love for another.” 
“That’s how it’s supposed to be, sure. But in reality, sex is sometimes just mutual masturbation.” 
Serenity narrowed her eyes slightly. “You seem to regard sex as a dirty, shameful thing.” 
“Well … in a way, it is pretty dirty,” Raina confirmed with a nod, folding her arms.
“How so?”
Raina shrugged, explaining, “I mean, usually it involves one person sticking parts of their anatomy into another person and moving it back and forth a lot. And then there’s almost always an exchange of bodily fluids…” 
Sophie hummed approvingly and Raina looked to her with a frown. Seeing where Sophie’s hands were now going since she’d put them in her own lap, she slapped her shoulder again, this time a bit more firmly. Again, Sophie ceased her shameful actions, but she giggled at Raina’s reaction of disapproval and slumped back against the couch, lazily slouching much like Thomas did next to her. She was practically mocking Raina’s authority now, like a child rebelling against her mother. Perhaps she should not have tried to be so friendly and casual with either of them, earlier… 
“Then please forgive my rudeness, dear,” Serenity said. “I suppose that I was mistaken about you. I had not figured you to be quite so … conservative.” 
Raina raised an eyebrow at that. “Is that a nice way of saying that I’m some kind of a prude?” 
“I meant nothing of the sort.” 
“I’m not easily offended by sex, if that’s what you’re implying,” Raina insisted, “but I’m just not comfortable with people getting their freak on around me, especially now that I’m a High Court. I mean, what people do behind closed doors is their own business … y’know, just so long as they keep it behind those closed doors.” 
Serenity considered that for a moment, then nodded. She drained her glass quickly, set it upon the table with the others, and stood abruptly, visibly swaying just a bit – she was buzzing pretty well, too. The Elder snapped her fingers a couple of times and called to Lord Gerald, who appeared within a couple of seconds as though he had been waiting all along for her to call him. 
“I suppose it would be best if we gave them some privacy,” Serenity told Raina with a nod to Sophie and Thomas. To Gerald, she said, “Could you be a dear and prep the heat therapy room for us?” 
“Of course,” he replied with a pleasant smile, immediately turning and disappearing through the kitchen door. 
Serenity turned to Raina and gestured invitingly for her to stand. “Would you care to join me?” 
“For what?” 
“Total relaxation,” she replied. “Lord Redhorn is an expert in massage and aromatherapy. He has a private practice here. We have everything here to make you at ease. Massage tables, sauna, spa, heated swimming pool … and we are all licensed and certified massage therapists. I don’t mean to impose upon you, dear, but I really must insist that you be treated to the absolute best experience possible during your time here.” 
“Well, that’s … very generous of you, Serenity. But really, I’m fine with just having a few drinks.” 
Serenity paused to chuckle. “You don’t really believe relaxation can only be found at the bottom of a bottle, do you?” 
Raina hesitated before reluctantly bringing herself to stand, confessing, “Well … it’s always worked for me in the past.” 
“Then by all means,” the strawberry blonde High Court said with an eager smile, “allow me to show you what you’ve been missing.” 
As they departed the room by heading through the kitchen door, Raina glanced back over her shoulder to where Sophie and Thomas still sat upon the sofa. She had already unfastened his pants and thrust her hand inside to go right for the goods. Thomas was lying back with his arms upon the top edge of the sofa, that oh-so-sexy and subtle smile upon his face. He raised his hands and arms just slightly in what was either a shrug or an invitation for her to join in. At this distance, Raina could clearly tell now whose feelings of lust were whose … and, damn it, she didn’t feel a bit different than she had when she’d been sitting right there. She wanted him … and Sophie … both. 
What the hell is wrong with me? 
Raina forced herself to close her eyes for a moment and turn away to leave the room before she made her desire any more embarrassingly obvious. As before in the plane, she realized that something almost needed to happen between the three of them – by then, more a question of when than if. And little by little, she was beginning to not even care if or when it did happen. Hell, at that point, she almost wanted it to happen, and soon. Well … almost. 

* * * *

Chapter Thirteen



Serenity gave her a brief five-cent tour of the place, leading her through a very cozy but well-equipped kitchen that rivaled the one in the Fallamhain Estate, out the back sliding patio door, and across the covered walkway that led from the large house to the separate stucco-styled structure that housed the full nautilus and spa facility of Lord Redhorn’s private practice. The heated indoor pool was surprisingly large, dominating a large majority of the interior. To the right of the pool as they walked in, there were two massage tables of a flat, conventional type and a third of a fancy, upright ergonomic design that disturbingly reminded Raina of the fixture in Duvessa’s torture cellar. Farther beyond to the right, there was a free-standing tiled shower, and on the far end was an inset spa.
Along the right wall, Serenity pointed out each of the rooms as they walked past them. First was a restroom, second the entrance to the sauna, third the service door for the sauna, fourth a changing room, fifth a utility closet – “Sorry, nothing fun in there” – and finally an “intensive therapy” room with two-way mirrors across its front that allowed privacy for those within. She opened the door to the last room to show Raina the miniature indoor rock garden, complete with a softly trickling water fountain and surrounded by a photographic mural of a forest scene. Additionally, there was a pair of very comfortable-looking reclining black leather chairs – faux leather, of course, just the same fancy vinyl that covered the massage tables. 
The facility was very impressive and professional-looking, to say the least. There was a private entrance that led to the building separately from the front covered parking area, so Lord Redhorn’s clients could come and go without having to track through the house and disturb whatever may be going on within … which, based upon Serenity’s reputation, could involve anything from a religious ceremony to a full-on orgy. Lord Gerald had already laid out a pair of folded white terrycloth robes and several neatly folded white towels for them and he informed Serenity that the sauna would be up to temperature and ready within a few minutes. 
“Would you like for me to assist you?” he offered in a soft-spoken voice with his hands clasped together. He spoke with a slight lisp, his mannerisms were a bit feminine, his features a bit too soft, and his hair a bit too perfectly-styled. Had it not been for Serenity’s known appetite for her consorts (and others), Raina might have stereotypically presumed that he was gay – an unfair assumption, she knew, but instinctive just the same.
Serenity kissed him briefly upon the lips and caressed his face lovingly. “We’ll be fine, my love. I would like to personally see to our queen’s care.” 
“Not a queen,” Raina muttered under her breath for what felt like the hundredth time. 
“More drinks?” 
Serenity looked to Raina, who merely shrugged. To her consort, the Elder replied, “Leave us a bottle of rum and some tumblers, if you would … just in case. I don’t think we’ll be getting too carried away.” 
He nodded, gave a slight bow to Raina, and then departed, leaving the two royal vampires alone. In spite of the building’s size, there was almost no echo as the door shut behind him, perhaps because of the rather low and acoustically insulated ceiling, and the large amount of green turf-like carpeting upon much of the floor. Serenity turned to Raina with a distinctively intimate smile that made her a little bit nervous. 
“So then,” she said in a much more gentle tone than usual, “would you care for a massage while the sauna heats up?” 
Raina realized that she was anxiously fiddling about with the golden ankh pendant that hung between her breasts, and she forced herself to stop by clasping her hands together. She wasn’t sure why she was feeling so awkward about this. Serenity meant no harm. Raina couldn’t sense the least bit of malicious intent from her. And although there was an unmistakable bit of attraction there, she didn’t figure Serenity to be the type that forced herself upon others. Her intentions were good. She meant no harm. And yet they both could see that Raina was glowing with an embarrassing intensity that betrayed her quiet uneasiness.
The look in Serenity’s lovely hazel eyes was unmistakably flirtatious, and what Raina sensed from her matched what she saw. It wasn’t brazenly wanton, not quite lewd or overtly sexual. It was odd that she was clearly attracted to Raina on more than just friendly terms, but something about it seemed either less than or beyond the level of merely attaining carnal knowledge. Actually, in hindsight, it wasn’t the first such occasion she had sensed this or seen this kind of look from Serenity, or from others; she had experienced exactly the same from Duvessa, Lady Olivia, Lady Svetlana, and … well, now that she considered it, practically every other vampire she encountered. In this particular context, it was hard to entirely rule out the idea that Serenity might be coming on to her, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was that she really wanted from Raina. She was just curious enough – and perhaps just tipsy enough, as well – to let curiosity get the better of her. But first… 
“Actually,” Raina said after some awkward hesitation, “I think I’d like to visit the restroom right quick, if that’s all right.” 
“Of course, dear,” Serenity allowed with a sweeping gesture of her left hand toward the door. 
Nodding before she turned to walk away, Raina picked up one of the amazingly soft terrycloth robes and two towels, mentioning over her shoulder, “I’ll go ahead and change out while I’m in there.” 
“Great. I’ll get things ready for you out here,” she said with a pleased smile. 
Raina’s shoes clopped softly upon the thin turf-like carpeting over the concrete floor surface as she walked over to the door leading into the restroom. She opened the door and fumbled about for the light switch for a moment before clicking it on, rewarded with the sight of a pristinely clean, very new-looking and large but simple bathroom. The room was big enough that it could have housed a shower, but the far corner of the room opposite the sink and mirror was instead equipped with a row of hooks and a few shelves stocked with towels and assorted toiletries. The room was adorned from floor to ceiling with some expensive-looking beige ceramic tile, and the spotless plumbing fixtures and mirror trim pieces were either brass or possibly gold-plated. The toilet, itself, was so clean and so flawless that she honestly felt guilty for even thinking of using it. 
She set the towel and folded robe down upon the corner of the sink’s broad marble countertop and turned to close the door. She froze as she saw Serenity with her back to Raina, already standing fully nude, having dropped her Greek goddess-like outfit to the floor with swift and silent ease. She watched for a moment as Serenity stretched her arms, neck, and back, then began to hum and move rhythmically and fluidly to a song that apparently only she knew. Her strange dance was like a cross between that of a belly dancer and a hula girl, slow and serpentine with a lot of movement from her very shapely hips. As Serenity began to slowly turn back around in her dance-like motions, Raina finally closed the door, shaking her head lightly. Without a doubt, Serenity certainly was … well … different. 
Raina relieved herself and closed the lid before flushing, setting her shoes on top after slipping them off. The act of standing upon one foot at a time to remove her shoes actually proved too risky to do without the aid of a steadying hand upon the corner of the sink. Was she already that drunk? Raina took a moment to look at herself in the mirror to see if her state of inebriation looked as truly obvious as it felt. 
No, not really. She didn’t appear to be totally drunk. She knew what “stupid drunk” looked like. For her, “stupid drunk” meant that her eyes were narrowed to slits, her lips were always parted, her face was sometimes beaded with sweat, and she couldn’t hold still for more than two seconds because pausing for any longer than that would result in passing out, throwing up, or both. She didn’t get “stupid drunk” very often. In fact, the last time she had done that, she’d wound up sleeping with her first bloodspawn, Loki. Obviously, that had been a stupid mistake, hence the term. And the last time she had overindulged before that, she had slept with Duvessa. That, too, was something she had regretted. And before that … well, that was the infamous Halloween Incident…
Clearly, Raina had a well-established pattern of committing idiotic and regrettable sexual deeds when she allowed herself to have a few too many. In her position, she couldn’t afford many (if any) more of these kinds of errors, and certainly not with an Elder of the IVC. The High Court’s populace had mocked her leadership enough already, and the media had more than enough to gossip about for months to come, if not years. The last thing she needed was to stir up a mess by mistakenly getting intimate with Serenity, or fully earning her tabloid reputation as an alcoholic slut. 
“That’s it,” she said to her bloodshot-eyed reflection, “you’re cut off.” 
Raina fussed with her hair for a moment, trying to cover her pointy elf-like High Court ears out of habit, and then simply stood to look at herself. Okay, for once, she didn’t look terrible. She wasn’t all that scary, at least not at that given moment. She wasn’t covered in blood or gore, her makeup was all right, and she was wearing clothes of her own selection for a change. For an instant, just a brief one, she actually felt pretty good about herself. Perhaps it was just the absinthe. Or perhaps Serenity’s efforts to set her at ease were already taking effect. Maybe all she needed was a chance to get away from it all, to be put into a more positive environment. It was possible that she was simply glad to be out of the Fallamhain Estate. Perhaps this brief escape meant that, at least for awhile, she would no longer be constantly reminded of the fact that she was Duvessa’s monster. 
She could do this. What the hell. Damn the press, and damn the world. She would give it a go. Raina consciously decided that she would allow Serenity seduce her. That was what Serenity was trying to do anyway, wasn’t it? And Raina decided that she would enjoy it because she simply needed to. She needed to embrace what she was, to quit denying the fact that she was a Fallamhain. This was the legacy that Duvessa had left behind, and this was what Raina was responsible for keeping alive. She was the Grand Duchess. She would do as she pleased, and she would please whoever would do her … or something like that.
Yeah. The alcohol had definitely kicked in. 
Maneuvering her arms and shoulders to slip out of the gown, however, she aggravated the lingering soreness of the slowly-healing wounds that she had nearly forgotten. With the dress off and wearing only her underwear, stockings, and ankh, the toll of the prior night’s combat was still painfully obvious. The places where she had been stabbed looked like, for lack of a better metaphor, extra nipples – slightly puffed up and swollen, each with a red areola-like surrounding of sore tissue. No, wait, scratch that. They looked like gigantic, infected zits. They weren’t oozing, nor were they white. Actually, they looked like giant zits that already had been popped. Perhaps she was the zit, a big, fat boil, filled with the festering pus of her corrupted, sick, sinful soul – everything that Duvessa had put into her, and everything that she was on her own. Duchess Camille had been trying to lance this giant boil named Raina with that oversized needle of hers. And, touching the wound to her abdomen, Raina remembered the feeling of being impaled, of having that cold length of steel inside of her, twisting and wrenching about, scraping against the bone of her spine… 
The spots appeared, the flashes of color, and the room seemed to tilt. She knew what this was. She should have seen this coming. Damn it all, she was doing it to herself again … and here, now, of all places! 
Raina turned and dropped to her knees, smacked her shoes off the lid of the toilet and flung it open, barely managed to get her own hair out of the way, and retched violently into the bowel. She purged it all – the absinthe, the wine, the dinner – and she hated herself for it, hated herself for what she was. She was a coward. She was a weakling. She wasn’t throwing up because she had drank herself into nausea; she was losing it because she had psyched herself out again. She realized that she was having another panic attack, the first full-on episode that she had experienced in months. She should have foreseen this … and, in a way, she had, but she had been somehow putting it off for so long that she’d fooled herself into thinking she had overcome her own neurotic tendencies. 
She had a panic disorder, she already knew that, and she had been stupid to ever think that it had been cured by her Change. Becoming a vampire had corrected her vision, straightened her spine, melted away those extra pounds, firmed up her body, erased her scars, given her a perfect smile … well, aside from the fangs … and she would never again need to spend a dime on razors or feminine napkins. But mentally, she would always be a basket case. She would always be unstable. How did the saying go? The naïve can be educated, but the crazy will only get crazier, or something like that? Well, that was her, all right. She was a beautiful disaster now – all polished up and pretty on the outside thanks to the change, but just as twisted and hideous on the inside as she had always been as a human, if not worse.
Flushing the toilet with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, feeling hot tears spill from her eyes and begin to ruin her mascara, Raina wondered now if she would ever have the courage to emerge from this restroom. Surely, Serenity had heard her. Even if she hadn’t, she would see the evidence of her breakdown, or at least make note of how long it would take Raina to come out – which, by her estimate, would be a few minutes as she struggled to compose herself. Her hands were shaking, her thighs quivering as she tried unsuccessfully to bring herself to stand. For awhile, she simply fell to the floor, curled up into a fetal position, and trembled. Her entire body had suddenly broken out into a cold sweat. Her teeth were chattering as she felt suddenly as though she were freezing to death. Her heart was fluttering with a frantic, irregular pulse. Her skin was so brightly aglow with emotion that the lights above the sink seemed almost completely redundant. No, she could not go out there like this. She needed time … time, and a voice of reason to bring her back to sanity. 
She’s dead, you fucking idiot, Raina reminded herself cruelly. Brenna had always been there for her. As she saw it, Brenna had been the reason she had been able to stop seeing a psychiatrist, to flush those damned medications down the toilet. It seemed that all she’d ever really needed was a good friend, someone to listen, and someone to genuinely give a damn. From her late teens and into her mid-twenties, Raina had relied upon professionals and pharmaceuticals to stay sane; ever since meeting Brenna, she’d relied upon friendship and an occasional drink, instead. Brenna had been the only person that ever “got” her because she had been the only one that would listen and not judge her, no matter what she confessed. Brenna had listened because she had actually cared, and she hadn’t charged by the hour … although Raina had paid her bar tab every now and then.
Now Brenna was dead, and because Raina was a vampire, the pills would never work anymore, and the booze would never be strong enough. There was nobody left, no alternatives left. She didn’t have a crutch upon which to fall back anymore. She was alone, adrift in a raging storm, bobbing around in a roiling sea of blackness. She was as isolated from the world as she had been when she’d slipped into those dark currents of nothingness immediately after Brenna’s death, that time when she had very nearly managed to will herself to die. 
For awhile, Svetlana had seemed to almost deliberately try to fill the role of “best friend” in her life. Maybe Svetlana had truly needed a good friend, herself. But knowing now what she did about Svetlana and Loki, that was no longer a possibility. Simon was a good man, funny and kind, but Raina could never open up to him as much as she wanted because of differences in gender, race, culture, and a hundred other excuses … and because he still genuinely seemed to be afraid of her. Sophie and Thomas were simply too immature, Olivia was a polar opposite, and Loki was hopelessly distant. Everyone else she had met over the past few months only seemed to desire her company because of what she could do for them, or give to them, because of her status and wealth. 
Raina crawled over to the sink and dragged herself into a half-standing position, rinsing out the bitterness from her mouth with handful after handful of icy cold water before deciding to go ahead and scrub off her makeup. What was Serenity to her? Was she a political ally, an honest friend, or a potential lover? Did Serenity, herself, even know what she wanted from Raina, aside from the obvious? Was it stupid to trust someone like Serenity, someone who’d ascended to power in beds rather than in battles? If it turned out that Serenity was only trying to get in as close as possible with her as a means of securing the highest of all positions in the IVC, then all of this would prove to be a waste. She couldn’t be trusted, not completely. But when it all came down to it … did it even matter if her intentions truly were for the worst? 
Using the liquid hand soap dispenser and scrubbing vigorously at her face and eyes, filling her nose with the nearly overpowering scent of apricots, Raina tried her best to wash away the evidence. She could easily explain away having a bare face; claiming that the trails of makeup down her cheeks were nothing, however, would have been a tough one to sell. She finally rinsed away the soap and began to dry her face with a nearby hand towel that was, like the others, luxuriously soft against her skin. She looked both worse and better at once as she stared at herself in the mirror once more, finally able to stand upright. 
So what if Serenity was a fraud? If she was only trying to manipulate Raina to find a way to cheat her out of her title … fine, she could have it. Raina had never wanted it in the first place, and it would seem to be less of a disgrace to be defeated than to simply quit. If Serenity only wanted to get with her for the sake of something as basic and primal as sex and/or blood, fine, she could accept that just as well. And if Serenity was only trying to earn her trust so she could hand her over to someone else for execution … whatever. She didn’t care anymore. She would just as soon prefer to be dead and swimming in that sea of eternal nothingness than to deal with the humiliating torment of this “life,” anymore. She would do what she could to be cautious, to try her best to do the right thing, but if worse came to worse … screw it all. Nothing mattered anymore. 
Raina had gone in there feeling good, and now she was ready to go out feeling terrible. At least she wasn’t going to stay in there forever. She slipped off her fishnets and set them atop her gown, but left on her thong and ankh as she wrapped a towel around herself, tucked it into place, and redundantly put on the robe, leaving it open. Her hair was a bit wet in some spots from when she’d washed her face, and those damp strands had begun to regain their natural curl, standing out oddly from the rest of her straightened hair. She was still glowing, but no more brightly now than when she had first gone in. She still felt chilled and her hands were still trembling a bit, but her teeth weren’t chattering anymore, and the robe was quite comforting – it wasn’t Brenna’s silk kimono, but it was still nice. She hesitated at the door, drew in a breath, and let out a slow sigh. 
“Okay, game face,” she reminded herself. “Get back in the saddle. Play the part. Do what you’ve gotta do, and whatever happens … happens.” 
She opened the door and found Serenity to be nowhere in sight. She stepped out and looked around with anxious uncertainty. Had she gone back into the house and left her there alone? 
“Over here,” Serenity called out in a soft voice that still carried easily to Raina from afar. 
She was seated in the spa, only her head visible above the surface of the slowly churning water. Her strawberry blonde hair was darkened and matted down with dampness in such a way that her High Court ears stuck up quite prominently. Ghostly wisps of steam arose from the surface of the water as she appeared to swim about in place, though the spa was likely no more than waist-deep. 
“What about the sauna?” Raina asked after a moment, surprised that her voice actually sounded normal. 
Serenity smiled. “I felt like getting wet first. Care to hop in for a moment?” 
“Sorry, I’ll just … wait here.” 
“Very well,” Serenity conceded, and then stood tall. 
She was utterly gorgeous. Serenity seemed to deliberately pose herself as she stretched her arms overhead for a moment and then brought her hands to the back of her hair to wring out the moisture. Water cascaded down her flawless body and off her breasts with an almost artistic sort of gentle waterfall. She was like an ancient statue of Venus in a Roman garden come to life. Raina tried not to gawk, but she couldn’t help staring. This was not lust, but simply a raw admiration for undeniable beauty. Visibly confident, at peace with herself and her own world inside and out, Serenity was simply stunning in that moment. Raina did not want to touch her. She wanted to be her. For a moment, she had to fight the urge to run back into the restroom, put all of her clothes back on, and never even think of being seen nude again; by comparison, not only in body but in soul, Raina was an ugly, scary, grotesque fiend. 
Serenity was not trying to show off, seeming quite casual about Raina’s attention, but she was not hiding herself at all, either. She slicked and flung away as much water from her own body as she could while slowly ascending the steps leading out of the spa, grabbing a nearby towel and drying her feet before picking up the robe and the other towel. She finally met Raina’s gaze as she walked closer. 
“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable,” she said. 
Raina shrugged, deliberately trying not to look down. “High school gym locker room, showers at the public pool, helping friends pick out lingerie … nothing I haven’t seen before.” 
“Are you okay with this?” she persisted with a raised, slim eyebrow. 
Again, Raina shrugged, saying, “It’s your place. If you don’t care, I don’t care.” 
Serenity held her stare for a moment, clearly trying to gauge her sentiment, and then she closed up her robe, cinching the belt tight around her slender waist. A very knowing smile curved her beautiful lips. 
“I wasn’t referring to my lack of clothing,” she said as she stepped closer. “I know you do not object to the sight of a female form. I can sense that you have no objection to seeing me.” 
“I’m not getting turned on, if that’s what you mean.” 
“No, I am aware of that,” she agreed with a nod. “I would sense it if you were.” 
“I’m just a little bit…” Raina began to say, deciding a bit too late to shut up. 
Serenity waited for a moment, still smiling pleasantly. “Nervous?” 
“Envious, for one thing,” she finally admitted, “although nervous is right up there at the top of my list, too.” 
“You envy me?” Serenity’s smile faltered and she looked genuinely surprised. “But, your grace … why?” 
Already, she knew she had said too much. Raina looked away, folding her arms and taking half a step back from her. Her legs were beginning to feel unsteady beneath her, and she feared that her shaking would quickly become obvious. Her skin was beginning to glow brighter once more. 
“I’m sorry, I’m … I’m feeling a little exposed just standing out here in a robe,” she said. “Can we just…?” 
“Of course, of course,” Serenity replied as she quickly led the way over to the sauna. 
She opened the door and the wave of steam that greeted them was almost theatrical, like opening the door to a giant oven. Would they go in pale and then come out roasted to a nice brown color? Well, browner, in Raina’s case? By comparison, Serenity was as alabaster-white as Brenna had been, whereas Raina’s flesh tone was still quite human, her Hispanic origins still very obvious. Grimly, she even wondered if they would “cook” long enough that someone would eventually come in to prod them with a fork to see if they were “done” … and perversely, she hoped Thomas would be that fork. If only she had not been so skittish in the living room earlier… 
Serenity hung her robe upon one of the hooks upon the wall next to the door and carried her towels inside. The interior of the sauna was very traditional, all nicely finished hardwood from top to bottom, and there was a low-wattage light overhead to ward off the gloom. Serenity laid out one towel upon the left-hand bench and draped the other over her shoulders so that it just barely covered her breasts. 
“Quickly, quickly,” she said with a welcoming gesture as the steam visibly escaped the small room. 
Raina shrugged out of the robe and hung it beside Serenity’s before padding inside and closing the door behind herself. The door was lined with a rubber gasket, and the sound of its latch and the look of the door’s seal momentarily made it seem as though she was actually enclosing herself inside of a large oven. Indeed, the idea that she was volunteering to be pressure-cooked seemed more and more plausible. Still, she decided to set aside her irrational worries – her panic attacks sometimes came with little “aftershocks” like this – and she sat upon the bench opposite Serenity, laying her towel aside. 
Serenity crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward so that she was discreetly covered almost completely, which did make Raina feel just a bit better … and worse. She couldn’t lie to herself. Raina enjoyed the sight of her, not as a cheap thrill but rather like someone appreciating a work of art. Serenity was breathtaking in design and in character. That her envy and subtle jealousy made Serenity decide to conceal herself, even if only slightly, seemed shameful. It wasn’t Serenity’s fault that Raina was so ugly. Why should she have to hide her beauty just to make Raina feel better? 
“What happened?” Serenity asked her softly. 
Raina blinked out of her momentary trance. “I’m sorry?” 
“You changed more than your appearance when you entered the restroom,” she observed with a light gesture to Raina’s makeup-free face. “I felt a wave of very terrible, negative emotions while you were away. It washed over me suddenly, like a sudden gust of wind. Did you hurt yourself?” 
“No, no,” she said, shaking her head and looking away at nothing. 
There was a brief pause as Raina continued to stare at an empty corner, where the bench to her right joined with the one upon which Serenity sat. She tried to focus upon the wood, the lines of its grain, the occasional knotholes. She tried to think of something, anything else… 
“You’ll have to learn to let go sometime, dear,” Serenity told her flatly. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself forever. You’ll go mad.” 
“I’m already there.” Raina closed her eyes, breathing in a heavy amount of steam. “I’m a very sick person, Serenity. I’ve got problems … and I don’t just mean stress.” 
“I know, dear. I know,” she said, reaching out to touch Raina’s hand as it rested upon one of her knees. “That’s why we’re here. That’s why I’m here. I want to help you get better.” 
Raina kept her eyes closed. “You don’t understand. This isn’t an illness. This isn’t a disease. It’s just me. I’m just … I’m fucked up, that’s all.” 
“No, dear…” 
“No, it’s true! I’m crazy. I’ve always been crazy.” She felt the first tears already beginning to flood her eyes. Not here! Not now! She got up to leave. “I’m sorry, I can’t…” 
Serenity arose with her and placed her hands upon her shoulders, pressing down firmly. Raina halted in her retreat, but she would not meet her gaze, keeping her own eyes squeezed tightly shut. Raina was being a total child, an embarrassment to her own title. This wasn’t how a Grand Duchess was supposed to act, was it? Emotionally weak and unstable, crying in front of virtual strangers? She was pathetic. Really, had Duvessa truly been so desperate? What the hell had that ancient and supposedly wise but sadistic bitch ever seen in her, anyway? 
“Raina, please,” Serenity said softly, firmly guiding her to sit back down, “don’t run away anymore. Let me help you.” 
“You can’t help me.” 
“Let me try. Please.” Serenity’s hands caressed her face gently, kindly wiping away tears she hadn’t known were already falling. “It won’t cost anything but time.” 
“My time and my dignity,” she quipped, “or at least what little is left of it.” 
“No one else is here. No one else is watching.” Serenity’s fingers trailed through Raina’s hair soothingly. “Talk to me, dear. You can trust me. I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to help. Don’t you want to feel better?” 
Raina finally opened her eyes and Serenity’s beautiful face filled her view. She was almost close enough to kiss. She wasn’t sure if she should, although on some basic level the urge was there. Raina simply sat and stared at her. She was lost. She hated being lost. She’d always had a path to follow, a compass, a guide to show her along and keep her on track. She had nothing but her own tangled mind now. She hated it. 
“I want…” 
“Yes?” 
“I want … to know where to go.” 
Serenity kissed her forehead lightly and brushed her hair back a bit more. “You’re seeking direction in life. You seek purpose.” 
“Yeah.” 
“Will you let me help you find it?” 
Raina closed her eyes and finally nodded. “Okay.” 
“Then let go,” she said. “Let go of everything. Forget it all. Forget everything else but what is here and now. Let the world be this room, and let its only people be you and I. Can you do that?” 
“I’ll … I’ll try.” 
“Let go. Let go of it all,” Serenity said, repeating it over and over like a mantra as she stroked Raina’s hair, touched her face, and kissed her forehead and cheeks. “Let it all go … because none of it matters anymore. Nothing matters except the here and now. The world is yours, and it is all right here.” 
And so she did. It was easy enough. Raina had already considered herself to be in a position of defeat. She had nobody. She was nobody. She cared nothing for what became of herself anymore. She had lost control, utterly and completely. She was putty in the hands of whomever was willing to mold and reshape her as they pleased. She had neither form nor function. So, to let go of the world was such a trivial request, so utterly inconsequential, that it seemed almost silly. After a few moments, Raina closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and let out a heavy sigh. There. It was gone. Just like that. 
The velvety soft feel of Serenity’s lips pressing lightly against hers brought Raina’s eyes open again. She pulled herself away, although not quite with a sudden jerk.
“What the…?” 
“It’s okay, dear,” Serenity told her soothingly as she moved back for a moment. “It’s okay.” 
“You kissed me.” 
“Yes, I did,” she confirmed calmly. “Will you trust me to help you?” 
She hesitated. “Does this mean we’re going to … do it?” 
Serenity laughed, a soft, intimate sound like cashmere upon her ears. Shaking her head, she replied, “No, dear, of course not. Not unless that is what you want.” 
“I, ah … I don’t know.” Raina hesitated. “I think I might.” 
Serenity smiled, pausing for a moment before briefly kissing her again. “When the time is right, then we may. But for now … try to clear your mind.” 
“Okay,” she said, closing her eyes again. 
Serenity verbally guided Raina through what seemed like a cross between meditation and hypnosis. She brought her down, put her at ease, and convinced her that, indeed, nothing at all mattered anymore. The world was inconsequential and irrelevant to her in this moment. Bringing her down into a state somewhere in the vicinity of Zen, Serenity then proceeded to gently probe at Raina’s psyche with a series of gently-spoken questions. Raina kept her eyes closed through much of it. The sight of Serenity too soon would only distract her and bring back all of that envy and self-loathing. 
Raina let her have it all, unloading every major emotional burden that weighed down upon her. She kept nothing sacred. Well, almost nothing. By and large, she confessed her very soul. Raina hated herself. She hated herself as a vampire, not only because of what she had become, but also because of what she still was. She hated that the Change had truly cured nothing and instead added fresh curses. She hated that no matter what she did, it was never enough, it never turned out right, and it always fell short of her own and others’ expectations. She hated that in spite of all her power as Grand Duchess and the Fountainhead of the Fallamhain race, she seemed completely powerless to control much of anything in her life. She hated that everything she had done was a result of her own stupid choices in life, no matter how seemingly innocent. She hated not knowing for certain what was beyond this life, if anything at all, because death was a constant threat in her life. She hated that she felt so alone, and she hated that she had no one else to blame but herself for her solitude. And she hated that she was so lost, so confused, that she had almost no concept of an identity for herself – who she was, what she wanted, or even whether she was straight, gay, bisexual, or perhaps something else entirely. 
Surprisingly, it didn’t take long to get it all out … well, most of it, anyway. Her soul seemed to be a very small, tiny, dense thing. Serenity did not try to interpret or to put a spin upon anything, nor did she even try to evaluate anything that Raina said. She simply asked and listened as Raina purged her mind as completely as she had purged her stomach. And it was enough. It was good. She was feeling better already. But the purge was only the beginning. She was still empty, still alone, and still lost. And so Serenity took her by the hand and led her out of the sauna at last.
“Now,” Serenity said to her as she tossed aside her towel and took both of Raina’s hands, “you have burned away the negativity. Let us seal the wound so that your healing may truly begin.” 
“Umm … okay,” Raina agreed with a curious look. “What now?” 
“Show me you’re ready to begin.” 
She raised an eyebrow at that. “How?” 
“How do you feel right now?” 
“Hot … sweaty … and really wanting a shower,” she replied. 
“Why do you want a shower?” 
Wasn’t it obvious? Even so, she replied, “I want to feel clean.” 
“Do you want to cool down?” 
“I guess so, sure.” 
“Follow my lead.” 
And with that, Serenity turned and made a few brief, graceful, and swift strides toward the pool before leaping forth and diving expertly into the water with a modest splash. Raina stared after her for a moment with surprise. Okay, so it was nothing she hadn’t already done in her lifetime, before, but she usually did so after sitting in a spa for awhile. Serenity had simply caught her off guard. Serenity quickly surfaced, wiping her eyes clear and smearing the glittery makeup that had already begun to run a bit in the sauna. She grinned to the other High Court expectantly. 
Three words she’d been tempted to let loose all evening finally escaped her lips: “What the hell.” 
Raina stepped over to the side of the pool, unwrapped the towel from her body – the sudden chill of the air upon her near-total bareness was a shock, in itself – and she carefully removed her ankh pendant and laid it down with the towel upon the textured concrete floor. She stared at the swirling little waves of the water, breathing in its clean-smelling chlorinated scent, and tried to forget that Serenity was already eyeing up her topless form. 
It had been quite a few years since she’d last taken a dip because for so long she had been so self-conscious about her body image. Getting naked in front of someone was humiliating enough of a concept for her, but swimming around near-naked somehow seemed worse because she felt anyone to see her would be that much more critical of her looks. Nudity in the bedroom usually implied that someone was already interested in her and, thus, anything she revealed by taking off her clothes wouldn’t come as much of a shock to them. In a swimsuit, especially a bikini, the lust-of-the-moment element was removed and people would have a more objective opportunity to scrutinize her as being too much of this or too little of that. With Serenity, it was a bit different, although not completely – she was still envious of the Elder’s beauty – as she knew she was not being judged so much as she was more interested in her actions. Raina prepared herself for the temperature shock she knew awaited her, closed her eyes, and dove in head-first with her arms outstretched. 
The world became fluid and muted at once, and she waited for the shock of the sudden chill to overtake her. It never quite came. Instead of swimming to the surface of the water to yell about how cold the water was, she was surprised to find that it was incredibly warm – not hot like a sauna, but very, very pleasant. She broke the surface and was momentarily disoriented after wiping her hair and the water from her eyes. By the time she had regained her bearings, she turned to find that Serenity had swum nearly within reach of her. She was still grinning broadly. 
“Excellent!” she said proudly. “How did it feel?” 
Raina found herself already in a bit of pain as she was treading water, aggravating the soreness of her wounds considerably. She tried not to let it show upon her face.
“It’s not as bad as I expected.” 
“You expected it to be terribly cold?” 
“Totally.” 
“But you feel okay now?” 
Raina couldn’t help it. She was hurting badly enough that keeping her head above water was beginning to become a bit of a struggle. “Yeah, I … I guess so.” 
“You’re in pain, dear,” Serenity observed, her smile faltering with sympathy. “Come with me.” 
She again followed Serenity’s lead as they swam the short distance over to the shallower end of the pool. Raina was able to stand upon her tip-toes and thus keep her head above water without having to wave her arms, giving her aching shoulder and abdominal muscles a rest. The water was much more soothing now, and the semi-buoyant feeling took a significant amount of physical stress away. She followed Serenity over to a corner of the pool where they could lounge comfortably for awhile. The Elder predictably drew close to her but avoided physical contact. Her eyes remained upon Raina’s, rather than trying to stare at what could be seen beneath the surface of the water.
“That was simply beautiful,” Serenity told her after she had half-waded and half-walked toward where she awaited her in the corner of the pool. “That was exactly how I’d hoped you would respond. You shed your worries, rid that negativity from within yourself, and dove at the prospect of the future without fear.” 
Raina felt like replying that all she had done was to simply hop in a swimming pool after sweating it out in a sauna. In fact, she was still pretty embarrassed by the whole thing. But she felt it was best not to ruin the moment. Raina had a knack for finding the bad in any otherwise good situation, so it hardly seemed fair to subject someone as upbeat as Serenity to that unpleasant habit. 
“So, um … what now?” Raina asked through her clenched teeth. Her wounds were still bothering her, although the pain was subsiding now that she was no longer having to move her arms to keep her head above the surface. 
Serenity smiled to her. “What do you want most, right now?” 
“I don’t know,” Raina said after a moment. “World peace?” 
“At this very moment, I mean,” she persisted gently. “What would you like more than anything right now? Just say the first thing that comes to mind.” 
“A dry towel, a cozy bed, and a few hours of undisturbed sleep,” Raina answered with a smirk. 
“Really?” Serenity’s smile faltered ever so slightly. She was clearly a bit disappointed. “Do you wish to retire for the evening so soon?” 
Raina combed her fingers through her wet hair, painfully forcing her way through a slight snag as she did so, and she looked away at the reflecting ripples upon the floor of the pool. “I feel like I’ve probably humiliated myself enough for one evening already.” 
Serenity drew close, carefully touching only with one hand as she caressed Raina’s left cheek gently, affectionately. The attraction she felt towards Raina was unmistakable, the sense of it so clear and so strong in their close proximity that Raina was honestly having a very hard time now keeping it apart from her own feelings. It was not exclusively sexual lust, but that was a very large part of it. Raina did not find her unappealing in the least; rather, she was more concerned with the fact that she felt herself to be anything but attractive in that moment. Raina was makeup-less and sporting ugly battle wounds that were being quite slow to heal, her hair was a tangled mess, and her breath was probably not too appealing in spite of the mint she’d chomped before leaving the restroom earlier. About the only time worse than this for Serenity to be trying to seduce her would have been when she’d approached her immediately after her duel with Duchess Camille – tired, bloodied, disheveled, and hating most of the world (instead of just herself). 
“I won’t force myself upon you, dear. To do so would go completely against my religious beliefs on several levels,” Serenity assured her, “not to mention that it would be a serious violation of the Code.” 
“Then I guess you’re in a bit of a predicament by default.” 
“How so?”
“Forcing yourself on others is kind of what being a vampire is all about,” she replied. “You can’t exactly hunt for blood or sex if you’re a witch, can you?” 
She shrugged. “I’ve never really needed to, quite honestly. But I don’t consider myself to be a witch, either.”
“Well … you’re Wiccan, aren’t you?” 
“That’s a misnomer, I’m afraid. I am not truly a witch,” she replied. “I agree with many of its principles and I find a great deal of common ground with its practitioners, but I could never honestly call myself a Wiccan. You’re right, though. My status as both a vampire and an Elder in the IVC would be a direct conflict with that religion.” 
“Then … what are you, exactly?” 
“I am myself, dear,” Serenity answered with a smile. “I do not let labels or others’ preconceived notions confine my identity. I have made my own identity through a great deal of introspective meditation, self-awareness, self-realization, and experimentation. A lot of trial and error, essentially, was what brought me to be whom and what I am now.” 
“Oh.” 
Serenity gently laid her hand upon Raina’s shoulder. “This is what I hope to help you achieve. I understand that a great deal of what troubles you right now is that you are still coming to terms with the Change. There is more to the Change than simply the physical aspect of it, you know. There is far more to being a vampire, especially a High Court, than having a few unique physical features. And because you have been thrust into this position in which you now find yourself as Grand Duchess, the leader of an entire race of beings, your entire concept of personal identity has been shattered. You must discover yourself … truly discover yourself, dear, without preconceived notions. And you must embrace yourself fully and completely.” 
“I’ve been trying. I really have,” Raina assured her with a nod. “Frankly, I was pretty sure up until the past twenty-four hours or so that I had already come to terms with it all.” 
“But you have since found otherwise. Recent events have made you question yourself.” 
“Well,” she sighed, “between a couple of near-death experiences, killing a few humans, almost killing an Elder, finding out my consort has been screwing my best friend behind my back, and now skinny-dipping with a stranger … yeah, I’m kind of lost.” 
“You’re not naked.” 
Raina blinked at her. “I’m not?” 
“You’re still wearing more than I am,” Serenity replied with a smile, her eyes darting toward the water for just an instant as a hint. 
Raina rolled her eyes. What did it matter? She had already bared the worst part of herself: her twisted, tangled psyche. What did a little piece of cloth and a few more inches of bare skin matter? She reached under the water, slipped off the thong, and tossed it aside to the concrete edge of the pool. 
“All right, then. There you have it,” she said with a sigh. “You’ve succeeded in getting the Grand Duchess naked in your pool. Now you can tell the whole world about it.” 
“The world does not need to know. This is our time, remember? We are alone here.” 
“Alone, until someone decides to walk in on us.” 
“No such thing will happen. The doors to this building are locked, and I have given strict instructions to my consorts not to allow anyone to enter without our permission. They respect my wishes, and so they will respect our privacy,” Serenity informed her. “As I’ve said, the world outside is of no consequence to us here and now.” 
“So … in other words, we should be doing it right now?” Raina asked with a raised eyebrow. 
Again, there was that beautiful, velvety laugh from Serenity as she shook her head. “You do seem to be quite focused upon that angle, don’t you?” 
“Well, unless I’m reading you wrong, that’s what I’m sensing from you right now.” 
“No, dear,” Serenity told her, “I’m sorry to say, but that’s not what I had in mind. I’m no stranger to other women, of course, but I prefer men much, much more.” She paused. “Please do not take offense, but … I believe you are confusing my feelings with your own.” 
“I’m not gay,” Raina said immediately. 
“And I believe you,” she said with a nod and a smirk. “I know that you desire men as much as I do. I have seen how you are with your consort. I have watched the way you react to Thomas. And I dare say you may have fantasized a bit, even in passing, about being with my own consorts, as well. There is no shame in that, nor is there any shame for appreciating your own gender. Love is what love wants to be, and it will take whatever form it wishes. Whether or not you’re willing to accept it is another matter.” 
“So … what does that mean in my case?” 
Serenity placed her other hand upon Raina’s other shoulder and drew close to her. Their bodies finally began to touch, and the feeling of that contact was both strange and wonderful at once in that underwater setting. Raina wasn’t quite sure what else to do but to place her hands upon Serenity’s shapely hips, if for no other reason than to balance herself. Serenity was very near now, close enough to feel her knees brushing against hers and her breasts barely contacting her own. That smallest measure of remaining distance was both reassuring and frustrating at once. Raina simply didn’t know which she preferred more in that moment – closing the last of that gap and sealing the deal, or pushing away and ending the moment. 
“Well, dear,” Serenity said after a moment, meeting her gaze squarely, “it could mean a lot of things. But you still haven’t quite answered my first question.” 
Raina found herself again and again instinctively trying to glance away, but with Serenity’s hands upon her shoulders, standing so very close, and with her stare so directly focused, it was hard not to feel obligated to make unbroken eye contact. She anxiously squirmed around a bit, rubbing her own shin for a moment with her other foot to satisfy an imagined itch. 
“What do you truly want, Raina?” she asked her very softly. “Say it. Say anything. If you desire it, then say it.” 
“I … I just … I’m sorry, I don’t know,” Raina stammered. “I don’t even know where to begin.” 
“I think you know, but you’re afraid to say it.” 
Raina closed her eyes, waiting for it. “Maybe.” 
“You’ve already expressed some of your desires. You seemed to reluctantly agree with what I suggested earlier.” 
“I did?” 
“You struggle against your desires because of your inhibitions. Your inhibitions are limitations and rules which have been imposed upon you by others’ beliefs and by your own feelings of guilt,” Serenity told her. “You must let go of these inhibitions if you are ever to be free. Remember, you must let go. You must let go of everything that was before so that you may take hold of what is now and what will be. Forget how you may have felt about certain things in your human time. Those feelings were the feelings of another person.” 
“Raina Delgado is dead,” Raina said with a nod, keeping her eyes closed. “I know. I’ve already told myself that a thousand times before.” 
“But you must believe that, dear,” she insisted, squeezing her shoulders lightly but being careful not to touch Raina’s wound. “Without belief, those are only empty words. And words without belief are lies. You need truth. You must seek truth in order to find and embrace your true self. Do you understand?” 
“I … I think so.” 
“If your heart says that you seek another consort, then by all means, follow it,” she said. “The opinions of others are meaningless with regard to you what your heart desires. You cannot love someone simply because you are expected to do so.” 
“So, you’re saying I should just go around screwing whomever I please?” Raina asked. “Isn’t that being a bit … well … slutty?” 
“A ‘slut’ is an ugly term people have used to describe women with a free will,” Serenity said with a visible distaste for the word. 
“By ‘free will’ you mean…?” 
“Women of free will act no differently than men when it comes to sex,” she explained. “A man is expected to be with many women in his lifetime before he finds one that best suits him. And even then, sometimes that is not enough. People change, and so do their interests. That is understandable. We are people, too. Our gender does not erase the fact that we change with time as well, and that our hearts will wander in search of that which pleases us. With vampires, this is especially true, for we are immortal and we have far more time in this world.” 
“We’re immortal in theory, but not in reality.” 
Serenity ignored that remark, saying, “We cannot be expected to adhere only to one lover. It’s simply not practical, nor do I feel that it is ethical. Duvessa realized this very early on, and she was the first to explicitly authorize the taking of multiple consorts. She realized that it would be far worse to be committed to one while desiring another than it would be to be committed to no one at all.” 
Raina finally opened her eyes. Apparently, that kiss wasn’t ever going to come. Or, if it was, neither of them were willing to initiate it. That was fine. Raina wasn’t sure that she was up to making out in a pool, anyhow. The logistics of it simply seemed awkward to begin with, and she was still so pained that she wasn’t keen on the idea of really getting it on with anyone, anywhere, anyhow. 
“So then, why have a consort at all?” Raina asked. “I mean, if you’re not committed to your consort, then … what’s the point?” 
“Because, dear,” she said with a smile, “they are committing themselves to you. This is not marriage. Loyalty and love aren’t always one and the same. A consort is simply someone that has taken an oath of loyalty to you, someone whom you trust completely … well, presumably, at least.” 
Raina looked away again, although not in shyness this time. “So, I was wrong on both counts with Loki.” 
“Take another consort. Take two. Take as many as you please,” Serenity told her. “If you wish to be happy, then you should surround yourself with love instead of obligations. Duvessa made this mistake herself. By and large, she chose lovers only for political reasons. She honestly loved only one of them … your Maker, Duke Sebastian. To her, love was simply a tool, and she abused it, just as she abused everyone around her.” 
Serenity both looked and felt truly sad as she said that, glancing away for the first time in awhile. Raina wanted to ask more, but she could fill in the blanks herself. She knew that Serenity and Duvessa had been together more than once. As far as she knew, there wasn’t an Elder in the IVC whom Duvessa hadn’t bedded, and in fact a great number of the IVC had known her carnally. Her libido had made the Fallamhain name, if not the High Court race, practically synonymous with the word “insatiable.” But sex had not been Duvessa’s only passion, and her lust for sadism had affected almost as many people, if not more. The more she learned of her ancestor, the more she realized that all she had known of her before barely even scratched the surface of Duvessa’s depravity. 
Instead, Raina asked a more relevant question that sprang to mind: “What about this mystery woman that I’m supposed to be taking as my consort? Isn’t that political?” 
“If you wish for it to be so, then yes, it is. But I feel that you would do well with her. I feel that she will be very much to your liking,” Serenity said. “After all, the two of you had a mutual friend.” 
Raina wasn’t sure about that. She had known that Brenna had a lot of friends, more than she could count, but she hadn’t met very many of them in person. Brenna had been an infectious personality, and although she had been too blunt and too direct for some, for the most part she had been quite popular. Raina had seen and read interviews with some of the people with whom Brenna had associated. It was at least part of some of the negative publicity that both she and Raina had received in the past few months, as the media had been putting their lives under a microscope and scavenging for whatever news tidbits they could find. Some of Brenna’s friends were drug addicts, some were ex-convicts, some had connections to organized crime, and some were just downright unpleasant people. Serenity may have claimed to know the soul of this mysterious bloodspawn-to-be, but could she really know her well enough to presume that she could play matchmaker for Raina? Even Brenna hadn’t been good at that … hence the infamous Halloween Incident…
Anyway, it wasn’t just about the other party. Even if Serenity did know this person through and through, there were no guarantees that Raina’s moody tendencies and her identity crisis wouldn’t ruin it all. In fact, she was almost counting on that being the case. It was the reason Raina had been hopelessly single as a human, and the reason she would probably be just as lonely forever as a vampire: she was just too damned neurotic to date a sane person. 
Raina gave Serenity a subtle push and leaned away from her, moving around her. She made her way over to the concrete steps leading out of the pool and ascended them carefully, pausing halfway up to wring out her hair as she stood with her back to Serenity. She carefully observed the emotions swirling about inside of herself. There was disappointment, very clearly, and a bit of worry. Serenity hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t been entirely honest about her intentions. Raina wanted her, she could admit it, but Serenity wanted her more and she was afraid that she’d failed in her efforts to seduce her. She’d been trying hard, perhaps a bit too hard, and Raina felt that the time for it had passed. Giving in at that point would have just felt awkward and weird. And anyway, now she was thinking about Brenna again, and so thinking about a girl-girl situation just brought up more feelings of guilt than she could stand – that never failed to kill the mood. 
“I’m sorry, Raina. Was it something I said?” Serenity asked, confirming Raina’s suspicions. 
Raina padded around the perimeter of the pool to where her towel and robe lay. She toweled off briefly and carefully, wincing as she touched her wounds. She then slipped on the robe and cinched its belt tightly around her waist. 
“Your grace, please,” Serenity pleaded softly, “if I said or did something to offend you…” 
“Relax. You’re fine. I’m not upset with you.” 
Serenity ascended the steps, pausing to lean back against the chrome handrail in the center of the steps. Again, she seemed to be posing herself as she wrung out her own hair, although now it didn’t entirely seem to be an intentional act. She was just that beautiful, and Raina was just that attracted to her. 
“Have I made you uncomfortable?” 
Raina shook her head as she knelt and picked up her golden ankh, slipping it on as she answered, “I’ve made too many mistakes lately, as it is. I don’t want to do anything else tonight that I might also regret.” 
“But … we were only talking.” 
“We were on the verge of getting freaky, Serenity,” Raina replied bluntly, “and I’m sorry, but I don’t think that I’m up for that tonight. It’s nothing against you at all.” She hesitated. “Honestly … you’ve got me thinking about things right now. I need some time to sort things out in my head. And quite frankly, I can’t think straight when I’ve got someone else’s naked boobs rubbing against mine.” 
Serenity smiled and nodded understandingly. “Another time, perhaps?” 
“Perhaps.” Raina walked closer to Serenity to stoop and pick up the thong she had earlier tossed aside, squeezed a bit of water from it, and offered her a genuine smile. “Nice try, though.”

* * * *

Chapter Fourteen



Raina finished drying off in the restroom, combed her hair out with a like-new brush she found in there, and dressed herself in her prior clothes, albeit sans thong – it barely qualified as an undergarment, anyhow. She emerged from the restroom to find Serenity wrapped in a robe and sitting at the edge of the pool with her feet in the water. She was stirring the ice about in a tumbler of amber-colored liqueur, staring out at the silently rippling water of the pool in thought. Raina began to walk toward the door through which they had previously entered, hoping to slip out unnoticed to avoid any further awkward conversation. 
“Are you retiring for the evening?” Serenity asked without turning to look. 
Raina stopped and turned toward her, holding her shoes in one hand and her wadded-up thong in the other. “I, ah … I figure that would probably be best. I’ve already been up for almost twenty-four hours.” 
“Care to have a nightcap with me first?” she asked, holding out her drink. 
“I’d better not. My stomach’s a little messed up right now.” 
Serenity turned upon her rear and drew her legs out of the water, standing up in a graceful movement that didn’t even require the use of her hands. The ice in her glass barely even clinked with the movement. 
“Allow me to show you to your room,” she said with a rather blank expression as she approached. 
As she drew closer, Raina could sense the regret and worry that filled Serenity. As she began to walk past her toward the door leading outside, Raina held out an arm to halt her. Serenity’s beautiful hazel eyes looked to Raina with silent inquiry. 
“It’s okay. Really,” Raina told her. “You didn’t offend me.” 
“You think less of me. My words must seem hollow to you,” she said sadly, looking down and away. “I only wanted to help you, but … I just … I can’t help myself. I am just so drawn to you. Your aura acts like a magnet to my own…” 
“Serenity,” Raina said, touching her chin to bring her eyes back toward her, “don’t be silly. You know what I feel, and you probably sense it better than I can sense your feelings. You know it’s mutual. That’s not the issue. I just don’t think I’m up to it tonight … emotionally, or even physically. Until I heal up, I’m just too sore to want to do much of anything…” 
Some flash of excitement suddenly flared within Serenity and her eyes brightened. “But you wouldn’t need to do a thing. I would do everything for you. I would be more than happy to serve you.” She dropped to one knee before Raina and placed a hand upon her right thigh. “I could please you now, right where you stand. Or you could lie back upon the table…?” 
“Please … Duchess,” Raina said with careful firmness, “not tonight. I appreciate your hospitality. Really, I do. But I just don’t want to be served by anyone right now. I just want to get some rest. I’m tired, I’m sore, and I need to heal up.” 
Serenity stood and pulled back the collar of her robe to expose her left shoulder, tilting her head aside. “Then drink from me, your grace. Please … let me do this much for you.” 
“Serenity…” 
“I am sorry, your grace, but I must insist,” she said, moving very close. “With you as my guest, I am personally responsible for your care. You cannot deny that you are in need of blood, as I can sense how close you are to bloodlust. I am not offering the blood of my consorts or my servants. I am offering my own blood to you. You know what this offer means.” She looked to be on the verge of tears in her desperation. “I’m begging you, your grace. Please … grant me this honor. I will bear your mark with pride.” 
Raina looked down upon Serenity with a heavy sigh. She knew all too well what this meant. In fact, she was surprised that it had taken this long for Serenity to spring this upon her. It was more a tradition than a written law among the High Court. Hospitality towards the Grand Duchess when she visited their residence or their business establishment was expected by default, regardless of whether or not the hosting party was personally inclined towards her. Essentially, people were expected to kiss her ass and wait upon her hand and foot. So, for Serenity to have offered her consorts to donate a measure of blood (or for other purposes) would have been a common gesture. 
However, it would have been a rather grave insult for Raina to decline Serenity’s blood. The blood of a High Court, particularly the blood of an Elder, was considered to be sacred. A High Court did not offer their blood freely, only to those whom they deemed worthy – usually their bloodspawn and/or consorts. Declining her offer would have been a virtual slap in the face, automatically implying that Serenity’s blood simply was not good enough for her. 
Raina’s reluctance to accept was not simply because of Serenity’s efforts to seduce her. She still wasn’t a fan of biting. Raina hadn’t afforded herself enough practice with the act to avoid making it terribly painful for the donating party, and she was particularly uneasy about the idea of safely biting someone’s neck. She hadn’t bitten anyone there since … well … since she’d killed Countess Wilhelmina. She knew only that terrible flood of hot liquid, and as utterly erotic and fulfilling as that sinful pleasure had been, she did not want to indulge in that again at Serenity’s expense. Serenity was too kind to have her life put at risk like that. And besides, how would Raina ever manage to explain to the world that she, the Grand Duchess, had accidentally killed an Elder by biting her? It would have been both laughable and tragic at once. 
Raina placed her thong inside the shoes she held in her left hand, took Serenity by the chin gently, and guided her lips toward her own for a brief kiss. Serenity immediately opened up to it, but Raina ended it just as quickly, before it could go too far. She looked at the lovely blonde Elder High Court and smiled. It hardly occurred to her at the time, but Raina eventually realized that it was the first time that she had kissed another female in that way since … well, since she had lost Brenna. It should have been a significant event for her, and yet it was not. It just seemed right at that given moment, practically as natural as a handshake or a hug.
“If you can promise me that this won’t lead to anything more,” Raina said, “then I’ll be happy to accept your offer once you’ve shown me to the bedroom.” 
Serenity clearly was pleased, but her excitement was slightly restrained. “Why not here, where we may be alone?” 
“Because … quite honestly,” Raina admitted as she felt her cheeks grow a bit warm, “I’ll probably need some alone time right afterward … if you catch my meaning.” 
Serenity narrowed her eyes and raised a thin, sculpted eyebrow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 
Raina rolled her eyes and lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. “Drinking blood makes me horny, okay? So, if I’m going to go along with this, then you have to promise me that we won’t wind up doing anything together.” 
“Would you prefer to be with one of my consorts, instead?” 
“I’d prefer to just be alone afterward, if that’s okay,” Raina insisted gently. “Just let me have a little taste, and then I’ll go tuck myself into bed and sleep it off. I know how to take care of myself.” 
Serenity smiled broadly. “If that is what you wish, then I shall make it so.” 
Serenity emptied her glass quickly and set it down upon the table near the door next to the bottle of rum, bowl of ice, and extra tumbler that her consort had dutifully left. She led her out of the building and back along the covered walkway. The night air seemed to be twice as cool now as it had when they had first come this way, seeming uncharacteristically cold to Raina for an October night in Arizona. She had to consciously remind herself that temperatures were usually quite cooler on average here in Sedona than they were in her native lower-elevation homeland. A glance at the moon revealed that it would soon be full within the next couple of nights, eerily just in time for Halloween. 
Raina had not been exaggerating her claim to being less than able to get intimate with anyone. She was utterly exhausted. Her legs seemed to hum and most of her body tingled with a strange numbness that warned her the next time she sat still for more than thirty seconds, she’d probably fall asleep right where she was. She still craved a shower, as she didn’t want to go to bed in her current condition with the smell of chlorine so heavily upon her skin. For once, she actually found herself wishing that someone like Svetlana was around to assist her, simply so she would have someone to check on her and make sure she hadn’t passed out and drowned while bathing. Although, as she contemplated that idea, she realized it might not be such a bad way to go out… 
They passed through the kitchen and glanced by the den, whereupon Raina could not help but to look. Sophie was curled up on one of the sofas and snuggling herself against the fuzzy brown blanket that covered her. She was already unconscious, having succumbed to jet lag and the booze that she had downed. With her bare arm and bare left leg showing from under the blanket, in addition to the dress upon the floor, Raina was able to safely assume that Sophie was mostly or completely nude where she lay. Thomas was awake, although seemingly just barely so, as he looked to Raina with squinty eyes and offered a lazy wave of greeting. Sophie was apparently using his thigh as a pillow. Apparently, he had not only drunk Sophie under the table, so to speak, but presumably ravaged her into exhaustion as well, given the way Sophie had been acting earlier. Oddly enough, Thomas was just as fully clothed then as he had been when they earlier had been left alone together. 
“Pity,” Serenity commented with an amused smirk as they passed. “It looks like we missed the show.” 
Thomas held up his hands innocently, slurring his words as he said, “I swear … I did nothing. I was a good boy.” 
“Oh, I’m sure you were more than just good,” she chuckled as she led Raina down the hallway.
As before, Raina had to consciously force herself to follow after Serenity rather than staying behind to admire Thomas. He looked drunk enough that he might not remember if they … just … perhaps … no, no, forget it. It didn’t matter, anyway. It wasn’t worth considering. It was a bad idea – a random fantasy, nothing more. 
As Serenity apologized for the fact that the home was not as large as she would have liked for hosting company, she showed her along the hall and paused briefly at each doorway to show her where the office, the guest bedroom, and the second bathroom were at. The office was very cabin-like in design and décor, and the guest room had an obvious but not tacky Southwestern theme to it, and it was large enough to comfortably feature a king-sized bed. Serenity insisted, however, that Raina take the main bedroom and bath for the day, however, and so she led her up a half-spiral staircase to the second floor, the bedroom half of which was a loft that overlooked the den area – something she hadn’t noticed while sitting there earlier. 
The bedroom was simply stunning. Right away, the centerpiece that immediately caught Raina’s attention was the gigantic and unique bed. The bed was immense, almost like two queen-sized beds placed together, and its huge frame featured thick, rough-finished log corner posts that extended all the way up and disappeared into the ceiling, like fat pine trees that had grown right up through the center of the home. The bed’s construction made it appear to be an integral part of the house, not simply bolted to the floor but actually seeming to be incorporated into its structure. The ceiling and walls featured a photographic-quality mural of a dense, foggy evergreen forest scene, and the similarly cabin-like design of the accompanying standing oak closet and dresser and the large potted plants in each corner gave the feeling that they were standing in a half-open forest cabin of some kind. Raina half expected a bear to come lumbering out of the bathroom at any moment, or at least a few rabbits to bounce out from under the monstrously huge bed. 
“This is … wow,” Raina said after looking around for a few moments. “This is pretty wild.”
“I’ve been told by some that it’s a bit tacky, a little bit too over-the-top,” Serenity said as she stepped into the room. “Again, this is Redhorn’s home, and so he does with it as he wishes. He is an avid hunter, and he loves to spend many hours in a tree stand.” 
“He goes hunting at night?” Raina asked. 
As though on cue, Lord Redhorn stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his long, thick, inky black hair. He was bare from the waist up, wearing only a pair of camouflage pajama pants. He turned to Raina and Serenity with a subtle smile as he threw back his damp hair over his shoulders. 
“I hunt whenever and wherever the elk are,” he told her, his deep, ultra-masculine voice seeming to reverberate within Raina’s chest. “When I hunt during the day, I am covered by camouflage and the shade of the trees, so the sun does not burn me. When I hunt at night, I wear as little as possible. Clothes tend to make noise and scare away the elk.” 
Feeling almost dazed as she stared at Redhorn’s broad, bare chest, she only replied, “Oh.” 
He glanced down at himself for just a moment as she stared at him. “I apologize for my appearance, your grace.” 
“Oh … forget it. It’s your place. It’s no problem,” Raina said with a casual wave. Her eyes drifted down from his chest to his stomach and then to the drawstring of his pants. “No problem at all.” 
“I’m sure you’ll find the bed to be more than comfortable,” Serenity told her as she stepped over to it and peeled aside the dark green covers to show her. “I had this mattress special-ordered in this size to accommodate up to four people comfortably. I can assure you, though, that even as many as six can rest upon here quite comfortably.” 
She and Redhorn exchanged an amused glance, and he added, “The bed frame is very strong.” 
Raina could not help but to stare a bit longer. Redhorn was very tall, his shoulders were very broad, his jaw and nose and brow quite strong, and his chest muscles very clearly defined. She found it easy to imagine that he had a very long waiting list of high-paying customers for his massage therapy business. She was willing to bet that the vast majority of his clients were female and probably single or divorced. She was sure that he kept things professional and never crossed that line which might place him in legal jeopardy, but Raina could not help but to wonder just what one of his massages might be like. The feel of those big, strong, capable hands upon her back, her shoulders, her thighs… 
“I could have him stay with you afterward, if you’d like?” Serenity murmured softly into Raina’s ear as she snapped out of her momentary trance. 
“What? Oh … oh, no,” she said with a small laugh. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be just fine.” 
Redhorn smiled knowingly, cracking his knuckles loudly as he flexed his fingers. She, too, could keep it “professional.” She could just lay face-down for awhile, let him knead her back for awhile, and she would probably be snoozing in just a matter of moments. Probably … although the temptation would be there … and he would be so close… 
Redhorn gave a slight bow and excused himself from the bedroom to go down the short hall and descend the stairs, his solid build giving the floor a slight tremor with every step of his bare feet. His back was just as muscular as his front, still slightly beaded with drops of moisture from his shower. Raina had a weird desire to drag her fingernails slowly down that smooth, strong back, leaving light, raw tracks in his flesh, maybe even drawing just a tiny bit of that precious crimson fluid to the surface so she could… 
“Raina,” Serenity whispered into her ear as she embraced her about the waist from behind. “You’re teetering on the edge. You must feed before you go too far.” 
Raina let out a heavy sigh and her shoulders slumped. Damn it all, she could never tell why she was really attracted to anyone these days. She could never tell whether it was because she genuinely liked them or if she were simply being overcome with her vampiric urges. Anymore, she wasn’t sure if there was any difference between the two. What appealed to her body and what appealed to her conscious mind too often seemed one and the same. Perhaps because she spent far too much time on the edge of bloodlust, refusing to adequately take care of her vampiric needs, she no longer could be certain about anything when it came to her desires. 
Serenity raised her left arm with her palm upturned, silently offering her wrist. Raina accepted it reluctantly, noting that her arm was completely bare in spite of the long-sleeved robe that Serenity was wearing. As she held Serenity’s wrist, she found her explanation in the form of what she felt clearly pressing bare against her back. A glance to her right and slightly back showed that Serenity’s robe was lying upon the floor. 
“I thought we weren’t going to make this sexual?” Raina asked softly.
“It’s a nice robe,” Serenity replied. “I’d rather not get blood upon it.”
“Oh.” Raina hesitated. “So, umm…”
“Take as much as you wish, dear,” she whispered encouragingly. “I am not afraid. I trust in you … but I am also happy to give myself to you completely, if you will have me.” 
For a moment, Raina considered straightening Serenity’s arm and instead biting at the crook of her elbow, where she figured the bite would hurt less – much like how she had drawn blood as a practicing phlebotomist. However, that move would have placed her in an even more intimate position than this, as she would then have her side against Serenity’s bare front, and having her so close like that … well … no. It was just better this way. 
Raina raised her wrist toward her lips and steeled herself for the moment. Her heart was aflutter in her chest, mostly with anticipation but also with a bit of fear. Would she drink too much? Was that even possible when feeding from the wrist? Would Serenity notice how much of an amateur she was at conventional feeding? Raina could just about count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had truly fed by biting … not counting the little love bites and bloody nibbles that sometimes occurred during lovemaking with Loki, of course. Perhaps it was time that she finally “grew up” and just accepted this as the norm. Everyone else had – why couldn’t she? What was it that she hoped to prove by sticking with clinical phlebotomy for feeding rather than using what she’d been given by nature? Did she still truly believe that she was better than everyone else? Did she believe that she was above this brutality? Was she really going to keep denying what she truly was? 
No. She parted her lips, brought Serenity’s wrist into her mouth, and pressed down mildly with her upper fangs. It wasn’t enough to break the skin, or at least not enough to do so adequately, and she felt Serenity tensing up with pain in response to what she was doing. Serenity’s hand went to Raina’s hip and pulled back firmly as she felt her clenching up. 
“Do it,” Serenity hissed. “Do it now! Take it!” 
Raina pressed down firmly now, pushing the wrist upwards onto her own fangs. She felt Serenity’s flesh part with a pair of soft, silent pops that was not unlike the feeling of piercing a fat vein with a large-gauge needle. Immediately after the puncture, Raina drew back and sealed her lips around the wounds she had made, suckling upon the two small holes she had made just below Serenity’s wrist. 
The flavor was immediately powerful and nostalgic, like a favorite childhood memory brought back into the present in its entirety. So very, very sweet and so very warm, Serenity’s blood was so akin to wine that it seemed less a metaphor and more like a literal definition. The blood of a High Court was unique in its flavor, no doubt, but not even Loki tasted like this. No, to taste Loki was to taste herself. While Raina did not object to the flavor of her own veins, she felt that she was quite bland compared to a pure-blooded High Court vampire. Whereas Raina’s blood was a hybrid of High Court, Commoner, and human, Serenity’s was pure and untainted High Court. In her veins, Raina tasted countless centuries, legacies, conquests, tragedies and triumphs, love and hate, and whispered promises of infinite power and endless life. Blood was a drug, and Serenity’s was nothing less than pure heroin. 
“There you go,” Serenity exhaled as she relaxed against her back. “That’s it. Take as much as you want, my dear. Let my blood flow into you and make you well again.” 
Serenity kept at that, whispering and murmuring words of encouragement as Raina sucked at the twin wounds she’d made. She would take it all. She would take every last drop if she could. It was being offered – why shouldn’t she accept it? Consciously, she knew that doing so would be wrong, that there would be consequences; far below that level, though, she selfishly didn’t care in the least. She wanted to feed, needed to feed, and she would feast upon this beautiful deliciousness.
Dimly, she was aware of Serenity touching her, her free hand going places she otherwise would not have allowed it. Serenity’s soft, slender hand slipped in through the opening of her dress, cupping her, pinching her, caressing her, and then soon diving down, exploring, probing, and finally penetrating. Raina didn’t care. Nothing mattered, save for that which flowed into her mouth and down her throat with every wonderful, blessed gulp. She didn’t want sex, not really, not in the traditional sense, but anything close to it at that moment felt good enough that she didn’t refuse it; either way, it was all secondary to the equally carnal joy that was gracing her taste buds. 
Of course, it didn’t last long enough. The flow began to subside. The blood did not fill her mouth as readily as it did immediately after the bite. The wound was already beginning to seal, to gel over. Raina lapped her tongue at the wound, flicking it from side to side against the puncture sites. Doing so aggravated the injury and caused Serenity to tense up with pain once more. 
“That hurts, dear,” Serenity told her. Raina heard her, but she wasn’t listening. “Your grace … Raina … you’re hurting me.” 
Raina probed the tip of her tongue into the left puncture, trying to break the gel-clot and get things flowing again. The blood did come a bit more readily when she did that, and so she began to suckle anew. She was slurping audibly now, sloppily. She felt a bit running down her chin, seeping past the corners of her mouth. She would catch it later. She would not waste a drop. But for right now, she wanted the fresh stuff, the hotter fluids, right as they came from the flesh. Raina felt Serenity’s hand withdraw from its more lewd tasks and move to clasp her forehead. 
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I … I can’t,” Serenity finally said as she began to pull back on Raina’s head. She forced Raina’s mouth away from her wrist and wrenched it free from her grasp. 
Raina spun about to face her abruptly, gasping for air, her eyes wide and her mouth agape for a moment or two. She finally wiped at her lips with the back of her hands and then glanced down at them. Seeing bright red, she instinctively began to lap at them, cleansing herself cat-like with thoughtless automation as she looked to the Duchess again. Serenity was clasping her wrist with a concerned and slightly pained look upon her face. 
“Blessed Goddess,” Serenity gasped, “I had no idea you were like this!” 
“Wha— … what? What’s wrong?” Raina asked with genuine surprise. 
“I knew you were close to the edge but … but I didn’t realize just how close,” Serenity said as she took away her hand for a moment to glance at the damage done. It apparently wasn’t severe, but still more than she had anticipated. With wide eyes, she asked, “How long has it been since you last fed?” 
Raina was very slowly coming back to her senses. She only then became aware of how silly she must have looked, wiping at her mouth and then licking at her own hands, so she abruptly forced herself to stop. The room was beginning to spin with steadily intensity and her vision was becoming a bit watery. Her breathing was still labored, her heart thudding in her chest, and her skin was once again flushed with sweat, although this time she felt stiflingly hot rather than chilled. When she tried to take a step back, she stumbled a bit and slammed her back painfully against the corner post of the bed. Her motor skills were shot, and she actually chuckled a bit at her own clumsiness. She was not having a panic attack this time; she was simply drunk out of her mind on blood. Serenity’s hands pushed Raina to stand upright. Raina was so out of it that she hadn’t even noticed her approach.
“Raina! How long has it been?” 
“I … I dunno,” she answered, blinking slowly. “A couple days or so?” 
“That’s impossible! You’d have gone completely rogue by now if that were true, especially after being wounded with silver,” Serenity said softly, trying to keep her voice down in spite of her alarm. “Didn’t you feed before you left London?” 
“Well … Olivia did offer me a full measure before the … the big meeting thing. Y’know, the summit, the big whooptie-doo thing with the IVC,” Raina slurred, “or whatever the hell you wanna call it…” 
“Blessed Goddess,” Serenity gasped again. “This is not good. I’m so sorry, I had no idea. This is my fault. I never even thought to ask before…” 
“Forget about it. It’s all right. You’re cool with me, babe,” Raina reassured her with an inebriated smile, touching her cheek lightly. Her fingers left red smears upon Serenity’s face. 
Serenity guided her over to the bed and lowered her down to lie back upon the bed with her feet hanging over the edge. She took the shoes from Raina’s hand and set them aside upon the floor, then hurriedly grabbed a large pillow from one end of the bed, lifted Raina by her shoulder, and placed the pillow behind her head. 
“Just relax and I’ll set everything straight for you right away, your grace,” Serenity assured her as she hurried away, holding her wrist. 
Raina heard her light but quick footsteps going away for a moment as she stared dreamily at the print on the ceiling. She hadn’t noticed before, but the scene upon the ceiling was actually not a panoramic photograph like the rest of the walls but instead a hand-painted pattern to make it appear as though she were lying upon her back on the floor of a forest, looking straight up at the immensely tall evergreens that towered overhead. The illusion was impressively accurate … and especially realistic when her vision was so blurred by the spinning motion that distorted her sight. She closed her eyes for just a moment. 
Her eyes shot open wide once more when she felt two pairs of hands grabbing hold of her shoulders and hauling her to sit upright. Serenity stood before her, naked as ever but holding a small white hand towel over the wound to her wrist. Holding Raina upright from either side was Thomas and Sophie. Her vision was affected by her drunken vertigo, but her other senses were quite sharp, and she could easily smell the alcohol on their breath. Sophie was giggling softly as she brushed a few curly, damp strands of hair away from Raina’s face. She was not nude as Raina had previously suspected, but she was only clad in her underwear and bra.
“You need to feed more, and you need it right away,” Serenity told her. “Your servants have volunteered to offer up their blood to you. I will summon my consorts to offer themselves, as well, when you are done with them.” 
“Don’t you worry, love. We’ll take good care of you,” Sophie told her with a smile, caressing her face.
Thomas finally shrugged out of his leather biker jacket and offered his wrist to Raina, saying only, “Here. Me first.” 
Raina didn’t hesitate this time. She was quicker about it now, too. She knew what she was getting into. The act was still fresh in her mind from having bitten Serenity. She took hold of his wrist with both hands, brought it up, and bit down firmly enough to pierce his skin with her teeth immediately before quickly pulling back. He didn’t even flinch – what a macho dude. She sucked upon the fresh well of blood and hummed approvingly. He didn’t taste as good as Serenity, but certainly good enough. She already knew his taste from before. Well, at least what this part of him tasted like, anyhow. 
Raina was surprised to find that the more she fed upon him, the clearer and more lucid she became. The room wasn’t spinning as much now. Her vision wasn’t as wavy and sometimes blurred. She was still sweating, though – profusely, now, and enough that she was desperately wanting a shower before she went sour. Her heart was still racing. Her hands were a little bit unsteady, and she felt a bit clumsy as he pulled his wrist away and offered his other wrist for her to bite when the first wounds began to gel over. Her thoughts were still a jumbled mess of near-panic and stupid lust, but she was at least very conscious now of everything that was happening. She wasn’t losing bits of time anymore. 
She had the presence of mind to stop at one point and catch her breath, licking her lips as she looked up to Serenity who had pulled up a small chair and sat nearby to watch with one leg crossed over the other and an elbow propped upon her knee as she kept pressure upon her wounded wrist. She was smiling pleasantly now, watching intently. She was being good and keeping to herself, but Raina could clearly sense things from her direction that said she longed to do otherwise. 
“Are you just going to sit there?” Raina asked her. 
“Yes, I am,” Serenity replied. “You need a spotter. You’re still in the intermediate stages of bloodlust. I have to make sure you don’t lose control.” 
“Too late for that,” Raina said as she turned abruptly and grabbed Thomas by the face, kissing him fiercely. 
As she kissed Thomas, she heard Serenity explain, “I meant that I’m here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else, but … well, I suppose you won’t mind if I just sit back and watch you play for awhile.” 
And play she did. Raina finally let herself go wild upon Thomas. What the alcohol and the soul-searching conversation she’d had with Serenity had earlier begun, the small feast of blood had finally managed to finish in destroying her inhibitions completely. She wanted this. She had wanted him, right from the moment she’d first laid eyes upon him. She had held back, though, and for too damned long. Why? She had been saving herself for Loki. Stupid, stupid girl! She could have anyone she wanted. She was the Grand Duchess. Her word was law. What she wanted, she took. And she was taking what she wanted right now, taking him in her hands, and then into her mouth. She didn’t care that she was being watched. She didn’t care that Sophie was trying her best to join in … although her absolute drunkenness was making her a giggling, clumsy, silly thing more than a helpful bedmate. Raina wanted Thomas, and now he was hers, and that was good enough for now. 
Raina scratched him once by accident in her haste and her passion, but not enough to draw blood and, thankfully, not enough to ruin the mood. And though she wanted to keep doing what she’d been doing – she loved to give as much as she enjoyed receiving – she eventually decided that he’d had enough.
“Now,” she said. “I need it now.”
He obeyed with a smile. He pushed her aside, stood up, and pulled her toward the edge of the bed by her ankles. The hemline of her dress was pushed up just enough so that he could see what he was doing, and an instant later, they were joined. He was not as big as Loki, and that was perfectly fine with her. She braced herself, expecting pain, but there was no need for drastic adjustment – it was all silk and gliding and relief. They just fit.
It was different, being with a Sabertooth – different, but in no way any less enjoyable. She had become so accustomed to being with Loki that the idea of someone with a single hair below the neckline had begun to seem almost strange to her. In fact, she hadn’t been with anyone like Thomas since that night she’d become Loki’s Maker by accident, a night she remembered only in bits and pieces and now loathed. Ultra-bareness and ultra-smoothness was nice, but just as well, contrast and variety was an exciting change of pace, just the same. She felt the tickle of his hairs against her every time he bottomed out with a flesh-upon-flesh slap. Every other impact caused her eyes to roll back into her head and made her squirm and cry out underneath him. 
Before long, he withdrew, guided her to turn over upon the bed and stand upon the floor with her elbows upon the edge of the bed, and he went right back at it. From this angle, she could now see that Sophie was lounging upon the bed before her, barely able to keep her eyes open as she struggled to remain conscious. She saw Raina looking at her, she smiled, laughed, and shuffled towards her as she lay upon her back, halfway crawling under her as Raina propped herself upright. She kissed Raina awkwardly and sloppily, lipstick smearing everywhere, and Sophie reached down to caress her however she pleased. Raina did not protest. In all honesty, in that very moment, she truly wanted to do more, to pull Sophie in front of her, kiss her, touch her, and taste her. She was too physically awkward in that moment, too intoxicated and too wrapped up in her passion to do much of anything except hold herself upright and enjoy it all. 
Thomas did not last very long. With a cry of passion, he filled her and then all but collapsed upon her, nearly causing her to fall upon Sophie. Raina turned enough that they fell to the side and then laid there for a few moments, breathless and tingling from head to toe with a strange but pleasant numbness. The buzz she’d been experiencing from her intake of blood had all but completely subsided by then, replaced instead purely by the intoxication of carnal knowledge. She felt good … no, she felt great … but she was far, far from satisfied. This couldn’t be it. There had to be more to this, especially after all that damned anticipation. 
“Hey,” she said, elbowing Thomas in the ribs as he lay behind her, spooning up against her and still buried completely within her. “I never said you could stop.” 
“You’re not done?” 
“Not even close.” She clenched those muscles deep within, squeezing him, and drew an approving groan from him. “Feels like … you could go again.” 
“But…” 
“Why not let me have a go,” Sophie said as she rolled onto her stomach and began to push herself upright. 
As Sophie reached for where Raina and Thomas were still physically joined, Raina caught her wrist and held her hand away. Their eyes met and Raina shook her head. A moment ago, it had seemed like a good idea; now that she was more in control of herself, she knew better.
“What? Why the bloody hell not?” Sophie asked rather rudely. She suddenly looked almost ready to cry like a petulant child.
“I just want … one at a time,” Raina replied breathlessly. “No Roman orgies.” 
“One at a time? Even better, then! Just you and me.”
“Sophie, no. I can’t,” Raina insisted as she began to finally catch her breath. “Let’s not.” 
“Why?” 
“Because, I … I just can’t.” 
Sophie’s lower lip curled a bit with her trademark pout. “Am I not pretty enough for you?” 
“You’re very pretty, Sophie.” Raina was vaguely aware of how slurred her words came out. She sounded a lot more drunk than she felt.
“Do you no longer fancy girls?” she asked. Sophie glanced over to Serenity, who was still sitting discreetly covered and observing with a smile. Sophie grinned at Raina. “No, I think it’s a safe bet to say you still do.” 
“I just can’t … with you,” Raina admitted reluctantly. “You’re just too … too young.” 
“Too young? How am I too young? I mean, look at me!” she demanded with slight hostility, grabbing her own breasts and giving them a brief shake. “I’ve never been too bloody young for anyone else! I was never too young for Duvessa!” 
Just like that, the mood was ruined. Raina narrowed her eyes at Sophie. She practically hissed at her servant, “For the last fucking time, Sophie, I am not Duvessa!” 
Serenity could tell this was going downhill. She got up from her chair and moved over toward the bed, taking Sophie by both hands and helping her up. 
“I think it’d be best if we went downstairs for awhile, dear,” she said as she began to lead her away from the bed. Sophie was still quite drunk and stumbling about as Serenity tried to guide her along.
Thomas withdrew and rolled onto his back with a sigh. Raina smiled and immediately rolled back over to straddle him, pinning him down with her hands upon his chest. She grabbed two fistfuls of his T-shirt and felt the curls of his chest fur being pulled as she slid herself over the now slippery but still very firm length of him.
“Now we’re finally alone,” she said to him.
“Yes, we are,” he confirmed with a smile.
“I’ve got you all to myself.”
“Yes, you do.”
“What should I do with you?”
He chuckled. “You’re the Grand Duchess. Your word is law. You tell me.”
“Okay then,” she said, guiding him back into herself and sliding down with a sigh. “As Grand Duchess of the IVC and Mistress of the House of Fallamhain … I hereby command you to fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.”
“As you wish, your grace.”

* * * *

Chapter Fifteen



Raina awoke from a death-like sleep without any memory of having laid down to sleep, and only a vague recollection of anything in the hour preceding that. Not for the first time, she awoke to find herself naked in bed with a stranger, or at least a man who was mostly a stranger to her. Making the situation a bit more unique, though, was the additional realization that she was in that bed sandwiched between a strange man and a strange woman. Dragging the situation from unpleasant to downright humiliating was the discovery of two other men and yet another woman at the opposite end of the immense bed, their nudity presumed but hidden discreetly by the comforter under which they had huddled together. 
Taking in the sight of her surroundings, she found that the arrangement of resting vampires was different than she would have expected. Remembering at least some of her brief tryst with Thomas, she had expected to find him still spooning against her, but instead had found Lord Redhorn. The blonde on the opposite side of her was not Sophie, but rather Duchess Serenity. And sandwiched between Sophie and Lord Gerald at the other end of the bed was Thomas. At the moment, she didn’t remember a thing of it. She had absolutely no recollection whatsoever of finding herself in the midst of a six-person orgy. The idea just seemed beyond absurd; no matter how drunk she had been in the past, and in spite of the opportunities that had been presented before, she had never, ever once consented to taking part in a six-person gangbang. In fact, the one and only time she’d been with more than one person was her first and only occasion of being with Brenna … a memory she only dreaded because of what had happened shortly afterward, and because it had also involved Duvessa. 
Had she really drank that much the night before? No, apparently not. Sitting up slowly and cautiously, expecting to be overcome with a wave of nausea, she was surprised to find that she didn’t have the slightest bit of dizziness. She was still tired, feeling as though she had been awoken by something sudden and unusual, but she was in no way sore. Even her wounds felt significantly better, only causing her affected muscles to feel a bit stiff now rather than aching painfully with every other movement of her upper body. Aside from her fuzzy thoughts and a bit of short-term amnesia, she didn’t feel the least bit hung over. 
Everyone was out cold. As vampires tended to be heavy sleepers, her movements as she sat fully upright did not stir anyone in the least. More than one person upon the bed was snoring, the loudest of the bunch actually being Thomas. The filtered rays of daylight that were restrained by tinted glass and windows covered with heavy drapes in the living room below cast a soft glow upon her surroundings, more than adequate for her to clearly see things but not nearly bright enough to sting her eyes or make her squint. She saw smears of dark color here and there upon some of the others, and there were visible bite marks upon both Serenity and Redhorn in a couple of seemingly random places. Raina checked herself but could not find a single bite wound upon her body, only the now mostly-healed wounds from her duel with Duchess Camille. She did, however, feel things that were either fully dried or half-dried and tacky upon herself and a general unclean feeling that made her want out of the bed immediately. 
Moving as slowly as she could bear, Raina slid the covers down a bit and tried to slip out from between her two immediate bedmates without waking them. Redhorn had his hand upon her hip, almost possessively hugging her against himself in his sleep, and as she moved herself upward and away, she lifted his hand and instead placed it upon his true mistress, Serenity. Raina half-stood upon the firm memory-foam mattress of the bed and watched as Serenity rolled onto her back with a soft groan. Redhorn snorted and shuffled slightly, snuggling up against her side with his arm now across her waist. Raina successfully stepped out of the bed, covered Serenity and Redhorn with the soft, dark green cotton bed sheet, and made her way toward the doorway that she recalled led into the bathroom. 
Along the way, she found her dress draped across the chair with deliberate care, and a scattered littering of everyone else’s clothes upon the floor. The only things she was still wearing were her fishnet stockings, now ruined with rips and body fluids, and her big “Look at me, I’m the Grand Duchess” golden ankh – something that others considered akin to a queen’s crown but what she now felt ashamed to be wearing. She was tempted to grab her dress and slip it on, just to have something covering herself. However, nobody was looking, and her morbid sense of curiosity meant that she needed to see just how bad she looked. 
Closing the door to the bathroom behind herself and clicking on the light switch, closing her eyes as a precaution against any sudden glare, she found herself immediately facing her horrifying image in a full-length mirror on the back of the door. Her entire body seemed to be covered with random smears and dried flecks of blood and sexual remnants. Her hair was tangled, kinked, frizzy, and even matted in a few places with things she didn’t even want to consider. What the hell had she done? Did she even want to know? Had she even been conscious when all of this had happened? Or had everyone had their way with her while she was completely out of it? She was too mortified to even begin to cry about it. She didn’t even know how to react to the sight of herself, much less what everything about her own appearance implied. The better question perhaps was not what she had done earlier, but rather what had she not done? 
Raina stared at herself for a long, long while. She waited for it. She waited for the spots of light in her vision, the bursts of color, and the onset of room-spinning to begin. Looking over her shoulder to plan a quick route for the toilet, she waited for her insides to knot up and violently reject everything they still contained. It never happened. Why? She was a mess. She was ashamed. She hated herself for what she knew that she had done, and for the things that she could only assume she had done. So, how could she stand there and just look at herself like that? Why wasn’t she having the worst nervous breakdown of her entire life right then and there? 
“Fuck you,” Raina heard herself whisper angrily to her reflection. The lips of the scary creature staring back at her in the mirror mouthed the words, but she didn’t even feel herself speaking them. “Stupid fucking whore. God, I hate you.” 
Raina forced herself to turn away from the mirror and calmly walked over to the toilet. She knelt before it, held her hair out of the way, put the seat up, and leaned upon the edge of the bowl. She waited. Nothing came up. Actually, she didn’t even feel the least bit nauseous, but she wanted to be ready, just in case a panic attack suddenly reared its ugly head without warning. Whenever she lost control, she usually lost her lunch. A psychiatrist had told her that it was a subconsciously triggered reaction that harkened back to the death of her parents and the reaction she’d had at that time, though she still to that day didn’t recall having thrown up. She had her own weird interpretation for why she chose to worship the God of Porcelain whenever she felt overwhelmed with anxiety: she was so utterly disgusted with herself that she sometimes became physically ill, hoping to expel the grossness of her own existence one heave at a time. Perhaps by purging the contents of her stomach, on some level she hoped to also purge herself of guilt and self-loathing. 
Well, not today. She couldn’t understand why, especially now of all times, she simply could not even begin to lose it. Perhaps it was because her response was now too easily anticipated? What good was a nervous breakdown when she could see it coming? What was the point in being overcome with nerves to the point of throwing up if one was already kneeling there before a toilet, ready to let it go without having to make a mad dash? Perhaps she was just saving it for later – yeah, that sounded more reasonable. Maybe she was just waiting for a better time, saving it all for later, so she could be made to look like an even bigger fool when something just randomly set her off and it all hit her at once with the full effect. She could just imagine it now, standing in front of a bunch of cameras and fielding questions, when a reporter would ask her something rude about her personal life. The question would trigger a sudden tidal wave of sour emotions, and she would just collapse and vomit right there in front of the world. Oh, wouldn’t that just be wonderful? She could just imagine the headlines: THAR SHE BLOWS! Reporter’s questions make Grand Duchess spew!
The only tears that came to her eyes now were tears of frustration as she stood up for a moment, put the seat down, turned around and sat down for a moment. She felt utterly gross and defiled. Sex was both sweet and sick. It felt great at the time that it happened, and in the heat of the moment there were a lot of things that seemed kinky and erotic to a point where almost nothing seemed taboo – letting Sophie touch her like she had, for example. After the fact, though, it all just seemed so … well … yucky. Sex had a hangover of its own; the more heavily she indulged the night before, the worse she felt when she woke up from sleeping off the buzz. The sight of herself in the mirror, the feeling of others’ fluids upon (or inside of) her, and the subtle residual scents of copulation were just repulsive. If it was so repugnant an act, why did she keep doing it? Was her sense of self-control and restraint really that pathetic? Was she really so dumb as to think it would be different each time? Or was she just trying to periodically remind herself of how wrong it all was? Maybe she was just trying to one-up herself, trying to commit an even more depraved and extreme series of acts to out-do her last sordid bunch of stunts, just to see how far she was willing and able to go? 
The shame of it all was bad enough, in itself. The idea that she had voluntarily subjected herself to this degradation and biological grossness was even more horrid. Most of all, the fact that anyone else in the world knew about what she had done was simply too much to bear. It would have been one thing if she had been alone, if she had been experimenting independently and doing weird or sick and dirty things with herself, because the only one to know of her deeds beside herself was God. Hey, He forgave all sins anyway, right? This time was worse than any ever before, and by a long shot. The first time like this had been a one-night stand. The next had been her first occasion with another female … and a vampire, the Grand Duchess of the IVC, no less. And then she had gone and ruined another human’s life by sharing the disease of her curse with him by making him into her bloodspawn. And now there was this. Had she really gone from simply getting drunk and having a regrettable fling with one random person at a time to simultaneously screwing everyone? 
Burying her face in her hands, Raina went ahead and relieved herself while she was there. Things escaped her that she didn’t expect, even from whence she did not expect them to be coming. Wow. Apparently, she had done it all. She had held nothing back the night before. She had not only taken Serenity’s advice, she had taken it and gone absolutely mad with it. Indeed, she had embraced whom and what she was, and now she figured she could finally put a proper name to it: succubus. 
Raina had read about them before. A succubus was, at least according to the common myths and legends of various countries, a kind of vampire that fed by draining others of their sexual energy, usually women that chose to drain men of their seed by mating with them. Of course, as evidenced by all of the signs of bloodshed and her vague memories of all that biting and sucking, the literal feeding she engaged in was a more conventional form of vampirism, but apparently her thirst for sex was every bit as strong and irresistible as her need for blood. That, and she didn’t exactly fulfill the other duty of a true succubus: to pass the human seed to a male demon known as an incubus, who would then impregnate a human female with that tainted seed to spawn another demon. Nevertheless, it seemed that she was wired to need sex – not crave, but need.
Serenity may or may not have been trying to seduce her all that time, as she was probably affected with at least a similar kind of curse, but there was no doubting that the Fallamhain bloodline was a race of sexual beings. The evolutionary and physiological motivations for this trait completely escaped Raina, as she couldn’t see how this was of any benefit to any vampire as far as feeding or reproduction went. But she was certain that she knew now what she was, and what Duvessa had been. Raina was a succubus, plain and simple. Well … mostly. And if she was to accept what she was, then she would have to accept her role as this kind of being, and thus she would have to accept these inevitable consequences.
After she had finished and flushed, she stood and exited the bathroom quietly, tiptoeing across the bedroom floor. The flush of the toilet, though quiet and complete behind a closed door beforehand, apparently was enough to break someone’s sleep. As she passed the bed, she noticed that Sophie was awake and watching her with tightly-squinting eyes of weariness. She could see, as the young Commoner sat upright, that she was actually not nude but still wearing the same lacy underclothes she’d had on when Raina had last seen her. She gave Raina a feeble smile and a small wave with her fingertips before rubbing some of the grit from her eyes.
Raina neither smiled nor waved back, instead simply walking over to where her suitcase had been laid upon its side. Rather suspiciously, the suitcase had already been unzipped, as was her briefcase. She had already planned on having her things rummaged through by airport security officials. A note from the TSA and the general disarray of her belongings confirmed this. But she distinctly recalled that it had been closed when she had wheeled it inside the evening before. The minor invasion of privacy was strange, but she still felt too zombified to much care, instead only making a small mental note of the discrepancy for later consideration. She hastily sought out comfort, finding it in the form of fresh underwear, a clean satin bra, plain cotton socks, a knee-length skirt, and a simple cotton blouse, all black. She had deliberately stocked her suitcase with predominantly black clothing, not only to buck Olivia’s fashion suggestions but also because she figured the color would suit her mood for most of the trip, anyway.
“You’re up awfully early,” Sophie whispered to her.
Raina didn’t even acknowledge her at all as she headed into the bathroom and closed the door softly. She didn’t want to hold even the slightest bit of a conversation with anyone about anything for any length of time – not when she looked like that. Naked discussions were awkward enough, but being naked and covered in … stuff … she just didn’t feel talkative, and that was that.
She stripped off her stockings and tossed them into a nearby trash can before removing her ankh and laying it next to the sink basin. She was still very responsibly money-minded, still very keen on avoiding even the slightest bit of wastefulness or excess. The idea of simply throwing away something that she had worn perhaps only once or twice before seemed an absolute shame, but she would make an exception in this case. It would probably be months before she would ever feel like wearing fishnets again.
The shower was quite similar to the one found in the master bedroom of the Fallamhain Estate, although the water valve featured only one lever rather than two knobs and a bypass. Quite simply, she needed only to turn the lever from Off and over toward the right, the temperature being indicated by color from Cold to Hot. It was a bit of a relief not to find it necessary to spend a few minutes turning two different knobs up and down to find a suitable compromise between water pressure and water temperature. The showerhead was a detachable type connected by a length of hose to the outlet and mounting, and it featured several water flow settings that varied from streams to sprays to an almost harsh pulsation from three nozzles. She set the showerhead to the strongest jet-setting, grabbed a nearby bottle of liquid soap and loofah sponge, and immediately set about the task of removing the filth of last night’s debauchery.
She scrubbed and scrubbed with excessive vigor and firmness, and she kept the water temperature almost scaldingly hot, so much that her skin became reddened with irritation. She cleansed every part of her body that she could reach two times over, and she shampooed and conditioned her hair twice. The hair care products she found in the shower seemed to be the source of much of the delicious fruity scents that often surrounded Serenity, and in applying this to her own hair, she felt as though she were putting on some vague bit of the Elder’s personal identity – an idea that was both unsettling and comforting.
Finding herself thoroughly clean by the time she rinsed her hair for the fourth time, Raina finally began to feel a little bit more relaxed and a lot less gross. She unhooked the showerhead from its perch and used the pulse setting to massage her neck and back for awhile. Chasing a few stray suds that clung to her thighs, she lurched back with a gasp as the water struck her at an angle and with a certain kind of pressure that instantly felt far too pleasant. She was no stranger to the magic of a good massaging shower attachment, but she was neither in the mood nor was she in a proper place for that sort of thing. Besides, hadn’t she already indulged in that sort of thing enough, given what had (apparently) taken place the night before?
Raina finally shut off the water and opened the hinged door to the shower, gasping loudly and nearly letting out a shriek of alarm as she found someone standing right outside. The humidity of her hot shower had fogged over the clear glass of the shower doors, and the rushing water had masked most other sounds, so that she had not heard someone entering the bathroom. In a familiar situation that had never ceased to make her feel awkward, a blonde Commoner was standing patiently in wait with a couple of towels in her hands.
“Svetlana…” Raina blurted automatically. She closed her eyes, slicked back her hair with a sigh, and opened them again as she accepted one of the towels. “Sorry … Sophie … you know I don’t expect you to do this.”
“I’m just doing what others expect of me, your grace,” Sophie replied.
Raina met her gaze directly as she wrapped the first towel around herself. “Olivia put you up to this, didn’t she.”
Hesitantly, Sophie admitted, “She did make me promise to be on my best behavior. And since I am now your servant…”
“You’re not my servant,” Raina said immediately. A moment later, though: “Are you?”
“I was told that you had released Svetlana from your service and that she is now Duke Marco’s servant,” she answered with a shrug. “There was a vacancy, and I so volunteered to take her place.”
“Vacancy? Sophie, the House of Fallamhain isn’t a business, for crying out loud. It’s not like I fired…” Raina rolled her eyes and waved it off. “Whatever. Look, you don’t have to do this, okay?”
“But I want to,” she insisted softly. Raina could sense that she was being sincere.
Raina accepted the other towel from her and dried her own hair for a few moments before wrapping it about her head and finally stepping out of the shower. Great, so Olivia had pushed her niece into Svetlana’s shoes. She appreciated Sophie’s kindness and Olivia’s professionalism, but she had honestly been a bit relieved for awhile to not have an official servant. The idea of having yet another person waiting upon her like a virtual slave was not only frustrating, but it also made her think a bit less of Olivia for pushing her own niece into such a committed role of servitude. She felt like asking if Olivia had asked or ordered her to do this, but she wasn’t sure Sophie would have been able to answer honestly. While Sophie would have seen it as an honor of sorts, being that she was attracted to Raina’s celebrity status, she might have misconstrued a forced obligation as instead being a lucky opportunity.
Raina was stricken by a distinctive sense of déjà vu as she found all of her things laid out neatly upon the countertop beside the sink – comb, brush, deodorant, lotions, toothbrush, perfume, and so forth. Apparently, Sophie had been given more than just a crash-course on the whole Grand Duchess’s servant routine. Raina had thought her awakening had merely been a coincidence. Apparently, Sophie had been anxiously awaiting her return to consciousness and had sprung at her first opportunity to really play the part.
Raina hated to be virtually worshipped like this, but she did not want to upset Sophie by refusing her, and she was still too dazed to really offer protest. She allowed Sophie to remove the upper towel and set about the task of combing out, drying, and brushing her hair. Raina more or less simply tolerated all of this attention while she busied herself with the task of applying her own makeup, ignoring Sophie’s offers to apply it for her. She had liked the reaction she’d gotten after doing it herself the other night, so she decided to stick with the look for awhile.
Alas, conversation between them seemed inevitable, and it finally arose when Sophie got out the ceramic heating iron and began straightening Raina’s mildly curled hair. However, it was Raina that found the silence unbearable enough that she felt the need to first break it.
“Did we…?”
Sophie looked at Raina’s reflection in the mirror with a raised eyebrow. “Did we … what?”
“Did you and I … you know?” she hinted awkwardly. Sophie shrugged. “Did we have sex last night?”
“Oh, that!” Sophie chuckled. Her smile quickly faded. “No, we didn’t. You weren’t interested. Remember? You sent me away.”
It was a small relief, but Raina couldn’t help cringing as she asked the bigger question: “Who did I do it with? I mean … besides Thomas?”
“Nobody else, as far as I know,” Sophie replied calmly with a shrug of one shoulder as she took another bunch of strands of Raina’s hair into hand. “You and Thomas went at it quite awhile, but that was it.”
Raina found that hard to believe. The smears of blood, the dried and sticky things…
“Are you sure?”
“You two were the only ones up here the whole time. Everyone else stayed downstairs until it sounded like you were done,” she explained casually.
Raina struggled to recount what had happened after Serenity had escorted Sophie downstairs. “What about … Lord Redhorn?”
Sophie smiled, saying, “I think you two both wanted to give it a go, but Serenity wanted a bit of him and the other blokes first. I think you were already asleep by the time she was done having her DP fun.”
Raina blinked. “DP?”
“Double penetration,” Sophie explained with a bit of a shy giggle. “What, you’ve never heard of it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You know … a DP, pulling a choo-choo, having a meat sandwich, playing both sides…?”
“Oh, that.”
“So ,you do know what it means…?”
“I get the idea,” Raina answered with a sigh. Hesitantly, she admitted, “Actually … I was thinking I did that last night.”
“Nope. You weren’t with anyone but Thomas.”
“Oh. Well, that’s a relief.”
“Serenity did it, though.”
Raina raised an eyebrow at that. “How do you know?”
“I was there.”
“You … you were…?”
“No, I wasn’t a part of it. But I watched.”
“You watched?”
Sophie giggled again, saying, “Well, of course! I’ve never seen anything like it before. I mean … not in person, anyway. On the Internet, though…”
“You watched her doing it with Redhorn and Gerald?”
“And Lord Derek,” she added.
“Who?”
“One of Serenity’s other consorts.”
“Oh.” Raina blinked at her for a moment. “So … three?”
“All three of them, all at the same time,” Sophie confirmed with a nod. “It was really amazing.”
“And you just … sat there and watched?”
Sophie shrugged. Her smile faltered a bit. “Well … kind of…”
“You joined in?”
“No. She didn’t invite me,” she said with obvious disappointment. “Serenity doesn’t really like girls, I guess. Well, except for you, of course. So, I just watched and…”
Raina waited for her to finish her sentence. “And what?”
“And I … y’know … kept myself entertained,” she finally replied, holding up two fingers and wiggling them in the air. “I mean … I couldn’t very well just sit there and do nothing while something like that was going on right in front of me. And since she wouldn’t let me join in…”
“You asked?”
Sophie shrugged again, pausing as the iron made a sizzling sound as she clamped it down upon a few slightly damp strands of Raina’s hair. “I got off the sofa and went to go for Derek, but Serenity just snapped her fingers at me and did this…” Sophie wagged a finger at Raina scoldingly. She returned to the task of straightening Raina’s hair. “I think she was just punishing me.”
“Why would she punish you?”
“I was out of line,” Sophie confessed sadly. Her manner of speaking changed a bit, suddenly maturing as she seemed to chastise herself. “I was really drunk last night, and I was being foolish. I should have known better, but I was three sheets to the wind. I had no business trying to push myself on anyone else because I’m only a servant. You didn’t want me, Thomas didn’t want me, and…”
“He didn’t?”
“No.” Sophie turned away for a moment and set down the iron gently. She suddenly seemed to be struggling to hold back tears. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s the matter?” Raina moved closer, placing a hand gently upon her shoulder. Sophie was not crying, not yet, but she was just barely managing to hold herself together now. “Hey, c’mon … it’s okay. Just tell me.”
“No, really … your grace, I’m sorry,” she insisted. “I really have no excuse for getting upset over any of this in the first place. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry, I’m being so silly about this…”
“Relax. I’m sorry for asking so many questions. I’m just … honestly, I’m just a little freaked out because I don’t remember much of what happened last night,” Raina told her, stroking the young blonde’s hair gently. Her fingers became ensnared in a tangle, and she paused to free herself without yanking Sophie’s hair out. “I don’t understand why I blacked out so much. I really didn’t have that much to drink.”
Sophie turned slightly to look at Raina, smiling slightly. “Don’t you remember what we did?”
Raina stared at her blankly. “I thought you said…?”
“We didn’t go all the way,” she confirmed, “but you did let me touch you.” And then that minor smile faded as she looked away once more. “I guess I should have been happy you even let me do that much. I’m sorry for being so pushy.” She closed her eyes, again holding back her tears. “If I’ve made you cross and … if I should be punished…”
“Punished? What’s with all this punishment nonsense?” Raina turned Sophie around by her shoulders to face her directly. “Sophie, what … who do you think I am?”
“You are the Grand Duchess and my Mistress. Your word is law,” she replied automatically, as though she were reciting from a script. “Disrespect and disobedience will be rewarded with discipline.”
“Look at me.” She lifted Sophie’s chin with a finger. “Look at me, Sophie.”
Sophie finally opened those pretty blue-green eyes of hers. A pair of tears finally slipped free and trailed down her cheeks. She wasn’t just feeling rejected; the poor girl was honestly scared that Raina was going to do something terrible to her. As far as she knew, Sophie hadn’t been a vampire for very long when Duvessa was alive, but that didn’t rule out the possibility that Duvessa hadn’t been given an opportunity to abuse her. Not even Simon, a human, had been safe from that bitch’s sadism. If she had not personally instilled this sense of fear in Sophie, then perhaps Duvessa had indoctrinated Olivia to such a degree that Olivia had schooled her own niece in this sick, fearful form of respect. Perhaps even this submissive, slave-like training was a matter of abuse from her aunt, alone? Knowing what she did about Lady Olivia’s personality – and just as well, what she did not know about her – Raina only wished that she could say with any certainty that her trusted advisor was not capable of such cruelty.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? I’m not mad at you,” Raina assured her, stroking her face soothingly. “I don’t know where you got this idea that I’m into the whole abuse thing like Duvessa, but…”
“Auntie O,” Sophie interrupted softly.
Raina blinked with surprise. “Lady Olivia?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
Well, that certainly underlined Raina’s suspicions in blood-red ink.
“What did she tell you?”
“She told me that nothing had changed when you became Grand Duchess.” Sophie paused to sniff back her fears. “She said you were just going through a transitional phase, and that eventually, you would see things differently … once you had time to settle in.” She paused again, wiping away her own tears delicately with her slender fingertips. “I’m sorry, your grace. I know I’ve been acting badly. If you’re not happy with me, then…”
“Honey, no … no,” Raina told her, pulling her into a comforting hug. She didn’t even think about the gesture, totally disregarding formalities and roles. She just did it automatically because she hated to see Sophie so upset, and because Sophie’s emotions were leaking into her own so strongly due to their physical closeness. And … well, because quite honestly, Raina was a bit in need of a hug, herself.
“Please, don’t tell Auntie O,” Sophie pleaded in a strained voice, her British accent becoming a bit more obvious in the pronunciation of her words as her emotions really took hold. “Please don’t tell her what I did last night. I’ll be good from now on, I swear. I’ll do anything you want, anything at all. I’ll never ask for a thing. I’ll keep to myself. I promise not to be a bother.”
“Stop it, okay? Please, Sophie, just stop with that,” Raina said, patting her shoulder as she held her. “I’m so sick of saying this, but I’m not Duvessa. I don’t know where everyone keeps getting this idea that I’m just like her, but I’m not. Okay? So you got a little drunk last night. So what? We all did, really. You didn’t do anything terrible.”
“But … I touched you without your permission. I touched you and I … I tasted you without your permission,” she confessed.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You never bit me…”
“No, I mean … I tasted you,” Sophie insisted as she pushed herself slightly away. She held up two fingers again. “You know … after I was … you know … touching you…?
Raina tried not to think about that. Now that Sophie had practically spelled it out for her, she did vaguely recall Sophie lying halfway under her as she was being taken by Thomas, and submitting to Sophie’s kisses and caressing. Raina had been so completely obsessed with both bloodlust and her sexual lust for Thomas that she had barely given a thought to anything that anyone else was doing to her at the time. It hadn’t bothered her then, but in hindsight, had she been more in control of herself, she probably would have refused Sophie then, just as she had after she and Thomas had finished their first coupling.
“Well … I don’t remember you going down on me, but…”
“No, no, not that. I just…” Sophie licked her own fingertips in demonstration. “You know?”
“Ah.” Raina paused, shrugged again. “Well … so?”
“So … it was wrong of me to do. It’s against the rules.”
“What rules?”
“The Code.”
“You seriously need permission for every little thing you do in the bedroom because of the Code?”
“No one can taste the blood or body of a High Court vampire without their permission, especially a Commoner. It’s in the Code. And I didn’t ask before I did it, and … I’m very sorry for it,” Sophie said.
Raina shook her head and waved it off dismissively. Some of the petty rules established by Duvessa’s interpretation of the Code in the past bordered upon being outright ridiculous. Apparently, those rules had been made so that Duvessa always had an excuse to “punish” someone for something. It was so absurd that she almost wondered what the penalty would have been if one of her consorts had mistakenly left a toilet seat up.
“Forget it. I’m not worried about any of that, okay? I’m sorry for the way I acted last night, too. So, y’know … let’s just call it a wash.”
Sophie looked almost mistrusting of Raina’s forgiveness. “Really? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’m just glad you could help set me straight on what happened last night, because I was really thinking I did a lot worse…”
Sophie looked away and bit down lightly upon her lower lip, clearly holding something back. Raina saw it and sensed it, and the implication wasn’t pleasant.
“Just say it. What did I do?”
The cute Commoner kept her eyes averted and shrugged her thin, pale shoulders. Again, a faint hint of a smile curved her lips, but she (unsuccessfully) did her best to restrain it.
“I was downstairs for most of it,” she said, “but I could hear everything. Thomas really gave it to you good, and … well …”
“What?”
“I’m not sure that I know how best to even say this. Actually, it’s none of my business…”
“Please, Sophie.”
“Well … I already knew that he was into it, just from the things I’ve heard him talking about,” Sophie began awkwardly, “but I never would have thought you were into it, too.”
“Just tell me, already.”
“Anal sex,” she said bluntly. “You know … butt love, going Greek, liquor in the front and poker in the rear…”
“Wait, you mean … I let him…?”
“Actually, you ordered him to do it.”
She just stared at her for a moment. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Oh. Well, then … I guess did,” Raina sighed, turning away as she felt her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. Yes, well … this certainly did explain a thing or two. “But … I don’t understand how you would’ve known I did that if you were downstairs.”
“Oh, you were, ah … you were a bit vocal.”
“Was I screaming in pain or something?”
“No, not at all. Quite the contrary, actually. We heard you commanding him to do it, being all official about it, and then everything you said after that made it quite clear that, ah … that you, um … well, you really seemed to enjoy it.” Sophie was again holding back a large smile as Raina glanced back at her with a rather horrified look upon her face. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong at all with that, your grace…”
Raina turned away and buried her face in her hands. “Please, please tell me I didn’t have an audience down there, just sitting around and listening to me…”
“Not really. Like I said, Serenity and her mates were having a bit of their own fun at the time, anyway. I’m not sure they even noticed because they were so wrapped up in their own business. I only noticed because I was by myself and just watching everyone else.” She smiled, poking a finger between her lips to nibble upon a polished fingernail. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but … honestly, just thinking back to all of it is making me a bit randy.”
And indeed, it was. She could clearly sense Sophie’s interests, not to mention the kind of look she was giving Raina’s backside as Sophie reflected upon what she’d witnessed. Raina felt her own hands trembling slightly, so she tucked one under her right arm and nibbled upon the knuckles of her other to make her anxious shame less obvious.
Great, so not only had she allowed herself to have a one-night stand with one of her servants on the very first night she was away from Loki, but she had done things with Thomas that she had never even done with her own consort. Sure, it was a relief to know that she hadn’t screwed everyone under the roof, but somehow the fact that she’d had an audience for it made it seem just as disgraceful.
Shaking her head ruefully, Raina sighed, “I just don’t get it. I just don’t understand how I lost control. Everything I did last night … I’ve never done anything like that before. I mean, I’ve been drunk quite a few times before … I mean, really drunk. Even as a vampire, I’ve gotten so hammered that I’ve blacked out. But I … I didn’t have that much to drink last night. In fact, I…”
She caught herself. In fact, I threw up just about everything I drank about an hour before then because I had another stupid panic attack. No, she didn’t need to go confessing to Sophie about how she had allowed stress to break her to a point that she’d nearly been throwing up her shoes. Sophie already had way too much dirt on Raina that she could easily use for blackmailing purposes, if she was so inclined. She supposed it was only a matter of time before these latest juicy tidbits of her sex life became public knowledge. At least a few things that people had already assumed about her or the accusations of varying depravity would soon be confirmed as facts. Sexual humiliation was bad enough, but Raina could conceivably deal with that. However, letting out the secret that the Grand Duchess was prone to anxiety attacks was something that would inevitably be used against her … and perhaps fatally so.
If the IVC lost faith in Raina’s ability to lead, one way or another, she would be removed. In fact, someone had obviously already come to that conclusion, hence the assassination attempt. Someone already saw her as weak and unfit to lead – probably Duchess Camille or another Elder, although she needed definite proof – but they were a probable minority among the IVC at that point. The public revelation that she suffered from a panic disorder, however, would probably sway the opinions of more than a few fence-sitters, and it could perhaps even reverse the views of some of her supporters. Okay, so she was wilder in the bedroom than even she had previously thought. She could deal with that, and so could the IVC. Being a sexual super-freak would have probably been considered a bonus. But to be an emotionally fragile and mentally unstable Grand Duchess? Not so easily forgiven…
“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I’ve been there myself a couple of times since my Change,” Sophie told her. “Bloodlust is a really crazy thing.”
Raina spun to face her, pointing to the wounds that remained upon Sophie’s wrists. “I can’t blame it on bloodlust when I’d already satisfied that first. It wasn’t bloodlust. It was just me acting like a total slut. Once I got a good taste of blood, I just … I lost my sense of reason.”
“But, your grace, bloodlust isn’t just about wanting blood,” she explained hesitantly. “Bloodlust is also about being under the influence of blood.”
Suddenly, Raina felt as naïve and uneducated about vampirism as the day she began her Change. Sophie could plainly see the shock and confusion upon Raina’s face. She suddenly seemed to regret her words, worried that Raina might become upset with her for having essentially made her look like a complete fool for being ignorant to something that was apparently common knowledge. Sophie tensed up a bit and actually backed up against the countertop as Raina stepped closer to her.
“You mean to tell me that all this time, whenever people are talking about the crazy things they’ve done in the middle of bloodlust,” Raina began with wide eyes, “they’re not just blaming it on having starved themselves?”
Sophie reluctantly nodded. “Yes, but … I didn’t mean to sound like I was correcting you, though, I swear.”
The realization of such a basic fact seemed to hit Raina like a physical slap across the face, causing her to close her eyes and turn her face away from Sophie for a moment. How could she have not been aware of this? She had long considered herself to be “on top of things,” to be “up with the scene,” as far as vampires were concerned, even as a human. It had been a part of the business, in fact, when she was a freelancing phlebotomist. How could such a simple, basic fact have escaped her for this long? The answer, of course, was quite simple, in itself: assumption.
“Oh, God,” Raina groaned, rubbing her temples and closing her eyes. “Oh, God, I am such a fucking moron…”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
The things she saw and read about in the news, about vampires that killed and maimed while in the throes of bloodlust, she had always assumed were referring to those that had been denied blood for so long that they were overcome with their lust for it. Bloodlust did, in fact, cause vampires to commit random acts of rape and murder, or in her own case to become snappish and look at every other person as a potential bedroom partner.
However, not only did the term “bloodlust” mean a craving for blood, but it also meant a state of mental impairment caused by the consumption of blood. She had always known that when vampires consumed blood, they were rewarded with a euphoric feeling of sorts that was not unlike that of an alcoholic buzz or even a narcotic high, but it had never occurred to her that such a state could be tied to that same common word. She felt utterly foolish, oblivious … and now betrayed, yet again.
“So, I actually blacked out because I had too much blood,” Raina said, half to Sophie and half to herself. “Serenity kept pushing me to get intoxicated one way or another, and since she couldn’t get me sloshed on booze, she got me drunk on blood.”
Serenity had indeed succeeded in seducing her, but not in the way in which Raina had tried to resist her. No, it was all quite clear now. Serenity preferred men, she knew that for a fact. Although she was attracted to Raina, Serenity’s plan had not really been to get Raina to have sex with her, although it had nearly gone that way. Serenity was an Elder of the IVC, a relatively young one, and her ascent to power had been through her skills of manipulation. She knew how to play upon everyone’s urges – particularly bloodlust, it would seem. She had apparently been aware of Raina’s naïve misinterpretation of the very term, and she had done everything she could to soften Raina up that night, to set her at ease and melt her into a putty-like state that she could mold to suit her own needs.
Serenity needed a protector, a guardian, because she was a far better lover than a fighter. Raina, oppositely, was a proven killer and politically the most powerful vampire in the world, but her love life had always been in a tragically pathetic state because she was a neurotic mess. What better way to win the Grand Duchess’s favor than by wooing her with an overwhelming feast of guilty pleasures?
Now, the room was spinning. Now, the little spots of color, the little flashes of light were appearing before her eyes. Now, her stomach was beginning to knot up, and those beads of cold sweat were forming upon her entire body with such suddenness that it nearly felt like she’d been doused with a bucket of ice water. Sure … now she was going to have that damned panic attack! Now, in front of someone whom she had already managed to embarrass herself before just a few hours earlier, she was going to lose it.
No. Not this time. Not now. She couldn’t let it win. She couldn’t let herself lose. Raina turned and faced the mirror with her eyes closed, clutching the faux marble surface of the countertop with fierce tenacity as she resisted her worsening vertigo. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils, filling her lungs completely, and then exhaled slowly, blowing audibly through her tightened lips. She tried to focus upon nothing, to think of absolutely nothing, to force herself into a meditative state.
“Your grace?” Sophie asked with a concerned voice.
Raina said nothing, tensely holding up her index finger to silence her. Just as quickly, she put that hand back down to help hold herself upright. She tried to think of nothing, only the act of breathing – calmness in, tension out. For the first time in a long while, she was resorting to what she had been taught so many years before – actively fighting to control her anxiety. For too long, she had found it easier to simply give into an attack when she felt it coming. She had gradually lost confidence in her own ability to fight off these attacks, especially after she had stopped taking those damned pills. Rather than fighting it and then ultimately losing and feeling that much worse when she lost control, Raina had given herself over to the strategy of surrender by simply letting each attack run its course. Giving in was no longer an option for her, especially now that she had a witness. Her reputation was at stake, and now her reputation was a determining factor in her very survival.
She felt Sophie’s hand upon her shoulder, and with a sudden twitch, Raina batted her servant’s hand away with a smack. “Don’t!”
“Your grace … you look like you’re about to be ill,” Sophie told her. “Are you all right?”
Raina put a finger to her own lips for a moment, and that brief distraction undid much of the progress she had begun to make in overcoming both her dizziness and her nausea. She felt her insides beginning to lurch upward, but she held fast.
Breathe! Breathe, you idiot! It’s okay. Everything’s cool. Nobody else is here. Nobody’s watching. Everything is cool. You’re fine. You’ll be okay.
Slowly, gradually, the half-heaves stopped, the spinning subsided, and her breathing became a bit less labored. She heard a snap and felt the corner of the countertop break off in her left hand. Oh well, no problem. It was okay. That could be fixed. Everything could be fixed, just like she was fixing herself right now. Breathing in deep, exhaling slowly, she brought herself back down. When she finally managed to open her eyes again, she was greeted by the sight of her own reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look as bad as she’d expected. Her makeup was good. Her hair was clean and almost smoothed out to where she wanted it. She wasn’t naked – well, not technically – and the towel wrapped around her was tucked in securely enough that she wasn’t at risk of flashing anything. She was good. Everything was cool. She was covered in a terribly chilling sweat, but that was all. She was safe. She was fine. 
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Sophie asked her worriedly.
“Yeah,” Raina finally said with a heavy sigh, “I am now.”
“Bit of a hangover?”
Raina glanced at Sophie’s reflection in the mirror and cracked a smile, answering “Yeah, I … I guess so.” She felt so glad for that easy excuse that she had to resist the urge to give Sophie a big hug.
Sophie chuckled and held up her right wrist in offering. The puncture wounds to her wrist were already half-healed, but still obviously recent. Dried smears of blood still remained around the small wounds.
“Hair of the dog?”
“Hell no,” Raina said, turning away with revulsion. Aware that she was being rude, she corrected herself: “No, thanks. I appreciate the offer, though.”
Sophie retracted her arm and leaned upon the counter beside Raina as she held up the piece of the countertop that she’d broken off. “So, you’re not gonna chuck?”
“Not right now, no.”
“Cool. Then Auntie O was wrong, I guess.”
“Wrong about what?”
“She was wrong about how you handle stress. She said you had a very weak stomach.”
Raina looked to her with a raised eyebrow. “She said that?”
“Yeah,” Sophie said with a nod, “but y’know what? If you don’t mind me saying so…?”
“Go ahead.”
“There’s not a damned thing about you I’d ever call weak.” She smiled as she moved closer, placing a hand upon Raina’s shoulder as she leaned in nearly close enough to kiss her cheek. “Just between you and me … I think Auntie O’s a bitch. I think she just said that because she’s still holding a grudge against you.”
“A grudge? Over what?”
“Over Duvessa,” she replied. She glanced back over her shoulder for a moment to the closed bathroom door. “Honestly … I think she really wishes she could be in your shoes, and she’s just trying to do what she can to pretend she’s something that she’s not. She’s jealous as all bloody hell that you’re the Grand Duchess and she never can be. Her and Duvessa used to see eye-to-eye on everything, so she used to be okay with that. But now that Duvessa’s gone and you’re in charge, she doesn’t like the way you’ve changed things.” She shrugged as she backed away. “But that’s all just my opinion … for whatever it’s worth…”
Raina stared at her for a moment, mulling over what that bit of inside information could mean. It did certainly explain Olivia’s desire to keep a personal distance from her, as well as her tendency to assume a mentor-like or even a motherly role to her, just as Duvessa had done. She saw Raina as being beneath her, as naïve and innocent as a young child. Regrettably, Raina also then realized that she had begun to take that sort of a position with Sophie, herself. Raina knew that Sophie was significantly younger than her, although she still wasn’t sure exactly how much younger. Raina was thus inclined to treat Sophie far differently than Svetlana, for example, who carried herself with far more maturity. It was wrong, it was stupid, it was petty, and it was not the way that Raina wanted to treat anyone, much less a way that she wished to be treated, herself.
As such, she turned to face Sophie, drew her close, closed her eyes, and kissed her directly upon the lips, fully and deeply. She didn’t hold back much, but she didn’t let the kiss go on for too long. She broke the kiss after a couple of seconds and looked directly into Sophie’s eyes as the pretty blonde licked her lips with a smile.
“Your opinion is worth a lot to me, Sophie,” Raina said to her. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“No problem … your grace,” she replied. Sophie leaned close, taking hold of Raina’s hips to pull her even closer. “If there’s anything else you’d like for me to, ah … share with you…?”
“I’ll be sure to let you know when I’m ready,” Raina answered with a shamelessly fang-flashing grin as she gently pushed Sophie away.
Sophie nodded, picking up the hair straightening iron and resuming her formal duties with a satisfied smile. Something was going to happen between the two of them before this little vacation was over – good, bad, or otherwise.

* * * *

Chapter Sixteen



Gold Canyon, Arizona

“What are you doing?”
Those four words were spoken firmly and with such sudden unexpectedness directly behind her that she couldn’t help but to gasp as she turned to face him. In her surprise, she nearly dropped the cell phone. His eyes widened slightly and his nostrils flared at the sight of the phone, and he immediately seized her slender wrist with his thick, strong hand.
“What is this?” Mister Giovanni demanded, plucking the phone from her grasp and holding it up.
“A cell phone,” she replied simply.
As soon as she said it, she regretted it. Even though she hadn’t meant it that way, her response would probably be misconstrued as being a smart-aleck reply. He didn’t hit her, though. Not yet, anyway.
“Where did you get it?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her. He moved closer, practically towering over her. He wasn’t extremely tall, nor was she especially short; his imposing presence just made her feel very, very small by comparison.
She hesitated, but not for long enough to draw his ire. “A … a friend gave it to me.”
“What friend?”
“A friend … at work.”
“Why? Why would someone give you a phone?” he persisted. “What is his name?”
“One of the girls I work with was being nice. She was worried about me after that wreck, and…”
Mister Giovanni snapped the phone shut, turned on his heel, and threw the phone across the spare bedroom with a baseball-like pitch. The phone traveled like some kind of a ninja’s throwing star; adding to the effect, the phone surprised her by punching a rectangular-shaped hole in the painted drywall, rather than exploding into several pieces like the last phone of hers that he had destroyed. Sure, she had lied about a co-worker having given her this phone. It was just a cheap prepaid wireless phone she had bought at a convenience store near her workplace. It had been worth less than fifty dollars. The last phone he’d destroyed had been worth three hundred dollars, not counting the one-hundred and fifty dollar early contract termination fee she’d also been forced to pay after he had smashed it to bits upon the concrete outside and then kicked the pieces into the swimming pool. The only cell phone he allowed her to keep was the one for which he had paid, himself, simply because he could more easily track her calls and place limitations upon who she could contact.
In spite of this violent exhibition of property destruction, he appeared quite calm as he turned back toward her. He always looked calm and polite when he was angry. This was when he was at his worst. If he’d read the text message she had almost been ready to send, he would have been even more enraged.
“You don’t need another phone,” he told her. “I gave you a phone, a very nice phone. Do you not like it?”
“Oh, I … I like it,” she lied, “I just thought, ah … it would be good to have a phone for, um … emergencies.”
He frowned at her. “What emergencies?”
“If … uh … someone else hits my car again … or something,” she replied awkwardly.
“You can call for help with the phone that I gave you,” Mister Giovanni informed her flatly. “I bought that phone especially for you. Just push the big number ‘1’ to call me. You do not need another phone to do that.”
She couldn’t help but to avert her eyes nervously. She was only good at lying when she had time beforehand to think up a credible story. She was a terrible liar-on-the-fly.
“They gave it to me because they said I needed it,” she replied softly. “I didn’t ask for it.”
“Well … now you don’t have it,” he told her. “Tell your friend to mind her own business. It is my job to take care of you. You are my responsibility.”
“Okay.”
He smiled, that creepy, fake smile of his that never reached his eyes. He bent over slightly and kissed her briefly upon the lips before caressing her cheek as he pulled back. “You are very special to me.”
“Thank you, Mister Giovanni.”
He stepped away from her calmly and walked back into the huge main den area, leaving her standing there in the spare bedroom. The rush of adrenaline was only just then beginning to flow throughout her body. One of the problems she’d always had in dealing with Mister Giovanni’s abuse was that it was always so random, so sudden, and so brief that she could never adequately prepare for it or defend against it. If she could foresee an incident well enough beforehand, she could have potentially armed herself, or at least done something better to protect herself from harm. All she had to go on, unfortunately, were the memories of past incidents.
He didn’t really have a rigidly established pattern of abuse. It wasn’t necessarily a list of specific things that set him off. He just had a strange free-floating sort of rage that occasionally manifested in physical abuse against her or the other girl(s). He was just as apt to let the big things slide as he was to totally snap over petty issues. She didn’t even have to be directly responsible for his moments of anger; more than once, he had flown into a rage over something completely separate, and then he had simply vented that anger by using her and/or whoever else was within reach as an outlet for that rage. Just as well, there had been times where she had been sure that he would have snapped because of events that would have surely caused anyone to become at least mildly annoyed, yet he had remained cool and calm. Perhaps he simply chose to bottle up his anger and unleash it whenever it was convenient for him…?
At first, she had wanted to simply blame it upon cultural differences. Maybe she just didn’t understand his ways because he had been born and raised in Italy. Men didn’t always treat their women the same in other countries as they were expected to in the United States. In fact, by comparison to some cultures, including the one into which she had been born, her treatment could probably be considered either normal or even downright good.
She was wise enough to know better, though. She knew that this was abuse, and she knew that there was no valid excuse for it, no way to rightfully forgive the bruises, the fractures, and other injuries. But just the same, she sincerely believed that her suffering was a necessary evil. She only endured all of this because there was no other way for her to attain the life she sought. She had to suffer now so that she could (hopefully) enjoy life later. And that time was coming soon. Oh yes, it was.
The end of Mister Dante Giovanni’s tyranny was nigh, and thereafter she could truly begin to start anew. She understood that there were risks involved, very severe risks with potentially lethal consequences. She could very well die in trying to escape from this life. If that happened … well, then perhaps it was just as well that she did die. Either way, she would be done with this. The foolishness, the humiliation, the pain, the anguish, and the longing for something better would be over. She remained hopeful. She had faith in her plan. She knew this would work … because it had to work. She was a careful planner. Life had given her a long, hard lesson in cautious planning. The last time she had dared to be impulsive, thinking emotionally rather than logically, she had lost everything. She could not afford to do that again, not when the stakes were this high.
Quite frankly, she did and didn’t know what she was getting herself into with this plan of hers. Again, for all she knew, she could very well have been simply trading herself from one master to another. The bondage into which she was preparing to commit herself was, without a doubt, a permanent situation. She was quite aware of that. But that commitment was, in itself, an empowering thing. Once she had left behind this weak, frail, and damaged body of hers, she would finally have the strength and the speed to defend herself against others like Mister Giovanni. She would not allow herself to become a victim anymore. If worse came to worse and she found herself serving another cruel individual, she would find a way out of it, and she would just do it. She would not be invincible, but she would no longer be weak. She would fight and she would win … or, if nothing else, she would at least be able to get away.
Alas, the cell phone’s destruction did present a bit of a problem. Actually … it was a huge problem. She hadn’t finished reading the text message that had just been sent. She hadn’t been given a chance to ask where and when the meeting was supposed to take place. They had agreed upon one place beforehand, but circumstances had required her to reconsider. Sadly, there were individuals with whom she worked that were stupidly loyal to Mister Giovanni. If they knew what she was up to, or if they at least suspected she was up to something, they would spoil everything. Making matters worse, because he was surely suspicious over her having a second cell phone, Mister Giovanni would be watching her even more closely now. Now, it would be even harder to get away from him, and that only made a difficult scenario even more complicated.
For one thing, the party she was meeting did not know what she looked like at all. She had tried sending a picture of herself, but that had failed. Sending and receiving pictures had been the main reason she had bought this second cell phone. Any picture she took or sent with the phone Mister Giovanni gave her would have been reviewed and thus drawn immediate suspicion, for he knew that she had never been one to take pictures of herself. The camera on her cell phone did not have a flash and the lighting in the house was far too dim most of the time to get a good picture without turning on a light, which would surely draw Mister Giovanni’s attention at this time of day – too much light bothered his eyes. The picture she had taken and sent had been so grainy and dark that it looked more like a silhouette, but it would have to suffice. She could only hope that the display on the other party’s phone was brighter and of a higher resolution than her own. Fortunately, however, she did already know the face of her friend – or rather, the faces of her friends, as she would be meeting all of them at once – and so she would simply have to hope that she could spot them in a crowd first.
Secondly, she wasn’t sure if the meeting time she had proposed would work out. If anything came up and there was a delay, she had no way to report the change in their rendezvous. If anything came up, she hoped that they would be patient enough to wait for however long it was necessary for her to arrive. If there was one thing that Mister Giovanni absolutely was not, it was punctual. He liked to do things on his own schedule, and everyone else was expected to accommodate his sometimes completely random reasons for being either very early or very late. It was one thing to annoy or inconvenience others, but the consequences of missing this “date” were particularly severe. She didn’t know her friend quite well enough to say with absolute certainty that she would be willing (or even able) to sit around for an extended period of time to await her arrival. Her friends were very well-known, not just locally or nationally but internationally. Someone might spot them and cause a scene. She had suggested earlier that her friends dress themselves as inconspicuously as possible. That might delay others from spotting them right away, but someone would surely recognize them if they wound up sitting there long enough.
If this meeting fell through, Mister Giovanni would likely find out about it. If he learned that she was planning to make an exit from his life, or perhaps to have him exit her life, then he would act accordingly by ending her life. Mister Giovanni was not someone that was ever “dumped.” He was always the one to end the relationship. She had heard stories. There had been other girls before, but as far as she knew, none of them were still alive, save for the blonde that co-habited with her and Mister Giovanni presently. Typically, the offer to become the bloodspawn of a vampire as wealthy as Mister Giovanni was considered an honor and a privilege, so certain kinds of women were drawn to him almost magnetically. Like her, they tended to overlook a lot of his shortcomings and abuses because the figured it was “worth it in the long run.”
However, as she’d heard, Mister Giovanni’s bloodspawn had always had a tendency to turn up dead or missing after a certain amount of time – usually when he became bored with them or if they expressed a desire to leave him. He had to know that she planned to leave him someday. It was only a matter of time before he offered his blood to her. As soon as she went through the Change, she would belong to him utterly and completely, and legally speaking, he would be within his rights as her Maker to kill her for any reason he saw fit.
He wouldn’t simply murder her. He had a reputation to uphold, a public and business image to keep up. No, she would supposedly “break up” with him and simply “move out” or “run away with another lover,” just like all of the others. When that happened, nobody would question what became of her. Nobody really cared. Nobody would ever miss her because she was the same as all of the other girls before – alone, desperate, and lacking any family ties or close friends that would complicate things. She would eventually vanish into total obscurity, almost completely forgotten, as her bones were picked clean by vultures in a remote desert to the south or forest creatures snacked on her remains in a thick woodland area up north. Someone might remember her in passing as “that one girl he had before,” but that probably would be about as far as it ever went.
Even if someone ever did care enough to dig deeply enough to learn that she had been murdered, nothing would ever come about as a result of it. Vampires were never prosecuted for killing other vampires, especially if it involved a Maker killing their own bloodspawn. He could make up any story he wanted. He could claim she’d slipped into bloodlust and gone rogue, forcing him to put her down. People would believe it simply because it was convenient. That was just the way things worked in this kind of society. Certain outcomes were not just accepted – they were expected.
She stood there alone, staring at the hole made by the cell phone that was now embedded within the wall. She literally shuddered at the thought of that. It was one thing to be lonely, but to live a life without meaning and to die before she could make use of her life seemed like such a senseless waste. Life was precious, and although she had already squandered far too much of her own, she was determined to make the most of whatever she had left, and in whatever way that she possibly could make it matter. Even if she failed to escape him, even if he caught and killed her before she could follow through with her plans, at least she would have been among the few – perhaps the only one – to have stood up to him and refused to be yet another one of his victims. One way or another, she would prevail.
If only she could have finished her text conversation with Serenity…

* * * *

Chapter Seventeen 



Sedona, Arizona

Raina always preferred to be ahead of schedule. Experience (and Lady Olivia) had taught her that it was best to always leave oneself a margin of error as wide as possible in all things. When she emerged from the bathroom, leaving Sophie alone to shower and change, she found that Serenity and the others were still soundly asleep. Thomas was awake but obviously in no rush to get out of bed. He lifted his head to glance at her, smiled slightly, and then laid back down to close his eyes. 
Raina never would have pegged him as bisexual, but he clearly had no qualms about a naked Lord Gerald still lying all snuggled up closely against him from behind. Then again, being that it seemed more the norm than the exception for vampires to swing both ways, at least amidst the High Court and its associates, it was probably silly to even feel surprised. After all, until her own Change, Raina hadn’t really felt an inclination to ever bed another female, including Brenna. Although, in hindsight, she often found herself wishing she had given in to Brenna’s advances much, much sooner, because it turned out not to be as big a taboo as she had initially believed it to be, anyway. Had she been more open-minded before, she wouldn’t have needed the physiological influences of her Change to permit herself to make love to Brenna. In fact, if she had given in sooner, and if Brenna had been her only Maker… 
Raina forced herself to shake off that thought and grabbed her briefcase and shoes, heading downstairs to the den. Her encased sword had been quite respectfully and carefully placed in the center of the coffee table. She wasn’t sure why she sought the comfort of it now, especially when the time for her anxieties had largely passed, but she didn’t feel right with the katana so uselessly restrained and inaccessible.
Anymore, especially since the assassination attempt, and then the duel against Duchess Camille, she had developed quite a personal attachment to her weapon of choice. She had been fond of swords of various types for at least a decade, holding a romantic sort of affection for them. Her love of blades was not for their potential to maim and kill, but rather for the history and the culture associated with them. A katana was not simply an overgrown and overdeveloped knife in Japanese culture; it was seen as an extension of one’s body, even regarded as something capable of having a soul of its own. She did not believe that her sword possessed its own spirit in a literal sense, but she did have her own odd belief that it accumulated a personal sort of history as it was used. In the same way that buildings, homes, and landmarks could supposedly absorb the spiritual or psychic energies released during times of strong emotion, thus resulting in things like ghosts and poltergeists, she suspected that a sword could also similarly take in some of those same energies. 
Raina took out the key she had stashed in her briefcase, scolding herself silently for having neglected the item by leaving it locked up when the potential still existed that she might find herself suddenly needing it. She inserted the key into the padlock, removed it, clicked open both latches, and slowly opened the case. The sword’s case was much like one that she would have expected to find holding a violin or guitar, although this was obviously different in shape and length. 
This sword had been used to kill. It had taken the lives of at least two individuals, perhaps even more in the time before she had inherited it. She wondered how many more it would claim in its time … or, for that matter, how many more lives she would claim, herself. Quite honestly, she did not long to kill again. Just the same, she would never hesitate to cut down an enemy if they threatened to kill her or anyone for whom she felt responsible. She had trained for years as a warrior, never even remotely having expected to ever use those skills in actual combat; now, she was essentially living a warrior’s life in the only literal, classical role that could be found in modern society. It was both an honorable and terrible responsibility. 
The four-foot case not only housed the sheathed sword but also a small maintenance kit for cleaning and sharpening the sword. She had been meaning to give the sword a proper going-over since it had been given its first taste of actual combat, but until then she had not had enough time to do so. Lifting the sword from its case and unsheathing it slightly, she could still see the faint smears left from the hasty wipe-down she had given it after the attack. Pulling it out completely, she could even see the hint of dried blood upon its leading edge from where the tip had sliced through a small part of Duchess Camille’s flesh. She hated to put a dirty sword into its sheath, for it was not only sloppy but also impractical. The last thing she needed was for her sword to stick within its sheath during an attempted draw because it was caked with the dried blood of her fallen enemies. 
Regrettably, she still had no time at the moment to deal with it. There were more pressing matters at hand. She re-sheathed the sword quietly and carefully set it down upon the table, closing the case. Filthy blade or not, she felt better having it out of its case and within reach again. 
She then slid her laptop out of the briefcase, clicked it open, and switched it on. Thankfully, nothing appeared to have been damaged during the flight over, as the system booted up quickly and was ready within less than a minute. While the system loaded, Raina also withdrew her cellular phone from the briefcase. When she attempted to power it on, the phone only remained on long enough to beep a low-battery warning at her once and then shut off again. Embarrassingly, she had forgotten to turn the phone off before placing it in the briefcase, and the already half-drained battery had depleted itself almost completely over the past day. With a sigh of frustration, she dug out the phone’s charger and located an electrical outlet in the living room near the fireplace. Much to her further annoyance, she only then realized that the plug of her charger was designed to fit into a completely different sort of outlet, as it was made for use in the United Kingdom. 
“Square peg, round hole,” Raina muttered to herself. “Shit.” 
She had fortunately brought along another charger that could be plugged into a standard 12-volt automobile power outlet. Alas, Raina would have to wait until Serenity or one of her consorts awoke so that she could gain access to one of their vehicles to see if the charger would work in there. The battery to her laptop was fully charged, at least for now, but she was sure that she would experience a similar problem when the time came that she would need to recharge its battery as well. She made a mental note to seek out an electronics store later that might have a converter, or at least a different plug to fit her phone and laptop. 
She hoped that if anyone was urgently trying to contact her, they would think to e-mail her private account if they were unable to reach her by telephone. Her laptop was equipped with a network card that allowed it to connect to the Internet via a WiFi connection. She was sure that even in a city like Sedona, there would be someone nearby with a wireless signal she could latch onto and use for a few minutes just to check on things. She searched for a local source and did manage to find one, but its signal strength was too weak to be of much use. Realizing that sitting indoors was perhaps limiting the reception of her laptop, she decided it might be worth the discomfort of going outside to pursue a better signal. 
Raina carried the laptop through the kitchen and toward the back door, watching the signal strength of the available connection as she walked about. It improved sufficiently as she was halfway through the kitchen, and so she was able to set the laptop down upon the island countertop in the center of the kitchen and log onto the Internet. She wasn’t fond of checking her e-mail while standing up, but she figured she should at least be grateful that the laptop was even working at all, given her luck. It certainly beat sitting outdoors and getting slowly baked by the sun while waiting for one page after another to be downloaded and displayed. 
After logging into her e-mail account, she was rewarded with a rather long list of unread messages. Adding to what was now a growing list of technological headaches that day, Raina was dismayed to discover that her latest e-mail address had apparently been leaked to at least a few unauthorized individuals. She had a public website with a message forum that she checked and sometimes used to communicate with some of her admirers, but she had found it quite difficult to obtain a private e-mail address that would stay private. This was the third time someone had either “hacked” her account or someone had learned of her new online address and spread it to the rest of the world. At least on this occasion, her account had not been hijacked and ruined, and instead only her address had been revealed so that a slew of fans could send her a small avalanche of messages. 
“Let’s see … spam, spam, spam, fan, spam, fan, fan, hate mail, spam, fan, fan, spam, psycho stalker, spam, fan, some language I can’t read, spam, fan … jeez, what a mess,” Raina mumbled as she browsed through the list of messages. “Guess I’d better close the floodgate.” 
Raina had specifically chosen to have her new address hosted on this particular site because it allowed her to block anyone from sending messages unless she manually added them to a list of pre-approved contacts. Additionally, they could not even submit a request to be added to her contact list without answering a few security questions. She had hoped that anonymity, alone, and the first layer of defense would be enough to keep people from swarming to her latest account, but apparently the second layer – the manual contact list – was going to prove necessary. The only option beyond this was to set her account for outbound messages only and to receive only replies to messages she had first sent. People that approached her in person were almost always quite nice and respectful; the Internet, on the other hand, seemed to attract every rude, immature, and malicious soul in the world with a keyboard or a smart phone. She activated the higher level of security and began the process of sifting through all of the electronic trash that had been dumped upon her doorstep, so to speak. 
She had become quite adept at speed-browsing her messages. In a second, Raina could tell whether each message was an automated advertisement or a scam attempt, a typical fan, an overly-devoted fan, a creepy stalker type professing a “love” for her and/or offering a marriage proposal, or a message from someone with whom she was actually trying to communicate. Simply sorting through the spam and other junk took the better part of ten minutes; once she had that part filtered out, she began to actually read each of the remaining twenty or so messages one at a time. 
“Your Grace,” Raina read aloud to herself in a hushed murmur, “I am one of your biggest fans. I’m so … dammit, I wish people would learn to use an apostrophe … I’m so happy to finally have a chance to e-mail you directly. Blah, blah, blah … doesn’t know the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’ … starts acting like we’re long-lost buddies … so on and so forth.” Raina clicked the reply icon. “Dear whatever-your-name-is … I appreciate your kind words. However, I’m sorry to say that this is a private e-mail account that I only wish to use for official matters. If you wish to contact me, you can reach me through the message forums at … let’s see … copy and paste the link to that site … and I will do my best to reply as often and to as many people as my time allows. Thanks … Me. Highlight everything, copy it so I can paste a reply to all the others, and … Send. Great, only a gazillion more to go…” 
This went on for another fifteen minutes. Apparently, her account had been revealed three or four days ago. As such, and due to the way her account sorted messages, she had to sort through all of the older messages first before she could close in on any of the more recent messages. It was a tedious process, but she certainly didn’t feel like paying someone else to do it. 
The first to really catch her attention didn’t come up until she was nearing the last five messages. The message heading was interesting, in itself – “Please forgive me” – and she recognized the originating address as being from, surprisingly, her own account. Had she taken to e-mailing herself in her sleep? The message was brief, and unfortunately far from amusing: 

Your grace, 
Please forgive me. I know I did was wrong. I do not want you hate me. I want you as a friend. I miss you. Please do not be mad to Loki. He was not wrong. I was wrong. Please punish me not him. I am very sorry. 

Svetlana 

Poor Svetlana’s English was even more incomplete in written form than it was when she spoke. The fact that she did not misspell anything was perhaps only by the grace of an automatic spell-check as she had typed it. Raina’s grammatical and punctuation pet peeves aside, what mattered was that Svetlana could convey what she felt. Raina didn’t need to rely upon any fancy High Court abilities to sense the sincerity in her words. 
Raina found her throat tightening as she re-read the brief message at least twice. With everything that had been going on, she had somehow successfully managed to distract herself into nearly forgetting about what had happened. She had known that she would have to deal with Svetlana directly at some point after having essentially run away from her. She still didn’t know how to feel about her, or about their friendship … if anything remained at all. 
She still felt betrayed by both Svetlana and Loki. Raina felt that she had already been betrayed so many times over the past year that she was seriously beginning to doubt if it was even worth trusting anyone at all. Even Serenity could not be trusted … at least not entirely. Everyone lied. Everyone had their own agenda. Everyone was only looking out for themselves and their own interests. And even though Svetlana, at her very core, was really a sweet and genuinely good soul, she had kept a very big secret from Raina that had been deeply hurtful. Friends weren’t supposed to keep secrets from one another, especially secrets that hurt. Friends weren’t supposed to steal each other’s lovers, either … although, again, Raina still had mixed feelings on that matter. Truthfully, Raina felt that she had acted selfishly by inserting herself between Svetlana and Loki without any prior consideration. 
Svetlana wanted to blame herself for this mess. Raina still cared enough about her to find that unacceptable. Logically, Raina was just as much to blame. In a sense, she could hardly justify her own reaction. Raina should have seen it coming. She should have had better control of herself from the start, anyhow. And anyway, sex wasn’t a big deal anymore – not amongst vampires, at least. Anyone else amongst the High Court would have seen the entire matter as a petty faux pas, as the only “wrong” thing about it was that Raina had not expressly given her consort permission to sleep with her servant. It could easily be taken as grounds for punishment, up to and even including execution if she were so inclined. Raina did not want that. She did not wish death upon anyone, really. She had expressed how hurt she was, and at least Svetlana appeared to be genuinely remorseful, so perhaps that was enough. Loki had appeared almost indifferent simply because he couldn’t quite fathom what the big fuss was all about. It would have been a total non-issue, if Duvessa had still been alive and in charge of things. 
With a heavy sigh, Raina typed out her simple, honest reply: 

Right now, I don’t know what to say. I’ll be home soon. We’ll talk more then. 

She sent the message without signing her name to it. If Svetlana could access her account, then she could figure out who its author was on her own. Raina managed not to tear up and ruin her eyeliner, instead taking a few deep breaths and again forcing herself to clear her mind before moving onto the next message, which was from Lady Olivia. 

Your Grace, 

I cannot seem to reach you by telephone. I hope that everything is well. I do hope that you return soon. As I am sure you have already been made aware, Duchess Camille is dead. While the Council appears completely sympathetic to you, I must say that the media is taking this completely out of context. They are doing their best to make a martyr out of her. I’ll never understand how anyone could pity a retched monster like her, but there are apparently more than a few such people in the world. I, for one, am quite grateful that she is dead, and I am proud to say that my Mistress was the one to defeat her. The other Elders, as well as the rest of the Council, clearly have a newfound respect for you as their leader.
I am doing my best to keep things in order here, but your presence will be necessary very soon in the Hall to oversee the election of another Elder. As of yet, the authorities have not found anything more about the men that tried to kill you. I do hope that you are more successful in America than these bumbling idiots. Please understand that I have my own emotional stake in this matter as well, and I wish as much as you to see those responsible put to justice. Not only did those men nearly manage to kill you, your grace, but they nearly killed my niece.
I have taken care of arranging services for Ethan, and I am in the process of negotiating proper compensation for the driver’s family. I do hope you will return safely, and soon. I have faith in you. May God be with you. 

Sincerely,
 
Lady Olivia Fallamhain 

Raina stared at the screen for a few moments in numb shock before minimizing the window and opening another browser. She quickly connected to a news website and opened the headlining article that was printed in large, bold type: Duchess Camille Richard Dead, Grand Duchess Raina Fallamhain in Seclusion. She sat in absolute stillness for awhile, completely stunned.
So, Camille had succumbed to her injuries. Wow. The cut that Raina had made to her shoulder had been rather small, although a bit deep, and by itself it should not have been fatal. However, that bit of silver introduced into her bloodstream, in addition to the skull fracture and severe concussion she had suffered, had proven substantial enough to bring about her death. The severity of her head injury had left her unconscious and unable to consume any of the nutrients her body had needed to repair itself – blood, of course – and because no one had apparently thought to give her a transfusion of blood directly, her body began a cycle of self-cannibalism that ultimately had proven fatal. The only photographs and video in the article were of Camille as she was carried out of the Hall of the High Court following the duel, and of stock footage and photographs of her in the past.
Nobody in the media seemed to know at the moment exactly where Raina was at, although they were speculating (correctly) that she had returned to the United States. The media was already trying to make it sound as though she had gone into hiding because she knew that she had killed Camille, as though she expected some sort of violent reprisal. That was all well and good, actually, because it provided a cover for her real reasons for being back in Arizona. Alas, it was only a matter of time before she would be found by the mob of cameras and microphones and the obnoxious people that wielded them. Once they found her, whether she said anything to them or not, the truth would inevitably come out. If she was to meet this mystery bloodspawn-to-be, this “Mistress Monsoon” person, and thus find out who was behind the assassination attempt, she would have to do so quickly before…
“Whoa.”
The voice came from behind her, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath upon her right ear. Raina gasped and stumbled away from Thomas, reflexively whacking him in the chest with her right arm. She stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed as her heart fluttered briefly in her chest, but she soon relaxed. Thomas was smiling only slightly as he stood there in nothing more than a black pair of jeans.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Raina finally said after a moment, clutching a fist above her left breast as though to feign a heart attack.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was just reading the news with you.” His smile faded. “So … she’s dead?”
She stepped closer and turned the laptop away from his view towards herself. “Apparently so, yeah.”
“When?”
“According to this … just a couple of hours after…”
Raina couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence entirely. She had killed another person. She had killed an Elder. She wasn’t afraid of someone coming after her for this; it was just the realization that she had killed yet another person that simply mortified her. If she had known, Raina might have been in a completely different mindset for the past forty-eight hours. She might have made a few different decisions. She might have been a bit less inclined to “party” as she had the night before with another Elder of the IVC.
Then again, perhaps she would have felt measure sort of pride for having vanquished an enemy in hand-to-hand combat. She wasn’t sure how she would have felt, really. Raina still hadn’t really decided how comfortable she was or how accepting she should be of killing people. Being that killing wasn’t really a matter of choice for her, though, perhaps it was a moot point to even think about it at all.
Thomas approached her, placed a hand upon her shoulder, and ran the fingers of his other hand through her hair, brushing across the pointy tip of her elf-like ear. He smiled that handsome, sexy smile of his, but he wasn’t trying to be seductive right now – just soothing.
“You did nothing wrong,” he told her, his Finnish accent a bit more subtle than Loki’s as he spoke. “I’m happy she’s dead. She was evil … like Duvessa.”
Raina nodded, her eyes drifting downward. Thomas’s chest was incredibly pale, not so much from his being a vampire as from his natural color, so the curls of hair that decorated his torso stood out in stark contrast. Thomas was not an especially hairy guy. Raina just wasn’t accustomed to seeing a male vampire with body hair or facial hair – one of the unique features of the Sabertooth race. His soft, dark brown, nearly black curls seemed almost deliberately arranged. It began as a broad blossoming form across his chest, narrowed to a stripe of sorts running down his firm, flat abdomen, and then flared out once again as it disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. She barely knew what the rest of him looked like, better remembering how he felt and tasted. Raina felt a definite urge to refresh her memory.
She refrained from acting out on her impulse to reach for the top button of his jeans. She had to behave. There were things to be done, prior obligations to be satisfied. She had satisfied her curiosity enough for awhile. Hopefully, there would be more time later, preferably in private and without an audience next time. She might even be brave enough to be sober the next time they coupled … although, for Raina, drunken sex had always been the rule rather than the exception…
“About last night,” Raina began as she turned away, folding her arms and leaning against the countertop, “I, ah … I just want you to know that … it wasn’t … I mean, I’m not like that. What I did was … reckless.”
“You didn’t like it?”
She glanced at him for a moment, unable to hold back the smile that came to her lips. “I won’t lie. It was good.” And just as quickly, her smile faltered. “At least, what I remember of last night was good. I can’t say I remember all of it. In fact, I barely remember anything about what we did.”
“It was the blood. You had a lot,” he told her, confirming what Sophie had said.
“Exactly. I don’t … do those sorts of things normally. I don’t want you to think that I’m like that when I’m sober,” she told him. “I have a bad habit of doing things that I really regret when I’m drunk. Usually, it’s just the alcohol, but I guess blood does the same thing to me. So … just so you know…”
“You don’t need to explain,” he said. “I know what you are saying.” She looked at him blankly, and his face appeared just as neutral. “I understand what happened. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. I don’t want you to think that I’m like that. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”
He nodded. “I understand. It’s okay. It’s cool.”
Raina stared at him for a few moments, initially suspecting that he was only joking with her. He appeared utterly serious, and she sensed as much in his emotions. He wasn’t sad or upset with her (or himself) at all. He really was perfectly okay with what had happened. They’d had sex. It had been random, almost accidental, and totally as a result of her drunkenness. Thomas didn’t care. He wasn’t complaining. Apparently, he was just glad to have been there for it. He wasn’t reading into it for anything more than it was. It was sex, and that was it. She found herself glaring at him almost disdainfully as she shook her head.
“God, I wish it could be that easy for me,” she told him. “Sometimes I really wish I could be that casual about it.”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because I’m a girl, that’s why. I get attached. Sex means more to me than it probably does to you,” she explained.
“Sex means a lot to me. But I know sex and love are different,” he said. And without needing to speak another word, simply with the look that he gave her, he may as well have added two more words: Do you?
“I don’t know.” She looked away with a sigh, rolling her eyes. “I really don’t know, anymore. I used to think that you were only supposed to have sex with someone that you love. And now, it’s like sex is something all by itself and … God, I’m not even sure that I know what love is, by itself.”
“It just is. It’s something that … you just feel. You just know it, and you … take it for what it is,” he told her, apparently having to search for the proper English words to fit his sentiment. “You don’t think about love. It just is. Love is just love. And sex is just sex.”
“So … sex is meaningless to you? It’s just a thing that you do, and that’s it?” she asked, looking to him once more. She wasn’t even sure why she cared what he thought – morbid curiosity, perhaps.
“No, sex is good. Even when sex is just sex, it can be very good. And sex with someone you love is very … amazing,” Thomas replied with an added smile. “I just like to … take things for what they are. I don’t think about these things much. I used to think about things too much, and it made me crazy. Life is much better when you just enjoy it instead of thinking about it.”
Even without using any fancy words, Thomas had one hell of a point. In fact, his tendency to word things simply because of his slightly limited vocabulary in English made it that much easier to understand. And just like that, a big piece of the puzzle that Raina had been missing just snapped into place.
“You’re right.” She smiled, pushing away from the counter and approaching him. “God, you make it sound so simple.”
“Life is simple,” he said with a shrug. “People make life … what is the word?”
“Complicated?”
“Yeah. Complicated,” he agreed with a calm nod. “Life is only complicated if you make it complicated.”
She frowned a bit. “All I’m doing is just trying to make sense of everything. And every time I start to think I’m figuring it all out … well … then I realize that I don’t know shit about shit.”
Thomas chuckled at that and drew close to her, putting his arms about her waist. She immediately leaned into him, closing her eyes with a sigh, and it felt right. No, she wasn’t in love with Thomas. She liked him a lot, both intellectually and sensually, but she was not in love with him. But she couldn’t deny when a moment felt true and proper, and that was one such moment. She allowed this Sabertooth to hold her, rocking slightly, and she breathed in the scent of his skin as she ran her fingers through the soft fur of his chest. It was comfort, plain and simple, and without any strings attached. Sometimes, that was all it took to make her day.

* * * *

Chapter Eighteen



Gold Canyon, Arizona

She looked better than ever. No, wait. Scratch that. She looked better than she had in months; before she had looked much better than this, and without needing to try so hard. Sometimes, covering up bruises, bite marks, cuts, and scratches with concealing makeup could take quite a bit of time. Normally, she only needed to be concerned with the marks visible upon her face, neck, and hands, as she could easily enough cover up the rest with long sleeves, stockings, and longer skirts. She would be taking to the stage tonight, though. She had to look her best with her clothes on and off.
She had made arrangements, pulled a few strings, and called in a few favors. She was honestly excited about the prospect of going out to work that night, feeling a tingle and hum of anticipation throughout her body that she hadn’t felt since the first night she had ever taken hold of a brass pole. It wasn’t the idea of dancing in front of strangers with money that thrilled her on this night. In fact, her enthusiasm was not only rooted in the anticipation of whom she would be meeting that night, but also the realization that this would surely be the last time she would ever have to subject herself to this lifestyle. On this night, she would put an end to a sad, pathetic chapter in her life and begin anew. There was always the potential for disappointment, but she could ignore that risk when there was also a potential for great relief and fulfillment. A future without potential was no future at all. 
Of course, none of this had Mister Giovanni’s blessing. He was completely oblivious to her plans. She had done everything that she could to keep them a secret from him and anyone else that was not directly involved. He might have already suspected that she was up to something, but if he did, he hadn’t yet made it apparent. Then again, Mister Giovanni was paranoid enough to always believe that someone was plotting against him.
From what she had heard, he had always been abusive and mistrusting of others, particularly women. It was a despicable trait that had only been made worse when he had been severely beaten in front of his business and social peers by Grand Duchess Duvessa and Lady Brenna Fallamhain. In his twisted mind, Mister Giovanni somehow felt that Duvessa had betrayed him, having disregarded their prior alliance when she had made a public spectacle of him for the benefit of her newest bloodspawn. He had used this as his justification on more than one occasion for being so obsessively mistrusting and for, as he saw it, needing to assert his authority and dominance over the women in his life. 
Well, none of that mattered, anymore. She would be out of his life soon enough. Or perhaps it was the other way around? She gave herself one last careful look-over in the glaringly bright lighting of the guest bathroom, posing this way and that, and testing a few facial expressions and motions just to be sure she had achieved the look she wanted. She didn’t want to be the subject of pity. She didn’t want to appear weak. She knew what this was all about. She knew how the game had to be played – and it was a game, really, but with very high stakes. To the best of her ability, she had to appear smart, confident, brave, and capable. She also had to appear sexy, desirable, and not the least bit shy. She didn’t know and honestly didn’t care whether sex would again be part of her future job description, but she figured that it couldn’t hurt to do her best to appeal to a vampire’s instinctual motivations. Whether straight, gay, or otherwise, every vampire could appreciate sex appeal, regardless of the gender presenting it. 
Satisfied that she had adequately taken care of her basic appearance, she quickly went about dressing for the evening. Honestly, these were not her nicest clothes. No, Mister Giovanni had provided her with quite a few expensive and elaborate outfits and accessories that made these things look quite cheap and perhaps tacky by comparison. She was his favorite bit of arm candy, and he wanted her to look her best when she was out in public.
However, these clothes were hers. She had selected and paid for these things herself, even before Mister Giovanni had become a part of her life. They probably didn’t look like much to anyone else, and that was fine with her, because she didn’t particularly want to stand out by dressing flamboyantly or by flaunting her pseudo-wealth. These were just things she had picked up at a couple of discount superstores, things that other dancers would have called “beginner’s rags” because they weren’t bearing certain brand names or logos – the kind of things that someone just starting out in the business might wear. A string bikini top and bottom under a mesh pullover shirt, a “pleather” mini-skirt, ordinary thigh-high fine-weave fishnet stockings, and some cheap patent-leather stiletto heels made up the outfit, all black in color – nothing particularly outstanding or potentially weird.
The only accessories she chose to add on were a few simple bits she’d been saving for a special occasion, which included a lacy black choker with a little skull-and-crossbones pendant, some pewter silver skull-shaped earrings, and a full set of matching stainless steel curve piercings for her left eyebrow, navel, and nipples – nothing fancy, really, except that the ball ends were shaped like tiny little skulls. The morbid skull theme was something she had originally pieced together for Halloween, but it held a bit of symbolic meaning for this particular night: the death of this life and (hopefully) the beginning of a new one.
She would have preferred something a bit more elegant, perhaps something less trampy or flirty, but again, she was shooting for raw sex appeal. And, anyway, this was far more comfortable than many of the other things she had. She hadn’t been allowed to dress the way that she wanted for quite some time, no thanks to Mister Giovanni. It was quite possible that the individuals she would be meeting that night would find this to be much more preferable than the pedophilic schoolgirl outfits or trashy porn-queen outfits that her master usually insisted she wear. She had only worn this outfit once before, and because Mister Giovanni objected to her looking like “a stereotypical vampire Goth slut,” she had been reluctant to wear it again for fear of triggering his wrath. She had leaned toward the Goth style in her clothing and interests for quite some time anyway, much to her family’s chagrin. But this outfit wasn’t reflective of the particular kind of Gothic style she favored. Alas, a corset and full-length dress wouldn’t exactly be practical when she expected to be up on the stage that same night. 
The house was utterly still and silent. Mister Giovanni had already left for the evening to attend to some unscheduled “business” that had him rushing out the door in a hurry. She was alone in the house, aside from the other girl. Mister Giovanni had left her a little “gift” to keep her occupied for the next few hours, and so she was busy in the master bedroom shooting up with it and would be no problem.
She had a hard time feeling sorry for the blonde, simply because the stark difference between herself and the other girl was that she was not a junkie. She knew that her relationship with Mister Giovanni was wrong and unhealthy, that it would surely only end with her death, and she actively wanted something better out of life. The other girl, well … as long as someone else was footing the bill for her addiction, she was sadly more than willing to do anything he asked, just so she could get her next fix. She was doing everything she could to get out; the other girl was doing everything she could to stay in. What made it worse was that, from the conversations they’d had, she realized that the girl knew better, but she was making a conscious decision to devote herself to this lifestyle. They just had two very terribly different concepts of what constituted “the good life”: safety, security, and personal happiness … or fame, fortune, and a seemingly limitless supply of drugs. 
She was finishing up the application of her eye shadow when she became aware of a strange humming sound. After a couple of seconds, the humming stopped and then, a second or two later, it resumed. Hurriedly, she reached for her nearby purse, grabbed her cell phone, and opened it. The phone showed no sign of an incoming call. The humming sounded again, coming from somewhere to her left. She was about to dig out her other phone when she remembered that Mister Giovanni had disposed of it a few hours before. Amazingly, not only was it apparently still functional but also capable of receiving a call even as it was sitting inside of a wall. 
She hurried out of the bathroom and turned to her right, looking at the rectangular-shaped hole left in the wall. Mister Giovanni had already earlier instructed her to conceal the damage by taking a small framed picture from another room and nailing it up over the hole, hiding it neatly until a handyman could come by sometime later in the week to patch and paint over the spot. She hurriedly yanked the picture off the wall, immediately seeing a dim glow of blue light inside of the hole. There could only be one person calling that phone, and she absolutely had to catch the call before she missed it. She didn’t always get a call from the same number, and the number of every call she received from her was always listed as “Restricted.” If she missed this, she had no way of calling back. 
The hole was perhaps four inches by one inch in size, just big enough for her to slip most of her hand into the wall but not enough for her to actually grasp the phone and bring it back out. In an immediate panic, she looked about for something she could use to widen the hole. She thought about using the heel of one of her shoes, but figured that would only result in breaking the heel and getting nowhere. Still holding the framed picture, she elected to try opening up the hole by thrusting a corner of the frame at the wall. With the first blow, the thin wooden frame crunched, and with the second, the glass of the picture frame shattered loudly. She narrowly escaped injury from the jagged pieces of glass that fell to the floor at her feet as she immediately leapt back. 
Cursing under her breath as her pulse quickened to a flutter of near-panic, she tossed aside the ruined picture frame, glanced around a moment longer, and then faced the hole in the wall with a sigh of resignation. She knew it was only drywall, not even that thick, and she knew that it shouldn’t be that hard to get through, but she wasn’t keen about the next idea that popped into her mind. She didn’t have time to waste, and she could think of nothing else in immediate reach to try. Steeling herself for the potential for pain, she balled her right hand up into a fist, drew it back, and punched at the wall. The drywall caved in easily, though it painfully scratched the back of her hand and wrist as her fist penetrated into the wall completely. 
With her right hand stuck in the wall, she fumbled about blindly for the phone, but quickly realized that the very act of punching the wall had knocked the phone down a bit father, again just out of her reach. She could feel her fingertips brushing against it, but then heard it moving downward in the wall as it began to vibrate once again, gently sandwiched between the drywall and the pink fiberglass insulation – something that already was irritating her skin as she desperately tried to grab the phone. 
Cursing once again, quite loudly now in her sheer panic, she yanked her hand out of the wall and punched at it again, slightly below the four-inch circular hole she had made. The wall gave in, but it offered much more resistance this time, and the impact seemed to reverberate throughout her entire arm all the way up to her shoulder. The pain was immediate and so strong that it was almost numbing, and for an instant she feared that she may have broken something. She winced and withdrew her hand, flexing her fingers to make sure she was okay. Already, there was blood upon her knuckles. Nevertheless, she clenched that hand into a fist once more, drew it back, and punched through the wall once again. The surface caved in, but didn’t completely open up, and as she drew back to hit the wall again, she saw the red smears that she was leaving with every blow. 
Really, she did know how to throw a punch. In fact, she had a fair bit of martial arts experience. But her training had almost exclusively pertained to the use of weapons, with a bit of empty-hand grappling experience thrown in. Her knowledge of striking was limited to what she had seen in movies and what her training partners had taught her. She had never broken a board in her life. She could handle a sword or staff nearly as adeptly as the samurai hero of any classic martial arts movie she’d seen. But sadly, it had been years since she’d even set foot in a dojo, and she still “punched like a girl.”
She punched through the wall one more time and reached inside. This time, she heard the phone fall down quite a bit farther, nearly to the floor. Feeling hot tears of frustration welling up in her eyes and dimly becoming aware of the almost animalistic keening sound that was escaping her, she allowed desperation to overtake her. The hole was big enough now that she could insert the fingers of both hands into it and pull back upon the drywall. She had to lean against the lower wall with her knees and lean back with all of her body weight as she did so, but the wall began to surrender to her destructive efforts. With a crackling and ripping sound, she broke off a significant section of the sheet rock and peeled back some of its paper-like covering. The hole was now at least a foot and a half in size, but it only revealed a section of that itchy pink insulation material.
The phone had stopped buzzing. 
“No! Aw, c’mon, no!” she gasped breathlessly. She drew her right arm against her body and rammed her shoulder against the wall with everything she had. Again, the drywall cracked and buckled. “Oh, God, please! Please!” 
Within a few seconds, she had managed to make that moderate hole into a gaping maw of devastation within the wall, having broken off and torn away large segments of the sheet rock. By the time she finally reached the phone, she had created a vertical opening at least four feet tall and a foot wide, exposing the wooden studs of the house frame. She snatched up the phone and grabbed it, letting out an almost insanely giddy sound of elation as her fingers finally closed around it and withdrew the phone from its confinement. The knuckles of her right hand were bleeding and throbbing with pain, so much that she could barely move her fingers properly to open the phone, and her black clothes were now smudged with a chalky white dust in places where the exposed sheet rock had brushed against her. She didn’t care. She had the phone now … for what little good it was to her. 
“Shit!” she cried as she immediately saw that the phone’s shiny outer plastic casing was cracked right across the external digital display. 
Having to use both hands to manipulate it, she opened up the flip phone and saw that the LCD screen was so badly damaged that the bottom half of it was completely unreadable as it lit up. She could barely make out the edge of a message that unsympathetically informed her that she had missed five calls. The icons at the top of the display indicated that she had both awaiting text and voice mail messages. She had been trying desperately to reach her. 
Realizing that she would have to navigate blindly through the menus to at least check her voice mail, she tried pressing the directional buttons of the phone to access her account. Her hands were trembling terribly now with the rush of adrenaline. She had to press the button several times very firmly to get it to respond at all, and when she tried to press the “Send” button to call her voice mail inbox, nothing happened. She pressed it again and again, frantically, but to no avail. 
The sudden buzzing of the phone with another incoming call caught her with such surprise that she yelped and dropped the phone. To her horror, the short fall from her hand to the hardwood floor was apparently the final coup de grace for the cell phone, as it seemed to practically explode upon impact into several pieces – the main body of the phone, the battery, the battery cover, and a few tiny random pieces of plastic. She stood in complete stillness for several long seconds, staring at the wreckage of that small bit of technology that had been her lifeline to the outside world, the thing that was essentially her boarding pass to the last Heaven-bound flight available out of Hell. She was too crushed to even cry. She was just stunned, shocked, and utterly lost. 
Wait … no, that wasn’t right. She realized that she was overreacting. It was just a phone. She had another. She still knew the basic game plan. She knew where they would be meeting, and they had already agreed upon this night and that particular location for their meeting. However, things had changed. For one, Mister Giovanni had left early, his whereabouts were now a mystery, and she had no idea when to expect his return. Secondly, the exact time of their meeting had become questionable, again due to unforeseen circumstances. And lastly … she still hadn’t managed to get a proper picture of herself out so that she could be positively identified. She had meant to take a picture of herself as soon as she was done getting ready, so they would know exactly who to look for. But … now this. Everything was changing. Everything was falling apart.
Well … no, not entirely. No, she had to get control of herself. She had to keep her calm. She couldn’t afford to lose her cool now. She still had this thing under control. She could manage. She could improvise. She could adjust and adapt. She had to. If she didn’t, then she would have to… 
“What the fucking shit?” 
She turned toward the voice with a gasp and staggered away until she bumped painfully against the doorway of the bathroom with her right shoulder. Mister Giovanni’s favorite junkie stood before her in little more than a pink silk robe cinched tight about her tiny little waist. Her hair was a tousled and frizzy mess, and her eyes appeared so dark and sunken, her eyelids so heavy, that she looked zombie-like. The blonde was still high as a kite, and she had a relatively fresh needle track in her right arm with a small ooze of semi-dried blood from her latest fix. It had been a few hours since she’d watched her hook up and shoot up, but she had expected her to be lying about like a limp noodle for at least an hour or two longer. Either she hadn’t used as much this time, or she was simply building up a tolerance for it. 
She finally regained her composure enough to erase the look of panic from her face as she dismissively said, “Don’t worry about it. Go back to bed.” 
“Look … look what you fuckin’ did! He’s gonna be pissed as hell when he sees this!” she exclaimed, her words coming out slowly as she remained halfway trapped within her dream-like state. 
She shrugged as she glanced at the blonde, heading back into the bathroom. “Oh well.” 
“Oh well?” The blonde followed her inside as she began to hurriedly gather up her makeup items and stow them away. “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? You just destroyed a fuckin’ wall!” 
“Don’t worry. It’s not your problem,” she told her. 
As ever, she was annoyed by the knowledge that when people were either high or drunk, they always seemed to think they were far more sober than they were in reality. As such, she knew that nothing she could possibly say would convince the girl to just mind her own business. That’s just how the girl was, high or not, because this sad blonde had a backwards opinion that she was going to protect her from Mister Giovanni, when in fact it was the blonde that so often had to be saved. Taking the blame for things she didn’t do, telling white lies now and then to cover for her, preventing her from choking to death upon her own vomit … that sort of thing. 
“What the fuck? Don’t you fuckin’ care?” she demanded slowly. Like so many others in the scene, and particularly of the younger generations, she had a particular affinity for the F-word, using it as a “filler” in nearly every sentence. “He’s gonna positively fuckin’ freak the fuck out when he sees this!” 
“Yeah, you’re right. He will,” she admitted with a nod as she zipped up her makeup bag and dropped it into her purse. She yanked a nearby hand towel from its holder on the wall and began to brush off the white dust from her clothes. “Don’t you have some smack to do, or something?” 
The blonde squinted her eyes at her cluelessly. “What?” 
“You know … smack, dope, heroin, happy dust, whatever…?” 
“I already did, stupid. Didn’t you see me earlier?” 
She stared at the girl. “You did all of that?” 
“Shit yeah! What, like … did you think I was just going to just … fuckin’ … save it for a rainy day?” she asked with a dopey smile as she leaned against the doorframe lazily, bonking her head against it with a mild thud. 
“You’re going to kill yourself someday.” 
The blonde shrugged and chuckled lazily. “Nah. Bitch, I’m cool like that. I got my shit together tight, yo. I know what I’m doing.” 
“If you say so.” 
She finished brushing herself off and gave herself another examination in the mirror. Her hair was a bit mussed, having come loose from the neat ponytail into which she had tied it back. She took out the ruffled elastic band that held it back and began to smooth it down again to tie it back once more. In the mirror, she saw the blonde behind her turn and stare at the mess on the floor in the hallway as though she had only just then noticed it. 
“Holy fuckin’ shit,” the girl exclaimed slowly and lazily. “Man, he’s gonna lose his fuckin’ mind when he sees this.” 
“Yeah, you said that already.” 
“No, I mean that phone,” she said with a sloppy gesture at the shattered device. “That’s not the one he gave you. You know he doesn’t want you using anyone else’s phone. Remember when he threw mine out the car window?” 
“Well … it’s broken now.” 
As she finished tying back her hair, she saw the blonde reach into a pocket of her robe and pull out her own phone, a slim, one-piece model with a tacky-looking protective shell encrusted with lots of fake pink diamonds – her “bling-bling cell.” She froze in her actions as she watched the blonde begin to push a few buttons upon the phone. 
“What are you doing?” 
“Calling him,” she replied calmly. 
She spun about to face her with wide eyes. “Why are you calling him?” 
“Hey, I sure as fuck don’t wanna get blamed for this shit!” the blonde informed her as she pointed to the destruction in the hallway. “If he comes home and sees this, he’s gonna think I did this when I was high or some shit…” 
Feeling another swell of panic washing through her, she sprung out of the bathroom as the blonde turned and began to walk away. She reached over the girl’s shoulder and plucked the phone from her hand, immediately pressing the “End” button on the phone before the call could even be connected. 
“Hey! What the fuck?” 
“Please,” she said as calmly as she could, “don’t do that.” 
“Bitch, gimme my fuckin’ phone back!” 
She had to hold the phone high up and away with one hand as she held the girl back with the other. “He’s not going to blame you for this. I did it, and he’ll know I did it.” 
“Bullshit! He’ll blame it on me as soon as he sees it!” 
“No, he won’t,” she insisted. “I’ll tell him that I did it.” 
The blonde stopped trying to grab for the phone, took a step back, and drunkenly eyed her over. “Do you think I’m fuckin’ stupid or something?” 
“I never said that.” 
“Man, even if you told him you did it, he’d still take it out on me. You know that! He does that shit all the time because you’re his favorite little pet!” the blonde cried. “You’re his little pet bitch and you can do whatever you want because you know he won’t kick your ass like he will mine.” 
“He’s kicked my ass plenty of times. I’ve been with him a lot longer than you have.” 
“Yeah, you’ve been with him longer,” the blonde agreed, “and that’s why you’re his fuckin’ favorite!” 
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for this…” 
“No? Why not? Where the fuck you going, all dressed up like that?” the girl demanded as she placed her hands upon her slim hips. “You’re dressed like you’re gonna go work the club or something.” 
“That’s the plan.” 
“Yeah, right! Dante don’t let you hit the stage anymore, ‘cause you’re his little fuckin’ princess! He put a stop to that shit as soon as I came along. He doesn’t wanna share you with anyone else because you’re so fuckin’ special!” she said mockingly. The blonde narrowed her eyes at her again. “Why the hell would you wanna go work again, anyway? What, he’s not giving you enough money? Or do you still get a thrill out of showing yourself off?” 
“Neither,” she said, “but you’re better off not knowing.” 
“Why not?” 
“The less you know, the better.” 
“Why? What’re you gonna do?” The girl looked into the bathroom and saw the bag that she had packed and left sitting upon the countertop next to her purse. “You’re not really thinking of leaving, are you?” 
“If you really must know … yes, I am.” 
The blonde looked at her disdainfully. “Bitch, you crazy!” 
“Yeah, I’m crazy all right. Now, if you don’t mind,” she said, stepping past the blonde toward the bathroom, “I have a cab to catch pretty soon.” 
“What? Are you serious?” 
“Yes.” 
“You’re really leaving?” 
“Yes.” 
There was a long pause as she entered the bathroom, gathered her things, and walked back out. The blonde was still standing in the hall and staring at her with a look of utter disbelief. 
“But … why?” 
“Because I can’t do this anymore. I’ve tried to tell you a hundred times before,” she said. “The longer you stay with him, the more likely you are to turn up dead someday. After awhile, when you’re starting to look too old and too beat up for him, he’ll find someone else, then he’ll make you his bloodspawn so he can kill you legally and then have someone hide your body.” 
The girl stared at her with dumb disbelief. “Nuh-uh.”
“Believe me. I know. I saw it happen to the two girls that were here before me,” she explained. “The first one he turned about a week before he moved me in here. Then one night, about two weeks later, she said something about what Lady Brenna and the Grand Duchess did to him. He beat her up really bad, carried her out, and drove off with her. I never saw her again. The other one threatened to say something about what happened to the first girl, and then the next day someone found her body. She died from a drug overdose behind a club in Scottsdale.”
The blonde stared at her blankly for a few moments. She snapped her fingers in front of the girl’s face a couple of times before finally bringing her out of her momentary trance.
“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she insisted with a sleepy nod, “them other bitches disappeared. Yeah, whatever…”
“If you’re smart,” she told her, “you’ll get out of here as soon as you can. You probably should leave tonight.”
The stoned girl gaped at her with a genuine deer-in-the-headlights look. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Should I go with you?”
She hesitated. She wanted to help the girl, but she had always figured her to be a lost cause, a hopeless mess. The young woman had wanted this life, after all, having deliberately chosen her path and stubbornly adhered to it. The fact that she was addicted to heroin and a few other things only added to the problem, as her withdrawal symptoms would be hell … assuming she was even willing to give it up, anyway. She didn’t know whether to take the girl’s question as a cry for help or just a drug-hazed request for direction.
“You decide,” she replied. She paused, meeting the girl’s stare directly. “Do you want to go?”
The blonde mulled over that for a moment, blinking slowly and curling her lower lip a bit. Finally, looking away, she shook her head.
“Nah. It’s all good. If he really starts treating me bad, then I’ll split. Until then … fuck it. I’m all right,” she said confidently. She looked at the debris on the floor and the hole in the wall once again with a slightly worried expression. “So, are you gonna, like … fuckin’ … y’know … tell him you’re leaving? Or something?”
She shrugged. “He’ll figure it out.”
“Oh.”
“You’re not going to tell him that I’m leaving … are you?”
Now it was the blonde’s turn to shrug as she replied, “Nah. Like you said, he’ll figure it out.”
“Good.” She hesitated for a moment or two. “So … you’re staying?”
“Yeah. You go ahead. I’m fine.”
She clutched her purse in one hand and slung the larger beige canvas bag of her essentials over her left shoulder, freeing up her right arm. She had an urge to give the girl a farewell hug, but then she realized the pointlessness of it. It didn’t matter that they had seen and heard and experienced things together that ordinarily would have seemed like emotionally bonding things. It didn’t even seem significant that they were both essentially slaves to the same master. The girl was more like a co-worker to her, and a distant one at that. She wasn’t even sure a handshake was warranted.
It was sad. She cared, she really did, but … she also realized the futility of caring. She had done well to keep to herself, to avoid getting close with this one. She still could not think of her as anything else but “the blonde girl,” because to put a name to her would make it too easy to relate to her plight and, if she went away like the others before her, it would be that much more difficult to deal with her death.
It was infuriatingly tragic. It made her feel cold and bitter and selfish. Why should she be allowed to escape to freedom while this girl was left behind in slavery? It almost made her reconsider the idea of leaving … almost. It was simply a matter of choice: she had made her choice, and the blonde had made hers. There was no sense in pushing the issue, because the blonde was stubbornly committed to her decision. The girl would only dig in her heels and resist if she tried to drag her along. Some people could not be saved if they did not want to be saved.
She forced herself to look away at last, staring at the floor of the hallway leading into the main living area. With a sigh, she finally said, “Well … good luck with that.”
And with that, she walked away, never looking back as she walked through the den, through the dining area, the foyer, the front doorway, and out into the red glow of the setting desert sun. Behind her, the security alarm of the house began to beep. It would sound a silent alarm that would notify the security company that would, in turn, relay the alarm to Mister Giovanni. Inevitably, he would return in a hurry. By then, she would already be long gone. That was okay. She wasn’t going far, at least for now, but it didn’t matter. By the time he found her again, she would already be safe … or at least that was the plan.
It seemed like forever since she had last seen the sun. The dark sunglasses helped, but it still stung her eyes. She felt a bit like a prison escapee that had been tunneling her way through soil to crawl under a fence. In spite of all her planning and efforts, this part of it had seemed like the hardest moment of all, and yet she did it without the slightest bit of hesitation or real fear. She almost didn’t care anymore – almost – because she knew better than to breathe a sigh of relief until she knew for a fact that it was over. One way or another, it would be over, and very soon. And when it was over, then she could breathe that sigh of relief … or, barring that, she could at least let out one last ragged death rattle before closing her eyes forever. Either way, what bliss.

* * * *

Chapter Nineteen



Raina found herself smiling for most of the drive. She didn’t consider herself to be a car nut by any means, but the chance to finally get behind the wheel after so long was a much-needed change. She was tired of being chauffeured around, tired of being waited upon hand-and-foot, and tired of everyone kissing her ass – or, as Simon would say, kissing her arse. Something as simple as driving a car and directly being in control of where she was going was a refreshing bit of freedom. Serenity had thought Raina was a bit odd for so adamantly insisting upon being allowed to drive as they traveled from Sedona to Phoenix, but she had not denied her this small joy.
It was an added bonus that the car she was driving was a more modern counterpart to the car she had last owned and driven, a Lincoln Town Car. This model was much more plush and cozy than the one she had owned, and a great deal more powerful and better-handling. She found the satellite radio and its impressive audio speaker system to be a major perk, flipping through a slew of stations before settling upon a hard rock station that suited her tastes. Thomas and Sophie had no protests and were even smiling as Raina turned up the volume just enough to feel the thumping bass of the system’s subwoofer in the trunk.
Serenity and her consorts rode in the other Lincoln that followed them as they headed southward on Interstate 17 for the next couple of hours. She didn’t resent the Elder’s company, but she knew that the drive would have seemed so much longer if she’d been forced to ride along with her, especially if Raina hadn’t been allowed to drive. Presumably, the music they were listening to in that other car was of such a calm, tame, relaxing nature that Raina would have surely fallen asleep and driven off the edge of a rocky cliff or something.
Her only real complaint was the issue of temperature. Her photosensitivity was so low that her resistance to ultraviolet light was nearly equal to that of a human. Thomas, however, was a fair-skinned Sabertooth and Sophie was a Commoner, meaning that, out of the three, she was the most susceptible to harm by sunlight. The darkly tinted windows of the car were a big help, but that alone was not enough protection. They had slathered on a liberal application of high-SPF sunscreen everywhere their skin might be exposed, and they had dressed to cover themselves as best they reasonably could to avoid being burned at all. Unfortunately, Thomas’s leather jacket and Sophie’s long-sleeved cloak were simply too hot for the early autumn Arizona weather, a problem made even worse as they passed through the mountainous midway region of the state and descended into the lower elevations that were much warmer. The outside temperature was in the mid-nineties as they neared Phoenix, and the only way to avoid baking her two servants to death was to crank the air conditioner and blower fan up to full power. While her servants were barely comfortable, Raina was positively freezing, a state made embarrassingly obvious by the thin material of her blouse … which, of course, was inevitably noted by both Thomas and Sophie with nudges and smiles.
At one point, still roughly an hour away from the heart of Phoenix, Raina turned down the volume of the radio to a murmur and glanced at Sophie in the rearview mirror. 
“So, now that the three of us are alone for a little while here,” she began, “I’ve got a few questions for you.”
“What about?” Sophie asked as she moved forward to lean upon the back of Raina’s seat.
“I need your absolutely blunt, frank, honest opinion on this whole thing,” Raina said. “What do you think of this deal? I mean, as far as my coming down here and agreeing to take this total stranger as my bloodspawn…?”
Sophie lifted a corner of her mouth and gave a shrug of her shoulders. “Seems all right with me. And Auntie O’s been saying that you need to add more people to your bloodline, anyway. So … why not?”
“Well … what if this is all just a big, elaborate set-up? What if this is all just a scam to trick me into coming out here under false pretenses so someone else can try to kill me?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the road as much as possible but occasionally glancing at Sophie.
Sophie chuckled. “You think the Duchess is setting you up?”
“Well … no, not really,” she admitted, “but the thought did cross my mind. I mean, it’s possible. I don’t distrust her, but I also know that I can’t totally trust her. She’s a manipulator. She tricked me into doing what I did last night so that she could try to butter me up and get me to let my guard down.” She looked at Thomas in the mirror. “I don’t necessarily regret what I did. I just don’t like the fact that it wasn’t exactly my idea. Serenity steered me right into doing almost exactly what she wanted.”
“I don’t think Serenity is a problem,” Thomas offered calmly, “but I don’t trust this Mistress Monsoon person.”
“And why’s that?”
“We don’t know her. We know nothing about her.”
“Yeah, he’s absolutely right,” Sophie agreed. “What if it turns out this woman isn’t who she says she is, or if she doesn’t really know who tried to kill you? What if it turns out that she doesn’t even exist? I mean, even Serenity doesn’t know what this person looks like, so how can we be sure?”
“Well … she did show me that picture of her on her cell phone,” Raina said with a bit of uncertainty.
The photo she’d been shown had been too grainy, too dark, and too vague to really pick out many distinguishing features. The woman had dark, straight hair and appeared to be Asian … or possibly Native American … or Hispanic … or perhaps even African-American. Really, the picture was hardly more than a grainy, vague silhouette than anything. The picture quality was really that poor. The Phoenix area’s demographic made the idea of searching for anyone of that vague a description to be worse than searching for a needle in a haystack. There were far too many people in the area from Mexico, the surrounding Indian reservations, and immigrant families from East Asia to make the description mean anything at all. In fact, in all honesty, they couldn’t even be sure this person was female – what if she was a long-haired male, a cross-dresser, or even a transsexual? Without a name or an address or even any specific distinguishing features, they may as well have been expecting to meet an alien from outer space.
“All we know is what Serenity knows,” Sophie said, “and even she doesn’t really know this person as well as she first made it sound. Honestly, I think she let on that she knew this person a lot more than she really does just to convince you to come down here. The more I heard you trying to get details from her, the more it seemed like she was just making all of this up as she went.”
Raina nodded in silent agreement. Sophie was no more confident about this scenario than she was, and Thomas was nodding in concurrence, as well. Being honest with herself, Raina knew that she had thrown herself into this deal head-first simply because she had been so damned desperate to get away from London. She hadn’t thought it through well enough to consider the fact that, quite frankly, it was a stupid and naïve idea to buy into one of these “friend of a friend” arrangements.
Just as well, it was probably just as stupid and naïve of Raina to have so readily trusted an Elder of the IVC. By their very nature, the High Court were a race of deceptive and controlling bastards, and the IVC were the elite manipulators and most adept political artists of the vampiric world. Nothing came without a price. They did nothing without expecting a favor in return. That, alone, was bothersome to her, but even worse was the realization that she didn’t even know what sort of debt she was forming for herself to Serenity for this endeavor. By agreeing to this trip, Raina realized that she had essentially handed Serenity a blank check.
“Serenity is not the problem,” Thomas said again as he sat up a bit. “The problem is that we do not know who this person is, or if they are who they say they are. What if this person, this woman that wants to be your bloodspawn … what if she is the one that tried to kill you? Or what if she works for that person?”
“Well … then I guess we’ll just have to deal with them in person,” Raina replied with a shrug after considering that for a moment. “We might be walking into a trap, but I’d rather deal with my enemies face-to-face instead of fighting my wars through everybody else. That whole proxy war thing … that’s something Duvessa would do.”
“Well, Duvessa was over two hundred years old,” Sophie reminded her.
Raina felt herself cringing. Now, she felt even dumber for simply being there. Duvessa hadn’t lived as long as she had by making stupid and careless decisions. She had others do her dirty work because her servants and her consorts were expendable assets. Placing herself in harm’s way any more than was absolutely necessary would not only have been foolishly reckless, but simply impractical.
As Grand Duchess, Raina should have known better than to take stupid, daring risks like this. Making personal visits to take care of business was something that should only be done rarely to increase the impact of its shock value and only in situations where any violent outcome was assured to be in her favor. The only reason that Duvessa had visited Arizona in the last hours of her lifetime and thus placed herself on the frontline was because she had run out of soldiers to send forth as cannon fodder for Countess Wilhelmina. Duvessa hadn’t even dared to be present when someone was being added to her bloodline, as she had even delegated that grand ceremonial task to Duke Sebastian.
Even knowing that, Raina insisted, “This is the only way I can put a stop to this. I can’t just lock myself up in my own home and hope that the authorities find and catch whoever tried to kill me. It would never happen. Sooner or later, whoever wants me dead will come for me wherever I try to hide. Everyone in the IVC would see me as a coward, they would lose faith in me as their leader, and they would probably even volunteer to help kill me … assuming they aren’t already doing just that.”
“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” Sophie mused with a sigh.
“We’ll just have to play this as carefully as we can.” Raina thought for a moment. “You know, I’m not so sure I like this whole idea of letting the other party say where and when we’re going to meet. If I’m going to be playing it safe, I’d think it would make more sense to let me pick a time and place.”
“What if she can’t do that?” Thomas asked.
Raina raised an eyebrow at his image in the mirror. “What do you mean?”
“What if this woman can only meet you in that one place and that one time? What if she really does know who wants to kill you, and that person is … umm … what if that person is her boss?” he suggested.
“Good point.” She considered that, and then shrugged. “Still, we should have some kind of a backup plan. If things go wrong, I don’t want any of us to wind up dead.”
“We need guns.”
“Sure,” she said with a smirk, “but who else here besides me knows how to use one? Hell, even I’m not that good with one.”
“You were good enough the other night,” he replied with a smile of his own.
He meant it as a compliment, but Raina’s sense of humor evaporated. She didn’t like to be reminded of the fact that she’d killed anyone, much less a human being. Killing was a necessary evil in her position, she realized, and killing someone again in the future was a serious potential, if not an inevitability. Just because she was fully capable of death-dealing and that she had accepted her role as a warrior did not mean that she was obligated to be happy about it. There was no joy in taking another’s life … not really. Perhaps in the heat of the moment, the feel of it might be agreeable, but when she had time to reflect upon it, the idea of ending someone’s life seemed terribly wrong and tragic because the very concept of death, the absolute finality of it, utterly horrified her.
“I have my sword, and that should be enough for me,” Raina said. “I would feel better if the two of you were packing heat, though.”
“I can shoot,” Thomas said.
“Yeah, me too,” Sophie chimed in with an enthusiastic nod.
Raina turned to look at her briefly. “Where the hell did you learn how to shoot a gun in Britain? Isn’t it pretty much impossible to get one over there?”
“I’ve been to other countries, you know. I got to tag along with Auntie O whenever we went to Finland,” she explained. “Loki’s family lives out in the country. We all got to go out back and shoot at things, and he showed us how to shoot.”
“Pistols, shotguns, and rifles,” Thomas said with a confirming nod. “Loki’s family has many guns. Duvessa hired him because he has training.”
And that much was true, she knew. Loki had served as a chauffer for the House of Fallamhain, for the most part, but in reality he had been hired as a bodyguard of sorts. He had taken professional training courses in driving and a large number of weapons. He still was not much of a swordsman, but he could handle a knife nearly as well as Raina could swing a katana. The fact that Finland had far different gun control laws than the UK was something that Raina had never stopped to really consider, much less the fact that Thomas’s shared country of origin with Loki and their casual friendship meant that he had some experience, too.
This was not what made Raina’s spirits drop. Really, her sudden frown had nothing to do with guns or edged weapons or driving ability or any of those things. She was only saddened by the realization that she had never met Loki’s family. His parents were not resentful about the fact that their son had been employed by Duvessa, nor were they upset that he had ultimately become a vampire, himself, when Raina had accidentally forced the Change upon him. Raina was essentially married to Loki, and yet she had never met a single member of his family, with whom he still communicated quite often. Of course, for Loki to meet Raina’s own parents would have been something of a non-event. The conversation would have been sadly one-sided, and the meeting quite unremarkable, as it would have only involved visiting a mausoleum where her parents’ ashes were kept.
Now that things were essentially over with Loki, she would likely never get to meet the groom’s parents, and never know whether or not they approved of his bride. Did they think so poorly of her that they still had never wished to meet her? It was probably just as well. Raina thought poorly enough of herself, anyway, for what she had done to their son. It all would have simply been too awkward.
“I think we could probably get some from a store in town,” she finally said, “but it would probably be a big hassle to find a place willing to sell guns to vampires.”
Sophie gave her a strange look. “But … this is America. I thought everyone here could have a gun…?”
“Not exactly, no,” she said. “It’s not illegal for a vampire to own a gun in Arizona, but gun store owners have the right to refuse a sale to anyone. They don’t want someone down the road to sue them, or they don’t want it on their conscience if the guns they sell to vampires wind up being used in murders or something. In fact, as I remember it, Loki had to be the one to buy guns for everyone when Duvessa came here because he was one of the only humans that came along. And even then, he had to buy them from a private party and not a gun store.”
“Well then, we could just disguise ourselves as humans, couldn’t we?” Sophie suggested.
“Forget it. One way or another, they’ll know you’re a vampire,” Raina explained with a sigh. “It’s not impossible for us to get a gun legally, but they’ve sure made it pretty damned hard. Meanwhile, just about any redneck hillbilly with a fistful of cash and a clean record can just walk into a store, buy whatever he wants, and then go out and hunt vampires like we’re a bunch of animals.”
“That hardly seems fair,” Sophie said.
“That’s because it’s not meant to be. We’re the dregs of society, the scum of the earth.” She looked at Sophie with a sad smile. “We’re monsters, remember? We don’t get special privileges. In fact, we should probably consider ourselves grateful that we even have what we’re allowed by law, as it is. Not too long ago, professional vampire hunters were still allowed to track and kill vampires.”
“They still do,” Thomas said, “but now they work for the FBI.”
“The Bureau of Vampire Affairs, yeah,” Raina agreed. “I’ve already had a conversation or two with some of their agents when they came to ask me some things about Duvessa. I guess I’ve been lucky so far. They haven’t decided to try to take anything she did and pin it on me, instead.” She thought about that. “Then again, it’s only been a few months. Maybe I just haven’t had enough time to piss anyone off yet.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Shit. I’d better just shut up before I make myself completely paranoid.”
The rest of the drive was conducted in relative silence. The issue of attaining firearms went essentially unresolved from that point onward, which only added to Raina’s underlying worries and dread of another impending disaster. They had edged weapons, and that was it. If anyone drew a gun on them again, they were done. Raina’s only hope for safety rested within the possibility that her enemies were just as clueless as the media regarding her whereabouts. This would perhaps afford them enough time to locate this Mistress Monsoon woman, begin her Change to thus make her a formally protected Fallamhain, and then head back to the relative safety of the Fallamhain Estate in London. Of course, that was assuming that this person was genuine, and that the wrong people would not be the first to get their hands upon her. And, of course, that also presumed that they could even manage to find this person, about whom everyone seemed to know absolutely nothing.
Their first destination was the hotel where they planned to stay the following day. Raina had somehow expected Serenity to select the same hotel in which Raina had publicly undergone her Communion of Blood, allowed herself to be seduced by Duvessa, and then later killed Countess Wilhelmina in front of a large audience. Thankfully, she opted for a totally different venue, selecting a historic and very old but very upscale hotel in the heart of downtown Phoenix. They were immediately met at the front by a group of finely-dressed valets and busboys that took their luggage and parked their cars as they headed inside.
As they walked through the main lobby to the front desk, she saw the receptionist’s face melt from a bright, cheery, welcoming smile to uncertainty and then ultimately something bordering upon terror. Raina had managed to conceal her pointed ears with her hair well enough that she could have easily passed for human at a glance. Serenity, however, was as vain as ever about her High Court genetics, as she swooped back the hood of her white wool cloak to reveal her identity readily. Her blonde mane was tied back fancily in a way that displayed her ears proudly. The group of seven assorted-race vampires approached with Raina and Serenity leading side-by-side. Serenity stepped up to the desk, smiled kindly, and spoke with the sweetest, most innocent-sounding tone of voice that she could, hoping to put the startled receptionist at ease.
“Good afternoon, dear,” she said. “We would like to check into our suites for the evening.”
“Um … yes, of course,” the receptionist replied awkwardly, visibly forcing herself to smile and try to appear indifferent. “Under what, ah … what name was your reservation?”
“Jennifer Chambers,” Serenity replied surprisingly, apparently using her given human name. “I had reserved three full suites.”
The receptionist was a mature but attractive and well-dressed Hispanic woman with streaks of blonde highlights in her dark brown hair. She hesitated as she began to enter the information into the computer under the edge of the countertop. More than once, her eyes flicked to Raina. Whether the look itself was responsible or if Raina was actually picking up on a human’s emotions quite clearly seemed uncertain, but either way, her apparent focus upon Raina with such uneasiness was beginning to make her feel just as anxious. The woman fidgeted as she appeared to wait for it to display its information, and then an even more distraught look passed over her face as she saw something on the screen before glancing up at the group of vampires. She glanced over her right shoulder, then her left, more than once, before finally looking to Serenity.
“Ah, could you, um … would you mind waiting one moment, please?” the receptionist asked, moving away before Serenity could even respond in agreement.
The woman was acting completely spooked. Raina could understand that the appearance of any one vampire, even more so a group of celebrity vampires, could be a bit unsettling for many people due to so many myths, misconceptions, stereotypes, and presumptions about the race, as a whole. But this woman was acting particularly odd for some reason, most curiously seeming to fixate her fearful attention upon Raina most of all, even though she was arguably the most human-looking of the entire group.
The receptionist went over to a nearby desk with another receptionist, next to whom a balding man in a fine dark blue suit was standing. She almost timidly got his attention, interrupting the man’s conversation with the other receptionist, and gestured with a nod in Raina’s direction as she murmured something to him.
“Who?” the man asked with disbelief. The woman murmured it again, and the man turned around to face the group with an expression that similarly flashed close to fear for just an instant before he managed to restrain his reaction. After a moment, he leaned toward her, patting her shoulder, and could be heard saying, “Go take a break. Let me handle this.”
The man was a tall African-American with a thin, long face, close-cropped hair that was balding at the top and thinning toward the front, clean-shaven, and sporting a rather bland dark blue tie that matched his suit jacket. He forced a more successful superficial smile as he approached the desk.
“Hi, good evening,” he said with one of those professional tones of voice that was just a bit louder than necessary. “How are you all doing tonight?”
“Quite well, sir, thank you,” Serenity replied brightly.
“I’m Kyle Tucker. I’m the general manager of the hotel,” he introduced himself quite proudly. “What can I do for you all?”
“We would like to check in to our suites for the evening before going out to dinner. I made reservations for three full suites.”
“Excellent! And under what name was this reservation?” he asked. Not only did he speak just a bit too loudly, but he spoke slowly and drew out his words at the end of each sentence in an almost condescending sort of tone that Raina despised. She did her best not to let her automatic dislike for him show as he kept glancing at her, just as the receptionist had.
Raina sensed a bit of tension from Serenity as she responded in a gentle, polite tone of voice. “Jennifer Chambers.”
“Jennifer … Chambers,” the man repeated as he typed the name into the computer at the desk. He waited a moment, and then his smile faltered. He pretended to cringe and sucked in a hiss of hair between his teeth for a moment before looking up and shaking his head slightly. “I’m sorry, madam, but I don’t seem to have that name in the system.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I don’t seem to have any reservations for a Jennifer Chambers anywhere here. Let me check the main list to be sure. Perhaps it was spelled incorrectly,” he replied, tapping in a few keystrokes and then reaching over to click a few times with a nearby mouse device. A second or two later, he shook his head and looked up again with an apologetic look that was surely insincere. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t have a reservation under that name anywhere on my roster.”
“There must be some mistake. I called well in advance to make reservations.”
“I’m sorry, madam, but I have no records showing a reservation under that name,” the man said in a slightly deeper voice.
Serenity’s smile just barely slipped, but Raina could sense her growing agitation. Still sounding very diplomatic and seeming undeterred, she asked the manager, “Do you have any suites available that we might take, instead?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” the manager replied immediately without even consulting his all-important computer. “We tend not to have any vacancies at all through this time of year, and so reservations are an absolute necessity.”
“Well, I did make reservations with your staff in advance two nights ago, sir…”
“And I’m sorry, but as I’ve said, I have no record of those reservations anywhere on file, madam,” the man interrupted rudely but in a professional tone. “Most reservations we take around this time of year are made weeks or even months in advance, actually.”
“Really? Because the receptionist that I spoke with two nights ago said that you actually had quite a few rooms available,” Serenity replied.
“I’m sorry, madam, but she must have been mistaken because what I’m seeing here is that we are fully booked,” the manager replied, glancing at his screen and tapping a few random keys – probably not for any reason other than to appear to be making an actual effort.
Raina let out a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes as Serenity remained polite and diplomatic as she continued to try to reason with an obviously unreasonable man. She knew what was going on. She had seen it before, and had experienced similar discrimination in the past when she had been to a few places with Brenna. There was a certain portion of the human population that held a bigoted opinion against vampires in general, sometimes even against the people that associated with vampires. The discrimination was every bit the same as others of certain human races, religions, ethnicities, or other specific groups had faced much farther in the past, the kind of discrimination that was now prohibited by law. Apparently, though, people saw the issue of humans versus vampires in a totally different light that made hypocrites out of even those who had been discriminated against, themselves, in the past.
“Sir, do you realize exactly who we are?” Serenity demanded, finally beginning to lose her cool.
“Actually, yes, I do know who you are,” the man replied, narrowing his eyes at Raina as he said it, “but that does not change the fact that we do not have your reservations on file and this hotel does not have any vacancies this evening.”
“Forget it,” Raina said, touching Serenity’s elbow to get her attention. “Let’s just go somewhere else. This guy’s just being another racist asshole.”
“I beg your pardon, madam?”
“You! You’re being a racist asshole,” she repeated boldly in a more firm, louder tone of voice as she drew closer to the desk. “You had her reservations on file and as soon as you saw that we were vampires, you decided to delete them and play dumb about it.”
“Actually, madam, that is not the case at all,” the man stated flatly. “As a matter of fact, this hotel does not, as a policy, discriminate against anyone on the basis of any race, including vampires. In spite of what you are insinuating, we are, in fact, fully booked this evening. But quite frankly, if I did have any reason to refuse your reservations, it would not be on the basis of your race but for the fact that I am required as the general manager of this hotel to take the safety of our other guests into consideration.”
Raina blinked at him, stunned. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am absolutely serious, madam,” the man insisted firmly. “The last major hotel that hosted the House of Fallamhain became a virtual slaughterhouse. The property damage, alone, cost thousands of dollars, and their public image and business reputation was affected dramatically by what happened.”
“Yeah, it was affected, all right,” Raina agreed bitterly, “because a bunch of people have turned that place into some kind of a vampire Mecca. I know. I’ve been there. The place looks better than it did before, and they’ve already had thousands of tourists pour through there to take a tour. I’ve heard they’re even talking about making a museum on the site, too.”
Serenity nodded and looked to the manager with a satisfied smirk. “If anything, I would say that what happened there was a boon for their business. But I can assure you that nothing like that will happen now.”
“I’m not about to take that risk. I’ve been watching the news, madam. I know what’s going on with you people,” he said. He somehow managed to make the words “you people” sound filthy and degrading. He gestured rudely at Raina, pointing right at her face. “Someone has put a price on your head, and everywhere you go, people are dying all around you because of it. I’m sure you’ve already forgotten about it, yourself, but don’t think that I didn’t make note of the fact that your driver, an innocent bystander to your affairs, was killed during that last big event you had over in London. It’s a miracle there weren’t more people killed or wounded as a result of what happened there. If someone is trying to kill you, madam, then I’m sorry but I am not about to place the lives of my guests or my staff at risk by letting you stay here.”
“So, you lied just a moment ago when you told us you didn’t have her name on file,” Raina said more than asked. “You really did just delete her reservation.”
The manager had a very calm but resolute look upon his face, almost smug. “I do sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, madam.”
Raina and the manager locked stares for a few moments before she finally turned away with a frustrated sigh.
“I would think that you would understand that concern more intimately than anyone else here,” the manager continued in a lower, stern voice. He paused for a moment as Raina looked back at him over her shoulder through a veil of her own hair as a few strands slipped forward into her view. “I know what happened to your parents. I don’t think that anyone in this city has forgotten about that. So you, of all people, should understand the concept of collateral damage. You know what can happen when innocent people get caught in the crossfire.”
There was a general stillness and silence amongst everyone as Raina stared at the manager for several long, hard moments. At last, as her vision began to blur and her throat tightened painfully, she looked away. Serenity put a hand upon one of her shoulders, and Sophie instinctively moved close, touching her other hand.
“That was a terrible, cruel thing to say,” Serenity scolded him in a rather hushed tone.
“No … no, he’s right,” Raina finally said, turning to gently brush away the Elder’s hand. She nodded at the manager. “You’re right. I guess people do have a habit of getting killed around me. I’m like a walking bull’s eye. These people with me, my friends, they’re aware of that and they’ve accepted that risk … presumably, anyway. But innocent people are innocent people. I don’t want anyone getting hit by bullets that are meant for me.” Her voice was practically strangled, but she forced herself to stand up straight and keep her composure in spite of her misty eyes and overwhelming emotions. “What I said to you was completely out of line. I’m sorry.”
“That’s quite all right, madam. I understand,” the manager said, clasping his hands together and straightening his shoulders with a very satisfied look.
Raina turned briefly to a visibly stunned Serenity before beginning to walk away. “Let’s get out of here.”
“But … but, your grace…”
“For God’s sake, just let it fucking go,” she half-sobbed as she stormed toward the front door.
“Have a safe evening, madam,” she heard the manager call out behind her.
Raina put on her sunglasses and struggled to contain herself as she burst out into the early night and began to pace about with her arms folded tightly under her breasts. She did not cry. She could not afford that, not now, not in public. Hadn’t she humiliated herself in front of Serenity and everyone else enough, already? The last thing she needed right now was for some lucky camera-toting parasite to snap a photo of her in the middle of yet another emotional meltdown. She could control herself better than this. She was more mature, more stable than this, wasn’t she? Well, ordinarily, yes, and she had kept herself in order … until her parents had been brought into it.
Serenity was right. It had been a terrible, cruel thing to say. But even so, the man had gotten his point across effectively. He wasn’t being a racist, as she’d initially figured. He just didn’t want to be legally responsible for anything that might happen. And Raina certainly didn’t want to be the cause of anyone else’s death, either. Too many people had died because of her, already … including her parents. What right did she have to put anyone else through that?
While Lord Gerald asked the valet to bring back their cars and reload their luggage, Serenity and the others gathered around Raina. Serenity tried to embrace her, but she shrugged her off immediately.
“Don’t,” she said firmly. “Please, just don’t.”
“I only mean to comfort you,” Serenity said softly. “I know how deeply his words hurt you.”
“I’m dealing with it. I’ll be fine,” Raina insisted. She closed her eyes for a moment and sniffed back her emotions. “I appreciate it, though. Really.”
“I’m very sorry, your grace. This is entirely my fault. If I had made it clear from the start whom we were when I made those reservations, none of this would have happened,” she explained sadly, trying unsuccessfully to take hold of Raina’s hand. “We’ll find another place to stay. Gerald, dear? Could you…?”
“Already on it,” he replied as he held a cell phone to his pointed ear.
“Thank you.” Serenity moved to stand directly in front of Raina. “It’s not your fault. Remember? We discussed this. You’re blaming yourself for things beyond your control.”
And there it was. The opportunity for anger that Raina had sought as a means for escaping her sorrows presented itself at last. Anger was easier to deal with than sadness. Anger could be controlled and channeled, but sorrow could only be bottled up and stored deep inside where it could slowly leak and slowly corrode her soul from within. Raina took that anger and made use of it. It wasn’t hard, because that resentment had been waiting for a moment of release for a few hours, now.
“Stop it, all right? Just stop with that shit,” Raina hissed angrily. “Stop trying to pretend that we’re so close, because we’re not. We’re not friends. We’re business associates.”
“But … last night…”
“Last night? Everything between us last night was bullshit, Serenity. I spilled my guts to you because I thought you cared, because I thought you really were trying to help me. But the whole time, all you were really trying to do was win my trust so you could use it. You need me to trust you so you can get me to do what you want,” she told her. “You know what you are? You’re a puppet master. You seduce people so you can get inside of their heads and make them do whatever you want. You’re manipulative, you’re deceitful, and you’re only concerned with your own agenda … which, in other words, means you’re just like everyone else in the IVC.”
Serenity stared at her blankly for several long seconds, silent and still. Everyone around them had become still, as well, equally shocked that Raina would suddenly lash out like that at her. Raina could sense the swirl of emotions racing through Serenity as they stared at one another, and she could feel that her words had hit home.
Serenity was hurt, honestly hurt, but at the same time she also seemed to realize that she had been caught. The guilt was there, ready and flaring up immediately. As it did, Raina knew that she wasn’t simply unloading her own emotions on the gorgeous blonde High Court for the sake of being mean. Her suspicions had proven to be grounded firmly in reality, after all.
“I … I don’t know what to say,” Serenity stammered after a few seconds. “I’m shocked that you would even think to say something like that.”
“Well, I’m shocked that it even needs to be said because it’s so fucking obvious!” Raina countered viciously, nearly standing face-to-face with her. “You’re all the same, all of you uppity, aristocratic, holier-than-thou Elders! You all got to where you are today by fucking and killing your way to the top. You must think that because I’m new to the scene, I’m too stupid and naïve to figure it out for myself. You think that you can treat me just like all the other people you all have fucked and killed over the years. I am not your puppet, Serenity. I’m your leader. I’m the bitch that pulls the strings in this game. So, don’t you dare think for a second that you can get in my head and fuck with my emotions. Don’t expect that you can sweet-talk your way up my skirt or pretend to be my friend or my lover, just to get me to do your dirty work.”
“That’s not true, Rain— … your grace, that’s not true!” Serenity protested, reverting to formality as her voice began to break with emotion. She actually dropped to her knees before her upon the red carpet under their feet, clasping her hands together in pleading. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to use you! I only want to help you!”
“Help me?” Raina echoed, raising her voice slightly. “Are you saying I’m weaker than you? That I need your help because I’m not capable of helping myself? Are you saying I should depend upon you? Is that it?”
“No, your grace! I didn’t mean it like that!” Serenity said with very real tears trailing from her eyes now.
Raina felt something inside of herself growing, something bad, something dark, and even more horrifying was the realization that this pleased her on some level. She realized that what she was doing, the way she had so suddenly and strongly turned against Serenity, probably looked atrocious and seemed unjust and unwarranted. But really, thinking of it even as she was doing it, she realized that this truly was justified. She had every right to be this angry with Serenity, to convert her sorrow into a productive rage that had a legitimate use. Serenity had been trying to use her, was still trying to manipulate her, and Raina was sick to death of being used and manipulated. She hated dishonesty. She hated the lies. She was even beginning to hate Serenity on some level, simply because she was so fake. Her New Age religious virtuousness, her supposed concerns for Raina’s well-being, her efforts to appear so much different than everyone else in the IVC, and now their very friendship … all of it was bullshit. She was simply glad that she had been awakened to this reality before too much damage could be done.
She suddenly remembered the length of steel that was strapped across her back. With a terrible, dreadfully foreboding sound of metal dragging upon metal, Raina drew the sword and took it into both hands. Serenity’s eyes went wide with fear and she began to sob as she pleaded for her mistress to spare her life. The world began to become very, very small for Raina in that moment. The sounds of anything around them became irrelevant, the presence of anyone else nearby now oblivious. The universe now consisted only of Raina, Serenity, and a cold length of sharpened steel in Raina’s hands. It was the same feeling she got in the highest moments of sex, except her intentions had far less to do with orgasm and far more to do with bloodshed.
“Please, your grace! Please, please … blessed Goddess,” Serenity bawled, literally crawling toward Raina’s feet, beseeching her. “Please don’t kill me! I meant no wrong! I never meant to offend you!”
Raina flipped the sword about to reverse her grip upon it, raised it up, and brought it back down swiftly, stopping it abruptly. The tip of her blade hovered just above Serenity’s left shoulder blade. With just a quick downward thrust, Raina could impale the treacherous High Court, skewer her heart with a length of sharpened and silver-coated steel, and end this beautiful but dangerous creature’s life.
“I could kill you right now,” Raina said aloud, perhaps more to herself than even to Serenity. Hearing those words spoken somehow made it that much more real. “I should kill you.”
“No! Blessed Goddess, no! I beg of you!” Serenity wailed, touching the toes of Raina’s shoes with her fingertips and caressing her feet almost reverently as she sobbed.
“I should kill you, Serenity … but I don’t think you would even understand why. It would be pointless,” Raina told her. “What good is it to punish someone when they don’t even know why they’re being punished?”
“I lied! I’m sorry, your grace! I’m so sorry! I lied to you!” the blonde cried. Raina took half a step back and raised her sword higher, not trusting her as Serenity lifted her head to look up as she spoke. Tears streamed down her cheeks, glistening wetly and making the subtle glitter of her makeup stand out even more. “I should have been honest with you! I should have just told you everything right away!”
Raina tried not to let her surprise show as she glared at her. “Explain.”
“The woman you’re supposed to meet tonight,” Serenity said, just barely managing to regain a measure of her composure, enough that she didn’t blubber when she spoke. “I know more about her than I said I did. I know who she is. I know her name. I know what she looks like. I know where she lives, where she works, what kind of car she drives … everything! I know, and I’m sorry, I was keeping that all from you because I wanted you to need me!”
“You wanted me to owe you, in other words,” Raina said for her. “You wanted me to be indebted to you.”
“Yes! Yes, and I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, your grace!” she sobbed, falling back into tears for a moment. “I wanted to create a Debt of Blood because … because I just wanted to taste you. I wanted to know … your blood … because you are the only one. You are the only one of your kind. I wanted to be the only one to know how you taste, because … because then I would understand.”
“Understand what?” Raina asked.
She was beginning to wonder how much of this was really truth and how much of this was simply nonsense that Serenity was making up as she went just to save herself. The flood of emotions from her and those within herself were simply too overwhelming to sort out and make into anything intelligible.
“I want to understand your power. I want to understand what makes you … who you are,” Serenity tried to explain. “If I made a Debt of Blood with you, and if I could taste your blood, then I would know how you became what you are, and … and then maybe I could … maybe…”
“Maybe you could be as powerful as me?”
Serenity bowed her head and bawled, “Yes … yes, that’s right … and I’m so, so sorry…”
“That’s bullshit, Serenity.”
“No, I swear!”
“This had nothing to do with you wanting to taste my blood. This is about forcing me to start trading favors with you,” she sad. “A Debt of Blood doesn’t necessarily have to be paid with blood, and you know that.”
Duchess Serenity only kept her head down and sobbed unintelligibly in reply.
It made perfect sense. Serenity was ambitious. She aspired not only to be something more than what she was, but to be better than everyone else. She was a vain, perhaps greedy thing, and she had already made her reputation as someone that did whatever she could with whomever she needed to in order to make her way to the top of the heap. As an Elder of the IVC, she was so very, very close to the pinnacle now. Raina was all that stood in her way of becoming Grand Duchess, herself. She aspired to be in her place, but she had banked so heavily upon one method of conquest that she hadn’t planned on ever needing to master another. She had slept and seduced her way to where she was, and she had figured it would be just as easy to do this with Raina as it had with everyone else before. Perhaps only by a few strokes of luck, she had been wrong. Her ascent to ultimate power had failed. And because she lacked the skills necessary to defeat Raina in the only other common way that those of the High Court knew, she was now groveling at Raina’s feet as she was but a few inches away from certain death.
“Like I said before,” Raina mused, “you’re a lover, not a fighter.”
“Yes … yes, I am,” Serenity confessed with a sob. “Please, your grace. Please don’t kill me.”
Raina looked down upon her for a few moments. Her breathing eased. She began to gradually become aware of the rest of the world again – the ambient sound of the city’s evening traffic, the presence of others as they formed a carefully distant semi-circle around the High Court pair. She realized just how insane all of this was, how mad it was that she had gone from a state of self-pity to a point at which she had been ready to take the life of another person in a fit of sudden anger.
Was this really happening? Was she really this out of control, even now? She had no excuse for this. She couldn’t blame this on bloodlust, not in either sense of the term – she was neither craving blood, nor drunk with it. Stress, perhaps, or it was possible that she had seized upon this nearly violent outburst as an alternative to surrendering to a panic attack. Either way, she felt mortified by her own actions … and yet pleased with the result it had yielded.
Serenity didn’t respect her, or at least she hadn’t until now. She had sought to deceive Raina, to manipulate her, and to use her as just another stepping stone in her ambitious lust for power. Only by threatening her with death, sure and swift, had Raina been able to force the truth from Serenity, as well as to knock her pride down a peg or two and reiterate her leadership status. It was crude and primal in a way, this need to establish dominance when another sought to test it, but it was apparently a necessity. If she hadn’t done this, if she wasn’t still doing it, then Serenity would have held no respect for her. If she had allowed this, intentionally or not, others would not have respected her as Grand Duchess and would also have sought to use and abuse her, making a mockery of her title. She needed to put Serenity in her place, to make an example of her. She had to put a stop to this before it went too far.
“Get up,” Raina commanded her tersely. “Get up on your knees.”
Trembling terribly, her shuddering evident even in her whimpering breaths, Serenity pushed herself upright and looked up to Raina with absolute dread. She knew what was about to happen. Raina could sense this realization as a sinking, sick feeling deep within her belly that seemed to drop impossibly low within herself. Serenity’s sobs quickly lessened. She looked aside with a sniffle, and soon there was a look of resignation upon her face. Without being asked, she pulled her tied-back hair over the front of her shoulder, clasped her hands behind her back, and leaned slightly forward, baring her neck.
“I love you,” she said to Lord Redhorn. She glanced at her other two consorts. “I love you all.”
“Your grace…” Raina heard Redhorn say, but she didn’t know whether it was directed to herself or to Serenity.
Raina stepped aside, twirling her sword about once again to reverse her grip into a standard hold with one hand. She lifted the blade high overhead and could hear the collective gasp of onlookers as everyone, as one, seemed to hold their breath with terrible anticipation. With a slight turn of her wrist, she angled the katana back over her shoulder, moved it slightly forward, and dragged the back of its edge against the opening of the sheath until she felt the tip gently dip into its slot. With just a slight push as she released her grip upon it, gravity pulled the sword neatly into its sheath with a solid clack – Serenity actually flinched and yelped softly at the sound.
“I’m not going to kill you tonight,” Raina finally told her.
Serenity exhaled almost explosively, her whole body sagging with relief as the rest of the people witnessing the event similarly relaxed. Raina bent her knees slightly and placed one hand upon Serenity’s shoulder, holding out the other in offering. Serenity looked at her hand almost fearfully, timidly accepting it as though she expected it could potentially prove to be a fatal gift.
“Thank you,” Serenity whispered, looking up to Raina with bloodshot, sorrow-swollen eyes as Raina guided her to stand. Her makeup had been subtle that evening, and so her tears had not created too much of a mess upon her cheeks. “Oh, thank you.”
Raina tightened her grip upon Serenity’s hand slightly to keep her attention. “I will not be lied to, I will not be seduced, and I will not be used. Not by you, and not by anyone else in the IVC. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, your grace. Thank you,” she said with a gracious bow of her head.
“Just so there’s no misunderstandings,” Raina said, “I want to hear you explain what this means to you. I want to be sure that you understand exactly what you’ve done wrong, why I’ve chosen to spare your life, and what I expect from you in the future.”
Serenity hesitated, her eyes flicking aside to Lord Redhorn and the others. Her consorts only responded by bowing their heads almost shamefully. She swallowed nervously, audibly, and as she spoke, Raina could tell that her tongue had become somewhat pasty in her terror.
“I have lied to you. I have withheld the truth from you. I have wrongfully sought to seduce you. I have caused you to do things against your wishes. And I have … I have tried to use deceit to create a Debt of Blood for my own selfish gains.” She closed her eyes for a moment, sniffing back her emotions as she struggled to compose herself fully. “I understand that what I did was terribly wrong, that my actions were an insult to you and to your title, and that I have brought disgrace upon myself and my bloodline by disrespecting you.” Her eyes clearly focused upon the hilt of the sword that jutted up above Raina’s right shoulder. “I understand that you are within your rights as Grand Duchess to slay me for what I have done.”
“Why have I spared you, then?”
Her beautiful hazel eyes now focused upon Raina’s much darker, nearly black irises. She seemed momentarily puzzled. “You’ve spared me … because you want to … to make an example of me?”
Raina gave a subtle nod as she stepped away and folded her arms. “Go on.”
“I will … I will accept whatever Debt of Blood you wish to impose,” she explained with uncertainty. “I have earned whatever punishment you wish to give me.”
“I want everyone to be aware of what I will and will not tolerate. You will tell the media what you have done, and you will be judged by society as a whole, by both vampires and humans, alike,” Raina informed her. “You will then confess what you have done at the next gathering in the Hall of the High Court, and I will consult with the other Elders before I decide upon your final punishment. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your grace.” Serenity gave a full, formal, and very submissive bow that she held at its lowest point. “I am forever grateful for your mercy. I live to serve you and only you, my queen.”
Raina only barely managed to refrain from telling her once again, I am not your queen. Whatever – it was just as well that she saw her like this. Perhaps it had been a mistake to correct her before, to try to be informal with her, because it leveled the steps of the hierarchy a bit too much. In Serenity’s case, informality gave her an opportunity to believe that she could overcome Raina if she tried.
The valets had already brought back the two Lincolns and the busboys had begun to load their luggage, only having stopped to observe the potential execution. Raina helped herself to Serenity’s purse where it lay upon the ground nearby, plucking a fat money clip out from within it. She peeled off a few hundreds and gave one to each of the two valets and two busboys.
“I’d very much appreciate it if you gentlemen kept what you’ve seen here to yourselves,” she told them with as harmless and polite a smile as she could manage.
The young men all nodded enthusiastically with wide eyes. She had never thought herself to be the type to bribe anyone, but technically, she wasn’t – it was Serenity’s money paying for a public incident that her own actions had caused. One of them even asked for her autograph, and she reluctantly obliged, signing the inside lapel of his valet vest and even giving the handsome fellow a flirtatious peck on the cheek. Money, alone, might not have been enough to buy their silence, but a bit of extra charm might make at least one of them more inclined to honor her request.
Raina ordered Serenity to guide them directly to the meeting place of her future bloodspawn while she followed behind in the other Lincoln. There was an awkward silence as Raina entered the car and immediately turned off the radio while her servants slipped into the rear seat together once again. Raina noted the apprehensive look that Serenity cast her way just before she stepped into the back seat of the lead car. She had truly put the fear of death into her.
“Did that really just happen?” Sophie finally asked after they were about a block away from the hotel.
Raina couldn’t help but to smile a bit. “I should probably feel bad about what I did back there.”
“Do you?”
She shrugged, admitting, “A little bit.”
“Well, she was being a sneaky liar, after all.”
“Yes, she was,” Raina agreed, “which is why I don’t feel all that bad.”
There was a pause, a loaded silence that Thomas finally broke: “Would you kill her?”
Raina glanced at him in the mirror, feeling her smile fade. “Honestly … I’m surprised that I didn’t. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Duvessa would have killed her,” he commented.
“No, Duvessa would have strung her up and tortured her for a few hours or a few days and then killed her. And for the millionth time, I’m not Duvessa,” she informed him flatly, already becoming slightly annoyed again.
“I know,” he said. He paused, and she could see him smiling. “I’m very happy that you are not Duvessa.”
That made her smile again. “Thanks.”
“I think she deserved it. I mean, I’m glad you didn’t kill her, but I think she deserved, you know, to be put in her place,” Sophie said with a nod.
Raina turned to glance at her directly as the young Commoner leaned against the back of the passenger seat. “What would you have done?”
“I dunno.” She thought about it some, and then smiled. “I probably would have just kicked the bloody hell out of her in front of everyone.”
“Public humiliation is a fate worse than death for vain people,” Raina agreed with a smile. “I like the way you think.”

* * * *

Chapter Twenty



Mesa, Arizona

Her return to the stage was met with a sense of something near mistrust by the other girls in the club. They knew who she was, and they knew with whom she lived. Why was she there, working like they were, when she was supposed to be living a life of luxury and privilege after being taken under the wing of the oh-so-generous Dante Giovanni? Was she trying to prove something by returning to dancing?
Everyone knew that when Mister Giovanni took a new girl in, he would only allow them to work their usual job for a brief while longer to let them spread the word that they were now his. Soon thereafter, he would insist upon becoming their sole provider. There were two assumptions that the other girls automatically made, and they weren’t at all shy about sharing their theories with her: either she had split up with Mister Giovanni and needed the income again to support herself, or she was simply returning to mingle for awhile with her prior co-workers to flaunt her status.
Either way, the other girls generally avoided her as though she was a leper. That was actually quite fine by her. The fewer questions asked, the less she would need to explain, and the less likely it would be that she might find herself caught in a lie.
Her former supervisor, Samantha Schwarz, had made all of this possible. While she could not entirely call her a friend because of that woman’s distant, cold, calculating nature, she felt that she could at least afford to trust her and that they had something of a professional partnership that went beyond a usual boss-subordinate relationship. Samantha, or Sam, had a deep personal grudge against Mister Giovanni. Sam had never directly explained to her the origin of her bitterness against Mister Giovanni, but she had already figured it out on her own. Sam had long wished to see Mister Giovanni either murdered or arrested and executed. At the very least, she hoped he would someday be publicly humiliated in such a way that he would never show his face in the Valley ever again. The incident with the Grand Duchess had been embarrassing, but apparently not enough. The difference between herself and Sam was that she wanted only freedom, whereas Sam was seeking vengeance for something.
Sam was either lucky enough or smart enough to have found her way through life to be in the sort of position she was with regard to Mister Giovanni. He did not control her life as much as he simply complicated it and made things difficult for her, both professionally and personally. Business-wise, Sam was nearly Mister Giovanni’s equal. To her, he was simply a “talent scout” that owned a few other businesses and recruited or loaned some of his own employees to work in her club. She had met Sam by becoming a regular “loaner” to her club, “Naughty by Night.” After a few candid and private conversations, they had formed a friendship, or at least an alliance of sorts. Privately, Sam despised Mister Giovanni on a number of levels, but she tolerated him only because, by her own admission, it was easier to work around him than it was to try to fight him. Mister Giovanni played by his own rules and had far more resources than Sam. She had seen what had happened to others in her position when they tried to pit themselves squarely against that abusive, insecure, controlling bastard of a vampire.
She had just emerged from the back room after touching up her makeup, slipping on a different outfit, and stashing her take from her first dance – fifty-three dollars, not bad at all. Even though she was doing well to hide her nervousness and to put on a good stage presence, she had been eyeing the patrons over closely the entire time. So far, nobody appeared to be out of the norm, just the usual depraved older men, tactless middle-aged men with an occasional bi-curious wife or girlfriend, and the hormone-crazed college guys that were either “partying it up” or simply unable to see a naked female (in person) by any other means.
Of course, it was entirely possible that Sam may have arranged for someone else to be sent to meet her, as a personal appearance might be too bold and too obvious, stirring up too much attention. She didn’t want attention; the last thing she needed was for someone to call Mister Giovanni and alert him to the fact that something very unusual was going on and that she was involved. She was already taking a big enough risk as it was, simply by being there. But working the stage rotation at least helped to give her a legitimate excuse for her presence. Hiding in the back office with Sam would have been even more suspicious if anyone saw her go in there and not come out within a few minutes. 
She avoided the clients and the other girls as much as she could afford, but she did have to give a couple of lap dances as they were requested. Sam delegated most drink-serving duties to her so that she could stay busy, rather than standing around and looking awkward. It had been awhile, but she still knew how to handle rude customers: smile and keep things nice, but know when to alert the bouncers if anyone got carried away.
Although no alcohol was officially served in the club, they did serve “starters” which consisted of either sodas or “virgin” mixed drinks that the customers then combined with small sample-sized bottles of booze of choice they brought themselves. Legally speaking, this was not the intention of the drinks served, just a “nudge, wink” understanding with the customers. Because the business was not required to have a liquor license, since no alcohol was actually being served by the staff, the club was not subject to some of the usual restrictions as other adult entertainment venues – thus, full-nude dancers instead of topless ones. A downside of it was that it was a bit harder to “cut off” an overly intoxicated patron when, more or less, they were their own bartender. The only way to deal with such people was to simply give them the boot when they were totally out of line.
One particular fellow, a wealthy-looking middle-aged guy in a suit with four similarly-dressed companions, was being aggressive and arrogant enough that she knew before he even requested a lap dance that he would be a problem. This guy was apparently a fan of screwdrivers, and by her count, he had already downed at least three of them. He was one of those men that were civil and well-mannered when sober but became obnoxious, belligerent brutes that believed they were far more attractive to the opposite gender than they were in actuality when drunk. More than once, he had to be reminded to keep his hands to himself, and every time that this happened, she let the bouncers know about it, as was standard procedure for guys like this.
Usually, guests would only get one or two warnings before they were asked to leave. However, after the third occurrence, the bouncers did not seem very eager to give the wealthy hotshot the usual bum-rush. In fact, after delivering a fourth drink to their table and getting slapped upon the behind while walking away, she observed that one of the bouncers had clearly witnessed the offense, yet she saw him turn his attention away deliberately. She didn’t care if the guy was a VIP, and she didn’t care that he was tipping her and everyone else very generously – rules were rules, and laws were laws. Manhandling the girls was just not cool.
This was one of the problems in working with Mister Giovanni’s people. Too many of his hand-picked employees, particularly the vampires (some of whom were his bloodspawn), were too loyal to him. It was something that she had considered to be a potential problem, but she had hoped that Sam would have staffed her club differently that night. Either Mister Giovanni had insisted upon having his men there, or Sam merely wished to avoid arousing his suspicions by making it a point not to have only her own staff working that night. The drawback to this was that, as bouncers, these men were terrible. They were each too busy ogling at the girls, texting on their cell phones, or otherwise being completely distracted from their duties. Those times that they did witness something out of line, they seemed not to care, or at least they weren’t willing to actually do anything about it.
Now that she thought about it, she figured that she should perhaps be grateful for the fact that it didn’t appear that these hired goons recognized her. If they did, apparently they didn’t care that she was working there that night. Much like the other girls that night, they had apparently made their own assumptions about why she was there and had decided not to bother asking, lest they be accused of prying into Mister Giovanni’s private affairs.
She was inclined to head into Sam’s office and ask that something be done about the grabby hotshot in the suit, but thankfully, her turn came up in the dance rotation. She drew in a deep breath as she left the bar and headed for the steps leading up to the t-shaped stage. As she exhaled slowly, she visualized all of her stress and worry being expelled from within, doing her best to clear her mind and focus on her routine. She used the terrycloth towel she had brought up from the bar to quickly wipe down all three brass poles – center, left, and right – while the prior girl gathered her tips and discarded garments from the stage floor. It was as she was cleaning off the third (center) pole that the DJ elected to start her song early, an industrial-dance number with a crunchy guitar riff and a thumping, steady bass and percussion line. She tied her hair back in a single thick tail for the moment, tossed the towel toward the mirrored backstage area, and started in.
She was energetic, dynamic, and acrobatic. She had done a lot of gymnastics training and cheerleading in high school, and she had always loved to dance. The transition from being a full-time college student to being a full-time exotic dancer had been quite easy, at least in that sense. She had learned a few fancy moves from the other girls and she had focused upon the most advanced and showy ones. Her favorite trick was a slow, hands-free, inverted spiral down the pole that ended with her planting her hands upon the floor, kicking her legs over, and settling upright upon her feet. That move in particular was potentially dangerous, and she had seen others get hurt trying it before, but it always got people’s attention (unfortunately including Mister Giovanni) and brought a lot of tips her way. She hadn’t used it in her last set but was planning to do so this time around.
And then they finally appeared.
She had only just leapt at the pole and done a quick spiral-down that ended with her upon her knees when she saw a group of people enter the club, headed in the front by two familiar faces. She knew Duchess Serenity from having seen her so many times on television and on the Internet, but she had never seen her in person. She only recognized her for who she was by her proudly displayed High Court ears and the individuals she had brought along with her.
Raina, however, she recognized immediately, even more so now because she had apparently hidden her new pointy High Court ears with her thick, dark mane of hair. The dim lighting of the club made her appear much less pale than she did in the photos and videos she had seen recently. Really, aside from a few subtle differences – apparently, she didn’t need to wear glasses anymore – she looked very much the same as she had the last time she had seen her in person.
It took her a few moments, but she realized that she had completely frozen up in her actions upon seeing Raina. She arose to her feet and did her best to try to recover gracefully from the pause in her routine, but when she saw Raina’s attention gradually drift in her direction, she felt herself hesitating again. She hadn’t taken anything off yet. Now, suddenly she was wondering if this idea for a cover had been a bad idea. The timing was simply awful. If they had entered just two or three minutes earlier, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Now, however, she couldn’t very well just dive off the stage, run up to her, drop to her knees in front of her, and beg for her protection. She didn’t want to cause a scene and ruin the whole arrangement. People would take note, someone would call Mister Giovanni, and everything would become a complete mess in short order.
Just as well, she now feared that if she went ahead with her routine and proceeded into the full-nude portion of her set, Raina might form a negative opinion of her. Yes, she was a stripper, no, she could not hide that fact now, and yes, it was to be assumed that her job entailed getting naked in front of total strangers. But knowing that and actually witnessing that were two completely different things. What if seeing her “at work” wasn’t the only thing that could make Raina think less of her? What if she simply didn’t like what she saw? Did it matter whether or not Raina found her to be attractive? She hadn’t known Raina to be interested in women at all in the past. They had been out of touch for quite some time, and obviously a lot had happened since they’d last spoken – one of those things being Raina’s Change. Maybe what everyone was saying about Raina was true? She had already heard many of the details about Raina’s relationship with Brenna. Maybe Raina was into girls as much as she was into guys? Again, that didn’t seem like Raina, but … well, honestly, Raina had also never seemed like someone that could ever make internationally televised public speeches or engage in duels to the death with High Court vampires.
She decided to give it a gamble and play it out. She had made the decision to use this angle, so it appeared that she was going to have to stick with it. She kept her eyes upon Raina almost exclusively as she danced, watching as the Grand Duchess and her entourage stood around for a few moments, everyone apparently searching the area for someone in particular. They were looking for her! She felt like jumping up and down and waving to them, but again, she didn’t dare cause a scene. She did her best to catch and hold Raina’s attention with her smile and her movements. One of the bouncers approached the group to speak with them. Duchess Serenity had to lean in close to the burly Sabertooth’s ear to address him over the loudness of the music.
Meanwhile, Raina’s attention had again fallen upon her. This time, her stare lingered. Raina watched her with a rather blank expression and simply stood there amongst the others, clutching a small black purse in her hands with her usual nervousness – the one thing about her personality that had not seemed to have changed at all. Her outfit was classy, although it was far less formal and looked much less expensive than anything she had usually been seen wearing in the months since her Change. Really, they hadn’t dressed all that differently – skirt, blouse, stockings, shoes, all black – and she wondered if this had been an attempt to appear less conspicuous and low-key in light of the circumstances, or if she had simply decided to dress down a bit for once.
All she needed to do was get through this set. After that, she was free. She could put on her clothes, grab her stuff, introduce herself, and … well … hopefully, everything would be fine from that point onward. She backed up to the pole, feeling the cold length of brass nestle between her buttocks, and she slithered around it until her back was toward most of the audience. She parted her feet wide upon the floor, using the pole both as a brace and as a minor concealer, and slowly bent forward as she slid her hands down the front of her legs to her ankles, looking back to Raina with a playful smirk that she hoped was seductive.
Raina’s facial expression didn’t change. In fact, as she stood upright again and slid around the pole to face her again, Raina looked … well … puzzled. It took a few moments to realize it herself, but apparently there was at least a spark of recognition. She looked very different now – well, they both looked very, very different, actually – but the memories had to be there. They had seen so much of one another in the past, meeting almost daily. Had it really been so long since then that Raina didn’t remember her at all? Or had their casual friendship been so casual as to be easily forgotten? Hadn’t she meant anything at all to her as a friend? Or had that been a one-way interest, just as she’d figured it had been? Raina had always been a terribly shy and distant girl, someone that didn’t tend to have many (if any) close friends, and…
No. Raina smiled and gave a discreet little wave with her fingers. She recognized her. She remembered! She knew who she was! So … was this it? Was this finally the assurance of her redemption, the sure sign of her salvation?
Raina finally turned away when Duchess Serenity tapped her upon the shoulder and gestured toward the other individual that was now approaching to meet them. Sam? What was Sam doing out there? She was dressed quite formally, a bit more dolled-up than she usually was … which was saying a lot, really, because Sam was always overdressed for every occasion. She had actually changed outfits since she had arrived earlier in the evening.
Sam knelt before Raina … er, Grand Duchess Raina Fallamhain, and when she arose, she offered a warm smile and a professional handshake. Raina accepted both greetings with an almost stunned expression, as though the sight of Sam was truly that impressive to her. To her dismay, Sam quickly led Raina and Duchess Serenity toward her office at the back of the club, followed by the four ravishingly handsome males and lone blonde female that comprised their entourage.
This wasn’t what had been agreed upon. Sam had made it fairly clear that she did not wish to stand in the way of things once Raina and the others arrived. This wasn’t a heavily scripted event, of course, but the plan had been simple enough to make this change unsettling. Originally, the idea had been for everyone to be led to sit down at one of the tables. She was supposed to casually stroll over and pretend to be keeping them company as a part of her job duties, whereupon she would reveal her identity and, presumably, she would thereafter be protected by them.
Sam had previously expressed her desire to meet with the Grand Duchess, but she had figured that Sam would be considerate enough to wait until later to meet with this visiting vampire celebrity. She didn’t understand why Sam’s brush with fame couldn’t wait. Sam wasn’t the one risking her life by defying Dante Giovanni. Did a meet-and-greet opportunity really take precedence over thwarting an assassination plot and rescuing someone from virtual slavery?
Any minute now, Mister Giovanni could have decided to show up. He would see her there upon the stage, and he would be incensed. He would be angry about the damage she’d done to the wall in his home, the mess she had left, and the fact that she had slipped out of his home. In fact, she expected that she would be less surprised to see him show up than she would be to find herself alive the next morning, as his temper had been growing quite short with her, lately. He might elect to skip the whole process of becoming her Maker. Instead, he might simply make her “disappear.”
Why? Why now? Of all the people that could have possibly complicated things, she would have never expected it to be Sam, the very person who had helped to make this entire escape from Mister Giovanni a possibility. But then, now that she thought about it, she really didn’t know Sam half as well as she should have before entrusting her own life to this woman. She knew almost nothing about Sam’s personal life, her family history, or her upbringing, any of which could have been a vital factor. In short, her own failure to know adequately know and understand Samantha Schwarz as an individual made her that much more susceptible to betrayal.
“Hey, baby! Down here!”
She blinked out of her momentary trance and looked down at the man standing below the stage, holding up a few bills. It was Mister Hotshot-in-a-Suit. He was holding a pair of twenties.
“I got something for ya’,” he said, wagging the folded bills at her, “but you gotta earn it.”
She couldn’t even begin to force herself to smile, now. “If you want a lap dance, you’ll have to wait.”
“How ‘bout a private dance, back in one of them rooms?” he asked with a nod toward the rear of the club.
“Sorry, cutie. I still have one more song after this,” she told him, now simply gyrating more than actually dancing at that point. The stress she placed upon that term of endearment made it sound like an insult.
“Oh yeah?” He pulled out a money clip made fat with many bills and held it up with a grin. “What if I make it worth your while? For a little bit of time alone with you, I’ll let you take as much of this as you want.”
She was not impressed. She had been offered a lot more money by much kinder men asking far less of her – a thousand dollars, in fact, to accompany an elderly man all night on a dinner date. She had never prostituted herself out to customers at a club. Even though it was, of course, against the law and Sam’s policies for the club, she knew that some of the girls were willing to do almost anything for money. Cameras had been installed in the private rooms, not only for legal purposes but also so Sam could monitor her employees’ conduct. Even so, there was nothing to stop the girls from meeting guys outside the club. More than once, she had found herself being one of only two or three girls in the place left working at a time when all of the others had elected to leave early to go out for a “date” with higher-paying customers. Of course, Sam often fired these girls if she ever caught them doing this – more than once in the parking lot or in an alley behind the club – but it didn’t make things any easier on the remaining staff.
There had been nights when they had been left so short-staffed that she had found herself onstage for almost her entire four-hour shift … and then, after all that, she had still been obligated to satisfy Mister Giovanni at home. In fact, it was one such night when Sam, herself, had taken to the stage for awhile to give her a break. In fact, that had been the start of their friendship. At thirty-six years of age, Samantha was a “retired” dancer, not because her looks had begun to fade or because someone had forced her to quit, but simply because she could afford to choose not to dance for a living. And now, tonight was another such night … except the tables had been turned, and she had needed to come out of “retirement,” herself, so that Sam could take a “break” of her own from her managerial duties … and from her role in the plan upon which they had agreed.
“C’mon, sweet thing,” he persisted with an overconfident grin. “I ain’t gonna do anything bad to ya’. I promise! I’m a nice a guy.”
“Nice guys always finish last,” she replied, edging closer to him and sticking out her hip as she lifted the corner of her thong.
He laughed, sliding the bills under the elastic string. “Does that mean you like bad guys, then?”
“Who ever said that I liked guys at all?” she teased him.
The man appeared shocked but amused as he laughed loudly, gave her a thumbs-up, and made his way clumsily back to his table to tell his companions about what she’d just said.
No, she shouldn’t doubt Sam. She didn’t know what was going on yet. Yes, this was different than the plan they had discussed earlier, but it didn’t necessarily mean that Samantha was betraying her. If anything, she was probably just taking them away from all of the distracting noise and lights of the main area to explain things to them.
Perhaps this was better. Sam could explain who she was, what the situation was, and then they could make a much cleaner and less obvious exit. The other girls wouldn’t question seeing her leave with these people, surely assuming that she was “going on a date” just like anyone else.
Vampires were no strangers to this club; in fact, others had joked that strip joints and nightclubs were like an “all-you-can-eat buffet” for vampires, as it was an easy means of scoring steady blood. Of course, if Mister Giovanni found out about her leaving with anyone else, especially with another vampire, he would be insanely livid. But then again, if nobody suspected her actions, or even her very presence there in the club, then nobody would think to contact him and he would be none the wiser unless he thought to ask around.
She managed to refocus upon her dancing and settle back into her routine. This was her last go, her last set. She could do this. She had to do this. And dwelling upon the “what if” questions of her situation would only continue to distract her and detract from her ability to effectively do what needed to be done. She was there to dance, to entertain, and to look like she belonged there. She would own that stage and make it hers by sheer force of will.
And so she went about the rest of her set, pulling out all the stops. As she unclasped her bra, she decided then that she did, in fact, wish that Raina would be there to watch her. She wasn’t going for seduction; she just wanted to share this historic moment. Not only was this potentially the last time she would ever grace a stage, it was also the first time in a long, long while that she had actually enjoyed the experience. Every movement was right, every stunt spot-on, and every man in the house was on his feet and applauding at the end of this first song. Anyone who had been clinging to their spare ones and fives decided in the second song to turn loose with them and lay them at her feet as she untied the corner strings of her bikini and dropped it aside midway through the second song.
She wanted Raina to see, to bear witness, because she wanted her to know what she was capable of doing. She could handle herself under immense pressure. Not only could she do it well, she could do it with an infectious smile upon her face. Sometimes bravery wasn’t just a matter of how well someone handled physical combat; sometimes it was simply a matter of being able to bare oneself before a crowd of strangers, to not give a damn how they judged her, and to feel free and confident enough to be smiling the entire time. For the first time in so very, very long, she was in complete control of the situation … even if only for a brief while.

* * * *

Chapter Twenty-One



Raina had intended to take a rather casual tone in meeting this much-fabled Mistress Monsoon, now introducing herself to Raina as Samantha Schwarz. However, Raina was too sharply stricken with a feeling of déjà vu and bewildering familiarity since she’d walked into the club that she simply couldn’t think of a thing to say to break the ice. 
For one thing, the girl on the stage had looked very, very familiar. In fact, she was absolutely certain that the way that girl had looked at her had nothing to do with being flirty or overly friendly as a consequence of her job, nor was it because she recognized Raina as a celebrity. Raina knew that girl. She was sure of it. Sure, the girl had looked very different now than she did in the past, for her hair was much longer than before and the eyeglasses were gone. And of course, seeing her at the start of an onstage striptease also took her completely out of context from whatever she may have remembered about her. But Raina swore that she knew that girl.
Was it someone with whom she’d gone to school, either junior high or high school? A former co-worker? Perhaps simply a friend of a friend? Maybe something as innocent and random as an employee of some business that Raina had frequented? Oh … that wasn’t good. What if she was the receptionist from her former psychiatrist’s office? Yeah, that was all she needed at that point: her former shrink’s secretary telling the world that the Grand Duchess was a certified nut with a history of panic attacks and a laundry list of other psychological issues. No matter the rush, and regardless of anything else, she would make it a point to at least try to say hello. She hated to forget anyone’s name. She wasn’t so important or so popular that she couldn’t remember a friendly face – not as a human, anyway – but she hadn’t ever been the best at remembering names. 
But moreover, the very image of the woman that had introduced herself to them as the club’s manager and owner, Samantha Schwarz, was positively distracting to Raina. Blessed with bright emerald-green eyes, naturally raven-black hair, and a tall, voluptuous body, in addition to her vintage style of attire, Samantha’s beauty was striking in completely independent observation. Raina knew her, through and through, and yet she was absolutely certain that she had never actually met this woman in her entire life. No, this was not like with the girl on the stage, not at all. Anyone that resembled Brenna this closely, even if only by basic visual cues, would have been impossible to forget. The familiarity was not just surprising but downright disturbing. 
Of course, there were a lot of distinctively unique differences about her that assured Raina that she was not simply losing her mind, that she was not seeing things or experiencing some kind of a grand hallucination. She was not looking at ghost of Brenna, nor her identical twin. No, this woman was much different than her in a few obvious ways that made that connection impossible. For one thing, Samantha wasn’t nearly as tall as Brenna. She was taller than Raina – then again, most people were – but she definitely couldn’t equal Brenna’s six-foot height. Perhaps five-ten, at best … although the heels she was wearing were tall enough to account for at least a couple of inches. Samantha was also still fairly young; Brenna had been almost forty at the time of her death, whereas this woman was, at most, in her late twenties. Her features were softer, her eyebrows much thinner and more angular, her lips not quite as full, her nose slightly upturned, and she had a dimple in each cheek when she smiled. Her features were much more gentle and less severe than Brenna’s had been, traits which would made Brenna less attractive to some, but which Brenna had made beautiful with her presence, her personality, and a bit of makeup skill. 
Most dramatically different was the way that Samantha carried herself. Brenna had always been very outgoing, very frank, very animated, and actually quite aggressive in most ways, but also very affectionate and warm – to her friends, at least. Samantha, on the other hand, was anything but those things. She appeared very cold, very distant, overly professional, and even a bit stuffy. Samantha’s movements were very graceful and smooth, seemingly calculated. Although her voice had the same mature timbre as Brenna’s, it was much smoother and her words were deliberately well-pronounced and exact. She appeared very intelligent and educated, but also seemed like someone that was so uptight and personally restrained that she probably would be dull and humorless outside of a business setting. 
Samantha sat down in the tall, executive-styled, black leather chair behind her broad, black desk, brushing away a few invisible specks of dust or whatever from her lap and straightening her skirt as she scooted herself forward. To say that she dressed classically was an understatement; Samantha looked like she had stepped out of a World War II fashion magazine, albeit one in which only color was available.
Samantha obviously had a thing for black – her clothes, her shoes, her jewelry, her nail polish, her desk, her chair, her file cabinet … everything was black. Raina was surprised that the walls of her office weren’t painted black, as well. It was one thing to wear black as a matter of choice for a certain occasion, as Raina was doing, but Samantha obviously had a distinctively longstanding, monochromatic theme going on. But then, the club here did have a sort of gothic-industrial theme. As Serenity had explained, this was one of the only clubs in the Phoenix area that featured an all-nude, all-vampire revue several times per week, so perhaps it was simply a marketing gimmick. 
“Your grace, I can’t even begin to say how honored I am to have you here. I have looked forward to meeting you for quite some time now,” Samantha explained with a broad smile as Raina seated herself in one of the two comfy black leather chairs on the opposite side of the desk. Turning her gaze to Serenity, she said, “And of course, I am so very glad to finally meet you in person.” 
“It’s quite a pleasure for me as well, dear. For years, I’ve wished to put a face to your name … or your screen name, I should say,” Serenity replied with a smile and a soft chuckle. 
“I only wish that we could be meeting under more pleasant and casual terms than this. I would have arranged for a dinner meeting or something much nicer than this cramped and filthy little office,” Samantha explained, “but I understand that time is something of a factor.” 
“More or less,” Raina agreed with a shrug. “Now that we know who you are and we’re here, I think we can kind of relax a little bit. From the way Serenity made it sound, we were sort of competing with the bad guys to get to you first. But … now we’re here, so…” Raina waved her hands encouragingly. “How about it?” 
Samantha gave her a confused look. “I’m sorry?” 
“I mean, now that we’re here and all … well … shall we get on with it?” 
“Get on with … what?” Samantha shook her head slightly and looked to Serenity with a shrug. “I’m sorry, am I missing something?” 
Serenity looked to Raina briefly and fidgeted a bit in her chair. The sense of fear that Raina perceived from her burned so intensely that Serenity’s skin began to glow once again. The proximity of her intense emotion felt like Raina was seated near a small fire. Had she been mislead completely? Was this entire trip a sham, a false pretext in Serenity’s quest to simply taste Raina’s blood? 
Raina’s eyes narrowed at Serenity. “I think maybe we’re both missing something. But I’m sure that the Duchess will be more than happy to clarify things for us very soon. Right?” 
“Ah … yes. Yes, of course! I’m sorry, I’m just … just a little anxious about all of this, that’s all. I mean, this is something of a historical event, after all,” Serenity replied nervously, clasping her hands together in her lap. Her consorts, standing behind her, actually backed away just a bit. Raina had not brought her sword into the club, due to the “no weapons allowed” sign outside. Nevertheless, the consorts apparently assumed that Raina wasn’t above lunging at the other High Court with her fangs. 
“Well … yes, I suppose it is a rather monumental occasion,” Samantha replied as her smile returned. She looked to Raina with those gorgeous eyes of hers. “I was honestly beginning to believe that the day would never come when I could finally meet my sister’s bloodspawn.” 
The impact of Samantha’s words were like a fist being slammed into Raina’s chest, literally knocking the breath from her. She stared at Samantha for several long, silent, awkward seconds, meeting her gaze unblinkingly and feeling her lips remain parted in shock. Immediately, it made sense … and yet it made no sense at all. 
“Sister?” Raina finally asked in nearly a whisper. 
Samantha chuckled softly. “I’m sure the resemblance is hard to miss.” 
“But … that’s … I mean … she never…” Raina stammered. She forced herself to calm down enough to form a complete sentence. “I had no idea.” 
“I’m sure she didn’t talk much about me. That’s just how she was, as I’m sure you know,” Samantha told her calmly. “Brenna was always very concerned about how others perceived her. I’m sure she never told you much about her family because she worried you might think less of her.” 
Raina closed her eyes for a few moments and literally had to shake off her surprise. “I mean, she did tell me before … that she had a younger sister and brother, but … she never talked about them. About you, I mean. She never really mentioned anything about her family, and … well, I just never wanted to ask because I figured she had her reasons for avoiding the topic. You know … maybe for the same reasons I don’t like to talk about my family…?” 
“Oh, it was nothing like that. No, Dominic and I are still very much alive.” 
“Dominic?” 
“My older brother,” she replied. “I had hoped he could be here tonight, but he’s with his band at a gig tonight, and … well, given the circumstances, I didn’t want to complicate things.” 
Raina leaned forward in her seat a bit to rest her elbows upon her knees as she asked, “All she ever told me was that her family disowned her a long time ago. She said that, as far as she was concerned, you were all dead to her.” 
“She did?” Her smile vanished and she looked away with a sigh, clearly hurt by that. “Well … I suppose I can’t blame her. It was our mother. Dominic was too loyal and I was too young then to protest. Mother was a devout Roman Catholic, and when she learned that Brenna had an abortion…” 
“She what?” Raina gasped automatically. She realized the rudeness of her outburst and she shrank down a bit in her seat. “I … I’m sorry. I just … wow. This is all news to me.” 
“She never would have told you. Again, she cared too much about what you thought of her. That’s what got her into trouble with our mother,” Samantha said. “Mother was always very strict with us. She was very focused upon discipline … and guilt. She forbade any of us from dating when we were still in school because she felt that our education should come first, and that dating only led to sex before marriage. And adultery in any form, of course, was a one-way ticket to Hell. But Brenna had always been the wildest of the three of us, of course, and so that never stopped her from dating … or smoking, or drinking, or doing drugs…” 
“Drugs?” 
“Nothing serious, of course. Just marijuana,” she insisted with a subtle wave of her silk-gloved hand. She smiled. “She talked me into trying it once. It was probably the naughtiest thing I ever did as a teenager. I was so scared that Mother would find out, and I honestly didn’t enjoy it at all, but … I was just happy to spend time with Brenna. Of course, that was after Mother threw her out of the house for dropping out of high school. She mentioned that, didn’t she?”
“Once or twice, I think.”
“Things got progressively worse after that,” Samantha continued, “and when she was almost twenty, Brenna moved in with a guy that she had been dating for a few months.” Samantha was visibly affected by the memory, but her voice remained steady and her eyes stayed dry. “When Brenna found out her boyfriend was cheating on her, they had a big fight and he kicked her out. She had nowhere else to go, and I wanted to help her, so I begged Mother to let her come back. She allowed Brenna to move back in, but … she was already three months pregnant by then, and Mother was absolutely furious when she found out about the morning sickness. So … Brenna had an abortion.” 
“That’s just terrible,” Serenity commented softly.
Raina glared at her sharply, sensing what she really meant. Serenity wasn’t sympathizing for Brenna; when she wasn’t lobbying for vampires’ rights, fighting to save whales or rainforests, or protesting for animal rights, or spouting the morality of vegetarianism, she was also a hardcore right-to-life advocate. It was a stance that put her sharply at odds with a lot of her typically left-wing supporters. Serenity was entitled to her opinion, but Raina already had a very short fuse with her now, and this was an especially poor moment for her to start exhibiting her endless list of holier-than-thou divine virtues. In fact, without a word spoken between them, Serenity apparently picked up on the vibe of Raina’s annoyance, causing the High Court to visibly shrink back slightly in response. 
Samantha didn’t pick up on the tension and merely shrugged, folding her hands upon her desk and staring at a small stack of assorted papers nearby. “Brenna kept it a secret from everyone, even Dominic. I only knew about it because I drove her to and from the clinic, and she made me swear that I’d never tell anyone. Mother figured it out soon enough on her own, anyhow. She noticed the physical changes, and Brenna knew she couldn’t hide the fact that she wasn’t showing and wasn’t gaining any weight by the fourth month. When Mother confronted her, Brenna tried to claim that she had miscarried, but Mother knew. She just knew somehow. There was a big fight, and … Brenna wanted me to back her up, but I … I couldn’t.”
Raina raised an eyebrow at that. “Why not? She was your sister.”
Samantha was visibly struggling to control herself now, tears threatening to spill even as her voice remained perfectly even. “I was only sixteen. I was still in high school. I didn’t have a job. At first, I tried to stand up for Brenna, but I was immediately given an ultimatum. If I shut up, I could stay, but if I said another word in Brenna’s defense, then I would be thrown out on the street with her. Of course, I knew that I would never make it on my own, even with Brenna. And I just felt so guilty, so terrible that I’d kept something like that from Mother in the first place. She made me feel absolutely horrible for having even associated with Brenna at all … my own sister, if you can believe that. Mother never forgave me for betraying her like that. And neither did Brenna, apparently … because I couldn’t lie for her.” 
“That doesn’t sound right. Brenna wasn’t really like that,” Raina said, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I can’t imagine her hating you simply because you weren’t in a position to help her.” 
“I’m afraid so. Brenna felt so betrayed by us all that she changed her last name. Mother forbade her from ever contacting anyone in the family ever again. Even though Brenna knew I was only obeying Mother’s demands because I didn’t really have a choice, she was still deeply resentful about it,” Samantha explained. She grabbed a tissue from nearby and carefully dabbed at her eyes, somehow managing not to smudge her mascara at all. She finally turned to Raina with those stunning green eyes of hers. “You understand that was how she was, don’t you? If Brenna decided that she didn’t like you, she didn’t hide it. If someone treated her wrong, she could be absolutely hateful.” 
Raina considered that. Perhaps it wasn’t an unfair assessment, really. Brenna had been inclined to make snap judgments about people’s character sometimes, and as Samantha said, when Brenna decided that she didn’t like someone … well, that was it. Brenna hadn’t taken long to decide that she didn’t like Duvessa, but she’d only kept things civil for the sake of safety and perhaps because of how it would impact Raina. Just as well, she had also decided that Countess Wilhelmina was not her type, either, and ultimately her undisguised dislike of and contempt for that particular vampire had wound up being a factor in her death. Well, that and Raina’s foolish reluctance to fight the Countess. If she had simply gone after her full-force right from the start…
Serenity cleared her throat nervously, looking to Raina. “I, ah … I’m sorry, your grace. It would seem that I have misinformed you about Samantha.”
“Gee, ya’ think?” Raina quipped sarcastically. Looking to Samantha, who was visibly puzzled, she explained, “The Duchess here had me going under the assumption that you only knew Brenna because you’d both … um … worked together, so to speak.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well … she had it in her mind that you and Brenna were in … y’know … porn flicks together.”
“What? Oh, no, we never worked together like that,” Samantha replied with a chuckle. “No, we had already long gone our separate ways when I first became involved in the adult industry. The only films and photo shoots I have appeared in are strictly fetish-based … just a lot of costumes and props. You know, bondage and spanking and candle play. I’ve never done hardcore work like Brenna. I don’t have anything against it, of course. I just never felt comfortable with actually doing it, myself.”
“What about stripping on stage?”
“Dancing, you mean?” Samantha corrected her gently. “No, we never managed to cross paths, even in this business. Brenna was already retired from dancing long before I ever became involved in this business, and after her Change, she never worked at any of the clubs that were owned by or associated with Mister Giovanni.”
“Dante Giovanni?”
“Yes, her Maker,” she confirmed with a nod. “I heard about her confrontation with him at the memorial event he hosted for Duvessa’s consorts. It was never on the news, of course, but being that most of those in attendance that night were his peers, word spread quickly about what happened between them. And, of course, he did keep a low profile for awhile until his teeth were right again.”
Something hit Raina with a delayed effect. “Wait, did you … did you say Brenna had retired from dancing?”
“Awhile back, yes. From what I’ve heard, she started doing movies and photo shoots when she was still dancing. After awhile, though, she apparently decided there was more money to be made from working for adult websites and films than with dancing, so she crossed over,” Samantha explained quite casually. “Again, I dabbled a bit in film and website photo shoots for awhile, but I was fortunate enough to come into a large deal of money around that time, so I was able to start my own business here instead. I haven’t done anything in that side of the industry since I took ownership of this club, and I’ve also been successful enough not to find it necessary to dance anymore … although, occasionally I still do.”
Raina looked aside, thinking back several months. “She never told me about the porn thing. I never thought anything of it because when she said she had to go to work, I just … I mean … I just assumed that meant she was still dancing. And she was working at least three nights a week, too.”
“Well, there again, she was probably trying to protect your relationship. Some girls aren’t ashamed at all of what they do here,” Samantha said, “but most of us tend to opt for discretion. We have families and friends, and some of us even have children. We don’t always expect everyone to react positively toward what we do, so it’s important to keep things separate … which, of course, is one of the reasons why many of us use stage names.”
“Like Mistress Monsoon?”
“Yes, exactly,” she conceded with a visible hint of embarrassment.
“I see.” Raina felt it a bit rude to ask, but she decided that it was necessary. “What does your son think of all this?”
“My son?” Samantha echoed with slight surprise.
Raina glanced at Serenity suspiciously. “You do have a son, don’t you? From a previous marriage?”
“Oh … well … yes, I do,” she admitted with some reluctance. “Seth, ah … he hasn’t spoken with me for awhile … since he found out.” Samantha again appeared to be grappling with her emotions as she wrung her hands nervously. “All these years, I always told him that I worked as either a waitress or a secretary. I felt awful about lying to him, but … well … I was worried that he would think less of me, or that others would say that I was a poor mother to him…”
“So, telling a few white lies to save face is kind of the norm in your family, apparently,” Raina said, only realizing how rude it sounded after she’d said it.
Samantha’s face became very serious as she replied, “I’m sure that as Grand Duchess, you can appreciate the importance of keeping up appearances. We can’t always afford the luxury of being surrounded by people who won’t judge us unfairly, especially when it involves things which they do not fully understand.”
Raina didn’t have to look around to sense the attention upon her in reaction to that. She suddenly felt very, very small.
There was an awkward silence that lasted several seconds. The thumping of the music outside was tempered and muffled by the effective sound insulation within the office walls and the thick main door leading into it. Aside from that, the only sounds were really that of the several vampires standing behind Raina and Serenity, shuffling in place anxiously or impatiently, or sighing quietly. Samantha reached for a thin black box on her desk and opened it, withdrawing a familiar black cigarette. She held it up along with a fancy matte-black finished lighter. 
“If it’s okay with you…?” she asked politely. 
Raina shrugged. “Go ahead. It’s your office.” 
“Thank you.” She lit it up and held up the open cigarette case in offering. “Care for one?” 
Raina hesitated, but then shrugged again before leaning forward to pluck one out. “What the hell.” 
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Serenity mused softly. 
Samantha leaned forward as well to light Raina’s cigarette. Well, technically it was a cigar, since clove cigarettes had become illegal within the past few years, although these tobacco-wrapped variations looked the same and tasted quite similar to the paper-wrapped predecessors of the same brand name. She took a long, solid drag from the Djarum Black, inhaled, and held it as she sat back in her seat, blowing the acrid but sweet-smelling smoke toward the ceiling with a dry smile.
“Tonight, I do.” 
“I’ve been trying to quit for some time now,” Samantha admitted, “but I’m fairly convinced it’s just a part of my genetics.” 
“Brenna smoked, too. Same brand, even.” 
“I know,” she said with a smirk. “She gave me my first cigarette when I was fourteen. After that, we worked out a deal. I helped do her homework if she would buy them for me.” 
Raina shook her head, but smiled a bit. “Bad influence, huh?” 
“Not really, no. Our mother was a lifelong smoker, so we more or less grew up with it,” she explained as she got up from her chair. She turned toward the fire exit door behind her desk, pushing it open and then grabbing what looked like a black cane next to the doorframe, propping the door open with it. She paused to take a drag of her thin little cigar, shaking her head sadly as she exhaled. “I’ve cut back quite a bit, but I have never been able to completely stop smoking. You might think that I would know better than to keep smoking after watching my mother die from emphysema and lung cancer, but … apparently not.” 
“I’m sorry to hear that. How long ago did that happen?” 
“Almost three years ago. I’m not sure that Brenna even knew that she passed. I could never find her so that I could tell her,” she said. She shrugged, looking to the floor for a moment. “I wanted to reconcile with her. Before she died, Mother forgave Brenna for everything, even for becoming a vampire … something that I realize wasn’t Brenna’s fault, of course. I heard about how she was Made, and I explained this to Mother. She wanted me to find Brenna and to set things right. But I never managed to locate her in time. I’m not sure she would have listened to me anyhow, even if I had.” And then she again met Raina’s gaze with those entrancing green eyes of hers. “You know how she could be. Brenna was never above holding a grudge.” 
Raina nodded in agreement, taking another puff from her clove. She glanced to Serenity and silently offered to share; Serenity wrinkled her nose slightly, shook her head, and waved her hand dismissively as she silently mouthed the words, “No, thanks.” 
“Anyhow … obviously, it’s too late,” she sighed, pulling out her chair and gracefully seating herself in it once more, “but I suppose it does bring us to the matter at hand.” 
“Absolutely.” Raina leaned forward once more, resting an elbow upon her knee as she reached over to tap the ashes from her cigar into the black glass tray upon the desk. “I’m sure that you and Duchess Serenity have already discussed this well in advance…” 
“Ah, actually … your grace,” Serenity interrupted nervously, clasping her hands together tightly, “that was something I intended to tell you earlier.” 
Raina felt her own eyes grow very dark and angry as she turned toward the High Court with a very unpleasant look. As before, Serenity visibly shrank back in reaction to that look, in addition to the animosity she surely sensed from Raina. She didn’t exactly hate Serenity, but Raina had lost a great deal of respect for and admiration of her as a result of her manipulative dishonesty. The way that Serenity was phrasing her interjection was not shaping itself into anything that Raina would expect to find any more pleasing than her earlier confession. 
Serenity swallowed audibly before she could speak. “I, ah … I was going to tell you earlier … at the hotel…” 
“Let me guess,” Raina said, “this whole trip had absolutely nothing to do with the assassination plot against me in the first place. Did it?” 
“Well, it does … but…” 
Raina silenced her by raising a hand suddenly, causing Serenity to actually flinch. Had she really expected to be physically struck? Raina turned back to Samantha with a less menacing look, instead probably looking more disappointed than anything else. 
“Samantha…” 
“Sam,” she said gently with a smile. “Please … my friends call me Sam.” 
“Sam … if you know something, anything at all, about the men that tried to kill me,” she said, “then you need to tell me. People are dead because of this. I killed three men, three human beings, because someone sent them after me. Another man died, an innocent man, simply for being there at a bad time. Another one of my associates was killed. Two of my other friends were very seriously wounded … including this gentleman behind me.” She reached back slightly over her left shoulder and touched Thomas’s hand briefly. “If you know something about what happened, Sam, I need to know. The police need to know.” 
Samantha … um, Sam nodded understandingly, pausing as she inhaled another smoky breath that probably shortened her lifespan by a few minutes. Exhaling smoke, dragon-like, she replied, “I understand the urgency and the importance of my cooperation, your grace. However, you must understand that if I do…” 
“Spare me. Okay? I already know where you’re going with this,” Raina interrupted as she held up a hand. Abruptly, she snuffed out her cigarette … er, her cigar … having hardly consumed even a third of it. “Listen … an innocent man is dead. He had a name. He had a family and friends. He had dreams and hopes. And he’s dead now … because someone sent those men after me. There were more people involved than just the three men I killed. There was a fourth person, the one driving that SUV, and they got away. And I’m sure the person driving wasn’t the one behind it all. Someone else sent them. I need to know who that person is. The police need to know. That innocent man’s family needs to know. Do you understand?” 
Samantha did appear to appreciate Raina’s need for her cooperation, nodding her head slowly and staring at the desk for a few moments. However, she also seemed steadfastly resolute in her position as she kept her posture quite straight and took one last drag before stubbing out her own half-smoked cigar in the tray. She calmly folded her hands atop one another upon the desk with a calm, graceful movement that actually looked quite regal – the kind of movement she would have expected from someone of nobility, like Serenity … or even Duvessa. 
“If I help you in any way at all,” Samantha told her, “my life will be over, and the lives of my family members will be in jeopardy. Make no mistake about it, your grace, as soon as they find out that I’ve cooperated with you, they will kill me and everyone that I know and love.” 
“If you will tell me who’s behind all of this, then I will guarantee your safety. You have my word that I will personally see to it that nothing happens to you or your family. And if it’s money you want, then name your price and I’ll cut you a check for it right here and now,” Raina promised her boldly. 
“I don’t want money, your grace.” 
“I can pay you in cash, instead, if that makes any difference.” 
“Your grace, please…” 
“Raina,” she countered with a slight smirk. “You can call me Raina.” 
“Please, Raina,” Sam replied, not even lightly amused, “I hope that you understand I am not attempting to blackmail you. I am not seeking to gain anything from this. I just don’t want to risk my family’s safety. In fact, I have already taken a tremendous risk simply by involving myself in this matter. I’m sure that you and your people were seen entering the club, and if word gets out that I helped you find an informant, then…” 
“Whoa, whoa, wait … find an informant?” Raina interrupted with wide eyes. 
“Yes.” 
Raina’s heart began to drop. “I thought you were the one that knew who was behind the attack…?” 
“Not exactly, no,” she admitted. “I had my suspicions as soon as I heard about what happened, but…” 
“You knew about this too, didn’t you?” Raina demanded as she turned toward Serenity with an angry glare. 
Serenity bowed her head sadly. “Yes, your grace.” 
“And you just conveniently forgot to share that little detail, huh? You were so busy thinking about when you were going to spring that Debt of Blood shit on me that this fact just happened to slip your mind, didn’t it?” 
The Duchess slid out of her chair and literally dropped to her knees beside Raina, placing her hands upon her right forearm in a beseeching, submissive gesture. “Your grace, please understand! I knew it was the only way that you would agree to come with me!” 
“Because you knew that I’d never agree to going halfway around the world to meet a ‘friend of a friend of a friend’ who might know something about what happened, right?” Raina countered. Serenity said nothing, merely staring up at her Grand Duchess with a pleading, desperate look once again. Raina stood up abruptly and jerked her arm out of Serenity’s grasp harshly. “That’s it. Fuck this bullshit. I’m out.” 
Raina slipped past Serenity, practically shoving her out of the way, and both Lord Redhorn and Lord Gerald moved away as she stormed in their direction. Lord Redhorn had just begun to open the door for her when Samantha finally spoke up. 
“Cham Tin Thuy!” 
Raina halted in her tracks immediately, already halfway out the door. Slowly, she turned around to look back to Samantha, who was now standing up behind her desk. Her eyes were wide with fear, looking even bigger by the stark contrast between the bright emerald color of her irises and the shocking black of her heavy eyeliner and dark gray eye shadow. Raina turned around fully and folded her arms under her breasts, frowning as she let out a heavy sigh. Her lungs burned slightly with that exhalation, as a result of the irritation that the cigar smoke had caused her, and the slight buzz she’d attained from what little she’d inhaled caused her to lean against the doorframe to steady herself. 
“Come again?” Raina asked with a testy sigh.
“Her name is Cham Tin Thuy … but she goes by Jasmine,” Samantha said a bit less loudly. “She knows who was responsible. I know what she knows, but only because she told me. Any testimony I could offer in court would only be thrown out as hearsay, but she is a direct witness. She knows who ordered the attack upon you.” 
Raina stepped back inside and slammed the door shut behind herself with a firm shove. She moved around the desk and stood directly in front of Samantha. She wasn’t as tall as Sam, but her approach clearly had an effect upon her. Sam backed up half a step and held the top edge of her chair, looking as though she might sprint out the open door leading out into the alley outside at any moment. Raina stared directly into her eyes and tried very, very hard not to think about Brenna at all. 
“You’d better be fucking serious,” Raina told her.
“Absolutely, your grace.”
“Jasmine Thuy? Jazz?”
“Do you know her?”
“The name’s familiar,” she replied cautiously.
Samantha was clearly afraid, but not entirely intimidated. “I’m sure that you saw her when you walked in. You even seemed to recognize her.” 
She was standing close enough to Samantha now to smell the sweet smokiness of her breath and feel the subtle warmth of her physical presence. She was close enough that Raina should have sensed something from her, some kind of emotion, but she could feel nothing with any sort of clarity – at least nothing that stood out apart from what she felt, herself. Was Raina really afraid? Why was she scared? Raina had no reason to be unsettled by this … did she? 
“I guess I did see her … but I wasn’t sure.” Raina narrowed her eyes slightly. “You do realize that you just gave up your only bargaining chip.” 
“I don’t want to cut a deal. I’m not trying to negotiate for anything,” she insisted. 
“Nothing’s for free.” 
“I know the rules. I have no right to demand anything from you. I won’t ask for anything in return.” 
“The Code doesn’t apply to humans, Sam,” she informed her. “I’m only talking about human nature. Nobody gives without expecting to receive. Everyone always wants something for nothing, but nobody’s willing to be on the giving side.” 
Samantha stared at her in silence for a few moments before replying, “I don’t want to die.” 
“I’ve already promised you my protection in exchange for your cooperation. I haven’t retracted that offer … yet.”
“That’s … that’s not quite what I mean,” she replied hesitantly. Samantha appeared to gather her courage, glancing aside with just her eyes toward Serenity for a brief instant before meeting Raina’s gaze once more. “I have cancer.” 
Raina blinked, suddenly forgetting all about Jazz. “Already?” 
“No, not lung cancer … ovarian,” Samantha said. “I was diagnosed with it a month ago.” 
She cringed. “How bad?” 
“Stage four. If I took chemotherapy, I could last another year, maybe two,” Sam replied with a shrug. “Otherwise … maybe six months. Probably not even that long.” 
“I’m sorry.” She realized how futile that sounded, but she was suddenly feeling numbed from head to toe, too shocked to fully react. “I’m not sure I can do anything to really help. I mean, I could cover your medical expenses and…” 
“Make me yours,” Sam said abruptly. “Make me your bloodspawn, Raina. Please.” 
The request dizzied Raina as much as a heavy drag from a clove cigar, actually sending her reeling back a step or two. Samantha … as her bloodspawn? The little sister of her own Maker wanted her, in turn, to be her Maker? The very concept made her almost nauseous with confusion and emotion. 
Why was she surprised? Wasn’t this what she had come here to do? She had come here to acquire a new bloodspawn, to become someone else’s Maker, in exchange for a simple bit of information. Okay, so this was Brenna’s little sister, and the visual similarities between the two of them were uncanny. So what? It changed nothing. And, okay, so what if Sam wasn’t really the star witness that she needed to locate and protect? Did she not deserve some sort of compensation in order for helping find that person? Wouldn’t it seem wrong to turn her away when her motivations weren’t greedy? 
No, it wasn’t that simple. She knew better. 
“Why?” Raina asked. “Why would you want to be a vampire?” 
“Not just any vampire,” she replied, “but your vampire. I want to be your bloodspawn.” 
“You don’t realize what you’re asking,” Raina told her. “You don’t know what it’s like.” 
“It doesn’t matter. What matters to me is having the chance to make up for letting my sister down and failing to be there for her when she needed me the most,” Samantha pleaded gently, slowly closing the distance between them again. “I know how much she loved you. And I know how much you loved her. I feel that it’s only right that I do something to honor that, to help you in any way that I possibly can by being your bloodspawn.” 
Raina shook her head lightly. “I’m telling you, Sam, you don’t understand. The Change isn’t a miracle cure for everything. It could kill you.”
“I know that. But it’s a risk that I am willing to accept,” she replied calmly. “I’m already terminally ill. So, if the Change kills me, then so be it. I’ll only be losing a few months. But if I survive the Change … I swear to you, Raina, I will be the most loyal and dedicated member of your entire House. I will do anything you ask, anything at all. I would just as readily kill for you as I would die for you. And with God as my witness, I will never, ever betray you or disobey your word. I will lay down my life for you because I will owe my very existence to you.” 
“Well … in a way, that kind of goes without saying,” Raina said. “I mean, that pretty much sums up the oath you’d take with the Communion of Blood…” 
“Then you see that I understand the nature of that commitment. I know it and I’m willing to I accept it,” Sam insisted confidently. Pushing back her chair to make room, Samantha lowered herself to one knee before Raina, bowing her head. “Please, your grace. Please … give me the opportunity to redeem myself and to honor my sister’s memory.” 
Raina felt somewhat embarrassed to have someone like Samantha, whom she barely knew, acting so subserviently by kneeling before her like this and practically begging to be accepted. Samantha seemed like a very proud person, perhaps even vain, an elegant and highly intelligent woman that was surely, at that point, accustomed to others following her direction and obeying her instructions. Even knowing what little Raina did about her, it seemed completely out of character for someone like Samantha to debase herself like this in front of an audience of strangers. 
Raina looked over to those in the office with her. Serenity’s consorts appeared blankly indifferent to the scene – not bored, but also without an opinion on the matter. Serenity was standing now, clasping her hands together and waiting in almost total stillness with wide eyes of anticipation. Glancing at Thomas, she saw him merely lift a corner of his lips and then shrug. Sophie, the only one apparently willing to offer any input on the matter, nodded her head enthusiastically with big eyes and an eager grin. 
Raina finally turned to look down at the beautiful raven-haired woman that was practically laying at her feet. It would be very hard to say no. It would be even harder, though, to say yes. Not only did Samantha apparently realize what she was getting herself into, she appeared to be doing so largely out of desperation. Raina was not sure which fate was worse: dying of a terminal illness as a human, or living as a creature whose very existence depended upon a steady diet of bloodshed and sex. Knowing who Samantha really was, knowing she was Brenna’s little sister … could she really condemn her to either fate? Death by cancer, or an inevitable death by violence? 
With a heavy sigh, she made her choice. There was no way she could have decided otherwise, even if there hadn’t been any connection to Brenna in the matter. She simply didn’t have it in her heart to coldly turn her back on someone when she had a clear and certain opportunity to offer them help … even if her attempt to help them might ultimately prove to be their demise.
“Do you have a passport?” Raina asked.
Sam lifted her head to look up at Raina with a surprised look. “Yes, I do.”
“Do you have someone to take care of your business and look after your home for the next week or so?”
Samantha grinned, understanding. She had a beautiful smile. It would be a shame to ruin that lovely smile by adding a pair of fangs.
“Yes, of course. I know just the person.”
“All right,” she finally answered with a sigh. “When do you want to do this?”
She looked aside nervously, then back up to Raina with a raised eyebrow as she said, “Would, um … would now be too soon?”
“A little soon, yeah.”
“We have plenty of qualified witnesses already,” Serenity offered hopefully.
“Do you have an eighteen-gauge needle, a syringe, some alcohol swabs, cotton gauze, and a few sodium-heparin tubes handy, by chance?” Raina asked her with undisguised hostility. “No? Then no, we can’t do it right now.”
Serenity seemed confused instead of offended as she asked, “You only need to offer her an opened vein, your grace … or your body.”
“It’s not that simple. Look … forget it, I won’t go into it right now,” Raina said with a dismissive wave. “Long story short, if we’re going to do this, I want to do it right. The Communion of Blood is one of our most sacred ceremonies, and a strip club is hardly the kind of place that…”
Raina shut herself up abruptly. As usual, her mouth had managed to overrun her brain and once again caused her to sound like a complete bitch. Who the hell did she think she was, anyway? Grand Duchess or not, she felt like an uppity snob, spouting the same kind of holier-than-thou drivel as any other High Court, and she absolutely hated herself for it … especially when it was at Samantha’s expense. This was Brenna’s family, for crying out loud. Was this the kind of first impression she wanted to be making?
“I’m sorry, I … I didn’t mean it like that,” Raina said awkwardly.
Samantha stood up with a perfectly blank expression upon her face. “No, it’s okay. You’re right. This isn’t the best place.”
“No, really,” she insisted, “I’m sorry. That was totally out of line. I didn’t mean that as an insult.”
“It’s okay, your grace…”
“Raina.”
“Raina,” Samantha corrected herself, smiling broadly again, “it’s okay. Really. You’re right. We should do this somewhere else. Perhaps at my house?”
“Do you have a spare bed?”
“I have two … no, three, actually,” she replied with a bit of thought. “Dominic has been staying at his girlfriend’s apartment lately…”
“Great,” she said. “I hate to impose upon you, but we did have a problem trying to get our rooms at the hotel downtown, so…”
“Oh, I’d love to have you stay! That would be wonderful!” Sam replied gleefully, clasping her hands together.
“Awesome. Well, what do you say we call Jasmine in here so we can all leave?”
As Samantha nodded and moved toward the open door, she replied, “Absolutely. I’ll just wrap things up here and let Kelly know that I will be taking the rest of the night…” As she pushed the door open to remove the rod propping it open, her eyes grew wide and her lips parted with shock as she observed something outside. “Oh no…” 
“What’s wrong?” Raina moved closer and crowded herself into the doorway to see what it was. Right away, she spotted the body. “That, uh … that’s not good.” 
Samantha excused herself as she hurriedly brushed past Raina to snap up a cordless telephone receiver from her desk. As she dialed for help, Raina allowed her morbid curiosity to get the better of her. She quickly placed the prop rod back into position and, walking as quickly as her heels would allow, Raina hurried over to the female sprawled out upon the littered concrete of the alleyway. 
Right away, she knew the woman was dead. She didn’t have any obvious signs of injury, but the way in which she was so awkwardly positioned upon her back, with one of her legs tucked under and her right arm flung outward, made it appear that she had either been dumped there or she had simply fallen from the sky. The fact that she was mostly nude also contributed to Raina’s sudden conclusion. 
Of some consolation was the immediate realization that it wasn’t Jasmine Thuy, as this woman was clearly not Asian. Raina knelt beside the woman but was careful not to touch her, simply observing for any signs of breathing or movement. The young blonde female was utterly still, and Raina could not sense the slightest bit of emotion from her. Her skin was terribly pale and grayish in color, even in the relative gloom of the poorly-illuminated back alley, her lips were almost bluish in color, and her eyes were half-open and unblinking. Clad only in a pair of bikini briefs, the many bruises, cuts, and puncture wounds in various states of healing were visible all over her body. Her face, forearms, and lower legs were completely unmarred, as though the injuries she had sustained were deliberately targeted so as not to appear obvious when she was clothed. Having seen and heard about such victims before, both females and males, she knew the young woman had been a vampire’s plaything, somebody’s Steady Blood. And now, apparently this poor soul had paid the ultimate price for having devoted herself to that lifestyle. 
“Don’t touch her!” Serenity cried as she hurried over. She placed her hands upon Raina’s shoulders and began to urge her away. “If you put any of your fingerprints or leave any DNA evidence…” 
“Back off!” Raina snapped, smacking away Serenity’s hands and standing up again. “I didn’t touch anything.” 
Serenity shrank back with a genuinely scared look, eventually turning that gaze upon the body lying before Raina. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to get blamed for something we all know you didn’t do.” 
Samantha stepped out of the opened door again with the phone to her ear, speaking with a 9-1-1 dispatcher. She informed dispatcher that the woman they had found appeared to be dead, gave the address and name of the club, and informed them who was present with her. The call was surprisingly brief, during which Raina asked Thomas and Sophie to go back into the club, find Jasmine, and escort her back to the office. When Samantha finally ended the call, she was staring down at the body of the dead female with wide, terrified eyes, looking far more panicked than her steady, calm voice had sounded. 
“I know her,” Sam told Raina softly. “I know who this is. I’ve seen her before.” 
“Who is she?” 
Samantha thought for a moment and then shook her head. “I can’t think of her name. But I’m sure that I’ve seen her before. She worked in this club a few months ago.” She narrowed her eyes slightly, struggling to remember. “I want to say her name was … Becca … Brenda … something starting with a ‘B’…” 
“Well, the cops will probably figure it out soon enough,” Raina said, gently taking her by the arm in an attempt to guide her away. “We should probably go back inside.” 
“Someone should stay with her … with the body, I mean.” 
“I’ll take care of that,” she assured her. 
Raina silently gestured to Serenity’s consorts, asking them to stay outside and watch both ends of the alleyway. They nodded in compliance as Raina led a visibly rattled Sam back indoors. She was beginning to tremble slightly as she sat down behind her desk once more. Serenity followed them back inside quietly, wisely choosing to keep her distance from Raina by standing on the opposite side of the office near the main door. 
“I take it you’ve never seen a dead body before,” Raina said as she watched Samantha open a nearby drawer of her desk. 
“Not recently,” she admitted, “but I’ve seen quite a few in the past. I worked in a funeral home for three years before I got my degree in business management. Of course, seeing a body there and seeing one here are two very … very different things.” She looked up to Raina, blinking her eyes several times as she appeared to again be holding back tears. “And you?” 
“I used to work in a hospital lab, downstairs near the morgue. I got to see bodies and parts of bodies almost on a daily basis,” she replied calmly. 
“Yes, but again, that’s different.” 
Raina shrugged. “I guess the only other dead people I’ve seen were the ones that were dead because I made them dead.” 
From within the drawer, Samantha withdrew a stainless steel flask wrapped in black leather, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink from it. Visibly wincing at the intensity of whatever was in the flask, she held it up in offering to Raina, raising one of her thin, well-sculpted black eyebrows. Raina accepted the flask readily, though she paused to give its top a sniff before putting it to her lips. It had no distinctive odor of anything else but alcohol. 
“Vodka,” Samantha said. “I don’t usually drink, but … sometimes it helps.” 
Raina only took a small sip from the flask before handing it back. The vodka was practically flavorless but went down smoothly with a subtle burn that wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. She had never cared for vodka because she didn’t see the point in drinking something without any taste; then again, as was apparently the case with Sam, people probably didn’t tend to drink vodka for any other reason than the desired effect it could bring about in a sufficient quantity. Serenity declined to take a sip when it was offered. 
Screwing the cap back on, she explained, “It’s not just seeing that girl dead that bothers me the most. Right now … honestly … I’m terrified. I know who did this to her.” 
“Who?” 
“I … I’m afraid to say…” 
“Tell me.” Raina put a hand upon her shoulder and swiveled Samantha’s chair about slightly to face her as she leaned closer. “Please, Sam. Just tell me.” 
“You don’t understand. I can’t tell you,” she insisted. “I want to, but I can’t. Jasmine will tell you, but only because she has no other choice.” 
“What difference does it make if you tell me?” 
Samantha closed her eyes, shaking her head sadly. “I’m afraid.” 
“Don’t be. I’ve already promised to keep you safe, okay? And if you’re going to be my bloodspawn, then we’re going to have to be completely open and honest with each other.” Raina gave Sam’s shoulder a light squeeze and shake with her hand, and Samantha’s eyes opened again. “I can’t help you if you don’t help me.” 
“Dante Giovanni,” she finally replied. “He owns all of the major clubs. He employs most of the nude and topless dance talent in the East Valley, and he produces adult films. He’s well-connected … very well-connected. As far as the entire adult entertainment industry in this area is concerned, he runs everything.” 
Raina stood tall and folded her arms, closing her eyes for a moment as she took in a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. “I know who he is.” 
“He was Brenna’s Maker.” 
“I know, I know.” Raina shook her head sadly. “I don’t know why it never occurred to me until just now. I should have known it from the start.” She covered her eyes with one hand, rubbing her temples sorely as a stress headache already began to settle in. “I never should have stopped her. I should’ve just let Brenna kill him when she had the chance.” 
The sound of sirens approaching outside became louder and louder. Just as it sounded that the police had arrived, the door leading into the office from the club opened and both Thomas and Sophie entered. Sophie closed the door, looking a bit distraught. 
Raina held apart her hands impatiently. “Well?” 
“We can’t find her anywhere,” Sophie explained. 
“Are you sure?” Raina persisted. “You know what she looks like, don’t you? Jazz was the girl on stage when we first walked in…” 
“She should be the only Asian girl we have working tonight,” Samantha additionally offered. 
Thomas shook his head. “She’s gone. She left.” 
As one, Raina, Serenity, and Samantha all gasped, “What?” 
“They said she left with someone just a couple of minutes ago,” Sophie said, “some guy named Mister Giovanni that came in not long after us…” 
Raina felt her spirits crash with an almost physical pull, a feeling made all the more intense as it was shared by both Sam and Serenity. Sam actually groaned aloud and buried her face in her arms on the desk. 
“Oh God … that poor, poor girl,” Samantha declared hopelessly.

* * * *

Chapter Twenty-Two



The arrival of a fairly large number of police officers effectively shut down Naughty by Night for the remainder of the evening. Customers, dancers, and bouncers alike were all interviewed one after the other by police officers, and Samantha was briefly separated from Raina and the others while she was questioned at length by detectives.
Raina learned most of the details as they were relayed to her by Samantha afterward. A number of the girl’s belongings were found dumped in a nearby trash bin also in the alley, and she was soon identified as Rebecca Vicks, dead at only nineteen years old. There would be an autopsy, of course, and the county medical examiner would run toxicology tests. From what the police detectives could tell at the time, however, she did not appear to have died as a result of violence, as none of the bruises and other marks upon her body appeared to have been recently made. Sam already had a very strong feeling that they would find that Becca had died of an overdose. The very reason that she remembered the girl was because Sam had banned her from Naughty by Night after observing her in the powder room buying drugs from another girl, whom she also barred from the club.
Becca had apparently begun working for Mister Giovanni in one or more of his own clubs, and he soon took her under his leathery wing as yet another one of his “preferred girls.” He had a reputation as something of a playboy that wooed females with his wealth and fame, usually those that worked for him, enticing them into living with him. Two, sometimes three women at a time would be living with him at any given time. A well-known rumor amongst those in the business but, until then, unknown to the police was that Mister Giovanni’s girlfriends, after a few months, had a tendency to turn up dead of drug overdoses or simply disappear.
Samantha had finally chosen to explain everything she knew to the authorities. By her estimate, Mister Giovanni had been through at least fifteen girlfriends over the past three years, and of those fifteen or so women, only Jasmine was still thought to be alive. No less than seven of those women were known to have become his bloodspawn, as their Change had been documented and all seven had been issued VIC cards by the state to certify their new status. Sadly, the police were essentially powerless to prosecute Mister Giovanni for anything that may have happened to any of those girls; once they became his bloodspawn, he had legally been within his rights to kill them for virtually any reason he saw fit.
In spite of the police and media attention surrounding the body of Rebecca Vicks, Samantha sincerely urged the police to find Jasmine Thuy as soon as possible, insisting that she was in grave danger. Although others insisted that she had left voluntarily with a man, the male in question did not match Dante Giovanni’s description at all. Sam insisted that Jasmine had been kidnapped by one of Mister Giovanni’s thugs and was in imminent danger of being seriously harmed or killed. The police responded to Sam’s pleas by promptly issuing an area-wide alert, perhaps only because a human being’s life was at stake. Had a vampire’s life been at risk, Raina was certain that a report would have been made, but nothing more would have come about as a result – they would have simply waited for a corpse to turn up.
Hoping to add a bit of urgency to the authorities’ efforts to find Jasmine, Raina took it upon herself to make use of the gathered media by issuing a public statement in which she pleaded for the local citizens to be vigilant and to help find Jasmine Thuy as soon as possible. She also decided that now was as good a time as any to make use of her ceremonial authority as Grand Duchess by issuing another public decree.
“Let it be known that for his crimes past and present, actions which violate both the Code and human laws, Dante Giovanni is now to be considered a rogue vampire,” Raina announced in a loud, clear voice to the crowd of gathered cameras and microphones aimed in her direction. “He has proven himself to be an uncontrollable danger to society and, thus, he must be stopped immediately. I am told that a warrant has been issued for the arrest of Dante Giovanni, and that if he surrenders himself peacefully, he will be given a fair trial by jury. However, as Grand Duchess, it is my sworn duty and privilege to uphold the Code, which is the law of all vampires. And in the case of Mister Giovanni, I intend to enforce those laws exactly as they have been enforced for centuries.” And, to clarify her intent, she held up her sheathed sword slightly and patted its hilt.
“Do you intend to kill Mister Giovanni, your grace?” one female reporter immediately asked.
Raina forced a bitter, menacing smirk as she narrowed her eyes slightly. “Let’s just say that he would be wiser to surrender himself to the police than to me.” That caused a flurry of shouted questions, which Raina hushed by holding up a hand for a few seconds until they were silenced again. “I would also like to state that any vampire known to be participating in the kidnapping of Jasmine Thuy, or any vampire that assists Dante Giovanni in eluding the authorities or myself, will also be regarded as a rogue and will also be dealt with accordingly.”
“So, you’re saying you will kill anyone that helps him?” the same reporter asked.
She tilted her head and gave the overly made-up brunette an annoyed look. “Come on, now. Do I really need to spell it out for you?” The woman only responded by continuing to hold out her microphone with an expectant look upon her face. Raina sighed and rolled her eyes. “Any vampire that I catch helping Dante Giovanni will share in his punishment.”
“And what about humans, your grace?”
“What about them?”
“If they are helping him, will you kill them?”
“Only if they are threatening harm upon my friend, Jasmine. I have consulted the local authorities, and yes, I am within my legal rights to use any means necessary to defend a human being whose life is in imminent danger.”
“And if humans are attacking you, will you kill them as you recently killed those three men in London?”
Raina did her best not to allow her frustration to override her composure. There always seemed to be at least one or two reporters of every crowd that was a muckraker, someone that always wanted to make a name for themselves by asking bold, usually rude and provocative questions that were usually just thinly disguised accusations or insults. The woman was clearly trying to get Raina to paint her own public portrait as just another monster, a bloodthirsty, primal, wicked thing hiding behind a regal façade of peaceful, civilized harmlessness. Any other time, it would have simply been annoying, but on this particular occasion, it was downright inappropriate.
“What happened there is not entirely relevant to the situation here at hand,” Raina told her. “What we have here is a fairly simple case of a rogue vampire abducting a human being. I’m surprised that some of you haven’t already started encouraging the whole city to form a lynch mob to go after this guy. What I’m trying to do is help save this young woman’s life by getting folks to look for her and hopefully find her before this rogue vampire does something awful to her. If saving a human’s life means less to you than trying to goad me into saying something that you can take out of context and exploit for your own benefit, then your priorities are seriously messed up.” She woman appeared to shrink back a bit, withdrawing her microphone slightly. “No more questions.”
The on-scene investigation wound down fairly quickly after the coroner’s office had taken away the body and the forensics team had photographed and documented the area to their satisfaction. The alley behind the club remained taped off, however, and the detectives insisted upon questioning Raina and the others yet again before they were given permission to leave. Samantha appeared to have calmed down after recovering from the initial shock of seeing the dead young woman. She was still apparently excited by the prospect of her new association with the House of Fallamhain. She suggested that they follow her back to her home and was beginning to walk toward the parking lot when something occurred to Raina.
“Hold on a minute, Sam,” she said, causing her to halt and turn. “How big is your car?”
She hesitated only because of the apparent randomness of the question. “It’s … pretty big.”
“A four-door?”
“Yes. It’s a ’67 Lincoln Continental.” She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
Raina turned to Serenity, meeting her gaze squarely as she said, “I think it would be best if we parted ways now, at least for the time being.”
Serenity was surprised. She shouldn’t have been. Ever since that ugly but necessary confrontation in front of the hotel, Raina had been hoping for an opportunity to finally get away from her. Again, she didn’t hate the beautiful High Court Elder; she simply didn’t feel comfortable being accompanied by someone that she could not trust.
“But … your grace … you need me,” Serenity protested almost timidly. “I promised to help you through this difficult time, and you’re experiencing so much…”
“Stop it. Just stop,” Raina said abruptly, holding up a hand to silence her. “For right now, I think it would be best if we just split up.”
Serenity was genuinely hurt. “Am I of no use to you anymore?”
“You can’t shoot a gun, you don’t know how to fight, and you have a very bad habit of conveniently forgetting to tell me things until the last minute,” she explained bluntly. “Frankly, you’d be doing me more harm than good if we stuck together right now.”
“But … we have strength in numbers. Nobody would dare to attack us when we…”
“We make a bigger, easier target when we’re standing around like this in a big group,” Raina interrupted, raising her voice very slightly, “and I’m surprised that whoever’s trying to knock me off hasn’t already tried to take another shot at me by now. The fact that you either can’t or won’t wear something that doesn’t attract everyone’s attention within sight of you means that I stick out like a sore thumb in public when I’m with you.”
Serenity looked away and down with a deep, sorrowful sigh. It took her a few seconds, but she finally nodded in acknowledgement. It wasn’t that she was a problem because she wasn’t aware of the things she did. She was a very intelligent individual, very insightful, and her plans were usually well thought-out … even though her scheme to trick Raina into a Debt of Blood had been a little bit absurd. She was a liability, not an asset, and a questionable ally. Frankly, Raina’s odds for survival were better without Serenity’s “help.”
“Listen,” Raina told her, “I appreciate the fact that you’ve brought me here, I really do. And really, if you honestly meant a single word of what you said last night…”
“Oh, I did,” she insisted with a sudden enthusiastic nod, “I most certainly did, your grace.”
“Then I appreciate that, as well. You have been very kind, very generous, and very helpful,” Raina said. She deliberately failed to mention that Serenity had also been very deceitful, very dishonest, and very manipulative. “However … right now … I just think it would be best if we parted company. Okay?”
Serenity nodded sadly. “I understand.”
“Thomas? Sophie? Could you take our things out of the trunk, please?” she requested without breaking her stare. Hearing them both reply and immediately head off to one of Serenity’s two Lincolns, Raina lowered her voice slightly. “I do not hate you, Duchess Serenity. But don’t think for a minute that I’ve forgotten what was said in front of the hotel. What you did, and what you were trying to do, was wrong. You have disrespected me, and you have disrespected my title by thinking you could trick me into owing you a Debt of Blood. The other Elders will be made aware of it, and you will be brought before the IVC to be judged by your peers.” She shook her head and felt her lip curl with bitterness. “I can’t believe I almost let you use me like that.”
“I only wanted to help you … as a friend,” Serenity insisted.
“You mean, you only wanted to screw me over … as a friend,” Raina replied sourly.
“Your grace…”
“Save it for the Council,” she said, turning her back upon her and walking away.
Thomas and Sophie dutifully transferred their luggage into the back of the antique Lincoln – the trunk was positively cavernous, even compared to the Serenity’s Town Car – and Raina refused to make any further eye contact with Serenity or her consorts as they departed. Samantha apologized unnecessarily for the “sorry state” of her car, as she had neglected to have it detailed that month as she regularly did, but the car looked to be almost show-quality. Aside from the modern stereo and security alarm, the car appeared to be almost entirely original, showing just a few subtle signs of normal wear and tear here and there. As she explained, her mother had originally bought the car straight off the showroom floor. So many miles had been driven in the vehicle that it had been rebuilt from bumper to bumper several times over by then.
“Three minor accidents, one major accident, three engines, three transmissions, and God knows how many oil changes,” Sam explained with smile. “We had to put in a totally different motor and transmission when the last motor wore out. Nobody makes replacement parts for it anymore, so we put in something more modern. It’s a little faster now, and it uses less gas than it did.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t cheap.”
“Actually, it wasn’t bad at all. We bought a used motor and transmission and put it in ourselves.”
Raina raised an eyebrow at that. “You did?”
“Well,” she admitted after a moment, “Dominic did most of the work. I only helped.”
She couldn’t help but to smile as she said, “I never would have guessed you were a closet grease monkey.”
“Oh, I’m not really,” Sam chuckled, “but I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. Mother taught us to be very independent and self-reliant. She always said that if we couldn’t learn to take care of ourselves, then we would never be able to take care of our own children someday. So, we all grew up with a very do-it-yourself kind of mindset about everything.”
“Sounds like your mother was a pretty smart lady.”
“Thank you.” Her smile faded a bit as she paused. “I only wish that Brenna hadn’t been so obsessed with her independence. She always seemed go overboard with some of the things that Mother taught us about thinking for ourselves, questioning authority, and relying upon ourselves. I think she had the right idea, but the way she applied it…” She shook her head woefully before glancing to Raina and once again saying, “You know how she was.”
“Honestly … the more I learn about her, the more I realize that I barely knew half of how she was,” Raina said with a shrug.
The drive to Samantha’s home was fairly brief, located in a well-to-do neighborhood in the eastern part of Mesa, which was surprisingly close to the area where Raina had once lived. She marveled at the idea that she had been living within a couple of miles of Brenna’s sister all that time without ever having known. Of course, Brenna had known exactly where she could have found her sister if she’d have wished to reconcile with her. Alas, Brenna had left – or rather, she had been kicked out – and she had never once looked back, and the changing of her last name hadn’t made things any easier for Sam to find her.
Seeing the home in which Brenna had been raised was something of a surreal experience for Raina. She felt as though she were being made privy to details of Brenna’s life that she had never been meant to know … and for all intensive purposes, that was perhaps the truth of it. Brenna had never made much mention of her family and had deliberately sought to avoid making Raina aware of it because she had worried how it might affect their relationship. The strange thing about it was that, really, there was nothing at all about which she could have been so ashamed that she couldn’t have shared it with Raina. She would have still treasured their friendship, knowing everything there had been to know about Brenna. Ultimately, she would have loved her just as much, either way.
The house wasn’t especially elaborate in design or height, although it was slightly above the norm in overall size as a three-bedroom house. Outside, the yard was broad and open, largely plain and simple with little more than a well-kept lawn and a security lamp in the middle of the yard as its only distinguishing features. The concrete driveway leading into the yard through a gateless opening in the brick fence out front featured a parking area directly in front of the house. It also ran alongside the house to another larger area in the back and a modestly-sized detached garage. The house and garage were painted as plainly as one could imagine – bright white with black trim under a plain gray shingle rooftop – and aside from a bench swing behind the house and a bird bath and a citrus tree in the middle of the back yard, the rear was just as unremarkable, clean, and simple as the front.
As Samantha explained, the back yard had once offered a plain, open, wonderful view of the desert when she was a very young girl. That is, of course, until someone decided it was a good place to build Highway 60, and then a series of cheap cookie-cutter houses had sprung up like weeds within the past five years to obliterate the view almost entirely. Raina understood the feeling perfectly; her former home a few miles away had offered an equally splendid panorama of the Superstition Mountains to the east, up until some developer had decided to plop an excessively tall manufactured home right smack dab in the middle of that view, directly across the street from her house.
Samantha insisted upon getting Raina’s baggage for her, and so Raina was left only to carry her sword as they walked around from the rear parking area, which was covered by a fairly new and well-shaded carport, to the front side and the main entrance.
“Normally, I would come in through the back,” Sam explained as she fumbled with her keys to unlock the front door, “but it runs through the laundry room, and it’s really not a pretty sight at the moment, I’m afraid.”
Immediately after opening the front door, a beeping from inside the house could be heard. She turned and entered a code into the security system panel next to the door, silencing the alarm before picking up Raina’s luggage again and leading them inside.
“Wait right there,” she said, “I’ll get the lights.”
Raina could already see inside the house quite well from the ambient light that filtered in through the front windows from the single old streetlamp-styled light in the front yard. Switching on a rather bright light in the kitchen, even though it was two rooms over, caused her to squint and both Sophie and Thomas behind her to groan slightly with discomfort. Her eyes began to adjust quickly after just a few seconds, however, and she could see that the inside of the house was quite cozy and, although simple, very attractive.
The living room, which was to their immediate left, featured a large black leather sectional sofa that formed an L-shaped border next to the front door. A broad glass coffee table with a squared black metal frame in the center of the room hosted a few remote controls, magazines, and a decorative jar filled with what appeared to be black jelly beans. The far wall held a fairly large flat-screen LCD television, and just below it was a small entertainment center that housed a few audio and video units. On either side of this were two very tall glass-enclosed sets of shelves that featured an impressively large collection of compact discs and DVD and Blu-Ray movies.
To the right was an elegant dining area with a table similar to the coffee table in the living room, constructed with a thick glass surface and supported by a black metal frame. The chairs were also of the same black metal frame construction, with black cushions. The antique-looking enclosed glass-fronted display cabinet in the corner of the dining room featured a collection of miscellaneous small items that looked like important family heirlooms – small antique pictures, silverware, a locket, a pocket watch, and so on.
“Oh, look at you!” Sophie cried with sudden delight. A solid black short-hair cat had hopped up onto the top ridge of the sofa and was nuzzling its face against Sophie’s outstretched hand. “My, aren’t you a cutie! What’s your name?”
“That’s Anisette,” Sam explained with a smile. “She’s our little four-legged butler. She doesn’t clean anything except herself, but she always greets everyone at the front door.”
Raina finally could no longer resist the urge to ask: “Is everything that you own black?”
“No, not everything,” she admitted, “just most of it. That way, everything matches.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Raina advanced a few steps so that Sophie and Thomas could enter fully and close the door. She gestured to a large one of the many framed photographs on the far wall, next to where Samantha was now standing. “Is that your mother’s picture?”
Nodding as Raina drew closer, she replied, “Yes, her senior high school picture.”
The resemblance was every bit as distinctive as that between Samantha and her older sister, Brenna. The black and white photograph, slightly airbrushed by a professional, showed a gorgeous woman in a dark turtleneck sweater with straight, shoulder-length, dark hair with bangs, and bright, glimmering eyes – presumably the same striking emerald green color as that of her daughters. She had an elegant but shy smile and high cheekbones, a subtle dimple in her right cheek, and a classic beauty mark near the left corner of her full, slightly pouting lips. She could have very easily been a model in her time. In fact, she very much resembled a certain model that had, decades after her retirement from the business, developed a cult following of fans in the gothic, fetish, and vampire subcultures.
“Bettie Page was your mother?” Thomas asked, voicing Raina’s thoughts.
Sam laughed and shook her head. “No, no … although she did admire her work. Her name was Beatrice Schwarz. She worked as a dancer in Reno and also in a few stage productions in Las Vegas. She was actually quite successful in the late 60’s and early 70’s … but nowhere near as well-known as Bettie Page, of course.”
Samantha showed them down the hall toward the bedrooms. The first door to the right led into a full bathroom that was not filthy but obviously used, for which she apologized profusely – her brother’s fault, she insisted. The second door on the left was originally Dominic’s room, although once he had moved out and her son, Seth, had been born, it had become his room until he had left for his military service.
“After Seth left for boot camp,” she explained “it just felt so cold and empty here, so I asked Dom to move back in.” She paused, wringing her hands nervously. “After I was diagnosed with cancer … right after Seth left … I just … I was afraid that I would die alone.” She forced out a bitter, strange chuckle and smile. “I know, that probably just sounds pathetic…”
“Not at all,” Raina insisted softly, touching her shoulder without even thinking about it. “I know the feeling.”
After a moment, literally shaking off her own thoughts, Sam said, “Anyway … Dom was having trouble making ends meet on his own when he split with his last girlfriend, so I wanted to help. Things seem to be going well with his new girlfriend, and he’s been saving for a new home, but … I really would hate to see him leave again because I was planning to leave everything to him. I had originally planned to leave it to my son, but…”
Her voice trailed off and she left her explanation unfinished. Apparently, her son’s departure for the military bothered her for reasons that went beyond a typical case of “empty nest syndrome.” Raina wasn’t going to press her for details about it. She would explain more when she was ready. There would be plenty of time for it. After all, once Samantha became her bloodspawn, their (theoretical) immortality meant that they would have plenty of time to discuss it.
“I would show you his room,” Sam said with another awkward smile, gesturing to the other closed door on the left, “but I don’t want to send you running away, screaming in terror. Dom’s always considered the floor to be a laundry basket and a trash can.”
The second room, Sam explained, was the bedroom that she and her sister had shared throughout most of their childhood, up until Brenna’s abrupt departure. It would have been a generously-sized room, had it been for only one, but with two twin-sized beds and two sets of dresser drawers in it, the room appeared to be a bit cramped. There was a large walk-in closet on the far left wall, which they had presumably shared, and three windows – two on the east wall, one on the south. The curtains, bed comforters, sheets, and pillows were all, of course, black.
Raina could not resist asking, “Who had which bed?”
“Well,” she sighed with a genuine smile, “originally I had the one nearest to the closet. But when I was about five, after the third time that Brenna jumped out of the closet and scared me half to death, I begged Mother to let us switch beds and we kept it that way.”
The only door on the right, besides the one leading into a closet, had also been left shut. The master bedroom, Sam said as she opened the door, had always been her mother’s until she had quietly passed away in her sleep. The mattress, box springs, and all linens of the bed had since been changed out, of course, but she admitted that she had never been able to sleep in that room and had instead only used the attached bathroom.
“It isn’t so much the idea that this was where she passed,” she explained, “but it’s just that she was always very strict about keeping us out of her bedroom when we were young. I never felt right about being in here, and I’ve only made use of the bathroom because I honestly can’t stand what Dominic and Seth have done to the other one.”
Raina looked back to Sophie with a slight smirk. With a subtle nod, she agreed. Apparently, Samantha was a neat freak with a mild dirt phobia. Raina was already beginning to question Sam’s claim to have helped out with the overhaul of her old car; chances were, Dominic had done all of the dirty work and Samantha had either handed him tools or just held a light for him. She would probably fall in love with the Fallamhain Estate’s rustic, historic, antiquated charm, but she would also probably lose her mind in trying to keep everything as dust-free and spotless as most of her own home appeared to be.
The master bedroom was impressive, to say the least. Far different than the rest of the house, which had a distinctive contemporary (and monochromatic) theme to it, this room had a very classic Victorian theme that was unsettlingly like the master bedroom of the Fallamhain Estate. The dresser, featuring a very large mirror with a decoratively carved frame, and the chest of drawers were built of a darkly-stained wood, perhaps oak. The canopy bed frame that extended to within an inch or two of the fairly high ceiling, with dark wooden posts cut with spirals and bulbous forms from top to bottom. The fabric canopy hanging over the bed was surprisingly not black but a deep burgundy that matched the color of the paisley-patterned comforter and throw pillows atop the bed. The pillows, comforter, and canopy additionally featured a gold-colored tassel on every corner, as did the matching drapes on either side of the French doors that offered a view of the back yard. The floor here was actually a bare hardwood with a large Persian throw rug covering the open area next to the bed that sat immediately to the right of the door, which was a stark difference from the boring, medium-pile dirt-brown carpet in the rest of the house. The items laid out neatly upon the dresser – a fancy brush, glass bottles of perfumes, and so on – had been kept dusted and arranged in what Raina was sure had been exactly the way Samantha’s mother had left them.
It genuinely looked like a bedroom fit for royalty … and given the way Samantha seemed to revere the memory of her own mother, and the way her mother apparently ran the household, Ms. Schwarz seemed to have fancied herself as the queen of her castle. It occurred to Raina that if this was how Mother Schwarz had been, and if Samantha had modeled herself closely after that woman, then perhaps Sam was better suited to the High Court lifestyle than Raina could ever hope to be.
“I’ve replaced a few things as needed, but I’ve tried to keep everything exactly as it was,” Samantha explained. “I thought that it would make the transition easier if I didn’t change anything too dramatically, but … I still can’t bring myself to sleep in here.”
“That’s too bad,” Sophie said from behind as she stood in the doorway. “This place is beautiful. And the way those doors are right in front of the bed, you could wake up to that view every morning.”
“Well, you’re more than welcome to sleep in here. I’ve been content to settle for my old bed all these years, anyhow.” She shrugged. “It’s the only bed I’ve ever known, really.”
“Weren’t you married at one point?” Raina asked.
“Briefly,” she answered. “It only lasted long enough for him to get me pregnant. After that, he lost interest in me, started having an affair with a younger woman, and filed for divorce. I only lived with him for about six months before he threw me out while I was pregnant with Seth, so his new lady-friend could move in.”
“Wow. What an asshole,” Sophie commented.
Raina gave Sophie a warning look, but Samantha nodded with raised eyebrows. “Oh, yes. Yes, he was.”
Samantha insisted that Raina have the master bedroom for the following day, and Thomas and Sophie were content to accept the beds in the other large bedroom. The idea of sleeping in Brenna’s former bed had strangely appealed to Raina, but she did not protest. As much as the idea surely repulsed her, due to her issues with her brother’s lack of organization and household cleanliness, Raina assumed that Sam would either take his bed or, if nothing else, she would sleep on the large sectional sofa in the living room. For some reason, the idea of making Sam sleep in either of those places seemed wrong, perhaps rude, but the only real alternative would have been to share the king-sized bed in the master bedroom.
She honestly wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of sleeping with Samantha, much less how Sam, herself, might have felt about that whole idea. Samantha was beautiful, simply stunning in her own right, and her attractiveness was a factor in Raina’s reluctance to even suggest the idea of sharing a bed. In spite of what had happened the previous night with Thomas, Sophie, and Serenity, and in spite of her own conscious decision to embrace her core nature as a Fallamhain, Raina was still not cozy with the concept of casual sex.
Furthermore, she hadn’t yet decided whether Samantha’s blood relation to Brenna should make any attraction she felt towards her a taboo thing, or if Sam’s visual similarity to Brenna was instead a bonus. She didn’t want to confuse the past with the present in subconsciously mistaking Samantha for Brenna. It would only go badly, ultimately hurting Sam’s feelings deeply and pushing Raina closer towards a chasm of insanity that she felt was drawing perilously close. Just as well, Brenna’s memory aside, Raina still was resistant to the idea of another homosexual relationship, especially when she was still on the rebound from the apparent ruination of her heterosexual union with Loki. Put simply, it was all just too soon and too much to handle at once.
Samantha treated them to an excellent meal of grilled lemon-pepper chicken, rice, and a fresh bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Cooking was one of her passions, something of a hobby for her and, much like Serenity, she had an impressive kitchen arrangement that probably would have caused a master chef to drool with envy. She explained that she tried as much as possible to avoid any processed or pre-cooked meals, using only fresh ingredients in everything that she made. It took longer to prepare, of course, but the taste was always far superior and it usually resulted in low-fat, low-sodium, lower-calorie meals, thus helping her to maintain her figure. 
“Of course, time is an issue sometimes,” Sam admitted with a smile, “so every now and then I’ll indulge in some Chinese takeout. I have a terrible weakness for General Tso’s chicken.”
An obvious advantage of this home-cooked goodness, at least as far as Raina and the others were concerned, was that Sam could consciously exclude garlic from the list of ingredients she used. Sam insisted that she was no expert cook by any means, but Raina could not deny that this simple meal was much more delicious than anything she could recall having tasted in quite some time – even better than the fancy high-dollar meal to which Serenity had treated them the other night.
For the most part, Raina and Samantha both seemed to be deliberately working to keep their conversation light and away from the topic of Brenna as much as possible, instead focusing upon explaining to her the things she needed to know about what day-to-day (or night-by-night) life was really like as a vampire. Raina managed to relate to her the many things she had learned, even a few things she’d only discovered in the past few days, that she wanted to impress upon Samantha so she could be certain that she really, truly was willing to devote herself to this kind of lifestyle.
“Obviously, you’ll have to drink blood. No matter how much you try to work around it, sooner or later, you’ll need at least a taste to keep yourself sane,” Raina explained. “You’ll be hormonal as all hell. Think of the worst PMS you’ve ever had, or maybe when you first became pregnant. Think of how edgy and impulsive and moody and crazy you probably felt then, and multiply that by about five. You’ll snap at people you love over stupid, little things, and you’ll feel like turning violent over minor issues. You’ll find yourself wanting to do things that you’d never even found remotely interesting before, and you’ll start craving these things at totally inappropriate times. Like, you’ll be talking to a total stranger, someone that’s not even really that attractive at all, and your mind will just start wandering and obsessing over the idea of what it would be like to do it with them. And the more you think about it, the more you’ll want to act on it, until you finally get to a point where you have to decide to either give in and have sex with a stranger or just run away.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem for me at all,” Sam insisted confidently as she picked up a carrot stick. “I’ve felt like that a thousand times before as a human, but I’ve managed to stay perfectly single for the past eighteen years. I just had to remind myself that I had a child to raise, and that his future was more important to me than having a boyfriend. Of course, Mother never let me forget that, which is why I was never allowed to date anyone when Seth and I were living with her.”
Raina shook her head. “You’re not following me. I’m not talking about dating or falling in love with someone. I’m talking about sex …simple, dirty, sweaty, nasty sex. Not making love, not even making out, but straight up fucking. You know … one night stands where you don’t even actually sleep with them, and you don’t even get completely undressed. You just drop his fly, hike your skirt, and go for it.”
“Oh, that. No, I’ve never done that,” she insisted, although she looked down at the table as she said it. There was a long pause as Raina stared at her for a few moments. Sam eventually sensed her attention, smiled, and shrank down a bit. “Well … not recently…”
Raina decided to be a bit bold. “When’s the last time you’ve been with another woman?”
Sam looked around uneasily, seeing that everyone’s attention was now focused directly upon her. She picked up her napkin and dabbed at her lips carefully, more of a nervous gesture than anything.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t be discussing this at the table,” she said, laying her napkin atop her empty plate.
“Or perhaps you just need more wine,” Raina replied with a smirk, holding up the empty bottle. She set it down upon the glass tabletop gently. “I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re going to do this, you really need to understand what you’re getting yourself into here. This isn’t like a marriage. This isn’t even like the mob. You can’t turn state’s evidence and go into the Witness Relocation Program, because you can’t hide from being a vampire. Once you’re in, you’re in. You can’t go back. If you decide that you don’t like it, you can never go back to being a human again. It just isn’t physically possible. There’s no such thing as a cure for vampirism.”
“I am aware of that.” She closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temple. “I know … I know. You’re right.” Her face tensed as she appeared to be wrestling with her emotions. “I just … I don’t see any alternative. I need to do this. There’s just no other way.”
“Nobody’s forcing you to do this, Sam. Honestly, I don’t want you to do this. I would much prefer that you be a human.”
Sam opened her eyes to meet Raina’s. “Are you saying you don’t want me as your bloodspawn?”
“Don’t take it personally. I don’t want anyone to be my bloodspawn, because I know what a curse it is to live like this. I wouldn’t wish this kind of life upon anyone,” she insisted, “least of all anyone that I care about. Honestly, I don’t know how else to say this, but … the very fact that you’re Brenna’s sister almost made me refuse to agree to be your Maker. I seriously feel like I’m about to totally screw up your life by making you my bloodspawn.”
Samantha’s eyes became misty and she looked away. She carefully scooted back her chair, stood, excused herself from the table with a whisper, and swiftly walked toward the kitchen. As Raina heard her open the back door and walk outside, Sophie and Thomas looked to her with raised eyebrows.
“Well?” Thomas said after a moment.
Raina narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, what?”
“Will you go get her?” he asked her with a smirk.
“She’s upset. She left because she didn’t want me to see her cry.”
“She needs you, your grace,” Sophie said. “Can’t you see? She’s scared, and you’re all that she’s got left. You’re her only hope.”
Raina merely stared at her. Honestly, she was starting to think she had slid so far into her role as a vampire that, indeed, she had perhaps begun to lose touch with her humanity.
Sophie shook her head lightly. “You’re not really going to try to talk her out of this, are you?”
Raina drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, poking out her lower lip and blowing a few loose strands of her hair upward. Damn it all, Sophie was right. Samantha was facing the prospect of death from two directions: cancer or violence. With her beloved mother gone, her brother mostly preoccupied with his own life, and her son away (and not on speaking terms), she felt utterly isolated. Sam was terrified of dying alone, and she had even admitted that aloud. She was going through a private, quiet form of Hell, and it pained Raina to know exactly what she must be experiencing.
Raina had felt the same for quite some time after her parents had been killed, always wondering when the day might come that she would find herself at the threshold of death and having no one to comfort her or, at the very least, to miss her when she passed. A similar feeling had returned when she had stood outside that London hospital just days before, believing that everyone she loved had forsaken her, and that if she died by an assassin’s bullet, it would be of no emotional consequence to anyone.
But in both cases, someone had ultimately proven to be there for her, someone to hear her and hold her, someone to help guide her back to sanity and logic … someone to simply give a damn. Before, it had been Brenna. Now … well, it wasn’t any one person, really, but others had helped her enough to keep her going and keep her from falling apart completely. Svetlana, Loki, Olivia, Simon, Sophie, Serenity, and even Thomas had all done their part to be there for her in one way or another over the past few months. Who did Samantha have? Her brother, Dominic? Perhaps … but he wasn’t there at the moment, and from the sound of things, he apparently didn’t care to become too involved with his sister’s personal troubles, anyhow. 
Raina pushed back her chair with a sigh of resignation and stood up. “Give us a few minutes alone. Maybe keep an eye on the front yard, just in case Mister Giovanni’s goons decide to show up.”
“As you wish,” Sophie said with a nod and a satisfied smile.
Raina stepped through the kitchen, her shoes clacking loudly upon the ceramic tiled floor, and a turn to her right brought her through the narrow doorway that led into the compact washroom, where a washer, dryer, and water heater were crammed together. Anisette poked her head out of the door of a covered litter box nestled between the washer and the wall nearest to the door, greeting her with a soft, cute half-meow.
Stepping outside and looking around carefully, she found Samantha sitting upon the bench swing to her left, close to the French doors of the master bedroom. She was smoking another black clove cigar and staring out at the clear night sky, the stars partially obscured by the glow of light pollution from the huge metropolis in which she lived. Sam was again dabbing at her eyes carefully with a tissue, so she apparently didn’t see Raina’s approach. She reacted with a soft gasp of surprise when she finally did notice Raina.
“Sorry,” Raina said softly. She hesitated. “I really shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that … especially in front of the others.”
Sam shook her head and blew aside a small cloud of smoke and made a dismissive gesture as she was briefly overtaken by a smoker’s cough. Clove cigarettes, as Raina knew, were particularly strong, and since the law had changed and clove cigars had replaced them, they were even more harsh than before. Raina wondered how long Samantha had been actually smoking these, or if it was something of a recently-acquired habit. After all, Sam had already been diagnosed with a terminal form of cancer, so perhaps she had assumed a “what the hell” attitude with her smoking.
Sam took a few moments to try to better compose herself, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes a bit more. Glancing up at Raina with bleary eyes, she forced the best smile she could manage and invitingly patted the open space upon the bench nearby. Raina sat down, smoothed out her skirt a bit, and fussed with the clasp of her golden necklace for a moment as she tried to think of something adequate to say. Samantha was the first to break the silence.
“I was wrong to approach Duchess Serenity with my problems,” she said. “I never should have burdened her, or you, with my issues. I had no right. I wanted to help Jasmine, I really did, but … but I let my own problems get in the way. I was being selfish. I should never have said anything at all. I should have just brought her into my office as soon as you arrived.” Her face contorted and her voice wavered as she spoke. “Now that poor girl is dead because of me. She was counting on me to help her, and I selfishly put my own needs ahead of hers … and now she’s dead.”
“She’s not dead, Sam,” Raina assured her gently, patting her knee. “You don’t know that for a fact.”
She looked to Raina with a pained expression. “We don’t know that she’s alive, either. And if he has her now, then I’m sure she’s dead.”
“We don’t know…”
“No, I do know. I’m sure of it,” she insisted firmly. “I know how Mister Giovanni behaves, and I know his reputation. He’s either going to force the Change upon her and then kill her, or he’s going to do something else to kill her and then dump her body someplace … just like that other poor girl in the alley.” She closed her eyes again, shaking her head once more. “That poor, poor girl … the things he did to her … to all of those girls … and to Brenna…”
“We’ll find him,” Raina told her. “I’ll find him … hopefully before the police do. One way or another, he’ll get what he’s got coming to him. I promise you, he’s not going to get away with anything. I’ve officially called him out as a rogue. The whole city, the whole state is going to be looking for him. He won’t get far. And you know they don’t put rogue vampires in jail.”
Samantha was still shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. What’s done is done.”
“At least they’ll make sure he can never hurt anyone else again. And if I get to him first, I’ll make damned sure of that myself.”
“It doesn’t matter. He has friends … and mob ties. They’ll know I helped. They’ll come after me.” She met Raina’s gaze with fearful eyes. “They’ll come after my family. My brother … my son…”
“They won’t lay a finger on you or your family. They wouldn’t dare. They know you’re with me now, and that’s a good thing. They know better than to go after my people. They’re not stupid.”
“You can’t kill everyone in the Mafia.”
“No, but they know it would only be bad for business to hurt me or any of my associates. It would bring too much attention from the media and from law enforcement,” she said. “If word got around that they did anything like that, there would be hell to pay. If nothing else, I’m sure the Russian mob would jump in and take care of things.”
“Why the Russians?”
“Let’s just say that I have friends in low places,” Raina told her with a smile. “Myself, I don’t deal with criminals, but … things trickle down the food chain. The House of Fallamhain has connections and investments, and just doing what I do as Grand Duchess somehow makes the gears of that machine turn. It’s hard to explain because, frankly, I don’t really understand how a lot of it works, anyhow. But I do know that, according to what everyone has told me, it’s in the mob’s best interests to keep me and my people safe. Anything that is a threat to the House of Fallamhain is also a threat to those people’s income, and they tend to respond to that.”
Samantha initially nodded at that, accepting it, but then paused and gave her a curious look.
“If that’s true, then how did that attack even take place in London? Why haven’t the people behind that already been caught?” she asked.
Raina shrugged. “Probably because I killed three out of four of those guys, and it’s kind of hard to question a dead body.”
“What about the fourth one?”
“Probably hiding in a cave somewhere and crapping his pants. Between Scotland Yard and everyone else that’s concerned, I’m sure they’re already kicking over every rock in sight. It’s only a matter of time before they find him. But at least I know now who sent them after me.” She gave Sam a gentle nudge with her elbow. “I’ve got you to thank for that.”
Sam shook her head sadly and stared at the ground, taking a long drag from her clove. Exhaling smoke as she spoke, she replied, “You can thank Jasmine for that, since she’s the one that heard him talking about it. She said that when the news of the attack was on the television, Dante said something to the effect of ‘I’m glad that I could help make it happen.’ And when he learned that you had survived, he was shouting, ‘I should have hired better men’ and ‘I paid those so-and-so’s in advance.’ Jasmine approached me after she heard that, and she asked for my help because she knew that I often spoke with Duchess Serenity online. The only thanks I might deserve would be for arranging the meeting to take place in my club.” She paused, looking down and away. “And now you can thank me for getting her killed.”
A few moments of silence passed. Samantha offered Raina a thin, black clove cigar. She accepted, lighting it with Sam’s matte-black Zippo. Raina could understand why Sam was blaming herself so much, why she was already accepting responsibility for anything that might happen (or had already happened) to Jasmine. And really, on some level, a cruel part of her did want to agree with that perspective on things. Jasmine had been Raina’s friend in the past, a very young girl at the time with whom she had trained in shinkendo and served as her one-on-one coach. Jasmine had been a sweet, bright girl with a good family and good intentions. It was a damned shame that she had somehow become caught up in life and somehow found herself in close company with the likes of Dante Giovanni. And while Raina could completely sympathize with Samantha’s own plight and the miserable desperation of her own situation, Sam’s decision to apparently deviate from their plan and leave Jasmine alone and vulnerable while she pitched her own case to Raina was, in all honesty, a bold and selfish move.
What Raina had to really ask herself was whether or not she would have done the same thing, had she been in Sam’s shoes. What would Brenna have done, for that matter? No, that was easy enough. Brenna would have stuck with the plan, bit her tongue, and held her plea for help until later. Brenna had been a lot of things, not all of them perfect, but one thing above all else that she had been was loyal … so loyal that it had proven to be the death of her. Well … that, in addition to her outspoken dislike for Countess Wilhelmina…
No, in spite of their visual similarities, Samantha was very, very different than Brenna, perhaps even a polar opposite. Raina liked Sam – a lot, really – but the reasons she liked her had very little to do with her departed sibling and almost everything to do with Sam’s own special brand of uniqueness. But as with Brenna, not everything about Samantha was admirable or perfect. Raina wished that she could have had the opportunity to meet their mother to see for herself what this seemingly legendary woman had been like. But by the ways in which Sam appeared to all but worship her, Raina could easily guess that Samantha was every bit her mother’s daughter … just as Raina was finding herself becoming Duvessa’s daughter, in a way.
Samantha was cold, a bit stuffy, a little too proper and uptight, and she was apparently a bit self-centered, too. Brenna hadn’t been a single one of those things; Duvessa, however, had been every one of those things, and then some. Raina once again found herself questioning the wisdom, perhaps even the sanity of her decision to accept Sam as her next bloodspawn. Would the Change instead make her more like Brenna, creating an opposite effect upon her general nature? Or would it make her more like Duvessa? The former was an appealing thought, and the latter was actually mortifying.
“If it’s any consolation,” Raina finally said, feeling the warm tingle of the minor buzz the cigarette gave her, “even if this whole assassination plot thing had never come up … like, if you had just approached me directly … I still probably would have agreed to become your Maker, anyway.”
Samantha sat up a bit as she turned to look at her with surprise. Her mascara was a bit smeared across and upwards at the corners of her eyes, but somehow it actually looked like it had been applied that way deliberately. She really was fascinating … and Raina had to look away, reminding herself not to let her lust override her sense of reasoning once again.
“But … I thought that you said…?”
“What I said was stupid,” Raina interrupted softly. “I have a serious guilt complex, and yeah, I’m worried that if I become your Maker, then you’re going to wind up hating the whole idea of being a vampire as much as I do. And if you regret it, then I’ll regret it. I’ll feel like I’ve taken you away from everything you’ve got here, and I’ve screwed up your whole life, and then I’ll worry about what your sister might’ve thought if she knew about it, and … well, anyway … you get the idea.”
Samantha chuckled softly, taking Raina’s hand into hers. Her fingers were cold, almost icy, in spite of the lingering heat of the earlier evening. But her skin was incredibly soft, her hands not calloused in the least. The delicacy of her touch was like feathers being laid in her palm. She stared directly, bravely into Raina’s eyes with those emerald gems of hers as she spoke.
“What you’re giving me is another life, Raina. I know that you can’t guarantee that it will be a better life, because nobody could promise something like that, not really,” she said carefully. “But my life here is over. Almost everything that I once had is gone now. My son is now a man, a soldier. The military is his family now. My brother has a life of his own … he always has … and so he will be fine. My mother is with God now, and she no longer needs me to take care of her. And because of that … because I’m no longer needed here … I was never intending to seek treatment for my cancer. Until just recently, I had accepted the idea that I was going to die alone, and that the only thing I could do for anyone else at this point would be to leave everything to my family. The house, the club, the car, the insurance money … everything would go to Dominic and Seth.”
She turned more directly toward Raina, giving her hand a slight squeeze. “Don’t you see? I have nothing to lose by becoming your bloodspawn … and neither do you. We both have everything to gain from this. You will be giving me a new life and a chance to honor my sister, and I will give you my complete and undying loyalty. I will be forever indebted to you for giving me this opportunity, and I will do anything … anything that you ask.”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” Raina responded calmly.
“And I meant it, every word of it.”
“I don’t doubt that you mean it.”
Samantha released Raina’s hand, reached up, and gently caressed her cheek. Her touch made Raina’s eyelids grow heavy.
“Anything that you ask,” she insisted in almost a whisper. “Anything.”
It was hard, so very hard, but Raina managed to take hold of Sam’s wrist and calmly pull it away as she told her, “Please, don’t do that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, withdrawing her hand innocently to her lap. “Did I offend you?”
“No, I just … I can’t think straight when you do that,” she replied with a smile she didn’t bother to hold back.
Samantha smiled back. “What is there to think about? If you’re feeling what I’m feeling…”
Raina’s amusement faded. Again, she forced herself to look away for a moment. Looking away made it easier to think; looking at her, however, made the air grow too hot, her pulse quicken, and things deep within herself clench tight. She closed her eyes as she took a long drag from the clove cigar, inhaling its thick, sweet smoke deeply into her lungs. The smoke burned hot, tickling her throat enough that it was difficult to resist the urge to cough, but she held it for a long while and finally exhaled, letting the smoke out in a slow, controlled release through her pursed lips. The buzz from each draw took a few seconds to begin and only lasted for less than a minute, but it helped to relax her.
She wasn’t glowing yet, but she knew that she soon would begin to. Raina hated the glow; to others, it was fascinating, even attractive, but to her, it was an embarrassing trait that made it easy for anyone to practically read her mind, even humans. She didn’t want Sam to know how she felt about this, not yet … because she would hate for someone else to know how she felt before she, herself, even understood her own emotions.
She was excited, even thrilled, and perhaps a little scared by the whole situation. Here was another seemingly perfect opportunity. Here was the potential for good, true companionship. And yet, here was also a moral dilemma: was it wrong to become entwined with the sibling, the baby sister, of her dead Maker? It was beyond weird. Brenna had been her best friend, her Maker, and perhaps her greatest love. Of course, if Brenna had still been alive, this would not have been a question of personal ethics worth pondering. She would have been happy to be with Brenna, and getting involved with her younger sister or even her brother would have simply been too twisted, too complicated, and above all else, downright foolish. Aside from how others would have reacted to such a scenario, Brenna would have surely resented it and their relationship would have been in tatters because of how Brenna would have still felt about the family that she felt had disowned her.
But Brenna was gone … right? That was what Raina could not get around. Brenna was dead, but … gone? Yes or no? Did her spirit linger in any way? Had she already moved on to another plane of existence where she no longer cared about anything in this world? Or did that other plane still allow her to look back upon current events, to check up on those whom she had loved, and to see what had become of them? Would she care? Would she object? Would she understand? Or would she feel betrayed? Would she still love Raina in spite of that … or perhaps even because of it?
Or … it horrified her to even think of it, but … what if death was so total and absolute that all Brenna now knew was the empty, numb, endless black void that Raina had experienced, herself, when she briefly had been clinically dead? What if that was it? What if the death of one’s body also meant the death of their conscious spirit, the end of their soul, and there was nothing at all, no dreams, no angels and clouds, nor any mystical white light? What if Brenna had been damned to that ultimate Hell of Hells, that absolute state of eternal nothingness? Because if that was the case, if that was all there was to look forward to after this life … well, then nothing mattered. If that was it, then pondering the morality of anything at all in the world was an utterly pointless waste of time.
The simple fact was, she just didn’t know. She didn’t know what had become of Brenna, or at least what had become of her soul. She didn’t know how Brenna would have responded, or if she would have even reacted at all. She didn’t know how to react to all of this, herself, because that could, in turn, set into motion a whole different chain of events that she might ultimately come to regret. And most of all, she didn’t know why the hell she was kissing Samantha, running her fingers through her hair, and practically crawling into her lap. She only knew that it felt wonderful, it felt right, and that she wasn’t about to stop … yet.
“Somebody’s coming!”
With a snap-return to reality that came like a slap in her face, Raina broke the kiss abruptly, and she hopped up off the bench swing in such a panic that she lost her balance completely. She staggered back, stepping off the concrete surface of the patio and into the softer ground of the lawn, and the heel of her shoe dug into the earth deeply before she felt it snap. Cursing under her breath, she fell backward onto the soft, damp sod and slid almost a foot – Samantha’s yard had been equipped with an automatic sprinkler system that kept the ground and grass damp. She was stunned into stillness for a moment or two, then felt a spike of sudden anger for having had that blissful moment destroyed, and then finally scared into action as Sophie’s warning sank in. To her left, she saw the glare of headlights reflecting brightly off the chrome of Sam’s Continental, growing nearer and the rumble of a car with a loud exhaust growing louder as it approached up the front driveway.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she cursed over and over, scrambling awkwardly to get to her feet again.
The grass under her hands, rear, and feet was slippery and wet, uncomfortably soaking through the material of her skirt as she kicked off her shoes and brought herself to stand. Samantha’s eyes were wide and she still appeared to be recovering from the shock of their interruption as Raina hurried over to her.
“Quick, come with me!” Raina said, taking her by the hand and pulling her to her feet.
“What … wait, hang on!”
“No time! Get inside!” Raina cried, practically dragging her over to the opened back door that Sophie was holding open. “Where’s my sword?”
Sophie already had the sheathed weapon with her, and she handed it off to Raina before leading the rush back indoors. Thomas was standing in the kitchen with a confused, alert, but not yet panicked look upon his face as he glanced around the kitchen in search of something. He suddenly saw the block of cutlery, lunged for it, and yanked out a large butcher knife, holding it up as he turned to Raina with a nod to say that he was ready.
“You, watch the front door,” she said to him, then turned to Sophie, who was also reaching for a knife from the same block. “You, watch the back. Sam, you hide in the closet, and I’ll…”
“It’s Dominic!” Samantha cried. “Everyone, relax! It’s just my brother!”
Everyone froze and looked to Samantha, who was hopping about on one foot to remove her other shoe after having lost her first one in the initial rush. She wasn’t tugging her wrist away from Raina’s grasp, but she was holding steadfastly to her position on the tiled floor.
“It’s okay. I know the sound of his car. He was due to come home soon, anyway,” Sam reassured them with a softer voice, though her eyes were still wide with lingering fright. Raina let go of her wrist and she chuckled softly as she looked to her. “It’s okay. I appreciate it, but really … it’s just my brother.”
Everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief in unison. Sophie poked the knife back in that she had already drawn out halfway from the block. Thomas switched his grip upon the butcher knife he held, jokingly pretended to stab an invisible attacker a couple of times as he made a wild face, and then he returned the knife to the block as well. Raina looked down and saw that her left foot was smeared with a bit of mud and little bits of cut grass were sticking wetly to her legs and skirt. Of course, now her skin was glowing brightly from her rush of adrenaline.
“Great,” she grumbled, “now I look like I just crawled out of a grave.”
“Here, let me help you with that,” Sophie offered, taking Raina by the hand and beginning to direct her to the hallway and, presumably, the master bedroom.
Raina reluctantly released Samantha’s hand, giving her a concerned look. Samantha tried to reassure her with a relaxed smile, but Raina dug in the heels of her bare feet a bit and slowed Sophie’s lead for just a moment.
“Stay with her, okay?” she told Thomas. “Keep a weapon handy, just in case.”
She saw him nod in acknowledgement just before he was out of sight as she rounded the corner into the hallway. The carpet was very pleasantly soft under her bare feet, and it felt much newer than it surely was, having been extremely well cared-for like everything else in the Schwarz home. Raina worried about tracking bits of grass or smearing mud upon that lovely carpet, but there simply wasn’t time for such concerns at the moment.
Sophie grabbed Raina’s suitcase, threw it upon the king-sized bed and opened it to help her find something. Raina politely intervened, however, before Sophie could manage to start digging through her belongings. The airport security personnel had thoroughly jumbled her things about into a wrinkled, wadded-up mess, and she somehow felt odd about allowing Sophie (or anyone else) to paw through her things. She didn’t have anything quite as embarrassing in her suitcase as Sophie, herself, had brought along. Still … underwear was a sacred thing.
She opted for something similarly casual to what she was already wearing, simply a different and slightly longer plain black skirt. The one she was wearing really wasn’t that bad at all, and it wasn’t even smeared with mud. She just didn’t want to go introducing herself to Samantha’s surviving family in a filthy state, nor did she enjoy wearing damp clothes. She shed her stockings and Sophie immediately began to wash them in the marble-surfaced bathroom sink while Raina slipped out of her skirt. Sophie’s eyes were taking in the sight of her with undisguised interest as she looked at Raina’s reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror over the sink.
Ignoring Sophie’s stare, Raina said, “Thank you for that out there, by the way.”
“I’m sorry?” Sophie seemed to be snapping out of a daydream.
“For staying on your toes and keeping watch,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Oh … oh, it’s nothing. Just doing as you asked.”
She appeared to be forcing herself not to look at Raina, now, as she directed her stare awkwardly down to the sink basin. Her eyes soon drifted up again, though, and more than once as Raina was stepping into the clean skirt and zipping up the back. Even from where she stood, several feet away, she could very clearly sense Sophie’s desire. It was much stronger now than she recalled having felt in the past, but it seemed odd given the situation. Sophie had seen her in far less, and in a far more intimate situation than this, and yet her reaction wasn’t nearly as obvious. It was the first time she had sensed this from someone else while also knowing immediately what was causing it.
“When’s the last time you fed?” Raina asked her.
Sophie turned off the water faucet and gave her an odd look in the mirror. “We just ate not too long ago.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about blood,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you feed since we left … or even before we left. I can tell you’re running a little bit on edge right now.”
“Oh, I’m … I’m fine, really. Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep very well last night,” Sophie tried to explain dismissively as she wrung out the stockings. She smiled. “There were an awful lot of distractions last night and this morning, of course.”
Raina straightened her blouse a bit and checked her appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. “You mean to tell me that after this long, and after letting me feed from you, you’re not feeling any … you know … urges?”
“Like what?” she replied after a bit of hesitation.
She turned around to face Sophie directly with her hands upon her hips. “Don’t be coy. I know what you’re feeling. You’re getting pretty close to the edge of bloodlust.”
“I am?” She blinked at Raina with a surprised look for a moment. “But … I feel fine.”
“Do me a favor,” Raina said as she approached, standing face-to-face with her, “and just be perfectly straight and serious with me on this. I’m not going to ask you this to be funny or to flirt with you. This is a serious question, okay?”
She was clearly baffled, but she nodded anyway as she replied, “Okay.”
“Are you horny right now?”
Sophie’s eyes twinkled a bit and she seemed utterly stunned as she stammered, “Is this … are you … I mean … are we going to…?”
“Damn it, Sophie, I’m serious. Just answer the question, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Are you, or aren’t you?”
“Oh, absolutely, your grace!” she answered readily. “Ever since we left London, I’ve been feeling this terrible need … and even before that, really. Really, I can’t stop thinking about it, and … well, it just keeps getting worse, I’m afraid.” Sophie moved close and placed her hands upon Raina’s waist. “Seeing you a moment ago out there … well, I really hated to intrude. I would have loved to have watched.” Her eyelids grew heavy as she moved her face closer. “May I kiss you?”
“No.” Raina pushed her away firmly and held her at arms’ length. “No, you may not.”
Sophie’s face went from amorous to saddened and desperate as she grabbed Raina’s wrists gently. “Please? Just once? It’s only a kiss.”
“You’re on the edge of bloodlust, Sophie. Even if you really do mean that you only want a kiss, you won’t stop there. I know exactly what it’s like,” Raina explained. “Didn’t you see me last night? Didn’t you think what I was doing was a little strange? I’m never like that. I’m not someone that just does it with people on a whim.”
“You wanted Thomas, though. It’s okay. Everyone knew it. We all saw how you both looked at each other…”
“Yeah, and I saw the way you looked at him, too. In fact, I saw the way you were touching him last night, as well,” she added.
“I was drunk.”
“So?”
“You’re not sore about that, are you? We didn’t do anything, I swear,” she insisted, holding up her hands innocently.
“And why not?” Raina demanded.
She hesitated. Just barely, they both could hear the sound of the front door of the house closing, and the muffled sound of conversation that included a different man’s voice, very deep and bold in tone – presumably Dominic.
“Well … I already told you why, didn’t I?” Sophie offered.
“Maybe you did. Refresh my memory.”
“He says … he says that I’m too young,” she confessed, looking away. “I know that’s not it, but … that’s what he said. That’s what everyone says, really.”
Raina gaped at her. “What do you mean ‘everyone?’ Who else?”
“Thomas, Duchess Serenity, her consorts, Svetlana … everyone! I don’t know why everyone is treating me like I’m a bloody child!” Sophie explained, looking and sounding genuinely hurt. “I don’t know why people have to keep using that as an excuse. Why can’t someone just be honest with me? Why can’t someone just come right out and say it’s because I’m ugly?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sophie. You’re not ugly.”
“Then why does everyone keep using my age as an excuse?”
“Not everyone,” Raina insisted gently. “I know you’ve been with someone in the House of Fallamhain at some point. Right?”
She shrugged. “Thomas and I did it once, but … even he started to use that excuse, too.”
“What about … Ethan?”
“Ethan was gay, actually. He didn’t fancy girls. Well … except for Auntie O, and I think he only did it with her so he wouldn’t look gay. And I think he had a bit of a crush on Thomas, too.” Sophie looked away and let out a sigh. “I wish people would just be honest and say what it is they don’t like about me.”
She felt a pang of guilt for that, as one of the reasons that Raina had declined Sophie’s advances was because she simply felt that Sophie acted too immaturely, that she didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of being with someone almost a full generation younger than herself. She had assumed at the time, however, that Sophie had never been one to be left wanting for close company, as she really was a beautiful, kind, and sweet girl. Raina would have never guessed that her own excuse for not wanting to be with Sophie was a perception shared by others – apparently including nearly everyone in the House of Fallamhain. Unless, of course, it was more than just a matter of personal perception…
“Sophie?” Raina let her hands fall to her sides and tilted her head slightly. “Exactly how old are you?”
Sophie began to meet Raina’s gaze but abruptly decided against it, continuing to look aside as she replied, “Twenty-one.”
Raina narrowed her eyes at her. “Sophie?”
“Yes?”
“Look at me.” Reluctantly, Sophie complied. “You’re lying. I can feel it.”
There was fear in Sophie’s eyes now. “But … I’m not!”
“You are. I could sense a lie in someone like Duchess Serenity. What makes you think I can’t sense when you’re trying to feed me a lie, too?” Raina pressed. “Besides, your body language is enough to make it obvious.”
Sophie’s fear deepend as she asked, “Can you promise me that you won’t get mad?”
“I’m only going to get mad if you don’t tell me,” she replied immediately. Still, the Commoner hesitated. “Don’t make me play the bitch card on you, Sophie. I don’t want to be like that with you. Just tell me.”
“But … I made a promise! Duvessa made me swear I’d never tell!” she protested.
Perhaps it was the almost childish tone of her voice or her choice of words that struck Raina. Maybe it was the degree of her reluctance to confess what should have been a simple fact. Or it was also possible that the fear she sensed from Sophie was the most convincing detail. Whatever the case, Raina was inclined to believe, as everyone else apparently did, that the cute, petite blonde was not at all the twenty-something that she and Olivia had been pretending that she was.
Raina moved closer to Sophie again, and not at all in a seductive or intimate way. She was deliberately trying to intimidate the truth out of her with her mere presence. There was no need to draw a sword or bare her fangs to impress her will upon Sophie. She didn’t need to be taller, nor did she have to touch her or even raise her voice. Of course, it probably helped that she had made an example out of Duchess Serenity not long ago, as far as her tolerance for dishonesty was concerned. Sophie had been there and witnessed Serenity’s near-death experience at Raina’s hands. Surely, that had made an impression upon her. Raina didn’t want to rule by terrorizing her companions and associates, but she was beginning to respect the fact that fear was a powerful and sometimes necessary tool in her role as Grand Duchess.
And so, Sophie confessed her age. That, alone, was something of a bombshell for Raina. And what made that bombshell of a confession into something of the thermonuclear variety were the additional admissions she made in a near-whisper, as though the very ghost of Duvessa might appear at any moment to strike her down. Her tale was brief, graphic, and disturbing.
“Sophie … my God,” Raina breathed with wide eyes as she looked away.
“Please,” Sophie begged in a whisper with silent tears streaming down her cheeks, “please, don’t tell. Please don’t let anyone know. I swore to Duvessa I would never tell, and…”
“Duvessa is dead,” she reminded her softly. “She can’t do anything to you now.”
“But … she made me swear on my life that I’d never tell. And if anyone knows that I’ve told you … and if anyone knows about what I did…”
“Sophie,” Raina said, gently taking the young Commoner’s face in her hands to meet her eyes squarely, “I’m glad that you told me. You should never have been asked to keep something like that a secret. What was done to you was bad enough, but for anyone to expect you to keep something like that a secret … that’s just horrible.”
Sophie looked at her with misty eyes. “But … you’re not going to tell, are you? I mean … we can keep this between the two of us … right?”
Raina stepped away, rubbing her temples. The stress headache that had begun earlier and then faded had returned once again in full force. Any other time, she would have either flown into a rage and stormed out of there to act upon what she’d heard, or she would have simply broken down and clung to Sophie, sharing her tears. However, the past few days had brought so many shocking revelations and so many sights of horror that she had finally reached the limit of her sane capacity for fresh emotional traumas. Aside from her headache, she was completely numb.
It wasn’t that Raina didn’t care – far from it, really – but she simply could not bring herself to react with anything but shock. In a way, she hoped that this numbness was only temporary. She wanted to react, really. Something like that warranted a sympathetic response. What she had heard from the likes of Sophie should have made her a blubbering, sobbing mess of tears … or, barring that, it should have made her want to seek someone out immediately, thrust her sword into their heart, and shred their jugular with her fangs. Maybe, in time, she would be able to do either or both of those things, or perhaps she would react in some other way. But for now, she simply had nothing left. Just as when Svetlana had made her own confession to her, it had taken Raina some time to decompress and to finally let go. She could only hope that Sophie would understand.
“You think less of me now,” Sophie said sadly, “don’t you?”
“I don’t know what to say. I really don’t, Sophie,” Raina finally told her. “This is heavy stuff. I’ve got a thousand things going through my head right now, so I can’t even begin to tell you how I really feel about this.”
“You’re not going to, um … do anything … are you?” Sophie asked worriedly. “I’ll understand if you do, but…”
“It would be worse for me to let this go than it would be for me to act upon it.” She turned toward her with a heavy sigh. “But right now … I just need some time to think. I don’t know what else to say. I can’t do anything about it right now, even if I did know what I was going to do. I just … I just need time to think, that’s all. I can’t honestly say anything beyond that.”
“So, you’ll keep this between us, then … won’t you? Nobody else needs to know, right?” Sophie asked hopefully.
Raina looked at her for a moment before closing her eyes and nodding. “For now, yes, I think that would be best.”
“For now?”
“Yes, for now, until I decide what I’m going to do about this,” she confirmed, “and whether or not I want to get the IVC involved.”
Sophie blinked at her with those pretty blue-green eyes of hers as she wiped away her tears, leaving messy smears. She cleared her throat and finally replied, “I would feel better if … if it was just you and me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” she said, but then appeared to rethink that for a moment. Sophie nodded again after that brief reconsideration. “Yes.”
“You’d really want to be a part of that?” Raina asked. “I mean, I haven’t decided exactly what should be done, but … you do realize what we’re talking about, right? You know how this kind of thing is usually handled, don’t you?”
“I do.” She sniffled, standing up a bit straighter. “If you’re going to do that, then … I want to be there when it happens.”
Raina nodded in agreement. “If that’s what you really want, then I’ll see to it.”
“When?”
“Soon enough,” she answered. “You’ll know when.”
Raina stepped over to her, helped wipe away a fresh pair of tears that fell from her eyes, and kissed her forehead before giving her a brief hug. She had already suspected that something would inevitably happen between them, but she had never expected that it would be something like this. Not only had the nature of their relationship been drastically altered, but the ultimate event of bonding that had yet to transpire would be a truly bittersweet moment, much less pleasant than what had happened with Thomas. Indeed, Raina did already know what she should do in response to Sophie’s revelation, but she didn’t know if she would, or even if she could. At least she had a fair amount of time to think about it in advance … and to muster the courage to do what needed to be done.

* * * *

Chapter Twenty-Three



The argument had already become quite heated by the time Raina emerged from the master bedroom and walked down the hallway into the living room. From just the sound of his deep, ultra-masculine voice, it was clear that Dominic did not approve at all of what was going on. The things that Raina had already overheard him saying before she had even left the bedroom were quite unsympathetic to Samantha’s situation, to say the least. Upon noting her entrance, both Dominic and Samantha immediately became silent and looked at her almost blankly. Thomas was standing by the entrance to the kitchen with an equally blank look upon his face. 
Dominic was simply gargantuan in height, and he was impressively built. His long, straight, jet black hair spilled over his shoulders as he turned his head to look at her. He wasn’t what anyone would ever call cute, perhaps not even handsome by most standards. His jaw was too square, his brow too pronounced, his mouth too full, nose too wide, eyes too deeply set … too much of everything, it seemed. He wasn’t ugly, though – far from it, really; he was basically the total opposite in masculine appeal to Thomas, who was frankly more androgynous than manly. Given his height, which was easily over six feet, and his well-toned but not bulgingly-developed body muscle, Dominic’s deep, booming voice fit his appearance perfectly. Tattoos were visible up and down both of his arms, but Raina could not yet make out the designs from where she stood. Wearing black denim jeans, military-style boots, and a plain dark green T-shirt that looked a bit too narrow for his immensely broad shoulders, and still holding a large, beat-up guitar case at his right side, he looked a bit like a gothic-metal giant. 
“Hey,” he said simply in greeting. 
“Hey,” Raina replied back. 
That simple exchange more or less set the tone right away for how she viewed Dominic – informal, but not disrespectful, and someone that (for once) didn’t bow down and worship her. 
“Oh, ah … your grace, this is my brother, Dominic,” Samantha offered as she gestured to him, trying to pretend the argument had never happened. To her brother, she said a bit awkwardly, “Dom … this is the Grand Duchess Raina Fallamhain.” 
Dom stared at Raina for a few moments, apparently eyeing her over from head to toe as though he could size her up by sight alone. After a few seconds, he looked to Samantha with an inquisitive glance, and then turned back to Raina. 
“So,” he finally said, “you’re the one.” 
Raina was still standing at the end of the hallway, clasping her hands together anxiously. She wasn’t sure whether he resented her or not, either by the tone of his voice or his choice of words. It seemed more a casual, bland statement than an accusation of any sort. 
“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘the one’, but … okay,” Raina finally responded with a nod. Finally deciding that she felt a bit odd about merely standing in place, she began to walk toward Samantha. “I hope that you don’t object to my being here.” 
“Object?” He shrugged and turned slightly away to lean his guitar case against the wall next to the front door. “Why would I object?” 
“Please, don’t be rude,” Sam cautioned him softly as she drew a bit closer to him. 
“How am I being rude?” 
“Just be nice, please.” 
“You don’t think I am?” 
“Just…” Samantha made a flustered, frustrated gesture with both her hands and rolled her eyes with a sigh as she faced Raina directly. “I’m sorry.” 
“What did I miss?” Raina asked as she passed Thomas and drew closer to Samantha . 
“What? Oh, nothing,” Dominic replied with mock dismissal. “It’s just that Sam here tells me you can cure cancer. That true?” 
“Dom!” 
Raina halted in her footsteps just short of being within arms’ reach of Samantha as the woman glared up at her brother, who was staring at Raina with those same emerald-green eyes that seemed to be a Schwarz family trademark. On Brenna and Samantha, those eyes looked strikingly beautiful; on Dominic, they just looked striking, more intimidating than anything else. He seemed to be trying to burn a hole through Raina with his gaze, though the way he had spoken his words was very calm and casual. 
Trying not to let the awkwardness of the situation hold her back, Raina answered, “If you don’t want me to be here, then just say so and I’ll leave.” 
“No! No, don’t leave! Please, it’s … it’s all right. Really! It’s okay,” Samantha pleaded immediately as she spun about to face her. Then she whirled about to face her brother again, pointing at his face. “Why are you being so rude?” 
“What? I just asked her a question. What the hell’s your problem?” 
“You’re trying to cause a scene.” 
“Hold on a second. I think I know what’s going on here,” Raina said as she stepped close enough to put a hand upon Samantha’s shoulder. To Dominic, she explained, “I know we’ve never met before, and I know you probably hate me anyway, because of what I probably represent to you.” 
He shrugged again. “Hate you? I don’t know you well enough to hate you.” 
“Well then, maybe you should. It’s because of me that Brenna isn’t alive right now. If I hadn’t gotten her involved in that whole mess that I’d gotten sucked into, she would still be alive today. There were a lot of things behind what happened that I don’t expect you to even care to understand, and I’m sure you don’t want to hear me making any excuses for what happened, so I won’t,” she told him. “All I can tell you is that, in spite of whatever you may or may not have felt about her over the years, Brenna was a very, very wonderful person, and I loved her very much. I really feel like I let her down when she died, and I don’t blame you one bit for feeling the way you probably do toward me. If you want to blame me for her death, then that’s fine, because I’ve been blaming myself for it ever since it happened. The only reason I’m standing here right now is because your sister asked me to be here, because she needs my help. And I really want to do whatever I can to help her because I’m sure that Brenna would have wanted me to.” 
Dominic stared at her in silence for a few seconds after the last of that explanation. His eyes drifted to his sister, who had taken a step back so that she could look back and forth from Raina to her brother, and eventually his gaze returned to Raina. She could feel a bit of anger, a bit of hostility within herself, but she wasn’t sure if it was what she sensed from Dominic or from Samantha, who appeared a bit unhappy with Raina’s statement of self-loathing.
“Wow,” Dominic said after a moment. “That was quite a speech.”
“I, ah … didn’t mean for it to be,” Raina responded rather sheepishly.
“So,” he said, “you think that turning my sister into a bloodsucker is going to help her?” 
“I know how it sounds, but please…” Sam began to say before Raina silenced her by holding up a hand. 
“Look, the Change isn’t a cure-all. I’ve tried to explain this to Sam, and I hope that she understands the risks of what she’s requesting,” Raina said. “The Change tries to reset a person’s entire genetic makeup by overwriting a lot of it with its own DNA. There’s a genetic preset, sort of a template, and anything that doesn’t fit that template gets changed by the new DNA. Things like teeth, skin, hair, internal organs, ears, blood type … any of the stuff that doesn’t fit gets redone. And a side-effect of that is sometimes the results are better than where you started out. When I was a human, I had a crooked spine, and I used to be nearsighted. Now, my spine’s straight, I’m about an inch taller than I was, and I don’t need to wear glasses anymore.” 
“So, like I said,” Dominic replied, “Sam thinks you can cure cancer.” 
Raina shook her head. “Not exactly. Vampirism is a disease, in itself. It’s sort of like the opposite of HIV because it kicks your immune system into overdrive, but it’s not like other diseases where it causes your body to start attacking itself. It basically just goes through the body and constantly fixes anything that it thinks is broken. But the problem is, if it doesn’t think that something is broken, it won’t fix it. So, if it sees something like cancer as something that actually belongs there, it won’t get rid of it.” She winced slightly as she glanced at Samantha. “In fact, it might even try to help the cancer along and speed up its progression. So … instead of it being a matter of months or years … it might be a few days. Maybe even a few hours…” 
“And that’s really what you want?” Dominic demanded as he looked to his sister. “Instead of doing the right thing and getting treated, you’d rather just kill yourself?” 
“Dom, I’ve explained this to you a hundred times before. The doctors have already said that I’m too far along,” she insisted. “It’s already spread to my blood system and it’s starting to turn into acute lymphoma. Don’t you understand? I have a terminal illness. I’m already dying! If the Change doesn’t help, then so what? Either way, it’ll be the same result. But at least Raina is giving me a chance to live. A chance, even a slim chance, is better than no chance at all.” 
He shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re seriously considering this.” 
“I’m not considering it, Dom. I’ve already made up my mind. It’s already been decided, and my decision is final,” Samantha insisted firmly. “I’m doing this because it’s the only choice I have left that makes sense. It’s the only chance I have to live.” 
“I guess that all depends on what you call life,” Dominic retorted with a nod toward Raina and Thomas. 
“Would you rather see me die?” Samantha asked pointedly. “Is that what you would prefer? Would you rather I just throw my hands in the air and just give up? Just lie down and die? Maybe you’ve already forgotten about Mother. Maybe you don’t remember how hard she tried, how brave she was. She went through all of those treatments, all of the chemotherapy and surgery. She did everything she could, everything the doctors told her, because she wanted to live.” 
“Then do that! You’re so fuckin’ obsessed with being just like her, then why don’t you just do exactly what she did?” Dominic asked, raising the volume of his booming voice a bit. 
“Maybe you’re forgetting that I still have a son.” 
“Yeah, a son that doesn’t talk to you anymore.” 
“It hasn’t been that long.” 
“Three months isn’t that long?” 
“He’s in the middle of a war in a third-world desert country, Dominic,” she protested with an angry glare. “I wouldn’t expect him to put down his rifle just to write me a letter or make a phone call in the middle of combat. He’s a soldier, and he’s out doing his job. He’ll talk to me when he’s ready to talk to me. He’ll write or call when he can.” 
“You really think so?” he asked doubtfully. 
“He’s embarrassed. He’s ashamed to call me his mother because he and his friends know about the things I’ve done. I understand that,” she admitted. “But he doesn’t hate me. I am his mother. He knows how much I love him. And I’m sure he knows that those things that he feels were an embarrassment were the things that I did so that I could pay for his schooling, for his medical and dental bills, for his clothes and toys and everything else. It’s hard for him to accept, but I’m sure he’ll understand. And when he does, and when he’s ready to talk to me again… and when he’s not dodging bullets so that you and I can stand here as free people in this country right now … he’ll let me know.” 
“Yeah,” Dominic responded, “keep telling yourself that.” 
Raina could sense the raw pain in Samantha’s emotions, but she was surprised to see how little of that pain she allowed to show upon her face or even in her eyes. Shaking her head sadly, she told him, “I can’t believe you’re being this cruel.” 
“And I can’t believe you’re being this fucking naïve, Sam,” he said immediately. “Have you even told your son about how sick you are? Does he even have a clue that you’ve got cancer?” 
Samantha appeared to be caught by that, hesitating for a moment before saying, “I didn’t find out until after he’d already left for boot camp and we had stopped talking. I was only just diagnosed last month. I would have told him as soon as I’d found out, if I could have. You know that, Dom. But honestly … right now, I don’t see any point in telling him now. I don’t want him to worry about me while he’s thousands of miles away, fighting terrorists somewhere in Afghanistan. It would only be a distraction.” 
“So, you were just going to wait until you died and then leave it up to me to tell him?” 
She shrugged, looking down. “I felt it would be better that way.” 
“That’s fucked up.” 
“No, that’s a mother caring for her son’s well-being,” Raina finally interjected. “Either way, if she had chosen to die from her cancer, then he would have found out the same thing either way. She cares enough about him, though, not to put him through that kind of emotional stress when he’s probably already going through a lot already.” 
“And how do you think he’s going to feel when he finds out his mom is a vampire? Don’t you think that’ll mess with his head just a little bit?”
Samantha once again hesitated to reply, clearly caught off guard. Of course, Raina did not approve of the tone that Dominic was taking with his sister, but he wasn’t simply being cruel. Had Sam really not considered the long-term consequences of taking on the Change? Had she really been so preoccupied with the idea of (hopefully) overcoming her terminal illness that she hadn’t stopped to consider what sort of price she might have to pay in the aftermath? Apparently not, judging by the way she again looked to the floor and found herself without an adequate response. 
“Your son hasn’t spoken to you for months because he found out that you were a stripper and a porn star for awhile,” Dominic said flatly. “What makes you think he’s going to be any less pissed off or embarrassed when he finds out that you’re a bloodsucking vampire, too? I mean, how would you feel if our mother had done something like that?” 
Samantha folded her arms under her breasts and continued to stare at the floor as she spoke. “In case you’ve forgotten, Mother was a dancer in Nevada. She admitted to having done a lot of things in the past that I’m sure you’re conveniently choosing not to remember. In fact, there were some things she told me that I’m sure she never told you because you’ve always been so judgmental. I know that Mother was not a saint, but she did what she felt she had to do because she wanted only the best for us.” Looking up to him with just her eyes, she added, “Maybe you should try showing a little gratitude for the things Mother did for us, and stop acting so self-righteous.” 
“Look, what she did and what you did … I’m over that, okay? That’s not my point,” he insisted, pointing his finger at her. “But we’re not talking about your son, my nephew, feeling humiliated because the guys in the barracks are teasing him about some stuff they found on the Internet. If you become a vampire … her vampire…” He jabbed a finger in Raina’s direction accusingly. “…then how do you think that’s going to affect his military career? Don’t you realize that the government doesn’t take things like that lightly? They’ll strip away his security clearance, for one thing. I know that for a fact. He’ll get transferred out and lose his combat pay. He’ll lose any chance he’s got at a promotion. Everyone will know about you, and everyone will know he’s your son, and that shit will come back on him, not you. You think he catches a lot of flak because of what you did before? Wait ‘till his buddies start giving him hell about all the shit that you’ll probably be doing with her. Sucking blood, having wild orgies, hacking people to death with swords, practicing witchcraft, torturing people…” 
“Oh, give me a fucking break,” Raina groaned bitterly, rolling her eyes. “Do you honestly believe a word of what you’re saying? Or are you just trying your best to sound like a bigoted asshole?” 
Samantha’s eyes went wide as she looked to Raina with surprise at that, but she said nothing in protest. Perhaps what she’d said had been a little bit out of line, but she was tired of standing idly and listening to Dominic berating his sister like that … and insulting the House of Fallamhain, to boot. Dominic would not be backed down by Raina’s sharp response. In fact, he even dared to take a broad step toward her. 
“It doesn’t matter whether or not I believe it,” he told her, practically towering over her. “What matters is that’s the kind of shit they’re going to be saying and thinking. You’re not famous, you’re infamous. If Sam wants to ruin her own reputation by getting tied in with you, that’s her business. But whatever she does is also going to come back on Seth. It’s a little thing called guilt by association. Maybe you’ve heard of it?” 
“Oh, only about fifty times a day, when everyone keeps acting like I’m a clone of that bitch, Duvessa,” she replied, raising her voice slightly against his. 
“Good, then maybe you’ve got some idea of what kinda horseshit I have to deal with, too!” he yelled. “I’m just glad that hardly anyone knows about it, because the last fuckin’ thing I need is to be known as ‘that one guy whose sister was some vampire queen’s lesbo lover!’ It’s hard enough trying to deal with that kind of shit on my own. I don’t need the entire world looking at me like I’m a fucking freak because of something one of my relatives did.” 
A few seconds of stillness and silence passed. Samantha finally held up her hands and placed herself between Dominic and Raina as the two glared at one another. She turned and put her hands upon her brother’s chest, pushing him toward the front door. 
“Dominic, I’m sorry, but you need to leave now.” 
“What? Leave?” 
“Yes, leave.”
“But I live here!”
“Then go stay at your girlfriend’s place tonight.” 
Dominic resisted, though he allowed her to back him up a couple of steps. “Are you for real? You’re seriously kicking me out over this?” 
“I’m asking you to leave for the night. You can come back when you’re ready to apologize.” 
“Apologize? For what?” 
“For being rude to our guests,” she told him as she reached behind him to open the front door, “and for disrespecting our sister.” 
“Rude? Disrespect— … what the…?” he stammered. Dominic looked at Raina, then Thomas, and back to Raina again. His eyes finally turned upon his sister. “You’re seriously choosing these people over your own family? You’re really going to turn your back on everyone just to be with them?” 
“I’ve already made my decision, Dominic. I don’t expect you to understand it or agree with it, but you are going to have to accept it,” she told him. Samantha gestured out the door. “Come back when you’ve calmed down enough to treat people with a little more respect. Maybe then we can talk about this.” 
“Stop talking down to me. You’re not my mother.” 
“Then stop being such an opinionated jerk. You’re my brother, not my ex-husband,” Samantha replied easily. 
He backed away, looked again at Raina, and shook his head. 
“Un-fucking-believable.” 
With that, he turned away, opened the screen door with an angry shove, and stormed outside toward his late-80’s Mustang coupe (black, not surprisingly) parked in the front driveway. Samantha calmly caught the screen door before it could bang shut, closing it and the main front door quietly before turning toward Raina with a sigh. 
“He’ll be back,” she said as she briskly walked away. 
“Are you sure?” 
Apparently heading to the restroom once again, Samantha paused only to respond, “If there’s one thing Dom has never been, it’s unforgiving. Excuse me…” 

* * * *

Chapter Twenty-Four



Raina took the brief time that Samantha was in the hallway bathroom to call Thomas aside for a moment. Quietly, she explained Sophie’s situation and asked if he would be able to offer her a measure of blood to help stave off her bloodlust. When he hesitated, she explained that she knew about Sophie’s secret and that she wasn’t asking him to do anything more than offer his blood. He finally agreed, just as Sophie emerged from the master bedroom after taking the time to redo her makeup. He quietly asked Sophie to follow him into the secondary bedroom and began to lead her away by the hand. She looked back to Raina with a confused, almost worried look. She smiled and gave her a reassuring nod before Thomas led her into the other bedroom and closed the door. 
Samantha eventually came out of the bathroom, apparently taking a bit of extra time to compose herself after that exchange with her brother, and she and Raina talked as Sam began to pick up the leftovers and dishes from their meal. Because Samantha insisted upon doing it herself, Raina was left to stand with her hands behind her back and watch as her hostess explained the sometimes strange relationship she’d always had with her elder brother. 
Being the only male of the household since the departure of their father, Dominic had always tried to cut out a very independent identity for himself. He wasn’t so much the type to overcompensate by acting macho as he was the one that always tried to play the parts that were expected of him as a man, even when he was a boy. He had always been supportive of Samantha in everything, even her career in adult entertainment, and they had always gotten along very well. Until the past few years, he had not been a judgmental type of person, but the things that had happened with Brenna had certainly changed him in some ways. 
Years had passed between the time he had last seen his eldest sister as a human and the time he next saw her on the nightly news as a vampire … and by then, Brenna was already dead. He had been infuriated to find out what had happened to her, not only regarding her death but also what he eventually learned about her Change. He saw Brenna as both a victim of tragic circumstances and a victim of her own poor choices, insisting that if she hadn’t chosen to put herself into the kind of lifestyle that she had years ago, if she had just swallowed her pride and tried to reconcile things with her family, she would still be alive. Though it might have seemed more logical to harbor anger towards Dante Giovanni or perhaps even towards Raina for getting her involved, he instead seemed to blame Brenna, herself, and the world as a whole. 
Dominic had become much more sullen, more moody and temperamental, and suddenly very critical of the kind of industry with which Samantha was still involved. He had always been a shy and socially awkward guy, becoming even more so in his early high school years immediately following Brenna’s departure. His tendency to lean toward the gloomy and the macabre in general had become something of an obsession since Brenna’s death. Before, he had been more of a classic and mainstream rock kind of guy; now, he was absorbed in much darker, brooding flavors of gothic, symphonic, and industrial metal. Whereas Samantha’s fetish for all things black was more of a stylistic and personal identity kind of thing – their family name, Schwarz, was German for “black” – Dominic had begun to suddenly adopt her color of choice in many things as a means of wrapping himself in gloom. He seemed to obsess about death and suffering in general. Samantha admitted to having poked around his computer a time or two and having discovered that he had a dedicated folder full of saved links to news articles and videos regarding Brenna. Disturbingly, he’d even saved several files of amateur and professional video footage from several angles taken at the time of Raina’s fight with Countess Wilhelmina and Brenna’s subsequent death. For whatever reason, he had actually saved videos that showed his sister being killed. 
Hearing this, Raina was honestly amazed that Dominic hadn’t reacted more strongly than he had to seeing her in his own home, or to hear that Samantha had decided to become her bloodspawn. It seemed almost bizarre that he hadn’t flown into a psychotic rage, rather than simply reacting with the controlled and logical sort of anger that he had displayed. Raina theorized that perhaps Dominic was probably willing to accept Samantha’s decision, but because of what had happened to Brenna, he was fully expecting the same thing to happen to his other sister. Essentially, he was upset because he was convinced that Samantha was more or less committing suicide … and for that, Raina honestly couldn’t say that she blamed him one bit. She honestly was feeling the same underlying dread, and for almost exactly the same reason. 
After putting things into the dishwasher and starting it, and then packing away the leftovers into the refrigerator, Samantha excused herself to the bathroom once again for a brief while. She soon returned and offered to uncork another bottle of wine. Craving the familiar calm of an alcoholic buzz, Raina readily agreed. Samantha grabbed two photograph albums from a shelf in the dining room along with two wine glasses and led her outside again to the swing on the back patio. 
Over a few glasses and a few shared cigarettes – plain tobacco cigarettes now – Samantha guided Raina through a brief pictorial history of the Schwarz family, starting with her grandparents and ascending up to the current day. The first album almost deliberately omitted Brenna from its pages completely, and Samantha explained that this was the photo album her mother had kept out for friends and family to peruse. Brenna only appeared as a secondary guest character of sorts in a few group photos, just a cute, spunky, mischievous-looking little kid with pigtails and an impish grin. The rest of the photos showed the platonic essentials of the Schwarz’s: one photo of the man her mother had married (and divorced before their third child was born), photos and clippings from newspapers and magazines regarding Ms. Beatrice Schwarz’s budding career in entertainment, Dominic and Samantha as infants and then as young children, Sam taking piano lessons and Dom with his first guitar, school plays and class pictures, vacation photographs, and so on.
Raina felt it was nice to be given the opportunity to really get to know her bloodspawn so in detail before the actual Communion of Blood, as it made her feel better to know that she wasn’t marrying herself to a total stranger this time around. Just as well, seeing the kind of privileged upbringing they’d had, and seeing the evidence that she was highly educated, also helped Raina to understand that Samantha’s rather prim and proper persona was not a mere act but truly the woman she had been raised to become. 
The second album was the album their mother had put together after Brenna had left. Ms. Schwarz had apparently kept this album under her bed, having never truly disowned or forgotten about her first-born daughter in spite of her cold and stubborn choice to banish her from their household. She had come to regret her decision, both for personal and religious reasons, and she had kept this album of photographs to lovingly look back upon the memories of better times with a daughter that she never wished to forget. After her mother’s passing, Samantha had added a few pictures that she had also saved of Brenna, as well as a few snipped articles and pictures regarding her demise. 
Seeing Brenna as an infant, a young girl, and a teenager seemed almost surreal, so very hard for her to grasp as reality. Raina had only known her as an adult, had never known much of anything about her past before they had met, and had always clung to those memories that they had made together as that which defined Brenna in her entirety. Brenna had been a celebrity in Raina’s world long before becoming an actual celebrity to the rest of society, always larger than life. Like a slow, still-life form of time-lapse, she saw Brenna as a shriveled-up baby wrapped in a blanket in the arms of a woman that closely resembled her as an adult. Then she was a young girl with pigtails and a couple of missing baby teeth. Then she was an early teenager with big, puffed-up, spiky hair, gaudy jewelry, wild makeup, and neon-colored clothes in the Eighties. Raina couldn’t help becoming nearly overwhelmed with emotion when the real tragedy of death’s ruthless and all-encompassing finality hit home, knowing that all of this history – years of happiness, dreams, hopes, love, and so much more – had all been virtually erased by the thrust of a sword. 
Her inhibitions lowered by the alcohol in her system and the buzz of the cigarette she was working on – she was sadly beginning to develop a taste for those vile things – Raina’s tears finally threatened to break free when she reached a picture from a magazine showing Brenna and herself as they walked hand-in-hand, not long before the fatal confrontation with Countess Wilhelmina. She closed the album, handed it back to Samantha, and buried her face in her hands for a minute or two as she fought to hold back what felt like a sea of tears. Samantha didn’t hug her or even pat her on the back as she sat there – she just wasn’t that type. She sat in silence and continued to smoke her cigarette as she reflected upon her own thoughts. Raina caught Sam wiping away a tear as she finally lifted her face from her hands.
“I’m sorry,” Raina said to her.
“It’s okay. I understand. I still have trouble looking through it without feeling the same way,” Samantha said, patting the album that now sat in her lap.
“No, I mean … I’m sorry … for what happened,” she insisted. “I still can’t help thinking that it’s my fault that she’s gone. If I hadn’t held back as much as I did, if I’d just gone after the Countess with everything I’d had right from the start … instead of holding back … being so damned afraid…”
“It’s okay,” Samantha told her softly. “Don’t be afraid to cry. Lord knows, I’ve done my share.”
She somehow expected that Sam might put a hand upon her shoulder or her knee, or do something, anything, that was in line with her words. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered to think such a thing. When Raina lifted her face from her hands to look at her, she saw Samantha staring off toward the night sky and exhaling a long breath of smoke. She wasn’t insensitive, nor was she insincere; Sam just wasn’t a very touchy-feely kind of person. She didn’t often do hugs. In a way, Raina could almost understand that. Besides, they had only just met a few hours before. But just as well, a little platonic physical comfort at that time certainly would have been appreciated.
The fact that she even expected to be comforted gave Raina pause. Was she really that clingy? Was she really that dependent upon others? Perhaps she was. Maybe she could learn a thing or two from Samantha. By all outward appearances, Sam was an incredibly resilient, independent, logical, and practical woman. Perhaps the way that she dressed, the way she spoke, and the way she carried herself in general had led Raina to automatically assume that Samantha was a high-maintenance, emotional, dramatic type that had only gotten to where she was by being manipulative or by knowing the right people – someone like Duchess Serenity, with whom Samantha had supposedly been previously associated. It was good to know that Sam was so different and that Raina had apparently been so wrong about her first impression of her, but it also made her wonder…
“What did you ever see in Serenity?” Raina asked, impulsively voicing her own thoughts.
Samantha looked to her for a moment with confusion – it was a bit of a jump in topics – but then smiled slightly and shrugged. “We met on a message board for discussing fetishes. People from all walks of life post things on there. Men, women, upper, middle, and lower class, humans and vampires, twenty-somethings and middle-aged people in their forties or fifties, people from almost every continent on the planet … everyone likes to talk about sex.”
“She made it sound like you two were practically soul mates or something.”
“That figures. I’ve noticed that she seems to enjoy referring to everyone she knows as being ‘a close, personal friend’ of hers,” she explained with a smirk. “Honestly, I’ve seen her posting things on the fetish forums for … I suppose five years, maybe longer. We would e-mail a bit now and then, but nothing seriously. We mostly discussed whatever was relevant to topics in the forums. I only started moderating the forums about a year ago, and since then, she’s been communicating with me a lot more.”
“Because you’re a moderator?” Raina asked. “What, was she trying to brown-nose you for favors or trying to get special privileges?”
“Not really. I think it had more to do with the fact that she knew that Brenna was my sister. I’ve never really kept it a secret, and it wouldn’t take a lot of effort for anyone to find out, but I just didn’t want that kind of attention. I wanted people to know me for who I am, not for who I’m related to.” She turned to look at Raina with a completely neutral expression. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but … that wasn’t why you kissed me, was it?”
Raina blinked almost dumbly at her for a moment before snapping out of it – maybe the alcohol, maybe the nicotine, maybe early signs of returning bloodlust, or maybe nothing at all. She wasn’t hesitating because she was afraid to answer honestly, but rather because she had been mulling over that issue in the back of her own mind ever since it had happened.
“No,” she finally said, “not at all.”
“Do you consider yourself more of a lesbian than a straight person?” Sam asked pointedly.
Raina had to look away as she chuckled slightly, “If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that…” She flicked away some ashes from her cigarette, which had almost burned down to the filter. “I don’t know what I am. I always have and I still do think of myself as straight, but anymore … somehow I keep winding up in these … I don’t know … these situations with other women…”
“Do you really find me attractive?”
“Oh, definitely.” Realizing how quickly she’d said that, she felt a bit embarrassed. “Well, I mean … really … you’re very pretty.”
“Do you think I’m pretty because I remind you of Brenna?”
Raina shook her head, frowning slightly. “No. That has nothing to do with it.”
“It’s okay if you do.”
“No, it’s not. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Samantha narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at her. Wait, no … she wasn’t narrowing them. She was squinting. It seemed that Samantha was actually getting a bit tipsy. She was still remarkably well-spoken, even with a few glasses of wine in her. Perhaps Brenna’s drinking prowess hadn’t simply been a matter of her vampiric attributes, but rather the family genetics that had blessed her with a strong liver.
Speaking quite clearly in spite of her lazy movements and drowsy eyes, Sam said, “I wouldn’t hold it against you, if you did. My sister was a very beautiful and very wonderful person, and I always looked up to her as something of a role model … along with our Mother, of course. I don’t think that I look like her, at least not as much as everyone else insists. But if you think that I do, then I would take that as a big compliment.”
Raina considered that for a moment. She shrugged, saying, “I’ll admit there’s a resemblance, but … you’re definitely unique. You seem to have almost gone out of your way to make an identity for yourself. Honestly, that’s what I think I like the most about you. I like the fact that you’re you, and that you don’t let others define who and what you are.”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.
“What about you, though?” Raina immediately asked. “How do you feel about … you know … what happened?”
“You mean … how do I feel about when you kissed me?” She grinned and looked away almost shyly for a moment, pausing to choose her words carefully. Samantha turned back toward Raina with a slightly more serious expression. “I wasn’t expecting it, of course. But I wasn’t offended at all, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re not the first woman that’s ever kissed me. I’ve done a lot worse.”
“Worse?” Raina echoed with a raised eyebrow. “Meaning … it’s bad?”
“No, no,” she said quickly, “I only mean that I’ve had my share of experiences. Everyone experiments a little bit at some point in their lives … especially nowadays. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve been with other women before. You name it, I’ve probably tried it. I’ve never dated another girl before, though, and I’ve certainly never been in love with one. I just don’t find them to be all that interesting.” She hesitated, meeting Raina’s gaze for a few moments. “Not usually, anyway.”
Raina studied her face for a few moments, trying to read her emotions for some clue as to what she might be thinking. She could discern nothing that was of any help, really. Samantha was attracted to her, but it seemed to be a very light, shallow sense of attraction, nothing as intense as how she honestly felt towards Samantha. Then again, she had never been able to read humans that well, so it was hard to say with any vague kind of certainty what Sam really felt. She didn’t want to risk offending her, but just as well, she would never really know unless she was bold enough to ask.
Raina tipped her glass back to empty it as Samantha did the same. She took one last drag from what was left of her cigarette, and then dropped it into the empty wine bottle, exhaling that last smoky breath aside. Raina briefly glanced up to the dimly visible stars above as she spoke.
“So, then,” she said with a restrained smirk as she slowly began to turn her head back toward Sam, “what would you do if I…”
Raina found Samantha’s hands upon her face and their lips being pressed together, answering her question before she had even finished asking it. Raina was surprised, but she gave herself to the kiss readily, closing her eyes and opening her mouth to Sam’s as she reached for her. Samantha was half-standing, with one knee beside Raina upon the bench, so she wasn’t close enough for her to embrace. Tasting of merlot and tobacco, a delicious smoky sweetness, Raina laid her hands upon Samantha’s shoulders and brought herself to stand without breaking that precious kiss, thus enabling her to wrap her arms about the slender waist of her future bloodspawn. Her hands rested at the small of her back innocently enough, and she had to consciously fight the urge to start tugging away Sam’s clothing immediately.
Samantha seemed to deliberately intensify their kiss, humming softly with approval as her tongue softly probed and explored. Carefully, delicately, Sam seemed to consciously focus upon the sharp, smooth, glossy texture of Raina’s upper teeth, and Raina withdrew her own tongue to allow this … and to avoid the risk of accidentally cutting her own tongue again. The moment she tasted blood at a time like this, she would lose all control. Right now, she was teetering on the edge, but she still knew where the line was drawn. She could still retain conscious rule over her own actions, and she could stop any time Samantha was ready to stop.
The kiss seemed to last forever. That was perfectly fine with Raina. They stood together, they held their bodies firmly together, and they kissed as though they were breathing through one another … and that was all. It had been so very, very long since she’d ever simply kissed someone, a virtual eternity since she had done something as relatively innocent as making out. In fact, now that she thought about it … when had the last time been?
Always, always, whenever she had kissed someone like this, it had led to sex. This had been especially true with Loki. He wasn’t unaffectionate, but he never had seemed to understand her other needs and desires – the ones that didn’t involve an orgasm. No, she realized now that it had never really been lovemaking with him so much as simple fucking, every bit as crude and primal as that word sounded … and sadly, that had been good enough for Raina, at least since Brenna had died. But, again realizing it only then, Raina knew that she also had never kissed Brenna like this, or at least not that she could recall.
Given the way that bloodlust blurred her memories with its passion, she very well might have experienced this with Brenna when she had Duvessa had consummated their union. And those hours she had spent with Duvessa on their first night together … who knew? Barring those possibilities, Raina could not think of a time in recent history that she had ever known a kiss like this. Perhaps not since … wow … not since her days of dating in high school.
There had been that one boy, the one that she had dated for all of two weeks, and the time they’d done a bit of necking behind the privacy of some tall bushes in his back yard. He had literally taught her how to kiss, and although his lessons had not been wasted upon her, she felt that nobody else she had ever been with since then had in any way appreciated that first level of physical affection. Perhaps she had unlearned everything over the years, forgetting what it was like to truly enjoy the intimacy of a good kiss. Samantha seemed quite willing to help refresh her memory, perhaps even show her something new. She was certainly an enthusiastic teacher.
Samantha wasn’t just passionate about kissing. She was superbly skilled at it, too. She would break the kiss only to take another angle at it, to place lighter pecks up and down her cheeks and neck, or to flick her tongue at the soft lobe of Raina’s pointed elf-like ears. She would run her fingers through Raina’s hair or caress her throat when she wasn’t grabbing her shoulders or waist to pull her in even closer still. Her tongue was never intrusive, only curious, teasing. And twice, she would pull away and hold Raina’s face in her hands, their foreheads touching lightly as those amazing emerald green eyes of hers seemed to try to read things in Raina’s soul that even her own High Court abilities would never be able to detect in others.
It wasn’t dirty or kinky or even sexual in the slightest bit, really. It was like breaking through the surface of a frozen lake and taking the first few gasps of precious air after having been held underneath for most of her life – refreshing, invigorating, and yet so strange and new that it was almost frightening in a way.
For once, Raina didn’t find herself overwhelmed. She didn’t black out, nor did she catch herself in the midst of doing something she hadn’t been consciously doing in the first place. No, this was all very real, all very in-the-moment. She wasn’t so blinded with passion that she was unable to consciously listen for any sounds of another’s approach, as she did not want to be interrupted twice in one night. But she was not so worried or so paranoid about being observed that she could not give herself adequately to the experience.
At last, Samantha withdrew and placed her hands upon Raina’s shoulders to hold her gently away at arms’ length. Licking her lips and smiling, she caressed Raina’s cheek gently with one hand, letting out a heavy sigh of contentedness.
“God, you’re amazing,” Raina breathed.
“It was only a kiss,” Sam replied with a grin.
“Maybe for you, yeah.” Raina’s eyes grew heavy as she nuzzled her face against Sam’s soft fingertips. “Nobody’s ever kissed me like that.”
“Like I said, it was only a kiss,” Samantha insisted as her smile became more seductive. She nodded toward the French doors to their left. “We can take this into the bedroom, if you’d like…?”
Raina opened her mouth to reply, but she caught herself. It wasn’t a flirty suggestion; it was a legitimate question. And the question, at least as far as Raina was concerned, wasn’t simply a matter of whether or not she was interested in getting carnal with Samantha, but rather a question of whether or not she was willing to commit.
Surely, Sam understood. She had been around vampires often enough, or at least read about them and heard enough about them, so she knew the means by which vampirism was spread. Essentially, the rules for avoiding the Change were about the same as for avoiding, say, an infection with HIV: no blood or sexual secretions. Between a male and a female, that was more or less just a matter of slipping on a latex sheath. It wasn’t so simple between two females, or at least it wasn’t anything Raina wanted to try, because that would have made the whole thing seem to detached, impersonal, and … well, pointless.
What Samantha was essentially asking was whether she wanted to initiate her Change that night. The Communion of Blood was a traditional means of starting the Change, but not the only way, of course. For once, Raina preferred to be traditional. Besides … it was just too damned soon.
“Not yet. Not tonight,” Raina finally said, although it was very hard.
Samantha looked surprised. “You don’t want to?”
“Oh, I do. Totally,” she agreed readily with a nod and a smile. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not for a lack of wanting.”
“Then … why not?”
“Too much, too soon. I don’t want to rush into anything.”
“So, you’re not sure about me…?”
Raina shook her head and held up a hand. “That’s not what I mean. I’m cool with that. I’ve already agreed to be your Maker. That’s already been decided. I’m just not sure if we … y’know … if we should be…”
“Getting intimate?”
“Maybe.” Raina shrugged, awkwardly glancing away. “Hell, I don’t know. Am I being weird about this?”
Reluctantly, Samantha smiled a bit and admitted, “Maybe.”
“Well, for one thing, I want to do this right. I don’t want your Change to be started by accident.”
“Then let me have your blood,” Samantha replied bravely. “Don’t worry, I’m not squeamish. I won’t get sick. I’ll drink as much as you’re willing to give me. I’m ready for it. I’m not afraid.”
Raina shook her head. “You don’t understand. I want to do it properly, with witnesses and everything. With Loki, it was just an accident … and a mistake, honestly. I don’t want to leave anything to chance with you. If you want this … if you really, really want this … then I want to do it right. I want it to mean something, instead of just being an ‘oops’ kind of thing. You know?”
Samantha reluctantly agreed to that, nodding her head solemnly as the mood evaporated. They let go of one another and found themselves standing together in awkward silence. Raina noticed that she had dropped her wine glass upon the soft, damp grass of the lawn, the only thing she had done amidst her excitement that she hadn’t been aware of doing. She picked it up and plucked away a couple of loose blades of grass from its surface before looking to Sam again. For the first time, Samantha actually let her prim and proper façade of elegant womanliness slip, momentarily replaced by a shy young girl in a thirty-something’s body. She nibbled nervously upon the black polished nail of her index finger and spoke around it as she talked.
“We don’t have to do that,” Samantha said shyly. “We can just … be together. You know? After all, It’s not as though either of us has never been with another woman.”
Raina smiled a bit, stepping closer to take her by the shoulders. Looking into those beautiful eyes of hers once more, she said, “I’m trying really, really hard to be good and do the right thing, Samantha. I am the Grand Duchess. I have to do things a certain way because that’s what I am, and because that’s what is expected of me. People in the IVC don’t see things the way normal folks do. When a Grand Duchess picks a bloodspawn, it has to be a big production. It’s supposed to be official. What happened with Loki was embarrassing because we had to do the Communion of Blood after he’d already started his Change. I caught a bunch of flak from the IVC Elders for that. I don’t want to do that twice.”
“I see.” Samantha let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re right, this is too soon. I’m moving too fast…”
“No, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Raina insisted, running her fingers through the silky smooth blackness of Sam’s hair. “I’m just glad you stopped to ask. I don’t think I would have stopped unless you’d made me think about it first. If you’d just led me by the hand to the bedroom … well…”
Sam smiled almost impishly as she tugged upon Raina’s hand. “What if I led you by the hand right now?”
“Please, don’t do that.”
“You’re not interested?”
She paused, tilting her head slightly aside. Rather than answering her question, Raina asked, “I thought that Serenity told me you were straight…?”
Samantha shrugged as she replied, “It’s just been a personal policy of mine never to date other women, that’s all. I’ve just never wanted to have a full-on relationship with someone of my own gender. But … I’m willing to make an exception here.”
“Why me? Why am I so different?” Raina asked. After a moment, she added, “I mean, besides the whole Grand Duchess title and all that…?”
“Quite honestly, I’m not sure,” Sam replied, “but I’d like to find out. I hold a great deal of respect for you and for the things you’ve done for others.”
“Respect isn’t the same thing as attraction.”
Sam’s smile faded as she glanced aside. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, and I know it may sound strange, but … quite honestly … I’d like to get to know the person my sister so dearly loved. From everything I’ve seen and heard about what the two of you shared, I know that Brenna loved you like she never loved anyone else before. You were very, very special to her.” She met Raina’s eyes once more. “I’ll understand if you don’t feel comfortable with that idea.”
Raina considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Let’s just take this one step at a time. Okay?”
Sam grinned for a moment before looking over her shoulder toward the back door leading into the laundry room. The light inside the kitchen still glowed, and Raina was sure that she glimpsed a shadow of movement inside. Had Sophie or Thomas (or both) been watching them all that time? If they had … well, so what? It was nothing of which to be ashamed. And anyway, the world would know soon enough that Samantha and Raina were to be bound by blood.
“So,” Sam finally said as she turned to Raina again, “when will I be yours?”
Raina shrugged. “Why not tomorrow?”
“Why not tonight?” she persisted gently. “We have witnesses here.”
She shook her head, her smile vanishing. “You don’t understand. Normally, I wouldn’t want to make a media circus out of things like this, but … it actually would help us if we did. If everyone knows that you’re my bloodspawn, then nobody would dare to hurt you or your family.”
“Well … that was more or less the original plan, wasn’t it?” Sam replied with a smirk.
“That was the plan with Jasmine, actually.” Raina narrowed her eyes slightly. “Let’s not get carried away here and lose sight of why we’re both standing here right now.”
That immediately put a damper on Samantha’s spirits. She turned away and stepped out of Raina’s reach as she picked up Raina’s dropped wine glass and then paced calmly toward the swinging bench to collect hers.
“If anything happens to that poor girl, I’ll never forgive myself,” she told her sadly. “If I hadn’t been so selfish about things…”
“She’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Raina assured her. “Dante Giovanni wouldn’t dare. He knows better. He knows what I’ll do to him if he hurts her.”
Samantha’s face paled with dismay as she said, “But … if he knows that … then he already knows that you intend to kill him. He’s got nothing to lose.” The remorse and sorrow that Raina sensed from her showed plainly in her eyes. “He’s probably already killed her by now. That poor girl…”
Raina moved in closer to her, putting a hand upon her shoulder. Samantha almost seemed to shrink away from her just a bit, as though she expected that Raina would blame her for Jasmine’s fate as much as Sam appeared willing to blame herself.
“Don’t be so negative. It won’t do us any good to always assume the worst.”
Sam offered an almost pained smirk. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not the most positive-thinking person you’ve ever met. Life has taught me that the easiest way to set oneself up for disappointment is to always expect a positive outcome. When you always assume the worst, the outcome is easier to handle when it turns out that you were right.”
“Wow,” Raina breathed, “that actually sounds like something I would say.”
“Then perhaps we’re a better fit than either of us initially figured,” Samantha replied with a smile, softly kissing the back of Raina’s hand.

* * * *

Chapter Twenty-Five



Gold Canyon, Arizona

“I am very unhappy with you,” Mister Giovanni said as he drove them along in the plush Cadillac SUV. “I gave you a perfect life. I gave you gifts. I paid your bills. I bought you clothes. I took you places. I shared my home with you. I gave you everything. And this is how you thank me?” 
“I’m sorry,” Jasmine said as she stared out the side window, though her words sounded every bit as insincere as they felt. 
Surprisingly, he hadn’t caused much of a scene when he had more or less dragged her from the club … mainly because he had sent someone else in to fetch her. One of Dante’s hired goons had calmly walked in just after she had finished her set, grabbed her by the arm with a vise-like grip that would surely leave bruises, and escorted her straight out to meet a clearly displeased Mister Giovanni in the parking lot. He seemed edgy, not only with anger but also with something else, an emotion that she had never before seen from him but now was plainly clear. He was afraid, very afraid. He knew exactly what was going on, or at least he had a pretty good idea, and the reality of it scared him. How could someone like him have never seen this coming? 
“Anything you ever wanted, I have given you. Why would you do this to me? Why, after I have done so much for you, why would you do this to me?” he demanded, his genuine old-country Italian accent becoming more and more obvious as both his rage and fear swelled. 
Jasmine only shrugged and shook her head, refusing to look at him. She was dead. She knew it. There was nothing she could do to avoid what was going to happen now. She couldn’t run, for he would catch her. She couldn’t fight him, for he was much too strong. And she couldn’t even scream for help because Samantha, the only person that would have ever been even somewhat inclined to help her, had selfishly betrayed her by putting her own needs ahead of hers. 
They passed a marked police patrol car going the opposite direction as they headed east on Apache Trail, and Mister Giovanni appeared to sink down in his seat as though they might identify him through the darkly tinted windows of the Cadillac. No, Jasmine knew that she could not even hope to do something to flag down a passing cop or otherwise expect some form of police intervention. Mister Giovanni had many, many friends in low places, and he had very deep pockets. Anyone that could not be bought could just as easily be silenced in one way or another, even the police. How else had he been able to do the things that he had over so many years without being caught? He wasn’t entirely subtle about his crimes. He simply knew the law down to the letter, and thus he knew how to work around it. And, of course, he knew how to bribe or muscle his way through the times when dancing around the law wasn’t enough. 
“I never should have trusted you. I never should have loved you,” Mister Giovanni said, perhaps simply thinking aloud than truly addressing her. “I knew you would do this someday. You are just like the others, just like any other woman. You lie, you steal, and you use me. What I give you is never enough. You want more than I can give. I can never make you happy, never!” 
Jasmine said nothing. She knew better than to speak when Mister Giovanni was angry. When he was like this, he was anything but reasonable. She wished that she could blame it on his vampiric tendencies, the symptoms of being close to bloodlust, but she knew he was like this even when he was physiologically at his best.
Mister Giovanni had an extremely perverse and pathetic concept of love that equated to prostitution. He honestly believed that all women were whores. He truly thought that love was simply a matter of how much he could provide them and how grateful and loyal women would be in return. He would buy them things or take them to places, and for that he expected them to reward him with sex. If he felt that they were being ungrateful in any way – essentially, if they did not act as though they worshipped him as a demigod – then he would discipline them in one way or another, usually in a physical manner. That was really as simple as their relationship had been, even from the beginning. She had been foolish, at least in the beginning, to have thought that his actions weren’t really as shallow and selfish as they had seemed. 
Now, her foolishness was about to be the death of her. It was probably just as well that it ended this way. He would take her someplace and do something to her, something awful and violent, and then it would be over. He would call his other friends to help dispose of her body, or he might even do it himself, but whatever became of her after she died was really none of her concern. Nobody would miss her. Nobody would mourn her passing. Her family didn’t care – she was already dead to them. She hadn’t any true friends, not after Mike had driven them all away. The only person she had even considered to be an ally, hardly a friend, had apparently only used her as bait to lure Grand Duchess Raina Fallamhain into paying her a visit in person. While Samantha had been busy schmoozing with the celebrity vampires in her office, Mister Giovanni had made his inevitable appearance and whisked her away. Maybe this was exactly how it had all been planned from the beginning. Samantha had probably even called Mister Giovanni herself, for all Jasmine knew. That bitch!
No, she couldn’t feel like that about Samantha. That wasn’t fair. Sam had every right to be just as desperate as Jasmine about seeking the Grand Duchess’s help, perhaps even more so. While Jasmine’s own view of impending doom had been more of a rhetorical and presumptuous one, Sam had been facing a literal countdown to death. The woman was dying of cancer, a secret she had shared with her only just a few nights before. Sam only had a few months left to live – perhaps even less, considering that she apparently wasn’t seeking treatment because of her grim prognosis. Jasmine could have tried to find another way to escape, could have played this out more wisely, but she hadn’t thought to come up with an adequate backup plan. She had invested all of her hope into Samantha’s ability to recruit the assistance of Duchess Serenity and the Grand Duchess. Well, that had fallen through, and because she had committed herself so heavily to this means of escape, the price to be paid for failure was going to be terrible. She could only hope that it would end swiftly. 
“I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know what to do,” Mister Giovanni groaned, almost whining. “What am I doing wrong? Why are you not happy? Why do you do things to make me unhappy?” 
Jasmine finally turned to look at him, her expression utterly blank. “I only went to the club.” 
“You went to her club! You went to that bitch for money instead of coming to me!” he yelled. “When have I ever told you no? When have I ever not given you money to buy nice things? Why would you go to her and not to me? What does she give you that I do not?” There was a pause as something passed over his face. “Are you fucking her?” 
“No!” she replied with a disgusted look, finding the accusation to be absurd. 
Jasmine had never been “into” other women, and she had only done the things that she had with others simply because Mister Giovanni expected it of her. Just as well, Samantha had never showed even a slight personal interest in girls, nor had she ever really been known to have done any girl-girl work in her fetish-themed photo shoots and videos. Sure, she did dress-ups, bondage, candles, and a bit of “slap and tickle,” as Sam called it, but no oral or toys or anything like that. Sam wasn’t like her sister had been. As far as she could tell, Sam was genuinely as straight as an arrow. 
For the most part, whenever Jasmine had done anything with another female, it hadn’t been disgusting … but it hadn’t been very thrilling, either. It was always fake, always superficial. It had always been on others’ terms, always something she had done either to appease someone else’s interests or simply to earn a few extra dollars. Perhaps it was simply the context of nearly every occasion she had been with another girl that had turned her off to the whole thing, really. In fact, with the exception of Brenna, there hadn’t ever been a straight woman she’d ever met that had legitimately enjoyed the experience of even experimenting with other women when a man was present. Like Jasmine, apparently they were all just doing what they felt was necessary, feigning pleasure with women for the sake of pleasing their men.
Brenna had been the only one with whom it had been different. She hadn’t made it feel dirty. She didn’t make it feel like they were using one another, nor did she make it feel as mundane and unfulfilling as a clinical pelvic exam. No, because Brenna had been legitimately bisexual, and also the fact that she had been so personable and genuinely friendly toward Jasmine, it had actually been … well … pleasant with her. But because it had been in front of a camera, it hadn’t been special, nor had it been emotional, just nice, and not as awkward or degrading as the other times.
Because Samantha was so very, very different than her sister had been, Jasmine had never given a thought to the idea of what it might be like to be with her. Besides … she had retired from the porn scene, already, and Jasmine could scarcely even be called bi-curious. Having been there and done that with nearly all there was to be done, there was hardly anything left about which to be curious. So, there would never have been a reason for the two of them to get together in the first place. Samantha was very pretty and she seemed friendly enough, but … no.
Besides, it would have been more than a little strange to be with another woman and then be with that woman’s sister. After all, she never would have dated the brother of one of her ex-boyfriends. What would be the point? Unless they were complete and total opposites, wouldn’t it just be more of the same? And wouldn’t the other person feel weird about being with someone with whom their sibling had been? Wouldn’t that seem to be like … well … some weird sort of indirect form of incest? Yuck…
Not that any of that mattered at this point. Soon enough, nothing in the world would matter to her at all. Even amidst her panic and dismay, her mind had wandered. That was just one of the ways she had learned to cope with times like this. If she could not physically escape, at least her mind was still free to drift away.
Dividing his attention between his driving and her, Mister Giovanni demanded, “Why did you go to her club? Why were you dancing?” 
She shrugged, looking down at her bare feet. Jasmine had kicked off her high heels after he’d practically thrown her into the SUV, holding out a futile hope that she’d have an opportunity to make a run for it at some point. 
“Answer me!” he yelled, slamming a meaty fist into her shoulder. 
The blow momentarily numbed her entire arm, and she winced as the pain soon came while she rubbed the spot he had struck. Awkwardly, she answered, “I … I don’t know why.” 
“Bullshit! You know!” He punched her in the shoulder again, though his knuckles smacked into the back of her right hand instead of her shoulder as she had been rubbing it. “Answer me, you little bitch!” 
“I’m sorry! I don’t know! I swear!” she cried, leaning away from him. She fought a fleeting urge to jerk open the door and dive out of the moving vehicle, even though the act probably would have maimed or killed her. “I only … I wanted to dance, and … and…” 
“And what?” 
“And I … I knew you wouldn’t let me dance at one of your clubs, that’s all,” she lied. She wasn’t a terrible liar, but she couldn’t look him in the eye when she did it, especially not when he was scaring her like this. “I only wanted to dance because … I missed it. I liked dancing and … and you don’t let me.”
There was at least some element of truth to her words. At one point, she had indeed taken pleasure in being on that stage. But now, it was just a sad reminder of what she had become and of what she had done to put herself into this position. Tonight, quite literally, she had danced her last dance.
Almost a full minute of silence passed as Mister Giovanni appeared to actually believe that explanation. He wasn’t stupid … but he was terribly naïve when it came to some things. She knew him well enough at that point to expect that he would honestly believe whatever he wanted to, and that lying to him successfully was only a matter of telling him what he wanted to hear. He wanted to think that women were all nymphomaniacs, that love really was just a romanticized form of prostitution, and that women were genuinely happy to engage in degrading and humiliating acts because they lived only to please and serve men like him.
And again, while Jasmine had honestly enjoyed dancing at one point, and while the act of getting up on that stage earlier that night had been something of a thrill, it was more a matter of living out an exciting end to a chapter of her life with the expectation that another chapter, a much happier one, would be soon beginning. But what Mister Giovanni really wanted to hear was that it had been a sexual thrill for her, that she “got off” on the whole stripping routine. Yes, in some ways it was nice to feel wanted and desired, but not nice at all to feel used and exploited – something Mister Giovanni would probably never understand. 
“You should have asked. If you had asked me,” he finally said with a nod, “I would have let you. I did not know that you liked to dance. You told me that you only did it for money.” 
“I … well, I did … before I met you,” she forced herself to say. The idea of even pretending to convey a sentiment even vaguely close to love for him was nauseating. “You … you bought me things and paid my bills, so … so I didn’t need money. I was only dancing because I liked it. I liked … to be watched.” 
Mister Giovanni grinned at that, exposing his fangs. Again, he was probably only willing to believe it because he wanted to. His fantasy perceptions of the female mind and the motivations of women were so warped and selfish that it was almost laughable. He probably believed that Jasmine and his other blonde mistress often made out and/or had sex with one another when he wasn’t around because they actually lusted for each other.
Even the blonde had readily confessed that she didn’t really care for getting intimate with Jasmine, but she considered herself to be an excellent actress. The girl sadly had expressed a desire to make it into Hollywood someday, even if only to be in adult films. Perhaps, like Jasmine, she had done a good job of making it seem like she really enjoyed their threesomes, good enough that he actually thought it was all very real. In his own mind, women liked nothing more than to molest one another while a male was either hammering one of them from behind, or sitting around nearby and sipping on a drink or smoking a cigar, watching with a smile and blowing smoke rings into the air as they put on a show for him. 
Ironically, the only female that Jasmine had ever met that could have even possibly fit Mister Giovanni’s ideal – a bisexual woman who genuinely liked group sex and enjoyed showing off in front of a camera – was also the type that would have never wanted to have anything to do with him. She still found it nearly impossible to believe that Mister Giovanni had been Brenna’s Maker. Perhaps the rumors were true. Maybe Brenna really had been “the one that got away.” Maybe because he realized she was what he wanted, and because Brenna would have never wanted to be his, he had chosen force over finesse. And then, once he’d had her, he had thrown Brenna away like yesterday’s trash … literally.
Grand Duchess Raina had refused to publicly discuss the confrontation that had taken place between Brenna and Mister Giovanni shortly before Brenna’s death. The media and much of the public had scoffed at the notion that Brenna previously had been a victim in the matter. Nobody believed that she had only become his bloodspawn as a result of the time he had brutally raped and assaulted her and then left her for dead in an alley trash bin. That sort of thing would have made her a victim, and Brenna just didn’t look like the kind of woman that would ever allow herself to be victimized. Raina, maybe. But Brenna? Not a chance. 
Anyone that had really known both Brenna and Mister Giovanni, though, would have found the truth much easier to accept. Truly knowing them both, it was hard to believe the incorrect but popular consensus that Brenna had only been another one of his eagerly willing, gold-digging trophy girlfriends – essentially, the very role that Jasmine had been playing out. It sickened her, the way so many had insinuated that Brenna had only been clinging to Raina’s coattails during her rocket-like ascent to power, and that Brenna’s death had been earned by her own supposed greed. Apparently, if things went the way that Jasmine was expecting them to go, people would probably be saying something similar about her, too, when she eventually turned up dead. Like Mister Giovanni, people often believed only what they wanted to believe.
“From now on, you only dance at my clubs. I don’t want you to go to her again,” Mister Giovanni informed her. He was much calmer now, so his accent was less severe. “Never talk to her again. She has been a problem to me. If anyone sees you in her club, if people see my girl working in her club and not in one of my clubs, then how does that look for me? It makes me look like an asshole. Do you think I am an asshole?”
“No,” she lied, now massaging the sore fingers of her right hand. “I’m sorry, Mister Giovanni. I didn’t want to cause a problem. I promise, I’ll never go there again.” 
He nodded at that with a very satisfied look. The rest of the brief drive back to his house was peaceful. Jasmine found herself actually hoping that this might not turn out as badly as she had expected. Perhaps her cover story had worked after all. Maybe she really had managed to make him believe her lie, again only because he wanted to believe them. Perhaps she would have another shot at escaping. It probably wouldn’t happen that night, but maybe the next day, when he was asleep and confined to the house by the daylight, she could slip out and try again. Maybe she had been wrong about Samantha. Maybe she hadn’t known that he would show up when he did. If she could get away, get in touch with her again … maybe, just maybe, there was a chance she could still make this work. She dared to hope that the inevitability of a terrible death was, at least for the moment, not going to be so inevitable. 
About two miles before their destination, Mister Giovanni reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed someone and held the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he then dug out a cigar and lit it up. He rolled the passenger-side window down just a bit to let in some of the air without mussing his hair. Of course, the vile smoke from his stogie had to pass by her on its way out of the interior, making her eyes water as she tried not to cough. Cigarettes were bad enough, but she hated cigars with a passion. Mister Giovanni delighted in puffing away at them nightly, although perhaps only for the way he thought they made him look sophisticated and how they flaunted his status of wealth. If there was anything worse than kissing a bastard like Mister Giovanni, it was kissing him after he’d been smoking a cigar.
“I will be home in five minutes. Be there. Tell the others. And bring what I asked,” he said tersely before snapping his phone shut again.
She didn’t know whom he had just called. Was it the other girl, the junkie blonde? Probably. She was his favorite errand runner, his “day courier,” as the official job title went. The fact that she was also his other mistress was apparently her “reward” for doing things he could not do during the daylight hours. Just as well, a day courier could do things where he wouldn’t want to be caught in personal attendance … such as going downtown to buy drugs. Again, he hadn’t made it to where he was and stayed there for as long as he had by being careless.
They pulled into the half-circle drive in front of his house and he shut off the engine of the Cadillac. He withdrew the ignition key, removed his safety belt, stuck the key into his pocket, and then grabbed the steering wheel with his left hand as he lifted his right. The blow caught her completely off guard as his fist smacked into her left cheek. The impact was immediately followed by the thud of her head striking the door’s window with her right temple, and she sagged in her seat, going almost completely limp and numb from head to toe for an instant. Her ears rang and there were spotty flashes of color before her eyes as she tried to recover from the unforeseen attack, struggling just to raise her hands and cover her face in a futile defensive gesture. His hand grabbed her already battered left arm and his fingers closed around it like an iron claw.
“You stupid, stupid fucking bitch! You lied to me! I trusted you, and you lied to me, you fucking cunt!” he shouted as he shook her violently for a moment before shoving her against the door. “Becca told me everything. She told me your plan. You were going to leave me! I have done everything for you, I have given you everything, and now you want to leave me? You fucking … fucking … whore!” And he punctuated each of those last three words with a punch – one to her shoulder, one to her ribs, and one to the side of her head as she ducked down defensively.
Once again, she had been a fool. It had been stupid to even begin to hope for another chance to escape. And now, as he exited the SUV, hurried around, jerked open her door, and dragged her out of the Cadillac by her hair, she realized it would probably be just as foolish to even hope for a quick death.

* * * *

Chapter Twenty-Six



Mesa, Arizona

Raina quietly followed her back inside the house through the rear door, pausing for just a moment to pet Anisette as the cat stood upon the washing machine near the door – again, greeting everyone like a little four-legged butler in an all-black tuxedo. Samantha rinsed the wine glasses off briefly in the sink before bending over to pull open the dishwasher and place them upon the rack. As she closed the door and stood up, she staggered back a bit and had to steady herself with a hand upon the edge of the kitchen sink. She looked to Raina with wide eyes for a moment, but then relaxed with a soft laugh.
“I think that perhaps I’ve reached my limit for wine tonight,” she chuckled.
“Are you all right?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, “just a little tipsy.”
“Are you nauseous?”
“No, not at all.”
“Are you out of booze?”
Samantha cocked her head slightly aside with interest. “Not entirely, no.”
“Then you haven’t reached your limit,” Raina replied with a grin.
Sam smiled and wagged a finger at her, saying, “You’re a bad influence.”
“Hey, you only live once. Might as well enjoy it, right?”
“Words of wisdom,” she agreed. “I like the way you think.”
“Got rum?”
“What kind would you like?” she asked as she turned and opened a nearby cabinet. “I have light, dark, gold, spiced, Puerto Rican, Mexican…”
“Holy shit,” Raina laughed, “I take it you like rum.”
“Actually, this is mostly Dominic’s,” she admitted. “I only take a snip of it now and then.” 
“So, you’re more of a vodka girl?”
“Not really. I only keep a little bit for when I need to settle my nerves. I usually prefer wine,” she said. Samantha reached into the bottom of the island cabinet in the middle of the kitchen and began to rummage through it a bit. “Right now, though, I certainly could use something a lot stronger than wine. I still feel like I’m wound up tighter than a Swiss watch.”
“So, you really go through a lot of booze, I take it…?”
“Oh no, not at all. I only have a little every now and then, maybe two or three drinks a week. I hope the flask in my desk didn’t give you the wrong impression. I’m really not an alcoholic in any sense of the word,” she explained with a smile. “When I was diagnosed with cancer, I decided that I wanted to experience as much of life as possible while I still had time. And because I’ve never been much of a drinker, I’ve been trying as many different kinds of liquor as I can find. I’ve built up something of a collection in a short time.” She smiled as she leaned slightly against the countertop. “I’m always in search of strange and unusual booze.”
“What about absinthe?”
“Oh, without a doubt my favorite,” she said immediately.
“My God, woman, I think I’m in love with you.”
Samantha blinked with surprise at that, caught a bit off guard by her choice of words. Gesturing with an enduring smile toward the cabinet, she said, “I have a few bottles on hand if you’d like to—…”
“Yes, please!” Raina interrupted excitedly with a shamelessly fang-flashing grin.
Raina watched quietly as Samantha retrieved a bottle that was tucked behind a corner towards the front of the cabinet. The bottle was slender and black with a pair of yellow cat-like eyes painted upon the front. Raina had tried several brands of absinthe, but this was a new one to her.
“This is the first brand that I ever tried. Of course, I only bought it because the bottle looked so nice,” Sam explained as she picked open a corner of the unbroken foil seal at the top, “but this is still my favorite brand. I’ve been saving this bottle for a special occasion.”
“Can’t get much more special than tonight,” Raina heard herself say. She had been thinking it, but hadn’t actually meant to say it aloud.
Samantha gave her a look and a subtle smile that was nothing less than seductive as she set the bottle down upon the island countertop. From the suspended cabinet that hung directly overhead, she retrieved a special pair of glasses. Raina recognized them as specialty glasses made specifically for absinthe, much like a set she had in the Fallamhain Estate. They looked mostly like a pair of short-stemmed champagne glasses, but with the addition of a bulb-shaped portion near the bottom. The bulb was supposed to allow for easier measurement of an ideal “dose” of absinthe before water was to be added. Like Serenity, Samantha had a special-purpose slotted spoon to set atop the glass for the sugar cubes.
“I apologize if this looks a bit substandard. I’ve never found a sugar bowl yet to match the glasses,” she said as she withdrew a box of store-brand sugar cubes from the cabinet. Reaching into the fridge, she withdrew two bottles of water, saying with a smirk, “I do have some high-dollar bottled water, if it helps.”
“I’m not complaining,” Raina said as she leaned upon the opposite edge of the countertop, watching Samantha closely. “I’m liking everything that I’ve seen thus far.”
The flirtation was not lost upon Sam, who rather shyly tried to keep her eyes upon the task at hand. Her method of preparation was different than what Raina was accustomed to doing or seeing. She poured in the dose of absinthe first, of course, but then put the spoon and sugar cube atop the glass before picking up the bottle of absinthe again and pouring a bit more over the sugar cube. Setting the bottle carefully out of the way, she then reached into the cabinet, took out a small black disposable lighter, and flicked it alight next to the sugar cube upon the spoon. The absinthe upon the cube ignited and began to burn with a soft blue and orange flame, rapidly melting the sugar into a brownish substance that dripped into the absinthe below.
“Cool,” Raina said, “the Czech method.”
“I like to do things a bit differently,” Sam said with a shrug.
“I’ll bet you do.”
Samantha’s gorgeous emerald-green eyes lifted to Raina’s once more as she smiled. “Are you insinuating something, your grace?”
Resting her chin upon her left palm, she replied, “Perhaps … Mistress Monsoon.”
“Ah. So … I guess she told you all about me.”
“Only a few sketchy details, really,” Raina said. She paused for a moment as the flame upon the sugar cube began to diminish. “She said something about you being a ‘squirter’, but I had no idea what she meant.”
“Oh.” Samantha looked down and, though she did not blush, she appeared somewhat embarrassed. “That would be where I got my screen name.”
Raina considered that for a moment. “Wait, you’re not … y’know … one of those folks that likes to, ah … pee on people…?”
“Oh, no, no,” she laughed. And then, a moment later: “Well, not exactly.”
“How so?”
“Are you familiar with the concept of female ejaculation?” Samantha asked.
Now, it was Raina’s turn to be embarrassed. She looked away and nibbled upon her lower lip nervously for a moment before replying.
“I guess maybe I’ve lived a bit of a sheltered life.”
After a second or two, watching Sam delicately extinguish the flame and then begin to rinse the remaining sugar from the spoon into the glass with a careful dribble of bottle water, her courage gradually returned. She leaned in a bit more and again focused her gaze upon the beautiful raven-haired woman’s face.
“What can you tell me about it?”
“Anything you’d like to know. I’m considered something of an expert on the subject on the message forum that I moderate,” Samantha replied confidently. She looked up with another impish grin. “I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve written several articles and answered loads of questions on the subject in the forums. It’s always exciting to hear when I’ve helped someone to discover something entirely new.”
“Ever done any, ah … hands-on teaching?” Raina dared to ask with a raised eyebrow.
“Not exactly,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation. Sam paused for a second or two, setting aside the bottle of water, before admitting, “I’ve done a few video demonstrations. Amateur stuff, of course. You know, web cam videos. Nothing professional, of course. And I always wore a mask.”
“A mask?” Raina chuckled.
“Yes, for what little good it does to hide my identity,” she sighed, now frowning as she prepared the second glass. “I suppose it was a moot point, considering how many pictures of me there have been circulating on the Internet for awhile now. I was already worried about Seth inadvertently being exposed to the things that I’ve done over the years, so I didn’t want to create any more material that could later come back to haunt me. But ultimately, even though the videos were very well-received and nobody else has apparently made the connection to my past work … those videos were what proved to be the most incriminating.”
“How’s that?”
She shrugged. “Everyone is online these days. Everyone … including my son … and his friends. I guess someone noticed a few telltale signs here and there, and one of his friends recognized me from something he’d seen somewhere else on another website.”
“What kind of telltale signs? Like, the furniture in your house or something?”
“No, I always covered the background with a black sheet. I knew better,” she said, “but I never thought that I would need to cover my body art because I’ve almost always kept it hidden.”
“You have tattoos?”
“Oh, yes. Quite a few, actually.”
Samantha set down the bottle of absinthe after having poured a dose into the other glass, and she turned her back upon Raina for a moment. With a sexy smirk upon her delicious lips, she quickly began to unbutton the front of her blouse.
“Oh wow,” Raina said. And then, smiling, she added, “Drinks and a show.”
Samantha only unbuttoned her blouse halfway before pulling the left lapel aside to reveal a great deal of pale but still very human flesh. Over her left breast, she had a tattoo of a heart – an anatomically-correct heart, that is, not the Valentine’s Day sort – and it was wrapped with a thorny vine. A white banner across the heart featured the date of her mother’s death in cursive script. The quality was excellent, clearly an expensive bit of artwork, and the red, white, and green colors were quite vivid.
Lifting up the back of her shirt and tugging down the waist of her skirt slightly, she showed what looked to be a very well-done tattoo of an ankh surrounded by thorny vines that branched out toward both of her hips. The ankh was actually detailed with a gold-colored ink, and the lines of the tattoo were much more crisp and clear compared to the heart design. Across the center bar of the ankh was printed a date in history which Raina had been reliving over and over again in her nightmares for several months now.
“I got this for Brenna,” Samantha explained, hesitating a moment before adding, “and for you, actually.”
Raina blinked with a slight start. “For me?”
“Yes. See the sword?” She pulled her skirt a bit farther down, almost revealing the upper cleavage of her buttocks. Below the ankh and vines, Raina could now see a precisely detailed illustration of Lord Sebastian’s katana, the same sword that Raina had inherited and thereafter used to slay Countess Wilhelmina.
“But … why?”
“All of my tattoos represent important events in my life,” she said, keeping her back to Raina as she unbuttoned her blouse the rest of the way. “That day was a very significant event my life, and you were an important part of that event. Brenna died trying to help you, and you avenged her death by killing the Countess. I will be forever grateful to you for doing what I never could have done, myself.” She shrugged her shoulders and let the blouse fall down to her wrists, holding it up at her waist. “I got these when my son left for basic training.”
Also looking quite recently inked, Samantha had a pair of angel’s wings that carried all the way down from her shoulder blades to her waistline and actually tied in quite seamlessly with the piece at the small of her back – the vines wrapped around the very tips of the wings. Usually, whenever Raina had seen people covered with tattoos, they were usually just a patchwork of random, irrelevant, tacky, or tasteless images and words. Not only did Sam’s obviously have a lot of personal meaning, but they were tasteful, well done, and visually relevant to one another. She probably had invested a lot of money in the artwork that adorned her body, as the artist(s) that had done these images surely didn’t do work of this quality at a cheap rate.
Raina, herself, had never wanted to scar herself with inked designs of any sort because she had never been able to think of anything that would not have eventually looked ridiculous or absurd in time – not that she ever again needed to worry about becoming old and wrinkly at that point. But she could fully appreciate Sam’s reasoning behind the idea of turning her body into a canvas upon which she essentially recorded her life’s history. In hindsight, had she not become a vampire, Raina would have likely been inspired to do something similar, herself – perhaps something in memory of Brenna, among other important parts of her former life.
“I have more,” Samantha said as she put her blouse back on and turned around to face her again, “but I don’t think you want me to start getting naked in the kitchen.”
Raina smirked, and the words emerged without forethought: “Why not?”
Samantha stared at her for several long, silent, still seconds with a surprised look. Raina was just as surprised by her own words as Sam had been. Consciously, she hadn’t wanted to make that call. She wanted to do this right. She wanted to take her time, to get to know Samantha completely before she went recklessly forward. She didn’t want to once again tie herself to someone – or rather, to tie someone else to herself – by not only getting physically and emotionally intimate with them, but also by creating another union of blood. She didn’t know how many more times she could stand to be disappointed. She wasn’t sure how many more times she could tolerate betrayal before she would either lose the will to live or go completely stark raving mad with sorrow and rage. Just as well, she felt that she had ruined enough lives, already. How could she dare to destroy yet another?
But that was just it. She wasn’t making the call here. In fact, the decision had already been made, and she had given it her blessing. She had even made it public. Well … sort of, anyway. The world already knew that Samantha Schwarz was “in” with the House of Fallamhain. She was officially under the protective umbrella of the Grand Duchess’s courtly powers as a declared associate – something more noble than a servant, but not quite bound by formality (yet). Of course, the idea was to make Samantha her bloodspawn, perhaps even a potential heiress to her title. To make her a consort was entirely optional. She could have made it entirely superficial, strictly a businesslike arrangement. In fact, it probably would have been the wisest course of action, all things considered.
But really … what High Court vampire ever shared their blood with someone whom they did not also intend to share their body? It simply wasn’t done. And for better or for worse, Raina had consented to this kind of a bond in the presence of her servants and an Elder of the IVC. She may as well have gone ahead and performed the Communion of Blood that very night outside the club while she had all of those damned cameras staring her in the face. The world already knew, no thanks to Serenity, and it would be wrong on so many levels to suddenly retract that declaration without a solid reason.
No, as much as she wanted to use the Change as an excuse for her reluctance to submit to the sexual tension between them, it was a farce. The real matter was quite simple, actually. It had nothing to do with politics or traditions or the Code or any other such nonsense. Plain and simple, Raina was afraid. She was positively terrified.
Samantha, in so many ways, was Brenna … and yet not. All of the bonds, all of the similarities were there. The history they already shared provided a perfect basis for a relationship. And damned if Sam wasn’t the most well-suited candidate for a High Court vampire she’d ever known in her life – well-composed, articulate, educated, intellectual, cultured, secure in her own identity … and goddamned beautiful, to boot. There was no actual risk involved, no matter how she looked at it. Samantha was willing and able. She had practically groomed herself for this role all along, even if she hadn’t consciously meant to do so (at least until recently). She had the potential, and she genuinely wanted this opportunity. She wanted … no … she needed to be Raina’s bloodspawn. Quite literally, her survival depended upon it. And Raina knew, she just knew, that becoming her Maker and her lover at once would ultimately prove to be the death of Samantha.
It was superstition. It was gut instinct. Raina was convinced through and through that history was doomed to repeat itself here. She would dare to open up again. Raina would dare to think that things would finally be okay, that she could pick up where she had left off before and henceforth live in happiness and contentedness. And in a flash, when she least expected it, the rug would be pulled out from under her once again. Someone would die, and it would be Raina’s fault, and she would be alone once again. Anyone unlucky enough to become the focus of Raina’s utmost love and respect was doomed to die. It was a historically proven fact: anyone sharing a mutual love with Raina would be killed. Probably the only thing keeping Loki alive was the fact that he likely had never truly loved Raina in the first place and, thus, he was spared the … the … what, the curse? Was that was it really was? A curse? Did she really believe in that sort of nonsense? No, she didn’t … well, not really … but her belief in the concept likely was irrelevant, anyway. It was there, it was real, and it was going to kill Samantha.
So, Raina was scared. She knew that what it boiled down to was that Samantha’s fate had already been decided, that her death was inevitable, and that at this point, Raina was simply stalling things. She was putting it off as long as possible, delaying the event that would be the catalyst for Sam’s destruction. Worse still, she liked Samantha, really liked her, and she was sure that in time she would probably fall in love with her, just as she had fallen for Brenna. Or was it more accurate and honest to admit that she had been seduced? Raina hadn’t exactly thrown herself at Brenna right away, after all. She had resisted and resisted and then, after all that struggle, she had finally given in to Brenna’s advances. And if there was one thing she truly regretted most of all about Brenna’s death, and about her relationship with her before then, it was that she hadn’t come to know and truly enjoy Brenna’s love until the very end. All the time they had spent together she could have fully appreciated if only she hadn’t been so damned conservative and closed-minded.
And now, here she was again – not exactly Brenna, nor a reincarnation of her, but in every way the living essence of her. The opportunity was there again, as was the curse. There wasn’t a choice to be made here that would stop the inevitable. The only thing really to do was to either once again try to fight predestination or to simply embrace its certainty and make the most of it while she could. Perhaps this was what life was really all about: recognizing genuine prospects for love and happiness, and enjoying them while they lasted.
Love wasn’t eternal, at least in this world, because life was short. Love could only last as long as life, and death was to love as a car’s windshield was to an insect. If there was an afterlife or reincarnation or whatever, then great, that would be awesome. But from all else that she had seen and experienced, this was it. She could take Serenity’s advice and live by her same coda of “seize the day” – yes, even if all of her New Age rhetoric was as fake as her friendship had been. Or instead, she could foolishly let everything go to waste, along with another life, and wind up having wasted yet another golden opportunity.
Raina blacked out once again. Well, not exactly. She was more or less aware of everything that was happening, but she was so devoid of any form of conscious control that her entire body seemed to be acting on auto-pilot. She may as well have been watching a movie filmed entirely from a first-person perspective. She took Samantha by the hand, leaving the glasses of absinthe behind and escorting her to the master bedroom. They paused before entering the bedroom, as Raina tried to open the other bedroom door to peek in on what was going on. The door was locked, and she could barely hear the sound of Thomas snoring inside. They were still coping with jet lag, apparently, as the time zone change had completely thrown their sleep schedule out of whack. Raina all but dragged a pleasantly smiling Samantha into the master bedroom, closed the door, and engaged the doorknob’s privacy lock.
Apparently, the whole “what the hell” sentiment was mutual. As soon as she turned around to face Samantha, Raina found herself pinned up against the door by her wrists. Sam began kissing her passionately, every bit as fierce as the last kiss and then some. Almost right away, as Raina opened her mouth to meet Sam’s tongue with her own, the intensity of the kiss resulted in the inevitable careless scratch of her fangs against her own tongue and lips. The taste of blood soon met her taste buds, and Raina reacted with a muffled groan and an almost full-body spasm of delight. Samantha moaned back in reply as she pressed their bodies together, either reacting to Raina’s sounds or simply in outright desire, and she ran her fingers messily through Raina’s hair.
Raina wanted more, and now. She forced her wrists away from the door where Samantha had pinned them, and she grabbed her by the shoulders, guiding her backward to the bed. Practically shoving her back onto the bed, Raina turned the tide of dominance and straddled her waist as she resumed their kiss. She soon moved away from Sam’s lips and began to kiss her way across her cheek and down the side of her neck, lingering at the pit of her throat for a long while as she fumbled with the few buttons of Samantha’s blouse that had been re-fastened. As soon as the last button was undone, Raina swept open the silk blouse and immediately cupped those full, firm mounds of pale flesh contained within the cups of an expensive, lacy black bra.
Though she nibbled and very lightly bit at the soft skin of Samantha’s neck, it took every ounce of her self-control not to actually bite down into her flesh and draw blood. She restrained herself, perhaps the only actual conscious decision she made in all of that, and she savored the sweet, floral scent of her perfume and the delicious taste of her skin as she ran her tongue across her throat.
“Do it,” she heard Samantha say breathlessly. “Take me. Make me yours.”
Raina didn’t know whether it was just mindless passion-talk or if she sincerely meant what she said. She took it by her own meaning, or rather her body reacted to those words on its own agenda. Raina slid down a bit more, nuzzled her face between Samantha’s breasts for awhile in all of that warmth and softness and sweet scent, and then opened her mouth as she laid her lips over the top of Samantha’s right breast, directly over her heart. She sucked the flesh slightly into her mouth and then bit down ever so slightly, just enough to let the tips of her fangs sink in. Samantha reacted with a sharp gasp as she arched her back. It couldn’t have felt good – rather, it should have hurt quite a bit – but Sam’s reaction seemed to indicate an almost masochistic groan of approval, made softly and stifled through her clenched teeth.
There was no real way to make a bite feel pleasant, not really, and so the act caused her to feel a bit of guilt. Raina figured that she could at least distract her enough not to focus on the pain and, if nothing else, make it quite tolerable. As such, Raina’s left hand reached back and found its way to the hemline of her skirt, slid up, and brazenly caressed Samantha through the mesh-like material that covered her innermost intimacy.
It actually took a few moments for the blood to surface, and when it did … it was like nothing else before. The taste was sharp, bitter, and coppery, just the way blood was supposed to taste – none of the strange sweetness and smoothness to which she was accustomed to finding in the veins of fellow vampires. Even though the taste was somewhat familiar, her reaction to it was anything but that. Raina moaned loudly in response, her whole body seemed to spasm, and the world became very, very small all of a sudden, reduced to nothing more than herself and the human underneath her.
She sucked hard at the tiny wounds she’d made, hard enough to make Samantha cry out again, trying to draw everything that she could from them. It was not the taste, really, but the physiological reaction that it brought about which told Raina with frightening certainty that this was exactly why she had avoided human blood in the first place. What now graced her tongue in tiny, thin rivulets as she suckled upon those little wounds was a substance for which she would do more than simply kill. She would become a monster for this, a real monster in every sense of the word. She would do anything to anyone at anytime if it meant having this. She was made for this. Blood, real blood, human blood was her destiny through and through. And now she had it, finally, after all this wondering and deliberate chastity … and, God, how she hated herself for loving it so much.
The blood was good – no, wait, it was beyond that, way beyond – but even then, there was a part of her that craved more. Roughly, she grabbed the top edge of Samantha’s right bra cup and tugged it down to expose her. Dimly, before she took it readily into her mouth, she experienced a moment déjà vu in that the flesh was nearly the same color and texture, the nipple of almost exactly the same color, size, and shape. The sound that Sam made when Raina’s lips wrapped around it was so very much the same as Brenna, the one and only time they had made love. This was not her, of course, and she knew this, but she gave herself to this moment with the same sense of reckless abandon that she would have if it truly had been Brenna again in her embrace.
Samantha cooed with approval, cradling her head in her hands as Raina licked and suckled upon her. Even when her fang inadvertently made a scratch across the outer edge of her areola, drawing just a light bit of blood, it was met with little more than a flinch and a brief hiss of discomfort before immediately being followed by sounds of approval and encouragement. Samantha had no inhibitions in the bedroom, no fear of being heard, and she was every bit as verbal and vocal as Brenna had been – perhaps even a bit more. It didn’t matter. In fact, it was something of a plus. It was good to know that this was as ecstatically righteous for Samantha as it was for Raina.
This continued for awhile until finally Raina became aware of the manner by which Samantha appeared to be pushing down upon her head. Raina pushed herself up and paused for a moment to look down upon the stunningly beautiful … no, impossibly gorgeous dark angel beneath her, and she saw the utter passion, the absolute rapture in her eyes, those emerald green jewels. She saw, and she knew, she understood what was being asked in that look, and Raina agreed to it. She had only done this with Duvessa and Brenna, an intoxication-blurred memory that seemed a lifetime ago, so this was somewhat new to her. Still, she acted without hesitation or second thoughts. She swung her leg over Sam, slid off the edge of the bed until she was kneeling upon the floor beside the bed, and then she practically dove underneath Samantha’s skirt. She moved aside that lacy mesh to immediately seek out that which her apparent instinctive urges craved.
The feelings – the scent, the taste, the texture, all so strange, both familiar and yet completely foreign – were nonetheless delightful in their own right. The features, even in the darkness, were like nothing else she had experienced before in that this was the first human female with whom she had ever done anything like this. The sweet musk filled her attention as fully as the impossible heat and softness that met her lips and tongue, and she fed upon the delectable intimacy that was Samantha with earnest but cautious zeal – a stray fang here would almost surely ruin the mood and the moment entirely. A free hand found its way under her own skirt and she attended to her own needs as she awkwardly but eagerly indulged in pleasing the focus of her ardor.
Samantha all but came unglued at the seams. Raina was by no means an expert at giving in this sense, but physical skill was not so much the determining factor as Sam’s outright desire and the emotional context of it all. Within moments, surely not even a few minutes, the cries and writhing and spasms and gasps and thrashing reached a zenith, and Raina ascended with her, carried by the lingering tastes of blood on her tongue, the sticky sweetness and musk of sex, and the sounds of Samantha’s peaking enthusiasm. For Raina, passing over the precipice was a small thing by comparison, a reactionary compliment in response to the virtual tidal wave that was Samantha’s climax. It was all very sudden, very sodden, and very surprising, nothing like she’d expected or ever before experienced. It only served to complete the experience and cement the totality of its significance. Mistress Monsoon, indeed, she thought dimly.
Though not a learned technique by any means, Raina somehow knew to bring Samantha back down gradually and when to stop touching her before the resultant hypersensitivity became less than pleasant for Sam. Raina nuzzled her face against her inner thighs for awhile as she caught her breath, both to delight in the soft warmth of that area and to wipe her face off a bit. She finally emerged from under the stiflingly hot cover of Samantha’s skirt to crawl up beside her upon the bed.
“Oh God … oh, Raina,” Samantha gasped breathlessly, “I’ve never … I’ve never had it like that. I’ve never … in my life … had it that intense. Oh God…”
Raina only smiled and rolled upon her back, turning her head to look at her. Samantha’s eyes fluttered for a moment and she shuddered briefly with some small kind of aftershock before her breathing began to relax a bit. She finally let out a heavy sigh of relief as she returned to a sane, controlled state of breathing. With a soft, intimate laugh, she turned her face toward Raina’s and opened her eyes.
“Was it good for you?” Sam asked with a grin.
Raina couldn’t even speak. She was still too overcome with the realization of what she had just done, as well as the afterglow of what she had just experienced and the mind-numbing desire of what she still wanted. She reached over and caressed Sam’s face gently but clumsily, her motor skills dulled by the inebriating effects of bloodlust and orgasm.
“Are you okay?” Samantha asked, still smiling.
Raina responded by reaching over a bit more and pulling Samantha toward her, urging her into another soul-searching kiss and allowing her to taste herself. Samantha, in turn, reacted by once again feeding off the delight of that kiss and stepping things up once again. She reached down to Raina’s belly, slipped a hand under the bottom edge of her shirt, and slid it up until her slender hand with those long, polished black nails was squeezing around her left breast and soon tweaking her nipple through the material of her bra. Samantha didn’t wait for an invitation; she simply accepted Raina’s groan of appreciation as a green light for more and proceeded to roll over upon her stomach, crawl a bit closer, and pin Raina’s right wrist overhead once again as she kissed her with unrelenting vigor.
After a few moments, Samantha broke the kiss and asked her, “Are you ready for this?”
Raina stared at her for a moment, gave it one brief moment’s final consideration, smiled, and then nodded at last before their lips met once more. And so, here it would begin, the beginning of the end … and Raina couldn’t have been happier about it.

* * * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven



Jasmine awoke when he began to unload her from the back of the Cadillac, scooping her up and slinging her over his shoulder roughly. He had thrown her into the cargo area of the SUV with about as much care as he had for the three cement blocks, rope, and blue tarp that he had tossed in there with her. Her memory of the events preceding her unconsciousness were vague, as she had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past … well … however long it had been since the beating had begun. The pain of her injuries – some dull and throbbing, others sharp and tormenting – was enough to explain the general idea of what had happened to her during that time. Knowing that she had been repeatedly beaten and raped, she was glad to be ignorant of all the fine details, having been blissfully dead to the world during most of those events. 
She could see nothing of where they were going. Hanging upside-down with her left eye nearly swollen shut, she could only see the back of his shirt as he carried her along. The sound of hollow, wooden footfalls and water softly lapping against a floating pier, and the drum-like thuds of a boat or boats nudging against it told her enough about their location to terrify her. She knew this place only because of what she had been told about it. This was where women like her came to “disappear.”
It would be over soon. She was going to die now. This was how it was going to be. She was more or less willing to accept the inevitability of her impending demise, but she couldn’t help feeling scared by the prospect of what other horrors might lie ahead. Her only reassurance was that it would only be temporary, that whatever pains or unpleasant experiences awaited her in the next few minutes would be inevitably followed by peace. She only had to hol