The Serpent’s Sin (Bloodlines #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

“If you help me murder my entire family.”

Nadi couldn’t process Raziel’s words at first. They hung in the air between them as the wind whipped along the cliff and waves crashed against the rocks of the shore below the balcony.

What was happening?

Nadi blinked and took in the tableau before her. It would almost have been funny, if it weren’t her problem to solve.

A small table, set for two—a white tablecloth underneath the delicate silverware and shining plates. Carefully prepared food, largely uneaten. A bottle of red wine. A pistol sitting beside it, pointed at her, placed there by her worst enemy.

Raziel Nostrom fit perfectly with the setting—the decaying and decrepit estate behind him, its stone walls crumbling beneath grasping vines, was his ancestral home, after all. It was past sunset, and the twilight sky cast shadows across his sharp features.

And then there was the corpse of Monica Valan—the woman Nadi was pretending to be—dead in a third chair next to them.

Nadi did the only thing that made sense in her head. The only thing that she could think of to do.

She laughed. Hard.

Raziel smiled faintly. Lacing his fingers together, in front of him, he sat back in his chair. “You don’t believe me.” A statement, not a question.

“You have everything.” She gestured at him.

“Everything. The metropolis—the world—at your fingertips. Money. Influence. Luxury. Good looks. Everyone and anything you could ever want. What possible goal could you be chasing that means you want them all dead? Is it just out of spite? You must see that you could never run their empire on your own.”

Reaching out, Raziel poured himself another glass of wine. “Spite has nothing to do with it. Neither do jealousy or revenge. And you’re quite right—Mael and Lana’s underlings would never submit to my rule.”

“So…?” Nadi eyed the gun on the table. She wondered if she could get to it first. Though, playing through the scene in her head—all the scenarios ended poorly.

Even if she shapeshifted into someone else’s form, Raziel was a vampire.

He was faster, stronger, and tougher than she was in a face-to-face brawl.

She’d have to wait until she could catch him off guard.

Which was very unlikely at the moment.

The smile he paid her didn’t reach his eyes. “I plan to throw all of the metropolis into chaos. And once I am done, I will rule over all vampires, humans, and fae alike—as my grandmother Lilivra once did.”

Nadi stared at him blankly for a moment.

Then, she burst out laughing. Again.

And again.

This time, Raziel looked less entertained. He simply shrugged. “Mock me if you wish. I know my destiny.”

She knew Raziel was insane. But she didn’t know he was delusional as well. This was his endgame? To destroy the Nostrom clan and to rule the metropolis? “How do you plan to destroy all the other vampire clans? Like the Rosovs, the Anotalis, the Molzars? Even the Toths would put up a fight.”

He rolled his crimson eyes. “The Rosovs are the only true threat on that list. The others are annoyances. They will be useful servants in the new world I create. The Rosovs, however, will need to be dealt with. But only once my family is removed from the picture. One thing at a time.”

“Right…” She paused. “And what happens if I say no?”

“I shoot you, and throw your corpse into the sacrificial crypt beneath the chapel. Along with the real Monica Valan.” He smirked.

“Seems only fitting that both my wives should be there, I suppose. Speaking of…” He reached for the gun and stood, pointing it across the table at Nadi.

“Why don’t we continue the conversation there.

Seems more suitable. Besides. I’m sick of staring at her face. ”

Frowning, she stayed seated. “Pardon?”

“Get up, Nadi.” He gestured with the gun. “I’d hate to have to shoot you.”

She didn’t know if he was serious, but she didn’t particularly want to find out. Standing, she took a step back from the table and waited for more instructions.

Raziel walked over to Monica’s corpse, and threw her over his shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes. He motioned for Nadi to walk ahead of him. “You first, little murderer.”

“I…” She hesitated.

His lips pulled into a thin line as he lifted the gun to point it straight at her forehead. “In. Now.”

Yeah. All right. Fine. She walked into the estate.

The sun had just finished setting, but her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness inside the ruins.

She liked the dark, honestly. A single bright moon gave her plenty of light to see by, casting dark and jagged shadows through the broken windowpanes of the building.

When she hit the first fork in the hallway, she paused. She had no idea where the chapel was. For all that she knew about Raziel, she knew nothing about his ancestral home. Why would she have ever bothered?

Raziel pressed the end of the gun to the spot between her shoulder blades. The cold metal sent an immediate shiver down her spine. “Left, beautiful.”

Gritting her teeth, she turned left.

Buildings were a lot like bodies, in their own way. They had bones. Flesh. And now, with plumbing and electric lights—veins, of a sort. And just like bodies, when left to the mercy of nature, they would rot away.

Nadi had a theory when it came to buildings. That two places, built identically and put side by side, would age differently if one was lived in and the other was abandoned. She had no idea why. But a place like this—a place that had no life in it—was like a corpse left to decay in the ground.

Its doors were stuck in the positions they were left in centuries ago, never to open or close again.

Wallpaper peeled and flaked like dried skin.

The detritus crunched under her feet as she walked.

She’d never had a chance to put her shoes back on.

Whatever—once she had been used to walking barefoot through the Wild. This was nothing.

And the Wild was present here, as well. For wherever humanity and vampires weren’t hard at work to destroy it, nature would be eager to fill the gaps. Vines and growth were pushing through the stones at every opportunity, finding every crack and gap.

The faint purple glow coming from the vines felt like home to Nadi.

The smell of it was welcome—almost comforting, given the insanity she’d been through lately.

Some of her kind were almost able to talk to the Wild.

And there were legends of some fae who could command it—but she was very far removed from anything like that.

Still, she could almost feel a low hum that called to her whenever she was close by. Like a song, resonating within her.

Finally, they reached an enormous set of arched double doors. There were symbols carved into their wooden surfaces, but they were faded and worn—whatever they might have depicted was now impossible to make out. At least to her untrained eye.

“Open them.” Raziel was still behind her, pointing the gun at the back of her head.

Bristling a little at once more being commanded by him, she stepped up to the doors and gave them a tug. They were stuck.

Cracking her neck from one side to the other, Nadi shifted her form to the biggest, strongest man she knew. Ivan. Raziel’s hulking bodyguard.

“Huh!” Raziel laughed. “Now that is quite something. Clothes and all. How does that work? You tore your stockings earlier.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Can we save the explanations for another time?” She answered him in a voice that was now very much not her own.

“Oh, that is bizarre.” Raziel grimaced. “I suddenly realize how uncomfortable you could make a great many things for me. My imagination is suddenly running wild with all the ways you could use that ability to make things… deeply strange. Such as our sexual encounters. Please return to your truer shape as soon as you open the doors.”

“I’m fucking working on it, asshole.” She lowered her shoulder and put all Ivan’s strength and weight into ramming herself into one of the doors, pushing it open a few feet.

“Although I’m sure Ivan would be flattered to know you thought of him.” Raziel was still staring at her with a look that seemed to combine fascination and disgust.

Once she finished shoving one of the arched doors open far enough for them to pass through, she dropped Ivan’s form.

She wasn’t particularly keen on continuing to wear it around either.

Ivan’s form was convenient to use, but being that big and lumbering just felt unnatural.

Combing a hand back through her dark hair, she barely got a chance to even blink before Raziel was gesturing with his gun again for her to walk down the center aisle of the chapel.

Now that she could take a moment to see it, she let out a small, surprised and impressed whistle.

The wooden pews were carved from dark mahogany. Their surfaces were black at first glance, only glinting reddish-gold in the reflection of the moonlight where they hadn’t been damaged by time and weather.

At the head of the room was a stone altar. It was ancient—weathered and worn by time. It looked even older than the rest of the estate, if she had to guess.

But along the walls, framed by the columns that held up the suffering structure of the chapel, were paintings. Friezes that revealed what the chapel was built to worship. Not the Mother or Father moon. Not even the older, darker gods. It was a chapel in service to—and in worship of—vampires.

Pale figures, ghostly things illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through holes in the roof, all were gathered in procession facing the altar, each one bowing their head in reverence, hands raised in supplication.