Chapter 1 #2
A crossbow waited at my elbow, loaded with a bolt soaked in Aetherius’s blessed light.
The projectile burned my fingers through leather gloves.
Queen Nemea would fare far worse. I harbored no delusions about killing her instantly.
A vampiress of her age would hear the bolt whistling toward her and possess the split-second reflexes to dodge it.
I had a typical slayer’s kit tied to my belt: daggers, stakes, and a vial of consecrated water that would burn both of us beyond recognition if I dropped it.
Every blade dripped with rupture, a hemolytic poison derived from the deadliest serpent venom.
Once in a vampire’s veins, it destroyed the red blood cells flowing inside, quickly rendering them slow and sloppy.
Perfect for leveling impossible odds.
She would come here unarmed and unaware of any danger—while also wounded from her prior battle and grieving, if she was even capable of that.
The temple’s latest intelligence contained the only luck I needed. The House of Whispers was steadily taking over the Emerald Cradle borough, pushing Queen Nemea’s forces east. She’d fled the fighting after losing another mate.
His death would further cripple the magic at her disposal.
He’d been the one to lend her shielding magic, allowing her to wreak havoc with impunity.
In Eona’s image, every vampiress could claim up to four devotees to complete their Devotion, sharing bonds of magic that empowered them all.
The queen’s Devotion was down to two devotees now, possibly three if…
I shook my head to clear it and blinked away the film over my eyes. Don’t think of him right now. Focus and adapt to the task at hand.
I could do this. The good folk at the temple furthered my training in slaying vampires, and I’d done my fair share.
My dhampir heritage served the temple well.
Enhanced reflexes, superior strength, and accelerated healing, all invaluable against creatures that outmatched normal humans.
Not long ago, they recognized the value of my mind, too, and taught me the sciences.
I’d observed Queen Nemea, analyzed the data I collected, and determined when and where I would take my revenge. But I could only remain calm and change my approach depending on what happened next.
Footsteps signaled her approach. She appeared from behind a screen of roses and dipped her head in respect to Eona.
The Goddess of Tradition crafted her children in her image.
Immortal, unchanging, breathtaking monsters.
Queen Nemea had remained the same over the past decade, and with my next slow breath, rage kindled in my chest.
The red-haired beauty took a seat on a stone bench, arranging her black silk skirt. Moonlight painted her skin alabaster. Her eyes, should they turn my way, would be like flashing rubies. Despite her vampiric healing, she winced, rubbing her left side.
She bowed her head, lips moving in silent prayer. I reached for my crossbow and exposed the dim glow of the blessed bolt as the wind settled. Nature itself held its breath as I took aim. Finger on the trigger, I waited through the stillness until the susurration of rustling leaves began again.
Then I fired.
The quarrel hurtled through the night, a speeding blur of light. No retreat now. I would see it to the bitter end.
Queen Nemea’s hand shot out and caught the bolt inches from her heart. She screamed as holy fire consumed her palm. The shaft tumbled from her blackened fingers. I burst from hiding and lunged at her, daggers drawn.
She turned her head before my right dagger could do more than graze her cheek, then hammered her good hand into my chest. The force sent me flying. My body slammed into the ground, but I gritted my teeth and rolled with the momentum, refusing to let the pain slow me down.
Her lips peeled back from the length of her pearly fangs as she stood.
She brandished her nails, natural weapons honed to razor-sharp points, caged in silver for both style and durability.
I lunged. Feigning left, I slashed right.
Only for her to catch my wrist as the dagger plunged toward her heart.
“Sidney, sweetness,” she tsked. “Did you truly believe this amateur ambush would succeed?”
I swung at her with my free hand. Instead of catching both of my wrists, she scored my leather jerkin with her claws. Though Aetherius’s light had burned that hand, her nails worked perfectly fine. Good to know. I jerked from her hold.
“Hmph. A shame, but not a surprise. I should’ve known my mercy would lead us here,” she said.
“Mercy?” I echoed in disbelief.
She surged forward, claws aimed straight for my neck. I dodged to one side and swiped at her knee. Both of us carved air. Even wounded, she moved like liquid death.
Analyze. Adapt. Easier said than done while we rotated around Eona’s marble feet in a deadly dance of slashing and stabbing. She’d slit my throat if I blinked for too long.
In a blur of speed, she disengaged. We circled one another, keeping the fountain between us.
“Yes, mercy,” she said.
By Aetherius’s light, the bitch wants to talk.
I sighed. However, my advantage grew with her desire to fill the air with her voice.
I noticed her shallow breathing and how she curled her burned hand at her side.
She favored one leg. Weakened, even with a vampire’s advanced healing and plenty of blood at her disposal.
“What else would you call it, Sidney? I didn’t come for you after you murdered my son. I didn’t even touch you when you started working for the Temple of Aetherius.” She spat the god’s name like a curse.
My eyes narrowed on her with disgust. “No, you went for Zane instead.”
She flashed her fangs. “I sensed the power in his blood.”
“He was my betrothed.” I tightened my grip on my weapons, so much so that their leather-wrapped hilts creaked.
Queen Nemea breathed a silken laugh. “And now he’s mine and soon to call me his Beloved. Is that what this is about? Some man? Male vampires are hardly worth this amount of trouble.”
As I rounded the fountain, she raised her hand, blackened fingers extended. Yet her hand trembled as she struggled to spread her fingers. A weak flicker of magic skittered across the side of my face, seeking purchase in my mind.
Vampiresses wielded their mates’ magic alongside their own, but her power flickered weakly now. I had my own talents, two small abilities I’d inherited from my vampire father. Neither were very powerful, but together, they were enough to help me fight bloodsuckers.
For the kind of addling magic she was trying to use against me, I summoned a shield over my mind to protect my senses. The touch of her magic faded.
In addition, I could nullify or disrupt other vampire magics. Used at just the right moment, both were helpful tools at my disposal. Queen Nemea bared her fangs in a hiss. “That magic felt like…”
While she was momentarily distracted, I charged at her and aimed my attacks toward her weakened side.
“I left.” I punctuated the words with a jab. “Never to return. Until you stole him. This is your doing.” I took three more jabs at her.
One of my daggers opened a line on her forearm, drawing blood. Finally. Rupture entered her system as the tips of her claws raked my jaw. Fiery pain gripped my face as my blood mingled with hers in perfuming the air.
“If you crave him so desperately, you can have him.” She licked the crimson from her nails with a taunting flash of her ruby eyes. “You could rejoin the House of the Sanguine and put your talents to proper use serving your family. I will turn you at last. All could be forgiven, sweetness.”
I sneered in disgust. “As if you’ve ever forgiven.” I gritted my teeth; I couldn’t speak without more pain. The wounds prickled, pulling together in a slow, burning pace. And as if I would ever forgive you for what you’ve done.
“Was that a refusal, then?” Boredom crept into her tone. She’d probably had this conversation a hundred times, in a hundred different ways, yet likely found the same outcome each time.
I answered with a roundhouse kick that clipped her wounded side. She staggered and caught herself with a hissed breath before launching forward in a flurry of fangs and claws. We traded blows and wounds, each more brutal than the last.
She held her burned palm out at me, and colored light flared along it. A different mate’s magic, which I nullified with a glare and a moment of focus. On a scream of outrage, she threw herself at me once more.
Blood streamed from my fresh scrapes, but I didn’t falter. My pace held steady. Hers inevitably started to slip.
Vampires succumbed to predictability more than any weakness.
This one especially. At any moment, she could disengage and dash into the mansion to summon help.
A queen commanded every soul in her domain, yet she wouldn’t do it.
Not against a half-breed bastard she’d always deemed worthless.
Pride would kill her more surely than any stake.
A claw carved my elbow, and my left hand went numb. The dagger tumbled away, and she kicked it beyond reach. Blood loss made the world tilt, but I leaned into the dizziness, feigning greater weakness than I felt.
She lunged for the deception. I timed another kick perfectly, sending her crashing through one of her overgrown rose bushes with a brutal snap as several tendrils broke under her weight. Vampire blood filled the air from dozens of pricks and cuts made by the thorns skewering her.
I leaped through the hole in the foliage and thrust my weapon into her shoulder, pinning the rest of her body with my weight. The thorns pierced me too, splitting my skin into a constellation of sharp, searing wounds, indifferent to who they carved open.
I grappled both of her wrists in a one-armed grip and reached for a stake. “Granddaughter, wait,” she whispered.
My fingers hesitated over the sharpened length of wood. She seized the pause to wrench one of her hands loose and punched me. My cheekbone shattered, my head snapping sideways, but I caught her wrist before she could grasp my dagger’s hilt and free herself.
I spat blood, painting her fallen roses. Numbness spread through me, leaving only a chill behind as cold as death’s hand. The reaper had to be close, scythe at the ready, waiting for its due. Whether it would claim one soul or two relied on the queen’s swift death.
Maybe Zane would arrive afterward and put me out of my misery.
“Did turning him give you a thrill? Chase away that ennui?” I rasped.
She bared her teeth, fangs stained with her own blood.
“You should’ve heard him scream. The purest music.
Seems your little curative didn’t work. He turned like any man.
It just took a few extra days of agony. But his magic.
” She sighed with genuine pleasure. “Magnificent. If only you had witnessed it yourself.”
She bucked her hips, struggling further onto her bed of thorns. I continued to hold her down as her struggles slowed to sluggish jerks.
“I hate you. With every fiber of my being,” I said between panting breaths.
For some reason, her smile softened. “I know, sweetness.”
“As much as you have hated me.”
Her head fell back with a weak sigh. “No. To hate implies I cared at all.” That edge of boredom returned, taunting me.
And it worked. I freed one of my hands again and reached for a different weapon.
The vial of consecrated water. I wiggled it between my fingers near her face, letting her see the bubbles of white light suspended within.
“You will not leave behind a pretty corpse. That, at least, I know you care about.”
“Vanity is nothing to the dead,” she answered tonelessly. “I have wondered who would be the one to finally end me. Fitting it would be at the hands of my own blood. Your magic is like mine, you know. Just missing the more powerful half. Imagine what you could do as a full vampire.”
I ignored the implication that we were alike in any way.
“And that’s just the beginning.” I tucked the bottle away and drew my stake, one of three blessed weapons given to me during my slayer vows.
Silver inlays marked it as mine, winding through the light wood like veins.
Its tip gleamed, eager for vampire blood.
“I will rejoin Sanguine, but not to fight in your war. The House of Whispers will observe the old ways and lay down their arms until a new queen is crowned. That’s tradition.
” Their goddess instigated feuds between pairs of houses, just as she remained eternally locked in a conflict with my god.
“Let me guess. You’ll be the next soul to wear my crown?”
“That’s right. I planned every detail. By the time I place it on my brow, there will be no more House of the Sanguine. I’ll paint its halls with the blood of everyone who once served you. Everything you’ve worked for, everything you’ve built, will all be ash.”
Queen Nemea’s mocking laughter shook her body.
The acrid scent of vampire blood grew stronger.
I braced myself for one more cutting remark as I placed the stake’s tip above where her black heart still beat.
She met my gaze. “A story as old as the gods themselves. Your little revenge quest will lead you down a singular path. Careful, sweetness. One day, you will look in the mirror and see me in your reflection.”
I plunged the stake into her chest, the force of the strike meeting the brutal resistance of bone. Her ribs fought against the intrusion, but my training had prepared me for this. I pressed harder, driving the sharpened wood past the final barrier in one unrelenting motion.
The light fled her crimson eyes as her body went slack beneath me. A great breath gusted from me as I nudged her, testing for any sign of lingering life, but my grandmother joined the ranks of the truly dead.
Victory tasted like copper and roses.
I took in the motionless face of Queen Nemea and forced down the rush of triumph threatening to swamp me. One of my greatest tormentors, finally gone. But I couldn’t remain here and gloat. Her devotees would feel the pain of her death.
The reaper had not taken my soul today, so it must’ve gotten excited at the promise of slaughter ahead. All according to plan.
I stood and backed away to a safe distance. Uncorking the vial of consecrated water, I dumped its contents over the side of her face and down her body. Her alabaster skin bubbled with blisters wherever the liquid splashed. I only left enough of her face undamaged for her to be recognizable.
I needed to slip away fast. After abandoning Queen Nemea’s corpse on her bed of bloody roses, I retrieved my lost dagger and made my escape. My stake remained buried in her heart—not a warning, but a promise.
Soon, the House of the Sanguine would burn.