Don’t Judge a Vampire by her Fangs Chapter 1 #2
Siris hovered at the edge of the crowd. He inclined his head slightly toward Rene, the barest acknowledgment of respect. Then slid closer to his followers, murmuring low.
Rene’s hand tightened on Raven’s arm.
Just a little.
I felt it rather than saw it. The subtle shift in his stance. The way his weight faltered for a heartbeat.
Raven shifted automatically, taking more of him against her side. Her fingers flexed against his forearm, nails digging in gently, as if she could anchor him to consciousness by touch alone.
“You did well,” Con said quietly, leaning in so his words were for Rene alone. “Now you go back upstairs.”
Rene exhaled with a hint of a laugh. “You are insufferable.”
“And you are pale,” I added. “Which is saying a lot, given the competition in this room.”
He turned his head to look at me. Up close I could see the tiny tremor at the corner of his mouth, the slight vibration in the muscles along his neck. “Have you considered offering comfort instead of insults?”
“If you wanted comfort, you should have stayed in bed with your bride,” I said. “You come down here, you get tough love.”
Raven huffed a soft breath that might have been a laugh if she were not terrified. “She is right, you know. You should be upstairs. Preferably horizontal.”
“I will go in a moment,” Rene said. “I promise.”
That was the thing about ancient vampires. They were in denial about their own limits.
A new murmur rose at the far side of the foyer. I heard the word succession float through it like a toxin.
My head snapped toward the sound.
Edward and Siris stood near a knot of older vampires, speaking in low tones. Edward’s expression was serious, not gleeful, but his words had weight. He knew exactly how far his voice carried.
“I am only saying,” he was telling them quietly, “that if the king’s condition worsens, we will need a clear line of authority. For stability. We cannot afford a power struggle now.”
Siris nodded, mouth pinched. “The last time a king faltered, we nearly burned half the continent. We must think ahead. Quietly, of course.”
“Succession is a matter for another day,” one of the elders muttered. “He still stands.”
“For now,” someone else whispered.
Heat flared in my chest. I opened my mouth, ready to carve them all a new one, then felt a subtle shift at my side.
Rene swayed.
It started as a small thing. A slight rocking, like a man standing on a boat that had just met a gentle wave. Then his fingers spasmed around Raven’s arm.
His eyes, those pale, steady eyes that had watched centuries rise and fall, rolled slightly. The whites showed in a brief, alarming flash.
“Rene?” Raven’s voice sharpened. “Hey. Look at me.”
His gaze jerked toward her. For a heartbeat he focused, clung to her face as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered. His lips parted.
“I am fine,” he tried to say.
What came out was a slurred whisper. “I am… f…”
His knees buckled.
Time fractured.
I lunged, but Con moved faster. He caught Rene under the shoulders as the king’s legs gave way, hauling him against his chest. Raven clung to him, trying to control the fall, her hair spilling forward like a curtain.
We went down together. Marble met knees, harsh and unforgiving. I slid in beside them, hands already reaching for Rene’s face.
His skin was ice-cold.
“Rene.” My voice sounded too loud, too harsh. “Rene, look at me.”
He did not.
His body convulsed, a violent trembling that started in his hands and raced up his arms, through his chest. His back arched. The tendons in his neck stood out like ropes as another spasm shook him.
Raven choked on his name. “No. No, no, no.”
Clan discipline shattered.
The foyer exploded with noise. Vampires surged forward, then hesitated, crowding without daring to get too close. Voices rose in overlapping panic.
“What is happening?”
“Is he dying?”
“Was it the warlock?”
“Poison. It has to be poison.”
“Succession,” someone hissed again. “If he falls, we need a leader. We cannot wait. Not this time.”
The word spread like rot. Succession. Succession.
Rene’s limbs jerked uncontrollably. His eyes fluttered, unfocused. A thin sound escaped his throat, not quite a groan, not quite a word.
I grabbed his face between my hands, forcing myself to ignore the trembling. “Rene. Stay with us. You hear me? You do not get to check out now. We are not done annoying you yet.”
His gaze slid past me, unfixed. The tremors intensified, then shifted into a deeper, bone-deep shudder that scared me more than the violent convulsions had.
His power flickered.
I felt it. One moment it was there, a weakened but steady presence pressing against my senses. The next it sputtered like a candle in a draft.
“Con,” I said tightly.
“I feel it,” he answered.
Raven’s breathing went ragged. She had one hand pressed against Rene’s chest, the other gripping his wrist. “He is not stabilizing. Something is wrong. This is not just exhaustion.”
“Of course something is wrong,” I snapped, because if I did not lean into anger I would start screaming. “He has been siphoned of his power.”
“I am aware,” Raven bit out. Her eyes burned, violet darkened almost to black. Her magic flared around her, tasting of ozone and old earth. “Help me roll him.”
Constantine shifted his grip, cradling Rene more carefully, supporting his head, easing him onto his back on the marble. Raven kneeled beside him, hands moving with the swift confidence of someone who had spent a lifetime fixing what other people broke.
“Give him space,” Edward called. He pushed forward, shoving lesser vampires back with more strength than his polished demeanor implied. “All of you, move away. Now.”
Siris appeared at his side, his voice cold and cutting. “Do you want to trample the king because you are too curious to keep your distance? Back up.”
For once, they listened.
The crowd took a collective step back, forming a rough circle around us. It was not nearly enough space, but at least I could breathe.
Rene’s shaking did not stop.
If anything, it worsened.
His hands clawed at the air, then spasmed, fingers curling into fists. His jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind. Another shudder racked him, traveling from shoulders to toes. His shoe scuffed against the marble, the sound awful in the silence that had fallen around us.
“He needs blood,” Raven whispered. “Strong blood. Con, Cass. One of you…”
“We do not know what this is,” Con said. “If it is poison, our blood might speed it through his system.”
“And if we do nothing, he dies,” she shot back.
She was right.
I knew it. Con knew it.
Rene’s life force was fading to a thin thread that barely brushed my senses. It felt wrong. It felt like something tugging at him from far away.
Valerian.
The thought slid through my mind like a knife.
My stomach turned.
“Raven,” I said quietly. “If this is Valerian reaching through him, dumping more power in might give the bastard a bigger doorway.”
Raven’s shoulders shook. “I know. I know that. I just…”
Her voice broke.
For a heartbeat, she looked like a woman, not a queen. Just a witch who had fallen in love with the wrong immortal and was watching him slip away in front of everyone who depended on him.
Whispers swelled again at the edges of the room. I caught Edward’s name. Siris. Succession. Council. Trial.
Enough.
Con moved.