Chapter Six

 

It felt like I'd been dropped into a medieval film set. Both sides of the vast room lined with vampires, a black runner bisecting the room to the two large wooden chairs—thrones, actually—at the other end of the space. A massive, round, stained-glass window took up most of the back wall. A moment of study made me shudder and look away from the violence depicted, a scene in stunning glass of death and destruction, blood spilled by vampires.

Guess those were the good old days. Current law didn't allow them to feed from humans, even willing ones, at least not directly. Most clans, from what I'd been told by Sunny and Uncle Frank, had human servants who served as mobile blood banks, keeping the clan in donated nourishment augmented by blood brought in from hospitals and clinics and, occasionally, from animals.

My eyes found Sebastian standing on the left, caught his gaze and held it a moment, though only a moment. I couldn't help but give him the once over, since he was dressed like some court gentleman in a navy blue velvet frock coat and ruffled white shirt.

Don't even get me started on the tight white pants.

Grrrrowl. Down girl.

It had to be my vampire's fault. No way I'd allow myself to be distracted at a time like this.

Her snort told me I was deluding myself, but I ignored her by choice.

Sunny was another shocker, her floor-length gown shimmering silver, sitting low on her shoulders, showing enough cleavage for the both of us, hair piled artfully in corkscrew curls. Last time I saw her we were celebrating at a bridal shower. So, there had been time to doll themselves up while I snored away in a tiny little room.

Temper, temper. Though I couldn't help the glare I shot at Uncle Frank. He had the good grace to look embarrassed by his own fancy attire.

The other side of the room had to be Piotr's people. At least, that was my guess, considering the glares traveling back and forth over the dividing carpet, though they were rare enough while the two camps watched my approach. Nice of them to offer me a change of clothes. My little sun dress did little to keep the chill off in the damp castle. From the soft flapping sound, one of my new sandal's edge had peeled away from the sole. And I knew my hair had to be a fright.

Hey, I stood out.

Go me.

Appearances seemed important to these people. The two women—okay, vampires—on the thrones I approached were as elaborately decked out as their clans, more so. Which made me think of Ahbi Sanghamitra and the demon court. Leading me to irritation and anger at the posturing. So by the time I stood at the bottom of the wooden pedestal, glaring up at the two leaders, I was in no mood for their little show.

I didn't give Piotr a chance to speak, grasping him firmly with my vampire magic and shoving him aside so he staggered and had to catch his balance. The glare of pure hatred he shot at me warmed me up and made me all fuzzy happy.

It's the small things, sometimes.

“You two,” I jabbed a finger at the pair of vampires staring down at me like I was a bug they wanted to squash, “better have a damned good reason for kidnapping an American coven leader.”

Neither spoke. Didn't matter. I had more to say anyway.

“Not only is this a massive treaty violation,” I snarled, just warming up, “but I'm so far outside your jurisdiction, not to mention your league, you'll both be lucky to lead a termite colony when I'm done with you.”

So there.

The leader on the left, camp Sebastian, stared at me in silence, her cold gray eyes almost colorless. Her skin shone ivory white, dark brown hair piled around her in endless waves, as long as she was tall. She showed no concern, lovely face expressionless.

The other smirked at me, ice blue eyes sparking with humor, nothing good about it. Dark blonde hair, coiled in wave-like ribbons, hanging over one bare shoulder.

I knew her. From where? And how? Impossible. I'd never met either of the vampire Queens. Had only heard of them through Sebastian. So why was it I had the feeling the vampire on my right knew me, too?

A second vampire stood beside her, a cloak covering her dress, hood low over her face. But the sinking feeling of pre-knowledge grew stronger as I stared at the two of them, joined by a sickening pinpoint of anxiety.

Who were they?

“We are within our rights.” The leader on the left finally spoke, tearing my gaze from the others. I focused on her as she went on, motionless, voice velvet over jagged ice. “You've stolen our power, and we want it back.”

Um, what?

Me, Sydlynn, the vampire sent. They want me.

Oh, hell no.

Sebastian stepped forward, coming to my side, facing me with a warning in his eyes as I drew a breath to tell her where she could shove her sense of entitlement.

“May I present our Matriarch, first among our familial clan, Queen Pannera Sthol.”

What, was I supposed to bow or something? Yeah. Right.

“I wish I could say nice to meet you,” I snapped. “Not.”

Sebastian's eyes widened just a little bit. The vampire Queen didn't react. Instead, Piotr took his place opposite Sebastian.

“Our Matriarch,” he said.

Didn't get to finish.

Not while his Queen was laughing. So. Familiar. I knew the tone, the timber, but it was smoother, softer, more refined. Silkified. The vampire Queen gestured for him to back off, her motions graceful.

“We've already had the pleasure, haven't we, my dear?”

That voice.

No.

Oh no.

Polished or not by her vampire blood, no way could I forget that voice. The sight of Demetrius Strong peeking out from behind her throne told me I was right.

But it couldn't be. How could this stunning blonde possibly—

The tall vampire beside her swept her hood back, smiling at me, horse face no longer ugly, braid now a rippling, living cape of chestnut hair. She'd changed too, Celeste Oberman had. Not the woman, the witch, I remembered. Swore to kill.

Gorgeous, young, vital, as though the vampire spirit magic had brought her to full potential.

“Welcome, Sydlynn,” Batsheva Moromond said. “It's time to hand over what belongs to me.”

 

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