Текст книги "A Bargain So Bloody"

Автор книги: Vasilisa Drake

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

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Chapter Twenty-Five

The Western Vampire Kingdom looked no different from the Witch Kingdom. We reached it in another day, though I didn’t realize it was so close until the terrain turned from grass to rock as we approached the mountain range.

I’d expected grand, dark spires, a sprawling palace like in the Witch Kingdom capital, vampires patrolling the grounds, with pointed fangs and questions for intruders. At least some other foreboding signs that we had reached what I’d been raised to believe was the seat of evil in Eurobis.

The entrance to Damerel was little more than a cave. Raphael tied Alphonse to a tree at the base of the mountain.

“We can’t leave him,” I protested. Not just because it was foolish to leave a perfectly good horse behind. I’d grown attached to the horse on our journey, and I’d need him when I departed in a few days.

“I’ll send someone to collect him,” Raphael assured me with confidence that would’ve convinced me he was lying if not for the fact he’d just told me vampires couldn’t lie. For the first time, I considered perhaps Raphael wasn’t some common vampire, but perhaps one of the aristocrats he’d mentioned.

Then again, he’d been captured and sent to Greymere. No one had come for him, nor had he reached out to anyone who might be looking for him. I dismissed the thought. He must have meant a friend. Though it was harder to imagine him having friends than him being an aristocrat.

Before we entered, I cast the anti-thrall card I’d bargained for weeks ago. Raphael rolled his eyes.

“You won’t need that,” he said with a scoff.

“You can’t be too careful.” Just because his weak thrall didn’t work on me didn’t mean I wouldn’t be in danger from others. I needed every protection possible, even if I would be gone in a few days.

He seemed to debate a retort but thought better of it. Given all his reassurances I’d be safe here for a few days, I’d almost expected more of a protest.

I clutched the modified copper cuffs in my skirt as we moved in, taking mental inventory of the precious few cards I had in my deck. There weren’t many, and hardly any would be useful against a vampire. I had the cursed copper shackles, but given they were broken, and vampires were both faster and stronger, they were as good as shiny paperweights. Defenseless. I loathed the feeling. I swallowed down my worries as the darkness engulfed us.

The stone became smoother the deeper we went. I wasn’t sure if I should expect the oppressive uniform stone of Greymere or the mystical marks from the Temple of Anagenni, but what I found was neither.

In what felt like a few short steps, the cave walls turned into elegant, plastered designs. Raphael moved with purpose, and I hurried after him. In the span of no more than an hour, we were in halls that rivaled those in Ulryne. No—though my memories were fogged by time, they were quite possibly even finer. Rich reds and purples, ornamented with gold designs.

For a moment, I could almost imagine the place was familiar.

Until we reached the first vampire.

Somehow, I’d gotten used to the sight of red eyes on Raphael’s face. I’d let him place his fangs on me. Touched him and let him touch me. Felt his unbeating heart at my back as we rode for hundreds of miles.

But if I’d thought that acceptance would carry over to any other vampire, it was quickly erased.

In a few frantic heartbeats, several things happened at once.

The vampire, dressed like a nobleman, bowed at the hips towards us—towards Raphael. His crimson gaze slid to me, and all at once I was back there, covered in blood, blood, blood. I pawed at my pocket for the copper cuffs, trying to change my helpless nature. I only succeeded in scratching myself on a rough edge.

The distant awareness of pain was nothing compared to how my body reacted as the stranger’s nostrils flared at the scent of my blood. He moved fast, imperceptibly fast to my human eyes, as he surged towards me.

I screamed.

And then the vampire was flying across the hallway. The perfectly ornamented red-and-purple walls caved in as the vampire collided.

Raphael lunged after the vampire, baring his teeth like a wild animal. He lifted the vampire with a single hand.

“Mine,” he snarled.

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Chapter Twenty-Six

Raphael released the vampire, letting his body crumple to the ground. The vampire was still alive. He’d attack Raphael. Gods, Raphael could get hurt. I was rooted in my spot, unable to slow my heart enough to think past the roaring in my head that bleated Danger, danger, danger!

But the vampire didn’t rise to attack Raphael. He prostrated himself, bracing his hands on the ground with his bowed head.

“You raised those hands at her,” Raphael snarled. His voice… I’d heard it like that only in the echoes of my nightmares of the Monastery initiation. “You reached for what was mine with those hands.”

“My king! I apologize. I did not realize she was yours. The scent of her blood overtook me. I forgot myself.”

My king, the vampire had called him.

I trembled at the word. King.

Enemy.

“See that you never do so again.” Raphael’s voice was colder than I’d ever heard it. “And let this serve as a reminder.”

He gripped the vampire’s wrists from the floor, and in one sickening movement Raphael ripped the vampire’s hands off.

The vampire howled. Raphael flung the dismembered hands down the hall, a trail of red, red, red blood spraying over the walls.

“Should you or anyone else lay a hand on what’s mine, let your lives be forfeit. You live only as a warning to them.”

The vampire on the floor babbled his agreement, but Raphael was already facing me once more. I tore my gaze from the sobbing vampire to face him. His gaze was still icy, utterly opposite to how he’d been the night before. He grabbed my wounded wrist and lifted it high. I stared up in confusion, then gasped as he lifted my palm to his lips and gave it a lick.

But he wasn’t looking at me. Around us, a crowd had gathered. He removed his mouth, but held my arm high, as though I were some trophy.

King.

“This woman is mine. No one is to touch her.” He addressed them easily, like it was his birthright. “To do so is to forfeit your right to a quick and easy death.”

No. It couldn’t be. The way he’d been beaten, captured… there was no way I’d been traveling for weeks with the king of vampires. My mind scrambled for any other explanation, grasping at vapors.

But the crowd all dipped to a knee in deference.

When they rose, all I could see was the sea of red. We were surrounded on both sides, hungry eyes looking at me, bright, wanting. Oh gods. My heart was a frantic drum beating in alarm faster and faster. The sharp inhale of my breaths turned into me choking. I couldn’t get the air out fast enough before I sucked more in. My gaze swung wildly from eyes to eyes to eyes. I tried to shut mine, but they were still there, a vision of red, red, red all around me.

My knees buckled. Someone grabbed my arms before I fell. Raphael. Concern was etched on that now familiar face.

But all I saw were the red eyes.

The blood.

I fainted.

When I came to, all the vampires were gone.

All except Raphael. He stood across the room, arms folded. He’d changed, bathed. His white hair was slicked back, his face freshly shaven. He’d traded the stolen cloak and tunic for clothing befitting of royalty.

The room matched his station. It was a sprawling space, with a hearth on the far side where a small fire blazed, and two distinct seating areas: one in front, and one by me. I was lying on a low couch made of purple velvet. My fingers traced the texture, trying to ground myself in the surroundings.

“Tell me it’s a misunderstanding,” I croaked.

Raphael said nothing.

The fog cleared and an incessant need pressed against my chest. “Tell me.”

Raphael shook his head. “I cannot.”

“The vampire… he called you his king.”

“He did,” Raphael agreed. “Because I’m the Vampire King of the West.”

Gods, I’d been such a fool. His strength, his arrogance. I’d spent enough time with royalty. I should’ve recognized it. Yet Raphael was also worlds apart from the king I’d known. He hadn’t ordered me about. He’d treated me, at times, like a partner. If not an equal, then a close enough approximation.

I swallowed down the thought, the events that had transpired between Greymere and Damerel bouncing around my throbbing head. “You licked me.”

Raphael’s posture was stiff. “My apologies. I pride myself on keeping my word, and while I did in letter, I did not in spirit. I needed to seal the wound, and I wanted to show them.”

“Show them what? That I’m yours?”

Mine, he’d called me. I hadn’t belonged to anyone in so, so long. Even though it was for show, I’d come closer to belonging in that instance than I had in the past decade.

“Vampires respect claims like that. Your blood… certain blood is more attractive to vampires. You should take care not to bleed, but by daybreak, all will know what I’ve said and heed my words.”

I shuddered and forced myself up onto my elbows. “Why is my blood so enticing? Is there a way I could change it?” I anxiously ran my fingers over the edge of the settee.

“You can’t change what you are,” he said softly. “You don’t need to.”

“I’m human, Raphael. I’m going to bleed. I’ll be dead in a minute if one of them attacks.” Them. Not you. Somehow Raphael was different from other vampires to my mind. Or maybe that was how I’d reconciled it. “You said I’d be safe here. I was a fool to believe you.”

It was less a rebuke of him and more one of me. How had I been so desperate that I’d trust a vampire—the vampire king, no less—to protect me? “I need to leave. Now.”

Had I really thought I could be safer here than with my own kind? Even for a few days?

“You are safe here,” Raphael insisted. With vampire speed, he moved from his perch across the room to my side. He dropped to his knees, sinking to meet me at eye level. “Anyone who makes you feel any other way dies. I vow this, Samara. The only reason Lucas’s head is on his shoulders is because I want him to spread the message.”

It was impossible to hold his gaze at this distance. Half-lying down in an unfamiliar room, I felt vulnerable.

No, I felt vulnerable because when he said words like that, I wanted to believe him.

“You don’t need to send a message. I’m not staying.”

“You need rest,” he countered. “Supplies. A few days of real food, not whatever small mammal I drain for you. Sturdy clothing. Maps. Remember your plan?”

Valid points. But that didn’t change the fact he was the king of vampires. “What I need is the truth. You lied to me,” I accused.

Raphael arched a brow. “How, dove? I cannot tell untruths.”

“You deceived me, then,” I corrected. “I never would have let you out of that cell if I’d known you were their godsdamned king.”

Raphael’s voice dropped low. “You would have done anything to leave that prison, and we both know it.”

I looked away, not able to meet the truth in his eyes. “Just show me how to get out of this place. If it’ll take too long to get maps, I can go without, or I’ll just hide out in the Witch Kingdom.” Anxiety caged my heart and constricted it into shallow, shallow beats that left me dizzy.

“Nothing has changed, Samara. You would be found and executed for escaping your sentence.”

There was sense in Raphael’s words, but I couldn’t get the sight of all those vampires out of my mind. I’d thought one was terrifying. Dozens—hundreds—maybe thousands. Just the thought made it hard to breathe again. “Your vampires won’t just tolerate a human walking around.”

Raphael snorted, dismissing the argument. “They’ll tolerate anything I tell them to or suffer the consequences of their treason. Besides, you are hardly the only mortal here.”

Yes, me and the other humans they kept for food. It was well known the vampires stole humans from the bordering towns to keep themselves fed. And that was to make me feel better? “I’d rather take my chances against the king’s witches.”

“You can’t go back there,” he said with infuriating patience.

I frowned. “Am I to be your captive, then? Not allowed to leave?”

Did I imagine his hesitation? “You would die, Samara. I gave my word I would protect you—that means not letting you go off to your death.”

I looked away, scanning the room. “Then I’ll stay here. Give me whatever supplies the vampire king is willing to part with in exchange for helping you retrieve the grimoire, and I’ll be on my way.” At the thought of the grimoire, my fingers twitched. “Where is the grimoire anyway?”

His head cocked at the sudden question. “Safe.” Raphael regarded me for a moment. No doubt he saw I was unsatisfied by the answer. Taking pity on me, he moved and pointed to a table his body had blocked across the room.

Something in me unclenched, just slightly, when I laid eyes on it.

“There’s another option,” Raphael said slowly, like he didn’t want to startle me.

My shoulders tensed. “What?”

“Before I tell you, I want you to answer a question for me. Do you trust me to keep you safe?”

The word no was on the tip of my tongue before I even considered the question. Safe wasn’t a word that had applied to me in a long, long time. But as Raphael stared at me, red eyes warm and utterly still while he waited for my answer, it wasn’t so easy to spit the word out.

“I don’t know if I believe there’s such a thing as safety,” I admitted.

To my surprise, he didn’t tell me I was wrong. “That’s a fair answer, so let me change the question. Do you think anyone will do a better job keeping you safe than I would?”

“No,” I conceded.

Raphael nodded. “That’s right. As long as you’re here with me, dove, you’re mine. And I protect what’s mine. Ruthlessly.”

Ruthlessly. With dismembered hands and decapitated bodies. The thought should be chilling, especially given my aversion to violence. But… violence done to protect me felt altogether different than violence done against me. Hypocrite.

“Then let me place another card in your hand. Instead of scurrying off in a few days, you could stay longer and do one more task for me.”

I should say he was insane. Say there was no possible reason I’d stay. “What task?”

Raphael flashed a grin, just for a moment. “You could translate the grimoire for me.”

I blinked. Of all the things I’d expected… my gaze immediately landed on the enchanted book once more. I wanted to know its secrets, even if they were useless to a void like me.

“I told you I barely remember Old Runyk.” I’d had a knack for languages as a girl, something my mother had hoped would impress my father, but most of what I’d learned was forgotten.

“I have a library that would be at your disposal. I’m confident with enough time, you could decipher the text.”

“Why would I do that?” I demanded. What use did a vampire have for a witch-less grimoire?

“Because, if you do that, I’ll pay you five hundred gold pieces. Enough to not just start a new life as a beggar in the west, but to live like a queen.”

The offer was tantalizing. Too good to be true. “If you have hundreds of gold pieces lying around, you should give them to me anyway for getting you the grimoire. If not for me, you wouldn’t have been able to take it from the temple,” I reminded him.

“If you wanted payment for helping me retrieve the grimoire, you should have negotiated before,” he countered, with a smirk that made me want to hit him. “This is my offer. Five hundred gold pieces for the translation. While you work on it, you’ll live here, under my protection.”

But I’d still be working on his behalf. This was witch magic. It didn’t belong in a Vampire Kingdom. I didn’t belong here. “It’s treason.”

Raphael made a valiant effort to resist rolling his eyes. “Breaking me out of prison wasn’t?”

I flinched. “That was survival.”

“Then survive here, Samara,” he urged. “Thrive here. You’ve never had a chance to know yourself—I’ll give you that, and more.”

My heart slowed, the panic somehow easing, impossibly. For twelve years, my only thought had been how to survive the trials of each day. The only part of me I recognized now was the rat who would gnaw off a limb to survive. Could I betray my kingdom for the chance to find out I was something more?

“One thousand gold pieces,” I countered.

“A queenly sum indeed,” Raphael said, without so much as balking at the number. “It’s a bargain, then.”

I swallowed. For the second time, I’d made a deal with the vampire.

“Now, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

If I’d hoped Raphael might give me a few days in private to acclimate to the subterranean kingdom, I was to be sorely disappointed. Once I could stand, he ordered me up and off the settee. We were in a sitting room that was as large as twenty cells in Greymere put together, and an explosion of color. A velvet green couch, a rich scarlet bedspread, chairs covered in navy fabric. Like Greymere, there was a distinct lack of windows. Before forcing me to face the kingdom once more, however, Raphael led me to a bathing chamber. The room was a marvel of quartz and marble, a large tub at the center filled with steaming water.

I glanced at Raphael.

He left the room, latching the door shut behind him.

Any hesitation was overwhelmingly defeated by the prospect of bathing in warm water. I stripped my dirty traveling clothes as carefully as I could while speeding towards the tub. The heat of the bath engulfed me, and I began scrubbing my body as best I could.

Then my eyes landed on a shelf across from the tub.

At least fifty crystal bottles were nestled closely together. Curious, I got out of the tub, already missing the warm water. Once I removed the stopper from one, I inhaled deeply.

Bergamot.

Rich citrus with a hint of tartness I could feel on my tongue. My heart nearly stopped. It was utterly decadent, and I was hungry for more. I wafted it over, taking the deepest inhale I had in ages. It was the complete opposite of everything I’d been surrounded by for so long.

Sense abandoned me. I snatched half a dozen bottles of perfumed bathing oils and poured them one by one into the tub, watching the water go from light blue to navy to violet. Different notes rubbed against my senses, each of them exotic and luxurious, each of them a world apart from vampires and darkness and blood. Part of me longed to dive under the water and drink them until I drowned a happy, aromatic death. I savored the cacophony of perfumes and soaked myself, wishing I could stay forever.

Sense eventually won out, and when my skin wrinkled to the point I looked like a proper crone, I forced myself to rise from the tub. Water slid away, steam wrapping around me as I found a fluffy white towel on the rack to dry myself with. My dirty clothes lay in a pile on the floor, utterly unappealing compared to the luxury of the towel.

A neatly folded assortment of fabric I hadn’t noticed before, however, sat on a shelf beyond the tub. A cinched tunic and trousers, like those for riding.

I finished drying and wrung my hair with my hands. My fingers tried and failed to comb my black hair into a semblance of order. The tunic slipped over my shoulders easily, a loose style that didn’t require much cinching. I tied the embroidered belt with my deck over it and sourced my remaining defenses from my pockets. The trousers didn’t offer a spot for the cuffs. I considered switching back, but the clothes were in tatters. I hesitated and reburied the broken shackles, resolving to figure it out later. There was a large mirror covering one wall, and I wiped my fingers against the steamed-over glass to take a look.

My skin was pink from the heat of the bath. My hair had a shine to it from the water and the oils. The clothes didn’t quite fit, the neck a bit too wide for my narrow shoulders, the trousers requiring me to pull the ties tight, but I looked more normal than I had in ages.

A knock sounded on the door. Raphael. I swallowed. I couldn’t hide here forever.

I opened the door.

Raphael had his mouth open, as if he’d been about to say something, but as the steam flew out around me, his mouth shut, and he wrinkled his nose.

Given that even to my own nose I had a cloying amount of scents strewn on me, it was probably painful for a vampire to be near me. Well, good.

“You were always complaining I smelled,” I reminded him.

“Now you don’t smell like yourself at all,” he said with what bordered on a petulant sigh.

Wasn’t that the entire point? Guilt pricked at me all the same. I supposed I should feel bad about wasting all the perfume. Yes, it had been nice to imagine a life where I was surrounded by decadence, but that’s not what I was meant for. I was a mortal driven to seek refuge in the Vampire Kingdom. I didn’t deserve nice things like this.

“I’ll be more mindful,” I murmured, resolving to not take such things again. I looked at the floor. Fancy bath oils weren’t for girls like me, anyway.

“If you like it, use it all,” he replied in an instant. “Just perhaps… not all at once.”

I lifted my gaze and gave Raphael a tentative smile. He nodded, approving of something he saw in me.

“What now?” I asked.

“Now we let Amalthea find us.”

Amalthea.

I repeated the lyrical name in my mind as we walked through the hallways. Amalthea. It was an elegant name. A lady’s name. The name of Raphael’s lady? Before, it would never have occurred to me that vampires could take lovers. Now, I was consumed by the thought of Raphael belonging to another.

The thought had never crossed my mind.

My gut twisted.

“Something wrong?” Raphael asked as I fell behind a step.

I hurried to catch up. Awful clenching in my stomach aside, I didn’t dare fall away from the protection of the vampire king.

“No, no. I was just thinking perhaps I could, um, not go to meet this vampire Amalthea.”

Raphael chuckled. “Amalthea’s not a vampire.”

I stumbled.

“She’s not?”

“Damerel is home to more than just vampires. If it wasn’t, we would starve.”

That was true, but it didn’t make me feel better. Obviously there were humans the vampires fed on, but just by the way Raphael spoke of her, I knew there was more to this Amalthea. “So she’s a void, like me?”

“Amalthea is a witch.”

A witch? In the Vampire Kingdom? All I could do was blink in surprise as Raphael threw open a massive wooden door. Gone were the carpeted palace halls, replaced by packed dirt. The cavern was large and mostly empty, with a weapons rack at either end of the space, and a few benches. In the center was a woman. Nobility of some kind, judging by her posture and finery.

“Amalthea,” Raphael said in greeting.

“Raphael,” she replied, without any of the deference that should have come from speaking to a king. “You know, just because I knew you’d be here didn’t mean I knew when. I’ve been waiting for half a day. And it’s so dusty here. You might have arranged a luncheon for this introduction.”

Raphael shrugged. “Then you should have found us at luncheon.”

The witch blew out an exasperated breath. “You know that’s not how it works. I saw us here.”

I at once understood why Amalthea, a witch, was in the Vampire Kingdom.

Amalthea wasn’t just a witch.

She was an oracle.

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