Blood Prophecy

CHAPTER 28



Solange


Friday night

Kala’s ritual testing wasn’t as awful as I’d thought it would be.

All I had to do was stand in the center of nearly a hundred vampires while Kala circled around me with her dog-tooth rattle and her clinking amulets. Isabeau followed behind her, carrying an abalone shell and a hawk feather, wafting sage smoke over us. Four other Hounds stood in each direction, each with a dog at their feet, and each playing a drum.

The other vampires shifted restlessly. They were fascinated by the reclusive Hounds but they didn’t trust them enough to truly enjoy the spectacle of a rare magical ritual. Mom and Dad, my uncle, my aunt, and all of my brothers stood together in a half-moon shape. Lucy’s cousin Christabel stood uncertainly with Saga and Aidan, who had Hel-Blar on leashes, their mushroom stench adding to the miasma of anger and fright. Connor stood with our family, but his eyes never left Christabel. I’d even invited Madame Veronique and her handmaidens so she could stop trying to kill me, assuming I was Viola. I knew Viola had crossed into cruelty and evil, had trapped me and used me, but part of me couldn’t help feel a little sorry for her. How different would her life had been if she’d known who she was? If she’d had my family instead of Madame Veronique?

The representatives of the Raktapa Council sat at a long table. The other vampires who still supported Viola, without even knowing it was her they supported, had taken to leading their humans on leashes like pets after I had the post demolished. Constantine’s men stayed close to them, eyeing me hatefully. Chandramaa stood inside the circle and were stationed on the path. In the center, to my left was a small table holding the royal crown.

There was a nefarious kind of tension clinging to everyone and everything. It hadn’t been here at the start of the Blood Moon but now fear hung in the air, sour and fetid. Too many had lost loved ones to hunters, and too many eyes were searching for blood-drinking murderers. The secure haven of the encampment didn’t feel particularly secure anymore.

Still, the ritual itself was easier than the one in the caves where Kala had shown me the prophecy being spoken.

Until she came at me with a sharpened dog bone, like a cross between a giant knitting needle and a stake.

I had to force myself to stand utterly still, even as my every nerve ending screeched for me to fight back, to run, to dodge, anything. Since she wasn’t instantly turned to dust on the tip of a Chandramaa arrow, the ritual obviously had been approved beforehand. I’d ordered them to let Kala do what she had to, but that was when I’d thought the worst thing I might have to do was chant in my underwear. Mom took a step forward.

Kala jabbed the pointed tip into each of my wrists, and once over my heart. The cuts were shallow but they bled quickly and swiftly. The Hel-Blar clacked their jaws together and howled so viciously, Aidan had to struggle to keep them contained. Kala ignored them all, the screeching, the muttering, the hissing. She only cared about the blood currently dripping into the snow.

She touched her fingertip to the rivulet trickling from my heart and smeared the blood over her forehead, then mine. Isabeau held a small bowl carved from stone under my wrists until my blood gathered there like wine. She passed it to Kala who drank from it, taking a small ritual sip. There was no hunger to it, her fangs were always extended but they didn’t look any sharper or longer than usual. She was deep in her magical trance, seeing things the rest of us couldn’t see. The drumming got louder, faster, like a thousand humming bees. It made me feel slightly disoriented.

When Kala lifted her head from the bowl, the whites of her eyes were red. The drumming stopped abruptly, as one. No one moved, no one spoke. Even the wind seemed to be holding its breath. Kala didn’t move but it was obvious she was somewhere else. Less obvious to the others perhaps, that she was prowling through my inner landscape. I could feel her prying open doors and rusted locks, peering under the bed for monsters. It was the strangest feeling and not altogether pleasant. My teeth chattered.

“Spirit,” Kala whispered in a creepy singsong voice. It was all wrong, like a doll in a frilly pink dress holding a butcher knife. “Spirit.”

Wounds that still ached, throbbed inside my head. I was being scraped raw.

“Viola,” Kala snapped. “Show yourself.”

I shivered all over, knees buckling. I landed in the bloody snow. But there was no voice, no sense of vertigo or disconnection.

“The last test,” Kala announced.

I looked up at the sound of weeping.

Constantine.

I blinked, confused. It took a moment to realize the weeping wasn’t inside my head. A pack of the Hounds’s dogs milled about his ankles, snapping and growling to get him moving. There were bloody bite marks on his calves. His hair stood on end and his eyes were bloodshot and red. He was weeping loudly, brokenly. He looked nothing like the charming, witty vampire who had saved my life from the Furies and kissed me in the Bower. He looked, quite frankly, insane.

He stumbled, distracted by the sight of Madame Veronique. “You.” He seethed, fury and pain contorting his usually handsome features. His fangs gleamed. “You did this,” he shouted, tripping over the dogs as he tried to get to her.

Madame Veronique didn’t react, she didn’t even blink. She sat like a medieval ice statue in a velvet dress. Her handmaidens stepped protectively in front of her, but it was Isabeau who knocked him off his feet before he reached her and before the Chandramaa could attack.

“You may die on your own time,” she said briskly, her accent sharp. “After the testing.” She yanked him to his feet by the back of his collar and the dogs raced back in, hackles rising. Their teeth looked every bit as dangerous as a vampire’s fangs.

I shrank back as the dogs brought him closer to me, remembering that it was his presence that had called Viola out, had tethered her inside my body. Constantine fell to his knees in front of me, grabbing at my arms. “Viola?” he asked with such fractured hope in his violet eyes that it was painful to look at him. “Viola, come back to me.”

And then he kissed me.

A kiss to tell the truth from a lie.

I tensed, listening so intently for Viola’s whisper that I could hear the scuttling of moles in the earth beneath us. But nothing else. I sagged with relief even as Constantine shook me frantically. “No!” He sobbed. “No!”

“He’s no threat.” Kala dismissed him. “He’s broken inside.”

I pulled sharply out of his hold and rose slowly to my feet. He knelt, weeping and gnashing his teeth. I’d never seen an ancient vampire having a breakdown before. It wasn’t pretty. Blood seeped from his eyes and his chewed lips. I just stared at him, unable to feel anything but pity. I couldn’t even muster enough hatred to hit him again, as I’d done that day under the tree bridges, even as he tried to hold on to my feet so I wouldn’t move away.

The same couldn’t be said for my family. My mom snarled, but it was my dad who hauled off and punched Constantine in the throat. “Come near my daughter again and I’ll kill you,” he said calmly, almost politely, as he loomed over him. “Slowly.”

Kala stepped back, blinking blood from her eyes. “The spirit has been banished, all because this girl,” she pointed at me, “was strong enough to hold her ground when all around her were blind to the battle. This other spirit can do you no harm,” she told the council and the others. Her voice didn’t get louder but it seemed to reach everywhere, snaking between bodies to the very furthest corners of the camp. “The prophecy has been fulfilled,” she added. “And is no longer any concern of yours.”

My dad seemed to deflate briefly with relief. Madame Veronique’s posture got stiffer. Voices slammed into one another. Kala walked out of the circle to sit on a pile of pelts, dogs curled at her feet. Isabeau stood next to her, at attention. Constantine crawled away. I couldn’t even look at him.

Everyone else started to talk at once. My family surrounded me but they were all shouting between themselves as well. The delegates from visiting tribes were demanding council.

“I have something to say.” I tried to be heard over the cacophony but it was next to impossible. I went on my tiptoes and tried to catch the eye of one of the Raktapa representatives but they were too busy talking among themselves.

“I have something to say!” I tried again but with no greater success. Mom would have been confident and terrifying; it was just her way. Dad’s way would be to find some sort of common ground to negotiate with. I only had my own way, whatever that might be. I’d have to rely on logic and common sense, and appeal to our united goal, which was, essentially, the desire to be left alone. That was something I understood on a level my parents didn’t truly appreciate.

But if they were going to listen to me, I’d have to make them hear me first.

My voice was just one of many, no matter how loudly I shouted.

So I’d stop shouting.

I was the quiet one anyway, as Lucy had teased me on the phone. So I’d use it to my advantage. I surreptitiously reached over and took the crown. Between Viola and the prophecy, it was a symbol everyone seemed to be obsessed with. And again, this time I’d make it work for me instead of against me.

I slipped through the jostling crowd, easing between arguments and apologies, bloodslaves and brothers. I stopped at the foot of the chopped down tree post. There were still chains curled at its base, still bloodstains in the dirt. I scaled the post, splinters breaking off under my boots. When I reached the top, I pulled myself up so I was standing. I didn’t do anything else, I just stood there, waiting silently and patiently, with bats circling over me.

It was several minutes before anyone noticed me. Sebastian was first, then the vampires around the post, then Nicholas, then Duncan. Slowly the conversations around me faltered, the silence spreading. The bats dipped down between the few still arguing, startling them apart.

Faces looked up at me and I had to swallow on a dry throat. “I have a proposition to make.” My voice trembled slightly. I straightened my shoulders to compensate.

“I’m not wise enough to be your queen,” I said. “But I’m wise enough to know it. I’m also wise enough to know that this system is hopelessly outdated and only sets us against one another. We can’t keep killing one another as if it’s the only way to sort out our differences. My cousin died for me, for this stupid prophecy, and the war over the crown. And I won’t let her death be in vain. Humans have trials and laws and jails, so why can’t we?” Dad looked so proud I thought he was going to start weeping right then and there. “If we’re going to gather from all over the world and sit at a council table, then we need to make changes. We all need to make treaties with the Helios-Ra, not just the local Violet Hill families.” Someone spat in the snow. I eyed her calmly. “The League is changing, just like we are. This isn’t the twelfth century.” I looked coldly at Madame Veronique. “And we need to stop acting as if it is.”

I held up the crown. “This is just an object,” I insisted. “It’s not worth dying for. But if you all really want it so desperately, then take it.” I snapped off one of the rubies. Someone gasped. I jumped off the post and walked toward Kala. “The Hounds answer to themselves.” I handed her the ruby. The whispers swelled angrily. I snapped off another one and turned to Saga. “The Na-Foir answer to themselves.” She grinned cockily, snatching the ruby out of the air. The last ruby I placed on the table in front of the Raktapa Council. “The ancient families answer to themselves.” I tossed the seed pearls that dangled on what was left of the crown, scattering them like tiny white mistletoe berries.

“And we all answer to one another.” My father had said those words enough times that they came naturally. “I want to abdicate the throne.” The hissing and shouting was so loud I flinched. Dad caught my eye and leaned his head ever so subtly in Mom’s direction. “But for the time being, I name Helena Drake as my Regent.” I smiled at Dad. “And Liam Drake as co-Regent.” Mom would be able to keep order in the chaos but Dad was the one who’d be able to make this plan work. He could settle disputes and soothe tempers. If he could handle Mom, he could handle vengeful vampires.

“And the rest of us?” a man in a plaid jacket asked. “Who represents us?”

I hadn’t considered that. I nibbled on my lower lip, fangs stinging as they poked through my skin. I wasn’t strictly Raktapa, because I wasn’t like the other Drakes. I wasn’t Hound or Na-Foir. I thought of Marigold and the others of the Bower. I was outside the circle, just like the solitary vampires who chose not to ally themselves. “I will,” I offered. “Until you choose your own representative, I’ll stand for the tribeless. If you’ll have me.” Dad really did cry then, just one tear, which he brushed hastily away before anyone could see him.

“Nicely done,” Nicholas said hours later to me as I stepped out of the main pavilion. Apparently when you took down the monarchy, you then had to sit and listen to speeches for hours, until your butt went numb.

“I just couldn’t let London die for nothing, and then have it happen all over again the next time some old woman gets stoned on weird mushroom tea.” I rubbed my face wearily. “But do you think it will work?” I asked, doubtfully. “We’re not exactly known for our laid-back nature. I mean, Aunt Hyacinth is still holding a grudge against that boy who waved a pistol at Queen Victoria’s carriage. And that was in 1872.”

“It’s worth a try,” he replied. “Some of the vampires have already packed up and left in a snit. But just as many are making toasts to a new era.”

“I can see that.” I watched one vampire lean drunkenly on another. While we’d been talking and talking and talking, everyone else had been drinking. We turned and wandered down the path. A group of vampires gathered outside one of the tents, whispering and staring.

“One thing hasn’t changed,” I muttered. “I’m going to start my own circus and be the main attraction.” I glanced at Nicholas. “Want to get out of here for a while?” I’d never been comfortable in crowds and whatever Nicholas had been through on Dawn’s orders had made him nearly as solitary as Duncan. I wanted to kill her all over again. My fangs poked into my lower lip drawing blood. One of the vampires by the tent pointed at me.

Nicholas just raised his eyebrows. “You’re so hungry you’re trying to eat your own face?”

I elbowed him. “Some people are scared of me, you know. Like that guy over there.” The guy in question paled when I looked his way and tried to hide behind a banner half his size.

Nicholas snorted. “Ten points if you can make him hide behind that creepy little girl over there.” It was such normal banter, tears sprung to my eyes. Nicholas was instantly horrified. “What? What’d I do?”

“You should hate me.” I sniffled. “I made you drink from Lucy. I’m so sorry, Nic.”

“Lucy called me a drama queen when I was sorry about that too.”

I choked out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He quirked a smile. “So stop being so soggy.”

I swallowed. “Brothers are so sentimental.” My smile was watery. And actually, they totally were. They just thought no one knew it.

“So where are we going?” he asked as the snow began to fall very softly around us, so softly it was barely there at all.

“I don’t know,” I admitted as we passed between the trees and cut through the field of dirt bikes. “Just random hunting, I guess. No speech in the world is going to avert hunter-vampire war if we don’t stop these killings. So you know, clear my name, stop some murders, avenge my brother. The usual.”

Nicholas stopped me with a hand on my arm. His face was serious, gray eyes so pale they were like frozen moonlight. “Don’t go avenging me, Sol. I’m not dead.”

“They tortured you.”

“I mean it, Sol. This has to stop somewhere. You said so yourself.”

I shrugged out of his grasp. “You could have died. You nearly did.”

“So did you,” he reminded me lightly. “Quinn would say the reason everyone’s always trying to kill us Drakes is because we’re so pretty.” He passed me a stake. “Now are we going to hunt, or what?”

I refused the stake, showing him the tranquilizer gun I’d gotten off Uncle Geoffrey before leaving the farm. “Let’s try something new.”

“Okay, but I’m not having a chat with a rabid Hel-Blar.”

“Agreed.”

Walking through the quiet forest was soothing. The silhouettes of the trees gleamed with ice, the leaves and twigs underfoot bristled with frost. There were rabbit prints and gouges on a tree from where a deer had rubbed its antlers. When we crossed the river, it looked as if it were filled with bits of broken mirrors. We found traces of old blood and footprints, but nothing terribly useful. We wandered aimlessly until I led us to the place I felt safe, without even realizing it. The tree where Kieran and I had slipped underground into the tunnels to escape Hope’s rogue Helios-Ra unit. We’d spent the day in a safe house and he’d stayed with me, watching over me when I was at my weakest.

The tree was just as mossy, spreading out its branches in a wide circle, dripping delicate and deadly icicles. The points looked as sharp as stakes. The roots made a complicated nest, like the Celtic knot work patterns on some of Bruno’s tattoos. Nicholas searched the path for strange scents or any other kind of clues, just as we’d been doing all night. I couldn’t help myself, I crouched down to slide my hands in the tiny caves the roots created. I felt around for some kind of note or letter, just as he’d mentioned that night on his front porch. It felt like a lifetime ago.

I reached deeper into the roots. The wind rattled the frosted branches overhead, icicles tinkling like wind chimes. I smelled snow and pine and cold. I touched dirt, stones, a startled beetle. Nothing else.

It was empty.

Disappointment was a palpable burn in my belly. I sat back on my heels and chided myself for being an idiot. What had I been expecting? A love letter? Of course Kieran hadn’t left me a message. I’d bitten him on the neck and drunk his blood. I’d kissed Constantine. I’d generally behaved like an ass.

And Lucy wondered why I was too embarrassed to phone him.

I pushed to my feet, swallowing hard against the lump growing in my throat. Ex-vampire queens probably shouldn’t cry over their ex-boyfriend’s perfectly reasonable decision to have nothing to do with them. A tear slipped through anyway, scalding hot on my cold cheek. I hurried to wipe it off before Nicholas could see me. The crack of a twig underfoot and the familiar mixture of mint and cedar had me spinning around. I knew that scent.

Kieran.

He was standing right there behind me, on the edge of the roots. I had no idea how long he’d been there. The wind had covered his scent and my own misery had muffled the sound of his heartbeat. He was perfectly still, wearing a dark gray fisherman’s sweater and his usual black cargos. His dark hair was ruffled by the wind and there was the faintest scrape of stubble on his jaw. I couldn’t look away, even as scared as I was to see what might be reflected in his black eyes. I expected anger, disgust, even fear. But he only looked as startled as I felt, as if he wasn’t even sure I was real.

Nicholas came around the tree and we still hadn’t moved.

“Kieran.” He was the first to speak, breaking the silence that was starting to feel like a spell, weaving around us. Kieran and I might have stood there staring at each other for the rest of the night otherwise. If he didn’t speak, I couldn’t hear the recrimination in his voice. I straightened my spine, wanting to hear whatever he had to say. I owed him that much, at least.

“Hey, man,” Nicholas continued, as if he wasn’t surrounded by frozen mimes. “It’s good to see you.”

Kieran tore his gaze from mine as if it was physically painful. “Nicholas.” They didn’t shake hands but clasped forearms as usual, like fellow warriors.

“Well, I guess it’s safe to leave you here for a bit,” Nicholas said. He eyed Kieran’s friends, who were equally frozen behind him. “I’m going to go for a walk.” He tossed me a grin before loping away and becoming just another shadow in the forest.

What exactly did you say to the boy you’d kissed senseless and then nearly killed?

I licked my lips. “Hi.”

Oh my god, I really was an idiot.

Kieran blinked. A ghost of a smile nearly tugged at the side of his mouth. “Hi.”

We stared at each other for another interminable moment, longer than any history exam Aunt Hyacinth had ever set me. I squirmed. He slipped on a pair of nose plugs.

“I’m learning to control the pheromones,” I said quietly. He didn’t take them off.

But he also didn’t look away, even as he spoke to his friends. “Go away, guys.”

I could hear them leaving, one of them whispering, “That’s her? She’s so tiny.”

And then it was just Kieran and me alone in the woods.

I’d literally never felt so awkward in my entire life.

“Are you okay?” we both blurted out at the same time.

“I didn’t kill those people,” I added miserably. “The ones in the paper. I promise. Though I don’t know why you’d believe me.”

“I believe you,” he said quietly. “You’re as much of a victim of Viola as the rest of us. More so.”

“But I . . .” I motioned vaguely to his neck. There was a scar from where my incisors had ripped through his skin, just barely visible above the neck of his sweater and the collar of his coat. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said. I could tell he meant it and it nearly undid me.

“I could have killed you. You should hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” he said quietly. “And I know what it feels like. After my dad died and I was on a vendetta, I did some things I’m not proud of.”

“Did you throw your own brother into a tent post and threaten to snap your best friend’s neck?”

“Who’d you throw?”

“Duncan.”

He whistled, looking briefly impressed. “Bet he loved that.”

I wrinkled my nose. “He still looks at me like I might do it again.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“I’m bad luck, Kieran. Without me and that stupid prophecy, so many people would be better off. London would still be alive.”

“Without you,” Kieran pointed out, “Logan wouldn’t have met Isabeau, Hunter wouldn’t have met Quinn, and Connor wouldn’t have met Christabel. Did you ever think of that?” He paused. “And we wouldn’t have met either.”

“But I drank from you. And you’ve been attacked too many times because of me.” I wasn’t sure why I was arguing. But I had to make him understand.

“It was worth it.”

“How can you say that?” I gaped at him even as he stepped closer, bridging the distance between us.

“Because it’s the truth,” he replied hoarsely, his thumb trailing softly over my jawline. “You’re worth it, Solange. All of it.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stop my lower lip from wobbling embarrassingly. Of all the things I’d ever imagined him saying to me, that had never even made the list. The sob trapped in my chest morphed into a laugh. But I couldn’t let it out. Not quite yet. “How can you still be so nice to me?” This was the part I’d been dreading, the reason I’d avoided him. Hearing him say that final good-bye. I clenched my fists. “Your friends and family, the entire League; they’ll hate me even more now—and you if . . . if we . . . if we stay together.”

“To hell with them,” he said roughly.

“I know why I want to be with you,” I said. “You’re strong and honest and forgiving. But how can you still want to be with me?” I whispered. “When I’m like this?” I lifted my wrists showing him the blue veins under pale skin, knowing my triple set of fangs were extended, my irises ringed with red.

He touched my wrists, lightly stroking the veins, moving up my arms to dig his fingers in my hair and tilt my head back so I’d look at him directly instead of at my feet. “You were brave and beautiful when I first met you as a human. You’re still brave and beautiful, Solange. That hasn’t changed.” He tugged me a little closer. “Besides, Hart is still negotiating with your dad. They still want peace and if anyone can pull it off, especially now, it’s those two. And we’ll help,” he added. “All of us.”

I desperately wanted him to be right, already feeling the ice that had clawed at my insides melting away. “Kieran, you’ve already lost your dad. I can’t ask you to lose everyone else that you love.”

“Then don’t ask me to lose you too, Solange.”