Bloodcraft (23 page)

“I do not care,” he said mildly. His cold response was a blow to Victoria’s gut. “I am here for one purpose—to avoid a conflict with the humans. The odds are not in our favor. There are billions of them and tens of thousands of us. Everyone needs to calm down and take a step back. Think about what you are doing.”

“You think you can take us all on, vampire?” The snarling comment was from a warlock standing to the right of Freyja. His eyes flared and a scream lodged in Victoria’s throat, but the stunning spell bounced harmlessly off Christian. Her eyes widened as the warlock fell to his knees, his eyes bulging from the rebounded hex. Victoria’s blood reared in her veins, responding to the pull of the dark magic … magic that was coming
from
Christian. Leto’s words came back in a rush—he was a vampire prince now, a son of one of their original vampires.

Christian released his hold and the man rose, gasping for breath. “You do not want to test my will.”

Freyja raised a hand, something flashing across her face. “Impressive,” she said. Her glance flicked to Lucian, who was staring at Christian with a disbelieving, incredulous look. But instead of focusing on either of the brothers, she turned her attention to Madame Starke, who had been watching the entire exchange with silent, calculating eyes. “Give us the witch and we will go.”

“No.”

“I can feel her presence.” She lowered her voice, but her words filtered back to Victoria, making her body go ice cold. “Odette, she is a threat to everyone.”

“And what will she become in your hands?” Odette Starke shot back. “A weapon against the Clans? We know your endgame, Freyja. It has been the same since the dawn of time. Your hatred of the Witch Clans will outweigh any shred of decency you have. Le Sang Noir will rise to defend our bloodlines, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Victoria felt her blood surge as blue fire flicked between the line of witches that had now grown ten bodies deep. This was going to be a bloodbath, with Christian standing at its midpoint. She had to stop it. She took a deep breath and shimmied down to a lower branch when a hand stopped her descent.

“You can’t,” Pan whispered as he climbed up the branches beside her. Her eyes widened at his bloodstained face and he shook his head. “It’s not my blood, don’t worry. I am fine.”

“I have to help them.”

“You can’t. Super Witch or not, you’ll get yourself killed.”

Her eyes met his and she wrestled with telling him the truth. Pan wouldn’t hurt her, she knew. He was too guileless, too transparent. And he was bonded to the trees. They already guessed who she was and it would only be a matter of time before Pan found out. She inhaled sharply and made her decision.

“You don’t understand. They’re here for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m the Cruentus witch, the one from the prophecy.”

Pan stared at her, a shadow slinking through his clear blue eyes. His fingers fluttered against her arm and he pulled her in for a hug. His hands spread wide at the place between her shoulder blades and she was completely unprepared for the electrical shock that speared from his fingers, covering her body in a wide net. Her eyes popped as Pan leaned back, blowing something that looked like golden dust into her face.

“I know exactly who you are, little bird,” he whispered. “Time to go home.”

FIFTEEN

Master of Deception

Christian felt Victoria’s departure the minute she teleported. All he sensed was a swift spike of fear the moment before she disappeared into thin air, but he expected that was because of what was happening. He’d been aware of her presence the whole time as if she were a tangible force anchoring him to her. He was glad that she’d stayed hidden because he hadn’t known what he would have done if she’d gotten hurt. As much as he wanted to prevent war from erupting in the middle of Paris, he wanted to protect her, too.

He stood between the immovable bodies of the warlock and the headmistress of the school, knowing they, too, would have felt the shift in the magic. “Victoria is no longer here,” he said.

“How do you—?” the one called Odette Starke snapped.

He let his eyes meet hers, not deigning to answer. She knew full well how he knew. She’d been the one to insist that Victoria and he separate so that she could attend the school. It hadn’t been Aliya’s idea—although she had been resistant to the two of them as a couple, she’d come to understand the bond that lay between them. No, it had been this woman. Christian wondered at her endgame. She’d manipulated Victoria like a pawn, making her want to belong so badly that she’d given up everything to do so. And now, when the warlocks had made their play, she pretended ignorance.

He turned to his brother. “Come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Christian flexed his newfound influence and his brother’s eyes widened at the compulsion. “You will accompany me, by force or by any other means necessary.”

“Who do you think you are?” Lucian gritted as he fought Christian’s unspoken command.

“Your brother and your liege.”

“I owe you no allegiance.”

Christian assessed him with cool composure. “Then why does your blood bend to mine? You are bound to me. Now move.”

“Freyja,” Lucian said, his eyes darting to her. “Are you going to let this happen?”

“You have fulfilled your purpose,” she said.

“We had an agreement.”

“Which shall be honored, but you mistake my intentions if you believe I will enter into a blood feud with the vampires, least of all your brother. You would do well to follow his wishes.” With that, the warlocks vanished into thin air, leaving Lucian standing there alone. He turned to run, but Christian halted him in his tracks.

“How are you doing this?”

Christian didn’t answer. He nodded coldly to Odette Starke and grasped Lucian’s arm before taking to the skies.

They arrived at the rooftop of the Tour Areva in seconds and Lucian pushed away from him, his face purple. “Since when can you fly?”

“It’s a recent development.”

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Lucian snarled. “Le Sang Noir? The blood you took that you claimed was so self serving?”

“No, and her blood is self serving.”

Lucian raked a hand through his cropped hair. “Lies. Your powers have accelerated. Powers of compulsion, flight. What else can you do,
brother
, because of that bitch’s blood?”

Christian eyed Lucian, watching the unrestrained emotions play across the face that was a mirror image of his own—jealousy, rage, confusion, and frustration combining into an unrecognizable mess. There was nothing that he could say that would make his status palatable to Lucian, he knew. His jealousy would consume him as it always had.

He cleared his throat. “My maker was Reii.”

“Reii?” Lucian exploded. “Since when? Enhard was your maker.”

Christian shook his head. “No, Lucian. My maker was a woman called Sezja.”

“Since when? He gave you his blood.”

“She did, too. Her blood displaced his.”

“That is impossible,” Lucian said, stalking to the edge of the platform. “You seek to deceive as you have always done. Admit it. Your powers are because of Le Sang Noir. You tried to warn me against it because you wanted to keep it for yourself. You don’t think I can see right through your lies? The Reii haven’t existed for years, and now you claim to be descended from one of them? You are deluded.”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” Christian said. “What were you doing with the warlocks? They cannot be trusted.”

“Just as my own people cannot be trusted,” he shot back. “Should I sit quietly in my rooms and await my execution? Is that what you want? I did not kill Enhard, but I am a target for the entire Council.”

“You have brought this upon yourself with your constant scheming for power. You think whatever agreement you have made with the warlocks will be your answer?” Christian strode to Lucian’s side, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and forcing his brother to look at him. “You must be accountable for your actions. The Council only seeks justice.”

“Justice?” Lucian scoffed, shrugging off his hold. “Trust me, none of them know the meaning of that word.”

“I do.”

“And yet you seek to see me fall to the same fate.”

“I am on your side. Can’t you see that?” Christian hissed. “You are the one blinded by your lust for power, by everything you think you don’t have. The warlocks cannot be trusted—they want one thing. War.”

“Then let them have it,” Lucian said, storming toward the elevator. “Mark my words, brother. You and your Council will rue the day that you crossed me. And as far as trust goes, you broke that the moment you chose a witch over your own flesh and blood.”

“I didn’t choose anyone over you, Lucian.”

“Didn’t you?”

Christian couldn’t believe his brother’s obtuseness. He softened his voice as the elevator doors slid open and Lucian entered. “We are brothers first, bound by something deeper than blood. Does that not mean anything to you?”

Glacial silver eyes reflected into his. “No.”

The doors glided shut, obscuring Lucian from view. Christian sighed. His brother would be his own destruction. He couldn’t see beyond his own agenda, and whatever plans he had with the warlocks would only put him—and the entire House of Devereux—in jeopardy.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Victoria’s identity was no longer a secret and he knew that things would only get worse. Everyone would make a play for her—the witches, the warlocks, even the vampires. Lucian hadn’t given up on his claim either.

Striding to his office, he slammed the door and braced his forearms against his desk, recalling the sliver of fear he’d felt the moment she’d disappeared from the grove at Belles Fontaines. He couldn’t help himself—he pushed out into the void, settling into the connection between them that had yet to fade.

Victoria? Are you there?

No answer. He tried again, but there was nothing but emptiness.

The door to his office crashed open and his assistant, along with three frazzled Council members, rushed in. His mental projection slammed back into his body as he eyed their rude entry with a raised eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Four vampires murdered in southern Paris,” the closest one gasped.

“When?”

“An hour ago.”

Christian frowned. The timing coincided with the attack on the school, but he couldn’t prove that it’d been the warlocks. And if they were looking for Victoria, why would they attack the vampires? The correlation made no sense, which meant that it had to have been a random attack.

“Their bodies?”

“Calcified. They’ve been turned to stone.”

Stone. That was new. The previous victims had been burned to ashes. Christian’s frown deepened. “Find out if any witches have been killed.”

He watched as his assistant pulled something up on the device in her hand and nodded a few minutes later. “Three killed in the same area two hours earlier.”

It was too coincidental, as if someone wanted them to believe that each side was targeting the other. It had to be the warlocks, and if Lucian’s involvement confirmed anything, it was that he’d never align himself with the losing side.

“Get me Aliya on the phone now,” he snapped to his assistant before looking at the three council members. “And convene the full Council.”

“But, Your Grace—”

Christian silenced the young council member who spoke with a frosty glance. “Do not question me. Now.”

She and the two others bowed their way out of the room. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“I have the high priestess on the line,” his assistant said.

Christian nodded for her to leave the room, and only when the door was closed did he speak into the handset. “I trust you have heard the news.”

Aliya’s voice was even. “Yes.”

“We are being pitted against one another,” he said. “I give you my word that we are not attacking your people, and I can guess that you can do the same for yours. The warlocks are plotting against both of us.”

“What about rogue vampires? Can you vouch for them?”

Of course she meant his brother. She would have heard about the attack at the school, the one with Lucian at its helm and flanked by a contingent of their common enemy—the warlocks.

He spoke urgently into the phone. “We have to stop this, Aliya. The Council is on the brink of voting for war. Think of the consequences, of the collateral damage. So many innocents will die. Is that what you want?”

“Of course I don’t. No one wants war, but it is becoming inevitable. The Clans are mobilizing, too.”

He cleared his throat. “And Victoria?”

There was dead silence on the other end. “She’s not with you?”

“With
me
?” He fumbled for the words. “Aliya, Victoria ended things several days ago. I haven’t seen her since. I sensed her at the school earlier this morning, but she disappeared. I assumed that she teleported to safety.”

“She did not,” Aliya replied, dread saturating her tone. “No one has seen her, so we assumed that she was with you. Your vampire wards make communication impossible.”

Chills raced across his spine—had his brother succeeded in his plot? Christian pushed his senses out, trying to see if he could sense her presence anywhere, but it was as if she had vanished off the face of the earth. She simply did not exist. “I cannot sense her.”