Bloodcraft (3 page)

Lucian’s brow furrowed. “I wonder why Christian hasn’t told them who she is. He must know that it would bring him even more adoration that he already enjoys,” he said. “Unless of course, he has some other purpose. I presume it must be something to do with protecting
her.
”

Lena’s eyes dimmed at the mention of Christian, but she shook her head in a careless shrug. “Either way, the Council has more pressing matters on its plate.”

“What could possibly be more important than the blood curse that could hold dominion over the supernatural world?” he said. Lena inclined her head, studying her nails as if considering her words with care. Lucian frowned as her eyes met his. “Spit it out.”

“The Council is considering your appeal, but they are also considering retaliation.”

“Retaliation against what?”

“You.” Lena’s voice was so quiet, it was almost a whisper. “Even if they vote against execution, you will have to be punished for your part in the death of Enhard.”

“I had nothing to do with his death.”

Well, except for showing up at the crucial moment that had allowed a warlock to effectively dispatch the old vampire. It had been providential. He could have helped, he supposed, but Enhard had been a thorn in Lucian’s side ever since he could remember. The fact that he’d been Christian’s maker had only made his death sweeter. Hurting Christian gave Lucian a pleasure like no other. Even now, he savored the memory of the look on his brother’s face the moment Enhard had met his end.

“Not directly anyway, and that old fool deserved it,” he added.

“Lucian, the Elders’ memories are connected. Enhard’s last vision before he died was of your face. In their minds, you have already been tried and convicted. They knew how much you hated him …” She trailed off.

“Did they now?”

Lucian knew she had argued on his behalf that an obscure memory did not make Lucian Enhard’s murderer, but most of the older members of the Council had clung to the idea so desperately that it’d been an uphill battle. Now they despised him, and Lena remained his only advocate. Lucian eyed the beautiful, composed vampire sitting across from him. He had never questioned her loyalty.

After Christian had left the House of Devereux, she’d had no one, and he had been the only one there for her. He’d taken her in at first as a means to punish his brother, but over the years, Lena had become his most dependable confidante. With benefits. Despite the fact that she’d forever be linked to Christian because he was her maker, Lucian had grown to trust her. Her lust for power and ambition rivaled his. And he knew that she loathed Christian with a deep-rooted, immeasurable hatred, which meant that she would never betray Lucian.

“When’s the final vote?” he asked.

“In a few weeks,” she said. “It has to be unanimous, so we do have a little more time.”

“Time for what?” Lucian could see that Lena was getting at something, and the careful blank look on her face made him edgy. “Don’t be shy, go on.”

“To get on your brother’s good side,” she said. His face pulled into a scowl, and she placed her hands up in a placating gesture. “Hear me out. He’s the only one the Council will listen to and he was there in that underground chamber. He knows that you did not kill Enhard. He is the only one who can vouch for you.”

“No,” Lucian snarled, standing so quickly that the chair beneath him slammed into the nearby wall. He stalked to the bar and poured himself another drink. “I would prefer execution than beg for his help.”

“Lucian, please be reasonable. The Council will not delay a decision based on my vote alone. I will be overruled.” Lena’s voice was carefully modulated. She knew that if she pushed him too far, he would refuse just on principle. And of course he would. The thought of begging his brother to help him was ludicrous. Lena stood and walked toward him, resting her palm on his shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you, Lucian. Just promise me that you’ll at least consider it.”

“There’s nothing that would ever make me do that,” he said, flinging her arm off with a violent shrug. “I would rather be burned in the fires of hell than beg my esteemed
brother
for anything. And you would do well to never mention it again.”

Despite his ferocious threat, Lena stared at him and tried again. “Look,” she began, “your brother’s position as a royal vampire overlord on the High Council will afford him the authority to veto any decision of the Council. Even if he has to recuse himself from the vote given your relationship, he could prove without a doubt that Enhard had not died by your hand, and then you have a chance. Surely that’s worth something.” She took a deep breath. “Surely that’s worth your life.”

“I do not need him,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

“You do, but your goddamned pride won’t let you see beyond that.”

“We are all damned, aren’t we, my love?”

Her mouth tightened at his flippancy. “I’ll call him. You won’t have to do a thing.”

Lucian watched in annoyance as she picked up the handset and dialed a number. She placed the call on speakerphone as Victoria’s lilting female voice answered. Lucian ignored the twinge in his stomach at the sound of it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, may I speak to Christian … er … His Grace?” Lena asked, forgetting to use Christian’s formal address. Lucian’s mouth flattened.

“He’s out. May I say who’s calling, please?”

“It’s Lena. I’ll try his cellphone. Thank you,” she said quickly and disconnected. She dialed another number. Lucian frowned, realizing that she had both numbers committed to memory, even after all these years. Despite himself, an unfamiliar bitter feeling coiled in his stomach, one he’d long forgotten.

It clicked on, the voice imperious. “Yes?”

“Christian, it’s Lena,” she said, her tone cautious. “I know I’m the last person you expected to hear from, but I need to see you regarding something important. It’s about Lucian. I … we … need your help. Can you stop by?”

Lucian heard the dead silence on the other end of the phone line and knew that Lena had blindsided Christian with her blunt request. The silence deepened and he exhaled in an irritated rush. His brother would never agree to help him. His brows drew together and he was about to tell Lena to hang up when Christian spoke. “Where?”

“My place. You remember?”

“Yes. Thirty minutes.” The phone clicked off.

Lena stared at Lucian, her look of triumph fading from her face at the glare on his. “My place made the most sense,” she explained. “There are too many people watching your every step here.”

At her reasoning, he fought to bring his roiling jealousy under control. Lena’s apartment did make the most sense—they wouldn’t be overheard, and she had guards of her own. He poured himself a liberal helping of brandy and drained his glass in a single gulp. It wouldn’t matter if he drank the entire contents of the decanter, but the fire burning a path to his stomach kept his raging emotions at bay. “You’re wrong about him. He won’t help.”

“He will.”

“You better be right,” he said and stalked out of the room. The door crashed into its frame behind him.

†††

Christian stared at the silver phone in his hand and wondered what Lena’s game was. He pocketed the device, releasing his mental hold on the animal he’d fed from earlier. The deer bounded off on shaky legs into the woods. He debated what Lena really wanted. There was a chance that she wasn’t playing one of her usual games and his brother really did need his help, but with either of them, he could never be sure. The last time he’d seen Lena, she’d been clear that her … affections for him hadn’t changed. But Christian wasn’t interested in Lena. Not anymore. Not when he had Victoria.

As he ran back toward his house, he felt the soft brush of Victoria’s voice in his mind.
Lena called.
Christian understood her hesitancy.

Yes, I just talked to her, something to do with Lucian. I’ll be back soon.

You’re going to see her?

I have to. I love you.

Okay,
she said after a long pause.
I love you, too.

Christian felt her withdraw, sensing the coolness at the end of their mental conversation. He sighed. Victoria had nothing to worry about. His courtship with Lena ended a long time ago, but he knew that Victoria agonized over the fact that he had made Lena into a vampire. It was something she could never expect to become. But what Victoria didn’t seem to get was that Lena represented everything he hated about himself—her fierce love for killing went against everything that he believed. Lena belonged with someone like Lucian.

Christian didn’t bother to head back into the house, instead sliding into the sleek car parked out front. He made the drive to Lena’s apartment in Puteaux, a western suburb of Paris, in exactly half an hour. La Défense touched on the northern part of Puteaux, which made it a convenient location for Lena as most of the Council meetings took place at their headquarters in the Tour Areva in La Défense. Christian also owned a home in the nearby suburb of Le Vésinet, but he rarely used that residence, instead preferring the château in Fontainebleau where he and Victoria were temporarily ensconced. Lena’s apartment was in a modern development overlooking the Seine River, and she was waiting for him out front as he parked.

“Lena,” he said as he stepped out of the car. As always, she was impeccably dressed in a chic black suit. Her face was guarded as she leaned forward and kissed him in the French custom on both cheeks.

“Thank you for coming, Christian,” she said. Lena’s voice was melodic and contrasted sharply with the ruthlessness she was known for. Although she certainly appeared it, she was the furthest thing from delicate. Like the perfect predator, her beauty and her voice were the things that drew people to her. But for Christian, the soft tones of her voice only served to put him on edge. “There’s a café around the corner. I was thinking we could go there. Unless you want to come up.”

“The café is fine.”

They walked in silence to the café and sat down at an outdoor table. The bruised twilight sky was clear and the streets buzzed with activity as the local Parisians enjoyed the balmy summer evening. Christian ordered a café au lait and sat back, his bearing impassive, giving no quarter to Lena. Whatever she wanted, she would have to come right out and ask for it.

“You look well,” she said after ordering a black coffee. He inclined his head, but did not return the compliment, and waited for her to continue. Lena took a deep breath as she stared at him, her fingers drumming on the table’s edge. “You weren’t at the last few Council meetings,” she began. “I am sure you are aware that the Council is close to convicting Lucian on murder charges for Enhard’s death.” She glanced at him, but he kept his face blank, and she rushed to continue. “I wouldn’t contact you if I didn’t think that this was impossible. You are the only one who can help him.”

“What would you have me do?” Christian asked. He knew exactly what was happening with the Council and their decision to victimize his brother, and while there was no way he would let that happen, he wanted to see where Lena was coming from.

“You were there. He didn’t kill Enhard.”

“Yes, but he didn’t save him either, which the Council would argue is the same thing. He could have easily, you know,” Christian said. “Saved Enhard. But he chose not to, an act that led to Enhard’s death. Does that not make him responsible in some way?” His voice remained flat, although it had caught slightly when he’d said Enhard’s name. The pain of his death hadn’t quite lost its sting.

“Yes, perhaps, but it doesn’t warrant his execution,” Lena replied in a heated voice. Watching the emotions play across her face, Christian was shocked at her vehemence. He hadn’t realized that Lena cared so much for Lucian’s welfare. They were the perfect pair, with the same values and the same ambitions, but he never understood outside of that connection what had held them together. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, she did care for his brother.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Because we both know you’re not here with Lucian’s good wishes. So why do you care?” He was unprepared for the tormented expression that flashed across her face before she tried to conceal it.

“Because I do,” she said, a defiant edge in her tone.

“I didn’t think you cared
that
much,” he said. “If you need my help, you need to be honest with me for once. Why do you care, Lena?”

She bit her lip and turned away. Christian sipped his coffee and narrowed his eyes at the crowd slowing to gape. He was used to attention, but this felt different.
Everyone
was looking at them. His eyes slid to his companion and he understood why. Of course people would stare—both blond and tall, the two of them made a striking couple with their flawless, predacious beauty. Like unsuspecting prey, people were drawn to them, oblivious to the danger they posed.

Lena glanced at him, and he shifted his stare toward her. He arched an eyebrow and repeated his last question. “Why?”

“Because …” Her voice faltered, her ice-blue eyes glittering with something akin to misery. “If I lose him too, then I have nothing.” She pushed a wry smile to her lips. “You left me with nothing, but at least Lucian was there to pick up the pieces. Over the years, Lucian and I, well, it was more than I could hope for,” she said. “And now, I won’t give up on him. He didn’t give up on me when …” She trailed off, but Christian knew what she meant. She meant when he did.

“Does Lucian know?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“And does he feel the same?”

“In his own way, he does,” she said. “You know your brother.”

Christian leaned forward in his seat. Strangely, her honesty moved him. The vulnerability was so unlike her that it made him pause for a second. “I never gave up on you, Lena, you must know that,” he admitted after a while. “You and I were cut from different cloths. You couldn’t understand me then, and even now, I see that you still struggle to. I would have made you hate what you are, just as I do.”

“But you made me into this,” she said, her brows pulling together into a slight frown. “How could I not love it? Or you. Surely,
you
must know that.”