Bloodcraft (7 page)

His only other alternatives would be to run away or fight. Running away wasn’t an option—he’d rather die than become hunted by his own kind. Fighting was possible, but only if he had the time to amass an army to face the retaliation of the Council. But time was a luxury he did not have and Lucian knew it. He glanced at Lena’s blank face and felt a momentary twinge of remorse for his behavior.

“I’m sorry.” His apology was terse, and despite her surprise, Lena accepted it with a gracious—albeit wary—nod. “I’m on edge lately,” he explained curtly, “and I didn’t feed today. It’s been days, but I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Fine. Just don’t do it again.” She turned towards him and flashed a short smile. “In fact, if you hadn’t been so premature and so angry all the time, you would have received your gift, and things would have turned out so much better.”

“My gift?” Lucian asked, confused. Lena’s brow furrowed for a minute as she issued a mental command. The door opened and an olive-skinned, buxom young woman walked in. She was dressed in a mini skirt and a skimpy top. Her face was lined, belying her youthful, lush body, and her eyes were glazed, helpless against Lena’s vampire compulsion.

“Compliments of Place Pigalle,” Lena said with a smile, indicating the area of Paris that was famously known in its day as the Red Light District, whose side streets still teemed with occasional prostitutes. Lucian smirked.

“Slumming, Lena?” he said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, if you don’t want her—”

“I didn’t say that,” he interjected.

The hunger rippled through him so quickly that his face transformed in seconds and he walked to the woman’s side. Lucian could smell the salt of her skin, hear the thick mesmerizing thump of her pulse. She smiled beatifically at him as he led her to the sofa. It took only moments before he sat back looking refreshed and revitalized. The woman slumped at his side, unconscious, as he wiped the remnants of her blood from his lips.

“Feeling better?” Lena asked.

“You know me too well.”

She took a breath, not moving from her position across the room, as if she were considering her words. Absently, she rubbed her hands across her throat where he’d bitten, and Lucian recoiled. The skin there was unmarred and had already healed, but he regretted his brutal reaction. He owed it to her to hear what she had to say and so he waited.

“I know you hate Christian,” she began. “After all, we have a long history together. You, me, him, and I know you dislike the fact that he made me.”

Lucian flinched, wondering why she was bringing up painful, ancient memories. She
had
chosen Christian over him, even before he had made her a vampire. Lucian often wondered if he had been the one to petition the Council to make her a vampire instead of Christian, whether she’d have accepted him as readily as she had Christian. He forced his jealousy back—she, like everyone else, had fallen for his brother first.

“You chose him,” he said flatly.

Lena sighed. “Yes. I chose him then, but I’m with you now. Regardless, I want you to know if I have to make the same choice between both of you now, I would choose you, Lucian. I stay here with you because I
want
to be with you. For no other reason. Do you understand that?” Lucian nodded, shaken by the feeling in her voice. He knew that she put up with his violent mood swings and his cruelty—because she
did
care for him in some way. Lena continued. “I meant what I said earlier. I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that the Council doesn’t execute a death order on your head. If I have to beg for Christian’s help, I will. If I have to crawl, I will, no holds barred. And I don’t give a damn what you do to me because of your stupid pride, do you hear me?”

He crossed the room then and kissed Lena’s neck in exactly the same spot he’d mauled so savagely before. “I’m sorry,” he said. “And I understand. Forgive me?”

She nodded, standing in his embrace for a few minutes before pulling away. “We need to talk.”

“I thought we just did,” he said, walking over to pour himself some cognac. “Drink?”

She ignored the invitation. “That was personal. This is different. Lucian, the next Council meeting is in a few weeks. You need to speak with Christian before then. He won’t listen unless you do it.”

“He wants me to beg.” It was not a question. Lucian’s voice was tight.

“No, he knows how you feel about saving people who don’t need saving, remember?” She softened her next words, as if noticing the sudden shift in his mood. “He needs you to ask him, Lucian. That’s all. No more, no less. Don’t make it more than it is.”

Lucian jerked a hand through his cropped blond hair. She stared at him and he sighed. “Fine,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll talk to him.”

As he said the words, he saw the relief cross her face, and for the first time, felt a root of worry take hold. It took a lot to make Lena anxious. If the Council moved faster than either of them anticipated, his house of cards would be quick to come tumbling down. He’d speak to Christian and put the rest of his plan into place.

So far, if he was successful in instigating a coup against the leadership of the Council, he’d have the allegiance of three of the seven vampire Houses. He could call in blood favors with one more, which left only two to deal with, House Arcan and House Vesily, both of which were formidable opponents. To go up against them would be difficult, but not impossible. If he secured Kristos’s witch, that would bring an added advantage and the benefit of surprise. He’d have to move quickly, and if anything, Lena’s sense of urgency demanded it. Lucian smiled grimly. He had a lot to do in not a whole lot of time, but at least he planned to go down swinging.

He’d give them the showdown of their lives.

FIVE

School of Witchcraft

Victoria was openly admiring as she took in Aliya’s modern and architecturally stunning home. After living in Christian’s beautiful but old château, Aliya’s house in Saint Cloud, a western suburb of Paris on the left bank of the Seine River, was a breath of fresh air. The loft-like open space and brightly colored accent furniture were pleasing to the eye. Red throw rugs dotted the hardwood floors and entire walls were cased in windows trimmed with stained glass, looking out onto small but colorful gardens. The space was bright and inviting. And it suited Aliya perfectly.

“Do you live here alone?” Victoria asked. The house seemed quite large for one person.

“For the most part, although my partner does visit from time to time,” she said with a grin that made her look very young for a second.

Victoria blinked at the sudden transformation of her face. “I have to ask, if you don’t mind. How old are you?”

“I am sixty-two,” she said. Victoria smothered her gasp. She’d have guessed her to be in her early twenties. Aliya smiled, inclining her head and preempting Victoria’s next question. “It’s part of the high priestess induction rites. We don’t age like other people. It’s for the good of the coven really, not a lot of turn over in leadership.”

“How long do you live for?” Victoria asked, curious.

“Two centuries on average, give or take a few years,” Aliya said as they walked outside to the waiting car.

“Wow,” Victoria said and then lapsed into silence as the driver pulled off smoothly. Now that they were on their way, her nerves were starting to get the better of her. “So where are we going? Is it close?”

“The school is located in Neuilly-Sur-Seine, not far from here. It’ll take about thirty minutes. Do you have anything you’d like to know before we arrive?”

“What’s it like? The school, I mean,” Victoria asked, grateful for the chance to get some answers. “Is it only for people like us?”

“It’s like any other learning facility, I suppose, only with a different curriculum. Most of our students attend regular school and come here for supplemental classes when they are of age.” Noticing Victoria’s look, she continued. “Most witches come of age when they are thirteen, some later, when formal training in magic begins before they join their respective covens.”

“Are there many of you? Covens, I mean.”

“Yes, although they’re not as segregated as they used to be. We have intermingling from covens all over the world. People come and go as they please. Communal living, you could say. We share the same rules and principles, and for the most part, our ways and laws are the same across the globe. The chosen high priestess of each coven meets monthly in a secret location. They are the ones who unite the covens everywhere and uphold the true circle of leadership. They’re called moon priestesses.”

“Are you a moon priestess?”

“Yes.”

“Why are there no high priests?” Victoria asked after she’d digested the surprising information on the coven hierarchy as well as the fact that Aliya was one of the coven’s most powerful leaders.

“Because our society is matriarchal beneath the guidance of the Goddess Mother.”

Victoria nodded slowly, her mind racing. “Right, that would explain how my grandmother’s name was passed down to me. What about warlocks? How do they fit in?”

“Warlocks are … another type of group. They serve dark magic, and although they respect our laws, they are not bound to them. Some we call friends, others, well, that’s another matter entirely.”

Victoria couldn’t help thinking of Gabriel. He was a rogue warlock who’d been consumed with securing the Cruentus Curse for himself. She’d bet anything that he wouldn’t have been a friend to the witches or held himself accountable to any of their laws. Gabriel had only been out for Gabriel.

“Who is the Goddess Mother?” she asked after a beat.

“She is the source and end of all human life,” Aliya said simply. “The epicenter of who we are begins and ends with her.”

“Oh.” Frowning, Victoria wondered whether Aliya’s Goddess Mother had anything to do with her family and the curse. She hesitated and then asked the question that had been on the edge of her tongue since she’d arrived in France. “Aliya, what do you know of the history of the Cruentus Curse?” Aliya smiled as if she’d been expecting the question. She made sure that the partition behind the driver was closed before answering.

“It’s an old story,” Aliya began, “which means we don’t know how factual it is. Much of it has become legend rather than truth.”

Victoria nodded, leaning forward in her seat. She’d heard bits and pieces from Leto, but it’d always felt disjointed to her. “Please, I’d like to hear it from you.”

Aliya shot her a searching look before diving into the tale. “Thousands of years ago, a daughter was born to Circe, one of the Goddess Mother’s favorite moon priestesses. Her name was Thaia and she was destined to be a moon priestess. Thaia was beautiful and pure of heart. Many sought her hand because of her beauty, goodness, and charm, but Thaia did not choose any of them. Instead, her right to a consort was stolen from her by a demon, one that spirited her away to his dimension.”

“A demon?” Victoria gasped.

“Yes. This demon was a powerful spirit demon that captured Thaia against her will. After almost a year of fruitless searching, Circe and the Goddess Mother were finally able to track the beast to his dimension. But they were too late. The demon had forced Thaia to become his consort and she’d died in childbirth, bearing a daughter who was forever cursed with the demon blood of her father. Circe and the Goddess Mother took the child and punished the demon for all eternity for his crime.”

“What did they do?” Victoria said, lost in Aliya’s story.

“No one really knows. He was banished from his dimension and this one, never to be heard from again.”

“And the baby?”

“The baby grew to be a powerful witch when she came of age at sixteen.” Aliya paused and looked Victoria full in the face. “The witch born of Thaia and the demon was the first Cruentus Curse witch.”

Victoria huffed, her hands fluttering to her throat. “So you’re saying that my b … blood is from a
demon
?”

“That is the legend. It is also said that the Goddess Mother saw the child as an abomination. Her impure demon blood and her untapped volatile power could not be controlled, so she tried to kill the girl soon after her magical awakening. But Circe, despite being bound to her oath as a moon priestess, helped her granddaughter escape. To protect her, Circe attempted to banish the girl’s demon gifts with a spell. It worked … partially.” Aliya’s eyes were sympathetic as she paused. “The transfer of the blood curse became sporadic, every few hundred years, as you know.”

“I see.” Victoria sighed, sinking back into the leather seat in a daze. The story made uncanny sense. And the more she thought about it, the more plausible it became—with its blackly red color, insane power, and terrifying ability to think for itself, blood like hers
had
to be demon blood. Which meant that she, too, was part demon. Her blood trilled softly and she shivered. Witches and vampires, she could handle, but
demons
? They were worse than monsters. And she was one of them.

Victoria swallowed past the surge of bile in her throat. “So you’re saying that demons exist?”