Made By Design (Blood Bound Series Book 2) (12 page)

“It’s from Marcus. An override code to crack into anyone’s account.”

So he did trust Marcus. I sat down beside Kendrick. “You told him what we found out?”

“No,” Kendrick said absolutely. “I said we had some kind of lead on Caius and needed access.” He didn’t look at me as he keyed in the code, though a muscle ticked along his jaw. “I don’t want you telling him anything about this.”

I began to argue as a click like a vault opening sounded, and
Access Granted
flashed across the screen. My words cut off as anticipation tightened my ribs.

I slid the keyboard my way and typed
Erzsebet Bathory
into the search bar. A list of links flashed onto the screen. “What are all these?”

“The Armaya’s archives,” Kendrick said, clicking the first link. “Old texts that have been scanned for historical preservation.”

The scanned pages were frayed and discolored, looking seriously old. We both edged in and stared at the screen, speed-reading at a similar pace.

The first scanned text was a history of Erzsebet’s life. A lot of the early stuff was similar to what we’d found on the Internet. But what followed was far from the Internet’s knowledge of human history.

After the living death of three of her four children, Countess Erzsebet Bathory devoted her life to discovering a way to restore damned vampires to life. Her experiments were controversial and conducted in secret, against The Council’s laws. Countless damned were captured, imprisoned, and drugged. Many nights the Countess would inject herself with various concoctions to scale the rejuvenating affects and UV resistance. Most of these tests, according to the Countess’s own records, failed, either increasing resistance for a short time, or doing the exact opposite and leaving her weak and sickly.

I shivered, thinking back to our conversation with Marcus before fleeing the Armaya. He believed Caius’s plans were linked to the damned in some way. But the damned were extinct. Kendrick and Marcus had said so themselves. “How can Caius’s plans be linked to the damned?”

“I don’t know.” Kendrick skimmed ahead and stopped a few chapters later.

The Countess’s downfall was her own perseverance and determination to bring back her lost children. One night, after another failed experiment left her weak and almost immobile, one of her captives escaped. An alarm was raised, leaving enough time for Erzsebet to stow her son in a lockable cellar before the escapee attacked. The Countess’s son was discovered the next day, though her body was never recovered.

Printed after that block of text was a black and white photograph. Pictured was a woman with fair hair, youthful features, and chalky white complexion. Countess Bathory. A boy with dirty-blond hair stood by her side. Her son, I guessed. Behind them was a table that bubbled with beakers and Bunsen burners.

Kendrick printed the photo and closed the archive. Then he opened another link. “It’s another experiment book.”

Hand-drawn tables filled the worn pages with thousands and thousands of experimental procedures. Some consisted of drawing damned blood to boil, dry, burn, or mix with chemical or metallic substances. Others consisted of injecting manufactured concoctions back into a damned vampire. Then there were the experiments she performed on herself, and even some on humans. Everything was dated and timed. All the results were noted. They ranged from severe reactions to ultraviolet light, increased or decreased healing, temporary return of heartbeat, disfigurement, and even death.

“Hey, look.” Kendrick pointed to the table on the next page. These ones had the subjects DOB.

What I saw made me sick to my stomach. “Oh God. She started experimenting on children.” I reached for the mouse and clicked ahead a few pages. I gulped at what was written. “Babies too.”

“Look, there’s a table key,” Kendrick pointed out.

I followed his pointing finger to see acronyms, along with their definitions. Two I had seen before. IBB and IAB.

“Infected before birth and infected after birth.” Understanding rocked me like an avalanche.

“Caius infected you before and Dorian after birth,” Kendrick said, confusion streaming through the bond. “How is that even possible?”

Thoughts of a giant poison-filled needle being jabbed into my mom’s pregnant belly swarmed over me. Or could the meaning be less literal, like infecting us before our first breath of life? Either way, the image made something else very clear. “I don’t know.” I swallowed the need to gag and clutched Kendrick’s arm. “But this proves he knew my mom before he attacked her.”

Needing to know everything, I opened the last archive. This one was handwritten in flowing calligraphy with
Erzsebet Bathory
on the first page. What followed were full pages of notes, most on research into breaking the curse of the damned. From her research she had determined that an immortal’s blood was the key to restoring them.

“This all happened before the Blood War,” Kendrick said, leaning back into the padded seat. “When the damned were hunted to extinction.”

“She’s not dead,” I blurted. Oh, God, this was huge. “Caius wants
my
immortal blood. He’s still trying to save her, which means that the damned aren’t extinct.”

I read on, but the reasoning behind how she thought immortal blood could bring the damned back to life wasn’t there. Past that page the scanned information ended. I removed the photo from the printer on the cabinet behind the desk and stared at the innocent-looking boy. “Why does Caius care? Who is she to him?”

My gaze slid past the boy and I noticed something. “Hey, look at this.”

Kendrick frowned at the photo in my hands. “Is that what I think it is?”

I squinted, trying to get more detail. Not that squinting would help. My vampire eyesight was almost perfect, its ability to sharpen and zoom now happened without trying. But my eyesight wasn’t the problem. The quality of the printed photograph was. Still, I could make out the granulated lines of carved roses in the small rectangular-shaped box.

I touched the paper, recognizing the intricate gold box with amethyst stones. I’d first seen the item at Mom’s auction, and been so explicitly drawn to it. “That’s the jewelry box Caius won at the auction. The one he gave me.”

As I said the words the office door swung open. Mom glided into the room, stalling as she caught sight of us. “What are you both doing in here? You know my office is off limits.”

I hated what I was about to say, but we needed to know the truth, not be left wondering if her explanation was honest or not.
Compel her,
I sent through the bond.

Kendrick hesitated, shooting me a sideways glance.
I wish this wasn’t necessary. Your mom has always been so nice to me, but I’ll do anything to keep you safe.
Resigned to the task, he shot around the desk and placed his hands on my mom’s shoulders. His eyes captured hers. Instant lightning sparked across his irises and his pupils dilated. “Be still and do not speak.” He paused.
What now?

A small memory teased the edge of my subconscious as I studied the photo. It had been the week before my mom’s auction. She’d been in her office on the phone, sourcing a special item. Strong suspicion bled into my mind. “Mom, the item you had to specially pick up before the auction, what was it?”

Mom didn’t make a move or utter a word. She just stood there like a statue, poised and perfect in her stillness. Under my best friend’s compulsion she couldn’t.

Kendrick squeezed her shoulder. “Answer the question, Ms. Lamont. What item did you pick up before the auction?”

Mom blinked mechanically, her lips parting. “It was the gold jewelry box with purple stones,” she said, her tone expressionless.

Ask her why that item was so important,
I sent my silent words to Kendrick. The compulsion seemed to work better if he did the questioning.

“Ms. Lamont,” Kendrick said in a strong but calm voice, “why that item? Who had you source it?”

“It was a family heirloom,” Mom said in monotone. “The auctioneer was told it was from the 1700s. That was false. It was much older than that. Its location was discovered at a curator’s private residence in Hungary. The curator had been a descendant of one of Erzsebet Bathory’s nannies. It had taken him centuries to find it.”

“Taken who centuries to find it?” I couldn’t help blurting out.

Mom frowned but remained under Kendrick’s compulsion. “Your uncle Caius.”

More than one thing didn’t add up. “Then why auction it? Why not just give him the item?”

Locked under Kendrick’s gaze, Mom spoke without looking my way. “He wanted to know if anyone else was searching for it.”

“Why was it so important to him?” Kendrick pushed.

“The item belonged to her only living offspring. Her son, Paul Caius Bathory.”

I stood frozen for a long shell-shocked moment, my thoughts running a hundred miles a second. Caius was Erzsebet’s son, her one and only son. The jewelry box was implicit to his plans in some way. It had to be. And all this time I’d had the clue within reach.

I vaulted up to my room, causing my motorbike posters to flap with the wind my entrance stirred up. Kendrick remained downstairs, erasing our encounter from my mom’s memory. In seconds the jewelry box was off my white, antique bedside table and clutched in my hands. I turned it over, studying its cool gold surface. Seeing nothing unusual I lifted the stiff lid. There had to be something, anything that could give us a clue. Its walls were lined with pillowy satin that was in great condition for its age. I removed Madam Rosalie’s card and saw the key beneath it. Nothing unusual there. My gaze lifted. There. I zoned in on the carved flower pattern that continued inside the lid. Inscribed on one delicate petal was E.B. This had without doubt belonged to Caius’s mother.

Kendrick appeared in the doorway then, focus locked on the printed photo in his hands. “Hey, did you notice this?”

We met at the foot of my bed. My fingers curled tighter around the jewelry box. On the photo inside the box was a dark smudge with an almost invisible line coming off one side of the smudge. I sucked in my breath. The object was familiar, and something I could never forget. “I know what it is.”

Fingers tickled my brain as Kendrick lifted the picture to his nose. “That’s the vial?”

I nodded. “Maybe even the same one Caius drugged me with.” I plucked the small key from the jewelry box and twirled it between my fingers. The clang I’d heard when I first saw the item resurfaced. Later that night I’d found the key inside the box. Back then I’d assumed the clang was the key hidden inside. But what if I was wrong? “What if the vial had been hidden in the jewelry box at the auction?”

“That would explain why Caius was hell bent on winning the thing.”

I slumped down onto my bed, staring at the pretty jewelry box in my hands. Caius had already been plotting to take my life to steal my so-called ‘gift’ back then. The one he’d imposed on me at birth. Finding the vial had been a necessary step to achieving his goal. According to his confession, its contents alone could complete the conversion in my blood, so that my death would pass my immortality onto him. “I was drawn to the vial. That’s why the connection was gone by the time he left the piece for me. He’d already taken it out.”

Anger that I’d shoved down with every new challenge that had plagued me and the people I loved began to rise. Caius may have been doing this to save his family, like his mother had done to save her daughters. But that didn’t make ruining my family and friends’ lives okay. Murder was still murder.

I screamed and squeezed both hands around the jewelry box, delighting in the creak as it bent under the pressure. In a twisted mess, I tore the lid free and scratched the satin away. I lifted my hand to pelt it at the wall.

“Amelia, wait!” Kendrick caught my wrist and brought my hand down.

And that’s when I saw it. Inscribed on the inside base of the now warped and satin-free gold box was a symbol. A circle surrounding a jagged bolt that was crossed through the middle. It was the same symbol Caius had painted on the dank ground in the cell. The same symbol he’d held me inside while he drained me to death. “The symbol was part of Caius’s ritual. A step to becoming immortal.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know.” I pulled my iPhone from my jeans. “But I know who does.”

Minutes later I’d spoken to Ty and updated him on everything we’d found. He was hanging out with Vanessa, so I texted a photo of the symbol to his phone for her to see.

Now we waited. Kendrick perched on the windowsill, his back against the glass while I stuffed another choc-mint cookie from my bedside into my mouth. I fell back on my bed and stared at my phone again. Each passing second made the devoured cookies feel like bricks in my stomach.

When the phone finally rang I jumped up and fumbled to put it on loudspeaker. “Ty, hello. What did she say?”

“It’s Vanessa.” There was a loud sigh. “And I haven’t seen that exact symbol before.”

My heart sank, at the news and because she was calling instead of Ty. After failing at bond-blocking progress this morning I felt even more separated from him.

“But,” Vanessa added, “I know what parts of it mean. The line through the center can be used for different things, mainly blocking. Though it can also transfer.”

“Like taking an aspect from one person and moving it to another?” Kendrick asked, now beside me.

“Oh hey, Kendrick,” Vanessa said. “And you’re right. The circle around the symbol is a binding. It locks whatever is being transferred into place.”

My disappointment ebbed as understanding settled in. “So the jagged bolt must stand for immortality or something, right?”

“No.” There was no doubt in Vanessa’s voice. “That’s the one part I haven’t seen before, but it’s not the sign for immortality.”

“What about visions?” Kendrick curled an arm around my bed’s mauve-wrapped corner post.

“Or blood bond?” I added.

“No.” The turning of pages sounded before Vanessa spoke again. “The symbol for The Sight is an eye. And I can’t find one for the blood bond, but I don’t think it’s that.”