The Necromancer's Betrayal Page 10

  Lysander slanted his eyes at Xavier, his jaws clamped tightly. Ly never commanded center stage, but it was a mistake to underestimate him. I wanted to believe he was going to assume a position of neutrality. He bore no allegiance to Dominic, in fact, he hated him. But I didn’t know how far his loyalties to other vampires extended, or his allegiance to me. But his friendship with Ewan had disintegrated, and if Ewan’s glares were any indication, reconciliation wasn’t in the cards.

  “It’s not the only time Ruby has exerted her power over vampires,” Lysander said, directing his comment to Xavier. “You may not fear Dominic, but more ancient ones will take an interest. And I can assure you, they are no divas.”

  Ancient ones? That sounded way too ominous. Any word bearing the qualifier “ancient” just wasn’t right.

  “Ruby, what is he talking about?” Xavier asked.

  I rolled my eyes. Here it was. “During the Cael business, a vampire attacked me in my house and was about to drain me when my power took over and I turned him into what I can only guess was a zombie vampire. Ly drank my blood yesterday after someone attacked us and it was the same deal, he became zombified.”

  “Indeed,” Xavier said in a curious tone, but not entirely surprised. “And how did you unzombify him?”

  All eyes turned to me. I fiddled with my necklace and answered while glancing toward the fireplace. “I drank his blood.”

  No one spoke. “To save his life,” I added, not sure if anyone cared, but I wanted to remind Lysander we were on the same side. His comment to Xavier about the ancient ones had sounded more like a warning. He slanted his gaze at me, but didn’t change his stony expression. I turned to Malthus. “I understand the problems this creates with the vampires, but ultimately, we can deal with Dominic, right? Is there something else about this I should know?”

  Malthus regarded Xavier, and before I could demand they stop with the undecipherable looks that probably explained the mysteries of the universe, Xavier strode to me. “Let me see the chagur.”

  I tugged on the neckline of my purple sweater, exposing my shoulder and a good part of my upper chest. The chagur stared back at us, quiet and unchanged. Xavier appeared relieved.

  “Ivo didn’t include blood swapping on the taboo list,” I said, while readjusting my sweater. While both Ewan and Ly had seen and touched much more than my briefly exposed skin, it felt weird nonetheless, to have both of them staring at me.

  Gus knocked on the open door, and Malthus gave him a short nod. He stepped back to allow Dominic and another of his lieutenants to enter. No one exchanged pleasantries, which suited me fine. At this point, any semblance of normal talk would come across as awkward and forced.

  Dominic fixed me with a look set in stone or porcelain, given his usual sheen. If he wasn’t so nasty, I’d probably find him beautiful. Everything about him spoke of old world smoothness: his warm, honeyed voice, impeccable suits and Italian leather shoes. He had long, elegant fingers and an expression similar to those painted by numerous Renaissance masters. But beneath the façade lay a decayed, snarling monster intent on self-preservation.

  I met him stare for stare as he and the lieutenant, taller than Dominic with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, settled in the corner next to the fireplace. When I’d confronted Dominic about his other lieutenant’s attack, he’d denied the vamp had acted under his orders. He was full of shit, but I played along, and we’d agreed to guard the secret. Maybe he thought to surprise Malthus tonight, but I’d beaten him to the punch by revealing all before he arrived. I smiled at him.

  Everyone had commandeered a spot they’d probably selected with some kind of defensive strategy in mind. Malthus, as always, was propped by his big oak desk, while Xavier tended the bar. Ewan slouched against one of the bookcases next to Malthus’s desk. Ly, interestingly enough, stood behind my chair, one hand splayed on the backrest, behind my head, to Ewan’s frowning displeasure. I guess this is what happened when alpha supes gathered for powwows. No one wanted to sit and accede to the lower position of vulnerability. I could have cared less and slumped in my seat, sipped on my drink, and waited for the first volley.

  “Ruby has demonstrated the ability to control vampires. Based on the accords made between demons and vampires, she must either drink my blood or die,” Dominic said, not mincing words.

  Maybe I’m being harsh on pleasantries.

  No one seemed surprised by the demand. For once, Malthus had explained the accords and the possibility of a blood exchange to me before the meeting, so I knew what might be coming. However, I’d still psyched myself for a surprise or twenty. I’d learned my lesson when it came to supernaturals and their secret deals.

  “Dominic,” Lysander protested, beating Ewan and Malthus to the riposte. “I was dying and needed blood.”

  I exhaled in relief at Ly’s defense. While I couldn’t entirely count on his allegiance, I could at least count on his good judgment.

  Dominic didn’t avert his dueling stare from mine, apparently not swayed by Ly’s claim. “This wasn’t the first time.”

  “We know about the lieutenant of yours who attacked her,” Xavier said, effectively stealing Dominic’s thunder. Touché. The look on Dominic’s face was almost worth the deception that had led to this moment.

  “You broke your word,” Dominic said to me.

  “We just found out now. Apparently you were prepared to break your word to Ruby, though, so it no longer matters,” Malthus said.

  “You’re right. What matters is that your kind is threatening our community.” No one spoke, letting Dominic have his dramatic pause. “When the other necromancer, Cael, was attacking supernaturals, some vampires decided to defend themselves. One attacked Ruby. Of course, he acted on his own, and I would have disciplined him accordingly. But instead, she decided to take matters into her own hands.”

  Everyone was watching Dominic and me while he spoke, I’m sure expecting me to interrupt with some loud retort, but I had nothing to argue. I didn’t want to argue. Dominic’s account was biased, but true. Plus, I had no proof Dominic had directed the vampire to kill me, even though we all knew he had.

  “She acted in self-defense,” Ewan said dryly.

  “We only have her word on that,” Dominic responded.

  “What happened to the vampire?” Xavier asked.

  “I returned him to Dominic and let him die,” I said.

  “You killed him,” Dominic argued.

  “Okay, fine. I killed him before he killed me,” I said. My voice came across as snappish, but I was quickly tiring of the serrated exchange.

  A silence followed, crackling the air with supernatural energy, resembling a moment of stillness before a thunderstorm unleashed its torrent. Malthus remained stoic, perched on the edge of his desk, not allowing any emotion to color his control, his dominion. He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Dominic carefully. “There’s nothing more to say about this. One of your lieutenants attacked her, and she defended herself.” Malthus curled his lips around the word “lieutenant,” a clear message to Dominic that no one believed a lieutenant would attempt such an act without the blessing of his Master.

  “We have plenty to say. She’s too powerful and part demon. We know what happened the last time necromancers garnered too much power.”

  “Yes, we do,” Xavier broke in, his voice barely sheathing a dangerous edge. He moved closer to Dominic with deliberate slowness. Not too close, but close enough to invade Dominic’s space. “Necromancers were subjected to the worst kind of supernatural genocide. Vampires participated in the slaughter. You broke the accord you hide behind when your lieutenant attempted to kill a descendant.” He almost spit the last words out. I’d never seen Xavier angry like this. Even Ewan, who never seemed to fear anything, studied him with a quiet reserve.

  Someone was going to have to sit down and
give me the wiki on all this shit. I’m a descendant? Of what? And the vampires had partaken in the genocide? I opened my mouth to demand an explanation, but Malthus transmitted some kind of telepathic pinch, and I clamped my lips together. Damn. I rubbed my temple.

  “Necromancers used their power against other supernaturals. History is repeating itself, and I intend to stop it,” Dominic said.

  “As do I,” Malthus said, and I suspected he wasn’t talking solely about necromancer misdeeds. His body language and power formed a tangible presence. I never quite understood what had attracted Cora to Malthus. Their personalities just didn’t lend to a harmonious relationship, but there was something compelling about him when he decided to take command.

  “You have yet to explain Cael’s actions. None of us believe he acted alone. How do we know she isn’t working with the person responsible and didn’t try to kill Lysander?” Dominic asked.

  A wary silence ensued, brief, but long enough for me to perceive doubt. I was sick of everyone tiptoeing around me, as if I were surrounded by shards of glass. I was not going to explode, dammit, nor were they going to have to run out and buy me a straightjacket, although I’m sure Dominic would line up to tighten the straps.

  Even Kara was different with me now. I occasionally caught the wariness flick across her eyes. She’d blink, blink, blink at me. That doubt was what was gonna drive me crazy if anything, dammit. Not the necromancy.

  “Someone else was hiding in the shadows,” Lysander said, dispelling the disquiet. Not, Ruby is perfectly sane and in control. Obviously, I needed the shadows to prove my stability.

  “Regardless, vampires must protect themselves against the threat posed by necromancers, as evidenced by past and current events,” Dominic said. “The blood exchange will grant us immunity from her power.”

  He wasn’t going to budge on the blood exchange, and the demons were bound by the accords, as was I. But I wasn’t about to agree to a blood swap with Dominic. The very thought thickened my blood with dread. He’d probably enjoy dread-filled blood.

  I stood and assumed my own defensive position, glad I wore my wedge heels. “I’m not drinking your blood,” I said.

  “Then you choose death,” Dominic said, biting off each word with sharp precision.

  Xavier stepped in between us. “That won’t happen.”

  “She can drink my blood,” Lysander said quietly. “I have the blood of a Master Vampire.”

  The room vibrated in a collective gasp. Could I count vampire secrets in my twenty surprises?

  All eyes turned to Dominic, and he ignored them. He just stared at Lysander with cold contempt. I looked at Ly, who looked at me, then at Ewan, and dizziness rocked me. I very much wanted off the look-see-merry-go-round.

  “Is it true, everything he said about these old accords?” I asked, flitting my gaze between Xavier and Malthus. Malthus frowned, letting Xavier answer.

  “Yes, he’s within his rights to demand a continual blood exchange until the vampire power in the blood cancels out your power over them.”

  “And drinking Lysander’s blood will satisfy the accord?”

  Xavier gave Lysander a long stare, his expression curious. “Apparently. Wouldn’t you agree, Dominic?”

  I closed my eyes and pleaded with the universe. If I had to exchange blood, please let it be with Lysander. It was such an intimate act, and the thought of sharing it with Dominic made me cringe.

  “Dominic?” Xavier repeated.

  Dominic nodded stiffly, all the while glowering at Lysander.

  I peeked at Ewan, who seemed to have run out of steam and was studying the bottom of his glass as if fascinated, surprised, or shocked at its emptiness.

  Shit. Here goes everything. “Then I accept drinking Lysander’s blood.”

  Ewan slammed the glass on the table and stalked out of the study. I moved to follow him, but Malthus’s words stopped me. “Let him go. We still have to discuss the attack.”

  “No. I have to talk to him.” About the blood, about everything. It had to rankle for him to sit back and watch Lysander play savior while he sat powerless, at the mercy of his past. I left the study and found Ewan on the back porch with his forehead and hands resting against the brick wall.

  He didn’t turn when I approached, but his voice cracked with misery. “I can’t talk to you right now.”

  I glanced around the porch where I’d raised Adam. Where Ewan had kissed me the first time. A kiss that had promised so much had ultimately fed us a bitter pill. No more cuddling in bed listening to night sounds, no more casual conversations over omelets. The only discussion we could both stomach maybe involved the latest stock options, but those too would likely devolve into a conversation that left us in shreds. I heard his labored breathing as he fought for control.

  “We have to find a way to talk about some of these things. Either that or avoid each other completely,” I said.

  “When I came to your realm with Malthus, the restraints of my sentence didn’t bother me. Nothing I did here really mattered, and I didn’t care. I just attended to business. The bonds of my captivity didn’t weigh much, didn’t confine me any more than my own guilt over my brother’s death did.” His shoulders tightened, fingers curled into the brick. “Now I feel the captivity crushing me, the chains lacerating my insides. I feel the prison.” He tilted his head a fraction, allowing me a glimpse of his pained expression. He looked so defeated. I wanted to weep, but held back the impulse, knowing he wouldn’t take it well.

  “I mourn for something I never had to begin with. I like to pretend I’m human. I hate—” He paused. “I love. But what am I really?”

  “You’re Marchios, a warrior, and Ewan, a good man.”

  He laughed bitterly. “I’m a warrior of a clan that no longer exists because of me. Maybe that’s what I am, a demon that leaves nothing but destruction in his wake. I’d take hell over this, but it doesn’t exist, not like people think, anyway. Instead, I flail around in this purgatory. So maybe I’ve discovered my own hell.”

  “Stop with the martyr schtick. Be mad at me. Hate me. Do something, dammit.” Frustration made my voice rise.

  “Is that why you fucked him?” he asked roughly.

  I recoiled. His words gutted me with the resolution of a samurai committing hari-kari. Was hooking up with Lysander an unconscious attempt on my part to rouse Ewan from his pity party? But Ly and I hadn’t really had sex. I opened my mouth to correct him, when Lysander chose that moment to step into the porch. Oh, fucking brilliant.

  Ewan pushed himself off the wall and paced the room, a caged tiger, fueled by a restless rage against forces beyond his control. He wailed, picked up one of the iron wrought chairs, and flung it at the wall, leaving gashes in the brick. The chair neither challenged his strength, nor relieved him of the fire coursing through him. He turned a steely eye to Lysander, the unsteady primal glint in full display. Lysander’s fangs lengthened and pressed against his lips.

  Oh, no. They were not going to go full alpha apeshit on me. I pushed against Ewan’s chest. “Don’t do this.”

  “Get the hell out of here,” Ewan said. I barely discerned the words through his low growl.

  I rested my hand on his heaving chest for a second longer, then dropped it and left, slamming the door on my way out. I slid to the floor in the hall and tangled my fingers in my hair. With my elbows propped on my knees, I listened to the crashing, curses, and thumps coming from the porch. The thrashing didn’t bother me. It was the occasional crunch and slick slap that made my stomach turn. While, to a small degree, the turmoil between the three of us might have been the catalyst for the smackdown going on in the porch, I suspected the two supernaturals were seeking to exorcise the twisting emotions inside them. Lysander over his guilt about our relationship. And Ewan? Where to start?

  Deep in thought, I almost
didn’t notice the silence. Too much silence. I stopped breathing, strained my ears for any noise, and inhaled when I finally heard a shuffle. I stood and opened the door slowly. Lysander lay sprawled on the floor, staring at the ceiling, and Ewan sat against the wall. Blood decorated their faces, knuckles and shirts. The bruises and slices would disappear, and they’d wash off the blood, but the gaping wound in their friendship would heal slowly, if at all. Feeling as weary as they looked, I slumped to my knees next to Ly.

  Ewan stood and wiped the blood dripping from his nose on his shirt sleeve. He pinned his glassy stare at me, and I blinked at the full brilliance of his pain. “I want you to be happy, and obviously Ly can give you what I—” He searched for more words, keeping his gaze on me, then threw his hands up and stalked out of the room.

  Tears streamed from my eyes, unbidden and disconnected from the void inside me, as if trying to jump-start my heart like a defibrillator, but my heart had shut down.

  “Are you all right?” Lysander asked, scooting over to me.

  “I need someone to beat up.”

  “Should I call Kara?” He grinned, a smile made morbid by the blood coating his teeth and gums. He flicked his tongue around his mouth. “I’d like to think I can erase the lost look on your face, but I think the only person who could do that just walked out the door. This—us—isn’t going to work, is it?”

  “I don’t know.” I finally faced the sadness in his eyes. “My heart feels like your bloody and bruised face.”

  He ran a finger down my cheek. “We’ll have to give it some time to heal then.” He slipped his finger down to my neck and over my throbbing vein, then yanked it away.

  “You need blood,” I said.

  “Yes.” His voice was hoarse, and I shuddered at his hungry stare, still fixed on my neck.

  “I should go,” he said. He moved to stand, swaying slightly, and I stopped him with a hand on his arm.