Chapter 16

Prague, Czech Republic

 

Marion told Val to stay close as they entered. The room was filled with rows of chairs and crowded. At least a hundred vampires filled the hall. She looked around slowly at the male and female vampires who were chatting and laughing, as though this were a fashion show, not a contest to the death.

The group was decidedly odd, not just their PC appearance (Pigmentally Challenged as Val liked to say). But it was like a conference collision, with half the attendees dressed in business wear and the other half dressed like they were going to an adult Halloween Party. A party where inhibitions and life expectancies were left at the door.

Lucas was seated in a massive throne that was covered in red velvet. He'd cut his hair and all those silken strands that she’d been unable to resist touching were gone. His hair was wavy. Some of it fell forward onto his forehead while the back was barely long enough to graze his collar. He looked modern, the haircut exposing his cheekbones, making him look more alive.

His clothes were different too. He was no longer in a modern suit, but wearing what she could only describe as gentleman's clothing from three hundred years ago. He wore breeches and even hose. Hose! How could a man make tights look so sexy? His shirt was ivory and unbuttoned at the throat, he looked like a romantic hero come to life.

Val realized that she hadn't really understood that Lucas had lived through civilizations, discarding centuries and customs like clothing, until now. But now, he looked like a warrior. A man who had survived for over a millennia, because he was stronger, fiercer, and more beautiful than any other man.

He was deceptively relaxed, his chin resting on one large hand as he watched the vampires below him. His gaze moved to Marion and Rachel, then beyond, settling on Val. She wondered if he could sense her through the cloak. She felt her heartbeat slow as he watched her. A wave of energy enveloped her and she felt herself answering an unvoiced question.

'Yes, it's me. I'm here.' The response was almost intangible, but she felt it well from her and radiate outwards towards him. He didn't change expression and she wondered if she’d imagined the odd connection. Was it real? A reaction to having his blood inside of her?

Lucas looked away from her as though bored. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne.

Marion hissed something at her and pushed her into a chair, her back slamming against the wood. She made a slight noise and found Lucas' gaze back upon her. He shook his head slightly, his gaze leaving her and continuing around the room.

She tried to reach him again, still wondering if the connection from a moment ago had been real or imagined. His shoulders tensed and felt the connection she hadn't really recognized, shut down.

She clenched the holy water tight.

There was nothing to do but wait.

With a hush, the vampires stilled and Val got goose bumps. A guard behind Lucas moved forward, a silver staff in his hands. He stopped at the edge of the steps and struck the ground with his staff three times, the sound crashing through the room in a heavy beat.

Then he stepped back to his place behind the dais and Marion stood. Murmurs rose around the room.

Marion stood before him and waited. Lucas was patient, letting the moment drag out until the excitement in the crowd swelled, then began to subside. Valerie realized Lucas was a showman, playing the crowd. Seconds passed as Lucas and Marion stared at each other.

    Marion broke the stare, head jerking up haughtily. As far as a dominance contest went, Lucas won. He looked around the room, all the other vampires looking away or at their feet as his gaze touched them.

He spoke, voice deep and flowing with almost no accent, “My child, will you not bow before your maker?” he said, chidingly.

Marion's voice rang out in response, “No, my liege. My path is no longer with yours. We are via fracta and I offer you Challenge.” Valerie heard the formality in the words and translated the Latin to ‘a break in the road’.

Lucas inclined his head and Marion arranged her skirts, preparing to sit back down in her seat.  

“I decline Primogeniture. If I am victorious I will claim the blood of your house, and consign the memory of your name to those of the Forgotten before you. If you lose, Rachel dies. Every vampire created by one who Challenges me will die. Are there any who support my child, Marion?”

The silence lengthened as Valerie nervously waited to see who the Challengers were.

Marion stood again and gestured for Valerie to stand. Valerie stayed seated and Marion yanked her upwards, the cloak pulled away from her and thrown to the floor in a flashy move.

Some of the vampires leaned forward as though to see her better, while others nodded and a few froze. Lucas turned his gaze to Marion. “I understand your eagerness for death, but you must respect the sanctity of ritual. I assume you have something to say before we continue?”

Marion seemed vaguely nonplussed by Lucas' lack of reaction at Val’s reveal. “If I am victorious, I claim your house, Lucas, son of Tiberius Junius. Do you wish to offer Primogeniture and save one of your own?” Her voice was smug, her grip biting.

Lucas smiled again, a wicked smile that made Valerie shiver. “I do not.”

Her heart froze in her chest, coldness and terror slamming into her so that her next breath was a stutter. If Lucas lost she would die too. He wouldn’t save her or do anything to spare her. And she’d trusted him? Talk about bad taste in men.

She felt Rachel startle beside her and Marion's grip loosened briefly. “Do you know how I will kill her?” Her voice was lethal.

“I'm more interested in how I will kill you. You guessed wrong Marion. I will not protect her.”

Marion snarled and turned to Valerie, shaking her like a ragdoll, venting her frustration. One hand was on her shoulder, twisting for leverage, the other on Val’s chin, like she was going to pull the head off a toy doll.

Frantically, she pulled the cork out of the bottle of holy water, throwing it in Marion’s face. Marion let go of her, recoiling backwards in pain, her skin sizzling, the smell of burning meat filling the room. Marion screamed and reached for Valerie with a snarl. Val threw herself backwards, desperate to escape.

Lucas' booming voice made Marion freeze. “You cannot touch her until after you win, Marion! Kill her and Rachel dies in exchange.”

Val fell, tripping over the leg of a chair, but someone caught her before she hit the ground. It was Lucas, at her side before she could hit the ground.

He righted her gently, holding out his arm to her. Her hand shook as she placed it around his bicep, letting him tuck her close to him. 

Lucas led her up the steps of the dais, walking her to a chair that sat against the wall, next to one of the guards, before gesturing for her to sit down. She sat, back to the wall, facing the crowd, but obscured from Lucas' view by the back of his throne.

Her breathing was ragged, adrenaline and fear twisting through her stomach. All the vampires in the audience were staring at her.

Incongruously, she thought about how ordinary she must appear next to Lucas: her boring jeans and rumpled shirt, compared to his bright splendor. He knelt down before her, his eyes looking into hers for a moment. Quickly, he caressed a hand down her cheek before standing and walking away from her.

What did that mean? Was it an apology for denying to save her? Marion had brought her here expecting Lucas to keep her safe. If he lost, she’d still walk out of here alive and he’d said no. If he died tonight, so did she. Did he really think a friendly gesture, like patting a dog on the head was going to make her forgive that? Fat fucking chance.

Here was another example of how stupid she'd been to believe him. And then to let him do those things to her last night. Let him? Okay, the truth was, she'd wanted him—  bad. She’d not only been an active participant but the aggressor.

To think she’d spent so long loving Jack from a distance, never having the cajones to do anything about it. And now she might die, and what had she accomplished? Nothing. All the time she’d spent running away from her destiny and she was still ass deep in vampires.

Full circle. Back where I started.

She made a vow, if she got out of here alive she was going to make a change, Tina Turner style: kick the vampire to the curb and hound Jack until he gave their relationship a chance.

She'd wound up with nothing because she'd been so guarded. Lesson learned.

Her deep contemplations were interrupted by a burly vampire with curly hair and a scar down the side of his face. The first several vampires had sworn featly to Lucas. They’d approached the dais, given a little bow, said a few words about how great he was and how they’d follow him to the death,  but this one was different—  Bruce. It had to be.

The room became still and the weight of the vampires’ collective gaze was like a shimmer before her eyes. The heavily muscled vampire walked up to the throne and didn't bow. She saw Lucas’ shoulders straighten as he leaned slightly forward. A quick strain of thoughts and images came to her, muffled like someone was playing music but then they shut the window, cutting off the sound. He won that fight in Verona…not in a fair fight.

What ‘not in a fair fight’, Val wondered desperately? Had Lucas lost to Bruce before? Was he so weak he thought Bruce could kill him?

Shit! Val hadn’t really thought he could lose. Since the day she’d met him, he’d been larger than life. Bigger, stronger—  invincible. When he’d said he was unkillable she’d believed him, assumed it was true and never questioned it.

But Marion and Rachel didn’t seem to think he was invincible. Bruce was willing to fight Lucas to the death. He must think he had a chance. And with Lucas injured, maybe he had a good one.

Marion had said Bruce was a renowned fighter. His goal was to win, but failing that, to harm. They’d overwhelm Lucas with numbers, each contestant pecking at him, tearing him down so that by the time Marion had to fight him he’d be too weak to win.

“My liege.” His voice was gravelly. Lucas inclined his head for him to continue. “We have walked this earth together for three hundred and fifty years. You were always reasonable. We all know how you have put the vampires first. Secured our place in the world, but the rumors— ” his gaze flicked to Marion, “say that you seek to bring back the wolves and the Fey. That you would create chaos, even jeopardize everything we fought for.” He lowered his head, deferential as he waited for Lucas to respond.

“You were not present when the Fey and the wolves roamed this world. You do not know, as I do, how our people have changed and lost because of their absence. Either you believe in me, as your Lord and Maker, or you Challenge me. If I am victorious I will do as I see fit. You must either fall in line or die.”

The man shook his head, still unwilling to look at Lucas but disturbed. His words were stilted, as though he wasn't usually prone to talking and wanted to make sure he had the words precise, nothing extra tossed into the world. “My Lord. Always you have had our interests at the forefront of your heart, but you are not the same as you were even a hundred years ago. We are not unaware of your weariness.”

Bruce looked at Valerie from under his lashes, “Happy I am that you think of creating a companion, but I fear it is not enough. Do you wish to kill us all?”

Valerie felt the uneasiness in the room encroaching upon her, constricting her chest like a snake. The crowd shifted uneasily while waiting for Lucas to respond.

None of the vampires seemed shocked by the question. Maybe his hold on the vampires was shaky. Lucas gestured for Bruce to be at ease and the man raised his head, staring intently at Lucas as he waited for his king to respond.

Lucas stood, descending the steps with inhuman swiftness. Bruce stepped backwards, trying to keep Lucas away from him. But Lucas moved forward in a small rush, slashing inhumanly fast, blood suddenly pouring from Bruce’s neck in heavy pulses. Bruce grabbed his throat, eyes wild, trying to keep his blood in his body.

Lucas reached for Bruce’s arm and pulled until the limb came away with a sloppy, aching sound. It was wet and deep, the pop of the bone resonating through Val unpleasantly, like she could feel the vibration of it in her body.

Lucas tossed the arm to Marion, who batted it away from her and tried to keep her composure while ensuring the arm didn’t land in her lap.

Blood spattered Lucas, dripping from his short hair as he lunged at Bruce again. The other arm came free, Bruce falling to the ground, totally shocked by the swiftness of the attack.

Shouldn’t someone have said “go”? Had she blinked and missed it?

Bruce was choking, saying something while Lucas stood over him, waiting for Bruce to die. He was like a little boy with an insect, taking him apart piece by piece.

Finally, when Val was one wet sound away from dry heaving, Lucas grabbed Bruce’s hair, raised his foot, rigid thigh muscles braced against the man's torso, and popped Bruce’s head off, tossing it onto the pile of limbs at his side.

As soon as his head came off, everything was silent.

No one moved or breathed. Bruce stopped moaning. His eyes were wide and then Valerie saw something terrible, something she knew she’d never forget.

Bruce blinked.

He was still alive.

Lucas snapped his fingers and a guard came forward holding a long wooden staff out to Lucas' waiting hand. With a casual move, like a gentleman tapping his cane against the sidewalk, he skewered Bruce through the heart, every piece of him turning to ash in a moment.

Lucas walked back to his throne and sat back down, as though nothing untoward had happened.

He settled himself, running a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his face, blood smearing in his golden locks. He looked at his bloody hand with mild distaste, wiping the blood onto his breeches.

“No. I do not want everyone dead,” he paused, “Come now, who will stand with Marion and Challenge me?” he said it in a happy voice, like he wanted dissent.

Some of the vampires let out shaky sighs. Moving again like a paused movie returned to play.

Marion leaned forward eagerly when the question was asked, waiting to see who would stand beside her, clearly hoping that no one had changed their minds about challenging Lucas.

Several men looked to Marion furtively before quickly glancing away. Val guessed that they had been the undecided ones, and after Lucas’ little display, they were not going to Challenge him. She wouldn’t. As far as torture went, he’d put the evil back in medieval.

Marion was furious, near vibrating in her chair as she stood and began to shout. “Non! It was not a fair fight. The Challenge had not yet begun. You killed him in cold blood!”

Lucas stood, turning to Marion, smile feral. “I don't see how that can be fixed now. As powerful as I am, you expect me to wait? To play your petty games? This is mine. Everyone here is mine! I killed the Fey and the wolves! I brought us out of the dark ages and made us prosper. No one takes from me.” The final words were furious and guttural.

They leaned forward to make sure they caught every syllable, most of the vampires falling out of their chairs to the ground, abasing themselves before him.

He’s a scary bastard and I almost slept with him! Mortified, didn’t begin to cover it.

Marion shouted back at him, “You kill him because you are weak! Admit it, you may not win a fair fight and so you seek to evade the rules, clutching at the throne like a petty tyrant.” Her tone was bitter, but changed to placating and wise, “You are above this Lucas. Let your memory remain untainted. The greatest king who ever ruled does not go out as a cheater, as a shadow of the man you once were. Take your death with honor.”

Lucas chuckled darkly. “Your time will come, my dear. Pray you are right, that I cheat out of weakness rather than disgust at being bound by rules. Or else it will be your ashes in that fireplace.”

Lucas turned from her and hesitantly, another Challenger moved forward.

He was bald, with huge muscles and dark skin. He looked like a genie and Valerie became afraid. This man was just as deadly as Bruce except Lucas wouldn’t have the element of surprise, would have to fight him fairly.  

Could he win?

The man was soulless, evil coming off of him in dark currents that polluted the air around him. He was a killer, a figure to inspire children to stay in bed, the threat that lurked in the dark.

“I challenge you because you deserve the final death. You took her from me and I'll kill you for it.”

Lucas was still for a bare moment then gave an ugly laugh.

“Lucretia? You Challenge me because of that bitch? Good god! You are a fool. She could wipe out a village in a night and still want more. She was never satisfied...and she certainly wasn't satisfied by you.”

The bald man clenched his fists in rage, long white fangs extended as he hissed at Lucas angrily.

Lucas regarded him calmly, voice chill and flat. “She asked me to do it. She'd been your companion for only twenty, thirty years? But she welcomed me into her body and before she died, she thanked me.”

The bald man lunged forward, a beefy fist flying towards Lucas' face.

Lucas grabbed the man’s arm and threw him forward, using the man's momentum against him. The fight happened so quickly Valerie could barely see the individual movements, the two of them moving in flash choreography, like the fast flicker of a camera lens, each still a violent instant as they pummeled each other.

The man stumbled and Lucas kicked him in the back of the head before he could stand, neck snapping at an unnatural angel. The bald man shook it off, the terrible sound of bones grating against each other as they were forced back into place was like popcorn popping in the cavernous room.

He gave a cry of rage and turned, fury driving him on. Lucas gave ground, let the man push him backwards.

“You know, she wasn’t a real red head.” Lucas taunted casually.

His opponent yelled in rage, swinging harder and faster until his punches and lunges became sloppy.

Val had never seen him like this: playful and murderous. Was this the real Lucas?

Lucas grabbed the man's arm and threw him to the ground, pulling until the man’s arm broke and hung at an odd angle. His foot was on the back of the man's head, and another sickening crunch reverberated off the walls, as his neck re-broke. And then Lucas flipped him over, his hand in a fist as he slammed it into the man's chest, punching through his ribcage.

Everyone seemed to draw a breath at once, one woman clutching her chest sympathetically. Then they exhaled and the action resumed, the audience rustling like disturbed snakes, honing in on the death before them. Lucas pulled his hand out of the vampire’s body, the heart clenched tight in his fist. Then it was all ash, and it spilled from Lucas’ fingers like confetti.

Val stared at Lucas. His face was haggard, harsh lines bracketing his mouth as he dusted his hands. He was half turned from the crowd and she could see his profile, the intensity and determination of him but also, a growing black stain at his side.

It was the wound from the night before and it was seeping, expanding as she watched, like an oil slick in the ocean. Was there something she could do to interrupt the Challenge? Some way to take a break and bandage his wound in hopes that no one else would notice?

As though he knew what she was thinking, he turned to her and shook his head once.

No.

There was no stopping. He turned and faced the crowd. Marion grabbed Rachel’s hand excitedly and whispered in her ear loudly, a stage whisper that carried throughout the room, “Look, he’s hurt. Didn’t I tell you he was weak.”

Lucas ignored them and another man shuffled out of the crowd. He was a thin man of medium build who was so nondescript that as soon as Valerie looked away from him she could barely remember what he looked like. She imagined he’d been a tailor or an accountant in a previous life. He certainly didn’t seem like a threat to Lucas.

“Edgar.” Lucas put a hand on his shoulder. “You Challenge me of your own free will? A contest to the death?”

Edgar flushed and opened his hands nervously. “Yes. Yes I do. The Fey, the wolves. It's lunacy, Lucas. I stood by you as we cut them down. One after the other, all that time ago.”

His voice was wistful, as though lost in remembrance of the battles they had fought together. “Remember, the moon guiding our blades to victory...and you... when the Black Witch took my son, you were there. You cried with me. But now you are not the warrior you were. To seek out that which we destroyed, make them prosper again—why?

Surprisingly, Lucas bowed to him. “My friend, I ask you to rescind your Challenge.”

The man gave a rueful smile. “My Lord, for the love I bear you, I beg you to not pursue the Fey nor the wolves. Life is still exciting enough without creating danger.”

Lucas shook his head in soft denial. “There you are wrong, my friend. We have become like petulant children, destroying the world and humans for a pleasure without boundaries. If anyone is to understand my motives, it should be you.” The man gritted his teeth and looked away from Lucas, the conversation at an end.

Lucas stepped back, no longer the friend, but the king. “How would you Challenge me?”

The man gave a little nod and called for his weapon. A guard came forward, offering a sword. He took it, raised it to his lips and kissed the blade, the silver metal smoking as it made contact with his flesh.

Another guard came forward, handing Lucas a huge broadsword. It was so large and heavy that Valerie knew she wouldn't be able to lift it, let alone wield the thing.

Not that anyone wanted her to fight.

Lucas swung the sword in a lazy arc, testing the heft of it in a practiced move before meeting Edgar in the middle of the room. The people in the front row, closest to the action, looked a little nervous about the two men fighting right in front of them. A guard thumped the ground with his staff, signaling the start of their fight.

Lucas smiled grimly and assumed a fighting stance, giving no indication that he felt the wound in his side, which was now dripping onto the floor.  With a harsh clang Edgar’s sword crashed into Lucas’.

Lucas braced himself and turned, twisting his weapon so that Edgar’s blade was deflected to the side.  He thrust forward, but Edgar danced back, blocking the thrust and twisting into an attack that pushed Lucas backwards, his sword flashing through the air like lightning.

Lucas was graceful, his body well balanced, the moves and steps more like a ballet than a fight. With each lunge his back was straight and rigid, his thigh muscles bunching with each step.

Valerie was disheartened to realize that she was fixating on Lucas’ hotness instead of the battle to the death that was going on in front of her. She closed her eyes, wanting to block him out: like looking away from the sun.

Edgar was good. Even if he did look like a harried businessman. He was stealthy and fast. But Lucas was a force, unstoppable and inexorable, parrying the blows easily, toying with Edgar until Edgar put a foot wrong, allowing Lucas to lunge in for the kill.

But the smaller man feinted to the side, dropping to the ground heavily while thrusting his sword into the side of Lucas' already bleeding body. With a roar Lucas recoiled, Edgar’s blade glinting with blood.

Lucas gave a snarl of rage, like a wounded animal, as Edgar rolled to his feet and tried to press his advantage, rushing forward and aiming for Lucas' heart.

Lucas stumbled to the side, tilting away from the killing blow so that it ripped his shirt and grazed his chest but didn't enter his body. The force of Edgar's missed thrust carried him forward, into the emptied chairs. Lucas whirled, his sword sinking into Edgar’s torso, just above his belly button, before exiting out near his shoulder.

Lucas didn’t draw his blade free, but stood close to his friend, almost like he was shielding him from the crowd. A look of sad surprise crossed Edgar's face as his features dulled and then dried,  falling towards Lucas who, discarding his sword, attempted to catch him before he turned to dust. But it was too late. Edgar was gone, ash raining down on Lucas’ arms and feet.

He wiped the ash across his chest, over his heart, smearing the bloody scrape Edgar had made with the man’s ashes, as though making Edgar a part of him.   

Valerie felt Lucas’ pain crash into her as his mental shields lowered for a moment. His side blazed with pain, but it was nothing compared to the grief that overcame him for having to kill his friend.

A dozen images passed through her mind, like rocks skipping over the still surface of a cold lake: Lucas and Edgar on horseback talking, them both drinking blood from the same woman, Lucas pressed to her front as Edgar was pressed to her back, Edgar kneeling over a body and weeping while Lucas watched and stood guard, protecting his grieving friend. Then the memories were zipped away from her and she felt like a voyeur.

Lucas walked back to the dais, his sword held loosely in one hand. His gaze caught hers, held her so that she was unable to look away as he advanced towards her in a graceful, predatory walk.

He’s going to drink me now.

His brows lifted in a slight look of amusement and disdain that was undermined by the copious amounts of blood that trailed from him and dripped to the floor.

She wondered how severe his injury was, but his gaze said something different: look how easy this is.

He handed the sword back to the guard before heading back to the center of the room and making a low bow to Marion. Lucas extended his hand to her, “My love?” His voice was dark and seductive, a quiet ruthlessness underlying his tone.

Marion jerked out of her chair and stalked towards him in a fury. Things had obviously gone much worse that she'd expected.

She'd been a fool for doing this and her expression said that she knew it.

As Marion neared Lucas he closed his eyes, his brows pulled together in a frown. She stopped and seemed to shrink back for a moment before forcing herself to move forward again. He made a disappointed noise in his throat and spoke in a clear voice. “Who helped you? I smell the power and know you are no longer second to Rachel in power. Tell me who.”

Marion gasped, her gaze jerking back to Rachel and around the room, seeking out those who'd donated blood and power to her cause.

Frozen in place, she didn’t speak.

“Why don’t you whisper it to me?” he said.

She gave a little nod and he leaned in listening while she said something to him. He nodded and looked around the room.

The audience was still, like wax figurines. Marion licked her lips in a nervous gesture, “What about me?”

“What about you?” he said with obvious disgust.  The accent was back, his words having an odd cadence.

“You would not spare me also?” Her voice was hesitant.

“You are the organizer of this treason. How could I spare you after this? With all these witnesses. Have a care for your memory, Marion. Where is your conviction?” he mocked.

Marion blinked rapidly, her chest rising and falling as she breathed quickly. Her voice was breathy and distant, “Me, Margaret, my little girl...all those years, all our time together. You couldn't. You couldn’t be so cruel to me.”

Valerie wondered if Marion was that crazy, that it hadn’t really occurred to her that Lucas would kill her for trying to take his throne?

“Shall I assume you don’t wish to fight?”

She nodded tightly and flushed, her shoulders hunching in like a beaten dog.

Was that it, Valerie wondered? Was Marion really giving up now?

Lucas seemed impatient. “Kneel.”

Marion looked back, frantically trying to catch sight of Rachel who was leaning forward in her chair as though ready to spring forward and rescue Marion if she had to. Val could see Marion's will deflating before her eyes, like melting snow in the bright sunshine.

Trembling, Marion fell to her knees, head bowed, cowering slightly away from him as though to protect herself from a blow.

Rachel moved from her chair, coming forward and standing behind Marion, her hand on Marion’s head to protect her.

He looked to Rachel, “I expected more from you. You were supposed to keep her under control.”

Rachel spoke calmly and angrily, “It was the Fey, they killed her daughter and now you want to bring them back to the world. She snapped.”

Lucas huffed, “The plague killed Margaret, the Fey had nothing to do with it.”

Rachel's voice held conviction, “She was convinced it was the Fey that brought the plague. She told me the story of her village, how they had been protected for decades and then, after the summer solstice, when they didn't offer a virgin, the Fey punished them, letting the plague cover the town like ivy.”

Lucas ran a weary hand through his hair. “Bring in the coffins.”

Guards moved to the doors and opened them, moving aside for the guards who brought the coffins in to the middle of the room. Three humans came in at the end, clanking silver chains piled high in their arms. They threw them into a pile that glinted like jewels in the torch light.

Valerie felt herself relaxing now that she thought she might live to get out of this. Her thighs and arms throbbed, blood rushing back into the clenched muscles.

He looked to Rachel, features hard. “Who was it? Who was stupid enough to give her more power?”

“She already told you.”

Lucas waited and Rachel looked like she was going to refuse to answer but Lucas raised his hand, pointing a blood covered finger towards her.

She dropped her eyes and gave a quick nod, rattling off some names before the crowd began talking and moving, pushing some vampires forward to take their punishment.

Lucas beckoned to the coffins and those from the crowd shuffled forwards. There were five of them, two women and three men, and they all climbed into the coffins and laid down without protest.

Two of them beseeched Lucas to be kind to their companion's or kin. Lucas said nothing, watching disinterestedly as the guards nailed the coffins shut and wrapped them in chains.

The heavy coffins were lifted and taken from the room but at the door someone started screaming and a coffin lurched sideways as the woman inside thrashed, trying to get out.

Lucas looked at several people in the audience, the kin and companions of those who’d been taken away. “A century. I will review their punishment then.”

The room burst into noise, a woman in the front who was wearing jeans and looked vaguely like a has-been pop star wailed and cried in anguish that the punishment was too harsh, while a few others clasped hands as though relieved that the sentence was not worse.

After a few noisy moments Lucas silenced the audience with a glare and turned back to Rachel and Marion. Rachel had sunk to the floor and was holding Marion against her, letting her cry, Marion's brown curls pressed tight under her chin. Lucas knelt down beside them, his larger form eclipsing theirs.

He held out his hand and Rachel took Marion's limp arm and passed it to Lucas. His head descended and he pierced Marion's wrist, drinking from her in huge draughts. Marion seemed to collapse in on herself, her flesh becoming paler as he drank the power from her.

A great deal of time seemed to pass before he dropped her hand and went back to his throne. He sat down and waited while Marion and Rachel huddled together on the floor.

Marion's hair was dull, her cheeks hollow, the veins in her hands and arms bulging like a famine victim.

“Rachel,” Lucas said, deceptively mild.

It took Rachel a few tries to speak. “My Liege.”

“Drink from her.” Rachel's head snapped up, her gaze finding his. Her brows furrowed together as though confused. Why would Lucas make Rachel stronger if he was going to kill her?

“How much?”

“I will tell you when to cease.”

Rachel studied him for a moment before speaking to Marion quietly, “Will you let me, my love?” She petted her face gently.

Marion tilted her head in agreement, exposing her neck. Slowly, she bit down on Marion’s jugular, wrapping her arms around the frail body. Marion became more brittle, older, caving in on herself. Her flesh becoming coarser, more wrinkled, she was no longer human. Tears were streaming down Rachel’s face and it looked like Marion was dead. How could there be any life left in her? Her skin was already ashy.

“Now, crawl to me,” Lucas said in a tone to make the devil proud.

Valerie shivered at the command and bit her lip to try and distract herself. The room waited, looking between the two of them as Rachel slunk forward on hands and knees, all feline grace, her moves almost seductive. She tried not to feel too jealous. Hello, traitor.

Her moves were sinuous as she crawled up the steps. Rachel stared fixedly at Lucas, waiting for him to tell her when she was close enough, her head now level with his knee.  

 He was like a statue.

 Valerie could see Rachel trembling, tears on her lashes as she waited for Lucas to give her some sign of what he expected. She slanted him a quick look under her lashes, but he was still, waiting for her to figure out what she should do next if she wanted to survive.

Hesitantly, she moved forward, her lips going to his shoe. Rachel opened her mouth, her tongue rasping against the soft suede. After a few moments he waved her away and she backed down the stairs, careful to avoid eye contact. Lucas signaled to the guard and another coffin was brought in and placed on the floor.

Rachel flinched but Lucas gestured to Marion, “Put her in it.”

Marion looked like a bundle of bones tucked into a dress, half the weight she’d been before. She looked like a bundle of sticks shifting away, too weak to crawl as Rachel approached her.

Rachel reached Marion, touching her lightly on the back, and Marion moaned piteously. Batting at Rachel pathetically.  Ignoring her struggles,  Rachel leaned down, swung Marion into her arms and subdued her, kissing her face and neck as she walked her to the coffin.

Rachel lowered her down, like putting a child to bed, arranging her arms in the coffin, straightening the crimson skirts. Then she stood, stepping back slightly, tears running down her face. A human moved forward, carrying a hammer and nails.

“No. She will do it,” Lucas said.

The human nodded and dropped everything to the floor, backing away with wide eyes. Rachel flinched like she'd been struck and turned a murderous gaze on Lucas.

“Should I just kill her then?”

“No.”

Slowly Rachel took the lid to the coffin and placed it on top. She hammered in the nails steadily and when the lid was secure he told her to get the silver chains.

“Wrap the coffin. No gloves,” he said, beyond bored.

Rachel went to the chains, looked at them and hesitated. She touched a link, and smoke rose from her hand. Breathing deeply, trembling, she reached out again, grabbing the chain with two hands and rushing to the coffin, throwing it away from her as quickly as she could.

Valerie covered her mouth with her arm, trying to breathe in the smell of her wool coat instead of the stench of burning vampire that was growing stronger each time Rachel touched the chains.

As the minutes passed the vampires became more discomfited, the majority of them not wanting to watch Rachel's flesh sizzle down to the bone. But there was also a sizable minority that watched avidly, absorbing each flicker of Rachel's pain and despair like they were watching a play.

“It doesn’t hurt so much when the skin is gone. The bone doesn’t burn, don’t you find that interesting?” Lucas said to her.

Eyes as wide as saucers, she looked at him, seemingly unable to respond.

Lucas forced her to continue, watching with a dispassionate gaze as she stumbled, trembled and cried.

Finally, the coffin was wrapped.

He stood and Rachel fell to her knees, head bowed to the floor, careful not to let her ruined hands touch anything. “Swear allegiance to me and beg my humble forgiveness.”

The words tumbled from her lips, like she wanted to say them before he had a chance to take it back, or before she was sick. Val bet on being sick. I want to be sick.

“Marion is alive. Are you pleased?”

Rachel's voice was high and wobbly, “You are a gracious lord and master. I am pleased.”

“Do you want to know the conditions for her continued existence?”

Rachel waited, head lowered, unwilling or unable to nod encouragement. “It's you, Rachel. I keep her alive so that I have your loyalty. Fail me and she will never come out of that coffin. It could take her two hundred years to die in there. You don’t know the pain and hunger of being trapped in a coffin, young as you are, lenient as I have been. But you see, don’t you. That it is a torture?”

Tears splashed onto the floor in front of her. “Yes, my lord. It is a torture.”

“Come here so I can tell you how you will please me.”

Guards came and grabbed her, hauling her up the steps and dropping her in front of Lucas. Her short hair was tangled and streaked with…everything. Blood, tears, worse. He spoke to her softly but Rachel’s face froze in horror at his muffled words.

Straining with all her might, Valerie tried to hear what he said but couldn't. Not completely. The guards came back and picked her up again, dragging her from the hall as Valerie thought about what he might have said. She'd only heard one word clearly: “Roanoke”.