THIRTY

Bitter Queen

All fairy tales end at some point, and Allegra’s world came crashing down one ordinary late fall day when she was tallying up receipts. The annual crush the past Saturday had been a rousing success, with hundreds of people at the vineyard dancing and stomping grapes. Allegra had laughed and danced with them, and had spent the evening in the close, warm company of friends. The following Tuesday, the vineyard was closed for business. Ben was in town fetching supplies for the week, and Allegra had just opened the ledger when the darkness fell.

They were a blur—too fast for the human eye to see—and yet to Allegra they appeared as if in slow motion. She could see each of their stoic faces clearly, as well as the weapons they carried, torches of Black Fire. This was an ambush, a sneak attack that she herself had once designed in order to subdue a demon. She was their queen and they had come for her as if she were no more than a Hell-born beast.

Allegra bolted for the door, sending a row of bottles crashing into tables. There was nothing in the world she could use to defend herself against the Black Fire. Her only chance for freedom was to make a quick escape.

“Tut tut,” Kingsley martin said, meeting her at the back door. He was holding a sword lackadaisically at his side. To his credit, he did not point it at her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?” he asked.

“What is the meaning of this?” she hissed, as she was caught by the Venator team, her wrists placed in silver handcuffs.

“You know why we’re here, Allegra,” Kingsley replied.

“Just following orders.”

Allegra scanned the impassive faces. Kingsley martin, the reformed Silver Blood; Forsyth Llewellyn. Of course he would be roped into this mess. He looked like he was enjoying it a little too much; Nan Cutler, who had never liked her since Florence. Well, the feeling was mutual. They surrounded her with their swords and did not speak to her, did not listen to her pleas, or show her an ounce of sympathy.

“After you,” Kingsley said, pointing the team down the stairs to the wine cellar.

They put her in a small room where the Syrah and pinot noir were stored, and handcuffed her to a chair. They worked quickly and systematically, creating wards around the area, making sure that no one would be able to get inside the room.

Allegra noticed the Venators knew exactly where everything was, which meant they had been watching her for some time.

They knew when Ben was going into town for supplies. They knew the vineyard wasn’t open on Tuesdays. They knew she would be alone.

“What’s going to happen to Ben?” she asked.

Kingsley shook her head. “You know I can’t talk about the operation.”

“Please.” Allegra felt a panic grip her throat. She had once commanded missions just like this one—and while she knew the Venator’s training would not allow for sympathy or fail-ure—that she was now in the same position as all the criminals she had hunted in the past—she tried to appeal to Kingsley’s better nature for the sake of her love. She knew this was punishment and retribution. She had left her own bonding to be with her human familiar, and now she would pay the price. No one was above the Code of the Vampires.

Kingsley checked her restraints and nodded, satisfied that they would hold. Then the Venators left, locking the door behind them, and Allegra waited for her brother alone in the dark.

Night came, but Charles did not appear, nor did the Venators bother her again. She did not worry for herself—but she could not rest thinking of Ben. Where was he? Was he safe? They wouldn’t harm him… would they? He had gone into town—was he looking for her now? Why were they keeping her in the cellar? Had they already taken him somewhere else?

What have I done, Allegra thought. What have I failed to do.

The next morning—Allegra guessed it was after sun-rise—Kingsley returned with a cup of water and bread. Wordlessly, he put them next to her chair. There was olive oil with the bread, and Allegra thought bitterly of the last time she had eaten such a meal: in the veranda, with Ben at her side, the two of them as innocent as children. She should never have brought him into this. This world of secrets and blood and darkness and immortality. He was like the sun while she was a meteor, debris, a falling star.

She had just finished her meal when the door opened with a bang and Charles strode into the room. His black hair was already streaked with gray and he was not even a quarter-century old. He walked in like he owned the place. Allegra was surprised at how commanding he had become. He had grown into his power and relished it. He enjoyed showing her how easily he had tracked her down. How had they found her?

Even with all of her careful preparations? What mistake had she made? Or was the mistake in thinking that she would ever be free of him? That he would ever leave her alone? They were tied to each other. Their bond might fray but it would never break; she was learning that now. There was no hiding from her twin.

“Unshackle her,” he ordered Kingsley, who quickly removed her cuffs.

Allegra massaged her wrists angrily.

“I’ll make this easy for you,” Charles said.

“How?”

“I have your familiar.”

Allegra felt a stab in her heart. So they did have Ben. Of course. There was no doubt that it was part of the plan. Ben was human…. He had no defenses against the vampires. He was no match for them. Allegra could not believe Charles would stoop so low as to threaten a Red Blood. This was against every law they had made. This was unworthy of his power.

“No you don’t,” Allegra said hotly. “You would never.”

“It’s up to you, really, what happens to him,” Charles said, his face emotionless. “I don’t care one way or the other.”

“You would never harm a human being. It is against the Code. The Code that you wrote with your own blood, Michael.”

Charles bowed his head. When he looked up at her, there were tears in his eyes. He addressed her as she had him, with the names they had been given when the earth and the heavens were made, and they themselves were born into the beauty of the Light. “Gabrielle, this farce has gone on long enough. I know you want to hurt me, and you have. But please. This infatuation is a childish nuisance. End it. ”

She saw what he was seeing: the bitter ruins of their bonding day: Cordelia waiting at the steps of the museum, then Charles, his face white and his hair turning gray in an instant. The hurt was so deep, a devastating blow. The guests horrified and confused—the Coven at arms. Allegra had disappeared—had she been taken? The fear… and then… the shocked understanding of what she had done. She had left him. She had left them. She had turned her back on the Coven.

“I love him, Michael,” she said. “I would never have left—I could never have done what I did—if I did not. I love him with all of my heart and soul and blood.”

“You cannot,” Charles said flatly. “You do not know of what you speak. He is beneath you. You have a duty to your bond and your Coven.” You have a duty to me, he thought but did not say.

“I love him,” Allegra said. “I love him more than I ever loved you.” Forget the bond, forget the Coven. Allegra was tired of being a queen; she just wanted to be a girl again.

Charles was impassive. “Love him all you want, Gabrielle.

I still love you. I will always love you, and that is all that matters. I will forgive you anything, and I will forgive you this.”

Allegra felt her stomach twist. She knew he was telling the truth, and she could see how much this was hurting him. She put a hand on his arm. “If you love me, tell me what happened in Florence—what really happened. Why don’t I remember? I know what I did, but there are parts of my memory that are hidden from me, and I can feel you in them, Michael. I can feel your magic inside me. You are hiding my memories from me. You have no right.”

Charles did not answer. Instead, as he walked out of the room and locked the door, Allegra heard him say softly, “I have every right.”

It was then that she knew she would never find out the truth of her own history. And while she still believed that under no circumstances would Michael, Pure of Heart—the greatest angel who ever lived—harm a mere human, Allegra was suddenly very, very afraid.