Bad Blood

“Yes, I would love to hear that explanation. I’m sure you expect us to believe you had nothing to do with this?” Zephrim asked. He ruled the House of St. Germain fast and loose, letting just about anything go unchecked as long as it was in the name of alchemy.

“I didn’t. Not in the slightest.” Tatiana’s rage curled around her with comforting warmth. Behind secure mental barriers, she imagined turning her metal hand into a sword and skewering Lord Zephrim in the manner Vlad Tepes most often favored—through the groin and out the throat. The thought caused an inappropriate smile to crease her lips. She covered it quickly by drawing a hand across her mouth before speaking. “The comarré whore is now in league with a powerful coven of witches. Lord Ivan and I went after her. She and her compatriots ambushed us. The anathema, Malkolm Bourreau, was with her.” Several of the lords glanced at one another. “Not only is he alive and well, but he has also become her lover.”

“Poppycock. He’s been ashes for years. The report is in the council archives.” Zephrim refilled his goblet with blood.

“I can prove it.” She glanced at Grigor. Perfect. His family power of mind reading was just what she needed to corroborate her story. She opened her thoughts to him as she spoke, careful to show him only the parts of her memories that held Malkolm hoisting Ivan into the witch’s circle and Ivan being turned to stone. The part where she’d smashed his statue into rubble she kept hidden. “There. I’ve shown my thoughts to Lord Grigor.”

The other lords turned to him. Grigor pursed his mouth. “I never knew Bourreau myself. I cannot be sure this is the one of whom she speaks.” He stroked his narrow beard. “It does seem another vampire was responsible for Ivan’s death in conjunction with the witches.”

She smiled sweetly. “Thank you. I assure you, the vampire you saw was indeed Bourreau.” Blighty old ratbag.

“What is it that you desire, Tatiana? Your petition stated you had a request to make,” Syler asked. Something about his expression gave her hope. Perhaps the alliance still stood.

She paused, as though needing a moment to gather her thoughts. “This crime against the House of Tepes was perpetrated by the rabble that calls the Southern Union home. Anathema, witches, varcolai, remnants, and fae.” She threw up her hands in disgust. “New Florida is a ghetto of othernatural undesirables, and while it’s well and good that they should be contained in such a single, vile location, Lord Ivan’s death must be avenged, the anathema Bourreau must be put down once and for all, and the comarré whore must at last be brought to justice.” She paced a bit for dramatic effect, stopping to give the appearance of an idea suddenly coming to her. “I am sure I could take care of these things. I know New Florida. I have connections in place. I just need the right resources to make my attempt successful.”

“What kind of resources?” Syler asked.

She fixed her face into the most neutral expression she could muster. “Unlimited access to Nothos, to family funds, the ability to command an army of fringe—”

Timotheius interrupted. “The kind of resources a Dominus has.”

“What? Well, yes, I guess they are rather similar—”

“You want the council to appoint you the new Dominus of Tepes in Ivan’s place. Is that it?” Hints of silver played in Syler’s eyes, a mark of emotion. Whether from anger or elation remained unclear.

She held out her upturned palms, a recognized sign of submission among the nobility, knowing she must tread carefully so as not to upset the plans she’d been crafting for so many years. Slowly, she spun the words out. “Lord Ivan’s passing makes this necessary transition uncomfortable, I understand. It pains me to move forward with such haste, but Dominus is a position I am well suited for and a title I would be honored to wear.” She dropped her hands back to her sides. “I would take every necessary precaution to prevent Lord Ivan’s death from throwing the House of Tepes into disarray. Without reservation, I know that is what Lord Ivan would want.”

Lord Zephrim jumped to his feet. “This is outrageous.” He glared at the other lords. “She’s been Elder little more than a month and now she wants to ascend to Dominus? Forget that she’s a woman. She has no place asking such a thing.”

Lord Syler set his glass down. “If something happened to Grigor, would you balk at setting Svetla in his place?”

Lord Grigor nodded in approval. “It is the natural order of our system, Zephrim.”

“The natural order?” Lord Zephrim bridged his fingers on the tabletop and leaned in toward Grigor. “No one achieves Dominus without the say of the ancient ones. That is the natural order of our system. Unless you wish to go against them as well?”

Lord Grigor sat back, the nerves around his right eye twitching. “I would never go against the ancient ones. I live to serve them. For you to suggest otherwise, in my home, at my table…” He shook his head slowly. “Do not press my hospitality, comrade.”

Lord Zephrim took his seat. “I am only saying things must be done properly.” He turned to look at Tatiana. “Unless you have something to say about that?”

This time her smile was genuine. After all, the Castus Sanguis had chosen her as their instrument to break the covenant between humans and othernaturals, and their leader, Samael, had given her some of his power. She had nothing to fear. “No, please, the ancient ones must be consulted. And, of course, I am willing to abide by whatever they decide. May the ancient ones be served.”