Blood Rebellion (Page 2)
Dragon blinked in surprise—joining the Falchani army would be seen as interference under normal circumstances. Belen’s permission merely reinforced his opinion of the unusual events on Falchan. Somehow, either an old enemy had resurfaced or a new one had come into being. Perhaps both. Dragon schooled his face as that thought crowded his mind.
"I can gather all our Falchani and sign up as a volunteer band from the hills—nobody will recognize us," Dragon agreed.
"I’ll go, too," Devin offered. Devin, trained by Dragon and Crane in the art of the blade, was deadly with the Falchani swords she often carried.
"That goes without saying," Dragon smiled. "When should we go, Revered One?" he nodded respectfully to Belen.
"Soon." Belen inclined his head. "I will let you know when. There is one other thing, too."
"What’s that?" Kiarra asked.
"Take the Vampire Queen with you. I care not how it is accomplished; I only know that Lissa’s presence will prove essential." Belen disappeared quickly.
"Now how the hell are we going to convince Lissa that she has to go to Falchan?" Kiarra sighed, shaking her head. Belen had left before she could ask more questions.
"Mom, she’s married to our boys," Devin grinned, pointing to herself and Dragon.
"Well, there’s that, I suppose," Kiarra grinned back.
* * *
"Ranos grenades." Erland Morphis kicked the pile of formerly unbreakable transteel wall with a booted toe. Chunks of transteel littered the entry of the Sand Swept Casino, which Erland owned and operated on the gambling planet of Campiaa. Erland was so angry he hadn’t bothered with a disguise, and those brave enough to withstand his anger were allowed to see what few on Campiaa ever witnessed—the most beautiful male they’d likely gaze upon in their lifetime. Merrill and Adam, who owned the Moonstone Casino next door, stood beside Erland, examining the damage with the Karathian Warlock. Their casino had been hit as well, but not as hard as Erland’s.
"Ever since Divil San Gerxon was killed, his brother Arvil sees the need to flex his muscle, just to let everyone know he’s in charge," Adam muttered, his gray eyes narrowed in anger. "And now, Arvil has managed to buy and smuggle in Ranos technology. If he ups his demands, we’ll be forced to pay."
"He already gets twenty-five percent," Merrill pointed out. "Just for the privilege of putting up a building here."
"We still get good information," Erland sighed. "I wish there were a way to coax the wealthy gamblers away from here, though. The information would come with them—it can’t be helped."
Erland, Merrill and Adam all had a common purpose in owning casinos in what was touted as the gambling mecca for the worst criminals—those who lived outside the Reth Alliance and its laws. Campiaa saw its share of deals for drugs, weapons, assassins and any other illegal enterprise. Much of it, unfortunately, was aimed at the Reth Alliance. Drugs and weapons were shipped in, with the occasional criminal—all arranged and paid for through contacts that regularly visited Campiaa.
Wealthy gamblers from the Reth Alliance also found their way to Campiaa—it was a sign of their wealth that they could skirt Alliance laws and find ships to transport them. After all, anything could be had on Campiaa—for the right price. And one could get information on any illegal activity, if one knew where to listen. Adam and Merrill always listened for information that might affect the Saa Thalarr. Erland listened for other reasons.
"Follow the money, eh?" Merrill nodded at Erland.
"Precisely. Information and any illegal negotiations will always be near the funding. You can count on that. These gamblers may look legitimate—on the surface, at least. We know better." Erland agreed.
"Lord Morphis, I’ll bring in the cleaning crew if you’re ready," an employee approached Erland cautiously. The Warlock now seemed calm enough to speak without blasting something to bits.
"Yes. Get those walls replaced by tomorrow."
"Of course, Lord Morphis."
* * *
I was doing my best not to get chocolate cake crumbs on a blue silk tunic. It was embroidered around the hem and cuffs and had matching trousers. I knew Giff wouldn’t mind finding clothing to replace my outfit if I ruined it, but this was one of my favorites. I was forced at times to wear dresses, and that was something I didn’t like at all. They were such a pain and bother, since most of them were long and dragged the floor. I was constantly trying to move my skirts out of the way. Drake and Drew laughed whenever I growled after nearly tripping over the damn things. Now I was sitting in the kitchen, eating cake while three comesuli cleaned up after a long day.
We’d entertained a committee from the Reth Alliance earlier—they were considering our application to join. We were jumping through the usual bureaucratic hoops, too. We had to have a working space station orbiting Le-Ath Veronis, and it was nearly finished and already operational. We didn’t tell the Alliance representatives that Larentii were putting most of it together for us. We’d hired work crews and some of our newly arrived vampires had expertise in that area, so all were working away to bring us into compliance.
Membership with the Reth Alliance would bring space travelers to Le-Ath Veronis and make it easier for the vampires living on Alliance worlds to come to us and petition for citizenship if they wanted it. Kifirin, Connegar and I were in charge of the citizenship applications from Alliance worlds. Those worlds recognized vampires as citizens in their own right; they were entitled to the rights granted by the law, just as any other citizen. The Alliance worlds also had methods of tracking and controlling vampire criminals and they were treated just as any other criminal might be. Most of those worlds still had a hidden Vampire Council of some sort and they policed their own—up to a point.
We had nearly fifty thousand comesuli living on Le-Ath Veronis and many of them had become pregnant the moment they’d stepped onto the planet. Kifirin said the comesuli somehow recognized the need for more of their kind, as well as recognizing the fact that there was plenty of space and sustenance for them.
Merrill, Adam and Wlodek had (rather quickly) built a blood substitute manufacturing facility, to make up for what the comesuli couldn’t provide to the resident vampires. They’d worked on the blood substitute itself, making it better—not just in taste but in nutrition. Our resident vampires were happy with what they were getting—fresh blood a couple days a month and a decent blood substitute the rest of the time.
The comesuli, too, had to be watched—they were a race that hadn’t had sex before. Now they were anxious to have it (along with a vampire’s bite), as often as possible. We’d been forced to give them bracelets with two numbers. The months on Le-Ath Veronis were twenty-eight days in length and the two numbers on each bracelet indicated the two days a month a comesula could be bitten—giving them a two-week interval in between. The taking of blood more often than that could weaken them. The pregnant ones were off-limits, too, both prior to the birth and for two months after. There were plenty of grumbling comesuli as a result.