Blood Rights

She pulled her locket out from under him and unsnapped it, studying the painted portrait inside. A wistful smile crossed her mouth as a twist of pain knotted her belly. She snapped the locket shut and tucked it into her blouse.

Closing her eyes, she slid into her favorite fantasy, imagining herself as some great Egyptian pharaoh-queen. Not Hatshepsut or Nefertiti or even Cleopatra, but one greater still. A true goddess come to rule on earth. She caressed Nehebkau’s drowsy form. In her mind, sparkling jewels and beads of gold adorned her, showering her in reflected sunlight.

Her lids lifted. That was always where her fantasy ran aground. Those wretched Egyptians and their stupid sun god. For all their dreams of immortality, they’d been headed in the wrong direction. She twirled the end of Nehebkau’s tail through her fingers.

Perhaps she should be Eve instead. An immortal Eve, unafraid of the apple, unashamed of her nakedness, and all too willing to corrupt man. She laughed. Nehebkau shifted.

Footsteps approached, followed a moment later by a knock on the door. It had best be a dire emergency. She was not to be disturbed when she was in her sanctuary.

‘What is it?’

‘Mistress, there is news.’

‘Of what?’

‘The girl.’

The girl? The girl was dead. Wasn’t she? Tatiana bolted upright, tumbling Nehebkau to her lap. He hissed like a distant tornado, raising his head and flaring his hood. ‘Now, now, Nehebie, this is very important. I won’t be a minute.’

She scooped him to the side, where he wound around himself to bask in the heat, then she went to the door.

‘Well, what news?’

The minion handed her a sealed note. ‘This just came from the Nothos dispatched to the IRF.’

She snatched the paper. ‘I don’t care if it is the Islamic Republic of France, just call it bloody France, you prat.’ If the kine grew a backbone, they might stop being overthrown by whichever one of them had the bigger gun or the more frightening god.

‘Yes, mistress. France it is from now—’

She shut the door and strolled back to the chaise. Nehebkau hadn’t moved. She sat next to him and tore open the note.

Found traces of comarré blood in the Paris sewers. Believe the girl alive and fled overseas. No sign of ring. Proceeding as discussed.

Bollocks. What proof did the Nothos have that the girl was alive? Or were they just assuming? Not that she trusted Madame Rennata either. If the blood whore was alive, that would change everything. Because thanks to the council’s insistence on justice, she was now going to have to bring the girl in, still alive, to be tried. And to prove her own innocence so she could be made Elder.

So much for proceeding as discussed.

‘Why do you automatically assume they’ve decided I’m the murderer?’ If they hadn’t been tied to the arms of the chair, Chrysabelle would have put her hands on her hips.

‘You’ve attacked me twice. Seems a natural conclusion to me.’ The vampire had been struggling to keep his hungry, silvery eyes off her throat ever since she’d tipped her head back. The distraction had worked beautifully. She almost had the knot around her right wrist undone.

‘I was only defending myself.’

‘Really? Is that what they teach in those comarré houses?’

She froze. Did he know? She exhaled. Of course not, he was just talking. She laughed. ‘Yes, that’s right. We’re lethal killers, trained from birth in the dark art of assassination. Because we have so much free time between etiquette, history studies, and music lessons.’

He half-smiled at that. Good. ‘Where did you get the hidden blades then? And the Golgotha steel?’

‘The wrist daggers were … a gift. The Golgotha is standard comarré issue.’ The knot loosened beneath her stealthy fingers. ‘It’s our cyanide pill.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Is there a big call for ritual suicide among the comarré?’

‘It isn’t unknown.’ She shrugged, the perfect opportunity to work her hand a little farther out.

‘So you carry a blade known to be not only exceptionally rare and expensive, but extraordinarily dangerous to vampires, just in case you might need to die an honorable death?’ In one quick move, he was inches from her face, those eerie silver eyes shining on her. ‘Not bloody likely.’

Someone knocked on the door. She inhaled. The varcolai. The vampire unbent himself slowly until he towered over her.

‘Come in, Doc.’

Doc? The varcolai was a physician, but he couldn’t supply the vampire with human blood?

The varcolai opened the door. ‘Bad time?’

‘No. What is it?’

‘Can we convo?’ He nodded behind him.

‘Sure.’ The vampire left, closing the door.

She shut her eyes and listened. They stayed just outside the door but kept their voices down. They might know what she was, but they obviously underestimated her capabilities. A smile curved her mouth. Eavesdropping at this distance wasn’t even a challenge.

‘We didn’t find squat, ’cept for a cab hanging at the end of the pier. I sent him away.’

The smile vanished. No cab meant a long walk back to somewhere safe. She could do it, but it would be dark soon. Not exactly the time she wanted to be alone and on foot in this wretched place. Her fingers worked harder on the knot.

‘Where’s Fi?’

‘Patrolling the top deck. Did you get any more weapons off her?’