Lothaire

53

“This is a kill-or-be-killed scenario, leech,” Regin the Radiant, a glowing-skinned millennium-old swordswoman, told Ellie in a baleful tone. “So raise your weapon and prepare for your end. ’Cause I’m about to take your head.”

Ellie yawned. Ten days of this was getting old. “Girl, I don’t wanna play video games anymore.”

Regin’s berserker mate, Declan, had been having meetings with some other berserkers concerning the Accession, so Regin had been hanging here every couple of days, glowing on the couch, playing games with Ellie.

At first, Regin had been excited to meet her because Ellie had done what Regin had dreamed of for centuries. “Buy this leechly leech assassin a mug of the thick stuff! Took down Lothaire? No shit? Describe it second by second in a breathy voice. . . .”

The only thing the Valkyries hated more than vampires in general was Lothaire in particular.

Of course, Regin would have succeeded in “collecting Lothaire’s head and fangs.”

Yet after a couple of days, Regin had realized that Ellie still had feelings for the Valkyries’ archenemy: “Not cool, hillbilly, not cool.”

Why hadn’t he come for Ellie yet? From time to time, Nïx had visited, keeping her informed—even if she wasn’t always coherent. Through Nïx, Ellie knew that Lothaire was indeed recovering and had been invited back to Dacia to rule.

Serghei was no more. Lothaire had become a king.

Just as he’d always wanted.

Ellie had gone through so many emotions when thinking about him—guilt, anger, longing.

Was all forgiven? Hell no! She was still furious at him. That didn’t mean she wasn’t pining for him to rescue her. Ellie knew he could—she believed he could do just about anything. But after nearly two weeks, she had to wonder if King Lothaire was ever going to reclaim his queen.

She’d asked Nïx, “If he’s healed, then why hasn’t he come for me?”

“Who?”

“Uh, Lothaire.”

“Not ringing a bell . . .”

“Can I send a message to Dacia, to explain what happened?”

Eyes bright with anticipation, Nïx had cried, “Who are we sending a message to . . . ?”

Now Ellie told Regin, “We’ll play tomorrow. Besides, isn’t it time for my cup of dinner?”

Regin’s amber irises flashed silver with ire. “I am not your blood gofer.” She gave a shriek that hurt Ellie’s sensitive ears. “Suck my dick, Vampirellie—suck it.”

Pissed, Ellie drilled her knuckle into Regin’s arm with all her new vampire strength. Nïx had told her in the beginning, “If any of my half sisters step out of line, go mountain on them.”

Ellie had learned there was no other way to deal with Valkyries. If they liked females who took zero shit from them, it was just a matter of time before she was Ms. Popularity here.

“Bitch!” Regin screamed. “You can only skate by on Lothaire’s takedown for so long.”

Nïx had told everyone that Ellie had attacked Lothaire on purpose, and the near decapitation of one of the Lore’s most feared villains had made Ellie a creature with which one did not fuck.

“Bring it, Regin, any day of the week.”

“Next time I will brangit. And your blood is in the microwave, slore.” Then she stomped away.

Apparently, this was how Regin treated all her friends.

Ellie shrugged. Each of the Valkyries was eccentric in her own way, from the vacant-eyed Nïx to the daunting Cara—who was part.

Fury, a breed of warrior females that even the Valkyries gave a wide berth.

Though many of the dozens who lived at Val Hall were wary of Ellie’s vampirism, she thought she was growing on them. When they forgot themselves, the Valkyries were kind of fun.

They were all half sisters, basically a big family unit, with all that came with a family of this size—feuds, cussing matches, favoritism, and unwavering loyalty.

In a way, Ellie was right at home here.

She sighed. But she still missed her own friends—Balery and Thad—and her own family. . . .

Ellie’s gaze dropped to the couch, to Regin’s forgotten cell phone. Her eyes went wide. After ten days of browbeating her captors to let her make a call, Ellie still hadn’t persuaded them.

As carefully as she would cradle an egg, Ellie collected the phone. Did she dare call her family, let them know she was alive?

She’d just started talking herself out of it when she realized she at least had to tell them they could safely come out of hiding now.

Besides, she still refused to accept that she couldn’t see them, that she’d never return to her mountain.

Though she understood Lothaire’s caution about mixing immortal strength with human frailty—Vampirellie never met a doorknob she didn’t break—she believed she could train herself to control her strength.

And what of the warning that she should never needlessly reveal the Lore to humans? Well, her family had had their blinders pulled off long before now. First with Saroya, and then with Lothaire.

If the gods wanted to punish Ellie, she’d remind them that hosting Saroya in her body for six years was time fucking served.

On that thought, she dialed her mother’s cell. “Mama? It’s me. Ellie.”

“Oh, Lord Jesus in heaven, I knew you wasn’t dead! They told us you’d been shot in some prison escape, but I knew you still lived! Why ain’t you come home?”

Ellie could hear the bafflement in her mother’s tone, understood it. If she was alive and out of jail, then she ought to be home—end of story. “I will in the future. Sometime. But it’s . . . complicated, Mama. And really hard to believe.”

“Well, let me see if I can’t keep up and keep my eyes in my head.”

Where to begin? So much had happened. How much should she reveal to her mother? “First, tell me how Josh is doing.”

“Josh is getting even more rambunctious, unruly, and willful, so naturally the family’s proud as all get out—”

Valkyrie shrieks sounded in the next room.

Mama cried, “What in the hell was that?”

“The TV! Let me turn it down.” She sped to the door, closing it and locking it—by breaking the knob. Shit. “How’s everyone else doing? How about you?”

“Oh, honey, we’re all managing just fine,” she said brightly. Too brightly.

“Tell me how bad it is, Mama.”

An exhalation into the phone. “We’re scraping together mortgage payments each month, but Va-Co’s holding our feet to the fire, girl.”

Ellie’s fangs sharpened, violence simmering inside her.

“All our men are back in the mine.”

“What? But they swore they were done with that. What about Ephraim’s store?”

“In this economy? All closed down. It was either the mine, or we’d lose the mountain. Most of your cousins are just happy for the work.”

“I’m gonna figure out a way to send you money, okay?”

“Ellie, just tell me about you. Start from the beginning.”

She nibbled her lip. “Remember that red-eyed demon everybody saw that night?”

“The one we’re hidin’ out from? The Mothman?”

“That’d be him. Only he’s not a demon or Mothman, and you don’t have to hide any longer. He’ll never hurt you.” Lothaire could never break his vow not to harm her family—she’d seen firsthand how binding those vows were.

“Then what is he?”

After a hesitation, Ellie admitted, “He’s a vampire. He’s the one that broke me out of prison. His name’s Lothaire Daciano.” Merely saying his name brought on a pang. You took my name the instant I claimed you. . . .

Mama sputtered, “V-vampire? Oh, Ellie, you’re about to give me a heart attack. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure—I’ve seen him drink blood.”

“Jesus! Did this . . . vampire hurt you? Are you with him now?”

“He came to be protective of me, took me traveling over the whole world. He’d thought that Saroya freak was his mate, but it turns out I was.”

“Is Saroya still killing?”

“She’s gone, Mama. Forever.”

“You’re cured! Why didn’t you tell me that first?”

Because I was cured of one thing only to become afflicted with something else—something you might have an even harder time accepting. “Um, it hasn’t really sunk in that I’m free of her.”

“Are you still goin’ with that vampire feller? Or do I need to send our menfolk to collect you?”

“No way, Mama! Unless you want them all killed. Besides, I’m not with him at present. I kinda got nabbed by some of his enemies. A bunch of gals. They’re very decent though,” Ellie quickly added. “I get all the food I can eat”—blood I can drink—“and we watch soap operas together. I’ve got my own room”—which used to belong to some kind of ice princess—“and they treat me real nice.”

Not that Ellie relished being a prisoner, but until she could figure out all her new powers, being in a protected, sunless environment wasn’t all that bad.

Every hour here she was learning more about the Lore, and the girls were good company. Never kicking my ass much more than I kick theirs.

One of the first things she’d learned? Fighting was kind of fun when you never stayed hurt from it for long.

“I don’t mind it here at all, really.” In a way, she was grateful to be in Val Hall. Because for whatever reason, Lothaire hadn’t come to get her.

Deep down, Ellie knew she had nowhere else to go. That knowledge was terrifying.

“They’re teaching me all about vampires”—myself—“while I wait to see if Lothaire will come ransom me.”

Nïx had been a lifesaver, hooking Ellie up with the same tracing tutor who’d taught Thad—though Ellie wasn’t allowed to see or communicate with the boy himself. Thad was too loyal to Lothaire, and the Valkyries feared he’d divvy information about her to their enemy.

The tutor, a halfling vampire/Valkyrie named Emmaline MacRieve, was utterly lovely, with bone structure to die for, petite fangs, pointed ears, and long golden locks. She’d been genuinely encouraging when Ellie had started to trace. Well, to waver. Though Ellie hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it, she practiced every day.

But she could tell Emmaline was keeping her distance, and something about the halfling kept tugging at Ellie’s memory, making her wary as well.

Emmaline had probably had some kind of bad personal experience with Lothaire. It seemed like everyone in the Lore had a story to tell about that vampire.

“If he ransoms you?” Mama demanded. “I thought you said he’s protective of you. Why wouldn’t he?”

“We kinda had a falling out. But I’m confident he’ll come ’round.” Please come ’round, Lothaire!

“What is he like?” Mama asked, lighting a cigarette. “That blood-drinker?”

“He’s tall, handsome, rich as the day is long.” And quite the celebrity.

In the mortal world, Lothaire would’ve been a heartthrob actor—who’d merely committed an average of a couple of murders a day, for millennia.

As “the Bride of Lothaire,” she’d gained some notoriety as well, among Loreans curious about the death-row mortal who’d somehow survived the turning to vampire. When no other female on record had.

“He’s also a powerful king among his kind,” Ellie said. “Famous in his circles.” Infamous for his underhanded ruthlessness.

Yes, Ellie had heard all about his misdeeds, knew everyone in the Lore considered him a diabolical fiend. But in the end, she’d decided that while he might be a fiend, he was still her guy.

She sighed again. Was he hers? She wondered that every minute of the day. Would he never come to collect her?

In her mind, what it boiled down to was that they had a lot of work to do on their relationship; now that she wasn’t roidal with new vampire rage, she was ready to dig in.

As long as he comes and gets me, I’ll kick his ass into shape, but we’ll work it

out.

Either it was taking him a long time to heal—or he’d decided not to come for her.

Surely an immortal of his advanced age would be mature enough to discuss their differences.

“What happens if he don’t come, Ellie?”

Good question. “I’ll figure something—”

“Yo, why’s this door locked?” Regin yelled from the hall. “Who the hell is Vampirellie talking to?”

“Mama, I gotta run! But I’ll send money when I can.”

The door came splintering down, revealing Regin, glowing like phosphorescence. “You don’t even know how dead you are, leech.”

“Love you, Mama, love everyone, talk soon!” She hung up the phone. By accidentally crushing it—

Regin launched herself at Ellie.

Ellie braced for impact, closing her eyes as dizziness overwhelmed her. Waiting . . .

Then came a crash at the TV console. Regin hollered, “Imma be fucking you up!”

When Ellie opened her eyes, she was across the room and Regin had just collided headfirst with the TV.

I traced? Finally! That dizziness—when had she felt it before?

In the fight with Lothaire! Had I traced even then? No wonder she’d reached him with that sword swing.

How she wished she could explain that to him!

For now, she had a pissed-off Valkyrie to deal with. But Regin could never catch her now that she could vanish! “What’s the matter, lightning bug? Forget how to change the channel? Ha-ha-ha, Valkyrie, you can’t catch me,” Ellie taunted in a singsong voice. “Hillbilly on the run, on the ruh-hun!”

When Regin vaulted the sofa, Ellie traced once more, but Regin anticipated her reappearance and barreled her to the floor.

“Ow!”

Then Regin proceeded to show her true colors, making Ellie punch her own face. “Why are you hitting yourself? Huh? Vampire, stop hitting yourself.”

“Vampire?” Nïx questioned from the doorway, her hair wild, her gaze unfocused. That rabid bat of hers perched on her shoulder, heatedly flapping its wings, as crazed as its owner. “In Val Hall?” Her amber eyes grew silver, the colors swirling. A weird electricity began to crackle in the air.

Every one of Ellie’s heightened immortal senses screamed DANGER. Surely not from Nïx?

Leaving the bat behind, the soothsayer attacked, backhanding Regin, sending her across the room.

Before Ellie could react, Nïx had her knees shoved into Ellie’s shoulders, pinning her with freakish strength. Hair straggling over her wan face, Nïx murmured, “Helen paid with a broken heart. Furie paid. Emmaline—”

“Nïx! It’s me, Ellie! What are you doing?”

The soothsayer canted her head like an animal. “You don’t know where Furie is . . . ?” Lightning blasted outside, thunder quaking the house.

“Nïxie, easy!” Regin clambered over, yanking on her sister. “We were just fucking about.” But even Regin was no match for Nïx’s power.

Finally, Nïx allowed Regin to heave her away, both of them landing tangled on the floor. The soothsayer blinked in bewilderment. “What has happened?”

Ellie cried, “You’re askin’ me?” Then regretted her tone when Nïx suddenly looked exhausted, sickly even.

Her bat waddled toward her, hopping on her arm, seeming to soothe her.

“What the fuck, Nïx? You’re a regular shit show these days!” Regin disentangled herself from her sister, shooing the bat away. “You went all Ride of the Valkyries on Vampirellie.”

Nïx frowned at something unseen to Ellie, then sighed sadly. “And I fear between the two of us, I’m doing the better. . . .”