groaning heap. Marcus took a good look at the man on the ground. Long 59
blond hair framed an angelic face and ice blue eyes. Blood-red lips curled back, showing fangs, distended and sharp. Vlad.
“What the hell are you doing, Vlad?” Marcus snapped.
Fast as lightening Vlad rose and slapped Marcus across his cheek with the back of his hand. Bright lights temporary blinded him as he turned and hit the stone wall again, this time scraping his cheek. With a groan he worked his jaw, trying to determine if it was broken.
Vlad’s fingers gripped the back of his neck, pinning him between Vlad’s chest and the wall. The stone bit into his flesh and a warm trickle of blood slid down his cheek.
Vlad inhaled, bringing his nose close to Marcus’ flesh.
“Jullian would never allow it, Vlad, and you know it,” Marcus hissed.
“I couldn’t care less what Jullian would allow, half-breed,” Vlad growled. “I should drain your blood now, relieve your father of his half-breed son, his embarrassment.”
“Fuck you,” Marcus snarled.
Vlad laughed then scraped his fangs across the surface of Marcus’s flesh but not deep enough to draw blood.
“Stay away from here, Marcus. Stop asking questions and keep your nose out of it or I’ll have no choice but to rid you of your curse.”
Marcus frowned. “How did you know I was asking questions?”
Vlad licked his cheek and Marcus growled, his own fangs dropping into place as his anger rose.
“Let’s just say a little birdie told me,” Vlad whispered.
Closing his eyes, Marcus concentrated hard, trying to focus on the magic and not suspicion that his father might be involved in all this—that his father had sent Vlad to do what he couldn’t.
Vlad tensed then screamed as pain sliced through him. He loosened his hold on Marcus and slid to the ground, his body contorting at odd angles. “Stop it,” he hissed.
“Who sent you?” Marcus asked, scowling down at the pain-racked vampire. “Was it my father?”
Vlad shook his head but didn’t speak. Marcus concentrated, worsening the pain.
“Who sent you?” he asked again.
“Sebastian,” Vlad gasped.
“Where is he?” Marcus yelled.
Vlad shook his head, barely able to speak. “He’s gone. I was just to deliver the message. Make it stop, Marcus. I’m on fire.”
“In time,” Marcus drawled as he squatted next to Vlad. “You deliver this message for me. Tell him I know what he’s up to and he’ll gain control of the council over my dead body.”
60
* * * * *
Darien shook his head, staring at the spell as it hung in the air between him and Nicholas. “You realize this is dabbling in the black arts.”
“We’ve done it before,” Nicholas murmured with a shrug.
“Just because we got away with it once doesn’t mean we should drop our guard and do it again,” Darien growled, waving his hand to erase the spell.
Vincent jumped onto the cabinet, rattling the glass jars against one another. Blue smoke lifted from the powder his paws landed smack in the middle of. “Get off your high horse, Darien. It takes black magic to fight black magic.”
Darien rested his hands at his hips and shot the cat a glare. “Careful, cat, or I’ll drop you off at the nearest farmer’s hut where you can live off mice and fresh milk for the rest of your sentence.”
Vincent hissed, his eyes narrowing to tiny slits.
“Enough,” Nicholas sighed. “Vincent is right, Darien. If we’re going to do this we have to use all our options. And that includes black magic.”
Darien paced, his chest tightening in fear and apprehension. “So we take her to the ball, parade her around in the hope that Sebastian will see her and do something stupid? Do you realize what kind of risk we’re taking with her life?”
Nicholas growled and knocked one of the vials off the cabinet. Yellow liquid spilled across the floor, releasing a strong flower scent into the room. “Don’t you think I’ve thought this through?
blond hair framed an angelic face and ice blue eyes. Blood-red lips curled back, showing fangs, distended and sharp. Vlad.
“What the hell are you doing, Vlad?” Marcus snapped.
Fast as lightening Vlad rose and slapped Marcus across his cheek with the back of his hand. Bright lights temporary blinded him as he turned and hit the stone wall again, this time scraping his cheek. With a groan he worked his jaw, trying to determine if it was broken.
Vlad’s fingers gripped the back of his neck, pinning him between Vlad’s chest and the wall. The stone bit into his flesh and a warm trickle of blood slid down his cheek.
Vlad inhaled, bringing his nose close to Marcus’ flesh.
“Jullian would never allow it, Vlad, and you know it,” Marcus hissed.
“I couldn’t care less what Jullian would allow, half-breed,” Vlad growled. “I should drain your blood now, relieve your father of his half-breed son, his embarrassment.”
“Fuck you,” Marcus snarled.
Vlad laughed then scraped his fangs across the surface of Marcus’s flesh but not deep enough to draw blood.
“Stay away from here, Marcus. Stop asking questions and keep your nose out of it or I’ll have no choice but to rid you of your curse.”
Marcus frowned. “How did you know I was asking questions?”
Vlad licked his cheek and Marcus growled, his own fangs dropping into place as his anger rose.
“Let’s just say a little birdie told me,” Vlad whispered.
Closing his eyes, Marcus concentrated hard, trying to focus on the magic and not suspicion that his father might be involved in all this—that his father had sent Vlad to do what he couldn’t.
Vlad tensed then screamed as pain sliced through him. He loosened his hold on Marcus and slid to the ground, his body contorting at odd angles. “Stop it,” he hissed.
“Who sent you?” Marcus asked, scowling down at the pain-racked vampire. “Was it my father?”
Vlad shook his head but didn’t speak. Marcus concentrated, worsening the pain.
“Who sent you?” he asked again.
“Sebastian,” Vlad gasped.
“Where is he?” Marcus yelled.
Vlad shook his head, barely able to speak. “He’s gone. I was just to deliver the message. Make it stop, Marcus. I’m on fire.”
“In time,” Marcus drawled as he squatted next to Vlad. “You deliver this message for me. Tell him I know what he’s up to and he’ll gain control of the council over my dead body.”
60
* * * * *
Darien shook his head, staring at the spell as it hung in the air between him and Nicholas. “You realize this is dabbling in the black arts.”
“We’ve done it before,” Nicholas murmured with a shrug.
“Just because we got away with it once doesn’t mean we should drop our guard and do it again,” Darien growled, waving his hand to erase the spell.
Vincent jumped onto the cabinet, rattling the glass jars against one another. Blue smoke lifted from the powder his paws landed smack in the middle of. “Get off your high horse, Darien. It takes black magic to fight black magic.”
Darien rested his hands at his hips and shot the cat a glare. “Careful, cat, or I’ll drop you off at the nearest farmer’s hut where you can live off mice and fresh milk for the rest of your sentence.”
Vincent hissed, his eyes narrowing to tiny slits.
“Enough,” Nicholas sighed. “Vincent is right, Darien. If we’re going to do this we have to use all our options. And that includes black magic.”
Darien paced, his chest tightening in fear and apprehension. “So we take her to the ball, parade her around in the hope that Sebastian will see her and do something stupid? Do you realize what kind of risk we’re taking with her life?”
Nicholas growled and knocked one of the vials off the cabinet. Yellow liquid spilled across the floor, releasing a strong flower scent into the room. “Don’t you think I’ve thought this through?
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