Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Kindred, Book 8.1) (3 page)

"Champion," she purrs,
Sanguis Vitam
dripping off every syllable. She must know it is useless, I am above her sordid games. "You do me an honour with your greeting."

I say nothing. Just stand there, in the centre of my hotel's lobby, my guards at my back, Alain standing resolute to the side. The humans who frequent this hotel are oblivious to the preternatural battle of wills being fought in their midst. Vampyres are not common knowledge, as far as they are concerned I own this building, and am merely an extremely rich man.

"How long has it been?" she asks, her entire demeanour one of friendly banter and old times. "Three centuries? No, maybe three and a half. You look good, Michel. And now you no longer kowtow to the former Champion, but have instead replaced her. Amicus always knew you'd go far."

"Amicus traded earth for
Álfheimr
fifty years after he turned me," I point out. "I hardly think he had time before doing so to impart that knowledge to you."

"Oh, sweet brother. He had more than enough time and do you honestly think we did not converse before you brought him the final death in London?"

I do not like where this conversation is heading, and I do not wish to encourage her further, but word of Lucinda travelling down in the elevator has reached me through her guard. She will walk in on this within the next few minutes, it must be over or moved elsewhere.

By the look on my blood-sister's face this conversation is nowhere near over.

"Perhaps a drink?" I suggest, indicating the bar off to the side of the foyer we're in.

"Splendid," she declares, turning in a swish of blood red fabric, displaying a vast amount of naked cream flesh down her back.

My vampyres uniformly let out a growl. Petra is dressed to impress. Why?

Lucinda is nearly here,
Alain informs me.
Would you like me to personally see she is directed away from the bar?

Yes
, I reply, but don't bother to give further instructions. Alain is a master at what he does, even my kindred will fail to see the ruse. For now.

My attention must remain focused. I need to find out why after all this time Petra has chosen to rise from her coffin and seek me out.

We sit down opposite each other in a small, enclosed and private booth, the padded velvet seats and high backs providing comfort and luxury without the inconvenience of an audience. I may no longer own
Sensations
, but the Plaza Hotel Bar is becoming synonymous with fine dining and exquisite entertainment in Auckland city. Just because the
Iunctio
Council chooses to reside several stories above this room does not mean it cannot be an establishment to rival any other.

I watch my quarry, who watches me back with equal determination. We size each other up, but for the life of me, I cannot work out why she is here. Why now? Glasses of my finest Merlot are placed before us, Doug making eye contact as he pulls away. All my vampyres are on guard. They sense my unease, it ripples throughout the room in a malevolent wave.

"Where have you been?" I ask, lifting my glass to my lips and inhaling the rich aroma. Lucinda likes this vintage, but has been unable to partake during her pregnancy. I avoid drinking this wine in front of her usually, and suddenly I have an attack of guilt.

I am drinking one of my wife's favourite alcoholic beverages with another woman.

I'd be lucky if it was only a stake to the chest I receive.

My lips twitch at the vision. The movement not missed by my enemy.

"Here and there. Keeping busy and out of trouble."

I do manage a smile on those words. Petra craves trouble, she does not shun it.

"And why have you chosen to visit New Zealand?"

"The
Iunctio
resides here now, it is our duty as vampyre to make the effort to visit."

"Just the
Iunctio
?" I query.

Her eyelids lower in a fashion designed to look demure. Petra Corvus is in no way meek and unassuming. She is a snake, waiting to attack. The blood of my Sire runs through her veins. It is my blood, too. But where I have rejected all that was Amicus, Petra embraced him.

"Of course not, Michel. I come to see you."

Why? I want to ask, but to do so would appear too interested. I must set Alain and Daniel on this, and in the meantime keep this creature at a distance.

"I do hope your journey has not been wasted. Enjoy our city, and leave with the
Iunctio's
blessing."

"Oh," she says, with a delicate smirk of her ruby red lips. "I have no intention of leaving, Michel. Not yet, at any rate."

Unless she misbehaves, breaks an
Iunctio
rule, I cannot order her from our borders. The
Iunctio
must be accessible to all vampyre. We are their safe harbour in a dangerous world.

"Very well. It was a pleasure," I say, standing from my seat and preparing to leave. "I have business I must now attend." Then at the last second consider one thing. "Where are you staying?"

The smirk become a rapacious smile.

"Here, of course, silly," she replies, as if we are close, as if we are truly siblings. "This beautiful hotel has
all
that I require."

I glance around the bar, taking in the sumptuous setting, the expensive décor, and the elaborate detail. The Plaza was a fine hotel before we acquired it, now it is simply superb. Many vampyre choose to stay here, those with nothing to hide from the
Iunctio
. I had not expected it of Petra. Though I am sure, her reasons will be more complicated and troublesome than most.

I smile. It's calculating. It's the Champion at his level best.
You are in my territory now, vampyre. Tread very carefully
.

The smirk slips off her face like petals from a dying flower. She blinks, takes a sip of her wine and then, as though a mask has fallen back into place, raises brilliant sapphire blue eyes to mine.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again, Michel," she informs me, then returns her attention to her wine.

I have been dismissed and I do not like it.

I walk from the room, those vampyres before me spreading swiftly and far, offering me a wide berth. My anger at this upheaval, right before the babies are due, is terrible in its volatility. I offer a quick glance at Douglas behind the bar, the message clear even if I don't mentally give it. He'll watch her until Daniel arrives, keeping Alain's spy-master abreast of her behaviour until then.

Alain!
I call in my head and receive an instant reply.

Master.
It has been a long time since he has called me that. My rage - and fear - must be tangible.

My office. Now!
I inform him, knowing he'll beat me there if at all possible.

The door swings open on my arrival, Alain already standing by the artificial fireplace inside. How I miss the real thing from our home in St Helier's Bay.

"How is she here?" I demand, unbuttoning my suit jacket and throwing myself into my chair, by my desk.

"She arrived without setting off any of our perimeter alarms."

"How is that possible? She is of Amicus' line." Our wards on the city are based on blood. Her blood of all blood should have set them clanging.

"Perhaps she has aligned herself with another," Alain supplies, an explanation which makes complete sense, and leaves me startled in its duplicity.

"Why is she here?" I say, my voice more level and contained.

"I am looking into it," my Second advises. "It has been over a century since I last kept tabs on her. I should have thought to do so again when Amicus recently met the final death."

It is an oversight we both have made. Excuses are plentiful, but useless right now. I choose not to chastise him, we both know the consequences of our failure.

"Does Lucinda know?" Alain asks, his voice level and non-threatening. But even then my vampyre responds.

Magenta washing the room. I had thought the frequency of this colour change to my eyes was because of the impending births, but now I have another reason to add to the pile.

"No and she mustn't," I reply, receiving a scowl from Alain. He has taken to my kindred, as all my vampyre have. Deception is not welcome. "Not until after the babies are born," I clarify, needing at least him to understand.

None of this sits well with me, an angry pit of vipers taking up shop inside my gut. I rub a hand over my heart, aware it is because Lucinda approaches. Or maybe because I am appalled I have chosen to keep a secret from my wife.

A gentle knock at the door and Alain opens it. His wary eyes on my face, a message of support mixed with condemnation. The magenta flashes again. He stiffens at the warning my vampyre-within has just given.

With a nod to me, and a smile to Lucinda, he slips from the office and closes the door.

I am conflicted. I am set adrift. My vampyre-within insists on protecting her. The man in me knows to do so will cause her more harm.

"OK," she says, as she crosses the room, noting the hue cast on every available surface, and unflinchingly perches herself on the desk between my knees.

I say perch, it's more of a scrabble to get herself up there, making the magenta clear and my amusement show in a more usual azure blue.

"What's got your dragon in a tizz?"

"A tizz?" I challenge, my fingers automatically going to her knees, starting to rub some of her aches away. I let one hand run down her leg, as I lift it to remove her shoe. Lucinda always wears flats, no heels. It's better to chase the vampires, she says. I do love a woman in heels, but my hunter in flats turns me on.

I start rubbing the sole of her foot, massaging the knots out, receiving a satisfying moan in return.

"Well," she breathes, leaning back on the desk and giving me ideas I should not entertain right now. "'Fess up, Michel. The whole place is swimming in aggravated
Sanguis Vitam
all of a sudden and I'm guessing it started with you."

Of course she senses the rise in power, it's crackling across the hotel as we speak.

Enemy
, my vampyres are murmuring.
In our territory
, they say in unison. Their
Sanguis Vitam
echoing their anger, like mine.

"I think you should ask Amisi to visit," I say in way of explanation. I'll get to it, I just need some time to prepare.

Me, not her.

"Why?" she asks slowly but pointedly. Lucinda has never feared questioning my directives before, she wouldn't start now just because she is pregnant.

"I want extra protection for you and the babes," I advise, starting to feel like the walls are closing in on me. The need to stretch my legs, walk the streets, a burning desire.

The Champion of the
Iunctio
afraid to face up to his kindred Nosferatin.

My back straightens, my chin lifts and I meet her inquisitive beautiful eyes.

Her foot slips from my hand and she tilts her head, staring at me as though she can see right through to my soul.

"If you don't start telling me what is going on, I will glaze one of your vampires."

It's an idle threat,
maybe
, she hates to glaze. The desire to protect her from walking that path spurs me on, even as my vampyre-within begins to rage. A strange violet colour bathes the space between us. She doesn't even blink or flinch, when others would.

"We have received a visitor," I say, seeing the confusion at the innocuous statement spread across her face.

"A visitor? I gather an uninvited one."

"
Oui
," I answer without thought, then grimace. The cursed French giving my turmoil away.

"Michel," she warns, and Light begins to thrum around her. Whether she's picked up on my disquiet and her Light, so entwined with mine, is reacting in kind. Or whether she is losing patience with my stalling, I cannot tell.

I suck in an unnecessary breath and miraculously - or disturbingly - am saved from my admission by a knock on the door. I startle, having not heard the mental warning until too late. Lucinda on the other hand has silver in her palm, her eyes on me and not the offending door.

"What the fuck, Michel?" she says so inelegantly.

I run a hand through my hair and then straighten my tie. Nervous ticks I haven't used since London.

"You better tell me what the hell is going on after we deal with this," she warns in a voice laden with threats.

Once I would have relished the reprimand, now I am fearful of upsetting her too much.

"Come," I say, authority returning to my tone. Lucinda has pocketed the knife by the time Shane crosses the threshold.

"My apologies, Master," he says, his blond curls bobbing as he offers a formal bow. No matter what I insist he still refuses to drop the formality. "Mistress," he adds when he rights himself again.