Dying to Date(18)
“Why can’t we control her?” a female voice mused.
“A problem for a later date.”
Pain flared in her arm again, and blackness claimed her once more.
When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer on a moving plane but instead in a soft bed.
Melissa pushed herself up, groaning as her brain pounded in protest.
“What the hell?” she hissed, clutching her head.
“That would be the deadman’s thistle,” a voice said. “I hear it affects vampires much like chloroform does humans.”
Despite the pain in her head, she launched herself off the bed. Claws burst from her fingernails, and fangs exploded in her mouth. “Who are you?”
An older man sat completely at ease on an armchair across the room. He watched her with calm brown eyes. Though tiny wrinkles ringed his mouth and white had started to pepper his black hair, she would not mistake this man for being anything other than a threat. Power radiated from him, the kind of magic only very old beings could command.
Shifting around the bed, she sidestepped until the wall was at her back.
“I thought you’d like the room,” the man said. “Complete blackout curtains for the window of course.”
She glanced around the spacious chamber to ensure they were alone. If the Mad Hatter had ever yearned to be an interior decorator, he might have created a room rather like this one.
A canopied bed dominated the space, complete with the lace and frills every little girl would envy. Though the theme of the room seemed to be a Victorian tea party, everything clashed, from the yellow wallpaper to the shaggy pink carpet.
Two things were apparent about the room. First, it was wired for security. She saw the camera above the door and the bars on the windows. Second, nothing would make a decent weapon. Old wooden furniture and lacy bed sheets were the extent of her arsenal.
“What am I doing here?” she demanded.
The man wrapped his hands around the black cane he carried and pushed to his feet. “You are a guest.”
“Yours?”
He sketched her an elegant bow. “Dominic Salverg, at your service.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Unfortunate business to be sure, but I needed to get your father’s attention. We need to start a new relationship between your people and mine.”
She swallowed. “Who are your people?”
A brief grin flashed across his face, “Why, the necromancers, of course.”
Melissa was no stranger to danger. Growing up as the daughter of a Redgrave ensured her world was never boring, but facing a necromancer sent fear shooting through her entire body.
“Now, about that,” he said, taking a step toward her. “It seems that during your, shall we say, recruitment, you showed a surprising resistance to our powers.”
She blinked. That wasn’t possible.
“How did you do it, child?”
“Even if I knew, do you think I’d tell you?” she snapped.
He shrugged. “I was being polite, but we will get to the bottom of this.” Moving to the door, he rapped his knuckles on the shining wood.
The door opened to a group of people, none of whom looked remotely friendly. Melissa shifted to keep them in her line of sight. There were too many to fight. She was woefully outnumbered.
“Susanne here has quite the gift when it comes to magic and is sympathetic to our cause,” Dominic said, gesturing to a small, dark-haired witch. “As vampires cannot develop a natural immunity, our leading theory is that you’ve been enspelled.”
“Not that I know of.” But then again, she had no explanation for this resistance either. Not that she’d be willing to give it up.
Susanne stepped forward. She might be small, but her green eyes were hard. Looked like vampires were not wildly popular in this house.
The witch stretched out her hand and Melissa felt a flood of magic wash over her. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, but alien and unwelcome, like fingernails scraping against her skin.
“There,” the woman said, wiggling her fingers.
Metal slid against her wrist and Melissa looked down to see her silver bracelet unclasp by itself. She made a lunge to catch it, but the trinket flew across the room into the witch’s hand.
“Hmm,” Susanne said, studying the accessory. “This was the problem.”
Dominic limped over to touch the bracelet. “She wore a rield?”
“A what?” Melissa demanded.
“Rield,” he replied, turning his attention to her. “They are very rare and very hard to craft. Only the most powerful necromancers can create them.”
For a moment she was at a loss for words. She’d never heard of necromancers having the ability to create a shield from their powers because, really, why would they ever bother? Their power lay in their ability to manipulate the dead. Giving a vampire a shield would strip a necromancer of their greatest weapon.