The transition had been horrific. Only the strong survived. Ronan heard the tortured howls from those who didn’t make the grade. It was a relief when their voices and their afterlives were stopped.
The smell of blood had been all around him in that dark dungeon just as it had been in the trenches in France. But there had been a big difference. Now he was hungry for that blood.
When he’d been released from that hellhole, he’d gone on a feeding frenzy promoted by Voz. Only then, when he’d drunk his full, was he told he’d be indentured for a hundred years. Voz likened it to the gladiators in ancient Rome, battling it out. Voz didn’t like the hundred-year rule; he wanted it to be for an eternity, but that century limit, which had been decreed by the Ancients, had been in place forever.
Vamps could get time off for exceptional valor, shortening their hundred years by a few years. After that point additional bargains could be made. A handful in Voz’s army had signed agreements in blood to extend their term beyond the first century. They’d become addicted to the killing and now they were there for an eternity or until a strong, smarter, faster vamp destroyed them.
There was a limit to how many humans could be transformed into an indentured vampire in any given year, or so Voz had told him. But then he’d told him that Adele was well and had lived a long life.
Ronan had believed that his sister had done well. It was the only thing that kept him sane during the nearly hundred years of bloodshed at Voz’s bidding. He’d had no choice or voice in who was killed. The guilt of that would stay with him forever. There were moments when he’d wanted to die, when he’d wanted to end it all.
But that hadn’t happened. Instead he’d fought on. Been covered in blood from numerous vampire uprisings of various rival clans. So many that Ronan had lost count.
But each time it happened, Ronan was reminded of the blood of the battlefield at Cantigny in northern France. He had no idea why his human memories remained after he’d been turned. But they did.
Ronan wondered if he’d lost his humanity there and then, back in France with the injured screaming as their guts oozed out of them or their limbs lay beside them. Maybe he’d no longer had a soul when Voz had turned him. Maybe that’s why Voz had chosen him in the first place.
* * *
Sierra set the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter a second before Ruby appeared.
“I thought you were going to work on your plan of getting rid of Hal,” she said impatiently. “Why are you shopping?”
“Because there’s no food in the house.” She opened the refrigerator and put a dozen eggs in along with some Parmesan cheese and crusty bakery bread. She added fresh zucchini, broccoli, and a bag of russet potatoes to the fridge’s vegetable bin. The potatoes didn’t have to be refrigerated but she didn’t want them lying around in case Ruby decided to throw them like she had those plates.
Ghosts couldn’t get into refrigerators. Although sometimes they could make them, and other appliances, go on the fritz. Toasters seemed to be a popular target for some reason.
“What did you do about Hal?” Ruby demanded.
“I went upstairs before I went out.”
“And?”
“And I confronted him.”
Ruby looked doubtful. “Really?”
“Okay, he confronted me first, but only because he talked first.”
“He always does.”
“Good to know. I’ll remember that for next time.” Sierra folded the paper bags and set them beneath the sink.
“What happened when he confronted you? Did you turn around and run?” Ruby said.
“Of course not,” Sierra said. “He told me he wanted me gone and I told him I wanted him gone.”
“And then what happened?”
“Ronan showed up right out of the shower, wearing a towel and nothing else.”
“So you were distracted by a naked Ronan again?” Ruby looked incensed.
“I was not distracted, despite the fact that Hal practiced his usual tricks and yanked the towel off Ronan.”
“I’ve never heard of Hal doing something like that before.”
“There’s always a first time,” Sierra said as she gathered up the ingredients for a mushroom omelet. Cooking made her feel more in control, more everyday normal.
Ruby grew bored and disappeared when Sierra took her plate into the dining room. Her omelet might not be fluffy and perfect—in fact, it was rather brown on the bottom—but it tasted good.
She liked eating alone. It gave her time to think about her book and upcoming scenes. She kept a notepad nearby. She’d nearly spilled food on her iPad so she didn’t use that during meals. Instead she went old school—back to pen and paper.