The Red Lily (Vampire Blood #2)(28)

He pulled up the collar of his coat and ducked back out into the rain. Lobdell appeared to be about the size of Sylus, the village in the shadow of the Glass Tower.

Nikolai chuckled to himself as he passed the baker's shop where the owner set out new pastries in the window. He'd teased Marius for his obsession with the human, sure it would come to nothing in the end. When in fact, it had come to everything. His marriage to Arabelle had not only changed Marius's world but Nikolai's as well.

Nikolai couldn't stay behind at the Glass Tower, knowing the queen was the one behind the spreading of sanguine furorem and the murdering of the peasantry. The hypocrisy infuriated him. The crown set itself on high, setting laws that ensured the safety of humans, both their aristocrats and their peasants. All the while, the queen was breaking those laws for her own entertainment and sadistic pleasure. No, that didn't seem right either, he thought as the rain pelted down. He walked on past the dressmaker's shop, noting the mannequin's dress, hat, and gloves before moving on. The queen yearned for something more which the blood madness gave her. Power.

In his youth, following Nikolai's own haunting sin that he kept in the deepest recesses of his memory, Nikolai had seen the horrific effects of the blood madness. It had taken hold of a young Legionnaire at a human duke's ball. He became drunk on the blood of a lady who'd offered herself in private. The vampire had continued on in his wildness, nearly slaughtering everyone in the ballroom until Nikolai and his lieutenant heard the cries from below while on duty. Nikolai was a mere soldier in the ranks then. His lieutenant had been forced to kill the vampire, who left behind a trail of devastation.

When they returned to the palace with the body of the vampire and sad news of what had occurred, the king had congratulated the lieutenant on his good work, in making the difficult decision to ensure the safety of the rest of the humans and to keep what peace they could. After all, that was their duty, to protect the vampire crown and to enforce the laws that kept the humans safe. That was what Nikolai had believed. Then his lieutenant disappeared, shipped off to the north, he was told, allowing his sergeant to move up and for Nikolai to receive his first promotion.

Nikolai chastised himself for being blind to the truth for so long. He'd seen that mad vampire who'd captured Arabelle long before the ball, doting on the queen. She'd been playing in her dungeon with her young vampires, killing to their heart's content even then, and he'd never seen it. The king must've known and simply kept her secrets, impotent against her power. Now he knew it was not King Grindal of Varis who was their original maker. But the queen. And that was more reason for him to leave his whole world at the Glass Tower behind.

He had been the queen's fool, like so many others. And his life had been a lie. While he thought himself a defender of the faithful crown, keeping law and order among the people and the vampire royalty, he had merely been defending her right to kill at will behind closed doors. And the thought that perhaps he was the monster so many humans believed him to be was the most difficult realization of all. A painful reality he felt needed retribution. If he could atone his many sins by helping the Black Lily, then it would have to be enough.



       
         
       
        

The pungent smell of roast pig caught his attention. The butchery was near. He wiped away the regretful memories and marched on, keeping his collar around his face. Stepping into the butchery, there was no one about as he shook off the rain and combed a hand through his wet hair.

"A hat would help, you know?" came a woman's gruff voice.

She stood in the doorway that led into a back room, wiping her hands on an apron. She was of medium build, bearing hands used to work. With his vampire sight, Nikolai could see at least three random scars, whitened with age, a hazard of working with sharp knives and hot stoves all day. She kept her brown hair pinned under a cap. And though homely, she had kind eyes. Right now, they were narrowed on him.

"Unless Lobdell has become the posh new getaway for handsome vampires, I'd say you are Nikolai."

He laughed, for they both knew there was nothing posh about Lobdell, except perhaps that dressmaker's shop, which he planned to visit on his way back to the inn.

"I am Nikolai," he assented with a small bow.

"I thought you were coming with a woman. The Red Witch, they call her."

He frowned at that, not pleased with the name given to Sienna. As for himself, he cared not at all if she were deemed a witch. But he knew the danger such a label carried with humans. Witches put fear into common folk.