The Vampire Gift 2: Kingdom of(69)

I look at him and then back at Father. I hang on my heel as I consider.

“Do you…” I point in a flowery gesture at the King, “… can you hear him in your head, also? Because I think this would all be much easier if we simply use our tongues.”

“Don’t deflect the question,” Father grows. “Tell him what you know.”

“What I know? Why, I think it obvious. You,” I look at The Ancient, “cannot enter The Haven because you’re all the way over here…” I make a grand, sweeping gesture with my hand, as if over an atlas, “…and my former coven is far, far away, on the other side of the world. In North America.”

An invisible force lashes out from The Ancient and strikes me in the chest. I go flying back and crash into a pillar. The room shakes from impact.

“Not,” Father warns, “a good time to make jokes.”

“I’m not bloody joking,” I growl. “He asked me why he can’t enter The Haven. I answered. Because he’s too far away!”

“That’s not the type of entry he means,” Father says.

“Well, unlike your precious servant, I’m not a mind reader!” I bellow. The white-hot pillar of anger raging inside me flares and burns. “If you want proper answers, ask the right damn questions!”

“He means,” Father says, “that he cannot penetrate any of the minds of the vampires, or humans, inside. We want to know why.”

I glare at them both. “That’s what you brought me here for? What gave you any indication that I would have any idea?”

“Your Mother trusted you. You would know her secrets.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but last time I saw my Mother,” I snarl the words, “she cast me into an underground cell and sentenced me to eternity without blood. Somehow, I doubt she would impart any of her secrets upon me.”

“So you’re telling me that I was right, and Beatrice was wrong. You are, for lack of a better term, utterly useless.” He beckons The Ancient forth. “Bring my son back to where we found him.”

“Whoa, whoa,” I say, holding up my arms. “Let’s not be hasty here.”

“Give me one good reason why.”

“Because even if I don’t know the answer to what you’re asking me, there are things I do. Such as…” I step toward him, “…where you’d strike first if you were to mount a successful attack.”

Father’s eyes suddenly glitter with greed. “Go on,” he says.





Chapter Forty-Three




ELEIRA



Visions of death, of darkness, of destruction haunt my dreams:



I see The Haven burning. Great fires engulf not just the human settlement, but also all the trees. Villagers run from the blazes screaming. Vampires shriek as they burn, caught helplessly in the licking flames.

A small shadow, the size of a skunk or racoon, darts from place to place. Wherever it goes it leaves a trail of blood. And bodies. It strikes, and bodies fall, but all I see are their darkened outlines. Humans? Vampires? There’s no way to tell.

But I feel their fear acutely.

The ground shakes, the start of a great earthquake.

Disaster has struck! Disaster! The thought is not my own, but it echoes in my head. Disaster, disaster, disaster…!

The castle. I must go to the castle. I exist only as a spirit here, and I fly through the air, yet when I arrive, the whole structure is shrouded in black. It’s a black that’s deeper than night, a black that is infinite, a black that not even my vampire vision can pierce.

And flowing out from it, I feel such hatred, such menace and vitriol and malevolence and greed, and that echoing voice continues to wail in my head, crying out disaster, disaster, disaster!

The Haven is in upheaval, and somehow I know, deep in my bones, that it’s my fault.



I come to with a strangled gasp. My throat is dry, parched. My body is soaked with sweat, and the moisture stains my night shift, the sheets...

Somebody is by my side in an instant. As my vision clears I see it’s Raul. Relief courses through me. He hands me a glass of blood, and says, “Drink.”

I grab it from him and eagerly place it to my lips. I inhale the whole thing in great, jealous swallows. When it’s gone, I immediately want more. Raul already has a second glass waiting for me.

I down that, too. With the blood in me I feel a little bit stronger. I take a moment to look around the unfamiliar room.

I’m in an enormous white bed. The sheets are white, the pillows are white, my shift is white—everything is white. The room is circular and sparsely decorated, but what furniture I see is finely made.

“We’re in Mother’s guest quarters,” Raul says, as if reading my mind. “You’ve been here nearly three days.”