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“But why—what could be so wrong about him running in the election? Surely Terrance can’t be a better choice. He’l destroy al we’ve worked to build up, al of the treaties with the breathers and the Fae.”
Up close, I could see his face so much more clearly, and I realized Roman was a beautiful man.
His hair shimmered under the dim lights from the chandeliers. And his eyes . . . his eyes reminded me of il uminated, mist-shrouded globes of light. I wondered how many moths had been drawn in by the gentle lure. Thoughts of his stable sprang to mind. Were they al human? Were they al women? Did he just feed on them, or were they also his concubines?
Roman’s face was mere inches from mine. “Terrance wil never hold the position of Regent, rest assured.”
“You can’t mean for me to talk to Terrance, too. He’s out for my blood. And I’m out for his.” I shook my head. The owner of the Fangtabula was as good as dead in my opinion—or he would be if I ever managed to catch him alone. He was the worst kind of vampire—total y given over to his predator side. Terrance was a sadist, a Dredge in the making.
“I’m not asking you to talk to him. I can handle Terrance. But young Wade, he has a good idea with his Vampires Anonymous group. I wil spare him if you persuade him to withdraw. But this must be done with discretion and finesse—you cannot tel him outright why you’re asking him to walk away from the election. And rest assured, there wil be other duties for you, in the future.”
He seemed convinced I was going to agree. Of course, considering who he was, he had every reason to assume my cooperation.
“What are you planning to do about Terrance?”
“I’m planning on shutting down the Fangtabula and executing al of its primary players. They feed on the unwil ing; they threaten to unbalance our negotiations with the breathers.”
Roman gently slid me off his lap and stood up, a crackle of energy racing around him as he drew on his power. Instinctively, I pul ed back. If I’d had a pulse to pound, it would be racing with fear.
“Terrance dares to chal enge my authority. Menol y, do you know exactly who I am?” He gave me a cold, calculating smile.
I shook my head, slowly, listening to the ivory beads in my cornrows jingling. “Just that you’re Roman . . . and that you have considerably more power than I first thought.”
“Oh, Menol y,” he said softly. “My dear Menol y. I am Roman, Lord of the Vampire Nation, eldest son of Blood Wyne—she who is Queen Mother of the Crimson Veil. And I’m heir to the throne.”
And then he began to laugh.
CHAPTER 5
“Blood Wyne?” This time, a chil did race down my spine—the kind of chil that doesn’t need temperature to back it up. I’d heard rumors of Blood Wyne, the infamous, horrific vampire queen whose name stretched back into obscurity. Whether vampirism started with her, or she was just the one to bring it to notice, Blood Wyne was the first vampire whose name had instil ed terror throughout the living and undead alike.
Long before the Great Divide, she had been known across the lands, but after the worlds ripped apart and the Fae split into factions, as humans began to claim the world for their own, Blood Wyne slipped into the shadows.
She was known stil , but had retreated into the corner like a spider, watching to see how the next few centuries would fal out. I’d heard of her, but like most of the vampires I’d met, I assumed she’d taken her place in the underworld. But the world had changed. Her people were coming out of the coffin. And apparently, the Queen of the Crimson Veil walked the hal s of the living dead once more.
“Your sire is Blood Wyne?” I stared at Roman. No wonder he was so powerful and ancient. He was old past counting. And living in Seattle. In a palatial estate. There was only so much my mind could take in during one conversation, and I had the feeling I’d almost reached my limit.
“Yes—and more. My mother is Blood Wyne. She only became my sire when she was turned.
And she then turned al of her children. There are eight of us scattered throughout the world. I am the eldest.” He rubbed the arm of the chair he was sitting in. “The Vampyr are truly the sons and daughters of Blood Wyne, in al imaginable ways.”
I slowly inched back into my chair. She’d turned her own children? A sick feeling hit the pit of my stomach. “Were you in danger? Or did she just decide to turn al of you into vampires with her?”
Roman picked up his cigaril o, considered it for a moment, then pinched it out. “Blood Wyne was . . . a possessive mother. After her transformation, she waited very little time before attacking us. Al eight of us—she ordered the guards to hold us down and then fed on us until we were near death. Of course, at that point she forced us to drink from her veins. I’m lucky. I was the oldest. But my sister and brother, twins . . . they were only twelve years old.”
He sounded almost sad, and a mist covered his eyes. “They live forever locked in prepuberty.
They turned on her, ran away together. I last heard of them five hundred years ago, when they terrorized and destroyed a vil age in France.”
“Why? Why would she do that to her own children?” I couldn’t imagine someone loving her children and deciding to turn them into monsters.
“She wanted to build an empire that would last an eternity. She wanted to keep us with her forever, and for al intents and purposes, she managed to accomplish her mission. At least in terms of life span. But we left home, instead of helping her create the kingdom she desired.
Others took care of that desire—vampires who craved the same sense of power. Over the years, she accrued a kingdom, and her children . . . we eventual y went back to her, but only on our terms.”
“Al of you?”
He paused, then said, “Two of my brothers now hang on her skirts. If we’d stayed together from the beginning, we’d rule the world by now. The rest of us agreed to be her emissaries, to help her rule but not from the heart of the throne. She was angry, but final y agreed. She wanted her rule to be visible, but she had to settle for a more sinister existence, ruling from the shadows, letting the mortals go about their business.”
