Page 40 of Blood & Bedlam

Vlad shrugs, rocking my body with his. “Perhaps. Either way, unkillable now.”

Papers rustle when Hecate stands, stretching her arms over her head. “Let’s pick this up in a few days, after the trial. Hit it with fresh eyes.” When her eyes fall on my upturned sketchbook, her brow furrows. With crazy speed, she snatches it up, bringing the sketch I was working on closer to inspect.

“Where did you see this?” she asks, turning the page and pointing at a small scribble on the corner. It’s a doodle that hits me all the time, just a crossing of triangle shapes with half-moon arcs dancing around it.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve always drawn it. Why?”

“I’ve seen this sigil before, but I need to double-check something. Can I borrow this? Just for a few days?”

The urgency in her voice is about the only thing that could let me part with my sketchbook, but we’re desperate for more information. I nod.

“Okay. Good luck to Camille, tomorrow. Talk soon.” With that, the Greek Goddess of Witchcraft turns on her heel and practically rushes out the door like she’s on fire.

Vlad lifts his eyebrows, but it’s clear he has no idea what that was all about either. Before we can get into it, Fleur knocks on the doorframe. His daughter looks pressed and perfectly tailored in her suit, her short hair cropped and artfully arranged on her head.

I glance down at the cutoff shorts and T-shirt I’m rocking and try not to grimace as she looks us over.

“Family meeting. We need a plan for tomorrow, and an exit strategy if this goes south.”

The reminder of what’s at stake tomorrow sobers me to the bone, and the tension in Vlad’s shoulders lets me know he’s just as twisted up about it as I am.

Tomorrow, Cami will fight for her life because of me. I’ll have to come face-to-face with the men who killed Makenna and kidnapped me and drank my blood. The memory weighs on me with every step we take, the feeling of his fangs as they tore into my throat nearly visceral.

Too bad those mythical family powers of mine are nowhere to be found now.

Reine

CHAPTER 20

The whole of Vlad’s family is gathered in the dining room, plates of food piled high on the long table. Gentle conversations accompany the low hum of music coming off the record player, an older jazz number I don’t recognize but feel at ease with. Vlad leads me to the chair next to his, and I barely protest when he insists on drawing it out and pushing me back in. His daughters are seated with their partners, all except Camille, who takes up space at the very end.

Her face is set with determination, the severe blonde ponytail high on her head making her look deadly and regal all at once. Next to her, there’s a man I’ve only seen a few times, but everything about his posture feels like he’s sitting sentry. He’s massive, nearly as tall as Vlad, but bulked out less than Drake. His green eyes glow in the lower light and there’s an animalistic quality about him, almost reptilian, that makes me shudder. The two of them don’t speak, but there’s something in the way they move, almost in tandem as they drink and conversate with the others around them, that feels complete.

Jules gives me a small wave, and I return it gratefully. I’ve been spending most of my time with her and Claire and I feel closer to them, with Camille training for her trial and Fleur running Council meetings. The fine china in front of me is rimmed in dipped gold, the glasses of wine and bourbon tinged darker with what I know is blood, and though the offering smells amazing, I can’t bring myself to find an appetite.

I listen like a stranger looking in from the outside at the way they move as a family, joking and laughing as a unit. Even Camille, who tomorrow faces the possibility of death, participates in conversations. The dark cloud of guilt shrouds over me, and I squirm in my seat thinking about how this is all because of me. If I had never let Makenna talk me into blowing off my overtime shift and going to that vampire ball, she might still be alive. I would be slinging drinks and making crappy art that keeps getting rejected and Vladimir’s daughters would be safe.

The lightness in the air extinguishes immediately when Fleur takes a sip of her drink and clears her throat.

“Tomorrow, we will be expected to be in congress by 4 A.M. for all necessary ritual checks. Neither fighter is permitted any outside enchantments or the use of undisclosed magics. Failure to comply in any way will result in forfeiture and the immediate execution of the offending party. Camille, you will enter the dueling arena at 6:45 A.M., and from then, you will have around fifteen minutes to finish him before the sun rises.” Her eyes are on her sister, who looks eerily calm as she nods.

“I understand.”

Fleur turns to the rest of us, eyes touching on her siblings briefly before focusing on Vlad. “As for the rest of us, we aren’t permitted to intervene in any way. The circle will be spelled, and only the two of them will be allowed to enter. Only one will be permitted to leave.” Fleur sounds nearly mechanical as she lays out in sharp detail how it’s all about to happen, how her sister might die.

I think I might be sick from the anxiety lodging in a knot behind my ribs, the shame flooding down to the hollow of my stomach. This is all because of me. Murmurs of understanding echo around the table, but Vladimir is stoic, eyes far away. We listen to Fleur speak about etiquette, about the expectations of the Royal Family following the trial. The list of duties they’re required to fulfill even if Cami is killed makes my head spin.

“I need some air,” he says, pushing back in his chair. He drops my hand with a gentle squeeze before striding out, pausing only briefly to drop a kiss to the top of Camille’s head. He’s blocking his emotions from me, but I can still feel them, see them written in the worried lines of his brow, the sullen sink of his normally bright eyes. Sorrow, fear, heartbreak. It rattles me, but no one tries to stop him, so I make myself stay put. The door swings quietly shut. I turn my attention back to Fleur, and maybe it’s the nerves or maybe I’m just feeling more comfortable around these people, but I can’t pretend this is normal.

“How can y’all be expected to act like it’s business as usual if Cami doesn’t win tomorrow?” I surprise myself with my outburst, but none of this feels real.

Fleur turns to me, all business gone as her eyes flash. “Because we can’t even entertain the notion that she won’t win.” There’s no catch to her voice, only clear strength.

“We are more than just a family, Reine. I volunteered to do this, and I’d do it again. I don’t want to die, but of my siblings, my death will hurt the family least.” Camille’s words land like a slap to my face. I expect the others to protest, to refute what she says, but they don’t. Anger burns through me when I look around and see their own eyes cast down, looking anywhere but at her.

Camille’s shoulders are back, projecting a larger-than-life aura, but she’s so small. The back of the chair rises high over her shoulders, and the giant of a man next to her dwarfs her in the shadow of fading candlelight. A protective instinct rears up at the sad smile on her face.

“How can you say that?” I’m dumbfounded and pissed that not a single person has spoken up for her—it’s clear they all love their sister. “You think losing you won’t matter?” I shake my head, stunned.