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It was only the curse of my blood that has kept me alive.
“I am.” He removed his hand from my chin and inclined his head. “Maximillian Starclaw, at your service.”
I stared at the vampire, my mind whirling as I struggled to comprehend what was going on here. Psychoros was one of the four houses of Noxalis, the vampire realm. Each house had its own special ability, gifted by Tenebros, the dark ruler of the underworld and the god of vampires. To House Invictus, he gave the Unyielding Might, a terrifying super-strength that could crush bones into dust with the flick of a finger. To House Stellaris, the everlasting burn of Shadowfire. To House Sanguis Noctis, the Blood Covenant, which allowed them to weaponise blood of any kind. And to Psychoros vampires, the Psychic Shift—otherwise known as telekinesis.
My memories were muddled after decades of imprisonment with only dreams and nightmares to keep me company, but from what I could recall, the Starclaws were the ruling family of House Psychoros. And judging by this vampire’s haughty, aristocratic demeanor and the fact that he had a vampire servant with him rather than a human thrall, I assumed Maximillian held a prominent position in his house’s hierarchy.
“What do you want from me?” I hissed through gritted teeth. If I’d had the full might of my magic, I could have fought back—after all, the vampire could only hold me physically. But after decades of being drained repeatedly by that sarcophagus, I didn’t have a drop of magic left to defend myself with. If this vampire or his lackey wanted to kill me, there wasn't much I could do to prevent it.
“Are you here to use me as a blood bag?” It wouldn’t be the first time. The only thing vampires loved more than human blood was witch blood—the magic in our veins was a lot more compatible with theirs than human magic, and gave their own powers a significant boost. It was the reason they had hunted us when their race had first been cursed with vampirism, and the reason humans and witches had formed the Midnight Accords to protect us from their endless hunter.
To my surprise, the vampire curled his lip. “A blood bag? How unimaginative.” He turned away, as though I'd disappointed him. “Take her, Lucius. We need to be on our way before Highlord Lysander finds out we’re trespassing in his territory.”
“Yes, Sire.” Lucius stepped forward, and the invisible force pressed hard against the sides of my neck, cutting off my oxygen. I tried to fight it, but darkness crept into my vision, and the hard look in his eyes was the last thing I saw before I passed out.
2
“Wake up, child.”
A silvery whisper penetrated the thick, suffocating blanket of sleep, and I blinked my eyes open. A black silk tapestry embroidered with a sparkling network of crisscrossing silver lines hovered above me, and below, a plush mattress cradled my body. The crackling fire to my left threw shadows across the dark chamber, and a strange humming sound emanated from somewhere to my right.
Confusion swamped me, and I tried to sit up. A slight tug at my right wrist halted the motion, and I glanced down to see a fine glass tube poking out of my vein. The tube spiraled upward, connecting to an ornate mechanical device sitting on a table to my right—the source of the strange humming. Golden liquid swirled in the bottom of a crystalline canister in the center of the device, flowing out of the machine and down the tube leading into my body.
Panic seized me, and I yanked the device out of my body. I didn’t know what in all the hells that thing was, and I didn’t want itpumping any more of that mystery fluid into my body. Crimson and golden droplets sprayed across the bedspread, but I ignored the mess as I threw the sheets back, desperate to free myself from the tangle around my legs. My feet sank into the thick pile of carpet covering the floor as I stood, and I wobbled a little as a wave of disorientation washed over me.
But my legs held, and my body felt strong.
Stronger than it had any right to feel after an untold number of decades in captivity.
I knew I should move, but as my weight settled into the ground, the sheer novelty of the position struck me. I was standing—standing—on my own two feet, something I hadn’t been able to do in the long decades I’d been trapped in that accursed sarcophagus. My toes curled into the carpet, and I hesitantly stretched my arms out to the side, then over my head. A simple movement, but one that had been denied to me for so long, I genuinely couldn’t remember the last time I’d done it.
Memories of the two vampires who had entered my temple and freed me from my prison trickled into my mind’s eye, and I gripped one of the bed’s wooden posts for support as it all washed over me. Had that vampire with the starfire eyes brought me to this place? Why had he put me in such a well-appointed chamber instead of his dungeon, and without even chaining me to the bedpost? Did he really think I wouldn’t try to escape?
Letting go of the post, I took one cautious step forward, then two, allowing my body to re-familiarize itself with the concept of walking. It felt strange, being able to move my limbs so freely—I’d been confined to a box made specifically for my proportions, with barely enough room to wiggle, never mind stretch or use mylimbs. By all rights, they should have atrophied, yet here I was. Walking.
Once I was reasonably confident my legs weren’t about to collapse beneath my weight—scant as it was—I moved around the bed so I could explore the room. The bed was massive, its luxurious frame chiseled from ebony wood, the blanket a midnight blue velvet with matching silk sheets beneath. A black marble fireplace crackled to my left, the fire within burning brightly enough to tell me it had been tended to recently. The black and burgundy patterned wallpaper and the crimson velvet curtains hanging on the windows definitely pointed to vampiric tastes.
But my eyes narrowed on the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and the handles of the wardrobe on the other side of the room. They were made from sunsteel, a metal favored by the Aetherions—one of the three races of Heliaris, the human realm. And the machine that had been hooked up to my arm was of Aetherion make too—one of their advanced medical devices, no doubt.
That was strange. Vampires didn’t use aetheric technology. They shunned human inventions as a rule, even going to so far as to reject the Aetherion king’s offer to develop a device capable of transmogrifying animal blood to make it more palatable to vampires. The bloodsucking bastards acted like their immortality made them better than everyone else, but they were just a bunch of prettily dressed corpses stuck in their archaic ways.
I was just about to reach for the heavy brocade curtain covering the windows when the door opened. Turning, I watched as a petite olive-skinned woman entered the room, a glass cannister with the same golden liquid from the machine tucked under onearm. She wore a pair of navy blue coveralls that were zipped open to the waist, revealing an orange shirt underneath, her short, golden curls tucked beneath a matching blue cap.
The woman’s mouth fell open as she sighted me, and to my shock, her green eyes filled with delight. “Phaeros’s beard, you’re awake!” Her cheeks flushed as she nearly dropped the cannister, and she fumbled it back beneath her arm. “Max is going to be—"
I was behind the woman before she finished speaking, my arms wrapped around her neck and underarm in a sleeper hold. She struggled as I squeezed, cutting off her circulation in a way very similar to what Lucius had done to me, and the cannister crashed to the floor, glass and liquid puddling at our feet. I gave an apologetic wince as she sagged in my arms a few seconds later, knowing she’d probably be blamed for the mess.
But if she was a human in House Starclaw’s service, that meant she was a thrall—a brainwashed servant blood-bound to follow her vampire master’s commands. I knew from experience that thralls viciously defended their masters, no matter how badly they were being abused. It didn’t matter how nice or friendly she appeared to be—she was still the enemy.
Careful not to step on broken glass, I carried the unconscious woman to the bed, then searched her body for anything that could be used as a weapon. The belt around her waist was stuffed with a variety of tools—helpful for a mechanic, but useless against vampires—and her pockets were empty except for a pencil and a grease rag. Frustrated, I abandoned my search in favor of the closet. At the very least, I needed to get out of this flimsy nightgown and into something better suited for running.
I opened the closet door, then jerked back in surprise. An array of colorful gowns and tunics hung from the rack, but on thefloor beneath them were my clothes, my armor, and my stakes. I snatched them up from the floor and put them on, cursing as my black leather pants sagged around my bony hips. My armored corset refused to stay on at all, so I abandoned it for a white cotton blouse hanging in the closet. My bandolier was also too wide for my hips, so I slung it over my shoulders, then shrugged my black duster on over it. Lastly, I fitted my vambraces over my forearms. Everything smelled like it had been freshly laundered, and the stakes even looked like they’d been polished.
Why in all the hells would the vampire lord leave my weapons here where I could easily reach them?
I shoved my feet into my leather boots, then stalked over to the curtain and yanked it away to reveal a pair of glass doors. I sucked in a breath at the glittering view beyond, but before I could adjust to the sight, I heard footsteps coming up the hall, and caught the unmistakable scent of a vampire.
“Eliza? Where are you?”
