House of Pawns

  “Best of luck,” I growl as I stalk through the house. I’m so angry that I don’t even notice how the house is still deadly quiet and still, or that it’s still only six AM. “Best of luck.”

  I pound on Rath’s door, the one to the room I insisted he stay in, even when he wanted to move back out into the workers house. I don’t wait for him to reply. I let myself in and find myself engulfed in darkness.

  “Jasmine has just made her first move,” I growl as I flip the light on.

  I jump half a foot back when a knife embeds itself in the wall just a millimeter from my left shoulder and wobbles back and forth.

  Maybe it’s just my fear, maybe it’s the early morning, maybe it’s just because Jasmine is on my mind, but I swear when I look back at Rath, I see the briefest flash of red in his eyes.

  It’s not there now, but he looks angry, then confused, and then his expression settles back into its calm demeanor.

  Seeing Rath lying in a bed, sleeping, is more unsettling than it should be. I’ve never seen him sleep. I’ve never heard him talk of sleeping. Up until now, I wasn’t sure he even did. But there he is, laying half out of his blankets.

  The most shocking thing about the entire scene is the mess of scars that cover his bare torso, stretching around his side, and extending onto his back.

  “Sorry,” I say, everything momentarily throwing me off of my angry rampage.

  He slides off the bed and reaches for a t-shirt. When he does so, I get a full view of his back. Angry scars lace in every direction. His skin is a mess of scar tissue.

  I try not to stare, but the look Rath allows for just a brief second after he pulls the shirt down over his head and looks at me says I was.

  “Now, what are you bursting into my room for?” he says quietly as he also pulls a robe on over his boxers.

  I stutter and struggle for words. Everything I’m seeing has my mind reeling. Rath sleeping, wearing boxers and t-shirts, is so human, normal, and mundane for him. But those scars and his instinct upon being woken so suddenly—that doesn’t come without a dark, dark story.

  “Um, here, you should look at this,” I hand him the newspaper as we both walk out of his room. When we get out into the hallway, I hear noises from the kitchen, signs that Katina has arrived for her duties this morning.

  Rath takes the paper and begins reading.

  “What’s going on?”

  I look up to see Ian standing just outside the dining room.

  “I heard you from upstairs,” he offers. “Could hear you cursing clear down the driveway.”

  “For good reason,” I growl.

  We all head into the dining room. It’s still dark out. Christmas is just days away and we’re in the dead of winter. The chill throughout the house is palpable.

  “Jasmine is making some kind of move,” I say, too keyed up to sit. I stand with my hands on the back of one of the chairs. The table is huge. It is currently set up to seat eighteen people and the split across the middle makes me think it can be expanded to fit more.

  Rath hands the newspaper to Ian. “The timing of the article is peculiar.”

  “It’s nothing more than a power move!” I nearly shout. “I’d expect something like this if it were the hundred year anniversary, but that was like, forty-five years ago. It’s not even a one hundred and fifty year anniversary. Besides, this is December. That happened in October.”

  “I don’t think you are mistaken in this, Alivia,” Rath says. “She has something up her sleeve with this.

  “She’s trying to make the town remember how much they hate the Conraths, how much they’re afraid of your family,” Ian says as he finishes reading the article. “She’s trying to turn the town against you.”

  “Like they needed any more effort put into that,” I growl. “They’re already afraid of me.”

  “It may be true, and that might be Jasmine’s objective,” Rath says as he folds his hands on the table. It doesn’t have quite the normal regal effect since he’s wearing that robe. “But it isn’t a particularly logical move. By doing this, she is essentially declaring war against you, Alivia. But she still needs you if she wants to return honor to the House. Without you, she gains no connections.”

  “Rath is right,” Ian agrees. Beth suddenly appears, bringing mugs and a pot of coffee. “What does she have to gain by isolating you from the rest of the town?”

  And suddenly, it clicks.

  “The night I went to the House to die,” I start. “I talked to Anna, one of the House members. She used to be a rouge, off on her own. She said it was the loneliness she couldn’t stand. She told me that she had a theory that I’d only keep myself apart from the House for so long. That eventually, I would need someone who understood what it was like to be a Born.”

  “Jasmine is isolating you from other humans,” Rath says.

  “So that you’ll turn to the House for companionship.” Ian says it with spite.

  Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Beth offers as she finishes pouring all the coffee. Really, it seems like an escape route to get away from us.

  Ian’s eyes flash red for a brief moment as all our attention is turned toward the door. Rath’s shoulders tense, Ian stands. Even I grab for a stake that I hid in the potted plant on the buffet table.

  Beth lets out a little noise of fear, and we hear her scuttle off.

  A collective breath is let out when it’s Lillian who steps through the door.

  “Well,” she says, looking perplexed when she steps through. “We’re all just a little on edge today.” She literally takes a step back when she sees Ian. “And alive?”

  He doesn’t say anything in return, but his eyes are glowing and fading like embers at the bottom of the fire. He’s ready for a fight if that’s what is needed.

  But this is Lillian.

  “Now, this is a surprise,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him and then turning to me. “Interesting turn of events.”

  I offer her a small smile, but I’m really not sure what to be right now. I’m on edge, angry, but also extremely happy to see her. “You’re here.”

  “I am,” she offers as she takes a seat at the table. “I feel the world beginning to shift and I slide to who I think holds the most weight and right.”

  “I appreciate you coming here,” I say. My head is spinning. There are a million things going on, a million landmines to carefully toe around. My first move to gain my first House member must be made with caution. “I’m really happy to see you, Lillian.”

  A warm smile pulls at her lips. “Well, it certainly has been an interesting couple of days. Jasmine has told us some disquieting news—that you’ve declared war on her.”

  None of us says anything. We hold our breath, waiting to see what her reaction is going to be to me saying I will take the House from Jasmine.

  “My car is out front and I’m hoping you have a room for me in this big house.” The smile on her face grows as mischief brightens her eyes.

  A relieved and slightly disbelieving chuckle escapes my lips. I cross the space and wrap my arms around her shoulders in a hug. “Thank you,” I say.

  “I told you before that I thought you were born to do this,” she says as she squeezes me back.

  I smile again, but when I open my eyes, they meet Ian’s.

  And all I see there is trepidation and disappointment.

  “Before you decide to join me,” I begin as a cement ball starts to form in my stomach, “there’s something you need to first know. I think the King has sent a spy to watch me. This means it won’t be long until the King arrives.”

  Lillian’s face blanches slightly, and I see her swallow once. The gears are turning in her head, over and over, evaluating the implications of what I just said.

  “The King was going to come one way or another,” she answers. “Better he comes with you already in leadership, with your own allies, than come with you being used as Jasmine’s pawn.”

/>   “Do you know anything about the article in the paper this morning?” Ian asks. There’s a sharp edge to his voice. He’s talking to a House member, face to face, and he has to be nice about it—for my sake.

  Rath slides the paper across the table and Lillian takes it.

  “She never said anything to us,” Lillian says as she scans the article. “But it seems like a move Jasmine would make.”

  I’m about to comment, when Ian and Lillian both perk up at the same time. They both turn to face the window and their eyes flash red.

  “What is it?” I ask in a whisper. Without thinking, my knees have bent and my hand clasps around the stake tighter. I gaze out the window, but I can’t see anything through the darkness.

  Ian is suddenly gone and I hear the front door open.

  Rath is on his feet, retrieving a crossbow from the buffet table I didn’t know was there. Lillian is on her feet, and she backs up toward me, as if guarding me.

  “What’s going on?” I demand.

  “I heard someone out there,” she says. Her voice hisses just slightly. “Breathing, quiet and low, like they were trying to hide. I know I saw a silhouette.”

  “The spy,” Rath says as he crouches beside the window, pulling back the Gaussian curtains.

  I step out from behind Lillian and start for the front door. My insides quiver slightly. I’m just a girl still, just a human woman from Colorado who likes to bake and watch bad nineties teen comedies. But right now, I have to be a ruler. A leader of Born vampires.

  “What are you doing?” Rath growls as he watches me go.

  “I’m not hiding.” My voice holds confidence, and as I say it, I feel it grow inside of me.

  I step out onto the front step, feeling the brisk morning air seep into my clothes and snake up my back.

  “My name is Alivia Ryan,” I say loudly into the dark as Lillian and Rath step up behind me. “I am the daughter of Henry Conrath. A Born Royal. You can tell your King he doesn’t need to spy on me. Tell him to come and talk to me face to face.”

  Only darkness answers me back.

  There’s no sign of the spy. No traces of Ian.

  But here I am. Not hiding from my destiny.

  I will not hide who I am.

  “TELL ME AGAIN WHY WE’RE doing this,” Ian says as he switches the blood bag for a new one.

  I look down at the red tube connecting the needle that resides in my forearm to the fresh, new blood bag. I’m starting to feel slightly lightheaded.

  “Who knows what is going to happen when the King comes,” I say, focusing on calming my racing heart. If I’m going to lie, I have to do it well to fool Ian. He was difficult to lie to before. Now, he can hear my heart race and smell the sweat that breaks out on my palms. “I just want to be prepared. If I get injured. If anyone in this House does. I’m a universal donor and we won’t exactly be able to race into a hospital with bite wounds and claw marks.”

  Ian swears and shakes his head. His gloved hands carefully hold the bag that is slowly filling up with my blood. “I’m not even sure your blood is going to be safe, Liv. I bit you. I’m sure some of the vampire toxin is going to be in your system.”

  “Not enough to hurt anyone,” I reassure him. I take his free, gloved hand in mine and squeeze. “Thank you for doing this. Despite it being my own blood that’s draining out of me, it’s actually kind of nice seeing you back in your element.”

  This does bring the smallest of smiles back to his face. “I will admit it, I’ve missed working.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever be able to go back to it?” I ask as he caps off the second bag. Using careful, practiced hands, he takes the needle out and sets about cleaning up the mess.

  He shrugs. “I doubt it. There’s a lot of blood involved in being an EMT. I’m not sure I’d be able to control myself.” There’s a truckload of self-loathing in that statement.

  “You’ve done an amazing job so far,” I say softly. “Look at what you’ve been doing the last three days. You have amazing self-control.”

  It took some major convincing, but I talked Ian into draining fifty percent more blood than what is supposed to be done per day. I need as much as I can manage in the next few days. Rath had a fridge installed in the office just for the bags I plan to fill it with.

  “It’s one thing when it’s you,” Ian says when he’s finished disposing of everything in the trash he brought over to the edge of my bed, where we’re doing the bloody deed. “I think it will be entirely different with a stranger. Besides,” he says with a sigh, “my hours were always super irregular. What happens when they need me to work a day shift and I can’t go out without wishing I would die because my eyes feel like they’re exploding in my head?”

  “How has it been so far?” I ask as I take his hand in mine and place his palm flat against my cheek. It’s ten in the morning. The curtains in my room are pulled shut, only a tiny amount of light trickles through the sides of them. I can barely see anything at all, but Ian managed with no trouble. “Is the light bothering you right now?”

  He shakes his head. “Not really. But it’s weird, like I can sense how light it is outside. Every fiber of my being is aware of how bright it is outside and there’s this feeling of unease. It’s kind of hard to describe.”

  I nod, enjoying the sensation it brings against my cheek when I do so. “It makes sense.”

  “Trying to sleep is damn near impossible,” he says as he rubs a thumb over my cheek. I let my eyes slide closed in enjoyment. “When you hear every tiny little sound happening in this gigantic house of yours. Hear the housekeepers. Hear Rath pacing in the library. Hear you breathe.”

  A small smile comes over my lips, but I keep my eyes closed.

  “And my mind is always racing a million miles a minute,” he says softly. “Thinking about everything I am. Thinking about the King. About you creating your own House. Everything.”

  “Did you find any answers last night?” I change the subject because I just don’t want to go toward the road Ian is looking down. Last night, Ian left to go search for clues at the Ward property as to why he is back from the dead.

  His lips form into a thin line and he shakes his head. “I went through the shed. There was a bunch of boxes of old crap: clothes, yearbooks, just stuff. But nothing that was helpful.”

  “We’ll find answers soon,” I promise him, knowing I can’t really keep it.

  My heart feels as if it sinks a little lower in my chest. I don’t want to think about his past right now. Don’t want to think about lying family or unforeseeable circumstances.

  I just want to feel Ian. Feel him against me. Feel the breath in his chest and the pulse in his neck as I place my lips there.

  I blink slow, studying him, and lace my fingers behind his neck. I shift my position so that I’m straddling his lap.

  “Do you sometimes just want to sit and wonder at the miracle that we’ve been handed?” I say quietly as I study his eyes. A deep, dark flare of red sparks in his eyes. Just a tiny bit. “That you were dead. We knew we had an expiration date, that once I resurrected, we’d be finished. And now…”

  I lean into him, feeling his body wake to life. My lips kiss their way across his jawline, over the weeklong growth there. I kind of like it. My lips trail to his neck. “Not many people get second chances like this.”

  Ian’s hands slide over my back, one slipping under my sweater to brush over my bare skin. His hands are warm and big enough for me to feel the comfort of their strength. “I know we’ve both been distracted the last week,” he says as he lets me trace my tongue over his neck. “But I promise, it hasn’t been lost on me that this is a miracle. More than I ever could have asked for.”

  I’m so incredibly grateful that he doesn’t mope and cry about it being in a way he never wanted.

  Ian rolls and pins my back to the bed. My legs part around him and he presses his pelvis into mine. Every female nerve ending in me goes crazy. I place my hands on either side of his fac
e and he brings his lips to mine. His lips are hungry and demanding. His tongue is invasive.

  But there is always that slight hesitance when we are together. The part of himself that he holds back and keeps in control. Ian is a virgin. And I love that about him.

  It makes me feel safe.

  It also makes me want him like I’ve never wanted anything in my life.

  Us. Here. Like this. It changes everything we ever thought before about Ian and Alivia.

  Ian kisses his way down my neck, over my chest, and between my breasts. But they’re slow, reverent. When he’s over my heart, he lingers with his eyes closed.

  “It’s such a strong sound,” he says quietly. A tiny smile rests on his lips. “I’ve listened to a lot of heartbeats over the span of my career. It never held the same significance until now.”

  I bring my hands back up to the sides of his face and he shifts to look me in the eye. There’s still that same deep red glow. But I’m not afraid. Ian wouldn’t hurt me. This is my Ian, and here we are, defying odds and death.

  “You and I,” I say as I study those eyes as best I can in the dark. “We once had an expiration date. Now, we have forever before us.”

  And I know this is something far more than lust and like when I see his entire face soften.

  I barely hear him whisper the word “forever” as his lips come back to mine.

  I’ve just slipped Ian’s shirt over his head when something comes shattering through the window. An animalistic growl erupts from Ian’s throat, and suddenly he’s gone. I see the flames lick around Ian’s hand as he picks it up and realize it’s a glass bottle with a flaming rag poking out the top just before he throws it back out the window.

  And then with a pained hiss, Ian ducks into the corner as the mid-day light pours through the broken window.

  I stand and cross the room, horror filling my face.

  Out on the lawn, down a little ways, because I’m sure they were too scared to come any closer to the house, is a burning cross.

  It’s huge, maybe twelve feet tall. Flames lick up its length and stretch toward the sky. But even through the flames, I can see the name CONRATH written into the wood.