Kristen Painter - Blood Rights

Tepes, as in directly descended from Lord Vlad Tepes. The very count made world-renowned by the kine Bram Stoker and his infamous novel. A purer bloodline one would be hard-pressed to find.

Lord Timotheius, Dominus of the House of Paole, rapped his signet ring on the burled wood table, shivering the flames on the center candelabra. ‘I hereby call to order this meeting of the Families. May it be noted each house is in attendance.’

Tatiana closed her eyes for a brief moment. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t sense Timotheius the way she could the others. How the House of Paole had managed to cultivate their certain type of invisibility confounded her.

One by one, Timotheius nodded to the Dominus of each family. If the Elder could be equated with the prince of a Family, the Dominus was the king. The always male king. ‘Lord Ivan, Dominus of the House of Tepes, your graciousness in hosting this meeting is much appreciated.’

Ivan nodded and motioned for Timotheius to continue as though the five Families met in his mansion every day. Tatiana tried to catch his eye, but his gaze didn’t go beyond those gathered at the table. Still, she knew she had his support. After all, Ivan had been with her from the start. He was the one who had tipped her off about Algernon having the ring and advised her about the covenant. How long had he been planning this? Since he first offered her navitas in secret? The resiring had been a difficult, painful process – dying often was – but at least she had come through the ritual with none of the madness often touted as a side effect.

‘Lord Syler, Dominus of the House of Bathory.’

‘Lord Timotheius.’ Syler waved a hand in response. Curls of dark energy spun off his fingers. Such a deliberate display of power was obviously meant to remind the others of who he was and what he wielded, but to her it recalled a fat old peacock spreading his vulgar feathers. No one needed reminding. Bathory’s dark arts shielded the home city of each Family from kine senses, save those mortals who lived within the walls and worked as staff for the nobility.

‘Lord Grigor, Dominus of the House of Rasputin.’

His face propped against his ring-encrusted hand, Grigor said nothing, just stared with his intense, probing eyes. His house was the youngest, and perhaps the most despised. Of all the gifts of all the houses, those of the Rasputin family made the others most uneasy. No one cared to have their mind read. Tatiana tightened her mental defenses, as invariably all the others in the room did as well.

‘And Lord Zephrim, Dominus of the House of St. Germain.’

Zephrim bowed slightly, smoothing his robes. In her opinion, St. Germain held the least effectual power of all the houses. Alchemy was as useful as wings on a frog. She much preferred the Tepes gift of persuasion. How could she not? Bending others to her will filled her with a deliciously wicked warmth.

Each Family leader occupied his space like a king, face stoic and full of self-importance. Blighty old ratbags, the whole lot of them. Whether they were dancing with their paramours at a ball, chastising a servant or deciding policy, they were no better than she.

‘Tatiana of the House of Tepes, you may bring your petition before the council.’

She rose and bowed slightly. ‘Thank you, Lord Timotheius, esteemed members of the council.’ Besides the Dominus of her own house, she hoped she had the support of Bathory as well. ‘I come before you due to the most unfortunate circumstances, the death of my house’s Elder, Lord Algernon. It is with great sadness but a sense of duty that I petition the council to appoint me Elder in his stead. In doing so, it is my deepest desire that I may prevent any chaos that might erupt from these circumstances and destroy the great name of the House of Tepes.’

Timotheius spoke first. ‘You are the eldest female, but there is an elder male, Crotius, is there not?’

Zephrim laughed. ‘Crotius is a babbling idiot who never should have been turned. Still, he is the eldest—’

‘Tatiana is a wise choice,’ Ivan said.

‘Of course you would side with her,’ Timotheius argued. ‘You are her sire.’

Ivan turned, face indignant. ‘I have sired many of the House of Tepes. I am not recommending any of them .’

How many had he resired? Was that why Crotius was insane? ‘Sire or not, Lord Ivan has a right to his opinion,’ Syler added. There, that was a modicum of support. Not as much as she’d hoped, but something.

Zephrim pounded his fist on the table. ‘I call for Lord Ivan to recuse himself.’

‘And I you,’ Ivan shot back.

‘On what grounds?’

‘On the grounds that your precious potions and chemicals have turned you into an addle-brained idiot.’

Tatiana quelled the urge to nod.

Zephrim jumped up, drawing an amulet from his belt and shaking it at Ivan. ‘Someday, you will bow at the feet of my achievements. Alchemy is our only salvation.’

‘My lords, if I may.’ Tatiana lifted her palms up, a traditional sign of submission. It pained her deeply to posture this way in front of such ancient fools. ‘It is not my wish to create such discord.’

‘Or perhaps it is exactly your wish.’ Grigor eyed her warily from his seat. He hadn’t moved once, just stared at her. Damn his preternatural gift of sight. Had he looked into her? Seen her true purpose? She’d done her best to bury that information. The other lords sat and collected themselves.

Grigor’s gaze continued to bore into her. ‘I suggest we make no decision until Lord Algernon’s murderer is brought to justice.’

Tatiana drew her spine straighter and faced Grigor directly. ‘I believe justice, in its own way, has already been served.’ She turned slowly, making eye contact with each of the Dominus. ‘I visited the comarré’s quarters personally. Stepped over the threshold without need of invitation.’ She finished her sweep by returning to Grigor and opening herself up so that he might see her memories for himself. ‘The comarré is dead.’

‘Death is not an indicator of guilt.’ Grigor’s eyes went down to thin slits.

‘Are you accusing me of something?’ Rage bubbled up in Tatiana’s gut.

Ivan shoved back his chair. ‘That is uncalled for, Lord Grigor.’

Grigor raised his shoulders, then let them fall. ‘There is but one fatal sin among our kind.’

Syler scrolled his finger through the air and words appeared behind it, drawn out by his powerful black magic.

Thou shalt not kill thy brethren. One by one, the words dripped away until the air cleared.

She trembled at what was being suggested. ‘I had nothing to do with Lord Algernon’s death. Nothing. He was … a friend.’

Zephrim snorted. ‘You have no friends, Tatiana. You have acquaintances, those who tolerate you, those who fear you.’ He looked behind her at Mikkel. ‘Those who enjoy your good favor and pray it lasts.’ He shook his head. ‘You are exactly what you’ve striven to become. The best of the worst. The cruelest of the noble. You’ve not only lived up to your house’s reputation, you’ve surpassed it.’ His fingers tapped the tabletop. ‘I believe you recently killed one of your servants, did you not?’

‘Remuneration has already been sent to the family,’ she said. Those who came to work for the Families knew what they were getting into. Most hoped to earn the bite that would forever change their future.

He stood. ‘As to Grigor’s suggestion that no decision be made until Lord Algernon’s murderer is found … I second it.’

‘Motion passed.’ Timotheius rapped his ring on the table again. ‘The council is adjourned.’

‘Nothos,’ Chrysabelle spat out the word. ‘I thought you were dead.’