“Libera,” the word was smothered by the tie, the magic sparked, but did not take, the command too convoluted. She bit down on the fabric and focused on the incantation, trying to picture the word in sharp detail in her mind, and imagine the result of the incantation. She saw a flash of light, the match strike of power that she had seen before when she had used it against Lucian, and Cael, and the flame took shining brilliant and souring the air with the metal afterburn of magic.
The cuffs around her wrists slackened but did not spring free. She cursed and tugged against them, feeling some give between her skin and their binding. She wriggled her wrists back and forth and pulled against the chain feeling the slip of her skin against the leather increase until her left hand came free. Her wrist was raw and sore from her efforts, the mark around it glowing an angry red, but she was not about to complain about the injury that set her free.
She pulled the tie from her mouth and reached over to release the buckle on the other wrist cuff, before turning her attention to her ankles, pushing herself free of the sheets that stank of Lucian, and rising unsteadily to her feet like a newborn foal, her legs weak and unreliable.
She put on the black mini-dress and picked up the high heels before staggering through the apartment towards the elevator, her muscles uncoordinated and clumsy as if she had not used them for some time. She bit back her tears, despairing over years of conditioning and practice to obtain the strength to dance, lost seemingly in an eyeblink.
The elevator opened when she hit the button, and she selected the floor that they had come from. Level two.
She put on the high heels and froze as the elevator stopped on level ten. Two vampires got on and regarded her with disinterest, identifying her as a blood slave, and then turned their backs to her as unimportant.
“It is just someone’s blood slave returning to the harem waiting room,” the one on the right dismissed her presence. “Elior is furious.”
“Something is going to go down anytime now,” the one on the left said under his breath. They both turned and looked at her again nervously. She looked vacantly at the doors, and they returned to the conversation. “Elior won’t stand for Lucian’s disrespect much longer. I am amazed he has tolerated it this long.”
“Their fathers are friends,” the other replied. “Elior will keep the peace for that reason alone, but I guarantee the day is coming that Lucian will encounter some very bad luck and find himself in pieces somewhere he will never be found again. Elior is not a man to make an enemy of. He will kill you in a way that no one can trace back to him.
“The wolves are howling at the door and now Robere is in pieces,” the second vampire murmured. “When Elior takes Lucian out, he won’t be doing it kindly. Lucian is going to end up in a cement coffin cooling his heels for a few centuries,” he predicted. “And we will all be better for it.”
“He has a point, though, the blood caste system is outdated, and does not afford vampires opportunities they have earned.”
“Yes, but you don’t just start a war…”
The doors opened on level two, and they parted to let her between them. She walked out onto the green and blue carpet and followed its weaving pattern up the hall as she heard the doors slide shut behind her.
There was a low hum of voices and movement on this level, from the rooms to either side of the hallway, and she felt the creep of tension across the back of her shoulders. All it would take was the wrong person to come out of the wrong door at the wrong time, and she would find herself back on Lucian’s bed, strapped down, or worse.
Someone was scrubbing the blood off the walls, carpet and table in the meeting room when she passed that door. They did not notice her passing. Human, she thought, for a vampire would have turned to see, and she doubted that a vampire would demean themselves with such a menial task.
She counted down four doors and opened it into the harem room, breathing in the scent of blood and sex, food, and fear with revulsion. She looked at her nails, at the gold paint still caked under them, and knew that the daybeds around the walls were used by the vampires to drink, and to rape their harem. Nausea rose, and she fought it back. She wanted to burn the room, set fire to the draperies that crept up the walls and over the ceiling, their decadence hiding the foul purpose of the chamber. But she had to get free, and free these other miserable women whilst she was at it.
“Oboediō,” she commanded instead, a command to obey, and saw the flash of power. She swayed a little, each burst of power draining her further of her already depleted energy. Just a little longer, Cecelia, she told herself. Just a little longer, and a little further. “Stand.”
The women stood with perfect synchronicity, responding to her magic and used to obedience, minds and purposes blanked by the vampires’ blood and hypnotism.
“Follow me.” She opened the door and looked both ways along the hall, before stepping out.
She could hear the shuffle of the women’s feet behind her as she moved back towards the lift, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She tried to calm it, knowing that it would betray her should they encounter a vampire.
The elevator doors slid open and the vampire in there looked surprised as the ten women crowded in, but he did not comment. Lia could feel her heart racing and feel the sweat beading on her forehead. Across the elevator she met the vampire’s eyes.
The doors opened and she pushed through the women to lead them out. They stepped out into an elegant foyer of glossy tiles and static artwork on the walls. Groups of vampires stood around talking pleasantries, whilst a receptionist answered the ringing phone. There was a sliding glass door between her and the outside world, and the night shimmered with rain, the fine haze of drops softening the streetlights.
“Hold on,” the vampire behind her demanded, the sharpness of his tone cutting across the voices of the other vampires, who turned in the direction of his voice, the red Other glimmering in their eyes. “Are you meant to be out here?”
She met Elior’s eyes as he turned from his conversation.
“They are with me,” he said with a slow smile, the Other vivid in his eyes. He stepped forward, smooth and suave in his immaculate and expensive suit, commanding and in utter control of the situation. Lia moved towards him automatically, drawn by his magnetism and authority.
“Aren’t they Lucian’s?”
“And?” Elior arched a brow, challenging the other vampire a hint of danger flashing across his face to caution the questioner. “Hmm, exactly,” he inclined his chin when the vampire withdrew with a muttered apology. “Does anyone else have a problem with me confiscating Lucian’s property?” Elior demanded casting his eyes around the foyer.
Red tinged eyes dropped away, not wanting to challenge the vampire.
“Good, then. Come along,” he said to Lia crisply. “Quickly now, I am very busy.”
She hurried to catch up with him and heard the clatter of high heels across the glossy tiles as the rest of the harem followed, herded by her power like sheep following a shepherd.
The glass doors slid open, and the cold of the night stole her breath, her skin raising into goosebumps, and a shaking setting in immediately.
“This is very interesting,” Elior murmured as he led the way down the street and around the corner.
“Raiden,” she said, her teeth chattering. “Please, Elior.”
He glanced down at her, and took her chin, tilting her face up into the streetlights. “You are still under the influence of Lucian’s blood. How do I know this isn’t a trap?” He demanded.
“Raiden, please,” she managed to get the words out. “Please.”
“I rather do believe that your bond with the wolf is overriding Lucian’s blood, which is evidence of his weakness,” he decided with an air of satisfaction, releasing her. He took out his phone and put it to his ear. She heard the dial tone of it. It rang only once. “Get down to the parking lot and bring Nate with you. Now.”
He continued to the opposite corner of the block and lead them down the sloping drive into the underground car park. Raindrops gathered on the broad shoulders of his expensive suit like crystals, and he shook it off his hair with irritation.
A man and a woman vampire stepped out of the stairwell. The man had the look of a soldier, his hair rigidly cut close to his skull, and a scar above his eyebrow evidence that he had been made and not born a vampire.
The woman was dark haired and eyed, exotically beautiful, and raised her eyebrows with a hint of disapproval. “I did not know that you had been cultivating a harem, Elior.”
“Not my harem,” Elior replied. “You know I dislike them. I have confiscated them from Lucian for his stunt with Robere. Divide these ones into your cars, quickly now, as he is bound to notice soon. I want them secured at my estate before he begins to summon them.
“I am taking this one,” he opened the passenger door of a black Mercedes and took Lia by the elbow, manouvering her into the car. “To the wolf pack, where she came from.”
“Very clever,” the woman approved as she and the man lifted and deposited the other women into two black 4WDs parked to the left of the Mercedes. “Punishing Lucian and placating the wolves at the same time.”
“I am glad you approve, Rebecca,” Elior sneered. “Now get those girls in chains in my safe room. The withdrawals will hit soon enough. Those that survive that, we will free. From the looks of them, we will be burying most. Lucian has not cared for them as he should.” He closed the passenger door and strode over to the driver’s side. He slid in and started the engine.
Lia pulled her seat belt across her. Her limbs were heavy and weak, and she was struggling to keep her eyes open, the last reserves of her energy depleted by the escape attempt. “Will the really die?” She asked him softly.
“Most,” he replied indifferently.
As Elior pulled out of the carpark, she felt as if a hand wrapped around her heart and tugged, and she groaned.
“He is looking for you,” Elior slid her a sideways glance. His eyes went to the rear-view mirror. “It will take him time to locate you, and as the bulk of his harem will be in my safe house, he may overlook you. He may not, but the chances are high.
“He will be too busy, in any case, to look more thoroughly,” he continued. “As I intend to destroy him. He has become entirely too troublesome. It is inconvenient, but it cannot be helped.”
“Raiden,” she whispered. Her head struck the window as Elior turned a corner, it’s weight too great for her to support.
“You are weak due to blood loss. It is normal to keep slaves drained as it keeps them docile, as well as feeds the vampire they serve,” Elior observed with apathy. “You may not survive withdrawing from his blood, as weak as you are.”
She felt the pull stronger, the backlash of it threatening to pull her into unconsciousness.
“It was very convenient of you to effect this escape,” Elior increased his speed. “Losing his harem will weaken him physically, and the public loss of it will weaken him politically. A vampire who cannot keep his harem safe, after all, is hardly a vampire you can trust to lead other vampires.”
She moaned, fighting sleep and the lure of Lucian. They were entering suburbia, the trees becoming regular along the roads, the houses prettier and better maintained. She felt them pass through the edge of the glamour as Elior turned into the werewolf pack’s housing estate.
“It will also strengthen my alliance with the Grenmeyer Pack, to be returning you,” he said almost conversationally.
“Glad I could help,” she whispered.
“Don’t die before I deliver you,” he replied. “Or I will lose any political advantage from the return.”