Between Bloode and Craft: Between the Shadows, page 1
Between Bloode and Craft
Between the Shadows
Marie Harte
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and plot points stem from the writer’s imagination. They are fictitious and not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental.
BETWEEN BLOODE AND STONE
ISBN-13: 978-1642920659
Copyright © December 2021 by Marie Harte
No Box Books
Cover by Well Covered Books
All Rights Are Reserved. None of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for reviews or promotion. http://marieharte.com
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BETWEEN THE SHADOWS
Between Bloode and Stone
Between Bloode and Craft
Between Bloode and Water
Between Bloode and Wolf
Between Bloode and Death
Between Bloode and Gods
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Glossary
Also by Marie
About the Author
1
SW Queen Anne Greenbelt
Seattle, Washington
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me.” Macy Bishop-Dunwich had no authority to apprehend a class seven threat. But she needed information. Like yesterday. “Hello? I need you to step away from the men you’re assaulting.”
The long-haired upir standing over a burly, unconscious man and his musclebound friend, crying and clutching a broken wrist, didn’t answer her.
Typical.
But then, she hadn’t expected compliance. As a whole, the magir—those creatures other than human, no matter what they looked like on the outside—didn’t like being told what to do. But vampires took obstinacy and danger to another level entirely.
The moonlight overhead was spotty at best, but the crunch of dead and dying leaves, in addition to all the sobbing, sounded overly loud in the October night. Fortunately, all the civilians had cleared out, no doubt affected by the spell of oppressive dread Macy had dropped earlier. Something she wasn’t exactly cleared to be using.
With time of the essence, she needed to wrap up this mess before a Special Forces patrol from the Magir Enforcement Command arrived. MEC didn’t mess around.
A small part of her wondered if she’d need to scramble the minds of the injured humans. That might be fun, to convince them they’d been on a date together after hearing the way they’d talked about a woman they’d seen. Not nice, by half. Or she could convince them that they’d beaten each other up. She grinned. Maybe that they’d been chasing Big Foot and had finally caught him? An article in Searching the Needle Weekly about a Yeti sighting had been super amusing, and she wanted to use it somehow.
Then again, if she waited long enough, the vampire would probably solve her problem by killing them both. But what a waste of blood.
Wait. What?
She shook her head, reminding herself to stop watching horror movie marathons where she sided with the monsters over the people. Blood—bad. Helping—good.
Gah. Focus, you idiot.
In a deep, menacing voice, the upir growled at the crying man on the ground. “I’m waiting for my apology, human. Make it a good one or I’ll drain you dry before feeding the marrow in your bones to my kin.”
Macy rolled her eyes. Why did vampires always have to be so damn dramatic?
She cleared her throat. Loudly. Keep it contained. “Hey, Mister Bone Marrow, I’m talking to you.”
The vampire kicked the still-conscious man so hard he flew off the ground like a soccer ball. The poor guy hit a tree then fell to the grass facedown, unmoving.
Bone Marrow slowly turned to face her.
If she hadn’t already dealt with the best-looking guy she’d ever seen in her life, she might have been impressed. But a month after flirting with God’s gift to vampires, she felt oddly indifferent to this one.
Bone Marrow was upir, as that tribe controlled the west coast of the United States. And with that the case, he had to be one of the local clan, the Seattle Bloode. Like all vampires, he had dark hair and dark eyes, his particular skin color a pale cream. Contrary to myth, vampires, those Of the Bloode, came in all shades, but they had a few things in common. Every vampire was male, and they were all a huge pain the ass, too powerful to be ruled by other magir, demons, or even gods.
Even gods.
What the hell am I doing here? Her heart raced as the full import of what she’d been up to for the past month and a half hit her.
Bone Marrow cocked his head and stared at her, as if unsure how to deal with such a foolish human who didn’t know better than to be afraid.
Macy hadn’t bolted in fear. She hadn’t screamed for help. And she hadn’t immediately flocked to his side, enthralled by his looks or seductive power. A conundrum for the most feared predators of the magir community. Every paranormal non-human did their best to avoid vampires.
I really need to rethink my life choices.
“Who are you?” The upir licked his lips and smiled, hiding his fangs behind a full, handsome mouth. “And why haven’t we met before?” He looked her up and down, his grin broadening. “I bet you taste as sweet as you look. Come to me.”
A very guy thing to do, vampire or not. His kind seemed to be very slow to the idea of gender equality. Well, in all honesty, they were slow to the idea of human equality, so she shouldn’t knock him too hard for being true to form.
“Look, I understand the city is your hunting ground, but you can’t just break people or kill them on a whim.” She paused, because his gaze had fastened to her breasts.
“Of course I can,” he said with a winsome smile. “You can’t control me, woman.” He opened his mouth wider to show sharp, white fangs that elongated. “I’m upir, of the Seattle Bloode. Now come to me that I may feed. Perhaps on more than just your neck, if you’re lucky.”
She blinked, and he was on her. So fucking fast.
But as she exhaled a breath into his face, he froze in place.
Relieved the spell worked, Macy pretended she’d known all along she’d have control and smiled as she stepped back. “No, my friend. You aren’t in charge here. I am.” She freaking loved the power coursing through her. With the aid of her secret grimoire, she was working magic that should have been impossible.
Like managing vampires.
Considering that just a few dozen Of the Bloode could wipe out hundreds of human and magir with little effort, she should know better than to involve herself in vampire politics. But Macy refused to be stuck in the Spells & Incantations branch of MEC forever. She had plans.
“Tell me what I want to know about the new clan in town. Why hasn’t your patriarch killed them yet?”
She ignored the pang inside her at the thought of one particular vampire dying and knew herself to be a fool because of it. Duncan had intended to play her from the beginning. But oh, had turning the tables on him been fun for a short time.
Just thinking about sexy Duncan with his bedroom eyes and sexy British accent made her heart race, and she had to force herself to focus on the task at hand. Her spell wrapped around the upir, threading into his mind and taking hold.
“C-clan? N-no.” He couldn’t even blink, able only to speak. “Patriarch... not... can’t kill.”
“Tell me, upir, tell this pretty witch the truth and she might give you what you most desire,” she teased and shifted her hair to expose her neck. “Who are they? What do they want here?”
He swallowed. “They are... the Night Bloode.”
She kept hearing rumors of vampire politics heating up, but no mention of Duncan’s clan, which had intrigued her from the get-go. A new group of upir in Seattle was big news. “Is Duncan new?” MEC knew all the faces of the Seattle Bloode, something they mandated every one of their people commit to memory.
Because typically, crossing those Of the Bloode meant death.
His eyes widened. “I don’t know any Duncan. Not... kin. Not upir.”
Not upir? “Are the Night Bloode aiming to take over Seattle?”
He shook his head. “Don’t know. But th-they’re too strong. They’re... more.”
She didn’t know what that meant, but then, her knowledge of vampires was limited to what she’d been able to find out without letting anyone know she’d been researching. Even working a spell on Duncan, she’d only been a
So if the Night Bloode weren’t trying to take over the Seattle Bloode’s territory, what were they up to? How could they be here, in the vicinity of another clan, and not be fighting until the death? Just how powerful was Duncan, really?
Why the hell do I care?
A good question she’d brush aside right now, because a subtle chime on her phone sounded. MEC would be here in five minutes, tops. She leaned closer to the upir, blew her breath over his lips, and whispered, “I was never here. We never had this conversation. You will remember nothing more than a denied need to feed, recalling that your boss won’t allow it. Go home.”
She felt the press of MEC enforcers nearing, all that power interfering with her spell of dread. Time to go.
The upir nodded. “Have to get back before Eric finds out and loses his shit. Can’t be here. Don’t want attention.”
Macy darted away, erasing her power signature with another spell, this one easy enough to manage without the help of anything but her innate knowledge of witchcraft.
She hustled down the road and eventually into her car then sped away.
But she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She fought against a familiar block, wanting her best friend despite her recent need for privacy. I need to study the grimoire some more, to learn all its secrets. To practice and commit the magic to memory. Yet... Cho. She hadn’t seen her best friend in forever, and that wasn’t like her.
Without letting herself think about it, she turned around and headed for Fremont. Like Macy, Cho had something to prove and a host of people who loved him but didn’t understand what it was like to be different.
If anyone could help her understand vampires, it was her half-demon friend with an agenda of his own.
“Are you on crack?”
“Um, no?” Macy hadn’t been expecting all the negativity.
“Macy, you’re a witch, a beautiful human in the prime of her life who can tap into magic. That’s like catnip to fangers.” Cho ran a hand through his thick dark hair, which now reached his shoulders.
“You need a haircut.”
“I’m growing it to enhance my strength,” he snarled. The name Cho, short for the Russian word chort (which meant demon), had been lovingly bestowed on him by his badass demon father, a former prince of Hell. Uncle Anton used to scare the bejesus out of her before she’d realized he wasn’t like most of hellrazers, his kind nature a trait he’d passed down to his stubborn son, another anomaly with a lot of attitude.
Thomas “Cho” Novak stood several inches taller than Macy. Tall, dark, and handsome, he looked a lot like his mom, a lovely Chilean woman tougher than any enforcer Macy had ever met. But Cho’s father had given her friend the dark eyes that could turn orange when he grew angry or impassioned about a subject. And of course, the occasional wings, horns, and limited power over fire.
Too close to be anything but family, she and Cho told each other everything.
Normally.
But she hadn’t mentioned Duncan. And she sure as heck hadn’t told Cho about how she’d found a book that absorbed blood. Or the way she’d been drawn to that particular store to find that particular grimoire, which had expanded her magic beyond anything she might have imagined.
“What is going on with you? Macy, you don’t cross the street unless you’re at a crosswalk or the light is green.”
“Because that’s safe.”
“You’ve never stayed out past curfew.”
“I’ve never had a curfew.”
He pointed at her. “Ah-ha. Exactly. You never needed one because you got straight A’s, never dated, and never partied. You don’t even color outside the lines.”
“I like order. What’s wrong with that?” Besides it being no fun.
“Nothing. But that’s why this behavior is so unlike you.” He shook his head. “You’re acting more like me. And that scares me.” He grinned to take the sting out, but she felt judged all the same. “Now don’t look like that. I love you no matter what, but I’m worried. Tell me again why you want to know about vampires. And while you’re at it, tell me what you’ve been hiding from me for the past few weeks.”
“Hiding? Heh.” She faked a laugh he wasn’t buying.
“Sad. So pathetic, you and all your lying. That you’re criminally bad at.”
“Cho, that’s mean.”
He smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes, which sparked with flame. “Don’t make me pull it out of you.” By tickling, which she absolutely hated.
“Fine. I’ll tell you... But after you fill me in on vampires.”
“Swear?” He looked as if he didn’t believe her.
“Cho, that hurts.”
He continued to stare at her.
“Fine. I promise I’ll tell.” They hooked pinkies, then he filled her in on what she was up against. And it wasn’t pretty.
2
Cho took a deep breath and let it out as he settled next to Macy on the couch. The small cottage he called home sat between two larger remodeled houses on a quiet street in Fremont. A few blocks away, his parents lived equally quiet lives. On the surface.
Since both worked for MEC, they had lively-enough jobs. A lot like her own parents. All of them working to protect humanity and their fellow magir.
Which made growing her knowledge about how to handle new vampires in town crucial. She’d meant to learn all she could after meeting Duncan. But for one reason or another, she hadn’t had the time to look into blood-drinkers. Odd.
“You know those Of the Bloode look down on us non-vamps,” Cho said. “They refer to us as ‘lesser beings.’”
“Assholes.”
“They really are.” Cho agreed. “Okay, the basics—there are ten tribes of vampires. Each tribe is anywhere from a thousand to fifty thousand strong. They’re all male and all powerful, and each tribe has different gifts. Strigoi seduce mortals, change into ravens, and are pretty fierce among their kind. Vrykos can hypnotize prey, tend to be bigger than other vamps, and are drawn to water. Revenants tend to be super fast, super smart, and can also assume the shape of a raven. Upir are—”
“I know about the ten tribes.” Impatient to get to what she didn’t know, she motioned him to move along.
He frowned. “I will not be rushed. Facts are important.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Each tribe is made up of individual clans. Clans have, like, anywhere from ten to sixty members. Within a clan, they refer to themselves as kin. Family.”
“An odd concept for vampires.”
“Yeah. But outside the clan, none of them get along. You know tribes hate other tribes. Well, clans hate other clans, even in the same tribe. The only thing stopping them all from wiping each other out is the strength of their leaders. For clans it’s a patriarch. For tribes, a master. The master controls the patriarchs of his clans.”
“So a master could have control over what? Like, up to fifty patriarchs spaced over thousands of miles?” Now that was some kind of powerful.
“Think bigger. Rumor has it a few masters have the strength to control all their members. Not just through the patriarchs.”
She blinked. “Like, one guy controlling thousands of vampires?”
Cho nodded. “Ever heard of Master Vampire Atanase? He’s a strigoi and supposedly controls all of his kind mind-to-mind. I don’t know if that’s fact, but people talk about him in whispers. What I do know is that MEC has reports of him killing and drinking down his own people when not butchering nearby lycan packs and witch covens. That guy is seriously messed up and starting a new magir war in Europe.”
