Cruel Stakes: Vampires & Vices No. 2, page 1
Cruel Stakes
Vampires & Vices No. 2
Nina Walker
Addison & Gray Press
Copyright © 2021 by Nina Walker
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design by Yocla Book Cover Designs
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-950093-23-6
To the ones who saved me
Contents
1. Chapter 1 - Adrian
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
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
A Letter From Nina
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1 - Adrian
I swirl the wine glass until the blood licks the edges. Then I drink, trying to ignore the taste and force my mind somewhere else. As always, it’s impossible. The blood fills my mouth with delicious sensations, and I automatically savor every drop. My fangs burst forward as I swallow, aching for more. My mind goes blissfully numb.
My thoughts travel back to my childhood until I lock on a safe memory––one of the many times I devoured a pomegranate. Every autumn they would come back in season, and I would break them open to gorge on the seeds like they were candy. I cling to that thought as I drink from the wine glass, eyes closed, imagining the blood is the same as that tangy-sweet fruit I once loved so much. The plump crimson seeds would burst, and the juice would run down my cheeks and neck, often staining my tunic or my chest.
In most of my early childhood memories us boys only wore clothing when it was cold. Nakedness was normal for the Hellenes––the Greeks. Another reminder that so much has changed since those far off days of youth. Nakedness has come and gone out of style over the centuries, same as nearly everything else. With every resurgence fads will slightly change, molded to fit the current generations’ tastes, until they eventually no longer resemble the original.
But the pomegranates still grow in Greece.
The buildings corroded, the treasures were stolen by new empires, the culture changed, the language evolved, and even my devout mother’s religion became nothing but myths for twisting into cautionary tales––but the pomegranates stayed.
I finish off the glass and set it down, watching the last beads of blood slide into a little pool at the bottom. I eye it, reminded of a time when I’d have licked the glass clean. There was also a time when I’d have thrown the full glass and shattered it in a fit of rage, going hungry as the blood grew cold. That is, when I drank from a glass at all. Things also used to be entirely different between the vampires and humans. We used to take their lives freely, killing with almost every meal. We’re much more civilized these days . . . well, mostly more civilized.
For now, I find myself settled somewhere between self-loathing of who I’ve become and bitter acceptance of everything I’ve lost.
Blood will always be my tormentor as it is my liberator.
I will always crave it and need it, like an addict bargaining for his next fix. It will always bind me to an afterlife I did not choose and to a woman I hate. Most vampires love their makers, but how could I love Brisa when she took away my agency and made me immortally thirsty against my will? She may claim to love me, I may be one of her eldest sons, but I’m still a single root in her tree, a lone bee in her nest, and a thin thread in her rope.
I close my eyes for another moment, gathering my thoughts as the fog clears, then open my computer and pull up the video conferencing software. It’s a good thing Brisa’s paranoid and refuses to leave France,because if she were here to question me about Hugo’s death, she’d probably sense the truth.
And the last thing the vampire queen needs to know is the truth.
The screen brightens and there she is, the creature who followed me home from The Lyceum after another day of studying at the feet of master philosophers all those lifetimes ago. She’d sunk her teeth into me and stolen my mortality as well as a bright future among my peers. I’d been in agony, begging for my life, when she’d buried me and left me to my own devices three nights later. I crawled from the grave in a wave of bloodthirst and made my way back home. I was lucky the sunrise didn’t get me. Or maybe not, because the deaths that followed have haunted me for centuries.
I had killed my own family––ripping the lives from my wife and our unborn child. And I’ve never forgiven myself or Brisa since.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I smile warmly at her now. “Hello, Mother. You look stunning.”
And she does, she always does. So that’s not a lie. But I will lie to her today, as I learned how to do quickly under her tutelage. I’m still not able to refuse her commands outright. However, lying is a skill I’ve developed as one would slowly introduce poison to their bloodstream in order to become immune. It was painful, slow and terrible, but it was well worth it. Now there’s little she can do to control me unless it’s an outright command.
“Do you find it strange that you call me mother considering we’ve been lovers?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.
My stomach hardens. I was her lover, at first, because I was lost to the bloodlust as many new vampires are. She came to me in my weakest moment and offered me answers and a warm bed. When the years passed and I was able to rise above the bloody haze of youth, my hatred for her grew like an infection, and then I was only her lover because I didn’t want her to question my loyalty. She would’ve killed me if she thought I was a threat. I’ve seen her do it countless times. And I didn’t want to die until I could enact my revenge for what she did to me.
Even to this day, if she calls me to her bed, I will go. And I will hate her even more.
“I will stop calling you mother if you wish.” I laugh, playing her game, and actually I would like nothing better. She commanded me to call her mother when she first found me, and I’ve had no choice but to comply ever since. My real mother was nothing like Brisa. She was kind and warm and spirited. And even though her bones are dust, I often think of her and what could have been.
And then I think of all those I killed, and force my mind blank.
“Hmm,” Brisa muses, “let’s keep “mother” for now. And speaking of, when are you going to visit me?” She smirks at the screen and raises an eyebrow. “I do miss you, darling.”
I’ve been in New Orleans for a handful of decades, and while part of me misses traveling, I’ve already seen all there is to see on this earth while being limited to darkness. As for now, I rather enjoy running the businesses. It gives me something purposeful to do. And as much as some humans hate it––Evangeline comes to mind––our setup protects the humans. If we didn’t have willing donors, we would be forced to go back to murdering for our food. We’d be relegated back to the shadows, hiding among the fringes of society, and most vampires would never stand for that. We’ve gotten a taste of this new way of living and we like the control. Take it away and there would be war, chaos, and endless bloodshed.
And we absolutely can’t bite a human and leave them alive with our venom running through their veins. It makes them far too dangerous to our kind, ruthless hunters who can track our movements and fight us with nearly equal strength. Again, Eva comes to mind.
“Adrian!” Brisa cuts off my thoughts. She turns to face the camera head-on and glares. “Are you paying attention, or are you wasting my time?”
“My apologies.” I’m quick to recover. “As soon as you order me back to France, of course I will come, but for now I am rather busy here. I think you’d like modern day New Orleans. Are you sure you can’t come visit me instead?”
I know she’ll refuse, but I’d love to get her into a position of vulnerability. She is the queen because she is the head of the remaining vampiric bloodlines. She’s worked hard to ensure there are no vampires left to challenge her, and her own maker is long dead. She’s placed strong and loyal princes around her––always sons––but none of us would be able to assume the position of king unless the entire family was gone, save for one.
That will never happen.
And there are no princesses to angle for queen. Brisa has never confessed why she doesn’t turn women, but I know it’s because she doesn’t want anyone to rival her beauty and power. That, and she doesn’t sleep with women, so she can’t use them up the way she does her princes.
“You know I can’t travel anymore,” she sighs dramatically. “I did this to myself.”
And that’s true.
“But at least my new home is beautiful.” She shifts the camera to reveal a room gilded in gold, and my mouth falls open––something that hasn’t happened in ages.
City.
I recognize exactly where she is––the famous city of Versailles. The very same one that King Louis XIV built and was named the capital of the country for years. I always believed in my maker’s ability to get her way but even I’ll admit I didn’t think she’d manage this one.
But she did.
She’s set up in the palace and, if she’s taken over the city, then that means she has achieved a lifelong goal of hers: to compel enough of the governmental officials in France, forcing them to turn over France’s prized jewel. This is something she’s been trying to accomplish since well before we first came out of hiding, but the French people have been better at eluding us compared to many of the others.
“You are amazing,” I respond coolly. “Honestly, Mother, I am in awe of you.”
Her weakness is her own vanity.
“Yes, yes.” Her face relaxes. “Now, what was it you wished to speak to me about?”
This is it. Although she may already know. Makers can sense these things through the blood bonds, but with an ocean between them, it’s a bit diluted.
“Hugo is dead.”
Her face stills, turning to stone. “How did it happen?” she finally asks. Her voice is eerily quiet, a sign of the rage behind her calm exterior.
So she didn’t know. That’s interesting—and promising. Now it’s time to tell her the story I’ve created to protect Eva. The human girl killed Hugo exactly as I had orchestrated, and I’d feel bad about how I manipulated her if she hadn’t come asking for trouble.
“You told him that if he caught my fledgling in a lie, then he could have her for himself,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
She laughs. “That’s right. I almost forgot about that.” I dig my fingers into my chair to keep from outright glaring because I highly doubt that’s true. The woman never forgets anything. “And he succeeded?” Her eyes thin into knowing slits. “Did you bring a hunter into your own home?”
“The girl was foolish and was trying to get in with both groups. The hunters ambushed us in the cemetery and killed Hugo. They almost got me too.” My voice grows angry, “I will avenge my brother, of this I swear.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and the tiny flame of worry ignites in my chest. If she can sense the inferno, then I’m already dead. “And what of the girl? Please tell me she’s dead too.”
“She’s not.” I shrug as if I couldn’t care less about Eva either way. “She wishes to be freed and to live out her life as a human.” I smirk. “I think we scared her away, Mother.” I don’t say anything more. Sometimes it’s imperative to know when to stop and this is one of those moments.
Brisa considers this, and for a moment I’m certain she’s going to order me to kill Eva. I’d have no choice. “Keep her as your prodigy,” she says at last. “We need to watch her closely, but I have a feeling she may be of more use to us. Anyone who has the guts to play both sides is someone I want to entertain.”
“You do enjoy playing games with human lives.”
“Always.” She winks.
Keeping Eva close is the opposite of what I had planned, but at least I don’t have to kill her yet. I nod readily, my anxiety uncoiling like a spring.
“Are you absolutely sure those were hunters who killed Hugo?” she questions.
“Of course.” The lie sounds a little shaky, and I grind my foot into the floor. I’m losing my touch, I can’t let that happen, especially not over a ridiculous human. “Could they have been something else?”
We both know what that something else is I’m referring to. Brisa never likes to talk about them, she says it gives them power. I find that a foolish approach.
“I don’t know.” Her lips thin. “But Hugo isn’t the only prince to have been murdered in the last few weeks.”
This is news.
This is news that could change everything.
Brisa knows it. I know it. And we don’t have to say anything more about it. If I were to question her further, she might suspect me. There are normally seven princes––one for each continent––but Brisa had eight when she sent Hugo and I to North America. He should’ve stayed in Mexico City as we planned, but a few years ago he decided he wanted to be in New Orleans just to spite me. So if he’s gone, and at least one other too, then there can’t be more than six of us left. I’d kill to know who else is gone, but I want to live so I don’t ask.
“Watch your back, Adrianos,” she offers before ending the call abruptly.
I close the computer, my mind whirling with possibility. “You’d better watch your back as well, Mother,” I whisper to the dark. Then I pick up the phone and instruct Kelly to set up a meeting with Evangeline.
Chapter 2
One thing I’ve learned in my nineteen years––vampires are excellent lie detectors. Their heightened senses allow them to smell when adrenaline enters the bloodstream. They can hear when a heart beats faster, and even detect the slightest change in a human’s voice or mannerisms. Lying to one is about the most ridiculous thing a human can do, which is all I can think about as I ride the elevator up to Adrian’s office prepared to lie my butt off. I’ve got to be either the bravest or the dumbest person I know. And I’m leaning toward the latter, but hey, nobody’s perfect.
I was done with him––I never had to come back here ever again.
And that’s the truth. Adrian and I had parted ways. I’d gotten what I wanted, my mother was free of her addictions, and Adrian had no hold over me anymore. I’d figured out that the blood vow was a complete lie, so there was no obligation for me to hold up my end of the deal, and Adrian wasn’t going to make me. Hugo was dead, which was enough to make him happy and forget all about me. Plus, he was going to cover for me with Queen Brisa. It was all tidied away, and that was supposed to be the end of it.
So then why am I surrounded by the familiar reflective gold mirrors of his elevator, heading up to meet with him again? Because like I said, I’m an idiot. A brave idiot, but still an idiot. I never should’ve let Seth convince me to do this, but he knows as well as I that I want to help the hunters––even to my own detriment. I’m pretty sure I am about to regret that entire ideology pretty soon.
I gaze up at the ceiling, and a slightly distorted version of my face reflects back at me. I’m wearing a simple, red tank top and black pants with a wooden stake strapped under my pant leg just above the ankle. Adrian is probably going to freak if he notices it, and he will notice. He always does. Or maybe he doesn’t actually sense the stakes I wear, maybe the man can read me like a book and knows I’m unlikely to go anywhere without one.
I groan and lean back into the corner, biting my bottom lip. I really shouldn’t keep taking these chances. Adrian is a ruthless killer, a vampire prince with centuries of experience in staying alive and killing others to do it. No way am I going to keep getting away with lying to someone like that. He’ll know better. He’ll figure out that I am here as a double agent and he’ll kill me without hesitation. Sure, I can fight––I’ve been working hard in training and this venom from Hugo has enhanced my senses––but I’m still outmatched by Mr. Adrianos “Runs the City” Teresi, aka Adrian.
I reach out toward the red button, ready to turn this elevator around and never look back.
Too late––the elevator dings, and the doors slide open as if to mock me.
