Page 24 of Blood as Sweet as Roses

Crimson

“Are you certain it’s Cedric Ducharme?” I ask, leaning forward on my throne.

Murad stands at the center of the war room, flanked by two other Night vampires.

He frowns, arms crossed. “Yes. He’s responsible for the increase of glow in the city, and for its potency.

We could cut off his supply. I believe it’s the independent witches that are aiding him, in which case we could hinder their operation by attacking their base in the Latin Quarter.

That would probably send a clear message. ”

“Or,” Alin suggests, boldly. “We could produce our own glow. I know a few of the independent witches, and some of them practice potion-making. It’s possible we could compete…”

Murad nods thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea. With our infrastructure, we could probably establish a relatively high-margin production. We could undercut his market easily.”

Alin’s eyes shine. He looks over at me eagerly.

“Fine,” I shrug. “Alin, you investigate the potential costs and opportunity. Run it by Murad first for consultation, then send me the completed proposal.”

“I’ll get started immediately, Crimson,” Alin says.

Before we can discuss it further, the double iron doors to the war room open with a boom. Sabina rushes in, her long jacket billowing behind her.

Murad and Alin turn toward the disruption, and I rise from my throne.

“What happened?” I demand.

“Bad news, Crimson,” she says grimly.

One of our vampire guards follows her through the door. In his arms he carries a limp, pale body. I feel myself tense and then go still.

Freckles. Curly hair.

Cassandra.

She’s wrapped in bright red material.

Murad bends over the deanimated corpse, a hard sadness in his eyes. “Staked and drained. And in a red cape.”

“It’s obviously a message,” Sabina says.

“Where did you find her?” I ask.

“She was outside the mansion,” she replies. “At the gates.”

My fingers curl into fists. That’s too close. Much too close.

“Who was patrolling with her last night?” I demand, stepping down from my throne and surveying the attending vampires with a steely glare.

Thomas steps forward from his position at the side of the war room. He’s visibly quaking. “It was…me, my king. After we came back from our shift, she said she was going out again. She didn’t say where.”

I close the distance between us in a millisecond, grabbing him by the collar.

“You let her go on her own?” I hiss.

“I…I’m sorry, sir…she insisted on going! You know how Cassandra is…how she was…”

I narrow my eyes. “Did she say anything about where she was going? If she was meeting someone?”

He shakes his head frantically, his fangs protruding in fear. I tighten my grip, pulling him closer.

“You swear you don’t know anything?”

“I swear on my grave! She left last night, and I didn’t see her again!”

Furious, I throw him to the ground. I address all of the vampires in the room. “Nobody leaves the mansion alone, do you hear me? If anyone else is staked, their partners will be thrown in locked coffins as punishment. I will not lose more vampires, and I will not have Oana disrespecting our clan.”

Thomas scrambles to his feet, staring at Cassandra’s body with wide eyes.

“Bury her,” I command him. “But get that fucking cape off of her first.”

“Y-yes, Crimson,” he says. He takes her body from the other vampire, and swiftly exits the war room.

Now I round on Sabina. I’m sure my tone is unnecessarily sharp, but I don’t care.

“Get me Damien Cross,” I growl.

She nods, then gestures to one of the other vampires standing at the back of the room. From behind a curtain, he pulls out a full-length, gilded mirror, and carries it to the center of the war room. The brassy frame of the mirror billows out around it in a curved, elegant design.

Sabina stands before it, and brings her hands up, whispering an incantation. Green light glows between her fingers. In a smooth gesture, she directs the energy toward the mirror, which then swirls like a vortex in its depths.

After a moment, the green energy parts to reveal the form of a man. He stands tall, wearing a dark leather vest and crisp dress pants. He has copper skin and long locs that drape over his shoulders, each tipped with gold. His dark brown eyes flash red when he sees me.

“Hello, Crim,” he says with a frown. “I assume if you’re calling me this way, it’s not good news.”

“Unfortunately, your perception is accurate, Damien,” I reply, baring my fangs just slightly. “One of my vampires was found this morning, outside of our mansion. Drained and wrapped in a red cape.”

His eyes darken. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Crimson.”

“Where and when did you see Oana last?”

“Celine and I tracked her east, but we lost her in the Longwind Mountains. Celine thinks she might have allied with Cedric Ducharme, who fled around the same time.”

Murad steps forward. “We suspect Cedric has something to do with the increased presence of an illicit substance in Midnight City. Glow. Are you familiar with it?”

“Yes,” Damien replies. “He was doing something similar in Silverlake City, when he was working for Lazarus Gray. He allied with a group of independent witches to produce it for him. But we knocked out his operation.”

“They could be using the supply chain to amass power for themselves here,” Murad says.

“Do we know what Oana and Cedric’s intentions are?” Sabina asks.

“Based on the state Cassandra was in, I think it’s clear,” I snarl. “They’re coming for us.”

Damien sighs. “Oana was working with Xavian and Tudor to try and take control of the northern region. Now that they’re gone, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to disrupt your claim, Crimson.”

“Just what I need,” I mutter angrily.

“If you discover where she’s hiding, Celine and I will come aid you,” Damien offers. “I want her brought to justice as much as you, Crimson.”

“We should meet more formally,” Murad suggests. “Coordinate our strategy.”

“It’s a good idea,” I echo, giving Damien a pointed look.

“Let me talk to the other northern vampires,” Damien confirms. “We can arrange something.”

“Include Amrita, if she’s willing,” Murad says.

“Of course,” the vampire in the mirror nods. Then he looks back to me, sincerity in his eyes. “Good morning, Crimson. And my condolences to all of you for your loss.”

In a swirl of green, he vanishes.

I smash the bottle of bloodwine against the rim of a nearby table. Thick, red liquid spills out onto the floor of the lounge.

“To Cassandra!” I declare.

The mood is far less celebratory than the end of Xavian’s reign. Word has already gotten out about the state Cassandra was in when she was found, and all of the Night vampires know that this means a conflict is brewing. But they’re all present in the lounge this evening.

Vampires don’t do funerals. We go down to the ground the way we dig ourselves out of it - unceremoniously, messily, covered in blood.

So when a vampire is staked, we spill blood for them.

We drink more. We fuck. We used to have a tradition where we would drain and try to turn ten living humans for every staked vampire, but depending on the number that came back out of the ground, it started to become too much to manage. So we nixed that.

Although perhaps I should consider making some more vampires. Xavian, Waylan, and now Cassandra…if it comes to a conflict, I don’t want to lose any more.

But I’m definitely not in the mood to create any progeny tonight.

I had a restless slumber in my coffin. It’s one thing to know there are threats and enemies around me, from those I know, those I can keep an eye on.

It’s quite another thing to know that Oana is somewhere out there, plotting to take my throne, amassing wealth and power for herself.

And if she’s allied with Cedric, that’s definitely bad news for all of us.

He’s a similar age to me, and he’s almost as ruthless as Oana. Although nowhere near as unhinged.

The bottle is empty, and I throw it to the ground, the glass shattering. It’s satisfying, but only for a brief moment.

I need to stay, to demonstrate strength, even if I don’t feel like partying. So I find myself on my throne, watching the celebrations from on high.

Alin is in a far corner of the lounge, talking intensely with one of the independent witches. He took it very seriously when I asked him to explore the opportunity for us to start producing glow. It’s adorable, really. He’s excited at the prospect of leading such an important initiative.

Kai is here, too, trying to be sneaky in a corner with their merman lover, their fangs deep in his throat as they drink his salty seablood.

I can practically see their enormous engagement ring on their finger.

I’m going to have to handle that situation soon, especially if there’s a conflict brewing.

But I also need Kai loyal and ready to fight.

It won’t be worth it if I nip their romance in the bud, but make them resentful of me and create a potential risk.

But I know that if the dolphin shifters find out how much time that merman is spending in our mansion, they’ll become paranoid.

You would think dolphins would be more easygoing, but ever since the Artemis witches captured their dock several years ago, they’ve been extremely territorial, and they hate sharing with the more powerful mermaids.

I’ll have to tread carefully.

Finally, I spot Murad, spread out comfortably on one of the lounge chairs in his booth to the side of the lounge. I’m surprised to see a familiar figure with a warm, wide smile. It’s Eloise, her long eyelashes fluttering as she giggles at something that Murad is saying.

Do they have some sort of contest with each other? See who can participate in the most inconvenient relationship? Are they trying to irritate me on purpose?

Frustrated, I snap my fingers at a nearby server.

“You,” I demand. “Get me another bottle, immediately.”