Page 4 of Blood from the Marrow (Lilith’s Legacy #2)
Chapter Four
Zuri had seen a lot of extravagance since she’d met Elena. She’d seen yachts fit for oligarchs and private islands beyond imagination, but trailing a procession of absurdly expensive cars like they were modern-day carriages took luxury to a stupid new level.
With the harvest moon only two nights away, the nearly full moon cast its silvery light on the rows of moss-covered trees lining the road leading to the estate outside of Savannah.
They’d crossed the ornate security gate what seemed like miles ago, and there was nothing but live oak trees reaching across the path, branches tangled, for miles to go.
Shifting in the middle seat, Zuri couldn’t shake the discomfort in her gut. They were so far from the fangless population. Completely cut off and surrounded. Zuri would question her own sanity if she didn’t already know she’d lost it.
To her right, an unusually quiet Marisol looked out the window even though the view hadn’t changed since they turned down the private road.
It was so unlike anything they had in Miami.
The dripping moss and shadowed canopy probably made Marisol feel like they were drifting into a storybook.
To some enchanted place. Zuri might feel like that, if it weren’t for all the fucking unknown vampires waiting for them.
On her left, Elena was on her phone like she didn’t have a care in the damn world.
Since she’d come back to them covered in blood, she’d been in an irrepressibly good mood.
She had gotten everything she wanted, hadn’t she?
Her cartel in order and the women she wanted sleeping in her bed every night.
“What?” Elena’s eyes were on her before Zuri had decided whether she was annoyed.
“What, what?” Zuri snapped.
Elena’s lips, painted red as a feminine contrast to her fitted suit, quirked in a grin. “I can hear your thoughts spinning in there. What’s wrong?”
Zuri narrowed her gaze and settled on irritated.
“Jesus, is that supposed to be a house?” Marisol’s voice yanked their attention forward.
One by one, the cars ahead of them followed the curve to emerge from the tree line to a pristine lawn that stretched forever.
At the end of the green sea sat a three-story mansion fit for some Hollywood dream.
White columns and verandas wrapped around the first two floors.
The only color was from the dark shutters flanking the eleventy-billion tall windows.
“Only Sayah would spend a fortune to buy a three hundred acre dairy farm and build a house that looks old and haunted,” Elena said before looking back at her phone.
Zuri was sure there was a joke there about vampires treating humans like cows, but she couldn’t put it together before Marisol spoke. Fuck, she hated feeling off her game.
“Are we sure someone actually lives here?” Marisol’s hazel eyes were wide. “This has people-wait-three-years-to-get-married-here vibes.” She smoothed down her white dress like she was suddenly missing her petticoat.
“Oh, she lives here,” Elena confirmed before slipping her phone into her blazer pocket. “I’m not sure she’s left since she built it.”
When the car pulled up to the entrance, men in Downton Abbey cosplay waited to open the door. Zuri exhaled and tried to relax. This was fine. They were fine. Elena wouldn’t take them anywhere dangerous. She didn’t even like them driving in Miami. She’d never put them in harm’s way.
Zuri refused to think about how recently Elena had been deadly wrong about who she could trust. It was an anomaly, and she’d handled it.
The image of Elena covered in the blood of her enemies eased the lump in her throat.
Though she nearly admitted that she wished Sofia and Librada had ridden in the car with them rather than arriving earlier.
Out of the car, Zuri took one of Elena’s arms and Marisol took the other.
Around them, humans whisked away their luggage and disappeared.
Off to a service entrance, she guessed. Gods forbid people be forced to walk with their own shit.
Ahead of them and behind, vampires descended on the estate like they were attending the Met Gala.
From extravagant garments to more understated pieces, everyone looked poised to make an impression.
“Are you okay, babe?” Elena whispered against the shell of her ear. “You’re tense.”
Zuri forced herself to relax her shoulders, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile. Faking it had never been her bag.
“What’s wrong?” Bambi’s wide eyes reflected a worry Zuri didn’t want to see again.
“Nothing.” She forced herself to mean it. “Swimming with sharks takes getting used to. I’m out of practice.”
Elena smirked. “Don’t worry, it’s more like cage diving. You’re perfectly safe.” She leaned in again, words warm and soothing against Zuri’s jaw. “It’s just the illusion of danger to give you a thrill.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“I’ve had enough thrills for a fucking lifetime,” she muttered.
Climbing up the literal red carpet covered steps, Zuri did a better job of cutting off her anxiety before it could balloon in her chest. It was only when she neared the enormous double doors that she noticed the lions carved into the wooden frame.
When Elena glanced over at what had caught her attention, she rolled her eyes and continued into the house.
An insane double-height foyer and chandelier the size of an iceberg looked down on the glossiest hardwood floors Zuri had ever seen.
To the right, an archway opened to an honest-to-fuck parlor like Gertrude Stein was about to host a salon in there.
To her left, a dining room big enough for a football team seemed like a waste for a vampire.
“What is with this religious revival?” Elena muttered to herself, attention on the floor inlaid with a huge eight-pointed star crafted from lighter shades of wood.
“What’s it mean?” Marisol asked, so Zuri didn’t have to admit she was curious about the sigil.
“It represents Ishtar. Mesopotamian goddess of sex and war,” Elena replied with another eye roll.
When Marisol silently asked her to go on, Elena obliged like she had a knife to her carotid.
“The daughter of Lilith who allegedly convinced three of her sisters, Hera, Hecate, and Circe, to launch some ancient war against all other sentient beings for supremacy.” Her tone dispelled the possibility that she believed any vampire legends.
“And what happened?” Marisol asked, crossing the foyer and entering the great room.
Heaving with antiques and thirty simultaneous conversations, the room was the size of a single-family house. Waiters passed with trays of what Zuri chose to believe were glasses of red wine.
“What usually happens to people who lead rebellions driven by hubris and overblown notions of grandeur.” Elena’s boredom bled through her tone while she scanned the room of vampires she presumably knew.
“They always underestimate their opponents’ resilience and cunning.
” She shrugged, kohl smudged eyes fixed on her surroundings.
“Plus, it’s a cautionary tale to remind us that arrogance can lead to the end of entire bloodlines. ”
“Did they die? What do you mean… bloodlines?”
Bambi’s focused interest made Zuri think of her sitting at the front of the class in nursing school, hand perpetually raised. The image soothed the tension in her neck and triggered a sappy warmth to spread in her chest.
“Some people think each of Lilith’s seven daughters had their own lines.
Related but distinct.” Elena snaked her arm around Marisol’s waist and pulled her close.
The nonverbal signal that she was done with the conversation.
“They’re just stories we made up to understand our existence. No different from witches or humans.”
Marisol’s hazel eyes darted from Elena to Zuri and back to Elena. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw what we saw,” she whispered, triggering a flash of Lilith’s agonized request for help.
“Obviously we came from somewhere, but I don’t believe anyone who says they can explain the unknowable. That they can distill actual fucking creation into something as crude as sounds we grunt out like animals.”
Zuri laughed and slipped her arm around Elena’s shoulders. “You’re so sexy when you’re nihilistic.”
A woman’s warm, rich voice slithered between them. “Elena.”
They turned to the vampire Zuri immediately knew had to be Sayah. Jet black hair and dark blue eyes were mesmerizing against her dark olive skin. In a cream-colored dress, she was tall and objectively stunning.
But it wasn’t her beauty that gave her away. She moved with the same confidence Elena did. Power gave her movements weight. Her body had a gravity that pulled all the attention in the room toward her.
“I told my useless staff to see you up to your rooms when you arrived,” she continued, greeting Elena with a kiss on each cheek.
“You must want to get freshened up after your trip.” She stepped back as if noticing Zuri and Marisol for the first time.
“I’d heard about your two witches.” Her full lips pulled into a smirk. “You’re brave.”
“And lucky,” Elena agreed, her hold unwavering while she introduced them to the head of the Georgia cartel.
“Come on,” Sayah said instead of making small talk. “If you want something done—” She winked at Elena. “We have to do everything ourselves, don’t we? Can never trust the work of our underlings. They never quite stick the landing, do they?”
Zuri and Marisol exchanged a look. Without speaking a word, they agreed Sayah was probably an asshole. They followed her anyway.
Back to the foyer and up the dramatic stairs that split the mansion into two wings, they walked down endless wood paneled corridors covered in art.
At the end, Sayah pointed to doors on either side of her. “Your daughters have these rooms,” she said before opening the door at the very end of the hall. “I expect you will be comfortable here.”