Page 40 of Blood from the Marrow (Lilith’s Legacy #2)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Being in Narine’s house with a hundred vampires from other cartels made it impossible for Elena to relax.

As her inner circle gathered in the primary suite that was akin to the residential apartments of a modern castle, Elena reminded herself that every person sitting under that roof had passed her loyalty test under compulsion.

No one was secretly working with Sayah. No one was going to catch her off guard.

Not here. She needed to get used to the idea of so many desperate loyalties aligning against a common foe.

As the members of her newly allied cartels arrived over the coming days and occupied the outhouses and temporary housing they were erecting, the feeling would only get worse.

She strode into the over-decorated sitting room acting as the center of the four-bedroom suite. Deciding that sleep would simply be off the table for the coming days, Elena focused on the topic at hand.

“How did it go?” Marisol asked from where she sat next to Zuri on a sofa fit for King Louis XIV.

Behind them, Sofia and Librada stood with their backs to the wall and their eyes on the door. The weight of their collective hope should have been crushing, but for the first time in weeks, it filled Elena with the will to fight.

“You look like you just survived an HOA meeting from hell,” Zuri said with a laugh.

The rich sound seeped into Elena’s chest and dripped down to ease the acidic burn in her stomach. “It went better than I hoped,” she replied with a chuckle before taking the hideous chair across from them. “There was only a single death threat,” she added before telling them about the compulsion.

“And somehow you don’t look relieved,” Marisol said when Elena was finished, her eyes peering at Elena like she might see into her. Might find the place where she’d stashed her doubt and fear.

“Vampires love to brag how they don’t fight like this, Bambi.” Zuri rummaged through her memory to toss Elena’s words back in her face. “Squabbling and infighting are pointless,” she said like she’d been waiting for a chance to show her that vampire cartels weren’t more civilized than rival covens.

The reminder stung, but Elena couldn’t disagree. She’d misjudged her kind’s capacity for stupidity and indifference. She didn’t expect that volatile mix would blow up their stability based on a single person’s whims.

“What about the others?” Marisol asked. “This can’t be all the vampires out there.”

“Librada will reach out to the undeclared cartels,” Elena said, referencing the remaining third in limbo. “Offer them a chance to choose a side before things get bloody.”

“And if they refuse?” Lib asked.

“Then they’ve chosen Sayah.” Elena’s voice hardened. “Not choosing is a choice. One they will undoubtedly regret if Sayah wins.” If I fail.

“Why would they refuse?” Marisol shook her head. “They’ve heard what Sayah did by now, right? What she’s capable of? Who would choose that?”

Elena softened. She’d never met anyone like Marisol. Never known someone who saw the light in everything.

“Fear is a powerful motivator.” Elena’s mind was on the near three hundred years she’d lived.

On the whole of history before that. “For some, fear makes them brave. Makes them turn and face the predator threatening the ones they love.” Her gaze lingered over her two daughters and her two loves.

“For others, it makes them run at top speed to avoid danger. Makes them think they don’t need to outrun the lioness…

They just have to be faster than the person running next to them.

” She shrugged. “In this case, many will join Sayah precisely because they fear her turning their attention to them. They think they can submit and not be prey. As long as they’re not on the menu, who cares? ”

“That’s so gross,” Marisol decided.

“Vampires started as people, Bambi,” Zuri said with a defeated sigh. “We’re the fucking worst.”

“With six blood daughters, Sayah is formidable,” Elena half-muttered to herself.

“Oh, hell no.” Zuri stood.

Elena furrowed her brow. She’d barely formed the thought yet. “Does that new tattoo let you read minds?” she asked, only partly joking.

“I know you well enough to sense when you’re concocting some bullshit, Elena. And I’m telling you right now, absolutely the fuck not.” Leaning forward, Zuri looked like she might fight Elena’s thoughts.

“Anyone want to fill me in on what the heck you’re talking about?” Marisol’s attention darted between them.

“Go on.” Zuri crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell Marisol and Librada and Sofia that you’re considering turning a daughter to cut Sayah’s advantage in half.

” She gestured dramatically like a magician revealing their best act on stage.

“You remember the picture of her vampire mother in Venice. The only one you’ll ever see because the woman died making a daughter.

” Veins in Zuri’s neck bulged but it was the scent of panic that filled the room, not anger.

“Because it takes nearly draining her entire body—”

Marisol sprang to her feet. “Elena—”

“Mother, you cannot be considering this.” Lib’s auburn eyes were wide and heartbreaking. “You cannot weaken yourself—”

“What if Sayah attacks while you’re recovering?” Sofia interrupted. “You’d be so easy to—”

“Gods, calm down.” Elena stood because being the only one seated made her feel like a scolded child. She put one hand on Zuri’s hip and reached for Marisol’s wrist with the other. “It was just a thought—”

“Well it was a stupid one,” Zuri said, leaving no room for argument.

“We must be open to all possibilities.” Elena ran her thumb over the material of Zuri’s shirt until her cortisol dropped.

“Sayah and her daughters make for an elite force. Many battles have been won by small forces, even when they’ve faced astronomical odds.

I can’t continue to discount every possibility.

If it comes to a small skirmish, we may be outnumbered.

Sayah has already proven that she loves an ambush.

I don’t expect her to fight fairly. To send terms and meet me on a battleground. ”

“Who says we’re outnumbered?” The fire in Zuri’s dark eyes burned hot enough to melt bones. “Pretty sure we survived her ass once with only the people in this room.”

Elena didn’t say that Narine’s sacrifice and the surprise of Marisol’s powers had turned the tide. Things they no longer had.

“And this time, we have three of me and a hell of a lot more angels. If I were Sayah, I’d rethink every shitty ass decision I’d ever made in my fucking life, and wave a white flag the size of a freight train.”

Zuri’s energy rippled through them. It slithered into the determined set in Librada’s jaw and the thirst for blood in Sofia’s eyes. The only one who wasn’t ready to run screaming into battle was Marisol. Elena doubted she’d ever have a taste for vengeance.

“And you have something she’ll likely never have,” Marisol added, voice a soft contrast to Zuri’s booming. “People who are choosing to stand by your side. I don’t know anything about fighting, but I can’t imagine the best armies are full of people afraid of their leader.”

Elena nodded. It was a good point and true enough.

When a soft knock interrupted the charged silence, Elena was grateful for the distraction. Margot appeared in the doorway, her blue eyes darting nervously between the assembled group.

“The blood has arrived,” she announced. “Diego’s shipment, plus I acquired additional reserves from three local suppliers. Enough for everyone. I hope that is to your liking.”

Lib started for the petite vampire. Margot instinctively stepped back. She looked so much like a frightened rabbit, Elena wondered why she’d ever turned.

“Tell everyone we’re gathering in the main dining hall in an hour,” Elena decided, plan forming as she spoke. “A welcoming dinner for our new allies.”

Margot looked freshly alarmed. “All of them? Together?”

“Every single vampire on the grounds,” Elena confirmed.

They needed to start acting like a unified force instead of a collection of rival cartels sharing the same address.

As in their first lives, communal meals were a quick way to build bonds.

Or the quickest way to conflict. They were about to find out which.

“I’m going to shower then,” Zuri said when it was just the three of them.

Her irritation still spiked every word. She coated so many of her uncomfortable emotions—fear, worry, grief—in anger to make it more palatable.

“If I have to sit in a room full of vampires drinking blood, I’m looking hot and getting drunk. ”

When Zuri sauntered away to the bathroom, Elena had half a mind to follow, but there was something she needed to do first. Something she should have done the moment they arrived.

“Why don’t we join her?” Marisol asked when she slipped her hand in Elena’s.

Elena tugged Marisol in and held her close. Marisol had seen so much darkness. So much cruelty and violence. But her compassion refused to break. Without a word, Elena cupped Marisol’s jaw, her thumb brushing over the faint freckles scattered across her smooth skin.

When Elena kissed her, it wasn’t the desperate hunger she so often felt, but something softer. It was a way to express gratitude she didn’t know the words for in any language. To thank her for the anchor in storm-tossed seas. The light in the dark. The full breath she could finally take.

Elena lingered, letting herself savor the warmth that only Marisol could give her, before pulling back just enough to whisper against her lips, “I’ll be back.”

Dazed and skin flushed, Marisol managed a weak, “Okay,” and watched Elena leave.

Outside, the ocean breeze made the early evening cool.

While Elena walked to the ruins of Narine’s rose garden, she inhaled the salt and brine of the sea.

It was always taunting her, the sea. A witness to every terrible moment in her life.

Mocking her when she lost Catalina. When she nearly died as a stowaway.

When she learned of her parents’ death. Then her blood mother, her sons.

Death and salt and sea were intertwined in her memory.

She couldn’t rip it out without unfastening the tapestry of who she was. What she was.

Elena stopped in front of the healthiest looking bush. Six-feet tall and half as wide, it was more yellow than green. She thought about the constant care Narine had given her roses. She’d lavished them with attention and in just a few weeks of her absence, they’d withered.

It was impossible to miss the Earth’s message. To misinterpret the constant. Everything, no matter how deeply loved, died from neglect.

From her pocket she pulled the pin Narine had given her lifetimes ago. The first birthday gift after Elena had adopted her as her own. Not just a member of her nest, but daughter. As true in her heart as Sofia and Librada were.

On her knees in front of the bush, Elena looked down at the pin.

Her chest tightened when she remembered the smile on Narine’s face.

The pride she’d felt when she recounted the history of the gold and enamel piece.

Shaped like a star encrusted with rubies, the medallion at the center was a lion resting in front of the rising sun.

It was an honor bestowed on those who served the Qajar dynasty with distinction, and Narine had loved it dearly.

Elena curled her fingers around it, the points digging into her palm as her chest ached. She closed her eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears from forming. From spilling. From being the salt that stung.

How had it gone so wrong? Losing Narine’s faith. Losing Felix’s. How had she been so blind? Was it naive to have expected love and loyalty? Had she been neglectful? The thought twisted in her gut like a blade, cutting deeper with every answerless question.

She’d never know how she lost them, and that made her as sick as the grief that tormented her. There would never be a chance to set things right. To hold them close even if they thrashed.

With a deep breath, Elena dug into the dry soil with her hands, the sensation raw and grounding. The coarse dirt scraped against her palms and dug into her fingernails like it wanted to pull her in. She dug faster, moving around flaking roots and hitting rocks she ripped out of the ground.

Elena dug. She knew she looked frantic, elbow-deep in dirt and pushing deeper. Her chest ached. Her tears watered the soil so dry it looked like ash. Felt like the empty remnants of life gone.

She was to her shoulder when hit solid stone. Panting and covered in dirt, Elena kissed the pin and covered it under a mound of rocks. It was the only burial site her daughter would have.

With both hands, she poured the dirt back in.

With every handful she returned, she added her sadness and pain and regret and fear.

When she was done, she sat back on her heels, her hands filthy and her chest hollow.

She could almost feel Narine’s presence, hear her regret. Eyes closed, Elena forgave her.

Conversation carried on the salty wind reminded Elena that she wasn’t alone. She stood, jaw tightening and tears drying in the taunting ocean breeze.

Sayah had done this, and Elena wasn’t going to let this happen again. Wasn’t going to let her destroy anything else. Anyone else. Whatever guilt, whatever grief, whatever regret she’d been carrying, she was leaving it there. Buried and locked in a stone crypt.

Elena bit down on the venom filling her mouth. It was time to answer Sayah’s violence with her own. To make Sayah curse the day she first drew breath and every moment after.