Page 46 of Blood from the Marrow (Lilith’s Legacy #2)
Chapter Thirty-One
The fortress was the most chaotic Zuri had seen yet.
Overnight, the vampire numbers had nearly doubled, and those were only the high-ranking vamps allowed in the main house.
She imagined that hundreds more were hiding out in the other buildings, but it was still midmorning and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
The bats wouldn’t come out of their caves until dusk.
It should have been terrifying to be surrounded by vampires, but it was strangely comforting.
Being dropped into the lion enclosure was kind of nice when there were crocodiles circling the gates.
She looked down at her phone before she stepped out of the bedroom.
Avani and Candela were less than an hour away, and damn if that didn’t put a fucking pep in her step.
An aroma of browning butter and fresh coffee lured Zuri to the kitchen. She’d expected to find Bambi at the stove, considering they were the only two who ate food in the main house, but she was sitting at the island sipping coffee.
Dark blonde hair in a messy ponytail and wearing an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, Bambi looked at Zuri with delighted surprise.
Standing at the counter, Cordelia, with her Kristin Chenoweth vibes, was showing Elena how to make an omelet.
Zuri’s lips puckered, remembering the salt-lick Elena had last prepared.
She knew it was weird to miss something that tasted revolting, but that didn’t stop her chest from tightening.
“What’s all this, Wolf-fang Puck?” Zuri slid onto the stool next to Marisol.
“Cord is teaching Elena how to cook,” Marisol replied with a bemused giggle like she still wasn’t sure it was really happening.
Cord? Zuri gave the Southern Belle a once-over. When the hell did she get on a nickname basis with Marisol?
“Want some coffee?” Marisol leaned over and gave Zuri a peck on the cheek. “I figured out how to use the big machine.” She pointed at the insane stainless steel contraption in the corner.
Zuri nodded even though she preferred her little percolator.
“I’ve missed cooking for people. The banquets we used to throw,” she said dreamily. “Momma never wanted me in the kitchen. She said that the lady of the house had other duties, but I didn’t care.”
Zuri stared at her. Was it supposed to be charming that Glenda the Good Bitch slummed it with the help?
“How many of your people did you say were coming?” Cordelia asked Zuri, her tone sickly sweet. “I’m going to love cooking for so many guests again.”
“I didn’t.” The whirl of the espresso machine accented Zuri’s flat reply.
“There are seven witches and two more on the way,” Marisol offered while Elena focused every ounce of concentration on slicing mushrooms paper thin.
Biting her bottom lip and furrowing her brow, she looked so fucking cute.
Zuri wished they were alone. Wished she could slip in behind her and kiss her neck without an audience.
“And your coven?” Cordelia asked Marisol when she set down a mug in front of Zuri.
“I must confess, I’m absolutely fascinated by your healing magic.
I’ve never seen anything like it.” She grinned.
“I couldn’t help but clip one of those roses last night.
My entire suite smells divine from a single bloom. ”
Marisol shifted her weight and Zuri almost told her she didn’t have to answer anyone’s questions.
She didn’t have to say that only twenty-two Aglion had gotten in the mini-bus Lib had insisted on driving herself all the way from Miami like the most fucked up field trip. Hel, of course, had gone too.
“However do you manage it?” Cordelia’s smile was unwavering.
“It’s complicated,” Marisol admitted.
“Oh, I’m sure it is, sugar.” She laughed. “The bloodlines who carry gifts like that—”
“Oh, good. Sayah is going to show up and find us in full Julia Child costume,” Bernice said when she entered the kitchen.
In a black blazer with dramatic 80s shoulder pads, Bernice had the easy cool of Grace Jones. Zuri was the only one who laughed at her joke. Apparently she was the only one desperate for a change in conversation.
“What is she waiting for?” Marisol asked. “Sayah, I mean.”
Zuri sipped her annoyingly delicious latte because she didn’t have an answer.
“Well,” Cordelia rolled up a handful of herbs and started cutting, “given the little love note she left in the witches’ house, I’d say she’s having a grand ol’ time playing with us.”
Zuri sneered into her mug. She might not have spared the witches who’d given Narine and Baylor the matches to spark this whole fucking thing, but she wouldn’t have tormented them the way Sayah had.
The idea of terrified grandmothers and an innocent kid sitting in a horror movie waiting to die made her sick.
“Do you think she’s… watching us?” Marisol scooted closer to Zuri.
“Undoubtedly.” Bernice rested her palm against the countertop. “She was always a voyeur.”
Zuri already knew that Elena had vetoed the prospect of sending scouts. It was too risky to try to get the lay of Sayah’s land and forces. And going in blind was suicide. There were surprisingly few options at Elena’s disposal.
“So we’re just supposed to wait until Sayah gets impatient and makes a mistake… or until she brings every vampire she has to our doorstep?” Bambi’s hazel eyes were heartbreakingly wide.
Elena looked at Bernice and then Cordelia before softening her gaze when it landed on Bambi. “We are best suited to withstand a siege.”
“We’re playing a life and death game of vampire chicken. Fucking excellent,” Zuri muttered and took another gulp of coffee.
Breakfast was irritatingly delicious, but Zuri didn’t get a second alone with Elena and Marisol before her phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans. She didn’t need to check to know what the text said.
Outside, in the glaring afternoon sun, she met Avani and Candela, whom Sofia had picked up from wherever the hell helicopters landed.
She couldn’t help but race toward them. Del’s red hair was starting to look like a mullet, and Avani’s new long braids reminded Zuri of a mermaid. Fuck she missed her sisters.
Surprising them, Zuri met them halfway up the walkway and nearly tackled them in a hug. The moment they were clinging to each other, Zuri’s tattoo burned. The power in her found its home in her sisters’ skin.
“I told you shit was bad,” Avani said to Candela when they pulled apart. She wiped the emotion from her face like Zuri and Del wouldn’t notice.
“How bad could it be?” Candela blinked until her eyes stopped glistening. “She’s living in a swanky resort.”
“With vampires stationed in a ten-mile perimeter like fucking gargoyles,” Zuri joked because she was nervous and overstimulated and trying to hide the tremble in her voice.
“Shit, if they look like that…” Avani’s gaze tracked one of Bernice’s vampires moving inside the main house. Built like The Rock, his muscles had muscles. “I’d say come on, Stone Daddy.”
Zuri laughed, a perfect way to expend her nerves, and took them to their room to drop their things. She never would’ve expected to feel at ease having her coven sisters wedged between Elena’s vampire twins, but she exhaled so deep her legs almost buckled.
Outside, the three of them sat under a pool umbrella while Zuri filled them in. Avani sipped a pina colada she’d insisted on like they were on a cruise. At least she was pretending to listen. Del was reclined and probably asleep behind her sunglasses while Zuri talked about the Salem witches.
She was trying to get them to understand how dire Sayah’s threat was when a new commotion came from around the side of the house. Moving toward the smattering of small, A-frame houses the vampires had built in a blink, twenty-two Aglion walked in a line.
“Who is that?” Del shot up, sunglasses on her head in a flash.
Exuding the enthusiasm of prisoners of war, two people who’d make stone pillars look like wet spaghetti led the procession.
From Marisol’s description, Zuri guessed the one at the front was Judith.
The masculine person next to her was just as corded with muscle though, and she could have been wrong.
She chuckled to herself. Hel was going to feel like a dainty doll next to those two.
Zuri scanned the rest of the Aglion looking for Marisol’s bio mom. It didn’t take long to land on an older, slighter version of Marisol. Though the woman’s blonde hair was lighter than Marisol’s, and her posture more hunched than proud, the family resemblance was insultingly obvious.
If she’d had any doubt that she’d correctly picked out Clara , the woman broke free from the group and started toward Marisol, who was coming toward them from the beach. In her running clothes, Marisol yanked out her headphones and stopped walking.
“Stay here,” Zuri said as she stood, attention fixed on Marisol’s stiff posture.
“Are you kidding, bitch?” Del wiggled her brows, dark brown eyes bright. “There’s no better view in this weird little town.”
Zuri didn’t give the Aglion a chance to settle in before she bounded toward them. Every protective instinct she had was screaming at the sight of Clara walking next to Marisol like she had any right to be there. Like she hadn’t abandoned her the second she drew breath.
“Zuri.” Elena’s voice cut through her building rage. Covered head to toe in UV-blocking fabric that made her look like a futuristic beekeeper, Elena stepped into her path. “Wait.”
“For what?” Zuri’s hands clenched into fists.
“Give them time to—”
“Time?” Zuri’s voice cracked with indignation. “She’s had three fucking decades.”
Elena’s covered hand found Zuri’s arm, the touch gentle but firm. “Step back. Let Marisol handle this her way.”