Page 15 of Unholy Gambit: Checkmate in Blood (A Paranormal Halloween #5)
Eighteen years. Eighteen fucking years he'd had her blood bonded to him, and he'd been too motherfucking blind to see it.
The realization hit like a sledgehammer to his chest: he'd blood bonded a five-year-old child.
No wonder she'd lived like a damned teenage nun — her untouched body had known she belonged to someone else and hadn't been interested in. .. Fuck .
He'd somehow branded and twisted one of the most forbidden, taboo supernatural bindings one can inflict upon an unwilling child’s body and soul, and he'd been too fucking stupid to realize the horror of what he'd done.
To a five-year-old child. Claimed years before puberty changed her body. Christ, it was a wonder she'd grown into a woman at all.
It all made sick, perfect sense now, but how the fuck had it happened? He hadn’t drank from her that long-ago night, and he didn’t think she’d ingested any of his blood, but the motherfucking Celrau had managed to claw at his arm while he was ripping the bitch’s head off her damned shoulders.
The truth hit him like another gut-punch, their wounds had created the perfect crucible, their blood had mixed and then soaked into the torn flesh of his arm and her leg.
It shouldn’t have been enough, but blood magic is all about intent, and he’d thought of her as his Aurélie on that night.
Fuck. He’d even invoked her name.
He ran through the night again in his head.
He’d entered as the bitch flung the small child towards the wall, and he’d managed to slow the tiny body before she hit, or she likely would’ve been killed by the impact.
He’d managed to settle her gently to the floor, rather than her falling and being further injured, but five-year-old bones against a wall hadn’t stood a chance.
Her knee had been bent completely sideways, and she’d had a compound fracture in her other leg.
He couldn’t tend to her wounds lest the emergency responders notice, but he’d straightened her tiny body, to put as little tension on the muscles and tendons as possible, making it look like she’d tried to drag her bloody legs behind her, trying to reach her mother.
And it was really a shame he’d killed the evil bitch. Her death had been much too fast. If he had it to do over again, he’d have tortured her daily for years to keep himself occupied until his Aurélie aged enough to be ready for him.
He’d wanted her to live a good part of her life without him, to grow into a young woman without his influence before she met him, so they could come together as adults, exploring each other.
But he’d claimed her with blood. He’d thought of her as his on that night, and he once again kicked himself for not realizing he’d invoked magic and made his intentions real.
Blood bonding children is proscribed. Forbidden. He had no idea of the long-term ramifications, and he wasn’t certain he trusted anyone enough to act as advisor. She’d clearly grown into an adult, so her aging hadn’t stopped.
When a vampire blood bonds an adult, the human’s aging stops.
They live as long as the vampire, powered by the same magic as the undead, but they continue to live as before, eating food and enjoying the sunshine.
The bond creates a daytime servant, though modern-day vampires often work hard to override the servant aspects when they are in love with the human they bond.
He didn’t expect Adelle to be waiting at his car. He hadn’t even known she was in Chattanooga. He stood two dozen feet from her, cautious until he understood why she was here.
“It’s been a long time, Adelle. How are you in this century?”
“I’m known as Adelaide now. I understand you’re going by Axel on this continent?”
He nodded, and she said, “I mean you no harm, but I bring a message from my Master.”
“You could be a Master if you chose.”
“As could you.”
He shook his head. “What’s the message?”
“Anson, one of Marco’s children, inquired about you. It seems he has a fling going with your beloved’s best friend.”
Ruby worked fast, and as befitted any young woman with her sights set on one day being either in the U.S. Senate or perhaps governor of Tennessee, she had a network she could reach out to for just about any damned thing she wanted.
“How close are Anson and Marco?”
“Anson is barely three hundred, but he’s been quite useful at recruiting flock, which is how he met Ruby. She didn’t need money and wasn’t interested in becoming food for a coterie of vampires, but getting close to someone with the ear of the Master appealed to her.”
Strong enough to have left for another Master if he wanted.
The fact he was still here at three hundred spoke volumes.
Marco was reportedly a good Master to oath to, which was convenient, but only if Marco needed another Exsequor — another junkyard dog.
He’d known Etta was here, but there’d been no reports of Adelle in Chattanooga.
With those two local, Marco might not want a third person known to strike terror into the hearts of vampirekind.
“What job do you provide for your Master?”
“For years, I was main bodyguard to his personal assistant, and I still step in when needed, but he has another primary bodyguard, so I help with security for Homewood, while another vampire is responsible for overall security of the coterie, citywide.”
“That has to chafe.”
She shrugged. “Josef had the job when Marco arrived, and they knew each other of old.”
“Was there more to the message?”
“Marco would like to meet your Aurélie. Casually, not as Master Vampire. He proposes you take her to one of his establishments, perhaps one of the billiard club locations. Look them both up, see which you prefer. I have your text number. I’ll send the links.”
“She has the option of picking where we go tomorrow night. Will Marco be okay with waiting until the following night? Alternatively, I can let him know where she decides tomorrow, and he can come there.”
“I’ll relay your offer. How are you doing, truly, little brother?”
She’d been turned nearly five hundred years before him, already a formidable presence in their Master’s coterie when Axel was still mastering his bloodlust. From the beginning, they’d recognized each other for what they were: apex predators unbothered by morality or emotions.
No guilt. No illusions of goodness. Their minds didn’t cloud with should or shouldn’t, only what was efficient.
They weren’t like the others, and neither was interested in pretending.
“I am well. The Cairo coterie is a family as it’s supposed to be. If Marco allows me to move here, to be with my love, I’ll regret saying goodbye to my family, though of course, nothing is for certain.”
“I would enjoy sharing a Master with you again, and I will tell my Master this.”
“Thank you. I brought a sole shapeshifter with me for sustenance, and I wish I’d been given clearance to bring another so I could offer you refreshment on this night.”
“No need. We’re good. Axel fits you, and I find that I’m happy we still have names beginning with the same letter.”
“I plan to walk the city on this October night, to learn the lay of the land. Any advice?”
She tilted her head. “Werewolf bikers have claimed a portion of the city, but they don’t generally bother vampires. Some areas, a sole white man will not be safe, walking alone, and I know you’ll be fine, but don’t forget the many cameras if you must defend yourself.”
He nodded. Vampires had been able to blur themselves on film photographs from the start, and the same effect worked with digital cameras as well as LIDAR and all the rest of the latest newfangled technology.
“I’m better than average at blurring. Thank you for your advice.”
She shook her head. “You Europeans and your correctness. You need to chill, Axel. Formal when it’s called for, but it isn’t between us.”
He nodded, and she left, vampire fast.
Too late, he realized he should’ve asked her if any of his enemies-of-old were in Chattanooga.
His inquiries hadn’t turned anyone up besides Etta, but neither had he been able to obtain a comprehensive list. He hadn’t had time for a full security dive before leaving, which meant quick research and piecemeal answers that left room for dangerous shadows.
Axel drove to the rental house to park the car, showered, and changed out of the zombie costume. When he landed in a new city, he needed to see it from the inside, to know it, as only walking allows.
He made his way downhill into the city’s after-hours hush, and breathed in the energy of the night.
Cool air drifted in from the Tennessee River.
He passed the old-fashioned carousel and darkened shops, their lights dim but displays still reaching for the street.
Most places were closed, but that suited him since fewer humans meant less distractions.
He crossed the pedestrian bridge, pausing halfway to study the dark sheen of the water below, the rush of the current louder without cars to drown it out.
The area around the aquarium still pulsed faintly with residual energy, tourists long gone but the stone and glass held echoes.
From there, he crisscrossed the downtown core, moving through the city like a shadow, following instinct as much as streets until he stood before the Chattanooga Choo Choo — and yes, the damned song came to mind.
He ducked into one of the late-night clubs nearby, ordered a whiskey neat, and took a seat at the edge of the noise and movement, letting the room wash over him.
No matter the continent, human nightlife is disorder in motion — pheromones, pulsing bass, performative desire, and mostly sad little mating dances.
He let the chaos ground him. A city’s scent lives in its humans.
After a half hour, he left the club and traveled west a few blocks, dealt with a few nuisance gang members, and then aimed his route back toward the river.
The university grounds were quiet, the large auditorium dark, and the old courthouse loomed over empty streets like a relic of a sterner century.
He passed the art museum and the sculpture garden on the bluff.
The wind caught the hem of his coat, the silence gathered around him like fog.
The night was made for moments like this.
A glass bridge, a stroll through an alley, and he recrossed the pedestrian bridge, climbed the hill to his rental.
Once inside, he pulled up a digital map of Chattanooga and traced his route, mentally marking off the areas he’d explored and flagging those he hadn’t. He also found the two billiard clubs Adelaide had mentioned in her text.
He’d see them soon enough, but tonight hadn’t been about recon, it’d been about claiming the shape of the city, about learning it’s rhythms and testing its bones.
The first steps toward calling it home.
Because he could move anywhere. Change names. Change lives.
But his Aurélie’s family was here. Her best friend.
Her roots ran deep in this city nestled between mountains — and she was his, so this city would become his, too.
Brick by brick. Block by block.
He’d learn the city until it became home.