Page 69 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

Cally sat in the center rear seat of Minh’s gray SUV, a thrall pressed either side of her, and tried not to rub her swollen, bruised throat.

She didn’t need a mirror to know Minh’s fingermarks ringed it; the swelling was in ridges, and particularly uncomfortable on the side where his thumb had dug in.

Minh was in the passenger seat, another thrall driving. They were heading into town.

Toward Antoine.

She could feel him through their bond, which she’d kept permanently open since they’d left the dojang. It tugged at her—a faint thread of connection, reassuring but also despairing in the face of how little she could do to stop Minh’s plans from unfolding.

She guessed Antoine was at Gabe’s, helping him fight whatever invasion Minh had arranged. Could there be a threat significant enough to hurt or kill both vampires when they worked together?

“The spawn have engaged, my lord,” the thrall on her right said, a messaging app open on his phone. He hadn’t stopped staring at it since they’d got in the car.

Minh laughed with delight. “Soon we’ll see, chattel. If Antoine doesn’t make it through the night, you die. And if he does? He gets to watch you die himself. Either way, guess what?”

“What?” she blurted when he didn’t continue, channeling all her curiosity and innocence into that one simple word.

He glanced back at her, irritated. “You die.”

“Oh! Right. Sorry, missed that.”

Outside, it was dark, the evening traffic heavy. The stop-and-go rhythm of the cars felt like it was mocking her, each slow inch forward matching the desperation inside her. It began to rain, the windscreen wipers repetitive dull thudding monotonous in the quiet.

But Cally was focused. Somewhere deep within herself was the power of a witch. A power she’d only ever tapped into once, and then only by accident. Yet it was still there, in her blood, inside her.

Could she call on it now?

Minh fidgeted in his seat, like he was barely in control of himself. His hands clasped and unclasped, then gripped his thighs. He rocked from side to side, and almost turned around before stopping himself part way.

Cally wanted to point out he should’ve gone before they left, but he seemed so unstable such a comment might get her killed.

Which would kill Antoine, too.

Maybe she would die tonight anyway, just as Minh had said. But not yet.

And not if she could somehow use her power.

But how? She didn’t even know any spells, and wishing hard while muttering ‘so mote it be’ didn’t seem like it would work.

“What is going on ?” Minh snapped, striking the dashboard hard enough to crack it.

Cally figured the passenger-side airbag must’ve been disabled, or it would’ve definitely gone off. That would’ve been hilarious.

“The fighting is on the rooftop, my lord,” the thrall answered quickly. “We don’t have eyes up there.”

“Then get some.” Minh bit off each word.

“All the thralls you sent are dead, my lord.”

Cally felt a brief surge of satisfaction, but it was quickly crushed by Minh’s response.

“I know that , you fool, I had the spawns kill them for strength.”

Spawns? Belle had called Antoine that—and she was his sire. So Minh had created an army in his own image and sent them against Gabe.

And now Antoine had shown up to help. Did he know what he was walking into?

She tried again to focus inward. What would her power feel like? A pool of icy blue mana? A sense of something inside her? Light? Dark?

“We’re almost at the club, my lord.”

“Finally,” Minh huffed, sounding petulant for a vampire who’d lived lifetimes.

The SUV turned into an underground parking garage, deep beneath the city’s skyline in the middle of Boston’s Theater District.

It was the back entrance to the same building she’d been to with Priya and Eve, and later with Antoine.

It made sense that Minh wouldn’t share an entrance with the ‘chattel,’ or expose himself to the loud music every time he came or went.

The thrall with the phone clicked the screen off as the car descended the ramp, the device useless without a signal .

They passed rows of parked cars, reaching a black shutter gate that rolled up automatically as they approached, revealing another ramp leading deeper that took them well beneath the level of the club.

There was another parking garage, this one far smaller and mostly filled with uniform gray SUVs, like Minh had enjoyed a wholesale discount.

The car came to a stop, and Cally’s pulse quickened.

It was now or never. She closed her eyes, feeling with her sense of… whatever witches felt with, reaching for the birthright that was hers to claim.

“Bring her,” Minh ordered, opening his door and stepping out.

The thralls grabbed her arms, disrupting her focus, hauling her out of the car and pinning her between them. One alone, she might’ve been able to handle; two, when they already held her, was another matter. Then there was Minh, so much faster and stronger than she could ever hope to be.

He led them to a set of double doors, one thrall entering a code in a keypad while he waited, as if he never did anything for himself.

Inside, a concrete hallway led to another set of doors, beyond which plush carpets and mahogany paneling gave way to a third set of doors, white with gold-rimmed orbs for handles.

Within was an expansive study, an enormous mahogany desk and two leather sofas, while against one wall sat an aquarium as big as Cally’s own living room.

No bookcases. Antoine wouldn’t like it.

She was shoved onto one of the sofas, the aquarium behind her—which was a shame; the fish were easier on the eye than Minh.

Her fear mounted, but Joon’s pointless death stoked her anger, holding it at bay.

Fatalism crept in. There was nothing she could do, not against such overwhelming force.

She could only sit there, helpless and enraged, loathing every goddamn second.

Could hatred fuel her witch magic? Could fury?

If so, they’d all be greasy smears on the walls in the next few seconds.

Minh slumped into the desk chair, radiating impatience. “Where is my sire?”

“With the Curia, my lord.”

My lord, my lord, my lord. It made Minh sound like a pale imitation of Voldemort. Fear of the name, Harry , she thought, channeling her inner Dumbledore. I wonder if ‘Minh’ is his real name, or whether it was once also Tommy?

Whatever crossed her face had caught Minh’s eye. “What’s so amusing, chattel?”

“Your Daddy isn’t here, is he?” she replied, not caring any longer .

Minh’s eyes narrowed. “For that remark, when I feed on you, I’ll make sure you feel the full extent of the pain and fear my bite will bring.”

A different bite to both Antoine’s and Gabe’s. A different bloodline. It was something of a relief to know he wouldn’t arouse her, at least, though the thought of throwing up on his tailored suit and polished shoes held its own appeal.

“You might kill me, but whether you do or not, Antoine and Gabe are going to rip you apart.” A little mental undermining certainly couldn’t hurt.

“Not when they’ve already been torn apart,” he said smugly. “How do you think your two boyfriends will fare against an army of my spawn?”

So now I have two boyfriends, huh?

But her brow furrowed as his words sunk in. “You had your spawn chained behind those doors, didn’t you?”

Every pair of eyes in the room swung to her.

“How could you possibly know?” Minh’s voice turned cold.

Cally waved a hand like she didn’t care, the movement buying her time as her brain raced. “Antoine doesn’t tell me anything important, of course, but the details of this little club? He and Gabe have it all mapped out.”

He narrowed his eyes, staring at her. “I don’t believe you, chattel.” His tone, however, lacked conviction.

Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after you. And Minh? No doubt he would be paranoid.

“Of course not,” Cally said airily. “How could you ever expect Antoine to have controlled some of your own thralls?” She gave a dry laugh. “That’s the problem with never knowing another vampire’s bloodline. And after he fed from you…”

Minh froze, his only movement the slight twitch of his hand on the desk.

She laughed again. “Did you think it wasn’t staged? My presence there, the distraction Antoine needed? Did you really think your mental paralysis could hold one of Antoine’s marked chattel?”

She was dead anyway, and if Minh was angry enough to make mistakes, or distrustful of his thralls… it’d be worth it.

Impulsive and reckless, ma chérie.

Antoine’s words came to her so clearly it felt like she could hear him, the lilt of French in his voice that she adored.

On a whim, she focused on their bond, and thought hard. I’m in his basement, under the club. She had no way of knowing if Antoine could hear her.

“What are you saying?” Minh snapped, his pale cheeks darkening and his lips pressing into a thin line.

Cally plowed on, dredging up every last scrap of information she had and flinging it in his face.

“Isn’t it obvious? Roberto’s bloodline power means more thralls.

But quantity doesn’t always mean quality, does it Minh ?

” She spat his name with as much disdain as she could muster, and God, it felt good.

“Too many for you to control, hmm? So many that it’s easy for one, two”—another dismissive wave of her hand—“or a dozen to slip through the cracks? What do you think we were doing in your club the other night?” Another little laugh, artfully delivered.

“It certainly wasn’t to appreciate your choice in music. ”

He stared at her, a vein twitching in his forehead, his red eyes unblinking. “Whether what you say is true or not, you’ll die this night.”

“So you said in the car,” Cally looked away, affecting boredom.

“Antoine has so many marked chattel he won’t care.

I only volunteered to be bait in the hope he’d love me more.

” There was a certain delicious irony in that play.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment fiction, but it grazed some truths, too. Shame I’ll never get to tell him.

“Maybe I won’t kill you after all,” Minh said coldly. “Maybe I’ll enthrall you and have you serve me. Or better yet, I’ll make you my next spawn. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it? I can control them as easily as my thralls, you know. Just think of what I could make you do.”

“Feed your fish?” she asked, turning to look at the aquarium. “Seems like a full-time job.”

She didn’t hear him move, didn’t realize he was there until his hand clamped around her neck, yanking her off the sofa. “Such a smart mouth you have, chattel,” he sneered. “Spawn or thrall, I’m sure I could find some use for it.”

Cally wasn’t sure if it was fear or revulsion crawling down her spine, but she reached desperately for the power inside her. Again, there was nothing—or if there was, no clue how to wield it.

“For all your bravado, I can smell your fear,” Minh said. “And it’s delicious. ”

Her desperate repartee might have achieved nothing, but it was better than sitting there, letting despair take over. She lifted her chin and met his gleaming red eyes.

“Antoine is coming, and he can smell fear too.” She sniffed mockingly. “But the only fear I smell is yours.”

Farewell, Antoine. Do kill him for me, won’t you?