“That’s racist.”
“I’m a water person. Demons are all about fire. Do the math.”
Macy chuckled. “Fine, fine. Anyway, good luck with Sabine. Let me know if you need help with anything.” She paused. “You are keeping your distance, right?”
“I’ll be fine. I won’t do more than scry from the safety of my own home.” She crossed her fingers.
“Good luck. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
After disconnecting, Kaia made plans. But first, she had a dinner to make and some K-Drama to stream. Danger could wait a bit. Romance and adventure couldn’t.
CHAPTERTHREE
House of the Night Bloode
Mercer Island, Washington
“I’m telling you, something’s wrong,” Kraft said, irritated. Why did no one fucking listen to him? Sure, he was the youngest of his clan, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t sense danger.
Mormo frowned. “It’s only been his third night away. He’s checked in twice already, and we agreed he’d scout around and be back by Friday. Why all the concern for the vryko? You know he’s just as comfortable in water as on land.”
“I know, it’s just...” How to say what he felt without sounding young and anxious? Or like hemissedthe big bastard? Because he didn’t.
“Kraft, go help out with the lycan in the basement, would you?”
Kraft had seen the reaper and draugr muscling a raving lycan from the garage into the basement. The lycan didn’t look willing to play nice. He snorted. “You mean, before Khent raises him from the dead?”
“He won’t if he knows what’s good for him,” Mormo muttered before turning in a dramatic sweep, his dark robe skirting out from his lean form, and stalked upstairs to a level of the house that shouldn’t exist.
Fara, his patriarch’s mate, called their home a mansion. Macy called it a lair, which he preferred because it sounded much cooler than “large house owned by a goddess.” Situated on Mercer Island, theirlairhad two levels, a main one and a lower level that led out into a spacious lawn that overlooked Lake Washington. They also had a long dock in the shape of an L, where they could sit out at night and watch the moon or fool around with the boat Mormo had purchased. Yet Mormo’ssecond floor—above the main level—didn’t exist outside the house, and the basement had so many twists and turns that the home took up space on a different plane altogether.
Kraft had only gone up to the magician’s floor a few times, only ever with Mormo or Varu, his patriarch, present, and he didn’t like it. The area felt too heavy with magic, too much of the goddess’s presence lingering over everything, the cloying feel of witchy divinity saturating the furniture and walls. He had a more sensitive nose, mostly due to his ability to shift into a wolf, so perhaps only he sensed it.
The others, with the exception of Rolf, took an avian shape when they took an alternate form. Kraft was partial to fur, not feathers. And his magic wasn’t as sophisticated as those of his kin. Like Orion, Kraft relied on physical strength for power, controlling his environment with his body, not his mind.
He had been forced to join this motley group of vampires to pay back a bloode debt his clan had incurred with Hecate some time ago. But he hadn’t realized the immense power of those with whom he’d be serving.
Their patriarch wielded legendary Bloode Stones, able to control all manner of vampires. As a strigoi, Varu had speed and savvy, an ability to seduce mortals and magir alike in addition to some weird mojo like teleporting and wielding telekinetic magic. And he could use a fuckingBloode Stone,which spoke of his power, since only a Worthy death-bringer could carry such power and not die. Varu was badass, for sure, especially having mated a sweet little dusk elf also with the ability to talk to the red gems. They were a total power couple, Varu the only one who could lead the Night Bloode.
Duncan, a revenant, had speed on his side, the laidback vampire funny and smart as hell—deadly when it came to strategizing and outmaneuvering his opponents. He also worked in tandem with their new Bloode Witch. Kraft knew they were the only clan in existence to have one. He also had a feeling Duncan could do other stuff but kept his abilities hidden, because he could be annoying like that.
Orion was the only one among them who could match Kraft blow for blow and loved to fight as much a born nachzehrer. From the vrykolakas tribe, Orion could move in the water like a merman but was hundred times more deadly. It was weird, especially because the rest of them sank when in water, but not Orion. Plus, the male had a thing for anime and Disney cartoons, which Kraft secretly admired.
That left Khent and Rolf, reaper and draugr, who often seemed to be paired together. Both deadly, both having an odd power over the dead.
Kraft walked downstairs and found them in the interrogation room, a large, padded area warded with Hecate’s magic and soundproof to those not Night Bloode.
The most annoying pair of his kin stood over a lycan bound to a wooden chair. The prisoner looked human enough, though his wounds closed rapidly and he seemed much larger than a typical human. He didn’t seem bothered by his nudity either, and mages and witches tended to cry about being naked. The lycan smelled good, more like kin than prey, though Kraft would never admit to the others how much pleasure he took in his shifted form.
Khent, tall, dark, and regal, always looked annoyed, as he did now. Able to reanimate the dead, with a mind that never stopped, he deemed everyone below him in importance. Yet he often spoke the truth, was rarely wrong about anything, and frankly, unnerved Kraft with those all-seeing eyes. Kraft could well believe humans had once thought Khent and his clan to be Egyptian gods.
Rolf, the only blond vampire Kraft had ever seen, seemed to laugh at everything, his magic more like that of Mormo’s, but with a fae bite. He laughed and teased, a prankster much like the god who dwelled in his homeland somewhere in Scandinavia. The draugr seemed more fae or Viking than blood-drinker, and like Kraft, he too could shift into a wolf.
Kraft had thought that might make them closer than the others, but no. Kraft only felt truly comfortable with Orion.
And now the big bastard was gone, and no one seemed to care.
