I did have an inkling this could happen. At first, Sanctus had broad court support, especially from the Midnight Court – my “official” affiliation – whose highest-ranking officials were attracted to our modern amenities and the social aspects of vampires living together, and bought early shares. But they couldn’t stay out of my business. Each court demanded its corner of the estate, with home designs and court-controlled amenities specifically for their members. They wanted inspections and to impose all kinds of restrictions. They levied taxes and fees and taxes on top of the fees and fees for paying the taxes. They looked at everything I created here from my blood, sweat and tears, and saw only dollar signs.
(The blood, sweat and tears are purely a poetic device – vampires don’t sweat, I cry only during Pixar movies, and my blood is too precious to waste on manual labour.)
The final straw came when Alaric and Winnie announced their engagement. Even though the vampire–human copulation ban is woefully out of date, and the Lady of Agony and many others stand with Alaric, the three courts refuse to officially recognise their union or to grant my oldest friend an audience with the Conclave to discuss giving Winnie the Kiss.
So I decided to cut them all off.
Sanctus Estate is officially for solitary, uncourted vampires only. No court rules, no Conclave oversight. We are exercising our blood-given rights to live free. Judging by the interest I’ve had since making the announcement, many vampires are fed up with the court system and demand another way to live.
Clearly, the courts are determined not to let Sanctus out of their control… even if it means tanking the entire project.
Every vampire in Europe uses the Sepulchrr app as a social network and marketplace. It’s supposed to be a private company, but prominentConclave members sit on its board. My entire potential investor base has seen this message.
Worse, most of it istechnicallytrue.
This is… less than ideal.
We just broke ground on the next building stage. We need to sell those houses quickly, or we’ll run out of cash.
The phone on my desk rings. I drop my mobile and grab the receiver. “Gideon Blake.”
“You finally read the post, Sir.” Sinead’s voice rises with concern.
“I read it,” I mutter.
“I’m afraid things are worse than they appear. Wainwright just pulled his funding.”
I swallow down the urge to throw the phone across the room. Wainwright was our second biggest investor. If he’s gone, we’ll have to stop construction within days… unless I can come up with another source of funding.
“Sir?”
“It’s okay. It’s fine. Everything is going exactly to plan.”
“But Sir, we can’t afford to—”
“I’m aware of our financial situation, thank you, Sinead. I said I have it all under control.”
“Oh, good.” Her voice calms. “I’m pleased that you have a plan. Arabella Lestrange is here to see you.”
My heart clatters against my ribs. I think of the message from Alaric, unanswered on my phone.
I havenotbeen pining for her.
Okay, there may have been some pining. A lot of pining.
But that doesn’t mean I still want her.
I knew there was no hope for us the day she sent her sire to kill me.
And then I found a golden chemise smouldering in the fire.
I’m going to prove that one hundred and fifty years of seeing her face in my dreams is no big deal by being completely civil to her on this tour and not checking out her legsonce.
Because I am nothing if not a gentleman.
A gentleman with a desire for legs, especially long, dark, silky legs that go all the way…
Ahem.
