Bloodlines

There was a heavy pause in the room. Everyone except Keith and me seemed distinctly uncomfortable. Well, we were uncomfortable—but for other reasons.

“I’m fine,” said Jill at last, after a sharp look from Rose. “There was an attack, yeah, but none of us were hurt. I mean, not seriously. We were in the middle of a royal dinner when we were attacked by Moroi—like, Moroi assassins. They made it look like they were going for Lis—for the queen, but instead came for me.” She hesitated and dropped her eyes, letting her long, curly brown hair fall forward. “I was saved, though, and the guardians rounded them up.” There was a nervous energy to Jill that I remembered from before. It was cute and made her seem very much like the shy teenager she was.

“But we don’t think they’re all gone, which is why we have to stay away from Court,” explained Eddie. Even as he directed his words to Keith and me, he radiated a protectiveness toward Jill, daring anyone to challenge the girl he was in charge of keeping safe. “And we don’t know where the traitors in our own ranks are. So, until then, here we all are.”

“Hopefully not for long,” said Keith. I gave him a warning look, and he seemed to realize his comment could be perceived as rude. “I mean, this place can’t be all that fun for you guys, with the sun and everything.”

“It’s safe,” said Eddie. “That’s what counts.”

Clarence and Lee returned, and there was no more mention of Jill’s background or the attack. As far as father and son knew, Jill, Eddie, and Adrian had simply fallen out of favor with important royal Moroi and were in exile here. The two Moroi men didn’t know who Jill really was and believed that the Alchemists were helping her due to Abe’s influence. It was a web of lies but a necessary one. Even if Clarence was in self-imposed exile, we couldn’t risk him (or Lee now) accidentally letting outsiders know the queen’s sister was holed up here.

Eddie glanced over at the older Moroi. “You said you’ve never heard of any Strigoi being around here, right?”

Clarence’s eyes went unfocused for a moment as his thoughts turned inward. “No . . . but there are worse things than Strigoi . . .”

Lee groaned. “Dad, please. Not that.”

Rose and Eddie were on their feet in an instant, and it was a wonder they didn’t pull out weapons. “What are you talking about?” demanded Rose.

“What other dangers are there?” asked Eddie, his voice like steel.

Lee was actually blushing. “Nothing . . . please. It’s a delusion of his, that’s all.”

‘“Delusion?’” asked Clarence, narrowing his eyes at his son. “Was your cousin’s death a delusion? Is the fact that those high-ups at Court let Tamara go unavenged a delusion?”

My mind spun back to a conversation I’d had with Keith in the car. I gave Clarence what I hoped was a reassuring look. “Tamara was your niece, right? What happened to her, sir?”

“She was killed,” he said. There was a dramatic pause. “By vampire hunters.”

“I’m sorry, by what?” I asked, certain I’d misheard.

“Vampire hunters,” repeated Clarence. Everyone in the room looked as surprised as I felt, which was a small relief. Even some of Rose and Eddie’s fierceness wavered. “Oh, you won’t find that anywhere—not even in your records. We were living in Los Angeles when they got her. I reported it to the guardians, demanded they hunt the culprits down. Do you know what they said?” He peered at each person in turn. “Do you?”

“No,” said Jill meekly. “What did they say?” Lee sighed and looked miserable.

Clarence snorted. “They said there was no such thing. That there was no evidence to support my claim. They ruled it a Strigoi killing and said there was nothing anyone could do, that I should be grateful she wasn’t turned.”

I looked at Keith, who again seemed startled by this story. He apparently didn’t know Clarence as well as he’d claimed. Keith had known the old man had a hang-up involving his niece, but not the extent of it. Keith gave me a small shrug that seemed to say, See? What did I tell you? Crazy.

“The guardians are very thorough,” said Eddie. His tone and words were both clearly chosen with care, striving not to offend. He sat back down next to Jill. “I’m sure they had their reasons.”

“Reasons?” asked Clarence. “If you consider denial and living a delusional life reasons, then I suppose so. They just don’t want to accept that vampire hunters are out there. But tell me this. If my Tamara was killed by Strigoi, why did they cut her throat? It was cut cleanly with a blade.” He made a slashing motion under his chin. Jill flinched and cowered into her chair. Rose, Eddie, and Abe also looked taken aback, which surprised me because I didn’t think anything would make that group squeamish. “Why not use fangs? Makes it easier to drink. I pointed that out to the guardians, and they said that since about half of her blood had been drunk, it was obviously a Strigoi. But I say a vampire hunter did it and made it look like they took her blood. Strigoi would have no reason to use a knife.”

Rose started to speak, paused, and then began again. “It is strange,” she said calmly. I had a feeling she’d probably been about to blurt out how ridiculous this conspiracy theory was, but had thought better of it. “But I’m sure there’s another explanation, Mr. Donahue.”

I wondered if mentioning that the Alchemists had no records of vampire hunters—not in several centuries, at least—would be helpful or not. Keith suddenly took the conversation in an unexpected direction. He met Clarence’s gaze levelly.

“It might seem strange for Strigoi, but they do all sorts of vicious things for no reason. I know from personal experience.”

My stomach sank. Oh no. All eyes turned to Keith.

“Oh?” asked Abe, smoothing his black goatee. “What happened?”

Keith pointed to his glass eye. “I was attacked by Strigoi earlier this year. They beat me up and ripped out my eye. Then they left me.”

Eddie frowned. “Without drinking or killing? That is really weird. That doesn’t sound like normal Strigoi behavior.”

“I’m not sure you can really expect Strigoi to do anything ‘normal,’” pointed out Abe. I gritted my teeth, wishing he wouldn’t engage Keith in this. Please don’t ask about the eye, I thought. Let it go. That was too much to expect, of course, because Abe’s next question was, “They only took the one eye? They didn’t try for both?”

“Excuse me.” I rose before Keith could answer. I couldn’t sit through this conversation and listen to Abe bait Keith, simply for the fun of tormenting me. I needed to escape. “I . . . I don’t feel well. I’m going to get some air.”

“Of course, of course,” said Clarence, looking as though he wanted to rise as well. “Should I have my housekeeper get you some water? I can ring the bell—”

“No, no,” I said, moving toward the door. “I just . . . I just need a minute.”

I hurried out and heard Abe saying, “Such delicate sensibilities. You’d think she wouldn’t be so squeamish, considering her profession. But you, young man, seem like you can handle talking about blood . . .”

Abe’s ego-stroking worked, and Keith launched into the one story I most definitely didn’t want to hear. I went back down the dark hallway and emerged outside. The fresh air was welcome, even if it was more than twenty degrees warmer than what I’d come from. I took a deep, steadying breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Everything was going to be okay. Abe would be leaving soon. Keith would return to his own apartment. I would go back to Amberwood with Jill and Eddie, who really didn’t seem like bad companions, considering who I could have ended up with.

With no real destination in mind, I decided to walk around and scope out Clarence’s home—more like an estate, really. I picked a side of the house at random and walked around, admiring the detailed sculpting of the house’s exterior. Even if it was hopelessly out of place in the southern California landscape, it was still impressive. I had always loved studying architecture—a subject my father thought was pointless—and was impressed by my surroundings. Glancing around, I noted that the grounds didn’t match the rest of what we’d driven through to get here. A lot of the land in this region had gone brown from summer and lack of rain, but Clarence had clearly spent a fortune to keep his sprawling yard lush and green. Non-native trees—beautiful and full of flowers—were artfully arranged to make walking paths and courtyards.

After several minutes of my nature stroll, I turned around and headed back toward the front of the house. I came to a stop when I heard someone.