All Just Glass

eventually lost their lives, usually to their prey. No one had called on the Rights when the Light line had been extinguished three centuries before, and the Vida line had nearly been forced to the same fate. No one had called on the Rights when Nikolas and Kristopher had killed Elisabeth Vida in the 1850s, or when Zachary’s sister Jacqueline had been slaughtered, or when Sarah’s father had been bled and dumped on their front step.

Sarah was sitting. When had she sat down?

Kristopher was by her side. Nikolas was still standing close to Kaleo, defensive, and Christine was hovering in the doorway at the opposite side of the room. Her face was tight with fear, but she stood solid, eyes only occasionally flickering back to Kaleo from Sarah.

Sarah recognized the posture. It was loyalty that held her when terror made her want to run. It had to be hard for her to stay in the same room with Kaleo, but she did it anyway.

Sarah wanted to say to her, Just run. Loyalty isn’t worth so much sometimes.

“The Rights of Kin are ancient, ancient Vida law,” Sarah said. “Older than the other lines’ existences. Older than any living vampires, or recorded civilization, for that matter. They were passed down verbally for centuries, because humanity hadn’t yet invented written language.”

“Get to the point,” Kaleo growled.

“Back off!” Kristopher shouted. “Can’t you see she’s in shock?”

Sarah shook herself. She wasn’t in shock; a daughter of Vida didn’t have that luxury. She pushed herself to her feet.

“The Rights of Kin can be called upon by any descendant of Macht—any Vida, Smoke, Arun or Marinitch witch—when their kin is slain. The law requires any other child of Macht to set aside all allegiances and obligations to assist with hunting down the killer. The healers don’t have to fight, but they can’t offer sanctuary or assistance, either. What Caryn did,” she said, thinking out loud as her gaze went to the bag the witch had hastily passed her, “would be enough to get her disowned if anyone learned about it.”

“Focus, Vida,” Kaleo snapped. “What does this mean, right now, to us?”

Kristopher looked ready to murder him, but the sharp words brought Sarah back to herself. They reminded her of the many times she had reported to Dominique, ignoring fatigue or agony after a particularly grueling fight. She had to be practical and keep her mind on what needed to be done. She couldn’t dwell on the lump in her stomach when she wondered why now, of all times, Dominique had called upon this ancient law.

“It means that all witches who hunt will turn their full attention on the ones Dominique considers responsible for my murder. They will call on their allies. They will track down anyone they have ever known to have a connection to the killers, without worrying about messy treaties with SingleEarth or other normally respected neutral havens.”

“I don’t suppose they care that you are not, in fact, dead,” Nikolas said.

Sarah shook her head. “In their eyes, I am.”

“And we’re your killers,” Kristopher added. “That means we need to warn our people. Everyone who wears our marks, or is normally allied with us.”

“Is Nissa safe?” Kaleo asked.

“She already had her run-in with the hunters—”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” the Roman interrupted. “I assume she came to you after. Is she safe?”

“Yes,” Nikolas replied. “We’re not stupid. We didn’t know about the Rights, but the hunters threatened to kill her. It wasn’t subtle. She’s gone to ground.”

Kaleo nodded and then looked back at Sarah. “What will these hunters do to a bloodbond who might have information?”

“Normally, most hunters won’t hurt humans, even bloodbonds, but all bets are off now. They’ll want information, and they won’t show a lot of mercy getting it. Thank goddess Nissa got away.”

“I, too, am relieved that Nissa is safe,” Kaleo said, “but Nissa got away because Heather threw herself at the hunters, probably assuming they wouldn’t bother with a bloodbond, and certainly knowing that I would expect her to protect Nissa in any way she could. If she is now in danger, it is your fault, and I expect your help to retrieve her.”

Sarah closed her eyes and let herself go completely still, visualizing calm and centered attention.

By the time she opened her eyes again, she had come to a decision. There was one difference between this and all the deaths before. As Nikolas had pointed out, even if Sarah was dead by Vida standards, she wasn’t dead. Her family would be horrified at the notion of a vampire—a monster—walking around in the skin of someone who had once been one of them. Vidas didn’t believe that vampires could ever be good. They would be thinking not about if Sarah went bad, but when, and would consider it a mark of respect for who she had been to destroy what she now was.

“It isn’t right of me to put you all in this much danger. Dominique called on the Rights, but what she really wants is me.” There was a feeling that was almost one of freedom, of relief, as she said, “If I turn myself in —”

Shouting from the two brothers interrupted her chilled determination, but Kaleo’s words were what cut through to her: “Don’t be absurd.”

“Once they have me, they’ll release Heather.”

“So?”

She had expected anything other than blunt indifference from Kaleo. He had seemed to want to rescue his bloodbond, but Sarah realized she had misjudged him.

“I’m sorry if you can’t understand this,” she snapped, “but even if her life doesn’t matter to you, it matters to me. I won’t let her be hurt, possibly even killed, on my behalf.”

“On the contrary, Heather means a great deal to me,” Kaleo argued, “and I have no intention of letting her be killed. But neither do I intend to let them have you.”

“Why do you care?” Christine interrupted, fury in her voice. “Or is it just that you don’t share your victims?”

Kaleo looked at her with a long, considering gaze before saying, “I think Sarah would object to being thought of as a victim.”

“And her opinion matters so much to you,” the human spat.

“Do you think, little girl, that the fact that she has been my enemy negates the fact that she has my blood?”

“Doesn’t it?” Christine said challengingly, but more softly now.

The reminder that Sarah was in any way related to Kaleo was not welcome to her. Yes, he had changed Nissa, who had changed Nikolas, who had changed Kristopher, and so it was—distantly—his blood that now made Sarah a vampire. But she wasn’t going to call him family.

Sarah was about to protest Kaleo’s claiming her as anything, but he turned from her to Nikolas to say, “And speaking of blood, Sarah needs to feed.”

The words jolted Sarah into immediacy.

“I’m fine,” she said. She could function fine for now. Her eating habits were not the immediate issue.

“You are not fine.” While Kaleo argued with her, she could tell that Nikolas and Kristopher were examining her closely. “I can see the bloodlust in your eyes.”

“I fed a few hours ago.”

“On Kristopher, I know,” Kaleo replied dismissively. “It was enough to keep you alive, but it won’t be enough to hold you long, not when you’re this young and under stress. You need live blood to sustain you.”

Sarah knew she was in trouble when Kristopher agreed, saying, “If you don’t feed soon, willingly, then you’ll feed in a frenzy, and you’ll probably kill someone. You don’t want that.”

She wasn’t ready. There was too much else going on. She hadn’t had time to take in any of it or figure out what she wanted or needed to do. She was supposed to have been at SingleEarth, where they could teach her how vampires survived without hurting anyone, not with Nikolas and Kristopher, who for all their protectiveness were admitted killers. Kristopher hadn’t killed for the past fifty years, but he had stopped in an effort to support Nissa, not because he’d had a change of heart. Sarah doubted he would keep to his new ways now that he was back with his brother.

And she really didn’t want to have this conversation in front of Kaleo, who she still