Blood Enchanted (Blood Enchanted, Book 1): A Vampire Hunter Paranormal Romance Series (4 page)

I sank into a chair beside Travis, my mouth hanging open, utterly stunned.

"He moves like you," Trav whispered, either quietly so as not to surprise me further, or because he knew the statement was redundant and I would snap. I could see exactly how Hakan Bahar moved.

And it was divine.

"Any weaknesses?" I managed to articulate.

"None that I can determine," came his hushed reply. Then, "You've challenged him?"

I shook my head, my eyes still scanning the screens, looking for a fault that I already knew would not exist.

"Well, that's at least something then. Maybe you can just plead absence and get away with him being in town."

"He has Luc," I said, my voice unnaturally rough, my throat so very dry.

Travis' wheelchair spun toward me, almost knocking my knees it came so close. I inched back on my chair.

"Are you sure?"

"Ghoul info," I supplied, and his shoulders sagged. Ghouls were notoriously good at giving correct intel.

"Then he's challenging you."

I nodded. "Reggie's setting up a fight."

His wheelchair returned him to face the monitors, his fingers flying across the keyboard before the machine came to a halt.

"I'll see if there's anything I can find on where he's staying. Have you checked The Plaza?"

The Plaza was my father's upmarket hotel. Also the seat of the
Iunctio.
Vampires did stay there, if they had nothing to hide. Visiting dignitaries certainly did. What had Travis called Hakan?

"You called him a Lord. Is that an official title?"

"I'll have to check," he replied distractedly, already nose deep in surveillance footage. I'd lose him soon enough. "But he was referred to as
Bey
by one of his contingency. As far as I can recall,
Bey
was the title of a lord in the Ottoman Empire."

"Oh, crap," I muttered, but Travis was gone, head in the electrical circuits and pixels of his screens.

I stood up and wandered into the attached kitchen, weary of the day already and the sun had only just risen. Ottoman Empire. It would figure that this Hakan character would hail from there. My father hated the Ottomans. The type of hatred that fed the black part of your soul. There was history there of some description; an old mentor of his who was killed by marauders from where I now suspected Hakan came from.

This was getting complicated, but maybe starting to make sense. But what would a five hundred year old hatred have to do with the disappearance of my brother? Why now? Just when we're about to join?

It had to be connected somehow, and unfortunately my father was at the root of the problem. His history. His position. His power. His son.

I blindly toasted bread and then smeared it with peanut butter. It tasted as good as it smelled. Luc had been gone one week; one week post his twenty-fifth birthday. I couldn't believe that wasn't significant. And now this. A connection to an old foe of my father’s.

The Ottoman Empire no longer existed, at least not for humans. Vampires are a whole other ball game entirely. They don't age. They don't forget. They very rarely move on.

The toast gone, I cracked open the fridge and hauled out a bottle of beer. Travis was used to me eating here. Hell, most of the time I hid here all day as well. I might have to start paying him rent.

My cellphone buzzed in my back pocket, I hauled it out and checked the screen.

I sighed loud enough for Travis to hear me, reminding me he never really switched off from the world around him, merely gave the impression he did for peace of mind.

"The boss man?" he called out in question.

No, this wasn't my father. This was worse by far.

His spy master. His second in command. My betrothed kindred.

The text message read,
Open the damn door.

Even uptight French vampires could come across as rude.

I
walked back
into Travis' control room.

"Your door camera not working?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

"Looks fine to me," he said, nodding towards the image of the landing outside the door I'd just used to come inside.

I leaned closer to the screen and studied the shadows intently. Travis had good gear. HD images, crystal clear.

"You still got that UV light fitted?" I asked, casually. Travis stilled. His fingers hovering over the next letter he was about to type, in the code he was writing in his search for Hakan Bahar's accommodation.

"On my doorstep," he muttered. "Is it the French git?"

"Yeah, the one and only."

"Bit hot for him, ain't it?"

"The sun's never stopped Alain before."

"And you want UV? You're gonna piss him off, Ellie."

I smiled, it was a little wicked. "He'll be expecting it."

Travis sighed, it was similar to my earlier effort. "The switch is over there." He indicated which one with the nod of his head.

I kept my eyes on the screen and pressed the red button, holding it down for the count of five. When the light went out a singed and furious vampire stood on the top step, small whorls of smoke drifting up from his cheeks and nose.

"Ooh, nice tan," Travis murmured, returning to his code.

"Can I let him in?" I always asked. This was Travis' home, his safe haven from the creatures of the night. Alain wouldn't hurt him. At least not without knowing I'd stake his undead heart if he tried. But Travis had reason to hate vampires, even if he helped the daughter of one almost every single night.

"Sure." The word was punched into my gut with force.

"I'll contain him," I promised. He didn't bother to reply.

We trusted each other, Travis and I. But how far the trust could stretch, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

I replaced my Svante sheath and sword, but not my jacket. I was fully armed, and my
Sigillum
were blazing magenta. Let Alain see my rage.

I crossed to the door and keyed in the code to unlock it manually. Travis didn't use this door for himself, the wheelchair wouldn't handle the rickety steps. His access was well hidden. Even I hadn't used that. But I was sure it led to his car, housed below.

The door clicked open. Alain didn't push it, the silver coating on it would have burned his flesh, adding to the sickly smell of char-grilled vampire that floated on the air.

"Very mature, Éliane," he murmured, once the door swung fully open. I glared at him. I hated my full name. Too feminine. So not me.

He strode past me and walked directly to the kitchen, avoiding Travis' space as if I'd asked him to. Alain was too perceptive for his own good.

"Your father wishes to see you," he announced, not beating about the bush. I just leaned back slowly against the door-jam and studied the man I was soon to share blood with.

Joining ceremonies are fairly simple. A slice in one palm, another in your betrothed, and then you clasped hands, letting the blood mix. Of course, we weren't entirely sure how that would go for Luc and I. Our blood was not normal Nosferatin blood. It was something we had to risk though, without trying we may die.

But then attempting a joining, when we didn't know what the complete outcome would be, was tantamount to craziness as well.

Welcome to my world.

Alain studied me back. But where I was cataloguing his typical vampire prettiness, he was making sure I was unharmed. His blond hair had been cut recently, an unusual move for a vampire several hundred years old. A lot of them keep the longer hairline, shoulder length, tied back; a homage to their past. But Alain was never one to be stuck in history. If anything he looked to make it. The bluest of blue eyes flicked up to mine. In another life I could believe he felt something other than responsibility toward me. But Alain had made his intentions very clear.

"This joining will protect you, Éliane,"
he'd said at the time my father announced who he wanted for my kindred. I was twenty. I’d refused.

"You're too old and when I join it will be with someone I want."
I had meant love, but one does not speak of love to a Master Vampire in charge of spying for my father.

He'd eyed me sceptically, something of calculation behind those vivid, but slightly cool eyes.

"I'll tell you what,"
he'd murmured, holding my defiant gaze with casual ease.
"If you find a suitable vampire to love..."
He'd had no issues using the 'L' word.
"...by the time you need to join, I will step aside."

I didn't believe him. Vampires, although professing their word as true, could be conniving at the best of times. And Alain was the slipperiest of the lot.

"Just like that,"
I'd challenged.

He'd smiled, it was everything you came to expect of a vampire; spellbinding, mesmerising and wicked.
"Just like that, Bébé."
Alain always used the nickname to rile me, he knew I didn't want to be considered a "baby" by anyone, least of all him.

I stared at him now, wondering why time had run out and still I hadn't fallen for a vampire. Not for lack of trying. But it took a certain type of Nosferatu to join with those born to hunt them. My mother still sleeps with a silver stake beneath her pillow. My father has been burned too many times to count while still out cold in bed.

"Have you seen your brother recently?" he asked, breaking the silent stand-off we'd been having and making my heart speed up at the mention of Luc.

Alain stilled, vampire statue still. He'd heard the increase in heartbeat.

I willed myself to calm, but the damage had been done. My
Sigillum
had turned a combination of greens. Sage for unease, mint for fear, and lime for worry. Belatedly a magenta twined through the greens announcing my anger. Of all the talents I'd inherited at birth, my emotional-based
Sigillum
was the most hated. My hands fisted at my sides, but I refused to hide the evidence now. It would show a weakness I couldn't even contemplate displaying in front of my father's most favoured vampire.

"Do you have something to tell me, Éliane?" Alain asked. His gaze hadn't alighted on my arm, but I knew he hadn't missed a thing. A soft cyan pulsed within the normally deeper blue of his eyes. Vampires' eyes change colour with emotion, which would explain the connection between my
Sigillum
and having a vampire for a father. Luc's and my eyes are a steady brown. But the
Sigillum
? A straight line to how we're feeling.

I didn't see him move, but in the next second he was in front of me, one hand banded around my left arm, directly above the rapidly changing colours of my mark. Most people think vampires are cool to touch, but it’s only those who have not fed recently. Alain had obviously dined last night, his hand felt as hot as a brand.

In a more leisurely fashion, a movement I could actually track, his free hand came up to cup my jaw, tilting my face up to his. I had never been this close to him before. Occasionally he would touch my shoulder in passing, more so in the past few months as a precursor to our joining and the consequent need to physically touch in some way afterwards. But close proximity to this man was still so new.

"Tell me," he whispered,
Sanguis Vitam
, his blood life power, filling the space between us.

My lips parted, a breath of incredulous air escaped, and I felt the Light within me expand.

"Don't," he curtly ordered, voice still a soft whisper, intimate in itself.

"You're trying to command me," I pointed out, unable to see the colouring on my arm, but aware it would be alternating a rainbow of emotions right now; shock, anger, fear, outrage, defiance.

"Just think," he murmured, the hot breath of his words caressing my lips. "When we join I won't have that ability."

Joinings prevented glazing or
Sanguis Vitam
manipulation, but also protected the vampire from the talents of the Nosferatin as well. It made sense, why connect you irrevocably with a creature that could bring you harm? Oh, we could still physically hurt each other, but preternatural influences would be out.

And on that train of thought, my stake came up and rested against his chest, above his heart. The silver already sizzling against his skin beneath the shirt he wore. His eyelids closed slowly, a low growl emitting from the back of his throat. When they snapped open, crimson edged the rim of his irises, and his fangs were fully grown.

"You are just like your mother," he ground out.

"Thank you," I replied with a fake smile.

We stared at each other, neither moving, but the smell of burnt flesh was becoming too strong.

"Remove the stake," he ordered, his fangs catching my attention every time his lips moved.

"Pull back your
Sanguis Vitam
," I countered.

"You first."

"You started it."

"And I'll finish it, if I have to." His face moved a centimetre closer, and then he snapped his jaw in a mimic of a wild animal nipping at its young. Alain always managed to remind me of my tender age.

"You deserve a hole in your chest, Dupont," I said, but pocketed the stake. I was starting to feel sick from the stench.

As soon as the silver disappeared, he healed. Oh, he must have fed well tonight.

"I should turn you over my knee,
Bébé,"
he whispered.

That was it. For some reason Alain was in the mood for a fight. And I'd give him one.

"Outside. You and me. Are you game, vampire?"

"Are you challenging me, Éliane?"

"Do you have the balls, if I am?"

He blinked. The only show of a response at all.

"Weapon?"

"Sword." Always my preferred.

His head shook. "No." I knew it wasn't because he was no match with a blade. Alain had featured in my lessons growing up as well. "Hand to hand. You need to get used to touching me."

The way he said that sent unexpected shivers down my spine. I ignored them, as I hoped he was too.

"Arena rules apply," I said, with a swish of my hair as I exited the room.

I heard his low chuckle as he followed two paces behind. The only rule, other than banding of magic in a fight, was the last man standing won. Anything else goes.

"The courtyard’s free and I've rolled the cover overhead for your sun challenged friend," Travis offered as we walked past his control room. I wasn't sure, but I thought perhaps Travis had microphones and cameras in every room of his home. He'd just witnessed the entire exchange between Alain and me, but it did save time. The courtyard I'd fought Ediz, and his hidden crossbowmen in, was now prepared for a vampire. Sunlight blocked, but Travis still within firing range should we need him.

"How many in the wharves?" I asked, slipping my jacket on over my sword. Normally I fought in skin-tight, long sleeved tops to hide my
Sigillum
. It gave too much of my intentions away. As I was stupidly wearing a singlet, the jacket would have to do.

"About thirty. You'll have an audience before too long."

"Keep a tab on them for me," I asked.

"Always, El," came his steady reply.

I nodded my head in farewell, I'd either be out cold after this, or would need to see to Alain's safety. I wouldn't be returning after I kicked the undead jackass' butt, that was for sure. This fight had been a long time coming. Approximately five years, at least.

From the moment my father announced Alain as my betrothed, his Second had taken more interest in me. Beforehand, I'd been merely a child, afterwards I was considered a child with prospects. Something to guard, to watch over, to annoy unendingly with observations and instructions on how I should be leading my life. I got enough of that from my father, I didn't need the sanctimonious secretive spy master to offer his two cents worth as well.

Our boots echoed down the stairwell, announcing our approach to anyone who cared. Travis would keep them contained until we set up, and I was in no mood to go slowly. I wanted this done and done fast.

We walked out into the centre of the courtyard, the strange glow of the sun could be seen, but not felt, through the overhead UV shield. Travis had the whole area wired. You wouldn't know it was one of the most technologically enhanced regions of Auckland to look at it. The only thought you'd have when entering the half-destroyed wharves was that a bomb had gone off and nobody cared.

I stretched my muscles, rolled my shoulders, getting myself used to moving fully clothed without a sword. I'd done it many times before, but usually when dressed for a night of hunting I had my Svante in hand, or at least a stake. I'd have to check myself each time Alain landed a blow, and not pull a weapon and forfeit the fight.

I watched as he slipped out of his shirt, revealing pale cream and unblemished skin, over taut muscles and well defined ridges. Vampires aren't all perfectly formed, but those with even a hint of Master status are usually a little god-like. Alain was an exquisite representation of a level one Master Vampire. The unusual glow of sunlight on his skin leant a surreal nature to the moment, as though he wasn't really a vampire and we weren't really about to grapple, skin to skin.

The bastard had known what he was doing when he suggested this, hadn't he?

I cracked my knuckles, fingers laced as I stretched my arms over my head. It was no use, the jacket would hinder me and the sword in its sheath would throw me off balance. I flicked a quick look around the edges of the courtyard, finally spotting exactly the right person for the job. This was going to be a display, a show, a chance for those I walked amongst to see more of me than they normally would. It wasn't necessarily a bad move, if I spun it just the right way.

I strode over to a dirt smeared young boy of about thirteen. His clothes looked like rags, but on closer inspection you'd notice not a rip or tear that wasn't put there intentionally by the owner. Gavin was a con artist, the best I'd ever met in the wharves.

"Hey," I said with a nod of my head.

"Hey, Ellie. Watcha doing?"

"Teaching this vamp a lesson. You up for a job?"