Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(38)

“I am familiar, yes. Shall we begin?”

I stared down at my sword. If my parents could see me now, what would they think? I then remembered what they’d done, and silenced the thought.

“Yeah.” I had to crane my neck back to meet Celestina’s gaze. “Starting sounds great.”

I switched my grip on my sword—getting more smudges on it—then rolled my shoulders back with determination.

Celestina nodded in approval, then trotted off—still in her high heels—at a tolerable jog. Well, a jog for me. Judging by how little her sun-blocking umbrella bobbed, I’m pretty sure it was a fast walk for her.

My arms had settled into a dull ache even though I toted my sword. Speaking of which, can I say I was so glad Josh decided to give me a smaller katana? I can’t imagine how terrible it would have been to drag one of the bigger ones around. But my thighs burned. Like, there was a distinct possibility I wasn’t going to be able to haul my rear upstairs to my bedroom once this was all over.

I wasn’t wheezing much—which surprised me until I realized it was probably due to all the sprinting and running away from potential bullies I did. But the pain from weightlifting had me scrunching up my face and limping along. “Shower,” I reminded myself. “Think of the shower.”

Celestina made an amused noise as we left the shady lane and the path meandered toward the back of the property. “Motivating yourself?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Is this the way to the pool?”

“Not quite. This path doesn’t go that far back…” She trailed off as she gazed out over the lawn, her dark brows bunching together in a look of concern.

“What is it?” I asked.

Celestina slowed down so she was barely moving as she carefully surveyed our surroundings, her red eyes tracing over the back of the mansion, the gardens, and the trees a little off to the side. “I smell something that doesn’t belong here.”

“What?” I jogged a little farther, then slowed to a walk as I studied her face.

“Death,” she said bluntly.

I wondered about that—vampires were technically dead, after all. But I wasn’t about to ask such a rude question, plus Celestina looked legit worried, so I started scanning the area as well.

Celestina left our jogging path, making for the trees.

I trailed behind her, adjusting my hold on my sword so Celestina could grab it if she needed to—perhaps the fae had dumped another monster off?

Celestina ducked under a low hanging tree branch, froze, then muttered under her breath in Spanish.

She yanked her cellphone out of her suitcoat and pressed a speed-dial number.

I peeked around her shoulder, freezing when I saw a pair of booted feet poking out of a bush. It was a body.

My skin turned clammy, and I thought I could detect the faintest whiff of blood. Somehow, I didn’t think the owner of the feet was as lucky as I had been. My stomach protested, and I rapidly backed away.

“Your Eminence,” Celestina said to her phone. “The murderer struck again, and I believe I found his latest victim.”





Two hours later I was showered, dressed in a suit that fit me surprisingly well, drinking tea from a real bone china teacup…and surrounded by vampires.

We were located in a meeting room—or the at-home, vampire-version of a meeting room. A long wooden table that had dragons carved into its legs stretched through the center of the room, but as big as it was, it still wasn’t large enough to fit all the Drake vampires who were present. The unseated vamps stood at the edges of the room, their eyes glittering ruby red in their fury. The room was as lavish as the rest of the mansion—expensive paintings hung on the wood paneled walls, and the marble fireplace probably cost a fortune—but I found it a little off putting because it also lacked any windows and was so dimly lit I could barely make out the flower pattern of my teacup.

A male vampire exchanged shouts with a female vampire, and Celestina stood in an attentive position at the door, holding a handgun aimed at the floor.

I sank lower on my rickety chair and tried to make myself as unnoticeable as possible. The meeting had only started ten minutes ago, and there had already been a lot of slamming fists on the table so it cracked ominously.

It turned out the body Celestina and I found belonged to Layton—a Drake vampire, and the first victim from Killian’s lineage. Unsurprisingly, the powerful Family was not taking the news well.

“We must take action,” Rupert declared. “Layton was killed on Drake Family land. That’s reason enough for us to declare war!”

“Declare war on what?” asked a male vampire with chestnut hair. “We have a serial killer on the loose—other Families have had losses as well.”

“And they have been too lazy and incompetent to find the murderer—or murderers—themselves,” a female vampire hotly said. “We cannot afford to hope they will shake themselves out of their apathy—our race will die out before then. We must find the murderer and mete out justice—for Layton’s sake!”

“Might I remind you, we’ve also lost a servant and two blood donors,” Josh said. He leaned against the wall, nonchalantly studying the bare blade of a dagger that he balanced between his fingertips.

“Obviously.” The female vampire rolled her eyes. “There has been collateral damage. But it is inexcusable that we lost one of our own in a time where every vampire is needed to assert our power, and turning new vampires is nearly impossible!”