Blood Ties Bundle: Blood Ties Book One: The Turning / Blood Ties Book Two: Possession / Blood Ties Book Three: Ashes to Ashes / Blood Ties Book Four: All Souls' Night. Jennifer Armintrout
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to hug him.
His back tensed beneath my arms as his breath hitched. The little boy that still lived in some deeply buried part of him appreciated the comfort. But I wouldn’t offer him empty reassurances. I had no idea what would happen, and I wouldn’t pretend to. “I’ve got to go downstairs.”
I wouldn’t allow myself to look back as I went to the door. The guard waited to escort me, as though I didn’t know the way on my own. He walked fast and didn’t offer me his arm, so I kept up as best as I could without spraining my ankles.
Teetering precariously down the stairs, I caught a glimpse of the guests that were gathered in the foyer. Vampires of various ages chattered among themselves in excitement. Everywhere I looked I saw expensive fur and jewels in exotic styles. Even the Fangs seemed to have dressed for the occasion, though they probably would still be kicked out of higher-end truck stops for breaching the dress code.
Cyrus stood at the front doors. I couldn’t see his face, but I felt his excitement at the prospect of reuniting with his father, and the nagging fear that something seemed out of place, that something wouldn’t go right. I pushed through the crowd with an air of confidence. It wouldn’t do any good to let him sense my own anxiousness and have all of Nathan’s planning go down the drain at the eleventh hour.
I wobbled on my spiky heels and fell against a slender vampire with a bald head. Two small horns protruded from his forehead, and his thin black mustache quirked in annoyance. He looked like the cartoon devil on a package of Red Hots. “Excuse me,” I said, struggling to right myself and not stare.
When I finally reached his side, Cyrus slipped his arm around my waist. He pulled me close and kissed my cheek. “You look lovely.”
“Thanks. But maybe next time you could let me pick the footwear.” I peeked distractedly at the vampires around us. “Who are all these people?”
He waved dismissively. “Friends of Father’s, friends of mine. Allies, acquaintances. The Fangs.”
I smiled at the disgust in his voice. “Aw, but they’re wearing their Sunday best. Are they all vampires?”
“Yes, but some are mutts.”
“Mutts?” I looked back at the horned man. “As in mixed with something else?”
“Mmm. The vampire you just collided with has some demon ancestry. There are some lupins here, as well.” He wrinkled his nose. “Do take care around them, they’re liable to hump your leg.”
“Lupins?” I remembered something Nathan had told me. “You mean werewolves?”
Cyrus shushed me. “Werewolf-vampire hybrids. But that’s not the politically correct term. Lupins are making great strides at becoming semicivilized, and they prefer not to be lumped in with their lesser wolven brethren. My God, those creatures are still living in the woods, running in packs. Who would want to be associated with them?”
A guard stepped forward. “Sir? They’re approaching.”
Cyrus took a deep breath and turned to me. “Are you ready?”
I wasn’t certain what I was supposed to be ready for, but I nodded. Still firmly clamped to his side, I walked with him as guards opened the doors.
The night air was cold as it hit us on the top step. In the moonlight, I saw the gate at the end of the driveway open. A long sedan pulled up, followed by a hearse. Another sedan completed the motorcade. They rolled to a stop at the top of the drive, the hearse in position in front of the door.
Eight men, identical in height, features and their black suits, exited the cars. A chauffeur stepped out of the hearse. He opened the back door ceremoniously, exposing a gleaming, bronze coffin.
Cyrus straightened at my side. I thought I saw a tear on his cheek, but it might have been a drop of blood from his deteriorating replacement eye. He wiped it away with an unsteady hand.
The men lifted the casket on their shoulders and carried it to the house. Cyrus turned and guided me back inside. I glanced over my shoulder to see the pallbearers follow us.
The crowd parted and allowed our procession to pass. I saw some of them bow their heads as we walked by. Those who didn’t either looked on in interest or boredom, and the Fangs lifted their beer bottles in salute as our weird caravan moved through the foyer.
Guards opened the study doors. Inside, the furniture had been removed to make a place for a large dais, ringed with tasteful arrangements of black and white carnations. The pallbearers moved past us and slid the coffin gently into place.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Cyrus said quietly. “My guards will see that you are adequately fed.”
The doors closed, leaving us alone with the Soul Eater. Cyrus knelt at the side of the coffin and laid his hands reverently on the bronze lid.
He bent his head, his hair falling forward, obscuring his face. He pressed his lips to the lid’s surface, and I heard him whisper, “Welcome home, Father.”
I felt guilty for watching this exchange. Cyrus was vulnerable, and I stood there as if I wasn’t about to jab the proverbial knife in his back.
He rose and turned to me, one arm outstretched to invite me closer. “Carrie, come meet my father.”
Wicked butterflies rioted in my stomach. I knelt beside the casket as I’d seen Cyrus do, and slid my trembling hands onto the lid.
Never in my life had I felt hate so strong. It radiated from the coffin beneath my fingertips and wound around me like tendrils of bloodred smoke. My arms shook as I struggled to pull them away. All I could hear were screams of death. When I closed my eyes, pain and torture surrounded me. Fangs and claws tearing flesh. Blood pumping from severed arteries. I opened my mouth to scream, and when no sound came out, I realized I hadn’t been able to move my mouth at all.
When the insidious power released me, I jerked my hands away. Sweat beaded my forehead.
Standing next to me, Cyrus didn’t appear to notice. He stroked the smooth metal of the casket as if hypnotized by its reflective surface. “Father, this is Carrie. My fledgling, and your new daughter. I hope you find her worthy of your blood.”
Something told me my new father-in-law didn’t think I cut the mustard. I bit my lip and silently prayed Cyrus wouldn’t see what I had felt and kill me right there. But whatever he experienced when he touched his father’s casket, Cyrus’s expression of serene pleasure never changed.
“I’d like to spend some time alone with my father. Will you see to the rest of the preparations for dinner?”
I nodded slowly, my gaze fixed on the casket. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t win Daddy Dear over by ensuring the napkins were properly folded, but anything was better than witnessing this macabre family reunion. “Sure. No problem.”
I wandered around for a while, scoping out the attendees more closely. It was fun trying to figure out who was a vampire, who might be werewolves, and how much money they might have spent on their outfits.
The guests milled around the foyer and dining room, sipping blood-infused cocktails and chatting about politics and art. A row of chairs had been placed along one of the dining room walls, and a few unlucky pets were chained to them. They slumped over unconscious, and thirsty vampires dispensed blood from taps in their necks. The pets who’d already expired were tossed unceremoniously onto a pile in the corner, and guards wrestled replacements in.
The Fangs had already invaded the garden. Some lounged in the delicate chairs that were rented for the occasion and rested their heavy boots on the immaculate tablecloths. Another group had brought out a beat-up stereo and blasted heavy-metal music to drown out the string quartet playing on the terrace. I thought I should remind them of their manners, but then decided against it. I wanted to see Cyrus’s face when he learned his elegant garden party had become the Head Banger’s Ball.
By eleven forty-five it seemed the entire vampire population of the world