Page 13 of Blood and Hexes

The Silver Guardian

Anger hit her chest like a dizzying punch. How dare they? How dare they lock her out of the territory, when Night Hill was her home! Her family was one of the founders of Oldcrest, of the entire vampire species! Diana got to her feet, shaking with wrath, but by the time she was standing up, her ire had dissipated, replaced with something else.

Of courseshe was locked out. The Eirikrson nonsense notwithstanding, in the hundreds of years since she'd left Oldcrest, they were bound to renew the wards, and how would they have included her in the list of permitted residents? Why would they have wanted to? She was stomping her foot because someone had changed the locks and keys after centuries! A part of her wished they'd found a way to include her. Her brother could have done it. But she was being unfair and petulant. For one, maybe he'd tried. But given how long it had been since she'd spoken to hm, he might not remember her name, let alone anything else.

Except Alexius was a vampire, and their kind remembered everything.

It was her fault. She could have written. And in the last centuries, as methods of communication had improved, she could have given him a call, sent him an email, or chatted with him on social media. She hadn't, because she was a fool and a coward.

Diana breathed out through her nose. Think, Helsing, think.

She pulled out her phone and loaded up a social media app.

Alexius had a generic page set to private. She'd never attempted to friend him, but he updated his public status once a year or so, typically with an obnoxious selfie. She clicked on the option to message him, and froze. What could one say to an estranged brother after such a long time? "Hey, I'm at the door, come get me," didn't seem appropriate. "I'm Diana Helsing, your brat sister. Rings a bell?"

Diana was chewing on her upper lip, a habit she'd shed long ago, leaving it behind with her mortality. Or so she'd believed.

Her thumb was still hovering over her device when a groan caught her attention.

Shit! The drugged-out ginger. Well, his messy hair was bright red, not orange.

She'd forgotten all about him. The crash couldn't have hurt him much, but he was going to have a hell of a headache when he woke up. Poison was a bitch.

Grateful for the distraction, she went back to the bike. Other than the front wheel, it didn't seem too damaged at first glance. She knelt down next to the vampire still strapped at the back, and started to undo her rope work.

"I knew the shibari classes would come in handy someday," she mused out loud.

The complex knots slithered free. With one hand, Diana pushed the back of the bike off the vampire. Though clearly still out of it, he was starting to come to; his breathing got a tad faster and shallower, his eyes fluttered.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

That earned her another groan. Diana laughed, opening the oversized bag hanging at her hips. "Bingo," she said, retrieving an intact bottle. "My last Olla. You're lucky it didn't break in the crash." She opened it up, and bent down to reach his mouth. Tilting the neck of the bottle, Diana said, "Bottoms up. You'll feel much better after some blood."

The stranger's mouth remained closed for a beat, but he finally parted his lips, forcing his eyes half open. She could tell the effort drained his energy.

At the first sip, his eyes flew open. He sat up and proceeded to cough. "What the hell was that?"

He was now most definitely awake.

"Now that's just rude," she replied. Never mind that most vampires agreed with his distaste for her favorite brew. "Where would you be without me?"

"Not regretting I was ever given a sense of taste. This is the most disgusting thing I've ever had the displeasure of drinking. And I've lived on a diet of rats a time or two.”

Diana tilted her head, intrigued. To a modern vampire, the admission might have been repulsive, but back in the day, before synthetic blood, before vamp fangirls happy to get bitten by a hot immortal, it hadn't been uncommon for her kind to feed on small rodents—or whatever animals they could find. It was that or resorting to feeding on unwilling, terrified humans. Diana had drunk her fair share of rats in her time as well, especially during the weeks it had taken to cross the ocean when she’d left the old continent for America. The man was at least a few hundred years old.

Diana didn't spend a lot of time with her kind. Vampires kept to themselves, sticking to their territory. She wasn't part of a specific clan, as the Helsings had long ago ceased to be a family. They were too few and divided for that. She'd made friends with a loner or two, and occasionally some affiliated vampires like Juniper, but no fellow ancient. And a good thing, too. Surviving hundreds of years in this world required ruthlessness and a great deal of power. Between huntsmen, shifters, witches, and fellow vampires, it was impossible to avoid making enemies. Diana had a healthy handful, although she seldom started conflicts. She should be on her guard. The fact that he already seemed more or less recovered from bloodbane poisoning was a clear indication this man wasn't to be trifled with.

"Where are we?" her rescued redhead asked, looking around with a frown.

"Never mind where we are." She wasn't about to tell a stranger they were at the border of Oldcrest."Who are you? Why were you getting your ass handed to you in the crappiest pub of the kingdom?"

The man groaned, straining to sit up. "Thanks for the reminder." He shook his head. "I'll never live that down."

Diana's eyes narrowed. “I heard no answer to either of my questions."

He sighed. "Look, if I told you, you'd freak, probably attack me, and that wouldn't end well for you."

"You sure?" She grinned at him. "It ended pretty well for the guys at The Lion's Claw."

---