Page 37 of The Sanguine Selection
The atmosphere is thick with tension, and I catch glimpses of my fellow conspirators in the dimly lit corners of the hall.
They are like phantoms, shadows within the shadows, biding their time for the opportune moment to strike.
The rebellion, once a mere whisper of dissent, has grown into a formidable force, a serpent coiled and ready to strike at the heart of the kingdom when I finally give the signal.
18
Mikhail
To be backin the throne room so soon after waking is almost jarring. Our thrones remain the same, the stone walls and flickering sconces just like they once were. Yet something is…off.
What is this feeling pulsing through my veins, causing my blood to heat once more, forcing painful lurches in my dead heart? It’s more than a feeling, it’s a sensation. An almost miraculous experience though I’m as of yet, uncertain why. What I do know, is something monumental is building. I can feel that too, like static in the air before a bolt of lightning spears across a darkened sky.
My body…it’s healing. There are moments of clarity in which I have not experienced for an age. My once blurred vision, seen through dry, decayed eyes, begins to sharpen. My hearing, which recently sounded as if my ears were buried beneath the earth, has cleared. Scent is becoming more potent, my ability to distinguish between each individual within Sintara purely by their smell heightens.
As members of Libarryn kneel before us, swearing fealty, I can scent their emotions again. Anger, lust, and deceit, though I cannot pinpoint who it comes from. Sinatra is not as we left it. New smells congregate with the old, distinguishable like oil mixed with water, these new faces. Those loyal before our downfall, those who took the blood oaths, still have our blood within them. It lingers there, demarcating them as different. Of course, after a hundred fucking years, there would be new blood here within the castle. I’m not naive enough to think it remains unchanged after a century of our absence.
But the once consistent aroma of Sintara, one that would envelop me and give me peace even when the chaos of the coven threatened to drown us all, is noticeably absent. And that disturbs me. It smells like us, and yet, does not. I’m not yet sound of mind enough to figure it out, to piece together all the segments of this broken puzzle. But I will be. And there will be hell to pay once I do.
My immobility is maddening, my mind healing before my limbs. Jasper has kept this little tidbit of information that those looking to undermine us would die to get their hands on, secret. At least for now. How long can we hide behind the illusions, that we do not merely perch on our thrones because we want to but because wehaveto.
Jasper has fabricated chairs with wheels to move Marek and I around. But beforehand, all rooms must be cleared, hallways abandoned. We cannot afford to look weak, even though most of Sintara would be understanding considering we were just unearthed a day ago. It’s not the majority we put on this show for…it’s the others. The reason a hostile odor permeates our ancient castle.
Yes. Things are different now. In the slight glimmers of normalcy, it’s evident. Part of me excites at the prospect of bloodshed, of lashing out my power to extinguish that of another. To coat my skin in the blood of an enemy, relish in it, the feeling of it warming me even as their body cools and dies. That…is power.
And I’ve come to crave it, almost as much as another thirst gnaws at me, a desire forher.
Immediately, I push any thought of her away, but it’s like she’s around me all the time. Her scent misting the air like precipitation in a dense fog. I don’t even know what she looks like yet, but I can smell her. Feel the softness of her thighs under my skeletal fingers, feel the slight tremors in her legs as we drank from between them. I can’t escape it, escape her, and it’s only been a fucking day. Not that I’d want to, but Ineedto. Mistakes of the past will haunt me, and I will not repeat them again.
Not ever.
More is at stake this time, an entire kingdom, our coven. Even the humans are more at risk than ever, the wolves using our absence to their advantage. So much needs to be done. Jasper will have to run it through us again.
Jasper…
As the lesser vampires bow before us, pledging their fealty with words I care not to hear, I consider Jasper’s actions. That man will be rewarded beyond his imagination for what he’s done. Riches, women, men if he so wishes. Without his undying loyalty, I don’t know what might have become of Marek and I. Perhaps we’d have met the true death decades ago, if not for his protection. If he didn’t act quickly and get our withered bodies down into the crypts of our ancestors, sealing the doors before anyone else learned of its location. We owe him everything, and we intend to pay up.
We will, brother.Marek’s mind melds with my own, a relief to speak freely again without having to use our still healing voices. And without the risk of others hearing.My eyes grow weary. I must rest.
The final vampires approach, nose touching the ground with their deep bows. I nod my stiff neck, the action taking more concentration than should be required of such a simple movement, and wave them off, sensing my brother has reached his limit.Go then. I will join you shortly. I have a thirst that needs to be satisfied.This hunger is almost as bad as the darkness.
Almost.
I feel it too, Marek laments.It’s caustic, fatal if we’re not careful.
Once the throne room is emptied aside from Jasper, I swivel my head towards my brother.I know. Rest now, then feed. Strength is our first priority. Everything else comes second.
He blinks slowly, his face still a stranger from the male I once knew. He looks haggard, beaten and broken. Clumps of his hair remain missing, dirt still covers every inch of him. He attempts a feeble smile and a hint of yellowed teeth peer through his dry, cracked lips. He’s ghastly to say the least, and I know my appearance is a twin to his.
I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so damn arrogant. Humiliated by my withered condition. Marek and I have yet to bathe, to change clothes. No. We are exactly as we were when we ascended from our tombs. Libarryn needs to see what we survived, outlived. See that the fancy crown and gilded clothes don’t give us power. We are the fucking power. Even like this, even diminished as we are, half the kings we used to be, the other’s cannot even come close.
We are legends.
Twin fucking kings of the ancient Novikov line.
Merciless. Ruthless. Omnipotent.
And as we take more of her within us, this human Jasper searched so diligently for, our might is limitless. Decayed we may be, but retribution is coming. Hell will reign with us, destroying the filth within.
