Page 44 of Entombed By Blood
I trust my omega, but I also know him too well, so I checked it over briefly after he returned it. Finley filled it with all kinds of shit like news apps, games, and reading apps, but he also added Biteme to it. No doubt just to mess with the rest of us.
Evelyn doesn't need a hookup app. She needs information to survive. I'll maim anyone who even thinks of messing up her head with sex right now.
She retreats to the armchair and flicks it on. Looking over every detail with an enchanting kind of fascination. The touchscreen throws her for a second, but she gets the hang of it quickly. Only fifteen minutes of pretending not to watch her later, music starts blaring out of the speaker.
I roll my eyes, grab a set of sleek black earphones, turn them on, and chuck them at her.
She catches them easily, then inspects them with the same curiosity.
“Stick them in your ears,” I instruct. “They're already connected.”
I don't offer any more help than that, and I don't think she'd accept it if I did.
It takes her a while, but she figures it out. Her vampire instinct to adapt and survive, combined with her natural intelligence, is a thing to behold.
Two hours pass in silence as I sort through the reports from Cain’s other packs, looking for the ghoul activity that those other soldiers had mentioned. The ghouls have a tendency to follow Frost around, and it’s both useful and irritating. They make his presence hard to hide, but also give us an advantage when he decides to use them.
Sure enough, there are tiny pinpricks of recent ghoul activity dotted across the map of New York, clustering along the Hudson.
Not much, but any more before Evelyn is officially announced, and Cain will take interest.
He expects Frost to come for her. He just doesn't know that Frost orchestrated her release in the first place.
My attention flicks back to Evelyn, sitting in the corner, engrossed as her fingers flick across the screen. I'm impressed by her restraint. She's not leapt for me, nor asked to feed at all, despite still healing. Her thirst has to be nagging her by now, trapped in a room with the scent of my blood still perfuming the air from my just-healing wounds.
“You're staring,” she mutters.
“You're thirsty,” I retort.
“I'mbusy.”
Stubborn female. “What have you learned?”
Her eyes finally leave the screen. “In 1962 my sire took his rightful place as ruler of the world. He spent the decades before that building a vampire army and placing loyal vampires into the top ranks of every government, military, and organisation on the planet. Then, when he was ready, he revealed the existence of immortals to the humans and destroyed any and all resistance with violent demonstrations of strength across the globe. Setting just-turned vampires on unsuspecting crowds of civilians until the rest were too scared to act. They call that the ‘Triumph.’”
I grimace as I recall the chaos of those days. Silas, Vane, and I were in a bar when the streets started to run red with mortal blood. We watched the news reports on the crappy TV and seethed as we watched Cain disassemble the world as we knew it in a few carefully placed moves. We stepped out onto the street, and—in a perfect storm of luck and coincidence—ran straight into Frost on the run.
Evelyn is waiting for me to say something, and I cough, forcing myself out of my memories and back into the present.
“Yes. He already controlled the silver trade by that point, and his first order was the collection and destruction of all silver owned by humans. Keeping them defenceless against us.”
She nods. “I assume his second was something degrading, to remind them of their place, followed by another atrocity to remind them of the perils of non-compliance?”
“Enforced attendance of blood donation centres once a month. Followed by a massacre of elderly and the infirm across the globe when a riot and gang violence destroyed a massive centre in Lima.”
Her frown deepens. “And the lycans? They're not mentioned once.”
Somewhere during our conversation, she’s forgotten to be afraid. The wary, timid look and constant flinches have disappeared, and in their place is a shadow of who she must have been. Like this, it’s easy to believe she was once a general. I can see her strategist’s mind peeking out, and it’s sexy as hell.
“Cain had an agreement with several major packs pre-Triumph. Their alphas were permitted freedom to rule as they wished as long as they swore an oath of obedience to him. The other packs were driven underground or hunted to death.”
“Sensible, allowing you to police your own kind. I imagine it reduced any objections from the packs until he was ready to absorb them.”
“Yes.” My reply is curt. “He left them alone for a while, letting them get lazy in the new arrangement for a few years, before bringing them to heel. They still have enough autonomy to keep them from a full rebellion, but he conscripts a few from each pack into his army. Reminding them of their place and keeping their numbers down to deter any revolts.”
Her face doesn't move, but I can see her mind whirring.
“Are you going to drink now?”
