Righteous, p.1
Righteous, page 1
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
ABOUT KENDRAI MEEKS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Catch a typo?
PROLOGUE
SCHLOSS WOLFSRETTER, 1687
THEY WERE ALMOST THERE. A few more steps and they’d be safe.
Andreas held Gerwalta up on the stairs as another labor pain struck. Or it could have been that he held on for his own support. Wolves didn’t favor heights, and Gerwalta fought with all her strength to keep the silver stairs near the top of the tower solid beneath their feet.
“Walta?”
“I... will... not... let... us...” The contraction gripped her, her womb constricting, driving fire into her core, crushing her determination. Gerwalta doubled, pushing her hands out in front of her, catching the edge of the steps.
Andreas breathed a sigh of relief as the stone landing held them up. He stopped on the stair above, turned, blanched. He was so gaunt, so unnaturally wane and weary in a way she’d never seen any other lupine. Gerwalta never knew a werewolf had the capacity to become beleaguered, but that had been before she and Andreas had been forced to flee, running the length of God’s green earth just to keep their own lives. He pulled Gerwalta to her feet. Or tried, for the pain still held her captive, and even her strong will proved incapable of resistance.
“Walta, please,” he begged, gently coaxing her. “Just a little more, my love. We’re almost safe.”
Her words were more cries now than voice. “I’m coming.”
The wolf found a shade of white lighter still and assumed it, even as he whisked them into the first room he came to: the Matron’s bedchamber.
“I am sorry, Walta. This will hurt.”
Without warning, her mate heaved her up, pulling her into his arms, and carried her to her mother’s bed, even as the bolt of anguish gripped her once more.
“Andreas!” She squeezed shut her eyes against the suffering, seeing red without the benefit of sight.
“A moment more, love. And... we are here.”
Gerwalta took what relief she could from the cool sheets beneath her thin, torn frock. Andreas knelt at her side, pushing pillows under her back. “I don’t know what comfort I can offer but ask it of me and I’ll do it.”
“Just promise me that you’ll do whatever it takes to make sure our child survives.”
The lupine wrapped her frail hand in his, drawing Gerwalta’s white-knuckled fingers to his lips. “I swear to it.”
The tender moment passed as the ache of labor lit her body on fire. Gerwalta dropped Andreas’s hand, planted her palms flat against the bed, threw her head back, and screamed.
“The baby is coming.”
These words were not from either of them, but from a third who had just entered the room.
Andreas teetered on the edge of shifting. “If you try to hurt her now, Matron...”
“Cease your fight, cursed wolf!” Gunda Faust snapped, even as she closed the door behind her and worked to move what heavy items the room offered in front of it. “Do you think I fought beside you below just to kill you up here? Now, step aside, unless you know how to birth a baby. Guard the door. The others will make their way here soon enough.”
The emotions cycled through the lupine’s face. Anger, spite, frustration, and finally, acceptance. “If another member of your clan enters this room, I’ll tear them limb from limb, but please, save my pup.”
ONE
“BUT YOU MUST SEE that the best way forward is together. If we don’t ally as one nation against the Dracule, then...
Mother’s words cut off as hysterical curses poured over the phone line. She passed a look around the Council Table in the Schloss’s former throne room. Instead of other matrons, however, only Markus and I were seated there to lend silent sympathy.
With a huff, Brünhild continued, “I would remind you, Yanyu, that regardless of half of the Council’s retreat from Germany, I am still Grand Matron. Think of that twice before threatening me again.”
Once upon a time, I would have believed in fairies before the idea that someone would try to out-bitch Brünhild Kline. Now, our allies in the Hood Houses had fallen away like flies. The first to bolt: no surprise. My mother had barely finished decreeing that all asenaics were now recognized members of the community when the House of White’s matron showed Schloss Wolfsretter her backside. The Greens followed in her wake fast enough to share a cab to the airport, taking away the Atlantic seaboard on both sides of the ocean as safe zones. God willing, Vlad didn’t decide to head to NYC because the Big Apple was now a Brünhild-Kline-can-suck-it designated zone.
Pressing her forehead against a balled-up fist, Mother waited for the other voice to a give her an opening, and then...
“Of course, I understand that what I’ve done has gone against centuries of tradition by treating werewolves as our equals, but we both knew the day was coming. When the most powerful and vicious vampire in the history of creation declares war, you find your allies where allies are to be had. What better time to move us forward? And if you’d just listen to reason, then...”
The other side went dead.
Markus’s words wrapped around the lollipop he sucked. “Guess the House of Orange is a no?”
Brünhild closed her eyes. “Indeed.” She cycled a breath, then turned to me. “Where does that leave us?”
I examined my notes. “So... pretty much all of Asia and the UK have told us to go to hell. Casa de Amarillo is still with us, though that’s probably more because they’re the ones who helped hide the asenaic line all these years. And... the blues are confirmed, so if the vampires invade either the Fjords or Minnesota, we’re golden.”
My attempt at comedy was a drop of water on a hot stove. Pushing off my sarcasm, I set aside my notebook. “It’s a fifty-fifty split, but Mädchen, that’s more than enough. There are only three ravens left, and Vlad’s just one vampire against, what, a few hundred of us?”
“He’s not just one vampire, Gerwalta. He is the vampire. And with Igor Karmarov dead, he’s now the paterfamilias of his bloodline. It’s a position many still revere.” Brünhild let out a long exhale as she planted her hands on an old, ornately carved chair and leaned into a stretch. “And I fear he may be targeting the other asenaics now.”
Behind us, sitting on the side of the room, Tobias coughed a laugh.
The Matron spun. “Something amusing you, Mr. Kline?”
“Mr. Kline? My name is...” Tobias’s face screwed up. “No. No dice. You are not going to stick me with my mate’s family name just because you decided it’s convenient if I’m one of you now.”
I crossed my arms. “And what’s wrong with taking the wife’s name? Or did you assume that because you’re a man, I’d take yours automatically?”
“Why wouldn’t you want to be a Somfield? It’s a great name. Geri Somfield. Gerwalta Somfield. Mrs. Somfield. Rolls off the tongue like sugar now, don’t it?” He stood, walking... no, stalking toward me. Tobias raised his hand to trace a finger down the bridge of my nose and over my lips. “Don’t you want to be my missus, Mrs. Somfield?”
Behind me, my mother chocked on her annoyance. “You two must learn quickly there is more to marriage than constant sex.”
“Oh, I know that, Matron.” The corner of Tobias’s mouth pulled up. Given only a few days, he’d learned all the best ways to piss my mother off. “I hear it also comes with tax benefits in your country. Maybe even a green card.”
The chair legs groaned as Brünhild pushed them into the table. “I hope that at least you’re using protection. This is hardly the time to knock up my daughter.”
And she, it turned out, had learned how to push all of Tobias’s buttons.
“You’re very crass for an old autocrat, you know that? What I was laughing at,” he said, like that part of the conversation had been on pause and all he had to do was hit play again, “what made me so giddy, is that I guess it should come as no surprise that there are other asenaics you know about and we don’t. You were covering up quite a few things, it seems.”
“Yes, I was.” Brünhild crossed her arms. “If I didn’t, old school traditionalists like Zhu and Smyth of the House of Green would have hunted them down and killed them long ago. So, you’re welcome, Tobias, for my efforts which kept you and your family alive all these years.”
I sucked in a breath through my teeth as I turned to watch the crater of that verbal shell form.
Tobias’s hands balled into fists. “Last I looked, I’m the only one left standing. Dracule killed my brother and my da. And, oh, my mate, too, so... tell me again why I should thank you?”
My mother’s eyes tracked to the floor, a gesture anyone who didn’t know Brünhild Kline
“Mother, you’re hiding something.”
She didn’t deny it. Why would she? It was her privilege as the unquestioned—well, until recently unquestioned—leader of our people to keep whatever secrets she wanted.
I stepped forward. “Fess up.”
“What do you think she can tell you, Geri?” Tobias said. “That my father and brother aren’t dead? I buried them myself. That Kara isn’t dead? You were there for that funeral with me.”
An image of Tobias’s first mate’s grave in the Paradise cemetery flashed in my mind.
“No, Tobias, I would not tell you they’re alive, nor deny that I was aware of the possible target they represented for the Dracule as soon as the Ravens were set free and began to regain influence and power. But there is at least one other member of your bloodline who carries the asenaic traits, and more than the fear that Vlad may come for her, I fear that she may welcome it.”
My mate was the picture of a man who stood on the edge of a precipice with the balance about to be knocked from his feet. “I don’t have sisters, aunts... Both my grandmothers are dead. Who possibly could there still be?”
Brünhild lifted heavy eyes. “Your mother.”
TWO
BETWEEN US, MINA FUSSED, refusing to go down easy for the day.
“I just can’t believe it,” Tobias mumbled for perhaps the fifth time since we’d settled into bed. “My mom died when I was eight. I felt it happen. You can lie about some things, but you can’t fake a preternatural sensation like that.”
“You believe what my mother said then?” I continued to tap Mina gently on the bum as she lay on her stomach, a trick we’d learned to coax her to sleep.
“Your mother might hide more secrets than Houdini, but I’ve never heard anyone accuse her of openly lying.”
“Unless you include lying by omission.” Just because my mother and I were on speaking terms again didn’t mean we were going to suddenly become the Brady Bunch. Deciding not to kill my mate started us down a path towards reconciliation, but the pain of years couldn’t be sewn up in just a few weeks.
“Not going to pretend that it’s good, love. She should have told you about your true heritage. Spun my head around to find out I was part hood. Finding out your ‘true blood’ mother is half slayer over your asenaic father’s corpse? Must have burned like a bitch.” Tobias grimaced. “No pun intended.”
“Whatever. We can’t change the past. We just have to move forward with knowing what we do now.” I pulled back my hand as Mina finally nodded off. “So, when do we go?”
“Go?” His brow furrowed.
“To England,” I said as I stood, gently scooping up the baby to put in her bassinet.
Tobias, god bless him, rolled on to his feet and headed for the windows. “Why would we go to England? I’m not homesick, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I blinked away my surprise. “You don’t want to see your mom?”
“Why would I? The green hood who told Brunhild about her said she appears to be living there of her own free will. If that’s true, it means she left her family willingly. Or at the very least, she chose not to come back to us. Good riddance, I say.”
“You don’t honestly believe that’s true, do you?” I said as I pulled off my sweater. Schloss Wolfsretter made for a good postcard, but at the end of the day (or the beginning of one, as the case might be), it was still a medieval castle and drafty as hell. “Why would a mother leave her kids and husband? And don’t tell me it’s for the city life. London ain’t all Mary Poppins and Paddington Bear. Plus, it doesn’t explain why you felt her die. We have to go. You need to know the truth.”
Tobias unbuckled his belt. “I don’t need anything but my mate and my pack. Dumplings wouldn’t hurt, though. God, Geri, when’s the last time we had dumplings? Is there a Thai restaurant in Freiberg?”
“Your mom is alive, Vlad the Impaler wants us dead, and you’re thinking about dumplings?”
“What? I’d share.” He moseyed my direction as his pants fell to the floor.
Things I knew about werewolves: they feared heights, hated perfume, could tell a fake diamond from a real one without a microscope...
And they never wore underwear.
My jaw dropped at the sight of the luscious figure before me. The time with Vlad had taxed his body, but muscle had begun to rebuild over hardcore sexy sinew. The cuts and bruises had mostly healed, leaving behind virgin flesh in a body that was anything but.
He pulled closer. “See in the sunrise with a root, pet?”
I guffawed. “We just got Mina to sleep.” My head jerked in the bassinet's direction in the adjoining alcove.
He twirled a lock of my black hair around a long finger. “We’ve learned to be quiet enough.” I felt his smile as he pushed a kiss beneath my ear. “Usually.”
“Fine.” I let my shirt drop to the floor and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Root me, Mr. Kline.”
The whole “who takes whose name” question? Yeah, it hadn’t been settled.
The warning in his eyes promised delicious payback. “Why, Mrs. Somfield, you devil, you. I ought to take you over my knee and...”
I pressed my lips to his before he could finish his sentence.
THE NEXT NIGHT, I was trying to score in a completely different way. In a sparring match, with a slayer, in Schloss Wolfsretter’s underground training gym.
“Damn it, stop moving so fast.”
Caleb ducked as my swing went wide, sending me spinning. “Think Vlad’s going to slow down for you? Vampires are lightning-fast, and a slayer’s only chance is to be just as quick, if not quicker.”
“I’m not a slayer!” Another punch flew over his shoulder as he lunged to the left. “Let... me... hit... you...” I said, each word punctuated by another attempt to land a blow.
“We’re not dating anymore.” Caleb’s flattened hand drove hard into my shoulder, sending me staggering back. “I’m not going to pull my punches. Vlad won’t.”
Barely grabbing my balance back in time, I froze. “Wait, you mean the entire time we were together and training, you let me hit you?”
“I mean, I was trying to get in your pants and I...”
A drop of silver grafted beneath my shirt heeded my unspoken command, racing up my shoulder, down my arm, and into my hand. Caleb flew as the metal powered my silver solarium—or “lunarium” as we’d been calling it—and blasted him to the floor.
“Da fuh....” Chest working, hands bracing for the impact, Caleb turned up wide eyes on me. “What the hell, Geri?”
“What?” I played innocent, letting my hands drop out of attack position. “You said solaria don’t hurt slayers, and a lunarium is a really weak solarium.”
“I said they don’t burn, not don’t hurt. And that was, like, point-blank range. Seriously uncool.” He peeled off his singed shirt to examine the damage. Reddened skin looked more like a probable bruise in the early stages than a burn. “You know what? If Vlad comes for you, I’d lead with one of those babies as big as you can make it, then slice off his head while he’s trying to catch his breath. That might actually work.”
I offered out a hand to help him up. “Are you sure that I just shouldn’t let him try to get in my pants? Seems like that could work, too.”
Caleb grunted as he regained his footing. “Geri, I didn’t mean anything. I was trying to make you mad enough to hurt me.”
“Big check mark on that one.” I examined the training tape I’d wrapped my hands in when we started, watching it fall to the ground, blackened and ashy. “Word to the classically untrained: anger is dangerous in battle. When you fight angry, you’re not focused on what defeats the enemy. You’re focused on what makes you feel you’re getting your way, and that’s a guaranteed way to lose.”
His hand swung as he pointed at the floor. “Did you or did you not just land me on my ass because you were angry?”
I shook my head. “Like you said, it was point-blank range, and you were giving me an open window to strike. In actual battle...”
“Save it. I’ve heard all your hood-wolf blah blah blah...”
He turned, grabbing his bottle of water from a table on the side of the room. I tried to ignore the slim but solid definition of his torso as he lifted it and tipped it, pulling the muscles of his arms to attention. Memories of my mouth exploring that plane of flesh resurfaced. If I hadn’t already been flush from sparring, I’d light up red on the spot. Oh, I had no intention of doing anything, but there was a little bit of jealousy on the edges of my consciousness for the woman that would eventually land that in her bed each morning.
