Crimson Death

Strangely, in that moment I trusted the crazy bitch on the floor more than the one standing in front of me. I looked into Nemhain’s pale blue eyes and said, “Just do it.”

“So brave. I will break you of that before I am done.”

“Talk is cheap, girlfriend. Do it, or don’t.”

She frowned at me as if it wasn’t the reaction she wanted, but she laid her hand against my face and called her power. We were both done being nice.

79

MY SKIN RAN in shivering goose bumps with all the power she pushed into me, but it was like standing in the middle of a river that flowed past the rock of me. I could feel the water, knew I was getting wet, but I was still above water, still safe and unmoved by the torrent.

I looked into her blue eyes from inches away, with her hand cupping the side of my face, and all that energy flowing around, but not into me. Just like in the dream, she couldn’t get past my shields.

“No.” She whispered it.

I looked at her and said, “Do you still want me to say your name?”

“This is not possible,” Keegan said behind her.

“I cannot see into your mind. I cannot draw your fears to the surface of it. The chains you wear are like the blade that slew your tiger. They are enchanted to separate you from all your other parts. Jean-Claude cannot help you while you wear them. You are a vessel for power, nothing more. I should be able to do with you as I like once you are shorn of all the other powers that aid you.”

“Surprise,” I said softly.

She poured more energy down her hand and put a second hand on the other side of my face so it looked like she was moving closer for a kiss. “No!” She shouted it, so angry, centuries’ worth of rage. I could smell it like something sweet and bitter rising off her skin. She was right on one thing: She had cut me off from all the other people I was connected to metaphysically. It was supposed to make me weaker, but in that moment, I realized I was like a loaded gun, and whatever she had done to me had taken off my safety. For the first time, I had the ability to feed on anger, thousands of years of untapped rage, and had no one in my head or heart with more practice at controlling their hungers.

I didn’t think it was a bad idea, or a good idea. I just fed on her. I fed on her hands as they cupped my face. I fed on the look in her pale eyes as they widened in surprise. I fed skin to skin, draining her down as she held me. So—much—anger. I felt my eyes fill up with my own power. I watched her face grow peaceful as she fell into my gaze, and still I drank her rage. I’d never tried to drain anyone like this, but then I’d never had anyone who’d offered such a feast of time and ire.

Hands dragged her away from me, but she reached out to me, wanted to keep touching me, like any vampire victim once you mind-fuck them deep enough. Keegan and Hamish held her between them. Her eyes were still unfocused like a sleepwalker’s.

“Her eyes,” Hamish said, and it took me a second to understand it wasn’t Moroven’s eyes he was referring to, but mine.

Keegan looked up at me and then at the floor. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes while they were glowing. I felt like every inch of my skin should have been glowing with power, not just my eyes. Oh, my God, it felt so good.

The Wicked Bitch, who turned out not to be so wicked after all, took a deep shuddering breath and looked up at me. I’d thought I’d drunk deep of her rage until I looked into her eyes again. Hatred, such burning hatred—it filled her eyes, her face, as if she were formed of it. Something in that one look did what all her power hadn’t done before: it scared me. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t keep my pulse even, couldn’t stop that spurt of adrenaline. It’s always funny what will scare you and what won’t. You never know, not even about yourself.

“That’s better,” she said in a voice that was icily calm and controlled and didn’t match the hatred in her eyes at all.

“Mistress, are you well?” Hamish asked.

“Answer him for us, Keegan,” she said.

“The woman is afraid now. We are very well, indeed,” the man said, smiling a most unpleasant smile.

“Why would she be afraid now?” Rodina asked, her voice still holding an edge of the fear that Moroven had caused her.

“She sees me now. Don’t you, Anita?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, my mouth suddenly dry. I couldn’t have explained it, but I’d never had anyone look at me with such hatred. I don’t know why, but it did frighten me. Damn it.

“I could feed upon your fear now, as you fed upon my anger, but I think I will let your fear grow first. You have so little inside you that it is not a feast for me.” She walked closer to me and peered into my face. “Not yet anyway, but it will be, Anita. I promise you that before I kill you and take the power that is rightfully mine, I will create inside you a fear to equal my hatred.”

I had to swallow again to say, “I’m not sure there’s enough fear to equal your hatred, Moroven.”

She smiled and it was a prettier one than Keegan’s, but they were still the same smile. It was most unpleasant and promised worse. “See, Anita, I knew you would say my name. In a few hours, you will scream both my names.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” But my heart seemed to be in my throat. Why did the hatred make me more afraid than the anger? Then I realized I had my own anger, but I wasn’t sure that I hated anything as much as Moroven hated the world.