Queen (Bloodline Vampires 3)

“You mean your mother made a deal.” I don’t know why I’m arguing this. I don’t owe Azazel anything. Wolf made it extremely clear how dangerous the demon is. If anything, I shouldn’t be listening to Grace since she has just as much experience with demon deals as I do at this juncture. I wrap my arms around myself. “What were her terms?”

She turns away. “I don’t know. The last time I saw her was the night he came to collect. I know she made a deal, but I’ve never been able to get more information. I…” She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know how to summon him. Do you?”

Do I?

I know what Wolf did. It seemed simple enough, at least in theory. His bloodline vampire power is the ability to manipulate blood itself. Thanks to my seraph half, I’ve somehow managed to acquire that ability, along with Rylan’s shapeshifting and Malachi’s fire. It would be enough…except I got these powers less than a week ago and I’ve had exactly one training session with Malachi to learn how to control them. Since then, I’ve barely had the energy to keep up with Grace, let alone try again.

I close my eyes and try to walk back through what Wolf did to summon Azazel. A blood circle that became a blood ward of sorts. I think. He fucked Malachi in it, but I don’t know if that’s part of the ward or just because Wolf is, well, Wolf.

As far as I can tell, after creating the ward, he did nothing at all. Azazel showed up quickly after Malachi and Rylan left, but Wolf didn’t even say his name before the shadows went weird and the demon appeared. It has to be the circle. Which is a problem because I don’t know the first thing about creating a blood ward. “Do you know how to create a blood ward?”

“Mina, I’m human.”

Right. Of course. I shake my head slowly. “Then, no. I don’t think I can summon him.” Then again, maybe I’m overcomplicating things? I lift my voice. “Azazel? Can you hear me?”

“Holy fuck.” Grace flings herself back against the wall, her dark eyes wide as she searches the room. The seconds tick into a full minute, and we both breathe a sigh of something akin to relief when nothing and no one materializes. Grace glares. “I cannot believe you just did that.”

I can’t believe I just did that, either. I shrug, trying to pretend I’m not as shaken as I am. “It was worth a shot.”

“It was worth a shot,” she repeats, shaking her head. “You are out of your damn mind, Mina.” Grace scoops up her backpack from the floor and a small gun from the desk to tuck into her waistband. She pauses with her hand on the door. “Get some sleep. I’m going to see about taking a look at this compound myself. I think it’s a long shot, but maybe there’s something you missed or something that’s changed since you were there that can provide us a way in.”

It’s not safe for her to go scouting on her own. My father is sure to have sentries farther afield than just the compound walls, and Grace might be human and therefore not seen as a threat, but she’s a beautiful human. I wouldn’t put it past them to try to snatch her off the street to either be turned or tossed into my father’s pool of humans that serve as mistresses and blood banks. “Grace—”

She’s gone before I can get my warning out.

I mean to follow. I truly do. But one minute I’m trying to get the energy to stand and move to the door, and the next a wave of dizziness hits me hard enough that I have to throw out a hand to brace myself on the bed so I don’t topple. “What the fuck?”

Is this an attack?

I try to push my magic out, to sense, but it’s like I’m wrapped in a thick cotton straitjacket. I can’t feel anything at all. With a curse, I turn inward. A quick body scan leaves me even dizzier. Oh no. This is so bad. I let my hand drop, feeling ill in a way that has nothing to do with morning sickness. I’m not being attacked; at least, not from the outside.

It’s the baby.

It’s draining my magic.

2

I don’t mean to fall asleep, but like so much else with this damn pregnancy, it’s as if I don’t have a choice in the matter. One moment I’m cursing my circumstances and the next I open my eyes to a strange room. It’s not the hotel; it’s nowhere near as concrete as that. The whole space feels strangely misty and uncertain, and yet as I sit up and look around, it also doesn’t feel like a dreaming. Normally, when I dream, I don’t realize it is a dream until I wake.