Blue Voodoo: A Romantic Retelling of Bluebeard (The Hidden Kingdom Series Book 2) (29 page)

The vampire in question stood against the wall near the large window. Moonlight turned his long white-blond hair silver, catching his eyes and lighting them like twin pits of cerulean flame. As always, he was  careful not to place himself where he could be seen from the outside. Ever mindful of possible assassination attempts, even here in a kingdom few even knew existed yet, the undead prince was the picture of caution.

“I should have gone to retrieve them.” Kirill’s blue eyes remained firmly on the door, his face a map of severe lines. “Letting them wander in on their own is a worse idea than having them both here.”

Saamal shook his head. “You would not have gotten the
impundulu
to come without his bride. Dominique knew as much as he did about our impending offer and it would have been perceived as a grave insult to deny her an invitation.”

“It was not the
impundulu
I would have invited,” Kirill muttered. “The woman is the one with real power, real influence.”

“We should be inviting them in pairs anyway.” Adonis, demon prince of Nysa, wagged a clawed finger at Kirill. “We only invite them into our little world in pairs, there’s no reason to extend the invitation to just one of them.”
            “We cannot get their acceptance or their oath before revealing the existence of the new kingdom,” Kirill ground out, words hissing between his fangs. “The least we can do is limit the number of people who know about it by inviting one person at a time.”

“You say that as though they wouldn’t immediately go home and tell their wives anyway,” Adonis stood and dropped the bulk of his shoulders against the wall in an attempt to scratch an itch between his large, leathery wings. Hazel eyes glittered with mischief and he opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the werewolf prince’s gruff insult.

“Typical vampire.” Etienne wrinkled his nose at the vampire. “He can’t understand anyone who doesn’t think with the same mercenary mindset that he does.”

Kirill’s shoulders bunched, black cloak bunching with the movement. “In this case, it doesn’t matter anyway, since Tenoch so
freely
shared the information with them
the first time he spoke to them
.”

Saamal rubbed at his temple, trying to ease the headache threatening to consume him.“Kirill, I have tried to tell you. Tenoch does not believe in manipulation of any kind. If asked a question he knows an answer to, he would need a very good reason—a very good reason for
him
—not to answer honestly.” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I did tell you that before we sent him.”
            Patricio straightened suddenly, pushing off the oak-paneled wall he’d been leaning against. “The pirate is in a mood.” The other four princes turned to look at the angel. The prince of Meropis gestured with his chin toward the door, his wings shifting behind him. “They’re in the hallway. I can feel his thoughts from here.”

“He’s thinking sinful thoughts?” Adonis leaned forward. “What sort of sins is our proposed inductee considering?”

Patricio’s eyes shone with a brief flicker of brilliant blue light and the feathers of his hulking white wings ruffled. “Murder.”

“Odd,” Adonis mused. “He’s just had his honeymoon. I would think lust would have been his sin of choice tonight.”

“Unless Parlangua let slip a hint about his debt to Ogou.” Saamal leaned his head back against the thick cushion of his chair, bracing himself for the outburst he knew was coming.

True to form, Kirill snarled, both hands vanishing under his cloak, no doubt to grip a weapon of one kind or another. “Naturally. Why wouldn’t the monster be forthcoming with such information? What need have we for secrets, or the leisure to make our revelations in our own, considered time?”

“I’m sure they would all be very ashamed of themselves if they only knew how much it upset you when people deviate from your plan,” Adonis soothed. He scratched a hand over thin air, producing a cigarette from some astral pocket. “Smoke? It might make you feel better.”

Black velvet parted to reveal the silver blade of a dagger—Kirill’s personal favorite, if Saamal wasn’t mistaken.

“Do not press me, Adonis,” the vampire said in a voice as smooth and cold as old bones. “This situation has been—”

A knock on the door ended whatever Kirill had been about to say. Everyone turned their focus to the door, each preparing himself to greet the pirate and his voodoo queen. Patricio especially was looking intent, the spark in his eyes hinting that he’d scented sin and was feeling…hungry. Only the fact that his giant broadsword remained sheathed and untouched assured Saamal that the angel posed no threat to their guests.

Saamal rose first and strode forward, gesturing for the others to stay back. He opened the door, welcoming smile at the ready.

“Julien, Dominique, I’m so pleased you could make it.”

“Did you purchase my debt from Ogou?”

The question burst from Julien’s lips as though the man had been holding it on his tongue for the entire journey here. The words were sharp, flung like shrapnel to hide the panic that fueled them. The pirate’s long dark hair flared around his face and shoulder, deep treks in the waves suggesting its current state was the result of hands being shoved through the tresses as opposed to being tossed about by the wind.

Not wanting to agitate the man further, Saamal kept his face stoic, unthreatening. “Yes I did. I take it you have spoken with Tenoch?”

Julien’s face blanched at Saamal’s affirmation, nearly matching the ghostly shade of Kirill’s undead pallor. Beside him, Dominique remained calm and composed, her head scarf expertly wrapped and folded, her throat decorated with a simple gold chain necklace. She held herself with the bearing of a true queen, shoulders squared, back impeccably straight. Still, Saamal didn’t miss the tightening of the skin around her eyes.

“I mean you no harm.” Saamal kept his hands at his sides and his movements slow. “If you’ll just let me introduce my companions and then I will explain—”

“What do you want from me?”

Julien’s demand was robbed of some of its force by the rasp of a dry throat. He hadn’t moved from the doorway, hadn’t accepted the invitation to come inside. His feet remained rooted to the floor just outside the room, a testament to his determination to get answers before entering into the discussion he’d been invited here to have. Saamal watched with interest as Julien met his gaze. Few who knew Saamal’s true nature could look him in the eye with such bravado, and the gesture earned Julien a hefty amount of respect.

“I will explain, if you will but allow me. My companions and I have a proposition for you.” Saamal gestured behind him. “Julien, Dominique, I would like you to meet Prince Etienne of Sanguennay—a familiar face to you, no doubt.”

Dominique inclined her head, more of an acknowledgement of one monarch to another than the respect of a subject to her prince. Julien nodded, a short, jerky movement that spoke more of nerves than disrespect. Etienne bowed politely.

“I have, of course, heard of you, Madame Laveau. You are well respected by my people.”

“As are you, Your Majesty.”

Sammal pointed near the window. “And this is Prince Kirill of Dacia.”

Kirill was studying the pair with his usual intensity, no doubt taking inventory of possible weapons. He also bowed, more to Dominique than to Julien, though Julien was in no state to notice. Saamal noted with resignation that the pirate was swallowing hard far too often than was necessary. Introductions would need to be rushed then.

“And this is Prince Adonis of Nysa and Prince Patricio of Meropis,” he finished, gesturing to the demon and the angel in turn. He faced the pair again, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. “My companions and I have invited you here because we are building a kingdom—a hidden kingdom, if you will. The land you stand in now is newly created, and you are one of the first to step foot on this soil. Obviously very few rulers have the opportunity to build their kingdoms from the ground up, so to speak, and after careful consideration, we think the two of you would be a valuable asset to our vision for this land.”

“How did you get Ogou to give you my debt?”

The desperation in Julien’s voice warned of a panic so deep-seated that it might well morph into rage if not acknowledged and diffused. His fingers spasmed periodically now, clearly itching to free his dagger from its sheath.

Quick answers then.

“I happen to know of an island where they brew a rum so strong that it has been incorporated into a rite of passage for young men.” Saamal looked to Dominique, guessing that she would be the one to reassure her husband. “Ogou was intrigued enough both by the rum and the prospect of influencing young lives, that he was willing to exchange your debt for the location of this island.”

“And am I to understand that all you desire from my husband is his—and my—presence here in your…hidden kingdom?” Dominique waved a delicate hand in the air.

“Yes.”

“And what would our positions be in this kingdom?”

“You would be a lord and lady of this land. You would enjoy a level of wealth comparable to what you have now—indeed you may bring with you anything you like from your current abode. As we bring more people in, you will help keep the peace, settle disputes and such. Not dissimilar to the work you do now, Madame Laveau.”

Dominique seemed to mull that over, brown eyes sliding over the occupants of the room. Her husband, unfortunately, had none of his wife’s calm—or decorum.

“I’ve heard of you,” he blurted out.

Dominique grabbed her husband’s hand and squeezed, but Julien didn’t take his eyes off Saamal. His brown eyes darkened, swallowed by the blackness of his other form. The air in the room crackled with wild energy, the potential of a coming storm. Saamal heard the rustle of feathers that alerted him to Patricio’s movement. He held his breath, straining to hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed. A low murmur came from Adonis’ position by the fireplace, followed by more bristling feathers. The demon was trying to calm the angel. An attempt Saamal feared would be futile if Julien continued to let his fear feed his temper.

“You are a god of blood and sacrifice, the stuff of nightmares.” Julien’s voice held the distant echo of thunder. “You expect me to believe that you want nothing more from me than to…manage your property?” Julien gestured at Saamal’s plain black tunic and grey pants and laughed, a semi-hysterical sound. “You expect me to believe that this plain façade is the real you?”

Saamal arched an eyebrow. “You believe I’m being deceitful because I am not what you have been led to expect?”

Dominique tugged on Julien’s arm again, fixing Saamal with a firm look. “He does not believe you are being deceitful.”

“Perhaps just not as honest as you could be,” Julien pressed, ignoring his wife’s nonverbal urge for caution. “You must realize how disconcerting it is for us to find the front you put forth to be so different to what witnesses have described. How am I to believe that the terrifying god that frightens everyone so is the same quiet man who stands before me? The man whose kingdom is built upon a monster, who is known for nothing more than the bloody sacrifices that have marked your reign?”

Heat stirred inside Saamal. Primal instinct, the fierce desire to defend his land, his people. The beast inside him raised its head, feline eyes alert, piercing. Ready to come forth and paint him in the colors of the Jaguar King.

“Do you want me to frighten you?” Saamal’s voice was soft, but it held the purr of his feline form, the monstrous black jaguar that had inspired so many fearful tales among his people. It would be so easy to give in to that form, to show Julien the face he seemed to need so badly to see.

Dominique tensed like a deer sensing a predator, her hand tightening on her husband’s arm, abandoning all attempts at subtlety. She pulled, hard, trying to force him to break eye contact with Saamal, to end a standoff he had no hope of winning. Her husband didn’t look at her, didn’t take his eyes from Saamal’s.

Saamal filled his lungs with the scent of the man before him. The aroma of blood, never far from his mind, filled his nostrils, infusing his veins with adrenaline. Even through skin, the perfume of Julien’s life essence called to him, a song of life and vitality. His leg ached, a reminder of his own sacrifice so long ago—and not so long ago. Screams of past sacrifices echoed in his ears, contrasting with the sharp, but brief, hisses of pain that now filled the air when his land was fed its due. His connection to his land, his people, making their offerings more than memories. Made them a part of him.

Power flared over his skin, filled his senses. Awareness spread, the minds of those in the room with him fluttering against his consciousness like the wings of butterflies. He looked into Julien’s eyes, and this time, he looked at him as a god looks upon a man. He looked on him and saw inside him, deep enough to share the visions now filling Julien’s mind.

Through Julien’s eyes, he saw himself change. Copper skin darkened in places, rippled with the spotted fur he wore as the Jaguar King. He smiled, and now his mouth was full of sharp teeth, his breath carrying the metallic tang of blood and the memory of devoured flesh. His eyes, always black, were now drowning pits of shadow that clouded the mind and soul if looked upon too deeply.

Drums echoed from some place beyond this existence and deep inside Saamal, a hunger stirred. A desire to go out into his kingdom, to test the strength of the men, the faith of the women. To see who would shed their blood for the land that gave everything it had for the people who relied on it.

“You smell like a bird.” 

Julien’s eyes widened, fully avian now. His skin rippled, softening with the brush of rising feathers. Saamal’s jaw tingled, saliva forming as he watched the shadow of a lightning bird shimmer before him.

“Saamal.”

Etienne’s voice. The echo of a growl, a hint of the lycanthrope’s inner wolf. A feline snarl bled into the high-pitched cry of a great cat. Saamal blinked, surprised to find he was facing the werewolf now, teeth bared, jaw aching with the urge to bite down and feel bloody flesh against his teeth…