The Blood Moon

Motivations

"Dragan is going to need a refresher course on how to properly tend to a newly converted," said Kyra with a sneer as she gazed upon the blissfully numb Dean.

I leaned against the wall so that there wasn't too much pressure on my ankle. It gave me a good side view of my dazed friend, including the length of his neck. What once had been clean, pale skin, now looked like the fur of a leopard. Dark circular marks created a patchwork of bruises around his throat, which were punctuated by pairs of bright red dots. He might have been bitten five times from what I could see, but based on some of the skin peeking out from under his loosely buttoned collar, there was likely more bruises hiding beneath his clothes.

"Will he be all right?" I asked, forgetting my own pain for a moment.

"Zelda overfed," said the vampire queen with a low growl in her voice. "Which is not her fault, instead it is that of her sire, who should have regulated how much she fed on and where she fed on. Most of those bites failed to connect with a proper blood supply so she bruised his skin trying to pull blood out before giving up and trying another spot."

"But," said Dean, who raised his head as well as a single finger in objection, "she was so apologetic, so polite, whenever she came up dry. Then, when I kept falling asleep, she put me on the softest mattress...it was so so comfy — like clouds of cotton candy...or did she feed me cotton candy? No, it was the white macadamia nut cookies that were the best! So many treats.... Licorice, lemon squares, chocolate covered strawberries... Such a kind mistress. So sweet, so kind, so..." His head fell back down on the table and a snore rolled inside his throat.

"Montrose," said Everett, with a rough rumble in his words, "I need you to go get a cup of water from the kitchenette."

"Is that how you ask nicely?" inquired Irene with a syrupy sweet voice that dripped with venom.

"You're lucky I was as polite as I was," growled the werewolf.

"Ms. Montrose," said Kyra before the two could get going again, "Mr. Showalter is suffering from anemia due to blood loss. If you wish to help him, a cup of water would be beneficial. Once he's answered our questions, he'll need to go back to the hotel and rest. Let Spencer know and he'll provide fruit as well as drinks fortified with electrolytes to boost Mr. Showalter's recovery."

Irene glanced between Kyra, Everett, and Dean. As her eyes fell upon the bruises painting the drooling young man's neck, she sighed and bowed her head in resignation.

"Fine, just take it easy on him."

"Of course, Ms. Montrose. I always treat my kin with care."

"Too bad the mangy wolf can't say the same," the Body grumbled as she headed to the door.

Once she stepped out of the interrogation room, Everett lunged forward with a growl, shutting the door with a swipe of his hand and locking it with a flick of his wrist.

Without skipping a beat, Kyra launched into action.

"Mr. Showalter, sit up."

In an instant, Dean followed her command and I stood agape with surprise.

"So long as his body physically can, he will obey her every order," explained Everett, his voice calmer now that his antagonist was out of the room. "Anyone that has been fed on by a vampire within Kyra's family tree gains a blood link to her, which means he is now completely at her mercy and he cannot tell her a lie."

I didn't respond to Everett's bit of information, instead I watched how Dean wobbled in his chair, his eyes heavy-lidded and his lips limp.

"Did you ever leave Delilah Cross's side during last night's masquerade?" the vampire queen asked, her focus intent upon Dean as if no one else was in the room.