Reign of Blood

Chapter Seven

"Your majesty," Azrael greeted on the first day after their capture-the-werewolf-expedition. He entered the war rooms with a respectful nod, moving to stand beside the shuttered windows. Outside, the sun was shining bright as it always did in Veneficus. Blistering and merciless. Lest the vampires wished to burn, the windows were to remain that way. Shuttered. He checked them once then returned to the table.

If there was one thing these vampires took seriously, it was the sun.

Unfortunately for them, Veneficus didn't have cloudy days. The nice weather was permanent. Sometimes, Annaliese regarded it as another cover-up for the horrors her realm had been known for. The weather was just like Veneficus. It was nice, but then it started to burn.

Behind Azrael, another vampire skulked. This one was Killian. Like Azrael, he too had been sent to bring back Evette—and failed.

Apparently, one measly werewolf King was too much for fifteen grown vampires to handle.

Pathetic.

This vampire in particular was much more brooding and far less happy with a witch regent leading a vampire population. Though his eyes were red like Azrael's, his hair was muddy blonde. His visage was either miserable or condescending. Sometimes, it was a mix of both.

"Annaliese," He acknowledged less respectfully. This vampire in particular had a habit of stepping on her toes. He'd push her, stopping just before she reached her breaking point. "Any reason for this sunshine calling, or have you finally lost your shit and decided you want us all to burn?"

She levelled him with a cold look. "Sit down Killian. The day I let you burn, I'll start with your blood."

"Noted."

Like Azrael, he took his seat at the war room table.

Annaliese was no King Arthur. The war room was no democracy. Her table was long and rectangular with her chair- sitting slightly higher than all of the others- at the front. Annoyingly, as a woman, she had to do more to remind these men that she was their superior. But they'd remember, eventually. If that meant she had to break them first, then she was happy to do that. Adjacent to her, Nazreen sat, head ducked as she stared at her lap.

Her own future subjects intimidated her.

Seth was the last to enter, his usual smirk in place as he took in the disgruntled vampires. He dropped down at Annaliese's other side, across from Nazreen.

Irate, she clasped her hands together.

"Sorry I'm late," Seth said, not sounding the remotest bit sorry. "I got caught up in the Common World. There was this gaggle of nymphs and- well, I'm sure you can guess what happened. Your boy got laid." With one hand, he made a circle. With his other hand, he stuck a finger inside of it, pumping it in and out. "You wouldn't believe the things those little hookers can do with their tongues. There goes my virginal anus. I'm a changed man now Annie."

"Thank you, Seth."

"None doing Annie."

Don't kill him. He's important. Don't kill him.

That, and she cared for him like he was her own brother. He could lope off her arms and she'd still love him. Unsurprisingly, she wasn't eager to admit such an unfortunate fact.

"Let's get this thing started then, shall we?" He grinned, slumping back in his chair. "The floor's all yours."

"Have the blasters been installed?"

"It's happening as we speak. Ready for your perusal. The guards have doped your werewolf up on the silver gas stuff. I suppose it's easier to get the job done without a supernatural Doberman biting at your ball sack."