Hellfire

Chapter Two

I woke up with a grunt that instantly turned into a wince. My nose hurt and blood crusted my split, swollen lip. My tongue flicked out instinctively, making myself taste the metallic flavour, quietly disliking how hard that punch had been, and forced my eyes to open.

Instantly my blood boiled as annoyance filled me. I wasn't sure where I was. A lounge? It was clearly old. The wallpaper that had been fashionable fifty years ago was peeling away from the cracked plaster, bare bulbs flickering flimsily above, creating a very sickly sallow glow, and the windows were bordered up. Clearly an abandoned home, the sort of place squatters and crackheads would use.

But it wasn't squatters and crackheads that were using it now. Perched by the grimy windows were two vampires, females stiff with wariness. They weren't like the dregs I'd chased off before. These two were well dressed in clean fashionable clothes, their skin pristine and pale, their faces attractive and youthful. Clearly, they belonged to a House, one that meant they had access to good blood and had decent hunting grounds, not drug-blood they bought in dark alleys or feeding from unhealthy humans. I suspected they weren't above fifty. I observed them deeper, noticing how they were maybe a similar age to Alistair, and probably, like Alistair, they were hot-headed and proud – they had to be to raise a fist to me and look so calm about it. However, hot-headedness and pride wouldn't make them so stupid as to hunt within Vortigern grounds. They were here for a reason.

Someone was missing though. Neither were the leader, I knew that by how the listened to the street, not paying attention to me. They were watching for threats as a lesser ranking vampire would do.

I tried to sniff the air and quickly found I couldn't. My nose was broken, making it painful to breathe, and Lucius had still locked off my fire. I couldn't smell anything but my own blood and the thick decaying musk of the old house. I set to observing myself instead, trying to gauge just what I could do. I was bruised with a broken nose, skin sore around my bound wrists and aching face, but nothing else. I noticed my hat was gone, my head no longer protected and my hair fluffing up oddly. That annoyed me most. I loved that hat. They better not have lost it.

I cast my gaze about, finding Ella not far, tucked up by the sagging doorway, face pressed in her knees. I couldn't tell if she was awake or not, but she was breathing at the very least and seemingly unhurt. I gently tugged at my bonds and found they'd overkilled. Chains were wrapped about my wrists, cold and heavy. A laugh bubbled awkwardly. What did they think I could do? I was mortal.

Ella shifted, her head yanking up at the odd sound escaping my lips. 'Susan?'

I looked at her huddled in the corner, hands bound in rope. Pride flared. These vampires clearly feared me.

'You look terrible.' I murmured.

She did. Her makeup was smudged and her mascara running like rivers over her amber skin. Her hair was being released from the intense straightening and heavy use of hairspray, becoming wild and curly.

She flushed and scowled. 'You do too, you know.'

I knew I did. I could feel the bruising tightening over my cheekbones and nose, the blood cracking whenever I moved my mouth. I probably looked like I'd been beaten, despite receiving only one punch. That punch had been like a truck though.

'Who are these people?' Ella asked me.

'Vampires.'

'I know that!' She snapped at me, hysteria bubbling. 'But who are they?'

I shrugged. I didn't know. All I knew was that they weren't dregs, vagrants or loners drifting without a House to their name. They had a House, a home and a hunting ground. I just knew that Bath wasn't that place. Lucius wasn't going to be pleased to hear another House was encroaching on his territory. He welcomed all, but Houses were to keep their teeth out of his people and not mess with his city. He was very particular about his territory. Then a woman swept into the room and everything fell into place. Tall, smoky eyed, hair big and bright lips that tugged into an ugly scowl by a nasty scar - the leader of this suicidal troupe. Beaumonts. Of course, it was the Beaumont House. They were the only House rivalling the Vortigerns in branches, territories and finances, and a House that played dirty and hid its ties to the blood rings well. Everyone knew they were producers of dirty blood, were behind countless missing people and advocates of the old ways; human slavery, wolf poaching, and debauchery. The worst of Familia Sanguine. But they were sly, devious and their leaders very clever. They got away with it and continued to.