Dreaming of a Blood Red Christmas by Claire Nicola

Author:Claire, Nicola [Claire, Nicola]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Vampires, Paranormal, Romance, Fantasy
Amazon: B00GNPBMGW
Goodreads: 19397610
Publisher: Nicola Claire
Published: 2013-11-13T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

The Prophesied

Panic seizes me. I am barely able to control my vampyre-within. As it is, I am out of the office and hurtling toward the lower levels of the hotel at a speed beyond normal vampyre flashing. Alain cannot keep up. I do not care. I will bathe the cells in blood, should Petra harm my kindred. I will coat the walls in red to match the decorations in the grand hotel foyer.

Blood will run in rivers through the corridors, sending a message to all who dare to threaten my wife and children this festive season. A macabre homage to the Christmas tree three stories above where I find myself now.

I am momentarily shocked. The vampyres who were on guard are now milling around the corridor outside of the cells with bemused expressions on their faces, their eyes are blank. They are not alone in their vacant, but seemingly pleasant stare. Lucinda's guards, my vampyres Matthias and Marcus, are also here. I search those minds under my line, not having access to all the vampyres present. Just as Alain materialises at my left shoulder, my two shadow guards alongside him, I realise what she has done.

"Lucinda has glazed them," I say aloud. A note of pride coating the words, despite my anger right now.

"All of them?" Alain asks, shock evident in his tone.

"Yes, they will not re-enter the cells unless she commands it."

An amused sound escapes his lips, I do not appreciate the levity.

"Unlock the door," I instruct my Second. He approaches the keypad and punches in the daily code. It blinks red, and emits a piercing long beep.

"The code's been changed," he points out unnecessarily.

I cannot believe her gall.

Lucinda! I shout out her name through the Bond we share, making it impossible for her to ignore me. Open up the god-damned, fucking door!

I don't usually swear. I am hoping the crudity of my language shocks her into action.

No such luck.

Temper, temper, Michel, she mentally replies. You'll scare the babies.

That is it. I slam against the metal door, knowing my efforts will be futile. Alain joins me, equally aware this is just for my ego, to appease the dragon-within. This door is made to handle a vampyre stampede; titanium re-enforced with silver, as thick as any decent bank vault.

We don't even make a dent.

Panic is beyond me now. I am hyperventilating, a useless show of emotional upheaval for a vampyre who does not need to breathe. She is alone inside the cell block with my blood-sister, a vampyre who has done me more harm than shown me familial compassion.

A sound I don't even recognise as coming from me reverberates around the thick walls. All those vampyres present, including mine, cringe.

And suddenly I am in her mind, her walls down, her shields lowered. Just enough to allow me access, to show me what she sees, what she hears. What is transpiring no more than a half dozen feet away on the other side of this impossibly impregnable door.

"Why have you

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