corner of her eye. With effort, she caught the thread and held on tight. The power that flowed through the thread was raw, electric, and it warmed her in a way nothing ever had.
“We are here, Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan said.
Aspen opened her eyes and looked out at a huge Romanesque mansion made of grey stone. Smoke drooled from the two chimneys placed in the middle of the structure and slithered down the burnt-orange roof to vanish behind the building. The SUV entered the circular drive and stopped before an arched doorway. Two men stepped out of the arch to open the doors and offer parasols to the occupants, who stood in their shade for the short walk to the door. Aspen followed Rowan through the archway and into a massive white-tiled foyer. Open doorways lead to the left and right while a wide antique staircase twisted upward to the second floor. The house was quiet, not surprising for early morning at a vampire estate, with only a handful of servants bustling about dusting and cleaning. They wore slippers and moved with such fear and care that Aspen felt sorry for them. Not even Valentina was that harsh.
“This way, Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan said. Her voice was so hushed that Aspen almost didn’t hear her.
They moved through another doorway where Rowan unlocked a heavy oak door into a stairwell that descended beneath the house. Aspen looked at the stairs and knew she had no interest in going down them. Whoever…whatever…was down there was pure evil.
“I’m fine up here, thanks. If the Mistress isn’t up I can come back later,” she said.
Rowan smiled, a gesture that looked odd on her narrow face. “Come now, Faramo Tempeste. You are a member of the House, no harm will come to you.”
Aspen frowned and looked back at the stairs, which were made of some old wood, polished smooth and shiny with use. She could feel the new magik coursing through her, but she’d never used it before. She didn’t know what would happen if she had to call upon it. On the other hand, if she didn’t go they would either try to force her, or brand her and the House as cowards.
She forced a smile and made an ‘after you’ gesture to Rowan, who smiled back and began to descend. Aspen followed, letting one hand trail over the smooth wooden wall, which soon became native stone. At the bottom of the stairs was a portcullis manned by the lycan Rowan had called Bruno. He bowed deeply and smiled.
“It is agreeable to see you again, Lady Tempeste. Welcome to the House of Blackwood.”
Aspen returned his bow. “And you, Bruno.”
He straightened and opened the portcullis. “Lady Blackwood, the Mistress awaits you.”
“Thank you, Bruno. Please have Lydia send down some warm Claret and a pot of tea for Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan replied.
Aspen let herself be guided through the portcullis and down a short hallway. Beyond a pair of doors that looked more like they belonged in the den of a dominatrix than an antique mansion was the throne room, one more opulent than even Valentina’s. The walls had been cut from the native rock and polished to a mirror-like sheen. The floor was covered in plush carpet the color of blood and mirrors adorned the ceiling. They reflected the light of hundreds of candles and could still do nothing to chase away the chill darkness of the chamber.
Three black-lacquered coffins sat at the far end of the chamber behind a tall throne made of black wood and red leather. An attractive woman in her early thirties sat in the chair wearing nothing but a nightgown that did nothing to hide her curves and left her long, tattooed legs bare. She was scrolling through a tablet with one leg draped over the throne’s arm.
Rowan crossed the room and knelt beside the throne on a pile of cushions. The occupant stroked Rowan’s face absently and raised her eyes to look at Aspen.
“Ah, Lady Tempeste, welcome to my home. I am Mistress Blackwood, though you may call me Shirina. Approach, please.”
Aspen crossed the room
“We are here, Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan said.
Aspen opened her eyes and looked out at a huge Romanesque mansion made of grey stone. Smoke drooled from the two chimneys placed in the middle of the structure and slithered down the burnt-orange roof to vanish behind the building. The SUV entered the circular drive and stopped before an arched doorway. Two men stepped out of the arch to open the doors and offer parasols to the occupants, who stood in their shade for the short walk to the door. Aspen followed Rowan through the archway and into a massive white-tiled foyer. Open doorways lead to the left and right while a wide antique staircase twisted upward to the second floor. The house was quiet, not surprising for early morning at a vampire estate, with only a handful of servants bustling about dusting and cleaning. They wore slippers and moved with such fear and care that Aspen felt sorry for them. Not even Valentina was that harsh.
“This way, Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan said. Her voice was so hushed that Aspen almost didn’t hear her.
They moved through another doorway where Rowan unlocked a heavy oak door into a stairwell that descended beneath the house. Aspen looked at the stairs and knew she had no interest in going down them. Whoever…whatever…was down there was pure evil.
“I’m fine up here, thanks. If the Mistress isn’t up I can come back later,” she said.
Rowan smiled, a gesture that looked odd on her narrow face. “Come now, Faramo Tempeste. You are a member of the House, no harm will come to you.”
Aspen frowned and looked back at the stairs, which were made of some old wood, polished smooth and shiny with use. She could feel the new magik coursing through her, but she’d never used it before. She didn’t know what would happen if she had to call upon it. On the other hand, if she didn’t go they would either try to force her, or brand her and the House as cowards.
She forced a smile and made an ‘after you’ gesture to Rowan, who smiled back and began to descend. Aspen followed, letting one hand trail over the smooth wooden wall, which soon became native stone. At the bottom of the stairs was a portcullis manned by the lycan Rowan had called Bruno. He bowed deeply and smiled.
“It is agreeable to see you again, Lady Tempeste. Welcome to the House of Blackwood.”
Aspen returned his bow. “And you, Bruno.”
He straightened and opened the portcullis. “Lady Blackwood, the Mistress awaits you.”
“Thank you, Bruno. Please have Lydia send down some warm Claret and a pot of tea for Faramo Tempeste,” Rowan replied.
Aspen let herself be guided through the portcullis and down a short hallway. Beyond a pair of doors that looked more like they belonged in the den of a dominatrix than an antique mansion was the throne room, one more opulent than even Valentina’s. The walls had been cut from the native rock and polished to a mirror-like sheen. The floor was covered in plush carpet the color of blood and mirrors adorned the ceiling. They reflected the light of hundreds of candles and could still do nothing to chase away the chill darkness of the chamber.
Three black-lacquered coffins sat at the far end of the chamber behind a tall throne made of black wood and red leather. An attractive woman in her early thirties sat in the chair wearing nothing but a nightgown that did nothing to hide her curves and left her long, tattooed legs bare. She was scrolling through a tablet with one leg draped over the throne’s arm.
Rowan crossed the room and knelt beside the throne on a pile of cushions. The occupant stroked Rowan’s face absently and raised her eyes to look at Aspen.
“Ah, Lady Tempeste, welcome to my home. I am Mistress Blackwood, though you may call me Shirina. Approach, please.”
Aspen crossed the room
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