Bloodline

Ginger was watching her closely, gauging her reactions, Serena thought. She clearly didn’t want to upset her, but she wasn’t coddling her, either. Not telling her she’d been through enough for one day or asking her to wait, but giving her direct answers to her questions.

“It’s a bit of a misnomer, though,” Ginger went on. “Their interest in most areas of the paranormal is shallow, at best. Their real focus is on the Undead. Vampires.”

Serena blinked, and her gaze shifted from one woman to another, looking for the giveaway. This had to be a joke. But no one was smiling.

“Are you trying to tell me that my baby was a—”

“Oh, God, no,” Ginger said with a wave of her hand. “No, but as her mother, you do need to know about them. No, your baby was human through and through. But she’s related to them, in a way. You see, every vampire in existence was born human, and every one of them was born with the Belladonna antigen. It’s the thing that allows them to become vampires.”

Serena sat there, taking in this outrageous, impossible information.

“I know it’s hard to believe, much less understand. But if you stay with us, you’ll see proof soon enough. And I want you to know that even if you don’t choose to join us, we’ll try to find your baby for you. And we’ll trust you to leave with information few outsiders have ever been allowed to possess. As the mother of one of the Chosen, you have a right to know.”

“The Chosen?”

“That’s what those with the antigen are called. Vampires, by nature, sense them, and they’re compelled to protect and watch over them. But lately, the Chosen have been vanishing. The vampire community is aware of it, too. But so far, no one knows where the children are being taken or why.”

“But…you have your suspicions?” Serena asked.

“Yes, but we have no real information.”

“What did the DPI do before they were supposedly shut down or whatever?”

Ginger looked away, met Terry’s eyes and licked her lips nervously. Serena knew that whatever was coming wasn’t good.

“They were mostly interested in…research. Learning how vampires’ bodies work, how to control them, how to eliminate them.”

A small cry flew from Serena’s lips before she could bite it back. “You think my baby is a lab rat for some government experiment?”

“We have absolutely no evidence of that.”

“Oh God.” Serena lowered her face to her hands, sobbing so hard she thought her chest would tear in two.

The rest of the women left the room one by one. She heard them leaving, felt the emptiness when they had gone, then lifted her head and wiped her eyes. Terry and Ginger now sat on either side of her.

“I don’t understand what it is you do here.”

“We’re the Sisterhood of Athena, and we’ve existed for centuries. What we do—well, we watch. We observe. We try not to interfere unless it’s absolutely necessary. Our stated mission is to protect the supernatural order. Which is really the natural order, simply the parts of it that few people know about.”

“You…protect the vampires?”

“They have a right to exist. They’re a part of creation, just as we are, and their elimination would send things out of balance, just as the extinction of any species would. We want to see them allowed to live naturally, evolving in whatever way they’re supposed to, without interference from humans.”

“But…don’t they…you know, feed on humans?”

“They’re just like us, Serena,” Ginger said. “There are good ones and bad ones. When there is a bad one, though, the good ones tend to get rid of him. They feed on blood from blood banks or occasionally take criminals. Few ever kill a human being except in self-defense. They’re just people.

“So we observe,” she went on. “And yes, when necessary, we protect. Even the vampires aren’t supposed to know of our existence—that’s how discreet we are.”

“What we do here is dangerous,” Terry said. “Working against government agencies, undercover assassins, vampire hunters who want to exterminate them all.”

“Not to mention,” Ginger added, “the vampires themselves. Sometimes when they catch on to our knowledge of them, catch one of us snooping around their secrets, they see us as a threat. It’s not always possible to explain in time.”

Serena closed her eyes slowly. “This is a lot. It’s just…a lot.”

“We know,” Ginger told her. “But that’s about all the information I’m willing to give you for now. If you decide to stay, to join us, you’ll be entrusted with more. A great deal more. Our history, case files from which you will study and learn, physical training, and mental training, as well. But all of that is for later. And you don’t have to make any decisions right now. Stay with us for a few days. Recover your strength. We’ll begin searching for clues about your baby. Maybe she’ll be the one who leads us to the rest of the missing Chosen.”

“Yes,” Terry said. “Just be our guest and relax. If you want to go back to your old life in a few days, that’s fine. We’ll trust you to keep your knowledge of us secret. We know you will, because we’re the only hope you have of finding her.”

Serena nodded. “You’re right about that. I wouldn’t betray your secrets. But I don’t need a few days to think about it.”

“Careful, Serena,” Ginger said. “This is not a decision that can be undone. If you join this sisterhood, you join for good. There’s no going back to your old life.”

“I have no life to go back to. All I had was my baby. And I’ll devote the rest of my life to searching for her and making those who took her pay—and making sure they can’t keep doing this to women like me, to babies like mine.”

Ginger slid a look at Terry, who shrugged.

“I’m sure,” Serena said, looking from one to the other. “I want to join the Sisterhood of Athena.”

Ginger nodded. “So be it, then. I’ll make arrangements for the dedication ceremony. But you’ll still need a few days to recover, and to prepare. There are lessons, meditations. But tomorrow is soon enough to begin.” She turned to the other woman.

“Terry, why don’t you show our new sister to her rooms now?”

The Present

Ethan opened the rear door of the stable, and it swung wide onto a grassy moonlit meadow, five acres, enclosed by a white wooden fence that seemed to rise and fall with every curve of the ground. A bubbling stream bisected the meadow, providing a supply of fresh water. And beyond the meadow, the trees began, then thickened into a full-blown forest that stretched all the way to the mountains that formed a backdrop to the view.

He loved it here.

He went back inside and opened first one stall, then the other. His companions knew without being told that it was their time to romp, and they trotted out of their stalls and straight through the open back door, barely pausing long enough to accept Ethan’s strokes as they went.

Ethan watched them as they moved. The second they emerged from the building, they tossed their manes and cut loose into a full gallop, whinnying in joy as they raced into the night.

No one liked being shut in. Being captive. Even knowing they would be released each night, the horses always reacted as if they’d been locked up for years and were just catching their first taste of freedom.

They felt, he thought, the way he’d felt when he’d escaped from The Farm. The way he still felt, every single evening, when the sun set and he awoke to freedom.

He took a fork and shovel and moved into the first stall to begin the usual soothing tasks of cleaning the stall and putting down fresh bedding.

He wouldn’t risk his freedom for anything. Not even for Lilith. God, he wished his brother were here to tell him what the hell to do about her. She could be lying. She could be faking the amnesia. She could have been sent to kill him. It was, after all, inevitable that they would send someone sooner or later. And even if she wasn’t the one, she could have been followed, all the while being totally unaware of it.

She was a risk. A threat to his freedom. So why the hell hadn’t he sent her packing?

Lowering his head, he realized why. Because it would do no good. To send her away would risk her telling others where he was. The only way to ensure that never happened would be to keep her here—or kill her.

He paused in his work, leaning on the shovel’s long handle and closing his eyes. He knew damned good and well that he couldn’t kill her. He’d wronged the woman. He’d been racked with guilt ever since he’d been forced to leave her behind. And he’d wanted to go back for her—but he hadn’t.

Because he would have had no chance of surviving. Because he hadn’t even known if she was still alive. Because he’d thought if he could only find his brother first, maybe the two of them could save her. And most of all, because he’d known she would refuse to leave that place without taking every other captive along with her. And that would have been impossible.