Page 106 of House of Lilith

So there reallyisa Vasilisa.

Be brave, Nyx, I urge myself. “Were you really a Queen?” I hear myself ask in a breathless voice.

For a second, the eyes only narrow even more. “I believe you didn’t answer my question,” comes the reply.

And there’s something about those eyes, how bloodshot they look, that’s keeping me tongue tied, but I force myself to relax and say, “Um, you didn’t answermine, so I guess we’re even?”

The next second, I see a tall, dark-haired female vampire in an ancient-looking riding uniform with a skull crown on her head appear before me, grabbing me by the wrist and gritting her teeth as she drawls, “How. Do. You. Know. My. Name.”

The touch, only painful at first, quickly becomes unbearable, burning my skin and my flesh with an intensity I wouldn’t think possible. Fighting not to scream, I let my eyes dart to my wrist and I see the little red dots appear near the surface of my skin.

Blood Magic, she’s a Blood Magic user.

But the pain becomes unbearable and the eyes that are on me are so merciless, I start fearing she’ll kill me right then and there. So I rush to say, my voice staggered with strain, “A book, an interview with a man who fought in the Umbrage.”

Just as I say that, her magic creates a dark-red bruise around my wrist and I see her eyes dart to it, the gaze lingering.

“Let go,” I demand, but she doesn’t.

She frowns and then, to my surprise, she leans to sniff at my wrist.

And she gives it a little lick.

What the…

“Who are you?” she demands as she looks back up to me. Her eyes narrow. “Are you one of mine?”

The question leaves me dumbfounded. And I guess I am, and maybe knowing that will make her finally let go, so I just say, “Um, the name is Anastasya Konstantinova Romanova.”

She doesn’t let go. In fact, she only tightens her grip, making me grit my teeth.

“And what do you know about me,” she asks with a sly smile, “little great-great-granddaughter?”

“Nothing,” I rush to say, shaking my head vigorously, in case it was knowing anything that would get me killed. “Absolutely nothing.”

She just looks at me for a second, thinking. Then she squints. “Then why are you here?”

I just look at her with gritted teeth, defiance making me throw caution to the wind.

She digs her nails into my skin, but it’s not that which makes me wince. It’s the way she makes my blood burn even more.

“The Games that the Academy is holding,” I mutter, struggling for air, “they’re the first since the Umbrage, and there are these things happening...”

Now, that makes her eyebrows shoot up a little. And in turn, she finally loosens her grip a little.

I don’t hesitate. Squeezing my eyes shut, I grab the knife out of my holster and I swing my arm in the direction of the portrait, stopping just before I cut into the canvas.

Carefully, I open my eyes and I see the surprised, pissed-off look on her face.

There’s a second of silence before she lets go of my arm and I snatch it back, keeping the knife exactly where I have it.

“My turn,” I say, in a breathless yet victorious voice.

I watch her take a deep breath and close her eyes, looking as if she’s rolling them. “Fine,” she finally says.

“What the fuckisthis shit?” I demand as I throw a glance at the painting.

For a second, she just looks at me. Then she lets out a little snicker, comes to lean her head on the canvas and says, matter-of-factly, “It’s a portrait of me. Didn’t you catch the resemblance, little great-great-granddaughter?”

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