Page 6 of Blood and Hexes

Tales and Whispers

Diana returned to her seat of choice, on the horses' fountain, and watched the crowd part ways, sending her wary glances over their shoulders. Some of them might have thought about calling the cops on her, but if they did, the memory of what had happened to the phones she'd busted stopped them.That, or the way she’d kicked the three humans’ asses without breaking a sweat.

Not that calling the cops would have done any good. It might have gotten a run-of-the-mill vampire in trouble, sure. Sups didn't need to abide by human laws, but they also weren't supposed to hurt any regulars. While self-defense was a valid reason to bend the rules, more often than not, human authorities stood with human beings, no matter what they'd done, or attempted to do. They protected their own. When a sup crossed the line, the human authorities could either attempt to arrest and detain the sup—at their own risk—or call the huntsmen to do their dirty work. The fact that there was no human alive who could hope to apprehend her notwithstanding, Diana wasn't concerned by the police because, even in the event she was arrested, she had diplomatic immunity in England, and around most of the globe. She was a Helsing. One didn't finance kingdoms, outfit armies, and aid in conquering colonies without some perks. Diana hadn't partaken in any of that, but her family certainly had retained a vested interest in mortal politics.

The first Helsing had been Desideria, a gentle lady of the house of Lombard, bred to marry a human king sometime around the fall of the Western Roman Empire. At puberty, she’d developed an ability that didn't fit into the Middle Ages’ idea of what a proper lady should be. They'd dragged her out of bed in the middle of the night, intending to burn her at the stake. And they would have done so, had Ariadne not intervened, snatching the girl up. Ariadne had trained her to use her powers, and when she grew older, had turned her into a vampire. Desideria had chosen the name of her house. Helsing. Quite apt, all things considered.

Some of the vampires of the time had retreated from humanity, only interacting with them when they needed a snack. Not Desideria or her descendants—Diana's ancestors. They whispered in the ears of kings and emperors, using their influence to make them dance to their tunes like puppets. Helping when it suited them, betraying alliances when it didn't.

While certainly respected, the Helsings were mistrusted. Their standing among the vampire race wasn't nearly as high as that of the Drakes or the De Villiers. Perhaps because, like the Stormhales, they were defined by their magic more than by the blood in their veins. Perhaps because they never showed their hand until they were sure to stand on the winning side. But for human beings? Helsing was the most prestigious house among the seven royal vampire lines. What remained of her family was endeavoring to further that legacy, still shadowing the lords of the world.

Except for her and her brother.

None of the tourists knew it, but Diana could have beheaded all of them and walked off without so much as a slap on the wrist. Fortunately for humanity, she wasn't fond of taking lives if she could help it, and she never hurt innocents.

"Is that blood on your boots?"

Diana's eyes widened in horror, and she gasped, leaping to her feet. She bent down to inspect her boots from all angles.

Standing up, she crossed her arms around her middle and glared at the girl in front of her. "That wasn't very nice."

Juniper looked good. Like Diana, she wouldn't age another day in her life, but that didn't prevent her kind from changing in other ways. For one, the last time they'd seen each other, Juniper's blonde locks had been in perfectly schooled waves, while now, she had a sophisticated platinum bob. Secondly, Juniper had clearly gained power. Diana naturally felt potential threats around her, assessing anyone who came close. She could count on both hands the number of people alive who made her tense. Juniper still wasn't one of them, but she didn't feel as inconsequential as she used to. She wasn't a bug Diana could have crushed without effort. If they fought, the girl might even land a punch before Diana wiped the floor with her face.

"Nor is terrifying a bunch of regs, but that didn't exactly stop you, now, did it?" Juniper retorted, snorting.

Diana rolled her eyes. "They deserved it."

Juniper grinned, tilting her head to a dark, elegant car waiting behind her. "Come on. Let's get you out of the rain before you cause any more trouble."

They hopped in the back, and flopped on soft beige leather seats.

"Where to, Juni?" the driver asked.

"How about you drive around for a while? We'll let you know when we make up our minds."

In other words, Juniper wasn't sure Diana wanted to go to her usual haunts with her. She wasn't wrong. Diana would prefer to avoid running into the rest of her coven—particularly her slimy sire—if she could help it.

As the car crawled through the lit-up streets of London, Juniper produced a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, with two glasses, from under her seat.

"Oh, now we're talking!"

She took the glasses and watched her friend open the bottle with a pop.

"Fancy some fresh blood powder with that?" Juniper offered.

Diana's eyebrows lifted an inch or so.

Since they'd synthesized blood, the rules and restrictions about drinking directly from humans had tightened. They differed from country to country, depending on who was in charge of making sure vamps didn't go rogue locally, and Diana wasn't versed in British regulations yet, but she was fairly certain that blood powder would have been frowned upon in most circles.

Taking blood from volunteers wasn't a problem, so long as the vampire ensured they didn't put the human in danger. Drinking from an adversary, while not entirely advised, was fine in self-defense, too. Blood powder, however? That implied having taken blood from a human and then drying it. Some vampires did it with their partners, or took it from volunteers they paid for the privilege, but others just bought it. Most of the dealers found homeless, friendless, vulnerable people in the streets and drained them to the brink of death, and often, beyond. That wasn't allowed anywhere. The huntsmen had their hands full trying to crack down on blood kitchens.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, judgy. It's procured from someone legit. Fair trade, I promise."

Diana shrugged. "I already drank tonight. Besides, if you're going to mix your drinks, grab a cheap cava, not a Dom Pérignon."

"Come on, it's not like the cost matters to you."

Juniper had a point. Still. "It's a matter of principle, not cost."

---