I'm back! So sorry for the delay. January got away from me and February appears to be doing the same. Will provide more of an update/proper author's note at the end of the chapter, but first - let's finally dive into book 3!
Poor Frankie has really been through it since we last saw her, and the trials aren't anywhere near over yet - but we get a good look at where her head is at in this chapter. Someday I will stop being so mean to my characters, but it is not this day.
CW: a whole lot of violence, blood, gore, and death ahead... and a few references/insinuations regarding past abuse/trauma
Copyright © 2022 TSM. All rights reserved.
Part 3 Summary: Budapest is on the brink of anarchy and the danger only continues to escalate. Though madly in love, the strength of Vladislaus and Francesca's bond will be challenged as secrets are revealed, loved ones are lost, and ideals clash. The acquisition of power & peace demands sacrifice, but the price may prove higher than anyone had anticipated.
Part 3 – Bound
"…You are built of danger and adventure and I feel privileged to be privy in the making of a Goddess. Not because of your beauty. But because freedom becomes you."
– Nikita Gill, Paris To Helen As They Sail To Troy
Chapter 1
The Queen of Nothing
Death.
The scent of it hung heavy in the air like a noxious fume as ash clouded in great plumes, thick like smoke.
She couldn't block it out – the screams, the wailing. The sounds of suffering, of a hopeless grief that tore through the street like the descant of a discordant choir against the symphony of war – angered shouts of the oppressed clashing with those sent to subdue them. Each line of the haunting composition was punctuated with the staccato snaps of bones, the legato slop of flesh torn asunder as bowels and entrails emptied onto the cobblestone.
Those deafening, riotous shouts for liberty of just days ago had long since passed into a concerto of horror as righteous indignation turned to butchery.
She should have seen this coming; should have realized…
But she had forgotten how quickly revolution could turn ugly.
Fear, when left unchecked, had a history of boiling over into anger, soon to detonate into violence. She had survived enough revolutions in her four centuries of living to understand this. And the alliance had anticipated the eventual descent into violence, had prepared for it.
But they had not been prepared for the black wave of trained soldiers, dressed from head to toe in their matching leathered armor – a single body of steel and fang that moved with the kind of deadly elegance and precision that would have taken her breath away had the carnage they wrought not turned her stomach to lead.
This wasn't war.
This was a massacre.
She would never forget the scene for as long as she lived – the infamous Váci Street turned into a killing field… an alley of slaughter.
The thoroughfare ran red, the liquid crimson thickened by the ash remains of the fallen nosferatu, chunks of human flesh, patches of lycan fur. It almost looked black in the moonlight – a river of ruin.
The lifeless eyes of a dhampir girl – barely four years old, her throat torn out as she lay prostrate on the sidewalk, left in a pool of her own blood – those windows to a soul long-since passed stared blankly at the woman who should have been her queen, her salvation.
Francesca de Chacier would never forgive herself for this – for leading so many innocents into a fight they could not win – where rules were meaningless and honor a thing of naught. The people had been a powder keg, a weapon she had hoped to hone and wield; but they hadn't wanted a leader. They had only wanted permission to give way to frenzy; an excuse to surrender to their truest, basest natures, to abandon their humanity in the name of liberty.
And their fury had played them right into the waiting hands of Marcus Augustine.
He had crushed them – and those fortunate few who had escaped his fist had retreated into the shadows, their fear the only stench more potent than that of the death that now surrounded her.
Tears streamed down Frankie's war-stained face in silent rivulets, cutting through scarlet and filth as her inner demon pounded violently against her skull, begging to partake, to meet the carnage with a revenge only she had the power of exacting. But the steepness of that cost kept her rooted to the spot as she took in the bodies, the refuse … the senseless violence.
No.
No, she would not contribute more to this butchery. The last four days of fighting had ruined any appetite she had once had for bloodshed, for retribution.
Frankie sheathed the twin blades in her hands as she slowly dropped to her knees beside the body of the dead little girl, brushing a lock of crimson soaked hair from the child's ashen face as the bile burned in her own throat. The tears fell more freely as she then curled her arms up under the girl's small form, holding her as those lifeless brown eyes rent the very fabric of her soul in twain.
"I'm sorry," Francesca whispered, the syllables nearly choked by a sob that was now clawing its way out of her. "I'm so sorry…"
November 2138
It had been six weeks to the day since Frankie had openly declared war on Augustine; three weeks since the riot and subsequent slaughter on Váci Street. Budapest had gone silent after the mobs had fled, though the city continued to reverberate beneath the surface in an intoxicating blend of rage and fear.
But Frankie was numb.
The only emotions she was even remotely conscious of these days were shame and a hell bent determination to salvage what little she could. Her first and only priority since the incident on Váci Street was to get what was left of the population of Budapest out of the city – away from Augustine and the Spider and their collective ruthlessness.
The massacre from a few weeks ago had been made worse by the redoubled efforts to smear her name and intentions, and the twenty-four hour news cycle was the perfect medium for their retaliation against the anarchy she had incited with her call to arms. While the alliance's relationship with the lycans remained strong, the other rebel factions of vampires and humans alike remained tentative at best, outright hostile at worse. The witch covens had mercifully gone underground, but the rumors coming from the shadows offered her little comfort on that score.
Whispers of the Cicuta's matron discovered assassinated in her own home, the Blood Thorn matron abducted. It hadn't been long before the Conium coven's matron and her fellow sisters disappeared altogether.
Maiden missing, mother taken, and crone murdered in cold blood.
But the covens were the least of Francesca's worries.
Nothing could deter her from her primary objective – evacuate what civilians she could before going toe-to-toe with Marcus and his cronies once again.
Her training sessions with Vladislaus had become silent affairs – at least two hours at the start of every evening spent in hand-to-hand combat, two more in the evening with an assortment of weaponry. She never uttered a word regarding her feelings on how things had gone, and he never offered any in return.
In truth, his silence wounded her more than the looks of judgment she received from the others. She knew Dracula was disappointed in her, that her utter failure to organize, command, lead, and protect his people secretly ate at him.
It ate at her day after day, plaguing her rest with nightmares that left her exhausted come sunset, her nerves shredded with anxiety.
Of course, the meeting at alliance HQ earlier this evening hadn't exactly improved her mood.
"The Feng twins have agreed to meet with you," Danny had explained in the war room after sunset, "but they wouldn't budge on location. They insist that you come to them."
"Fine. What time?"
"Frankie-"
It had been Rémy who had interjected then, but as she had done with just about everyone the last few weeks, she ignored the pleading in his tone.
Danny gave her the time in spite of the disapproving look from his friend before quickly tacking on, "Frank – it's a trap. Everyone knows Augustine's been courting for the Feng's support for years. This is the thing with Basilio all over again."
But she didn't heed the warning.
She only looked once at her brother and then to Lyra.
"I'll leave now."
"Frankie," Rémy had tried again. She didn't bother returning his attention that time. "Frankie, don't make the same mistakes I did."
Her smile had been rueful when he had said that.
She had felt Vlad's quiet stare and his lack of contribution to the conversation was telling.
"I've already botched things up, brother," she had finally replied, not even bothering to mask the self-deprecation in her tone. "What further damage could I do?"
"At least take back-up with you!"
"And put more people at risk? I don't think so. I can't be killed. The rest of you can – I will not be responsible for more innocent blood being spilled…"
"Well, good thing then that I've never been very innocent," Lyra had declared, stepping forward, arms folded in front of her.
"Guess that makes two of us," Jacob had chimed in then with a wry grin, taking a place at the redhead's side. Before Frankie could argue, he persisted, "If it makes you feel better, we'll stay out of sight unless we're absolutely needed. We'll only intercede if you give us the signal."
Rémy had gone quiet at that, sending their brother-in-law an appreciative look before giving the trio his blessing to depart. Much to Frankie's chagrin, Vlad had strategically planted himself near the door, making avoiding him impossible. Their eyes had met and the well of conflicting emotions nearly undid her then.
Desperate to distract herself from the weight of his unreadable expression, which only served to heighten her sense of shame, she said in passing, "Tell his majesty not to bother waiting up for me."
She had exited from the room before he could utter a word of protest, but his response flitted through her mind like a dark, accusatory whisper – you're avoiding me.
Her lack of response proved answer enough and his reply reached her before she, Lyra, and Jacob had made their exit from the building.
We're still training two hours before dawn. Be on time or there will be consequences.
There will be consequences.
The words had been ringing in her head ever since his disembodied voice had muttered them in her mind; a nagging companion in the silence.
The trio had made their way across town to this now unholy pocket of the east side slums known only as the shadow district – a slice of Budapest run by a ruthless set of part demon, part vampire twins that even the Spider knew to steer clear of.
Just stepping foot in this territory sent her inner demon's hackles rising.
Francesca had kept her run-ins with the Feng twins to a minimum during her decades in this cursed city – Astrid and Lee. They had been the result of a violent collision between an incubus and a young dhampir girl in the late 1990s and had established quite the reputation for cruelty since – a poetic complement to the horror of their inception. They ruled their tiny territory with devastating brutality, Astrid with her iron fist and her brother Lee, the deadly weapon she wielded at will – though in Frankie's personal experience, the brother had always been more agreeable than the sister. A pity the latter was the one who held control.
But if this was indeed a trap, Frankie could at least take comfort in the fact that she would survive whatever torment they had planned for her – perhaps it would even give Dracula a reason to put aside his absurd politically motivated notion that she had to prove herself to the people and his court that she was his equal, that she was worthy to be their queen.
If the failure of three weeks ago wasn't evidence enough that she'd never be suitable for the position, her diving headfirst into a trap with the swagger and self-destructive arrogance of a braggart would certainly do the trick.
Francesca Chase was the very picture of authority and confidence as she strode into the Feng compound, flanked by Lyra and Jacob. The two remained in the foyer as she entered the reception hall, every step she took a deception. She felt the complete opposite of nonchalant as the deafening sound of her heeled boots clicked on the marble tiled floor.
She felt reckless, vengeful… angry. Like a blaze on the brink of transforming into a wildfire, untamed and destructive. But she stopped at the foot of the dais, heels snapping together as she raised her chin.
She would not let them see the weakness in her heart, the guilt, the shame, the fury.
"Francesca de Chacier. The woman of the hour."
It was Astrid who spoke first, a cold and ruthless beauty with dark eyes and pin-straight hair that fell past her waist. Her twin brother, Lee, was situated at her right, towering over the seated woman at well over six feet, five inches, and carved out of little more than pure muscle.
The Feng twins typically dealt in the trafficking of information, their spy networks the stuff of legend. What was lesser known, however, was their exclusive access to one of the few remaining tunnel systems that led out of the city which allowed them and those who fell under their jurisdiction unrestricted access to the world beyond Budapest's walls.
Frankie procured a map from the inside pocket of her jacket and tossed it over to Lee. He caught it without ever taking his eyes from her face.
"Let's skip the pleasantries and get to the point, shall we?" Francesca announced with as much sweetness as she could muster. "You know what I want. So let's discuss price. What do you want in exchange for exclusive access to the Oradea tunnel?"
The Oradea tunnel was an old underpass well known to those vampires of the elder generations, as it had granted them safe and unobstructed access to the city from the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains for nearly four centuries.
When neither of the twins offered a word of reply, she continued,
"The city is hemorrhaging civilians through the lycan pass on the south side, but the movement is attracting attention – attention we can't afford."
"The council's attention?" Astrid asked lightly, clearly feigning interest. The woman looked positively bored.
"The Knights of the Holy Order, actually. I received word earlier this week that the last two groups of refugees headed west were intercepted by remnants of the Order. While most were able to escape with their lives, others were not so fortunate. I'd take care of it myself, but I can't be in two places at once."
"Yes – and you've done so much good here in Budapest. How could we survive without you?"
It was a baited comment – a purposefully low blow – but that mask of swagger never once slipped from Francesca's face. She even dared to study her nails, meeting the woman's mocking expression with pure disinterestedness a beat later.
"Your price for access to the tunnel, Astrid. I haven't got all night."
For a moment, she could have sworn she saw the faintest hint of a smile threatening to curve the corner of Lee's lips, but it was quickly suppressed and followed by a slight motion of his fingers. Soldiers that Frankie had taken note of upon her entrance began to move, situating themselves in strategic places throughout the room. They were armed to the teeth from what she could tell with a casual glance through her periphery, every ounce of their attention on her.
Guess it's a trap after all. I'm sure there's a compliment in there somewhere, she mused to herself, willing her expression to remain neutral.
"If you have these refugees, as you call them, set up so prettily in the west," Astrid chimed in, "I don't see why you need access to the Oradea tunnel if the dogs are already being so accommodating. Can't you have your contacts on the other side of the continent provide you with the support you need?"
"The people are less inclined to leave the city if their safety isn't assured. The Carpathians, you may recall, are still part of our territory. We just need to provide them with a secure path out of the city…"
"They wouldn't need to leave if you hadn't incited this madness in the first place. I've never witnessed such a display of arrogance – practically declaring yourself queen of the people as you led them to slaughter. The Váci still runs red with their blood. Blood that you may have well spilt."
"They chose to fight…"
"And as their prophesied queen and salvation, you were supposed to protect them, to lead them, to know of the death trap you were shepherding them into… right into Augustine's hands like lambs for the slaughter! I've never witnessed such a spectacular lack of foresight!"
Her amused chuckle was a poniard that nicked at Frankie's armor. She had to bite her tongue to keep from flinching at the sting.
"I've already accepted the responsibility for what happened three weeks ago," she managed to grind out from behind her teeth. "I should have seen the trap Marcus had laid, but I underestimated his wiles and overestimated our resiliency against them. The people wanted to fight, but they had no idea who they were going up against. I did and I ignored my instincts. It's why I'm here – trying to rectify the situation. I'm trying to spare them from any further violence, Astrid – and since I don't have the time or resources to deal with the Knights of the Holy Order, the Oradea tunnel is our best option… I am trying to salvage what is left of the life in this city. I'm trying to save my people before Augustine wipes them all out."
"Your people?" Astrid declared with a haughty laugh. "You're not queen yet, my dear. At this rate, I doubt you'll be queen of anything when all is said and done."
She was stalling.
It was so evident, but Frankie didn't care.
She had willfully walked into this trap.
Let whoever was foolish enough to go toe-to-toe with a cornered beast come and pay the price.
"Your petty shots are a waste of time," she snapped impatiently, the show of fangs causing a number of weapons to be drawn, now aimed in her direction. A warning – one she was itching to ignore. "Every night we spend herding people out is another day Marcus has time to plan and coordinate his next attack. The lycans have borne the brunt of the risk, allowing our people to cross into their borders, and after everything they have endured because of our kind – every debasement and humiliation and act of prejudice and violence. It is time we share in that burden – and not just for the sake of our own kind. I will not risk more innocents being slaughtered in the open when we could have them retreat to the safety of the Carpathians – which, need I remind you – are still a part of his kingdom."
Evoking Dracula into this conversation thankfully had its intended effect.
The people may have been losing faith in Frankie's abilities more and more as tensions with Augustine rose, but Dracula… the dragon. He had proven his mettle time and time again, his worth as a warrior and ruler the stuff of legend. Lee and his soldiers immediately straightened at the insinuation of their deposed king.
But it was Astrid's reaction that surprised Frankie most. She didn't even seem phased by the mention of the prince of darkness. If anything, she appeared annoyed by it.
"Dracula is as much a king of these lands as you are queen," Astrid bit viciously, a sneer of dark amusement curling her thin lips. "He abdicated his throne the moment he succumbed to his emotions," she nearly spat out the word, "and retreated into stasis to lick his wounds. And given the fact that the man has been revived for well over a year and has yet to make any real endeavor to reclaim his position of power, I'd say that speaks volumes to his investment in our kind. If he truly cared about taking back what was his, why send a novice in his place when he could do it himself, and with far more efficiency? Why does he insist on staying hidden?"
I've been asking myself that same question for weeks now, Frankie thought bitterly.
"I'm still waiting for you to name your price," she retorted instead, forcing herself to stay in the present moment. Lee's men were no longer on the move, but there was a shift in Astrid's expression that Frankie didn't particularly care for.
"You have nothing I want, Francesca de Chacier. Nothing I need."
"So that's it? You drag my ass all the way down here to tell me no?" She feigned her interest beautifully, fully aware of the subtle conversation of looks taking place between the twins. "I suppose it was too much to ask for you to do help out of the goodness of your heart," she replied back without missing a beat, even managing to smirk in the face of the woman's rejection. She was met by a similar mien.
"That would require me to have a heart in the first place. But don't worry! At least your trip won't be a total waste."
With a snap of her fingers, a side door was opened and in walked a man Frankie wasn't wholly unsurprised to see. The throng of leather-clad soldiers behind him, however, had her rolling her eyes. She rubbed the bridge of her nose as if to dispel a headache, swearing softly under her breath.
"Ildar… and out from behind the palace walls, no less!" she declared. "Either you have a death wish or you did something to piss off your master so thoroughly that he's decided to send you here personally to… what? Come fetch me for him?" She looked over at the twins for confirmation with an arched brow. "That is why he's here, isn't it? You exchange me for… what? Money? Immunity? Elina Markov's seat on the council?"
At the sound of the latter, Astrid shifted in her seat just a little and Frankie actually had to snort back a laugh.
"You're kidding me, right?"
"Francesca de Chacier, you are under arrest for the…" Ildar began but Frankie held up a hand to silence him.
"Hush, dearest. I'll get to you in a minute," then she turned her attention back to Astrid. "You do at least realize you're being played, right?"
"Actually, I think you're the one who's been…"
"No, wait! Let me guess. Marcus failed to mention that I cannot be killed?"
Astrid and Lee exchanged another set of looks, but it was the surprise on Astrid's face that sent Frankie into stitches.
It started as a snort, then a chuckle.
And then she couldn't stop.
Her laughter was an unleashing – weeks of tension and pressure and failed expectations, of beating herself up for underestimating Augustine, of thinking that maybe she didn't know the villain as well as she had once. And yet, here he was – making one of his classic plays.
She was almost positive the man knew of her efforts to evacuate the city, and while he certainly made that enterprise a challenge, she knew from personal experience that he could have made it impossible for her… and yet he hadn't. He was letting her get the people out, permitting her to put the werewolves at risk for the sake of the rest of Budapest.
Which meant he knew about the Oradea tunnel – that she'd come here to beg if she had to for access, for another way out. And why?
It didn't take much for Frankie to guess.
This had Basilio's particular brand of pettiness and Augustine's perverse sense of punishment written all over it.
Which is why her laughter turned borderline hysterical… because once again she had played into the hands of her enemies, had gone and done exactly what both men knew she would do.
It was no secret that the Spider and the Feng's had never gotten along. Basilio had coveted that small pocket of territory for decades, lusting for complete domination over the city. But Astrid had held him at bay on sheer will alone and it had infuriated him. Augustine, on the other hand, knew that if he sent Ildar to bring Frankie in, no one would get out of that building alive – including Astrid.
And thus, Basilio's pesky little "Asian problem" – as he liked to put it – would be no more; and Ildar's failure – whatever that happened to be – would also be met with the promised consequences.
Once again, Augustine was having Francesca do his dirty work for him, and in the most manipulative, backhanded way.
I guess some things never change after all, she mused to herself, finally getting control over her amusement as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. The confusion she was met with nearly had her in stitches all over again.
"Well, I suppose I can't complain," she announced, much to the bewilderment of her audience. "Marcus was always so very good at back-handed gifts… quid pro quo has always been his specialty. You do something for me, and I'll give you something in return." She turned toward Ildar and held out her wrists to him, a sign of surrender.
When no one moved forward to claim her capture, she made a point of shaking her open hands in front of her impatiently, motioning to her wrists. The councilman ordered one of his soldiers to handcuff her and as the nervous man approached, Frankie looked from Astrid, to Lee, and then to Ildar.
"He's watching, isn't he?" she asked the latter. She then looked to the Feng twins. "He likes to watch." She noted the pin on Ildar's lapel and then winked in its direction. "You haven't changed, Marcus. It's been nearly two centuries and you still pull the same tricks. I'm surprised your favorite lap dog hasn't figured it out."
She held Ildar's gaze as the soldier placed restraints on her wrists, then her ankles.
"Tell me – what did you do to piss him off?"
"I beg your pardon?" the councilman asked.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lee looking between his sister and one of Augustine's oldest friends and followers… as if he was putting the pieces together slowly.
"Clearly you did something to make Marcus angry – otherwise he would have sent someone else. Yet he sent you… is it because in spite of all the blood you and your armies shed on Váci Street three weeks ago, the alliance remains perfectly intact? Not a single key member lost in the massacre?"
Something dark passed over Ildar's face and Frankie bit the inside of her cheek, chuckling.
"Ooh… he was livid with you, wasn't he? Couldn't enjoy the victory knowing my inner circle was still unbroken."
"Would you please gag her already?" but Frankie met his indignation with a mocking sneer.
"I almost pity you… all of you. You have no idea whose bed you've crawled into. What demon you've pitted yourself against as consequence," she taunted, now bound and completely unarmed, and yet for the first time in weeks, she felt as though she were holding the higher ground – as outnumbered as she was.
The man that had cuffed her was now struggling to fish out a piece of cloth he could use to silence her as another solider went to work lacing the manacles around her ankles to her wrists with a chain. A third revealed what almost looked like a collar – as if their silver shackles could stop the likes of her.
"You have your prisoner. Tell your master I expect to hear from him before the evening is out," Astrid announced.
"Oh, darling, I'm only letting these men here tie me up for show – you're not going anywhere. None of you are," Frankie announced after the collar was placed around her neck.
"Says the woman bound up like a dog… fitting really, given the company I hear you like to keep."
But Frankie ignored the bait and instead looked to the soldier holding her "leash." She sent him a look that could only be described as smoldering and the man diverted his eyes as if he was uncomfortable with the attention.
"Most men would be crowing over a woman bound in chains right about now… but not you. Guess I'll have to kill you nicely for the courtesy."
"Would you shut her up already?" Ildar snapped, his bark followed by someone roughly knocking the back of Francesca's head with something hard. It didn't render her unconscious, but it did serve as a nice wake-up call to her dark passenger. The demon was already hackled up, snarling behind the bars of its cage.
"You, on the other hand… you die first," she told the one that had struck her.
Without warning, she drew up her arms sharply and pulled. The chain that kept her wrists bound to her cuffed ankles snapped like a twig.
She turned and lunged forward. Ripping the remaining bit of chain from the one who had been holding it, her fangs lengthened as she flew. Moving with inhuman speed, even for a vampire, the undead soldier didn't even have a moment to react as she latched onto his throat with her teeth. The sharp incisors tore through flesh and cartilage, ripping his neck open as blood gushed from the wound, spraying her in the face.
Her victim's comrades attempted to haul her off of the man, but in a quick series of moves she disengaged, taking the extended part of her chain and twirling around one of her would-be captors. She twisted the cold metal around a throat and pulled, reveling in the crunch of bone and rip of flesh as the nameless soldier's head was removed from his body.
Next, she made quick work of the one that had cuffed her. And as his body decayed into little more than ash and blood, she was flying for Ildar.
The councilman was too slow in the face of her rage, and in spite of the rounds of bullets that were now peppering her body, she unsheathed a hidden blade from the man's waist, twirled it once in her hand to adjust her grip before slamming it mercilessly up through the center of his jaw and into his skull.
She immediately materialized across the room and into a corner, using Ildar as a human shield as she leaned forward a bit so she could be level with the pin on his lapel.
It was an enamel rendering of a dragon with a sword buried in its head – the insignia of the Fraternitatem et Sanguis, a secret, centuries old Order led by Augustine, established for the sole purpose of ending the reign of the dragon.
In the eye of that mortally wounded serpent was the microscopic lens of a hidden camera, confirming her suspicions that Marcus was indeed watching this encounter. She twisted the blade in Ildar's head for emphasis before whispering to the pin on his collar, "Seems age has made you forget what kind of monster you made. Shall I remind you?"
Utilizing the skills she had been honing during her training sessions with Dracula, Frankie took the mental cage she kept her dark passenger in and she expanded its territory, still leaving it with enforced boundaries but granting it more room to stretch, to roam… to play with her.
The whites of her eyes went black as the violet glow of her irises began to swirl with flecks of scarlet, a constellation of amethysts and rubies in a sea of night.
"Are you still watching, Marcus? Now permit me to show you what your brother has taught me," she growled in a voice not quite her own.
While her chains were broken, the cuffs remained fastened to her ankles, wrists, and the collar around her throat, but the burning silver didn't seem to impede her. Instead, they became an extension of her.
Frankie took the blade in her hand, both drenched in Ildar's cold blood, and pulled down, freeing it from his skull before pushing its edge through his neck, decapitating him with controlled force. Unleashing a demonic growl, she rushed into the sea of black-clad soldiers, twirling and twining around them like a dancer, armed only with the chains that had been placed on her and a single blade – her miniature reaper's scythe.
She never did hear Jacob or Lyra enter the room, the pair joining the fight and ensuring no one left the chamber alive – though there were a number that certainly tried. Astrid had made a dash for the back door, but Lyra was there to greet her.
Francesca was too lost to the carnage to notice, however. She moved in rapid succession from one enemy to the next, her dark passenger working in tandem with her. She fed that demon her rage, her shame, and her bloodlust, and in turn, it transformed her into a killing machine, each slice and thrust of blade or slash of claw meeting its mark until the ground was littered with puddles of crimson, Frankie's person equally soaked in it.
Round and around she twirled and lunged, numbing her anxiety, her fear, her guilt in the intoxication that came with the clarity, the simplicity of death. It was a high she was rarely afforded these days, and while this one was small, it momentarily lifted her spirits in a way nothing else had in weeks.
A gift.
Marcus had given her a gift.
The thought didn't sit well.
Why would he do such a thing? And to what end?
She was never given the chance to consider it further, as a scream pulled her out of her temporary madness and she whirled her head around to see Lee situated between Astrid and Lyra… his own blade buried in his sister's chest.
The curious turn of events brought Francesca to an abrupt halt as she disengaged her current partner with a merciless snap of his neck. This one had been human. As the nameless goon slumped to the ground, Lee had moved forward to catch his now dying sister in his arms. There was no shame in his eyes for what he had done, even with the confusion and betrayal now furrowing Astrid's brow.
Time caught up with the woman slowly, the decay starting where the knife had found a home in her heart and spreading outward. She gasped needlessly for air, clearly trying to conjure a word, something… anything. But not a single utterance passed her lips.
"I'm sorry, but you gave me no choice," Lee explained. "I begged you not to let him come between us; that Basilio's sway over him would lead to our undoing… I could have helped you… why wouldn't you let me help?"
Astrid opened her mouth to reply, lifting a defiant hand to shove him away when she paused abruptly, seeing that the flesh had decayed around a skeleton barely held together by remaining ligaments. Still, he took that hand in his with a gentleness that seemed strange for one so sedate. Had it not been for that care in his grip, any onlooker would have assumed him unmoved by his twin's rapidly deteriorating state.
"To protect and serve, Astrid… that was the oath we once swore. I've bent the rules for you for so long… no more. You broke your word…"
The woman unleashed a rasped cry, some unintelligible question uttered in some unrecognizable language before her tongue turned to ash in her mouth.
Lee responded in a nearly indecipherable whisper, whatever he had said causing the woman to smile rather ruefully before she finally passed.
Once she finished disintegrating in his arms, it was Lyra that broke the silence.
"What the hell just happened?"
Lee rose slowly from his knees, dusting his sister's remains from his body with a look not even Frankie could read. He seemed wholly unmoved by what he had just done, as if duty or something far greater kept him from feeling even an ounce of remorse.
"My sister and I swore long ago that no matter where our path led us, no matter how dark it became, we would live by one cardinal rule – to protect and serve the innocent. She broke that promise when she allied with Marcus Augustine behind my back."
"You mean you didn't know?" Lyra exclaimed, sounding as doubtful as Jacob was looking on the other side of the room.
"I didn't learn of it until two nights ago. He had been trying to court her for years, bring us to his side of the board. We had held him off for decades until you came along," and Lee sent a look in Frankie's direction – another infuriatingly vague expression. "Then the courting turned into blackmail and threats. She said she had it handled, that she was unbreakable…"
"Augustine has a gift for finding weakness in anyone… I've yet to meet an exception to that rule," Francesca replied, wiping the blade of the blood soaked dagger still in her hand on her pant leg to distract herself from the current path of her thoughts.
It didn't work.
Marcus had broken her countless times those five years she had been his captive – and she had remained irreparably damaged ever since. First the Váci massacre and now this… it was as if it was all to serve as a reminder that he could still get under her skin, that even after nearly two centuries, he could still pull her strings.
This skirmish with Ildar and Astrid and the soldiers – it hadn't been a gift.
It had been a reminder.
A reminder that he might not be able to control her directly, but he could still play her just as well as he once had, that she was not immune to his manipulations. A chill ran down Frankie's spine at the thought, the offensive notion that any man, let alone that that man in particular, could violate her sense of autonomy, her freedom – her most prized possession.
Well, she had received his message loud and clear and the indignation of it left her dark passenger growling in the back of her mind.
"Frank, you okay?" she heard Jacob ask, the man coming up beside her. She shuddered a little, a sharp movement of her head shaking her demon in to silence.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, making her way over to Lee and Lyra. What remained of Lee's armed guards attempted to get between her and their master, but the man lifted his hand, a silent order for them to stand down. "Seeing as how your sister is no longer available for negotiations…"
"Frankie…" Lyra chided quietly, as if to remind her that the man's sister had just died, but Francesca ignored the well-intended warning.
"The Oradea tunnel is yours," Lee assured her stoically. "And as a sign of good faith, I would like to enter into a formal coalition with you and your alliance – at least until this war with the current regime has concluded. Then we may need to renegotiate."
Again, with the unreadable expression.
Was he teasing her? She couldn't tell.
"I thank you for access to the tunnel, and while we could certainly use a man with your particular skillset, I have no idea if you can even be trusted, and if you could, I have nothing to offer you by way of compensation," she said.
"But you are the dragon's prophesied bride?"
Frankie shrugged.
"Yes, though I can't speak to what that's really worth these days."
"Váci was a mess, but you are not solely to blame for what happened."
"Try explaining that to Dracula."
Lyra perked up at that.
"You mean he actually blames you for that shit show?" she demanded, suddenly defensive.
"He hasn't said the words, but his… disappointment in me is evident," Frankie explained with some difficulty.
Her friend uttered a colorful oath that made Lee actually crack a smile, although Jake seemed less than amused.
"You do realize that if he actually revealed himself and took command, we wouldn't be in this mess."
"Maybe," Frankie conceded with a sigh, "but… it's complicated."
Jake looked like he was ready to continue the conversation, but Lee interjected.
"The point is, you are clearly in contact with his majesty," he stated, as if he had known for weeks but just wanted her to confirm it for him.
"I am."
He studied her for a beat, then nodded as if making a decision.
"He may not have told you, but I was trained under an old spy-master of his – a man by the name of Shang. Shang never would have taken me as his apprentice had it not been for Dracula's recommendation. I've long wished to repay the debt and now that my sister and her ambitions are out of the way…"
"Why should we trust you?" Lyra suddenly asked. "You just murdered your own flesh and blood. I don't know about the rest of you, but I find that pretty suspect."
Frankie looked at Lee and tilted her head a little to one side.
"She's got a point."
"You are in contact with Dracula – ask him yourself about my credentials. If he decides you have no need for my services, then the tunnel is still yours, no strings attached. But if he consents, then my men, my resources, everything I know…"
"In exchange for what?"
"A favor, from your grace specifically," and he bowed his head in Frankie's direction.
"What kind of favor?"
The man actually smirked. That rare curvature of lip made him look rather attractive actually, and Frankie found herself fighting back a smile of her own.
"With your leave, I'd prefer to call it in at a later date."
"I don't like entering into agreements when I don't have all of the information," she stated, folding her arms in front of her. He nodded a little in acknowledgement.
"I give you my word that it won't be anything too unfavorable."
"That's promising," Jake muttered, though mostly to himself.
"Talk to his majesty, Francesca de Chacier. If he vouches for me, I will help you win this war against Marcus… and when it's all over, we'll talk."
"About what, exactly?" Lyra asked.
"About the future."
And so, at long last, we finally start to get to all the things we've been building up to for the last 2 books: war with Augustine (and Basilio), the culmination of Frankie & Vlad's relationship, and just so much more! I can't wait for you guys to read it all!
Unfortunately, because of my current life situation (and the fact that I'm still making 11th hour edits on this story, lol), the updates may be a bit inconsistent for just a bit. I plan on posting this week, but next week (the week of the 21st) there won't be any updates. If everything goes well, I should be able to start posting more regularly again on the 28th, so fingers crossed!
Just wanted to leave a quick thank you to those that reviewed after the last chapter went up back in December. I know I will always be a broken record on this, but your support really does mean so much more than you could possibly fathom. So thank you for reading, and especially for reviewing. Hope you will continue to do so as we finish up the behemoth of a story.
Love you guys so much, and I'll see you in the next one!