Jessica Rules the Dark Side Page 2

  But was it so bad to want to avoid ending lives?

  I pushed myself upright in my huge office chair, which had once belonged to my birth mom. The silk nightgown I'd changed into—in a desperate attempt to make everyone believe I really was ill—kept making my butt slip off the leather seat, and when I shoved back, my feet dangled, so I felt even more like a kid playing at being a princess. A shamed kid.

  At least one Dragomir—Mihaela—never shied away from a trial.

  Have I gone too far, with the pajamas?

  "I guess there's nothing I can do now except try to redeem myself at tomorrow's meeting with the Elders," I said, looking glumly at a huge ledger that was open on my desk. "I can at least try to make a few intelligent points when we discuss this budget."

  Yet I didn't have much hope for that, either, as I scanned columns of numbers that supposedly represented how much Lucius and I intended to spend to govern a shifting, borderless, crazy kingdom of vampires I hadn't even known existed until recently.

  I slumped in my seat, thinking, Sure, I'm a mathlete, but I'm also a teenager who just last year worked for three-dollar tips, not millions of euros in taxes!

  And who even knew vampires collected taxes?

  "Dorin?" I closed the ledger with a thud, because my worried, distracted mind kept skipping ahead to an even bigger meeting that would take place later that year, making it impossible to focus on numbers. "What is the vampire congress really like, anyhow? I have trouble picturing this event where Lucius's and my fate will be decided."

  "Oh, goodness..." Dorin stepped back and wrung his hands again, but this time he seemed happy and nostalgic about a week that I dreaded. "The congress is quite an event! The most prominent Vladescus and Dragomirs gather from all over the world, and while business is conducted, of course, it's also a chance for us to socialize. Parties every evening for a full week, with the best food and music. In the past, the estates have been decorated beautifully enough to rival your wedding!"

  His eyes practically glowed, and I wished that I could get excited about the prospect of hundreds of my relatives wandering around the castle. "So it's basically an oversized undead family reunion?"

  "Yes." Dorin nodded. "It has been held each year since the pact that decreed your marriage was signed, uniting our clans. And this year will be extra special, as we celebrate the lasting peace achieved at your wedding." He smiled even more warmly. "Your mother hosted the very first congress, shortly before her destruction. She would be so proud to see you take over that role."

  I slipped on the seat again and pushed myself back up.

  How would I feed and entertain eight hundred vampires when I couldn't even order dinner from the kitchen for Lucius and me? I would mess up the whole event, and my relatives would all laugh as they cast their "no" ballots in the vote of confidence on the last day. I was doomed to bomb at my own party, and ruin Lucius's future, too.

  "It's going to be a disaster," I admitted out loud, for the first time.

  "Antanasia!" I looked up to see Dorin pressing a finger to his lips, shushing me and nodding toward the door.

  I knew immediately that I'd made yet another mistake. Emilian, the young guard who was always posted just outside the room whenever Lucius couldn't be with me, was never supposed to hear me complain or show weakness. Servants—even loyal ones—were notorious gossips, according to my husband, who'd dealt with "underlings" his whole life, while I'd been mucking out stalls on a no-kill farm.

  If Emilian told anyone I was predicting disaster at the congress, word would spread like wildfire that I couldn't even handle planning a party.

  Dorin and I looked at each other, both of us probably thinking the same thing. That the only thing I did royally was mess up.

  How is Lucius doing at the trial without my support?

  And is my cousin Ylenia, whom I also abandoned, crying behind her thick glasses?

  "Let's get back to the budget," I sighed, opening the ledger again and speaking more quietly. "I think I'm translating the Romanian wrong, because it seems to me that Lucius wants to spend sixty-five thousand euros on rabbits next year."

  "I do have a taste for hare—but I could never consume more than fifty thousand euros' worth in one twelve-month span."

  I froze at the unexpected sound of a deep masculine voice and sensed my uncle seizing up, too, as we both swiveled to see Lucius leaning against the door frame, arms crossed.

  And although he'd just made a joke, his face looked troubled, maybe because I'd admitted my ignorance too loudly after all, or maybe because of what he'd just done at the trial...

  "Lucius?"

  Chapter 3

  Antanasia

  "I AM SURPRISED to see you here, Dorin," Lucius noted, then glanced over his shoulder to address Emilian. "Esti demis." My Romanian seemed to be getting worse, but even I knew that command. "You are dismissed." Not that I'd ever used it.

  He pushed off from the door frame and entered the room, walking right up to my uncle without really greeting him—or me. "Your presence was needed at a trial, Dorin," he said, looming over the shorter vampire. "Did you forget the date?"

  Lucius wasn't being rude—he was never rude, even with servants—but it was obvious that he was very displeased with my uncle, who licked his lips and stammered, "Yes, well ... I—I was running late, and then I heard that Antanasia wasn't well..."

  Lucius didn't say anything as Dorin trailed off. He didn't have to. It was obvious that the next time a vampire was on trial, Dorin's butt had better be in his seat.

  I shot my uncle an apologetic glance as he moved toward the door, bowing slightly and telling us both, "I'll be going now." He looked to Lucius for permission. "If that's all right."

  Lucius didn't try to stop him, and I wondered again, Why can't my two closest allies befriends? Why can't Lucius ever forgive Dorin for his weakness, which in Lucius's eyes is worse than insubordination? "Dangerous," he calls Dorin's instinct for self-preservation. "Dangerous for everyone, most of all Dorin!"

  I wanted to understand that, but I didn't get it. Trying to survive seemed pretty reasonable to me. "I'll talk to you later," I told Dorin as he left us without even a good-bye.

  Then, when the door closed behind my uncle and Lucius moved to me, still without a word, I braced myself for our confrontation. He had to know that I was faking.

  But he didn't mention my pajamas, or the trial. He just took me in his arms and greeted me like he always did when we were alone: with a kiss.

  Relieved yet somehow unnerved, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and the kiss became more intense.

  I wanted to enjoy that rare private moment, but even as I felt the pressure of his fangs against my throat I found myself reaching for his hands, feeling for some small, sticky trace of the blood that I was afraid my husband, who was murmuring "I love you" against my ear again and again, had just shed, because I knew there was a chance that he hadn't been just jury and judge but executioner, too.

  Chapter 4

  Antanasia

  "LUCIUS, WHAT happened this morning?" I asked softly.

  He didn't answer. He'd grown very quiet again since drinking from me, and toyed distractedly with my engagement ring, spinning it around my too-thin finger as he held me on the couch in my office.

  "Lucius?" I lifted my head off his shoulder to see his face: his high cheekbones and straight, aristocratic nose and the strong jaw that made him look older than he was. Like most girls at Woodrow Wilson High School, including my best friend, Mindy Stankowicz, I'd been both drawn to and intimidated by his very mature good looks. And he seemed even more like a warrior prince since returning to Romania. "Lucius?"

  "Yes?" He finally turned to look at me. "I am sorry ... I was lost in thought."

  "What happened today?" I repeated—although I was pretty sure I knew right then, just from the look in his eyes. The unhappiness that he was finally fully revealing.

  "The verdict was guilty," he said. "There was no question. No doubt in
the Elders' minds."

  My heart sank. "And you? Did you have any doubt?"

  "I cannot afford doubt," he said. "If I'd had even a sliver, I couldn't have carried out the sentence. My hand might have hesitated, and I would have caused the prisoner more agony. I want to be just, never cruel." His frown deepened. "And if the Elders had sensed hesitation on my part, I would have hurt myself —us —as well, by appearing weak."

  "So you really did...?" I couldn't even say it.

  But Lucius could. "Yes, Antanasia. I destroyed him. The law is clear. Destruction is punishable by destruction. And destruction of an Elder must be answered by none other than the highest-ranking clan member." His eyes hardened a little. "Besides, we both know that I am best suited to destroy with as little pain as possible. I have been trained since childhood to use a stake efficiently. Execution is not a chore to be passed off to a servant, like laundry."

  "I'm so sorry..." For poor, murdered Constantin Dragomir, and my orphaned cousin Ylenia, and the prisoner, too. And for Lucius, whom I shouldn't have left...

  "I am sorry, too, Jessica." His use of my old name told me that Lucius was also struggling inside. He had fought against using "Jessica" in Pennsylvania, insisting that I was "Antanasia." But lately he'd taken to calling me Jess in private. I thought he especially used the nickname when he missed just being an American teenager, like I did a lot of the time. Most days, I just wished we could go live in my adoptive parents' garage apartment, married but still sort of kids. But I couldn't even call Mom and Dad, who were on a research trip in a remote part of South America.

  I knew they were traveling to avoid their new "empty nest," and I understood that, but I wished I could talk to them—even though I knew what my cultural anthropologist mother would say about the trial. "You have to learn to live by the harsh norms of your new culture. Lucius warned you..."

  I remembered something from my birth mother's journal, too: "As a princess you will be called upon to witness destruction. "

  "I hate rule of law," I muttered.

  For the first time that day, Lucius smiled. "Princess! We have agreed that rule of law is what is most needed in this kingdom, have we not?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "There are no buts!" He grew serious again. "Our clans have ignored our own laws for too long. Even in the last ten years, what you would call lynch mobs have been more common than trials, among vampires. And laws protect rulers, too." His smile returned. "See how much I learned in America, with its Constitution and orderly succession of leaders and endless licensing and regulation?"

  "I know," I agreed. "Laws are good. But I just couldn't be there to enforce them today."

  "Please, do not be so hard on yourself," he said. "You were raised among kittens by vegans." Then he made a rare admission: "It was difficult even for me, raised by killers on a diet of violence."

  "But you did it."

  "Yes, and I will do it again. And you will learn to stand at my side as you become accustomed to this culture, the way I became accustomed to yours."

  My voice dropped to a whisper. "What if I can't?"

  Lucius grinned. "I used to ask myself that same question when faced with your mother's lentil casseroles. 'What if I literally cannot lift the fork today?' And yet I did it, Jessica."

  My eyes widened. "You can't compare today's trial to lentil casserole. "

  But Lucius arched an eyebrow and laughed. "Didn't you taste it?"

  Then he rose and I saw him transform—like he often did—from spouse to ruler. Why couldn't I do that trick? "I am sorry, but I need to go now," he said, bending to give me a quick kiss. "I need to prepare for the meeting with the Elders tomorrow."

  My heart sank again. "Where Claudiu will mention my freak-out..."

  "Do not worry, Jessica," Lucius urged. "You are growing too thin, worrying so much. I promise you—I will handle Claudiu."

  "Lucius..." I knew what the answer would be, but I couldn't help asking, for the hundredth time. "Are you sure we shouldn't postpone the vote of confidence? Maybe wait a year, so I have some time to impress the Elders?"

  But he was already shaking his head. "The titles of king and queen are protective, like law," he reminded me. "They carry infinitely more force than prince and princess—and when you are as young as we are, trying to rule two nations of ruthless vampires, you need every advantage you can secure. The greater risk—to you, especially—would be to postpone the vote. I cannot leave you vulnerable when I know of a way to protect you."

  I had to admit that I didn't want to be vulnerable. "Okay."

  He kissed me again, then went to the door and, summoning Emilian back to his post, left me alone with a bunch of dusty Romanian books I couldn't read, papers I wasn't sure I should sign, and worries I didn't know how to handle. So I did the last thing I probably should have done, as a princess.

  I grabbed my cell phone, went to hide in the closest bathroom, and dialed a familiar international number, desperate to hear an even more familiar voice.

  Chapter 5

  Mindy

  "SURE, EVERY WOMAN should be financially independent, but there's nothing wrong with loving a guy who has a few dollars in the bank—or a Mercedes in the garage, for that matter."

  "Yeah, totally," I said, way too loud.

  Kinda embarrassed, I slid way down in my seat and looked around to see if anybody in class heard me talking to myself about the very interesting Cosmo article "Rich Man, Poor Man—Why Not Love a Guy with Money?" But lucky for me, everybody was busy listening to Dr. Wayne Prentiss talking on and on about the boring Italian art slides he was clicking through while he wandered around the back of the dark room, like he did every week.

  I slid even lower, so I was practically lying down on the floor. Stupid community college "core curriculum requirements." I'd figured Foundations of Renaissance Art would be the easiest "humanity," but I hated the class, which turned out to be all about ... Italy! And all the Italian paintings and naked marble guys made me think about ... Italians. And I did not want to think about Italians. Not even Italian shoes. I hardly even ate spaghetti anymore.

  I tried hard to shut out Dr. Prentiss's voice, but he kept blah-blah-blahing behind me, telling us all, "Contemporary artists still try—and inevitably fail—to imitate the way in which Michelangelo imbued in the male form a sense of grandeur."

  There was a flash of light, and I looked up to see another slide of a naked Italian guy. A guy with a perfect body. I knew a body like that...

  Stop remembering him!

  I held the empty notebook I was using to hide my magazine up a little higher, to block out the screen, but when I turned the page to finish "Rich Man, Poor Man"—which I totally agreed with, after seeing my best friend get very happily married in a castle—I came face-to-face with an ad for Versace. And—big surprise!—another pretty-much-naked Italian guy.

  They were, like, everywhere, with their rock-hard chests and their six-pack abs.

  I didn't wanna do it, but I kept staring at that ad, and it was like I got hypnotized and fell back in time all the way to summer and Romania and that amazing wedding where Jess Packwood turned into Princess Antanasia Dragomir Vladescu—after turning into a vampire, of course. The wedding where I'd kinda changed, too, and not in a good way.

  I could still see how it all started way too clear in my brain. It figured that I couldn't remember anything I studied in books, so I was bombing all my classes at Lebanon Valley, but I couldn't forget a single word of that conversation, no matter how hard I tried.

  "You would like to take a walk, Mindy Sue? See the moonlight with me, yes?"

  I am, like, nodding and shaking my head at the same time, so my brain is sloshing around in circles, 'cause I do not understand Raniero Vladescu Lovatu's crazy way of asking questions and telling you what to do at the same time. Is the right answer yes? Or no? Do I even know how I wanna answer? Do I wanna "see the moonlight" with the bloodsucking, tattooed best man who is looking unbelievably hot in his tux, with
his longish, wavy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail so you can actually see his very different, gray-green eyes?

  Raniero doesn't wait for an answer anyhow. He smiles—he's, like, always smiling—and takes my hand, and his skin is really cool, like Jess's is now. But Raniero's skin is dark from spending so much time at the beach, which has also given him this amazing surfer's body.

  We start walking, leaving the reception, and I look over my shoulder and see Jess dancing with Lukey in the big clearing that he has paid, like, a million dollars to decorate just to make her happy for one night, and I'm pretty sure I am making a BIG mistake, but I go with Raniero, 'cause there's just something about him, that night...

  My heart started racing right there in class, and I seriously wasn't sure if I was getting sick over that memory or excited, like I'd got that night, when I'd had my very first real kiss in the mountains Jess told me were Carpathi-something. A kiss that started pretty much the second me and Ronnie set foot on that dark, scary path through the woods and kept on going all the way back to the giant castle that was still lit up with a bazillion candles for the wedding. Everything had been, like, on fire that night. And Raniero had looked better than the Versace model in his tux—and out of his shirt.

  Those muscles ... That big mistake ... That next morning ... That whole summer!

  "Oh, gosh!"

  I yelped out loud 'cause I could hardly stand those memories, but also 'cause my magazine was all of a sudden being ripped out of my fingers, and I jumped straight up in my chair just in time to hear Dr. Prentiss tell the whole class, "It appears that Melinda has discovered a male form that interests her even more than Michelangelo's David!"

  Then my face got beet red when my professor held up my Cosmo and spun around real slow to make sure every single person could see the almost-nude model—and, of course, laugh like crazy at me. It was a wonder some of them didn't pee their pants, they laughed so hard.