Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 57: First Strike

From my spot half-reclined on a generous mountain of plush pillows on our king-size bed, I watched as the needle and tube connected to the gently whirring medical machine Keel had once brought to dinner whisked away my blood. The whole procedure was oddly clinical given the archaic bleeding devices the Nosferatu employed during social functions, and I found myself zoning out on the rich red liquid slipping through the transparent tubing into the belly of the boxy white beast. There wasn't much else to do as I gave of myself for the cause.

Keel and I had already refined the battle plan as much as possible without having a rough estimate of how much blood I might be able to give or the strength of the spells we might be able to cast with it. Perhaps if we harvested enough, we could run a few trials, but that would be determined by how fast my body replenished itself, and that, like so many things, remained a great unknown. Three extra bleeders and round-the-clock cooks had been called into service in the kitchen to serve up human cuisine as I demanded it. All of this could be compared to being fattened up for the slaughter, only I was turning the food into blood that would later become magic, and the more I gave, the stronger my conviction became. This was something only I could contribute to the war effort and the sorcerers would not be expecting it. They expected Keel and me to be the weapon of mass destruction, not that we would use our combined power to weaponize everyone else. No one believed it possible for a Nosferatu king to share, and we would play that idea against them big time. Let them be destroyed by their own goddamn stereotypes, I thought.

Keel warmed to the plan more with each passing hour, soon making suggestions of all the ways he could help bolster the spells on the battlefield. He understood better than anyone the full power of the unexpected, and the idea of showing the sorcerers up, even just a little bit, made his eyes shine - and my heart quicken.

He did not drink from me while I bled for our troops, except to lick away the excess when he removed the needle. Instead, he let me drink from him, deep and often. Giving himself over to my thirst as I gave myself over to my sacrifice. Each time he did, my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, wishing he'd listen to what my body was telling him and climb onto the bed and give the rest of himself over to me too, but the steady stream of high-ranking Nosferatu travelling in and out of the royal chambers made that impossible. War waited for nothing and no one, not my passion or my hunger.

When Ephraim joined us late in the night, he proved my theories about the plan spot on. As we ran him through the specifics, he offered no arguments, only an expression of sheer astonishment.

Once we finished, he turned to Keel. "Are you certain about this, Your Majesty? It's one hell of a strategy, but it's also quite revolutionary. That's not going to cause any problems for you in execution, is it?" Ephraim spoke carefully, making it easy to read between the lines. He wanted to ensure that Keel wouldn't lose himself to a fit of animalistic jealously at exactly the wrong moment.

Keel looked from the machine to Ephraim. "I won't deny that I don't like the idea of it, but if we don't do something, Mildred and I will be the sole defensive force for this entire compound. Nosferatu aren't any better to equipped to fight sorcerers than we were three hundred years ago. At this point, I'm willing to swallow every one of my natural instincts if it'll prevent this place from becoming a slaughterhouse. That's not how I want to go down in the history books."

"Then you won't," Ephraim said with a strength and determination that straightened both of our backs. "And I'll help you prepare."

The sudden pounding on the door made all three of us jump.

"Come in," Keel shouted, and Arthos burst into the room.

His speed alone indicated that was terribly wrong, and the panicked expression on his face confirmed it. My gut clenched, fisting itself uncomfortably around all the food and blood I'd imbibed.