Vampire Debt: Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers Book 2) Read online

  Vampire Debt

  Vampire Towers

  Kelly St. Clare

  Contents

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Death Game

  Books By Kelly St. Clare

  Join the Book Barracks!

  Vampire Debt

  by Kelly St. Clare

  Copyright © December, 2020

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, media, and incidents are either products of the authors’ imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover design by Covers by Christian

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment

  About the Author

  When Kelly is not reading or writing, she is lost in her latest reverie.

  Books have always been magical and mysterious to her. One day she decided to unravel this mystery and began writing.

  Her works include The Tainted Accords, Pirates of Felicity, and The Darkest Drae.

  Kelly resides in New Zealand with her ginger-haired husband, a great group of friends, and whatever animals she can add to her horde.

  Join her newsletter tribe for sneak peeks, release news, and disjointed musings at kellystclare.com/free-gifts/

  “A gem cannot be polished without friction.”

  - Lucius Annaeus Seneca

  1

  Attending my grandmother’s funeral would seal my fate.

  Behind the podium, I looked out at the gathered social leeches looking to get close to me without delay. Becoming the seventh richest person in the world had that effect.

  They were human and, therefore, the least of my numerous concerns.

  Numb denial warred with soul-aching fury and the cold knowledge that vampires were listening right now. Kyros would take my grandmother’s funeral from me over my damn dead body.

  My grandmother had loved lavender, so we were at the lavender fields of Bluff City’s botanical gardens—much to the disgust of several of the wealthy attendees who appeared to think they’d melt with exposure to a public venue.

  Why was my grandmother gone when these people were alive?

  She’d upped and left forever. Her body rested in a white coffin to my right covered in lavender and pictures of her.

  What am I doing here?

  Standing beside me, Tommy cleared her throat and squeezed my hand. I took her hint, dropping my gaze to the speech I’d written, feeling my glasses slip down my nose.

  “Agatha Le Spyre was my grandmother. She was my parent from age nine. She was—” Oh, god. A lump rose up my throat.

  I hadn’t cried since nine years old and I wasn’t about to in front of these fuckers!

  Tommy squeezed my sweating hand again, and I took a steadying breath.

  “… She could whip a fly off a horse’s back with her tongue and wit. Yet her kindness, her ethics, and her wisdom were undeniable. I’m not going to stand here and say she was a quiet, peaceful sort of woman. If you knew her, you wouldn’t believe that.”

  Several people laughed.

  The laughter from those in the front row—her genuine friends and long-held employees—I could accept. The people chuckling beyond that made me want to tear this speech, followed by their faces, into a million pieces.

  “—but the truth she pursued was a quiet thing,” I whispered.

  “You got this, lovely,” Tommy whispered.

  Her sympathy nearly undid me. I blinked several times.

  I wanted these fake bastards to fuck off. I never wanted to see them again. My hands shook for an entirely different reason, and I drew free of Tommy’s hold to clutch the paper with both hands.

  It’s nearly over.

  I tried again. “My grandmother inspired me. I hope to be half the person she was.”

  A choked cry from the crowd drew my attention. My hands clawed, the paper crinkled in protest.

  Harriet Gregorian sat in the third row back crying her eyes out.

  As I watched, she sobbed, clutching her manufactured chest.

  Nope.

  I screwed up the paper containing my speech.

  “Uh, Basil?” Tommy hushed.

  “I’m going off script,” I told her.

  She didn’t need to be told twice. My ex-bestie backed the fuck up.

  I rounded the podium.

  These were the people who scrambled for any foothold against my family estate, tearing down others to get there. Or worse, kissing our asses for as long as I could recall. Not everyone, but most. It was a mistake to let them come.

  “What the hell are you all doing here?” I demanded.

  Harriet’s tears switched off faster than a power outage. A small smirk curved her lips.

  The guests turned to each other. Most in shock, some displayed pity for my mourning breakdown.

  I’d show them a breakdown.

  “I don’t even recognise most of you.” I hurled at those in the second row and beyond, fists balled on my hips. “You want to know something about Agatha Le Spyre? She hated your damn guts. She thought you were trash. Tony Freg? She told me once that your head was stuck so far up your ass, it was a miracle you didn’t see the world through brown-tinted glasses.”

  Tony spluttered for a moment, then stood abruptly, clicking his fingers at his family before storming out.

  I pulled up short.

  What a great idea, Tony.

  Clapping my hands loudly, I shouted, “Everyone beyond the front row, leave. Right now. You motherfucking leeches.”

  No one moved, gaping.

  Oh? You don’t believe me?

  Turning, I picked up a vase of flowers off my grandmother’s coffin and whirled.

  A hand gripped my wrist.

  “You heard her,” Tommy called loudly, jerking her head. “Everyone but the front row out. Agatha wouldn’t want you here.”

  The rich bastards left in a trickle. If they expected me to run after them and throw myself at their feet, they’d be sorely disappointed.

  It’d be a cold day in hell when that happened.

  Tommy released my wrist.

  “Why’d you stop me?” I grumbled. That vase was heading straight for Harriet’s face.

  “Because that’s the vase of flowers I brought,” she replied, snatching the vase and replacing it on my grandmother’s coffin.

  Fair enough.

  Straightening my blazer, I circled my head in an attempt to loosen the tension i
n my neck. Not happening.

  Dropping my chin, my gaze landed on those in the front row—not a single one of them under sixty-five.

  Sir Olythieu’s lips twitched.

  Mrs Syrre choked on a snort.

  My mouth curved.

  A whoop went up. Mr Dithis and Lady Treena held each other up.

  Laughter bubbled up my throat.

  Tommy’s father, Mr Tetley, clutched his stomach, tears rolling down his face—tears I suspected weren’t purely from mirth.

  I supported myself on my grandmother’s coffin as I doubled over, gasping for air between soul-shaking bouts of laughter.

  “That was fucking perfect,” Mr Hothen howled.

  Dame Burke wasn’t amused. “Those cunts. Closing in on Basilia like that.” Being from Australia, cunt was her favourite word—to the constant horror of strangers within listening distance.

  Sir Olythieu, owner of Bluff City Bank, used his cane to push to his feet. “They tried. Our Basilia told them where to go.”

  “Best funeral ever,” Lady Treena said, raising her token glass of champagne in salute.

  Fred, my grandmother’s butler, approached at a staid pace. The familiar grey-haired man had never lost his military training. He’d read stories to me as a child and always protected my family.

  He wasn’t laughing.

  My smile faded as Fred took my hand and kissed it, his brush moustache itching the skin there. The last time he blurred professional lines like this was twelve years ago when my parents died.

  He met my gaze, brown eyes filled with unshed tears, and I tensed as the burning behind my eyes surged anew.

  Not today. Not here.

  “Your grandmother would have loved that,” Fred murmured, squeezing my hand. “She adored you so much, Miss Le Spyre. Everything she did was for you.”

  And there it was—the moment I’d been waiting for.

  He’d just said my real name aloud.

  For a month, I’d been Miss Tetley. And for good reason.

  Unaware of what he’d just done, Fred tugged me into his arms. I went, resting my head against his familiar chest, inhaling his soap smell. Part of me had held out hope Kyros wouldn’t discover the truth via the guards who followed me everywhere. That hope disintegrated as I swayed gently in the butler’s wiry embrace.

  “I’m sorry I had to discuss funeral plans via email,” I murmured.

  “I understand why you had to.”

  I drew away. You do?

  “Talking about death aloud can be difficult.” Fred continued, deflating my hope all over again. “Makes things more real somehow.”

  “Right,” I replied softly, nodding to mask my crushing disappointment.

  He held me at arm’s length. “Are you coming back to the estate after the burial?”

  I’d run from the estate a month ago, and ironically there was no place I’d rather be right now. “I can’t come yet, Fred,” I answered. “It’s too painful.”

  Not a total lie.

  I wasn’t sure I could bear to see her suite—the place she died. I’d have to walk through the halls, the kitchen, and the lavender tiers where we’d shared so many beautiful memories that seemed so impersonal and cold now she wasn’t here to share more with me.

  Really, my return to the estate depended on how Kyros intended to use my fortune when my guards reported back after the funeral. Maybe they were on the phone to him right now. While most of my regular crew hung around the perimeter of the botanical gardens on constant lookout for the Tonyi triplets, Laurel hadn’t budged when I’d requested she also linger out of earshot.

  Fred’s eyes misted. “Of course, Miss Le Spyre. I hope to see you at the estate very soon.”

  “In the meantime, could you please make sure everything is cared for?”

  Fred swallowed hard, his voice hoarse when he said, “You don’t even need to ask.”

  Throat constricting, I turned back to my grandmother’s coffin, feeling his grip on me fall away.

  Her coffin was white with silver handles and covered in lavender. None of the trimmings changed that my last family member was now contained in a wooden box.

  How can that be right?

  I’d forced myself to look upon her embalmed body before the casket was sealed. She’d been a virtual stranger to me with her eyes closed. Whoever saw people with their eyes closed like that? It wasn’t a thought I’d had before that moment, but something that unsettled me greatly until I peeked under the silk blanket covering her legs and spotted her wrinkled hands.

  Her hands, I knew.

  My grandmother was in the casket.

  She was dead.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, the powerful scent of lavender invading my senses.

  The remaining guests squeezed my shoulders, whispering their hollow goodbyes to a person they’d loved. Some joked, some cried, and some said nothing at all.

  Yet there was no artifice during my grandmother’s farewell, and that felt like the first right thing to happen in a long time.

  Agatha Le Spyre had deserved no less.

  “Basil, the hearse is waiting.” Tommy’s soft voice drifted to me.

  My forevermore love, Grandmother.

  “I’m ready,” I said around the lump in my throat.

  A leaden weight dragged me down as six of us slid her coffin into the funeral car, and as the few guests ambled away to find their chauffeurs, my heart began to pound. It took my palms slickening to identify the cause.

  I’d learned to compartmentalise the natural fear Vissimo induced in humans after a month in Kyros Sky. My body reacted, but unless the vampire was unmuted, I could generally think and act through the fear.

  “I can follow behind the hearse if you’d like to ride with your grandmother,” Laurel said from behind me.

  I faced the Indebted, dread filling me despite knowing this route was inevitable.

  She knew who I was—who I really was. Not Basilia Tetley, born and raised in Orange. Basilia Le Spyre, the new head of a hundred-and-fourteen-billion-dollar estate—at the last count.

  “I know you can’t keep things from him.” I squared my shoulders. After swapping blood with Kyros three times, I wasn’t sure I could either. But Laurel was in debt, a slave, to pay off her father’s crimes, and Kyros was her master.

  Laurel’s blue eyes burned brighter than usual, a rare lapse in control.

  “I can keep this between us,” she stated, muting her gaze again.

  My mouth dried. “That can’t be without consequences.”

  Her lips pressed together.

  Yep, called it.

  “I appreciate your loyalty, Laurel,” I said, my eyes trailing toward the hearse. “I won’t risk adding to your burden. This is my shitshow, not yours.”

  I stepped in the direction of the funeral car.

  “Are you aware of what Kyros will do if he discovers who you really are, Miss Le Spyre? Are you aware of what it would mean for Ingenium?”

  Hearing my real name on a Vissimo’s lips was… foreign. My heart hammered at the thought of standing before Kyros when he learned the truth. And yet part of me just didn’t care. My grandmother was dead.

  I halted, my gaze darting where Tommy lingered just out of listening distance. She watched us with keen eyes.

  “A fair idea,” I answered quietly. He’ll drain me until I’m dry—whether for my money, assets, or connections.

  Maybe he’d literally drain me dry.

  Hell, if I had a family and their lives were under threat, I’d use Kyros to help save them in a heartbeat. I understood why he’d fuck me over even if I hated him for it.

  But perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss Laurel’s help. I was so far out of my depth, I didn’t know up from down.

  She spoke again. “I’ll follow you to the cemetery so you can ride with your grandmother, Miss Tetley. And you can count on my discretion.”

  2

  My ears popped as the elevator shot down from Level 61 where I slept t
o Level 44 where I worked.

  Live Right Realty was the human face of Kyros’s operations. He controlled the realty, rental, and leasing industry for Clan Sundulus in the game.

  Once a human knew the secrets of this vampire tower, there was no going back. But I was still Miss Tetley, thanks to Laurel. That meant I wasn’t being taken advantage of because of who I was.

  Yet.

  It did present an entirely different set of problems that my grief-numbed mind didn’t want to work through.

  For instance, when I’d agreed to the second blood exchange, it wasn’t in the knowledge that Kyros would then feel my location for the rest of my life. Anywhere in the world. Anger thrummed deep in my stomach as Kyros’s dishonesty hit me for the umpteenth time in the last week.

  I couldn’t run. He’d always find me.

  That meant that without good reason, I couldn’t return to the estate as Miss Tetley either.

  Kyros lied and placed me in a cage I’d never be free of. With my grandmother’s death, I hadn’t processed just how much that had fucked my life. At all.

  Ding!

  I glared at the elevator as the doors slid open, smoothing my loose white tee, tucked into high-waisted, straight-leg trousers—also white. I really needed to get my own fucking clothes. Stat.

  Head down, I beelined for my office.

  “Miss Tetley?”

  Nearly made it to the corner today. Dammit.

  Angelica, Kyros’s matchmaking aunt, was about to request I take the day off. Again. She’d done it every day since my grandmother died. Each day I’d replied that I wanted to work.