Warrior Rising

WARRIOR RISING

LINDA WINSTEAD JONES

CONTENTS

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

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

About the Author

Also by Linda Winstead Jones

Copyright © 2016 by Linda Winstead Jones

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover by Elizabeth Wallace

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Vellum

For the readers who insisted that this story be told.

PROLOGUE

She had waited for years, years of planning, of intense preparation. At last the time was here. Victory was just beyond her reach, hovering so close, so near to the fulfillment of her plans, that sometimes she wanted to scream in frustration because no matter how close it was, she still didn’t quite have it in her grasp.

How could
any
vampire be against her? She didn’t understand that. Vampires were superior to humans in every way; it was logical that they be in control, that humans serve their betters. It was also logical that she, the most powerful of her kind — save Luca Ambrus, damn him — be the one in control.

Marie insisted on being called Regina.
Regina
, Latin for
Queen;
it had a nice ring to it. Her ego was huge, but ego wasn’t the sole reason for the sobriquet. Small details produced huge results. Forcing people to call her queen, to acknowledge her as such, was the first step in becoming so. As they became more familiar with the idea, they also became more malleable to her rule. She had been born to rule, and everything she did led to ensuring her absolute rule was recognized.

She had confirmation from one of her soldiers that the sanctuary spell had been broken, but she was angry and she was hungry, and she wanted to see — to
experience
— the result of her hard work for herself. The battle in the Potomac mansion that had been her headquarters for many years had drained and infuriated her, but she was still powerful.

Until tonight, she had never seriously considered that her plans wouldn’t be executed without flaw, but now with some bitterness she saw that her self-confidence had been a critical error. Her worst mistake was that she’d put too much faith in the loyalty and competence of others. She had allowed herself to trust, because she’d thought she knew her people. She’d assumed that most vampires would follow her, that they would
want
to subjugate the humans.

She’d been wrong. So many had failed her, had been afraid. Vampires, afraid! She was appalled on so many levels, and for so many reasons.

The sanctuary spell — the old curse that kept vampires from entering a home uninvited — had been broken, but she hadn’t been able to stop the influx of Immortal Warriors. Worse, she had lost her headquarters and her right hand man.

Lost, hell. That bastard had
run
to the other side. But Sorin would pay, sooner rather than later. She would make him her special target; the one she would most enjoy killing.

She’d learned a painful but important lesson. From now on, she would rely on no one. She would not allow anyone to share her rule. Her power was beyond compare. As a rare blood born, a child conceived and born to two vampire parents, she possessed gifts most others only dreamed of. She would hide those gifts away no more.

She tore her thoughts from the ugly taste of failure and betrayal, because in the main quest she hadn’t failed at all: she had forced the witch to break the sanctuary spell. For her personal test of the witch’s success, she chose a two-story house along a tree-lined street well away from the Potomac mansion where the initial battle had taken place. The Virginia neighborhood not far from Washington D.C. was modestly prosperous, the houses far enough apart that it was unlikely screams would be heard. And if they were heard, she wouldn’t care. Nothing could stop her now.

Marie strode up the sidewalk, past well-manicured bushes and a low growing red flower that looked black in the moonlight, and stood for a moment looking at the dark green door that in the past had been all a human needed to keep her out. She lifted her hand to knock, then paused. Instead of knocking, she kicked the green door in. A savage thrill surged through her as she stepped, uninvited, inside the house. For a moment she was dizzy from the sheer ecstasy of success, of power. Three loyal vampires came in behind her. They moved so quickly, drawn up the stairs by the scent of human flesh, that the residents of the house had no chance to call for help, by phone or otherwise.

Marie moved up the stairs more slowly, savoring every moment. Her pace was regal, the long train of her fine but bloodied gown trailing the stairs behind her. Much of that blood belonged to Chloe Fallon, Luca’s pet, the pet she had taken from him with a sharp knife and great pleasure.

There wouldn’t be any more hiding away who and what she truly was. She would make no further effort to blend in to these jarring, modern times. When she was acknowledged queen by vampires and humans both she would wear fine gowns and jewels. Her home would be luxuriously furnished. She would surround herself with loyal servants and soldiers and subjects, and if they were not loyal enough they would suffer and die.

Forget about the Council; she wouldn’t be returning to Council headquarters, the Georgetown home where her plans for this war had begun and grown. The remaining Council members would be wise to decamp. The Council headquarters would be the first location given away. She had no doubt that the humans would win
some
of the battles, simply because there were so many of them, so these first days would be perilous.

But even though tonight hadn’t gone as planned, nothing of importance had changed. Her plan was simple enough: Take D.C., and from there, take this country. The world would follow.

Not that vampires all over the world weren’t enjoying her gift tonight. There was no more haven for humans, no place for them to hide.

She entered the master bedroom. In the big bed situated against the far wall were two bedraggled humans, both elderly and frightened. Each was held in place by one of Marie’s soldiers, while the third soldier busied himself pacing, waiting for one of them to attempt to fight so he’d have an excuse to strike. The humans had no way of knowing exactly what kind of invader they faced. How could they? As far as these ignorant humans knew, vampires were legend, not real. They would soon learn differently.

The woman’s gray hair stuck out to one side in a rather comical way. Her husband wore wrinkled striped pajamas and had no hair at all.

Marie smiled, but didn’t show her fangs. “What are your names?” she asked politely.

The woman opened her mouth, but no words formed. She croaked, then choked on her unspoken response. Fear had stolen her tongue. The man cleared his throat and said, “Honeycutt. John and Cynthia Honeycutt.”