Free Death's Servant (The V V Inn, First Prequel Book) by C.J. Ellisson Page B

proceed.”
     
     
     

Chapter Eleven
     
    After a late dinner, we pack and drive our two separate vehicles to Middleburg, where the property was indicated on a map, not Purcellville like I thought. All those twists and turns when I followed Raine wound up leading to the outskirts of where many remote palatial estates lie, quite common in the affluential area.
    The three of us check into the closest motel, which is still a ways from the vampire’s location, and then met in the couple’s room to discuss a plan. Dria refuses to visit the mansion tonight, even to case the grounds. She didn’t want to risk Cecil getting a hint of what was to come. We discuss arriving at his place the next night, dressed like we’re going to a party—well, she’ll be dressed anyway. I’ll be going in wolf form so he doesn’t recognize me.
    After a brief trip to a local pet store to buy myself an expensive collar, I spend the next day sleeping. According to Dria it will be the only clothing piece I need to look like a well-kept vampire servant in his werewolf form.
    We meet again in the couple’s room to go over details and annoyance vibrates off the vamp’s husband. The plan dictates that Rafe will stay at the hotel. For Dria’s ruse of being an addict to work, she stresses arriving with only a “pet” would appear more believable. He grumbled a lot last night but seems more agitated now that we’re leaving soon.
    My nerves get the best of me, driving me to pace in their small hotel room while they stare daggers at one another. It’s almost nine and we should be getting on the road. Dria clears her throat, drawing my attention to her expression, one reddish eyebrow raised in expectation.
    The young-looking vampire holds a knife over her wrist and my stomach clenches over the next stage of her plan. “I don’t understand this part. Why do I need to drink your blood?”
    “You’ve met this bastard, right?” she asks. I nod, still unsure of how her blood will change that simple fact. “Got right up and personal with him—and he and his cronies drank from you?”
    “Yeah, so?”
    “He’ll recognize your scent, even in wolf form.”
    My blood freezes as a thought occurs to me. “Could he ‘call’ me to him against my will or anything like that?” I heard about that once from the Weres in Canada.
    “Don’t you think if he could, he would’ve by now? You did say he went after you at your apartment, right?”
    Chagrinned at the obvious answer, my panic dulls a little. “Okay, good point. I don’t know for sure if he went to my apartment, Raine just stressed that he had gone after escaped wolves before. How will your blood help?”
    “Once you drink a few sips, you are marked as mine. The essence of my blood mixes with yours, slightly changing the underlying blood scent—not a lot, but enough to mask you from him in your animal form. He won’t be looking too closely for danger in a visiting vampire’s kept werewolf.”
    “Is my drinking of your blood what will make me your servant?”
    “No. If I fed on you repeatedly or once very deeply and allowed you to have my blood it would bind us, making you my servant, but even then the bond must be renewed monthly to stay strong. Casual blood donation within a seethe would make you one of the seethe’s companions, not my servant.”
    “Seethe?”
    She smiles. “Forgive me, a ‘seethe’ is a vampire family.”
    I nod, only slightly freaked out by the whole concept.
    “It’s okay, Jon. I realize this is all new terminology for you. A companion is under the protection of the seethe even if they aren’t blood-bonded to any vampire in particular. Anyone else a vampire feeds from is classified as a donor, and has no protection.”
    Rafe chimes in, “There is an exception, a way around the rules, if you will. If a person is blood marked, like Dria plans to do with you, they are considered off limits, even if they aren’t technically a servant in your seethe.”
    This