A Fang in the Sass

3

Aria stared out the SUV’s side rear window while Marxius drove—a second guard, Wynther, sat shotgun—from the private airport to the South clan’s house. It had been around eighty years since she’d visited last. Her grandparents and parents were alive then. She remembered how excited she was when getting to see her grandpa.

Her dad’s dad was an old man. Aged enough to where he looked old. With vampires, that’s saying something. But he drank human blood from the source for several hundred years when he was younger, so it was as nature intended with him.

The part of town most the clan inhabited had grown quite a bit. Every metropolitan area either grew, or became a ghost town. And there were probably several ghosts still hanging around this side, pissed that their lives were suddenly ended long ago.

The South clan had been around longer than the North clan by a couple centuries. The southern group was started by her grandfather after he came to America from Europe to escape persecution in the early 1700s. America at that time was nothing but a few settlers along the East Coast and a s**t load of natives.

By this time, he had a diet strictly of animal blood. He didn’t want to believe in the theory that human blood made vampires age and stay susceptible to the sun. But upon meeting Julian, he had to believe. And he wanted this for his people, too. Granting the sun to a vampire was beyond the ultimate gift. As well as immortality.

Again, she didn’t know why her grandfather never shared that knowledge with anyone. He simply had the rule of no drinking from humans.

Back in those early years, every night a ship came in he would stand off the pier and watch as each person disembarked, hoping to find another of his kind had made it. Crossing the sea as a vampire was very difficult. Unless considered cargo, everything onboard was subjected to sunlight periodically.

Hiding away in a wooden crate, feeding off rats for the duration of the two-month cruise, was debilitating for even an old vampire. But he kept hope others would arrive.

Many supernaturals did make it over. Most were shifters, witches, and warlocks also escaping persecution from the Catholics. He saw and smelled different types of creatures, but had no experience with their kind. He was surprised how little he knew of other beings.

With lack of supplicants, her grandfather decided this would be the perfect opportunity to build his own clan, his own family, from scratch. And having no “bad blood” in their new systems, they would be able to live long, fantastic lives like Julian.

Slowly through the years, he created and welcomed others into his clan. Before they became too noticeable in the small town, he moved them farther south and west of the Appalachians where there were more animals and less humans. There he was to begin his own utopia.

Aria snorted unladylike. Utopia my ass.

Marxius called from the driver’s seat, “We should be there shortly. These damn hilly and curvy roads take forever to drive, especially at night.”

“Thanks, Marxius,” she said. “But no need to hurry. Knowing Damon, he’ll be as thrilled to see me as I am him.” She really should look into videoconferencing. She hated coming down here. The place felt so…in the past. Why Filip, enamored with fine clothes and the best of everything, wanted to remain leader was beyond her. Yet, he was at Embraced quite a bit. Maybe he was more into being a figurehead.

By all blood rights, this clan belonged to her. She was a direct descendant from the original queen of the night, Miralla Abarca. No other blood-born vampires lived on the continent. Technically, she owned every clan in North American who had any Abarca blood in it, but she wasn’t crazy. Hell, two clans were more than enough for her.

Maybe she should take inspiration from her grandfather. Maybe this was her opportunity to remake the clan the way he wanted it to be. A people living with high morals who believed in helping each other when down and celebrating when up.

A big smile brightened her face. Nope. Damon wasn’t going to be happy to see her.

Finally, the SUV stopped in front of the clan house. Aria had sat for hours and was ready to walk around. Several members came out of the house to welcome her. The people here were nice; she had no problem admitting that. It was just…spooky.

From the group standing on the front porch to greet them, she heard a tiny voice firmly say, “Move it. Step aside, sonny, or I’ll pinch your cute ass.” One of the men yelped and jumped to the side. “Not fast enough, boy. On my way back, get in front of me again so I can spank those tight cheeks. They real nice, they are.”

Aria let out a laugh. Maree was her favorite person here. She went back to her grandfather’s time with the clan. She sorely missed the spunky old lady. Maybe she’d come up north for a while. Aria hurried to the wooden steps.

Maree wobbled to the front of the group to meet Aria already standing on the porch. “Bend down here and give me sugar. s**t, woman, them pants is so tight, I can see your religion. And those high-heels come clear up to my boobs. How tall you gotta be?” Aria giggled and hugged the feisty vampire.

“High enough for everyone else to remember who’s in charge.” The woman smelled like freshly baked bread. One of her favorite scents.

“Damn straight. If it takes those torture devices to do that, then hunker down and get ‘er done.” Aria laughed again. She’d forgotten about Maree’s southern charm and way of speaking. She’d need someone to translate half of what she said. “Now come inside. It’s cold enough to freeze a tit off a frog.” Maree had her hand, dragging her toward door.

At the edge of the group, she noticed Damon tell Marxius and Wynther to put their things in the guest house off to the side. She liked that much better than staying in the house with semi-strangers.