Blood Covenant

Blood Covenant

by Paige Evans

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Chapter One

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Rain pounded on the windows but otherwise all was silent in the car. Its two passengers were weary from the many hours of travel, most of it in the rain, and they were both aching to stop somewhere. However, it would be pointless to stop when they were so close to their destination, so they trudged on.

As she steered the car onto the exit ramp which would put them heading straight into Mississippi, Teresa DeHaven shook her head. If only looked closely, one could see that her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel with such intensity.

“I'd like to do this about as much as I'd like to be shot in the head,” she muttered, glaring at the rain-soaked pavement ahead as if it had somehow offended her.

Her daughter, Sora, had been mostly asleep, lulled by the rain and the soft music coming from her iPod—however, she still heard her mother's comment. Sitting up with a yawn, she turned to look at Teresa. “It can't be that bad,” she said. “I mean, eighteen years is long enough to forgive and forget, right?”

Teresa clucked her tongue and said nothing. Sora sighed, settling back down in her seat and turning up her music so that she wouldn't hear any more negative outbursts coming from Teresa's direction.

It was no secret that there was some bad blood between Teresa and the rest of the DeHaven family. She'd run away, or had been disowned. Possibly both. Sora wasn't sure on all the details. All she knew was that Teresa left before Sora was even born, moving to Florida. She never spoke to any of her family. She didn't even talk about them. Sora had never met any of her mother's side of the family, and as for her father... Well, Sora didn't even know his name, let alone who his family was.

But all the bad shit that had happened almost eighteen years ago now, before Sora's birth. Surely Teresa was worried about nothing. No one held a grudge for that long, right? Sora would bet money that the family would be happy to see them, especially since none of them had ever even met Sora.

Sora wavered in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. During this time, she dreamed of the family that she was finally going to be meeting in the imminent future. She wondered what they were like. Did her looks come from them, or from her mysterious father? Did she act like them? How many of them were there? Did she have aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins?

Would they like her?

Eventually Teresa pulled into the parking lot of a shabby, run-down motel. The feeling of the car rolling to a stop shook Sora from her current sleep; sitting up groggily, she said, “This doesn't look like the picture you showed me.”

“We're at a motel, silly,” Teresa said, and couldn't help but smile.

“Why didn't we just go straight on to the house?” Sora asked.

“Well, for one, we don't even know if they have room to put us up; who knows how many wedding guests are staying with them?” Teresa said. “And two, I really don't want them to know we're here until we show up tomorrow.”

“That seems a little sneaky,” Sora told her mother.

“Then they'd appreciate the gesture,” said Teresa bitterly.

Sora fell silent. Teresa didn't even try to hide the animosity that she still felt towards her family. Was coming back to Mississippi after all this time a mistake, then? How were they supposed to enjoy the weekend with their family if so many grudges were still being held? Sora could only hope that the rest of the family didn't feel the same way Teresa did; maybe they'd welcome her back with open arms.

They had to. The alternative was just too depressing.

Sora stayed in the car while her mother went to check them in. She huddled in the car, watching the rain beat down and allowing herself to feel the excitement that had been bubbling up in her ever since her mother had told her about this trip. It was hard to be so excited about meeting her family when Teresa was being such a downer.

Being excited as she was, Sora really didn't notice when a shiny black Mercedes pulled into the parking lot. It parked in a spot across the lot from Teresa's beat-up Pontiac, but no one ever got out of the vehicle. Sora briefly glanced up at the Mercedes; that was a little weird, right? What were they waiting for? The rain to stop?

Sora didn't have to worry about it for too long, because soon Teresa was back, an old-fashioned room key in her hand (the motel was too old or too cheap—or both—to have key cards). She knocked on the window to get Sora's attention, and together they scrambled to get their bags quickly and then get out of the rain.

As Sora got the last suitcase out of the car for her mother, she looked up to where she'd seen the black Mercedes park. She didn't know why she felt compelled to look up, but when she did, she let out a surprised gasp. The Mercedes was gone. But why? And why did that bother Sora so much? For some reason, she felt like whoever was in the Mercedes had been watching them. But that was absolutely ridiculous. Who would be interested enough in them to go to such trouble?

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The black Mercedes glided down the highway, cutting through the rain like a perfectly sharpened knife. Inside it, black eyes—much blacker than the car itself—twinkled in amusement. So, she'd come home, had she? And she'd brought the little brat with her. Well, that was just fine.

The woman with the black eyes looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror, smacking her ruby red lips at herself and then practicing her most predatory smile. She had plenty of things in store for Teresa and the little tot, not a one of them good.

It was going to be so much fun.

-

“All right, now explain who everyone is again, so that I have at least some clue of what's going on tomorrow.”

Sora and Teresa were sitting on top of the one bed in their dingy motel room, looking at an old photo album that Sora hadn't even known Teresa had until a few days ago. The leather-bound album was full of pictures from Teresa's past, which was probably why Sora hadn't known it existed. Teresa had it locked away—she didn't want to look at pictures of her past, the memories were hard enough.

Teresa sighed. She'd been having difficulties going through the pictures, though she knew she had to, if Sora was to have any sort of idea of the people she was going to be meeting tomorrow. But it was still hard to have to drag information about the family out into the open after eighteen years of essentially pretending that the DeHavens didn't exist.

“Okay,” Teresa sighed, holding up the photo album. Most of the book was empty—for her new life in Florida, with her new daughter, Teresa had purchased all new photo albums to fill with pictures. She wouldn't mix pictures of Sora in with pictures of the rest of them.

On the very first page of the album was a picture which boasted a rather large group of people. “This is the whole family, or, at least, the whole family at that time,” Teresa said, pointing to the picture. “It was taken in '91, I think, at our last family reunion.”

Sora stared at the picture eagerly. She counted eighteen people in all, and they all looked the same—they all seemed like they could be a family. Her family.

“I'll start with the good ones first,” Teresa muttered. Sora said nothing to this comment.

Teresa pointed to an older man sitting in a rocking chair—the picture had been taken with the family standing on the porch of what Teresa had called “hotel DeHaven.” “This is Uncle Edward,” she said. “He's your great, great uncle. And that's his wife sitting next to him, Colleen.”

Teresa went through the list of what she referred to as Edward's side. There was Edward and Colleen, their children (Joseph and Elizabeth), Joseph's wife and daughter (Marilyn and Michelle), and Elizabeth's husband and son (Lyle and Thomas). And even though Sora knew that these people were important, because they were her family, they weren't the important ones. They weren't the ones that her mother still held a grudge against—she could hear it in Teresa's voice.

“And the others?” Sora pressed when her mother remained silent.

Teresa sighed, and pointed to a severe-looking old woman. “This is my grandmother, Euphoria.”

Sora snorted. “That's a hell of a name.”

Teresa just looked at her. “Because Sora is so plain,” she smirked.

“Shut up, that one's your fault,” Sora grumbled.

Teresa laughed, but it was short-lived as she looked back at the picture. “These two women here, the ones that look alike—one of them is my mother. The other is my aunt, Luna. She died a little while after this picture was taken.”

“These is Luna's son,” she continued, pointing to an attractive dark-haired man standing next to the woman in question. “Madoc. The little ones sitting by his feet are his children, Vesper and Nova.”

“Nova?” Sora's nose wrinkled. “The one that's getting married?”

“Yeah. It's crazy how time flies.”

Teresa's finger skimmed over the slightly yellowed photograph, coming to rest on a man and a woman, who were sitting on the steps at the bottom of the picture, hugging each other. “These two are Tanya and Theo, my brother and sister. More twins.”

There were only two people left in the picture. Sora could feel her heart beating frantically against her ribcage as she stared at the picture. One of the people was instantly recognizable to her, and she could guess who the other was. Still, she had to hear her mother say it.

“And this...is your father and I,” Teresa breathed, almost stroking the picture lovingly as she spoke.

Sora took the album from her mother—she didn't mean to; she didn't even realize she was reaching out for it—and stared down at her mother and father, faces from eighteen years ago.

Her mother's hair was even longer and wilder than she kept it now, but still the same dark chestnut color that seemed predominant in the females of the family. There was a ridiculously large smile on her face as she peered out at the camera from Sora's father's arms. Sora felt her breath catch in the back of her throat. She'd heard her mother speak of her father—minimally over the years, and in very little detail. This was the first time she'd ever been shown a picture of him.

He was tall—at least, taller than Teresa had been—and in a stark contrast to her dark mother, he had shaggy blonde hair and what appeared to be blue eyes. He wore faded jeans and a flannel shirt. He seemed like one of those all-around good guys.

Sora felt a pang. Why wasn't he with them anymore?

“His name was Nolan,” Teresa said suddenly. Sora looked up at her, startled. She said nothing, afraid that the sound of her voice would shatter the already fragile moment. Teresa continued softly, not looking at Sora as she spoke. “They didn't approve of him. After he died, they...they tried to get me to give you up. That's why I left.”

Sora didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. What are you supposed to say to your mother when she tells you that your own family tried to get her to give you up? Who has an answer to something like that? Sora certainly didn't. At least Teresa hadn't listened to them. At least she'd stood up to them and left.

Sora suddenly felt cold. Maybe coming back for this wedding hadn't been such a good idea. I mean, those people couldn't care too much about Teresa, if they hadn't approved of her—boyfriend? She didn't remember her mother ever mentioning that she was actually married to Sora's father—partner, and then had tried to make her give up her baby. They couldn't be as awesome as Sora had been telling herself they would be. Not if they did something like that.

Sora suddenly understood Teresa's insistence in not speaking to them all these years. How was she supposed to talk to them like nothing was wrong tomorrow when she now knew that they'd tried to get rid of her?

“You're upset,” Teresa muttered, wrapping an arm around her daughter's thin shoulders and pulling Sora closer. “I knew coming back was a bad idea.”

Sora shook her head but could not find the strength to pull away from Teresa. “No, Mom,” she said. “We need this. It'll be like...closure, or something. Then we can go back to Florida and never have to see these people again.”

Teresa stroked her daughter's short, boyish hair. “Shh,” she said. “Don't be like that. Not all of them disliked your father. It was only Euphoria and Mother, really. Tanya...well, she was just jealous of me for having him. But I think Theo thought of Nolan as a friend. And I know Luna loved him. That woman would have done anything for us.”

“But she's dead and so is he,” Sora said bitterly. “How come it seems like everyone good you've told me about is dead?”

Teresa remained silent for a moment. Even her fingers stilled in Sora's hair. Finally, she said, so low she wasn't sure if Sora heard it or not, “Because they all are.”

-

The locals of Havenfield, Mississippi called the old house Hotel DeHaven. It was built in the early 1800's, by the same man who founded their fair little town. But despite its history—or rather, because of it—the house was not regarded in a happy light by the locals. In fact, they despised it, and feared it.

And they did so with good reason. No one knew that better than Tanya DeHaven.

She glided down the stairs leading into the basement, her hand trailing along the railing, the talon-like nails scratching the dark wood lightly.

The others were already gathered and in their places, all but the bottoms of their faces hidden by the hoods of their black robes. Their black robes. Tanya took a sinful sort of pleasure in the fact that hers were a deep, blood red.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and pulled her own hood up, effectively hiding her face. Only her ruby lips could be seen, a shade darker and more sinister than the robes she wore. In the flickering candlelight she could just make out the Offering, shaking like a leaf on the dirt-covered floor. She knelt down in front of him and removed his blindfold. His eyes were wide with terror, and had a glazed look to them—he was so panicked that he actually wasn't seeing what was in front of him. His brain was still trying to process what was happening.

Tanya's black eyes glittered in the shadows of her hood as she breathed in his fear. Finally focusing in on her, the boy began to whimper, “Please—don't do this—I'll give you anything you want...”

At this, Tanya smirked. “Anything I want?” she purred. She leaned forward, so close that her breath tickled the boy's ear as she whispered: “Would you give me your soul?”

“Oh, fuck,” the boy whispered. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...”

Still smirking, Tanya stood. Her robes fell open to reveal that she wore nothing beneath them. Her skin was white as alabaster and looked just as smooth. The boy couldn't help but be distracted, his mutterings ceasing. Tanya felt like laughing—he was probably in his mid-twenties, a good ten years her junior, and she could still render him speechless. It felt good having that kind of power. No, more than that.

It felt addictive.

Tanya knew she was addicted. She just couldn't find it in herself to care.

She held out her perfectly-manicured hand and someone placed the sacred dagger into her palm; she didn't much care who. She was totally focused on the Offering. Nothing else mattered.

“Raise him up,” she said. Her black eyes had become even deeper—they were gaping black holes which threatened to suck anything and everything in. Her lips no longer appeared the succulent ruby red that they had been. Now, instead of a deep shade of lipstick, it looked like her mouth was stained with the blood of a hundred victims.

Two of the men—it might have been Madoc and Vesper—grabbed the boy's arms and hauled him to his feet. Tanya gripped the dagger in her hand.

In the movies, she might have said some fancy words, or the dagger might have glowed. But nothing like that could be seen as Tanya came forward and kissed the boy's lips, her tongue running along his lips. He was still trying to pull away from her when she drove the knife up under his ribcage and into his heart.

His screams were absorbed by the earthen walls as she reached up into the hole she'd made, and ripped out the boy's heart. As soon as Tanya had the heart in her hand, the ones holding up the boy dropped him to the ground. He floundered at Tanya's feet like a fish on dry land for a few moments, but soon the body expired. The excretory system began to empty itself—the final humiliation. A stench filled the basement that not even the many sticks of incense, filling the space with hazy scented smoke—could cover. But no one made a move to leave. They were used to it.

Tanya held out her bloodied hand, holding the heart out. “Into the fire,” she hissed, the energy that came from taking a human life still flowing within her. As someone took the heart from her hand she turned so that she could watch the muscle being thrown into the flames of the old furnace. As soon as the flames touched the heart, and the muscle tissue began to bubble and boil, something moved beneath Tanya's skin. The others watched her closely—it looked as though there were a snake slithering in her stomach, coiling itself deep inside her body. After a few moments the movement stopped, and she looked normal.

But Tanya didn't feel normal. She felt ecstatic. She felt powerful. She felt...horny as hell, no pun intended.

“Theo,” she gasped, holding out her bloody hand to him. Her brother pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. His skin, usually warm, felt cool to her—that was probably because her own skin was hotter by several degrees than human skin should ever be. She was feverish and excited, and she growled as her naked skin was pressed against Theo's. She immediately brought her lips to his neck. She could feel his pulse; she wanted to rip it out and play with it like a cat would a mouse. She took it between her teeth; he gasped in her ear.

The others knew that the show was over—the sacrifice was done, it was time to go back to their normal lives. One by one, hoods were lowered, revealing the faces of Tanya's family.

Vesper was the first to leave, heading up the stairs quickly before anyone could say anything to him. His father Madoc was not quite as eager to be out of present company.

“Will you be coming to the wedding tomorrow?” he asked Tanya, as though she was not about to ravish her brother right then and there.

Looking back at him, utterly annoyed and wanting to perhaps drive a railroad spike through her cousin's skull, she hissed, “No, I don't think I will. I still can't believe you're going to sit back and let her marry—” she sneered the word “—some human.”

“She loves that human,” Madoc said, as if that was supposed to make everything better.

Tanya sneered. “Love?” she questioned. On a sudden whim, she reached for Madoc, kissing him sloppily and then kneeing him in the groin a split-second later. “This is the only real love, cousin. Your little Nova will learn that soon enough.”

While Madoc cringed on the floor, his hands covering his manhood, Theo took Tanya against the earthen wall, and while he did, a snake of power slithered underneath her skin.

~*~*~*~*~*~

So I absolutely love writing for Tanya. She's just so deliciously evil. Anyway, reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading.