The Knights of Maenara Collective #5 of 10
The Knights of Maenara Collective
#5 The Collective’s Truth, Part Two
Victoria and Grace had moved to the living room area… or what passed for a living space downstairs in the half workshop, half crab sorting area and office. Grace was curled in the armchair that had been Ellie’s, wrapped in a blanket, watching Victoria with wary eyes.
“The two of you, solving domestic problems together,” Victoria said, arching an eyebrow. “How’s that for an unlikely team-up?”
“Pipe’s patched,” Nicola said, stripping off her soaked flannel to reveal the tank top beneath. The sigil was fully visible now, glowing faintly in the dim light. “But we’ll need a plumber to do it properly.”
“I know someone,” Victoria said. “Vampire, been doing construction work since the fifties. He can come tonight after dark.”
“Of course you know someone.” Nicola grabbed a towel from a stack near the makeshift gym, tossed another to Vârcolac. “Is there anything your Collective doesn’t have a person for?”
“Honest politicians.” Victoria’s smile was sharp. “We’ve been looking for centuries. No luck yet.”
Grace cleared her throat. “Can we… can we talk about the vampire thing? The rules? Because I’m sitting here feeling like I’m in a supernatural crash course with no syllabus, and I’d really like to know what I’m dealing with.”
“Of course.” Victoria settled onto the couch with the easy grace of someone who’d had centuries to perfect every movement. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” Grace pulled the blanket tighter. “Sunlight. Stakes. Crosses. Garlic. What’s real? What’s folklore?”
“Sunlight weakens,” Victoria began, ticking items off on her fingers. “It doesn’t turn us to ash like in the movies, but it’s draining. Painful. Like walking around with a migraine and fever combined. And your bite mark… “ she gestured to Grace’s neck, “… it’ll reappear in direct sunlight. You can always cover it.
Grace balked, “So I’m nocturnal now.”
“Partially. You can go out during the day if you must. Just don’t expect to enjoy it.” Victoria paused. “Stakes are real. Anything through the heart kills us, but it has to be wood from a living tree. Dead wood does nothing. No idea why. Magic’s picky like that.”
“Crosses and holy water?” Grace pressed.
“Depends on your faith. If you were a believer before turning, they’ll hurt. If you were an atheist, they’re just jewelry and tap water.” Victoria’s expression was matter-of-fact. “God’s very democratic about it. He only punishes those who knew better.”
“What about entering homes?”
“Can’t enter without invitation. But it’s temporary… if you’re invited once, the invitation holds for about a lunar cycle. After that, you need a fresh one.” Victoria leaned forward. “The bloodline binding between us is permanent, though. I’m your sire. That connection is permanent.”
Grace absorbed this, face carefully neutral. “What about free will? Can you control me?”
“Yes to freewill and no, I can’t.” Victoria’s voice was firm. “I can merely suggest now. Compelling humans is easier. Different rules. You have to choose to follow me. I can’t make you.”
“That’s something, at least.” Grace looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers. Testing the strength she could feel coiled beneath her skin. “What about feeding? How often? How much?”
“Depends on activity level. If you’re lounging at home reading, once a week. If you’re fighting, training, using your abilities, every few days.” Victoria paused, glanced at Nicola. “But you fed from our Knight’s blood last night. And you’re not hungry now, are you?”
Grace blinked. Focused inward, checking the persistent gnawing hunger that had been there since she woke up with fangs. “No. Actually, I’m… I’m fine. Full. Like I just had Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Exactly.” Victoria’s expression was troubled. “That’s not normal, Grace. A newborn vampire should be ravenous by now. Should be eyeing everyone in the room like walking blood bags. But you fed once from Nicola, and you’re satisfied. That shouldn’t be possible.”
Vârcolac made a sound from where he stood by the door, toweling off his hair. “Her blood is potent, we established that, but maybe it’s richer, more concentrated.”
“Maybe.” But Victoria didn’t sound convinced. “Or maybe it altered her transformation in ways we don’t understand yet.”
“What does that mean?” Grace asked, voice tight. “Am I… am I going to be okay?”
“I don’t know.” The admission clearly cost Victoria something. “I’ve turned dozens of people over two centuries. I know what the process looks like. You’re… different. Your healing is faster. Your adaptation is smoother. You’re not experiencing the usual bloodlust that makes newborns dangerous. It’s like Nicola’s blood rewrote the rules.”
Nicola had been quiet through this exchange, toweling off and trying to ignore how her body was responding to having both a vampire and a werewolf in her space. The sigil pulsed steadily, tracking Victoria’s location like a compass pointing north. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Unknown.” Victoria stood, began pacing again. That restless energy that suggested even centuries of practice hadn’t taught her how to be still when anxious. “The Collective has records going back millennia. Vampire turnings, werewolf bites, every flavor of supernatural transformation. I’ve never heard of one being altered by the victim’s first feeding. Blood matters, yes, but it doesn’t usually rewrite biology.”
“Unless the blood itself is magic,” Vârcolac rumbled. “Old magic. The kind that has opinions about how things should be.”
Victoria stopped pacing, turned to look at Nicola with an expression that was equal parts fascination and fear. “What are you?”
“Human,” Nicola said. But even she didn’t sound convinced anymore.
“No.” Victoria shook her head. “Humans don’t have binding magic written into their blood. Humans don’t speak oaths in dead languages and activate seals that compel vampires. Humans don’t taste like sunlight and ash and power so old it predates written history.”
She crossed to Nicola, stopping just outside of arm’s reach. Respectful of boundaries in a way she hadn’t been before the binding. “You’re something else. Something your family kept secret for generations. And whatever it is, it’s waking up.”
“I don’t want it to wake up,” Nicola said quietly.
“I don’t think it cares what you want.” Victoria’s voice was gentle. Almost kind. “Magic like that… it has purpose. Direction. It was waiting for something. And I think Grace and I triggered it.”
Grace shifted in her chair, drawing their attention. She’d gone very still, that preternatural vampire stillness that made her look like a statue carved from marble. “I can hear it,” she said softly. “The magic. In Nicola’s blood. It’s still there. Still singing.”
“You can hear magic?” Victoria’s voice sharpened with interest.
“I can hear… something. Like music played underwater. Muffled but persistent.” Grace met Nicola’s eyes. “It’s trying to tell me something. I just don’t know the language yet.”
“That’s because you’re bound to her,” Vârcolac said. He’d moved closer, was studying both women with the intensity of a predator evaluating prey. “The feeding created a connection. You took her blood, her power, her magic into yourself. Now you’re linked.”
“Like you and Victoria?” Grace asked.
“No. Different.” He exchanged a glance with Victoria. “Victoria and I are partners. Equals who chose to connect our abilities for mutual benefit. You and Nicola…” He paused, choosing words carefully. “You’re something new. Vampire bonded to powerful bloodline through magic neither of you understand. That’s unprecedented.”
“Unprecedented is bad, right?” Grace’s voice was tight. “In the supernatural world, unprecedented usually means ‘run screaming.’”
“Usually,” Victoria agreed. “But sometimes it means ‘pay attention, because something important is happening.’” She returned to the couch, sank down with a sigh. “We need to consult the Collective. There are older minds than mine, vampires who remember when Rome was young, werewolves who walked with Vikings. If anyone has knowledge about your bloodlines and binding magic, it’ll be in the Collective consciousness.”
“How long will that take?” Nicola asked.
“A few days. Maybe a week.” Victoria’s expression was apologetic. “The Collective isn’t like the internet. You can’t just Google it. I have to reach out through the network, query the right minds, wait for responses. It’s more like sending telegrams than text messages.”
“So we just wait,” Grace said flatly.
“You train,” Victoria corrected. “You learn to control your new abilities. You practice feeding without killing. You figure out how to move through the world as something other than human.” She looked at Nicola. “And you try to understand what that seal on your chest means before it gets us killed.”
“Comforting,” Nicola muttered.
“I’m not here to comfort you. I’m here to keep Grace alive.” Victoria’s voice was steel wrapped in velvet. “That’s my priority. Everything else is secondary.”
The possessiveness in her tone made something sharp twist in Nicola’s gut. Jealousy, maybe. Or protectiveness for a woman she barely knew but was bound to by blood and magic and choices neither of them had made. Grace must have caught the shift in Nicola’s expression, because she smiled… small, knowing, a little sad. “Don’t worry, Detective. I’m nobody’s property.”
“I never said… “ Victoria started.
“You didn’t have to.” Grace stood, letting the blanket fall. She was still wearing Nicola’s pajamas, still looked small and vulnerable in the oversized clothes, but something had changed in her bearing. Confidence settling into bones that had been unsure an hour ago. “You turned me. You gave me this… gift, curse, whatever we’re calling it. But you don’t own me. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for everyone.”
Victoria’s expression flickered… surprise, then something that might have been pride. “Fair enough.”
“Good.” Grace moved toward Nicola with that fluid vampire grace she was still learning to control. Too fast, then correcting, slowing to human speed. “Can I…?” She gestured to the couch.
Nicola nodded, settling onto the cushions. Grace sat beside her… close, but not touching. The air between them was charged with awareness, with the memory of blood and intimacy and violence all tangled together.
“I’m sorry,” Grace said quietly. “For feeding from you. For losing control. I know I hurt you.”
“You were starving and confused,” Nicola replied. “And I’ve been hurt worse.”
“That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of my behavior.”
“No. But it’s honest.” Nicola turned to look at her. “You didn’t ask for this. I get that. But we’re bound now. Connected. And I need to know if you’re going to lose control again.”
“I don’t know,” Grace admitted. “Victoria says newborns are dangerous. Unpredictable. But I don’t feel dangerous. I feel… clear. Focused. Like I’ve been walking around in fog my whole life and someone finally turned on the lights.”
“That’s the blood talking,” Victoria said from her position on the armchair. “Vampire senses are sharper. Everything’s more vivid when you’re first turned. Colors brighter, sounds clearer, smells more intense. It’s intoxicating.”
“It’s overwhelming,” Grace corrected. “I can hear Nicola’s heartbeat from across the room. Can smell the coffee on Stephen’s breath. Can feel the vibration of cars on the road outside. It’s like someone turned every sense up to eleven and forgot to give me a volume knob.”
“You’ll learn to filter,” Vârcolac said. His voice was surprisingly gentle. “Takes time, but you’ll adapt. Werewolves go through similar sensory overload when we first turn. Your brain will figure out what’s important and what’s just noise.”
Grace nodded slowly, processing. Then, without warning, she moved. One moment she was sitting beside Nicola, the next she’d swung a leg over Nicola’s lap and was straddling her, hands braced on the couch back, effectively pinning the detective beneath her.
“What are you… “ Nicola started.
“Testing,” Grace said. Her eyes had darkened, pupils dilating with something that wasn’t quite hunger but wasn’t quite innocence either. “Victoria said I’m stronger now. I want to know how much stronger.”
Nicola’s hands came up instinctively, gripping Grace’s waist to steady her. “Grace, this isn’t… “
“Necessary? Appropriate? Safe?” Grace leaned down until their faces were inches apart. “Probably not. But I almost killed you last night, Nicola. I drank from you until you passed out, until your heart stopped beating properly, until Victoria had to literally pull me off you. And now I’m sitting here feeling fine, feeling controlled, and I need to know if that’s real or if I’m just fooling myself.”
She bore down, using her new vampire strength to keep Nicola pinned. Not hurting, just demonstrating. “Try to push me off.”
Nicola pushed. Grace didn’t budge. She might as well have been pushing against a boulder for all the good it did.
“Harder,” Grace urged.
Nicola braced her feet against the floor, used her legs for leverage, shoved with everything she had. Grace swayed slightly but held firm, smiling down at her with an expression that was equal parts triumph and terror.
“I could hurt you,” Grace whispered. “So easily. Without even meaning to. That scares the hell out of me.”
“Then get off,” Nicola said. Her heart was hammering… fear or arousal or both, she couldn’t tell anymore. “Prove you can choose to stop.”
For a moment, Grace stayed where she was. Her eyes were fixed on Nicola’s throat, on the pulse beating visibly beneath skin. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. Nicola could see the fangs, sharp and white, points just visible behind Grace’s human teeth.
Then Grace released her. Pulled back slowly, carefully, and moved to sit beside Nicola instead of on her. The deliberate control in every movement was more impressive than the strength had been.
“Good,” Victoria said quietly. “That’s very good, Grace. Control is everything for a vampire. Strength is easy. Restraint is hard.”
But as Grace settled back onto the couch, she did something unexpected. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Nicola’s cheek… quick, chaste, almost innocent. Except Grace’s lips lingered just a fraction too long, and when she pulled back, her expression was complicated.
“Thank you,” Grace murmured. “For letting me test it. For trusting me.”
Nicola touched her cheek where Grace’s lips had been, feeling the warmth fading. “You’re welcome,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say, couldn’t quite process what had just happened or why her heart was still racing.
Across the room, Victoria watched them with an expression that was too knowing, too amused. “Well,” she said lightly. “That’s interesting.”
“Shut up,” Grace and Nicola said simultaneously.
Vârcolac laughed, the sound rough but genuine. “I like you both. This is going to be entertaining.”
“We’re not here for your entertainment,” Nicola said.
“No, you’re here because fate, magic, and very poor decision-making collided in a perfect storm.” He pushed off from the wall, stretched his shoulders until they popped. “But you’re stuck with each other now. Might as well make the best of it.”
Victoria stood, smoothing down her borrowed sweater. “We should go. Let you both rest. Grace needs to sleep… vampire sleep is different than human sleep, heavier, harder to wake from. You’ll want to be somewhere secure during the day.”
“I’ll stay here,” Grace said immediately. “With Nicola.”
“Grace… “ Victoria started.
“I’m staying.” Grace’s voice was firm. “You turned me without asking. The least you can do is let me choose where I sleep.”
Victoria’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. “Fine. But be careful. Both of you. The Collective will want to know about this, about your blood and binding magic. Not everyone will be as… diplomatic as Stephen and me.”
“Meaning?” Nicola asked.
“Meaning there are factions within the Collective who see humans as resources. Tools. Cattle.” Victoria’s expression was grim. “If they learn about blood that can compel vampires and alter transformations, they’ll want it. Want you. And they won’t ask nicely.”
“Let them come,” Nicola said quietly. The sigil pulsed beneath her skin, warm and ready. “I’ve dealt with monsters before.”
“Not like these,” Vârcolac warned. “These are monsters who’ve had centuries to get good at being monstrous.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to be better.”
Victoria studied her for a long moment, then smiled… genuine warmth breaking through the calculated charm. “You know what? I think you might actually survive this. Both of you.”
“High praise,” Grace said dryly.
“From me? It is.” Victoria moved toward the door, Vârcolac following. “We’ll return tomorrow night. With information, hopefully. And a better plan than ‘hide in a warehouse and hope nothing finds you.’”
“Looking forward to it,” Nicola lied.
Victoria paused at the threshold, looked back. “For what it’s worth, Detective, I am sorry. About Derek. About forcing this on Grace. About binding you to something you didn’t ask for.” Her expression was unreadable. “But I’m not sorry about the outcome. Grace is alive. You’re… activated. And something old and important is waking up. That matters more than individual comfort.”
“Easy for you to say when it’s not your life being upended.”
“My life was upended in 1781 when a vampire found me dying of consumption in a London slum and decided I was worth saving.” Victoria’s smile was sharp. “I screamed and fought and hated him for decades. But eventually, I understood. Sometimes the worst thing that happens to you is also the best thing. You just can’t see it yet.”
“And if I never see it?”
“Then I’ll have been wrong. It happens. Rarely, but it happens.” Victoria’s eyes met hers. “But I don’t think I’m wrong about you, Nicola Knight. I think you’re exactly what we need. What the Collective needs. What this whole mess needs.”
“I’m not a savior,” Nicola said.
“No. You’re a detective with trust issues and a dead wife’s ghost in your walls. The blood magic means you’re descended from people who fought things that don’t have names anymore. That counts for something.”
With that cryptic pronouncement, Victoria and Vârcolac left, the door closing behind them with a finality that sounded like an ending or a beginning, depending on how you listened.
Nicola and Grace sat in silence for a long moment, both processing everything that had been said, everything that had happened. The warehouse settled around them… old wood creaking, metal groaning, water dripping somewhere in the wall that would need to be dealt with later.
Finally, Grace spoke. “I was dying.”
“I know.”
“Brain cancer. Aggressive. Six months, maybe eight.” Her voice was steady, matter-of-fact, like she was discussing someone else’s diagnosis. “I had headaches. Moments where I couldn’t remember words. Times when I’d lose track of conversations mid-sentence. I thought it was stress. Book deadlines. Too much coffee and not enough sleep.”
“You didn’t know,” Nicola said.
“No. But maybe I should have.” Grace pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them. Making herself small again. “My grandmother died of a brain tumor. Fast, aggressive, the kind that doesn’t give you time to say goodbye. I knew it ran in families. I should have been more careful.”
“You can’t live your life expecting the worst.”
“Why not? The worst happened anyway.” Grace laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I was dying, Nicola. Dying and I didn’t even know it. And now I’m… what? Undead? Is that better or worse?”
“I don’t know,” Nicola admitted. “But you’re here. You’re alive. That has to count for something.”
“Does it?” Grace’s voice cracked. “Derek’s dead. I have fangs. I drank your blood until you almost died. I’m bound to a vampire I didn’t choose and a detective I just met. Nothing about this counts as a win.”
Nicola shifted closer, wrapped an arm around Grace’s shoulders. The gesture felt natural despite how new this all was, despite how little they actually knew each other. “You’re right. This isn’t a win. It’s a disaster. But we’re alive to deal with it, and that means we still have choices. Still have agency. Victoria took a lot from you, but she didn’t take everything.”
Grace leaned into her, resting her head on Nicola’s shoulder. “I can still hear your heartbeat. It’s steadier now. Stronger. Like it’s reminding me that someone’s here. That I’m not alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Nicola confirmed. “I don’t know what we are yet… partners, allies, accidental supernatural soulmates… but you’re not alone.”
“Accidental supernatural soulmates?” Grace lifted her head, eyebrow raised. “That’s quite the descriptor.”
“You have a better one?”
“Not yet. But I’m a writer. Give me time, I’ll come up with something appropriately dramatic.” Grace’s smile was small but genuine. “Thank you. For not running. For not throwing me out when you found out what I’d become.”
“Where would you go?” Nicola asked practically. “Victoria made it clear… you need training, protection, someone to keep you from accidentally killing people until you learn control. I’m bound to you by magic I don’t understand. Seems like we’re stuck together whether we like it or not.”
“Do you?” Grace asked quietly. “Like it, I mean?”
Nicola considered that. The honest answer was complicated… Grace terrified her, fascinated her, made her feel things she hadn’t felt since Ellie died. Made her remember what it was like to be wanted, needed, important to someone beyond just professional obligation.
“Ask me again in a week,” Nicola said finally. “When we’ve had time to process. When the blood-bond isn’t so fresh and raw. When we’re thinking with our brains instead of our trauma.”
“Fair enough.” Grace settled back against her. “Can I sleep here? With you? I know it’s strange, but I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Yeah,” Nicola said. “Of course.”
They sat like that as dawn fully broke, light filtering through the windows and painting everything in shades of gold and rose. Grace’s breathing slowed, deepened, the heavy sleep of a vampire claiming her. Nicola stayed awake, one hand resting on Grace’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall that proved she was still capable of breathing even if she didn’t technically need to anymore.
Outside, the bayou whispered its secrets. The sun rose on a world that had changed overnight, subtle shifts in reality that most people would never notice but that Nicola could feel in her bones, in her blood, in the sigil that pulsed warm against her skin.
Victoria and Vârcolac were out there somewhere, consulting their Collective, searching for answers about blood and binding magic. Derek was dead, his murder about to be pinned on someone who deserved punishment but not for this particular crime. Grace was transformed, bound, learning to navigate existence as something other than human.
And Nicola… Nicola was awake to a heritage she’d spent years running from, activated by accident and necessity, tied now to a vampire she barely knew and an ancient order she didn’t understand. The storm Vârcolac had mentioned was coming. She could feel it gathering, pressure building in her chest, in the air, in the space between heartbeats. But for now, this moment, Grace was safe in her arms and the warehouse was quiet and the ghosts… Ellie’s ghost, her grandmother’s ghost, all the Knights who’d come before… were silent. Watching. Waiting to see what she would do with the power she’d inherited.
Nicola closed her eyes and let herself rest, just for a moment, gathering strength for whatever came next.
The Knights had always come home eventually.
And home, apparently, came with teeth.
The Binding Is Complete
The bond is forged, Grace is transformed, and Nicola’s ancient, hidden power is officially active. They are alone, trapped in a warehouse, waiting for the Collective to decide their fate.
Which new threat should Nicola prioritize protecting Grace from?
Internal Threat: Grace’s own struggle for control (the urge to feed/lose herself).
External Threat (The Collective): The powerful factions who see Nicola’s blood as a resource to be seized.
Let me know your choice in the comments! 👇
Catch up on the story: The Knights of Maenara Collective
The Collective’s Truth, Part Two
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