The Marionettes (The Marionettes, #1)

by Katie Wismer

There’s no mistaking the two front and center—the only vampire fangs among the human teeth, the ones that once belonged to her husband.

It all basically does the same thing. My blood magic leaves my strengths in manipulating organic matter—like bodies. The advantage is I can draw from the magic in my blood—or someone else’s. Kirby has to rely on having the particular element around. Air, obviously, isn’t an issue. Water and fire are easy enough, too, as long as she carries around a water bottle and a lighter. She started wearing a tiny glass necklace filled with dirt for earth a few years ago. Though we can all draw on the elements, hers is to a much stronger degree.

“That’s Dante, her partner.” Dante looks at our table, his eyes the same dark brown as his skin. It’s the stillness that gives him away as a vampire. The rest of his body doesn’t move, just his eyes, as he takes in his surroundings.

“I heard the blood bond can make you feel…weirdly connected to your pair. Like a sibling.” “Not for everyone!” Kirby insists. “They don’t look like siblings.”

There’s an inherent physical ease between the two of them, something beyond just friendship.

“Any human who’s already currently working for the vampires for another job.”

what was the sixth witch classification before they went extinct?”

“Necromancers,”

“What is the acceptable turning process for a new vampire?” Kirby sighs. “You have to get permission ahead of time—apply through the estate of your region. If approved, one of the Marionettes will cast the turning spell on the vamp’s blood before they feed it to their human, kill them, then feed them more blood upon their awakening.” “And then…?” Kirby makes some vague gesture with her hands. “And then the new vamp has to be monitored to make sure the turning didn’t go wrong. If they show signs of being unmanageable, they’re put down.”

Why the hell would the queen send her son to mentor a student for two weeks when she has thousands of lower-ranked vampires at her disposal? Doesn’t he have anything more important to do? Unless this is more about keeping an eye on me.

he would take me to a blood farm.

The cold sweat reappears on the back of my neck. I’ve heard rumors of the vampires using the Marionettes’ magic against their enemies or for getting information, but I’ve never been able to get a straight answer from any of the witches on what really goes on. If he’s expecting some kind of magical torture from me… “We’re looking for the vampire James Westcott,” he says, and his voice echoes around us. “And we have reason to believe you can help us.”

“Your job is to get us the information we need.”

With blood witches in short supply, keeping us close had always felt like collecting trophies more than anything, but lately, it’s felt like something more. Blood witches are nice to have around since our magic isn’t as limited as other witches. We can still do a bit of everything, but there’s no need to rely on drawing power from a moon or an element when you can get it from your own blood—but what does she need all of that power for? A precaution…or a plan?

“My sister was a venom addict.”

They hadn’t let me or Adrienne see her body. Mom had sat us down, her voice far too calm, not even flinching around the words overdose or gone.

It’s a rare condition, but it is hereditary, is what neither of us needs to say.

“I don’t know. But it was this task when she was going through initiation—it was the first time she’d ever had it. And she never came back from it.”

He narrows his eyes and brings his fingers to his mouth. “It…tastes like there’s something in it. It almost burnt my tongue.” “Something in my blood?” He shakes his head once like he’s trying to clear it. “Are you…are you feeling okay?” “I—what do you mean?” I hold my arm tighter against myself. My mind jumps to my powers, the exhaustion, the chill that never leaves me alone. “What did it taste like?” He scratches the back of his neck, then shakes his head again. “It tastes like poison.”

“It means whoever did this didn’t want to hurt you, exactly. Vexillium just suppresses your powers.”

the poison, the dizziness, the way my healing hasn’t been working.

Of course they’d want us to stay in their regions—we’re their food. Maybe it’s not as bad outside of the boundaries as they make it out to be.

They put up the borders for a reason—order, yes, but also to keep out the more dangerous species. Who knows what’s out there anymore? And for a human? He’d be utterly defenseless. At least if he stayed in the city, there are rules in place to protect the humans—as long as they follow the laws and keep up with their blood donations. Granted, they’re not as enforced. When humans go missing, not many people ask questions.

She’s always carried the title of mother as an inconvenience more than anything. She’s the last person I would ever go to for a favor.

“The truth is, I’ve kept my investigations on James Westcott to myself because I don’t know if there’s anything to find. He may very well be dead like everyone else believes.”

“They’re witches,”

I didn’t know them, but if my life had gone differently, if I hadn’t been in the running for the Marionettes, that could’ve been me. The simple lack of a title making me less important, forgettable. Disposable.

They’re going to get away with breaking the law, and I’m the one who covered it up.

“We have some…visitors from the royal family at the Russian estate. They’ve never been known for their discretion. My mother is negotiating new peace treaty terms with them—it’s thin ice.”

The Russians were the group most recently added to the peace treaty, and the alliance that’s the most unstable.

All of the vampire rooms have the underground sections, just in case, but their windows can be UV-blocking if they want them to be.

“I think my blood…woke something up in you. Something that’s always been there, but dormant. Feeding someone vampire blood is the last stage of the turning process, and with the magic in your blood, maybe it didn’t need the turning incantation. And the way you reacted looked exactly like—” “You’re telling me I’m a vampire now?” He hesitates, and then, quietly: “Half, I believe.”

“I’m willing to bet, given your magic tying to your blood, that dormant part of you may have contributed to you being so much more powerful than your peers.”

“I could…feel you. It woke me up, actually. How hungry you were.”

The blood exchange helps those partnerships through that connection. But sharing blood with other vampires is…rare. It can form a much more intense bond. And it’s more unpredictable.”

For regular vampires, their fangs can retract when they’re not using them. Mine don’t seem to do that, but they also definitely aren’t as sharp as a full vampire’s would be. They’re in some weird in-between state.

“Both of my previous partners died,” he continues, still not looking at me. “Both of them. Because of me. I won’t let it happen a third time. I’m not going to watch—I can’t—I won’t allow it to happen to you too.”

“It said, We remember.”

“You asked me before where I went when I left here. I didn’t leave, exactly. My mother sent me to go stay at the other estates. I spent the last ten years bouncing around between them, but I was with the Russians for about a year. And those guys, we have some…history.”

“They’re brothers, those two. There used to be three of them. And they were all friends with Prince Alexei at the Vasiliev estate. We never got along, but for months, we just avoided each other. Things work…differently at Vasiliev. Different rules. Different procedures. And those three, they were getting away with murder. Literally. They made their own little blood farm for fun in this shack a few miles outside of the estate. Sometimes they’d forget to go check on the humans for weeks at a time, then they’d show up, and they’d all died of thirst or starvation, so they’d go back into the city and collect some more, whether they’d broken the law or not. And no one was doing anything about it. No one—”

“I followed them there the week before I came back here,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why I did it. It’s not like I thought it would stop them from bringing in more humans. But there were a lot of kids in this batch, and I…” He turns back to face me, but he’s looking somewhere over my head. “I let them go. The humans. One of the brothers, Sacha, came back to the farm alone—I guess he’d forgotten something. The brothers had confiscated anything on the humans when they’d arrived, but then just left all of their things sitting outside the cages. A few of the humans had been carrying guns with wooden bullets and…”

The final trials are the estate’s best kept secret. They’re different for everyone, perfectly designed to test each initiate’s weaknesses, and afterward, everyone in the room is bound to secrecy with a spell. Over the years, I couldn’t help but wonder what Calla’s task had been. If whatever had happened in this room was what pushed her over the edge.

What we’ve chosen to test you on today is your loyalty.”

“There are many traits we look for in prospective Marionettes. Power. Intelligence. Tenacity. The ability to do whatever is necessary for the good of all. For your first priority to be with us.”

He’s bound tightly—ropes around his wrists, a gag in his mouth. They put him on his knees a few feet in front of me. He shakes the hair out of his eyes, and then Connor looks up.

“Your task is simple,” says the queen. “We’ll let you decide how to do it. All you have to do is kill him.”

“Killing humans is against the law,” I say quietly. The queen’s face hardens. “I am the law.”

Connor’s body drops to the floor.

He glamoured me, and now Connor is dead.

I know if they find out what just happened all of this will have been for nothing,