Rosa’s eyes opened.

  Wait, how did they open?

  She shot upright, blinking away blurred vision.

  The last thing she remembered were the Horsemen.

  Indescribable cold.

  James…

  Where was this dark, dank place?

  Beneath the monument?

  No.

  The air was different here.

  Thick with sweat and something like smokey fog.

  Her heart raced.

  Or did it?

  As she looked around, Rosa felt a gentle pulsing everywhere. Or heard it! As if the entire world were threaded with blood-filled veins.

  “There, there now. Take your time. You went through a lot.”

  A man spoke as an arm extended over her. Something shiny and sharp cut into its flesh. Warm blood trickled from the wound and over Rosa’s parched lips.

  At first, she was repulsed, then the smell of it hit her—like lilacs on the first day of spring. It was intoxicating. Before she could protest, Rosa’s tongue was lapping it up, and there was no harsh metallic taste that blood had.

  It was like fresh honey, straight from the hive.

  “Good. Drink. You need it.”

  A face loomed over her, though she couldn’t see who it was. She could focus on nothing other than the veins throbbing in the man’s neck.

  So much delicious honey.

  He said something, but the words were garbled, overpowered by the pulsations. Rosa’s body moved of its own volition, and in a heartbeat, she had the man pinned high up against the wall with one arm.

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  How had she moved so fast?

  Plus, this was a full-grown man.

  Yet, to her, he felt light as a feather.

  “Calm yourself,” the man stuttered.

  Rosa exhaled slowly, fighting every temptation to tear into his neck like a good steak.

  She forced herself to focus, and realization hit her like a freight train. “Marshal Chapelwaite?”

  He nodded meekly.

  Rosa dropped him and backed away, leaving him on the ground, gasping for air.

  “You will learn how to control your bloodlust,” another voice said with a thick Slavic accent. “For now, it must be sated for the sake of your sanity.”

  The stranger leaned against the wall in a dark corner. His clothes were strange, like something out of the English Renaissance. A high-collared shirt rose to cover his cheeks, the strings hanging limply and untied. He was strikingly handsome, his dark hair forming a ‘V’ over his forehead, framing yet even sharper eastern European features.

  “Judas?” Rosa asked.

  He shook his head. “Unfortunately, not. Judas is no more. Our Father gave his heart and his power entirely to you, woman. Do not ask me why.”

  “It’s not our place to question his judgment,” Chapelwaite said, clearing his throat.

  “He… what?” Rosa’s question squeaked out in a stunned whisper.

  Chapelwaite rose again and took her by the shoulders.

  She had to look away.

  The temptation to sink her teeth into his veins was too much.

  “Look at her, shaking like a fledgling,” the stranger hissed. “He went mad.”

  “Don’t listen to Dracula,” Chapelwaite said to Rosa, but she still couldn’t see beyond the need for his blood. “His Highness always believed him impetuous.”

  “Watch your tongue!” the man Chapelwaite had called Dracula spat. “He cannot protect you from being cattle anymore.”

  Chapelwaite worked to gain Rosa’s rapt attention.

  Just one bite…

  “Judas believed it was time to finally rest,” he said. “And so, he gave himself to you freely. You are everything he was, is, and ever has been, and more. His children are now yours. His vision, yours.”

  “I will teach you, but do not expect me to call you mother,” Dracula said.

  Rosa finally gained the wherewithal to look at the man. However, her willpower only allowed for seconds before her gaze was back on Chapelwaite. The confusion was all that kept her from sucking the blood out of Chapelwaite until she was slurping on marrow.

  “I… What did you do to me…?” Rosa asked.

  “Gave you a second chance,” Chapelwaite said.

  “I didn’t ask for that!” Her shout made the man cringe back, but he didn’t retreat. He stood his ground, just as he had with General Washington. Like a loyal… servant? Rosa’s?

  She controlled herself, clenched her knuckles before her nails could tear into him.

  “I don’t know what to do with any of this…” she said, shaking.

  “You may do whatever you desire,” Chapelwaite replied. “That is the will of the Maker. Your will be done.”

  THE END OF THE BLACK BADGE SERIES

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