Beyond the Night by Thea Devine Page A

fireplace shelf. “And Peter is with the Other.”
    â€œI see.” Interesting.
    Senna stood up gingerly. Her legs felt heavy, drained of energy or motive power. The movement in her belly was more frequent now, emphatic kicks and pushes and a sensation of turning and twisting deep inside her.
    â€œThey cannot be,” Mirya muttered as she brought the cups and the kettle to the table. “This is not good.”
    â€œTell me about the colors.” That at least could be useful. Mirya’s hand-wringing was not. Senna took a sip of tea.
    â€œTepes,” Mirya whispered. “Green auras. Some can see the danger, most cannot.”
    â€œCan I?”
    â€œMaybe, I don’t know. After the child, maybe . . .”
    The familiar frustration welled up in Senna.
    â€œGo now,” Mirya said suddenly. “Go.”
    Suddenly, Senna was taken up in a whirlwind and deposited at Lady Augustine’s town house.
    Senna grasped the iron balustrade to steady herself. How had that happened? Mirya didn’t have those powers. Nor did Senna remember having had a directional thought toward the town house.
    More mysteries. She climbed the steps laboriously, and when she reached the top, the door opened by an unseen hand.
    She stepped inside. No Puckett. No life anywhere.
    A house of death, really, where the undead now rallied.
    She was not surprised to see Lady Augustine floating down the steps.
    â€œWell, well.” Nothing about her had changed. Every wound, scratch, tear, bite, and gouge had magically healed but for the two prominent fang marks on her neck. She was the same short, squat, beautifully dressed, immaculately turned-out aristocrat she had been when she’d taken Senna up as her ward.
    But now she radiated a simmering vampiric heat as she hovered over the stairs. She was wholly a creature of blood, and very aware of her powers.
    â€œLady Augustine.”
    â€œI’ve been expecting you.”
    â€œAnd I, you.” Senna held Lady Augustine’s eyes, taking her measure as Lady Augustine took hers.
    â€œYou can hardly interfere now,” Lady Augustine finally said, motioning to Senna’s enlarged belly. “There would be consequences.”
    Senna didn’t think, she leapt, grabbing Lady Augustine’s skirt, pulling her down onto the steps where she could grab and bite.
    â€œYou can’t take more blood than you have already,” Lady Augustine grunted, as she gouged and kicked and tried to roll Senna down the steps. “The first lesson of a newly sired vampire. Or didn’t they tell you?”
    Senna grabbed for Lady Augustine’s throat. It was almost like choking the Queen, they were so similar.
    Her hold loosened as the scrim that settled over Lady Augustine’s features slowly transfigured them into the face of the Queen.
    Senna knew in her mind it wasn’t the Queen, but in her heart, she wasn’t that sure.
    Her grip tightened again. It was Lady Augustine, who would abet those seeking to impose vampiric rule.
    Everything, Senna’s surroundings, suddenly took on a surreal aspect, and every movement seemed to be made in slow motion. Just another squeeze, just until she felt the subtle give of the windpipe.
    â€œTake. Your. Hands. Away.”
    The imperious command, even as Senna pressed on the windpipe, came up and around Senna’s compulsion to kill.
    â€œSTOP. NOW.”
    The voice sounded mechanical. The body was a machine, withstanding even a vampire’s bloodlust.
    â€œI COMMAND YOU.”
    Senna was compelled to look at the face. The Queen’s face, swelling red with the pressure of her hands as the Queen grasped Senna’s forearms and pulled with superhuman strength.
    â€œI will kill you,” Senna spat.
    But all the determination in the world would not stop Lady Augustine, who had wrested Senna’s arms apart and was now grasping her hands.
    They wrestled down the steps, Lady Augustine