Blood Stain: Book Three of the Blood Type Series (complete)

Intel

Resolving to put the male species and all romantic inclinations out of my mind for the time being, I once again made my way to the Abernathy mansion for yet another fun-filled afternoon of compulsion training with Margaret. My mind was growing stronger—I could feel it, like a muscle frequently flexed and relaxed—and I was becoming surer of myself and my abilities. Compelling humans and relatively weaker vampires was almost second-nature now. I could only hope that Hannah and John were doing their part to prepare the growing group of rogue vampires we'd welcomed to the flock. I hadn't seen or spoken to them in days.

"You are doing it all wrong," Margaret complained an hour into the session, her voice rising along with her impatience.

I stared at her in disbelief. "I got them to do it, didn't I? And on the first try, too."

Two of the maids were seated at the piano playing a crude duet of Heart and Soul. Their fingers tripped clumsily over the keys, as though they were playing two entirely different songs. In fact, they were each playing the same part, though at different tempos.

Margaret pinched the bridge of her nose. "We have gone over this before. You are too general with your commands. Any decent Compeller can command a human or vampire to do what she says, but only a truly great one can command an army. You must be more specific to get the desired results."

I stared at her but didn't immediately respond. Margaret was in a bad mood today, more so than usual. Something else besides my apparent ineptitude was bothering her. "Maybe we should take a break," I suggested.

She snorted. "Do you think the great pharaohs of Egypt took a break when building their temples?"

"I doubt the great pharaohs, as you say, lifted a finger. I'm sure they let their slaves do all the dirty work for them," I said, giving her a pointed look. Margaret waved her hand, dismissing what was clearly an issue of semantics in her opinion.

I sat down despite Margaret's protests about taking a break. The discordant sounds of the piano continued in the background. "So what's wrong?"

Margaret gave me a look like I'd lost my mind simply for asking. "I would appreciate you keeping your big nose out of what is strictly my business."

"My nose isn't big," I said, touching the tip of it in indignation.

As though she'd been punctured with a needle, Margaret slumped onto the nearby couch with an uncharacteristic sigh. "Of course your nose isn't big. It's perfect. Just like everything else about you apparently."

I laughed. "That sounded like a compliment wrapped in a whole bunch of sarcasm."

Margaret continued to glare at me, her anger simmering.

"You know," I said more carefully, "you can talk to me if you want. I mean, we are supposed to be working together, and I bet you don't have many female friends." Or friends in general, I wanted to add.

"I can't talk to you," she said.

"Why not?" I didn't particularly want to hear about Margaret's problems, but I would listen if that meant further gaining her confidence.

A sudden blush rose to Margaret's cheeks and she turned away. "I cannot talk to you because you are the very reason why everything in my life is falling apart!"

Whatever I had expected Margaret to say, it wasn't that. "Your reputation for being a world-class snot precedes you, Margaret. As far as I'm concerned, the only one responsible for your life falling apart is you. You aren't the nicest vampire I know. Or person, for that matter. Karma has a way of evening things out."