New Blood (The Blood Saga Book 2) Read Free

to him. Damien nodded silently.
    “Thank you,” I spoke softly. Nodding
politely to them both, I moved along with Damien. They nodded in return, understandingly.
Their smiles were wickedly sweet. Perhaps there was more devil in them than I
realized.
    As I moved with him, it felt like I
was floating. Elegant like a dancer. As if we walked on air. Damien and I moved
side by side up the stairs.
    The second floor was different from
the first by far. The walls were custom painted so that they looked like
ancient Italian stone marble in rich colors from creamy vanilla to deep gold.
    The floors were deep red in color.
Brazilian walnut. Recognizable for I had seen a few pieces of furniture made
from the rare and expensive wood in Neesa’s mother’s home. The Descendant who
thought me crazed.
    Where the first level had been an
exquisite black and white palace, the second floor flourished in the Italian
renaissance.
    Raw dark stone columns as thick as
tree trunks lined the hall in-between sets of double doors. Each column carved
at the head and foot with tiny sculptures of angels so painfully beautiful they
seemed better fit only for the Vatican.
    Each set of doors was hand carved
artfully such as Belinesian doors. They were all different with intricate
scenes of everything from olive groves, to grape vine fields, and wondrous
Italian grottos.
    My jaw was slack as I walked the
curling path in utter awe. Damien was gracious by allowing me to slow to a
crawl as we walked so that I could look on at each splendid detail.
    As large as the house was, it
seemed somewhat surprising there were only two sets of doors on this floor. I
was curious if they led to a hall of doors like the Wildflower, Neesa’s mother’s
store. Why did I keep thinking of them?
    The stairs swept in a large circle,
acting as a balcony to the room bellow until it circled the entire room and
spread up another story. Looking up and then down, I realized you could see
from the bottom level up to the ceiling which was also decorated. In the center
of the ceiling, I looked up at a sculpted brass sun.
    A statue, tall as Damien, stood at
the bottom of the next winding case, in its own little nook. It was life like
in its perfection and detail.
    A woman with eyes so exquisitely
detailed it felt as if they were alive as they watched us even in their absence
of color. The entire statue was black as midnight, carved from some beautiful
black marble. Her hair curled in a mass of stone tendrils to the floor, tiny
flowers wove in throughout the strands.
    While her features were beautiful,
they seemed to hint harshness. Not evil, no not at all. Just hardened. Almost
similar to the face of a female warrior though disguised in the garb of a Goddess.
One could have wept at her magnificence.
    Before I could ask, Damien stood at
my side speaking quietly as if she were too pure to raise your voice in front
of. “Her name is Achlys... She is revered as the Greek Goddess of eternal
night. She’s also called Nyx. There are those who believe she was the mother of
our existence.” Of Vampires.
    “I’ve never seen anything like her
before,” whispering in turn.
    “Few have. Jezabell created her...
Achlys was a dear friend to Jezabell for a great many years.” It was hard to
identify where my surprise came from most. That Jezabell could create such
beauty. Or that she was friends with a Goddess.
    Softly his hand placed to my lower
back, guiding me to the stairs again.
    The art on the second floor changed
from masterful columns to paintings so stunning I froze, letting out a soft
laugh of awe. My eyes could pick up details I had never seen before now. Each
stroke of paint was easily identified on the many paintings hung along the wall
from history’s most amazing masters. The cracks in the dried old paint made it
look like a puzzle pieced together of a million pieces.
    I had studied art history in my
years as a human. Nevertheless, I had never seen these paintings before. Yet
they were