The Relic (Cradle of Darkness Book 2)

by Addison Cain

So much regret passed through the mind before me. Flashes of how Pearl had seen humans hold and nurse their babies. How she had no memory of feeling kicks behind her ribs or suckling. How she had been ripped to shreds.

  “As the tub is getting cold, might I suggest you offer the experience to a friend? We’ll go out to dinner. You find a place on the Yelp. Any city, and we can be there in a flash.”

  “What would someone wear to a wedding these days? Pants?” How she despised trousers on women! It was endearingly adorable. But, those were tears gathering in her eyes.

  Pearl had not yet accepted the facts. “You could show up naked if you wanted to. You’re my queen.”

  The idea of a child was still spinning in her mind. Proving I was once again right for seeking to impregnate her for her own joy.

  Wide, wet eyes met mine. “If I took the bath, would she like me more?”

  This desire for acceptance was going to be a problem. One I had overcome with countless generations of offspring. “No.”

  Pearl’s heart slowed. “I shouldn’t go.”

  Tired of pretending the human form, my arms grew black as pitch. I displayed all of me. Every last, hideous bit.

  Soothing my wife, claws delicate as the traced skin, I said, “She doesn’t know who you are. You will arrive as only my guest. She needs that now Later, she will need you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pearl

  I’d never attended a wedding, though I had seen some in films and read about them in the papers. Not that I had much basis for comparison, but it would seem vampire weddings were not much different than human ones at first glance. Formally dressed and greeting one another with elaborate displays of affection, guests chatted. Other guests avoided one another, offering their counterpart little more than an icy stare.

  It reminded me of the Supper Club: the cliques, the grandeur. The affection and the cruelty.

  Vladislov had seen me lavishly dressed. Blood-red so bright it seemed garish to my tastes. I stood out like a sore thumb in a gown fit for a queen. Enough jewels hung from my throat and dripped from my ears that the weight of them was uncomfortable.

  The choker must have been ancient, the style odd and the metal imperfect. It circled my throat, from collarbones to jaw. It pinched.

  But how he had smiled to drape them around my neck, explaining, “Our kind does not expose the throat at public events. It’s considered… uncultured. Though, if I might say so, the true motivation behind the collars is fear. The jewels are armor. The only bare throat you will see tonight is that of the bride and groom. If someone should expose themselves to you, do not drink.”

  No soul had done such a thing at Vladislov’s party. “Why would someone do that?”

  “Because you smell of sunshine, and all Vampires desire the use of a Daywalker. Stay by my side,” he teased, “or one of the less wise might just try to snatch you away.”

  I was going to be sick. Already nervous to see the child I’d never known—one I had been warned would dislike me at first glance. One I was not to speak with, not on her day. After all, I had been reminded over and over that we had eternity to thaw the ice.

  These instructions, given by a monster in the shape of a man, were not for Jade’s benefit. They were for mine. Vladislov didn’t want to see me hurt by what would be obvious and public rejection. I didn’t need to read his mind to grasp that fact.

  From the way he spoke as he decked me in jewels that could buy kingdoms, I also wondered if he cared for Jade at all.

  As if to defend himself from my thoughts, his fingers stilled, and his eyes turned up to mine. “I find your daughter, my granddaughter… refreshing. Never forget that I gave her a kingdom, though she is difficult and looks too much like her father.”

  Which made me all the more nervous. Darius was my living nightmare.

  A light peck landed on my lips. “She has your eyes, though the blue turned red when I gave her the throne. Look there and you will see yourself. She has your resilience and your strength. Darius was always a weakling in a strong body.”

  Red eyes? Why was I even going to this wedding?

  “She’s your daughter. She’s getting married. You will regret it for eternity if you miss it out of unfounded shyness. Think in eons, Pearl. One day, you will be her friend. One day, she will be grateful you made the effort. That day will not be today. Again, do not speak to her.”

  “And her fiancé?” I remembered the pale-haired angel who’d torn out my fangs, broken my jaw, and dumped me at the foot of a despotic evil.

  “Malcom knows that if he approaches, I will kill him. Which would ruin the wedding.” He said it so lightly, as if so wild a declaration it were nothing at all.

  “My daughter loves him. You told me he led you to where I….” I didn’t have a name for that room or for what had happened in it. “I’m not so stupid that I don’t understand why he—”

  Echoing my earlier thoughts, Vladislov showed enough temper that his whole form twitched as if he fought to maintain it. “Ripped out your beautiful fangs, broke your jaw, and delivered you to Darius so he might play his games with you when you should have been immediately brought to me?”

  I could already see the seams stretching, patting his chest as if to hold back the beast and its wings. “You’ll rip your fine clothes if you don’t take a deep breath.”

  My warning only earned me a poke on the forehead. “If you could only see the mess in here. I tolerate Malcom out of some misplaced fondness for Jade. I tolerate him, because he was loyal. But I can clearly see what he did to my wife. How terrified you were, the pain it caused. Why should I care if it was done in service?”

  “You don’t get to have an opinion about it. That’s why. It was done to me.” Had those words just come out of my mouth?

  “Consider me chastened.” And tamed. He went from smoking devil to playful puppy. Kissing my lips in little nips and calling me stunning as his fingers found my nipple through the daringly low cut bodice of my ridiculous dress. “Before we go, can I fuck you on the counter? In this dress, just like this? I want to know I’m leaking down your leg while peasants approach and fools think to negotiate.”

  It was less of a question and more of a prayer. Already, he’d begun bunching up my voluminous skirt, the edge of the dressing room’s marble counter at my thighs. Moving faster than my eyes might register, he pulled himself from his trousers, uncaring that his pants fell to his ankles, and was in.

  In me.

  The pinching fetters of so many stones around my neck, the initial cramp when something too big filled a place that seemed incessantly wet. I found bliss.

  He fucked me. Right there as I clung and gasped.

  Coming too soon, earning cruel laughter from an incessantly hard bull, I braced. Because there was always more.

  So much so that we were late for the gathering. My hair, once beautiful, was a half-fallen mess. And yes, he was dripping down my leg.

  Not yet recovered from the bending world that went from dressing room to riverside wedding, I stumbled. I clung.

  I knew I was ridiculous.

  Many approached my guardian.

  “Husband,” he whispered at my ear, giving it a lick despite the audience of immortals.

  Languages were spoken that I didn’t know. Addresses were made, even to me—polite, tolerant nods in many cases. Wide-mouthed grins in others.

  Fangs were on full display, glittering in the moonlight.

  Though when I forced a smile in reply, I saw how vampire eyes went straight to my stumped incisors. There were looks of pity, looks of disgust.

  “The groom tore them out himself!” Vladislov chuckled, though the very tone of his laughter was menace.

  Under my breath, I tried to stop him. “Vladislov!”

  “She asked me not to kill him.” My less than delightful companion eased nearer the latest supplicant. “But she never asked me to spare you. Leave.”

  A man I hardly noticed may as well have pissed himself
, vanishing into the night as if he’d never been there.

  Could this be more uncomfortable? “That wasn’t funny.”

  “He looked at your throat.” As if that was explanation enough.

  Like a king approaching his throne, Vladislov entered the fray, literally dragging me into the masses. Tripping over my skirt, one arm flailed, and a spray of glowing, white flowers began to fall.

  Caught before the crash by Maya. Who gave me a wink before a goddess in the flesh moved back into the crowd. I didn’t have a chance to say thank you.

  “I’ve known Maya for thousands of years. Believe me when I say, she is genuine, unforgiving, and willing to spend her time getting to know you. That is rare.” With a pout on his lips, my face red and posture shrinking, I heard him add, “I suspect you will be fast friends and that I will be very jealous.”

  “Can you please stop? Just stop, Vlad!”

  He didn’t stop, but all around us did. It was as if time froze, the stillness of all in attendance. A mercenary indrawn breath to see what would happen next.

  “For you, my bride, anything.” Leaning down to press a kiss to my cheek, he added, “I’m sorry.”

  Everyone turned my way. A chilling unison of movement. A sea of people, of costume, of fanfare. Of years and years and years of life. This was not an event for the unimportant; even naïve as I was, I grasped that. And all of them were staring at me.

  With a smile, Vladislov wrapped his arm around me and addressed the mob. “My bride’s name is Pearl. Be respectful.”

  Cocked heads, low spoken greetings, far too much interest.

  But Vladislov was on to the next thing. Snapping his fingers for a tray of snacks to be delivered by a beautiful woman dressed like a sacrifice for the gods.

  Smiling, eyes downcast, she displayed what had been prepared for the humans in attendance as she described the offerings. And that is when I realized there was a clear divide between immortal and mortal.

  Some came on the arms of lovers. Most came to serve.

  Every last one of them was stunning.

  Such as this woman, her neck marked from bites. Her wrists, her arms. Her exposed thighs. “I am of Grecian stock. My line has been fostered by Ivan. O negative, if it suits your taste.”

  Her plate of food was for the human pets, and her body was for the guests.

  And she was happy. I had faced enough smiles serving ungrateful men and women to know the difference.

  “Ah, Cassandra. Never could I forget you.” He popped a savory bit of deliciousness between my slack lips, taking up the beauty’s arm. “I will enjoy this.”

  Chewing, cheeks puffed from too large a bite, I could not respond. Instead, I watched her moan when my lover pierced her glowing skin.

  He sipped.

  And I hated seeing it with every fiber of my flawed being.

  Before I might stop the hiss, it came from my mouth. Automatic, utterly embarrassed, my hands covered my crimson lips. I knew mortification.

  And I worked to justify all of it. Of course he ate. I ate. We all ate.

  But I had never seen him partake.

  Had I not refused the bath of immortal blood? Yet here I was acting like a monster.

  And Vladislov drank deeper.

  He drank until the poor girl swooned. Until I put my hand to his bicep and asked him to let her go.

  Others came to cart her off, yet her pretty figure was soon replaced. Other immortals taking a sip of the next beauty offered as a snack to the guests.

  There was no need to speak of how embarrassed, confused, horrified, enticed I was.

  It was so much so that I took a glass of wine from a passing human’s tray. He too was dressed as an offering and marked with the wounds of the vampire’s trade.

  Drinking too fast, I coughed, spilled red wine on a red dress… and knew I was a fool.

  “You’re charming when you’re jealous.”

  My lip shook as I cut a glance to my right, to my tormentor. In that moment, I saw in him the window I had so desired, so needed, in my past. I saw something worth working for. And I had no idea what to make of myself or these feelings.

  My thighs were already smeared in the watery aftermath of our passion. A daughter I did not remember and knew would hate me was soon to arrive. My hair was a mess, my throat itched under the collar, and I was—

  Vladislov, snarled. “Why must that boy try me so?”

  Boy? I looked up and saw an old man. Sporting a paunch and a threadbare sweater, regularness moved through perfection. Cut through it, more like. The sea parted.

  “Erev tov, Father. This must be Pearl.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Pearl

  The old man smiled in the kind way I’d seen grandfathers smile at children. A calm gesture, a patient one that held wisdom and lacked… fangs. Because I could sense that he was like me, that the sharpness of what set us apart from both human and vampire was a burden. That he worked to embrace his nature yet deny his hunger.

  That he understood me. That he felt compassion for a stranger.

  Another Daywalker.

  I wasn’t alone. Such knowledge gave me a profound sense of joy and left me reeling. “You’re like me!”

  My companion scoffed. “He’s nothing like you. The boy is an impudent pain in my ass.”

  Gesturing at the old man’s informal clothing, rude, and clearly annoyed, Vladislov sneered. “What were you thinking arriving in such a state? As Darius was my offspring, and Jade his daughter, you are a clear blood relation. Yet you show up to your queen’s wedding dressed like a beggar… wearing that face?”

  A face lined by years yet still somehow fresh.

  With a peacemaking nod, the stranger replied, “No insult was intended.”

  Vladislov ground his teeth, leaving the muscles in his jaw jumping. “Your throat is uncovered.”

  The old man sighed. “As my father is failing to make an introduction, allow me. My given name is Yeshua. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pearl.” He held out a hand so I might shake it. The first being at the party aside from Vladislov who dared touch me.

  I did not take his hand, not when I could feel how Vladislov seethed. Instead, I offered a polite, “Hello.”

  Vladislov did not move his body in front of me, but it was as if he intended to shield me all the same. “You were warned never to approach her without permission.”

  But it was as if the incensed monster at my side had never spoken. The old man’s conversation was only for me. “He’s written to me about you, countless emails detailing your history. I feel as if I know you.”

  What?

  Outright exasperation was met with equal parts boredom when Vladislov countered, “Countless? You always were one for drama. There have been seventy-eight emails precisely. How many times must I lecture you on the importance of accuracy?”

  Though I had denied the old man’s hand, he placed his on my shoulder. “It wasn’t done to invade your privacy. It was done to document a monumental occurrence. You see, Pearl, the pages recount your life and all the ways in which the consequences of my existence complicated it.”

  His hand was warm, not the brimstone touch of the beast who held me to his side, arm around my waist, and palm open on my belly. If Vladislov was fire, this man was sunlight.

  If Vladislov was beautifully hideous, that old man was painstakingly ordinary.

  And I was extremely confused. “I don’t understand.”

  Did the man look embarrassed? It was so hard to tell when his gaze was so deep. “I’ve been told my father sends you a priest each day for a private mass and confession.”

  He used to.

  I had not seen a holy man since Vladislov had first penetrated me, nor had I asked for one. In that moment, it dawned on me that I had forgotten. Where was my rosary? Had I forgotten to bring it to a wedding?

  Before I fell from the knife edge of nerves into hysterics, Vladislov spoke softly at my ear. “Your rosary is in my pocket, my soul. You may
have it in this moment if you wish.”

  What I wished was to know why the man before me seemed as if he felt grief at the mention of the beads I used to pray. Instead, I took a deep breath and focused on the fact that this was my daughter’s wedding and I had already made enough mistakes. “What is an email?”

  The old man shook off his gloom, responding with a kind smile. “An electronic letter, typed instead of written by hand. As my father refuses to communicate with me in any other way, we rarely exchange words unless they are in written form. He believes it to be a lesson on the power of truth in the written word over the spoken one. But if you could see the things he’s written, you’d understand that he lacks the ability to tell the truth in even the most basic of exchanges. Just because it’s been written down does not make it true. Read any newspaper these days and you’ll find it's just as easy to lie with the pen as it is with the tongue.”

  With his free hand, Vladislov physically removed the old man’s touch from my shoulder. “You are not amusing me, child.”

  For a brief moment, the old man glanced at my companion—an expression of weariness, of deep concern aging his face all the more. “Heaven knows it will be many ages before reconciliation between us is possible, especially after I tell her the truth. But it is good to see you.”

  Dry laughter preceded Vladislov’s threat. “Son, I could end you with a thought. And I’m very tempted.”

  As if they shared a private, dark joke, the old man chuckled. He chuckled as if he was not only fearless, but the more powerful between them. “I am the only thing you ever created that is good. You have no more power to end me than I have the power to end you.”

  When I had been dragged into Darius’ Cathedral, the world moved around me as it did now. I knew the son Vladislov claimed to have fathered. I remembered the dreams where they fought in the desert. But that man was not this man. Just like the angel’s form Vladislov had taken was not the monster I knew him to be.

  Turning his face from his offspring, Vladislov looked down at me. “You’re frightening her.”