Yet he ignored her, turning in the direction of the parking deck at the sidewalk. Is he leaving? Uncertain, Maddox quickly darted ahead to catch up, coming to stand directly in his path.
“Stephan, what's—,” she abruptly stopped when he irritatingly walked around her.
So she grasped his arm—and he jerked away. That's the last straw.
It wasn't just the blood link driving Maddox to help him—this was personal. Stephan may have been intolerant and offensive, but he'd saved her from an eternity of rotting away, and she couldn't refuse a chance to help him in return.
Moving swiftly, she came around to his side and shoved him up against the brick wall of the building he'd been passing, demanding, “What's wrong?”
But her insistent tone didn't have any affect. Stephan merely scowled down at her in silence—and Maddox quickly realized he'd pressed the barrel of his shotgun beneath her chin despite the speed she'd used to corner him.
Holding his gaze, her lips slowly drew down at the corners. “Why are you—”
“It's over,” he interrupted evenly. “There's nothing else to talk about.”
“What's over?”
“Lillian's dead, vampire. I don't need you anymore.”
Following the statement, a revealing silence drew out between them, one in which she wanted to argue, but couldn't. He was right, their search was over—or his was anyway. Maddox still had to find Mathias, but that certainly wasn't Stephan's problem.
So why did this feel like a betrayal? Why couldn't she just let him go?
“Then you're leaving just like that?” she heard herself asking as if controlled by another.
He shrugged indifferently. “You gonna let me, or make me pull the trigger?”
The question made things unmistakeably clear. Stephan was washing his hands of this, and it was useless to offer help. In fact, his gaze was so scornful that she was surprised he hadn't already blown her head off. And yet I'm still concerned for him.
Disgusted with herself, and the entire situation, Maddox pushed herself away from Stephan completely. Whatever she'd wanted to believe of him, that he could change or give even the slightest damn, it was obviously never going to happen.
Stephan was simply too far gone.
“Fine,” she stated coldly. “I'll just gather my things from your car.”
Without a word of response, he replaced his shotgun—and even the silence grated. So, unwilling to endure his callous attitude any longer than necessary, Maddox let her body turn to mist, quickly moving ahead to the parking deck so she could get her things before he arrived.
Several minutes later, she returned to Foxy's with her bags in hand, bags she carelessly dropped to the floor in favor of heading to the bar.
Seeing the look on her face, Foxy inquired, “What happened?”
Maddox twisted the cap from the bottle of blood mead she'd been gifted with, then downed a good bit of the content before offering a response.
“Not a damned thing. He's leaving, and now I have to find Mathias. So if it's no trouble, I'd like to stay here until I can learn more of the way things work now.”
“There's plenty of space,” the succubus agreed as if it was the only logical conclusion.
Maddox parted her lips to offer gratitude, but her attention was immediately distracted when Ulric asked, “Did you say Mathias? As in one of The Five?”
Looking to where the draconian was now sitting with his mate at the same table as Isaac, she answered without hesitation. “Yes. Why, do you know him?”
The draconian exhaled low, then stated reluctantly, “No, but my brother does. He's the head of House Dra'Kai.”
Maddox stared incredulously. “You mean Dalris? He's your brother?”
Ulric nodded. “Mathias must've told you about him.”
Getting confirmation, she quickly supplied, “Yes, Mathias has great respect for your brother.” With that said, Maddox set her bottle down on the bar counter and walked over to their table, far too curious not to sit with them despite the tension between herself and Ulric.
“Do you know if Dalris has seen him?”
“No clue,” Ulric returned, and though he didn't say more, the look in his cobalt eyes told her that if she wanted to speak with Dalris over the matter, she'd have to bargain with him for it. Typical draconian.
The only question was how much the chance might cost—but to Maddox, no price was too high if it meant finding Mathias.
“What is it you want exactly, draconian … ?”
18
♦ ♦ ♦
Two Weeks Later
Eastern Tennessee
“I've definitely fucked up, but there's nothing I can do about it. There's not enough time, or … that's what I keep telling myself.”
Crouched over a grave, Stephan idly straightened the purple ribbon tied around a bouquet of orchids laying by a tombstone that read In Loving Memory - Ellen Tonya Forrester – 2001-2008. Seven feet away stood two more graves that belonged to his parents, both decorated with fresh flowers beneath the golden hues of a late evening sky.
Once he was satisfied with the placement of Ellen's bouquet, Stephan sat, drawing up a single knee to rest his arm on while taking in the scenery.
The cemetery where his family was buried hosted a number of large oak trees and hedges with white headstones placed in neat rows spanning the distance. Currently, the cement paths for car travel between them were barren, leaving things peaceful, and after a few moments of silent contemplation, he continued speaking as if his family would hear him.
One of the good things about knowing of the supernatural world was realizing there was actually a chance they could.
“I left The Bastion, made sure the loose ends there were tied up. But … I feel lost. Thought I had this figured out, that I'd do what needed to be done, then just let myself fade away.”
With his head drooping forward, he exhaled a low breath and muttered, “But it just doesn't feel right. Nothing does.”
At that, Stephan grew silent, recalling the night he'd learned Lillian was dead two weeks prior. After returning to the compound and taking an evening to get shitfaced in celebration, he'd resigned his position as field operative, making certain The Bastion's information was up to par first—and it'd felt damned good to finally change Lillian's status from living to deceased in the archives.
Yet, every time he recalled the things he'd learned at Foxy's, a pang of grief stabbed into his heart.
Ellen wasn't murdered out of cruelty alone. Lillian had sacrificed her for that ritual.
Charlotte's information on mortal fae revealed the meaning behind Lillian's final words to Stephan five years ago. The night he and Ellen were abducted, the vampires had gone after his sister first. Stephan was drifting off to sleep in his room when he heard Ellen screaming his name, and immediately responded.
Sadly, he was paralyzed by a vampire's bite before he could help her, and woke later in a dark prison chamber, completely naked and chained to a wall. Demanding to know where his sister was and threatening his captors made no difference—the vampires either ignored him, or just mocked him as if amused by his rage.
Only one of them spoke to him in a civil manner, introducing herself as Lillian Deavlis, and she suggested he worry more for himself than for Ellen.
In response, Stephan vowed he'd get free and save her, but Lillian just smirked and left him to the mercy of her faction mates.
After spending an entire day and night in such confinement, the vampire finally returned, dropping Ellen's body at his feet while stating explicitly sadly, she's not the right type—and evidently, Lillian had been searching for a mortal born sun fae for decades.
So what else could she have meant other than Ellen wasn't the right type of fae?
Stephan had always suspected there was a specific reason for her death, and discovering it had a renewed sense of remorseful anger overwhelming him. Maybe it was just the pointlessness of it, the thought that Ellen was taken fo
r some ritual that hadn't even worked because the undead bastards didn't know if she was exactly what they needed or not.
But whatever it was, learning the truth was like losing her all over again, except this time, there were no outlets to vent his rage. All he had left was a trip he'd intended to make to his hometown in Tennessee where he planned to die.
Though, where he'd once been at peace with the idea, now it didn't sit right.
Stephan simply couldn't shake the feeling that there was unfinished business to be taken care of, and with time to reflect over the past five years, that sensation grew until it was gnawing at him constantly.
So that afternoon, he'd come to his family's burial site to tell them everything he'd learned—and try to make sense of his growing doubts.
“I don't know if you guys were aware of Mom being part fae, or maybe you were a fae, and didn't tell me so I could just be a normal kid. But that's why they killed Ellen, and making sure they paid for it is the best I can do to right the wrongs. Not sure if it's enough, or if there's anything else you guys want from me, but … I'm so sorry I let you down.”
Stephan stopped when tears threatened to spill, swiping an arm beneath his eye to wipe the moisture away, then took a deep breath, waiting until he felt capable of speech again to finish his litany.
“I think you know there's a lot I regret, too. A lot. I miss you, and it hurts like hell, but I'm sorry for the person that grief turned me into. The strange thing is that it was a vampire who helped me figure out why Ellen died, and she was right. I let myself become a monster, and … maybe that's why I feel so damned wrong now.”
It was the only reason that made any sense. The man he'd become was hardhearted, indifferent, and callous, even to those who'd helped him.
But there was one person he regretted his treatment of above all others—Maddox.
It wasn't the first time he'd thought of her since they'd parted ways, and in fact, it was hard to get the vampire out of his mind, or the sense of guilt plaguing him. Before leaving her in Atlanta, he'd pulled a gun on her—again—and that time, he hadn't been bluffing, driven by both grief and rage over what he'd learned.
And damned if he didn't want to find Maddox and tell her how sorry he was.
The view on the way out was a hell of a lot different than on the way in, and his bias simply didn't seem as important as had before—at least, not where she was concerned. So trying to justify his actions by telling himself he didn't know her that well, or that she was just another vampire didn't cut it anymore. Maddox was far from a typical vampire, and he regretted leaving her behind instead of taking the chance to learn more about who she was.
After all, without her help, he would've died without ever knowing the full truth, and he genuinely wished he could show his gratitude. But she'd probably be happy never seeing him again, and who could blame her? I was such a bastard, but what the hell can I do?
Despite his desire to right the wrongs, there was simply no way to tell how much time he had left to live, or if it would be enough.
“You'd give up so easily?”
The question came without any warning, and was so close in context to Stephan's thoughts that he nearly believed Ardilon had been reading his mind.
Looking back, he spied the divinian several feet away waiting for an answer and, unhappy with the thought that Ardilon might've been eavesdropping on his one-sided conversation with his family, he muttered, “When did you get here?”
“Not too long ago. I came when I learned of your resignation to The Bastion.”
It was questionable whether or not Ardilon knew why he'd quit, but if so, he didn't mention it, and merely suggested as Stephan stood up, “I suppose you believe that, with your goals accomplished, there's nothing more to do.”
“What else would there be?”
“Plenty,” the Dead God enunciated. “Surely you see that.”
Of course Stephan knew he could keep going until he had no other choice. The problem was his disinterest, and a torpor that wasn't caused by Ithrim. Pushing ever onward was getting tiresome, and the thought of taking on a new assignment simply wasn't appealing.
“What's the damned point?” he muttered. “I should've died five years ago anyway, but I got a chance to set some things right, so I took it, and now it's over. Time to move on.”
“And what about everyone else? There's more that could be done to—”
“Not my business,” Stephan interrupted, his tone flat. “I don't have the time or the interest. I did everything I needed to do.”
“No,” the divinian countered, a serious expression on his face. “Not everything.”
Stephan narrowed a brow in uncertainty. “What'd I miss?”
“You owe me,” Ardilon replied simply. “Your vows were fulfilled, but there was a price to be paid for the abilities you're using as my votary.”
“What price?” Stephan demanded. “You never said anything about a fucking price!”
He regretted asking his question so harshly the moment the words were out of his mouth. Suddenly, Ardilon's eyes darkened in a manner that told Stephan if he didn't watch himself, he'd meet a much worse fate than he could likely imagine.
It wasn't a look the divinian had ever given him before, and it was extremely unnerving, making the intimidation tactics vampires used seem like mere child's play in comparison.
“I paid that price,” Ardilon drew out, his words steady, as if very little was keeping his calm facade in tact. “You didn't need to know of it, so I decided not to tell you. But, because you're so intent on throwing your life away, I want something in return for the chance I gave you.”
It was clear that this wasn't idle chatter, and he knew better than to think Ardilon would let it go. Stephan also knew that whatever he wanted wasn't likely to be a simple matter to resolve.
But he didn't have a choice—Ardilon deserved repayment if only to show his gratitude. Guess I'm about to march to the beat of a different drum.
So, releasing a pent up breath, he agreed. “If that's the case, I'll do whatever I can.”
“Good,” the divinian began. “It's not a complicated issue, but it will likely take time to accomplish. All I ask is that you assist Maddox in her search for her sire.”
The sudden drop of Maddox's name captured his full attention, and whatever reluctance Stephan had felt before vanished completely. Of all the things Ardilon could've requested, helping her was the least expected—and the most fitting. You wanted to make up for what you did, and here's your chance.
Still, he asked suspiciously, “Why?”
“I believe I mentioned knowing someone she was associated with before,” the divinian began. “That happened to be Mathias. I last saw him not long before his disappearance, and just before he traveled to an Eastern European village where he heard several vampires had gathered for ambiguous purposes. The name of that village was Ithria.”
Stephan narrowed his gaze. “Ithria? As in … Ithrim?”
“Exactly,” Ardilon confirmed. “Several months after his departure, The Crucible received news of an outbreak in the village. By the time we got there, not only had the vampire population been wiped out, but most of the humans as well, and Mathias was gone. None of the mortal survivors knew anything of the supernatural, so we never managed to ascertain exactly what happened. But I know Mathias was trying to put a stop to it before his untimely entombment.”
Stephan didn't question that assumption one bit. If Maddox's outlook was at all influenced by her sire, it wasn't hard to believe the ancient vampire would try to prevent a disaster from occurring.
But the timing was questionable. Shaking his head, Stephan asked, “Wait, this all happened in the 1940s, right?”
“Correct, and the only reported case of the illness since then appeared in the last five years. You.”
“Then where the hell did it come from? It's alchemical, so someone has to actually create it, right?”
“Yes, and the honest truth is
that we don't know. We never recovered any formulas, and the vampire lair you were held in was destroyed. So it's impossible to determine who you contracted it from specifically without having their remains to examine. But if we can find a cure, none of that will matter, and Mathias would know more of what happened, may even know who's responsible for Ithrim's creation to begin with. If so, they could develop a cure and save countless lives.”
This wasn't exactly the kind of thing Stephan expected to hear, but it was definitely a worthwhile endeavor—not that he was looking for a miracle to save himself. Ithrim had been coursing through his veins for over five years now, and Stephan wasn't counting on his treatments to last much longer.
Still, stopping potential epidemics from occurring was enough incentive to put his remaining time to good use.
But there was another roadblock in his way, prompting him to mutter, “What if Maddox doesn't want my help? I didn't treat her very well, and I only have so much longer anyway.”
“Then assist from a distance. As for your remaining time, use it wisely. There's nothing to be lost in trying.”
That was true, and Stephan could definitely work from the shadows if Maddox decided she didn't want his help. He also couldn't ignore a debt owed to his patron, pointing out, “I'll see what I can do, and I'm not gonna ask what price you paid to make me a votary because I know you won't tell me. But I do wanna know why the hell you did it if you had to give something up.”
Wordlessly, Ardilon turned to leave, making Stephan think he wasn't going to answer. But in walking away, the Dead God gave a simple explanation.
“You may not believe it, but you deserved a chance, Stephan.”
Quietly, Stephan watched him go, unsure what to think. It would've made more sense if Ardilon said he had potential, but deserving a chance? Bullshit.
Shoving his fingers through his hair, Stephan sighed, uncertain he'd ever understand Ardilon, much less his reasoning. So he didn't try to, focusing instead on this new task laid out before him. Guess I got another date with a vampire—if she accepts. He groaned inwardly. This isn't gonna be easy.
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