Fallen Hearts

by Angela Colsin

At the drop of her sire's name, Maddox exchanged a brief glance with Stephan, the look in her golden eyes proving she was growing anxious.

  “Yes. They were in Las Vegas together in 1943, but I haven't been able to discern why. So I'd hoped knowing more might shed some light on the mystery of where Mathias is now.”

  In response, Eradin looked them over in scrutiny, giving the impression that he wasn't going to offer anymore information than he'd given Dalris so long ago—and surely enough, he related, “I have no idea what happened to Mathias, and, since you're asking, I'm also uncertain of Wesley's fate. Now, if you'll excuse me.”

  At that, the elven wizard turned and started walking away.

  But Stephan took a step forward, just as unwilling as Maddox to let things go so easily, interjecting, “Bullshit. You have to know something, if not about Mathias, then about Wesley.”

  Eradin came to a stop in his gait, slowly turning his gaze back with the words, “Even if I did, why should I divulge information to a duplicitous vampire and her magically enhanced pet? Wesley is my business, and I'd thank you to stay out of it. Or, you can push, and make things extremely difficult for yourself.”

  It was obvious the wizard wasn't making idle threats, but Stephan ignored the warning to focus on Eradin's description of him instead. Magically enhanced pet? What the hell did that mean? He was a votary, but that wasn't a magical enhancement—supenats believed he was just a run-of-the-mill mortal.

  The only thing about him that might be considered magical was the alchemical properties of Ithrim. So did that mean the wizard could sense it, and believed it was some concoction Stephan took to give him an edge?

  Again, the elf was attempting to take his leave, and Maddox tried to make an appeal, but Stephan took her shoulder and shook his head in a manner that silently said to wait. With a confused glance up at him, she reluctantly nodded, allowing him to address Eradin a second time.

  “Magically enhanced pet, huh? I wouldn't exactly call this magic an enhancement, Eradin. It's more like a fucking hindrance, and I'm pretty damned sure your apprentice is to blame.”

  Stephan had no idea if he was right, but there was a good chance it would get the elf's complete attention regardless—and like clockwork, Eradin froze in place.

  “Pardon me?” he inquired.

  “Wesley was an alchemist, right?” Stephan supplied. “That's what you sense from me, an alchemical formula that caused a shitload of problems.”

  Finally, the wizard turned around with a measure of marked surprise on his face, but also intense curiosity. Without a word, he approached them, and once close enough to speak on a softer tone, he asked a question that confirmed all of Stephan's suspicions.

  “You carry Ithrim?”

  Maddox looked incredibly confused now, but Stephan was too relieved he'd managed to get the wizard's full attention to offer an explanation. Besides, she was likely about to learn all about it anyway. This'll be fun.

  “I do,” he confessed. “So even if you don't know anything about Mathias, I'd really appreciate it if you'd tell Maddox where Wesley is before even more lives are lost.”

  “Stephan,” Maddox finally interjected, “what are you talking about?”

  Looking between them, Eradin stated the obvious. “You haven't told her, have you?”

  With a deep, regretful sigh, Stephan shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Told me what?”

  “Has she drank your blood?” the elf asked simultaneously.

  Pointedly, Stephan replied, “Hell no.”

  “Good.”

  “What are you talking about?” Maddox finally demanded.

  To answer her question, Eradin lifted a hand in offering. “Let's adjourn to my penthouse, and I'll explain everything.”

  She took a moment to look between them, and her gaze when she regarded Stephan was troubled in an unsettling way. He wouldn't have been surprised to see some friendly concern on her face, but Maddox's expression was haunted with fear.

  After trying his best to prevent her from developing any true attachments to him, that wasn't what he wanted to see.

  “Very well,” she finally agreed, grasping Stephan's hand in a tight hold—another sign that she was more emotionally invested than he'd hoped.

  Still, he clasped his fingers around her palm in response, offering a gentle squeeze to try reassuring her even though he had no idea how things were about to unfold, waiting pensively while Eradin opened a portal with a wave of his hand.

  As they walked through it, Stephan's disquiet ratcheted, but not over the potential of learning from the wizard that he'd never be cured.

  Instead, it was the worry that such news was about to break Maddox's heart.

  30

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The finery and music of the masquerade faded on the opposite side of Eradin's portal, but Maddox's sense of dread remained.

  Now standing in an upscale Manhattan penthouse with tall windows overlooking the bustling city skyline dotted by lights from surrounding buildings, she clutched Stephan's hand tightly. Whatever he and Eradin had discussed in the Spire sounded like a dire issue, and she wasted no time following the wizard as soon as he waved them along.

  Through a door on the far side of the living room was an office set up with several shelves of books and arcane items, both native to the mortal world and foreign, offering a sense of mystery and wonder. Coming to stand by the desk, Eradin inquired of Stephan, “Before I offer an explanation, I want to know where you contracted this affliction.”

  His statement chilled Maddox's blood. Affliction? Stephan called Ithrim a hindrance, and she struggled to understand as he answered, “In a vampire lair just over five years ago.”

  Surprised, Eradin asked, “Five years? The Assembly's medicinal serum must work wonders then.” With that said, he finally gave Maddox a more thorough explanation. “We're speaking of an alchemical substance developed by my apprentice about seventy years ago, and I'm surprised to learn it's somehow made a reappearance. Wesley claimed he'd destroyed the formula.”

  Stephan didn't look at all surprised by this information, and Maddox inquired of them both, “What is this substance exactly?”

  Exhaling a tired sigh, Eradin sat behind his desk, stating, “It's a sensitive matter, and Wesley told me what he could, but didn't want to endanger me. If any of this got out to the wrong people, it could cause a serious altercation.”

  “With who?”

  “Vampires and draconians. In fact, if you do find Mathias, pass my gratitude on to him for saving Wesley's life and preventing such a problem from arising.”

  “Then Wesley is still alive?” Stephan asked.

  “As far as I know.” With his vague response, Eradin touched the tips of his fingers together and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, explaining, “In 1941, he was abducted by a small faction of vampires and taken to a remote eastern European village named Ithria where he was forced to work on a substance that would immunize them to draconian blood.”

  Scoffing, the elf looked down at his desk and stated with no lack of irritation, “At the time, I believed he'd returned to Mystikkar to work on personal projects. But in 1943, Wesley found me in Las Vegas saying he'd managed to escape their slave labor with Mathias' help.”

  “Las Vegas?” Maddox inquired.

  “Yes, I was on business there.”

  She exhaled low over his answer. After all this time, things were finally starting to come together, and she had no trouble imagining Mathias helping the alchemist to prevent an altercation. Eradin was right, after all, immunizing vampires to draconian blood was no small issue, but the real question was whether or not Wesley had succeeded.

  “Did he immunize them?”

  “They thought so at first,” Eradin supplied. “But my apprentice managed his escape by creating a substance he knew would eventually weaken and kill any vampire that drank it. To the best of my knowledge, they slowly wasted away, allowing him to put up a fight. Still, w
hile making his way out of Ithria, several vampires converged on him in the woods, nearly killing him before Mathias intervened, having traveled there under suspicion of foul play taking place.”

  The story left Maddox uncertain how to feel. It was relieving to have some of the puzzle put together, but also frustrating to know that Ithrim was a disease that killed vampires. On one hand, it explained Stephan's reluctance to get close—he was protecting her.

  But on the other, if Ithrim killed vampires, was it also killing him?

  I'd die before letting that happen. Her grip on his hand tightened at the memory of his harsh claim that he'd never get close to her, and Stephan must've realized she was concerned because he brushed his thumb over her knuckles. The gesture was more soothing than she could've said, helping her focus as Eradin continued with his story about Wesley's fate.

  And it took a turn she didn't fully expect.

  “Naturally, Wesley feared for himself, knowing more vampires, or even draconians would learn of what he'd done and come for him, either to kill him, or force him back into slavery. So I suggested he return to Mystikkar, but he felt trouble may even follow him there, and told me that Mathias had offered an altogether different sanctuary, one few people knew of and even less knew how to reach.”

  Automatically, Maddox suggested, “Sutrelle.”

  It seemed like grasping at straws, but after the way Mathias had simply vanished, it was the only logical conclusion—and Eradin actually nodded in confirmation.

  “Yes. The night Wesley found me, he said Mathias had to attend some sporadic issue on the east coast, and before departing, the vampire gave him a key to Sutrelle as insurance, promising to return the next evening. But he never did, so Wesley journeyed to Sutrelle alone, and he's been there ever since.”

  The information hit with the force of a speeding car, and Maddox finally took a seat, staring down at the floor in thought with her hand still clutching Stephan's. She'd called Mathias away from helping Wesley escape the mortal realm, and what would've stopped him from returning to Sutrelle once Lillian had him revived?

  “That's where Mathias is now,” Maddox concluded aloud. There was no concrete evidence, but also no other explanation, and the relief was overwhelming.

  Though, it also raised several questions, and she started by asking, “What do you know about Sutrelle, Eradin?”

  With a thoughtful look, the elf stood and paced to the side of his desk with the answer, “Not much before Wesley came to me. But now I know it's another place existing in a fissure outside of the mortal world, connected but separate from it.”

  “And that means … ?” Stephan prompted.

  Nodding as if he'd expected the inquiry, Eradin lifted his hand, and from across the room, two books of nearly equal size slipped off a shelf and floated toward him. They both watched as the items lined up at the spines in midair while the wizard elaborated on his strange statement.

  “Think of these books as neighboring realms. The left is the mortal realm where we are, and the right is Ithelyon. Now look where the spines touch. This divide is the fabric that separates the two worlds from each other.

  “Yet, unlike these books,” he continued, “realms are never symmetrical in shape. Parts of them jut out against one another, sometimes wearing holes into the fabric, forming natural portals. But the rest? They interlock, creating pockets of space called fissures. Sutrelle is located in such a fissure between realms, both a part of the worlds it connects, but also separated from them. It is, in essence, a realm all its own.”

  Maddox stared at the books, suggesting, “If so, there has to be a portal allowing entry somewhere. You mentioned a key?”

  Suddenly, the books both dropped to the desk, their thud punctuated by Eradin's response. “To the best of my knowledge, the key was a magically enchanted item, and these realms can be self-contained and cut off. But if there is a portal, its location was lost long ago, perhaps even purposefully hidden.”

  Such an assumption wasn't farfetched. Maddox recalled Mathias' story about a civil war fought between vampires that ended with their kind being banished from the paradise. So perhaps any vampires who remained had taken steps to make certain no one knew how to access the realm again, which did nothing to help her cause.

  But it was apparently just as important to Eradin to locate a way into Sutrelle because he mentioned, “I have some old tomes that reference the topic. Perhaps they possess enough clues to piece together some possibilities.”

  Maddox's brows furrowed in confusion. “Why do you want to help?”

  Despite all she'd learned so far, the look on Eradin's face suggested more was coming. “I have many reasons, but one of them,” he paused, waving a hand at Stephan, “is that your friend has Ithrim. So he'll need Wesley's help if he hopes to cure it.”

  Maddox certainly hadn't forgotten about Stephan's condition, dreading the task of asking over it as she turned her gaze to his face—and his grim expression didn't offer much hope.

  Inhaling a deep breath to brace for his answer, she asked, “If Ithrim kills vampires, then … what about humans?”

  Looking down, the votary answered clearly, but with a great amount of regret in his voice, “It works more slowly on humans, and I'm taking a serum once a month to slow its progress. But I don't have much time left.”

  The information made her feel as if she were going to suffocate—a strange sensation for a vampire—and her gaze remained locked on Stephan's as Eradin supplied, “He's right. After Wesley left, an epidemic of the illness swept over Ithria that nearly wiped out every mortal living there. But The Crucible managed to contain it, and I haven't heard a word of it since, not until tonight.”

  “Then where did you get it!” Maddox asked more forcefully than she'd intended. But Stephan was dying, and the mere thought made her heart murmur as if it were already slowing down.

  Laying a hand on her chest, she tried to contain her emotions long enough to focus while Stephan answered softly, “I don't know exactly. The vampires in the lair where I was kept ripped another human apart in front of me not long after I first arrived, and I was covered in his blood. But that lair was destroyed, so how he got it is anyone's guess. I don't even know what his name was.”

  “And how much time do you actually have?”

  “I was told the longest anyone survived on the serum was about five years. So you might actually say I'm overdue,” Stephan answered dolefully.

  Maddox held his gaze for several moments, trying to process the information, but the same words kept repeating—He's dying, not much time left.

  Each time they played, her anger and fear built, until she launched herself at Stephan and grabbed the collar of his jacket, demanding, “Why didn't you tell me, damn it!”

  Without hesitation, he retorted, “Because it wouldn't have helped anything. This is just something I've had to deal with, Maddox, and there was no reason to involve you with it.”

  Maddox wanted to yell at him, tell him she was already involved, but the words wouldn't come out. Despite her anger over his secrecy, the look on his face was tearing at her heart. It was crestfallen, even broken, and suddenly, everything became clear.

  Stephan knew his blood would kill her, and she couldn't even save him by turning him, not without killing herself because of this disease. So he'd hid his illness, probably to make her believe he just couldn't handle what she was instead of risking emotional attachments with the truth.

  It was an assumption he confirmed with his following statement, and the words broke her heart.

  “I'm sorry, Maddox. I wish things were different, I wanted them to be different. But I couldn't put you at risk, and if that meant making you hate me, it was worth it.”

  “Stephan,” she whispered on a broken breath, fighting to keep herself composed in front of their company—and it was the hardest damned thing she'd ever done. He just sounded so … tired, like he'd given up, and all she wanted him to do was fight.

  “Perhaps this is
a matter you'd like to discuss in private together,” Eradin suggested before she could say more. “I can open a portal back to … wherever you came from, and contact you with any information I manage to locate.”

  Nodding, Maddox finally broke her gaze from Stephan's and agreed. “Yes, thank you, Eradin. I'm staying in Linchester, New York. Just tell me what contact information you need, and we'll be in touch.”

  The elf didn't make them wait, taking down her information onto a piece of paper before doing exactly as promised. Not a minute later, Maddox and Stephan were back in Linchester, and she prepared herself for the discussion to come—or perhaps they'd argue.

  But either way, Stephan wasn't dead yet, and all they needed was to find a way into Sutrelle to get Wesley's help with a cure.

  So giving up wasn't an option.

  31

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “There's nothing to discuss, Maddox.”

  “The hell there isn't.”

  The front door of the mansion shut on her declaration as the pair walked inside. With everything out on the table now, Maddox was eager to discuss Stephan's condition, and he had to admit, a part of him was relieved she finally knew the truth.

  But the bigger part dreaded the coming conversation.

  In the living room, he tore off his tie and tossed it onto the couch, then removed his jacket, asking, “What, exactly, do you wanna say about it?”

  He looked back as the vampire entered the room behind him, and was once again awestruck by her beauty despite her scowl as she pointed out, “You're acting as if it's already over, but all we have to do is find a way into Sutrelle.”

  “Yeah, if we can,” he argued, “and I can't base my reality on if's. I'm dying, Maddox, that's my reality.”

  “Your reality is that you're still alive!” she shot back, her scowl turning into a frown as she added more softly, “and mine is that I can't let you give up.”

  Stephan groaned, trying to keep himself as composed as possible. Maddox was angry, probably felt betrayed, and if he was going to make her see reason, he had to show her he was at peace with his fate—despite the fact that he was as far fucking removed from being at peace as anyone could be.