After Darkness Falls: After Darkness Falls Book One

by Sage, May

  Levi was silent. Chloe turned to him, and saw his gaze fixated on her hand.

  Oh. Blood.

  How easy it was to forget.

  "Levi? Are you…" Going to eat me whole? "All right?"

  He paused.

  "Yes. I'm in control."

  He didn't look in control. His eyes were fire, his jaw set. Chloe found herself missing the smirk that had irritated her so much in the past.

  He was a predator after one thing, and like an idiot, she'd let herself forget that.

  Levi took one step toward her, and then another. A third. He was right in front of her, close enough to touch. His nostrils flared.

  Levi lowered his hand to hers and took it in his palm. Then he brought it to his lips like a gentleman from an Austen novel. But instead of kissing her hand, he licked it, his tongue darting out once, his eyes remaining on hers.

  "Lesson one. Your blood is your most powerful weapon. Use it well."

  And on that note, he walked away, heading to a door left of the staircase.

  Chloe learned to breathe again.

  "Right. Can we elaborate on that lesson? It doesn't make much sense to those of us who aren't blood-sucking monsters."

  "Get your ass over here, Miller."

  The door led to a vast and mostly empty space with mats on the floor and training equipment scattered on the walls. The average Olympic gym had fewer toys.

  Two vampires were sparring at one end of the room. Chloe watched with rapture as they moved fast and gracefully. She recognized them from the tower; the assistant and the woman had been rather amused by her outrage over being offered a coat.

  Soon, the woman had the dark-skinned man on his back, and they stopped.

  Chloe could have clapped. But the next moment, they were both gone.

  “What the hell! Where did they go?”

  At her side, Levi replied, “They’re on patrol duty about now. This was just a quick training break.”

  Damn.

  "You guys do take the whole training thing seriously."

  "Yes. For one, our kind get relentless and it helps to focus our energy. But mostly because we have to fight for our lives every other century. Whoever wins is often whoever had the most training."

  Which disqualified her.

  "So how do I win?"

  "You don't," he replied, point-blank.

  "You give the best pep talk."

  "Your goal isn't victory—not right now, not at your level. It's survival. You have friends. You have a guard. You have divine mojo in your bloodstream for the next few months."

  She wondered how he knew about that. Chloe hadn’t even told Mikar, feeling like it was huntsmen business she shouldn’t share unless necessary. She was going to ask, but Levi continued, "The likelihood of any enemy having you to themselves for more than five minutes is practically nonexistent. The primary goal of your training is to teach you how to last five minutes against anyone."

  She hated to admit it, but he made a lot of sense.

  "All right. What does my blood have to do with that?"

  "Most sups will smell it miles away. That makes it a liability, and also a weapon. You openly bleed anywhere within a mile, Mikar will follow the trail. But you may also use it against your opponent. They'll be focusing on trying to get to the blood—it may not even occur to them right away that they could simply rip out your throat. If your hand bleeds, they'll want your hand."

  "So I can distract them," she said, catching on.

  Levi inclined his head. "Precisely."

  She nodded. "All right. Then what?"

  "Then, you try to punch me."

  She wasn't going to lie—at first, the prospect held some appeal, but she soon realized it had been a trap.

  She drew her fist to the left, aiming for his shoulder, but he blocked, grabbed her wrist, and twisted it behind her back.

  "Not bad. You need to be faster, and aim for the face—unless it's a feral, you want to stay as far as possible from the teeth. We'll get to that. Arms higher, use the other one to protect your face."

  He let go of her wrist and took a step back.

  "Again."

  Two hours later, she really wanted to punch him. She was sweating, panting, and the man didn't even have the decency to look winded.

  "Again!"

  "If my arms fall off, it's your fault."

  And her legs. And her lungs. Did she even have lungs?

  She practiced the move he'd just shown her, a lower version of a skip-axe-kick, for the twelfth time, and the asshole casually stepped aside, effortlessly avoiding her.

  Chloe dropped to the floor.

  "Just give me five, okay?"

  She was begging, and she wasn't even sorry. To her surprise, instead of admonishing her, Levi walked toward a fridge tucked in a corner of the room. He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to her.

  "Thank you."

  "You're doing well, you know. Better than expected."

  She rolled her eyes. "For a puny human?"

  Levi shrugged. "For anyone. The art of violence is never easy, and particularly not at the start."

  The art of violence. That certainly fit the way he moved.

  "Would I have a chance, then?"

  "Right now, no." At least he was no liar. "But give it time. All it takes is keeping your enemy out of range for one move, and then the next, and the one after that."

  That sounded too simple.

  "What were you saying earlier about the ferals? Those are the crazed-types we saw in London, right?"

  A nod. "They're a different entity altogether. At this point, it's hard to even think of them as vampires."

  Chloe frowned. "Mikar said they were sick vampires."

  "In a way, yes, but there's no known cure. The ferals cannot stop themselves from gorging on blood. They bite and drain anything—vampire, human, shifter, demon, god, you name it. In most cases, they just kill their victims. But when they bite vampires, it's worse. They infect us."

  Chloe grimaced. "So you could go all fangy?"

  He snorted. "They'd have to get to me first." The lightheartedness disappeared fast. "They're too mindless to pose much of a threat to someone like me. And too slow. But their greatest strength is that they travel in packs. If you see one, there'll likely be a hundred on its heels. Against a vampire, you stand your ground and buy yourself time. Against a feral, don't hesitate. Run. Climb out of the way if you can. Hide. Use whatever artifice might fool a simple dog relying on its instincts."

  She took in everything he shared, letting herself understand the implications. In the end, she only said one thing.

  "Vampires are a lot faster than me."

  He shrugged. “Your adrenaline will kick in. And muscle memory will help. More than you know. It's a wondrous thing. One day, you’ll wake up and know all these moves. You’ll know how to block, fight, lunge faster. You’ll be able to anticipate your adversary's next move with just one hint."

  Chloe wrinkled her nose. "I can't imagine getting to that point."

  Especially against him. Levi grinned, extending his hand to help her up.

  "Again."

  A Blood Stone

  Her schedule got considerably more challenging; in addition to her usual classes, she took an hour of endurance with Professor Beaufort each morning, and learned to climb with Jack, who was a slave driver. Despite the wind, he insisted on practicing out of doors. The Institute training room had a perfectly good climbing wall, but it apparently wasn't good enough for Sir Sadist of Sade, who preferred to make her scrape her hands on the steep, calcareous walls of a hillside in the Wolvswoods.

  On Thursday, she was told to head to the main gym.

  The woman waiting for her was dark, sensual, beautiful, and mysterious. Her brown hair had red streaks in the sunlight, and while most of her features pointed to an Indian heritage, she had a dusting of freckles on her nose and green eyes that sparked with gold near the center.

  Chloe didn't think she'd ev
er seen a more beautiful woman in her life.

  "I'm Greer."

  An unusual name Chloe had only heard once here. "As in Greer Vespian?"

  "That's it."

  She whistled, impressed.

  She didn't know what she'd expected, exactly—someone a little more like Blair and Gwen, feminine, bubbly—but at a glance, Chloe would have pegged Greer as a huntsman. She had the look of a well-trained fighter and the analytical eyes of someone who knew how to put an adversary on their ass thirteen different ways.

  "I've had some of your potions. You rock."

  It was hard to tell under her ochre skin, but Chloe would have sworn the witch blushed.

  "Thanks. I try. All right, so, I heard you've just taken up training."

  Chloe winced. "Last weekend."

  From her grimace, Greer seemed to understand her plight.

  "Well, take it from someone who's been through this—sparring, running, obstacles; they'll make you strong. But without the basics, your body is just a list of limbs you don't really understand."

  Chloe was ready for more torture. She was determined to never again feel as hopeless as she had in London, and if this was what it took, then she would go the distance.

  "Right. What are we doing?"

  Half an hour later, Chloe moaned in relief. Greer had made her lie on her back on a yoga mat and move her knees down to the floor on her right side while her head was turned the other way. Every single bone and muscle in her body thanked her for it. She was shown a few different twists and stretches to reconnect with her tense limbs, and when they were done training, Greer also handed her a bottle of gold liquid.

  "That's to soothe your muscles. External use; just rub it after your bath every night like a moisturizer."

  "What's in it?" Chloe asked, pocketing it.

  Greer shrugged. "You know, essential oils, eucalyptus. Mostly magic, though. A mushroom that only grows at the very tip of a stiff cliff, flowers that must be picked on a blue moon, the raw heart of a…"

  Chloe held her hands up in surrender. She didn’t need to know whose heart she was ingesting. "Got it. No questions asked. If it helps, I'll use it."

  The witch laughed. "Wise. Keep practicing, and I'll see you next week, same time?"

  No way Chloe would miss that.

  By the end of a long week, she was glaring every time her eyes fell on Night Hill, seeing it as the source of all her troubles. She was certain that if Levi had let Mikar, or basically anyone else, train her, every part of her flesh wouldn't feel like it had been beaten repetitively.

  Except maybe Jack. She could be wrong, but she suspected that Jack's training plans might make Levi's seem like child's play.

  To be fair, in just a week, she'd made considerable progress. She practiced the "block punch, grab, and twist arm" move Levi had used on her every day, moving against an invisible attacker, her hands only grabbing air—but she got faster and faster.

  By Sunday, walking up to Night Hill, she was looking forward to showing her progress, although she wouldn't admit that to Levi.

  He told her he'd pick her up at six at the bottom of the hill, so she arrived at five-thirty, determined to speak to Bill again.

  She knew something was wrong almost right away. Bill's cabin was dark and empty, its door wide open. Behind it and to the left, the gate heading up to Night Hill was open.

  No, not open. Smashed. Destroyed.

  Hearing and feeling movement behind her, she spun on her heels and breathed out in relief when Mikar appeared.

  He lifted his arm, pointing east.

  "On the hill. Now."

  Not Night Hill. Coscnoc.

  She opened her mouth. "No questions,” he said. “You run, you hear me? Don't look behind you, run—through the woods, not on the trail. Don't trust any of your friends. One of them is behind this."

  The next moment, he was running up Night Hill, leaving her side for the first time in three months.

  Chloe stared at his back for a heartbeat. She'd never seen him so spooked, not even in London. What was he afraid of?

  Don't trust any of your friends. One of them is behind this.

  Behind what exactly? Breaking Night Hill's barrier? She didn't understand a thing.

  But she did know one thing: Mikar had protected her since she'd entered Oldcrest. He had been a deterrent, at least, and maybe even a shield. And now, he was gone.

  So, turning to face east, she ran.

  At least she was good at running. The huntsmen hadn't dubbed her Cheetah for nothing.

  Night Hill and Coscnoc were perhaps a mile apart, separated by a muddy ravine. Any other day, she would have headed south, toward the Institute, and then north to Coscnoc, but the three-mile delay wasn't an option right now. She trekked through the mud, forcing herself to keep her gaze forward. Once she'd reached the base of the east hill, she glanced at her legs and grimaced.

  "Sorry, pretty boots. I promise I'll clean and polish you."

  If she survived whatever was happening.

  Obeying Mikar's directions, Chloe remained away from the paths leading up to the summit, although running through the woods wasn't easy. When her lungs protested, she took a short break, using the opportunity to remove the mud at the sole of her boots on a tree trunk.

  Then she leaned against it, closing her eyes.

  What was going on?

  Her eyes flew open. Someone was here. Again, surprise gave way to relief.

  Levi.

  "Oh my god, Levi. I don't know what's going on. Mikar…he told me to come here and then left. What's happening?"

  Levi made no reply.

  Something was wrong. He looked wrong.

  No smirk, no smile. His eyes were hollow, void of emotion.

  "Levi?"

  Finally, he spoke.

  "I didn't want it to be this way. Believe me."

  What was he…

  He advanced at the speed of light, making it clear that until now, he had truly slowed himself down so she could see him, relax around him.

  Don't trust any of your friends.

  They weren't friends. Not truly. And Mikar wouldn't have warned her against Levi, his own master.

  Chloe took one step back.

  Too late. His hand was around her neck, keeping her in place. She didn't need to remember his lesson to know that she was screwed.

  Yet she struggled, trying to break free. Of course she did; the dumbest animal would have done the same in her shoes. Levi's grasp tightened.

  "Listen to me, Chloe. You're going to need this." He held up a chain with a strange metal pendant hanging from it, a dark stone at its center.

  No, not a stone. A tiny flask filled with liquid.

  Blood. It looked strange—wrong—but she knew, she just knew it was blood. Its faint scent. Coppery, heady.

  "Do you understand me, Chloe?"

  She shook her head as much as she could manage with his iron fist keeping her in place. She didn't understand a thing.

  From the beginning, every single one of her instincts had been confused around him. Run away, run into his arms. Kiss him, plunge a knife into his chest. He'd infuriated her just by existing.

  Still, her brain couldn't process everything. He was hurting her, and talking about a damn necklace.

  There was a noise to her left. He let her turn her head.

  She froze.

  London had been nothing—nothing—compared to this.

  She saw them running up the hill toward them. Hundreds of ferals, darkening the woods with their shadows.

  But their greatest strength is that they travel in packs. If you see one, there'll likely be a hundred on its heels.

  The next instant, the earth, sky, and wind were engulfing her. She felt sick to her stomach and taken by a tornado. Then the motion stopped as fast as it had started, and she found herself on solid ground.

  Chloe blinked. They'd moved so very fast. They were hundreds of feet up, still on Coscnoc.

  "There's no esc
aping the hill now," he said, hand still on her throat, another one around her waist.

  His grip was the only thing keeping her upright.

  "We're surrounded. And lower down the hill, the masters who unleashed the ferals on us are waiting for us. If I tried to get you out of here, I'd fail. They'd fight, and the moment you're out of my reach, they would destroy you. Rip out your heart. Behead you. Nod if you heard me."

  So many words, all meaning one thing.

  She was going to be killed. Someone would manage to get to her. There was no hope of getting out of this.

  She sniffed. "Why? Why do they—"

  Her voice broke. Did it matter why?

  “We don’t have time, Chloe. Not now. Remember everything I’ve said. Focus on it. Can you do that?”

  It didn’t sound like he was trying to hurt her after all. She swallowed with difficulty and nodded.

  “Good girl. I’ll see you on the other side.”

  She wanted to ask what he meant.

  But he’d snapped her neck, and she was already dead.

  Control

  Three months ago

  * * *

  “You’ve tamed a magnificent beast, Leviathan,” the goddess had said, so long ago. “And a clever one. Do as you please but heed my warning. If the creature inside you stirs, you would do well to listen to it.”

  Levi had been a wild thing in his youth. Passionate about right and wrong, ready to right wrongs and fight for those who couldn't stand up for themselves.

  Then, he'd grown up. Realized that fangs, claws, and the monsters of the deep sea couldn't solve a thing. And he'd used his skills another way. His mind was superior to most immortals, and he bent it toward finding cures to the most devastating illnesses, inventing devices that saved lives. He was a scientist, and proud of it.

  Fifteen hundred years had passed since Ariadne had said those words to him, and not once had he needed to listen to her advice.

  Until that night.

  The beast was rushing to the surface, desperate to be freed.

  Levi let it run. All night and most of the morning, as fast as he could, without rest. Run, run, run. He didn’t understand it; he just knew he had to get there.

  His steps took him to a familiar gray city awakening in the rain.