by Sage, May
London.
His clothes were torn and his shoes had holes. Levi headed to the home he kept in Kensington to change as fast as possible, and he followed the call pulling him forward, like a passenger along for the drive.
That’s when he saw her for the first time, and he knew right then.
She would have died if he hadn’t made it.
He knew her name. He’d seen a picture of her before, attached to a file. A prospective student at the Institute.
Chloe.
When she’d just been a name and a picture, he hadn’t understood. Now that she was in front of him, now that he smelled and felt her, he got it.
She was one of them. A fledgling well in transition.
And something more.
Someone had gone to great lengths to get to her without dirtying their hands. Why? It made no sense. Born vampires were rare but relatively inconsequential. Their kind saw them as something precious, because only one or so was born per century, but they had little power until they gained experience and skills after turning.
Why was a noble trying to destroy her?
It didn’t matter. Levi just knew that she was his.
His responsibility.
His…
Shit.
Part of him wanted to walk up to her and slit her throat now. Get it over with. To complete the transition, they had to let their mortal selves perish. A traumatic experience for anyone, even those who’d been prepared their entire life. But one look in her big blue eyes and he knew she was ignorant, innocent, in need of care and time.
He’d give her both. As long as he could.
Now, she was in his arms, lifeless, pale, and cold. Levi wished he’d explained things, told her on that very first day that it was always going to come to this. She would have to die.
She’d been too cheerful and insouciant, and he, cowardly. She wouldn’t forgive him for making this so brutal.
Chloe stirred, exhaling deeply, swallowing as much air as her lungs could carry.
Her hands were trembling, her eyes filled with tears. But she moved fast. Faster than him.
He wasn't surprised when she managed to flip him over and squeeze his throat.
From the start, the creature inside her had revolted against him, against his authority, because she was more dominant than him. Stronger than him.
It hadn't quite made sense. He’d had theories, but the truth only became certain when he'd received an unexpected visit.
Two months ago
* * *
A slayer was at his door, escorting a creature who shouldn't have existed.
Dark hair. Eyes so blue they lit up the room more than his lamp.
"My name is Tom Miller," he'd said. "I'm Chloe's older brother."
That much was obvious, but he was also something else.
A born vampire, fully turned only recently. And with an aura as powerful as Levi's.
"Miller," Levi repeated with a snort. "I find that unlikely."
The guy had inclined his head. "Well, that's the name I was born with. But, all right. If you prefer, I'm Thomas Eirikrson."
His wildest suspicion, perhaps his greatest fear.
There was a new Eirikrson. Two of them, actually.
And it was his fault.
Levi had spared their ancestor during the purge, so many eons ago, pulling a little boy out of the way. And through him, their line had endured.
What now?
The Eirikrsons were monsters. Always had been to the core. They'd taken to lording over the rest of their race, assassinating those who stepped out of line, but that was just an excuse to satisfy their bloodthirst. Levi hadn't partaken in the purge, but he hadn't disapproved either.
The obvious answer was to kill the boy, and the girl too.
But he couldn't.
Because for better or worse, Chloe Eirikrson was his mate, and he couldn't bring himself to destroy her. He wasn’t suicidal. Killing his own mate would be just that: damning himself.
"I'm surprised I haven't heard that the House of Eirikr has risen again."
"Are you?" Tom had asked. "Surprised."
Not really.
Tom had obviously stayed in the shadows to protect his sister while she was mortal.
"Why do you come to me now?"
"Because you're smart," his slayer companion said. "Smart enough to at least suspect what she was—and yet, you haven't attempted to hurt her. And because, if I'm not mistaken, you're the one who saved their house in the first place."
He'd never liked Viola much. Now he knew why. She was too clever by half.
"What do you want of me?"
The boy extended his hand. He was holding a necklace.
"My blood. She'll need it to change. We had the pendant spelled; it'll last a year or so."
"Why not give it to her, then?" Levi asked.
He expected the answer. "She doesn't know a thing. I didn't either, until a few years ago. And we're trying to keep it that way, because everyone could be a spy, an enemy. I'll try to be around when she needs it, but Viola and I aren't always in the country. In case something happens to me, at least there's a safeguard."
"Do you expect something to happen to you?" Levi had questioned, relatively indifferent one way or another.
Viola was the one who answered.
"I'm sure you've noticed the movements around the other families, Leviathan. The Stormhales have gone quiet. The Beauforts have all returned to France, except for that stubborn teacher in your school. They're all plotting, and it started after the results of Tom's blood tests hit the web. They know there are Eirikrsons left. And they know that if they actually manage to annihilate the line for good this time, Skyhall, its treasures, and its power will be fair game. Can you imagine? Since the Eirikrsons, there's been no real leader for our kind. But if they can absorb the essence of that line's power…"
He could imagine, and damn her, but Viola was right.
That sort of power shouldn't be in anyone's hand.
The problem was that right now, it was at the tip of Tom's finger.
"You're the head of the Eirikrsons," Levi told the boy. "You could make us kneel and dance to your tune, like a child playing with chess pieces."
The boy laughed.
"If you think I'm in charge, you clearly don't know my sister."
Levi had doubted Tom at the time. Chloe was too nice. Too charming. Everyone loved her. She definitely hadn't seemed like his idea of a sovereign.
Then he'd understood.
The creature inside him was a straightforward beast, always up for bloodsport, attacking head-on.
Hers was a spider, weaving webs around people's hearts and playing them to her tune, consciously or not.
Right now, Levi could feel them. Dozens of huntsmen, Mikar, Cat, Bill, half a dozen witches, all fighting their way through legions of ferals to get to her.
He'd feared that her family would try to rule vampirekind by fear. What she was doing was a thousand times worse.
She would rule all, with nothing but a pretty smile.
The evening sky darkened under a cloud of ravens flying atop the hill, gathering around their master.
She remained still, grasping his throat.
"Why am I alive?" she finally said, her throat dry, obviously sore.
"Because you're a born vampire. Your blood. Drink it now. Without it, you…"
He didn't finish the sentence, eyes widening in horror.
She'd pulled the necklace up to eye level. And at the center, the stone was broken.
One Course
Levi froze beneath her, horror echoing in his every feature, eyes widened in shock, mouth hanging. It was bad. She could tell it was bad, even in her fuzzy, hazy mind. Levi had never once looked like this. In a fraction of a second, her mind ran through every time she'd seen him. Nope. No horror anywhere.
Her eyes returned to the broken stone. Red blood. A faint scent that wasn't any less familiar. She would have recognized i
t anywhere.
This was the scent of Sunday pancakes and bad jokes. Home.
"Tom."
She didn't think she'd said the name in years. Not since then. After her father's arrest, the world had opened up under her feet, and she'd turned every which way in an attempt to find her anchor, but he'd been gone. He'd abandoned her.
All the hurt she'd long buried rushed to the surface, fueling a rising rage she didn't know where to direct. There was a man on his back beneath her knees. Him. She could destroy him. She'd feel better after, right?
No. Not him.
The thing inside her had had a presence, thoughts that never quite matched her own, until this day. Now, they were in agreement, and it had a voice. Her voice, whispering words of darkness at the back of her mind.
"Chloe, focus,” Levi said. “You've unlocked a hundred percent of your brain functions, and it can be confusing, but you just need to concentrate on what's important. The ferals. Getting out of here. You understand?”
Ferals. Yes, that rang a bell.
She could definitely destroy them. She grinned.
"Chloe…"
She was already on her feet, running downhill. They were close. Now that her attention was on them, she could hear them, feel them.
A piercing cry resounded, and her eyes turned skyward. Ravens. All of the ravens in the message box, and more. They were following her.
She liked it. She liked them. She wanted to be with them.
Her heart became lighter, and she almost felt herself float, when a hand grabbed hold of her wrist and pushed her hard against a tree.
"Listen to me, child," Levi roared.
Chloe bared her teeth. "I'm no child."
"Then stop acting like one. Carry on and you will die. For good. Not even because of the ferals, not because of the gentry waiting for you at the bottom of this hill. Because without the blood of your clan, you're nothing but a corpse on borrowed time."
It was hard, so very hard, to truly take in anything—there was so much to look at and listen to. Her memories. The sound of the wildlife running in every direction, fleeing from the monsters. The ferals. A fight. The moon rising in the distance. After darkness fell, the world had been shadows to her until now. Now she saw through the fog, and it was beautiful.
She didn't want it to end. Not now. The thing inside her didn't either. It forced her to pay attention. Not just to Levi's words—to herself.
Her limbs had felt like they could soar, like she was stronger than anything—anyone.
Now she noticed the decline. The fatigue. How very dry her throat was, like sanding paper. Her hands, so strong a minute ago, were trembling.
"What's happening to me?"
"You're mid-transition, and you need Tom's blood. You have a night, at most, if you save your energy. Your stunt trying to sync with your raven familiars already cost you."
Shit.
She had no clue what he meant about syncing, but she certainly felt drained. Enfeebled, unexplainably.
"Next time, how about you warn a girl?" she retorted, without much heat, mainly because she didn't have the energy to summon up the requisite amount of ire.
"How about we concentrate on keeping you alive? You can tell me everything I did wrong if you're breathing by dawn."
Dawn seemed so far when night had only just claimed dominion over the hill.
Their heads snapped downhill as shadows approached.
The ferals.
Levi let go of her and turned to face them.
"You remember what I said last week?"
Yes. No. Maybe.
Thankfully, he spelled it out for her. "Run."
Oh. That.
She hesitated.
"What about you?"
He glanced over his shoulder. "Don't insult me. I'll wipe the floor with that lot without breaking a sweat."
She knew he could take care of himself, but she could only concentrate on what he'd once said, how one feral bite was enough to turn any vampire into a mindless creature. What if they took him by surprise? Someone had to watch his back.
She stood her ground as the first line closed in on Levi.
Until now, she'd always seen a blur of unclear movements—one moment Levi was standing to her right, then to her left, and she couldn't detect the transition. Now, she saw everything, each of his graceful, precise moves. A leap to the first feral, his knee colliding with the side of its jaw, then using his neck to pivot mid-air, his boot kicking down three of them in one blow. The man was a machine.
A machine fighting one against a hundred.
She rushed forward just as someone leaped in the air, landing right in front of her on a crouch. Jack was still wearing a damn suit, not one hair out of place.
He watched her, his jaw tight.
Right. Her friend disliked vampires. She'd forgotten.
Chloe wondered how obvious her change had been. Did she have fangs? Was there something different in her eyes? Did he hate her now?
Jack pulled knives from inside his jacket and threw them close to Levi. The vampire didn't even flinch as they lodged inside the skulls of ferals either side of him.
"Let's see if you can live up to your name, Cheetah. Get out of here."
Maybe he didn't hate her after all. She grinned before saluting and turning her heels away from the fight.
Leaving them was harder than anything she'd ever done, but they were both seasoned fighters, and she knew she'd only be in the way if she stayed. A liability. They might get hurt trying to help her, too.
So, she ran—at first, anyway. It soon became much harder than she'd anticipated. Chloe wasn't much of a cheetah right now—her sides hurt, and she was out of breath and sweating like a pig.
"I smelled something this way."
She froze. She'd never heard that voice. Chloe hadn't asked, but she doubted ferals talked; not in an enunciated way, in any case.
There was a very high probability that some of the gentries were after her. Old, well-trained vampires. At the best of times, she wouldn't have had much of a chance. Right now, feeling so diminished? There was zero hope. Levi had told her to buy herself time until help came, but right now, he, and all her friends, had their hands full.
She needed to hide. But where? They could smell her, hear her. She looked around, panicked.
Then her eyes fell north. She couldn't see it from here, but she knew the way. The path.
In a cave, protected by so many spells your head will spin just going anywhere near it.
He was insane.
Monster.
So many words. So many warnings. All cautioning her to go nowhere near the cave on the hill.
But did she have a choice?
A Voice in the Darkness
By the time she'd reached the crossroads, Chloe moved like a puppet with broken strings. She needed to stop. She needed air. Rest. Sleep. But she put one foot after the other, again and again. Past the black tape, through the sinuous, uneven path.
It was a miracle no one had caught her yet. The moment they did, she was gone.
She glanced behind her.
Was it a miracle? She could feel something in the air. A thin, immaterial veil between her and the rest of the world. Magic.
It was faint, but she could sense magic around her.
She remembered. The things in her blood. Nanocytes, Jake's father had said. They were masking her presence, somehow. Hiding her smell, maybe even her noise. They wouldn't help if someone stumbled upon her, but at least no one could hunt her down using their senses.
She needed to send the huntsman a thank-you card. After dawn. If there was a dawn.
The trail continued forever. As she walked further, the foliage became denser, taking over the long-untrodden path.
Was she far enough from the main path? Mikar had said there were spells keeping intruders out, but she hadn't felt anything yet. Would the talks and legends be enough to prevent those hunting her from following her here?
Chloe
stilled her resolve. She doubted the ferals remembered the tales, if they'd ever known them. To escape them, she had to find the wards and pass them.
She kept walking, groaning, panting.
Too many had fought—were still fighting—so that she may live. She wouldn't insult them by giving up just because it was hard.
One more step. And another one. A third…
She felt it when she hit the barrier. Ahead of her was an old staircase carved into the stone so long ago it almost looked like a natural slide. It wasn't. Around the staircase was an open doorway leading down into the darkness. Inscriptions that Chloe couldn’t read were written all around them. But between the door and her was an immaterial, shimmery wall that made everything seem darker on the other side.
She'd learned enough of magic to be wary. This could mean death. The person who dared pass might disintegrate on contact, or worse.
She looked behind her to the empty path. Her ears, so much more efficient now, could still heard the vampires on the main path. Arguing. They didn't want to follow her, knowing what awaited.
"Can you imagine going to the queen and telling her we didn't follow that trail because we were scared of a monster long turned to stone—if he ever existed? We have to go."
"After you, then."
"I know. Let's call the beasts. If the ferals make it…"
She looked back at the wall.
"Whatever luck I've had until now, please, please don't let me down."
She'd never said anything that resembled a prayer as much as this.
Chloe stepped forward.
Nothing. The barrier did…nothing.
She'd gone beyond.
Chloe would have laughed, if she had the energy. And if she hadn't realized something else: the wall hadn't been erected to prevent things from going in.
She walked forward, calling down the stairs.
"Hello?"
No answer, just the whisper of the wind.
She sighed in relief.
Well, she couldn't very well stay here, in any case; anyone walking the path would see her.
She started to walk down the steps, careful not to trip on the slippery rock.