Bile rushed into my mouth, I swallowed it down before I choked on it. My Sigillum is part of me. I’ve had it since I was born. A gift from my mother and father, a mark to say I belong to them. I am theirs to protect, to love. As I watched, it faded before my eyes. The colours becoming washed out and indistinct.
It burned. Magic pulsing through it. Beating in time to my frantic heart. With each beat more colour drained out of it. With each drop of my heart into my stomach it faded away until I knew it would eventually be no more.
“No,” I whispered. How was this possible? My Sigillum never dimmed, never quietened. Never disappeared from my arm.
But as I strained to see more of what was happening, the colours faded to black and white.
Above my body hovered a ball of twisted ribbons in the brightest colours my Sigillum had ever displayed. The most predominate was crimson. The colour of blood. The colour of Sanguis Vitam. The colour of my fury.
I let out a rage-filled roar into the cave, struggling to free myself, although my body didn’t shift an inch on its cold plinth of stone. I screamed my anger to the mountain of rock above me. I hurled my wrath at an invisible enemy. I vowed vengeance.
No one answered.
I eventually ran out of energy, unable to do little more than whisper. My empty threats and dire promises barely more than a murmur on parched lips. I wasn’t sure if it was the loss of my Sigillum, the power it represents, or the fact I’d been screaming for hours that had weakened me. But finally I fell into a kind of stupor, a stasis similar to a vampire healing trance.
No one came.
I woke to the tugging sensation again. The pull that sent tendrils of ice cold fear into the pit of my stomach. I blinked open swollen eyes, realising I’d been crying in my slumber. I sucked in air, my nose blocked, my throat aching, my chest a hollow cavity of loss.
And remembered where I was.
My head came up, my eyes widened, and dancing above my arm were the colours of a rainbow. My Sigillum swirled, bright again, and changing. Gold threaded through the blue, my relief and confusion bringing back to me what was happening.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I growled, struggling futilely to release myself from whatever held me. The colours bled. My shouts were ignored. I reached for my Light and felt only agony.
Scarlet blocked out all other colours for a suspended moment. In my Sigillum and over my vision.
Agony.
And then the blackness of nothing.
The third time I awoke, I just lay there. Silent. Panting. Nauseated. The tug on my soul continued. I closed my eyes, feeling lost and alone. Feeling desperate and as though I was dying.
The small amount of sunlight faded, the shadows grew deeper within the cave. Darkness encroached. Around me. Inside me. The colours of my Sigillum faded.
I could barely breathe. The ceiling felt weighted, pressed against my chest, covering my mouth and nose, making it impossible to draw enough breath. Sweat coated my skin, the chill of night invading my bones. Or that could have been the loss of power.
Vampires are only as strong as their Sanguis Vitam. Nosferatin as strong as their Light. Luc and I relied on our Light and our Sigillums. But it wasn’t until right at that moment that I realised how closely our power was associated with the tattoo-like design that graced our arms.
“Luc,” I mumbled, my words thick, my throat beyond dry now. I wondered where Hakan had placed him. I wondered if this was what the vampire was doing to my brother right now.
Like me, Luc wouldn’t be able to reach his Sigillum. To touch two fingers to the centre of his mark and call. Did Papa even know I was gone? Was Alain trying to reach me?
Where was I?
Something nagged at the corner of my mind, but the draw on my soul prevented reason. I was a black hole of nothing. A dense mass of infinite emptiness. My Sigillum danced in the dark until there was nothing.
And still no one came.
I dreamed. There was light and laughter. Sunbeams and a paddock. The gentle rustle of wind through grass. The trickle of water. I felt at peace. Sunshine yellow edged my vision. I reached for it and heard my father.
“We are coming. Stay strong, ma chérie. We are coming.”
Papa hadn’t called me that since I was a young child. The dream faded, just like my Sigillum was fading, but I simply smiled.
A soft brush of fingers against my collarbone woke me. The cavern was limned in pale light. Shadows danced. Colours twirled. Ribbons twisted.
I drew a breath for what felt like the very first time.
“Hayatim, wake up.”
I rolled over and made a disgruntled sound of annoyance.
“Wake up.” More persistent. Aggravating.
No, I mumbled, or maybe that was just a thought.
Warmth encased my shoulder, ran down my spine. It felt like the heated palm of a lover. I made a noise, a low purring sound of contentment. Snuggling farther into my pillow, under the covers. I hoped it was raining. Staying in bed on a rainy day and making love was just what the doctor ordered.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” a velvety voice said over my shoulder. “But right now, you need to wake up.”
My eyes opened. For the first time in what felt days I didn’t feel trapped, or tugged at, or that my soul was being pulled out from deep down inside. I sat bolt upright, reaching for my Sigillum, and staring at the pale hue of honey. Hope. It quickly became a paler version of lime. Worry.
I rubbed at it and then lifted my head to look at my surroundings.
Hakan Bahar stood off to the side and for a moment all I could think was that he’d done this. He’d trapped me on a stone altar, placed me in a barren cave, and left me alone as some Mhachkay magic drained me dry.
“You did this!” I hissed, disbelief, rage, confusion, heartache rampaging inside. My Sigillum remained pitifully colourless. I struggled to think clearly. Fury blinded me, but the thought of Luc brought me back to earth. “Where is my brother?” Dear Goddess, don’t let it be too late for him.
It had almost been too late for myself.
“Where do you think you are?” Hakan asked reasonably.
I wanted to hurl a stake at his ice-blue and silver eyes. My hands found only bare skin at my sides.
I glanced down and realised I was naked. Completely and utterly nude, standing before a vampire who had made his intentions very clear and had just attempted to steal my soul.
He was not having my body as well.
I hurled myself at him. Covering the distance in one single move. My fingers clenched as claws, my teeth bared, my heart damn near bursting out of my chest and a scream of pure rage resounding throughout the room.
He caught me as my legs crumbled. One hand around my waist, the other cupping my head and pressing it into his shoulder.
“Where do you think you are?” he whispered, his lips in amongst my hair, his hot breath and hotter body sending uninvited tendrils of anticipation right through me. I realised the ribbons were back, twirling, twisting, dancing.
I glanced down at my arm, the colours still so dim I could barely see the outline of my parents’ mark, and struggled - albeit futilely - to extricate myself from the vampire’s grasp.
I knew it was futile, he was holding me upright. My legs were as good as useless. As unwieldily as my Light.
“Hayatim,” he said. “Where do you think you are?”
The cave closed in around me, but not before I smelled the scent of roses and sunshine. Not before I felt the heady weight of the air. Not before I remembered what had happened.
Travis. The trap. Ljósálfar.
“Oh Goddess,” I murmured. “Álfheimr.” Faerie. A million miles away from Auckland. A different world. With different rules. And different dangers.
“Can you walk?” Hakan asked.
“I..I don’t know.” He pushed me upright, his eyes flashing silver and blue as he looked down the length of my body. His hands gripped my shoulders tightly, his nostrils flared, his chest puffed out, stretch
ing the fine fabric of his shirt. I stared down at his shoes.
“Did you think to bring any clothes?” I asked. A thumb sweeping over my collarbone was all the answer I received.
My knees buckled. For no other reason than my fucking legs wouldn’t work. Hakan let a slow breath of air out and carried me back to the stone altar, making me struggle ridiculously for a few seconds, before realising it was either that or the stone floor. He propped me against the plinth, the shocking cold from the stone seeping into my frame and making my teeth rattle. I wondered why I hadn’t felt it before, and then I wondered why I was up and about, no longer trapped in a nightmare.
I may have thought that last a little too soon.
Hakan began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing unblemished dusky skin, stretched smoothly over hard muscles and a flat stomach. A smattering of hair laid a narrow trail down his abdomen, then slipped out of sight. A taunt. I stared at it for way too long.
He handed me his shirt without a single word. I had the feeling he might have been having trouble thinking in full sentences. I clutched it to my chest, oddly feeling the residue warmth of his body, smelling the enticing scent of his cologne and signature scent. I refused to identify it. My hands shook as I did up each button, but thankfully Hakan didn’t move to help.
I was flustered enough as it was. Lack of food and water, loss of power and Goddess knows what. No other reason but that.
Yeah.
“What now?” I said, my voice scratchy. I cleared my throat.
“The wards are too strong in the cavern, we have to leave before I can take you back.”
“How did you get here?”
He frowned down at me, but I realised it wasn’t the question that had made him scowl when he slipped an arm around my back and hauled me into his side. My hand automatically came to rest on his chest, right above his heart, and he stilled. Rock solid. As hard as the stone that made up the cavern. But nowhere near as cold.
“You’ve dined,” I said, for want of something to say.
“I needed power to get here,” he murmured, starting to pull me out of the cave.
“Who was the lucky human?”
“Your brother.”
And OK, that could have been the punchline to a really bad joke, but I was getting the uncomfortable feeling that he might have been telling the truth.
“No, really,” I said, because the idea of this very virile and very masculine vampire feeding from my brother - battle-lust induced or not - just didn’t seem right. And the idea of Luc allowing him to do so - outside of being forced - was simply ludicrous. Lucien was a Durand, need I say more?
“Trust me,” Hakan said. “We were both most uncomfortable about it.”
OK. Still didn’t answer the battle/forced question. Just why was he holding my brother captive?
“Why him?” I asked, as the light began to get brighter.
“You ask too many questions.”
“I have a right to know.”
“No. You don’t.”
“Yes. I do.”
“For the love of Nut, be quiet!”
I sniggered, realising belatedly that I was obviously punch-drunk. There was nothing remotely safe or humorous about any of this.
“Where’s the fairy?” I said, sobering.
“Otherwise occupied.”
“What does that…?”
“Your father’s spy master is acting as a decoy.”
There was just too much wrong with that statement to know where to begin pulling it apart.
“Alain,” I said, my mind reeling. My head felt like it had been dragged through a meat grinder, then pushed through a sieve afterwards.
I struggled to put weight on my foot with the next step, making Hakan have to pull me closer or lose me to the dirt on the floor.
“Alain?” I said again, this time searching.
“Yes, Dupont,” Hakan confirmed, his voice offering a low growl on Alain’s surname.
“Working with you?”
“Éliane,” he said, frustration coating his tone. “Be quiet.”
Right. I blinked into the searingly bright sunlight of Álfheimr. Colours burst to light around us. Rich, vibrant, dazzling. The sky seemed too big. The earth too round. The trees too high. The mountains that surrounded us too majestic. My breath whooshed out of me, my eyes frantically blinking, trying to get everything into focus. But clarity of vision wasn’t the problem. Faerie was. Too much for the human eye.
I wasn’t quite human, though, so the effects lasted only a few seconds. Enough to steal my breath, freeze my limbs and numb my mind. Until Hakan’s Sanguis Vitam rushed through me.
Soothing, calming, caring, protecting.
I pushed back with my Light automatically; a playful swat, a nudge to get him to back off, and received a blindingly bright flash of pain across my eyes. I doubled over, retched unsuccessfully, and then collapsed to my knees on the rough ground. Stones dug into my skin, bringing me back to myself and the sickening sensation that I was cut-off from my Light.
My mother had told me about this. A Ljósálfar ability to contain Light. They are Light Fey. Their Light calls to ours. But when she’d suffered that indignity, she’d worn a band. Similar to the bands we wear in the arena to contain our magic in a fight. So similar, I suddenly realised where that ability had come from. Where that magic had come from.
Álfheimr.
I searched my wrists for a band now, but none existed. I pulled up both overlong sleeves of Hakan’s crisp white shirt and stared at the paleness of my Sigillum for a moment. For a second, I felt lost, and then Hakan’s hand slipped under my arm, lifting me up off the ground and returning focus.
“I can’t reach my Light,” I said, numbly.
“I know,” was the only reply he gave. “We need to go farther. The wards are extensive, they carry on for quite some time.”
“That far?” I murmured, realising the enormity of what lay ahead. I was too depleted. I was unarmed. And Alain was fighting a Light Fairy who could best him at any time and return.
I scoffed internally at that. Alain Dupont was a level one Sanguis Vitam vampire, with enhanced powers even my father didn’t know about. Plus, Papa had said he was coming. Alain would not be alone for long.
“When my father gets here, you’ll have to run,” I said, snorting softly at the imagery.
“Your father?”
“He said he was coming.”
Hakan stopped in his tracks and looked around, as if Papa was about to pop up from behind one of the lush bushes that lined the mountain pass.
My stomach flopped. The ribbons tangling. He wasn’t working with my father.
“Are you even working with Alain?” I demanded.
“Yes,” he said, snapping the word off at the end to show his disgruntlement. He began walking again, half lifting, half pushing, half carrying me.
I snorted again at all the halves.
“What’s wrong with me?” I said, distractedly. Nothing was remotely funny about any of this.
“The ward. It is designed to disorientate you, should you attempt to flee the cave.”
“But not you?” I said, spinning ‘round in his grasp, as though my feet wanted to head back to the cavern and nowhere else.
He growled low in the back of his throat, a sound I found impossibly attractive, and then swung me up in his arms. My cheek rested against naked flesh and I let out a sigh.
“The ward is doing other things to me,” he mumbled quietly.
“Like what?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“No, go on. I dare you.”
“Éliane,” Hakan chided softly.
“Double dare you.”
He let out a quiet huff of air. “You are not at all as I expected.”
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” I said as my finger traced over a well-defined pec, nail scratching dark skin, making a trail of goosebumps flare up in its wake. Mesmerising.
“Goddess help me,”
Hakan said, deadpan.
And then he stopped. Let out a long breath of air and lowered me to the ground.
“What is it?” I said, turning around and crouching slightly. A fighting stance I hadn’t even realised I’d assumed until right then. I glanced down at my bare feet, covered in fairy dust, waited for the snort of laughter at that ridiculous thought that should have followed. But it didn’t come.
“We’re outside the wards,” I said, straightening up, realising we hadn’t stopped because of a threat. My eyes found Hakan’s.
Blue, silver, cyan, bright lightning flashed in his eyes.
“Yes.” The word was laced with a type of hunger I knew only too well.
I swallowed under his intense stare.
“What now?” I asked, knowing already I was going to regret the answer.
“I needed blood to get here,” he said, his voice a couple of octaves lower than usual. “Blood connected to you to find you. Blood as powerful as you to break the wards that bound you.”
“You’ve found me,” I replied steadily, recognising a hungry vampire when I saw one. A hunting vampire when faced with one. “And we’re outside the wards,” I added for good measure.
“We are still in Álfheimr,” he growled. “Still in Ljósálfar.”
I held his steady gaze, not feeling quite as steady myself anymore. There was something about this vampire that called to me. Something primal and powerful. Something laced in magic.
“Alain will have caught the fairy,” I offered, hoping that was what had Hakan so on edge; the return of the Fey who had held me captive. Who had fed from my Light and Sigillum.
He shook his head. “There are no open portals in Ljósálfar.” The words landed between us softly. Like snow falling on the petals of a flower.
Hakan and Alain - if they were actually working together, and I could only assume they were, no Light Fey had turned up to halt us in our attempt to escape - had not been aided by my father.
But I’d heard him. In a Dream Visit. Like the Dream Visits he’d given me as a child. Where he let me see how much he cared for me. Where he threw me in the air and caught me in strong, capable arms. Where he showered me with love and affection, the type of things a daughter needs and wants. The type of things the Champion of the Iunctio cannot be seen doing, at all.
kindred 08.6 - blood enchanted Page 12