“You’re very pretty,” said Astria, leaning over Connor to stare at me.
“Thank you,” I said. “So are you.”
“Oh, I know.” She settled back and stared off into space. No one else thought this was odd, and I chalked it up to her youth or the idea that this was the way prophets behaved.
“Finish the part about Amahté,” said Larsa. She had a worldly tone, an accent I couldn’t place, as though she’d gathered languages like berries and tossed them into a blender to create a verbal smoothie.
Amahté was the only Ancient I hadn’t met. Actually, no one had met him, because he’d gone to ground for the last three millennia. His son, Khenti, had taken his place on the Ancients’ Council – although the Ancients had since handed over their ruling power to Patsy. Granted, one Ancient had died and two others had been banned to the World Between Worlds. Only three Ancients were around to offer advice and help these days. Ruadan didn’t really come around much anymore, but Velthur and Zela lived in town.
No one elaborated on the role Amahté played with either the talisman or Lilith. Connor arched a brow and looked at Larsa.
She rolled her eyes. “His mate died. Sorta.”
“How did she sorta die?” I asked.
“Lilith killed her,” said Larsa, ignoring my question. “The Ancients learned a harsh lesson the day Shamhat died. All of her line died when she did. Because of the bonding magic, all of their mates died, too.”
I held up my hand. Information swirled in my mind like colliding whirlwinds. “We were told that no one knew what would happen if an Ancient died. Everyone was all about not killing them because they might end the line, not because they knew – “
If I had the ability to lose my breath, it would’ve whooshed out at that very moment. Jennifer considered me with solemn blue eyes. I realized she hadn’t changed forms in a while and wondered vaguely if that whole morph thing was just an entertaining diversion.
“Seven,” I managed to whisper. “Seven sacred sects. Seven Families.” I stared at Larsa. “You said Shamhat’s line died with her.”
“The Family Shamhat,” she acknowledged. “The eighth vampire line.”
Chapter 15
“Vampires with earth magic,” said Larsa, as though she hadn’t just dropped the mother of all information bombs. “They’re very sensual creatures, in tune with creation. With life.”
Connor snorted, and Larsa sent him a dirty look.
“Life,” she insisted. “Ironic, in a way, since we’re undead. But you know how it was. Ruadan sought out others who had supernatural abilities. It’s no coincidence that all the Ancients have specific gifts.”
“Why?” I asked. My mind was reeling. Eight vampire Families had existed once. Eight. And Lilith had effectively wiped out one-eighth of the vampire population by killing its founder.
Holy bejesus.
“Ruadan always had the goal of bettering the world. Even then, magic was dying out, giving way to science and cynics. He wanted to preserve as much as possible, to pass it along to the world when it was needed.”
“If Patsy hadn’t absorbed all the Family gifts, the Family Hua Mu Lan would’ve died?” A couple years back, my friend Libby had absorbed half of a dragon soul. The founder of the Family Hua Mu Lan, aka Lia the Bitch, had been one of the Ancients who’d turned against us. Libby accidentally fried her with dragonfire.
Near as we could figure, Patsy had saved the vampire lines because she was the queen of all. And not only of us, but of the wolfies, too. The full-bloods had their own problems. They were dying as a species – females rarely got pregnant, and nearly half of all children who were born didn’t make it past their first year.
The thought had been that Patsy’s miraculous birth of loup de sang triplets would be the saving grace of all werewolves. But so far, the full-bloods were still dying, the Roma were still small in numbers, and… well, I had no idea what the future held for them. Hell, I didn’t know what my own future held.
“If Patsy dies, do we all die?” I asked.
“Probably,” said Larsa.
I thought about the nature of magic. It seemed as volatile as human temperament. Or maybe, because it was crafted and invoked by humans, it held within it the flaws of our characters. Our greed and insecurity and envy.
I mulled over the idea that vampires and demons had been warring for such a long time. I hadn’t bothered to find out much about the last four thousand years of our history. Honestly, I hadn’t cared. And yet, here I was, dealing with the aftermath of long-ago decisions that had nothing to do with me or with the Broken Heart Turn-bloods.
“So, forever ago, Lilith started a war with vampires and killed a previously unknown Ancient. And they created this talisman and bound her into hell. Except she can create portals to visit earth, so the magic is what? Fading?”
“In a sense, yes,” said Connor. Somehow his arm had fallen across my shoulder, his fingers massaging my arm. “Once we reunite the talisman” – and he gave me an odd look that I couldn’t interpret – “we’ll have to revive its power.”
The thought flickered: Did Patsy and the Broken Heart Council know about Shamhat? The founders of the Consortium had certainly been around during that first thousand years of vampire history. Yet nothing had ever been said. Not even Lorcan, who was the official scribe of vampire lore, had ever mentioned it in his texts.
Unease slid through me. Why would that information be kept secret? I mean, how hard was it to say, “Oh, yeah, we had another Family, but they died out.” And no one had ever mentioned Lilith before, either. I mean, maybe the other Turn-bloods didn’t need to know, but what about me? I was the freaking demon hunter. Had they known she’d return again to wreak havoc?
Who all knew about Astria’s prophecy? At this point, I just didn’t want to know it. I thought about Danny, about how everything had changed, not just because Connor mated with me (and lied, let’s not forget), but also because there seemed to be a larger destiny for me. I had a role to play in a cosmic drama. I was not thrilled about this, not a bit, but I couldn’t walk away from it.
“I missed the connection with Amahté,” I said.
“And the sorta-dead thing for Shamhat.”
“Dude was powerful,” said Larsa. “Even before he was Turned. He could leave his body and travel into the Underworld. That ability, and being an Ancient, gave him the power to retrieve Shamhat’s soul. But her body needed some serious healage.”
“So everyone believed she’d died. And he went to ground with her. To protect her. Isn’t three thousand years long enough to heal grievous injuries?”
“Yep,” said Larsa.
Larsa’s green gaze kept assessing me, and finding me wanting. I got the strange feeling she kept hoping I would measure up and was disappointed that I did not. I couldn’t stand it, so I looked at the little girl, aka demon, curled in her lap. Jennifer kept her prim hands folded. In her pink dress, she looked like strawberry frosting dropped onto a white cake. Larsa, however, didn’t look sweet or soft.
“Khenti opened a casino resort in Las Vegas designed to look like an Egyptian temple,” said Larsa, who apparently was the boss of everything.
(Me? Bitter? Why do you ask?)
“I know,” I said impatiently. “Everyone knows. Tourists go there because of the attached museum. It’s the biggest display of ancient artifacts in the world. Amahté’s sarcophagus is on display there.”
“But he’s not. Neither is Shamhat.”
Like tumblers clicking together in a complex lock, my thoughts snapped together and unlocked information that stunned me all over again.
When the Consortium first rolled into town, there had been talk about an archeological dig in the Sudan. At the time, we’d been told the Consortium was looking for the source of the Taint. The disease had flared up every now and then throughout undead history, but the modern-day version had taken them by surprise.
“They were looking for Amahté,” I said weakly. “In the Su
dan.”
“Nobody knows who moved them, or where they are. And the Consortium isn’t the only one looking.”
I remembered that, too, because some vampires had died on the dig, staked out in the desert to await the sunrise. I shivered.
Then I considered Connor’s words and realized we had a big issue. “Won’t all eight vampire lines have to reinstate the magic?”
“Yep,” said Larsa.
“The queen has only seven of the powers. How do you propose we get the eighth one? Go find the amazing almost-dead couple that’s been missing for three millennia?”
“I’m from the Family Shamhat,” said Larsa.
Shocked, I stared at her, my mouth open.
She frowned. “That’s rather unattractive.”
I snapped my mouth shut. “Are there more of you?”
“No,” she said, and she lost her lazy grin. “I was the last. Lilith hacked off my mother’s head and nearly severed mine.” She fingered the scar on her neck, one that had never completely healed because she shouldn’t have survived it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Larsa, hadn’t decided whether or not I liked her, but she had my respect. “When Amahté pulled back her soul and returned her life, however feeble, it revived me. But none of the others. At least, none that I’ve ever been able to find.” She shrugged. “It took a long time to heal. By the time I was recovered enough to dig out from my grave, more than a hundred years had passed. Everyone believed me dead, and I let them think so.”
And the info bombs kept dropping. Shamhat had been Larsa’s mother. All of the Ancients, as in the original founding vampires of all the lines, had turned at least one of their biological children.
“Yes,” said Larsa. “I am the last of my Family line. We have that in common, Phoebe.”
“What?”
Surprise flared in her gaze and she looked at Connor. I didn’t like his expression. “Connor?”
“We must go,” said Astria, her pleasant voice sounding strange – as if she were shouting into a canyon and having the echo returned tenfold.
I glanced at her and reared back. Her eyes were white, her hands in the air, fingers plucking at strings of light. It was as if she were making a pattern, determining information from a yarn experiment gone wrong.
“Lilith’s followers have stolen a charmed one. Ella Freeman is important to this world, and she must live.”
Her hands stopped manipulating the sparkling gold strands, and they faded into nothingness. Her arms drifted down to her thighs and she blinked.
Her violet gaze went around the room. She got up, and I noticed she was shaking. Anise handed her a Milky Way and Astria nibbled on it. Anise looked up. “She needs the sugar after an experience.”
I imagined she needed a therapist, too, but what did I know?
“What’s a charmed one?” I asked Connor.
“Humans with latent magic. Usually starts manifestin’ when they hit puberty,” he said.
“Ella is thirteen,” said Astria. “It appears she is a telekinetic.”
I blinked. “A what?”
“She can move things with her mind,” said Larsa impatiently. “Lilith’s trying to come through again. Let’s go stop that bitch.”
Everyone else started getting up.
“What about the talisman?” I asked as Connor helped me to my feet. “Don’t we have to find the other half and go to Broken Heart and get the woogy-woo done?”
“Woogy-woo?” he asked, his eyebrows going up.
“You know what I mean!”
“Stay here, then,” said Larsa. She plopped a kiss on top of Jennifer’s head. Then she looked at me scornfully. “It’s not as if you need to go. And we don’t need someone around who’s so worried about herself she can’t focus on rescuing the girl.”
No one defended me against her vitriol, not even me. Because she was right: I wanted to be finished with this little adventure; I wanted to be free of this destiny crap. Maybe I’d thought I’d see it through, but… damn it, I was acting cowardly. I was not a coward, but I was definitely being whiny. Still, I was getting tired of the machinations of men and immortals. Why did they have to make everything so freaking complicated?
I caught Astria staring at me. She smiled. “You were dragged into a situation created not because you chose it, but because of what you are,” she said. “Believe me when I say that I know what that’s like. Unfortunately, destiny sometimes takes precedence over personal choice.”
“No shit,” I said, but without any rancor. She smiled again and drifted away.
Connor touched my arm and asked, “Do you want to stay?”
“Can I shoot her?” I asked, jerking a thumb over my shoulder at Larsa.
He grinned. “No, lass.”
“I guess I’ll go anyway.”
He kissed me then, and the brush of his lips sent ripples of pleasure right through me.
I got the feeling he was going to be difficult to give up.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“She’s at the Knights Inn in Tulsa,” said Astria.
“That place is abandoned and way creepy. We’ll meet on Peoria at the diner,” said Larsa, “go over a plan there. We got time?”
“It’s a dawn ceremony,” said Astria.
Larsa nodded. “Let’s go.”
Everyone moved away from the furniture in preparation for transporting.
Jennifer tugged on my hand. “No one who worships Lilith is innocent,” she said. I didn’t know if she meant to comfort me or warn me.
“She appeals to the darkness that already splinters a wounded soul.”
The red lights popped and spun. This time, Jennifer manifested as a young black woman dressed in a pink jogging suit and Nikes. Her hair was an explosion of corkscrew curls, some neon orange. She put a hand on her cocked hip. “Good luck, baby cakes.”
“Thanks.” I went with Connor and stood among the others. “Your sister?”
“Has to stay here,” he said softly. “She’s… unpredictable around humans.”
“I like her,” I said.
He grinned. “Me, too. An’ she’s worth savin’.”
Damn straight. Just like Lilith was worth sending so deep into the Pit she’d never crawl out again. I couldn’t comprehend anyone paying tributes to Lilith, much less gutting someone in her name. I’d seen plenty of death and destruction since becoming a vampire. I envied humans who remained unaware of the paranormal world. But even without knowing about werewolves or vampires, humans could create their own kind of despair and ruin. What kind of dark hearts had Lilith culled from the human population? How long had it taken her to make them spill blood for her?
“C’mon, Scry,” said Connor. The Chihuahua had appeared from the kitchen, and maybe it was just me, but he looked a little fatter. The dog ran and jumped, and Connor scooped him up and put an arm around me.
“Ready?” Larsa was alone, and Anise and Ren had their arms around Astria. I wondered who among those three had the ability to transport.
Everyone nodded.
The world fell away. I think I was actually getting used to the pitching sensation, the soft implosion of my flesh. Then I felt a shift, a breaking apart of our energies, and I spun away from Connor’s connection.
Aw, crap.
Chapter 16
I spiraled into a soft, endless blackness. Panic screeched through me.
Then the darkness peeled back and my atoms slammed together, and boom! I landed on a pile of squishy objects, my boot clanging against a hard metallic surface.
The stench was so bad my eyes started watering. It was dark as a cave where I was lying, although above me, I could see a buzzing light attached to a brick wall.
“Phoebe!” Connor peered over the green edge of the container, and that was when I realized I was in a Dumpster. I heard Scrymgeour yipping, his tiny claws scratching on the other side.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. I tried to lever myself up, but my hand dove into something co
ld and slimy. “Oh, gross!”
Connor leaned over and held out a hand. “What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know!” I levered up on my elbow and slapped my defiled hand against Connor’s. He grimaced, but didn’t say anything. He pulled me to my feet and kept his hold firm while I ungracefully extracted myself from the garbage.
“You let go durin’ transportation,” he accused me. “That’s dangerous.”
“I did not,” I said. “Maybe you let go of me.” His eyebrows rose, his gaze suspicious. “Dinnae do it again,” he said. “Or you might end up in a wall.”
“I didn’t let go, Connor.”
“Neither did I.”
“Whatever!”
“Maybe someone broke the bond,” he said. “Someone trying to snatch you.”
“Like Lilith?”
He nodded, looking both worried and frustrated. Great – the Queen of Evil was trying to demon-snatch me. Or not. We couldn’t be sure.
I looked around. We were in the back parking lot of a restaurant. The greasy smells that I could discern beyond the stink of the garbage suggested an all-night diner that served anything fried and slathered in butter. This must be the diner Larsa had mentioned. I wondered why she called it “the diner,” and realized they’d been hanging around for a while. Maybe waiting for Connor to fulfill his mission. She’d said Peoria, which was the street that ran through Brookside in Tulsa. And I recognized the Knights Inn reference, too.
“How long have your friends been skulking around Tulsa?”
“For as long as I was skulkin’ around Broken Heart,” he said.
I ignored the frostiness of his tone.
Not many cars were in the lot, and those that were probably belonged to the people who worked the late shift. My vampire senses told me sunrise was three hours away, maybe less.
I brushed off my pants and straightened my clothes. When I went to rub my backside, I touched the edge of something thick and crusted.
Come Hell or High Water Page 10