“They have eyes everywhere,” the man said in a desperate whisper, leaning closer to Eris. Ibrahim’s eyes were so wide that Eris could see the whites all around his irises, which were darting around as if looking for the imagined gazes on him.
“Easy, there. Let’s just calm down for a minute, and we can talk about getting you out of here. Does that sound like a good plan?”
The man breathed heavily through his nose, staring at him without blinking. He nodded at Eris’ words.
“Good,” Eris said to the group at large, “Let’s start by getting these people out of here safely, yeah?”
Ibrahim glanced down, seeming almost surprised to find the huddled group of people at his feet. Eris wondered if he had any real awareness of the night’s events, or if his confused mind had erased or blocked all of those recollections.
Several of the hostages looked up hopefully, but most seemed too scared to look Ibrahim directly in the eye.
There was silence for several moments while Ibrahim considered the people at his feet. Eris continued to press heavily on the man’s mind, surprised that Ibrahim was still able to resist with such force. Shouldn’t he be tiring by now?
“Where are we?” Ibrahim finally asked a woman near the front of the group.
She swallowed hard, her dark hair cropped close to her ears. “The H-Hellenic Bank in Cyprus.”
“Oh.”
“Can we—I mean, do you think we could leave now?” The woman asked him, shivering as her hands closed around her own shoulders, hugging herself.
Ibrahim considered her through heavy-lidded eyes.
“I suppose so,” he answered eventually. Glancing down at his chest, Ibrahim touched the hardware on the bomb. Everyone stiffened, watching him closely.
Eris, trembling now under the effort of keeping Ibrahim calm, interrupted the man’s examination in a low voice. “Would you like to take that off?”
Ibrahim nodded and started to unzip the vest holding together the bomb.
“No, wait!” Eris said, reaching a hand out. The control he had over the mood in the room shifted, and Ibrahim narrowed his eyes in sudden suspicion.
“Please,” Eris said more calmly, redoubling his efforts to press serenity over Ibrahim. “Let’s… just… leave that alone for now. I know some people who would be willing to help get it off of you safely.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s a good idea,” Ibrahim answered mechanically. He stood completely still, his hands dangling at his side.
“Well, then,” Eris said, keeping his voice calm and quiet. “If everyone would please stand up, I think you can leave now.”
A few of the people clambered uncertainly to their feet. Their eyes never left Ibrahim, who was standing obediently next to Eris.
The woman who told Ibrahim what bank they were in seemed too nervous to stand, despite the backwash from the serenity he was projecting. With an encouraging smile, Eris reached out, offering his hand to her. She glanced at it quickly, then up into his face.
Stretching a hand up, she twined her slender fingers through his.
At the touch of her skin, Eris nearly staggered under the force of an electric shock that surged through him like a lightning bolt. Dumbfounded, he abandoned his single-minded focus on calming the turmoil in Ibrahim’s tortured mind.
Eris heard the woman’s sharp intake of breath and knew that the impossible had happened. She’d felt the same connection between them that he had. In an instant, the peace Eris had been forcing outward into the room and around the bomber collapsed like a popped balloon. A scream erupted from the unstable bomber, who clutched at his head, scrabbling at his temple as if trying to dig something out of his skull.
Shit, I’ve lost him, Eris thought, a bit dazedly, all the while maintaining his electric grip on the woman’s hand—afraid to let go lest she slip away into the madness and panic erupting around them.
THREE
THE BOMBER JERKED AND cried out, his forearms coming up to clamp around the sides of his head. Pandemonium broke out as the hostages started running towards the door.
Ibrahim shouted a long string of garbled words in no language Eris recognized, his eyes crazed.
In slow motion, Eris watched as his thumb moved toward what appeared to be the trigger for the bomb.
Coiling his muscles to spring, Eris wrenched his hand free of the woman’s and lunged toward Ibrahim. Their bodies collided with a dull thump. Eris wrapped his arms around the smaller man and brought him down hard, suppressing a cringe and a heartfelt curse as he landed on top of the bomb. Miraculously, it didn’t go off.
“Yeah… I’m not going to get that lucky twice,” Eris grunted. He pushed up enough to grab Ibrahim’s wrists and wrench the detonator from his hand.
When he looked up, the woman with the dark hair was backing away, a look of fear on her face. The other hostages had already fled screaming from the building, leaving the three of them alone in the echoing lobby.
Ibrahim began to struggle, still pinned by Eris’ tall frame.
“Don’t,” Eris commanded through gritted teeth.
He was still staring at the woman with whom he had felt such a strong connection. Her large eyes were wet with unshed tears as she chewed nervously on her lower lip. Beneath him, Ibrahim began to screech, sounding half-strangled by the weight of the bomb vest tangled around his torso.
Eris looked down at him, trying to decide what to do next, caught between competing crises. A faint swish of noise caught his divided attention, but when he turned his head to look, it was as if the dark-haired beauty whose touch had ignited fire in his cold heart had never been.
He nearly roared in frustration, feeling his fangs lengthen and his eyes glow gold. Ibrahim’s struggles grew stronger, more frantic, and Eris was already weakened from hunger and the strain of projecting mental control over a roomful of desperate people.
Saliva welled up in his mouth, and with no witnesses remaining to constrain his actions, he struck—sinking his fangs into the tender flesh of Ibrahim’s neck and drawing hard at the blood exploding over his tongue.
His stunned victim twitched beneath him, a gurgle escaping his mouth. His blood tasted sickly sweet—the taste of evil and decay. Eris nearly gagged on it. The smell of Ibrahim’s stale sweat rising around them mirrored the tainted taste. Eris suddenly wished that he could just leave the madman where he’d fallen and vanish from the situation.
But he couldn’t… no matter how much he might want to be chasing after his mystery woman right now, rather than dealing with one of the demon Bael’s sad, pathetic victims.
With the restorative power of Ibrahim’s—admittedly rather disgusting—blood pouring into him, Eris found it easier to press against the man’s mind, forcing him into submission. When Ibrahim lay limp in his iron hold, Eris released his neck and looked down.
Ibrahim wasn’t dead, simply weakened by blood loss and sedated by the mental pressure Eris was exerting on him.
Disgusted by the whole situation, Eris swiped a smear of blood from his chin with his forearm and rolled away from his victim, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to slow his thundering heart. Oddly, his anxiety had almost nothing to do with the insane man lying strapped into a bomb vest next to him, and everything to do with the woman who seemed to have disappeared like smoke.
The lobby was empty now, except for Eris and his unlucky victim.
Scrubbing a hand roughly over his face, Eris rolled onto his knees and crawled closer to the man on the ground, staring at the vest—now plainly exposed.
Fuck me, it’s been a while since I’ve had to do this, Eris thought darkly, rubbing his brow. He’d never been a weapons or explosive expert, per se, but he had picked up a thing or two in the last few decades, mostly by virtue of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Story of my painfully long life.
He carefully examined the trigger lying on the ground next to Ibrahim, who made no effort to retrieve it. To his surprise, he found that th
e trigger had malfunctioned—a connection had come loose, possibly as they’d struggled. If the thing were going to trigger the vest, it would have done so when it broke. Which… wasn’t to say the vest was safe, unfortunately.
With a sigh, he examined the zipper, which seemed to have no physical connection to the explosives strapped to the vest. That was good news, since the devices were often wired to explode if removed, once they had been put on a suicide bomber. It was clear that Ibrahim, even in his crazed state, had at some level intended on getting out of the vest without detonating himself.
“Good choice on that, mate,” Eris said to the unresponsive man. With steady fingers, he unzipped the vest and carefully guided Ibrahim’s unresisting arms through the holes, rolling him first one way and then the other.
“There you go,” Eris finally told him. Ibrahim’s bloodshot eyes darted to his face as he continued, “No harm done, eh? Now, let’s get you up off this thing. I don’t want any funny business, though. Are we clear?”
Ibrahim stared at him vacantly, not answering. Eris chose to interpret this as assent.
“So,” he said as he helped Ibrahim to his feet and guided him away from the device. “That was fun. We’ll have to do it again sometime. Only, y’know, without the terrified hostages and the deadly danger, preferably.”
“What did you do to me? They’re going to get me now,” Ibrahim whispered. His eyes were no longer manic, but rather lost, as tears welled and leaked out of the corners.
“Who? Who’s going to get you?” Eris asked, looking at him closely.
Ibrahim didn’t respond, merely shook his head. He looked as if he had aged two decades in the last few minutes, and lived a lifetime of misery. His dirty blond hair flopped against his head as he noisily wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt.
Eris tugged on Ibrahim’s arm, trying to get him to move towards the door, but the other man resisted. He made a pathetic groaning noise, almost a whimper of panic.
“It’s all right,” Eris assured him. “You’re not armed, and you’re going to surrender. Just make sure you explain to them about the people who are after you, and how you decided to let the hostages go because it was the right thing to do.”
Eris felt no fear of exposure by this man. Ibrahim would never be able to trace the serenity that Eris was forcing into his mind back and truly understand what had happened to him. Besides, Eris had no intention of letting him leave this building with his memories intact. It wouldn’t do to have him babbling about vampires and blood-drinking and hypnotism once he was in custody. He’d be packing his bags for the loony bin immediately.
Of course, as it was, he would probably be headed that direction regardless.
“Just try to stay calm for me, will you? I’m hoping this evening might end with a little less drama than it started,” Eris requested.
Still trying to maintain control of the situation, he guided the stumbling man towards the front doors where he knew that the police would be waiting, guns no doubt trained on the building.
Before they emerged, however, Eris reached up and touched Ibrahim’s temple. He could feel the man’s consciousness wavering under his fingers as shock began to set in. With practiced effort, Eris searched through Ibrahim’s mind and found all the memories pertaining to their interactions. He pushed them down deep into Ibrahim’s subconscious; so deep that he would never be able to recall Eris biting him and drawing blood from the wound on his neck—a wound that had already closed under the healing power of vampire saliva.
When only one darkened door separated them from the SWAT team waiting outside, Eris turned towards Ibrahim and looked him squarely in the eye. “Go through the door with your hands raised. Walk slowly and steadily. When the police tell you to lie face down on the ground, do it.”
Ibrahim stared back at him, looking like a lost and frightened child. Eris hoped that the police would find it in the kindness of their hearts to make sure that he got the help he so clearly needed.
He could smell Bael’s hand in this, and the idea that the demon had returned to his beloved island home raised gooseflesh across his back. Especially after his encounter with the woman.
“Go,” Eris whispered, pushing the man forward. He maintained the gentle pressure on Ibrahim’s mind, keeping him at peace and holding his fear at bay.
When Ibrahim turned towards the door and started to pass through it, Eris transformed himself into mist once more, drawing all of his life force to his center until he could dissipate and flow unnoticed through the door.
He could hear the barked orders and shouts from members of the police force as he floated away into the night, his mind already intent on finding the woman who had caused him such a shock.
He was so preoccupied with the thought of her that he didn’t even register the sound of a single gunshot far behind, followed by pandemonium.
*
Several hours later, gliding over the city in the form of an owl, Eris felt dawn approaching as he turned back towards the hotel room he was sharing with Snag.
It had been immeasurably frustrating, flying low over the area around the city center, trying to find the dark-haired female hostage who had fled from the scene after bringing Eris’ world crashing to the ground like falling icicles.
He’d had no luck whatsoever. It was with bitter disappointment that he landed on the windowsill of their hotel room and scratched at the glass to be let in.
As he sensed Snag moving towards the window, Eris swiveled his head, giving the city one last sweep with his amber eyes.
The glass popped open behind him and with one swift flap of powerful wings, Eris swept inside. He pushed his energy outwards from his center, concentrating on his human form. In mid-flight, he transformed, landing gracefully on his feet and dropping his arms to his sides.
Snag remained where he was, standing by the open window. Eris turned towards his friend and studied the intent look on the ancient being’s skeletal features.
Eris felt a question brush on the edges of his mind, as if Snag were raising a mental eyebrow at him.
“I’ve had a rough night, all right? Let’s just leave it at that for now.”
Nothing changed in Snag’s expression, and he remained completely silent. Eris leaned heavily against the arm of the sofa set against the wall of the living area, and let his chin drop to his chest. Weariness pressed down on him as the sun prepared to breach the horizon beyond the window. Yet, tired as he was, he still felt a mounting pressure to charge from the room and find the woman as quickly as possible.
Which was both absurd and impractical, of course, given that daylight was nearly upon them.
From the corner of his eye, Eris saw Snag move noiselessly across the room. Eris turned and watched with a raised eyebrow as he pulled the chair out by the table where they had been seated before, and lowered his thin frame into it.
The older vampire laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top of his joined hands. With a quick dart of his eyes, he told Eris very clearly to take a seat across from him at the table.
Eris sighed at him darkly. “You know, for a functional mute, you can be incredibly bossy.”
Snag didn’t respond to the jab, but only continued to level that timeless, disconcerting stare at him.
“All right, fine,” Eris snarled as he dropped into the chair. “What do you want to know?”
An answering burst of irritation pulsed through their mental connection. What do you think? Don’t be dim, it said quite clearly.
Eris blinked. It was highly unusual for Snag to communicate so directly, even across mental spheres. It made Eris wonder what Snag was picking up from him that would rock the older vampire so thoroughly.
“I went to go hunt for us,” Eris answered aloud. “I’d just found a likely candidate when I felt something… strange… happening nearby.”
Snag’s head cocked to one side by approximately half a millimeter.
“I think it was something across a subconscious
mental channel, because I suddenly had the overwhelming sense that I was… needed somewhere else. Desperately.”
Eris lifted his gaze from his hands, which were clasped together tightly on the table, and stared at his companion. Snag regarded him closely, but did not communicate further.
He felt another flicker of annoyance. He was having the crisis of the millennium, and here he was, talking to a vampire as old as the hills who had all the emotional range of a wilted turnip. Eris scowled at the impassive face across from him.
Snag made a nearly undetectable motion with his finger—a movement that nonetheless managed to convey the word, continue.
Eris sighed again. “I followed the mental pull, and found that a suicide bomber had taken a group of people hostage at a bank. He was clearly insane—he kept yelling at nothing and was obviously experiencing paranoia and hallucinations of some kind. I used mental pressure on him to calm him down, and set about getting the hostages out of the situation. Or… I started to, at least.”
Eris paused, trying to gather his thoughts into something a bit less tangled.
“Everything seemed to be under control, more or less, so I reached down and gave one of the hostages a hand up—a woman who had been crouched on the floor nearby. When our skin touched, it was like being struck by lightning.” He swallowed hard. “Snag, it was Phaidra. I met the reincarnation of my soulmate tonight.”
Snag, who had not moved or made any sign during the speech, gave Eris a look that plainly said, “No, really?”
A perfect replay of Eris’ reaction the moment his hand had touched the woman’s was shoved squarely into his consciousness, every bit as shocking now as it had been the first time. The only difference was the faint hint of someone else’s asperity lurking beneath the memory.
Oh, Eris realized, with a hint of sheepishness. I guess I must have been projecting my thoughts… just a bit. Oops.
At which point, something occurred to him, and he frowned.
“Wait. You sensed all that and didn’t come to my aid?” he asked, nettled. Snag simply looked back at him, blinking slowly.
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