The Knowledge of Love (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 4)

by D. S. Williams

  William, Clint and I worked as a team, battling anything which got in our way as we moved along the narrow street. William concentrated on vampires, his prowess second to none as he repeatedly attacked, his movements swift and sure. Clint used a gun to distract the demons and I used the angel weapons to dispatch them to the Otherworld. It was strenuous work and our progress was severely curtailed by the sheer amount of foes in our path. The streets were filled with the enemy, more and more incoming as the minutes ticked by.

  I'd just rid Zaen of another demon when I heard a heavy grunt behind me and gunshots rang out. I spun around to see Clint dropping to his knees, blood spurting from a wound in his shoulder. “Clint!” A skinny youngling with lank brown hair stood over Clint, holding his gun. I used telekinesis to snatch the gun from his hands and brought it flying back to me and watched William dive at the youngling. Snarling his anger, William grasped the youngling's neck and wrenched its head off in a swift movement. It made a slurping, gloopy wet sound as the head detached and I cringed and looked away.

  I ran to Clint's side; he'd slumped to the ground and the front of his shirt was soaked in blood. William threw the severed head into one of the burning buildings and joined me by Clint's side.

  “William – blood,” I warned.

  William nodded, already unable to tear his gaze away from the blood which continued to leach through Clint's shirt. “Give me a second.” He rose and darted away and I pulled off my coat, bunching it against the wound.

  Clint groaned and cussed. “Sorry, Charlotte. Didn't see him until it was too late.”

  “Forget about it.” The blood continued to flow and I worried the bullet had hit a major artery.

  “Charlotte?”

  I lifted Clint's hand, pressing it against the coat. “Hold that,” I instructed and ran over to where William was standing beside a cottage.

  “How bad is it?” he asked. I frowned worriedly, his fangs had run out during the fight and bloodlust was obviously affecting him.

  “He'll bleed out if he doesn't get help soon,” I announced. “You have to get him to the hospital.”

  William's eyes widened. “I can't, Charlotte, the blood…”

  “You have to, William, there's no choice! Hold your breath. Think about what Gwynn will do to you if you bite him. You have to take him – I can't carry him and you can get him there faster than I could,” I argued logically. “I have to find Archangelo.”

  William took a moment to inhale sharply, visibly controlling himself, then he nodded. “Wait here for me. I'll come back to help you.”

  I shook my head. “I can't do that; we can't afford to lose Archangelo.” I glanced at Clint, who'd slumped forward, his face ashen. “We don't have time to argue. Hold your breath,” I gave William a shove in Clint's direction, “and get him to the hospital.”

  William clenched his teeth, his expression hardening into resolve as he watched Clint. I saw him stop breathing, his chest becoming still before he carefully swung the now-unconscious man into his arms.

  “I mean it, William,” I called to his departing back, “bite him and you'll have me to deal with.”

  William looked back over his shoulder, a tiny smile playing on his lips and nodded curtly. He took off at preternatural speed in the direction of the courtyard, running swiftly across the cobblestones.

  Being alone meant taking more precautions, I needed to preserve as much energy as possible and avoid the enemy. Instead of continuing down the middle of the street, I deviated and stuck close to buildings, running from doorway to doorway, hiding wherever I could behind rubble and walls. As the minutes passed, I found it was easier to make progress as the demons lumbered towards the courtyard. The younglings had become unfocused and over-excited, resorting to destroying anything in their path for amusement. More and more buildings burned, the smoke choking the streets, making it difficult to breathe.

  I focused fleetingly on the spirits to gain an update, confirming Epi had the enchantments operational. They continued to fight the demons and vampires surrounding the courtyard and I sent others to deal with the younglings and try to stop the mass destruction of the city. We couldn't afford to lose Zaen, it was too important.

  “I'm coming to you,” Lucas announced.

  “No!” My response was immediate. The shock of seeing Lucas when he took corporeal form was distressing, despite everything else which had happened today. It was like he'd come back to me, but he wasn't real. He looked real, but he wasn't solid, couldn't hold me in his arms, wouldn't stay with me. I needed to focus on Archangelo, and I wasn't certain I could do that if Lucas was nearby.

  “You need me, my love,” Lucas protested quietly. “I must protect you from Archangelo.”

  “I'll go,” Phelan offered. “Lott, I'll be there in just a second.”

  I agreed, relief flooding my heart. I couldn't bear to see Lucas, not when the pain was still so raw and I hadn't begun to reconcile myself to losing him.

  “Charlotte, William has delivered Clint to the hospital,” Lucas said. “He's on his way back to you.” He paused and I continued to walk steadily towards where I sensed Archangelo was waiting. “Be careful. Protect our child.” There was sadness in the timbre of his voice and I knew I'd hurt him by refusing his help. It was a necessary hurt though – my entire focus must be on Archangelo; I couldn't afford any distractions.

  I approached one abandoned cottage, sensing Archangelo inside. The spirits confirmed his presence, their voices hushed as though he could hear them. I reached for a Katchet, then returned it to the belt in a last-minute decision. The weapons wouldn't defeat him, I'd tried before and failed abysmally. The only other weapon in my arsenal was the powers Nememiah had bestowed and I chose to put my faith in them. I cautiously pushed the door open, every sense on alert. I wouldn't be able to attack him inside, the building was too small and any spiritual attack could cause the entire building to collapse on top of us.

  “Archangelo!” I yelled from the doorway.

  “In here.”

  “Come outside.”

  “No. You come inside.” His voice was calm and he sounded composed. I hated him for being so calm, when my own insides were shaking with fear.

  “Don't do it, Lott,” Phelan warned. He appeared beside me, looking utterly normal except for a slight transparency. He cocked his head, listening to something. “William is pinned down. He can't get here yet, but he'll be as quick as he can. You need to hold off until we're both here.”

  “I have a hostage,” Archangelo yelled. “Come in right now, or I swear, I'm going to drain her.”

  I exchanged a long look with Phelan and he shrugged. “Doesn't look like we've got much choice, Lott. He's got a human woman in there, it's one of Nat's pack.”

  With a frustrated roll of my eyes, I pushed against the door and stepped into the room, Phelan close behind.

  Archangelo sat on the couch, arms draped across the back of it, lean legs stretched out and resting on the coffee table. At his feet, a thin human woman was hunched on the floor, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Let her go,” I demanded.

  Archangelo exhaled leisurely and waved his hand at the woman. “You may go.” He watched her get onto her feet, her eyes nervously darting back and forth as she inched towards us at a snail's pace.

  “Go,” I implored her softly, trying to give her an encouraging look.

  “I'm frightened,” she whispered. Her hands were shaking, her pupils wide and dilated. She'd been terrified by Archangelo, but she was almost as scared of what would greet her outside.

  I called two of the spirits and patted her shoulder reassuringly. “The spirits are with you; they'll protect you until you reach safety. Head to the courtyard, keep out of sight, stay close to the houses,” I told her quietly. “You'll be safe.”

  The young woman nodded, then sprinted rapidly through the door without a backward glance.

  Archangelo clapped his hands together, slowly and dramatically. “Ho
w touching. You are a true angel of the people, Charlotte.”

  I glared at him, scanning his appearance. “It seems my orb didn't work,” I retorted icily. An erection was clearly visible in his form-fitting jeans.

  Archangelo eased his feet off the table. “When will you understand, Charlotte? Nothing you do can destroy me. You can't defeat me. Your orb caused severe pain, I'll admit, but I have regenerated. As you can see,” he announced, “I'm fully-functioning again.”

  “Believe me,” I hissed, struggling to hide my disgust, “I will kill you.”

  Archangelo chuckled, getting to his feet. “I've no doubt you'll try – and fail again. I've killed both your boyfriends. I've killed half the population of Zaen.” He paused, eyeing me curiously. “How did the population increase so substantially, by the way? I've seen none of this in my dreams.”

  It was my turn to laugh, the sound shrill in the quiet room. “You honestly think I'm going to tell you? You're even crazier than I thought.”

  He took a step towards me, anger blazing in his eyes. “I am not crazy! I have a right to know! You will be my wife and you will never be allowed to keep secrets from me!”

  I stepped backwards, wondering how to lure him out into the street. The room was too small to attack, energy from an orb would reduce the cottage to dust. I stood a better chance against him outside. “I'll never be your wife! I loathe you, you son of a bitch! With every single part of my body and soul.”

  “All this anger because I killed the dog and the leech?” He smirked, his face filling with satisfaction. “Neither of them was man enough for you.” He grabbed at his crotch, leering at me suggestively. “I've got something special for you, despite your best attempts to damage it.”

  Phelan growled angrily and hatred filled my chest, a white-hot rage overwhelming sensible thought. “Lucas was man enough to get me pregnant before you murdered him!” The words slipped out unbidden and I regretted them immediately.

  Archangelo stared, his green eyes frosty as he scrutinized my body, his gaze coming to rest on my flat stomach. “You're lying.”

  “Believe it or don't believe it – I don't care either way.” I stepped back again, edging closer to the door. “I'm pregnant with Lucas's baby and you will never, ever have me!”

  Without warning Archangelo moved, leaping across the coffee table and reaching for my throat. Energy erupted from my torso, an explosion of power which expanded and evolved into a sphere as it spread through the room. The wave caught Archangelo in its grip and hurled him, smashing his body into a wall. The circle of energy slammed into the walls on all four sides of the building, slicing like a hot knife through butter. I heard groaning erupt as the walls began to collapse on themselves when support beams shattered under the sudden onslaught of pressure.

  “Get out!” Phelan shouted. I turned and ran, rushing out of the door and jumping down the stairs. Behind us the cottage collapsed with a thunderous roar, the second floor falling onto the lower one, a blast of air erupting which threw debris all around us.

  Chapter 14: Aftermath

  William caught me as I stumbled into the street, holding me against his chest as the shuddering death throes of wood and stone reached a crescendo and the cottage fell on itself like a house of cards. A thick cloud of dust rose around us and I held my hand across my mouth and nose to stop from inhaling the thick white dust.

  “Archangelo?” William questioned.

  “In there,” I stared at the ruins of the cottage. “Do you think…?”

  “I don't know,” William admitted. “You hit him with energy?”

  I nodded, staring at the mass of debris, the remnants of someone's home. I wondered if the young woman whom Archangelo had been holding had lived in this cottage, or if he'd grabbed her and brought her here. I was feeling vague and disorientated, realized I was in shock.

  “Wait here,” William ordered. He walked towards the destroyed cottage, stepping cautiously through the rubble, lifting pieces of wood and stone out of the way as he searched.

  “He's there…” Phelan began to warn me and I called out to William.

  William turned and I shrieked as the rubble exploded skyward behind him, pieces of wreckage flying in all directions. William tensed, his body hunched in a posture to fight.

  There was a sudden burst of intense illumination and a piece of drywall exploded, an orb propelling it upward to smash into William's body. Both he and the drywall were thrust high into the air. Phelan sprinted towards Archangelo, who was climbing out of the rubble and I dashed to where William lay. He was slumped against a cottage wall on the other side of the street. I dropped to my knees next to him, horrified by his motionless and the lack of any sign he was still alive. The memory of Lucas's death filled my mind and I was convinced William was dead too. “William! William!” I shook his shoulder and he sagged to one side, completely unresponsive.

  “You stupid bitch!” Archangelo stormed towards us. Blood flowed from a gash on his arm and his white shirt was rapidly turning red from a ragged wound on his stomach. “My powers are greater to yours in every way, you moronic little fool! Did you think I didn't see that pathetic spirit you'd brought to this realm?” In a panic, I turned to the cottage, searching for, but unable to locate Phelan. “I've sent him back, you dumb cow! Now you're coming with me!”

  Archangelo gripped my arm, yanking me onto my feet. While I struggled against him, he drew a Hjördis from his pocket and marked a pentagram on the stone wall. “You're coming with me!” he repeated angrily.

  I focused the last of my flagging energy on creating an orb, pushing it towards Archangelo with every ounce of effort I had left. I couldn't let him take me through the portal. I'd recognized the symbols for Sfantu Drâghici and if he succeeded I would be dead. He and the Consiliului would have exactly what they wanted.

  The orb struck Archangelo in the ribs, its strength pushing him away. He tried and failed to retain a grip on my arm and agony blossomed in my left shoulder when it dislocated. Archangelo landed on the ground, slamming his head heavily against the cobblestones. I stepped towards him, cautiously watching for signs of life while I gasped through the pain in my shoulder. He was still, his face pale and not for the first time I wondered how his body worked. The vampires had no blood in them except for a short period after a feeding – yet Archangelo was half-vampire and bled copiously when he was injured. Would that knowledge help to kill him?

  His chest rose and fell and I reached for the Katchet, pulling it into my grip with trembling fingers. His heart. I had to stop his heart. He breathed like a human, despite the vampire physiology. If his heart stopped beating, surely to God that would kill him?

  I observed him for a few excruciating seconds, ensuring there was no movement other than the pumping of his heart. Nothing. He looked unconscious, blood from the head wound pooling around the back of his skull. Maybe he would bleed to death, although I couldn't count on it. I was stalling for time and cursed myself for suffering a bout of cowardice. Facing this man lying on the ground, a man who looked so completely human, created a bitter struggle with my conscience. Despite knowing how brutal and murderous he was, despite knowing he was bat-shit crazy - to all intents and purposes he looked like a normal young adult laying there and I hesitated. I dropped to one knee beside him, poking his stomach gingerly with the Katchet. There was no reaction and I lifted the Katchet, mentally preparing to plunge it into his heart.

  “Stop!” I stopped the forward momentum of the knife, turning hastily when I heard an unfamiliar voice. Three men, mounted on horseback, stood a few feet away. Whilst they were strangers and unknown to me, the weapons they held were immediately recognizable. All three held finely-hewn longbows, arrows drawn by finely muscled arms and aimed directly at my chest.

  “You don't know what you're doing,” I stated grimly. “He wants to kill me; he's murdered half our people.” I turned my attention to Archangelo, intent on finishing him off. The arrival of the three strangers had catapulted me into a
cold finality over what I was about to do, and increased the urgency to accomplish it quickly, before they could stop me as they clearly intended.

  “Put down the Katchet.” One of the men dismounted from his horse. After placing the bow in a saddle sheath he strode towards me, his movements slow and deliberate. “We don't wish to hurt you.”

  “Well, that'll make a change,” I announced. “Someone who doesn't want to kill me.”

  There was no reaction from the man, making me wonder if he had understood the sarcasm in my words. He walked closer and I took a few seconds to study him, trying to figure out who he was and more importantly, what he wanted from me. A frisson of fear settled into my spine, but the man made no untoward moves, kept his motion smooth and loose-limbed. He was holding no weapons, keeping his hands out in the universal sign of being unarmed. His dark hair was long and straight, dropping halfway down his back. He wore a multitude of leather – fine leather pants in dark brown and a russet tunic, tied at his narrow waist with gold braid. Knee length boots completed the ensemble.

  His features were fine, his skin pale with a translucent glow which seemed to come from within his body. Now that he was nearer I could see the fine gold chains which were threaded through his hair, drawing it back from his face. He had a tiny goatee, braided and tied off with an iridescent blue bead. There were three intricate tattoos on his face, one in the middle of his forehead and the other two were placed on his temples, near his eyes. He had the faintest trace of markings on his neck, an intricate pattern which twirled and twisted across his skin in the lightest shade of purple. It didn't look like a tattoo, but I wasn't willing to get close enough to figure out exactly what it was. I stared at him for another minute, fury and fear burning in equal quantities through my limbs.

  “You are the Nememiah's Child,” he announced, his gaze encompassing my forlorn appearance in one long sweep. “And this one is the hybrid.”