by BETH KERY
She began to tremble at the bizarre, frightening sight. This couldn’t be happening.
Christina turned her attention back to the man who looked like Saint, knowing instinctively he was their leader.
“Let us pass.”
Saint’s look-alike slowly removed his glasses and latched a hungry stare on her. His shapely lips curved into smile that was awful to behold, not only because it reminded her of one of Saint’s infrequent, much-cherished smiles, but because it connoted anything but warmth. When he shifted his gaze to Aidan, Christina pulled her son against her.
“Like a welcoming beacon…a never-ending font of vitessence,” Christina thought she heard him mutter under his breath. The greed in his blue eyes alarmed her. She pushed slightly on Aidan’s left shoulder, nudging him both physically and telepathically toward the down escalator. He could run up it to safety if she could distract these beasts long enough.
“Teslar.”
Christina blinked when she realized it was Alison who called out. Her thin face seemed transformed by ecstasy. “Teslar,” she repeated, this time more loudly. He finally tore his gaze from Christina, a scowl marring his handsome face.
“Here I am. Do you see? I told you I was capable of sacrifice,” the girl said in a quavering voice.
He squinted at her as though he couldn’t quite fathom how it was that a worm dared to address him. When Alison stepped toward him, he knocked away her outstretched hand with an impatient gesture. Christina took advantage of his fragmented attention and shoved Aidan toward the down escalator. Without pause, she spun around and slammed her fist into the ugly face of the creature nearest her son, the one with the six-inch-high Mohawk. Much to her shock, he squalled in agony. Christina had spent much of her childhood in an orphanage, and later in a series of foster homes. She was no stranger to dangerous situations or having to defend herself in a brawl.
But she hadn’t expected this. A web of swollen red and purple veins spread on the foul creature’s nose and between his eyes in the precise spot where Christina had hit him. The male backhanded her blindly, catching her jaw.
She reeled. Warm fluid filled her mouth.
“Run. You too, Alison,” she shouted, although she saw from the corner of her eye the thin girl remained frozen on the spot as she stared fixedly at Teslar. At least she heard her son’s rapid footsteps blending with the monotonous churn of the escalator engine.
The sight of the blood in her mouth caused one of the hideous males to let out a shriek of excitement. The tall one with the chestnut hair snarled, his handsome face twisted in fury. He barked an order.
The creatures tensed to pounce while their comrade continued to howl in pain and clutch wildly at his face. Christina braced herself, legs slightly spread, knees bent and fists cocked. She didn’t stand a chance against the nightmare monsters and she knew it. She lived only for the fading thump of Aidan’s tennis shoes as he leapt up the escalator. The creature farthest to her right—the one with a mouthful of pointed teeth and who wore what revoltingly looked like a necklace of human vertebrae—gave a throat-tearing snarl and sprang.
Christina prepared to die.
Something smacked into the monster midair with a dull thud. Her would-be-attacker fell to the platform floor several feet short of Christina, a large, dark gray wolf clamped around his throat. He writhed madly, trying to throw the animal off him. Howls of fury sliced through the still air as four more wolves launched themselves at the creatures, their pointed, gleaming teeth slashing and biting.
Christina turned away, knowing this was her only chance to follow her son.
“Alison!” she shouted again, trying to break through the young woman’s trance. She followed the girl’s rapturous stare. Teslar stood upright on the handrail of the escalator, a beautiful dark angel ready to take flight. He leapt and took to the air, his long coat billowing out behind him like leathery wings. He landed at the top of the down escalator. Aidan was just three steps away from him.
Teslar smiled at Aidan, his fangs fully bared.
“No,” Christina yelled, launching herself up the escalator. Teslar reached out for the boy. Aidan threw up his hand, instinctively trying to block Teslar’s grabbing fist. Teslar lunged back as though he’d been pushed, a look of surprise on his face. Christina paused, mouth hanging open when she saw a figure step behind and just to the right of Teslar—a figure that precisely matched Teslar’s height and breadth.
“Back to your mother.”
Aidan never hesitated when he heard Saint’s order, scrambling back down the escalator toward Christina. She glanced around, seeing a writhing pile of wolves and—much to her amazement—what appeared to be a grunting boar and two dog-like creatures, all of them enormous and possessing hideous, blood-dripping maws and long, razor-sharp teeth.
The female still in human-form bit and slashed with her teeth as viciously as the animals. It revolted her to see the flesh and blood flying. The wolves appeared to be stalling her and the other creatures, if not conquering them, but the snarling melee was too close to the bottom of the escalator for Christina to lead Aidan in that direction.
Instead she treaded in place on the downward-moving escalator, holding out her hands until Aidan plunged into her embrace. Both of them peered at the top of the escalator. Teslar and Saint stood facing each other in profile, both entirely still. Christina was reminded of the eerie silence before a cyclonic storm.
Chapter Six
“Mom, what’s Saint do—”
“Shhh.” Christina quieted Aidan shakily at the same moment Teslar gave a lion-like roar, fangs bared in a grimace awful to behold. He lunged, making a slashing gesture with his arm. Saint moved and the sound of metal striking metal hit Christina’s ears. She realized through a haze of shock that both men held unusual silver swords, both so short they might be better described as long, lethal-looking daggers. They began to parry so rapidly that both their blades and bodies became a blur of motion.
A heavy black boot landed in Saint’s gut with a sickening thwack, only to be followed by a punch to the jaw. The blade sliced close behind, aimed at Saint’s throat. Saint leaned back with inhuman flexibility and speed, avoiding the sharp metal without a millimeter to spare. He turned as if in slow motion, rolling into the air in an abbreviated cartwheel. One booted foot struck Teslar’s head, then another, both kicks landing with brutal force.
Teslar reeled back, hissing in pain. Saint flew into him with the power of a charging locomotive, their swords clashing together, teeth bared in frightening snarls.
The rapidity and viciousness of their blows shocked Christina to the core. Teslar struck Saint in the chest with a rocket-like fist and Saint slammed into the railing, causing the entire escalator to shake from the force of the impact. When he didn’t move, Christina made a sound of misery and surged forward on the moving stairs, only vaguely aware that her son also lunged toward Saint. She came to herself and stopped Aidan before he took another step.
Saint’s long body remained draped over the handrail, motionless. The moving rail tugged at him, dragging his dead weight down a step or two while Teslar advanced, a leer on his handsome, bleeding face, the silver blade gleaming in his hand.
“Saint!” Aidan called out.
Teslar glanced down the escalator, his smile widening. He raised his hand and plunged the sword toward Saint’s undefended chest. Christina’s moan of anguish blended with the sound of metal striking metal. Saint blocked the blow as though his head wasn’t flung over the rail and he’d perfectly seen Teslar’s blade coming.
His long, lean body coiled up like a retracting spring. He flew at Teslar, the unexpectedness and savageness of his attack throwing Teslar off balance.
Saint advanced, while Teslar defended himself frantically. They moved so rapidly that Christina heard only the thumps of flesh striking flesh, the clash of swords and grunts of pain. At a pause in the storm, she saw Teslar’s exposed chest. Saint slashed with his sword, but as soon as he made contact…<
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Teslar was gone. An enormous black and crimson bird with a vicious-looking beak and talons that looked like sharp bones rose into the air, the sound of its huge, beating wings echoing off the tunnel walls. She saw Saint crouch, preparing to leap, fangs bared in a snarl.
He paused when he saw Aidan surging out of her arms.
“Aidan,” she called out shrilly. But Saint straightened and calmly waited at the top of the escalator. Christina followed her son. Saint drew them onto the platform, his eyes running first over Christina, then Aidan, then Christina again. A long, thin cut oozed blood along his cheek. A deeper wound cut into the bulging meat of his right biceps. The ferocious quality of his gaze would have frightened Christina if it had belonged to anyone but Saint.
“Are you all right, Christina?” he demanded, his fingertips brushing her jaw. She realized blood must be smeared on her lips and wiped at her mouth hastily.
“We’re fine, but Alison…” she trailed off breathlessly.
“Alison!” Saint’s voice cracked like a whip in the silence. Christina turned around, stunned to realize she no longer heard the snarls and growls of the wolf-vampire battle at the bottom of the escalator. Only one casualty remained, sprawled on the concrete. Christina saw the wiry Mohawk and realized it was the male she’d punched earlier.
She blinked, trying to chase away the hazy sense of unreality that pervaded her awareness as she watched Alison jog up the escalator toward them. After she reached them, Christina saw the girl’s face had been drained of every trace of color, her paleness made all the more striking by the contrast of her ink black hair.
“Did they bite you?” Saint demanded.
The girl just shook her head as she looked up at him in mute shock.
“Let’s go then. We need to get out of the subway,” Saint said. He prodded Alison until she walked zombie-like in front of him.
“Aidan,” he prompted softly.
Aidan grabbed the girl’s hand, murmuring to her in a calming fashion. Christina swung around to look at Saint.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“Not now, Christina.”
“You can’t expect us to just—”
“Do you think he won’t come back, this time with more Scourge revenants?” He took a step toward her, his gaze so fierce that Christina clamped her jaw shut. He put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her toward Aidan and Alison.
“Let’s go. Move. Quickly.”
This time, Christina sensed his tension and didn’t pause to argue, despite all the questions and anxieties that spun in her head.
Christina knocked on the guestroom door, opening it after she heard Alison’s soft, “Come in.”
“Do you have everything you need?” she asked.
Alison swung her hair out of her eyes and nodded. She lay huddled in the double bed beneath the covers, her figure so slight that if it weren’t for full breasts and the sad, knowing look in her dark blue eyes, she’d resemble a child more than a young woman.
“I’ve called Marianna at Altgeld House and told her you were here with me.”
Alison’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell her about—”
“No. I only told her we were attacked on the subway platform. I didn’t say by what. Little hard to do when I’m not so sure myself.”
Alison chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” She swallowed convulsively as she studied Christina. “One thing I know for certain, that guy—Teslar. He’s a psycho.”
“You figured that out, did you?”
Alison sat up on her elbows. “Christina, you heard me telling Saint about how I met Teslar, where he would take me?”
She nodded. Saint had questioned the girl extensively after Christina had sent a protesting Aidan to take a shower after they reached the coach house. Christina hadn’t wanted her son to hear. What Alison had reported had made Christina’s stomach roil. While Alison had been upset about revealing some of the details of her and Teslar’s twisted courtship, she didn’t seem to really comprehend how correct she’d been when she’d called Teslar a psycho.
Christina thanked God the girl was still alive after spending time with that monster.
Alison leaned toward her and whispered intently, “What if Saint is just as bad? They’re twins or something, right? How do you know he’s not just as much of a nightmare?”
“I just know.”
She gave the girl a small smile of apology for the fierceness of her reply. She stepped over to the closet and drew down a quilt, placing it at the end of Alison’s bed.
“The air conditioning gets chilly at night,” she explained.
“Christina, I think you’re wrong to trust him. He says we’re safe here, but how can you be sure?”
“I’ve known Saint for years, Alison. You can believe me when I say I’d trust him with my life.”
Alison’s expression was incredulous. “But he’s some kind of a vampire or something. He’s not human.”
“I know.”
“You knew what he was? Even when you agreed to live here on this property with your son?”
Christina closed her eyes and felt the burn of exhaustion.
“I knew he was different, yes. Truth be told, I didn’t know about the…” She paused, hesitant to call Saint a mythological creature when she felt as though the label didn’t quite fit. But even Saint had admitted that humans had labeled him thus. And Christina was human, after all.
“I didn’t know about the vampire stuff until a few weeks ago,” she admitted.
Alison sat up in bed, the bandages around her wrists making her look exponentially more fragile. “Stay away from him, Christina. He’s bad news. I can tell he has some kind of hold over you. Teslar did the same to me. He would look into my eyes and it was like his desires became mine. My own will vanished. I would have done anything for him…sacrificed my blood…died for him. Earlier in your office, I found myself telling Saint a few things I had no intention of ever revealing. He can control you, just like Teslar can.” Alison shivered visibly. “And, Christina, it was amazing. Being with Teslar was like…nirvana.”
“No. They’re different. Saint was doing that to try to stop Teslar.”
Still, it felt as if all the blood in her head rushed down in a torrent to her belly, bringing a wave of nausea with it. What if Alison was right? She’d long known Saint had the ability to command others to his will. Wasn’t it beyond odd that she should trust him so completely after the things she’d recently seen? Yet her belief in the goodness of him, a goodness that she sensed had come from unimaginable suffering, had never wavered.
She managed a tremulous smile. “Try to get some rest, Alison. Saint has assured me his grounds are protected from Teslar and those…things that follow him.”
The girl blinked heavily. “I hope so, because I’m exhausted.”
Christina said good night and left the room, trying to erase the image of Alison’s doubtful, frightened expression from her mind.
Saint didn’t move, but his gaze trailed Christina as she came out on the coach house front porch. The light from the house reflected behind her, making her sundress translucent, highlighting the beguiling feminine curves of her hips and slender, naked thighs. He felt his cock stiffen, the sensation even more urgent than his typical reaction to her nearness.
Their interrupted mating earlier that day, the heat of battle, and his sharp anxiety for Christina’s and Aidan’s safety made his need for her swell dangerously.
She said nothing as she sat in a chair next to him. She’d showered and her long, dark hair hung damply down her back and shoulders. Her clean, floral scent filled his nostrils, creating a potent chemical reaction that lit up every nerve in his body.
“What are you?”
Her soft question seemed to vibrate in the warm, still air between them.
“I am one of the Sevliss—the soulless ones. There are six of us in total, living in cities across the globe. Each of us possesses a clone. It’s
our primary mandate to keep our clone’s hunger in check.”
“What do you mean mandate? Who gave you this directive?” Christina asked, turning toward him.
“The Magian.” Saint shrugged uneasily when he saw her questioning look. “We know very little about them. They form a council of sorts and monitor our activities. For the most part, they are invisible to us. They tell us little about our purpose, but we know they watch us…study us. They are similar to us in genetic make-up, but they possess souls. They were our creators.”
“Creators?”
“I’m not like you, Christina. Kavya, the Magian who watches over me, told me Teslar and I were harvested in a laboratory. I have no memories of being young. When I came to consciousness, I was here on Earth, much as you see me now. Kavya reveals little about himself, but my brothers and I have formed our own conclusions.”
“Brothers? You mean Teslar—”
“No. I mean the other Sevliss Princes. We communicate, exchange information about the best methods for controlling our clones. We have often discussed our origins and the Magian. The general consensus is that although Earth is the only home we have ever known, our genetic material is not from here.”
“You’re an alien.”
His eyebrows went up at her droll tone. She smiled and shook her head.
“Believe it or not, I have less of a problem believing that than I do the whole vampire thing. You’re not exactly typical, Saint. How can you possibly believe you’re soulless, though?”
“I have no vitessence…no lifeforce. I have to feed off humans’ vitessence in order to survive.” He glanced away from her perplexed stare. “I’m not like Teslar, draining a human’s vitessence—their very soul—until death. He’s not only a soul-eater, but a fear-eater. The taste of fear is acid on my tongue. It’s ambrosia to my clone.”