Christian interrupted him fiercely. "She is NOT the one you seek." But even as he said it, Christian doubted himself. Could she be? "No. The Watchers are not infallible. They are trained to detect paranormal threats against the vampire world, but still, their visions aren't set in stone. You know that better than anyone."
"So you admit that there's something, then? A threat?"
"If there is a threat, I'll deal with it. Don't ever send anyone here again," Christian said, "because brother, trust me you will not like the result."
"And what if she is the one?"
"Lucian, her power is raw but not extraordinary. She can't be the one from the prophecy. It's impossible." Christian could hear the silence on the other end of the phone as Lucian processed the information. After a while Lucian spoke, curiosity evident in his tone.
"So why do you care so much? Giving in to the temptation of a little forbidden snack?" Lucian's laugh was derisive.
"None of your damned business."
"That's forbidden too, in case you forgot. Not that I don't mind a little witch blood myself from time to time. We always crave the illicit, don't we? I just didn't think my straitlaced, uptight brother would indulge in such criminal inclinations."
"Think what you will, Lucian. Do not send any of your people here again, or I will return them to you in pieces myself. Food or otherwise, the witch is not your concern." Christian's words were final, indicating the subject was closed, and he disconnected the call.
The tension drained out of his body. If Lucian refused to leave Victoria alone, Christian didn't want to think of what he would do. A tendril of unease crawled up his neck—what did the Watchers know? What had they said to Lucian? And worse, what did he know?
Was Victoria in danger? Was she the one?
WHEN VICTORIA FINALLY awoke, it was to inky darkness, much like the very first night she had slept in Christian's house. She floundered weakly for the window switch and opened it a crack; no light, which meant nighttime. She closed her eyes and had to take a few minutes before she could focus properly, trying to remember the words Leto had taught her for the spell.
"Illustro," she rasped, illuminating the lamp in the far corner of the room. Her mouth felt like dry cotton and her eyes hurt as if they had grit in them. When she tried to sit up, the agony that stabbed through her back and neck was excruciating, and she gasped, falling back against the pillows. After a few minutes, she hauled herself up and inched her way into the bathroom.
She looked like hell. Her face was pasty with huge black circles under her eyes and a large purple bruise covered the side of her temple. A thick white bandage encased her shoulder, and she winced as she touched the edges of it. Splashing some cold water on her face, she finger-combed her hair and made her way downstairs where she found Christian sitting in the den, still and in repose, hands clasped against his chest. His lips moved soundlessly. Was he praying?
"Hi," she said, startling him.
"How are you feeling?" His voice was rough like sandpaper.
"Like I got hit by a truck." She smiled weakly and sat beside him, grimacing from the effort. "Thank you for coming for me," she said. "I don't know what—"
Christian put a finger against her lips and mindful of her injury, pulled her into a gentle embrace. He felt her familiar curves settle into his body and he swallowed painfully, tensing from the sheer proximity of her elegant, so elegant, throat.
Victoria felt his tension and propped herself up, noticing his very pale face and stormy dark slate-colored eyes. There was no light in them, just a latent hunger blackening their edges. His arms were rigid and she could see the muscles bunched tightly beneath his white skin. He looked hungry.
"Have you ...?" Christian shook his head, and she could see the effort it cost him. He wasn't even breathing.
"I couldn't leave, not while you ..."
He was very quiet and her eyes softened as she realized that he hadn't fed because he'd been afraid to leave her side. But at what cost? she wondered. He looked haggard, but it only heightened the perfect surreal beauty of his face. Victoria understood in that second why people could fall prey to vampires so easily—their beauty enticed and compelled, especially when they were hungry.
"I'll be okay," she told him. "I'll wait. Go." Victoria stood up and literally shoved him out the door. It was snowing again and she watched his lithe body disappear into the trees, their dark evergreen branches heavy with snow.
With Christian gone, Victoria returned to the chair he had vacated and pulled her mind into focus. Her body ached but her mind felt uncluttered. Even her magic felt more malleable, different. Something new had arisen within her, something intense and strong and frightening. It excited and terrified her at the same time.
Who are you,really?
The amulet pulsed as if it held the answer. Victoria held the stone. She knew that she had only survived because of its protective power and magical knowledge. She thought about the fire curse that had incinerated the creature, and her blood boiled in response, the amulet scorching her icy hands. She remembered what Brigid had written in the journal about the inhuman exchange between the blood's magic and sacrifice, and her face paled in horror. In that single moment, everything became crystal clear.
She had killed last night!
Victoria closed her eyes and whispered a summoning charm, the music box from her bedside table materializing in her lap. She removed the journal, and found the letter that Brigid had written to Marcus, rereading the lines she wanted, "the price of the blood had always been mine to set" and the piece about the diamond amulet, "this is everything that was best of me."
She set aside the journal and removed the amulet, her brow furrowed as she examined the diamond. One thing was clear: somehow, the amulet had protected her with its own magic of its own volition. Tentative, she pushed her consciousness into the stone, prisms of crimson light dazzling her, and found herself in a blood-red cavern. The air felt heavy as if she were swimming underwater. Drawing her mental hands forward, sifting through it, her fingers left a trail of silvery-blue phosphorescence in their wake, and she stopped fascinated. Magic!
This was the legacy that Brigid had left—a living testament to her fathomless power, a part of her own consciousness existing forever in the amulet. The stone undulated, embracing her with familiar strength, and she felt renewed.
Victoria pulled some more of the energy into herself as she withdrew, aware of its colossal strength. She would need it for what she was about to do. She lay back in the chair and closed her eyes. Now for the hard part.
A soft noise interrupted her as Christian strode back into the room.
"Victoria, are you okay?"
"Yes. I just have one thing to do but I'm trying to figure out whether I should do it," she said, smiling at his use of her full name. His skin was flushed as if he'd been running but he looked far more human than when he'd left.
"What's that?"
"The wound. I can heal it myself from the inside out but I'm wondering what would happen if I took it into me instead." She quelled his instant look of concern with a gentle smile. "Trust me, it has been a day of discoveries. It won't hurt me."
"Why would you want to do that?"
"Because I need to understand why it attacked me." She hesitated. "And how it died."
"Do you want me to stay?" Christian asked.
Victoria nodded and leaned forward, clasping his long fingers in her own. With his free hand, Christian removed the gauze bandage, and was shocked at the yellow and red mottled skin. Victoria wrinkled her nose at the slimy odor as she closed her eyes and concentrated on healing the area surrounding the wound.
"Curo," she murmured.
Before his very eyes, Christian watched spellbound as the skin lightened slowly and visibly cleared, the angry color dissipating as Victoria's magic compelled it. Her body shook slightly as her intense concentration created lines of tension in her face. After a minute the skin on her shoulder became unmarked but for
a thin half-moon scar, where the teeth had penetrated her skin. After about ten seconds, Victoria relaxed, opened her eyes and smiled fiercely at him. Her expression was triumphant.
"Did it work?" he asked, his thumb stroking her hand.
"Yes, I learned a bit about him and a bit more about what you are." As she said the words, Christian stiffened because even though she already knew what he was, she had now just seen what a truly evil vampire was capable of, and, in truth, what Christian was capable of. She read him easily.
"Christian, stop. I know who you are. How I feel about you won't change because I've seen what your kind can do," she said gently. "It would be naïve for you to think that I don't know what a vampire is." She frowned. "He was different though, wasn't he? Not like a man, more like an animal."
"They are trained assassins, more fiend than vampire. They are control fed, only to keep their hunger sharp, to kill. I'm sorry I wasn't there—" Christian's face was tight.
"It doesn't matter. I'm here now with you." She paused, her words cautious. "When you say control fed, you mean starved?"
"Yes, of blood." His voice was strained.
Victoria watched him, speculative. She understood that Christian had to feed, but it was more convenient for her to equate that in her head with the natural act of eating as opposed to the unnatural act of consuming live blood.
Even earlier when he'd returned, it hadn't bothered her. Now that she'd seen into the other vampire hunger-warped consciousness, she understood all too clearly what feeding meant.
"You eat food though, I saw you on our date ... but you still need ... blood or you'll become like them?"
"I can still eat human food although flavors are far more overpowering now, which is why we tend not do it very often. And yes, blood is a necessity." The apology was ever present in his eyes.
"Human blood? Do you ... have to kill?"
"Any blood works really. Human blood tastes different, which mainly has to do with diet, herbivores and carnivores, that sort of thing. And no, I don't have to kill." Victoria noticed the emphasis he placed on saying "I" and tilted her head questioningly.
In response to her unspoken query, he explained, "We have an enzyme in our saliva that has special healing properties, so if I need to, I can take blood from someone and they would heal easily. The trick is to know when to stop. You see, a young vampire can barely control the hunger, so early on killing is a natural consequence of feeding. Over time, most learn control."
"But won't you make more vampires by killing people?" Victoria asked, curious. Christian smiled thinly.
"Myth. If that were the case, humans wouldn't exist. We have special rules, more laws actually, for that. Unfortunately there are some vampires who are far more indulgent and enjoy taking a victim's death for the pleasure of it, the thrill of it."
"Is it thrilling?" she asked in morbid fascination. Christian stared at her with those compelling silver eyes and she shivered softly. She changed direction very quickly.
"What about mirrors?" she asked, forcing a teasing note into her voice.
"I look pretty good in them most days," Christian said, rising to her attempt at light banter. Victoria smiled. More than pretty good, she thought.
"Can you change into a bat?" A look of involuntary disgust crossed her face and he laughed.
"Mostly myth, although very old vampires can shift forms."
"Crucifixes?"
"I died a Catholic, remember?"
"Hmmm" Victoria pursed her lips racking her brains for some of the other so-called facts she had read in books. "Sunlight's a myth too right, because you walk around in the day?" Christian shook his head.
"Correction, I walk around in the shade. Sunlight is actually deadly to us. Not as in incinerate in seconds to dust, but still lethal." He paused, searching for a suitable example and continued. "Imagine the pain you would feel the next day if you lay out in the sun for four hours without any protection? Well, think about that multiplied exponentially in the space of minutes. We can get fatally ill after prolonged exposure. Light clothing and sun block like zinc oxide can help but I just try to stay out of direct sunlight. The older we get, the better the tolerance, you build up immunity."
"Ah ha!" she said. "I've got a good one!" She paused dramatically and then her face fell. "Never mind, I just realized I pretty much slept in bed with you the other night, so probably no coffins, right?"
Christian burst out laughing. "Only you can make not sleeping in a coffin sound like a tragedy."
"Garlic?" she asked hopefully.
"Love the smell, hate the taste," he said, his lips twitching.
"Silver!"
"Wrong type of monster, sorry. Although as you know, it hurts if it gets into our blood." She stared at him in sham disappointment.
"Do the movies get anything right at all about you people? We have been so misled!"
"Well, we can die from being stabbed in the heart, pretty much any sharp object. We don't age, take my beautiful young effervescent self for example." He earned a punch in the leg for his vanity. Then his voice grew quiet, a sudden rough tenderness to it. "And when we fall in love, it's for forever."
She stared at him, her breath hitching in her throat. "You're falling ... for me?"
"What do you think?"
Victoria couldn't speak as the warmth in his eyes enveloped her. Her blood raced as his lips found hers. It didn't last long.
Gently disentangling her arms, Christian pulled back. His eyes were excited, his body on edge. He'd explained to her that the feelings that flooded him weren't that different from the ones that ruled him when he was hunting. He wanted her. He wanted her blood. To him, it equated to the same thing ... and that meant he couldn't be trusted.
Christian cleared his throat, searching for a distraction and his eyes fell on the music box resting beside her.
"It's a family heirloom," Victoria said, noticing his gaze.
"It's very beautiful." Christian felt a strange sense of familiarity as he saw the box. The crest on the top of the box tugged at his memory but he couldn't for the life of him place it. But why would he have a memory that was related to a family heirloom of Victoria's?
"It was my great, great, great, great grandmother's box," she said. "Her name was Brigid and she was a duchess, the Duchess of Lancaster."
As she said the name, suddenly something clicked in Christian's head and he almost flew up in astonishment. Mon Dieu, Lucian was right! Victoria looked at him quizzically.
"What's the matter?" she asked. Christian searched her face, looking for anything, anything at all that could show that she was deceiving him, but he could see nothing.
"How much do you know about your ancestor, the duchess?" he asked finally.
Victoria deliberated. She wanted to be honest with Christian but she didn't want to betray any family secrets that should remain in confidence. Christian saw her hesitation and understood the reason for it. So he took the plunge and went first.
"Tori, we have a prophecy in the vampire world that goes back centuries. I am talking centuries before I was even born a human. It's based on the legend of a witch, a very powerful witch with amazing, nearly mythical powers." He paused and looked at her carefully expressionless face. Her hands gripped each other so tightly that her fingers were almost bloodless.
He continued, his voice soft, compassionate. "The part of the legend that applies to vampires and other supernatural beings was that she could take away the curse of what they were, make a vampire mortal or a werewolf a man, just by willing it to be so. And she could also make anyone, either mortal or immortal, more powerful than they had ever dreamed, again just from her own power. Her magic was consummate, said to be descended from gods or demons."
Victoria sank back into her chair, her eyes wide. He grasped her hands in his and squeezed reassuringly before continuing. "You see the key to all her vast power was her blood. We call it Le Sang Noir, which translates in English to 'black blood.' It was unique, and per
fect—the source and strength of her power."
"And what happened to her according to your legend?" Her voice was raspy, raw with emotion.
"She disappeared. Some say she died by her own hand because she was unkillable and invincible, but not before she obliterated hundreds of witches, wizards and warlocks who had united to kill her and take her power. She killed anyone who opposed her, including vampires," he said softly.
Christian could barely hear Victoria's voice, it was so quiet. "It was the call of the blood," she whispered. "She couldn't control it."
He could feel her anguish but pushed himself to continue. "It is said that the blood cost to her soul was so great that she gave up her humanity for it. She killed herself in the end."
Victoria stared at Christian her eyes burning, vehemence making her voice shake. "She sacrificed herself ... for her family ... for me! She fought the blood. She found something to believe in, and won. She won!"
Christian folded her in his arms; her silent sobs shaking her body. He forced himself to finish the prophecy because he knew she had to know.
"Tori, there's something else," he said, tipping her chin up. "The legend was about the duchess, but the prophecy I speak of ... well, it's about ... you."
"W ... what?"
"You remember that day at my house when you were bleeding?" When she nodded, he kept going. "When I smelled the blood, I wanted it. I wanted you, Tori. The scent of it made me insane, I was delirious with it." Christian's eyes went dark with the mere recollection of it. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, banishing the memory.
"It was all I could think about, and I almost took you. Almost. In the second before I went in for the kill, something stopped me. The colors in your blood were so dark and so luminous that I thought they couldn't possibly be real. And what I realized in that second was that your blood was calling me to my death. And yet, I still wanted it!" Christian grasped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing gently across her soft, red lips. His eyes were wild. "I think I knew it was you from that moment, but I refused to reconcile it with what I knew ... what Lucian knew," he breathed.
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