by Lund, S. E.
"You're more generous than many," he says to me, his head tilted to one side.
"Do you deny what I say is true?"
He shakes his head.
"How do you effectively control them? That's the problem. They're a powerful group. Humans are powerful technologically, but even so, they haven't been able to completely control vampires. I don't know if they ever will be able."
"Well," I say and dangle my legs over the side of the bed. "I don't like it and I won't work for the Council if that's their endgame."
"So generous," he says, coming around to my side of the bed to help me up. "But can you avoid it? The Council created you, protected you, made you what you are. They have plans for you."
"You rejected those plans."
"Yes," he says. "Because I have power. Without me, you're powerless. Just a weapon without a hand to guide you."
"Then I need your help."
"Eve," he says and cups my face with his hand. "I went to all this trouble to keep you from this fate. Why do you think I'll help you meet it?"
I stand up on my own, pushing away his hand. "You'll help me because it's the only way you'll have me or my blood."
"I don't need your blood. Nor do I need you. Wanting you is entirely different."
I lean on the door to the bathroom. "If you want me, you'll have to help me or else imprison me and take me by force. And believe me, if you do that? You think I've been uncooperative? You've no idea."
I go into the bathroom and close the door. He stays outside.
"Call me if you feel faint."
"I'll be fine," I say. "Give me some privacy, please."
After a moment, I hear the door to my bedroom close. I lean down, my head in my hands. I was feeling somewhat faint but I have to get away from him for even a moment. He's been hovering over me like I'm going to die at any time and I can't even use the washroom without him standing outside.
I sit like that for a while, just trying to think straight without him there watching me. There's been no mental intrusions since I tried to block him out, and I wonder if I have to actually let him in consciously.
My plan is to recover my strength, and then meet with the Council and talk them into getting me the nanotechnology so I can use it to kill Soren. I'm not at all concerned on a moral level with destroying him. He wants to enslave all humans, have us as slaves to vampires, with him and other ancients as our rulers. They would longer fear the machinations of the Council and its rules and treaties.
Michel might not like it. That's too bad for him. He's kept the truth from me – claiming it was because he wanted to save me from this fate I was contemplating, but he'll just have to give up that hope. I know he wants me for himself as much as he doesn't want me to be the Adept who kills Soren. One of us has to. I have more reason than most to be the one.
That's what I'll plead before the Council, if I have to. Of course, Soren will know I'm Michel's 'pet' so we'll have to find some way to break us up – have Michel lose me, maybe reject me so that I'm available. Soren can then claim me. Then once I'm safely ensconced in his circle, I'll destroy him.
I don't know how it will happen. The Council has a plan. Michel won't tell me what it is, but I want to hear it.
All my life, the idea that one day I'll find a way to stop vampires kept me alive through all the pain in my life. Soren’s planning on being the single-largest mass murderer ever. It's a very strong motivation. If I'm able to kill him, and if I have to die in the process, so be it.
I sleep all the next day and other than eating the light meals Vasily brings me, I do nothing more strenuous than making the short trip to the washroom. During the first hours, I recover fairly well, considering I've almost lost all my blood to Michel's lack of control – or Soren's compulsion.
Michel comes to me later in the night as I lie in the darkness, thinking about what I'm going to do. I'm not feeling well again, the sense that I'm recovering wanes as the day passes and darkness falls. I'm worn out. It'll probably take me several days to fully recover.
Michel stands in the darkness at the foot of my bed and says nothing.
"I can see you," I say.
"I know,” he says, his voice soft. "How are you feeling?"
"Like crap." I turn over, my muscles aching from the effort, my hands shaking. "Maybe I need something more to eat. Can you ask Vasily to come in? I feel like something more substantial than tea and toast. Like meat or something."
Michel sits on the bed beside me and takes my hand.
"You need my blood," he says, his tone serious.
"I hardly had any of it," I say, shifting on the bed, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt. "Did I drink enough to become addicted?"
"Yes," he says. "Because you lost so much of your own, mine had that much more effect on you. You felt fine for a while, but now you're starting to feel unwell again."
A sense of dread washes over me. "I thought it would take more than one feed."
He says nothing for a moment. "One big feed will do it."
"What happens if I don't have more?"
"You'll feel sicker and sicker."
"Will it kill me?"
He clears his throat. "No, but you'll wish it would."
"It's not permanent is it?" I say. "I can get clean?"
"I'm sorry," he says and shakes his head.
I cover my face. Nausea rises up inside of me at the idea that I'd need to drink blood to keep from feeling sick, like some junkie.
"I had no other choice," he says "I had to save your life."
I turn my back to him.
"Are you sure you didn't drink too much of my blood accidentally on purpose?"
He leans over me, his arms around me.
"Remember, you gave yourself to me. As much as I want you, I never wanted any of this for you."
"Leave me alone," I say, pulling away from him, the pain when I do growing by the moment. He sits up.
"Just drink now. You'll feel better immediately."
"Go away."
He does nothing for a moment, but finally, leaves the bed. "Call me when you can't take it any longer."
He leaves me to my misery. And misery it is. I roll around on the bed for hours, sweating, pains in my arms and legs, my stomach aching, my muscles all jerking. I fight for as long as I can before calling for Vasily.
He sits on the bed beside me and feeds me some tea.
"Give in, Eve," he says. "There's nothing else you can do. It'll only get worse."
"He ruined my life," I say, tears of frustration running down my cheeks.
"No, he saved it. He saved you from Soren. He saved it again yesterday."
"Only after he put it in danger."
"You offered yourself to him."
"Because I had no choice," I say. "It was him or Soren. Or every damn vampire in the county."
"You're right, of course, but he had no choice either. He could leave you to Soren, or other vampires, or take you himself and at least protect you."
I can't argue any longer. My nightgown's soaked with perspiration. My gut feels like I have burning coals inside. I roll over on my side and bring my knees up to my chin.
"Oh, God, tell him to come."
He's there in a second, taking me into his arms, his wrist already open to provide me with blood. At that point, I don't care any more what I'm doing. I only need for the pain to stop. I know what it means to be an addict going through withdrawal and it's pure hell. I swallow a mouthful and then two, the taste so sweet and almost immediately, the pain ebbs, the anxiety and fear dissipating. My body feels better, my hands stop shaking, but I cry.
I weep and Michel wraps his arms around me even more tightly. I can't last twenty-four hours without drinking his blood.
"Just kill me now," I say.
"Don't talk like that."
"I mean it. What's the difference between what I am and a vampire? Nothing."
"No," he says. "You aren't a vampire. You won't die if you don't get
blood. You don't need much – just a few mouthfuls. You can walk in the sunlight. You're not damned."
"How will I ever leave you?"
"What do you mean?"
"If I can't go a day without your blood, how can I ever have my own life? Do I have to drink it from you directly? Can you put it in a vial and bring it to me?"
"Why would you want to do that?"
"In case I need to be away from you for longer than a day. It might happen."
"Not if I can help it."
"Michel," I say and shake my head in frustration. "There will be times when I can't be with you. What will happen then?"
He closes his eyes as if deciding whether to tell me. "It's not just my blood," he says finally. "Any vampire will do. Mine's just more potent. You need less of it."
I lie in the darkness for a while with his arms around me, trying to get my mind around it. Finally, I sit up and face him, wiping my eyes.
"So, Julien's will do? Any vampire? Will Soren still take me, even if I'm addicted?"
"In a heartbeat," he says, his voice almost a whisper. "You'd be even more desirable."
"Why?"
He shakes his head. "The connection. It's one thing for us to know how a mortal feels, what they think, have access to their memories. It's another for you to know us. Feel our emotions. He'd guard you like a treasure, just as I will."
“Why hasn’t he taken me yet?”
“He wanted me to have you, for Julien to have you, and for both Julien and I to be his creatures. You were the bait used to ensnare us both. He has us where he wants us now.”
That makes me feel somewhat better. It will make me more desirable. I'll still be able to get close to Soren – close enough to kill him. Thing is, how?
I'm done with feeling sorry for myself. I wipe my eyes.
"Tell me how I can kill him."
He rubs his forehead for a moment, and then looks at me.
"Eve, you don't want to do this. It'll be very dangerous to go to him. Besides, if you drink his blood, you'll be at risk because for at least twenty-four hours, his blood would be inside of you. You could be destroyed when he is."
"Tell me how. I don't care what happens to me as long as he dies. How does this nanotech solution work?"
He sighs. "It's like an infection, except it's not an organism. Molecular machines meant to deliver a poison. You need to infect him in some way – get it into his lungs or into his blood."
"So if I were to ingest this nanosolution, and he drank my blood…"
"I won't let you go." His voice is firm. "I'm not letting you commit suicide. There are others willing to fight him. Besides, the Council's plans are for more than just Soren. He's only one of a group who share his goal. You could kill him, but someone would step up to take his place."
"I only care about him," I say and cross my arms. "Others can kill the rest of them."
"The Council will be unlikely to approve a move against Soren alone. It would alert them to our plans."
"I want the chance to make the offer," I say.
"I won't let you," he says, his voice pained. "I didn't become this monster so you could commit suicide."
I turn away.
"Then you can leave. Is there any reason why Vasily can't bring me your blood in a vial when I need it tomorrow?"
He shakes his head and goes to the door.
"Consider yourself a prisoner, then."
He closes the door, and I hear the lock click.
Chapter 46
"Better a cruel truth than a comfortable delusion".
Edward Abbe
THE NEXT DAY PASSES SLOWLY and I prepare to fight – and win – a battle of wills with Michel. I don't expect to see or hear from him during the day, but I do expect he'll show up and try to talk some sense into me in the evening. I'll be prepared with a counter argument.
Vasily tends to me, bringing me my meals on a tray now that I'm a prisoner of my own bedroom. He doesn't say much to me, but I can feel his disapproval. Finally, I decide to confront him.
"You think I'm wrong," I say as he pours me a cup of tea later in the afternoon.
"I understand you want Soren dead," he says. "We all do. Council is already planning to destroy him and others who are part of Blackstone. This is why Michel accepted this. You should be thankful you have Michel taking care of you."
"How can you say that? He almost killed me. Now, I'm no better than an addict."
"You offered yourself to him," he says, stirring sugar into my cup. "Soren would have done it immediately. Luke as well. There are only a few who are as honorable as Michel. And Julien." He places the cup on my tray. "I wish you'd open your eyes to what you have. It's far better than anything you would have outside these walls and outside of their domain."
"Their domain? You talk about them as if they are gods."
Vasily doesn't respond.
"You really think Michel didn't do this on purpose?"
Vasily frowns at me. "Of course not. You don't know him the way I do. He didn't want this for you at all. He feels terrible that he almost killed you. I know he deeply regrets what happened, but you're very lucky to be in his care. In their care."
"You can't understand," I say, unwilling to admit that what he said might be true. "All of these vampires should have just left us alone. I would have had a real life with my mother and father instead of the hell I did have."
"You were fated to this Eve, from the moment you were conceived. Make no mistake about it," he says and sits on the chair by the door. "There's only so many ways to escape your destiny. You were lucky that fate brought you together with Michel and Julien instead of letting you get caught up by others. You were meant to play music, not fight vampires and that's why he lost your file. When you found manuscript, it changed everything. He tried to wipe your memory, send you back into obscurity, but it didn't work. Events thwarted his plans."
"You know what they say – the road to hell is paved with good intentions."
Vasily shakes his head. "I wish you understood how lucky you really are but you're very young. One day you will understand and then you will kneel down to Michel and thank him. Thank Julien."
"I'll never kneel down to anyone," I say with contempt. "Michel and Julien included. I don't believe in kings or gods. Or fallen angels."
"Famous last words?" He folds his arms, a patronizing expression on his face.
I turn to my meal without further argument. What was the use? Vasily obviously admires Michel and Julien. I eat in silence, hoping that Vasily will get up and leave, but he doesn't. Finally, I put my fork down.
"It's not that I don't think they're better than the others. But try to understand – I'm pretty much enslaved to Michel now, aren't I? Or at least one of them." I hold my hand out. It's already starting to tremble, the familiar tension building in my body. The food no longer appeals. "I'm an addict. Nothing more."
"You," he says and comes to me, taking the tray away. "You are a rare gem. You've already been able to block Michel, despite his own very great powers. If Soren got hold of you…"
So I have been successful in blocking Michel. That thought gives me some comfort. I might be able to plan without worry about him knowing what I'm doing. What have I done to achieve this? Do I only need to will him out of my mind? Can I let him back in just as easily? I decide to try an experiment – later, when I really am in need of his blood, I'll call his name in my mind and see if he responds. It will be good to know for when – when – I go to kill Soren.
"What if Soren got hold of me?"
He stops at the door, tray in hand. "It's not for me to tell you. Talk to Michel." He opens the door. "I expect you'll be needing to feed soon and can ask him then. Like I said, is not my role to tell you these things."
"He won't tell me either," I say, rubbing my aching head. "You're both bastards."
I fight it as long as I can. After standing in the shower with the hot water blasting over me for nearly half an hour, my skin bright red
on my shoulders and back, my tears mixed with the water as I weep in despair at my fate. Finally, I towel off and put on a clean nightgown, creeping into bed.
I turn over and roll up in a ball, my wet hair covering my face, my stomach in knots, my muscles aching. I try to do some deep breathing to calm myself, but it's only a momentary distraction from the pain. Then, I try my experiment. I think of him, imagine opening up to him.
Michel, I need you.
There's no response from him – neither in my own mind nor does he come to me. Perhaps he's playing a game of psychic chicken with me as well, trying to force me to bend to his will. I hate him for it.
Michel!
Nothing. I have this sense that he's resisting me. He can hear me – I'm sure of it. He wants to teach me a lesson. I know what Vasily says was probably true – that Michel wanted me to escape this fate, but I can't help but feel he's just as happy to have me as his little blood slave as not. That makes me choke up in anger, this feeling of helplessness. This sense of being trapped, having no escape.
I feel like throwing myself out of a window, and contemplate just that. I roll over, staring at the far window, wondering if it will open. I imagine the plunge, relishing the pain of impact – at least it will end this agony.
The door flies open and I wait to see what he'll do. Has be brought me a vial of his blood as I demanded? I try to resist turning to him out of need, I try to resist this terrible desire for his blood, digging my fingernails into my palms, the pain barely even registering.
"You are so stubborn."
His voice comes from across the room and I finally turn to face him, unable any longer to stop myself from looking to see if he's brought his blood for me.
"Do you have it?" I say, my throat choking when I don't see it in his hands. "I told you to bring a vial of it."
He sits on a bench by the window, the moonlight flooding in and illuminating his wings, which are spread out behind him. His chest is bare and his hands rest on his knees like some Egyptian half-god half-angel seated on a throne.