by Lund, S. E.
"Now, we have to talk about the plan.”
"What plan?"
"The plan to kill Soren."
“If you tell me the plan, Soren will find out. Michel will find out. He's making me share his blood with his group of would-be gods."
"We have a way to stop them from reading you, Eve," Dylan says. "Even when you share blood with them, you'll be a blank to them. You'll forget it until the right time. Then, when you hear a code word, it will come back to you. You'll know what to do."
"I can't be compelled."
"This doesn’t involve compulsion."
He turns and smells the breeze. I look out at the courtyard and smell it too – the salty scent of the sea. Finally, I turn back to Dylan.
"So, tell me about this plan."
He tilts his head. "I already did."
"What do you mean? You were going to tell me the plan."
"I did."
"No you didn't!"
Dylan smiles at me. "I told you everything. Then, I made you forget. Now, you'll only remember when you hear the right phrase."
"I can't be compelled!" I say, frowning.
"You can't, but your memories can be …" he says and frowns. "Short-circuited. Michel tried something similar but he had to destroy the neurons involved in your memories. We're only temporarily rerouting them until you hear the right combination of words. Infiltrating Blackstone has given us access to the latest in neurobiotechnology."
"So you're not going to tell me your plans for me…"
"I did Eve. You agreed to them." He shakes his head sadly. "It's to protect you and the plan. You must understand. As soon as you leave this place, you won't remember we even talked about a plan. You'll think we just talked about our families. Our losses."
I sigh. "I hate this."
"Don't hate, Eve. This is what you've wanted to do. Michel won't do what's necessary, because he loves you too much, but we will and you will."
"How do you know he won't?"
"We can't take the risk he won't."
"What happens when we stop Soren? Will the Council be able to stop Dominion?"
"We don't know, but with Soren and the Twelve neutralized, we have only Blackstone to fight. Soren and the others want power. They're going to use you to take it. We have to prevent that. Some of us have to sacrifice. You're willing to sacrifice to stop it, just as our mother was."
I sit and look at my hands. "I agreed to help?"
"Yes. You'll remember at the right moment. Now, it's time for you to go back to your little heaven."
Dylan takes my hand and the three of us return to the cart. Terri embraces me and I take one more look at her.
"I know you don't remember me," she says. "One day, maybe we'll work together again."
I sigh and Dylan helps me inside the cart, covering me up again. We drive off and I watch Terri recede into the distance.
The driver takes me back to the mansion and drops me off at the front gate, driving off when guards run out to meet me. Michel emerges from the door and comes to me and grabs my arm, clearly angry. He turns to the guard.
“You should have called me the moment anyone approached the building. I told you, the moment someone approached her.”
“We did. They said barely anything and then were gone.”
Michel pulls me into the mansion. “Do I have to put a leash on you?”
I shake my head as he pulls me up the stairs to our second floor rooms.
"I was taken."
“My guards say you went willingly.”
“Yes,” I say. “I went with my brother. I have a brother, Michel."
"I know who Dylan is."
I frown. "How do you know?"
Michel shakes his head. He pushes me onto the bed.
"He was worried about me," I say. "He convinced Terri to take me away so he could make sure I was all right.”
"Eve, you can't just go without my leave. Not even with Dylan. How do I know he hasn't been compromised?"
"He's with the Council, Michel."
He looks in my face, in my eyes. "Don't lie to me, Eve. Please."
"I'm not."
He sits beside me on the bed, turning my face to him. “Look in my eyes.”
I do. We sit in silence and he grips my hand tightly. I can tell he's upset.
He just sits there and watches me. Then, I hear him exhale heavily.
"I was so afraid..." He leans forward and pulls me close and kisses me, his kiss almost desperate. The pressure of his lips on mine, the softness of them, his tongue wet against mine as it pushes between my lips and into my mouth finally overwrites the sadness I feel from seeing Dylan.
“You're alive," he says, stroking my hair. "I thought whoever took you would kill you. Eve, you just can't ever leave this place without my permission. Why did you?”
“I don’t know,” I reply. "It was Dylan. He's my brother."
He kisses me again, running his hands over my body.
“I'm so glad you're safe.”
"He wanted to see me. We met and talked about our families. That’s all."
The door opens and Soren strides into the room, his face dark, his brow creased. I'm still in Michel's embrace and we're kissing, but we stop when Soren comes to the bedside.
"What the fuck happened? I get this panicked call from one of my guards that Eve was abducted?"
“She's fine. She was with Dylan,” Michel says, brushing hair from my cheek. "He wanted to see her."
“He should have contacted me. He can't just come and take her.”
“Would you have let her go with him?"
"Of course not. Michel, you must ensure she obeys the rules. We could lose her in the blink of an eye.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Michel replies, his voice tight.
“They took her without any difficulty.”
“She’s not used to having her movements controlled. Yet.”
“I'm very angry, Eve,” Soren says and rubs his forehead. “Michel was very scared. Look at him, see the fear in his eyes. He was afraid he'd never see you again. You should be whipped.”
“She made a mistake," Michel says, looking in my eyes. I nod.
"I'll whip her if you don't."
Michel turns to Soren. “She made a mistake. I will punish her, but I want her in a good frame of mind for later.”
“Yes, of course, by all means, punish her later,” Soren says and laughs. He sighs and shakes his head. "Eve, you really deserve a good spanking right now. Consider yourself lucky."
"Thank you, my Lord,” Michel says to Soren, his voice properly subservient. He pulls me into his arms, his face pressed into my neck, his mouth covering his bite mark.
Soren chuckles softly. “Enjoy.”
* * *
Later that night, I attend a meeting of 'The Twelve' to discuss the plans to reveal Soren's powers to the congregation in Boston. It's part of his plan to gain followers and amass power. I was supposed to attend with Michel, but he and Soren are in a meeting and have been delayed. Vasquez picks me up instead in his cart. We drive through the deserted streets of Boston. People stay in off the streets for there is a heavy police presence on horseback to enforce order.
"What's going to happen? Why am I attending?"
Vasquez leans closer to me. "You must join with the Twelve today. Try out those skills of yours we value so highly."
"I drink their blood and they drink mine?"
"Precisely. We need a test run of your abilities. We don’t want any snags when we do this publicly."
I stare out the window at the scenery and then my stomach is all butterflies as we approach the Cathedral of the Holy Cross. It's a beautiful old cathedral, and I'm nervous, wondering what it will be like to drink the blood of twelve fallen angel-Ancient-vampires and share their consciousness. If what I felt with Soren is any indication, it will be intense.
I don't want to do this, but I know I must.
Before Michel left for his meeting, we share
d blood, because he wants to be able to access my mind at all times, to make sure I'm all right. He then calmed my nerves, assuring me that this dry run would be important. Soren has to believe I'll do it – that I'll help him get power. Otherwise, he'll kill me and create someone else, but he wants to seize the day now that Blackstone has struck.
I want to kill him. Nothing more. But I'll cooperate because I trust Michel. Despite the fact he hasn't told me everything from the start, I know now that it was to protect me. He wants to stop Soren as much as I do. He's wanted this since Soren killed Danielle so long ago.
Vasquez and I arrive and enter the cathedral through the side entrance and go immediately into the nave where the Twelve and their entourages have already gathered.
They turn expectantly when Vasquez and I arrive.
"My Lords, please excuse our delay," Vasquez says, all obeisant to them. "But Lord Soren has been detained due to some urgent business and will be another fifteen minutes or so. Please, partake of refreshments, if you need any. We will get underway soon."
Vasquez leads me to a seat next to a large throne on a dais at the front of the boardroom. There's a chair on either side of the throne, where I expect Michel and Julien will sit as Soren's two lieutenants. My own seat is a stool to the right of Michel. Vasquez sits on Michel's chair and glances around the room.
I'm dressed in something a bit more conservative than the usual revealing gown Michel prefers, but still, I look like I'm attending a medieval ball rather than a secret meeting in a cathedral in the center of Boston. Michel directed that my hair should be styled in an up-do. I sit quietly and wait, my stomach in knots as I survey the Twelve, as Soren refers to them. They're his equals, vampires, Fallen Angels all of them. Why they would choose this existence I don't understand except, as Soren said, to get revenge on the god who punished them because of their refusal to worship mortals.
Now, they feed off us like cattle and want our subordination as their worshippers.
I don't know what Michel's planning but I hope it works. I can't stand the thought that these monsters will be our gods. No wonder the Romans thought the gods were devious and under them, life was precarious. They are monsters with more power than morals.
Finally, the doors open and a balding priest in vestments rushes in and goes right to Vasquez. He bends down and whispers in his ear and Vasquez nods. The priest leaves, closing the doors behind him.
Vasquez stands and addresses the Twelve.
"There's been a delay. Our Lord Soren and his entourage were attacked on their way here. Lord Soren is unharmed, of course, but Michel has been injured in an attack with Molotov Cocktail bombs infused with liquid silver. I'm told his injuries are not serious. They will arrive momentarily."
A murmur rises from the Twelve and their advisors as everyone discusses this development. My heart races when I think of Michel being injured in the attack. It must have been Blackstone.
Vasquez leans over to me and takes my hand. "Don't worry, Eve. Michel's wounds were minor."
Finally, a few moments later, the double doors open once more to admit Julien and Michel, their wings extended fully. Michel limps over to the dais at the front of the room, Julien holding him by the arm. His clothes are burned, the skin on one cheek scorched and he has a large wound on his calf. I stand and concern flows through me. He sits beside me on the chair and immediately, I bend down and pull the ripped fabric away from his calf.
"It's nothing, Eve," he says, waving me off. "A piece of glass cut me and some liquid silver burned me. I'll heal."
"It must hurt."
I ignore him and go to the anteroom where there's a small kitchenette and search through the cupboards to find a basin and a roll of paper towels. I fill the basin with warm water and take them to the room, kneeling down at Michel's feet.
"Let me wash your skin."
"It’s really not necessary," he says, but I insist. I remove his shoe and sock, then daub the wound that runs from his mid-calf to his ankle with a moistened paper towel to wash off the remnants of silver nitrate from burned skin. Michel grimaces and inhales sharply from the pain. As I kneel administering to Michel's wound, his foot in my hand as I clean the damaged skin, I feel the eyes of the Twelve on me. I can almost feel their thoughts from here, despite not having drunk their blood. Michel looks down at me indulgently.
Then the doors open again and Soren enters. I know because someone announces him and when I crane my head around, I see all the Twelve stand and bow low to him.
"Stand and bow, Eve," Michel commands. I do, standing in front of Michel's chair on the dais, and feel his hand on my shoulder for support as he stands behind me. Soren strides in, nodding his head to everyone he passes and then he steps up onto the dais and stands in front of his throne. His wings are fully extended as well and he looks formidable, dressed in something vaguely resembling military fatigues, as if he's always prepared for war.
"Please be seated," he says after folding his wings and seating himself, his arms outstretched on the armrests of his ornate wooden throne. The Twelve and their advisors follow his lead. I return to my ministrations to Michel's wounds, which are already healing before my eyes.
Finally, Soren turns to Michel and me.
"How fitting that Eve is kneeling at your feet like a good slave, Michel. I know it pleases my brethren to see her so subservient to you. I can feel their pleasure from where I sit for they can feel your love, Eve. They long to feel such love from their own mortals. Once we join through blood, it will be even more amazing to share your emotions for him. Speaking of which, Eve, I'm impatient. Let's get this started."
I put my paper towel away and sit on my stool, smoothing my skirts.
Soren motions to one of his servants at the side of the room, who brings a tray with a large glass goblet in the center and what looks like a very sharp knife. I imagine they'll bleed me and each other and then we'll all drink from the goblet. My hands are shaking as I wait.
"You first," Soren says and extends his hand. I take it and stand in front of him. He takes the knife and holds my wrist over the goblet. Then he runs the knife's edge over my skin, beside the scars from my own self-inflicted wounds. The image of them side by side makes me feel so small and helpless. Here I am, some instrument of power by these fallen angels, a girl who hurt herself to deal with her pain.
I grit my teeth as the blade slices through my skin and my blood drips into the goblet. He lets it drip for quite a while – not quite a pint of blood, but close. Then he runs his fingers over the wound and it closes up so that there's only a thin pink seam where the cut once was. He follows with his own blood and then goes from one of the Twelve to the next until the goblet is quite full. Finally, he takes some of Michel and Julien's blood.
"This will unite us as we once were united," he says, and then drinks from the goblet before passing it to the others. "As we drink, let us rejoice that we are once again as we were before we were cast out, condemned to this plane of existence."
After Michel and Julien, I'm last to drink and there's only a mouthful left. I swallow it down and when I do, the effect is immediate. I feel as if I've been hit by a truck of emotion, my body almost slammed with the minds of thirteen fallen angels, and I'm nearly struck unconscious from the intensity of their emotions as they connect once again after thousands of years alone. I feel little else but their euphoria, their ecstasy, and my knees give out. Michel grabs me and holds me in his arms. I have no idea what's going on in the room around us, for my hearing is dulled, the sounds drowned out by the minds meeting in what feels like my own skull.
This seems to go on and on forever, and there are no words to describe how I feel and what I experience. Finally, it's too much and darkness closes in.
Chapter 80
"A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green."
Francis Bacon
* * *
I wake up long after the meeting with Soren and the Twelve when Michel sits on the bed beside me.
>
"Eve," he says, a hand shaking my shoulder.
"What?" I sit up and rub my eyes. "Is something wrong?"
"Soren wants us back tonight for a special mass."
"Mass?" I say, frowning. I look him over. He's wearing vestments and a clerical collar, a large wooden cross on a thin leather strap around his neck. "Don't tell me you're going to say Mass?"
"He wants me to. I'm the only priest—"
"Former priest."
"Eve, once God has you, He has you forever."
"How can you do this?" I say, anger filling me. "Pretending to be his priest. Or, do you really want this? Do you really want to be his High Priest? Head his bastardized church?"
He sits in silence for a moment and I can see I've upset him. He takes his hand away from my cheek, where he's been stroking my skin with his thumb.
Finally, he exhales and leans in closer to me, pressing his forehead against mine. It makes my heart soften.
"Please just trust me," he whispers.
"I'm sorry," I say. "You have to understand…"
"I do. Now please, try to follow the rules from now on. I don't want to have to remind you in public. Not tonight."
"Yes, my Lord," I say, nodding. He kisses me and it's such a tender kiss, so gentle that it makes my throat constrict. He's afraid for me.
"Why are you afraid?" I say.
He shakes his head and just kisses me again, this time more intense, as if he's trying to make me forget his fear and my own. A thrill of desire goes through me when he joins with me, and I want him right now, but we have to go.
"Just knowing you want me is enough for now," he says. "Later tonight, when we come back."
I smile and tuck his hair behind his ear but I know he's afraid there won't be a later tonight and I wonder if this isn't something dangerous – what we'll be doing at the cathedral.
"Wear the long black dress in the armoire and put your hair up."
I nod and get up from the bed, dressing quickly.
He stands watching me, and I don't feel lust from him. I only feel fear.
When I'm finished, I go to the bathroom and wash my face. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, his brow furrowed.