The Dominion Series Complete Collection

by Lund, S. E.

Soren frowns. “Eve, I’m doing what you want. I’m getting rid of vampirism. Michel will be the first. Oh, and Julien, of course, since they’re genetically identical. It’s based on the original serum we developed that uses quantum entanglement, and the side effect is that Julien will become mortal as well. Won’t he be surprised?”

  “Does he know?” I say, a wave of panic filling me. “He doesn’t want to be mortal.”

  “He has no choice. We haven’t had time to make it specific enough so that Michel alone dies and is resurrected. Whether he wants it or not, Julien gets mortality as well.”

  I shake my head, moving back towards the door we entered. “You’re going along with this?” I say to Michel. “Against Julien’s wishes? He doesn’t want to be mortal again.”

  “It’s not his choice to make,” Michel answers quietly. “In the end, he’ll see that this was the only way.”

  “You’ll lose us both if you do this. Julien won’t forgive you. I won’t forgive you.”

  “No hesitation, Eve,” he says and his eyes widen. “Please trust me. This is the only way.”

  I head to the door, but a guard steps in front of it. I turn back to see that Soren has stood up and is leaning on his cane.

  “Force her, Michel,” he says, his voice low. “Or I’ll kill her and wait another generation. I can wait. What’s twenty years to me? But you and I both know there’ll be a lot of death and pain in the interim.”

  Michel turns to me and I can see fear in his eyes. “Eve… This is what you wanted. What your mother wanted. What she died for. A cure for vampirism.”

  He pulls me aside and leans in close, his hands on my arms. The expression on his face is so desperate, I wonder if he’s certain or trying to convince himself.

  “This is what he’ll do,” he says. “This will be his promise—to protect humans by eradicating vampires. He’ll stop Dominion.”

  “I don’t trust him,” I say, my voice low. I try to pull away, but he holds me firmly in place. “He can kill me if he wants. Maybe if he has to wait a generation to get another Adept like me, humans will have fought back. Have you thought of that?”

  Michel shakes his head. “If we wait a generation, countless humans will die. Do you really want that decision on your shoulders?”

  “If he has the cure, then it means we can find it as well. Why give Soren any power?” I whisper. “He doesn’t deserve to have that kind of power. He’s weak now. We should deny him when we can.”

  “Eve, every moment we waste is a moment that the plague spreads and Blackstone enslaves even more mortals, turning them into living blood bags…”

  I shake my head, having finally made my decision. I am not going to give this monster any power. I glance over at him. He’s weak. He can barely stand on his own. If I give him power now, we’re back to where we started with the plague spreading and Soren a threat. Is Michel so determined to be mortal again that he’s willing to take the risk?

  “Do it,” Soren says to Michel from across the room, his voice impatient. He steps down off the dais so that he’s next to us. He looks so short and thin compared to Michel, as if the virus is taking all his energy and his body is wasting away.

  “It’s the only way you’ll ever get to be mortal again, Michel.” He puts a hand on Michel’s shoulder. “Giving you back your mortality is more than I should do, considering what you did to Marguerite. No one can do this except me and you know it. I won’t turn you unless you make her ascend. If you do, I’ll turn you right now. I have the cure for you right here.” He pulls out a vial and holds it out so Michel can see it.

  Michel frowns but says nothing.

  “Think of it,” Soren says, his voice warm, one hand cupping Michel’s cheek with clear affection. “You could finally get what you want. Be a real priest again. Administer to a flock. Die a natural death. I can turn you. You force Eve, she helps me get power, and in return, I turn you.”

  Michel can’t take his eyes off the vial in Soren’s hand.

  “Michel!” I exclaim and go to his side, taking his hand in mine. “This could be a trap, playing on your desire to be mortal again. How do you know he won’t kill you and leave you dead? Don’t do this…”

  “Eve…” he says, shaking his head slowly. His eyes are wet and I know he’s close to breaking. “How can you ask me to say no to this?”

  “Will you cure me as well?” I say to Soren.

  “It all depends on how well you obey me, Eve. You tried to kill me just a few short weeks ago. You do what I need and I’ll consider it.”

  I turn back to Michel. “Have you known all along this would happen?” I say, my throat choked with fear. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”

  “It’s one possible future. It’s by far the best possible future. For all of us. This is why I’m helping him. He’s the only way to prevent Dominion from taking hold completely. Believe me, Eve. If I could see any other way…”

  I’m almost at the breaking point, shocked and horrified that he’s choosing death and trusting that Soren will resurrect him.

  “Michel,” I say, squeezing his arm. “I don’t want to ascend.”

  He blinks, smiling at me, but there’s a distant look in his eyes. “It will all be okay, Eve. You don’t have to trust Soren. Just trust me.”

  I turn, unwilling to stand here and not fight back, and try to escape. He motions to the guards, who grab me before I can fall into fight mode. I try to escape their grip, but they’re obviously ascended and I’m helpless. Michel stands before me with the vial in his hands. He breaks the tip off and then points to one of the guards.

  “Hold her head still.”

  The guard does as Michel commands, taking hold of my head while the other holds my arms. I bite down hard, trying to prevent Michel from opening my mouth.

  “Plug her nose,” Michel says and the guard complies, one hand holding my chin and the other plugging my nose. Soon, I’m unable to breathe unless I open my mouth. I try not to, holding out as long as I can, but finally I gasp and Michel pours the liquid between my lips, then holds my mouth shut so that I have to swallow. His cheeks are wet, his eyes and nose red, but his jaw is set firmly and I know there’s no fighting him now.

  When I finally swallow, Michel motions to the guards and they release me. I cough and sputter, spitting out whatever I can, but I’ve swallowed most of the liquid.

  “You shouldn’t have,” I say and wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. “I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Never is a long time.”

  “Oh, cut the theatrics,” Soren says. He turns to me, his eyes widening. “You should be feeling it very soon.” His face betrays real interest, as if he’s excited that I’m now going to ascend or whatever it is that the drug does.

  I stand horrified, scowling at Michel, who says nothing.

  How could he? Forcing ascension on me so he can be mortal again? Making me into everything I always wanted to destroy, and he gets exactly what he wants? He must know this will drive a wedge between us. Does he really think this is the only way to save us all?

  The look on his face says it all. From across the room, I can feel his emotions like we’re touching. Hope. Excitement. But also guilt.

  “You should feel guilty,” I say to him, my fists clenched. “I’ll never forgive you if anything bad happens to Julien.”

  “Julien will be fine, Eve. This has to happen,” he says, his voice soft. “One day, you’ll understand.”

  “Stop with the vision bullshit,” I respond, tears in my eyes. “You just want to be mortal again.”

  “I do. But this will save us all.”

  While I’m wiping my eyes, I start to feel strange. It begins in my chest—a feeling of warmth spreads out and up to my face and head. A wave of euphoria, like a rush of some powerful drug, flows through me, making me gasp out loud. Everything becomes extremely bright all of a sudden, as if there’s too much sunlight. It reminds me of those pictures of ultraviolet vision, the edges of every object
blurring with a fuzzy, bright pink glow. I look at Michel’s face and it shines as if it’s made of crystal, his eyes two blue diamonds.

  “Oh, God,” I say and lean against the nearest wall for support, my legs feeling so wobbly I could fall to my knees. I’m breathing fast, panting as wave after wave of euphoria passes through me, spreading out from my chest with every beat of my heart, down my legs and then up to my head. I feel as if the very roots of my hair are standing on end. Gooseflesh covers my entire body.

  I’m lost in this experience, unable to speak or do anything but feel whatever it is that is happening to me. I hear Michel and Soren speaking, but it’s as if they’re underwater, their voices muted, drowned out by these other overwhelming sensory experiences.

  “Get her blood and then the guards will bring her to the altar. You can play your part afterwards.”

  Michel takes my wrist and cuts it with a sharp knife. The pain is brief and bright but overwhelmed very quickly by the strange sensations in my body. I watch, unconcerned, as my blood drips into the chalice. He takes the same knife and slices Soren’s forearm; a few drops of his blood fall into the chalice to mingle with mine. Then Michel hands it to me, holding it up to my lips. I drink it down, no longer having the will to fight.

  Two guards enter the small room, leading a woman in a gossamer-thin gown whose hands are tired with rope.

  “Go ahead,” Soren says to Michel. He points to the woman. “Drink your fill since it will be your last kill.”

  “I won’t kill her,” Michel says as he approaches the woman.

  “Do it. I’ll revive her in front of the congregation. You know—double their pleasure. Save an innocent from the monster who took her life, then take the monster’s life in retribution.”

  Michel approaches the young woman, who cowers in fear when she sees him transformed into the hunter, his eyes bloodshot and his teeth long. “Don’t be afraid,” he says, his voice soft. “You’ll be fine.”

  He leans down and she struggles for only a moment; his touch calms her. She leans back, exposing her neck to him. Michel bites down hard, drinking her blood. When he pulls away, blood drips down his chin, his teeth still sharp but now bloody. He hands the woman to a guard, who picks up her limp body. Another guard approaches with heavy chains and shackles in his hand.

  I watch dumbfounded as the guards fasten the iron bands Michel’s wrists; I’m surprised that he complies without fighting. He tests the shackles and then nods in approval. Another guard comes to me and slips one of his arms around my waist, practically lifting me up and carrying me out of the room.

  Our strange procession makes its way into the cathedral to the altar, the guard holding the dead body of the woman Michel killed, another carrying me, and finally, two guards pulling Michel in chains. I’m overtaken with awe when we enter the sanctuary and climb the stairs to the high altar. It’s amazing, with high flying buttresses on all sides and gilded columns. The light streams in through arched stained glass windows that appear to me like a million prisms. An organ plays something soft and dreamy and I can feel the music vibrating inside my body.

  The guard deposits me at the base of the high altar. Every sense is heightened and despite my horror at watching Michel kill the young woman, my mind is overwhelmed. I stand facing the rows of pews, looking at the people, their faces shining like beacons of twinkling light. I hear the voices of a choir floating on the air, making my throat choke with emotion.

  I don’t know what’s happening around me, so high on whatever drug they’ve given me, but I can see people pointing at me, covering their mouths as if in awe. I feel it from everyone in the congregation—wonder and terror. They’re all looking at me, pointing and whispering, and I feel so strange, as if I’m now completely different. I’ve transformed into something else, something otherworldly. I look around, watching what’s happening with a detachment that surprises me, but I don’t care to do anything at the moment except to experience it.

  Soren enters like an emperor, carried on a large, ornate chair with gilded arms and legs. The congregation watches and soon they start to “ooh” and “ahh” when they see him for while he was a small, frail, pale man in the other room, he too, has transformed. He went from frail to mighty, from old and weak to young and strong and beautiful, empowered by sharing blood with me. I feel the congregation’s amazement and it makes me even more emotional. As I watch, Soren actually enlarges before us, the bright light flowing from him even brighter, if that’s possible.

  The guards place the chair on the raised dais of the high altar and Soren rises, standing before the congregation, his huge white wings spreading out to full width behind him. I feel the link between all of us—Soren and the congregation—and the intensity almost makes me pass out.

  He’s an impressive sight, even to me.

  The other guards pull a now resistant Michel into the room and he fights as if he doesn’t want to comply. He looks a sight, the only one dressed in black, for everyone else is in white. I can barely stand to watch, but it’s such a performance, I’m unable to look away.

  My heart is beating far too fast. I see Michel on his knees facing the congregation, his bloody mouth and chin stark against his pale face. Soren stands tall before us, fully restored, wings blazing glory behind him. He comes to my side and holds my hand, looking into my eyes, and I see him now as he really is. Bright white light comes from him like he’s lit up from the inside.

  Do you feel it, Eve? Do you feel this bliss? he says to me telepathically, so only I can hear it. I know you do, for I feel it with you.

  I can feel the bliss, but I know it’s nothing more than the effects of a drug. It’s the neurotransmitters in my brain lighting up, nothing more. I refuse to believe it’s anything spiritual or based on faith, for I have none.

  Then he turns me so that I face the congregation, saying words that I don’t hear because another wave of elation flows through me. Whatever he says, it makes the people gathered release a collective ‘ahh’ like it’s something miraculous. He calls me his new angel.

  He turns back to Michel and motions to the guards, who drag Michel over so that he is now on his knees at Soren’s feet. Soren lays a hand on Michel’s head like he’s giving some kind of blessing. I can’t understand what he’s saying but then I remember…

  “See this beast before you. A vampire. See the innocent he killed, caught in the act brazenly flaunting his power.” Soren nods to Michel and Michel lifts the tiny ampoule to his lips and drinks it quickly. No one but Soren and I can see him do it, for Michel’s back is to the congregation.

  Soren turns Michel towards them and Michel bares his bloody teeth, showing them he’s a vampire and the many among the congregation cower, their faces fearful, and a murmur arises. I feel their fear from this distance.

  “This is the threat before humans—the threat of vampire rule. I tell you this now,” Soren says, his voice booming through the cathedral, “I am the only one who can save you from this threat. But in turn, you must swear your loyalty to me. To the Church.”

  He forces Michel to his knees and places his hands on Michel’s shoulders. A bright light shines from his hands.

  “I destroy you, vampire,” he says, his voice theatric and full of emotion like some circus ringmaster or snake oil salesman. “I cast you out of this body and into the abyss!”

  A huge flash of light brightens the interior of the cathedral so we’re all momentarily blinded. Of course, I know that he’s only pretending to do it with his power; it was the drug Soren gave him and Michel took that will have an effect. Soren wants the congregation to think he’s responsible for “exorcising” the evil.

  Enough sense has returned to me that I recognize the act taking place before me for what it is. Soren and Michel have conspired to make those gathered believe Soren is casting out a demon, purifying Michel. I turn to watch Soren, my mind now cleared. He’s enjoying this performance. The more awe the people feel, the more power he gets directly through me.
/>   He’s a power-hungry monster.

  Why is Michel going along with this?

  Michel coughs after a moment and grabs his throat. Soren bends down to Michel and whispers to him, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Michel’s face is more pale than normal, and he’s grabbing this throat as if he can’t breathe. I’m momentarily afraid that Soren is killing him now that he got what he wanted—truly killing him. And why not? Soren has his power once more and a congregation in awe of him.

  Soren hates Michel for killing Marguerite. He’s been torturing Michel all these centuries in repayment for his loss. It makes sense that he’d want to kill Michel and use me to do it.

  I cover my mouth and stifle a sob. Michel was so foolish to believe that Soren would give him what he wanted most of all. It would make Soren only too happy to destroy Michel and finally get his revenge.

  Michel falls to his hands and knees, vomiting blood onto to the ground before Soren, the stone beneath him stained red.

  “Begone, monster!” Soren shouts, an aura of light around him bright as an acetylene torch, a crackling sound and scent of sulfur in the air.

  “No!” I manage, but my voice is barely above a whisper. I reach out, wanting to go to Michel, to help him, but I can’t move. The guards behind me hold me back.

  The light dims and Soren kicks Michel’s body over with a booted foot so that Michel is on his back, his eyes staring straight ahead, his lips bloody.

  My heart squeezes. Is he dying? Is he already dead?

  Before us, Michel lets out one last gasp and a black vapor is expelled from his open mouth, the mist rising up in the air and then evaporating before us.

  Michel himself changes. At first, it’s almost imperceptible, but then I can see with my vampire-keen eyes. His skin changes from pale white to flushed pink and then bluish-white in death. His teeth recede in length and before our eyes, he transforms from vampire to mortal.

  “Is there a physician amongst you?” Soren says, his voice booming. “Come up and see the power I alone wield.”

  People turn and examine each other. Finally, a heavyset man with a beard and shaved head steps forward, urged on by others around him.