by Lund, S. E.
“I try to keep myself amused,” he says with a grin. “There are three paths at this point, leading to three different futures. The choices we make lead us down one of those three. I’m trying to ensure we go down the best option.”
“Best for who? You?”
“What’s best for me is also best for you, Eve. And humanity. You have to trust me.”
“I don’t believe it,” I say derisively. “You’ve given me no reason to trust you.”
“Fair enough,” he says. “Help me to resurrect one of my brethren and if I betray you, you’ll know the truth. But honestly, Eve,” he says and his gaze moves over my face. “At some point, you have to go on your gut feeling, as Julien said. Which future do you despise the least? One with me on the throne of the Roman Church in Italy, and humans free of the vampire threat, or one with Blackstone at the helm, with humans enslaved to them and acting as blood bags?”
“What’s the third option?”
He just smiles. “The one that will break your heart. The one Michel wants to avoid at all costs. But he’s devout enough to go that way, if necessary.”
“I wish you’d stop talking in such generalities. Tell me what I need to know so I can make the right decision.”
“Can’t,” he says and shrugs. “That’s part of what makes this all so damn difficult. You’re the wildcard. You’re the keystone. The fulcrum on which all pivots. You can’t know. Sorry.”
I stand and run everything through my mind once more. As much as I hate to do it, I think Soren is the only way we can hope to stop the carnage. “I need time to decide,” I say and start towards the door. “I can’t decide on the spot, so you have to give me time.”
“How much time?” he says, his voice impatient and his tone blunt. “We don’t have time. Every moment the plague spreads farther and there’s only so much leeway on this road we’ve chosen. That’s on your head, Eve. Not mine.”
“I need time.”
“If you need to see more,” he says and extends his hand once more. I keep my hand to myself.
“So afraid of what you’ll see?”
I shake my head. “I want to avoid going on another vision quest that may or may not be a complete fabrication,” I say with a sour tone. “Besides, even Michel argues that all you can show me is one thread. That might not come to pass, depending on what everyone does. Each decision we make affects the possible futures, so it could all change and Blackstone could fail.”
“Of course,” Soren says and sits back down behind his desk, interested in his maps once more. “I showed you the one possible future in which you die before you can help me resurrect the rest of my brethren. In that future, I’m unable to stop the plague and destroy vampires. In that future, I have no power at all. A useless shell, condemned to live for all eternity but without any power.” He looks up from his papers. “I need power to stop him. That’s where you come in. Only you can unite us as we once were united before we took physical form. That’s our source of power. For some reason unknown to me, you’re the only one who can do this. I need you, Eve. I’ll comply with your wishes if it ensures I get power and can resurrect the rest of the Twelve.” He shuffles the maps, and I feel as if I’ve been dismissed. I turn to go but he calls out after me. “Go do your thinking and deciding. See Michel again. See whether what I’ve said is true. Both of them are yours for the taking, Eve, and both are mine to take away. Keep that in mind.” He glances up, his expression intense. “It’s your choice.”
“How do I know you’re not showing me something from the future I want to come to pass?”
“You can’t.”
I leave him behind, and try to push his words out of my mind. When I walk down the hallway, I decide to speak to Michel and tell him what Soren has told me, so I can see his reaction. Maybe he’ll finally tell me the truth.
I take the stairs to his suite of rooms and knock on the door.
“Who is it?” he says quietly.
“It’s me,” I say, leaning against the door. “We need to talk.”
He hesitates, and then I hear the key turn in the lock and the heavy wooden door swings open.
He stands in the doorway, his vestments off, a white shirt open at the neck and untucked over dark trousers. In his hand is a quill and his fingers are black from ink. He looks like he could be a rock star or male model instead of a studious priest out to save the world.
“Come in,” he says, and I can see reluctance on his face, in his eyes, which are dark under a frown.
I enter the room and glance around, half expecting to see Gabrielle, but he’s alone. On the desk is a long piece of paper and I see he’s been writing. I turn to him and he stands before me, waiting for me to speak.
Instead, I go to him and place my hand behind his head, pulling him down to me for a kiss. I can tell he’s shocked by my actions, but he gets over it very quickly, dropping the quill to the floor, his hand sliding behind my head, tangling in my hair, the other hand at the small of my back, pulling me against him. He kisses me back, his tongue finding mine in a very non-priestly way.
Despite everything, a surge of desire for Michel fills me and I can’t help but respond. I pull him over to the bed and he follows willingly, and when I lie down across the bed, he lies on top of me and continues to kiss me. One hand moves down my body and he actually groans when he slips his hand under my t-shirt to feel my bare skin. My body responds, my heart swells. How easily I could let him do what he wants… When his hand slips between my spread thighs and fingers find my folds, I groan, my lust surging. I want him inside of me, now.
It’s when I hear him unzipping his jeans, and the clank of his belt buckle that I come back to reality and realize what’s happening.
I remember why I’m there and pull back.
Michel gasps when I push him away roughly to break our kiss. “Eve…”
I roll out from under his body and stand beside the bed, my body betraying me, my flesh throbbing. I’m angry and cross my arms, watching as he struggles to stand, his erection obvious. At least now I know that Soren told the truth about Michel.
“Yep,” I say and can’t help but hate myself. “Soren said you’d be mine if I made a move.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said that if I kissed you, you wouldn’t be able to resist, despite your dedication to the priesthood.”
Michel frowns, his expression dark. “I’m weak.”
“That’s it?” I say, angry now. “Just you’re weak? Not that you love me and want me?”
“That’s a given,” he says defensively. “I want you and love you, but I’m a priest and you are not meant for me, as much as I might want you.”
I go back to him and hold his face in my hands. “Michel, if you’d only tell me everything, I could know what to do. As it is, I have only partial information. You lie to me, my mother lies to me, Julien is compelled and can’t even talk to me about certain things, and Soren manipulates me like a puppet. Tell me everything so I can know what to do…”
“I can’t,” he says and there’s a hitch in his voice. “One day, you’ll understand everything. That’s all I can say.”
“What should I do?”
He shakes his head. “What you must.”
I stand before him, filled with frustration, tears welling in my eyes. Damn him!
“I loved you,” I say, my vision blurry. “You were the first man I ever loved besides my father. I was in love with you.”
“You were,” he says and smiles, but now his eyes are filled with tears, too. “I was. I am. I always will be.”
“But not enough to tell me.”
“Because I love you, I can’t.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I say and stalk to the door, my heart breaking once more. “Everything you say is shrouded in secrecy, half-truths, half-lies, obfuscation. How can I make a decision?”
“Trust your heart.”
“It’s broken,” I say and open the door. I leave, closing it beh
ind me, wishing once again that I had some other fate than the one I face.
I go to my suite of rooms and find Julien standing at the window, watching the sky. I slip my arms around him and squeeze, needing to feel his solidity. Needing to have him wipe away memories of Michel’s touch.
“How’d it go?”
“What do you think? He can’t tell me the truth. He can’t tell me everything or it would kill me – the usual story.” I sigh and enjoy the strong muscles of Julien’s abdomen beneath my hands.
“Are you going to help Soren?” he asks lightly.
“I don’t know. How can I know?”
“He won’t give you long to decide.”
“What’s he going to do – kill me if I take too long?” I close my eyes. “Part of me wants to run away and see what he does. On his own, or with Kael, he really is vulnerable or else he wouldn’t want to resurrect the rest. He fears Blackstone. Maybe I need to talk to Blackstone some more.”
Julien takes my hands away from around his waist. “That’s a bad idea, Eve.”
“Why?” I ask and look in his eyes when he turns around to face me. “The more of Soren’s brethren we resurrect, the more powerful he becomes. What if I help him resurrect them all and then he’s unstoppable?”
“He said he’d stop the plague and eradicate vampirism. I believe him.”
I make a face. “How come you’ve changed your mind?”
“He’s our only chance.” Julien shrugs. “If you can’t see that…”
“If I can’t see that, what?”
“I can’t be with you.”
“What?” I say and shake my head, totally confused. “You can’t be with me if I don’t help Soren? When we came here, you were all about me not trusting him!”
“I’ve changed my mind,” he says. “You need to support Soren. Blackstone can’t be trusted. If you don’t see that, I can’t be with you.” He shrugs as if it’s out of his control.
And it’s then I wonder if this isn’t Soren’s doing. I go to Julien and put my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. He resists, turning his head to the side to avoid my lips.
“Kiss me,” I say, pressing my breasts against him, grinding my hips against his.
“No, Eve,” he says and gingerly pulls my hands from around his neck. “I can’t be with you if you don’t agree to help Soren.”
I exhale heavily. “Soren’s compelled you to reject me if I don’t agree to help him.”
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it.” He backs away from me, and says nothing to acknowledge what I said. I don’t let him get away, my hand around his waist. He struggles and makes a face of pain as if my touch actually burns him.
“Eve, stop.”
“I’ll help Soren,” I say, and immediately he relaxes and doesn’t pull away.
“Good. Go to him and help him.”
“I want you now,” I say and press against him.
“Go to him and help him.” He pulls away, smiling.
I stop and make fists, wanting to punch something. Anything. I go to the couch and take one of the throw pillows and do just that – hitting it, battering it with my fists. It feels so good and I feel so stupid for doing it, but I am so frustrated that Soren is able to manipulate me like this, using my love for the brothers and especially for Julien to tempt me.
“Just go to him, Eve,” Julien says and takes the pillow from my hands. “Go and all this will be over.”
I close my eyes and breathe in deeply while Julien places the pillow back on the couch.
I expect that until I actually help resurrect more of the Twelve, Soren will keep Julien from me. The interesting and ironic twist is that I could have Michel right now. Soren’s doing, no doubt. He knows Michel can’t resist me and is making me either be celibate or go with Michel until the rest of the Twelve are resurrected.
He’s evil.
Not evil, Eve. I understand human nature. I understand you.
“Fuck off,” I say out loud.
Julien looks hurt, as if that was meant for him.
“Eve,” he says, his brow creased.
“That wasn’t meant for you.”
I can see his brow relax.
What a nightmare…
Chapter 112
I take the hallway to Soren’s suite of rooms, past the central staircase that leads down to the main floor, and a long row of paintings of noble men born centuries ago. When I arrive at Soren’s door, a guard opens it for me and lets me enter.
Soren glances up from the couch where he sits, drinking a glass of blood.
“Come and join me,” he says, motioning to the other space on the couch. I pick the chair across from him instead. He motions to his servant, who pours a cup of blood for me. I take it without struggle, deciding that I need it now to calm myself.
“So, I take it you’ve spoken with Michel and Julien about my request.”
“I have,” I say and drink down the blood, enjoying its coppery taste. A sense of well-being fills me as it slides down my throat to my stomach. I lean back and close my eyes, enjoying the associated warmth. I open my eyes and examine the glass.
“I’m going to cooperate fully,” I say softly. “No more fighting.”
He glances at me as if he doesn’t believe me. “Good,” he says finally. “At some point, Eve, you just have to submit, as hard as that is for you to accept. We all have to submit to someone,” he says. “Even me.”
“I suppose you’ll tell me you must submit to God,” I say, trying not to be too irreverent.
“Exactly,” he says.
“You’re telling me this is God’s plan?”
He shakes his head. “No, actually,” he says and finishes his glass of blood. “God leaves all the details up to us. It’s a big test, to see if we’re worthy.”
I say nothing. I don’t even crack a smile or frown. I know it’s not worth the effort to argue with him, or Michel.
“Who’s first on the agenda?” I ask, taking another sip of blood. “Which of your brethren will you resurrect?”
“Procel,” he says, matter of fact. “He and I were closest after Kael. You’ll like him, Eve. He was always a music lover and can play a mean harpsichord.”
I say nothing, not planning on liking any of the Twelve.
“Really, Eve, give them a chance. They’re not all vicious like Kael. I resurrected him first because he’s the most blood thirsty and won’t balk at the ugly deeds that have to be done to make this all work out.”
“What ugly deeds?” I ask, frowning.
“Dark deeds,” he says. “Ones that must be done, whether we like them or not.”
I get a bad feeling about this. “Kael is your hitman? The bad cop to your good cop?”
Soren smiles. “Something like that.” Soren stands and walks over to his sideboard where a carafe of blood sits on a silver tray. He pours more for himself, waving the servant away. “Leave us,” he says softly. The servant bows and leaves the room, backing out, closing the door behind him.
Soren returns with the carafe and pours me more blood.
I let him, not wanting to fight any more. Maybe if I cooperate, I’ll finally understand.
“Yes,” he says, reading my mind of course. “You will finally understand, Eve. Cooperate.”
I sigh heavily and drink down the rest of the blood, needing its endorphins to take away the anxiety I feel. It works, and in a few moments, I’m mellow.
“When and where?”
“The cathedral. No death, Eve. I promise that. All the blood will be supplied beforehand. No victims. Just you, me and a few dozen adoring worshippers to give us the juice we need to do miracles.”
I nod and close my eyes. Part of me wants to still fight, but the other part recognizes that it’s impossible. Soren knows everything. He controls Julien. Michel won’t tell me the truth. My mother is dead to me until she can explain why she gave me up for all those years. Blackstone is a megalomaniac who wants to enslave human
ity.
“I give in,” I say and a powerful sense of peace overtakes me.
I promise myself I will stop over-thinking every decision. I’ll follow my gut.
Right now, my gut tells me that I can’t fight Soren at this time, and so I have to see this thing out and learn what it is he plans to do.
Will he really stop the plague? Will he really eradicate vampirism?
“Yes, and yes,” he says. “It’s what will make me more powerful than ever. You can count on it. That’s my motivation. I must be more powerful than ever if I hope to succeed.”
“Succeed at what?” I ask, but I’m feeling so calm and dreamy, I don’t really even care. I’m asking to be polite. To make conversation.
“Now that would be telling.”
I smile. “And you’re not.”
“No, Eve,” he says and I hear humor in his voice. “I’m not. Remember. Need to know.”
I open one eye and I see his smile. It’s not smug. It’s amused.
“I’m so tired of all this,” I say with a yawn. I sit up and put my empty glass on the coffee table. When Soren moves to refill it, I put my hand over the glass and shake my head. “I’ve had enough.”
“As you wish,” he says and pours himself more.
I stand up and stretch, enjoying the good feelings from the blood. “I know what you’ve done” I say.
“What?”
“You’ve compelled Julien to not sleep with me until I’ve helped you resurrect the rest of the Twelve.”
He smiles to himself and takes a sip. “How smart of me,” he says drolly.
“You want me with Michel,” I say, my hands on my hips. “Why?”
He glances up at me. “Why do you think?”
“To punish them both.”
He smiles again. “I wanted two of you, one for each of them, but that didn’t work out.”
“What happened?”
Soren sighs. “There were three embryos, and two died, leaving only you,” he says and waves his hand towards me with a flourish. “One very special child who would unite us all once more.”
“They thought they would each get one of me?”