Her face took on the look of soured stone as she ignored Eric’s raw yelling and brought one of the daggers up over her head. With inhuman hatred burning in her eyes, she plunged the blade straight down into Paresh’s chest.
II
Jonathan watched from the shadows, his grim face belying turmoil boiling beneath the surface. The unfamiliar emotions that had assailed him after biting Eric had left him feeling restless, constricted, and very unlike himself. He had never experienced anything akin to this before—he was fighting an urge to leap out and stop the events he had spent decades orchestrating—and he did not understand why.
Arranging the deaths of Eric’s humans had always brought him pleasure. It was only natural to enjoy a good kill. That much had never changed at any moment in his life—after all, Lucifer had created him with the most savage bloodlust of his kind. The true bloods may have desired the lives of men, but he and Lucien had preferred their solitude with each other as they left a trail of blood wherever they walked. Their lives had been perfect until the Holy Rebellion spread to the physical realm and upended everything. Neither had wanted to control Lucifer’s walking wrath, his vampires, in his war, but that was their purpose.
Jonathan had actually enjoyed the freedom to leave fields of blood in his wake. But then everything changed, again. The Lasting Peace brought with it the Vampiric Nation's newly adopted pacifist lifestyle and an end to open bloodshed, an end to hunting innocents. The new taboos were a difficult adjustment for Jonathan, but Lucien slid into his new role with ease. Of course, Lucien's impassive nature gave him a facade to hide behind, and he had never felt Jonathan’s all-consuming thirst.
Due to his very nature, whenever Jonathan could satisfy his urges, he did so willingly. Eric’s stubbornness had led to great frustration at various times over the years, but, ultimately, it had provided Jonathan with opportunities to exercise his talents. There had never been any regret—after all, he had directly killed only those who had fallen from the flock and had merely pulled the strings of marionettes like David to take care of the rest. Manipulating humans was quite easy.
And yet, despite thousands of years of cold detachment spent fulfilling his selfish desires, Jonathan suddenly felt bad. He found no joy in witnessing his brother’s torment—to the contrary, regret and uncertainty encased him like a thick blanket, and, in truth to himself, watching Paresh die disturbed him even more.
He had begun his assignment with the usual frame of mind, coldly urging David to enact his revenge so that he could seize her, all the while dreading that he would be raising a human. Him. The Second Born. Stuck in the Realm of Man, rearing one of them—he knew nothing of such a thing.
He had not expected her vampiric essence to affect him as it had. Over the years, his disgust diminished and he began to grow fond of her. He hated to admit it even to himself, but he finally understood Eric’s attachments.
His orders had demanded Paresh’s safety, but he gradually began protecting her from his own desires rather than duty. As she matured and her essence influenced him more, and David descended farther from reality, he used his influence to keep David away and allowed only supervised visits with enough frequency to maintain the cover of guardianship. Between the dangers posed by David and Nicole, Jonathan stayed with Paresh always, even when she thought he had gone. For ten years, he never returned to the Arc of True Blood, never reported to the High Council, and never saw or talked to Lucien. He had left only with her, always using his aura and powers of persuasion to hide her from public view.
Then the time had come to send her home. Instead of feeling relieved, dread had resurfaced—he was truly losing his ability to protect her. Given his earlier manipulations, David had plotted her death on his own, and Lucien’s order had left him stuck pushing David to use that already drafted plan in spite of his preference to see her die a quick and painless death.
He sighed.
Life was sifting from her body as David sliced through her wrists. He heard her heartbeat slowing down and knew it would be over soon. Her spirit would rise above her violent death and find peace, but nothing changed the fact that her essence would no longer fill the world, nor that he had yet to wrangle with Eric and face his rage in the aftermath.
Having her meet with Eric upon her return home had been part of David’s arrangement all along. Jonathan had gone one step further by insisting that she see Eric right away out of personal interest. If David had followed her sooner than anticipated, Eric could have kept her safe. In doing just that, he had almost overstepped the restrictions placed on him—and he had gone his whole life without disobeying a single order.
Her hold on him had begun to wane the moment she left on the train, but it had never completely let go and it strengthened the instant she arrived in the forest. Duty to Lucien had always come before anything else, but for the first time, he had found himself worrying about the time to come. After observing human interactions for so long, he imagined that he felt similar to an overprotective father. It was undeniable. He had formed a connection to her.
Even his infatuation with Eric had not lent itself to such a thing. Something unexplainable had drawn him to Eric. From the moment he saw him, Jonathan knew that he had to have him. More than a craving for the blood flowing in his veins had consumed him—he had wanted companionship. He had wanted what he shared with Lucien, but with someone able to travel the world with him, who did not wield power over him, and with whom he could drop all formalities. Someone he could spar with, someone who understood his thirst—a vampire on his level, just like Eric.
Not that Lucien was cruel to him by any means. They just both understood the dynamics of their relationship. From the moment of creation, Jonathan had known his place. Lucifer had made him for Lucien and Lucien was his master above all else.
Well aware of the power he commanded, Lucien had spent his solitary years walking the Earth as a predator of easy, helpless prey. In all of his life, he had known of no equal and only two beings to be above him: Lucifer and Him. The purpose of Jonathan’s existence may have changed after the Lasting Peace, but the nature of his creation never would. He would always remain below Lucien in the hierarchy. Not even their intimate moments changed that.
As lifelong companions, they thought alike much of the time and both followed the best course for the survival of their race. Lucien had always considered Jonathan’s reports carefully and usually agreed with his recommendations. However, Lucien had agreed with Lord Ceallach and the other naysayers instead of him this time.
The unexpected desire to confront Lucien about it afterward had eaten away at him and trailed him to Eric’s office where it continued to nip at him there. He trusted Lucien’s guidance, but personal attachment left him feeling betrayed. Though he did not understand them, it was not his place to question Lucien’s reasons.
Everything Lucien did, he did for the Vampiric Nation. Even as Jonathan reminded himself of that, thoughts of rebellion stirred deeply within him. He impossibly desired to follow his own heart. He knew Lucien and the elders were wrong.
Surely, if He had sent her to them as the fabled Servator for their salvation, Lucien would not risk dooming the entire nation. Jonathan gritted his teeth. Suddenly it was so imperative that she die, just when letting her live offered the chance to prove that the time for prophecy had come. The order made no sense.
Like Eric, he disagreed with Lucien, but could not disregard his orders without just cause. If he was wrong and Lucien had been right all along, he would be the one dooming his race. His entire existence had been damned from the moment of his creation and now he stood there, not knowing whether action or inaction would avoid eternal damnation for them all. If he made the wrong choice, he would be the one reuniting his race with their former commander and the souls of all of the wicked they had killed. He might not have desired the lives of those in the Realm of Man, but he certainly did not want to meet that fate.
Even more, he did not want to see her die, esp
ecially without understanding why. For the first time in his life, he cared for something above the Vampiric Nation, the elders, or himself. Her blood flowed inside him, enhancing what he had felt for her more than a hundredfold, as though the years with her had been only a taste of the real thing.
Standing by, powerless as he watched David and Nicole brutally end her life, his anger sparked and burned his blood. It took fierce personal restraint to keep from lunging into the clearing to feast on their evilness. Over the course of human history, others had fallen further from the flock than them, but they had gone quite far, deep into the ranks of those already doomed to the Lake of Fire, far beyond salvation or forgiveness. The world would welcome the opportunity to get rid of them, but that time would come soon enough.
He stayed rooted to his spot. Perhaps the new sentiments also fed his loyalty to Lucien. His wisdom and guidance had allowed every vampire the ability to enjoy life while awaiting their one chance at deliverance. Jonathan’s trust in Lucien’s infinite wisdom held him still. Lucien would not doom them to an eternity in the Lake of Fire so carelessly or willingly.
Yet even as he thought about that, doubt nagged him incessantly, forcing his mind to travel in circles. Lucien had ordered the death of a member of the flock. That very request put them all at risk for damnation even though humans were fulfilling it for him.
Jonathan’s eyes suddenly narrowed. Lucien had preferred his life prior to the war and had never shared the ideals of the true bloods. He had settled into his new life with surprising ease and had withdrawn even further into himself, which Jonathan had assumed meant that he was seeking the quickest route to the solitude he had known before the war. After all, Lucien was a loner by nature. He had no desire to share company with anyone other than the one created to share his existence.
However... maybe Lucien’s thirst drove him more than Jonathan knew. Maybe he did prefer the raw freedom of destruction and wanton carnage, and did not truly desire salvation. His strong leadership may have implied that he cared about the fate of the Vampiric Nation, but he may have only desired to ensure their survival in the face of potential slaughter. Perhaps he had been biding his time, giving the true bloods a furlough while waiting to resume the war.
The possibility was hard to accept, but quite real. It was their natural instinct to kill. Every single one of them—even Eric—battled with their inhuman cravings and eventually gave in, hunting the fallen and wicked, always careful not to step outside the boundaries of the Lasting Peace. Ever since Lucien had convened the High Council, created the VaSH, and enforced the treaty’s laws, the population of the Vampiric Nation had steadily increased due to that loophole. If his goal was to wage war once more, their current populace vastly outnumbered their original army.
He may have set up a governing body, but Lucien always had the final say and his word was always followed without comment, question, or complaint. Lucien alone ruled the Vampiric Nation. The High Council was a farce.
The events in the clearing pulled Jonathan away from his grim surmising. As Nicole thrust the dagger into Paresh’s chest and her heart failed to finish its final beat, immense sorrow consumed him. He clenched his teeth and balled his fists, driving his nails into his palms. Lucien’s desire had become reality.
About to whistle to his pack to begin the clean up process, he hesitated when Eric suddenly loosened the stakes holding the electrified netting in place. As he inched them upward, the strength of the current decreased until it flickered out completely. None of the humans noticed and Jonathan dared not interfere. They would be no match for his strength.
Jonathan was about to witness what he had always wanted to see—Eric embracing his true nature at full power. With melancholy eyes, he watched and whispered, “Sate your thirst for revenge, Brother. You are finally ready to come home.”
III
A satisfied smile spread across Nicole’s face. After all those years of Jonathan interfering with her attempts to kill the girl, she had finally succeeded—and with Lucien’s blessing, no less. She had one more to take care of, though—his blood had brought her back once before, she could not risk letting it happen again. She kicked over one urn of Paresh’s blood. Before she could tip the other, guttural sounds of a struggle whisked her around.
“How did you break free?” she angrily demanded.
Freed of the electric web holding him down, Eric was now wrestling with her two men. Eric cast one man off and viciously latched onto the other’s throat. The man’s cries died on his lips an instant after Eric’s teeth sank into his flesh.
His partner attacked Eric only to find himself pummeling his dead friend instead. The empty shell acted as a shield while Eric replenished some of his body’s massive energy expenditure. Moments later, he peered at the remaining giant with savagery burning in his eyes. He lifted his face from the dead man’s neck. Curling his lips into a bloody snarl, he tossed the body to the side and took a menacing step toward him.
Nicole refused to allow him to restore any more of his strength. She marched over, and, at her signal, the surviving man jumped back and grabbed a black crossbow from the ground. He stood beside her as she eyed the discarded carcass and flashed Eric a sly smile. Fire light danced in her eyes and glinted off her glossy lips. “Your power is quite impressive. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the rumor I heard is true—that you really do share the bloodline of the first two creations. But that’s impossible.”
She motioned for the man to raise the weapon, which he did quickly, his arm quivering as he pointed the bow. Eric stared beyond them at Paresh’s bloody frame hanging limply from the restraints. Tears streamed from his eyes and his body shook violently.
Carefully staying out of the line of fire, Nicole stepped to the midpoint between Eric and the weapon. She lifted her chin and looked down her nose in mock sympathy, relishing his pain. “She’s already dead. Can’t say that I’m sorry, though. I’d actually really like to see you dead as well. I simply cannot allow you to live.”
Racked with desperate sorrow, Eric fell to his hands and knees and cried out, howling in unearthly anguish. His chest heaving and saliva dripping from his fangs, he raised his eyes and scowled at the pair. Paresh’s calming aura no longer existed to hold him back. The emotions berating him had pushed him over that vital precipice. The beast had taken over and its ruthless cravings spurred an uncontrollable hunger for blood.
A growl rumbled low in his throat. Eric’s wild gaze shifted from Nicole to the weapon. The moment he darted up, she snapped her fingers.
As the man’s finger twitched to pull the trigger, Eric lunged. In one rapid, fluid motion, Nicole spun around, kicked the weapon out of her goon’s hands, and settled into Eric’s path. An inhumanly fast fist sped toward his face as his momentum propelled him forward. He drew his right arm up to block and grabbed her throat with his left. Before his grip could tighten with enough force to remove her head, she thrust up from below with her right hand and pierced his chest with the last dagger.
Eric’s hands dropped to his sides. He could not even grab the hilt. Death had claimed his eternal soul the moment the blade had impaled his heart. Nicole pushed against his shoulder and watched him fall to the ground with a heavy, lifeless thud.
“I created you bastards. I certainly know how to kill you,” Nicole spat.
“No!” came an unearthly growl from the forest.
Jonathan stepped from the tree line, his jaw grinding and fists clenched at his sides as he stared at Eric’s body in disbelief. His eyes narrowed and his lips twisted into a loathsome sneer. Glaring at Nicole with contempt, he flew toward her, running so fast he seemed to glide on the air.
“Lucifer!” he seethed.
Nicole stood with unwavering confidence as Jonathan approached, but the man behind her was not as brave. He abandoned her and fled in fear to the edge of the circle. Nicole met Jonathan’s darkened gaze with a smug sneer.
“Hello Jonathan.” Her voice was seductively feminine with
an unearthly edge. “Don’t mind this body. Come give Daddy a kiss... if you think you’ll survive it.” She arched her neck back and ran her fingers down her throat.
“Do you dare mock me? You may lurk in her heart, but you are still confined to her human limitations. Your ability to kill him was a fluke. You will not be so lucky with me.” His eyes mournfully shifted to Eric’s lifeless body.
Her sarcastic demeanor broke away like shards of glass and her body went rigid as she shot Jonathan a fierce look. “He does belong to you, doesn’t he? Just how did that happen?”
Jonathan wrapped one hand around Nicole’s throat and demanded, “Why did you kill him?”
“Oh, you are such a fool Jonathan. Surely, I gave you more intelligence than that. He was a pawn. He could have brought her back to life. Do you really think I’d permit your Servator to save even one of you traitorous wretches? I gave you existence and the ability to take over Heaven, and you repaid me by switching sides—which is why I’m terribly curious to know why Lucien ordered her death. I must admit that our shared desire intrigues me. Tell me why that is. Do you know?”
She cocked her head and gazed at him with seemingly innocent curiosity. For that brief moment, childlike wonderment filled her eyes—she truly expected Jonathan to give her an answer just like that. When he failed to respond, the illusion of innocence shattered.
“Oh, I see—you don’t know a thing, do you? Well, a betrayal like that just might bring one to question one’s master, wouldn’t you think? I mean, I—for one—am just thrilled that she’s dead, but it kind of makes you wonder whose side Lucien is really on, huh?” Her tone dripped with sickly sweet sarcasm as she shot him a fake smile, completely unfazed by his tight hold.
Jonathan glared at her and clenched his teeth. Grief and uncertainty were eating away at him. He didn’t know what to say.
The Arrival (Children of the Morning Star Book 1) Page 26