Black Dawn

by L. J. Smith

  I can’t let her do that to Delos—but how can I stop her? There’s no way. If she sees me, it’s all over. . . .

  “There,” Sylvia said. “That should hold you for a while.”

  Maggie ground her teeth.

  But at least maybe she’ll go now, she thought. It feels like about a century I’ve been sitting in here listening to her. And this stool isn’t getting any more comfortable.

  “Now,” Sylvia said briskly, tidying. “Just let me put your gloves away—”

  Oh, no, Maggie thought, horrified. On the shelf beside her was a pile of gloves.

  “No,” Delos said, so quickly it was almost an echo. “I need them.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re not going out again—”

  “I’ll take them.” Delos had wonderful reflexes. He put himself between Sylvia and the wardrobe, and an instant later he was holding on to the gloves, almost tugging them from her hands.

  Sylvia looked up at him wonderingly for a long moment. Maggie could see her face, the creamy skin delicately flushed, and her eyes, the color of tear-drenched violets. She could see the shimmer of her pale blond hair as Sylvia shook her head slightly.

  Delos stared down at her implacably.

  Then Sylvia shrugged her fragile shoulders and let go of the gloves.

  “I’ll go see to the feast,” she said lightly and smiled. She picked up her basket and moved gracefully to the door.

  Delos watched her go.

  Maggie simply sat, speechless and paralyzed. When Delos followed Sylvia and closed the door firmly behind her, she made herself get slowly off the stool. She backed away from the curtains slightly, but she could still see a strip of the bedroom.

  Delos walked unerringly straight to the wardrobe.

  “You can come out now,” he said, his voice flat and hard.

  Maggie shut her eyes.

  Great. Well, I should have known.

  But he hadn’t let Sylvia come in and discover her, and he hadn’t simply turned her over to his guards. Those were very good signs, she told herself stoutly. In fact, maybe she wasn’t going to have to persuade him of anything at all; maybe he was already going to be reasonable.

  “Or do I have to come in?” Delos said dangerously.

  Or maybe not, Maggie thought.

  She felt a sudden idiotic desire to get the dust out of her hair. She shook her head a few times, brushing at it, then gave up.

  Terribly conscious of her smudged face and slave clothing, she parted the linen hangings and walked out.

  “I warned you,” Delos said.

  He was facing her squarely, his jaw set and his mouth as grim as she had ever seen it. His eyes were hooded, a dull and eerie gold in the shadows. He looked every inch the dark and mysterious vampire prince.

  And here I am, Maggie thought. Looking like . . . well, like vermin, I bet. Like something fished out of the gutter. Not much of a representative for humanity.

  She had never cared about clothes or hairstyles or things like that, but just now she wished that she could at least look presentable. Since the fate of the world might just depend on her.

  Even so, there was something in the air between Delos and herself. A sort of quivering aliveness that quickened the blood in Maggie’s veins. That stirred something in her chest, and started her heart pounding with an odd mixture of fear and hope.

  She faced Delos just as squarely as he was facing her.

  “I know some things that I think you need to know,” she said quietly.

  He ignored that. “I told you what would happen if you came here. I told you I wouldn’t protect you again.”

  “I remember. But you did protect me again. And I thank you—but I really think I’d better tell you what’s going on. Sylvia is the suspicious type, and if she’s gone to Hunter Redfern to say that you don’t want people looking in your closet—”

  “Don’t you understand  ?” he said with such sudden violence that Maggie’s throat closed, choking off her words. She stared at him. “You’re so close to dying, but you don’t seem to care. Are you too stupid to grasp it, or do you just have a death wish?”

  The thumping in Maggie’s chest now was definitely fear.

  “I do understand,” she began slowly, when she could get her voice to work.

  “No, you don’t,” he said. “But I’ll make you.”

  All at once his eyes were blazing. Not just their normal brilliant yellow, but a dazzling and unnatural gold that seemed to hold its own light.

  Even though Maggie had seen it before, it was still a shock to watch his features change. His face going paler, even more beautiful and clearly defined, chiseled in ice. His pupils widening like a predator’s, holding a darkness that a human could drown in. And that proud and willful mouth twisting in anger.

  It all happened in a second or so. And then he was advancing on her, with dark fire in his eyes, and his lips pulling back from his teeth.

  Maggie stared at the fangs, helplessly horrified all over again. They were even sharper than she remembered them looking. They indented his lower lip on either side, even with his mouth partly open. And, yes, they were definitely scary.

  “This is what I am,” Delos said, speaking easily around the fangs. “A hunting animal. Part of a world of darkness that you couldn’t survive for a minute in. I’ve told you over and over to stay away from it, but you won’t listen. You turn up in my own castle, and you just won’t believe your danger. So now I’m going to show you.”

  Maggie took a step backward. She wasn’t in a good position; the wall was behind her and the huge bed was on her left. Delos was between her and the door. And she had already seen how fast his reflexes were.

  Her legs felt unsteady; her pulse was beating erratically. Her breath was coming fast.

  He doesn’t really mean it—he won’t really do it. He isn’t serious. . . .

  But for all her mind’s desperate chanting, panic was beginning to riot inside her. The instincts of forgotten ancestors, long buried, were surfacing. Some ancient part of her remembered being chased by hunting animals, being prey.

  She backed up until she came in contact with the tapestry-hung wall behind her. And then there was nowhere else to go.

  “Now,” Delos said and closed the distance between them with the grace of a tiger.

  He was right in front of her. Maggie couldn’t help looking up at him, looking directly into that alien and beautiful face. She could smell a scent like autumn leaves and fresh snow, but she could feel the heat from his body.

  He’s nothing dead or undead, some very distant part of her mind thought. He’s ruthless, he’s been raised to be a weapon, but he’s definitely alive—maybe the most alive thing I’ve ever seen.

  When he moved, there was nowhere she could go to avoid him. His hands closed on her shoulders like implacable bands of steel. And then he was pulling her forward, not roughly but not gently either, pulling her until her body rested lightly against his. And he was looking down at her with golden eyes that burned like twin flames.

  Looking at my throat, Maggie thought. She could feel the pulse beating there, and with her chin tilted up to look at him and her upper body arched away from him, she knew he could see it. His eyes were fixed on it with a different kind of hunger than she had ever seen in a human face.

  For just one instant the panic overwhelmed her, flooding up blackly to engulf everything else. She couldn’t think; she was nothing but a terrified mass of instinct, and all she wanted to do was to run, to get away.

  Then, slowly at first, the panic receded. It simply poured off her, draining away. She felt as if she were rising from deep water into air clear as crystal.

  She looked straight into the golden eyes above her and said, “Go ahead.”

  She had the pleasure of seeing the golden eyes look startled. “What?”

  “Go ahead,” Maggie said distinctly. “It doesn’t matter. You’re stronger than me; we both know that. But whatever you do, you can’t make me yo
ur prey. You don’t have that power. You can’t control me.”

  Delos hissed in fury, a reptilian sound. “You are so—”

  “You wanted me scared; I’m scared. But, then, I was scared before. And it doesn’t matter. There’s something more important than me at stake here. Prove whatever you’ve got to prove and then I’ll tell you about it.”

  “So completely stupid,” Delos raged. But Maggie had the odd feeling that his anger was more against himself than her. “You don’t think I’ll hurt you,” he said.

  “You’re wrong there.”

  “I will hurt you. I’ll show you—”

  “You can kill me,” Maggie said clearly. “But that’s all you can do. I told you, you can’t control me. And you can’t change what’s between us.”

  He was very, very angry now. The fathomless pupils of his eyes were like black holes, and Maggie suddenly remembered that he wasn’t just a vampire, or just a weapon, but some doomsday creature with powers meant for the end of the world.

  He hovered over her with his fangs showing.

  “I will hurt you,” he said. “Watch me hurt you.”

  He bent to her angrily, and she could see his intent in his eyes. He meant to frighten and disillusion . . .

  . . . and he kissed her mouth like raindrops falling on cool water.

  Maggie clung to him desperately and kissed back. Where they touched they dissolved into each other.

  Then she felt him tremble in her arms and they were both lost.

  • • •

  It was like the first time when their minds had joined. Maggie felt a pulsing thrill that enveloped her entire body. She could feel the pure line of communication open between them, she could feel herself lifted into that wonderful still place where only the two of them existed and nothing else mattered.

  Dimly, she knew that her physical self was falling forward, that they were both falling, still clasped in each other’s arms. But in the hushed place of crystalline beauty where she really was, they were facing each other in a white light.

  It was like being inside his mind again, but this time he was there opposite her, gazing at her directly. He didn’t look like a doomsday weapon anymore, or even like a vampire. His black-lashed golden eyes were large, like a solemn child’s. There was a terrible wistfulness in his face.

  He swallowed, and then she heard his mental voice. It was just the barest breath of sound. I don’t want this—

  Yes, you do, she interrupted, indignant. The normal barriers that existed between two people had melted; she knew what he was feeling, and she didn’t like being lied to.

  —to end, he finished.

  Oh.

  Maggie’s eyes filled with sudden hot tears.

  She did what was instinctive to her. She reached out to him. And then they were embracing in their minds, just as their physical bodies embraced, and there was that feeling of invisible wings all around them.

  Maggie could catch fragments of his thoughts, not just the surface ones, but things so deep she wasn’t sure he even knew he was thinking them. So lonely . . . always been lonely. Meant to be that way. Always alone . . .

  No, you’re not, she told him, trying to communicate it to the deepest part of him. I won’t let you be alone. And we were meant to be like this; can’t you feel it?

  What she could feel was his powerful longing. But he couldn’t be convinced all at once.

  She heard something like Destiny . . . And she saw images of his past. His father. His teachers. The nobles. Even the slaves who had heard the prophecies. They all believed he had only one purpose, and it had to do with the end of the world.

  You can change your destiny, she said. You don’t have to go along with it. I don’t know what’s going to happen with the world, but you don’t have to be what they say. You have the power to fight them!

  For one heartbeat the image of his father seemed to loom closer, tall and terrible, a father seen through the eyes of childhood. Then the features blurred, changing just enough to become Hunter Redfern with the same cruel and accusing light in his yellow eyes.

  And then the picture was swept away by a tidal wave of anger from Delos.

  I am not a weapon.

  I know that, Maggie told him.

  I can choose what I am from now on. I can choose what path to follow.

  Yes, Maggie said.

  Delos said simply, I choose to go with you.

  His anger was gone. Just briefly, she got the flicker of another image from him, as she had once before seeing herself through his eyes.

  He didn’t see her as a slave girl with dusty hair and a smudged face and coarse sacking for clothes. He saw her as the girl with autumn-colored hair and endlessly deep sorrel eyes—the kind of eyes that never wavered, but looked straight into his soul. He saw her as warm and real and vibrant, melting the black ice of his heart and setting him free.

  And then this image was gone, too, and they were simply holding on to each other, lapped in peace.

  They stayed like that for a while, their spirits flowing in and out of each other. Delos didn’t seem inclined to move.

  And Maggie wanted it to last, too. She wanted to stay here for a long time, exploring all the deepest and most secret places of the mind that was now open to her. To touch him in ways he’d never been touched before, this person who, beyond all logic, was the other half of her. Who belonged to her. Who was her soulmate.

  But there was something nagging at her consciousness. She couldn’t ignore it, and when she finally allowed herself to look at it, she remembered everything.

  And she was swept with a wave of alarm so strong it snapped her right out of Delos’s mind.

  She could feel the shock of separation reverberate in him as she sat up, aware of her own body again. They were still linked enough that it hurt her just as it hurt him. But she was too frightened to care.

  “Delos,” she said urgently. “We’ve got to do something. There’s going to be trouble.”

  He blinked at her, as if he were coming from very far away. “It will be all right,” he said.

  “No. It won’t. You don’t understand.”

  He sighed, very nearly his old exasperated snort. “If it’s Hunter Redfern you’re worried about—”

  “It’s him—and Sylvia. Delos, I heard them talking when I was in the wardrobe. You don’t know what they’ve got planned.”

  “It doesn’t matter what they’ve got planned. I can take care of them.” He straightened a little, looked down at his left arm.

  “No, you can’t,” Maggie said fiercely. “And that’s the problem. Sylvia put a spell on you, a binding spell, she called it. You can’t use your power.”

  CHAPTER 17

  He stared at her for an instant, his golden eyes wide.

  “Don’t you believe me?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past Sylvia to try,” he said. “But I don’t think she’s strong enough.”

  “She said she got special ingredients. And she said that nobody else could take the spell off.” When he still looked doubtful, although a bit more grim, Maggie added, “Why don’t you try it?”

  He reached down with long, strong fingers to pull at the fastenings of his brace. It came off easily, and Maggie’s eyebrows went up. She blinked.

  He extended his arm, pointing it at the wall, and drew a dagger from his belt.

  Maggie had forgotten about the blood part. She bit the inside of her cheek and didn’t say anything as he opened a small cut on his wrist. Blood welled up red, then flowed in a trickle.

  “Just a little blast,” Delos said, and looked calmly at the wall.

  Nothing happened.

  He frowned, his golden eyes flaring dangerously. Maggie could see the concentration in his face. He spread his fingers.

  Still nothing happened.

  Maggie let out her breath. I guess spells are invisible, she thought. The brace was just for show.

  Delos was looking at his arm as if it didn’t belong to him.
>
  “We’re in trouble,” Maggie said, trying not to make it sound like I told you so. “While they thought they were alone in here, they were talking about all kinds of things. All Hunter cares about is getting you to help him destroy the humans. But there’s been some big split in the Night World, and the witches have seceded from it.”

  Delos went very still, and his eyes were distant. “That means war. Open war between witches and vampires.”

  “Probably,” Maggie said, waving a hand vaguely. “But, listen, Delos, the witches sent somebody here, an ambassador, to talk to you. To try to get you on their side. Hunter said they’ve got one of the Wild Powers on their side already—the witches, I mean. Are you getting this?”

  “Of course,” Delos said. But now his voice was oddly distant, too. He was looking at something Maggie couldn’t see. “But one out of four doesn’t matter. Two out of four, three out of four—it’s not good enough.”

  “What are you talking about?” Maggie didn’t wait for him to answer. “But, look. I know the girl who came to talk to you. It’s the girl I was with on the rocks, the other one you saved from Bern. She’s Aradia, and she’s Maiden of all the witches. And, Delos, they’re looking for her right now. They want to kill her to stop her from getting to you. And she’s my friend.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “We’ve got to stop them,” Maggie said, exasperated.

  “We can’t.”

  That brought Maggie up short. She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m saying we can’t stop them. They’re too strong. Maggie, listen to me,” he said calmly and clearly, when she began an incoherent protest.

  That’s the first time he’s said my name out loud, she thought dizzily, and then she focused on his words.

  “It’s not just the spell they’ve put on me. And it’s not just that they control the castle. Oh, yes, they do,” he said with a bitter laugh, cutting her off again. “You haven’t been here very long; you don’t understand. The nobles here are centuries old, most of them. They don’t like being ruled by a precocious child with uncanny powers. As soon as Hunter showed up, they transferred their loyalty to him.”