The older man’s features creased. “No, not since she dragged you off an hour ago.”
An hour ago? Viktor rubbed his head, the sense of horror making it hard to draw a full breath. The last thing he remembered was being choked by the dark stranger while Gemma pleaded on his behalf. So strong, the man had lifted and thrown him effortlessly.
Then his blood froze at the memory of his beloved’s voice. Let him go! It’s me you want. I’ll ... I’ll go with you. Just ... spare him.
Viktor fell to his knees and roared, rage ripping through him as Heinrich stepped back in alarm.
“Ah, beloved, what have you done?”
A small, black stone glinted in the moonlight. He recognized it as the pendant Gemma always wore. A gift from her mother, it was supposedly all Gemma had of her father. She would never willingly leave it behind. Yet another indication that this was not a nightmare. It really was happening.
He scooped it up and tucked it into his pocket with a quiet vow to return it to her.
His shouts had brought others, now looking at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. With blood dripping from the gash at the back of his head, and his ranting and ravings, he didn’t blame them. He certainly wasn’t feeling sane at all. Gemma was gone, at the mercy of the fiend who had apparently been stalking her for some nefarious purpose. Just thinking of her in the hands of that madman threatened to steal all reason. They had to do something. He had to do something.
An hour was a big head start, but he knew this land like the back of his hand, and he had a dozen men around him with at least two score more back at the keep.
In a rush, he told the men of the dark stranger who had attacked them and had taken Gemma, leaving out the parts about her willingly giving herself over to him. Their looks of confusion changed to anger and outrage. A few of the younger men ran back to the keep to fetch more help, while the others rallied around him. They lit more torches and grabbed whatever they could use as weapons, taking to the forest en masse. Others went into the village to check the inn and the rooms for rent in the unlikely event the villain had thought to take refuge there.
The night wore on as they searched the fields and the surrounding forests. A few of the hunters brought out their hounds, but the animals were unable to pick up a trail.
Hours later, they had found neither hide nor hair of Gemma or the mysterious stranger. It was as if they had simply vanished into thin air.
Chapter Six
They travelled through the night, Gemma clutched in the unbreakable grasp of the vampire. Held tightly against his body, he tucked her head into his neck and moved like the wind. She had never been held by anyone other than Victor, and certainly not so intimately. But where Viktor was warmth and comfort, her abductor was cold and hard beneath the expensive finery, like a lifeless stone. There was no affection to be found in his embrace; only stark possession.
They moved quickly but smoothly, the scenery a blur as they shot through the air. At first, Gemma was forced to keep her eyes closed to keep the nausea at bay. However, as she began to inadvertently tap into some of his power, their blurring speed became manageable. Every hour that took them farther from her village, farther from her Viktor, also stole another sliver of hope as the horrible truth sank in—she had bound herself to a vampire.
Any lingering doubts she might have had about the legendary strength and speed of his kind were quickly put to rest. She could not hope to overpower or outrun him should he decide to harm her. Now bound indefinitely to this vile creature, despair began to take hold in earnest.
Yet, even as her heart was breaking, she knew she would make the same choice again and again if it meant keeping Viktor safe. And if there was any way to return to him, she would find it.
Finally, they stopped at a remote cabin deep in the forest, noiselessly touching down on the pine-needled ground. Then and only then did his hold loosen, releasing her from the confines of his cloak.
The familiar scents of pine, leaves, and damp earth wrapped around her. She breathed deeply, acclimating herself to the feel of solid ground beneath her feet once more.
It was still very dark, but she sensed the dawn. Sensed it because he sensed it. The feeling was like a gentle but insistent tug, urging her to seek rest and shelter. Without her amulet, there was nothing to shield her from the vampire’s icy, dark energy.
The vampire lifted his hand toward the door, and it swung open noiselessly.
“You have magic?” she asked in surprise, her hopes dropping yet another notch. There was so much she didn’t know, but if he wielded magic, her situation became even more dire.
He didn’t answer as he strode inside.
Beyond her voice and the thunderous beating of her heart, there was no sound. No wind, no sign of life anywhere. Even the chatty woodland creatures that should be plentiful in a wood such as this were noticeably quiet, their animal instincts keeping them silent in the presence of a predator, just like in the forest near her home.
Now that they had fled, had that forest started breathing again? Had Viktor yet awoken? Was he looking for her now, confused and hurt?
“Come.”
Her captor’s sharp command broke into her musings. Warily, she stepped inside.
She barely got a glimpse of the room before he waved again and the door closed behind her, casting them into pitch darkness. The lack of windows ensured not even a hint of moonlight filtered in.
Fear once again began to creep up her spine, an icy caress that chilled her further. Unable to see anything but vague shadows, differing shades of black, she remained rooted to the spot.
Telltale prickles skittered over her skin. Magic energy expanded outward, from him, flowing past her like a subtle breeze. She recognized the signature as similar to something her mother had done occasionally. It was a warding and concealment spell, one that would cloak their presence and prevent anyone, or anything, from gaining entry.
She reached out with her own magic, testing the boundaries, confirming what the dread in her heart already knew—no one would ever find them here.
“Where are we?” she asked.
A whisper of sound as he removed his cloak. One heartbeat. Then another.
“A temporary refuge. Somewhere safe.” His voice came from close behind her left ear, his cool breath chilling her skin.
She remained still, frozen in place.
“Safe for you? Or safe for me?”
He brushed the hair away from her neck, growling softly as he ran his lips along her throbbing pulse. Claw-like hands held her immobile when she would have pulled away. “They are one and the same. You are mine now, Gemmalyn. And I, yours. Have you already forgotten your vow?”
Her entire body trembled, but she forced herself to be strong. “No, I have not.”
“Excellent. I detest having to repeat myself.”
“My body is my own,” she reminded him in a whisper. “Do not forget your vow.”
He clicked his tongue impatiently. “I have not. I will not take your body, unless of course, you beg me to.”
“Never.”
He chuckled softly, running the backs of his cold fingers over her cheek. “You may yet change your mind. For now, however, I will be content to take your blood.”
Gemma cried out as sharp fangs sunk into her neck. Strong hands held her when she would have fallen to the floor.
“Why are you doing this? I’ve already given my vow.”
He pulled away long enough to answer. “Because, my jewel, to truly be mine, I must make you like me. But fear not; our claiming is a mutual one. As you vowed to serve and protect me, so I am also bound to you. For either of us to break a blood promise would mean death for us both.”
She closed her eyes, but that did not stop the tears from falling. The last of her hopes had been dashed. If she was to become a monster like him, she could never return home.
Beneath her lids, images of Viktor appeared. Viktor smiling at her. Viktor looking at her so tenderly
as he cupped her face and proclaimed his love. Viktor’s face contorted in ecstasy as he found his pleasure in her body.
All things she would never again know.
The initial pain of the vampire’s bite began to recede, fading into blessed numbness.
As he sucked her life’s blood, her limbs and eyelids grew heavy. Her mind grew foggy, and she forgot all that as her world faded to black.
* * *
When Gemma awoke, it was to find herself next to a dark-haired man with pale eyes. His face, stark and masculine, was beautiful but unfamiliar.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Andrei, and I belong to you.”
“And who am I?”
“You are Gemmalyn, my jewel. You belong to me.”
She didn’t remember him, but she felt the truth of his words to the depths of her soul.
Gemma licked her lips, nicking her tongue on a razor-sharp fang. The taste of blood, glorious and intoxicating, exploded in her mouth as her body sang.
“And what are we?”
He grinned, showing his own long, sharp fangs. “We are vampire.” Then Andrei coaxed her lips to his neck.
An aching hunger suddenly clawed at her belly. He smelled so good, dark and rich and decadent, and she was so very hungry. But something didn’t seem right.
“Why don’t I know you?” she asked against his skin.
“Because I have just given you the greatest gift our kind can bestow upon another, my jewel. And the price of immortality is that you must leave your mortal life behind.”
“And,” she said, licking her lips again, “I wanted this?”
He chuckled softly. “Begged me for it, in fact.”
The hows and whys of it were becoming less important as the painful cramps of hunger doubled. She could ask questions later, but first, she needed to feed.
Nuzzling his neck, she breathed in his intoxicating scent, her body singing with sudden, fierce voracity. What she craved was right there, just below the skin. Her fangs lengthened farther.
“Mine, you say?”
“Yes, my jewel, all yours.” He cupped the back of her neck and tilted his head slightly, encouragingly. “Yes,” he crooned, stroking her hair. “Take what you need.”
Without another thought, she did.
Chapter Seven
Dawn came and went, daylight shedding no further clues. Tired men returned to their homes and their tasks, more somber and ill at ease than they had been the day before, while others took up the search. Viktor was grateful for their help and support, but it was difficult to feel anything beyond rage and grief at his own failure to protect the woman he loved.
Not everyone they questioned was sympathetic. There were those in the village who nodded knowingly and suggested it was not at all a surprise. That those in league with the devil could expect no less of a fate. That the devil always called home his own.
Such talk enraged Viktor. His Gemma deserved none of that! She was the sweetest, kindest, gentlest, most loving soul he had ever met, and neither she nor her mother had ever done anything to harm these people. On the contrary, they had saved many from death with their tender care and knowledge of healing herbs and restorative elixirs. Why was it so hard to believe that such healing could not come from a God-given gift, but only the Devil’s?
Viktor wearily traveled the cart paths, hoping upon hope to find something he had missed, something that would suggest where the villain had absconded with Gemma. There was no point in returning home; he would not rest, could not rest, until he found her.
Was she frightened? Cold? Hungry? Did she know he would scour the earth to its very ends to find her? That he had vowed, to himself and to God, that he would destroy the bastard who had stolen her from him?
His thoughts were dark and growing darker. Who was the pale stranger? Where had he come from, and what did he want with Gemma? He had said he had been seeking Gemma, but why? And what was this magic he spoke of? Was he in need of a healer?
So many questions. So few answers.
When he had exhausted all other possibilities, he returned to the only place he was likely to find help.
Gemma’s cottage was not a place he had visited often. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of times he had actually been inside, one of them being the night before in his initial search for Gemma.
The healer Catriona lived on the far end of the village, on the cusp of the ancient forest. He had walked Gemma home on a few rare occasions when she had allowed it. Most of the time, she’d had gathering to do and he’d had tasks of his own to be getting on with.
Viktor found Gemma’s mother sitting on a rocking chair, staring blindly out the window. The door hung open, swaying slightly in the breeze. She didn’t turn his way when he wiped his feet on the woven mat and cleared his throat.
“Mistress? Pardon the intrusion, but I must ask what, if anything, you know that will aid me in finding Gemma and bringing her home.”
Minutes passed by in silence, grief hanging heavy in the air. Viktor was just about to repeat his query when Gemma’s mother finally spoke.
“I was a fool. I kept her hidden when I should have been teaching her to embrace her gift. Now it is too late, and there is nothing you, nor I, nor anyone can do, Viktor.”
Viktor stepped back as if slapped, shocked by her words. “How can you say such things? She is your daughter. Can you dismiss her so easily? Because I cannot. I will not.”
A weary sigh. “Gemmalyn is gone. Lost to us. You must let her go and pray for a quick, painless death, for only then will she be free.”
Catriona’s words horrified him. “I refuse to believe that! Gemma is mine, and I will not forsake her. Sit there in your chair and mope if you must, but I will find Gemma and bring her home. Who is this dark stranger who appears out of nowhere and steals her from my very arms? What does he want with her?”
She turned to him then, her face unnaturally pale, her normally bright eyes dead. “You ask many questions, Viktor. Dangerous questions to which you will not like the answers.”
“Woman, there is nothing about this situation that I like,” he spat angrily as he closed the distance between them. “If you know something, anything that might help her, you must tell me!”
A gust of wind whooshed through the room. For a moment, he could have sworn Catriona’s eyes glowed, her long, white-blonde locks swirling like living fire around her head. Viktor’s chest felt heavy, as if it was being squeezed. Then it just ... stopped.
The fire in Catriona’s eyes vanished, and the room was once again calm and quiet. It was then Viktor knew that the whispered rumors, at least some of them, were true.
“I will tell you, if only so you understand the impossibility of what you seek. But be certain this is what you wish. Some things are better left unknown, and once heard, cannot be forgotten.”
Despite the heavy dread her words summoned, Viktor had to know. Better he knew the truth of what he faced, however dire, because he was going to get Gemmalyn back, with or without her mother’s aid.
“It is what I wish.”
Catriona nodded somberly. “Then sit, and gird your loins, for this tale is not for the faint of heart.”
“What is this?” he asked naively when she grabbed his hand with a strength greater than his own and pulled a curious blade from beneath her skirts. It was small, but unlike any dagger he had seen. Made of an unknown ore, the metal seemed to glow from within, and was covered in bizarre runes and symbols.
Catriona cut through the flesh of his hand before he’d had a chance to blink. “Magic,” she said simply, repeating the action on her own palm before pressing their hands together.
And that was only the beginning.
By the time Viktor left Catriona’s cottage, he understood the truth of her dire warnings. He now knew things no mere human was meant to know. His perceptions had been irreversibly altered, and because of it, he was no longer the same ignorant fool who had so boldly walked into
Gemma’s home and demanded answers.
He absently rubbed at the poultice bandage over his palm where the deep slice was knitting together. Catriona had required a blood vow of silence before enlightening him. He’d had to swear he would not repeat or reveal the knowledge she would impart. Only when she had taken his blood into a cup with her own and chanted over it had she begun to explain.
Catriona was a white witch, she had told him. A skilled spellcaster with an affinity for healing. Gemma was a witch, too, but her gift was particularly powerful. Gemma could absorb the energy, and therefore, the strengths of others.
According to Catriona, magic in and of itself was not uncommon, and like the people who wielded it, it ranged from benevolent to malicious, powerful to subtle. Yet, even among the magical, Gemma’s gift was so rare and so coveted they did everything they could to hide it. Unfortunately, she had said sadly, in the world of the preternatural, no secret remained hidden forever.
Despite their precautions, which included an ensorcelled amulet, Gemma’s secret had been discovered. Or, at the least suspected.
The dark stranger was a vampire, a creature ripped right from nightmarish legends, and a powerful one at that. Viktor had only to remember how easily the stranger had lifted him and the great strength with which he had been tossed to accept the truth of that. The thought of his sweet, gentle Gemma in the hands of such a beast made him want to howl in rage.
“What will he do with her?” he had forced himself to ask, knowing he didn’t want to hear the answer when the air filled with gut-wrenching grief.
“Gemma is the only one of her kind. For that reason only, he will keep her safe. He will bind her to him, and will likely exploit her gift to rise to power in the immortal world.”
“Gemma will never willingly allow herself to be used in such a way.”
“From what you told me of the events of last night, she already has. She sacrificed herself so that you would be spared.”
The Jewel Page 3