The Jewel

by Avelyn McCrae

  He didn’t particularly enjoy killing, but there was some sense of satisfaction to be had in making the world a better place. His targets were not assigned haphazardly; he was only dispatched after all other methods had been exhausted. Constantin was a firm believer that intelligence was a far more effective weapon than any tool crafted, but he acknowledged that having strength was also important for those occasions when a swift, conclusive action was the wisest choice.

  No, there was a definite purpose behind each removal, though that varied greatly from instance to instance. Sometimes an immortal became too careless and threatened exposing their existence to the mortal world. Other times, it was to ensure that the balance of power remained just that—balanced.

  This time, it had been both. Dachs had been a demon mercenary who dealt primarily in secrets. He delighted in inflicting as much terror and pain as possible to obtain them, and then sold the information to the highest bidder.

  Dachs had believed himself invincible. Viktor had recently shown him the error of his ways.

  Tucked amongst snowy peaks, the bastion was surrounded by magical fog, keeping it hidden from mortal eyes and gadgetry. It was just one of Constantin’s many holdings. There was no place beyond his reach.

  Stefan greeted Viktor at the entrance, falling into step behind him. “Were you able to confirm?” he asked.

  “Yes. It is as the sire suspected. The gala is a ruse. Andrei seeks Thanatos.” Dachs had been most informative. “Apparently, Andrei has been employing the process of elimination rather effectively.”

  “I don’t know whether to be insulted by Andrei’s lack of faith in Constantin or pleased we have been so successful in concealing the Spirit of Death.”

  The subtle hint of teasing in Stefan’s voice was apparent, as was the touch of pride. Stefan had been Viktor’s mentor for a long time, though the student had eventually surpassed the teacher. Constantin’s inner circle was the best, and that made Viktor the best of the best.

  “Be neither,” Viktor said somberly. “Despite his attempts to appear uninterested in politics, Andrei has been quietly amassing power for centuries. He is not to be underestimated.”

  They arrived at the entrance to the spacious library and paused. Propriety kept them from entering without invitation. It mattered not that they had lived amongst each other for hundreds of years; respect for their sire and for each other was as deeply ingrained in them as their vast knowledge of the world and their lethal skills.

  “Come,” Constantin called from within.

  Several others had already gathered, awaiting his report.

  Viktor relayed the information in his usual succinct, business-like manner. Many saw him as cold and ruthless, but detached and indifferent would more accurately describe him. Beyond loyalty to his sire and his vampire family, he had no use for emotion, good or bad.

  “Then why attend?” Julian asked reasonably. Having been through the rise and fall of Rome, he was at once passionate and contemplative. “Why tempt fate?”

  “Have you never heard the old adage: keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” This was from Benjamin, the youngest among them at a mere one hundred and fifty.

  “Tempting fate is not wise,” observed Alexander, the vampire who had been the one to request that Constantin turn Julian, unwilling to lose his lover to mortality. “Though I daresay, so few willingly invite Death to their door.”

  Stefan laid his hand upon Viktor’s shoulder. “What say you, Death? Will you heed the call?”

  A few of them chuckled, but Viktor did not even smile. His eyes were fixed solely on his sire’s grave expression.

  “If the sire wishes it.”

  “You cannot be serious,” Gabriel said. “You would be playing right into Andrei’s hands.”

  “Or playing Andrei into ours,” Viktor said quietly. “This isn’t just about Andrei, is it?”

  “No,” Constantin agreed, his eyes shining with approval. “Alone, Andrei does not pose a serious threat. However, he has been quietly surrounding himself with powerful allies. Allies who, historically, have been reluctant to align themselves with our kind. Shifters, Fae, even the elves.”

  “Magic, perhaps?” mused Julian. “He is a mage.”

  “Perhaps,” Constantin said thoughtfully, tenting his fingers as he sat back in his chair. “Andrei is known to have dabbled in the dark arts, but his natural talents were mediocre at best.”

  “I remember,” Stefan said slowly, a frown creasing his brow. “We crossed paths with him in the Carpathian Mountains a few centuries ago. He was seeking some sort of gem, one supposed to have been forged in mythical fire.”

  “What kind of magical properties?” asked Benjamin.

  Constantin looked patiently at his youngest. “ ’Tis said the jewel gave the bearer the ability to harness another’s strength and make it his own.”

  Alexander whistled. “A jewel capable of siphoning the power from other preternatural beings? That would be something, indeed. Do you believe such a jewel exists?”

  Constantin spoke to them all, but his eyes fixed upon Viktor. “Yes, I believe she does.”

  “You said she, not it,” Julian immediately pointed out.

  “The jewel is not an object, but a person. A rare witch capable of manipulating and assuming the magical energy in all things.”

  “And you think this witch has aligned herself with Andrei?” asked Gabriel doubtfully.

  “Dachs confirmed Andrei keeps a consort,” Viktor said.

  “It would certainly explain Andrei’s growing list of alliances,” Alexander mused. “She assumes their strengths without their knowledge, then uses it against them to forge an alliance with Andrei.”

  “A valuable asset, indeed.”

  “And one many would covet.”

  “Assuming they knew of it,” Julian said, thoughtful once again. “The current situation suggests that is not the case. History is rife with tales of such things as this jewel, most of which are nothing but fantasy.”

  “Most, but not all,” countered Alexander. “The armour of Beowulf, the veil of Isis, Lancelot’s sword, Arondight. Objects now considered myth, but which we know are real and, in fact, are hidden away in this very fortress.”

  There were several murmured acknowledgements. Part of their duty involved securing such items and ensuring they stayed out of the wrong hands.

  “And, if anyone did suspect Andrei’s consort of being this jewel, they would not walk so easily into Andrei’s web. Andrei’s galas are legendary, but they do not warrant the risk.”

  “Obviously ’tis not common knowledge, if none of us are privy.”

  “This jewel seems to be as well-kept a secret as our Thanatos.”

  “Which brings us back to the issue at hand,” said Gabriel. “Do we accept Andrei’s invitation and attend the gala, knowing that Andrei actively seeks Thanatos and accepting the possibility he might possess this jewel and use it against him?”

  “No,” Julian said slowly. “Andrei still does not know the identity of Thanatos. He might suspect the Spirit of Death is among Constantin’s brood, but he doesn’t know. Besides,” he added with a grin, “we all know Viktor is immune to feminine wiles and charms.”

  Viktor blinked slowly, the only indication he had heard the other man’s teasing. It wasn’t the first time one of them had brought up his lack of desire for female companionship, and it wouldn’t be the last.

  “So, what is the plan?” Benjamin asked, ever eager.

  “We shall attend the gala,” Constantin said somberly, “discover the true source of Andrei’s power, and then take action accordingly.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gemma emerged slowly from the neck-deep pool of heated, oiled water. Her skin, perfectly bronzed and unmarred, was soft and fragrant, scented with Egyptian musk. Silken tresses fell down past her hips in cascading waves of gold.

  The warmth of her bath would explain the rosy flush tinting the more delicate skin; the emergence
into the cooler air, the beading of her nipples. Neither of those were the actual cause. Visions of her dream lover were still fresh in her mind, her body aching with unrealized desire.

  She did not recognize his face, nor was she able to determine whether he was from her past or her future, only that he had been slipping into her dreams for hundreds of years.

  She must have unknowingly tapped the power from a latent seer early on in her association with Andrei to have these visions, something she had not shared with Andrei. He would demand readings, and the gift wasn’t strong enough to do that. In fact, the only thing the ability seemed to be good for was tormenting her. The images she saw were oddly specific and of a singular and very carnal focus.

  Andrei stood in the archway that separated her bedroom from her bathing chamber, reminiscent of those in ancient Rome. Gemma quickly shielded her thoughts. Her mysterious dream lover was hers and hers alone. If Andrei suspected her salacious thoughts, even for a moment, he would be relentless. After all these years, he had refrained from forcing her into his bed, but he made it no secret that he wanted to do just that.

  Her body remained her own to give, and she would not share it with him or any other. With her ability to weave false memories in place of the powers she siphoned, she didn’t have to.

  His eyes, heavy-lidded and crystalline, glittered with lust and approval as he watched unabashedly. She allowed him this—a glimpse of what he would never have. Bestowed with countless gifts from enamored immortals, having endured hundreds of years of training, Gemma was the ultimate temptress, the one woman no male of any race could refuse. And yet, she refused them all. She was inviolate, the ultimate forbidden fruit.

  Her luminescent golden eyes, a result of her many Fae conquests, locked on to his nearly colorless ones. Had she been able to feel anything, she would have despised him. Despised herself. As it was, she felt nothing.

  Except in those damned dreams.

  Gemma placed one foot in front of the other, the seductive sway of her breasts and hips drawing his gaze downward over her bare, glistening flesh. Then she stopped when mere inches separated the two of them.

  She knew exactly what he wanted. Exactly how to punish him for the things he made her do. He would be nothing without her. She held all the power. How ironic she could use none of it on him. Even ending her own existence was out of the question, because that would in turn end his, and their blood vow prevented them from bringing harm to one another.

  Fate was a cruel, hateful bitch.

  Gemma had wondered countless times what had ever driven her to such desperate measures. She only knew that whatever it was, it must have been extremely important.

  Andrei curled his index finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his. He was no less affected by her allure than any other; she knew this. It was in his lust-glazed eyes, in the flaring of his nostrils, and the unmistakable dark and spicy scent of his arousal.

  “My jewel,” he said in little more than a whisper. “You look ravishing, as always.”

  A slow blink, her eyes half-lidded and provocative were the only acknowledgement he would receive. She was ravishing. That was not arrogance; that was fact. She held the beauty of the Fae, the strength of the Weres, the magic of the Blessed, and the lust of the Demons, among other things. Because of her unique abilities, she was able to assume any covetable immortal characteristic she wished. She had acquired them all, each a hundred times over and more. Because of that, Andrei had almost king-like status in their preternatural world, while she held the real power.

  “Are you ready for this evening?” he asked.

  She was always ready. Cold. Ruthless. Emotionless. In that, they were well-matched. But tonight’s event gave her pause. For the first time since she had awakened vampire, a sliver of doubt colored her confidence, the heavy sense of foreboding gathered and lay hovering just out of sight for weeks.

  Yet another thing she would not share with him. Show no weakness. No hesitation.

  She gifted him with another slow blink. Her eyes were so powerful, her scent so intoxicating, he had no choice but to respond. Beneath the black silk pants, his cock grew hard and heavy. No doubt several nubile young females would be on his menu tonight. If she’d had a conscience, that might have bothered her.

  Gemma licked her lips and flicked her eyes up to his. He seemed amused, but it was a mask, one meant to downplay the power she had over him. She could see the proof of his arousal. Scent it. Feel it in the charged energy pulsing in the air around them.

  Gemma had no illusions about their relationship. He probably hated her as much as she hated him, but they needed each other. Theirs was a symbiotic alliance. Forever bound to one another, their life forces inexorably linked in dark magic. If he had never bound her to him, he would be just another vampire lord, no more than he had been five hundred years ago.

  “There will be many factions here this evening,” Andrei told her unnecessarily, turning away. “You will remain close.”

  “As you wish.”

  They had been through similar situations countless times. Gemma was more than his priceless possession; she was also his deadliest weapon. When so many powerful preternatural beings were together in one place, her first duty was to stay close and protect him. Only after he had evaluated all the players did he decide upon a target and turn her loose.

  “Come. I have a gift for you.” Andrei took her hand as they stepped out of the private bath and into her bedchamber. It was a massive space, filled with every possible luxury, decorated in tones of ivory and gold.

  A thin, silky sheath of white and accented with gold and flawless diamonds sat on her bed. He held it up for her. “Created just for you. Do you like it?”

  “It is exquisite,” she said honestly, admiring the craftsmanship. “Elven?”

  “Of course. Nothing less for my jewel.”

  He made it sound like a gift, but she recognized it for what it was—an unspoken request. Andrei did nothing out of the goodness of his heart.

  Andrei carelessly tossed the gown on the bed. Then he used his much larger body to crowd her, pushing her onto the curved lounge chair he had bought with a singular purpose in mind. He went to his knees, accepting the wrist she held out to him. Without delay, his fangs pierced her skin and she felt the familiar pull of his mouth. She took no pleasure in it.

  In a matter of minutes, Andrei reluctantly released her and gave her a final, proprietary lick. The punctures healed instantly. In one smooth move, he rocked back and straightened, then offered her his hand.

  The potent magic in her blood now swirled in his eyes, which was no doubt his intent all along. Andrei was a mage as well as a vampire, and she had just provided him with the equivalent of an extreme power boost.

  “Do you need to feed?” he asked, unable to completely conceal his desire for her to do so. Feeding was a very intimate act; she knew she could bring him to completion without actually engaging in physical sex.

  So did he.

  “No.” If there was one saving grace to her situation, it was that her ability to glean energy made her need for blood far less than a “normal” vampire’s.

  He tried to hide his disappointment, and failed. “Then it is time.”

  She flowed gracefully to her feet. Foregoing undergarments, Gemma poured the gown over her skin. It clung to every dip and curve, accentuating her ample breasts, narrow waist, and full hips. Unlike the human world, immortals worshipped classic female sexuality.

  “Do you think it wise, inviting Constantin?” she asked as he completed briefing her on the guest list. Both Andrei and Constantin were leaders of powerful vampire factions—Andrei in the New World and Constantin in Eastern Europe—and the relationship between them was strained at best. She had never met Constantin personally, but she knew of his reputation.

  “It is necessary. Constantin has something I want.”

  “Thanatos.” She spoke the name quietly, her voice conveying detached respect. The legendary sha
dow had been given the name of the Greek Spirit of Death because no one knew his real name, only that he was the most lethal assassin their world had seen in centuries. There were those who even doubted he was corporeal, because he was never seen. At least, not by anyone who had survived to bear witness. No wonder Andrei was so determined to have Constantin in attendance.

  If the Eastern European master harbored the assassin, it gave him a powerful advantage. Whoever controlled Thanatos had a marked advantage in their immortal world. Having both her and Thanatos? Andrei would be unstoppable.

  “Yes,” he confirmed.

  “Are you so certain he is aligned with Constantin?”

  “Nothing is certain,” Andrei admitted. “However, Thanatos must be backed by someone of wealth and power. He has access to information known only to few. He is extremely well-trained, and extremely well-hidden. Among those capable of harboring and nurturing such a weapon, Constantin is one of the few we have not yet eliminated. So yes, I believe Thanatos is part of Constantin’s inner circle.”

  “All whispers say he is fiercely loyal to his master and is incapable of being swayed.”

  He cupped her face. “That, my jewel, is where you come in. No male is immune to your power. Not even Death himself.”

  Her lips tilted downward in the slightest hint of a frown. “How am I to know which of Constantin’s court is Thanatos?”

  Andrei’s grin was feral. “I have the utmost faith you will find out.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The gala was very much as Viktor expected—a garish display of pomp and wealth. He had no use for any of it, preferring his simple accommodations at Constantin’s castle in Romania.

  With his trained eye, he looked beyond the surface, beneath the glitz and glamor, and assessed the situation. Those who drew the most attention with volume and antics, he dismissed as irrelevant. It was the quiet ones, those content to observe from the shadows, who were typically the real threats.

  There were quite a few factions in attendance. Maddox, the werewolf leader of the Northwestern United States, with his lieutenant and his enforcer. Azriel, the demon lord, and his usual entourage of succubae and incubi. Buadhach, the Fae warrior renowned for his conquests. Placeholders, all of them. Distractions to divert attention away from the true focus of this gathering—Constantin.