The Font

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The Font Page 11

by Tracy St. John


  Alive.

  Pleasure was a clenched fist in his gut, squeezing down to a hard knot. It was the instant before release, and Elisha’s hips stuttered against Naya as he hovered between agonized anticipation and blessed realization.

  Then the knot in his groin unraveled, and a glorious bolt seemed to shoot from the base of his spine, exploding out of his manhood in an uncoiling ribbon of ecstasy. Elisha groaned long and loud as it spilled from him to fill the warm woman beneath his straining body.

  For a wonder, she caught fire once more, her birdlike cries twining about his to bring beautiful life to his long dead farm. The site of his greatest joys and deepest sorrows rang with their joyous melody.

  As he spent his last spasms Elisha sagged over Naya, thinking again of how perfectly she fit his body. He had known he was lonely these past years, but he hadn’t realized the keen edge of his aloneness until now. With Naya, that aching emptiness was banished.

  The words she spoke as they regained their senses made him want to weep. “I want to stay with you. Always.”

  Elisha wanted it too. He wanted it so badly it was a physical pain inside him to contemplate otherwise. But could he trust Naya, who had so recently been devoted to Heriolf? And even if he could, what of the threat of the others who would see her dead to put an end to the threat of her blood’s power? What of Heriolf himself, who might find a way to take her from Elisha? How could he open himself to the one thing he swore he’d never do again, to fall in love with someone who he could so easily lose?

  After losing his entire family to illness, Elisha swore it hopeless to ever love like that again. Even Sebastian and his maker, though dear to his heart, had never owned it. And now here was Naya, making him feel the attainability for happiness again, for love with all its beauty and tragedies waiting to spring at him. It should be impossible, but yet again fate was laughing at him, making the impossible a brutal reality.

  Chapter 9

  Sebastian stepped out of the trailer, having confirmed the old swamp rat had died. At least it had been by his own hand. What Heriolf had done to Malachi was enough to make Sebastian remember how it felt to be nauseous. Guilt that he could only stay in hiding while Heriolf had literally eaten the man’s heart out of his chest gave him a sense of self-loathing. Nevermind he would have only gotten himself killed had he tried to rescue Malachi. It still sat badly to let another die and not lift a finger to stop it. Sebastian couldn’t even look at the pile of ashes that was all that was left of the vampire. Such was the hellish existence under the rule of Heriolf.

  Mariel suddenly swooped down from the sky, landing next to the heap that had been a decent, if not terribly smart, vampire. She snarled, showing fangs. “What happened? Who is this?”

  “Malachi. Heriolf caught him spying.”

  She blanched, her bronze skin going sickly pale. “You saw it?”

  “There was nothing I could do. Heriolf had his guards and he’s still too strong for any one of us.”

  Mariel stared up at the moon, as if its bland face would give her answers to their problems. “Damn him. And damn that Font of his!”

  Sebastian kept his voice even. “She’s as much a victim as we are, Mariel.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s the reason Heriolf is in power. She’s the reason we live in fear. The Font must die.”

  It was hard not to agree with her, especially when the flakes of Malachi’s remains were slowly scattering in the breeze. “I hear you. I have to get back to tracking Heriolf.”

  Mariel’s lips were thin with anger. “Talk to Elisha, Sebastian. He’ll listen to you and see reason.”

  Sebastian gave her a quick jerk of a nod and lifted off to fly into the night. Mariel was right of course; the only sure way to end Heriolf’s reign was for Naya to die. But his best friend had become emotionally invested in her, and that was no small thing. Elisha hadn’t allowed anyone into his heart since his wife and children passed. Even the sorrow and anger at Thaddeus’ final death hadn’t done much to shake Elisha’s stoicism.

  Naya represented a shift in Elisha’s ability to be emotionally invested. It would have delighted Sebastian for the man who he considered a brother to find love, if only he had found it with someone else.

  Sebastian wanted Elisha’s happiness, wanted it so much for him he would have laid down his own life to make it happen. But was Naya worth the risk? Sebastian’s thoughts whirled as the dark earth passed beneath him.

  * * * *

  Heriolf stood in the small clearing in the woods where he’d tracked Naya. The scent of sex assaulted him from every direction: from the tree, from the disturbed ground beneath his feet, in the air itself. And he knew Lyndon and the guards standing nearby could smell it too. For their part, they were silent and stood absolutely still as they awaited his orders.

  “Leave me,” he growled.

  They took off so quickly that he knew their fear and relief to get away with their lives. They went to where they would see when he flew into the air and be able to follow, but they gave him the privacy to deal with his all-encompassing fury.

  Heriolf had already planned to destroy this Elisha who had taken Naya. Now he vowed the vampire’s suffering would be legendary, his death so drawn out, so hideous that no vampire would dare defy him ever again.

  * * * *

  The little green ferryboat filled with tourists chugged from one side of the Savannah River to the other, towards the bright lights and cacophony of music that was River Street. The air was filled with the ferry engine’s deep-throated passage as the boat cut through the waves. Naya was wide-eyed as they neared the pier, amazed at the colors and activity and happy laughter of her fellow human beings. She almost didn’t notice the sharp bite of the cold breeze that stung every exposed part of her skin. Thank goodness her coat was so warm; she shivered a little despite its cocooning heat.

  She’d been among the vampires so long that seeing those of her own kind in their natural environment was a revelation. They smiled and chattered as if they didn’t have a care in the world. It was so different from the morose human servants who scuttled about Heriolf’s house, moving quickly and quietly to avoid being noted by their masters. Or the ones served up as meals, their screams and sobs too horrible to hear even if they did deserve their fates as Heriolf claimed.

  For all Naya knew, that was a lie too. To think she might have witnessed the deaths of dozens of innocents made her stomach curl in on itself.

  Now she was in the midst of living vitality, so different from the muted intrigues of Heriolf’s court. The sounds and smells and sights were wonderfully overwhelming. She wanted to drown in them. It was with real effort that she forced herself to pay attention to Elisha and Sebastian, who are watched her with what seemed to be mingled sadness and amusement.

  Elisha brushed her breeze-drifting hair back from her face. “You’ve been among the undead far too long.”

  She looked around, absorbing all she could stand though it was beginning to drown her. The glare of the multicolored lights, doubled by their reflections on the rippling river; the smell of brine, of bodies both soap-fresh and unwashed and cologne sprayed; the sounds of at least four different bands playing in the courtyards of River Street, the equally musical and discordant laughter of those crowding the ferry and the dock they were coming up on, the sharp clang of the trolley car bells as they rumbled down the cobblestones … it was enough to make her senses reel.

  To the men she said, “I don’t think I could take a steady diet of this, but it is amazing to see.”

  “Walking among all the humanity might help mask your trail from Heriolf.” Elisha turned to Sebastian. “You said he caught Malachi?”

  Pretending to huddle against cold Naya knew he didn’t feel in his knee-length coat, Sebastian nodded. “He’s determined to find Naya, no matter what it takes. He will not rest until he is dead.”

  Naya gave the vampire a level gaze. “Or I am. Right, Sebastian?”

  Elisha sighed. He p
ut a pale hand on his longtime friend’s shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking. I hate that you’re so torn. I can’t do it, my friend.”

  Sebastian gave him a wan smile. “Love is a cruel executioner.”

  Naya darted a glance at Elisha. She felt he was exquisitely aware of her regard, but he wouldn’t look back. “Even when it doesn’t destroy the physical body, it scars the soul,” he said heavily.

  Sebastian’s expression was pained, but he nodded his understanding. “I hope she is worth it. I will return to spy on Heriolf for another hour.”

  Elisha looked at the sky over them, the stars lost in the glare of River Street’s lights. “I will rest in Oglethorpe Cemetery during the day. Naya will stay in a nearby hotel.”

  Naya stared at him in surprise. “I have no money.”

  “Leave that to me.”

  They stood silently until the ferry docked. They joined the chattering stream of tourists on the ramp as everyone disembarked. Naya listened to everyone comment on the cold, but the bite of the constant breeze seemed to not cool anyone’s spirits. Everyone was so alive. Naya felt like a moth among butterflies.

  She went with the two vampires, walking away from the bustle of River Street to the darker edges of the walkway that edged the cheerful nightclubs, restaurants, and shops. It was there away from mortal eyes that Sebastian took his leave of them, flying off into the night.

  As soon as he was gone, Naya turned to Elisha. “Is Sebastian right? Do you care for me?”

  Elisha’s eyes glittered, reflecting the faraway light. “Against all my better judgment. Opening my heart to someone as I once did my family is frightening. I’d rather fight Heriolf and die.” He sighed heavily, as if falling in love was akin to sitting at someone’s deathbed. “Yet here you are, and I can’t deny you have become precious.”

  Naya took his hand and pressed his cold fingers to her lips. “I feel the same, Elisha. I was as dead as the vampires and their human slaves inside. Now I feel as vibrant as any human.” She looked down the street, at the happy activity of humans, blessedly unaware of the hunters that sometimes walked in their midst. “A vampire has brought me to life.”

  “Now I just have to keep you that way.” He leaned down, capturing her lips with his. The kiss was as tender as her thoughts were wild with the realization that he truly cared for her.

  Naya clung to him, pretending for a moment that he could indeed protect her from all dangers.

  * * * *

  Heriolf’s attention was firmly on Naya’s dwindling trail as it meandered over the woods. The other vampire had changed direction often as he’d carried her away, no doubt trying to shake his persistent pursuers. Naya was getting harder and harder to track, the once electric pulse of her passage now a light hum. Soon Heriolf wouldn’t be able to find her. As soon as tomorrow night, perhaps. Panic was nibbling at his senses with rat teeth, and it made his rage burn all the brighter. He had to find her soon.

  A guard’s shout caught Heriolf completely unawares. “Someone approaches, my lord!”

  He jerked to a stop, as did his retinue. The five guards ranged all around him, and they waited for the vampire Heriolf could now see rushing through the sky towards them. He recognized him; a 200-year old vampire named Douglas, a sycophant who groveled at every opportunity, looking to curry favor. Heriolf tried to peer into his thoughts to discover if he came as friend or foe.

  Nothing. The man’s mind, usually as clear and vibrant as one of those televisions the humans were so enraptured with, did not offer anything this time. He was as closed to Heriolf as Naya. A quick check of Lyndon and the vampire guards yielded the same results. Heriolf could not read any of their minds beyond a word or two and some passing emotions.

  The dread this discovery brought was partially allayed by Douglas’ report, which he shouted as he closed the distance between them. “My lord, your woman has been seen!”

  “Let him through,” Heriolf growled to his men. Douglas was whip thin, little more than a stick figure. Even with the vampire lord’s strength failing, he could still defend himself easily against such a man. As Douglas drew near, Heriolf invited, “Tell me.”

  Douglas bowed, shivering and shaking all over like a dog greeting his master returned home. “My human slaves saw her in the company of two vampires at the waterfront in Savannah. They’re at the tourist quarter called River Street. They continue to track her and report to me.”

  Douglas displayed his cell phone to Heriolf to show how his minions were keeping him apprised of the situation. Heriolf was glad he hadn’t outlawed the devices as he’d intended to. He hated technology, but in this instance the electronic baubles the humans adored might come in handy.

  He clapped a hand on Douglas’ shoulder, nearly knocking the smaller vampire to hurtle towards the ground. “You will feed from my table for eternity if I recover her, my loyal friend.”

  Douglas rubbed his shoulder, but his narrow chest swelled with delight. Heriolf wasted no time watching him preen. He flew with the wind, rushing to Savannah at top speed. He would reclaim his Naya. She was as good as back within his grasp. He could almost taste her smooth, fragrant skin.

  * * * *

  Oglethorpe Cemetery was the quintessential graveyard, complete with ancient leaning headstones, monuments of weeping angels, stately oaks dripping moss tears from gnarled branches, and a wrought iron fence surrounding the whole of it. Elisha thought he could almost hear the laments of the ancient dead and watched to see if their souls would rise in the light of distant streetlights.

  He hugged Naya close under one grandfather of an oak tree, its branches so heavy that they curved all the way down to the ground. “This is as good a place for me to rest as any.”

  Her tone lightly teasing, she asked, “Do you have enough rope left to tie me to this tree?” She indicated the trunk, as big around as a dozen men standing together.

  Elisha’s hold on her tightened, and he whispered into her softly scented hair. “I trust you, Naya. I want you to find a room and get a decent night’s sleep in a real bed.” He let her go long enough to hand her the money he had glamoured off a human on River Street.

  She took it quietly and burrowed her face in his chest. “I trust you too, Elisha.”

  “I don’t think I’ve apologized for what you’ve been through.” His voice held the very real regret of how roughly he’d treated her.

  “Don’t. I know the truth now. Even more important, I know you.” Naya’s face lifted for his kiss.

  On her breath Elisha tasted the sweetness of the hot chocolate drink and brownie he’d hypnotized another human into buying for Naya from a River Street candy shop. Beneath that was the greater sweetness of her. His tongue twined around the velvet softness of hers, feeling the drum of her pulse quicken as the kiss deepened. Elisha was suddenly hard, and he had the urge to take her then and there.

  The breeze whispered all around them, sending streamers of her hair in flight, like the wisps of restless haunts. The leaves rustled overhead, muttering their disturbance in the ebullient flow of air. Their scent was dry and dead, strange because Elisha knew they kept their leaves year round. The mustiness of autumn grew stronger, almost choking…

  Elisha suddenly shoved Naya away, turning and readying himself just as Heriolf slammed bodily into him. Naya’s scream was a white-hot peal in the pre-dawn night.

  The self-proclaimed king of Savannah was bigger than Elisha, but the younger vampire soon discovered his strength was as great as that of the former Viking. Heriolf tried to overpower Elisha, attempting to slam him to the ground. His fangs snapped close to Elisha’s face, the elder’s face a snarl of bestial fury. Elisha threw Heriolf off, sending him crashing into a marbled crypt.

  Heriolf’s five guards were an easier matter, flung around like a bad-tempered child’s toys. Even Elisha gasped at his enhanced strength as he sent them soaring into the air to land hard several yards away. Heriolf’s new aide Lyndon stood back with his mouth hanging comically wide open,
not daring to take Elisha on.

  For all their lack of strength against him, Heriolf’s guards were determined. They picked themselves up and rushed him again, and again Elisha drove them back, sending his fist right through one man’s chest, destroying his heart and giving the vampire his final death.

  Distracted by the attackers, Elisha had forgotten the vampire king. He was abruptly reminded of his enemy when Heriolf came at him from behind, getting his fangs into the back of Elisha’s neck and bearing him down to the ground.

  Elisha grunted as he fell face first to the hard dirt surface. Heriolf’s fists pounded into his ribs, cracking bones with sledgehammer blows while he used his weight to pin Elisha down. His teeth gnawed painfully at Elisha’s neck, and the younger vampire realized through the haze of agony that Heriolf was attempting to chew his spine in two. Every time Elisha tried to get to his hands and knees, Heriolf kicked and kneed and punched him back down. Heriolf had gone without Naya’s blood for two nights now, but he was still going to kill Elisha. Pain and rage and hopelessness battled for supremacy in the younger vampire’s soul.

  A shout sounded overhead, and Heriolf jerked on top of Elisha. Suddenly his weight disappeared and Elisha, operating on instinct rather than thought, shot upright on shaking legs.

  Sebastian, Mariel, and two other conspirators squared off with Heriolf while others fell on the outnumbered guards. Heriolf, still calling upon the power of the Font, threw the four allies all around, sending them flying to break the branches of the oak overhead with the impacts of their flung bodies.

  Elisha paused only long enough to see Naya crouched at the base of the tree, her hands clutched around a length of thick branch, ready to defend herself if an enemy came close. Then he returned to the battle. He charged Heriolf, who was distracted by Sebastian flying about his gray head.

 

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