Carnal Sacrifice

by Angelika Helsing

  Spent, he pulled out. He and Delaney rolled onto their backs and stared at the ceiling, panting. For Jaden, it seemed as though reality was slow to return, as though nothing could ever compare to what had just happened.

  He drew her close, head to chest, the way she liked it. He could feel her heart beat slowing down, her breathing return to normal. For him, these moments were the greatest peace he had ever known. For two years, the thought of waking up with Delaney every morning, no shame, no secrets, had filled him with longing. Now he was here with her, their limbs entwined, her lips temptingly close. In all his long life, he had never been so happy.

  Delaney raised her head and kissed him with those lips. “I need to go to my village to make sure everyone’s okay.”

  “Of course. But I’m going with you.”

  He saw her hesitate for a moment and prepared to do battle. No way he was letting her out of his sight, not with Val out roaming around. But then he realized that she was wrestling with a decision. He waited, not daring to hope.

  She said, “I’ll do the ritual.”

  Chapter Seven

  The night air had suddenly turned flinty, which made Delaney wonder where Val might have gone to stay warm. Was it possible she’d given up the cause as lost and returned to Cusco? It seemed doubtful. Val had never been one to admit defeat, and if she had been willing to commit murder, there was no telling what else she was capable of. Not knowing where Val was didn’t make for peaceful thoughts.

  Jaden, hiking beside her, had resorted to monosyllables. He wore jeans and flannels plus a heavy backpack, but she saw the strain on his face, even though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had caused it. Was it the mind-blowing sex? Her whole body felt as though she’d just finished training for the Olympics. Or maybe he was consumed by the same worry that she was.

  She stole a glance at him, wondering where he had learned to do the things he’d done to her. He was over two hundred years old. Plenty of time to practice. Why had she responded so hotly to them? If anyone had asked her, Hey, Delaney, do you like anal domination? she would have laughed in their face. But she did. A lot.

  They picked their way up a slope that made demands on her knees and ankles. They crested it at the top, which gave them a panoramic view of the night sky. All the stars in the galaxy glittered like a thousand city lights seen from a distance. The air burned cold when she breathed it, but it cleared her head. What was left of it to clear, at least.

  The things she’d let him do to her, that she wanted him to do again… That she would soon be doing with others.

  “Jaden, what other men will be participating in the ritual?”

  “They are good men, selected for their looks, strength and sexual skill. Vampires have no diseases you need worry about. You can’t be made pregnant by one.”

  “So I will like them…that way?”

  “I can’t imagine why not. Why? Are you worried?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Are you worried?”

  Even in the light of a waxing moon, she could see his grim smile. “No, I’m jealous.”

  Of all the things he’d told her so far, this almost shocked her the most. “Why?”

  “It’s not obvious? I’m in love with you, Delaney. The last thing on earth I want to see is you enjoying, and being enjoyed by, other men. If human lives weren’t at stake, I would never ask you to go through with it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before that you were a vampire?”

  “We are honor bound not to. I’ve seen what happens to vampires at the hands of an angry mob. My own father…”

  He’d only mentioned his father once. A sore subject, she knew. “Was he good, like you?”

  “No.”

  “What happened?”

  “He fed off the wrong girl.”

  “But the vampires who aren’t like you, who feed. Will they still be vampires after the ritual?”

  “Yes, but many more will be rid of the demon that inhabits them. Make no mistake—we’ll still have vampire strength, but our life span will be a mortal one, with no fear of turning demon.”

  “I wish we could walk during the day,” Delaney said, crossing her arms in front of her and then rubbing them for warmth. “It’s forty degrees colder at night.”

  “If we succeed, we should be able to do that.”

  They trudged on, both wrapped in their own thoughts. The closer they got to the village, the more worried Delaney became. Huenu and Amaru were skilled at setting broken bones and binding wounds, but it was the infections that concerned her, the ones requiring antibiotics that only she carried. If the water sanitation system had fallen apart during the earthquake, their water would be compromised. Typhoid would set in. Delaney quickened her pace.

  Barely perceptible in the darkness, the two outcroppings of black rock meant that the village lay ahead. How many times had she sheltered beneath those very rocks while thunderstorms boiled through the valley? How many times had she sat there and wondered what Jaden was doing half a world away, whether he even thought of her anymore?

  “Funny,” she said to him, “all those years together, and here I thought your avoidance of daylight was some kind of musician thing.”

  “Oh, it was,” Jaden said. “Well, a vampire thing too, I guess.”

  “I used to go in to wake your mother when UPS came to the house, and I’d see her lying in bed with a satin domino over her eyes.”

  “Very Joan Crawford. I remember.”

  “So many things make sense now.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one.”

  When they made it to the top of the next hill, she could see the pink glimmer of dawn on the horizon, faintly, as though in sepia tones. Glancing at Jaden, she said, “You’re getting sleepy, aren’t you?”

  He smiled. “It’s one of the drawbacks.”

  “We’re almost there.”

  The footpath curved beneath a promontory of scrub brush and then sloped gently downward. In the distance, limned by the silvery incandescence of dawn, the small thatched houses of her village stood resolute. She finally took the deep breath that had eluded her since the earthquake. “Oh, thank heaven.”

  “It’s intact,” Jaden said. “It looks as though the earthquake really was to…” Realizing what that implied, who her would-be assassin was, he lapsed into silence.

  “Kill me, and maybe you too,” she said implacably. “She’s going to try to do it again.”

  “I thought you might say that.”

  He stopped and turned her to face him. The wind playfully tossed strands of his hair, but his expression was anguished. “Don’t underestimate her. She’s my mother, and I love her, but I have no illusions. Neither should you.”

  “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. She’s a member of my family.”

  “Which makes her all the more dangerous.” He cupped her face in his strong, warm hands and kissed her. “Female vampires have access to magics that male vampires don’t. She can control the elements. But if she tries anything, she’ll have to go through me. And I would sooner die than let anything happen to you.”

  “Promise me that someday, we’ll all just laugh about this.”

  As they made their way down to the village, Delaney could smell the wood smoke and the tinny sound of the llamas’ bells. The sight of so much quiet productivity felt cozy and familiar. She wondered what the villagers would think of Jaden and her relationship with him. The rules governing sexual behavior, especially for women, were just as restrictive as they were in any remote Catholic-saturated village. Although to be fair, Alta Verde had a longer tradition of mysticism than Catholicism. But Delaney knew that as a foreigner, she was under even greater scrutiny and held to a different standard.

  The foot path, hard-packed despite the rain, shepherded them between a few huts that lay sca
ttered on the outskirts of the tiny village. Delaney saw the dark curious eyes of children peering at Jaden. Villagers who were out working already turned to stare. It occurred to her to warn him about what to expect, but he was a celebrity. There wasn’t a whole lot of staring he wasn’t used to.

  “So this is where you ran to get away from me,” he said. “I can’t say I blame you. It’s charming.”

  “I didn’t run. I just needed time to get my head straight.”

  “What better place than the edge of nowhere?” He stumbled a little, and Delaney knew that the sooner they got him inside, the better. He was practically asleep on his feet.

  Dawn broke all at once. Light flooded the valley, the thin pale gold that made the world seem enchanted. She could hear the slap, slap, slap of women’s hands patting dough into flatbread. The smell of fried potatoes wafted from every house. A herding dog watched them stoically from the top of a ridge.

  “It looks as though the earthquake never touched this place,” Delaney said. “Is it possible?”

  Jaden muscled his way up the slope, but his expression was grim. “It’s you Val is trying to kill, not the villagers. Yet.”

  “Wish I knew where she was.”

  “Wherever that is, don’t expect her to be far. Our only consolation is that, like me, she has to sleep.”

  But the closer Delaney got to her hut, the more uneasy she felt. Everything she thought she knew about Val, or even Jaden, for that matter, had been upended. How could anyone be certain what Val was capable of? Jaden, the villagers, no one was truly safe—least of all herself.

  They passed the smoldering ashes of last night’s communal fire, and then made a right jog to the tidy thatched hut that she called home. Coming down the hill toward them was Amaru, dressed in her usual hand-loomed scarlet, pink and orange. Her fedora-style hat had a new feather in the brim. But beneath it, Amaru’s eyes were fierce, and they homed in on Jaden with an intensity that Delaney had never seen before.

  “Amaru,” she said in the softer, more conciliatory tones than she tended to use with her. “This is my stepbrother, Jaden.” She didn’t know the Quechua word for stepbrother, so she used the Spanish one instead, hoping Amaru understood it.

  Her gaze bore into him, but no words passed her lips. When Amaru looked at Delaney, her eyes were accusing. Then she marched past them and down the hill.

  Delaney felt it like a face slap. Sure, there’d been differences in the past—of culture, of opinion, of generation. But Amaru had never been openly rude.

  Jaden shrugged. “I must say that I find her honesty refreshing.”

  She glared at the retreating figure, perplexed and angry, but unable to do anything about it for now. “Let’s go in. I’ll make up the bed for you.”

  “You’re not sleeping? I know you’re just as tired as I am.”

  “Later.” Delaney lifted the door blanket, half expecting to see Val in there, but everything seemed to be as she’d left it. Jaden slipped inside, looking tall and handsome and completely out of place. Delaney tried to hide her smile.

  “What?” he said.

  “Nothing. I’m not used to having men in here.”

  She unfurled her bedroll and spread it over two brightly woven blankets. “I won’t sugarcoat it. You’ll be uncomfortable.”

  “Kiss me,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “I’ll carry the memory of it into my dreams.”

  She pressed her lips to his, and heat oozed thickly through her belly. What was this power he held over her body? She scarcely recognized herself anymore. It felt as though she held her breath until she could be with him again, that in those spaces between, life was just a dull hunger waiting to be filled.

  “Sleep now,” she said softly. “Don’t worry about me. It’s daylight out. I should be safe enough.”

  Jaden looked as though he could barely keep his eyes open. With apparent reluctance, he lay down, and she zipped the bedroll, and then laid another blanket on top. His dark lashes drifted shut.

  Still, she crept away quietly, not wanting to wake him. Outside, she felt an almost giddy sense of freedom. Jaden was safe; she was safe; the villagers were safe. Val was holed up somewhere, sleeping the sleep of the Undead.

  Delaney had a hundred things to do. Sussing out Amaru was one of them.

  She set out first to the hut where Rayn and her family lived. An early morning fog had settled over the village, hardly unusual, but this fog seemed particularly thick, like cotton wool, damp in a way that made her bones ache. The llamas she’d seen grazing in the distance were now invisible. Even the ones she passed were nothing more than ghostly suggestions in the swirling gray mist.

  She tried not to be unnerved by it, but the fog had come on so suddenly. Now it felt as though she were the only soul alive.

  Heading east, she struggled to remember where Rayn’s hut was situated, but found herself relying on intuition instead. The fog closed in tighter. If she stretched out her arm, her own hand disappeared. Cold moisture crawled up her legs. It insinuated itself between her toes and fingers. Every breath felt a little like drowning.

  Nothing about this was normal, she realized. This wasn’t a typical morning in the Andes. This was Val.

  In the eerie silence, Delaney could hear her own heart thumping. She couldn’t see the ground anymore but called out, praying someone was near. The dull insulating effect of the fog deadened all sound. She couldn’t even hear the llamas’ bells.

  The earth dropped off suddenly. She cried out, collapsing in a heap five or six feet below. Her body roared with pain. In a tangle of limbs, she caught her breath and tried to steady it, testing those limbs for breaks or sprains. Every part of her throbbed, but nothing seemed to have been badly damaged. How would she make it back home?

  For what seemed like hours, she lay there curled in a ball and shivering with cold. The fog couldn’t last forever, could it? She strained her ears for any sign of life but felt as though she existed in a vacuum. No one knew she was out here except for Jaden, and he lay fast asleep. Even if he weren’t asleep, how would he know where to look?

  She struggled out of the hole she’d fallen into and headed in the direction where she thought her hut should be. The rocks bit into her palms and knees, but staying close to the ground was the only way to be sure of not tumbling off a cliff. Thoughts of Val striking out at her through the fog made her sick with fear. Being robbed of sight, of sound, of human contact was crueler than a swift death.

  She felt her way along. Her progress was agonizingly slow, and still there was no way of knowing if she was headed in the right direction. Reaching out, she felt a warm mass of wool. A llama. It was clearly as perplexed by the fog as she was and had lain down to wait it out. Delaney curled up alongside its soft belly. She was surprised that it permitted her.

  As she grew warmer, Delaney found it easier to organize her thoughts. Clearly, Val had supplicated Pachacamac to kill her. If Delaney even made it to the ritual, would Val spend eternity trying to exact revenge?

  Yet she had to make it to the ritual. The fate of her village depended on it. She couldn’t give up, not now. She had to fight to stay alive.

  Nestled beside the llama, she grew drowsy. Llamas sometimes made a low humming sound when they were happy. This one purred. She snuggled in deeper, hoping that if Val appeared, the llama would sound the alarm. Her whole body ached, yet her eyes grew impossibly heavy.

  I refuse to die, she thought before drifting off. My village needs me.

  * * *

  Delaney jolted awake when she felt the llama struggle to its feet. Gasping, she looked around. The fog had lifted, which was a relief, but judging by the light, it must have been late afternoon already. She had to get back to see if Jaden was okay.

  The llama regarded her with its dark, long-lashed eyes, and then ambled off. She set out, still bruised and achy, but glad to be alive
. Only a few tattered wisps of fog remained from this morning. The drop-off lay within five meters. It made her sick to think how close she’d come to an ugly death.

  Someone called to her. Surprised, she whirled around. It was Amaru, followed by four other women from the village. All wore the same tense expression.

  In Quechua, Amaru said, “This was your doing.”

  “Why do you say that?” Delaney said, caught off guard.

  “You brought him.” She pointed in the direction of Delaney’s hut. “You brought a Hungering One to the village, one you claim as kin.”

  “How did you know what he was?” she asked in amazement.

  “Its eyes. I see its eyes. I see also the desire it bears you, this brother of your family. It is millakuna.” An abomination.

  Delaney didn’t need to look at the other women to know they stood in solidarity with Amaru. No quarter given? So be it.

  “Jaden is my brother by marriage, not blood. Yes, he is a Hungering One, but he’s here to lift the curse of his people. And to save this village from destruction.”

  Amaru gazed at her with the cold inscrutability that Delaney had come to know so well. “Save. B’oh! He saves nothing but his place at our throats. He is an animal, like all the rest.”

  “For months now, the Hungering Ones have fed off animals, not people. You know this. How can you doubt their sincerity when they’ve come here to help?”

  “They come here to feed. Love has blinded you.”

  “Oh, because there’s no one to feed on elsewhere? Think about what you’re saying.”

  Delaney could sense her arrow had found its mark. She waited, nerves pulled thin by fear, cold, hunger. But she knew firsthand that the bedrock of Quechua society was communal beliefs, communal thinking. New ideas were not only unwelcome, they were dangerous. You didn’t scrape out an existence by flying off in different ideological directions. One mind, one fist. And now Delaney was trying to pry that fist open.