Haunting Echoes

by Caethes Faron

  “Liam—”

  “No, Meg. This is ridiculous. He’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions.”

  Amaia’s anger imbued her words with a strength she didn’t feel. “And how do you propose that would work, Liam? Do you really think there is any way he can comprehend the threat to his life?”

  “Then you protect him. If he’s your mate, then you protect him at all costs. You’re being childish if you think you’ll be able to stay away. No matter what you do, he’s a target. You can protect him, go to him, and make decisions together, or you can stay here and try to fight a battle with yourself that you know you’ll lose. And when you do lose it, you’ll take him down with you.”

  Liam was right. If she were to run to Michael in a fit of passion, having lost her self-control, it would be disastrous. “I don’t want to see him hurt. If you were me and this was Meg we were talking about, can you honestly say that you wouldn’t stay away to keep her safe?”

  “Yes, I can. I know myself well enough to know I would always stay near, which would endanger her more than going to her.”

  Amaia could see herself doing just that. There was no way she would be able to keep her distance. In her efforts to keep Michael safe and watch over him, she would do as she had done during his first few lives. She would return to being the eyes watching in the shadows. Only, he would never let it rest at that. He would sense her and search for her. Now that he knew she existed and wasn’t a figment of his imagination, he would seek her out, endangering himself.

  She needed to go to him.

  “You’re right, Liam. I must at least talk to him. If he doesn’t want me, I can stay away for his protection, but there’s no way I can’t consult him. I’m afraid that means we’ll have to part ways. It endangers us all to stay together.” Amaia stood.

  “But we can help you.” Meg’s eyes were earnest.

  “No, it’s too dangerous.”

  “It might be better for us to stick together, strength in numbers.”

  Amaia didn’t want to leave Meg any more than Meg wanted to be left. There was no way around it. “I’ll have to try to keep myself hidden. If that fails, and Zenas is really as mad as I think he may be, then no number of vampires will be able to protect me. You’d only end up getting killed.”

  “She’s right, Meg. We have to let her do this on her own.”

  Meg whirled and beat her fists against Liam’s chest. “No, you’re only saying that because you’ve never liked her.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it, Meg.” Amaia placed her hand on Meg’s back and draw her into a hug. “He only wants to protect you, the same as I do with Michael. I can’t risk you. You have to promise me you won’t try to follow. I can’t be worried about you, too. It will only break my concentration when I need to focus on keeping Michael safe. Do you understand?”

  Meg nodded against Amaia’s shoulder.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” It came out weak, but Amaia knew Meg meant it. She never made a promise lightly.

  Amaia pulled away. “When things settle down, I’ll figure out a way to contact you. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll find you when I can.”

  “Keep yourself and that boy of yours safe. If you need us, you know we’ll be there.” Liam stepped forward and gave Amaia a perfunctory hug. It was the most affection he had ever shown her.

  •••

  Amaia wasn’t foolish enough to go home. The only possession that meant anything to her rested on her finger. Besides, she had no home. She’d never really had one. It had been Lawrence who had made each stop along the years home. He was nothing to her now. An enemy. He always had been, only now he was exposed. She preferred it that way. Discovering her enemy had forced her to acknowledge her loyalties. The lesson proved painful, but she had to believe it would be worthwhile in the end.

  When she entered the alley behind the hotel, the hair on her arms stood on end. Lawrence was nearby.

  “You don’t think I know your friends are here?” Lawrence’s voice emerged from the shadows.

  Amaia shivered. It had been the right choice to make them stay behind.

  Lawrence took a step toward her. In less than a full second, Amaia had him pinned to the stone wall of the boardinghouse. Her triumph was short-lived when she realized he hadn’t put up a fight and still wasn’t.

  “I could kill you.” The words came out low through her gritted teeth.

  “Yes, you could, but you won’t.” Lawrence appeared unruffled. She sensed no fear in him.

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “I am, my child. You’re mine. I know you better than you know yourself, better than your lover boy knows you. You may think he’s fine with the knowledge of what you are, but I assure you he’s not. Maybe he thinks you can be turned back into a mortal. Maybe he thinks he’s fine with it. But eventually, it will wear on him. He’ll realize that you are never going to change. You’re incapable of it. And when he realizes that, he will leave you without your sire, your clan, or your friends.”

  Lawrence’s words touched her insecurities. He was right about one thing: he knew her better than anyone. She was his child, in both her mortal life and her immortal existence. She couldn’t sever that tie. She couldn’t end the man who had given her everything, even though he had simultaneously deprived her of her mate. In his twisted mind, he had only been saving her, and she couldn’t kill him for it. She couldn’t alter her worldview any more than she already had.

  “Have you told him?” If Zenas knew, her time was measured.

  “Yes, but he’ll take you back. You only need to let us kill Michael. You won’t even have to watch. Once he’s dead, you’ll need to humble yourself, pledge your allegiance to Zenas, and then everything will be right again.”

  “You told him to gain leverage over me, in hopes that you could force me to stay.”

  “Of course. What other reason would I have? I don’t want to see you dead. You’re too important to me.”

  Amaia shook her head. “I’ll not betray Michael. I can’t let you or anyone else kill him.”

  “I had thought there wasn’t any softness left in you. You realize if you leave, if you go to him, you will be hunted?” Lawrence’s self-control was almost strong enough to hide the worry in his eyes.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “It’s a shame. I had hoped when you didn’t feel guilt that I had cured you of your heart’s weakness. I had thought you had more loyalty than that to me, to our cause. We could have been great together. We could have overshadowed Zenas’s power.”

  “He should have killed you.”

  “Yes, he should have, just as I should kill you now. Go. He’s issued your death warrant.”

  As much as Lawrence spoke against love, he showed his own weakness now. There was no reason not to kill her other than whatever trace of affection he held for her.

  Amaia knew she was turning her back on her sire. There would be no chance to return. Zenas wouldn’t tolerate it. Even Lawrence wouldn’t be able to sway him. It was entirely possible that he wouldn’t even be able to save himself. Something inside her ached even while she knew it was the right decision. Lawrence didn’t deserve her loyalty. Still, it hurt.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Outside Paris, February 1799

  Amaia ran. Her legs stretched over the ground, carrying her as far away from Lawrence and Meg as she could get. For the first time in her existence, running was not an act of freedom but an act of survival. Zenas would set every vampire he controlled after her. She wasn’t simply breaking the rules, she was defecting. Zenas wouldn’t tolerate it. He couldn’t. Amaia would lose all respect for him if he did.

  She tried not to think about Michael as she ran. The only thought she spared him was to make sure she travelled in the opposite direction of where his energy pulled her. It pained her, and if she let herself think about him, she would veer off track and end up going right to him. She needed to stay away until he was older.
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  As far as she knew, the only person who could possibly track her specific energy was Lawrence as a result of their almost two centuries together. Most vampires weren’t as skilled and could only detect if an energy was human or vampire. Zenas’s clan would investigate every vampire energy they came across. There had to be territories where Zenas did not have a presence. Of course, Amaia didn’t know if that was true. She only knew of his clan in her region of the world. Lawrence had once told her that he even had clan members in places that were undiscovered by the Europeans at the time of her transformation. If that were true, she didn’t have a reasonable hope that she could escape to a place where she could hide for a few years. She would have to stay on the run, her senses always on alert for other vampires.

  There was Ezekial’s clan. It would probably pleasure him greatly to have one of Zenas’s golden children join him, especially one who had massacred his clan in battle. But that would only be trading in one problem for another. She belonged to no vampire. She wouldn’t be beholden to one. The temporary safety the feigned allegiance would gain her would not be worth it in the end. If anything, she risked bringing the wrath of the two largest clans in the world down on her when she eventually left to find Michael.

  She ran for two days before her first encounter with those who hunted her. She didn’t know where she was, only that it was wooded and cold. She felt them long before she saw them. A mated pair. There was no anxiety in her, no nerves. She was not afraid of death. If she won, she would be closer to Michael, so she would fight. Amaia knew she would survive. She wanted to see Michael too badly to let a couple of vampires stand in her way.

  Instead of fleeing, she met them: a man and woman, both with black hair and a fierce appearance.

  “I don’t want to have to kill you, but I will.” Talk was futile, but this was Zenas’s fight. She had no quarrel with the two people before her.

  The woman laughed. “You have quite a high opinion of yourself. Zenas said you were cocky.”

  Interesting. He must be trying to downplay her strength. Zenas knew the truth. She wasn’t cocky; she was confident. The difference may seem subtle, but it would soon be all too apparent to these two.

  “If you turn away now, you can tell Zenas that you haven’t seen me. I’ll be on my way, and no one has to die.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think so. The bounty Zenas has placed on your head is staggering. Not to mention the value of being in his good graces.”

  “I was in his good graces once. It’s overrated.”

  The man snorted. “Yeah, except we’re not stupid enough to do something like align with a mortal against our clan.”

  “Fine, have it your way.” Before they could know what happened, Amaia scaled a nearby tree. The two vampires raced after her. When they were halfway up, Amaia jumped behind them, crouching on the ground before she launched herself at the man’s back, sinking her teeth into his neck. A piercing shriek left the woman’s mouth and didn’t stop. The woman clawed at her back, trying to dislodge her. Grief made her sloppy. Amaia just wished she would shut up. She was sure the screams would ring in her ears for days.

  The man wasn’t dead yet, but Amaia needed to take care of the woman. She turned and threw her into a tree trunk several yards away. As soon as the woman’s body left her hands, she returned to the man to finish the job. The sound of the woman’s footsteps racing toward her played in her brain, and Amaia knew what to do. Using both of her hands and her mouth, she tore away the man’s head.

  When his body hit the ground, the woman stopped, her cries gaining a richer, more guttural tone. Amaia threw the head at her, hoping it would shock her into silence. The woman instinctually caught it and cradled it to her chest for a brief moment, her cries finally silenced, before setting it down. When she turned her eyes back to Amaia, the depth of hatred they held momentarily stunned Amaia.

  The woman charged, head down, and butted Amaia in the stomach, driving her right back into a tree. The woman’s fury would give her strength, but it wouldn’t lend her skill. Amaia still had the upper hand. Amaia circled her hands around the woman’s throat and wrestled her to the ground. She wouldn’t kill her. That would be too nice now that her mate was dead. All Amaia needed was to not be followed.

  Amaia pressed her knee into the joint that joined leg and abdomen just above the groin. She kept her eyes locked with the woman’s, hoping for some satisfaction. As she applied pressure, pain and hatred intensified in the woman’s eyes. Deep in that hatred lurked a sorrow so bleak that it stilled Amaia. This was what awaited her if anything should ever happen to Michael. All of a sudden, this woman was no longer her enemy. She was kin. Amaia could end up in her position one day. Instantly, she knew what she would wish for if she were, and she saw that same wish reflected back to her in the woman’s eyes: desire for death. Amaia couldn’t deny her. Pushing the woman’s head to the side, she bit down as hard as she could on her throat and pulled with both hands, severing the woman’s head from her body as quickly as she could.

  Looking at the two bodies and heads strewn on the ground, Amaia hoped they would be the last vampires she would have to kill, but she wasn’t naïve enough to actually believe it. There would be more. None of them would back down. She momentarily considered leaving the heads of these two on stakes, as warnings to Zenas and his clan. But almost as quickly as the thought entered her head, it left. It would serve no purpose other than to enrage Zenas further. If she simply disposed of the bodies, he would probably lose track of them for a bit. It could buy her some time, but not much.

  Amaia set to work building a funeral pyre. There would be no vampires nearby to smell them burning. They wouldn’t have been willing to share territories in their quest for the bounty. Zenas would want them all spread out as far as possible. There couldn’t be many humans around, but the fire would serve a dual purpose: it would dispose of the bodies and attract any humans in the area. She was in need of a meal, and as soon as she was done feeding, she could throw the humans on the fire as well.

  Amaia watched the flames dance around the bodies. Who had these vampires been? How old were they? How long had they been together? What kind of life had they shared? They were pointless questions, but her mind needed something to ponder. Anything was better than her own miserable existence.

  About a half hour after the fire started, a man came to investigate. Good, he would be dinner. Amaia had hoped only one would show up. Any more would be a waste. She made quick work of him, not even relishing the kill as she normally did, and threw his body on top of the bones of the others.

  She stayed there until the ashes were cold. It was the longest she had stopped since the whole odyssey began. The respite was welcome, but she needed to get going again. She didn’t know how many more such bonfires she would have to build, but she had a feeling it would be too many.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Uppsala, August 1819, 20 years, 6 months later

  She sensed movement to her right, a change in wind current, the crack of a twig snapping. Amaia paused and concentrated her entire mind on the energies around her, while simultaneously obscuring her own energy. It hadn’t taken much practice to learn how to successfully manipulate her own aura to no longer feel like a vampire’s, but it wasn’t something she could do constantly. The trick allowed her the luxury of occasionally slowing down in the years since she had learned it. It had been two years, eight months, and twenty-three days since she had last encountered a vampire. Seventeen months and eight days since she’d last felt another’s energy. Still, she was always on alert. Especially now.

  Satisfied that no vampires were nearby, Amaia continued her run. It was time. The waiting was finally over. Michael was old enough for her to approach. She would do it tonight. It was as safe a time as any.

  Amaia’s speed increased as the nerves in her stomach intensified. What if he didn’t want her? It was a silly thought. He had made it abundantly clear he wanted her, but that was before. The way
she had left him last time wouldn’t be easy to forgive. Would he be willing to live life on the run with her? And if not, how would she cope? She didn’t think she could stay away. Any time she tried to convince herself that she could if he wanted her to, it felt like a lie.

  She needed to do this quickly. If she waited any longer, she wouldn’t have the nerve. Then she would stay close to him, trying to build up the courage to face him, putting him in more danger. She didn’t think Lawrence was good enough at distinguishing energies to recognize Michael’s after so much time. The only way he or Zenas could find Michael was through her. It was pointless to think about any of this. The decision was Michael’s, and there was no sense speculating until she had heard his thoughts.

  The sounds of the city entered her consciousness. People shouting, horses neighing, carriage wheels creaking and clacking. The sounds of humans. After being so long away from large groups of mortals, her skin prickled at the thought of being among so many of them. Ever since she’d run away, she had only picked off lone humans in the countryside.

  Michael’s energy led her to a basement apartment in Uppsala, Sweden. Hopefully, the language hadn’t changed too much since she’d last had cause to speak it. She wished he lived somewhere more rural. There was a chance he would cause a scene when he saw her. The circumstances had prevented her from watching him as she normally did before approaching. For all she knew, he was happily married or engaged.

  The thought chilled her. She fervently hoped it wasn’t true. What she had told him before had been foolish. She was too selfish. She needed him. Michael had never listened to her before. Hopefully he hadn’t chosen this life to break the trend.

  A lion’s head clutching a door knocker in his mouth decorated the door before her. It was oddly out of place on the door of what appeared to be a more modest home: the last vestige of a time when this had been an upper-class neighborhood. Amaia drew in an unneeded breath, lifted her hand, and clasped the knocker. This was it. Soon she would see Michael again. His gray eyes would examine her from an unfamiliar face.