William smiled warmly. “It's your birthday today?”
I nodded, not worried in the slightest about missing the occasion. “We suspect the Drâghici discovered the same information and learned they'd made a mistake in creating Archangelo too early. By creating him when they did, his abilities were inhibited from increasing further. Which is why they kidnapped you,” I admitted sorrowfully. “They needed something to draw me in, force me to come to Sfantu Drâghici.”
“What happened wasn't your fault.”
I jumped at the sound of Lucas's deep voice. He was standing at the end of Gwynn's bed, Rafe hovering beside him. Lucas offered Rafe a tense smile. “Might I have a chair?”
I watched Rafe grab a chair and place it beside mine. Lucas lowered himself onto it, the fine lines around his eyes conveying how much energy taking a shower had cost him. Despite the evident strain, he looked magnificent. Damp hair hung darkly against his pale skin. His eyes were midnight blue, the silver swirling slowly around his irises. He'd dressed in a pair of dark grey pants and a sage green t-shirt which spanned the expanse of his chest snugly and a flare of desire erupted low in my body.
“What happened wasn't your fault,” Lucas repeated patiently, as though he wasn't certain I'd heard him the first time. “The Consiliului are nothing if not determined. Odin has delusions of crazed grandeur, which we became… painfully aware of, during our enforced confinement.”
“I should have warned you,” I protested, “but I honestly didn't think they'd come to Montana, when they already knew where I was.”
“The Drâghici have always used whatever means they had at their disposal to obtain objectives,” William spat angrily.
“I'm so sorry, William,” I whispered, deeply guilty about what they'd suffered.
“I don't blame you, Charlotte,” William assured me hurriedly. “The Consiliului are owed the entire culpability.” He looked tenderly at his beautiful young wife and his eyes hardened. “Arawn will pay for what he did. I intend to kill him myself.”
“For now, our concern needs to be for our Kiss, William,” Lucas reminded him gently. “Revenge can be withheld for now.”
William's jaw clenched tightly as he drew his anger back inside and I watched the coldness visibly recede from his eyes. When he spoke again, he sounded calmer. “What happens now you are twenty one? Why does it make a difference?”
“It's a genetic thing. When I'm twenty one, I reach some sort of maturity level. I can't be created, nor turned into a werewolf.”
“So you can't be bitten?” Striker asked. He and Holden strolled over and joined the group around Gwynn's bed.
“Oh, I can still be bitten by just about anyone,” I explained with a wry smile. “The difference is, I'm now immune to becoming vampire or werewolf.”
“Are you immortal?” Holden asked curiously.
“No, not at all. I can be killed by virtually any means. It was why timing was so important in coming to Sfantu Drâghici - if we'd attempted a rescue too early and things went wrong, they would have created me. If we left it too late, waited past my twenty first birthday, they would have murdered you all.” I rubbed a hand across my cheek, recalling the anguish I'd endured over past weeks.
“Good morning, child. I trust you slept well?” Epi strode across the room, his tunic today a bright red and matched with dark grey pants. “Any nightmares?”
“Nope,” I announced, offering Nonny a grateful smile as she handed me a plate filled with crispy bacon, scrambled eggs and fried tomatoes. “Not a thing.”
Remarkably, Epi took this lack of news better than I'd expected. “No matter, you were extremely fatigued. The rest will have done you good.” He studied my face for a moment. “Although you don't look well-rested child, your skin is far too pale.” He studied the bruising on my arm. “Did you treat that with a sigil?”
“Yeah,” I said, around a mouthful of egg. “A couple of times.”
Epi shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Not good, child, not good at all. Might I suggest you refrain from feeding your friends again, we can't afford for you to be ill.”
“Wasn't planning on it,” I agreed easily.
He wandered off towards the kitchen, still muttering beneath his breath and William smiled. “He's an interesting… man.”
I wasn't entirely certain it was the first word William thought of to describe Epi and giggled. “Interesting is one word for Epi.”
“He's right, however,” Lucas said quietly. “You took an incredible risk yesterday, in feeding us.”
“It had to be done,” I muttered. “You weren't getting out of there without help.”
“Still, you were incredibly courageous, Charlotte. To allow us to drink your blood when our thirst was so dire - it could have ended very badly,” William added in a low voice.
I looked into his eyes and he returned my gaze somberly. “I had faith in you, William. In all of you. Maybe your ability to control your thirst is stronger than you imagined.”
“I, for one, will not take the risk again,” Holden said. “You tasted delightful, of course, but William is right. It was a terrible danger to you.”
I grinned at Holden, liking the big vampire more each time we spoke. “Don't worry, I won't be offering a second time.”
Holden grinned back, sipping from his bottle. “We certainly have had a baptism of fire since our first meeting, Charlotte.”
I picked at a piece of bacon on my plate. “How did two brothers both become vampire, by the way?”
“Mom didn't tell you?” Striker questioned.
I shook my head. “Never asked.”
“You know Charlotte respects our privacy, Striker,” Lucas reminded him. He offered me a gentle smile and I warmed under his intense gaze.
“Yeah. Probably a good thing she's the angel and not me. I'd be poking my nose in everywhere and getting into a heap of trouble,” Striker admitted proudly.
“So…” I pressed. I had wondered how unusual it was to have two men from the same family become vampires. Had it happened simultaneously, or on separate occasions?
Striker leaned back in his chair, settling in to tell the story. “I was born in 1906, in Norway. Mom and Pop migrated to America from Norway when I was three and we settled in Arkansas. Pop had a small farm, but we never had two cents to rub together. With twelve sisters and brothers, we pretty much led a hand to mouth existence.”
Holden took up the tale. “I'm twelve months younger than Striker. When he was twenty, Striker took off, determined to make his fortune somewhere other than Jacksonport, Arkansas. We'd both grown sick of the poverty, trying to make ends meet and Mom was so worn out, dealing with thirteen kids. Our Pop was a bast…” Holden caught himself and modified his words, “bit of a drunkard, half the time he couldn't work in the fields 'cos he couldn't get out of bed. Striker was sick of it, and decided to leave and find work somewhere, so he could send money back for Mom to help feed us kids.”
“Mainly, I just wanted to get the hell out of Jacksonport and away from Pop,” Striker admitted.
“Striker was a heck of a fighter, used to always head into town when the carnival rolled through. They had bare fist boxing competitions and Striker would scrape up the entry fee, then fight the biggest, toughest motherf… ah, bad guys they could put him up against.”
The guy had layers of muscle tightly wrapped over more muscles, it was little wonder he'd be able to hold his own in a fistfight. “I assume you won?”
Striker shrugged. “Not every time, but enough that I made a bit of cash to help Mom. When I decided to leave for good, I figured fighting would be the easiest way to make my fortune. It was the one thing I was really good at.”
“Which turned out to be not the only thing you were good at,” Holden laughed.
“You'll embarrass Lottie,” Striker grumbled. “She blushes like a tomato.”
I glanced from Holden to Striker, a tiny frown creasing my forehead.
“She doesn't embarrass nea
rly as easily as she used to,” Rafe said, ruffling my hair affectionately.
“Really? Where's the fun in that?” With a smile, Striker continued. “I was a popular guy. I joined a travelling carnival, appeared as the strong man in sideshow alley, which is when my hair got to be so long. They wanted me to look like a Viking.” He smirked at the memory. “Playing a strong man didn't pay much, the real money was in the fist fights which occurred after the show closed at night.”
Holden took up the story again. “Striker had quite a way with the…” he glanced across to confirm Marianne was still sleeping soundly, “… ladies. One of the perks of being part of the sideshow, was the women who threw themselves at him. In copious amounts and with alarming regularity.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don't let my wife hear you saying that,” Striker growled. “She doesn't like the reminder of my past.”
“Anyway,” Holden continued with a delighted grin, “one of the ladies who showered my brother with attention happened to be a…”
“…vampire.” Striker finished the sentence. He sipped from his bottle, and his demeanor darkened. “Didn't even see it coming when she bit me. All I remember was the excruciating pain as she drank my blood and wondering why I couldn't fight her off, when I was so big and she was this itty bitty little thing. It was only later that I learned what she was, and that she had enough strength to do whatever the hell she wanted. By then, it was too late. I was vampire, she was my maker and she had plans to have me fighting in her own little sideshow alley.” His face hardened. “The bitch used me to fight other vampires, but it wasn't a matter of betting a couple of bucks this time. Nah, she intended for it to be a battle for existence or final death and the stakes were much higher. She used me as a way of building up her own resources, to increase her power base.”
“Which is where I come in,” Holden said. “Striker had been missing for four years and I'd been searching for about three and a half of those years, trying to find out what happened. It was the darndest thing - for six months, he'd written regularly, sending a few bucks to help Mom out and then, suddenly, there was nothing. Mom was so worried, wondering if something had happened, so I decided to search. Tracked down the carnival he'd been working with and they told me he'd taken off one night with a woman and they'd never heard from him again.”
“How did you find him?” Rafe questioned.
“They gave me a little information about the woman he'd been seen with, told me she turned up every now again, did some betting on the fights and then disappeared, often with one of the men in tow. It took a long time, but with some investigative work and a hell of a lot of stowing away on trains all over the country, I caught up with her at another carnival in Texas. They'd given me a fairly good description and it helped that she was a real stunner - you couldn't have mistaken her for anyone other than who they'd described.”
“Qadesh.” Lucas's cold voice made me jump, I'd gotten engrossed in Striker and Holden's story and almost forgotten he sat with us. “The Goddess of Love and Sexuality.”
The name rang a bell and I stared at Lucas in growing horror. “Qadesh?” I remembered her from the photos Nick had provided when we'd planned our raid on the council. Petite and beautiful, Qadesh had hazel eyes and hair so blonde, it looked white. Sexy, buxom - everything a man could be attracted to. I turned to Striker and saw the shame in his eyes. “Qadesh created you?”
“And Holden,” Striker agreed quietly.
Lucas's words rang in my mind. “Wait - Goddess of Love and Sexuality? What does that mean?”
The three men were silent, all lost in their thoughts until Lucas spoke, finally answering the question. “Qadesh took her name from an ancient Egyptian Goddess. All the Council chose their names in the same way. Qadesh is the Goddess of Love and Sexuality because her ability is to create lust and craving in others around her. She can make you do anything she desires, and it can drive a man to the edge of insanity.”
“What sort of things?”
Rafe put a hand on my shoulder, meeting Lucas's eyes. “Lott, I'm not sure you really want to hear the answer to that question.”
“You mean…?” Seeing the hard stare in Rafe's eyes, the discomfort in the faces of Holden, Striker and Lucas, what Rafe was alluding to blossomed. It seemed it wasn't only the Tine women who'd been sexually assaulted during their captivity.
“So… she created you?” I asked Holden, deferring any further questions regarding Qadesh and her role in the council.
Holden nodded. “I was besotted from the second I first saw her. She fawned over me, pretending to be concerned about Striker. She told me she couldn't imagine what had happened to him.” He lowered his gaze, embarrassed. “I fell for it - fell for her, to be honest. Didn't take long before one thing led to another, and we ended up having sex in some barn just outside of Austin, near where the carnival was camped.” He shrugged awkwardly. “Next thing I knew, I woke three days later and my whole world had changed. I was vampire.”
“What happened?”
“She took me to her Kiss - at that stage she wasn't with the Council, ran a Kiss of about seventy vampires. Let me see Striker, then told me we were both hers to do with as she pleased. We ended up fighting for her, doing… other stuff, for… I guess, twenty years or so.” He shuddered, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “We both thought we loved her, both fought for her attention. She was like a drug you couldn't resist, no matter how damn hard you tried. She set us up to fight one another, to hate one another and it took nearly all that time for us both to see what she was doing.”
“Seeing her again in Sfantu Drâghici - it was like a nightmare,” Striker said abruptly. “Having her…” He broke off and clenched his fist around the empty bottle abruptly, pulverizing it into tiny slivers of crushed glass.
The sharp sound of breaking glass brought Nonny and Epi running from the kitchen and they arrived to find Striker holding his head in his hands, rocking back and forth on the chair. I dropped onto my knees in front of him, avoiding the broken glass to kneel at his side. Gently, carefully, I wrapped my arms around the big man and rubbed his back soothingly as he trembled.
“Do you believe the Consiliului will continue with this plan for a war?” William asked quietly, his gaze fixed on Striker's blonde head. “If they've lost the opportunity to create you, is there any point? Surely they'll back off and stop this atrocity.”
“I know they will. There isn't a doubt in my mind.” Rubbing my hand in reassuring circles on Striker's back, I could feel his body trembling under my fingers.
“How can you be so sure?” Lucas asked. He'd placed a reassuring hand on Holden's shoulder, giving him comfort as Holden stared at his brother in dismay.
“The nightmares Epi was talking about - I see things, learn things from them. The Drâghici intend on taking over the supernatural world. Losing out on me was just a blip on their radar, it won't stop them.”
“Can Odin really be this presumptuous?” Holden asked Lucas. “Will they all follow him into such an obscene undertaking?”
Lucas considered the question carefully before he answered. “You know as well as I do, they will. Odin and his Kiss have always considered themselves superior. As the years have passed, they've become more and more fanatical in their hold over the vampire world.” He paused briefly, accepting a fresh bottle of blood from Nonny with a nod of acknowledgement. “I'm afraid what Charlotte says could be true.”
“And Charlotte? You will fight against them?” William questioned softly.
I sighed gloomily. “I have no choice in the matter. Whether I like it or not, this is apparently my destiny.”
“Then I will join you in the fight,” William announced determinedly.
My eyebrows rose. “You will?”
“Of course we will,” Lucas agreed. “We'll fight this battle with you.”
“We all will,” Striker lifted his head, staring down at me with an icy blue coldness in his eyes. “If the Consiliului wants to start a war,
we'll give them a fucking war.” His gaze flickered across to where Marianne lay curled on her side, her hands tucked under her cheek. “It'll be my pleasure to send every single one of them to hell. Starting with that bitch, Qadesh.”
Chapter 6: Confrontation
As the day wore on, my nerves began to disperse and I relaxed. Striker bounced back swiftly from his despair, before long he was laughing and smiling again and I marveled at his ability to recover so rapidly. As Holden pointed out in a quiet moment - vampires were resilient. Given what they were subjected to during their long existence and the violence which surrounded them almost constantly, they had to be tough.
When Conal arrived with Ralph and Phelan in tow, he greeted me with a warm smile. There was no sign of last night's tension and he seemed relaxed, which in turn had me loosening up and worrying less.
Lucas was treating me with cordial politeness and he and Conal managed to be in the same room without glaring daggers at one another. I wondered if things were looking up - although I still had no idea how to fix the problem.
By lunchtime, the male vampires were up and dressed, each and every one looking much better with every passing hour.
By late afternoon, Nonny and I had gotten Rowena, Marianne and Acenith into a hot bath as each had awoken and we'd carefully washed their hair and removed all traces of their incarceration. It was a startling repeat of what Marianne and Rowena had done for me, so many months ago when I'd been hurt and helpless. I tried to pay no attention to the signs of what they'd endured and carefully washed away the evidence. When we'd finished our task and gotten them dressed, Rafe or Conal would meet us at the bathroom door and lift the women easily into their arms, gently depositing them with their respective partners to be held and comforted. I smiled when I saw Acenith curled up in Ripley's lap like a tiny kitten, snuggled against his chest. Warmth flooded my chest to see how solicitous Ripley was towards her, how he gazed down at her face as though she was the only woman in the world and gently caressed her face, pressing tender kisses against her skin.
Knowledge Hurts (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 3) Page 5