“This never would have happened if the manipulators hadn’t killed Demetrius,” one man says, his eyes filled with tears.
Another man shares his opinion. “Place your blame and anger where it should be—we’d still have our city if the damn elementals hadn’t destroyed it.”
A wizened old woman speaks up, “Never turn a witch, and you’ll never have elemental vampires to contend with.”
“She speaks the truth,” says another refugee.
“Kill manipulators when discovered,” adds a woman clutching her tattered clothes to her frail shoulders. “No vampire should have the power to mind control another.”
“Agreed!” shout others.
Fear courses through Esmie, palpable through the memory as if it were our own.
“When we get to the mainland we must unite the other survivors. Take back the Seat of Darkness and make it equal for all vampires.”
“Look!” someone shouts. “The island is collapsing into the ocean!”
We all look on in horror as the ending of Atlantis becomes clear to those watching the memory unfold. The tropical paradise survived for millennia until vampires discovered it and made it their own.
As the vision fades, Esmie’s predicament and eternity of hiding fills me with sadness and dread. It’s no wonder Vivian is so paranoid about protecting what she is. There’s no way the rest of the vampire race would ever tolerate a manipulator or elemental after this fiasco. And who could blame them?
Slowly, I become aware of the couch beneath me. I’m left feeling drained of energy, bereft and torn. So much destruction, so much death. The end of all that beauty and splendor in the heat of the moment.
I glance at the watch on Dria’s wrist, noting it’s well after three a.m. We were lost in the illusion far longer than I would have thought—and yet time seemed to fly by.
“From what I was told, after the survivors made it to land,” Persephone says, “the remaining vampires huddled together to build a town while the other surviving supernatural species drifted, seemingly happy to get away from the rest of us. And for good reason. Elementals destroyed the most advanced civilization for vampires on the planet, all in the name of power.
“Elemental vampires used their destructive magic to tear apart our home. Their desire to play god ruined centuries of prosperity.”
Did we watch the same memory? It looked to me like both sides were guilty of abusing their powers. But I wisely keep my mouth shut, afraid she’ll turn that crazy-eyed stare on me.
Rolando clears his throat. “Now you fully understand where the rule to never turn a witch originated. They are where elemental vampires came from.”
My mouth opens before I have a chance to think through if I should say anything or not. “Then how are you able to do magic?”
Persephone answers, “The same way Justin can—with spells, incantations, rituals, and with the help of my very powerful vampire blood.”
“You became a wizard?” Rafe asks, his tone thoughtful.
My next thought is they have learned nothing from the past and have essentially combined the two deadly classes into one, by making a manipulator vampire who is a wizard, too. What the hell is wrong with these idiots? Don’t they recognize they’re playing with fire?
Vivian finally speaks, her voice sounding detached and pitched low. “Atlantis was beautiful. The tragedy of its destruction an unacceptable outcome for those of us with the power to change the future.”
Persephone’s face lights up. “Exactly! I’m so glad to hear you understand. All the killing, the unimportant events that led us here, they matter not in the ultimate goal—to take back vampire rule for those of us who are the strongest.”
Every fiber of my being longs to argue, to speak out against this madness. Surely, Viv is just in shock over the events she saw in the memory and isn’t thinking clearly. She’s hidden her power and used it remotely all these decades for a reason, right? What has happened to her personal mantra of “absolute power corrupts absolutely”?
I look to Rafe and see the same confusion in his eyes I’m sure is in mine. I reach out with my mind, hoping to connect with the two of them again, only to find a block of some sort. It feels the same as when Vivian expanded her awareness earlier to protect me from the ancient’s casual reading of my mind—perhaps those shields are still in place.
Squeezing Viv’s hand, I try to draw her gaze to mine, to plead with her silently to not agree to their course of action.
“Our new Atlantis will be here, in Buenos Aires,” Persephone says. “We will call the manipulator vampires of the world home to roost, and the city will be ours. Our rule will be complete. With no fear of elemental vampires to destroy what we build.”
Rolando continues with the crazy talk. “The Tribunal will remain intact, but with manipulators serving as ancients, and within the inner circle as well. With your help, we will rule without opposition.”
Vivian nods in agreement, and it takes every scrap of awareness in me to not let my jaw drop open in astonishment. “A noble cause. I can see why you’ve worked hard to pursue it. I will have a place among the ancients?”
Persephone smiles again, the stretch of her red lips over white teeth disconcerting instead of welcoming. “Of course. I can think of no other we’d want by our side. We need to add your offspring to our numbers, to gain the foothold we need.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be of much help there. I haven’t turned any vampires who showed signs of becoming manipulators. There were a few, but they couldn’t handle the power and had to be destroyed.”
“I find that hard to believe,” the ancient says, her face no longer looking happy with her crazy glow, more perplexed now.
Rolando rises from the couch and strides to the dining room. “We have a list here.” He returns in a moment with a file in one hand. “It contains all the names of the vampires you’ve turned over the centuries.” He opens it and pulls out a sheet. I see a single column filled with names, but it’s too far away for me to read. “It’s rather light, considering your age.”
Vivian’s gaze drops to the list and away, returning her attention to the man holding it. “Yes, it is. Due to incurable bloodlust, I didn’t allow many to live past a year—the age we’re required to report new turnings to the Tribunal.”
My mind immediately races to Paul, one of the inn’s chefs, who was turned by Vivian a little over seven months ago. If she’s keeping to the rules, then Paul hasn’t been announced to them yet. Which is good, considering he showed signs of something out of the ordinary when he was able to catch Emiko by surprise and stab her during an organized hunt this past winter.
Persephone leans forward, excitement on her face. “We want you to tell us who on this list could be a manipulator, too. Together we can take back what is rightfully ours.”
Vivian takes the list and scans it. Her face remains expressionless, no sign of recognition when she reads. I glance over, as unobtrusive as possible, surprised to see both women and men’s names on the list. For some odd reason, I thought Vivian would have only turned men. Wrong again. Go figure.
“Which ones, Dria?” Rolando presses.
“I can’t be sure. Very few exhibited signs of being able to manipulate anything but humans.”
Persephone looks confused. “Are you telling me you don’t know how many could have the power?”
Vivian nods, her face clear of emotion. “Exactly. It’s been so long I can’t remember.”
Rolando says, “Are you sure that’s correct?”
I feel a pressure against my mind, similar to when a telepathic conversation is initiated, but not the same. This push means business. Like whoever is doing it wants into my head.
Vivian’s grip loosens on mine until she drops my hand and rests hers in her lap. I notice she’s dropped Rafe’s, too. The pressure on my mind eases a bit, indicating she’s the target of the mental press, not me. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Persephone smiles, the small grin not rea
ching her eyes. “Forgive us if we don’t believe you.” And with that, she links hands with Rolando and Vivian tenses on the couch, her whole body stiffening with a sharp spasm.
“What the hell are you doing to my wife?” Rafe barks. He attempts to rise, but with a motion from Rolando he’s pinned to the couch.
“Stay out of it, Raphael, or your wife will regret it,” Rolando says.
Adrenaline rushes through me, priming my muscles to fight or flight. What the hell is going on? What am I not seeing?
Vivian screams, grasping her skull, blood dripping from her nose, writhing on the couch in pain. I lunge forward, hands extended, intent on leaping across the coffee table and wrapping my hands around the ancient’s throat. But I can’t. Rolando’s attention flicks to me and I’m forced back to the couch, staked in place like a bug on a pin.
“Don’t fight us, Dria,” Persephone says in a strained tone, the effort to break Vivian’s mind taking its toll on her. “It will go much easier if you don’t.”
But the redhead doesn’t listen, refuses to relent. The screams and jerks of her body intensify as the two of them plow into her mind for information she may be hiding.
Persephone whispers, “I need more, Rolando, she’s very strong.”
Their linked hands must mean something. Perhaps he’s adding his strength to hers?
Fear lances my heart, forcing more adrenaline into my body. I have to help her! Maybe get them to drop hands. Panic grips me as I watch the horror unfolding, unable to move, unable to do a goddamn thing.
Rage like I’ve never seen crosses Rafe’s face, the intensity of it darkening his skin, forcing multiple veins to stand out on his forehead and neck. He’s fighting the binding just as I am, and having no better luck.
The urgent cries ripping from her throat continue, twisting deep into my gut with a pain I’ve never experienced before. I became hers years ago, a servant to protect and keep her safe—and yet I’m helpless, watching her raped from within.
She is my responsibility! I’ve sworn to protect her! I must do something!
I force the weakening thoughts from my mind. There has to be a course of action that can throw off their mental attack.
I gather my anger to me, press it into a tight ball of power, and thrust my arms forward in an effort to break the spell holding me. Pressing toward Rolando with everything I’ve got, claws start to emerge from my finger tips, fur begins to coat their backs as my hands grow larger. The magic from a transformation tickles across my skin, aching to break the hold on my mind and body. Determination swells within me. I will reach that undead bastard if it’s the last thing I do.
Abruptly, the screams cut off and Vivian falls limp on the cushions.
“I’ve got what we need,” Persephone says. “Give me a few minutes to clean up the mess and she’ll be right as rain in no time.”
Spittle flies from my lips as I gnash my teeth and reach with all my might. Rafe yells, the rage and ferocity in his shout a match for what I’m feeling, too.
“Hold them steady, Rolando. I need concentration for this.”
His voice sounds strained when he answers, “They’re stronger than they look.”
“Then knock their asses out, we don’t have time for this.”
And with that, my world goes black.
I awake first, in the backseat of the car, unsure how the hell I got there. My first thought is of Vivian, and I sit up too fast, nausea twisting my gut and threatening to spew its contents. She’s slumped in the front seat of the car, a coat over her face, perhaps to protect her from the sun that’s cresting the horizon.
Reaching a trembling hand between the seats, I grasp Rafe’s shoulder and shake him awake. He comes to with a jolt, eyes immediately flashing open and looking for his wife. He softens only when he lifts the coat and presses a hand to her cheek.
“She’s okay,” he says. “It’s a restorative sleep.”
Tension I was unaware of leaks out of me, leaving me more drained and spent then I ever thought possible. “Are you sure?”
He nods. “I’m linked with her, as you are. You just haven’t learned to use it yet.” Rafe looks up at the rising sun, the rays blinding us from their position over the large buildings. “A little sun won’t hurt her, but I don’t want to risk it. We’ve got to get her inside.”
He fumbles for the keys in the ignition and starts the car. His head swivels back and forth, then ducks under the powerful rays to get a feel for where we are. “Holy shit. They drove us a block from the apartment. They knew where we were staying.”
“Must have traced us while we were busy tracking the killers. Where to now? The third place you bought?”
He shakes his head and performs a u-turn. “Nope. Back to the first house. We’ve no threat from the Weres to contend with now, and it has provisions and a better escape route. I doubt they had the address as we’d only been there a few hours.”
We travel the distance in silence, residual shock making it difficult to sort through all that’s happened. Once we arrive, Rafe gently lifts his wife from the car as I see to the door. He carries her down to the basement and returns to the main floor, meeting me in the kitchen.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
“I can’t be sure. Nothing like this has ever happened to her while we’ve been together. But I think she will be, with time.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why the hell did they do that to her? She said she agreed with them, sounded like she was on their side.”
“Because they don’t trust her. And rightfully so. They want who she’s turned, those who may have her power, but they may not want her if she’s on the fence about their objective. They may have an easier time persuading younger masters to their way of thinking. By violating her mental barriers, they could see her intent, read all her secrets, and make sure she was worth keeping around.”
“And what if she’s not? What then?”
“I can only assume they would have disposed of her. We sure as hell couldn’t have stopped them.”
The feeling of helplessness slinks through me again, and I shake it off, hating the sensation. “We were useless against them. Now I understand why Vivian has always hidden herself, using her gift on the sly rather than exposing herself to the hatred of her kind. That much power is wrong. There was nothing we could do to stop them.”
“She believes the power is corrupting. That the darkness inside her is a manifestation of that power—which is why she so tightly holds onto her self-control, never allowing the monster within to have free rein.”
“What do we do now?”
“We wait until she wakes. Talk through what happened. See what she thinks. And she’ll need your blood when she comes to. It will help her regain strength. A mental attack like she went through will leave her severely drained. This sleep is a way for her body to repair the damage.”
I nod, understanding the words even if my brain can’t formulate an intelligent response. The spent adrenaline has left me shaky and unsure of myself. I need some of that control he spoke of. I need to feel like I’m not a complete and utter failure. In her darkest hour, I failed her. Unable to stop the two vampires from violating what everyone should be able to protect—the privacy of their own mind.
I stagger toward the front door. Determined not to face another day helpless.
“Where are you going?” Rafe calls.
“To learn a new skill. I’ll be back before sundown. I will not fail her again.”
Before I have a chance to reason out where I’m going, my subconscious has already led me in the right direction. I’m a block from Magda’s house, no longer hesitant about what I need to do.
I knock on her door, a surreal peace filling me. She opens the door, looking like she’s risen from bed, a surprised look on her face. “Jon! I wondered where you wandered off to yesterday. Where have you been?”
“It’s been a hellishly long day. Can I crash with you?”
A smile stretches across her face as sh
e pushes the door open. “I’d like nothing better.”
I stumble in and she closes the door behind me.
“Jon, are you okay?”
I glance at the tidy, small apartment and determine the open door down the short hall is her bedroom. “No, no I’m not.” I shuffle forward and trip on my own feet.
In a split second she’s at my side, an arm around my waist as she leads me forward. “Let’s get you laid down.”
My eyes close before I hit the bed, and I’m out. The exhaustion and shock finally catching up to me.
When I next open my eyes, it’s past noon, and the smell of frying bacon wafts through the air around me. Resolve fills my heart, reminding me of what is the most important thing in my life, my sole purpose for living—protecting those I love. And while my heart is no longer filled with misdirected passion toward her, there is no doubt I love Vivian deep into my soul.
Without her, I’d have died years ago. And more importantly, so would an entire pack of Weres. She saved them and me, and refused payment in the end. My dedication to her may have started as a blood debt, but over the years it has transformed into a steel-hard loyalty forged in the hottest flame. I will help her battle what awaits. And I will do it with any means possible.
“Jon?” Magda calls. “Are you up? I hear rustling around in there. I’ve made breakfast.”
“I’ll be right in,” I answer while rising from the bed. I venture to the bathroom first and then join her in the small living area.
Thankfully she leaves me be for the moment, allowing me to eat without asking the questions I sense shimmering below the surface. Once the first plate is gone, and I’ve had a chance to eat half of the second helping, she clears her throat.
“What happened to you?”
I grab the mug of untouched coffee and down it, grateful it’s had a chance to cool. My voice hitches as I start speaking, the pain too fresh. “I watched my vampire master—the woman I’ve sworn to protect, bound my life to—get mind-raped by an ancient and a member of the inner circle.” Before I have a chance to contemplate telling her the truth, it spills out of me, eager to be told, to share the horror of my failure with someone else.
Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5) Page 24