by Kailin Gow
Kalina saw Max’s face go white. Even in her anger, Kalina felt sorry for her. Whatever Max had done, it was in an effort to get away from vampires like Mal and Leonardo – vampires so evil that even the vilest nightmares of her imagination couldn’t touch them.
“I think it’s my lucky day, too, Max,” Leonardo concluded.
Who was this mysterious man? Kalina scanned him quickly, trying to figure him out. He was older than Mal – he had been older when he was turned, yes, but it was more than that. Leonardo had the bearing of a man from an ancient time, an antique land. He was wildly handsome – with that same touch of arrogance she had come to recognize on all vampires: the power to kill in an instant made one smug. Whoever he was, he definitely wanted Max. In his eyes Kalina saw a desire as strong and terrifying as that she had seen in Stuart and Jaegar’s eyes under Life’s Blood: a desire that mixed lust with blood-hunger. She knew how violated she had felt, standing under that gaze, feeling her body turn into prey for another. She knew how Max must be feeling now. She turned and met Max’s gaze – to offer her understanding, offer her forgiveness. Max only gave a brief, grateful nod.
Kalina felt that same sense of kinship, of blood-bondage, that she had felt at the hospital when she had first learned about the girl who shared her blood. But who was she? A cousin? A sister?
“You cannot run from me any longer, Max,” Leonardo said, his silky voice doing little to assuage Kalina’s fear. “I never thought I’d find you here, in this abominable new country, in this leaky farmhouse in this desolate patch of land. I thought you’d be by my side now.”
“You…” growled Max. “And that evil Mal will not take me alive!”
“Oh, well,” said Leonardo airily. “You’ll have to kill yourself, then! And then Mal and I will take her.” He motioned over to Kalina. “We’ll enjoy her, won’t we Mal? Enjoy tasting her Life’s Blood, drinking it down! She doesn’t even have to be a virgin, after all; it’s not like we want to become human…”
“No!” Max shouted, and for the first time, Kalina saw this strange, stoic girl display emotion. “I won’t let you…”
“You wouldn’t enjoy that, then? Seeing what you and Constantine created together, out of love, destroyed – drained? Your only memory of Constantine…this girl. That is why I was glad I was not the one you chose to become human. Poor Constantine…you didn’t even get to spend more than a few days with him before I killed him. Not your cup of tea, my dear? Prefer some other form of entertainment?”
Kalina’s eyes shot wide open. What you and Constantine created out of love. She looked back at Max, who was trembling and who had gone pale, her face as blanched as that of the vampires surrounding them.
“Really, Max,” said Leonardo. “You wouldn’t abandon your daughter, would you?”
Max was silent, her hands shaking against the stake.
“I didn’t think so.”
Chapter 11
Kalina gaped. As she saw Max standing before her, tight-lipped, her eyes downcast, she suddenly began noticing a hundred little details about her, things she had never noticed before. Oh, she had seen the resemblance – there was no doubt about that – but suddenly the little things came flooding in all at once into Kalina’s conscious: the way Max’s eyes darted so distinctively from right to left; the way she cocked her hair a few degrees to the left; the way her nose was slightly rounded at the tip – tiny resemblances, tiny mannerisms. Was this woman Kalina’s mother? And yet – how could she be – when for all intents and purposes, this woman seemed barely older than Kalina herself! Kalina was eighteen; her mother would have to be in her late thirties at the earliest. And yet Max could barely have been twenty-five, aged though she was by the haunted look in her eyes and the gaunt quality of her cheekbones. Was this what Life’s Blood did – stopped the physical aging, leaving in its stead only the psychological scars borne out of many years of running?
“You’re my mother?” Kalina felt her voice tremble as she spoke, trying to swallow down her nervousness. Max was silent, making a tremendous effort to look away, to avoid meeting Kalina’s questioning gaze…
“A mother?” Leonardo shrugged. “That’s perhaps going too far. After all, Max doesn’t seem to have done much mothering to you.” He laughed. “But she gave birth to you, if that’s what you mean. One Life’s Blood carrier giving birth to another. A very lucky event for vampires all round, I should say.”
Kalina looked from Leonardo to her mother and back to Leonardo again. She felt curiously numb, as if she had pressed ice to her soul. She couldn’t taste anything; she couldn’t feel anything. There was only a queer ache – not even a pain – deep in Kalina’s subconscious, gnawing away just beyond the reach of thought. She had too many questions and she had no time to ask any of them. Her mother was alive – her mother had given her up – her mother had chosen to give her up…Her mother had never looked for her, never contacted her, never even loved her.
“I’m going to need you to trust me, Kalina,” said Max, raising her stake. Her voice was calmer than it had been before. Gentler. “When there’s time, I’ll explain.” If there’s time, she did not say, but Kalina knew exactly what she meant. If they let Leonardo and Mal get to them, there would never be a time for answers. And Kalina couldn’t live with that.
“Leonardo’s quite an old vampire!” Max’s voice was thick with mockery as she gave Leonardo a withering stare. But Kalina knew the truth behind the sarcasm. The older a vampire was, the more powerful he was. And Leonardo was very old indeed“I’ll handle him.”
In an instant Max had launched a high-pitch wail – a cry filled with rage. In the seconds that it took Mal and Leonardo to react, looking around for the source of the sound, she had leaped into the air – a single, graceful glide that brought her legs, arrow-straight, down towards Leonardo. Time seemed to slow to a halt as Kalina watched her mother sail across the room, her muscles taut and tense, her stake aimed high. And then in a moment Max had set upon him, and Leonardo’s block was too late. With a sickening crush, Max’s legs came into contact with Leonardo’s kneecaps, and he in turn tumbled down against one of Stuart’s old bookshelves, bringing down with him a host of dusty volumes that clattered and clanged across the room.
“Stand back!” Kalina yelled at Mal, who was crossing the room to fight her. She scrambled out of the way, keeping her gaze on her mother, who had now sprung up to her feet and had raised her stake high above Leonardo’s chest, ready to go in for the kill.
Kalina had seen vampires fight – including some of the world’s oldest and most powerful – but she had never seen anything quite like this. Max’s fighting was not just brutal and strong – it was agile, filled with a studied grace that was almost beautiful in its destruction, a ballet of death. Was it the Life’s Blood within her, Kalina wondered, that made it possible, and as she wondered she felt a prickling in her own blood. She knew she had to tap into her strength. She let the Life’s Blood take over, throwing a punch at Mal that landed squarely at his jaw, causing him to tumble back.
“Nice try,” said Mal, with a bloodied grin, and Kalina tensed up, waiting for him to strike again. But in a flash he had turned – attacking not Kalina, but Max.
“Mom!” The words escaped Kalina before she had a chance to think about what they might mean. He had surprised Max from behind, sinking his fangs into her neck before her stake met its intended target. “No!” Kalina felt her brain shut down, the power and grace of her Life’s Blood taking over. She felt herself sail through the air; felt herself gain momentum until, at last, she landed straight and square on Mal’s back. She heard the snapping of vertebrae, and Mal emitted a terrible, agonized roar. It wasn’t as strong as the blow Leonardo had delivered to Max, but it was close enough. Mal loosen his grip on Max, who landed, cat-like, on the floor.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” said Mal, his smile slow and full of anger. “You think you can fight like your mother here? Your blood’s too young, too fresh. Tasty, I’m sure, bu
t not powerful enough to take me on. Although I see you want to try…”
In an instant Leonardo had gained his footing and had grabbed hold of Max, who fought him back in turn – the two of them locked in a death-gip, rolling together on the floor. “Get out!” Max was calling, her voice ragged with fighting, but there was no way to escape. Mal, hulking towards her, was squarely between Kalina and the door.
Before Kalina could scream, Mal had her by the throat, his beefy hands tight around her neck, squeezing harder and harder until Kalina was spluttering and choking, until she could not breathe at all. She dug her nails into Mal’s flesh, drawing blood, but the grip was ineffectual; his hold on her remained strong. “No!” she heard Max calling, as Kalina struggled – her feet dangling in mid-air, useless against Mal’s brute strength, useless against…
Use your Life’s Blood. It was her mother’s voice, but Mal and Leonardo gave no sign of having heard it. It was there, in Kalina’s ears, filling her soul – a telepathic connection stronger than any she’d felt before. Let it use you.
And then her foot collided with Mal’s throat. It was an old cheerleading move – using her feet to push away from his chest and gain momentum as she twisted in his arms – but Kalina’s couldn’t recall haven’t decided to use it. Her body had moved on its own, with its own will, its own desires, and she was only watching – like an outsider, disembodied in space – as her foot came down again and again on Mal’s neck, locked in that same acrobatic death-dance she had seen her mother enact on Leonardo. Mal scrambled upwards; Kalina felt herself somersault out of the way. Mal struck her, but she did not feel it. Her body was not hers any longer; her senses were not her own. She belonged to Life’s Blood; it had taken over completely. It was strange, in a sense – to be prisoner in one’s own body – almost as frightening as it had been to be present in it, present in danger.
And then Mal grabbed her hair, and with a firm, strong yank, he brought Kalina back to him again. At once she was in control, in her own body, and yet utterly helpless against his hold on her. Before Max could protest again, Mal had dragged her outside, into the vineyard. The moon shone icy-cold upon them, and in its milky light Mal looked uglier, more deranged, than ever.
“You’ve gotten to be a much better fighter since I last saw you,” said Mal. “Looks like you’re aging well. I do so hate to nip you in the bud.”
“I’ve had practice,” said Kalina, her voice dry and cracking.
“I bet you have,” said Mal, with a lewd smirk. “Octavius, Aaron, Jaegar, Stuart…I’m sure you had lots of practice.”
Anger flooded Kalina’s system – replacing her numbness, replacing her fear – her griefad takenaving lost Aaron and Stuart, her pain at knowing her mother was still alive, her confusion, her terror that these might be the final few moments of her life, all subsumed in a rage that animated Kalina, thrust her into life. “What’s the matter, Mal?” Kalina gave a hollow laugh, wiping the blood from her cheek. “Just jealous I didn’t practice on you?” It was Mal who had killed Aaron – Mal who had led, however indirectly, to Stuart’s death. And if she was going to go down, she sure as hell planned to take Mal down with her.
Her Life’s Blood took over again, and at once she was rushing at Mal, her stake in hand, getting closer and closer to his heart…
He stopped her just in time, his fingers closing around her wrist. “I could snap this…” he hissed, twisting her arm behind her until she yelped from the pain, dropping her stake. Stupid, she raged inwardly – she shouldn’t have approached him head-on, she should have been faster, and now it was too late…
“Let her go!” A voice boomed out of the darkness, a voice Kalina knew well, had dreamed of so many times in her darkest sleep.
It was Octavius.
Chapter 12
Kalina whirled around, taking advantage of Mal’s momentary shock. For an instant, her joy gave her strength. She forgot the stabbing pain in her right arm where Mal had twisted it, forgot her fear of Mal’s fangs and Leonardo’s stature, forgot her confusion every time she looked at the mysterious girl who was so like her, yet so unlike her, who was or was not her mother. None of that mattered now. He had vanished from her and now he was here again, and Kalina felt her entire body – from the pulsing of her Life’s Blood to the quickening of her breath – react to his presence. She had convinced herself to forget him, convinced herself that she had indeed forgotten him, but now he was here again, and all her old feelings came rushing back to her. How she had loved him – in Rome, in Paris, those glorious weeks when he had treated her like a Renaissance princess or a noblewoman of the Ancient Regime, made her feel that the whole world was coming alive for her – just for her! With Octavius, Kalina wasn’t a scared schoolgirl, a confused eighteen-year-old girl with feelings and stirrings and desires that she couldn’t understand. He had always made her feel strong, feel sure of herself.
“Octavius!” Kalina cried out, loosening herself from Mal’s grasp. She felt that tat tself had collapsed, that the danger threatening her had stood still. Mal had vanished; Leonardo had vanished – and Kalina was spending eternity locking her gaze into Octavius’ flickering, iridescent eyes.
He looked more beautiful than ever, though – strangely, Kalina thought, for a vampire – he had aged. His customary military gait had turned into a bearing of haggard exhaustion. This was a vampire who had been through battle. She could see it in the tangle of his hair – once so finely kempt, now a mess of long curls. She could see it in the stubble around his chin. She could see it in the scars that now lined his face – the way he walked to minimize the pain of the wounds festering beneath his clothing. Normal human wounds couldn’t hurt a vampire – whatever Octavius had suffered, it had been in combat against other vampires, Mal’s men. His eyes told the story of suffering: battles upon battles all through Europe, chasing after Mal’s lieutenants and second-in-commands, staking them all: losing his friends, too, to his enemies’ stakes.
Octavius gave Kalina a small smile, imperceptible to Mal but just enough for Kalina to feel his love once more fill her, to feel certain that he had loved her, he had been thinking of her – all those months when it seemed that he had forgotten her completely! He had been fighting for her. The familiar rush of passion that Kalina felt when encountering one of Octavius’ sired vampires – the Greystone brothers – was so much stronger now: the difference, Kalina thought, between a shadow and its subject, an echo and the note itself. It was as if what she had loved in Stuart, Jaegar, and Aaron existed only as a shadow or an echo of what she loved in Octavius himself: the calling of her blood to his.
“Well!” Mal’s cackling broke the spell, and Kalina was forced back into herself, into her fear and her pain. At least, she heard herself thinking, she’d get to see Octavius one more time, whatever had happened… “Have you come back for another beating, my General?” Mal laughed, and gave a deep bow of mock-respect. “I’m honored that you chose me to be the one to kick you into submission. Just like I kicked your friends into submission back at that villa, eh? Imagine that. All your friends – the entire vampire Consortium – killed because of what you’ve done, because you insisted on protecting that naïve, jejune little…”
“Don’t!” Octavius’ voice was grave and calm, but Kalina could feel his passion shaking beneath the surface, like the rumblings of an earthquake. In his eyes she could see the pain she knew he felt – the loss of his closest friends, friends he had known for centuries, to Mal’s stake and fangs. He had not been there to fight with them. He had not been there to die with them. He had been the last man standing, and instead of dying with his comrades – the honorable thing to do – he had instead chosen to run, to find Kalina, to keep her safe. Kalina knew that he would not have undone it, but he felt responsible for his friends’ deaths, and knew that his love for Kalina was the cause.
“I am not here to fight with you,” said Octavius. “No, Mal, my revnge will have to wait for another time.”
“Octavius!”
Leonardo had appeared by now in the garden, dragging Max by her hair. “Another pleasant surprise.” Max was kicking and wailing an unearthly battle-cry, her stiletto heels at last colliding with Leonardo’s shins. He screamed and let her go –just enough time for Max to run to Kalina and push her away from Mal. They stood against the garden wall, staring at the three vampires before them, brandishing their stakes together in a defense they knew was hopeless.
“Don’t move, Leonardo!” Mal commanded. “We’ll deal with the girls in a moment. I want to hear what Octavius has to say. Have you come to make a deal for the girl, boy? Or to beg for her life? I’d love to hear you beg, Octavius – although I wouldn’t be too hopeful if I were you.”
Octavius stiffened. “I have no intention of begging for anything, Malvolio,” he said lightly. Kalina pressed her hand to her mouth, fear quickening her pulse. Octavius was always so brave – so heroic, even now that he was injured, weakened. She wanted to run to him, to put her arms around him and feed him the Life’s Blood she knew would save him, to cut her own wrists open and press the wound between his lips. Only Max’s warning fingers on her shoulder held her back.