BloodBorn

by Linda Jones Linda Howard

  “It gives us another exit if we need one,” Luca said. “That makes three: the foyer entrance, and a separate entrance in each bedroom. Always give yourself more than one way to get out, if you can.”

  Oh, good. She was thinking like a woman, everything was all about emotion, and he was thinking like a man, planning escape routes. Some things never changed even when the species were different.

  She started to ask Luca if he was hungry, but caught herself in time. She herself was starving, so she ordered a meal for “Sue Smith” from room service and began to unpack as she waited for the food to be delivered.

  While she unpacked, she stewed, nervously rearranging the drawers. She put Luca’s clothes away, too. Her thoughts were random and quick, flitting from one thing to another. Luca. Vampires. Warriors. Ordinary concerns, such as work. Shaving her legs. She should be living her life like a normal person with normal worries.

  She was so hungry that when the doorbell rang in the foyer, she rushed to answer it. A dignified middle-aged man in a uniform pushed a rolling cart into the oval living room. The aroma of the burger was tantalizing; there was nothing like comfort food when one’s world was falling apart. If she couldn’t have her mother’s meat loaf and mashed potatoes, a cheeseburger and fries were the next best thing.

  Luca sat on the sofa, still and contemplative. No one did still like a vampire. The room service guy nodded to them both, then politely asked if he’d gotten the order correct. The meal was for one, with a single plate and one glass of water. Luca smiled. “Yes, that’s right.”

  She signed the bill, added an extra tip even though the surcharge was outrageous, and handed over the leatherette folder. The delivery guy nodded, thanked her, and headed for the foyer, where he turned, thanked her again, and then said, “Sir, I didn’t see you there. Is the order correct? It’s for one, but I can bring another plate and a glass of water, if you’d like to share.”

  Chloe froze.

  “The order’s correct,” Luca said, smiling politely. “Thank you.”

  The room service waiter exited and they listened to the foyer door close behind him. Chloe turned to the calm vampire sitting on the sofa as if there was nothing at all wrong in the world. She stared at him for a moment, her mind racing. Then she said, “He didn’t remember you.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Neither did the man in the elevator, or the desk clerk. Or Valerie! I thought it was a glamouring thing you did to her, but it wasn’t, was it?”

  “No.”

  For a moment, she forgot that she was hungry. A chill swept over her as she thought of other things, the stunned look on his face when she’d called him by name, the careful, almost alarmed way he’d acted. “No one remembers you,” she whispered.

  “No. No one but you.”

  She swallowed. “Why do I remember you? Is it because I’m a conduit?”

  He looked at her, an unreadable expression in his piercing gray eyes. “I don’t know. No other conduit has remembered me, not that I’ve met many of them—that I know of, anyway.”

  She got the feeling Luca wasn’t accustomed to encountering anything he didn’t understand, not because she could read anything on his face, but because she felt what was inside him.

  Chloe then turned her attention to something she could understand: hunger. She sat at the wheeled-in table and took a few bites, swabbing her fries in ketchup, aware that Luca watched her closely. Maybe the ketchup got to him, reminded him too much of blood, but abruptly he stood. “I have something to do in the bedroom. Don’t disturb me.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked. Sleep? Unlikely. Masturbate? Even more unlikely, not after the night—day … whatever—they’d shared. Not when she was right here, handy and frighteningly willing. “Some gross vampire thing I don’t want to know anything about, I suppose,” she guessed, trying to sound nonchalant even though she felt anything but, then she couldn’t stop herself from smiling at him.

  “I’m going to put myself in a meditative state so I can locate Sorin.”

  Chloe almost choked on her most recent bite of burger. Forget nonchalant. “Locate him? I thought we were hiding from the psycho!”

  Luca smiled gently. “Either we find them, or they’ll find us. I’ve never been the type to sit around waiting for anything to come to me. I want the advantage of surprise.”

  “Great,” Chloe said as she took another bite of what very well might be her last cheeseburger; at least it was a good one. Come to think of it, she’d be perfectly happy to hide here for a while, if the alternative was hunting vampires. Forget her job; she was willing to be jobless and live in this beautiful suite with its oval living room. She’d never been in a physical fight in her life; in school she’d always been the peacemaker, the one who tried to mediate the inevitable squabbles that erupted between her friends. She wasn’t a coward, she didn’t think, but she was definitely out of her element. All that aside, she knew without a single doubt that if Luca was going to rush into battle, she’d be rushing right along with him … the jerk.

  Instead of immediately returning to D.C. as he should’ve, Sorin found a room in New York and holed up for the rest of the day. He was tired, and he liked the city; in an odd way he fit in here. He’d been born a farmer’s son, had lived most of his human life inside one or two square miles, as most of his contemporaries had. And still, he felt as if he’d been born to a place like this. Though reading energies wasn’t one of his gifts, even he could feel the energy of this city; even he could get lost here.

  He needed to get lost for a while. He needed time to think.

  By not killing Phillip Stargel, he’d basically committed treason, though committing treason against a traitor was a convoluted idea. Jonas wasn’t psychic, he wouldn’t know exactly what had happened, but he’d realize Stargel was still alive, and active. If Jonas reported the truth to Regina, if Sorin told her the job was done and Jonas contradicted him, she’d gladly take his head—or try. No, she wouldn’t do it herself, she’d simply set three or more vampires on him, and not even he could win against those kind of odds unless he were very, very lucky and they were very, very bad fighters.

  Then again, Jonas had no reason to go out of his way to volunteer information. The way Regina had treated him, why should he? Instead of making Jonas a part of the higher order, she’d used and abused him, she’d treated him no better than the humans she kept prisoner.

  At the end of a long day spent in a hotel room in Manhattan, sleeping some and thinking too damn much, Sorin decided he didn’t regret his decision to allow the conduit to live. He’d never thought that the human race was without value—after all, he’d once been human himself, and vampires couldn’t live without humans to feed off of. Nor had he ever really wanted to make slaves of them all, though when one of them pissed him off he’d think fondly of it, for a while. At the end of the day, he simply wanted to be a part of that life again, to be accepted for who and what he was. The constant hiding, changing his name and location on a regular basis, keeping the secret of his existence … that was what he wanted to leave behind.

  As night fell, he became restless, and the thought surfaced that humans had their uses, beyond providing food.

  He walked around until he found a busy nightclub, where the line waiting to get in snaked down the block. Sorin walked to the front of the line, glamoured his way past the waiting throng and into the exclusive club filled with beautiful women, loud music, men trying to get laid, and copious amounts of alcohol. He couldn’t lose himself in drink, but he did sometimes like the taste of a good whiskey and the memory it stirred.

  He walked up to the crowded bar and patrons instinctively parted, moving smoothly out of his way. He ordered a Scotch whiskey, and as the bartender placed it before him a pretty brunette—a human who apparently did not have the protective instincts of the others around him—sidled up close to him. He looked into her dark brown eyes and she flinched a little as something inside her instinctively notice
d the monster inside him. She didn’t walk away; she should have, but she didn’t.

  She wasn’t drunk; she’d come here for another reason entirely.

  “I haven’t seen you here before,” she said.

  “I haven’t been here before.”

  Her smile was practiced, a little strained. “That would explain it.”

  Sorin took a sip of his whiskey. Normally he preferred vampire lovers to humans; the emotional component could be messy, and so many humans reminded him of children, they were so inexperienced and ignorant. But this one was looking for sex, nothing more, and tonight he could use the comfort of sex and nothing more.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Ryan.” He couldn’t be honest with her, the way he’d been honest with Phillip Stargel. Besides, Ryan was the name on his fake driver’s license and very real credit card.

  “Ryan what?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No,” she said honestly. “I’m Janie,” she said, offering her hand.

  It didn’t make much sense to him to shake a woman’s hand. He took the offered hand, lifted it slowly, kissed the knuckles and allowed his lips to linger there. She shivered, and he heard her heartbeat pick up. She liked that. Modern human men were idiots, the way they treated women. They didn’t know how to seduce, but then the women let them get away with expecting sex for the cost of a dinner, so there was blame to share. He could screw her in the men’s room or in the alley behind this place, but where was the challenge in that? The satisfaction would be short-lived, and he needed more, especially tonight.

  He bought her a drink, and finished his own. She wanted to dance, but he made it clear that he didn’t dance. Not like this, anyway. He could waltz, he could tango, he could even jitterbug, and he was an expert at dances Janie and those like her had never heard of, but he did not gyrate in public as if he’d lost all motor control.

  He turned to her, looked into her eyes again. Enough of the games. He didn’t glamour women in order to get sex; that had never been necessary, and besides, where was the fun in seduction when free will was taken away? “I have a room in a hotel down the street.”

  Janie tried to look shy and uncertain, but it was too late for that. He could see through her too easily. “I hardly know you,” she said, but he could hear the echo of pain behind her smile. She was lonely; maybe she’d had her heart broken and was looking for vengeance, or maybe she simply needed not to be alone tonight, the way he needed not to be alone.

  She deserved some care, but he didn’t have the time or the patience to play nice. “If you want to fuck me, follow. If not, I’ll find someone else.” With that Sorin turned away and headed for the door. Again, humans parted to make way for him, even though the room was packed and it wasn’t easy to create that path. As he reached the exit he turned. Janie was right behind him, her little purse tucked under her arm.

  Why hadn’t he felt it before? Sitting on the floor in the bedroom, intensely aware that Chloe was in the next room, Luca reached beyond the walls, searching for Sorin’s energy. Meditation, and the powers it gave, was something he’d picked up over the centuries. He didn’t sense Sorin’s closeness at the moment, but he quickly discovered his lingering essence, and more.

  Excitement. Violence. Numbers. Blood. Anger. Magic. All of this was gathered in one place, a place of rebellion and savage hope.

  The site of this power had a heartbeat, a life of its own. Once he left the hotel he’d have no problem finding it. He’d be drawn there, not only to Sorin but to the unusual power of so many of his kind in one place, in one state of mind. Extraordinary, he thought. He should’ve sensed it before now. The sheer force of it should’ve knocked him over as he’d stepped off the plane, or as he’d reached for Hector’s essence.

  But it hadn’t. So why was he feeling it now? What had changed? The energy had been there, it was something about himself that had changed. As he brought himself out of the meditative state, Luca had a disturbing thought: Had his bonding with Chloe made him stronger? He’d been worried it would weaken him, divert his energy, splinter his attention, but why else would this particular meditation be so much more productive than previous meditations? What could a human like Chloe offer him, beyond sex and blood?

  “Life’s force,” a woman’s throaty voice responded.

  Luca rose with powerful grace and turned to see a misty figure that was taking shape near the closed door to the parlor. It was a woman with a long blond braid, a leather shift, bare feet, and a long sword. He knew instinctively who she was: Chloe’s Warrior.

  “Why are you here?” Luca asked.

  “I belong here. You do not. I have come to lay claim to my conduit.”

  “And you are?”

  “Indikaiya.” She gave him a small, mocking bow. “I must come through to your world. Your presence is interfering, vampire.”

  “Find another conduit,” he said sharply.

  “There is no time.” The image of Indikaiya shimmered, but didn’t disappear. “She is the strongest of my descendants, she has the power to hear me.”

  “You’ve endangered her.”

  “All of the conduits are in danger. Many of them have died. Do you think we’ll let this go unavenged, vampire?”

  He wondered if it would be a waste of time to try to reason with the primitive Warrior. Maybe, maybe not. Warriors and a few vampires had, on the rare occasion, fought side by side. “Not every vampire is a part of the revolution you’re trying to stop. There are some among us who want to keep things as they are.”

  “Why? What vampire would not welcome more power?”

  “One who believes that the human race should be preserved.”

  Even though she was shimmering and incomplete, Indikaiya’s skepticism was clear. “Preserved as food supply?”

  “And more. I shouldn’t have to explain to you why humans are worth saving, even if they are fragile and short-lived and often their own worst enemies.”

  She regarded him thoughtfully. “If that’s the case, you could help me,” the warrior said. “Add your strength to Chloe’s, tell her what to expect, what to do. Guide her. Tell her to call my name. She’s fighting me; she doesn’t listen, she tries to explain me away. You may not tell her my name, but you can help her in other ways.”

  “She doesn’t understand, and she’s scared.”

  “She doesn’t have to understand,” Indikaiya said softly. “She only has to open everything she is to me, surrender her power to open a portal, and call.”

  “Humans don’t surrender to anything easily,” Luca explained. “They protect themselves. These days they don’t believe in anything they can’t see and touch. It must be more difficult for the warriors to come into the world now, when no one believes in you anymore. When were you last here, by the way?”

  “I was last called in 1777, though others have been here since that time.”

  “Ahhh. How many wars have you fought in?”

  “More than I care to count.”

  And yet she continued to come back, again and again, to fight and perhaps to die over and over in the name of humanity. He’d never had the opportunity before to really talk with a warrior—the ones he’d met had always been in the height of battle, when conversation wasn’t possible—so he was oddly reluctant to let her go. “Does it ever end or is this all you will ever know?”

  Her expression was answer enough. She was determined … sad … but ceaselessly vigilant.

  Indikaiya lived beyond this world, but she realized what was happening here. She likely knew more than he did. Of all the questions he might ask her, why hadn’t he thought of the most important one first? “Do you know why Chloe remembers me?”

  “I do.”

  Luca waited for the answer, but it didn’t come.

  “But I won’t tell you.” Was that a smile? “Not unless you help to bring me through. I promise to tell you before I take your head.”

  Luca tsked and shook his threatened hea
d. “You seriously lack people skills, Indikaiya.”

  “You’re not people, Luca Ambrus.”

  She had him there. “No, I’m not,” he admitted. “But Chloe is bonded to me, so you know I’ll do everything I can to keep her safe. We’re on the same side, Indikaiya. Remember that.”

  Indikaiya gave him a haughty look, the perfect picture of a warrior princess, then she faded from the room. Luca stood there, feeling the remnants of energy brush along his skin. That was a wild woman; despite the fact that she knew he was protecting Chloe, he still wouldn’t trust her not to take his head the first time she saw him, which brought up a dilemma, for certain.

  He left the bedroom and went to the living room, where Chloe had fallen asleep on the sofa, her head on a pillow, her feet drawn up. As he entered she woke and sat up quickly, pushing her hair back and blinking several times.

  “What a dream,” she said as she stood. She looked tired. “I’d hoped they would go away, that the bonding did something because I didn’t have any dreams last night, but I guess not.” She gave him a wry smile. “Though I didn’t sleep enough to have any dreams, so that might have had something to do with it. Anyway. I dreamed you and the Warrior were talking, and it was a woman! That explains the braid, anyway. Indi … Indi … Okay, just Indie, I guess. I didn’t understand the rest of the name.”

  “How do you know it was just a dream?” Luca asked.

  Chloe shrugged her shoulders. “Because I was asleep. Duh. But it felt different from the others, as if I were watching from a distance, not participating. And for once I wasn’t scared half to death. It all seemed very … normal. Had to be a dream.”

  Luca stared at her, an idea so far-fetched that it jolted him to the bone beginning to form. The situation had changed, far more than he’d imagined. He’d bonded with Chloe, a conduit in the process of bringing a Warrior through from the other world. He didn’t know if such a thing had ever happened before. The three of them were inextricably joined, a triad of power. An Immortal Warrior, a vampire-wizard, a chosen human. Shit. Indikaiya was no longer Chloe’s Warrior, she was theirs.