Accidentally Married To...a Vampire?

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “But this one was okay? This! You turned me into a vile bloodthirsty vampire. Then you blackmailed me and traded me away to the gods to save your own ass. You betrayed me! Twice!”

  “No! It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. I wanted to keep you human. I only cared about being with you, even if it meant I’d go insane and have to end my life. You were everything to me!” She pounded her fist into the side of her head, her words flowing frantically. “I had Niccolo to keep the order—to keep the Obscuros in check. But when they began taking over, I realized he was gone. The gods demanded I be punished. They demanded I make you into a vampire and hand you over along with my best men.”

  Bastard gods. Andrus recalled Niccolo’s story. It was Cimil who had taken Niccolo out of action for three centuries.

  That meant the gods caused of the outbreak of Obscuros then demanded action from the queen. In the end, the gods got their own race of soldiers—the Demilords. Was that what they were after all along?

  Andrus stood in shock, digesting her words while attempting to sort through centuries of memories tainted by erroneous assumptions. A tiny voice of reason chimed in his head. Reyna was telling the truth.

  Bloody, goddamned hell. It just couldn’t be right. But it was. The gods caused this mess. And…Reyna was in fact his mate.

  Flashes, moments in time, hundreds of them, shuffled through his mind like a revolting slide show. Images of lying in bed at night, feeling Reyna’s light hovering over him. Irrational feelings and thoughts bombarding him for no good reason. That horrid darkness plaguing his heart day after day. His inability to move on and forget her. She’d never left him. That godforsaken black cloud following him was her. Her darkness.

  Andrus tried to take it all in, but it was too much. All this time he figured she’d just thrown him away. That she didn’t love him. In fact, she’d been trying to mask her pain and was going crazy. He felt her insanity, her loneliness and regret. Her hate for the world.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me? We could have found a solution.”

  She stood, her hair wild about her face, and cupped her hand to his cheek. “Like what? By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late. Fate had decided for me, and the gods had spoken. I tried to bargain. I even offered myself, but they said I had to be punished for neglecting my duties and allowing so many Obscuros to roam freely. They decided I would live an eternity knowing my mate was somewhere in the world—also immortal—paying for my sins and far from my reach.”

  “Three hundred years, Reyna. You could have told me.”

  “No. There was to be no contact. If I broke my word, the gods would punish you somehow.” She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around his legs. “Forgive me, Andrus. I tried! I did. The only concession they gave was to allow me to keep my best soldiers to fight the Obscuros.”

  Reyna mumbled on and on about how she’d offered up their decedents. Unbeknownst to everyone, she had made it a habit to track her best warriors’ bloodlines. Eventually, she would turn the cream of the crop into vampires. That was how she first spotted Andrus.

  “I don’t understand.” Andrus’ brows pulled together.

  “Andrus, you and the other Demilords are all decedents of my best warriors. Like the others, I’d been watching you since you were a boy. You are from Niccolo’s bloodline. There are dozens of his ancestors in my ranks.”

  Andrus felt like he’d been hit upside his head. Niccolo was his great-great—okay, he didn’t know how many greats, but that…vampire was family? And his men were related to other vampires who worked for the queen? Andrus felt sick. Reyna thought of these bloodlines as her own private breeding stock of warriors. Did her men know she’d been plucking out males from their families and turning them into vampires without consideration for the lives she was stealing away? Reyna truly had no heart.

  Andrus gazed into her eyes and realized the truth. Some part of him did still love her. Yes, it made no sense. Yes, it was pathetic and twisted. But…it was what it was.

  Maybe he’d known all along she was his mate. It would explain why time couldn’t mend his broken heart and why she occupied his thoughts constantly—except when Helena was near. That was his attraction to Helena; she gave him peace, even if for only short moments. And as badly as he might hope to someday truly love again, it wasn’t in the cards for him. Reyna had been his destiny, and it was time to end the suffering. His and hers. He and Reyna were not meant to be a fairytale. They were not destined for happily-ever-after. But he could still save Helena from the queen and hope time would heal her broken heart after Niccolo turned to ash. Helena might have the chance he never got.

  Andrus looked down into Reyna’s icy green eyes. “I understand now.” He leaned down, kissed her lips, and slid his hand from her waist to her hip. He was about to go for the knife strapped to her outer thigh, when—

  “Nice try.” She slipped the dagger from its sheath and held it out in her hand. “Looking for this?”

  Andrus tried to swipe it from her hands. Reyna lost her grip. The knife fell to the floor.

  “Reeeyna!” A deep voice suddenly howled with rage from the corner of the room.

  Niccolo.

  His eyes flew to Helena who was still on the floor struggling to breathe. “Why is she here? Who did this to her?” He then looked to Andrus, bare in the middle of the room, pointing at Reyna as the culpable party. “I’ll fucking kill you,” Niccolo said to Reyna. “Nobody touches my mate.”

  Reyna took a few steps back and smiled. “Well, what can I say? I had planned to kill her so you might work for me again. But, what the hey, since you’re here.”

  She pulled a long, razor sharp machete from her thigh-high boot. “Welcome to my party. Who’s up for a round of piñata?”

  ***

  Helena fought to suck the air into her lungs and push it out again through her scorching throat. The pain was excruciating.

  In the back of her mind, she could hear the conversation between Andrus and Reyna, and for a moment, she believed things might end joyously for the two. In a dysfunctional, warped kind of way. Clearly, there was a valuable lesson to be learned in all this: couples, no matter what species, should have open communication. Honesty was the key to happiness. Yes. She felt the makings of a good self-help book in all this. She could gear it towards immortals and put her academic background to use.

  But Andrus turned on Reyna, and the two were suddenly at it again. Helena felt another book opportunity: The Art of Letting Go of the Past, for Immortals.

  Then, her knight in shining armor, Niccolo, appeared in the room. She’d thought her vampire would sift her away to safety and that she’d finally get to tell him the truth about what had happened with Viktor. But hope was short lived when Niccolo announced his intention to kill Reyna.

  “I vote you and I kill Reyna together. I was about to do so myself,” Andrus suggested to Niccolo.

  Niccolo pointed one of his two gleaming swords at Andrus. “Stay where you are. I handed you over to Reyna, hoping she’d kill you. So I’m pretty damned sure you and I are not on the same team.”

  “Got me there,” Andrus replied with a grin.

  Helena senses heightened to a level she’d never imagined possible while she watched the three facing off. She inched across the floor, scooting several feet to the knife. She didn’t know what she’d do with it, nevertheless having a weapon seemed like a good idea.

  “How about I kill you?” Reyna pointed to Andrus. “Then you.” She pointed to Niccolo. “And that little blond slut last.”

  Had the queen just called her a slut? That was like calling a Twinkie “a healthy snack.” Or, like calling Cimil “well balanced.” It wasn’t even in the ballpark.

  “At least I’m not a psycho immortal spinster,” Helena retorted with a low, gravely voice, purposefully bating the queen to pull her attention away from Niccolo.

  Reyna’s eyes flared. “You die first!” She jumped at Helena.

  Andrus was on Reyna�
�s back in the blink of an eye.

  Reyna turned, machete in hand, but Andrus hung on. If it weren’t a life and death battle, the scene of a naked Andrus clinging to the queen’s back like a rabid monkey might actually be funny.

  The queen swiveled on her heels, back and forth, trying to shake Andrus off. She moved so fast, Niccolo had no choice but to stand back. Andrus suddenly lost his grip and tumbled to the floor. Reyna turned, but instead of going for Andrus, she lunged at Niccolo. He side-stepped her and she flew past him, skidding across the floor.

  A look of unrelenting rage in his eyes, he raised his sword.

  Time stood still.

  Helena watched the blade barreling down like a hammer hell bent on slicing the world in two. How Helena did it was a mystery, but she moved herself between the blade and Reyna, hoping to stop the queen’s death. Without Reyna, there was no Niccolo. There was no world. This was it.

  ***

  Horror overtook Niccolo as he stared down at Helena’s wide blue eyes, her body draped over Reyna like a shield. His sword had plunged straight into Helena’s abdomen. Blood poured from the gaping wound.

  “No! Helena!” He slid her off Reyna. His entire world shifted on its axis.

  Niccolo had lived an obscenely long time, and he’d made his fair share of miscalculations. Regret was no stranger to this immortal. But if he gathered up every moment of remorse, sadness, anger, and pain, and then condensed them into one, it would only represent a fraction of the despair that struck him down at this very moment.

  Nothing in the past, present, or future would ever matter as much as this very moment, for if she died…he’d destroy the entire fucking world, down to the last blade of grass with his own two hands to take his revenge on fate.

  This. Isn’t. Meant. To. Be.

  Blood flowed like an unstoppable river over his lap, forming a crawling puddle on the floor. She could not survive such a wound. And if he tried to turn her now, his blood would simply run right out of her.

  But he could not stop himself from hoping, trying. “Please, Helena. Drink.”

  She pushed his hand away. “You’re too late,” she whispered.

  “No! Helena! Drink!” he refused to let her give up.

  Again, she shoved his dripping wrist away.

  “Why?” He felt his soul sinking into an abyss, into hell. “Why did you do it?”

  Her hand trembling, she managed to raise her arm and stroke the side of his face. “To save you. Why else? If you kill her, you die. Everyone dies.” Her sky blue eyes were filled with such love. And pain.

  “I don’t care about everyone! You are all that matters,” he bellowed.

  Helena smiled gently. “That’s very sweet, Vampire. I love you.”

  Her eyes slowly closed. Niccolo heard her heart rate slow to an almost undetectable murmur.

  No! He had to save her. There was still time.

  He could stitch her wound and fill her full of his own blood. He scooped her in his arms and lifted her. His mind flipped through every memory of every hospital he’d ever been to. He was about to sift when he suddenly noticed the room was silent. Too silent.

  “Cristo. No!” He’d been so wrapped up in Helena, he hadn’t noticed that his sword had run through his beloved right into the queen’s heart. His sword was forged with a silver alloy, especially designed to kill vampires. A direct hit to the heart was just as fatal as decapitation.

  Reyna. Was. Dead.

  No! No! No!

  But there was no denying it; her eyes were as cloudy as a week old fish, and her body was disintegrating.

  “Gods no!”

  He could care less about Reyna, but how would he save his woman? His body now felt like he’d been submerged in hot liquid metal. Reyna’s blood—the blood flowing through his veins which had kept him immortal all these years—was withering away. In a matter of moments, all that he was would be no more.

  Helena…

  Clutching his beloved like a cherished broken doll, his knees buckled. “I love you, Helena. Love you like no other man has ever loved a woman in the history of the world.” He brushed the tendrils of her honey locks from her forehead. “I know a part of you still hears me, and you must know that you’ve meant everything to me. You are the light I’ve been deprived of for thirteen centuries. Do you hear me, woman? I love you!”

  With those solemn words of desperation, he realized her heartbeat was gone. He never knew so much pain could be possible for one being to bear. What had he done to deserve this? Wasn’t it enough that he’d had his human life, a life filled with love for his brothers and family, ripped away? Wasn’t it enough that despite his loss, he hadn’t crumbled? That instead, he’d chosen to dedicate his existence to protecting the innocent and killing Obscuros? He’d asked for very little in return: his freedom, which he no longer cared about, and now, for his mate to live.

  Despair filled every crevice of his soul as he sat on his haunches, paralyzed while Helena died in his arms and his own life slipped slowly from his body, preventing him from saving her. “I will find you in another life, my love. I will always find you. We are meant to be together…forever.”

  A small chuckle came from Andrus who was curled up on the floor writhing in pain. Niccolo had almost forgotten about him. Black splotches covered Andrus’ body. The spots were turning to gaping holes, some the size of grapefruit. He groaned as the holes seemed to be filling in with new pink flesh. The vampire blood in his body was dying, and the light of the gods was repairing him. Andrus’ gamble had paid off.

  “I’m finally free,” he laughed quietly, his eyes empty.

  Niccolo gathered up his strength and walked slowly to the bed with Helena cradled in his arms. He laid her down on the soft velvet comforter before taking his place beside her. The last memory he wanted was of sweet, beautiful Helena.

  He stroked the loose strands of hair from Helena’s face. She was so beautiful. He couldn’t have imagined ever loving anyone so much. But he had. He still did. And he was grateful for it. He was grateful for every moment they’d had together.

  I will find you in the next life, my love. This I vow.

  He looked at his hand. The flesh melted away, leaving giant holes filled with ash. He gripped Helena with his last ounce of strength, hoping their souls might travel together to the next place, wherever that was.

  “I love you, my bride.”

  Too overcome with pain as the queen’s blood died inside him, his body gave out.

  Chapter 22

  “Bravo! People. Well done! That was fabulous!”

  Gripping Viktor by the arm, Cimil appeared at the side of the bed and began clapping and jumping as if she’d just won a shiny new car. “I can’t remember how long it’s been since we’ve seen such a fab show! This was drama-tastic! Better than Romeo and Juliet. Better than The Sound of Music, South Park, Trueblood, Dexter, My Little Pony, and Shrek put together!”

  “Cimil, shut it!” Viktor barked. “You’re a sick, sick goddess, and I sincerely wonder why the gods haven’t locked you away yet.”

  Cimil’s bright red lips puckered into an exaggerated pout. “I’m wounded, Malibu Beach Vampire. I thought we had something special, you and I. But now I feel like a razor head, toothpick, dental floss, Q-tip, gallon of gas, paper plate, plastic fork, space shuttle, baby seal soul, cruise ship, Swarovski crystal, and Faberge egg.”

  “Huh?” Viktor’s face twisted.

  “Yunno. Things you use once and throw away. Did someone forget his vampy oatmeal this AM? Jeeeez,” she spouted.

  Viktor snarled. “Yeah. Whatever. And for the record, you made me sleep with you. Blackmail-sex does not constitute ‘something special.’”

  Cimil coyly chewed her index finger and shrugged. “Well, you wanted to find out who the blonde wench from your dreams was and why she haunts you. I saw an opportunity to get a taste of that manly body of yours. What can I say? I’m an opportunist—or…a total whore. Gods, it totally rocks to be me!”

 
; Viktor shook his head and stared down Niccolo and Helena. “Are you going to help me move them or not?”

  Cimil sighed. “I suppose. Do you think Niccolo will ever forgive you for turning Helena into a vampire?”

  Viktor growled. “You told me he would because I saved her. Since Reyna wasn’t my maker, Helena will live on. Do you think he’ll ever forgive you for turning him into a Demilord before you put him to sleep in your piggy bank?”

  She shrugged. “Oooh. I hope not. I love conflict—World War Numero Dos…fucking awesome! Can’t wait for number three! BTW—I wonder if we can come up with any new twists for these two lovers. Oh! How about Immortal Survivor? We can put them on an island with only each other for food. See who holds out longest?”

  Viktor growled. “Don’t even think about it, you crazy shrew. They’ve been through enough.” Viktor scooped up Niccolo’s limp body which was already healing.

  Cimil shrugged and picked up Helena whose wounds were also now closing.

  “I guess we’ll come back for the other one,” Viktor commented as he glared at Andrus unconscious on the floor.

  Cimil narrowed her eyes. “That one is gonna need a little therapy after his ride on the crazy-Reyna bus. I’ll have to take him back to my realm and see if that puts him right.”

  Viktor cocked his head. “You can take other beings back to your world?”

  Cimil looked confused. “Nope. Private club. Gods and demigods only.”

  The realization hit Viktor. He looked down at Niccolo. “You mean, now that their vampire blood is dead…?”

  Cimil nodded. “I know! It’s fabulous, right? I love when we get new members!”

  ***

  Helena’s awareness of her own thoughts washed over her like an unrelenting fog. In the distance, birds chirped and a gentle breeze wafted through the treetops, penetrating the sanctuary of her deep slumber. The air was thick and warm like a soft, soothing blanket.