The Beacon (The Original's Trilogy Book 1)

by Cara Crescent

  “Lou!”

  Footsteps pounded the ground behind him. He paused long enough to ensure they belonged to his team then ran into the bloodmobile: Empty. The Sentries had left the place a mess. All Lou's neat stacks of papers were scattered everywhere. One of the coolers hung open on busted hinges. They'd ripped her clothing from one of the overhead compartments, leaving them strewn around.

  Ghost and Shadow crowded the doorway.

  “They took her hostage; we can get her back.” He gasped for breath, his gaze scanning over the mess they'd left behind, looking for a lead, a clue as to where they'd gone. “They took her host—” The knife he'd given her, the Guardian pendant she always wore, both lay in a small pile of sooty ash.

  Ah, God. They’d killed her. He swore. Punched the coolers lining the wall to his left until his hand went numb.

  “Shit.” Ghost walked up the three steps and dropped onto the patient chair, his gaze locked onto the ash-coated floor.

  Shadow came inside, too, his expression taut.

  Walker came in last, out of breath. “I don't know where the hell they went, but there's no sign of them.”

  “They were Sentries.”

  Ghost snorted. “No way—”

  James cut Ghost off. “She called me.” He picked up the phone from where it still sat on the counter, still with the line open. He ended the call. “She said they had Sentry tattoos.”

  All the Council's Sentries had a web-like tattoo on their necks. Even if they'd worn a collared shirt, the tattoo would've been visible.

  His gaze shot to Walker. “Where have you been? She said you missed your appointment yesterday.”

  Walker squared his shoulders. “I’ve had a couple guys following me. Didn’t want to lead them here. I lost them about an hour ago.”

  “Do you know who?”

  Walker shook his head, then jerked his chin at Lou’s remains. “I’d wager it was probably the same guys. Maybe when they realized I wasn’t going to be an easy target . . . .”

  “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.” James motioned to the ash. “Maybe we should . . . .” His throat tightened and he looked away. Damn it. “I don't want to leave her here.” No, she wouldn't want to be alone. “Any of you got something we can . . .?”

  Shadow leaned down and began scraping up her ash with a piece of paper into an unused blood bag. “You know, Lou, I finally thought of a joke for you. Isn't it funny, I never did come up with one, and now, when you can't hear it, when I can't hear you laugh, now I think of a decent joke?” He scooped the ash into the bag. “I'll save it for you, for when we meet someday in the Eidolon Wastes.”

  Ghost cleared his throat. “I don't understand. We work for the Council. Why would they do this?”

  James explained what had been going on with Crowley. “He’s had the opportunity to snatch Lilith when she’s gone out by herself. I don’t understand why he’s so bent on my bringing her to him.”

  Ghost folded his arms over his chest. “Almost sounds as if he’s scared of her. Maybe he thinks she’ll be more cooperative if you bring her to him.”

  He’d never considered that. Could be possible.

  “Maybe we'd better stick together for a bit,” Walker said. “You know, 'til we figure out what the fuck is going on.”

  James nodded. “I'm headed home. Why don’t you guys come with me?” He pointed to the computer. “Grab the laptop, her phone, anything that might have information on us.” He bent down and picked up Lou's blade and necklace.

  Shadow blocked James' path. “You look guilty as hell. Why?”

  “I told Lou I'd keep her safe; of course I look guilty.”

  Shadow backed away and let him pass. “So we're . . . what . . . rogue now?”

  James shook his head. “We're not, but the Council will put out the word we are. We'll have to watch for Sentries and other Guardians.”

  Several curses flew from their mouths. Goddamn it, they were young. The oldest had only been on his team about fifty years. They'd never been through a daemon conflict. They didn't have the experience to deal with this shit. “Come on.”

  They trailed after him, up over the bank, through a dense stand of trees to Haven House's yard. All the lights in the house were on, Trina's car was parked out front. Jesus, he wasn't certain Lilith would take him back, much less allow his team into her house. He led the way up the steps.

  “Uh, dude, there are humans in there. The door shield . . . .”

  James nodded. “You're all to be on your best behavior. If they let us in, we'll be safe for the night. We'll have time to make plans. If not, I have a bolt hole in Seattle.”

  Instead of walking inside, he knocked.

  Trina answered the door. “Oh, hey, James. She's—” She trailed off as her gaze found the other daemons sanding behind him. She turned and shouted, “Lilith!”

  When Lilith arrived, she folded her arms over her chest, not even glancing at the other males. “Where have you been? I've been trying to—”

  “You kicked me out.”

  Her gaze softened. “I needed time to think.” She reached out to touch him and finally glanced at his team. “I take it they need sanctuary?”

  He nodded, unable to look at her. What must she think? He hadn't even apologized yet and here he stood, needing a favor.

  Her gaze shifted to his team. “What do I call you?”

  “Walker, ma'am.”

  “Walker you are welcome into this house as long as you wish us no harm.”

  “Thank you, ma'am.” Walker stepped past them and went inside.

  “Call me Lilith, please.”

  James met her gaze. So she did know the appropriate way to invite a vampire into her home. And yet, she'd given him free reign over any home she lived in, no matter his intent.

  She repeated the process with Ghost and Shadow, before turning to Trina. “Can you get them settled? It looks like they've had a long night.”

  Lilith turned to James. “Come with me.”

  “Lil, I wanted—”

  “Not here.” She reached for his hand. “Come on.”

  He took her hand, letting her lead him up the stairs, past the commiserating glances of his team, past Trina bringing blankets down to the guys.

  Lilith led him into her room, her territory, and closed the door. “I can't sleep in there.” She nodded toward his room. “Not until the memory of what happened with Nan wears off a bit.”

  “Thank you for letting my team in.” It took everything he had to speak past the knot in his throat. He sucked in a deep breath and turned away, blinking hard to remove the burning in his eyes.

  She put her arms around him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You look wrecked.” She rubbed her cheek against his back. “Like you need a hug.”

  Christ, she must still be furious with him, and yet she offered comfort? “I failed to keep a woman under my protection safe tonight.” He expected her to push away from him, but she hugged him tighter. “Doesn't that worry you? It's not the first time. Maybe the Watchers picked me to protect you because they knew I'd fail.”

  Finally, her arms fell away. He deserved her scorn, but he still felt a pang at the loss of her warmth.

  She walked around to face him, cupped his cheeks in her hands. “Or maybe they picked you because they knew you needed a success to bolster you.”

  Tears threatened, a weakness he'd never allowed himself and he'd be damned if he started now. He tried to turn away, but she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him with the same seamlessness of starlight on night.

  He hauled her up, burying his face in her hair to hide his shame.

  “Who was she?”

  “One of my team. We worked together for over a century.” He sniffed and pulled away, a shudder running through him. “You would've liked Lou. She always called me these ridiculous nicknames and made me tell her a joke every time I saw her.”

  “Ah, so she kept you from becoming too serio
us.”

  He nodded.

  “She sounds lovely.”

  “I told her I'd protect her.”

  Lilith searched his face, using a thumb to wipe away a tear. “From what?”

  He swallowed. “Julius Crowley threatened to ash my team if I didn’t hand you over to him.”

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “I thought I still had time. He said forty-eight hours. I didn't expect an attack so soon. I didn't expect one from the Council. Jesus, I thought we were on the same side.”

  “What does Crowley want from me?”

  He shook his head. “I don't know. He wants you. I'm sure it's because you're different.” He opened his arms in a helpless gesture. “Everyone seems to want you—Crowley, the Watchers, the coven, Nan, the dybbuk, the lycan, those vampires who tried to nab you off the street, but no one's saying why. It's weird, though, with Crowley. He acted like he expected me to bring you to him. To get you to agree to whatever it is he wants. One of the guys thinks he's afraid of you and I’m starting to agree.”

  “Why didn't you tell me about him?”

  “I never planned to help him.” He paced the length of the room. “I didn't want to scare you. I wanted to figure everything out on my own so you'd never have to worry. Then, he threatened to come get you himself and I thought, no way. He could've done that before and he hasn't. I don't know what changed.”

  “So something prompted him. Maybe the fact that you bit me?”

  “Maybe. You didn't exactly transform as expected and he knows things.” He dragged his hand over his head. “He’s a fucking mesmerist, but he acts like a seer. He knows things that have happened in this house, things he has no right to know.”

  “And the other thing he said?”

  “That I killed you?”

  She nodded.

  He forced himself to hold her gaze. “I did. When I was a human, I killed you.”

  ***

  Lilith searched his face. “Why?”

  “You were a witch.” He shrugged. “I was a Templar. It was during the Crusades. I've always been a bit of a bastard. Take your pick.”

  He seemed to want her anger. The guilt from what happened tonight, from whatever he carried around from the past must be eating him alive. But she refused to accommodate him. “Tell me about your human life. All of it. From the beginning.”

  For the space of a breath, something crossed in his face. Fear? Anxiety? Then it passed, the emotion shuttered behind a stoic mask.

  She became a little nervous herself, knowing her reaction to his past would be important. If he let her all the way in, she couldn't let him down. “I want to know you. All of you.” She sat down and patted the bed next to her.

  He closed his eyes and sighed, but he sat next to her. “My best guess is I was born in eleven forty-six. No one kept track back then, especially not for the bastard son of an Italian noble. My mother was a working woman, and, like I said, she died in childbirth. They told me, she called out the name Samael right before she died. They thought she wanted to name me after a demon.”

  She stroked his chest, hoping to soothe him with her touch. “He's the angel of death. Perhaps she called out in greeting to him.”

  “Maybe. My father hated it. He named me after the apostle, James the Elder. I lived with his soldiers and grew up learning to fight—swords, archery, hand-to-hand combat—whatever they'd teach me.”

  “Now that I can picture.” She smiled. “You look like you belong in medieval times, wearing a sword nearly as big as you. What about the rest of your family?”

  “Two half-brothers, one older, one younger.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I never knew them. They lived with our father and, like I said, I lived in the barracks. Then, in my teens, an epidemic of cholera spread through Pisa. So many people died. Bodies lined the streets. You can't imagine death on that scale.”

  His gaze met hers, and she shook her head. “No, I don't think I could. The illness affected your family?”

  He nodded. “My older half-brother died. Within days, my younger half-brother fell ill, and no one thought he'd survive, either. If he died there would be no heir for my father's title and lands. A religious man, he prayed for his youngest son's recovery, promising me to the church in exchange. Within twenty-four hours my brother recovered. I went to the seminary the next day.”

  “A son for a son?” She couldn't imagine being so cold.

  “It was a matter of honor. He'd made a promise, and I saw it fulfilled. I liked to learn new things, and the priests in seminary taught everything, theology, writing, reading, arithmetic, and history. I devoured it all, though I preferred to fight. And in those days, the church needed fighters for the Crusades.”

  His eyes stared far away, lost to the past.

  “A Templar came to Pisa seeking recruits. I petitioned the seminary and my father to let me go fight. I can still remember how proud he looked as I rode off. He must have spent half his fortune to gain my entrance to their ranks.” He laughed ruefully. “I never saw him or my brother again and I sometimes wondered if he would've been so proud if he knew how many lives I ended in the name of God. I expected to see horrible things. Still, I wasn't prepared.”

  “I don't think anyone could be.” She traced the outline of his jaw, trying not to think too hard about what he saw. The things he had done.

  “I was a ruthless soldier. Had to be to survive. Still, others were far worse. And the Saracens didn't care who fought for them. You can't imagine the number of women and children I saw on the battlefields. I vowed to never kill either, and I stayed true to that until the day I lost my soul.”

  He stayed quiet a long time and she sensed this part of his story he'd rather forget. Mentally, she braced herself. “What happened?”

  “Several witnesses accused a woman of trying to kill me by means of witchcraft.”

  Her gut twisted. You can't change anything in the past. He's not the same man. “You ordered her death.” Back then, they burned, drowned, or hung those suspected of witchcraft. She knew this, read about it, but it still left her chilled.

  “I tried to save—” He sighed. “No, I won't lie. I didn't do a damned thing to save her, not until the end.”

  She smoothed her palm over his cheek. “Start at the beginning.”

  “They said she'd tried to shoot me off my horse with bolts of fire. By the time I found her, they’d already started the torture.” He cursed. “I took off my fucking mantle because I didn't want to get her blood on it. She refused to confess or renounce her beliefs. But they claimed they found the mark of the devil on her right shoulder. A birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon.”

  He traced her birthmark with his finger, his gaze seeing straight through her into the past. A shiver raced down her spine. That's why he was so concerned with the mark.

  “While I stood there trying to give her last rites she didn't want, she baited me. She changed me—made me actually think about all the things I did in God’s name. I didn't want her to burn. I tried to plead her case to the commander, but he refused to listen. I felt so powerless.”

  “Did you know her before that day?”

  “I didn't meet her until that evening and she was dead by nightfall.” His eyes fell away again, and his voice became more hesitant as if he chose his words carefully or maybe tried to remember. “She claimed to be protecting me, and though I denied the need for a woman's protection, I could see she believed what she said. She told me I'd lose my soul that night. She predicted we'd meet again someday and she thought, maybe, if I learned to be more open-minded she might like me.” His lips curved in a half smile. “She asked me to kill her before the flames reached her.”

  She could see the dilemma he'd faced. Vowing to never harm a woman, then having to break his own code of ethics or watch her suffer. “And you did.”

  He swallowed hard.

  “That's not something to be ashamed of. You prevented a horrible death.”


  “She had those same beautiful, ancient eyes. She liked to spar on faith and philosophy.” He caressed her face as he spoke. “Just like someone else I know. Twenty years ago, when I walked into the room across the hall, I thought for a moment I'd gone back in time. I could almost hear the sounds of armor and horses.” His eyes filled with regret. “I never forgot. Not one day has passed that I didn't wish things ended differently. Maybe I—”

  “James, don't.” She pressed her mouth to his in a soft kiss, then let her forehead rest against his. She hated seeing him like this. “For whatever reason, it happened that way. It wasn't time for us to be together. We weren't ready and, since then, we've changed, we've grown. Now is our time. I don't want to waste it on regrets, and I wouldn't change a thing, because maybe it would change us, how we are together.”

  “How can you do that?” He trailed his fingers down her face. “How can you take an atrocity and turn it into something beautiful?”

  “I believe everything we do, even the smallest action, affects everything else. It sounds like a horrible day.” She smiled tentatively. “One I wouldn't like to live again, but if it hadn't happened, would you have been transformed? Would you be sitting here with me now? Everything has a purpose, and even when horrible things happen I think eventually those events bring about good. Sometimes we just can't see it until later.”

  “What about when we met twenty years ago? What good came of your grandmother's cruelty, of her death?”

  “You found me again.” She shrugged. “Nan never hurt another child.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “And who knows, maybe those events altered future choices of the other people involved in some way.”

  He grew serious. “Could you ever forgive me?”

  “If I thought you'd done something that needed forgiveness, I would.” She brought her lips to his and kissed him. “So, was my past-life-me right? Did you become a vampire the same night?”

  “I did.” He tensed again, his expression darkening. “It was eleven seventy-seven. We’d secured a major victory over Saladin's forces in Montgisard. The battle, nothing short of a massacre. The dirt tinged red with Crusader and Saracen blood. I went out onto the battlefield to give the sacrament of extreme unction. Usually, several of us would go, but I wanted to be alone. I hadn't even retrieved my sword. I couldn't. There I stood, in the middle of the battlefield, amid the carnage unarmed and alone.