Afterimage

by Jaye Roycraft

  “I suppose you’re right. But if something did happen, what will Verkist do with us?”

  Callie spoke up. “About time you started worrying about yourself.”

  Marya and Revelin both ignored her, and Scott answered Marya’s question. “I don’t know. Your average vamp wouldn’t consider harming me or Callie, but Verkist’s far from average. Any vamp willing to take on l’enforcier certainly isn’t going to have second thoughts about doing us wrong.”

  “He’d have to kill Drago, then. If he didn’t . . .”

  Callie stood up and interrupted. “I’ve had enough. This is making me sick.”

  She stood next to Revelin, almost pressing herself against his side, and it crossed Marya’s mind that Callie was piqued because Marya was monopolizing Revelin’s attention. The female vampire was most certainly too used to having him all to herself. Callie wasn’t finished with her two cents. “Why are you so worried about Drago anyway? Has he got you that dazzled?”

  “Dazzled?”

  “Come on, don’t be stupid. Under his spell. Seduced by the mirror. You know, what we vamps do to you mortals.”

  Revelin put a hand on the girl’s arm. “Callie, that’s enough.”

  Marya was quick to break in. “No, Revelin, it’s okay. I want to hear what she has to say. Are you telling me, Callie, that the only reason I’m worried about Drago is that he has seduced me into thinking he’s something he’s not?”

  “Of course. Why else would you give a damn about him? He certainly doesn’t give a damn about you. He has little enough respect for his own kind, much less mortals. And you’re an aberration besides.”

  “Callie . . .”

  “No, Rev, let her finish.” Marya took perverse pleasure in calling Revelin by Callie’s pet name for her Master.

  Callie’s dark eyes glittered. “Let me introduce you to Vamp 101. Mortals are at the bottom of the food chain. And you’re not even that. The only reason he’d ever show any interest in you would be for his own amusement. That’s our entertainment, you know. Creating little fantasies for our prey to wrap themselves up in. So, please, no more moaning about ‘poor Drago’ or ‘poor Marya.’”

  Marya stared back at Callie. “He’s still your Master, Callie. I hope for your sake he doesn’t find out how little respect you really have for him.”

  “I think he’s got slightly bigger problems right now than my disrespect.”

  “Ladies, ladies. I don’t think this is going to help us any.”

  A noise at the door caused them all to swivel their heads in that direction. Someone was unlocking the door. Marya’s heart started to pound, and her mind’s eye already saw the lean, elegant vampire with the jet-black hair and the neon blue eyes. The door swung wide.

  It was Verkist. Framed in the doorway, he looked taller and more massive than Marya had remembered. The blood seemed to drain from her head in a rush, and she grabbed Revelin’s arm for support.

  Verkist stepped into the room and closed the door. “Mr. Scott, Miss Monroe, it is my duty to inform you that you are again working for the Brotherhood.”

  “No!” Marya didn’t realize the word had slid from her lips until Revelin shushed her.

  “Be still,” he hissed at her before turning to Verkist. “I work for Alek Dragovich and the Directorate until he or one of his superiors tells me otherwise.” Revelin paused. “If Drago’s dead, show me the body.”

  Marya felt lightheaded and wondered how she was able to stand. She still held Revelin’s arm, amazed that she felt so much support from the vampire who was four inches shorter and a couple hundred years younger than the creature in front of them.

  “He’s not dead. But he is incapacitated. Quite severely. So you see he is in no position to tell you anything.”

  “What happened?” asked Scott.

  “Our business, to my mind, was concluded. He chose to extend our confrontation. His attack on me was unprovoked. I was merely defending myself. I ask you again, Scott, will you show loyalty to me?”

  Revelin looked at Callie, and an understanding seemed to pass between them. Scott looked at Verkist. “When you put it like that, yes, of course. We are at your service, Patriarch.”

  Marya let go of Revelin and backed away from him, feeling as if she had just found out he had the plague. How could he? If Revelin was indeed abandoning her, any hope she had was lost.

  Marya stepped forward, careful not to stand anywhere near Revelin or Callie. “What about me? What are you going to do with me?”

  “You’ve committed no wrong, Miss Jaks. You will remain my guest for a period of time, and then I’ll see to it that you get back home safely.”

  “I want to see Drago.” She had no leverage and no bargaining power—nothing to make her believe he’d do anything but laugh in her face—but she had to try. It was obvious that Revelin wasn’t going to stand up to Verkist.

  Verkist did laugh, a rich sound that seemed much too loud for even the spacious room. “The aberration and the fallen Anti-God. Yes, I like that. I think that can be arranged, Miss Jaks. I’ll send one of my men by later to take you to him. Miss Monroe, you will come with me now.”

  A look of fear washed over Callie’s face. “No. I’ll do as you want, just let me stay with my Master, please.”

  “No, I think it’s best I separate you. It will assure compliance on both your parts.”

  Revelin turned to Callie. “Go on. It’ll be all right. Trust me.”

  Callie hesitated for a moment, but with both Revelin’s and Verkist’s eyes on her, she was soon prompted to action. She gathered up her things and went out with the Patriarch, looking back at Revelin the whole while. After they left, the door was locked behind them.

  Marya fell into one of the chairs, marveling that her legs had held her as long as they had. She felt stunned, as if someone had just slapped her across the face. “How could you? How could you swear loyalty to that beast? You didn’t even ask to see Drago! You don’t know what really happened to him. Until you do . . .”

  Revelin cut her off. “How could I? Easy. A long time ago I fought a bastard called Napoleon. He said that God is on the side of the biggest battalions. Always back the winner, Marya. It’s called survival. Verkist bested Drago. I wasn’t going to bloody argue and have my head cut off as well.”

  “So whose side are you really on?”

  Revelin sighed and sat down in the other chair. “You go see Drago. If he’s lying in Mistress Death’s embrace, I don’t have much choice.”

  “But if he’s alive?”

  “I’ll answer that after you see Drago.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Vamp 102. I’m a bloody vampire, Marya. Never trust me.”

  MARYA WAS CURLED on the bed, which Revelin had been gracious enough to let her have. She had thought to try to get some sleep, but rest of any kind was impossible. Verkist hadn’t said when he would let her see Drago, but she had thought he meant that evening. Several hours had passed, however, and now she realized that he just as easily could have meant tomorrow, a week from now, or a month. With his one promise, he had the power to string her along indefinitely. Perhaps it was nothing more than his way to ensure that she would remain his obedient ‘house guest.’

  She tried not to think about Drago, but she did. Perhaps she was being foolish in worrying about a five-hundred-year-old creature that no one else seemed to care about. Callie had told her she was being silly. Maybe she was, but if she had to weigh Callie’s offhand remark against Drago’s kiss, she was willing to bet on the kiss. And if she had to assess Drago’s own cold words to her against what she had caught once or twice in his eyes, she would put her money on his eyes. She had seen pain and an emptiness that longed to be filled, and those rare glimpses into a man’s private hell were something that all the dismissive
words and bored countenances in the world couldn’t disguise.

  She wondered where he was. Was he locked away in some dark room? Was he even conscious? In a way she hoped he wasn’t, for it would save him from whatever pain Verkist had inflicted on him. And Marya was certain that Drago could feel pain, in spite of his unemotional statement about nothing hurting a vampire.

  When the knock came, followed by the unlocking of the door, Marya was too caught up in her thoughts to hear. She didn’t raise her head from the pillow until Revelin said, “Marya, he says you can see Drago now.”

  She jumped off the bed, still dressed, and quickly put her shoes on. Revelin came over to her while Verkist’s vampire waited at the door.

  “Listen, Marya. Don’t pay any attention to what Callie said to you before. She was scared, that’s all. She’s never been through anything like this before.”

  “And the rest of us have? Don’t worry, Revelin. I considered the source when I heard her words.”

  Revelin steered her into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “I don’t want that vamp to hear what I have to tell you. If Drago can hear you, tell him what I said about Napoleon. And also tell him to remember what Voltaire said.”

  “Voltaire?”

  “He’ll know. Just tell him Napoleon and Voltaire.” He opened the door and preceded her out.

  Marya took a deep breath and nodded to the vampire at the door. “I’m ready.”

  “Follow me.”

  It occurred to her that this whole thing could be a trap, and that Verkist was luring her away from Revelin for some purpose of his own. But she had no way to know for sure, and she figured it was worth the risk.

  It was late at night, but there were plenty of lights on, and she could hear voices and laughter from various parts of the house. She wondered where Verkist was, and what he was doing. Was he celebrating his victory over l’enforcier? Her vampire guide took her to the end of the southern hallway and outside to the patio behind the great room. He led her down the stairway that traversed the hillside, and the voices gradually died away. Her guide stopped outside a doorway one floor down from the great room.

  “In here.” The vampire unlocked the door, turned around and ascended the stairway.

  He’s just going to leave me down here alone? No, not alone. With Drago. She watched until her guide was out of sight. Another thought came to her. Maybe her guide was afraid to be in the same room with Drago. But what could be here that would frighten a vampire? Marya tasted sudden fear in her mouth, hard and sour. She tried to swallow, but couldn’t. She wondered again if it was all just some elaborate trick. Maybe Drago was dead, and Verkist was sitting upstairs laughing at the thought of her viewing his mutilated remains. The thought almost had her running back up the stairs.

  “Drago?” Marya opened the door and peered around the edge of the frame. The room was dark. Her probing hand found a light switch, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, she flipped it. The concrete room was barren except for a lone figure slumped on the floor. “Oh, my God.”

  Tentative steps brought more details to her eye, and each one she saw brought new despair. He was chained to the wall by both wrists, and his bare chest and trousers were covered with dried blood. A strange metal helmet covered his eyes as well as his head.

  “Marya.” His voice was barely a whisper.

  “God, Drago, what did he do to you?” She kneeled beside him and looked from the massive rings embedded in the wall to the wide armbands that covered half his forearms.

  He raised his arms a few inches, then let them drop, as if they were weights too heavy to lift. “The shackles are silver. They take my strength.”

  “And they burn, don’t they? The silver burns.”

  “Like fire,” he breathed. “Like the hottest fire you can imagine.”

  She touched the helmet, a quick touch, as if it would burn her, too. “And this?”

  “All silver. It weakens my mind and negates the power of my eyes. Cherie, how did you get here?”

  “I just said I wanted to see you. I didn’t actually think Verkist would allow it.”

  He turned his head toward her, and she imagined his eyes, blinded by the silver, but still seeing her with his mind’s eye. “He knows you can’t help me, and it amuses him no end, I’m sure, to have a mortal see me like this.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. She hadn’t thought that Drago would be humiliated to have her see him in such a state. “Do you want me to leave?” She didn’t want to, but she would if he asked.

  “No. Stay.”

  “There’s no guard. He went back upstairs.”

  “As I said, he knows you can do nothing for me.”

  She shook her head, stupidly forgetting he couldn’t see her. “No, Drago, there must be something I can do. Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”

  “There’s nothing.”

  “I don’t believe that.” She looked at his chest and saw numerous red welts among the streaks of dried blood. She tentatively brushed her fingertips over his skin. He flinched at her touch. “What happened? Verkist said you attacked him unprovoked.”

  “So, he’s not only a coward, but a liar. I was through with him, ready to leave. He started making threats—threats I couldn’t allow. He wouldn’t back down. He left me no choice. I would have had him, but he changed the odds. He called for his vampires, and I couldn’t fight them all. One of them shot me, slowing me enough that they got the silver shackles on me.”

  She touched his chest again, and this time he didn’t start. “These red marks on your chest . . .”

  “The bullet wounds. They healed. By tomorrow the redness should be gone. Not that it matters.”

  “What is Verkist going to do with you? He can’t leave you here like this.”

  Drago leaned his head back against the wall. His muscular neck looked as it ever did, but the movement made it seem as if he truly lacked the strength to hold his head up. “That’s exactly what he’s going to do. It’s the slowest, most painful torture that can be inflicted on one of the Undead. Don’t tell me your father never wrote about it in his journal.”

  “No. But I don’t understand. What will happen?”

  “The silver helmet will slowly eat at my mind. It’ll weaken my will, block thought, and destroy memory. Eventually there will be nothing left but the pain, and I’ll go insane. Evrard will cover his tracks, and the world will only know that I disappeared. Eventually the Directorate will replace me. Most likely with Evrard, and he’ll have what he’s always wanted.”

  “But what about Revelin and Callie? After I tell Revelin what happened to you, he’ll know the truth.”

  “Evrard won’t let Scott leave here until he’s sure of his loyalty.”

  “Revelin already swore his allegiance to Verkist.”

  “I figured as much. Scott is smart. He won’t risk himself for me.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Revelin told me to give you a message. He said you’d understand. Something about him fighting Napoleon and his battalions, and then he told me to mention Voltaire.”

  Drago tilted his head forward. “‘God is on the side of the biggest battalions.’” There was wonder in his voice.

  Marya was buoyed by the first spark of curiosity she had seen Drago exhibit. “Yes, that was it.”

  “Napoleon said that. What Voltaire said was that God wasn’t on the side of the biggest battalions, but the best shots.”

  She had no idea what that signified. “So?”

  “It means that Evrard has the advantage of numbers over us, but that we’re stronger. It’s also Scott’s way of saying he’ll try to help me if he can. Where are Scott and Callie now?”

  “Verkist took Callie away with him, but Revelin
is still with me.”

  “Good. Remember when I told you not to be fooled by Scott’s appearance? Scott is a very powerful vampire. Evrard might not have sensed it yet with his obsession with me, but he will soon, so you and Scott will have to act quickly.”

  “I don’t want to leave yet. Verkist might not let me return.” She reached over and grazed her index finger across his cheek to a wayward strand of black hair. She rolled the shock of hair between her finger and thumb, feeling its texture. It was smooth and heavy, but with a stiffness to it that made her think of filaments of spun glass instead of hair. She skimmed the hair to the side of his face. “Do you mind?”

  “Mind what, cherie?” His voice sounded as if his mind were far away.

  “My touching you. You flinched before.”

  She saw a small smile twitch the corners of his mouth. “After fire, bullets, and silver, your touch is . . . almost a shock. But don’t stop. Your hands are like the light—a very guilty pleasure for one such as myself.”

  Marya inclined her body closer to Drago’s and ran her hand along his chest. His skin was warm, the muscles as hard as ever. He tilted his head back again, and his lips parted.

  She remembered again what Callie had said. “I thought . . . never mind.”

  “What, cherie?”

  “It’s nothing. Just something Callie said.”

  Drago sighed. “Callie is very young and, I suspect, in love with her Master. She scorns mortals, forgetting she was human not so very long ago. What did she say to you?”

  Marya dropped her hands back to her lap. “Nothing that you haven’t told me yourself.”

  “Ah. That I care nothing for mortals.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. The helmet with its metal chin strap made it awkward, but she managed to catch his lower lip between hers as he did the same to her upper lip. She drew on him, and felt the strength imprisoned in both his body and mind. She pulled away just enough to give him his answer. “I’ve also been told never to trust what a vampire says, so I don’t.”

  He smiled. “The kind of answer a vampire would give.”

  She returned the smile. “I guess I’ve been in the company of the Undead for too long.” She paused, still looking at the mouth she had just kissed. His lips were again parted, and she could see his sharp eyeteeth. She looked down at his shackles in frustration. “So what would you need? To defeat Verkist?”