Haven

by Kristi Cook

  “Hey, can I help it if I’m irresistible?” Aidan joked, and I just shook my head.

  “Oh, pul-eeze,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s just the Aidan effect.”

  “The what?”

  I kicked off my shoes with a sigh, tucking my feet beneath myself. “Never mind. We’re all alone now. Are you going to tell me who this Julius dude is, or not?”

  “Can’t it wait?” he asked, sitting down beside me and drawing me close.

  “Why are you putting it off? C’mon, you promised you’d explain it to me. So explain.”

  “I’m putting it off because it’s Christmastime, Vi, and I’d like you to enjoy your holiday. That’s why.”

  I shook my head. “Not a good enough reason. Try again.”

  “And because I’d like to do a bit more research first.”

  “Research? About what?”

  “Sâbbat, that’s what. What Julius called you.”

  “So what does it mean?”

  “Let’s start with Julius first. I guess you could call him an enemy, though I’ve no idea how he tracked me here. I haven’t seen him in, oh, forty or fifty years? Maybe more. My sources place him in Paris these days. We were turned about the same time, and for a while we were on friendly terms. I later found that I didn’t agree with his philosophies, and we parted ways.”

  “So, you’re not friends. That doesn’t make you enemies.”

  “Let me finish. I soon became known throughout our world for my work, my research. I made no secret of my goal—to cure vampirism. Julius, on the other hand, is what is known as a Propagator. From what I understand, he leads a sect of Propagators, now based in Paris. This makes us enemies, I suppose.”

  I wrinkled my brow, totally lost. “Propagator?”

  “Julius’s mission is to spread vampirism as far and wide as possible. He’s one of the odd males with a desire to do so, and his sect is mostly made up of females. Very aggressive females.”

  I shuddered at the thought. “Why hasn’t anyone tried to stop him?”

  “Like I said, he surrounds himself with very powerful female vampires, for one. And his sect moves around, never settling in one place for long.”

  “Well, what difference does it make to him if you want to cure yourself? Why should he care if there’s one less vampire in the world?”

  “I can only assume that Julius fears that, were I to succeed and develop a cure, it could be used against him and his kind without their consent. Like a weapon, you might say.”

  “Great. So you’re saying there’s a dangerous vampire coming after you, and he’s probably bringing a bunch of even more dangerous vampire chicks with him?”

  He shook his head and reached for my hand. “Your vision aside, there’s no evidence to support that. Dr. Blackwell has extensive contacts among our kind, and he’s heard nothing about Julius—”

  “That’s because it isn’t springtime yet,” I reminded him.

  “I suppose it’s possible,” he said, looking skeptical. “Anyway, he won’t get far without Blackwell knowing.”

  “I hope you’re right.” He had a lot more faith in Dr. Blackwell than I did. Then again, he’d known him longer than I had—a lot longer. “But my visions have never been wrong before. What makes you think that this time—”

  “Because we know. We can be prepared, right?”

  “I guess,” I conceded.

  “Hey, are you cold? I can have Trevors light the fire.”

  “Nah, I have to leave soon, anyway. So, go on, let’s hear the rest of it.”

  “Okay. First, a question. Were you, by chance, born on a Saturday?”

  “Yeah,” I answered with a shrug, “I think. So what?”

  “Most of it fits, then. You’re their weapon.” He said these last words so quietly that I was sure I must have heard him wrong.

  My heart accelerated, and my palms started to sweat despite the cold. “What are you talking about?”

  “A Sâbbat. Born on a Saturday. Comes from the word ‘Sabbatarian.’ It’s an old legend, and fairly obscure. But, according to my sources, there are never more than three Sâbbats in the world at any given time, all females, all born on a Saturday. They’re vampire hunters—slayers. Their weapon is a stake, usually made from the wood of the hawthorn tree.”

  I felt the hair on the nape of my neck rise. A stake? That sounded way too much like traditional vampire lore—garlic, crucifixes, stuff like that. Stuff that I’d since learned was completely made-up. “So the thing about a stake, that’s true? Not just legend?”

  “Oh, it’s true to a degree, especially in the hands of a Sâbbat. You see, a Sâbbat’s powers are, in many ways, equal to a vampire’s. They can breach a vampire’s mind, read his thoughts. Some say one can even communicate with a vampire via telepathy.”

  He paused, watching me closely.

  “And . . . no other mortals can?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

  He squeezed my hand. “No, love. No other mortals can.”

  For a minute there my vision began to swim as I digested the meaning of his words. It was crazy. Crazy. “So you’re saying . . . what are you saying? That I’m one of these Sâbbats? That I’m supposed to be some kind of vampire killer?”

  “Something like that. Possibly,” he amended. “I’m not yet entirely convinced.”

  “But . . . but I can’t read your mind,” I stammered. “Or Dr. Blackwell’s.”

  “Are you sure about that? Have you ever tried?”

  I shook my head. “No. Why would I? I don’t even know how.”

  “Well, I can teach you.”

  “You’re not supposed to just go around reading other people’s minds. It’s against the COPA.”

  “Not if I teach you to read mine; I’d give you permission, which makes it okay. It’s not any different from working with Sandra.”

  “I guess,” I said, not completely convinced.

  “I doubt you’d be able to read Blackwell’s, regardless. Even amongst our kind, his mind skills are unparalleled. I’m sure he’s figured out a way to protect his mind from any possible threat, Sâbbat included. But you should probably give it a try, to be sure. Just . . . don’t tell him, okay?”

  “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to.” I wasn’t going to take a chance like that, not with the headmaster. What if he could somehow sense it?

  “Anyway, if it’s true, if you are a Sâbbat, then you and I . . . well, we have a very unusual connection. Something never before encountered.”

  I shuddered, completely unnerved by the whole idea.

  “Hey, you’re not scared, are you?” He drew me closer, cradling me against his chest. “Because if it’s true, then I’m the one who should be afraid. You know, of you,” he added, his tone teasing and light.

  I pressed my face against his shirt, breathing in his scent. “That’s not funny.”

  “Sorry,” he said with a chuckle. “Still, you must at least appreciate the irony of the situation.”

  I sat up, shaking my head. “I don’t buy it. I mean, what are the chances? Three girls at any given time—just three—and you think I’m one?”

  “Clearly Julius thinks you are, though I’ve no idea how he would know such a thing. It would seem that he wants to use you to kill me.”

  “Well, why would he need me? Can’t a vampire kill another vampire?”

  “They can, but there are consequences for such an action. For all he knows, that would start a war against the Propagators. No, he’d much rather you do it. It’s your purpose, after all.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, my voice rising. “My purpose? Like, my purpose in life?’

  “Something like that, I guess. It’s hard to explain, but you know how I said that female vampires have this biological urge to spread the infection? Well, I think it’s something like that for Sâbbats. An irresistible urge, coupled with the ability to take a vampire by surprise, catch them off guard. The stake, put precisely through the vampire�
��s heart, temporarily immobilizes him, making him vulnerable. Giving the Sâbbat time to, well”—he winced—“permanently destroy him. Or her, of course.”

  Horror coiled in my belly, just imagining myself doing such a thing. My purpose was to kill vampires? No way. I couldn’t even kill a spider, as much as I hated them. “I should go,” I said, struggling to stand.

  Aidan held me firmly. “Don’t, Violet. Not yet. Not like this.”

  I sensed something in his voice, something vulnerable, and I relaxed against him, dropping my head onto his shoulder. “This is just too crazy. I mean, it’s all crazy. Everything, since I came to Winterhaven. It’s just been, like, one crazier thing after another. But this . . . this really takes the cake.”

  I felt his fingers stroking my hair. “Now you see why I wasn’t anxious to tell you?”

  “But how is it possible? You’re saying we’re, like, mortal enemies or something. Wouldn’t we have . . . oh, I don’t know, hated each other from the moment we met?”

  “I don’t know, Violet. Honestly, none of it makes much sense to me, either. But what I do know is that we should probably discover the full extent of your skills, and then hone them.”

  “Hone what?” I asked, my voice rising. “My vampire-hunting skills? Do you realize how totally insane that sounds?”

  “To me it doesn’t. You should know exactly what you’re capable of. If nothing else, for your own protection. If what you’ve seen . . . well, if Julius comes for me—”

  “Don’t even say it. You told me not to worry about that. Besides, there’s not a chance in hell that I would ever hurt you, so whatever I saw—”

  “It’s not just me that you’re capable of hurting. Remember that. If you’re capable of slaying me, then you’re also capable of slaying them. And I’m willing to bet that Julius is counting on the fact that you have no idea what you’re capable of.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Because you’re not of age. A Sâbbat doesn’t reach maturity until eighteen; only then do they become aware of their purpose, their mission.”

  My head was beginning to pound. “But I’m not eighteen. Are you saying I won’t have any of these . . . slaying powers, or whatever you want to call them, yet?”

  “No, just that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t become aware of them until your eighteenth birthday. But since you somehow got inside Julius’s thoughts, because you heard him call you a Sâbbat, and because now you understand what that means . . . well, Julius tipped his hand. You weren’t supposed to know, not until he forced you to slay me.”

  It still didn’t make sense. “Okay, but if I didn’t know ahead of time that I was a Sâbbat, how did he expect me to be able to kill you?”

  Aidan shrugged. “On-the-job training, I guess. It’s not all that difficult, and I doubt he cares too much if you botch it a little. It’s not like he expects me to be able to fight back. Wasn’t he holding me captive in your vision?”

  I just nodded, wishing I didn’t have to remember.

  “I may be smarter, but he’s a lot bigger than me, and stronger, too. If it came down to brute strength between us, he’d win. But what’s the saying? Forewarned is forearmed?”

  “Yeah, that’s great. Just great.” I folded my arms across my chest, suddenly wishing I hadn’t pushed him to tell me this stuff tonight.

  “I’m sorry, Vi. But you wanted to know.”

  I let out my breath in a huff. “Did you ask Dr. Blackwell about any of this?”

  “No, I . . .” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I decided to keep this just between us. For now, at least. Because . . . well, I’ve never told him that we can speak telepathically.”

  That took me entirely by surprise. “Really? Why not?”

  “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Except that I wanted to figure it out myself, this connection we share. And then once I got to know you . . . well, it just seemed like something personal, something between you and me.”

  I nodded, glad for his discretion.

  “Anyway, there are still some things I don’t understand. For one thing, I don’t know how Julius knows you’re a Sâbbat. And two . . .” He rubbed his chin, looking suddenly uncertain. “Two, I’ve found no recorded cases in our history of a vampire and a Sâbbat, well, being in any way friendly toward each other, much less—” he cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head.

  What had he meant to say? Dating? Hanging out? Hooking up? What exactly were we doing together? We’d never put a label on it.

  “Much less what?” I prodded.

  His gaze met mine. “I was going to say ‘in love.’”

  I smiled, my pulse racing. This is it—the declaration that I’ve hoped for.

  “I love you, Violet McKenna. God help me, but I do.”

  My heart triumphed, despite the torment in his voice. “I love you, too,” I said, marveling at the pleasure I got from saying it out loud—and meaning it with every inch of my being.

  “Then God help us both,” he said quietly.

  Not really the response I wanted, but I’d take it.

  For a moment we both sat there in silence. The ticktock of the clock on the wall mirrored the sound of my heart. Knowing that he loved me made all of this Sâbbat stuff better—and yet somehow worse.

  Finally he broke the silence. “Anyway, now that you know the truth, it’s possible that your feelings toward me might begin to change. There’s no precedent for it, but—”

  “C’mon, Aidan, you don’t really believe that, do you?”

  He spoke slowly, deliberately. “I think it’s important that we’re both aware of the possibility.”

  An unpleasant thought flitted across my mind. “You think it’s possible that your feelings for me might change too,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “No, Violet, I don’t,” he said, shaking his head.

  I just nodded, my throat suddenly dry. Aidan bent his head toward me and pressed his lips against mine—a firm but gentle kiss, more reassuring even than his words.

  Before I knew exactly what had happened, I was flipped over onto my back, Aidan holding himself above me. A split second later his lips crushed mine, his mouth opening against my own. I heard him groan, a low, animal sound, as my tongue touched his.

  My head was spinning, my heart pounding as I pulled him closer, wanting to feel his body against mine. I arched against him as he kissed me harder, deeper. His lips moved to my chin, my ear, my throat, his mouth hot and demanding. More than anything, I wanted to feel the firm pressure of his teeth against my skin, right where my pulse leapt. I craved it, a physical hunger that made no sense to me, that terrified me beyond belief.

  I felt a rush of cool air and he was gone, on the other side of the room in the blink of an eye. I sat up, struggling to breathe.

  “I can’t,” he said in a strangled voice, the faint red glow in his eyes fading away as I watched, stunned.

  I rose on unsteady legs, wanting to go to him, wanting to wrap my arms around him and tell him that everything would be all right.

  “Don’t,” he rasped. “Please. Just give me a minute.”

  I sank back to the sofa, my knees practically buckling beneath me.

  “I’m so sorry, Aidan,” I said, wishing I could erase the pain that was etched all over his face.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice was tight, clipped.

  What was going through his mind?

  Remembering the powers I was supposed to have, I gathered my thoughts—focused them, directed them. And then it happened, like a dam opening and water rushing over me.

  I would have killed her; I would have drained her entirely before I’d even known what I’d done. I’m a monster, a fucking monster—

  A hot tear fell from my eye and rolled down my cheek. Stop it, Aidan! my mind cried out. It isn’t true.

  His gaze snapped to mine, his eyes round with surprise. “What did you just do, Violet?”

  I lick
ed my lips before I spoke, carefully choosing my words. “I . . . I think I just read your mind. I’m sorry,” I said, my voice thick. I had no idea why I was apologizing, except that it had seemed like such an invasion of his privacy.

  “No, I . . . it’s okay. So you can do it, then. I guess that means it’s true.”

  Some weird, triumphant feeling rushed through my veins. For the first time, Aidan and I were on equal ground. As much as I’d resisted the whole idea of being a Sâbbat, this felt somehow, I don’t know . . . empowering.

  I guess my breaching his mind had cured the vampire version of a hard-on he’d been suffering from, because he suddenly looked like himself again. Raking a hand through his hair, he took a couple of steps toward me. “I should probably walk you home.”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s about that time.” I glanced at my watch. Twenty till twelve. Almost Christmas. “Hey, you’re coming over tomorrow, aren’t you? Patsy’s expecting you for dinner.” I’d explained Aidan’s parents’ deaths to her in a series of lies that filled me with guilt. But what choice did I have? She would have had me institutionalized if I’d told her the truth. So I made up a fatal car accident instead.

  “Of course I am. But before you go, I have something for you.” He went over to the big, carved writing desk against the wall and opened a drawer. I watched as he retrieved a flat, rectangular box wrapped in gold paper.

  “I have another present for you, for tomorrow, but I’d like you to open this one now.” He handed me the box, and I took it with trembling hands.

  My nervous fingers fumbled with the wrapping paper. It finally slipped away, revealing a cream-colored jewelry box. My heart pounding, I opened the lid and peered inside.

  Lying against the satin was the most beautiful necklace I’d ever seen—a series of teardrop-shaped diamonds and aquamarines set in what looked like platinum. It was clearly an antique, probably priceless, and I’d never seen anything like it in all my life.

  “It’s . . . it’s beautiful,” I murmured.

  He smiled as he lifted it from the silk and undid the clasp. “It was my mother’s,” he said. “Aquamarines were her favorite. Here, turn around.”