by Aja James
Whichever the case, vampire society mirrored that of Pure Ones, meaning that it was a matriarchal society led by one Queen for each Hive. Dominant male vampires tended to run solo or at most at the head of a small, loosely formed pack, called a Horde. Aside from that, they were seldom found in the company of others of their breed. Those males who did not serve a Hive or belong to a Horde were called Rogues.
Which meant that the well-organized assassins who attacked Valerius more likely reported to a female Master than a male, though both were possibilities. Aella did a quick mental survey. The closest Hive was in New York City, and Jade Cicada was its Queen.
As if hearing her thoughts, Seth voiced out loud, “Jade would not make a move that all but declares war on us. Not when she’s trying to rein in the rogue vampires herself. She would have disguised the assassins if she truly wanted to take one of us out without discovery.”
Aella nodded in agreement. “True. But there is no other I know of in the vicinity who has the power to control vampires that old. And if they could ambush Valerius with close success, they were damned well organized and disciplined.”
Dalair, the Paladin, spoke from his position leaning against one of the twelve marble columns that ran from floor to ceiling in a semicircle in the center of the room. “Perhaps we should send an emissary to the Cove to inform the Vampire Queen of this development and ascertain her position.”
“It would have to be either Rain or Seth,” Ayelet determined, “the rest of us would get an antipathetic reception at best.”
“The Healer is too weak.” Valerius rejected that avenue immediately. “She should not take on any mission before she recovers her full strength at the end of the Phoenix Cycle.”
“I guess that leaves me,” the Consul drawled with an exaggerated sigh, “though your faith undoubtedly exceeds my abilities, Ayelet.”
Ayelet smirked good-naturedly. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Where did the attack occur?” Tristan asked, bringing the focus back to Valerius.
“South End, Draper’s Lane and Ivanhoe,” the Protector answered. He then quickly gave the group a rundown of the encounter, first with the civilian vampire, then with the four assassins.
The Elite frowned as one. The Boston fraction of vampire rogues were getting restless, willing to take more risks, expanding their territory. Thus far, they had mainly kept to the North End, also known as Little Italy, a bit farther from Boston center. But with this maneuver, if they were the culprits, they’d effectively encroached upon the heart of Boston. If this wasn’t dealt with soon, there could be countless casualties.
But there was no guarantee that this was the same Horde the Elite had been fighting and gradually eradicating over the past several months. In fact, recently, the North End Horde had been relatively quiet, constantly changing their hideout and adopting discretion in favor of the flamboyant kills they perpetrated when they’d first rolled into town.
This ambush stank of something far more sinister and deadly.
“They know our routines,” Valerius continued, “my sense is that I wasn’t the sole target, perhaps the first, but not the last.”
“Why you were the first might give us a clue,” Orion the Scribe interjected. “I concur with your instinct that this is just the tip of the iceberg, the first salvo in a full-scale campaign.” The Mesopotamian tapped his chin in thought. “When we adjourn, I will consult the Scrolls. The exact words elude me, but I recall having read a passage that disturbingly echoes your battle last night, Protector.”
“I will go with you,” Eveline the Seer nodded in his direction. “No doubt there will be insights from the Zodiac Prophesies we can glean.”
As keeper of the Zodiac Prophesies, Eveline held the key to the Pure Ones’ future, while Orion, the keeper of the Zodiac Scrolls, held the key to the past. Because Universal Balance dictated that all things moved in Cycles—Death, Life, Good, Evil, Yin, Yang, Past, Future—history had an uncanny habit of repeating itself. By comparing the Scrolls and the Prophesies, the Scribe and the Seer could better prepare the Pure Ones for battles to come.
One thing that did change—people could learn from mistakes of the past. Like a constantly rolling sphere, the Cycle of Life did not necessarily follow a straight line; it could curve into a better, brighter Path or a darker, bleaker Path, based on the force of choices made.
“Meanwhile, we should pair up on hunts and alter our normal schedules,” Alexandros, the General, proposed, eliciting nods of assent from the group.
He turned to Valerius with discerning eyes. “You look worse for wear, Protector,” the General noted, gesturing to the sheen of sweat on the warrior’s skin, visible to all under the bright chandelier, even as Valerius weaved slightly on his feet, dangerously close to losing his balance.
“I’m fine,” Valerius growled through clenched teeth, a wave of nausea washing over him while the fire in his side and hip blazed hotter as if little vampire devils were roasting his flesh and jabbing it with pitchforks.
Leonidas gave him a doubtful look but didn’t argue, saying instead, “Nevertheless, Xandros and I will take over the hunt for now.” At Valerius’ glare, he added, “To shake up the routine, if nothing else. You will be back out there before you know it.”
When Valerius looked as if he’d still like to argue, Leonidas firmly stated, “We need you here to protect the Dozen in my absence, especially Sophia and Rain during her crucial time. This is not a request, warrior.”
Dissatisfied with the outcome but knowing the wisdom of it, Valerius gave one nod of acceptance.
As the Royal Zodiac adjourned, the Seer and the Scribe heading off to the Vault two levels below, Tristan escorting Sophia to her chambers to retrieve books for her late afternoon classes, and the rest remaining in the throne room to debate their next move, Valerius made his way to his room in the West Wing of the stronghold, barely keeping his feet from stumbling over each other.
As if his legs were suddenly cut from beneath him, he staggered over the threshold of his chamber and crumbled to the floor. His body shaking with the effort, he rolled onto his back and blinked hard, trying to keep his eyes open. The ceiling zig-zagged in and out of focus for a few seconds then faded out of sight completely like the flash of a TV screen shutting off.
Valerius’ last thought was of Rain before oblivion engulfed him.
Chapter Three
That evening, after Rain had spent the better part of the day hosting and getting to know the three applicant Pure-males better, she bid them goodnight and made her way down the corridor to her own chamber.
It was barely seven o’clock, right after they’d finished a light, early dinner. Rain had left Wan’er to escort the three candidates to their rooms, while she sought out Ayelet to catch up on the afternoon’s events. Troubled with the news she was given and worried about Valerius, she made a left, turning down a different corridor, the one that led to his chambers in the West Wing, before she even realized what she was doing.
Pausing indecisively in front of his door, she raised her hand to knock but pulled back again.
Valerius had made no secret that he didn’t like being in her presence. There was a palpable aura of push-back from him whenever they were in the same space together. She could almost feel the repelling energy projecting from his body whenever she was near. Unconsciously, she’d always stepped a few steps back to give him wider berth when they passed each other.
He would not welcome her attendance now, she thought with a weary sigh. But that was too damned bad. Because she was here to help and—
The door creaked open slightly as the central air in the underground complex kicked into gear. It wasn’t locked.
This time, Rain did not hesitate and rapped smartly on the door before entering, without waiting for its occupant to give her leave. Head held high in defense of her intrusion, she didn’t notice the body on the floor until she tripped over a muscular calve.
With a gasp, she tumbled down on top
of Valerius and sprained her wrist awkwardly in an effort to break the fall.
When she realized the severity of the situation, she straightened quickly to kneel beside him, hands out before her over his prone body to assess the damage, the pain in her wrist forgotten.
Harnessing the full force of her power, fingers extended, hair stretched around them both in a silver halo, the Healer honed in on the source wounds and realized that the poison had already spread throughout the warrior’s body.
The poison roared back at her like demons guarding the gates of hell, so strong was its venomous energy that Rain had to brace herself from physically staggering back. Instead, she redoubled her efforts, tendrils of her hair tautened into spider-web-thin needles, inserting lightning quick through the thin layers of fabric into her patient’s skin beneath.
A pained whimper escaped her lips despite her best attempt to withhold it as the fiery poison coursed from Valerius into herself. Eyes closed in concentration, she knew that she and her patient were shrouded in a dark vacuous cocoon. As if encapsulated in a protective bubble, even though anyone who came upon them could see their bodies, they would not be able to interfere with the healing process. If someone approached, the energy field Rain erected around Valerius and herself would stun them back with an electric shock.
Rain’s veins raised through her skin as the poison coursed through her, dark green and black lines moving like tree roots across her face, neck, and arms as if they had a life of their own. She did not utter another sound despite the overwhelming pain she drew from Valerius’ body into her own. Her lips, one of the only remaining spots of color on her person, turned blue from the exertion. Her skin took on a grayish hue, and breath exited her nostrils and slightly parted mouth in icy puffs, as if she were climbing to an impossible mountain peak in the middle of the Arctic.
Summoning all of her strength and training, she squeezed her eyes tightly for one final draw. Then, as if two powerful magnets were forcibly pulled apart, she withdrew from Valerius the needles of hair, the soothing warmth of her hands and fell back against the floor in a lifeless crumble.
*** *** *** ***
In the suburbs of Boston, surrounding a forgotten strip of underground train tracks, an elaborate catacomb stretched like termite teeth marks into the dark unknown.
Though cold, damp and sometimes a little odiferous, the catacomb lacked no modern comfort. It even had its own karaoke and dance bar.
In a corner chamber along one of the spoke-like corridors, an exquisitely beautiful vampire idly swirled blood-red wine in an antique crystal goblet. Gently inhaling the subtle fragrance of the vintage liquid, the vampire breathed a satisfied sigh. It surveyed the chess board on the carved stone table at its feet and picked up one of the white diamond pieces.
A Knight.
What a handsome piece, it mused, as ruby red eyes glowed with appreciation. Long, elegant fingers smoothed over the perfect chess piece with loving care, its thumb rubbing the thigh of the warrior, sitting astride a rearing stallion.
It felt its loins ignite with arousal as its thumb brushed back and forth, back and forth across the hard, smooth thigh, as if vicariously rubbing its own genitals, now filling with liquid heat.
The other long-fingered hand languorously slid down its chest, stomach, inner thighs, to rest delicately over the pleasure area, one perfectly manicured nail dragging over its arousal.
Aahh. It leaned more deeply in the sheepskin-covered chaise, deeper into the goose down pillows as pleasure hummed throughout its body, pooling inexorably in its lap as its other hand rubbed more urgently over the chess piece, faster and faster until hot black fluids seeped through the satiny white robe tied loosely at its waist.
Draped lazily across the chaise like a well-satisfied feline, it examined the black stains with mild curiosity.
Time to feed.
As if summoned by the thought, a soft rap sounded at the door.
“Come,” it beckoned, then giggled coyly behind a raised hand. How clever, it made a pun.
A male vampire entered but stayed behind the chaise in the dimness. “It is done, Master.”
Stretching out an arm so that its visitor could see its curling finger from around the chaise, it purred, “Perfect. Now come here into the light, shy one, but make sure you are properly un-attired.”
The male shed his clothes as he came before his Master and knelt within reach.
Idly discarding the chess piece back on the board, innocently knocking over a bishop on its way down, the vampire reached greedily for a different piece to play with.
*** *** *** ***
Valerius came to abruptly with a gasp, as if he’d been yanked from the jaws of death, but just barely.
He knifed into a sitting position and kneaded his eye sockets with the seat of his hands. Rays of dawn filtered through the tiny square skylight overhead. To unsuspecting humans above ground, the squares were decorative patches of glass embedded in the streets they walked on.
Valerius felt disoriented, as if he were drugged, but otherwise awake and invigorated. The agony of the past day and night seemed a distant memory.
A sudden awareness infused him at the thought. How was he able to heal himself? It was only then that he noticed Rain on the floor beside him.
Forgetting his own rules, he grasped her roughly and hauled her into his lap, examining her ashen face and cold form with panicked eyes. He cupped her face with one large, calloused hand, the other holding her body tightly to him, and smoothed a thumb urgently over her cheek.
“Rain,” he called to her, the first time he’d ever used her name in the ten years of their acquaintance. “Rain!” he could not keep the alarm from his voice as she remained lifeless in his embrace.
He shook her a little, set his face close to hers to detect her breathing. The barest of breath relieved him so much he shuddered from head to toe.
“You little fool!” he cursed her, furious that she’d used what scarce energy she had remaining to heal him. He thrust his wrist against her lips and urged, “Take it. Bite me, damn you!”
Though there was no movement, he felt her stirring, her breath a little stronger against his skin. She opened her mouth and formed words, but they were uttered so softly he could not hear.
He bent closer until their foreheads were touching. “What is it sweetheart? What do you need?”
In a raspy whisper she breathed, “I’ll not take from the body I just healed.”
“Stupid girl,” Valerious berated her, though his deep tone of concern was at odds with his words. “I would have healed eventually on my own. Your energy is wasted on me.” He thrust his wrist against her lips again, forcefully enough to scratch the skin against her canines.
“Now feed,” he commanded in a voice that brooked no argument.
Amazed at her own strength, Rain suddenly pushed back from his embrace and off his lap. She scooted back against the foot of the bed and let her head flop against the bedframe.
“You are not my Consort. This is not the Cycle,” she whispered weakly but resolutely. “I will have no other but my Consort.”
“Then choose me!” Valerius exploded, uncaring of the consequences he’d spent two thousand years avoiding. “It is the least I can do to repay you–”
He broke off at a resounding slap against his cheek. Though lacking in force to bring any pain, the sound it made nevertheless reverberated in the silent room.
Stunned, he could only gape at her.
“I’m not a pity fuck,” the Healer ground out in a low, trembling voice with shocking vehemence. She was too weary and in too much pain to carefully choose her words as she was wont to do.
“You think I don’t know you’ve done everything possible to avoid me these past ten years? You think I don’t notice you leaving a room whenever I enter? How you cringe away from even the hint of an accidental touch?”
Confronted with the blunt words coming from the delicate female’s mouth, so small and slight she was lik
e a child, Valerius could only continue to gape, not that Rain paused for his interjection.
“I don’t need you to be the sacrificial lamb at my alter. The Phoenix Cycle is trying enough without the Consort Nourishing against his desire. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
At that, Valerius stiffened until his back was ramrod straight.
“Oh put aside your umbrage,” Rain said on a disgusted huff. “Nothing you do or say can convince me that you’d enjoy thirty days of blood-letting and orgy, not when a simple brush tenses you up more effectively than a torture rack.”
To demonstrate, she lightly swept a hand down his neck and chest as she spoke, and to her satisfaction for making her point, tempered with keen disgruntlement, he reflexively jerked away from the brief touch, as if burned.
Valerius gritted his teeth in shame and fury at himself for unwittingly proving her right.
Rain struggled to stand, and Valerius moved to aid her. But a fulminating glare put him back in his place, his extended arms falling empty at his sides.
Weaving slightly on her feet, Rain said in a bone-weary voice, almost too low to hear, “I repel you so much you would rather die a slow painful death than come to me for healing. If I found you even an hour later, I do not think I could have defeated the poison.”
When he would have argued, she silenced him with a raised hand. “I know you heal faster than others and are ten times as strong. But you knew you couldn’t heal yourself this time. You knew.”
Valerius could not bring himself to lie to her; she would not have forgiven him.