Ascension (Demon's Grail Book 1)

by Amy Cross

  ***

  “Stop!”

  Sitting up suddenly, gasping for air, I feel a shudder of pain ripple through my body. A gasp erupts from my lips and I wince as I tense and wait, but the warm light of morning is filling the room and for a moment I have no idea where I am.

  I wait.

  Hoping.

  Praying.

  Slowly, the pain starts to fade. I keep waiting for it to bite again, but miraculously it slips away into the darkness until it's gone entirely and I'm left sitting on a sofa in someone's apartment. Holding my breath, the only sound I hear is a whistling pot on a stove in the kitchen. I turn and look around. There are bookshelves nearby, and a small television in the corner, and next to the sofa there's a set of weights.

  “Hey,” a familiar voice says suddenly.

  Turning, I see Mark standing in the doorway. He's wearing a white vest that reveals his strong, toned arms and a small tattoo that I've never seen before, but his skin is pocked with red cuts and wounds. A moment later, I spot several blood-stained bandages on the coffee table, along with syringes, bloodied bottles and a series of scalpels.

  I turn to him again.

  “How do you feel?” he asks, limping toward me and putting a hand against my forehead. “Your fever's gone down, that's -”

  “What fever?” I ask, pulling away.

  “You had a fever for the past few days,” he explains. “I was starting to worry that something had gone wrong.”

  “Gone wrong? What would -”

  Suddenly I remember falling. Crashing. Hitting the ground so hard and so fast, my bones shattered and became rivers of dust coursing through my battered flesh. And then nothing. Darkness. The gray figure on the gray throne.

  “You're a miracle, you know that?” Mark continues, reaching down and putting a hand on my shoulder. He seems to be feeling for something, and after a moment I realize his fingers are pressing against the bones in my upper arm. “Day by day,” he adds, “I watched you heal. I kept checking your broken bones and I could feel them shifting beneath your skin. At first, after I got your back here to my place, I thought it was hopeless. You looked... Well, let's just say that I've seen bodies in the morgue that seemed healthier. But then slowly, over the first couple of days, I saw signs of improvement and I realized your body was healing.”

  Pulling the blanket aside, I find that I'm still wearing the same clothes as before, albeit with dried bloodstains in several spots. I reach down and touch my knees, and to my relief I feel bones beneath the skin.

  “So how did you do it?” Mark asks.

  “Do what?” I reply, still shocked by my recovery. I've suffered bad injuries before, of course, but this time I'm pretty sure I pushed myself further than ever. This time, I feel as if death got a hand on my shoulder.

  “I get how you survived,” he continues. “You're a vampire, obviously your body can take a whole load of punishment, but what about me? How the hell did I walk away from a ten storey fall without even a scratch?”

  “I caught you,” I whisper, still feeling my bones.

  “You were falling too. I should be dead.”

  “I caught you,” I tell him again, looking up at him. “I redirected all the energy of the impact into my own body. I wasn't even sure it would work, but it was the best idea I could come up with at short notice. I remembered reading about my father doing something similar once.” Seeing the red marks on his arm, I realize he seems hurt. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing. Just focus on making sure you're better.”

  “What did you do?” I ask, looking back at the syringes on the table. “Why am I not in pain?”

  “Abby -”

  “What did you do?” I hiss, starting to panic.

  “What do you think I did?” he asks. “I gave you blood. You needed it.”

  “Whose blood?” I ask, leaning over and looking at the dirty bandages, before glancing back at him and realizing that he looks a little pale. “Mark, please tell me you didn't give me your blood!”

  “There's nothing wrong with my blood,” he replies. “That's good Bronx blood.”

  “That's not the point!”

  “I had to do something,” he continues. “Like I said, when I got you back here, at first I started to worry that your healing process wasn't going to start. You've told me about it before, but nothing seemed to be happening, it was like I had a corpse on the sofa. I was panicking, and then I figured, what the hell, I had to try something. So I drained as much blood as I could spare without collapsing and I poured it down your throat, hoping for the best. Then I drained some more and gave you that as well. To be honest, I passed out after a while, but I've been giving you a little each day ever since. I had to, I -”

  Suddenly he stumbles as he steps forward, dropping down and letting out a gasp of pain. Lowering himself onto the sofa next to me, he forces a smile even though he's obviously not feeling too good.

  “I got some drugs through a police contact,” he explains. “Just a few things to promote blood cell production. Every time I gave you a little more, you seemed to heal faster.” Sighing, he leans back. “Don't worry, it's not like I'm diseased. Or do you have some kind of snobbery when it comes to taking blood from a mere human?”

  “Of course not,” I reply, “it's just...” Pausing, I realize that this whole situation is making my body tremble. The thought of Mark nursing me back to health, pouring his own blood into my body, makes my skin crawl but I can't quite explain why. It's not that I hate the idea of human blood, not for one moment, it's more that I've never had someone do something like that for me, and now I feel as if I owe him. I feel as if he's more a part of my life than before, and I wasn't prepared for that to happen.

  “Four days,” he says suddenly.

  I turn to him.

  “It's been four days since we jumped out that window,” he continues. “There's still no sign of the guy with all the spiders, but the authorities are scrambling to explain what happened. Apparently their current theory is that some kind of terror attack just happened to coincide with an outbreak of a spider infestation. I know it sounds crazy, but it's the best they can come up with. At the moment they think...” He pauses. “Well, to be honest, you're assumed to have been one of the casualties.”

  “They think I'm dead?”

  He nods.

  “Maybe that's good,” I reply. “I was getting too noticeable.” Taking a deep breath, I realize that this is the first time in months that I've been completely free of pain. In the old days, I used to buy blood from Ragoth, but since he died I've been trying to quit. Now, thanks to all the blood Mark has given me, I feel no pain at all. It's like a voice has been constantly babbling in the back of my mind, and now it's fallen quiet. It'll be back, of course, but the peace is strange.

  “Meanwhile,” Mark continues, “those files from the orphanage ended up getting anonymously passed to a local tabloid. It's been big news for the past few days. Most of the people involved are dead by now, but at least the cover-up is being exposed. Justice has been served.”

  “That's good,” I reply, even though I can barely focus on what he's saying. There's a sense of panic in my chest, and no matter how hard I try to stay calm, I feel the urge to run.

  “So what now?” he asks.

  “I need to get to Absalom,” I reply, trying to get to my feet before feeling a wave of pain and leaning back. “He must be looking for me by now.”

  “What you need is to rest a little while longer,” he tells me. “I'll draw some more blood and -”

  “No.”

  “Abby, it'll help you to heal.”

  “You've done enough already. More than enough.”

  “Will you just accept some goddamn help?” he asks, with a hint of irritation in his voice.

  “No.”

  “It's not the worst thing in the world to rely on someone, you know.”

  “I know that, but -” Sighing, I realize that there's no way I can ever make him under
stand. He's human, and he has a very human outlook, and if he managed to help me it was only through sheer luck. Worse, the fact that I had to keep him safe the other night meant that I wasn't able to face those spiders down, which in turn means that the freakishly thin man is still out there somewhere along with Emilia and maybe even more spiders. If I'm going to deal with this problem, I need to work alone and I need to not worry about protecting people who are just tagging along.

  “There's something I want to show you,” Mark says suddenly, trembling a little as he gets to his feet and limps toward the door. “Wait here, I think it'll change your mind about a few things.”

  I watch as he leaves the room, and then I listen for a moment to the sound of him rummaging for something in the kitchen. Finally, figuring that this is as good a chance as any, I haul myself to my feet and totter quickly to the front door. Mark thinks I can't accept help, but he's wrong; I just can't accept his help. There's only one person who can help me, and as I open the door and leave the apartment without saying goodbye, I know exactly where I have to go.

  Emilia

  “You've made a breakthrough,” Keller mutters as soon as I enter the room. He's at his desk with his back to me, but I can hear him sniffing the air. “The stench of vampire has become much stronger in the past half hour.”

  “I'm afraid I had to hurt our guest,” I reply, smiling as I look down at the blood-stained dagger in my hands. “I had to prove a point and make him angry.”

  “But now he believes?”

  “Now he believes.”

  “At least you're finally getting somewhere,” he continues with a sigh. “If you hadn't managed to get any results today, I would have had to stop indulging you.” He turns to me. “You know I could have taken the information from his mind with a scalpel by now. I still don't understand why you begged me to let you do it this way.”

  “It's not my fault if I saw that he has potential.” I pause for a moment, thinking back to the moment when I first saw that unmistakeable fury bursting through his body and filling his eyes with hunger. I was disgusted, of course, but there was a part of me that actually found the sight appealing. That's wrong, and I can't let Keller know. “Better to see a beast in all its glory,” I mutter, “than to simply tie it to a slab and start cutting it into pieces.”

  “You sound as if...”

  His voice trails off, and I turn to him.

  “I sound as if what?” I ask cautiously.

  “Almost as if you esteem him,” he continues. “Tell me, Emilia, do you find the vampire to be a venerable or beautiful creature?”

  “Of course not,” I sneer. “Why would you ask such a question?”

  “So you provoked him into revealing his true nature purely because you felt that was the best way to learn the location of Karakh?”

  “I just told you, I was -”

  “And there was no other motivation?” he adds, interrupting me. “You didn't enjoy yourself in there, did you? It didn't become... personal?”

  Shaking my head, I realize that there's no point telling him the truth. If I admitted that I'd taken any pleasure at all in my dealings with Jonathan, he'd simply twist my words and use them against me. I know he thinks I'm weak, but I'll simply have to prove him wrong. I also need to quash any admiration I feel for that dirty stinking vampire. Next time I go down there, I won't be so nice.

  “So do you have the information?” he asks.

  “Almost.”

  “Almost? That doesn't sound too promising, Emilia.”

  “It takes time,” I point out. “His mind is a mess right now, churning with unfamiliar instincts. I just need to let him settle and become calmer, and then I can start sifting through his thoughts. I doubt the details of Karakh's hiding place are buried too deep, and I'm absolutely certain he won't be able to resist me once I enter his mind. He has no experience when it comes to such things. I'll be the first person to really attack his thoughts, and he'll be powerless.”

  “There it is again.”

  “What?”

  “Anticipation. You're enjoying this.”

  I shake my head again, although I can feel a cold shiver in my chest. Turning away so that he can't see my eyes, I pour myself a glass of water. After a moment, I hear a creak from Keller's chair, and I realize that he's coming over to me.

  “Remember your training,” he says when he reaches me. “You're not to -”

  “I remember my training!” I hiss. “You don't need to speak to me like I'm a child, not anymore!”

  “Jonathan is a means to an end,” he continues calmly. “We simply have to get the information from his mind and then discard him.”

  “The way you discarded Abby Hart?” I ask bitterly. When he doesn't reply, I turn and see the anger in his eyes. “Remind me how that went, again. Is she dead yet?”

  “You know full well that -”

  “Oh yes,” I continue, “you let her escape. Tell me, was that because she got lucky, or was it because you were incompetent? Or was it because you like her and -”

  Before I can finish, he slaps the side of my face, hard enough to cause a little pain. I wince, but I'm able to resist the urge to strike him in return. I do remember my training, and I know I must never turn on my master. Slowly, a sense of horror fills my soul as I realize that I actually dared question him. He treated me as a child because, for a moment, I became one again.

  “I'm sorry,” I mutter, holding back tears. “Please forgive my impertinence.”

  “Abby Hart survived because she was fortunate,” he says firmly, clearly annoyed by my words a moment ago, “but she doesn't matter anymore. Forget about her, she's most likely too badly injured to cause us any trouble for a while. We need to focus on Jonathan, and we need to get the information about Karakh. Tell me, have there been any signs of a physical transformation?”

  “I saw his fangs,” I reply. “Briefly, but... They were there.”

  “Excellent. And does he crave blood?”

  “More than he's willing to admit.”

  “And how does he see you?”

  “He -” Pausing for a moment, I think back to when Jonathan told me I was beautiful. That was before he changed, of course, so I doubt very much that he could ever express such a sentiment again. All vampires hate all spiders, and vice versa. That was one of the very first lessons of the Book of Karakh. “He's disgusted by me,” I say finally. Even if it's not quite true yet, it will be true soon.

  “Good. That's another excellent sign.”

  I nod, even though there's a part of me that wishes there could be another way. After all, no-one has ever seen my true form and called me beautiful. Ever since the incident with Leanne, I've assumed no-one ever would.

  “I'm weak,” I whisper finally, as a sense of realization starts to fill my body. “You're right, Keller, I have certain failings that my training didn't cover. How can I suppress them?”

  “It will take time.”

  “I hate the vampire,” I continue, “truly I do, but... I want to hate him more.”

  “Then go to him,” Keller replies, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Breathe his foulness into your soul, tempt him with more blood, and get the information about Karakh. If you fail today, I will have no other option, I will have to cut him open.”

  “No,” I reply, “please -” Realizing that my reaction is wrong and perverse, I take a deep breath. “Of course. You're right, you're always right. I'll go to him at once.” Turning, I head toward the door.

  “Not quite yet,” he calls after me. “There is one other matter to which you must attend before you go back down to the vampire.”

  Stopping in the doorway, I feel a sense of fear in my heart. “What?” I ask, even though I think I know the answer.

  “You must go to the antechamber,” he continues. “Emilia, your father wishes to speak to you.”

  Abby Hart

  “Why did they try to kill me?”

  Startled, Absalom looks up from his newspaper, and I
can immediately see from the look in his eyes that he's surprised to see me.

  “Abby -”

  “Why did they try to kill me?” I ask again, limping across the courtyard behind his townhouse. “Sorry about the unexpected drop-in, by the way. I guess now you know how it feels.”

  “I heard you were involved in an unfortunate incident,” he replies, folding the newspaper and setting it down. “I anticipated it would take a little longer for you to resurface, although I had no doubt that you'd come back to see me eventually. I imagine you've finally realized that you can't deal with this problem alone.”

  “They want to find Karakh,” I continue, sitting opposite him as I toss the Book of Gothos onto the table. “The information they need is supposed to only be in my head, so they should be trying to capture me, not kill me.”

  He opens his mouth to reply, but I can see that he's worried. After a moment, he glances at the book.

  “And then I got to thinking,” I tell him, “that when information drops into my lap so easily, someone somewhere must be up to something. Take Emilia, for example. She deliberately left papers at the orphanage that enabled me to find out a little more about her.”

  “Abby -”

  “And you were happy for me to have the Book of Gothos. I spent so much time going through its pages, I never even stopped to think about your motivation.” I slide the book toward him. “Is this even the real Book of Gothos, or is it just a fake filled with information you want me to have?”

  “It's the real book,” he replies cautiously.

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  He pauses. “It's the real book,” he says again. “The first testament, at least.”

  “There's a second?”

  He nods.

  “The first testament covers everything that happened throughout the wars,” I continue, “all the way up to the prophecy that haunted my father's life, so what's in the second testament?”

  “Hints.”

  “Hints about what?”