Souls Night [The Pact Series]

by Kallysten

  "If you're not happy with what you did,” she murmured, “maybe we could try again?"

  Chapter 7

  Mierna was asleep. She knew she was asleep. She was dreaming. She knew that too.

  It wasn't unusual for her to have vivid dreams that she would remember in the morning. Often, in the past months, her dreams had featured Elden in such a prominent way that she had blushed to herself upon waking up. This was different, though. Rather than the sharp, colorful images she was used to, she walked in a foggy landscape. There wasn't anything but wisps of translucent smoke dancing around her. Even the ground felt immaterial beneath her bare feet.

  "Strange dream,” she said aloud, breaking the silence. The words seemed to reverberate around her.

  "Is it?"

  She started at the amused question. There wasn't anyone there that she could see—and then there was. Shapes just a shade darker than the fog slowly solidified a few feet in front of her, and soon there were seven figures facing her, four men and three women. Even though their faces remained blurry, Mierna was certain she had never met them before. And yet, even as the thought entered her mind, she knew who they were; Elden's Childer.

  "Souls Night."

  The words had escaped her lips before she even knew she was speaking.

  "Souls Night, yes.” It was the closest woman who had spoken. “You placed flowers on our graves."

  The woman walked a little closer still while the rest stayed back. Her features sharpened a little, as did her clothing, and the sword in its scabbard. She was about Mierna's height. Her hair, black as coal, fell in waves on her shoulders. Just like Mierna knew she was dreaming, just like she had known these were Elden's Childer and they had come to her because of Souls Night, she knew who the woman now standing right in front of her was.

  "Elden gave me your sword,” she blurted out, and suddenly the sword wasn't hanging from the woman's—Deborah's—waist. Instead, it was in Mierna's hand.

  "He gave you more than my sword,” Deborah said with a barely there smile. “He hadn't willingly spoken to anyone since long before your parents had shared their first kiss. He gave you himself. You'll have to believe me when I say it means a lot more than an old sword."

  "Does it?"

  Mierna looked at the sword in her hand. It slowly disappeared until she was holding nothing more than air. When she looked up again, Deborah had lost her smile.

  "It does. If you show Elden."

  "If I ... what?"

  Behind Deborah, the other shadowy figures were slowly fading out. Deborah herself looked less clear, suddenly.

  "You asked him to make you a vampire. Why did you let him refuse?"

  Mierna shook her head. “He won't listen—"

  "Of course he will,” Deborah cut in impatiently. “Wasn't he listening when you told him you're in love with him?” If she noticed Mierna's blush, she didn't mention it. “He distracted both of you by taking you to his bed, but he wants it as much as you do. He's been so lonely. Ready to give up. Why else do you think he allows himself to be hurt so often?"

  Mierna blinked, unsure she understood. Surely, Deborah couldn't mean that Elden had courted death? She didn't have the chance to ask for an explanation, however. Deborah was talking faster, now, as though she didn't have much time.

  "The only reason he won't sire you is his fear you'd die like we did. So tell him this. Tell him this is a message from me. Tell him it won't happen again, and he won't lose you the same way he lost us."

  "He won't believe me,” Mierna said, her voice urgent as Deborah was becoming more and more translucent.

  "He will. Remind him he was ready to take a new Childe when the Great Death came, and it's time he finally did. And tell him we miss him too."

  Mierna barely heard the last few words; they were as faint as Deborah's silhouette in front of her. But before she disappeared completely, she gave Mierna one last smile—and Mierna knew, once again, without knowing where the knowledge came from, why Deborah had taken the lead and talked to her while the others remained in the background.

  She blinked. When her eyes opened again, she was back in Elden's bed; in Elden's arms.

  He must have left the bed while she slept, because a bright fire now warmed and lit the room. She shifted a little, pulling away from his chest just enough to see his face. His eyes were open, and softened a little when they met hers.

  "Warm enough?” he murmured.

  "Yes. Thank you."

  How strange to be talking to him, now, when moments ago she had been talking to someone who had been dead for two centuries—or had she? She needed to know if what she had experienced had been real, or a trick her mind had played on her. She needed to be sure that all these things she had come to know had been real.

  "Deborah...” She said the name hesitantly, and flinched when Elden's expression hardened. Still, she couldn't stop now. “She was your first Childe, wasn't she? And your favorite until the day she died."

  The shock clearly spelled out on Elden's face answered her before he did so in words. She could feel his body tense against hers.

  "How did you know?"

  Would he think she was insane, if she told him? Or would he believe her, and finally accept to sire her, as Deborah had all but promised he would? She had to take the chance.

  "She ... she talked to me."

  The shock disappeared, leaving in its wake a blank expression. Elden freed his arm from beneath Mierna's neck and rolled onto his back.

  "She's dead, Mierna. It was a dream."

  Sitting up so she could see his face as she spoke, Mierna tried to find the words to explain. She could barely believe herself what had happened, but she could believe even less that she had guessed who Deborah had been exactly without outside help.

  "It was a dream, yes, but at the same time it wasn't. She said because of Souls Night ... well, she didn't explain, really. But she said things, things I couldn't know otherwise."

  Elden sighed, and when he asked “Things like what?” he was clearly humoring her.

  "Like ... she said they miss you too."

  He closed his eyes at that, and she took the small gesture as meaning he wasn't convinced. She hurried to relay something else Deborah had told her.

  "She said ... the Great Death won't happen again. And I won't die if you sire me."

  In a flash, his eyes opened again, pain burning in them. The next second, he was out of the bed and pacing in front of the fireplace.

  "You think that by using her name you'll make me change my mind?” he asked, his voice as cold and lifeless as winter. “You should have more respect for the dead, Mierna, especially those who fought so that your ancestors could live."

  "I do respect her,” she protested. Her hands clenched on the blanket she was holding up to cover herself. “I respect all of them. That's why I won't stop fighting demons. Even if I didn't love you, I still wouldn't have accepted to marry Gorden. Don't you see this is all I ever wanted?"

  "You don't know what you're saying. You don't know the consequences—"

  "I know I could die every time I fight!” she interrupted, getting annoyed now that he couldn't see she was telling the truth. “I'm ready for it."

  His demeanor changed instantly. He stopped pacing and turned to her. With his back to the flames, she couldn't distinguish his face. His voice, though, let her now how upset he was at the idea of her death.

  "Don't say that,” he pleaded.

  "Why not? It's true. I am a Fighter and I will die a Fighter. I've known it since as long as I can remember."

  "Don't say that,” he repeated, and took a tentative step toward the bed.

  "It's a matter of time,” she insisted. “Nothing you can say will save me. But you can give me a longer time fighting if you make me a vampire."

  A bit of strength returned to his voice. “No. I won't take the risk—"

  It was the same argument again, but this time Mierna remembered something else Deborah had told her.

/>   "Deborah said you had been about to take a new Childe when they all died. Haven't you waited long enough?"

  She held her breath while waiting to see if he would believe her, this time. After remaining frozen for a little while, he returned to the bed and knelt next to her on the mattress, his hands closed in tight fists on his thighs.

  "She ... she really talked to you?"

  He sounded agitated, but now that she could see his face again, now that she could read his eyes, Mierna could recognize the hunger she had first witnessed almost a year earlier, when she had first offered him her blood. She had thought, then, and every time after that, that it was hunger for blood that consumed him. Now, however, she wondered if instead he wasn't yearning for contact and companionship. For someone to share blood with, yes, but also to teach, to hold, to care for. Someone to love without fearing death.

  "She did,” she replied very gently.

  She let go of the blanket she was holding to her chest and rested her right hand on top of one of Elden's fists. It uncurled slowly, and pulled at the cover even as Elden lay down next to her again.

  "The time of the Pacts is over,” he said, his voice shaking. Had they been fighting with swords, it would have been the last desperate attack of a fighter who knew he had lost.

  "I know that. I'm not speaking for Riverside, only for myself. I want to fight. And I want to be with you. And there's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind."

  "Nothing I can say, maybe, but others might help you see things differently. I give you one year."

  Her eyes widened. Did he mean—

  "In one year,” he continued, his tone more assured now, “if you ask me again, I will turn you."

  Mierna slid closer to him until their bodies were pressed together. “I won't change my mind, do it now."

  The barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “No. One year."

  She closed the distance between their lips for a quick, chaste kiss. When she pulled back, he tried to follow her for more. She grinned.

  "You won't wait that long,” she said, sure of herself.

  "I've waited two hundred years,” he pointed out as he slowly ran a hand over the side of her body. “One more is nothing."

  Mierna shivered at his touch but fought herself to answer him. “And every day, I'll ask you to reconsider."

  His smile was now frank and wide. “I'm sure you will,"

  "I'll use all of my arguments to change your mind."

  She punctuated her near promise with a light touch of a finger against his hardening cock. Elden drew in a deep breath before leaning in closer to press a kiss her shoulder.

  "I'm sure you will do that too. But if it comes to that, you'll learn that Childer follow where their Sire leads, not the other way around."

  "Maybe. But it doesn't apply until you actually sire me."

  He paused against her, pulled back, and she could see he looked dumbstruck. She laughed, then kissed him again. She was ready to bet that by the time the snows had come and gone, she would have changed his mind. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him tight against her and hid her smile against his neck.

  The End

  About the Author:

  Kallysten is a French citizen whose most exciting accomplishment to date was to cross a few thousand miles and an ocean to pursue (and catch!) the love of her life. She has been writing for almost fifteen years, and always enjoyed sharing her stories and listening to the readers’ reactions. After playing with science fiction, short stories, poetry and fanfiction, she is now trying her hand, heart and words at paranormal romance novels.

  To see her other novels, visit:

  original.kallysten.net

  Other stories in The Pacts series available at Alinar Publishing:

  All Things Except Blood

  Vampire Eyrin lives in a world in which her kind seals pacts with humans and protects them from fearsome demons in exchange for blood. She is one of her clan's strongest fighters, until the night when she is gravely wounded, in both her flesh and spirit. Disfigured, she hides from all and refuses to feed.

  Returning to the lair, her human lover Ian is shocked to discover her condition but resolute to show her she is still as beautiful in his eyes. He offers her blood and comfort, causing Eyrin to do the one thing forbidden to Childer—take his life.

  When Ian awakens a vampire, sired not by her but by the clan's Master instead, Eyrin reluctantly takes on the task of teaching him about his new existence. But her guilt over killing him makes this responsibility a heavy burden for Eyrin, and the new relationship they forge is a far cry from the one they used to share. Will Ian be able to reach out for her again, or will she keep her door and heart locked to him?

  Her Last Words (November ‘07)

  Two centuries have passed since the Master Vampire Gabrielle made the biggest mistake of her life. Two centuries since her plan backfired, resulting not in the destruction of demons as she had hoped, but instead in the slaughtering of countless humans and vampires that had been fighting against them. Two centuries also, since she pushed away her favorite Childe, without ever telling him why. Two centuries of fighting alone to protect the humans she has sworn to defend from demons. Two centuries of missing Erik.

  When he finally reappears in her life, she thinks she has been offered a second chance. But she soon realizes that she will need to face her mistakes to reach him, and understand that silence can be more painful than words.

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