by Alyssa Day
He shook her and called her name, then resorted to shouting at her, but nothing mattered, nothing worked, so he simply gathered her into his arms and waited, silent as the grave he’d soon be seeking out, for the woman he loved to learn who he truly was and order him out of her life forever.
Serai fell, twirling and twisting, tossed through a typhoon of sound and sensation, through an apocalypse of blood and death, fear and fury. Light flashed all around her, and she woke up in the very same shop where she’d first met Daniel, all those years ago.
Flash.
He stood still, staring after a girl who was leaving the shop, and Serai was a tiny bit jealous, until the girl smiled back at him over her shoulder and she realized it was her. Herself, eleven thousand years ago, on the very first day she’d met Daniel.
“Hits you like that sometimes,” a man standing in the shop said, grinning at Daniel’s expression of utter shock. “Been married more than twenty years to a woman who made me feel just like you look right now.”
Daniel blinked and opened and closed his mouth a few times. “But—but—”
The man laughed. “Yep. That’s what I said. You’re done for.”
Flash.
The fight in the shop, that day the invading army attacked Atlantis. Daniel fighting for his life against looting soldiers, protecting the trapdoor, protecting her. Falling, so much blood.
Flash.
Daniel waking, crazed with the bloodlust, calling for her. The old nightwalker telling him she was gone. Atlantis was gone. Gone forever. Daniel screaming her name until he was hoarse, and then falling to the ground, body heaving with great, racking sobs.
Flash.
Murder. Vengeance. The flash of recognition in that village ; the girl who reminded him of Serai. Hibernation. The quest for redemption. The eventual resignation and despair.
Flash.
Walking into the sun, only to look up and see that the sunlight wasn’t killing him. The light came from her face. Her face. Serai. Love. Desire. Need. In his face. For her.
For her.
When she woke from the trance, she gasped and then gulped in great, shuddering breaths, as if she’d been starved of oxygen for hours or days. Daniel held her tightly, so tightly that she wasn’t even cold, although they lay on the floor of the cave, still unclothed.
“Well?” His voice was as hoarse as if he’d been screaming. For all she knew, he had. She’d been deaf to him while the soul-meld took her and showed her his life.
“You’re leaving me now, aren’t you? I understand. I forgive you, and we can just forget all that stuff about ‘mine’ and ‘forever,’” he said, his face so cold and remote that—for a split second—she almost doubted him. Almost.
But she’d seen inside his soul. She said the only thing she could. The only possible words to share at such a time.
“Daniel. We have answered the question the elders have asked for millennia,” she told him, touching his stern face with her hand. “Nightwalkers do have souls. I have just walked in yours, and I want to cry for your pain. Know this, though, my vampire. My love. I will never let you go, and if you mention it again, I may have to hurt you.”
Daniel couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Could only feel, as a wave of pure warmth and love swept through him. “You’ve seen my soul? Is that even possible? I’d wondered—I’d feared—”
“You cannot reach the soul-meld with someone who has no soul,” she said, smiling, and he realized the blue-green flames in her eyes were still there. “We are bound forever now.”
The ancient words came to her, unbidden, mandating her to recite them: “I offer my magic, my heart, and my life to protect your own.
From now until the last drop of ocean has vanished from the earth,
You are my soul.”
Shimmering silver threads, clearly visible in the predawn light in the cave, formed and curled around them both, tying them together inescapably. Forever, she’d said.
Daniel couldn’t take it all in. It was too much.
“I have a soul?”
“You do,” she confirmed. “A badly wounded soul, forced to make so many hard choices, still fighting hard to redeem itself from the dark. And now it, as well as you, belong to me.”
“Forever?” he repeated, stupidly.
“Forever.”
“Then we will make damn sure that nothing happens to you. I promise you that. Upon my life, upon my oath as a senior mage of the Nightwalker Guild, and upon my love for you, Serai, I swear to you that I will not let you die. We will find that Emperor and save your sisters, this I swear to you.”
She smiled and kissed him, and this time the world didn’t shatter and the walls didn’t fall in and the floor didn’t disappear from under him. It was just a kiss, only a kiss.
The kiss that began the rest of his life.
Chapter 27
Midday, in a cave only two miles away from Serai and Daniel
Ivy sat on her pallet of blankets in the cave where she’d recently seen a man die horribly, and wondered if she’d brought this all on herself. She hugged her knees and watched her son sleep, knowing that it was futile to waste time on the how and the why of the past. All that mattered was how they’d get out of this situation. A fierce wave of pride and fury swept through her, leaving nothing but icy cold resolve in its wake. Nobody was going to hurt her son.
Nobody.
Dusk was a few hours away, and she needed to figure out her escape plans before the vampire rose from his day sleep.
“I have no intention of hurting him,” Nicholas said from behind her, making her jump a little. She hadn’t even heard him approach. Damn sneaky vampires. He could have ripped her guts out, too, and she wouldn’t have heard it coming.
Although, was that something you’d want to hear coming?
“Can you read my mind? If so, I can’t imagine you’re very flattered right now.” She didn’t bother to turn around and look at him. He was the last person in the world she wanted to see, now or ever. “Also, shouldn’t you be asleep? Evil vampire, and all that?”
“It doesn’t take a mind reader to see a mother’s protectiveness for her child,” he said, surprising her. “Also, I’m old enough to be awake whenever I like. Just because I can’t walk in the sun doesn’t mean I’m a slave to its passage through the sky.”
She smoothed an errant strand of hair from Ian’s face, and he stirred but didn’t wake up. She filed away the information about the vampire’s lack of need for day sleep. Just one more obstacle. She was good at overcoming obstacles.
“If you see my protectiveness, you understand why I would never let you turn him into a vampire.”
“I have no intention of turning him into a vampire,” he said. “But I thought it was easier to say yes and deal with the topic again when he actually turns twenty-one, in the unlikely event he even remembers asking or still wants it then.”
“Kids remember everything. Or at least my kid does. I can’t speak to any others. Ian, though, he’s special. Always has been. So much like his father.”
“Where is the boy’s father?” Nicholas’s voice had the slightest touch of frost in it, as if he planned to go attack Ian’s dad next. He was too late on that one.
“He’s dead. He died when Ian was very young. Murdered by vampires. Some of your kind who didn’t like the coming out parties, and wanted vampires to be the feared creatures who went bump in the night instead of the neighbor next door who could vote and pay taxes. They killed him and laughed about it. Some of your buddies?” She told the story without any anger. It had been far too long ago for anger. All she had left was cold hatred and the need for revenge.
The need to protect her son, no matter what the cost.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Nicholas said, and he was so good—so smooth—that he put actual regret in his voice.
“Don’t bother,” she said. “You don’t need to warm me up or pretend you care about the death of some random human ten years ago. You ha
ve me, you have my son. I have to do what you ask, so don’t waste both of our time by pretending otherwise.”
He stepped forward, into her line of sight, and leaned against the wall, and she was struck again by how incredibly handsome he was, at least when his eyes weren’t glowing red or somebody’s intestines weren’t draped over his arm. So many of them were attractive. Vampires. Beauty disguising evil, or designed to seduce its prey.
A flash of some indefinable emotion crossed his eyes but was gone so fast she’d probably imagined it. Or else he was trying compulsion on her, in which case he was out of luck.
“I was a random human once,” he said softly. “As were my wife and son. The memory of my family was not burned out of me by the bloodlust, even in the beginning. I know full well what you would do to protect your son from vampires, because my wife protected my son from me.”
She looked up at him, caught in spite of herself by the pain in his voice. Or the illusion of it, she reminded herself. Vampires were masters of illusion. And yet, she knew full well that she was immune to compulsion.
“How did it happen? Why did you choose to become a vampire, then, if you lost your family over it?”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Choose? Did your husband choose to be murdered? There was no choosing involved. I was happy and wealthy, and there were ones who wanted what I had. When I was lost to the bloodlust, they murdered my wife and child, too. Apparently they only wanted my land and fortune, not my family.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know how you felt.”
“No, you don’t,” he replied, just as quietly. “I had the luxury of killing those who took my family. I doubt you had that.”
“No. No, I didn’t. Not that I didn’t try. Someday, though. Someday they will look up, and it will be me they see, and then they will see nothing forever after.” She shoved her hair out of her face and took a deep breath. “On the other hand, I haven’t had to mourn for centuries. How long has it been?”
His face changed, and she almost wished she hadn’t seen it. The hard lines and angles softened, and he stared at her as if she’d shocked him. He looked almost . . . human.
“No one has ever asked me that, or even spared a thought for my centuries of pain,” he said, bowing his head. “Your son is who he is because of you; your soul and spirit. His father would be very proud of him.”
She fought the burning sensation of tears, steeling herself with the absurdity of it all. Comforted by kind words from a vampire. Ridiculous. And yet—and yet he had never lifted a hand to harm her, and he’d protected Ian.
No. Foolish. What was she, an idiot with Stockholm Syndrome?
“You’ve threatened me in order to get me to help you,” she said. “Don’t pretend I’m here voluntarily, or that you respect me or want us to be buddies.”
He raised an eyebrow, and the cold, sneering haughtiness returned to his expression. “I haven’t had a buddy in over three hundred years. Why should that change now?”
“Tell me about the painting in the ceiling, then,” she said, desperate for a new topic, before she actually started to feel sorry for him. “What did you see? What does it mean?”
“I have no idea. I can guess, but my guesses are pretty wild. I’ll need you to confirm that anything I think might be possible, actually is.”
“Of course. And if I blow a brain aneurysm trying to channel that damn stone, oh, well, you can always replace me,” she said bitterly.
Ian stirred on the cot and opened his eyes, probably because she’d raised her voice, and Nicholas walked away.
“I’m not so sure about that anymore,” he said as he left, and she turned to watch him just as he glanced back at her.
The look burning in his eyes terrified her more than anything else that had happened over the past few days. It was hunger. She was sure of it.
And she didn’t think it had anything to do with her blood.
Nicholas edged as close to the entrance of the cave as he could get without stepping into the sunlight and bursting into flames. Although flames might be a relief, compared to the confusion churning in his gut. He wanted to rule the vampires of North America. Consolidate his power. Take over the primator position. A little invulnerability to go with his near-immortality wouldn’t hurt.
The last thing he needed was to allow a temporary weakness over one lovely witch and her courageous son to interfere with any of his goals. He heard the boy walking across the cave toward him but ignored him.
Unfortunately, teenage boys weren’t all that great about being ignored.
“What’s the painting about? Did you figure it out after Mom made me take a nap?”
“Are you ever silent when you’re awake?”
Ian laughed, and Nicholas caught himself smiling at the sound.
No, no, no, no, no.
“Not too often. When I’m eating, mostly.”
“So go eat something.”
“Did you?” Ian challenged him. “Eat somebody?”
Unfortunately not. He’d had an unexpected change of heart about the terrified human his minions had abducted for him, and he’d compelled her to sleep and then wake up with no memory of the encounter. She was safely home now, unaware of how close she’d come to being lunch.
“Yes,” he lied. “Several people. Drained them dry and picked my teeth with their bones.”
Ian gasped. Finally. Fear: a sensible reaction.
“Hey! You made that up. Picked your teeth with their bones? Come on. I don’t see any bones around here.”
“Ian!” Ivy’s tone was unmistakable, and Ian scuffed one shoe on the ground.
“Aw, Mom—”
“No. Do you really want to banter with a vampire you saw eviscerate a human being only hours ago?”
The light drained from Ian’s eyes, and true fear replaced it. He slowly backed away from Nicholas, who felt a strangely empty feeling in his gut. Almost like loss, although that was ridiculous.
Ridiculous.
“Yes, I think I know what the painting means.” He pulled out his phone and showed them the picture he’d taken. “I think I know what the gem’s name is, too.”
“It has a name? Like the Hope Diamond?” Ian stared at the photo, fascination outweighing his momentary fear. Nicholas was inexplicably glad of that.
“I believe it does. Objects of power are often named,” Nicholas said. “Do you see how it’s glowing with purple light? It must be our stone. See how the people are all bowing to it? And the symbol etched below the stone, I have seen similar symbols before. I believe the gem is called the Ruler, or the King.”
“Cool. Also, vampires have smart phones?”
“What did you expect? Carrier pigeons?”
Ivy raised an eyebrow “You get all that from this primitive painting? You’re kidding, right? What does that glowing purple skeleton mean, then? The amethyst makes bones dance?”
“Bone Dance would be an excellent name for a rock band,” Ian said.
Nicholas and Ivy both looked at him, and his ears turned pink.
“Sorry. Totally random.”
“What about the city under the water?” Ivy pointed to the tiny shape in the upper left corner. “What is that?”
“That must be Atlantis.”
Ivy started laughing. “Atlantis. Right.”
Nicholas shoved the phone in his pocket, caught Ivy around the waist, and soared up to the hole in the ceiling so she could see it herself. This time he brought the lantern with him, although it was much lighter in the cave now since it was midday.
He turned her so her back was to his chest and leaned down to speak close to her ear. “There. Do you see it? A city under the sea, and those shapes you couldn’t make out in the tiny photo on the phone are leaping dolphins and possibly the sea god carrying his trident. What else could it be?”
Her heart rate sped up significantly, and he didn’t know if it was from fear or something else. Something that was too dangerous to even co
nsider, because if the witch was attracted to him, too, he had a bigger problem than he’d feared.
“I don’t know. Maybe. But Atlantis?” she finally said, and her voice shook a little.
“You’re a witch, and I’m a vampire,” he said, tightening his arm around her waist, just a fraction, just enough to feel the length of her soft, warm, curvy body against his. “Is Atlantis truly so impossible?”
“Yes. No. Whatever. Please put me down,” she said, but he could feel that she was trembling, and he had to clamp down with every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep from sinking his teeth into her neck or sinking another part of his body into her elsewhere.
“Mom! What do you see?” Ian’s voice had the exact same effect as a blast of cold water. It wasn’t exactly good to have wicked thoughts about the boy’s mother when he was standing right beneath them.
He floated them back down to the ground and was obscurely pleased to see the flush in Ivy’s cheeks when he released her.
“I don’t know. It might be about Atlantis. Maybe not. I’m not sure what that means to you, though,” she told Nicholas. “What about that dark woman floating in the air above the guy with the trident?”
Nicholas repressed a shudder at the thought of what that dark figure might truly mean. If Anubisa were to claim ownership of the gem, she wouldn’t look kindly on any who stole it. And when the goddess of Chaos and Night was unhappy, people and vampires died in horrible ways. None of that was anything he could share with Ivy, however.
“The least that the gem, the King if you will, does is find me enough treasure to gain the power to win the primator job. The most it might do is make me invulnerable to attack. I need for you to explore the full range of its powers.”
Ivy narrowed her eyes and clenched her hands into fists at her sides. “I tried, and it nearly killed me. It’s not worth my life to try again, unless you let my son go and take him exactly where I tell you.”
“I can make a difference,” he found himself saying. Telling the truth after so long a time of lies and misdirection. “I can stop the worst abuses that are being perpetrated by so many power-mad vampires out there now. I just need the chance to try. We were better off remaining in the shadows, afraid of discovery and retribution.”