Dark Knights 1: Eternity of Darkness

by Shana Nichols

  That crumble all away.

  “The South Wind is the baker

  He kneads clouds in his den,

  And bakes a crisp new moon that ...

  greedy.... North.... Wind ....eats....again!”

  “What a lovely poem. I never heard it before.” Julie relaxed beneath his arm, against the shelter of his body, her lips curving up at this bit of whimsy.

  “It’s called What the Little Girl Said. I hadn’t thought about the poem for years until tonight. Moonlight becomes you, you know.” He drew her closer, absorbed her warmth, her desire -- the love for him that she made no attempt to hide. Her hair, caught the dim light, looked like spun gold. He had to touch it, feel the silky strands between his fingers.

  “Well, Stefan, it’s obvious you’re doing more with Julie than saving her from the Fox. I sense a vampire wedding in the works.”

  Stefan shot a fierce scowl Alex’s way. “You’re supposed to be watching for Reynard, not making inane observations like that.”

  “Can’t help it. Not when it’s so obvious that you can barely keep your hands off her. Can’t say I blame you, of course.” Alex laughed, but he dropped back a little. From the intent look on his face, Stefan guessed he was trying to make mental contact with their prey.

  Claude caught up to them, measured his pace with Stefan’s. “We won’t let Reynard hurt you.”

  When Julie smiled at the young vampire, Stefan had to rein in his temper. He’d never felt so possessive of a woman before, and that disturbed him.

  Everything about Julie disturbed him. Aroused him. He took her hand, ran his thumb over her soft, warm palm. “I believe you’ve won yourself two more ardent admirers, Julie. Go on ahead, Claude. Keep your eyes open. Reynard might be lurking anywhere.” It was greedy, Stefan knew, but he wanted his remaining time with Julie undisturbed even by those he’d summoned to help him protect her. He ignored Alex’s knowledgeable chuckle.

  Seductive music filled the air as they drew closer to Rush Street and its many clubs and restaurants. He’d enjoy tonight, show Julie a side of himself that he rarely revealed, that he’d never before revealed to a mortal.

  The brush of his hip against hers as they walked, slight yet incredibly seductive, made him light-headed. He’d take whatever teasing Alexandre dished out, because he loved Julie too much to keep his feelings under wraps.

  * * * * *

  At the restaurant a few minutes later Guy greeted them like long-lost friends, before pulling Stefan aside. “Reynard tried to get in here last night,” he whispered. “Of course I turned him away.”

  “But of course.” It comforted Stefan to know he could count on Guy, and that while they refreshed themselves, they need not worry about Reynard’s imminent arrival.

  Guy smiled, his voice now at a normal, cordial tone as he addressed the group. “Tonight the music is live. I believe you’ll enjoy the band. Their music reminds me of classic New Orleans blues.” Guy motioned toward the back room where they’d gone before. “Go on and make yourself at home. I’d take you myself, but I dare not leave the door unguarded now that I know Reynard is out there, somewhere close by.”

  “I know the way. Thank you for your vigilance.”

  Tonight the place was full. When he heard Julie’s sharp intake of breath, Stefan scanned the room. It didn’t take genius to figure she’d noticed the pair of Callicantzaros, Greek vampires whose swarthy coloring and long, wicked looking talons set them apart from others of their kind. “They’re different from most made vampires,” he told her once they’d settled at the table near the dance floor. “Legend has it they come from people who were born between Christmas and Twelfth Night, and it’s said that once a year, between Christmas and the Epiphany, they attack their victims and tear them up. They are harmless the rest of the year, so you can relax.”

  “They look so fierce, I was frightened for a moment.” When Julie smiled, she warmed Stefan’s heart. “Look, isn’t that Alex making friends with that redhead at the bar?”

  Stefan laughed. “I’d worry about Alex if he weren’t hitting on some female. He has ever had a roving eye for beauty. Do you see Claude?”

  “He’s down there at the end of the bar, nursing a draft and scanning the room as though he expects Reynard to barge in at any minute.”

  “Yes, that’s Claude for you.” Earnest, always trying to do his job, even though he often bungled assignments. “He’s very young, but he’s learning.”

  “He takes his job seriously,” Julie said. “Unlike your cousin.”

  “Alex likes to joke, but he’s deadly serious when it comes to destroying Reynard. So serious that I worry he’ll do something foolish, like confronting him alone.”

  Julie reached up and brushed her fingers across his injured cheek. “The way you did in Atlanta?”

  “I guess so.” He smiled “We’re all getting a little reckless. Desperate’s the word.” No one who ever saw one of Reynard’s victims could feel otherwise.

  Her jerky little smile reminded him she knew she was Reynard’s next intended victim. Maybe if he changed the subject, her fear would dissipate. “See the couple in the corner?”

  Julie saw through Stefan’s transparent attempt at distracting her but loved him more for trying. The two, their gleaming shaven heads mahogany brown in stark contract with primitive pale wood jewelry that adorned their ears and noses, captured her artist’s imagination. Though both the man and the woman wore conservative Western clothes, she imagined painting them in colorful African tribal dress -- or the affluent urban American facsimile thereof. “Are they vampires, too?” she asked when she turned back to Stefan.

  “They’re Owenga. Reincarnations of ancient evil sorcerers who are still feared by some native tribes in Africa. If they were ever evil, though, it was centuries ago, for now they’re among the most highly respected of all the vampire clans.”

  “I’d never have guessed if I’d seen them on the street.”

  Stefan smiled. “Like mortals, vampires come in all shapes and sizes. All colors. Look. Here comes the waiter with our drinks.”

  Julie smiled at the waiter, then took a delicate sip of her wine while Stefan sampled his frosted stein of blood. She watched him, her expression pensive, and he knew the direction of her thoughts, even before she spoke.

  “There’s no chance we will ever share the same drink? None at all?”

  Stefan tried to hide his frustration that she wouldn’t let it die. No matter how they both wished otherwise, it must. “None, my mortal darling. Let’s enjoy the time we have, and not reach for more.” He reached over and took her hand.

  For a moment sadness shadowed her face, but she quickly managed a courageous smile. “Well, I guess I’d better enjoy you while I can. Shall we dance?”

  Stefan wanted nothing more than to hold her, not just now but forever Still, the idea of trying to turn her, then losing her as he had lost Tina, steeled his determination to resist her pleas. “I’ll take any excuse I can get to hold you in my arms.” Standing, he held out his hand.

  Strobe lights accentuated the colors in her dress as it swirled around her slender legs. Red, purple, indigo, blue, green, and yellow hues, mingling and merging with her movements, reminded him of the rainbow that often followed fierce storms. The curve of her spine entranced him when he splayed his fingers over that supple flesh. Each delicate indentation between her vertebrae would remain in his memory, torture him in his future as it entranced him now.

  He pulled her close, so close that the hard nubs of her nipples brushed his chest and her flat belly cradled the erection he couldn’t have willed away if he’d wanted to try. The sway of her body matched his, a perfectly choreographed dance of seduction he couldn’t, wouldn’t deny.

  He imagined her in his castle, in the room where he’d been born, turning from the window to him, love shining in her eyes. She’d have on this dress for a moment longer, until he took her hand, pressed it to her heart. Then, the dress would fade away as if by magic.
She would come to him, offering herself for his pleasure. He’d be naked, too. No pretense, nothing held back. He’d rake her with his gaze, take in every curve of her flesh, the angles of her hipbones and shoulder blades and the indentation of her navel. Although the pulsing vein in her neck would attract him, he’d take much more. He’d make Julie his, his for all time. His for eternity.

  A bright flame would flicker in the fireplace, warming the room, heating his blood. He’d take her, lift her into the huge four-poster bed where he was born. For long time he’d sit beside her, stroking her pale golden skin, tracing each delicate angle of her bones, following his caresses with the gentlest nips of his teeth, the soothing balm of his tongue.

  When she writhed against him, overtaken by passion, he’d kneel between her legs and enter her gently, for she was precious to him. But she wouldn’t want gentle for long. Her nails would dig into his back. Her little open-mouthed kisses would turn to demanding bites to his shoulders, neck, and lips.

  He’d answer her in kind, with harder strokes, wilder kisses, rougher stimulation of her most sensitive flesh. He’d claim her. Make her his, forever in the darkness of the night. His for all time.

  Pressure built inside him, demanding release. Driven by emotion, not reason, Stefan bent his head to the enticing vein that throbbed beneath the silken skin of her throat.

  “Stefan, the music has stopped.” Julie looked at him and smiled, the smile of a woman who knew she had stolen a vampire’s soul.

  That look of utter adoration made him pause, raise his head. He forced himself to remember that look on Tina’s face, and also to recall how she’d looked, her lifeblood drained. Still and pale in eternal death, lying in her coffin in a silk and velvet gown, Empire-waisted like the ones Josephine always wore. The brand-new dress Stefan had commissioned from a local seamstress, that was to have been Tina’s wedding gown. “Yes, my darling, the music has stopped.”

  No matter how much they both wanted it, he wouldn’t take the risk of that happening to Julie.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She’d almost gotten exactly what she wanted. But she realized now that she couldn’t entice Stefan to turn her in a haze of vampire passion. If there was to be a lifetime commitment between them, it must be a mutual, rational decision.

  As she must with the impending confrontation with Reynard, she had to have faith in the outcome. Goodness and love had to prevail, and if evil defeated them, she’d hardly be around to worry about it. When Stefan summoned Alex and Claude to their table, she put on a happy face, smiling despite the uncertainties of her future -- and her life.

  “Tell me about some of the people here. Please.” If she sounded a bit desperate, if Alex’s eyes were too knowing, Stefan’s too full of concern, they wouldn’t say anything about it. They’d pledged to take care of her, and she knew they would.

  Alex leaned back in the booth, stretching a companionable arm behind her, winking at her when Stefan scowled. “Let’s let Claude tell you about the old guy over there. Come on, Claude, I see you trying to stifle a grin.” Alex looked toward a May-December couple fawning over each other in a darkened corner.

  Even in the dim light, Julie saw Claude’s sheepish expression. “I couldn’t,” he said.

  “It’s all right, Claude. Neither of us will take offense.” Stefan turned to Julie, squeezed her hand. “Claude sees the source of a legend that’s caused my branch of the family some embarrassment over the years. Recounting the legend has been known to cause some mild scuffling among us.”

  Claude looked first at Alex, then at Stefan. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “Positive.” Stefan’s tone was indulgent.

  Clearing his throat, Claude leaned back in his chair like the other two men, apparently endeavoring to look equally at ease. “Over in the corner with a luscious dhampir beauty, you see the Count of Sainte-Germain. He’s said to have been turned in eighteenth century France when he began to approach old age, but no one knows for sure which vampire did the deed.”

  “Come on, Claude, we won’t turn on you if you pass along the whole story,” Stefan said, a twinkle in his eyes.

  Claude didn’t seem too sure of that, but he managed a weak grin. “All right. According to legend, the count became a vampire at the hands -- or rather the fangs -- of a d’Argent black sheep.”

  “A black ewe, don’t you mean?” Alex asked.

  Claude glanced at Stefan, apparently hesitant to say more. “Of course you’re right.” He turned to Julie, a shy grin on his face. “Marie-Louise d’Argent.”

  “Well, come on, don’t keep Julie in suspense.” Stefan was obviously trying to put the diffident young vampire at ease.

  It seemed to be working, because the worried look on Claude’s face began to fade. “It was a cold winter night in Paris. The year was 1705, and the court was frolicking at Versailles. The Sun King’s rule was slowly coming to a close. Marie-Louise was one of the court’s most sought-after ladies, for as all vampires do...”

  Claude paused, shot a knowing glance Stefan’s way. “...she possessed enormous sexual appeal. She also had a voracious appetite for sex and a nasty habit of seducing mortals and changing them, often against their wills. Marie-Louise took a fancy to the Count of Sainte-Germain, even though in mortal years he was close to death. My mother told me Marie-Louise seduced the elderly count, turned him, then consigned him to a life-in-death of wandering when she tossed him aside a few weeks later.”

  “What happened to Marie-Louise?” Julie didn’t recall Stefan having mentioned a cousin by that name.

  “She seduced him, turned him, and became his mistress, only to be staked and destroyed by the Count’s infuriated daughter, who was afraid her inheritance would be compromised if Marie-Louise bore him a son.”

  “If it had been me, I’d have chosen another way. To stake such a lovely breast...” Alex shook his head, as though the mere idea was unthinkable.

  “Crass pig,” Stefan said mildly.

  “But what other way is there?” Julie asked, curious despite herself.

  Stefan stroked her hand. “Staking is one almost certain way of destroying a vampire. Almost certain, because the stake must be driven squarely through the vampire’s heart. Two surer methods are carving out the heart or beheading, neither of which is easy to accomplish unless the would-be victim has already been staked.”

  Julie couldn’t hold back the little cry that escaped her lips. “I’ve always heard vampires would burn if exposed to sunlight. Or die if someone shot them with silver bullets.”

  Alex laughed. “Legend. I tried the silver bullet route with Reynard. Just ended a two-month convalescence for my fruitless attempt to end his evil. Sunlight works with some vampires, but not as well as you might imagine. First the vampire hunter must lure a highly sun-sensitive villain into the sun and stake him there, for it takes many hours for the sun to do its job.”

  “Some even say vampires will die if drenched with garlic-laced holy water, or if a killer steals the sock off a vampire’s left foot,” Claude put in.

  “His left sock?” Julie liked the small, less handsome vampire who obviously held Stefan in high regard.

  “Yes. There are countless myths as to how best to destroy vampires.” Stefan paused, laid a hand on Julie’s knee. “And then there are the folk tales of how one may identify a vampire, such as his or her irresistible sexual appeal. It’s also been said that vampires are repelled by roses, but we all know that in Reynard’s case, this is not true. Actually, I like roses myself, as long as they’re not white. Many of the myths are based on what’s true for one vampire or a vampire clan. Born vampires are less susceptible than made ones to the more exotic methods of detection and destruction.”

  Alex chimed in when Stefan paused. “Let’s see. All vampires have fangs, some more prominent than others, much like mortals have teeth but some are straighter than others. Not many of us have an appetite for what mortals eat or the ability to eat it, and those who do still must fe
ed regularly on fresh blood -- but Claude here can manage to feed on raw red meat instead, if need be. I guess all of us could sustain ourselves that way if we had to, but I’ve never tried it.” Alex paused, gestured discreetly at the couple on the dance floor. “I’ll bet the male there belongs to the Sainte-Benedict clan. See his red eyes?”

  If Julie had her way, she’d have a long, long lifetime to learn vampire facts and legends. Right now, though, she wanted to spend what might be her last hours with Stefan -- alone. “So I couldn’t count on repelling all vampires by putting on a crucifix or using garlic juice for my perfume?” she said, trying to push down the selfish thought and match the light-hearted tone her companions had set.

  “No. For you I’d risk burning -- that’s what the crucifix is supposed to do to vampires -- and I’d learn to love the stench of garlic.” Alex took her hand and brought it to his lips while Stefan rolled his eyes. “Tell me you’re not so besotted with Stefan that I don’t stand a chance.”

  “Hands off, cousin. The lady is mine. Until the Fox no longer threatens her.” Stefan looked toward Julie, and when their gazes met and locked, she realized he might have read her mind. Or perhaps it was simply what he wanted, too, to be alone with her for what perhaps would be their last night. “Come,” he said, his voice deep with desire. “We all need rest if we are to face our enemy in the morning.”

  The lady is mine. If only Stefan hadn’t qualified that declaration. Julie managed a smile, then stood and waited for her escorts to surround her in the cocoon of their protection.

  On the way home, the sliver of a moon seemed smaller, as though moving even now toward the crescent -- toward her demise unless Stefan and his friends could prevent it. Suddenly she felt chilled, though the night was unseasonably warm.

  * * * * *

  Though Julie tried, she hadn’t shaken the sense of melancholy -- not fear, for she trusted Stefan and his clansmen to protect her -- but a deep sadness that portended imminent loss and loneliness.