Redeemer of Shadows

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Hathor’s hand fell to her side at the question. How could she explain it was torture for her to be with him? She couldn’t touch him. She couldn’t make love to him. Her body screamed with intense longing to do just that. It was a longing deeper and more arduous than that of her human life. She felt it acutely, within every movement in her vampiric being.

  Beyond the physical ache, her heart also began to twinge. He never told her he loved her. She sensed it in him, but he never said it. Hathor began to doubt the emotion even existed in him. Maybe he was lonely, she’d tell herself. The idea did little to comfort. She wondered if, in the end, he finally changed her to have a companion and friend to spend the days with. If he didn’t love her as she did him, then that might be worse than spending the eternity apart. Forever was a long time not to have your heart returned to you.

  Servaes came slowly to her side, touching the velvet skin of her cheek. Hathor turned her gaze to him, eyes wide with wonder and desire. She tried to smile, but couldn’t make her lips move.

  She knew Servaes wanted to probe her with questions, but he refrained. Instead of asking her with his words, he leaned over to ask her with his lips. Lightly, his mouth brushed against hers. The kiss was so gentle and tender that her knees weakened, and she fell into his broad chest. His arms wrapped around her waist holding her to him. His lips never left hers.

  Hathor moaned, her hands gliding into his hair. She kissed him deeply, saying with her body what she didn’t dare say with her heart. She wouldn’t burden him with her love if he didn’t ask for it. She had said it once. That was enough.

  Servaes lowered her to the soft rug. He made love to her with an agonizing slowness, memorizing every curve of her body with his hands. The power she felt surged though her, propelling her further than ever before. When they met their release, they felt the earth moving beneath them and the stars swimming in the far-off heavens.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  “I don’t feel weaker,” Hathor whispered. “I told you we could’ve been doing this all week instead of reading.”

  “It makes no sense. Sex should have fueled the blood hunger, but I couldn’t resist you any longer.” Servaes held Hathor to the crook of his naked body, completely sated. His limbs curled around her, and they faced the fire as it continued to crackle around them. Hathor turned in his embrace. She ran her fingers over the smooth lines of his chest. Peeking up at him, she gave a light moan of contentment.

  Lifting her mouth, she kissed him on the chin. Servaes opened his eyes to glance at her. He returned a kiss to her forehead. His hands glided over her naked back. A wicked smile settled on his features.

  “Mm,” Hathor moaned. She giggled, as his fingers grew bolder. She didn’t stop his exploration as he roamed over her hip and down her thigh. She moved against his hand. His fingers were a bit chilled, but still not as deathly cold as they should have been.

  Hathor leaned up to kiss his waiting mouth. Instantly, his tongue ran over her lips, parting her mouth for a deep caress. Hathor’s mouth mimicked his movements. Her tongue ran over his teeth, feeling the edges. Suddenly, she pulled back. His teeth were not as pointed.

  “What?” she began in confusion. She lifted her hand to touch his face. Her finger began to dig within his mouth. Servaes jerked his head back.

  “What—?” His words were cut off by the sound of the door crashing open.

  Ginger charged through the doorway, her hands on her hips, her eyes glowing a demonic red. Seeing the naked lovers on the floor, the vampiress howled viciously. Servaes was instantly on his feet, unmindful of his nudity. Hathor was more modest, reaching to tug her shirt over her head as fast as she could. Then, in one movement, she pulled on her underwear and jeans. By the time she made it to her feet, Servaes was blocking Ginger from her view. Hathor stayed hidden behind him.

  “I want to see her,” Ginger spat. Her eyes roamed quickly over Servaes’ naked form. She was unaffected.

  “Why?” Servaes asked. “You have no business with her.”

  “You masked her scent somehow. You try to trick us. She’s still human. I demand her death, by the will of the others.” Ginger tried to move to the side to see Hathor. She was afforded only a glimpse of her pale face before Servaes again blocked her. “You have been feeding on her.”

  “She is vampire, Ginger. If you touch her, you will die. It is our law,” Servaes stated quietly. “I made her. She’s mine.”

  “If she were vampire, one of you would be dead.” Ginger’s eyes glowed with a fanatical, raging light. She snarled and mouth opened to reveal stark white teeth. “She is pale from blood loss. But she isn’t dead. She’s human. A changed vampire couldn’t have lasted this long.”

  “Begone, Ginger,” Servaes said. Hathor handed him his pants. He kept his eyes on Ginger as he tugged them on. When he again stood, Hathor took up his arm at his side. She stared defiantly at Ginger.

  “I’m one of you,” Hathor said. “Now leave me be.”

  “Let me see your mouth,” Ginger demanded. “Show me your power if you are like me.”

  Hathor felt her teeth beneath her gums. Her fangs had yet to grow. As to powers, she hadn’t had a chance to test them. “I won’t perform parlor tricks for you. If you want a grinder monkey to entertain you, go find Lamar or Vincent. They’ll be happy to delight.”

  Hathor felt Servaes’ body shake softly with a chuckle, though he said nothing. Ginger’s face turned red. Suddenly, Lamar and Vincent were at her side. They sneered out their hatred at the couple.

  “You dare call me a monkey, blood being,” Vincent yelled.

  “Then be afraid of me,” Servaes warned in his most menacing tone. He pushed Hathor behind his back. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you for your insults to me.”

  “We’ve had enough of you, Servaes, and your high-handed ways. If the council will not act, then we will.” Ginger shot forward, straight for Servaes’ naked midsection. She slammed into his skin, knocking him back. Vincent and Lamar soon joined the fray. Their nails jutted like claws as they tore forth to help Ginger subdue Servaes. Hathor didn’t think. She leaped onto Ginger’s back, grabbing the woman by her hair. Ginger screamed, calling for more help. Suddenly, the bedchamber was overflowing with vampires as they poured in through the passageway.

  Servaes fought bravely, swinging his fists, kicking his bare feet into hard stomachs. He hadn’t eaten in a week and was weakened from the lack of nourishment. A dozen hands pinned him to the ground, binding his ankles with heavy iron chains. His eyes searched in the firelight for Hathor. He found her, knocked unconscious. Vincent straddled her body, binding her hands with a thick rope.

  A howl escaped his lips, echoing throughout the passageways into the Vampire Club. The attackers didn’t heed his cry. Their jealous hearts hated Servaes for finding happiness, especially Ginger, who had seen the woman first.

  Vincent threw Hathor over his shoulder. He walked easily behind the others as they dragged Servaes by his feet. Servaes’ back scraped on the ground and he grabbed for the jutting stones along the passageway. The hard, rock floor dug into his flesh. His skin bumped and splashed in puddles of stale water. The vampires didn’t slow their progress, nor did Servaes’ struggling hamper their evil purpose.

  Ginger led the way, pushing open doors in her fury. She guided around twists and turns, through cobwebbed halls and inclined arches. Finally, she stopped. As she turned her head sharply, a wicked and cruel grin formed on her mouth. Motioning to her followers, she stepped into a round courtyard blocked by a circle of stone. She sniffed defiantly at the night air.

  “Tie them,” she commanded. Her stiff British accent clipped hard in Servaes’ ears. The journey had torn up his back and he bled into the grass, leaving a trail as he was dragged into the center of the ring. Ginger yelled, “I promised you some sport. Now you will see how powerless these old relics have become.”

  Moaning, Servaes used his last bit of energy to fight the hold on his arms. It wasn’t enough. They strapped
his limbs to the ground, staking him in the form of a cross. The night wind whisked through his hair, caressing skin that had so recently held Hathor’s embrace.

  Hearing a thud, he turned his head to the side. Hathor’s pale face rested peacefully, her chin turned toward him. A thin river of blood ran from her parted lips and a matching crimson blob marred her temple. He willed her to wake up, but she didn’t move. Vincent staked down her bound hands, fastening them to the ground. Lamar tightly joined her feet.

  When they finished their grim task, the vampires began to leave, trailing from the circled mound of grass back into the tunnels. Ginger came to stand above him. She placed a foot by each side of his hips. Then, lowering herself to sit on his waist, she stroked his hair.

  “It looks as if I’m not the one to be banished, my lord,” she chuckled. “Face it. The old ones have become too old. You’ve grown soft. We are the new leaders of the tribes. We don’t need you. We don’t need anyone to govern us. We’re gods.”

  “You’ll die for this,” Servaes whispered. He held completely still, knowing he couldn’t fight her. “There are laws.”

  “We care not for your sacred laws, Marquis.” Ginger leaned down. Closing her eyes softly, she brushed her lips against his. Without pulling away, she said, “You got too greedy, Servaes. You wanted her all to yourself. Well, now you shall have her in death. But I give you a gift. You will see the sunrise together.”

  Servaes lurched, bucking her up off his body. His eyes glared with immortal black. He bared his teeth, trying to bite up at her.

  Ginger quickly recovered her composure to sneer down at him. She turned, whipping her head in the wind to look at Hathor. “As for you, human, you will see your beloved Servaes die. Then tomorrow night I will come back for you. You will be mine.”

  “You won’t touch her,” Servaes hollered.

  Lazily, Ginger walked back into the tunnel, ignoring him. She shut the old iron door behind her, not bothering to lock it.

  Servaes turned back to Hathor. Her eyes were open, and tears glistened in their depths. She tried to smile for him, but couldn’t.

  “Hathor.” The name was a sorrowful plea. “I—”

  “Shh.” She shook her head, her eyes glowing with the fine mist of her vampiric life. “I regret nothing. If I’m to die, let it be with you.”

  Servaes didn’t answer. There was nothing he could say. Hathor turned her eyes to the sky. “Such a beautiful night. The stars look so close.”

  “Oui, mademoiselle.” Servaes looked at her face, desperate to help her and unable to do so. Closing his eyes, he used the last of his strength to call out to Jirí, to anyone who might help them.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Hathor knew the moment Servaes passed out next to her. She heard his mind frantically calling out. She didn’t interrupt him. Then, when his thoughts stopped and his head lulled to the side, she tried to call out as he had. She pulled against her bonds, praying for a way to break through them.

  The ties were too tight. They didn’t move. She watched the moon travel over the earth, slow in its progression. She heard the call of birds, lonely so late at night. The stars twinkled. One shot across the heavens.

  As the hours wore on, she grew tired, unable to direct her haphazard thoughts. She felt dawn approaching. It prickled her skin in warning. Servaes was still asleep. She willed him to stay as such. If death was to be painful, she would rather he not experience it. She studied his face for a long moment. Then, when she turned her attention back to the sky, she noticed a lone figure crouching on the low roof. She froze when she recognized his green cloak sweeping about him in glorious folds and waves.

  “You,” her voice cracked hoarsely. At her attention, the man stood. He took a step off the stone jutting up from the ground, marking the top of the enclosure. He walked forward over the grass with leisurely patience. She couldn’t see his face beneath the hood, but she detected a smile.

  “You have changed, little one,” he whispered. He didn’t appear to move, but Hathor felt a hand caress her face softly.

  Hathor nodded, mesmerized by his words. She caught the glint of the green emerald on his hand as he moved it lazily through the air. Then, with gentle swiftness, she felt his cheek brush and press against her own in a tender caress. When he pulled away just as fast, she saw the subtle shine of his gaze as he studied her. “I smell him in you.”

  Hathor nodded.

  “And I smell you in him. Very strange,” he admitted.

  “Who are you?”

  “I imagine I am your great-grandfather,” he mused. He leaned over Servaes to study his face. Seeing him completely asleep, the vampire removed his hood. Hathor stared at him. His long black hair was straight, reflecting the deepest color of midnight. The locks disappeared beneath the green cloak. His eyebrows arched rigidly on his pale skin, his lips carved as if from stone. He had a long aristocratic nose, very defined. As he looked at her, waiting for her to take in his face, he studied her from solemn, exhausted brown eyes.

  “Are you Dracula?” she asked, unable to stop the question.

  At that he laughed. “People are still reading that book?”

  “Will you help us?”

  “Yes, little one,” he answered. “I will help you. Your blood has helped me.”

  He leaned over, unfastening Servaes’ restraints with barely an effort. Then doing the same for her, he lifted her from the ground. She gazed lovingly at Servaes before turning back to him.

  “Thank you.” Her eyes shone with gratitude.

  “He is changed, Hathor,” the vampire whispered. His hand rose to touch her cheek, his caress on her skin like that of a lover. The length of his nails raked over her neck and shoulder. Hathor was enthralled. He looked nothing like the skeletal creature that had come to her on the balcony. “Something is not the same in him. The young ones do not sense it. They are stupid, ridiculous fools. But I can smell it on him, and I can smell it in you. Tell him when he awakes. Tell him he is different, special.”

  “Will he be all right?”

  The vampire chuckled. He nodded slowly. A strand of his hair escaped his cloak, pulling forward to wrap around his face. “Yes, my little one. He will be fine. But he is altered from what he once was. The others may not understand it.”

  Hathor stood transfixed. She felt the old power in the being before her. He could take her over completely if he chose to do so. His pale lips came forward, brushing along her mouth in a soft kiss. His eyes closed briefly. His lips held still along her mouth. Slowly, he pulled back to gaze at her once more.

  “I feel your fear, but also your bravery,” her vampiric great-grandfather said. “I have watched your souls for a long time, curious as to how it would all end.”

  “You mean when I visited France? You were at the king’s court with Jirí?” She couldn’t look away from him.

  His gaze never left hers, his eyes turning green to probe within her. He glided through her mind with ease, plucking whatever secrets he wanted from her. “Your story started long before that, Hathor. It is good you came back into your name. I might not have recognized you again otherwise. You may not have your goddess powers, but you have your soul and you finally found his again. So many lifetimes, always meeting and losing each other, and then finally in France when you came so close only to have fate take it all away when Servaes was reborn. I have never seen an ancient curse last so long, but the Egyptian priests were always so strict about forbidden love. Perhaps a vampire is stronger than a curse.”

  “You think I’m reincarnated?”

  “I have lived a long time. I was in Egypt the day Hathor was beheaded by her priests. I never heard the full story or found out the name of the man she was with, as they were a secretive bunch of zealots. Part of the story has faded with time or was rewritten by mortals. However, I have seen versions of you a few times over the centuries and have watched the tragedy of the curse unfold. When Servaes was born into my tribe, I suspected it might be him. I’ve been
watching him with idle curiosity to see if he would find you. Where I have been there was little else to do but watch my tribesmen whenever my mind was aware enough to do so.”

  She found it hard to concentrate on his words, hearing only part of them and retaining even less. His eyes were so beautiful, so mystifying. He slipped through her brain, poking and prodding. She didn’t blink. “Why do you help us when everyone else wants us dead?”

  “Only these fools want you dead,” he said, motioning to the door leading down to the vampire den. Finding her fear, he focused on it. “Here it is.” He drew the little bead out of her until all she felt was a gentle calm. “You will worry no more about the ones inside. They will not be coming out again.”

  “I will worry no more about the ones inside. They will not be coming out again,” she said. He let his control slip from her. “Wait, what are you going to do?”

  She received no answer to her question, but saw the subtle shift in the vampire’s face. He was going to kill the young ones—all of them. However, for some reason he was sparing Servaes and herself.

  The vampire let go of her, drawing back like the drifting of linens on the breeze. His cloak folded around him. The door behind him opened. A small corner of his lips curled at the side, devilish and handsome though deadly in intent.

  “I spare you because you are my children and you give me hope. I punish them because they broke our laws.” Hathor heard his answer to her unasked question distinctly in her mind. She shivered as the cloak folded in on itself, disappearing with him into the darkness.

  As soon as he was gone, Hathor rushed to Servaes’ side. She shook him gently. “Get up, Servaes, hurry.”

  Servaes moaned, looking up at her.

  “Are we dead?” he asked with a tired moan.

  “Yes,” she answered with a happy smile filled with hope. “Now get up before we burst into flames.”