Perfect Timing

by Aimee Brissay

  * * * *

  Shawn reached the town and stumbled in the first diner he saw. There were so many things he had to do, but first things first. He needed his strength, and for that he had to eat. He dug in his pants for his wallet and put it on the table before taking the seat closest to the heater. Curious looks met his arrival, nothing he hadn’t been expecting, him being a stranger and looking as ruffled as he did. Waitresses exchanged questioning looks and then one of them lifted one shoulder as if saying who cares? just as she headed over to take his order.

  “What can I get you, handsome?”

  “Chicken soup and stew if you have them. And a cup of tea, please.” His teeth rattled, making speech difficult. “You wouldn’t have a phone that I could use, would you?”

  The waitress looked at him like he was from another planet.

  “Never mind. Just the food and the tea please.”

  The woman turned to leave and then stopped to throw the answer over her shoulder. “There’s a public phone just around the corner. I will bring your tea in a minute.”

  As promised, the tea appeared on his table. It was hot and strong and just the way he liked it. Thanks to that and the heater, he was starting to warm up, and his feet were screaming out in pain. The thought of how his bare feet might look like in his boots made him groan out loud.

  The food was good, way better than he had expected, and he asked for seconds while planning his next move.

  Leaving the restaurant, he headed for the public phone indicated by the waitress. He dialed Andrei’s phone number from memory. Heavens, let it be right.

  “‘Lo?” His friend’s voice came over the line and some of the tension left Shawn’s body.

  “Andrei, hi. It’s Shawn.”

  “Shawn, old buddy. How’ve you been? Long time no see.”

  The man seemed genuinely happy to hear from him.

  “Yes, it has been. I’m sorry I haven’t called sooner…”

  “No need. We both know what your stepfather is like.”

  How true. “Listen. I hate to ask this of you, but I need your help.”

  His announcement was met by silence. Shawn held his breath, waiting for his friend’s answer.

  “I see.”

  He was going to say no. Shawn just knew it.

  “I thought we were friends.” Andrei sounded more sad than accusatory.

  Shawn pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, every last bit of hope dying inside him.

  “So did I. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He squeezed the phone tight and made a move to hang it back on. A single word from the other end of the line was enough to make him change his mind.

  “Wait.”

  “Yeah?”

  “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean I won’t help you. I hoped that you would come to me because we are friends and not as your last resource.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Believe it or not, you were the only one I thought to ask for help.”

  Andrei’s low chuckle made him remember better days, when they were both young and carefree.

  “That’s much better. Now what can I do for you, fur ball?”

  Chapter 12

  The wizard and his accomplices had brought Valentin to the golden hall of a huge mansion. And he had done so with just a flick of his wrist. Valentin’s first impression had been right, though he wished it hadn’t. The man was very powerful.

  The vampire looked around the hall and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He was still bleeding, his wounds taking longer to heal than usual. The smell of his own blood was blocking any other scents.

  He glanced sideways to his jailers and found them paying no visible attention to him. Maybe that was something he could take advantage of. He opened up his mind and tried for a quick sweep of the room.

  A shiver ran down his back as the feel of the place sank into him. Old. Full of magic. Just because he couldn’t use magic, it didn’t mean he couldn’t recognize it. He opened himself up a little more. Blood, dried and bitter. Malevolence. And the faint echoes of screams, pain, and sorrow. What the hell was this place?

  A door opened somewhere on his right and involuntarily he turned in that direction. His ears prickled and picked up the rhythmical cadence of steps getting closer. Another pair of feet joined the first, and then another. And another. Valentin’s hackles rose and a wave of panic shot through him.

  Shit! This is gonna be bad.

  The steps drew closer. Valentin’s hand flew to his hip, where he half expected to find a weapon. His jailers sneered at his gesture. Another door opened.

  A tall vampire, yes he was a vampire, Valentin was sure of that, entered the room, followed by six others, marching in a perfect echelon behind him.

  The leader was tall, lean, oozing power from his every pore, his movements confident and sharp. He could have been anything from thirty-five to fifty years old in human years. Not that it mattered. He had the bearings of a knight. His looks bordered on cliché, with long, black hair, big, dark eyebrows, a long nose, and a strong jaw. But what demanded attention were his eyes. Icy blue, cold and ruthless. Eyes of a killer. That, and the evilness surrounding him.

  “I see you’ve kept your word, witch. I am most pleased.” Nasal r. French. His posture should have been a dead giveaway of the man’s origin, though most old vampires held themselves like kings. Who was this vampire who dared keeping wizards as servants when millennia-old laws forbade it? Why would anyone risk death for going against the Council just for the pleasure of having a magician as a pet?

  The caster bowed his head in acknowledgment of the praise.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Valentin couldn’t help noticing that the wizard didn’t sound deferential at all. Like they were equals or something, and that alone raised more warnings.

  The master turned his piercing gaze on him, and Valentin felt the incredible need to lower his eyes.

  “Do you know why I brought you here, fledgling?”

  “Valentin. My name is Valentin.”

  “Your name is what I say it is.” The master backslapped Valentin so hard he stumbled backward. He recovered fast and snarled, fangs flashing.

  “You have no claim over me. You are not my sire.”

  “You have no sire anymore, fledgling.”

  “You… you’re the one who killed Yuri.”

  The master’s eyes gleamed and his lips curled in distaste. He stepped closer to Valentin, crowding his personal space, and roughly traced the vampire’s mouth with the tip of his finger. It wasn’t sexual but a show of power.

  “He had something I wanted.”

  Valentin snarled and tried to bite off the offending finger.

  “Now, now, fledgling, you have no one. You are all alone in this big, big world. You really shouldn’t bite the hand that, well, that doesn’t kill you. Yet.”

  “I have a grandsire.”

  “Do you see him anywhere? Why would an elder bother with a little nothing like yourself?” He gave him the once-over, lips quirked in a sneer, like he was staring at something unpleasant. “You are acceptable enough. For one night. Though why anyone would seek more from you than a quick fuck is beyond me.”

  “Yet, here I am.” Spreading his arms wide, Valentin waved at his surroundings. “Why would you go to all this trouble to get your hands on me if I’m worthless?”

  The master’s eyes flashed menacingly just before his hand shot out and slapped Valentin across the face. He didn’t even have time to brace himself and the blow, fast and hard, sent him backwards. The slap was quickly followed by another. Valentin nicked his lower lip with his fangs.

  “You. Will. Not. Talk. Back. To. Me.” Each word was marked by another blow. When they stopped, Valentin’s ears were ringing and blood was gushing from his nose, running down his mouth and chin.

  “Now. Where were we?”

  “I think you were about to tell me why you brought me here.” He winced inwardly. He might have very well won himself
another round with King Arthur there. But he couldn’t care. After leaving Shawn dead, what happened with him didn’t matter anymore. Maybe he could goad the master into killing him fast. One glance at the other man’s eyes was enough to squash that bit of hope from the start.

  “You have a big mouth. I’m sure I could think of better uses for it.”

  Valentin flashed his fangs at him. “You are welcome to try it.”

  The master’s hand shot up and grabbed Valentin’s jaw. “I see that breaking you will turn out to be quite the challenge. But you will break. They all do.”

  “Fuck you!” He spat the words and jerked back. The fingers tightened their grip around his jaw and he felt the bones crack under the pressure.

  “Just the other way around.”

  “Okay, let me rephrase. Go fuck yourself!” Words formed with difficulty, but Valentin put all of his strength behind them. The wizard’s presence rendered his own power useless, not that it would have done him much good against a master vampire and his lackeys, but he still tried to put on a show.

  “Let’s see what kind of tune you will be singing after spending a few hours in my witch’s company.” The lord pulled his hand away and turned without a second glance behind. “He’s all yours, Raven.”

  The caster smirked. The lord marched out, followed by his bodyguards. Though why a man like that would need a security detail was beyond Valentin. The wizard bowed his head in deference and flicked his hand in Valentin’s general direction.

  “Bring him.” He turned on his heels and exited the room through the door on the opposite side to the master.

  Rough hands grabbed him and dragged him behind the caster.

  * * * *

  Raven had Valentin chained to a wooden armchair in a cell in the basement, though from the look of it, the room had served as a torture chamber on more than one occasion. It still held reminiscence of blood and pain. Funny how he couldn’t identify scents to save his life, but he could recognize pain everywhere. Especially when it was his.

  The caster hadn’t used any weapons or torture devices yet. There was no need for them. He was doing a fabulous job as it was. All it took was magic. It slithered into Valentin’s body, crawled under his skin like snakes. It sank its little claws into each cell, burning him from the inside out. Valentin rattled and pulled at the chains, he snarled and growled and threatened, not that he had the power to back it up, but at least he was going down fighting.

  Hours later there was no more fight left in him. He was bloodied and tired and felt like a sheet in the wind. His wrists were bruised black from all pulling on thin silver chains. They should have been easy to break. So should the chair. However, the only thing broken was his will to fight.

  When the door opened to allow entrance to the coven’s lord and master, Valentin just let his eyes drift shut.

  “How is it going, witch?”

  “We are making progress, lord De Nemours.”

  De Nemours, De Nemours. Which of them? They were all tyrants. Some more than others.

  “We shall see.” The master stepped up to the armchair, rested his hands on the handles next to Valentin’s, and leaned in until their faces almost touched.

  “Now, let’s see if you are a bit more cooperative. Where is it?”

  When Valentin didn’t answer, the lord backslapped him, making his head spin.

  “I will ask again. Where is it?”

  Valentin kept his mouth tightly shut and gathered all he had left in him to glare at his tormentor.

  “Very well. Have it your way.”

  De Nemours proceeded to beat the shit out of what was left of him.

  Chapter 13

  According to Andrei’s instructions, Shawn was climbing up the Ceahlau Mountain in search of a hermit who could help him. What kind of help he was supposed to provide, Shawn didn’t know. But his friend said he would, and Shawn was willing to try anything at that point.

  It was almost nightfall. He’d been climbing for hours and hoped to find this hermit soon or he’d be forced to spend the night out in the cold, a not-so-appealing prospect. He was restless and making mistakes. He’d even had to retrace his steps a couple of times. And that didn’t do. Time was of issue, he felt it in his bones.

  It wasn’t snowing anymore, but the temperature had dropped well below zero and his boots were making creaking sounds with each step he took.

  The air stirred and he stopped to investigate. At that altitude he needed to be aware of wildlife. Even on the best of days a jaguar could hardly win against a bear, and his current shape was far from that. Luckily, the soft wind brought only the scent of smoke and man. A lone male. In this weather?

  Shawn steered toward the source of the scent. There was no path or trail anymore. He had only his nose to guide him through. He unzipped his new parka and let his nails turn into claws in preparation for what was to come.

  His steps carried him farther away from the trail, deeper into the forest. The trees parted in front of him, revealing the entrance of a cave. A frail column of smoke was creeping away from the inside.

  Shawn took one deep breath, a final check before stepping inside. The hallway wasn’t very wide, but the ceiling stood at over five meters high, making the room seem larger. A dim light coming from a small fire in the middle of the hall gave the place an eerie glow.

  Shawn took in all the small details before he focused on the old man sitting cross-legged, facing the entrance, eyes trained on the fire in front of him. His hair was white, and his skin, the parts that were visible from under the furs he was wearing, was ageless. If the man had heard him approach, he didn’t show it. The air smelled like herbs and spices, nothing like an old man was supposed to smell like, and the scent was unbelievably soothing.

  “Step closer, thee of different shapes.”

  “Huh?”

  The man lifted his eyes to meet Shawn’s and smiled enigmatically. He motioned Shawn to take a seat in front of the fire.

  “Uhmm. I’m not sure if I’m in the right place.”

  “What are you doing here, then?”

  The man took a few dried leaves from a bowl sitting next to him and threw them into the fire. The flames danced in joy and smoke swirled.

  “I was looking for a hermit. A friend of mine said I should talk with him.”

  He might not be the right person. But who else would live in a cave in the middle of nowhere during the winter?

  “And yet, here you are, skin walker.”

  “Why do you call me this?”

  “Aren’t you one?”

  Shawn frowned in confusion. He searched the man’s eyes and couldn’t read anything in their depths.

  “Why don’t you ask me the question you came here for?”

  “There is someone…”

  The elder waited patiently, staring emotionless at Shawn, making him nervous.

  “I met him only a few days ago though it feels longer. He’s gotten into some trouble. And now he is missing and I don’t know if he is alive.”

  “He hasn’t been alive in quite some time now.”

  Shawn’s heart skipped a beat. Or ten. He had to swallow twice for the lump in his throat to go down enough to allow him to speak. The man didn’t even seem to notice Shawn’s turmoil.

  “So he is dead?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “He is not alive and he is not dead either. What else is there?”

  “Dead and alive are just two states of matter. And there are many others in between.”

  “So he’s a ghost now?

  “Is that what you see him as?”

  For a second Shawn could picture himself pulling his hair out in frustration. Pulling the hermit’s hair out sounded even better.

  “We’re not getting anywhere.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  He sighed and tried for a different approach.

  “Can you tell me if he is all right?”

  “You already know the answer to that
.”

  As it seemed, the second approach wasn’t working either.

  “Is there any way I can get him back?”

  “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what you are willing to do to get him back.”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  “It’s not something I can do. What you do has to be entirely your choice.”

  “I can understand that.” And he could. “But you could tell me what my choices are.”

  “I could.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “Because you don’t want to know your choices. You already know them. You want to know what the future holds, and that is something I cannot say.”

  “You don’t know, or you don’t want to say?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” He was back at mentally pulling his hair out.

  “Tell me this, hunter. Why do you care so much?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then that’s the first thing you have to figure out.”

  “He is my mate.” He sounded like he was explaining himself, and he hated nothing more than that, especially in front of a stranger, be it an elder or not. It made him go all defensive.

  “You say it like it explains everything.”

  “It should. It does. In my world, that is everything you need. No one can go against the mating bond.”

  “But you are not bonded.”

  Shawn gaped at the hermit. “How could you know that?”

  “You have not claimed him yet.”

  It wasn’t a question. Shawn gave up any hope of understanding where the elder was leading him and decided to just go with it.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It wasn’t the time, I guess.”

  “What is time? How do you decide when the time is?”

  “You just know.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  He opened his mouth to say he wasn’t afraid of anything, but discovered he couldn’t lie to the man. “Of losing him.”

  “Then why haven’t you claim him yet?”

  “I told you, it wasn’t the right time.”