Mistwalker

by Fraser, Naomi

  Simone rammed the spike home, but Juliun moved so fast, he blurred. He disintegrated, then reappeared and knocked away her hand with a brush of his fingers and reached for her arms.

  She sidestepped him on instinct, throwing a fierce right hook, her whole body lifting from the ground. Something hard and sharp dragged into her knuckles, but she pulled back her arm and hit him again. Years and years, she’d practiced with the best fighters. Nights of nursing injuries never forgotten. No way was this guy going to get the better of her. She punched him again, and then kicked out both of his legs.

  He fell to the pavement, then reappeared standing. Blood dribbled from his chin, and he touched the slippery redness with two fingers, staring down at the mess. “No.” His gaze zeroed in on her. The intensity of his voice became a wave that almost stopped her. “Stop! You do not realise what you are doing.”

  Intense pain radiated throughout her body. She wanted to vomit, yet a red haze swam in front of her eyes. She swung her leg in a roundhouse kick, and her stiletto heel cracked into his mouth.

  He backed up. Yet, no fear showed in his eyes, and she recognised that. “Stop, my love.”

  That endearment only made her angrier. Twenty years’ worth of instinct, habit and training overcame thought. She darted around him, grabbed the comb from the ground and plunged it straight into his upper thigh.

  Wood met muscle, bone, then held. She stepped back, took a deep breath and resumed stance.

  His lips twitched, and he shook his head as he stood, staring at the weapon in his leg. He laughed again. “A comb?” He looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes, then glanced back at the weapon and chuckled. “You fought me with a comb.”

  Her knuckles stung. She swiped the blood from her hands against her skirt and yanked the comb from his leg in time to hear Tammy’s raw bellow of fury. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, as though time decided to be kind and show the event in minute detail.

  Tammy slammed her attacker against the wall of the nearest building so hard the dull thump of his head echoed down the street.

  Lars pushed at her arms ineffectually. “Hell! Juliun, she’s—”

  Simone blocked Juliun’s passage. “You okay, Tam?”

  “You bet.” Tammy’s low growl reverberated in the narrow street and sounded far more menacing than anything their attackers had ever done. Her right hand shot out and seized Lars’ neck. Sirens wailed in the distance. Red and blue lights streaked down the street, flashing over apartments and shops. The screeching wail grew by seconds, and lights flickered, and then glowed in the top floor apartments.

  Both attackers froze.

  “Busted.” Simone counted her heartbeats. One, two, three….

  Juliun stepped forward. “We cannot risk it. Go now.” The edges of his body disappeared into fog.

  Lars evaporated, then reappeared and swept into the shadows on the pavement.

  Juliun reappeared again by himself. Blood oozed down his face, over his chin and joined in with the marks on his white shirt. Slashes marred his perfect skin from her heels. Disconcertingly, he stood with his thumbs hooked in the back pocket of his pants, feet planted firmly apart like he owned the world.

  Who was he? Her left hand tightened around the spike, her breathing returning to normal. Her other injured hand hung limp by her side.

  Tammy bounced on the balls of her feet. “Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine.”

  That unsettling and predatory gaze swept over Simone’s costume and back up to her face. A slight smile played over his lips, and his grey gaze connected with hers. A chill skittered down her spine.

  “The first round goes to you and your friend, my sweet.” He bowed. “Until we meet again.” Then he dissolved into a rush of black wind and disappeared.

  “What the hell happened?” Tammy shouted. “Did you see him…the dirty one…he bit me!” She clutched at her neck and lifted her hand to look at the blood. “He bit me.”

  A police car sped toward them, but Simone’s face felt all puffy suddenly. Her vision blurred. Agony burst into her knuckles, and her shoulders drooped. Some kind of unknown fire filled her entire body. Sunlight on the inside.

  The ground came up to meet her with a sickening rush.

  Chapter Three

  Simone groaned and lifted her right arm to rub at her eyes, but her arm refused to budge. Nausea rolled in her gut, a whirlpool of writhing sick, digging deeper into her body. She must have the ‘flu as it had been a long time since she’d felt this horrible from training.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, but the watery fog made her nervous—her surroundings were a blur and everything ached. Her hand. There was something wrong with her right hand. Fire throbbed in her fingers. The bandage was thick and cocooned out from her body. The approaching blackness offered no reprieve, and she panicked, hunting for something to stop the pain.

  Frustration made her concentrate, and her head pounded in furious beats. Help me. Please. I can’t…handle this. Pain spiked in every cell of her body. She screamed, but no sound came out.

  Had her delirious mind imagined the cool hand on her forehead and the following commotion? Her arm—extended, cradled, a sharp prick pierced her skin, and then the pain numbed in ever-easing waves.

  Thick juice drenched her top lip and slid lower. She moaned, her tongue emerging to capture the fluid. So thick and lusciously sweet. Musky. Her stomach no longer cramped.

  Then pain again. “Don’t…” she pleaded on a long moan, unable to twist away.

  The movements firmed, cool hands touched and rubbed her skin, and a light shone in her tired eyes.

  “Don’t what, Simone?” a stranger’s voice asked.

  She tried to answer, but couldn’t form the words. Her dry lips cracked and stretched. A straw slipped between them, and she sucked. The fluid flowed into her mouth in a stream of divine silk. She drew harder, but the straw disappeared, and she murmured a protest.

  “Not too much now. We don’t want you to be sick,” a woman said, gently.

  “Don’t what, Simone?”

  It was a man’s voice. Except she couldn’t answer; the ache centred in her hand, and she writhed on the hard bed to escape the pain.

  “It’s okay if you can’t answer now. Relax.”

  “M…my hand,” she panted. Warm tears dripped from her eyes and trailed to her ear where they pooled into the starchy pillowcase against her cheek.

  They unwound the bandage. “I think you need to take a look at this, Doctor,” the woman said.

  Silence descended.

  The woman’s voice was hushed. “The other one is over there, two beds away. The blood work isn’t back yet. They’re due at noon. But we’ll have to move her.”

  Papers ruffled.

  “Put a priority on that blood work stat. Give her extra morphine, 2 CC and make sure she’s comfortable. I want round the clock watch on them.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  Soft footsteps and then the door closed with a snick. Blessed silence. A swift tiredness grabbed Simone’s body, and she fell into the abyss of sleep, but not before the memory of the previous night returned, and she realised something was very wrong.

  Chapter Four

  Juliun materialised inside Ravenkeep’s clinic, the large healthcare facility which catered to immortals, especially vampires inside the castle’s grounds. The blackness of Lars materialised, and he groaned, but Juliun caught him before he hit the ground. Blood seeped from Lars’ neck, but Juliun carefully set him on the nearest bed. No amount of feeding stemmed the loss; the puncture wounds were too deep. A pity they hadn’t returned to Ravenkeep sooner, but they had to try for more fresh blood to replenish Lars’ strength.

  The swinging doors pushed inward, and Alec, Ravenkeep’s resident doctor, stepped into the room. He raked an absent hand through his blond hair and stalked toward Juliun.

  “Bloody hell, your nose is broken.” He turned to Lars. “He didn’t try to—”

  “My bride at
tacked him.” Juliun taped a bandage around Lars’ neck, then looked up and met the doctor’s curious gaze. “I have found her.”

  The metal clipboard slid from Alec’s hands and clattered on the floor. He stumbled, and his mouth dropped open. “Your bride? Is she here at the castle?”

  Juliun shook his head. “Hospital.” He’d tracked the police to where they had taken her, but the knowledge did not make him feel easy. Their vampire cover must be kept at all times, yet at what cost? She’d punched him in the mouth, and he’d been so aroused, so on fire at finding her after centuries of searching, that his fangs had been fully extended. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t even blur the edges of his body as she attacked him. “You must go to her.”

  “At the hospital?” Alec asked slowly, his gaze roamed from Juliun’s face, to Lars, and then back again. “What happened exactly?”

  “She fought like a fucking wildcat,” Lars murmured down at the mattress. “Lucky she didn’t aim that spike for my heart. Well, maybe unlucky. I’m still hungry.”

  “She fought you?” Alec framed the words carefully. “I didn’t think that possible. Here, let me assist with your injuries, Sire.”

  “Help Lars. I heal faster.” Juliun glanced at the doctor, and the room skewered as though he were on a movie set while everyone else acted around him. “I will be back soon.”

  The mist consumed him.

  He appeared in Ravenkeep’s study, and then floated to the desk where his grandfather wrote in a thick leather-bound diary.

  The aged, wizened vampire looked up from his daily task. “Yes, Juliun, you need me?”

  “I found Lars starving to death beneath St. Augustine Chapel and took him into town to feed from the tourists. We found two women walking alone in the streets and decided they suited our purposes. Lars could not control himself, although he had fed three times beforehand. You are aware of his history, his capture.”

  Grandfather set down his pen. “Yes. You were supervising?

  “Procuring, you could say.”

  “What happened?”

  “One of the women resisted my glamour and fought back with a stake.”

  Grandfather’s eyebrows shot up to his greying hairline. He coughed. “A mortal woman resisted your glamour with a stake?” He leaned over his desk, staring at Juliun. “The strongest vampires in the world do not have the ability to resist royal glamour. How on earth did she manage the feat?”

  “There’s more.” Juliun glided to the open French doors where the pale sliver of moon shone over the cove, but the memories and emotions inside his mind overpowered his physical surroundings to such an extent that his gaze blurred. A trickle of warmth began to feed inside his body, all the way to his heart, that muscle familiar with yearning and loneliness. Maybe it was life, joy. How could he convince the oldest vampire in the world that tonight’s transference was accidental? Prove he hadn’t meant to bite his bride so that he could feed from her forever?

  Longing and total disbelief raged inside him at the idea he’d left her bleeding on the street. But hadn’t his dreams revealed her courage and determination? He’d been warned of the inner strength and fight inside of her—which she would need as his queen.

  How he wished she stood before him now. Maybe he’d try to explain, or rather, he’d wrap his hands around her waist. Then slowly run his hands through her long red hair that smelled of sunlight and kiss her luscious lips. Drown in the taste of her musky skin. He’d waited too long, come too far to back out now.

  Too many years gone. If she drank from another the mist would spread, and the world would be in grave danger. The beast inside of him violently rattled its cage, but he inhaled, riding out a sick dread at odds with his elation at finding her.

  “She stabbed Lars in the neck. I had to ensure he did not kill from thirst. He is too weak and lacks any control. She attacked and held the stake to my heart.” Then pushed it through with all the determination needed to kill. Her reflexes were quick; her thoughts quicker still and clearly set on survival.

  “How did you manage to escape?” The question was asked with a humorous twist, and the sound of a drawer sliding open and books being shuffled followed his grandfather’s question. No one had ever managed to contain a royal.

  Juliun shook his head and gritted his teeth, never minding his incisors ached. Yearned to taste her. “I did not believe it at first. I turned to mist, of course, knocked away her hand, but she punched me in the mouth. My gums bled. She wore a ring, you see, and her skin caught on my teeth.”

  “Pierced?”

  He nodded, then retreated from the French doors and sunk in the chair opposite the dark mahogany desk.

  “Where is she now?”

  “Hospital. The police arrived, and I tracked them down. Alec is on his way.”

  “There was no other course of action?” Grandfather rose from behind the desk. “You are under a sacred oath. The Council will hold a trial.” He studied Juliun. “I am not pleased by this turn of events. You know how sacrosanct the mist is to us. Let me see into your mind.”

  Grandfather floated toward him and then rested his fingers on the back of Juliun’s head. The entire confrontation unfurled with the memory still fresh. Their meeting, her beautiful face so beloved, fierce, and remembered in his dreams. Her complete resistance and stunning willpower. Finally, Grandfather lifted his hands and stepped away. “Ah.”

  “I have run through the events in my mind, wondering how they could be different. I did not turn the edges of my body to mist. The thought did not even occur to me.” Juliun shook his head and stared at the glass of blood on the desk.

  Grandfather’s eyes narrowed, and his fingers tapped the desk. “You failed to mention you found your bride. Or that she found you.” His old face split in a grin so wide, his incisors protruded. He laughed, his grey eyes glittering. “I congratulate you, Grandson. You only waited six-hundred and seventy years. Your father searched for over one thousand. The transfer was accidental. Unfortunate, but accidental all the same.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do not forget I once had a bride of my own.” Grandfather tossed him another grin. “You could not harm her, and you’d let down your guard. It is always the way. It makes sense. You may also be able to secure your future feeding from her.” His smile faded. “Why was she dressed like that? The mask?”

  “The festival.”

  “Ah.” Grandfather sighed. “Yes. Did some part of you want to bite her to end your suffering?”

  “Wanting is different from choosing. I know the difference. I would have maintained my oath if I had any other recourse. The suffering of one is nothing compared to the destruction of many,” Juliun said.

  “Yes,” Grandfather hissed. “It is how we have lived for centuries, how we must do this together. Now we may have another.”

  “She fought the glamour like nothing I have ever seen.”

  “I noticed,” Grandfather murmured. “The idea that she can resist at all is incredible. She only experienced pain?”

  Juliun nodded. “She knew something was wrong. Did Grandmother have that same ability with you?”

  Grandfather’s face stiffened, and his body froze. “No. This is different. She is different.” He blinked as though he woke from a dream, and then he floated to the liquor cabinet. “Would you like one?”

  “Yes.” Juliun studied the glass ball resting upon a curved stand. Grandfather had the ability to see into the future. What would he see now? No doubt, he’d consult the ball as soon as he was alone. “The Council—”

  “Will think what I tell them to.” Grandfather handed Juliun his alcoholic blood. “I am the one you needed to convince. They will see the memory I hold as your own, but your bride must be brought here immediately. She may not live through the turn.”

  Juliun reverted to using their mind-link. *I have searched so long.* His hands clenched. *I need to make sure she lives. I cannot let her go now.*

  Grandfather looked at the painting on the op
posite wall, a gift from when he and his bride first met, but he’d never explained why. The picture showed a child escaping the dark forest, only to be uncertain of the path ahead.

  *I would not ask it of you.* “Life is unpredictable. Your bride knows too much. How do you intend to get her from the hospital?”

  Juliun looked into the depths of his drink. He could make immortals disappear with the mist, however his gift was ineffective with humans.

  “You will have to kidnap her,” Grandfather said.

  Chapter Five

  Subdued lighting hazed the room, and Simone stretched out, straightening her arms above her head, feeling a strange stiffness in the back of her left hand. A strip of white tape covered a catheter. Thankfully, it wasn’t attached to anything so she could move around. Hanging curtains partially framed empty hospital beds, and a pastel painting of children playing on a beach hung on the opposite wall beside a television set. The room had an odd, nostalgic feeling.

  She sat up and threw off the precision-folded covers. To her amazement, they billowed in a white heap against the wall. She frowned. Had she tossed them that hard? She swung her legs over the side, her feet coming to rest on dark blue carpet. Hard and wiry, the texture soothed her bare feet. Her toenails looked bruised. Probably from kicking her mugger. She vaguely remembered hearing that Tammy was in the same room, but Simone couldn’t see her friend. The air tasted terrible. Stale. She longed for a deep breath of fresh air. She stretched again, feeling better with each minute. She padded over to the blankets and pitched them back onto the mattress with a promise to herself to remake the bed later, then she ducked into a small cubicle that hopefully led to a bathroom.

  “Damn.”

  She swung around the small cubicle and sighed. No mirror; only a toilet. Maybe it was a good thing she couldn’t see her reflection anyway?

  She lifted the hem of the hospital gown, and checked over the rest of her body, her fingers and palms spreading out over her chilled skin, but everything looked and felt fine. Her skin was unmarked everywhere else. Well, she looked better than she expected after being attacked by a couple of madmen who preferred two-legged steak tartare.