Love Me to Death (Underveil)

by Marissa Clarke

  “Walk with me.” Even his movements seemed inhuman as he effortlessly rose from his lounge chair.

  She wrestled her way out of the wood and canvas contraption much less gracefully and collected her drink. The sand was soft and warm underfoot—the opposite of the snow she’d trudged through with Nikolai. Where was he now, she wondered? Was he looking for her?

  Stefan glanced over and then stopped. “I don’t know what manner of creature you are. I know Fydor desires this war and he wants you dead, so it stands to reason, you are—or he believes you are—the Uniter from the prophecy. The one to build the bridge and end the war.”

  “What war?”

  The sea breeze blew his hair across his face. “There have always been factions of the Underveil that want to take over the human world, rather than protect it. Right now, with Fydor in power, that element has great strength.”

  Definitely like a horror movie plot, only weirder. She walked to the waterline and let the waves lap over her ankles. “Where does Nik fit in?”

  Stefan joined her, hands in pockets. He stared at her with those pale eyes and smiled. It was a sad smile that tugged at her heart. “He fits with you…and he is in grave danger, Elena.”

  Her heart stopped for a moment. “Danger. Why?” She hoped it wasn’t because of her. Because of the risks he’d taken by not killing her as ordered.

  “There are two obstacles to Fydor’s desire to lift the Veil and place humans at the immortals’ mercy. First, is Nikolai Itzov. He’s the rightful heir to the throne, but he abdicated to his uncle for unknown reasons. It was a big upset. Fydor was never considered a viable candidate to be ruler because he is unstable and volatile. Were Nikolai to take his rightful place as Slayer king, the Underveil would follow and desert Fydor instantly.”

  Whoa. Nikolai was supposed to be the king. “So you think Fydor will kill him to put an end to the divided loyalty.” She picked up a rock and rolled it in her free hand. “Where do I fit in?” She pitched the rock out into the crystal water.

  “I don’t know. That’s the other missing piece in the equation.”

  “Fydor believes I’m the Uniter from the prophecy. What’s the prophecy?”

  “Well, I can only tell you what the hieroglyphs on Itzov’s body say, as I’m not familiar with the origin or mechanics of the prophecy. Time Folders are more like long-term observers than members of the Underveil.”

  “Spill it, Stefan.”

  He closed his eyes as if seeing Nikolai’s body in his head. “His glyphs say, ‘From the ashes of death, the Uniter shall rise. Awakened by warrior’s blood to restore balance.

  With the power to dethrone tyrants and anoint kings.’”

  As if the words themselves had power, a strange jolt rocketed through her, like the bolts of current when Stefan touched her. The phrase was familiar, but she knew she’d never heard it before. That weird need to search for something lost washed through her, and she pushed it down.

  The Uniter would dethrone tyrants. Riiiiight. They had the wrong girl if she was supposed to be this Uniter person.

  “There’s more,” he said. “The Uniter is also, ‘Guardian of the bridge between species above and below the Veil.’”

  “What the hell does that mean? What bridge?”

  “I assume it’s metaphorical.” He waited patiently while she processed.

  This was a terrible and deadly game she’d been dumped into. And then it dawned on her that as kind as this man—or whatever he was—had been to her, she knew nothing about his motivations. She didn’t even know what kinds of powers Time Folders had, other than that of the almighty dollar and an electric supercharge of some kind. Still, Nik seemed to trust him. Perhaps it was just that of all the evil in this new world, this guy was the least horrible option. “And where do you fit in all this? Whose side are you on?”

  He shrugged. “I’m on the side that protects the stability of the planet I inhabit. Right now, that would be any faction that opposes Fydor.”

  “So, Nik’s side.”

  “Ah.” He folded his hands behind his back. “No. Not unless he steps forward and demands his throne back. As of now, he’s self-absorbed, careless, and politically unmotivated.”

  A strange sensation surged through her at the slight to Nik. It was as if her frustration had pooled in her palms. “But only because he doesn’t have all the information.”

  “None of us do, yet he just goes on blindly thrashing his way through the days, refusing to look into the dark places that sent him on this quest to begin with. My bet is on you. Whether or not you bring Nikolai Itzov into your wake as you destroy Fydor, is your business.”

  The sensation in her palms dissipated, and fear caused the fine hairs on her neck to prickle. How in the world could she destroy a Slayer like Fydor? Somehow, she felt like she was being manipulated again. She turned and strolled back toward the lounge chairs, sipping her daiquiri. “Nik is immortal. How can Fydor kill him?”

  Stefan ran his fingers through his gold hair. “Being immortal doesn’t mean living forever. Humans have a life expectancy of eighty-five or so years, though some die much earlier. Immortality is the same. Though Underveilers can live for hundreds and even thousands of years, depending on species, many are destroyed prematurely.”

  “Destroyed how?” She cupped her hand above her eyes to block the sun so she could see his face in the bright sunlight.

  “All immortals have an Achilles heel. With many, like the elves and shifters, a simple beheading with any weapon is enough. Vampires have to be burned. Poisons specific to species are fatal as well, like that poor woman in my building. But all of them, including Slayers, are subject to death from a sword of elven ore. Some species require a full decapitation, while others will die from a wound from such a weapon.”

  “Like Nik’s sword.”

  “Yes. There are a limited number of them, thanks to Fydor. He imprisoned a light elf named Aksel, the only craftsman who could forge the swords. He locked him away centuries ago in some unknown location, in order to halt their manufacture. It wasn’t until recently that I realized the significance. The fewer swords there are, the better Fydor’s chances of survival. He had been planning this war for a long time—centuries before his brother died.”

  She strolled along the beach, trying to organize this new information in some kind of cohesive fashion. A week ago, she was studying blood cells through a microscope and analyzing blood anomalies. Wars, swords, and imprisonments weren’t even on her radar, now she was supposed to be some Uniter person who could end wars. There had to be a punch line to this, but sadly, she doubted there was. “What about you, Stefan? What’s your Achilles heel?”

  A strange look crossed his face, and then was replaced by a slight smile. “I have none. I cannot be killed by any hand but my own.”

  She finished off her drink, studying his perfect face over the rim. “I guess that makes you your own worst enemy.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Stefan’s phone rang. “Excuse me,” He turned away from her and answered. It sounded like a business call because he asked about the authenticity of something and then told the person on the other end to buy it regardless of cost.

  Must be nice, Elena thought. She had struggled for years just to make ends meet. Now she was hobnobbing with Mr. Buy-A-Plane. She pulled some hair that had blown across her face out of her eyes and sighed. It was an overwhelming concept to wrap her head around that this man had unlimited funds and would live literally forever if he wished it.

  His phone rang again. “Yes?” he answered. His eyes met Elena’s. “I will bring her now. Thank you.”

  He took her hand, and she braced for the low level current she always felt with his contact. Instead, she felt nothing but his smooth, warm hand. He gasped and immediately withdrew. Then, he smiled. “Well, well, well. You are full of all manner of surprises.”

  “What?”

  “You shocked me electrically when we touched. It’s supposed to be the other way aroun
d. It’s new, and honestly, a bit troubling.”

  Aw, crap. She didn’t need any more troubling things in her life. “Why?”

  He gestured toward the house. “I’ll tell you over dinner.”

  “Tell me now. I’m not hungry.” Which was troubling, too, because it was probably her true vampire nature kicking in. A lifetime of a blood-only diet would suck. Literally.

  “You are hungry. You’re simply depressed, which suppresses your appetite.”

  “I’m not depressed.” Freaked out, yes.

  “Of course you are. You have been separated from something you cannot live without.” He struck out through the powdery sand ahead of her. She remained rooted in place for a moment while she reconstructed his words in her head.

  “Wait a minute!”

  He didn’t even slow his pace.

  “Hey, what can I not live without?”

  Still striding on ahead, he didn’t respond. The jerk. Glaring at his retreating form, she imagined herself standing right in front of him and just like that, she was there.

  He stopped short of walking right into her, a surprised look on his face. Yeah, she could get used to this superpower stuff. “Stop screwing around with me, Stefan. Say what you mean, or just shut up.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, or you wouldn’t be so agitated. You’ve both had adequate time to come to terms with what is facing you. It’s time for you and the Slayer to put your petty differences aside and accept fate.”

  “I don’t believe in fate.”

  “What a splendid luxury.” He threw his arms up, exasperation in his tone. “What would I not give to be in your shoes? To have my perfect mate only a phone call away. To be able to hold her in my arms without it being a death sentence for us both!” His voice cracked on the last word.

  Stunned, Elena watched him stride away. His phone rang as he climbed the porch stairs, but he didn’t answer it. It stopped ringing as he disappeared inside the house.

  He was wrong. She could live without Nikolai. She missed him, yes. But she didn’t need him—anymore than he needed her. Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, moron. She took a deep breath and climbed the steps to the house.

  “What are you doing here?” Aleksandra asked, lowering her sword.

  Well, that answered Nikolai’s question about the identity of the other Slayer who had visited Stefan’s penthouse. He slid the sword back in its sheath, and she did the same. “I might ask you the same thing.”

  “I’m there to see the Time Folder.”

  “For what purpose?”

  She strolled over to the wall of windows and stared out. Nikolai scanned her body, looking for signs of injury or abuse, but found none. Good. Fydor hadn’t hurt her—at least not recently…or not where it showed.

  The bastard. He’d kill him if he hurt Aleksi.

  She faced him. “Where is the human? She’s in extreme danger. So are you.”

  Nikolai stopped next to a glass and chrome table. “She’s no longer human, and I have no idea where she is. I followed her here, and then the Time Folder took her to another location.”

  “Well, tell him to bring her back.”

  If only that would work. He was going mad without her. “It’s complicated.”

  “Aw shit. Now you sound like a bad made-for-TV movie.”

  Nikolai crossed the room and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Why are you here, Aleksi? You didn’t come looking for Elena or me because you had no way of knowing we’d been here. You seek the Time Folder. Why?”

  She didn’t answer, so he gave her a shake—a hard one.

  She gasped, and then her eyes narrowed. “Remove your hands from me, Niki, or I’ll slice your balls clean off.”

  With a curse, he released her and retreated to the other side of the room. He’d never used physical force on her before. What was wrong with him? Desperation—that’s what. He’d searched for Elena everywhere he could think of, including her home and the hospital where she had worked. He was terrified for her safety and sickened that she had cut him off. But he had no right to take it out on Aleksi. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

  She slumped into a chair. “It’s okay. We’re both on edge.”

  He moved to a chair opposite her, and they sat in uncomfortable silence for a while.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Your situation… Fydor?”

  “Not nearly as bad as yours.” She stood and paced the wall of windows like a large, lithe panther, her thigh-high boots silent on the carpet. “The shit is totally about to go down. Fydor’s gone all comic book supervillain, complete with maniacal laugh and plans to rule the world.” She stopped and met his eyes. “I’m scared, Niki.”

  He took a deep breath through his nose. In the centuries he’d known Aleksandra, he’d never heard her say she was scared of anything. “Why do you seek the Time Folder?”

  “I believe all of this revolves around what happened between the two kings up there on that mountain ridge. I don’t think they killed each other. I’m here to ask Darvaak to fold back to the fight again and see if he can figure it out.”

  Nikolai ran a hand through his hair. “He has already witnessed it. He, as well as the two other Time Folders. All of them say the same thing: the event has been masked.”

  “They missed something. There has to be a clue there somewhere as to what really happened.”

  “The real question is who masked it and why? There are only a handful of beings with magic that strong.”

  “The elves tell me there are only two: the twins Borya and Zana,” she replied. “And both of them have gone missing since that day. One of them must have been there.” She flipped her long, black hair over a shoulder. “A spell that strong requires proximity. Whichever one was there knows what happened because he or she cast magic that hid it.”

  Zana, Gregor Arcos’ seer, was capable of great magic, but she’d never been involved with black arts or anything deceptive like masking a murder—at least not that Nikolai knew of. Borya was equally powerful, but worked freelance. Little was known about him other than the Itzov family had called on him from time to time. He’d only seen him once when he was just a boy. His uncle had called Borya for a conference while Nikolai’s father was out negotiating with the wood elves. He shuddered at the memory. Dressed in flowing purple robes, Borya had looked at Nik with his jet-black eyes and ordered the boy removed. “He’s dangerous. I will kill him if he so much as looks at me again,” the sorcerer shouted, the ground shuddering in a magic-induced earthquake under his feet. To this day, he could still hear his uncle’s laughter and taunts about the terrible, powerful seer being afraid of a smooth-faced boy.

  “If Borya and Zana don’t want to be found, you won’t find them,” he said, “And three Time Folders have gone back to the event and found nothing.”

  “They weren’t looking for seers; they were trying to witness the murder.”

  He shrugged. “It’s your money. Suit yourself.”

  She covered her face. “I don’t have the money.”

  Of course she didn’t. She’d been on a spending spree unlike anything he’d ever seen. A time fold cost one million dollars, nonnegotiable. “Then why are you here?”

  “I was hoping to appeal to his…” She took a deep breath. “I was hoping he was a typical man and I could barter.”

  With her body, no doubt. Nikolai shot to his feet. “No. Absolutely not. Even if he weren’t some kind of biological eunuch, I would forbid it.”

  “What on earth do you mean, ‘biological eunuch’?”

  “He only desires one person, and you’re not it.”

  She turned back to the bank of windows. “I didn’t know that. Pity. He’s pretty.”

  He was sure his head would explode. “I suppose anything is preferable to Fydor.”

  She spun on him, crossing to come toe-to-toe, fists clenched. “Fuck you, Niki. I’m not discussing that right
now. And I’m not a little girl you can intimidate anymore. That’s what your human is for.”

  They glared at each other until he conceded defeat and looked away. She was right. That was what he had done to Elena. He had been an overpowering ass, which was why he was alone and miserable right now. He’d realized that over these last days. She wasn’t like the Slayers and needed a different approach. And he needed her. More than anything before or perhaps ever again, he needed Elena Arcos.

  Aleksi took a step back. “Do you know how to reach Stefan Darvaak?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please do.”

  “There’s a price.”

  “You sound like your uncle.”

  “And you act like a whore.”

  “How dare you!” Her punch to the jaw sent him reeling. “How dare you judge me for keeping you safe! Safe while you fuck a vampire! Who’s the whore, Nikolai?”

  He placed his hand on his aching jaw. “I did what I had to do.”

  “So did I,” she shouted. “So did your mother.”

  He’d never seen her this worked up. She was usually unnervingly cool. It was as if he were watching a stranger. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you really think she wanted to marry him? To…” She shuddered. “She did it to buy you time to get your shit together and find the Uniter.”

  It had never crossed his mind that his mother had married his uncle for any other reason than it served her own purposes. For two decades, he’d convinced himself she had betrayed his father and turned her back on him. He’d looked at it through the lens of a selfish, self-righteous grieving son who had loved and lost his father. Not a man trained to lead his people. A sickening dread pooled in his gut. What else had he missed while he was off blindly slaying every rogue vampire he could find in order to alleviate his grief?

  “She did what was best for her people. Now it’s your turn. Pull you head out of your ass and help us. Fydor says your human is the Uniter. You said she’s your fated mate. It doesn’t get better than that, does it?” She ran her hands through her hair, moving it out of her face. “For fuck’s sake, Niki. It’s time to end this. We need to stop Fydor, and I need to uncover the truth about the murder.”