by Shah, Karin
He’d been forced to behead her before she brought the entire constabulary of Bordeaux down upon them.
John, a simple yeoman farmer, who had craved the excitement and supremacy of the vampire gifts. How he’d gloried in learning, something forbidden him in his mortal life.
Before becoming addicted to the Claiming, John had made it a practice to turn every pretty girl he saw. After, he used his blood ties with his eyasses to form his own personal army.
Edward, a young fop of the Regency era who’d dallied with the wife of the wrong man and eaten grass for breakfast, as he’d like to say. Edward had been a sad case. He’d been a man of his times who’d outlived them. No doubt if he’d still been mortal, he would have become an alcoholic or an opium eater.
And there’d been so many others. They’d died and lived again, but learned nothing from the experience.
“And before that? How many murders have you committed?”
“When I was a boy, I arranged to have enemies killed.” He didn’t remember their faces. They seemed as distant now as the craggy surface of the moon. Sometimes the moon seemed closer.
“And these enemies. They were innocents?”
“I wouldn’t call them innocents,” he hedged. He could see where she was going, but she was wrong. “They were ambitious men. Men who saw a young prince as an obstacle to their own advancement.”
“Men who were willing to kill to remove that obstacle?” Thalia accentuated her point with the rise of her delicate eyebrows, her gaze riveted on his face.
“That doesn’t change the fact it was my order that led to their deaths.”
“Doesn’t it? You told me you were a sickly boy. If you had met these grown soldiers on the field of battle, what chance would you have had? They would have killed you—little more than a child—without a moment’s remorse. Wouldn’t they?”
Gideon didn’t, couldn’t speak.
“Wouldn’t they?”
“And later, when Inanna betrayed you, would you have killed her, if she hadn’t attacked you? What would you have done if it had been someone else who had spied against you? What would have been the penalty?
“How many of your soldiers died because of her? Because of information she’d passed to Akos? She handed you and your men to him time and time again. It’s a miracle you weren’t killed.”
He shook his head. He’d told himself the same thing, but it excused nothing.
“I can’t condemn you because you fought to live. And I don’t think you should condemn yourself.”
She didn’t blame him? A part of him rejoiced in her forgiveness, but the rational part of him struggled to forgive himself. Could it be true? Had his actions been self-defense? You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you? Breathed that voice inside him.
Flashes of memory seared across his mind’s eye.
He was a child, trembling in his narrow cot, each night consumed by fear. Would they come for him in his sleep? Or would the next day bring the slip of a bronze sword, the ill-timed backswing of a mace, a spear gone astray?
He was a young man, triumphant, waiting for an audience with the king, expecting praise from a remote father he should finally have pleased, only to overhear the king ordering his death.
Years later, still young, but leaning on a cane, debilitated from the effects of poison as he watched his half-sister led to her death.
She held her head high as they took her to the square. Her mouth pinched, her eyes, so like his, so like his father’s, had been flat and dead. Then she’d tuned on him. “Usurper! I’m the older!” she’d said, struggling against the two men restraining her. “This all should have been mine. You should have died. Why couldn’t you die?” Her venom still rang in his ears, though millennia had passed.
And then, Inanna’s betrayal just when he thought he’d found true happiness. The coppery gleam of her dagger in the lamplight as she rushed toward him. The fury in her eyes, then the horror as his curved sword pierced her flesh.
Catching up with Akos later at his campsite. The visions that had disturbed his sleep for thousands of years, faces set in masks of rage and fear, lips drawn back in desperate grimaces, eyes wide, pupils dark. Blood the color of mud and pitch in the uncertain light of the torches. And at last, standing among the twitching corpses. His hands stained, his sword broken.
Inanna’s curse. And later, the hardened mercenary. The mortals didn’t stand a chance, the monster reminded him. You were faster, stronger, able to manipulate their will. What’s your excuse for that?
“I worked as a mercenary,” he said into the silence that had followed her pronouncement of faith. Let her defend him against that charge.
Thalia looked at him, her mouth opened and closed. It seemed she didn’t know what to say, then she asked in a tone that said she already knew the answer. “You fought for the strong? You massacred old men, women, and children? You worked for the highest bidder?”
It was Gideon’s turn to be at a loss for words. He wanted to say yes. But it wasn’t the truth. “No.” He grinned ruefully. “I’ve always been a sucker for a lost cause, but don’t think nobility played a part. Don’t think I was some sort of hero. I did it for the challenge.”
“Hmm.” Thalia turned away, but in the passenger-side window he could see the reflection of the smile she struggled to hide.
Despite the intensity of the conversation and the pain that lingered in her chest, Thalia couldn’t quite quell the victorious smile that bubbled up as Gideon tried to spin the truth to fit the lie he’d believed for so long.
He stopped the car. They’d arrived.
“What’s the plan?”
“We’re just a couple out for a drink.” As he spoke, Gideon seemed to shorten and grow broader, and a small paunch formed at his waist. His features shifted and flattened, his hairline retreated. Soon he was wearing baggy khaki shorts and a white golf shirt.
He looked like a former high school football player who had started to go to seed. Thalia summoned a glamour. The spell came over her with an ease she’d never known.
Why had she been unable to tap into these powers before? She sighed and put her questions away. Time to get to work.
She checked her reflection in the car window. A tall, bleached blonde with skinny jeans pasted on her legs and a cropped, white T-shirt with a sparkly multi-colored butterfly decal molded to her chest gazed back at her.
“We won’t fool Akos, but we don’t need to. He wants to find us as much as we want to find him.” Gideon put a hand under her elbow and escorted her toward the Tomb. She could see him noting the position of the various police officers, male and female, watching the bar.
Thalia muttered the beginning of a shielding spell. The final words of the prophecy reverberated in her head.
The ancient dead but living
shall attain great power
When the marked one dies
and a sacrifice is made
By one who rose long ago
from the grave.
If the prophecy were right, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find Akos at all.
She was in no hurry to die.
She wished she could conjure up courage as easily as her newfound powers. She placed her hand on Gideon’s arm, drawing fortitude from his potent aura.
“There’s one more thing I want to say before we go in.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I don’t want you to think I’m asking for anything from you. You’ve made your feelings clear. I accept that. But if we should fail tonight,”—she put a hand on his mouth to quiet his automatic protest—“If we should fail, I want you to know that you can’t be all bad. Otherwise, I wouldn’t love you.”
Gideon stopped dead in his tracks and Thalia, in her teetering heels, almost tripped on the uneven pavement. There was some emotion she couldn’t read in his eyes. Shock? Distaste?
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Before he could speak she said, “We’ve got work to do.”
Gideon shot one last look at he
r and helped her up the cement steps. He opened the door to the Tomb, and Thaila stepped into the smoky room. The familiar surroundings calmed her nerves for a moment. Tom nodded to them as they approached the bar, no sign of recognition in his eyes. Gideon nodded back and ordered their drinks.
“Do you see him?” Thalia took her drink and leaned one elbow on the bar, casually surveying the room.
Gideon took a sip of his drink. “Not yet. Do you know any of the pettys here?”
Thalia let her gaze meander from face to face. The cops were easy to pick out. Their cheerful expressions and relaxed body language cried, “play”, but their serious, ever-searching eyes screamed, “work.” “I’ve met some of the cops in the course of my job. There are one or two others. But it’s late, don’t you think he’s already fed?”
“I’m sure he has.” Gideon’s mouth formed a straight, hard line and she could see a glimpse of his true self behind his disguise. “But he knows we’ll come here.”
Thalia turned back toward the long bar and used the aged mirror to examine the rest of the noisy throng that filled the large room. The women sported hectic flushes that had nothing to do with cosmetics or exertion; their eyes sparkled with some emotion, anticipation perhaps? The men tried to look cool as they swept passersby with a wary glance. Was this one a murderer? Would this one be a victim?
She could feel the electric zing of adrenaline in the air. Why was it people were so attracted to danger? Why weren’t they at home in bed as she almost wished she were?
Thalia threaded through the crowd, secure in her camouflage. She towed a reluctant Gideon toward the dance floor. “We have to act natural,” she said when he resisted.
Besides, she might never get another chance to dance with him. The reckless festivity of the bar patrons infected her. She danced onto the parquet floor with a shimmy of her hips. Gideon followed her lead, but his stiff, awkward movements, though appropriate for his façade, revealed his unwilling participation.
“Come on!” shouted Thalia over the blaring rock music with its driving beat, “put some soul into it!” Suddenly thirsty, she knocked back the rest of her screwdriver and held the empty glass up in the air, beckoning a waitress to bring her another.
When the drink arrived, she held it up in the air. We, who are about to die, salute you, she thought as she threw back the fresh contents of her glass. She was about to wave for another when Gideon, his false face like a storm cloud, dragged her from the floor and guided her to an empty table.
“What?” She clambered onto the high stool and put her elbows on the sticky table, trying to look serious. The alcohol coursed through her veins, making her joints feel loose. She welcomed the counterfeit boldness it provided.
Don’t lose your focus. I need you. He wore a stranger’s face, but it was Gideon’s eyes boring into her, Gideon’s life that would also be lost, if she couldn’t find the courage to face Akos.
His words were all she needed to sober up. Her fear, notwithstanding, she wouldn’t let Gideon down.
Thalia stole a glance across the table at Gideon. They’d been sitting there pretending to be a normal couple having a conversation for more than an hour. And it had taken a lot of pretense on Thalia’s part.
Gideon, preoccupied by his own thoughts, had lapsed into a series of long, pensive silences. So far, Akos had failed to show.
“Where do you think he is?”
Gideon leaned in. “I’m sure he’s close by. We’ll leave, and if he doesn’t make his move, we’ll come back in different disguises.”
Thalia nodded. Her nerves were strung so tight a circus performer could walk across them. She stumbled as she slid from her stool, her legs tingling from being in one position for so long. Gideon caught her and piloted her through the crowd like an icebreaker clearing the way for a smaller ship. She shuffled behind him, trying to tap some sensation back into her numb feet.
As they neared the door, her eyes caught sight of a familiar man at the bar.
Heath.
“Gideon.” She nodded in Heath’s direction, then headed there, towing Gideon behind her.
“Heath.” She placed a hand on his back.
He turned around. His face twisted as he penetrated her glamour. “It’s the Champion everybody!” he announced to the bar in general. Thalia looked around to see who had heard. A few people glanced her way, but the police had no idea who or what the Champion was, and she relaxed.
Heath raised his glass. “Long live the Champion.” His words slurred, and the last one was buried in his drink as he took a long swallow. Despite all he’d put her through, she felt for him. It must have shown in her eyes because Heath said, “Why are you here? I don’t need your sympathy.”
“I can see how much you wanted to be the Champion, Heath. What I don’t understand is why?”
Heath turned back to the bar. “I’ve wanted to be the Champion since I was a child. My grandmother was a Champion, you know.” She hadn’t. “But my mother was born without the mark. And so was I. And because of an accident of birth, I was denied my heritage.”
Thalia was stunned.
She’d never seen it from the other side. As a kid, she’d often wished her mark gone. As a teenager, she’d wished it smaller or anyplace other than her face. But she‘d never really considered the implications of the mark.
What would it be like to be raised in a family of Champions and have all the powers of the Champion, but be denied the opportunity to fulfill that destiny because of the absence of a patch of crescent-shaped pigment?
She thought of Lily. Born in a family of witches without a smidgen of magical ability. It was a wonder she’d never been bitter.
All Thalia could say was, “I’m sorry, Heath.”
He snorted into his drink.
She raised helpless eyes to Gideon, and he shook his head, drawing her away. “Give him some time. We still have a job to do.”
They left the bar and walked back toward the car. They’d parked Mina’s car on a side street several blocks from the Tomb, so it would be out of sight of the police that surrounded the club.
As they neared the Cadillac, Thalia was abruptly reminded of the night they’d met. Streetlights sliced luminous circles into charcoal shadows. Food cooking, car exhaust, and cigarette smoke thickened the humid air. Music trickled from nearby doorways, as if seeking other songs with which to spend the lonely night.
The sound of flapping wings intruded on her reverie, and drew closer.
A bat. The creature dive-bombed over their heads and flew off. They exchanged pointed glances.
Akos.
Gideon knew they were being led into a trap, but it didn’t stop his body from springing into action. The killing stopped now.
His jaw clenched. Akos had stolen his last life.
He sped after the bat, careful not to outdistance Thalia. It would be just like Akos to circle around behind. He abandoned his disguise as he rounded the corner. The bat flew into a nearby warehouse through a broken pane in its expansive windows.
Gideon approached the double door. Peeling, gray enamel disclosed dark spots of rust in a pattern that looked like bullet holes or drops of blood. A chain hung useless, its lock broken, from one massive metal pull. An invitation from Akos, no doubt.
He waited for Thalia to catch up.
“Are you ready?”
Her eyes were huge in her small face, but she nodded. He reached out and squeezed her hand.
She whispered a word, and a glowing blue shield sprung up around her. “I can’t cover us both. The shield goes both ways. Akos can’t get through to me, but I won’t be able to strike at him either. I’ll dissolve the shield when I need to jump in.”
Gideon nodded. He wished there were no need for her to dissolve the shield. Damnit, he wished she weren’t here at all. He’d gone over the plan a thousand times in his mind, trying to find a way to exclude her, to keep her safe, but Akos would never approach him without Thalia. Gideon might have tracked a younger, less
powerful vampire, confronted him on his own terms, but Akos was an ancient, he could cloak himself even from Gideon’s powerful senses.
He reached out and threw open the heavy steel door. It opened in, leaving a yawning black hole. He stared inside, but all he could see was one vast empty space.
They entered. A rush of stale air and the stink of decaying flesh warned Gideon of an attack, and he stepped to the side. The black object hit Thalia’s shield with a sickening crack. She stepped back, unhurt.
The golem that had assaulted them staggered back, lost its footing, then fell to the cement floor and split into rotting pieces.
“Welcome.” Akos’ voice echoed through the cavernous warehouse, startling a flock of pigeons that had been roosting on the rafters. With a rhythmic beating of wings, they darted around the warehouse and out the broken window in a move so reminiscent of the final act of the ritual of power, a deep shudder of foreboding rippled across Gideon’s rigid back and up his neck.
The shaft of moonlight shining through the broken windowpane illuminated a tall figure standing on a flimsy, heavily oxidized catwalk that spanned the width of the warehouse.
Akos waved a hand. Bright florescent lights flickered on and the door slammed shut. “We want the Champion to be able to see what’s happening, don’t we?” Akos leapt to the ground and landed neatly on his feet like a cat.
Thalia’s heart thudded inside her chest. She fought the impulse to run. Sudden rage took the edge off her panic.
This creature had killed Lily and countless others, stealing their lives without a second thought.
He had used her cousin and discarded her with as much regard as a paper cup. He deserved to die a slow, painful death. Fury boiled up from deep within, urging her to disperse her shield and attack, but she resisted. As much as she yearned to personally deliver the justice of her people—the prophecy made one thing very clear, Akos needed her death before Gideon’s. As long as she lived, Gideon was safe.