Tonight his main problem would be Luis Vasquez, now the top oil dealer within the Vladarian powerhouse.
The door opened behind him, and he turned to face his son. Mortal plastics and makeup had temporarily covered Cinatas’s scarred countenance, and would have to do until they could find a mortal whose face was as close as possible to Cinatas’s original. Then they would procure a transplant—whether the donor was willing or not.
Cinatas didn’t speak, but crossed the room and stared out at the valley, flexing his fists. This was the first opportunity they’d had to talk since he’d dragged his son from hell. After a prolonged silence, Pathos, much to his dismay, was compelled to speak first. “Shashur has been eliminated. He is nonexistent now.”
“A small conciliation, considering my losses. I would have survived the explosion, but he found me injured and sucked the blood from me until death ensued. Then carried me to torture.” Cinatas kept his gaze fixed on the view.
Surprised at the news, Pathos sharpened his senses, seeking for a sign or hint of a vampiric infection in Cinatas. He couldn’t detect it, yet. That wasn’t to say that the virus wasn’t just lying dormant at the moment. Over time there’d been other mixed beings, even a number of vampire mortals who served their sires, but Pathos didn’t think there’d ever been a creature with quite the mixture that Cinatas now had, of corrupted Elan blood, were-seed, and vampire seed. “So you’ve the seeds of both immortals within you now?”
“What do you mean?” Cinatas turned sharply.
“Don’t you remember what I said when I found you with Shashur? Aren’t you curious as to why I chose you over one of the Vladarian Order?”
Cinatas shrugged. “I assumed you found my knowledge of blood proteins indispensable.”
“No. Knowledge can be obtained one way or another. Even as we speak, all of your personal files as well as all of Sno-Med’s records are being loaded on trucks to be brought here for examination, should you decide not to join me. What can’t be so easily procured is a son from my loins.”
Cinatas stared long and hard before replying. Pathos was beginning to really like the beast his son had become. Though he was young, the potential for great evil was there.
“And this happened when and how?” Cinatas asked. “I had both parents in Puerto Rico.”
“Run any of your precious tests, you’ll find me to be your biological father. Your mother was very heavily into voodoo, its rites and rituals, and was more than willing to bear my seed in exchange for some powerful connections from the damned.”
“And why would you want that? It obviously wasn’t for any familial or emotional notions,” Cinatas said.
Pathos absorbed the slight sting of Cinatas’s cold assessment. His son would need time to adjust to his new circumstance.
“I have a number of offspring scattered throughout the world. None specialized so brilliantly in hematology as you, which is why I activated you early and have chosen you for something very special. All of my children are learning the skills that will see my plan to fruition, and I do have a great deal of regard for them.”
“How many are there?”
“Thousands. And even more are being born as we speak. Sperm banks make mass propagation easy, especially when you qualify under their genius testing. Their information is written in the Book of Life at my estate, Zion.”
Cinatas frowned. “You sound like God Almighty.”
Pathos smiled. “I will be. There’s more to this world than lording over a tribe of vampires, and I’ve put the wheels in motion to get it.”
That wiped the dull, undead look off Cinatas’s face. “How?” he asked.
“One step at a time. Today you prove yourself to a small degree, and tonight I’ll give you a little taste of the future.”
“What?”
“You’d planned to take my place as leader of the Vladarians, and your hunger for power pleases me as much as your disloyalty disgusts me. It’s but a small ripple between us that we’ll correct over time as your fidelity improves. Someday the Vladarians will be expendable, but not yet.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Get Sno-Med off shaky ground with the media. I’ve scheduled a news release for later today. Nyros will have the specifics. Vamps get anxious when their blood supply is threatened, and media coverage that all is well will help. What went wrong to begin with?”
“The Elan nurse found four bodies left from Shashur’s transfusion and ran, planning to cause trouble.”
“Erin?” Pathos asked.
“Yes. Who is she?”
Pathos ignored Cinatas’s question. Until his son proved himself, Pathos wasn’t going to tell him more than necessary. And it wasn’t Erin’s time yet. Soon she would know who he really was to her, but not yet. “Why the body count? The whole purpose of transfusions is to limit the number of mortal deaths and the associated complications.” Technology had altered the Vladarian’s world. Multiple deaths were becoming harder and harder to conceal, and advances in science now made those deaths unnecessary. Unfortunately, a vampire would go on a visceral rampage and leave a mess to clean up. Shashur had been known to wipe out a village every now or then. And the Russians were bad at that, too. More fell prey to the vampire in power than to the Siberian winters.
“Shashur always demanded fresh blood. This time the donors refused to come. A message needed to be sent to the others. If a man cannot control those who serve him, then he deserves to die.”
“Excellent mandate,” Pathos paused for a moment to absorb it. It was exactly why Heldon needed to be nonexistent. His pride in Cinatas notched higher. “So Erin discovered the bodies and ran. What else?” Pathos asked.
“She has made friends in Twilight, two doctors and a sheriff. They are out to make trouble for Sno-Med. But more importantly, she has teamed up with someone you should know about. They caused the fire at the center.”
“After you kidnapped them. I already know who she has partnered with. A former Blood Hunter named Jared. There is now also a second Blood Hunter named Aragon. You won’t need to concern yourself with them. I’ll be containing them.” And one of them in a very special way, he thought. He pictured the dark-haired doctor splaying herself out for him and was surprised to feel a burn in his loins.
“Then why did you ask?” Cinatas frowned.
“It pays to make sure you’re getting the truth by asking what you already know. Remember that.”
Cinatas blinked, and Pathos smiled. His boy was catching on fast. “The second thing you will do for me today is locate a mortal woman by the name of Stefanie Batista. She is the sister of Dr. Annette Batista, one of Erin’s new friends.”
“Do I know this Stefanie Batista?”
“Possibly. She worked at Sno-Med.”
“Hundreds are employed there.”
“She disappeared six months ago. See what you can discover and check with Nyros on the list of people he has for us to question today.”
“If you will indulge my asking, why do you want her specifically?”
“She’s the Achilles’ heel I need to stroke. Dr. Annette Batista is about to willingly provide a bedside manner that will please me in every way. I’m betting she’ll do anything, anything at all, to protect her sister.”
Pathos saw the first glimmer of real interest light his son’s eyes. “You do realize that the staff here will provide anything you ask for?” Pathos asked. “Not as well as in Zion, but decently.”
“Zion?”
“My estate in Austria. I’ll show it to you once we’ve contained this problem. I’ve had a thousand years to build it and to perfect my plan to rule. Everything you could desire is there. And when you’re ready, I will reveal it all. We’ll take Dr. Batista and her sister along with us, for I don’t think I’ll have tired of the fiery doctor by then.”
“Why even wait for the sister? Just have the doctor brought here, shackle her, and do what you want.”
“You’ve much to learn yet to be gre
at, son. There is power in souls. Physically forcing someone to do your will has but a weak power to it, because you gain no part of their soul. But creating a situation that makes them choose to do your will over their own takes skill and gives you more power, more of their soul. Administering pain to achieve power is for weaklings, for the one tortured retains all of their soul against such force. But to give them pleasure, make them feel pleasure when they don’t want to, is to gain pieces of their soul. You’ll learn.
“Meanwhile, we need to get you ready for the news conference. Have makeup apply an injury or two to your mask. Public sympathy will help the masses ignore untoward rumors. After that, we’ll locate Stefanie Batista.”
“You’re accompanying me on this search? Do you not trust me to handle this?”
“Of course. Think of it as father-and-son time, rather than an evaluation. And who knows, while we’re out, I may decide to pay Dr. Batista a visit after all. Just to whet her appetite.”
Chapter Eleven
A RAGON KNEW WHAT Annette was doing even before he reached the door. Her agitated steps drummed through the quiet of the dwelling, bringing to mind his Blood Hunter brother York, whose nature often had him pacing amid turmoil while Navarre had sat quietly. The memory twisted a knot of regret inside him and brought him to a halt. He wondered what they were doing now.
After hearing Jared’s reaction to his departure from the Guardian Forces, Aragon had been rethinking his decision and its repercussions. He’d been so convinced that his brethren would be better off without him that he hadn’t considered anything else.
Were they suffering from his decision as well?
Yet he wasn’t wrong—Pathos needed to be eliminated, and Aragon had to be the one to make it happen. Aragon knew how Pathos thought, how the were-being reacted in battle, and what he would most likely do next. In addition to his quest, another purpose to his presence upon the mortal ground had formed, one that went beyond his anger at Pathos’s betrayal. Annette. If he had not been there to intervene, she’d be in Pathos’s hands now. He’d been giving some thought to how he could find out what happened to her sister, and had come up with a plan.
When he crossed through the spirit barrier, he’d first seek the knowledge of Logos’s angels before trying to track Pathos again. The angels cared for the souls of mortals and had all the names of those who passed through their gates written in The Book. If Stefanie’s name wasn’t with the angels, then she’d have to be on earth, and he’d need a fix on her scent to try and find her. But he’d have to eliminate Pathos first.
As soon as they had word that the vehicles were in motion, Aragon would act before Jared and the others had time to. That would be the only way to assure himself of Jared’s safety. And Aragon would get to Pathos before the evil werewolf made a move against Annette. Pathos would most likely attack by night. And he wouldn’t act at the first rise of the moon; he’d wait, make his quarry sweat, make them worry, make them weaker.
Aragon knew for certain that whatever price he paid for his actions, he’d never regret melding with Annette. He had pushed open the door to her fiery beauty, and he felt his whole being go hard with the desperate want of her for more than just a moment in time. He wanted her forever, but it was a desire that would remain unfulfilled.
Pausing, she met his gaze. Her cheeks were flushed; her eyes, dark wells of hot emotion. Her mouth trembled between a frown and an invitation to kiss her that he readily recognized from last night. She had something in her hand that she’d been looking at.
“We have to talk,” she said. “You need to listen to Jared.”
He crossed the room and slid his thumb along the delicate curve of her jaw, sensing the tension in her, feeling the race of her pulse.
Her tongue dipped down nervously to moisten her bottom lip. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, but something was stopping her.
“I didn’t ask enough questions last night. What does it all mean? A faded warrior and the Guardian Council’s judgment?”
He drew in a bracing breath, tasting the sweetness of her essence on the tip of his tongue just as richly as he felt the weight of her concern wrap tightly around him. “Becoming a faded warrior is my fate. It was set before we met, when I failed in my duty to be a true leader for the Blood Hunters. I don’t know when it will come, but it will, and nothing can change it.”
“Don’t say that,” she whispered. “As long as there is time, then something can change. Maybe—”
“No,” he said roughly. “Nothing will change. My fate is set.”
“What about the Guardian Council?”
“They may choose a harsher punishment.”
“What could be worse than wandering alone for eternity?”
“Nonexistence.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Then you can’t go back into the spirit world, ever. What if they try to harm you? What if you can’t return? How could I help you then? It’s like Stef all over again.” She pressed something to her heart, and he realized she held a picture.
“May I see her picture?” he asked, setting his hand over Annette’s.
She slid the picture into his hand. The woman looked very much like Annette, same glowing skin, same delicate features, same luxurious dark hair, only younger and less tense. The woman was smiling and holding a drawing in front of her that caught him completely off guard. It was an exact drawing of the Guardian Council’s Judgment Hall, with twelve figures seated upon the high dais just as the Council Servers would be. Kneeling before the Council was a Shadowman, a shape-shifter in the Guardian Forces. This Pyrathian held his shape-shifted form of a fierce winged being akin to mortal imaginings of dragons. Pyrathians were powerful warriors with a special gift. They could breathe life into those mortals whom death tried to claim before their fullness of time.
“Where did she get the drawing?”
Annette smiled sadly. “She drew it herself. Stef’s love was art and the creatures she created. She kept volumes of her drawings and the stories she made up about them. I should have supported her desire to be an artist instead of insisting she have a real career.”
Aragon put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, searching for the right words to ease her pain. “Wait before you judge yourself so harshly. Though the path taken now may seem to have been in error, the journey isn’t over. There may yet be a reason for the present.”
She breathed in deeply, her dark eyes searching his. “If I heed your words, will you take your own advice as well? Will you not judge your choices so harshly? Can there be a different future for you?”
“No,” he said sharply. The hope in her eyes twisted painfully inside him. “My situation is different. The consequences are set and cannot be undone. But for your sister, all is yet unknown, and you must wait until you learn the truth before you can judge yourself. Can you show me these drawings of your sister’s?”
Annette nodded. “Most of Stef’s sketchbooks are on the shelf here.” Stepping back from him, she moved over to a bookcase and slipped a thick volume off the shelf, opening it up before handing it to him. He gave her back her sister’s picture before studying the drawings.
As he turned the pages, he saw a mixture of creatures. Some of them were creatures of human mythology, like sea serpents; others were animals from the mortal realm; but there were also a number of detailed drawings of spirit beings, both those that fought for Logos in the Guardian Forces and those in Heldon’s Fallen Army. He didn’t know how or why, but Annette’s sister clearly had a connection to the spirit world. He’d heard there were mortals who could see through the barrier, see past the twilit edges of the spirit realm, and in their visions or dreams were able to see and remember things that most mortals never even knew existed. Her scent wafted up from the pages. Holding the book close to his nose, he drew it in and fixed it in his mind.
“What is it?” Annette asked, her brow furrowed with puzzlement.
“Her scent is similar to yours, yet different.”
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br /> “Her scent?”
“Each being has a unique scent, and my were-kind is very adept at detecting them.” He pointed to the picture she held. “You both are very similar in appearance, but different. Scents are the same way.”
Annette took the picture and ran her finger along the contours of her sister’s face. “Stef’s blue eyes were so dark, they usually appeared as brown as mine. People always thought Stef was a younger version of me, but that’s where our likeness ended. I plowed everything out of my way with my determination to be a doctor. Even the people I cared about the most got pushed away.”
Aragon closed the sketchbook and returned it to its place, then set the picture of her sister on the shelf, too. “Don’t despise what you are.” He cupped her chin in his palm and brought her gaze to meet his. “You’re like a warrior. You pledge your life to help and protect others, and you battle every day. In the spirit realm, warriors are the only spirits that stand alone. They never meld their spirits to others, because to do so would diminish their focus and thus weaken them in battle.”
She stared at him for a long moment, her gaze moving from his eyes to his mouth to his chin. She pressed her thumb to the indentation at its center before brushing his bottom lip. He closed his eyes, relishing the tingling fire she ignited with the simplest of gestures.
“What’s melding?” she asked.
He opened his eyes and pulled her body flush to his. It is a union of one spirit to another, he said into her mind. A connection that binds together their thoughts and experiences.
She set her hand over his heart, and he could see the wonder of truth light a fire in her eyes. We are melded, aren’t we? she thought back at him.
He nodded. It is what I choose to share and give to you. Yes, we are melded. For as long as I have breath upon the mortal ground, I will be with you.
How long? The hurt in her eyes cut him deeply. The pain she felt for him and within herself split him open as surely as a sword.
I do not know. He groaned deeply from the pain of it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered aloud before tasting the sweetness of her lips. He could disappear at any moment. It could be that the only thing giving him substance within the mortal realm was her possession of his amulet. And when he took that back today, he might fade into the void to which he’d condemned himself.
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