Pure Healing

by Aja James

  At that Valerius raised his eyes to the night sky and gazed upon the low-hanging bright full moon. Indeed it seemed to shimmer with unusual brilliance, like a beautiful woman glowing with love.

  He then glanced down at the woman beside him, the exquisite profile of her face etched forever in his mind. The story of Chang’e reminded him of the Healer, who glowed resplendently this night with renewed strength and vitality. Her Houyi was her Consort, who visited her for thirty days during the Phoenix Cycle once every decade.

  He suddenly wished he could break her free of this never ending chain, somehow ensure that strength and vitality resided within her always, that her beauty ever shone like it did tonight, never waning, never dim.

  He’d do anything to be her strength.

  Almost.

  He didn’t dare show her his true self, didn’t dare expose his demons.

  They stood in silence for a while, watching the beginning of the fire dragon dance together as a parade of men wearing brightly colored trousers painted to look like dragon scales wound their way through the crowd, their bodies and heads covered in a long, flowing canopy made to resemble the body of a Chinese dragon.

  The men dipped and rose, twisted and turned in sync, following the beat of an ancient drum, mesmerizing in their meandering dance, like a giant fire-breathing dragon floating leisurely through the sea of people, looking this way and that, the giant, elaborately decorated head with its wide-eyed stare taking in its surroundings like a deity descended from the heavens.

  The children, escorted by Ayelet, Wan’er and the nun, followed Sophia’s lead and skipped merrily alongside the dancing dragon with their animal lantern in one hand and long sticks of incense in the other. The incense was for the Moon Goddess, Chang’e, wishing her a happy reunion with her husband Houyi so that they would bless the earth with continued bounty and good fortune.

  Rain grasped the sleeve of Valerius’ shirt and tugged him along as they followed the children’s progress through the crowds, keeping them within view. Along the way she procured two sticks of candied cranberries and gave one to Valerius, gesturing for him to take a bite. He did so and savored the distinctive combination of crunchy sugary coating and tangy sour fruit within. He looked at her small hand gripping his sleeve and had the inexplicable urge to take her hand in his own, to weave their fingers together.

  They wound their way through the crowded streets, passing houses, shops and stands with strings of colorful lanterns hanging from bamboo poles at their highest points, from roofs and terraces, rafters and antennas. The lanterns waved and floated like giant fireflies in the breeze, illuminating the night with multi-colored radiance.

  They stopped beneath a makeshift tower, constructed with long, heavy wooden beams and bamboo stilts for the explicit purpose of hanging lanterns. The fire dragon had started its ceremonial dance, circling its tail and twitching its long, curly whiskers in the middle of the crowd that had formed a wide ring around the performers. Sophia and the children were in the front lines of the crowd, getting an up-close and personal view of the spectacular display.

  Though they were now standing still, Rain kept her loose grip on Valerius’ sleeve, not wanting their connection to break. She tried to focus on the festivities before her, instead of the warrior standing beside her, but she had very little success. She wanted to scoot closer to the heat his large body radiated in comforting waves, wanted to wrap an arm about his lean waist and lay her head on his chest. Despite having had hundreds of Consorts over her existence as a Pure One, she had never been so drawn to one particular male.

  Not for the first time she wished he was hers. And to keep him with her beyond just one Phoenix Cycle. It was pure madness that particular wish. She knew full well she couldn’t afford to risk attachment.

  On that thought, she slowly let go of Valerius’ sleeve, letting her hand dangle empty by her side. This warrior should never be hers. It would be too dangerous, especially for him. She knew herself and her own desires and limits. She would quickly become addicted to his Nourishment and strength and crave him like a female starved. And she’d be tempted to break her own cardinal rule – to never take the same Consort twice.

  Once upon a time she’d made that mistake. She grew fond of a male during her first Phoenix Cycle as the Healer. The intimacies they shared deceived her into feeling something more than just sexual attraction, basic need and affection. She thought perhaps they could become like Mates, though they would only come together for thirty days every ten years. She thought she loved him enough to make it work.

  And he fell in love with her in earnest, pining for her and waiting impatiently for the second Phoenix Cycle when they could be together again. Over the years, they lived separately, for fear of the temptation of being too close. Finally, the time approached again for the Healer to choose a Consort, and as they’d promised each other, Rain again chose him.

  But the second cycle was different from the first. Instead of feeling fulfilled when they came together, the more Rain fed, the hungrier she felt. Yet, her Consort only became weaker, his strength rapidly depleting.

  Towards the end of the thirty days, they realized that the Consort was in fact dying, for he had offered everything to her – his body, blood, heart and soul, but she was not able to reciprocate. Despite the deep affection and caring she felt for him, despite the grief and guilt his Decline incited, she could not give him equal measure even as she used her powers to try to heal him.

  At the end of the Cycle, he died peacefully in her arms, giving her the last of his strength and power so that she finally felt her vitality return. She’d wept until there were no tears, until only dry heaves racked her body. It was a lesson she would never forget:

  The Healer could not fall in love.

  No matter how much she craved and cared for a male, she was not capable of giving; she only took. Her energy and power she gave only to her patients as the Pure Ones’ designated Healer. She had nothing left to give to a male of her choice.

  She could never take a Mate.

  To Serve her for one Phoenix Cycle was manageable if a male was strong. Eventually, he would heal and recover his strength. But to Serve her more than once was incredible risk, one that deluded both Healer and Consort into thinking their bond might be more permanent, more true.

  She knew now that she could never form the Mating bond with a Pure-male, no matter his strength and devotion, no matter the depth of her feeling and determination. She would never love him enough.

  Perhaps because she loved healing more. She could not prioritize personal love over a Gift that benefited her entire race.

  Valerius sensed more than felt the Healer’s withdrawal. He could almost feel her pain and regret and had the inexplicable urge to comfort her.

  But before he could act on that whim, he stiffened as he sensed danger a split moment before the tower they leaned against began to creak and shift.

  Looking up, he saw that a fallen lantern had started a fire, but the breeze had carried the burning scent away and masked the impending danger. As the heavy wood beams swayed toward them, Valerius threw himself upon the Healer, knocking her to the hard ground, just before one of the beams collapsed on top of Valerius.

  Rain’s breath was knocked out of her in a whoosh, and she braced herself for more impact but realized belatedly that none came. Valerius’ body served as a protective barrier over hers, his torso a hair’s width away from hers, his arms and legs like godly columns that kept the heavens from toppling. His face was turned away from hers, her lips lightly grazing the muscles of his throat.

  Before she could collect her wits, he ground out in low urgent tones, “Get out from underneath me. Hurry.”

  She pulled herself together enough to pedal backwards with her hands and feet, slowly easing out of the crevice he made with his body. She was helped the rest of the way by Ayelet and Wan’er who pulled her out by her arms.

  When she was safely pulled aside, Valerius tensed his muscles in
one great heave, pushing the collapsed beams a fraction upwards before executing a drive and a roll to extract himself from the deadly lock. As he rolled away, the tower collapsed fully, the debris of lanterns and bamboo and broken beams barely missing him on their way down.

  He stayed lying on the ground in the aftermath and tilted his head back to check for the safety of the children, spectators and Rain. Seeing that they were a good distance away by now, the adrenaline flowed out of his body, leaving bone-deep agony in its wake.

  Getting squashed by a thirty-foot tower weighing a ton tended to leave one feeling like a roach that just got flattened by a particularly heavy rock.

  And then Rain was by his side, her hands flying across his throbbing body. A different kind of pain immediately triggered, and Valerius gritted his teeth against the onslaught.

  “Don’t touch me,” he hissed out, making a monumental effort to roll away.

  “But I have to –” she tried to follow him, her hands skimming across his chest and biceps.

  “Don’t touch me!” he almost shouted, desperately trying to get away. He staggered to a half stance, holding his left shoulder with one hand, and limped as rapidly as he could to the nearest brick establishment.

  She watched him go but did not follow, her eyes round with hurt and worry.

  Before she knew what he was about, he slammed his left side against the wall, and the noise his bone and flesh made as his shoulder popped back into its socket made her cringe in vicarious pain. Valerius did not make a sound, however. He simply slid down the wall in an exhausted heap and sat with his legs sprawled haphazardly before him.

  Rain felt Ayelet’s gentle hands on her shoulder. “Leave him be,” the Guardian said, “his body will heal within the night. He may be one large sore when we depart for the Shield tomorrow, but he’ll be fine very soon.”

  Then she added, after hesitating a beat, “Don’t be offended by his rejection of your aid. That’s just the way he is. Don’t take it personally.”

  Rain nodded, even though she didn’t understand. For the first time, her Gift as a Healer was staunchly rejected. For the first time, she felt uncertain and lost. For if there was one living creature in all the world, across all eternity that she yearned to heal, it was this man.

  The Protector.

  Chapter Ten “Goddess above, those new recruits are killing me,” Aella griped as she threw herself down on a deep seated chaise in the antechamber adjoining the throne room. “I don’t know how Alexandros put up with it.”

  Ayelet smiled slightly at Aella’s complaining and asked, without looking up from her research, “I take it the training of Chevaliers is not going as smoothly as you hoped?”

  “To put it mildly,” Aella quickly responded. “Those boys barely know the business end of a spatha much less how to defend themselves when vampires attack in Hordes. A couple of human males are showing far more promise than their Pure counterparts, despite being physically weaker and slower.”

  “I am not surprised,” Ayelet said, “our Pure recruits are mostly peace-loving civilians not accustomed to combat. Fighting is something against the grain for them. Causing injury unto others must not be stomached well. But the humans we’ve recruited are chosen largely because of their warrior leanings. I take it one of the two humans you spoke of is the exNavy SEAL and the other is the mixed martial arts champion?”

  “Yep,” Aella agreed, “I’m having a blast throwing those two around.” She grinned beatifically, then abruptly sobered and sighed. “But I’m nowhere near as natural at this as the General. I have a whole new appreciation for his patience and innate ability to be a leader of men. I am praying fervently for Xandros’ speedy recovery.”

  At that Ayelet turned to face the Amazon. “How is he by the way? When I looked in last night, he was still deep in slumber, his body exhausted from both the blood loss and the healing process.”

  Aella grew serious. “We almost lost him, that’s how bad his wounds were. He’s a tough bugger to take down too. Hell, he’s the one who trained me and whipped my ass more times than I care to recount.”

  “I know,” Ayelet agreed, knowing where Aella’s thoughts were headed, “if whoever is orchestrating these ambushes can take down two of our fiercest and most experienced – and don’t forget they almost succeeded with Val as well – it doesn’t bear thinking what they would be up to next.”

  “I think these past events are skirmishes,” Aella mused contemplatively. “It’s as if she’s testing us, trying our strength, searching for our weaknesses and waiting for the right time to exploit them.”

  “We don’t know that it’s a she,” Ayelet reminded her.

  “True enough,” Aella agreed, “but I’ve never met a male vampire who is so well organized, so methodical and devious. The males are more prone to letting their instincts rule them, the need to eat, fuck, claim territory. Females are a lot more manipulative. I feel like whoever it is likes to toy with her prey before she goes in for the kill.”

  “How weak are our defenses?” Ayelet dreaded the question but she must know. “How prepared are the Chevaliers?”

  Aella took a deep breath and let it out in a frustrated gush as she combed one hand through her wild golden mane. “First, we are short on numbers. There are only a dozen fully-trained Chevaliers on site after we lost some good soldiers in the battle with the Hordes last year. New recruits are few and far between. Pure males of warrior class are more and more difficult to find. Dalair and I are having to consider more humans to fill in the gap, and I don’t want to expose our race to others any more than absolutely necessary. Second, of the Chevaliers we have, few are experienced warriors. They may be battle-ready, but they haven’t learned the hard way through thousands of years of warfare how to be cunning, how to survive. The oldest one is only a few hundred years old, and he is not of warrior class.”

  Ayelet grimaced. They were yet babes compared to the ancient vampire assassins who threatened them.

  “Third, we must stop hobbling along with less than the full Dozen,” Aella continued, referring to the Royal Zodiac. “Either we find and bring back Leonidas and Seth or we move on without them.” Though she hated to say the words, and Ayelet hated hearing them, they both knew it was the truth.

  “Already, the guard rotation around Sophia and our hunting patterns are less than ideal. And with Val for the most part out of the rounds due to his Service, we are even more exposed to our enemies whenever we go out. Not only does this new opponent have the upper hand, but so does every vampire Horde out there who wants to take a shot at us.”

  Ayelet nodded and added worriedly, “Meanwhile, the Healer is not recovering her strength as she should.”

  “What?” Aella didn’t think she could stomach more bad news.

  Ayelet sighed heavily and looked back to her computer screens. “It’s been almost a fortnight since the Phoenix Cycle began. She should be starting to recover her color and vitality but I only see her continue to weaken. It’s true that healing Val and Xandros took a lot out of her, especially in her weakened state, but the Nourishment should have reinvigorated her, or at least stem the decline.”

  “Unless Val isn’t providing the full Nourishment,” Aella said quietly. “To tell you the truth, I was surprised when I found out he’d applied to Serve her. I never thought he would volunteer to put himself in that situation. In any situation where he has to be intimate with someone.”

  “I am less surprised,” Ayelet admitted. “Since the first time they met I’ve noticed a certain push and pull between them. That he becomes her Consort is inevitable. It was just a question of when. And whether he can fulfill her or not depends on whether he can conquer his inner demons.”

  “You know of his past then?” Aella asked, feeling as if she were the only one left out of a well-known secret.

  Ayelet shook her head. “I don’t know the specifics. I don’t think any of us do. The eleven of us have lived together, fought alongside one another for centuries, for
some of us, millennia. Besides Xandros, I might say I know Valerius the best. And even then I can’t own to knowing him very well. All I can say is that he is deeply troubled by his past. And sometimes…” Ayelet closed her eyes as if her heart ached.

  “Sometimes I see shadows of anguish and torment in his eyes.”

  “Why did he put himself in such a position?” Aella asked, sounding rather frustrated at Valerius for pushing himself too hard.

  “I’d guess because he found something more important to focus on than his own substantial pain,” Ayelet answered. “Though the Healer can only cure our bodily wounds, perhaps in this instance she can work her magic on the Protector’s soul as well.” *** *** *** ***

  Valerius gunned his Hayabusa around a sharp corner then swerved at the last second to avoid an oncoming truck, barely missing the sixteen wheeler as it blared its horn at him in passing.

  Tristan struggled to keep up in his Lamborghini Murciélago, the twists and turns of the mountainous roads lending advantage to the adroit Hayabusa.

  The Champion cursed beneath his breath as Valerius took another sharp turn without any regard for safety, riding the edge of the single lane, a foot away from opposite traffic to pass the slower car in front of him. If Tristan got into an accident or got stopped by cops because of Tron Legacy wannabe over there, he was going to drag the Roman off his bike and pound him into mincemeat for making Ayelet worry.

  If Tristan could catch the suicidal maniac that was.

  They were on their way back to the Shield from a full day’s hunt and search for Leonidas. Tristan was surprised at first that Valerius was accompanying him instead of Dalair or Aella, as the Consort seldom left the Healer’s side in order to best Service her needs. At least, that was what Tristan understood from past Consorts – which included each of the male Elite except himself since he was Mated to Ayelet shortly after his revival.

  Duty and Service aside, Tristan assumed any fullblooded warrior male would prefer to stay with the female who required his Nourishment just for the sex and release this small loophole in the Sacred Laws provided. Having had more than his fair share of women in his human life, and then having his days and nights full with Ayelet, Tristan considered himself extremely fortunate, ridiculously fortunate, to not have had to live out even a year of celibacy. He’d like to think he wasn’t a weak man, a man without some semblance of self-control, but where sex was concerned, well, he was a male of voracious appetites. The Goddess, in Her infinite wisdom, blessed him with Ayelet who was every bit his match, and then some.