by Tes Hilaire
He cleared his throat. He couldn’t let his sympathy for this child-vampire get to him. “Tell me about the woman.”
She looked back up, caught his gaze. “She’s dying. I can find her for you but only if you’ll let me go.”
“Roland is here. He can find her. And he certainly doesn’t need you to do it.”
***
With his hand trembling, Roland fought with the restraints, the buckles jingling and rattling. The moment she was free he had her in his arms and was lowering her off the vile table onto the ground.
“Karissa,” he said, caressing both her forehead and her mind. There was no response. She was so deep he couldn’t reach her.
Because she was dying.
No! She couldn’t die. He couldn’t lose her. It wasn’t that he couldn’t imagine life without her; it was that he could. He would not survive her death. His body would, but his heart, his humanity would not. He’d thought himself a monster before, but it would be no comparison to what he would become if she died.
He had to turn her. Yes. He would turn her. As a vampire she’d have exceptional healing powers. And she wouldn’t die. But that was after the change was completed. He would have to be careful. She’d already lost so much blood and he knew the moment the first drop of her blood touched his palate he’d want more. But he didn’t need more than a drop. Just enough to make her part of him so the conversion would work.
Conversion. What a cold clinical word. He was about to convert his mate into a vampire. Because he was selfish. Because to lose her now, and live himself, would be to exist in an eternity of living hell.
Mine!
Lifting her arm, he scrapped the calloused pad of his thumb across the fleshy part of her lower arm, reopening one of the many jagged wounds. The coppery scent drew his fangs out, saliva slicking the back of his throat. Even now, with Karissa’s life in the balance of his control, his monster rattled the cage, demanding to be let loose. Only the light skip of her pulse—too far apart, too light—allowed him to keep the lock turned.
“Forgive me, Karissa.”
***
“This is the one?” Alexander asked, strapping the blade that Logan had returned to him onto his outer thigh.
“This is it.” Logan glanced over his shoulder at the small group of a dozen or so Paladin who were busy gearing up. He still didn’t have his knife, or his sword, but he supposed it didn’t matter. He was backup, not to be on the front lines. Anything got to him and he was to release “the bomb.” Or whenever his father ordered it. Yup, Calhoun Senior was back in charge. And though he was allowing his son to participate, he was not happy with Logan.
Alexander shifted closer, using his large body as if to shield something. Logan looked down into man’s massive hands and sucked in a breath. His knife.
“How did you…” he started to ask then stopped. Alexander had defied Calhoun Senior, breaking through the elder’s shielding in order to retrieve the blade.
Alexander shrugged. “I thought you might need this.”
“Thanks.” Logan took the blade, quickly stuffing it under his jacket. He wouldn’t wear it openly and get the other Paladin in trouble. At least not before there were other distractions for his father’s wrath to focus on—like Ganelon and his army.
Alexander jerked his head toward the mass of Paladin. “Every single one of those men has lost a loved one or friend to a vampire at some point.”
“We’ve all lost friends to vampires. Merkers and demons too.”
“Yes, but those men won’t hesitate to follow through on the order you failed to carry out.”
“How about you?” Logan asked. Alexander had shown more than once that he might sympathize with Logan where Roland was concerned, but then again, his actions could be purely practical in nature. Let Logan loose, let him find the vampire who could lead the Paladin to Karissa. And looky here. Here they were.
“I lost my cousin to Christos. But Roland was once a Paladin. If you say there is still some of the man I once called my brother, then I am willing to give him a chance.”
A chance. That was better than most of these men would give Roland. “You know why my father allowed me to come.”
“I do.” Alexander shifted, his gaze flicking to the other Paladin and back again. “I can absorb the energy given off during projected thought, if you think you can reach Valin again.”
“You would do that?” To shield his communication with Valin, be part of a conspiracy to warn Roland—a known enemy—would put Alexander in the holding cell with him when they got back. Logan had always known that when push came to shove he’d stand up for his fallen brother, but knowing what Roland could be if the vampire in him ever slipped into full control, Logan would not ask the same sacrifice of another. Roland may still have a Paladin heart, but he was a vampire. A creature of the dark. Alexander had to be sure.
“Just do it. Before your father wonders what we’re talking about over here and wanders over.”
“All right. Here it goes.” Logan centered himself, closing his eyes to better direct his thoughts. Yes, he could communicate no matter where he was or what he was doing, but it was easier when he removed the outside distractions, and since the tunnels themselves seemed to have a buffering quality, the fewer distractions, the better. He just hoped Valin hadn’t gone so deep that he couldn’t reach him. Two minutes. How far could the Paladin have gotten? In his shadow form, probably far enough.
So he was surprised when moments after he’d started his sweep for the Paladin’s presence that he found him. No more than a few hundred yards away.
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Logan looked at his father, the stoic faces of the Paladin who’d volunteered. Every single one of them were hoping that despite the fact that Karissa had run off with Roland, that they still had chance at a pairing. He couldn’t fault them. If she wasn’t his sister, he’d be hoping that too. Besides, that was something to worry about later. After Karissa was rescued. Nothing was going to stop these men from going after the first female Paladin in almost a century. Not Christos, Ganelon, Lucifer, or one former Paladin-turned-vampire.
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There was a long drawn out silence; he felt the click as understanding registered and knew Valin was probably swearing like a sailor aloud.
Logan turned his back to the other Paladin, as if that would further hide the insubordination he was performing. <
***
Gabriella narrowed her gaze on the Paladin pacing a five-by-five swath out of the warehouse’s dirt floor. She recognized him as the Paladin who was with Curls in the alley the night before. It was just as obvious he hadn’t placed her yet. Not surprising, she looked a lot different without the hooker getup and the man’s attention had been elsewhere at the time. Just as it was now.
The Paladin was communicating with someone—she’d felt the brush of minds like an itch at the back of her head—and ended the conversation with a string of swear words that had even her cheeks heating. Or maybe that was the fact that he was blatantly naked and didn’t seem to give a damn. She wished she could say the same. But it would be untrue. The Paladin, and all his jangles, were more than fine.
He stopped pacing, his gaze making a direct hit on her scoping one. She resis
ted the urge to blush and turn her head away. So what? She’d been caught staring. A man dances around naked in front of a girl, he’s got to expect to be turned into eye candy. It took her a moment to realize there was no amusement in his gaze, only speculation.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“That was Logan. He’s another—”
“Pretty boy.” She scoffed. “Yeah, I know him.” The Paladin narrowed his eyes. She shrugged, or tried to. Her arms were burning from their twisted up angle. “He hangs with Roland. Our paths cross sometimes.”
He shook his head, chuckling.
“What’s so funny?”
“Senior is really not going to like that his son’s consorting with the enemy.”
Her lips curled back as she jerked at the manacles. Had the idiot not noticed that they were in a warehouse full of windows? A slight break in the storm outside and she would be just another pile of ash in this place. “Do I look like the fucking enemy?”
“Well, yeah.”
She tossed her hair and rapped her head against the wall. Crap. Drop the attitude, Gabby. And stop showing your fangs. Calm. Reasonable. “So what did Logan say?”
“He wants me to find Roland, ASAP.”
“Why?” She asked warily. The man seemed to be friends with Logan, who was friends with Roland, so that was good. Also good was the fact that he hadn’t immediately staked her. But that didn’t mean that he could be trusted.
“He’s hoping I can protect him. Logan is about to release his gift.”
Gabriella’s skin iced over, goose bumps rising on her flesh. She really needed to get this Paladin to set her free. If Logan released his gift it would pour through those windows and bathe this place in light. Changed your mind about that death wish, Gabby? The answer was, yeah, she had. She hadn’t felt a single tickle in her mind since Christos had given her the woman’s blood. It was like she was cut off from the others. No longer part of Christos’s web. If it was the woman’s blood that had done that for her…
“Oh crap. Is Logan’s gift powerful enough to reach down into the caverns?”
“Honey, if he releases ‘the bomb’ every single inch in a ten-mile radius will light up like a Christmas tree. Including the nooks and crannies.”
“Oh, no.” Gabriella jerked at her chains, panic rattling the air in her lungs. Why the hell was the Paladin just standing there! “Go, you fool! You need to find him and help him!”
***
One swallow, two.
More!
With a roar of defiance, Roland tore his mouth from Karissa’s arm, the pure taste of Karissa’s sweet blood sliding down his throat. Flowers, sunshine, spring. Karissa’s soul. And he was going to condemn her to darkness. In the back of his mind, the part of him that was still human wept at his selfishness, but he couldn’t fight both his nature and the bond. Karissa was his. He couldn’t lose her.
Trembling, he lifted his arm up to his mouth, tearing into the tender flesh of his inner wrist until blood ran through the coarse hair down the back of his arm toward his elbow. All he had to do was lower his arm and let the blood drip into her slack mouth. The moment his prepared blood touched the back of her throat, she would swallow. It was part of the necessity of taking her blood first. Her own blood, now a part of his, would call to her and coax her to take it in. It also allowed the body to process the vampire blood as if it were her own.
He dropped his arm. An inch. Two.
Someone clapped, the smack of hands obscene in the reverence of this moment, the echo off the walls like mocking laughter. Roland spun around, his body between Karissa and the back of the cavern where the sound originated.
“Christos.” Hatred pooled like molten lead in his stomach as he came face-to-face with the monster who’d made him. It was this man, with his charming smile and urbane haircut, who was responsible for all of Roland’s misery.
“I knew you’d come.” Christos’s gaze skirted past Roland to where Karissa lay on the floor, then away again, as if dismissing the dying woman as inconsequential. Just like Angeline. “You and your Paladin brothers. All heart.”
Standing slowly, Roland slid his knife from the sheath on his thigh. “Well, Christos, since you don’t seem to be using yours, you won’t mind when I extract it from your body, will you?”
***
Gabriella ran down the corridors, the puff of shadow keeping pace around her. How odd. She wasn’t sure she liked running through a perpetual black cloud, but if it did what he said it did—hid her from the others and protected her just in case Logan got trigger-happy—she could deal. She still couldn’t believe the Paladin had let her go. Though, maybe she shouldn’t be that surprised. She’d told him she could find the woman, and since Roland would be looking for Curls, then it was safe to assume she could lead the Paladin to them both.
They were getting close. She could feel it in the throb of her pulse. Maybe a hundred yards or so, all they had to do was find a way around the thick wall of stone between them and wherever the woman lay.
They rounded the corner and came to a split in the tunnel. She ground to a halt. The dark cloud shifted around her, eager to be off again. She studied the two choices before her. The left tunnel seemed to veer too sharply, almost doubling back on the direction they’d come in. Right, then.
Fifty feet later she realized she’d made a mistake. With a muttered curse, she spun around, heading back to the other tunnel. This one was decidedly narrower, and steeper. She slipped on a patch of slick algae, almost went down, but the cloud around her solidified just enough to catch her and prop her back up.
“Thanks.” She gasped in a couple deep breaths. The air down here was thicker. Harder to breathe. What would it be like for a human?
With the new worry to propel her forward, she started picking her way down the steep incline. A sound rose. A scuffle of feet, followed by a grunt. Hand running along the wall, she skidded around the corner and found herself wobbling a couple dozen feet above an irregular cavern. In the center, all but floating over the uneven footing, Roland and Christos were engaged in a battle that looked more like an intricate dance than a fight.
Gabriella’s pulse hammered, her palms itching as sweat broke out on them. She glanced back at the two men on the ground about three or so stories below. Roland spun around and back, defying gravity as he landed a roundhouse kick to Christos’s solar plexus. Christos grunted, grabbing onto the foot as he started to fall backward and twisted it sharply. An obscene snap echoed through the cavern.
Ah, hell.
Gabriella crouched, braced, and then leapt. Darkness embraced her, easing her down onto the ground. She hissed, annoyed at being slowed down. Didn’t the fool know she could jump five times that distance without real harm?
The moment the dark cloud dissipated she was running toward the two men rolling upon the floor. Christos was going to die. Here. Now. Today. By her hand.
Christos managed to scramble up from the fray, one hand dangling uselessly from a half-severed wrist. His gaze lifted, then met hers. A smile curled back his lips.
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His mind voice slashed into her senses. She smashed to her knees onto the hard ground as she fought the man who tried to sink his claws into her will.
No. Not going to happen.
With an enraged scream she pushed back, ripping him from her mind. It tore, carving out a chunk of herself as she did. Needed to go. Like blight on a tree, this bond between master and slave had to end.
Searing lightning. A brilliant flash of white. And then it was gone.
She tried to lift her head but couldn’t. The world was a black hole of pain.
You are not going to pass out, Gabby.
Her entire body shook as she wobbled on her knees. Her heart skittered from one rhythm to the next as if it were a drummer on crack.
Then hands were there, clasping onto her shoulders and holding her steady. “Easy there, cookie.”
She snapped her he
ad up, baring her fangs. The movement sent a blinding slash of agony through the base of her skull, but when it started to recede, so did the dark tunnel vision. She couldn’t decide if the sight of the naked Paladin before her, smiling with his devil-may-care attitude, was welcome or not. She was just glad the extreme weakness was starting to dissipate.
She jerked her shoulders, trying to scramble up. He held firm.
“Let go. I have to help Roland with Christos!”
“I think he’s got it under control.” Valin stood, linking his arm around her back and helping her up.
Roland stood panting over Christos, eyes red as he stared down at the gaping hole in the vampire’s chest. A few yards away Christos’s head lay on the ground, the eyes unblinking and dimmed with death.
Gabriella’s mouth turned down at the corners, disappointment lying like lead in her chest. “Rats.”
“What?” Valin asked.
“I wanted to do that.”
A hand came up, tucking a sweaty tendril behind her ear. “You fought your own fight with him and won.”
“Did I?” She frowned down at Christos’s shell. Had she won her internal battle before or after Roland had lopped off the vampire’s head?
She might have asked but just then Roland shook himself and spun around, racing to the back corner of the cavern. He skidded to his knees, lifting something off the floor to cradle it in his arms.
Curls.
“By the Father.” Valin all but dropped Gabriella as he raced across the room. Gabriella remained where she was, swaying as she stared at the dark pool of blood that the woman had been laying in. Dying. Or dead. No. Not dead. She wouldn’t have felt the connection if the woman were dead. But she’d obviously knocked and had one foot through death’s door.
“Why haven’t you converted her?” Gabriella screamed as she stumbled after Valin.
Roland reverently bent down, kissing her pale forehead. “She would not want to live like this. I cannot take her light.”