Warrior Rising

by Linda Winstead Jones

  He was ready. Sword in one hand, he waited to be called.

  Tonight, Nevada paced in her room alone. He saw, he heard, as if watching a television with the picture fuzzy and the sound turned low. Sorin called her name and she spun around to face him. He could see her face; she saw nothing of him. The words he spoke were clear to him — precise and almost shouted — but to her, in her time and place, they were garbled. They were nonsense.

  “Come on, Nevada,” he grumbled. “You can do this. You can hear me.”

  He was not blind to the fact that not so long ago he had passed his time killing conduits, and now, here he was begging one to listen. To hear.

  The door to Nevada’s room flew open and Indikaiya flew in. Blond braid flying, sword gripped in one hand, as always, she was a force of nature. God, he missed her. It had been mere days, for him, and yet it seemed much longer. For her, it truly had been longer. He reached out a hand, wishing he could burst through the film that separated them, wishing he could bridge the worlds to be with her again.

  She and Nevada spoke, but he could not hear all. As his words had been for Nevada, these were garbled. Nonsense. Sorin fisted his free hand in frustration. Maybe he was not where he believed himself to be. This was hell, where he would forever see the woman he loved and yet not be able to touch her. To speak to her. Indikaiya looked over her shoulder as if she expected someone else to be there, though the room was small and it was clear Nevada was alone.

  Nevada nodded her head, agreeing with whatever Indikaiya had said. She closed her eyes for a moment, she whispered a few indecipherable words, and then she looked directly at Sorin.

  He reached out to her as she said, “Sorin, Warrior, please help. Please come into this world…”

  He did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Indikaiya had never been on this side of a trip between worlds. The lights, seemingly generated out of thin air in one corner of the room, were bright and beautiful. Blinding, almost, though she refused to close her eyes against the harsh glare as a human form took shape in the midst of the light.

  Long blond hair. Plain clothing suited to another place and time. Tall leather boots. A massive sword.

  Indikaiya held her breath, waiting. Waiting. She had grieved for Sorin these past weeks. She’d missed him. Longed for him. She’d loved him when he’d been a monster, and she would love him if he were a monster still.

  But he was not.

  As soon as Sorin was solid, Indikaiya dropped her own sword and flew across the room to jump into his arms. He caught her, as she had known he would. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him, long and hard. Deep and wonderful. He held her close with one arm around her waist, and he kissed her back. He was solid, warm, real.

  “I did not think it was possible,” she said between kisses.

  “Neither did I.” Sorin’s heart beat faster than she recalled; he breathed.

  “I missed you.” It was an admission she would not have made a few weeks ago, not even to herself.

  “Of course you did.” He grinned. His eyes did not glow, but they did seem to brighten. They were lively. They were alive. Sorin was no longer a vampire, he was an Immortal Warrior, but in many ways he had not changed all that much. He was still Sorin.

  He placed her on her feet, but continued to hold her close. Indikaiya leaned in, she placed her head against Sorin’s chest and whispered. “I thought you were gone forever.”

  “So did I.”

  Nevada cleared her throat, reminding them that they were not alone. “Would someone like to explain to me what’s going on?”

  Sorin nodded to the witch, but he did not release Indikaiya. “I now understand why you smelled like my daughter. You are her descendent. You are my descendant.”

  “No way,” Nevada whispered.

  “I’m afraid it’s true.”

  The witch drew back a little. “So you’re my what, great-great… goodness knows how many greats… grandfather? And you just happened to kidnap me? Am I supposed to believe that was chance?”

  “Chance or fate, I do not know.”

  “But…”

  Sorin’s posture changed, his expression hardened. “While I would love to extend this reunion, I have not come to offer suppositions. I am here because you called me. That is all the proof either of us should need. I have been able to view you from the other side, but you have no involvement in battle. The lack of knowledge on that front has been frustrating. How goes the war?”

  The redhead blushed. “You’ve been watching me?”

  “Now and then,” Sorin admitted.

  Indikaiya stepped away, turning her mind to business, though her heart protested more than a little. She wanted to hold Sorin a while longer. “Marie lives, though she doesn’t show herself often these days. You hurt her, in that fight at The Lincoln Memorial. You almost took her head. I suspect you wounded her more than she thought was possible and she’s been weakened. Most humans who are not involved in the fight have left this city, but other cities have begun to fall. The vampires have taken Richmond and are on the verge of taking Atlanta. We have no way of knowing how many smaller cities have fallen, but the vampires seem to be focusing their efforts on the East Coast, for now.”

  “Where is she?”

  Even if they had not been talking about the rebel vampires, Indikaiya would’ve known who “she” was by the fierce expression on his face. “Our last intelligence says she’s holed up in her Potomac mansion. It’s heavily guarded, day and night. She has made good use of the human soldiers she glamoured or enticed.”

  Sorin wrapped her braid around one hand and gently forced her to turn her face to his. He kissed her, and she did not pull away. She did not protest or hesitate. She kissed him back, the way he deserved to be kissed. This man had made her drop her sword, for the first time since she’d fallen in battle, human and mortally wounded. He made her care, and want. She yearned for him.

  When he drew away he grinned at her once more. “I know a way into that mansion.”

  * * *

  Marie paced the chamber below stairs, where there were no windows, where no sunlight could ever shine. Normally she could withstand sunlight much better than most of her kind. Damn Sorin, she wished she could kill him again. The only thing that soothed her was imagining how delightful it would be to rip out his heart one more time.

  She stood before the full-length mirror, turning her head and pulling her high necked blouse to one side so she could study the scar she continued to sport. Sorin had almost removed her head. Weakened by the sun and the exertion of the fight, he had cut her in a weak moment. She had only survived the wound because she was stronger than most. Even so, she should have healed more quickly. Instead she had an ugly scar that was fading at a maddeningly slow pace.

  It was only the memory of Sorin going to dust that kept her from breaking the mirror and screaming until the mansion came down around her ears.

  Ahron had a bad habit of walking into her chamber without knocking. Uninvited, unwanted, he wandered the mansion like an old man unable to sleep. She should’ve left him where he was, in that warehouse far from the city, but his psychic ability was incredible — if sometimes difficult to interpret. It had been his plan that had brought Sorin to her, that had led to Sorin’s demise. It was too bad Luca hadn’t been there, and as for the human Jimmy… she cared nothing for one more human in the fight, no matter what Ahron said.

  Eliminating only one of the three she had intended to kill was a failure that stung.

  Ahron rambled like an old man, on occasion. He rambled now. Words beneath his breath, cackling, muttered phrases in ancient tongues even she did not understand.

  He had picked a bad time to interrupt her. The sun was up, so even here, away from the rays, she was weakened and more emotional than usual.

  Ahron walked to stand beside her, to study his own gruesome reflection in the mirror. The smile he flashed for himself, or perhaps for her, was just short of insane. He dro
pped the smile and caught her eye in the mirror.

  “He comes.”

  “Who comes?” Marie snapped.

  “The heartless one. A ghost. Kindred and yet not. Son of a witch of old, hero and demon. He comes.”

  Marie sighed. “Your riddles are maddening.”

  “Not a riddle, only truth. He wants your head. You’d better hang onto it while you can.”

  For a moment, Marie was startled. Then she reminded herself that Ahron wasn’t always right. No one was taking her head. She was safe here, with her glamoured army and the vampires who, like her, were tired of hiding. The mansion was well guarded. There was the back passage, but everyone besides her who knew about it was dead. If she asked her soldiers to guard that entrance as well as the others, then it would no longer be a secret. She enjoyed having a few secrets left.

  “I’m leaving, soon,” Ahron said, turning and walking slowly toward the door. “I have lived a very long time, that is true, but I would like to keep my head a while longer.”

  The sun was out, but that wouldn’t stop someone as old and powerful as Ahron. He could leave at any time, and Marie wanted him gone. She had seen his great abilities as an asset to her army, to her strategies, but he was more of a nuisance than he was helpful. Yes, it was time for him to go.

  As he reached for the doorknob, Marie asked, “What do you see for me, Ahron. What does the future hold?”

  He turned his head and looked squarely at her. He glared at her, and inside her, and through her, in a way no one else ever had. For a long moment, the ancient said nothing, then he whispered, “Goodbye, my queen.”

  * * *

  Sorin’s return came as a shock to everyone, but Luca’s army was accustomed to facing the impossible. They all welcomed what he had to offer. A ready sword, a need for justice, and a plan.

  A select few would be leaving the library within the hour. For the moment, for an all too brief time, he and Indikaiya were alone. As alone as they could be, in a building crawling with soldiers of three species. Four, if you counted Cupcake. They did not have the luxury of time or space, but to be here, to touch her… that was luxury enough. He took her hand and pulled her into a small room. Two walls were made up of floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with old leather volumes. There was a wide window on one wall. Sunlight streamed in. He did not mind the sun, not at all. He loved the light and the warmth on his skin.

  They propped their swords side by side near the closed door. Sorin led Indikaiya into the center of the stream of light, where he kissed her, where he held her close. For today, at least, she had abandoned the modern clothing she’d adopted for this war, which made it easy to grab the hem of her tunic and push it high.

  She gasped and spread her thighs. “We don’t have much time.”

  He kissed her ear then her neck, where he had once bitten her. The feel of her, the sensation of skin to skin was familiar and yet new. She had not changed, but he had. He had been reborn yet again, not to darkness this time but to the light.

  He whispered, “I regret to inform you that I won’t need much time.”

  She laughed, briefly and with a throaty breathlessness. “Neither will I.”

  He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He filled her, and standing in the sunlight joined body and soul he made love to her. And it was love, unexpected and powerful. That love was a shift deep within him as important as the transformation from vampire to Warrior.

  Until this moment, he had been alone in this world — one world of many — and he had not even been aware of the depth of his solitude. He had never needed anyone, but he needed her. He had crossed worlds not for the humans, not for Nevada, not to save anyone or anything. He had come back for her.

  Indikaiya cried out, and he was with her. Pleasure so deep it had the power to wipe away the rest of the world, for a while, whipped through him. He held her, was a part of her, needed her as he now needed air. And he whispered, as she held him close, “I love you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  These group meetings in what was essentially the center of the library had become so commonplace that Indikaiya normally didn’t give them a second thought. They were necessary for sharing information, news, plans for the day, and sometimes for the week ahead. Today was not so commonplace. Sorin had returned. No one among them had considered his return even a remote possibility, and yet here he was. The humans in particular stared, wide-eyed, at the Warrior who had once been vampire. Especially Nevada, who had witnessed his reemergence into this world.

  It was likely that everyone present — humans, Warriors and vampires — realized what had just happened. Not that they would have been so rude as to stand on the other side of the closed door that had, for a brief time, given them some privacy. They would not have made an effort to intrude, but still, they knew. Indikaiya straightened her hair with a casual hand, hoping it hadn’t been too mussed during the quick tryst. Not that she had ever cared much for how her hair was styled. Not for a very long time. She did care what others thought of her. Even now. Especially her fellow soldiers.

  Sorin was a Warrior, but he had once been a vampire. A killer. A soulless being who had taken lives in order to maintain his own.

  No, not soulless, as she had once thought all vampires to be. If he did not have a soul, a soul worthy of his new position, he would be as dead as she had believed him to be when she’d watched his ashes waft away.

  A being with no soul did not love. A being with no soul did not care for others. Not for lovers or for those who needed the protection of someone stronger and more capable than they could ever be. Like Nevada. Phillip Stargel. All the humans who would serve vampires if Marie won this war.

  Plans were made, as they were each and every day. Today those plans held an air of importance, of hope. Sorin’s return was a boon to them all. Soldiers peeled away to prepare. Only a few remained behind.

  They did not have much time, but Indikaiya did not rush forward to speed things along, as Sorin spoke to a still-stunned Nevada, and then to a young boy who was thrilled to see his friend again. Phillip held a content Cupcake in his arms. The dog that had always snarled and snapped at Sorin in the past sensed the change in him. Sorin even reached out and patted the dog’s head. For a moment.

  No, a monster did not care the way Sorin did, and had even before his death. A monster did not kneel down to face a child who simply accepted without question that Sorin had returned. A monster would not place a gentle hand on a child’s face and gift that child with a reassuring smile. In his past Sorin had done monstrous things, but there had always been more to him. Much more.

  “I’m going to teach you to say a name,” Sorin said. “It is a silly, long name, the silliest and longest name I have ever heard, but it is the name of the friend you’ve been looking for and you need to know it.”

  Phillip nodded, and Sorin repeated the name, over and over. Such assistance was against the rules, but then all rules had been suspended for the moment, hadn’t they?

  When Phillip, still cradling Cupcake in his arms, was led away by a somber Kate, Sorin once again turned his attention to Nevada. They spoke — whispered — intently, and then Sorin placed a stilling and comforting hand on Nevada’s shoulder.

  Indikaiya shifted her feet as what felt like a shiver walked along her spine. Was that jealousy she felt? No, jealousy wasn’t possible, not for her. Not only did she now understand the relationship, she also realized the depth of Sorin’s commitment to her. He loved her. He had told her so. That shiver she’d experienced was likely caused by her impatience. She and Sorin had so much to discuss, so much to explore. This war, this world, had become a distraction.

  She loved him, though she had not yet told him so.

  When Sorin looked at her and smiled, her heart did funny things. Could she afford to be distracted from who and what she was by such a love? What would their lives be like when they returned, together, to the world that had been her home for such a long time? There w
ere so many unanswered questions.

  Only one thing was certain. Marie had to be taken out of this world as soon as possible.

  If the vampire queen was somehow transported to another world after she went to dust in this one, her destination would not be a place for heroes.

  * * *

  Sorin would’ve preferred to go in alone, but instead he approached the entrance to the underground tunnel as one of a party of four. Indikaiya, Rurik, and Luca accompanied him. Jimmy and Kevin, along with a handful of other Warriors — human and immortal — would serve as distractions along the front entrance to the mansion.

  While they fought Marie’s human soldiers, the party attacking from beneath would take care of their queen.

  When Marie was dead, those who had been glamoured by her would be free of her influence. So many of them had been under her long-term glamour for too long and would never be right-minded again. They might drop dead the moment that connection ended. As for all the baby vampires she had created, they would feel her loss, too, but in another way. They would remain kindred, but they would be weakened. They would lose their focus. Without Marie, the war should be done in a matter of weeks. Perhaps even days.

  Sorin would’ve liked to leave Luca behind. They shared too much history, and Luca reminded Sorin too sharply of who he had once been, what he had once done. But with his ability to locate energy, Luca was essential to this mission. The blood born would lead them right to Marie.

  He’d already confirmed that she was here, and on the lowest level of the mansion.

  They allowed Luca to enter the tunnel first, as he was the least fond of the sunlight. Sorin savored the warmth of the sun on his skin and the bright light in his eyes. He loved looking at the way the light shifted through the leaves on the trees, the brilliant blue of the sky, the shadows he and the others created. The sun. He had never realized how deeply he’d missed it.