Knights, Katriena - Vampire Apocalypse Book II.txt

by Vampire Apocalypse Book II. txt (lit)

  cave. Lucien still sat watching.

  “Aanu’s sitting next watch,” Lucien said as Julian took a seat.

  “You’re not due back for ages.”

  Julian shrugged. “I know.” He looked at Lilith. She lay still and

  pale, her platinum hair spread over the pillow. The cuffs and straps

  held her securely to the bed. Julian couldn’t help wondering if it was

  really necessary to confine her so securely, but he supposed they had

  to take every precaution, even if it seemed like overkill. Though he had

  a feeling that, when Ialdaboth finally showed himself, the straps and

  chains would be not an overreaction but, rather, inconsequential.

  “Where’s Aanu now?” he said after a moment.

  “With William, I suppose.” Lucien, too, studied Lilith’s inert form.

  “It’s not fair for him to have to face this,” Julian said, the words

  bursting from his mouth; they’d been hammering in his head for the

  past three hours. “It just isn’t fair, dammit. Not so soon after waking

  up.”

  “Not fair for me, either,” Lucien added flatly. “I just found Vivian.”

  He had thought of that, too. After centuries of separation had

  interrupted the beginnings of a love affair between Lucien and Vivian,

  they’d found each other again only a few months ago.

  “I know,” said Julian.

  “We don’t know for sure that’s how it’ll go, though.” Lucien tore

  his gaze away from Lilith and looked at him. “You might be misreading

  it. I mean, I think you have the basics right, as far as channeling the

  power, concentrating it, using it as a weapon. But there’s nothing there,

  not in any of those passages, to state exactly what happens to me or

  Aanu—or even to you.”

  “True.” And maybe he could hold on to that, Julian supposed,

  make it into a lifeline. If he could hope that he didn’t have to actually

  . . . Shit, he couldn’t even think the words.

  He’d better hope he could do the deed, though, or they were all

  dead.

  “It’s all right, you know.” Lucien’s voice was soft, sincere. “Twelve

  thousand years. It’s enough.”

  “But Vivian—”

  “I know. That’s the only thing.”

  They were silent for a time. Outside, darkness had begun to fall.

  Julian could still sense it, even though it no longer forced him to sleep.

  “But what about—” Julian began, then stopped.

  Because Lilith had opened her eyes and her mouth, and into the

  silence he had left behind, she said in a voice that sounded not at all like

  her own, “He’s coming.”

  Then she writhed, convulsed on the bed, her body twisting in

  spasms. Julian shot to his feet, headed for the door. “I’ll get Jarod.”

  By the time Julian returned with Jarod, Lilith had stopped convulsing,

  but she lay stiff on the bed, open eyes staring blankly at the

  ceiling.

  “What happened?” Jarod asked Lucien.

  “The seizures stopped. She didn’t say anything else.”

  Jarod bent over Lilith’s rigid body, examining her. Julian couldn’t

  believe his calm. He was the consummate professional, even though

  the patient was his lover. But then he straightened, took off his glasses,

  and wiped them on his sweater with hands that were less than steady.

  “She seems to be coming out of it.” Jarod’s voice was even. “I

  don’t want to touch her, though, until she seems to be more lucid.”

  Lilith’s stiffened posture had softened a little already, and, suddenly,

  she went limp, falling back onto the bed. Startled, Julian watched

  her closely. She rolled her head to one side, grinning at the doctor, her

  fangs protruding sharp and white. Whatever personality lay in those

  eyes, it wasn’t Lilith. Not totally, not yet.

  “Maybe a few more minutes,” said Jarod, with only the faintest

  shiver in his voice. He turned to Julian, visibly gathering himself. “You

  found the answers? You know what to do when he comes?”

  “Yes.” He looked at Lucien. He felt as if he should say more . . .

  but what more was there? Goodbye?

  “We can do this,” said Lucien. “We can kill Ialdaboth.”

  Jarod gave a terse nod. “And I’m sure there’s a little more to it

  than that, but I don’t think I want to hear it.” He looked at Lilith. She

  had closed her eyes again, and when she spoke, the voice was her

  own.

  “Jarod.”

  He went to her, sat on the bed. His hands, still trembling, traced

  over hers, tangling in her fingers. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  Julian exchanged a glance with Lucien, and, as one, they left the

  room.

  Julian returned to Lorelei, afraid down to his bones that it would

  be the last time he ever saw her. So, of course, the first thing she did

  was force him to face that very fear.

  “How do you think this will go?” she said. “When he comes . . .

  when they call you . . . will you come back to me?”

  “I will.” He said it firmly.

  “If you can.” Her voice shook, broke a little.

  He looked deep into the wide blue of her eyes, acknowledging the

  truth with his silence. After a moment he pulled him to her, held her, let

  his hands memorize all the shapes of her.

  “You should go back,” she told him after a time.

  “Yes.” He pulled her closer, nestling her into him. Her lips moved

  softly against his face as she tasted his skin. Then, gently, she pushed

  him away.

  “Go. I’ll be here when it’s over.”

  He looked at her a moment longer, taking her in. Then, with a

  strangled sound he couldn’t contain, he dragged her to him and kissed

  her—hard, frantic. But when he let her go, he didn’t linger for one last

  kiss or caress. Instead, he left her, and he went to stand guard with

  Lucien and Aanu.

  He was thinking of Lorelei-—was there really anything else to

  think about?—when it finally happened. They were all there by then—

  Lucien and Jarod sitting near him, and Aanu sitting on the floor against

  the far wall with William beside him. Julian had told Jarod and William

  to leave, but they both refused.

  One instant, it was silent, even calm, all of them lost and quiet in

  their own thoughts. Then, on the bed where she had slept for nearly

  three hours unmoving, curled onto her left side, Lilith suddenly rolled

  onto her back. Her mouth opened first, then her eyes, blank and staring.

  Julian rose slowly from his chair. The air in the room tingled with

  power, dark and noxious. He knew that power, had felt it in his dreams,

  sticky and clinging, black and full of vile, unnamable things that crawled

  and chewed. He felt his own power rise to meet it, but he reined it in.

  It wasn’t time. Not quite.

  And so Ialdaboth came, spilling out of Lilith, out of her mouth and

  eyes, black and broken, in bits like insects that swarmed through the air

  together in a mass. The bits built one upon the other, stacking and

  meshing, until a figure began to form.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Julian saw Lucien move toward his

  right side, until they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. Aanu j
oined them, clearly

  reluctant, glancing at William. Finally, he squared his shoulders, then

  came to stand at his left side.

  They were ready. Or so Julian hoped. He flexed his fingers, trying

  to understand the nuances of the power he felt swarming and eddying

  around him.

  Six feet in front of them, the black power coalesced. Ialdaboth

  had found his purchase on reality and was bringing all his parts together.

  Julian had never imagined such magic, though he’d felt hints of it in his

  dreams. So this was what one could learn, he thought, if one was willing

  to feed on death. Not an un-useful skill, but not one he envied. He had

  his own power, and he felt it shiver along his skin, growing, readying

  itself, so dense it felt like a second skin. Before this was over, when

  he’d done what he had to do, it would be even stronger. Strong enough

  to counter the black, shattered, insectile power uniting before him.

  The weaving together of pieces picked up speed, until, at last,

  Ialdaboth’s form appeared whole. They were of a height, the three

  half-brothers, with similarly craggy features and blue eyes. Julian looked

  from one to the other, seeing the similarities, the differences. Lucien’s

  and Aanu’s calm, placid faces seemed bland and useless next to the

  ferocity of Ialdaboth. But Julian knew what lay behind their outward

  tranquility, and he readied himself for it.

  Ialdaboth flung out his arms, flexing his newly re-formed body.

  “Three against one,” he said, his voice airy at first, then gaining strength

  as his throat knitted fully. “You don’t believe in fair odds, do you?”

  “Right now we pretty much believe in just kicking your ass,” Julian

  said. He reached toward Lucien, toward Aanu, clasping their hands.

  And as he did, for the first time, he believed this could work. This could

  be the end of it, once and for all.

  Except, perhaps, not for all.

  But if he thought now about the likely cost of victory, he wouldn’t

  be able to function. And Ialdaboth would win.

  Not an option.

  He tightened his grip on the large, warm hands he held in his own

  and felt the power move toward him. Down through the First Demons’

  bodies, surging from their hearts, down their arms and out of their

  hands—and into him.

  His vision blurred as it hit him. Gold from Lucien, silver from

  Aanu, the power came from the depths of them, the power that allowed

  them to feed from the life force of a human being. Soul-power, the

  source of it the primal energy of their own lives.

  He focused. Leveled his vision and his attention on Ialdaboth, at

  the same time he let his own power uncoil inside him and draw in the

  power Aanu and Lucien were feeding him. It was instinctive, all coming

  together without his conscious control, the three power masses joining,

  coiling into a single entity inside him. It was huge. It was alive, swirling

  and pulsing in his chest.

  It was too much.

  He couldn’t hold it, certainly couldn’t control it. But neither could

  he stop it. It worked itself deep into the middle of his body, beating

  there. It wanted to burst out of him, but it wasn’t time. Not yet. It

  coiled inside, waiting.

  He drew himself straight, barely aware of his surroundings, a

  dimness in his vision making it hard to tell where he was. Or who he

  was. There was no “self.” No “Julian.” There was only power. Ready.

  Light and heat and purity.

  Ialdaboth struck. His power flew out of his eyes and his mouth in

  a black column, viscous and thick, spinning away from Ialdaboth. Julian

  watched it come, slamming straight toward him like a battering ram. It

  hit him hard in the chest. The impact jolted him, making his body shudder

  in uncontrollable spasms. But it didn’t break him.

  Ialdaboth was giving his all. Vaguely, Julian realized the power

  inside him, the life force that had come from Lucien and Aanu, seemed

  to know instinctively what Ialdaboth could and would do, seemed able

  to judge their brother’s power on a deeper level than he could have

  judged it. Ialdaboth’s life force, the miasma of evil he had allowed his

  soul to become, all of it flowed out of him in a last-ditch effort to

  conquer. But as it struck him, Julian felt the mass of power inside him

  rise, so huge, so primal, so bright and intense he could barely contain it,

  much less control it.

  Repelled.

  And then absorbed.

  Ialdaboth’s eyes widened in surprise as his black column began to

  disappear into his enemy’s body.

  Julian shuddered, his body wracked with something so far beyond

  pain that his nerves could only interpret it as ecstasy. This would be his

  death. It had to be.

  But he wasn’t dying. And all of the evil First Demon’s twisted

  power was inside of him, there with his own power, born of his

  reconstituted blood; and Lucien’s, born of twelve thousand years of life

  and all he had learned in that time; and Aanu’s, born as was Lucien’s

  but given four thousand years to sleep. And as Ialdaboth’s power, black

  and sickened, touched the purity of the others, it cleared, joined with

  them. And was healed. Thus transformed and melded, the power soared

  inside him until it filled him so completely, he had no knowledge or

  awareness of anything else.

  He hung on with everything he had, clinging to his last shred of

  self-awareness. Only in that did he have any control over the raw

  force that he had become.

  Suddenly, he felt Aanu, then Lucien, drop to their knees on either

  side of him, as the greedy demands of his own power wrung them dry.

  Aanu’s hand slid from his, then Lucien’s. They both gasped as they hit

  the floor.

  He had killed them. He’d known it would happen, as had they.

  They had given him everything they had, because they knew he would

  have to use it; and he had taken it, because he had known there was no

  other way. He had simply bled them to death. And now . . . now he

  would do the same to himself.

  He raised his hands, turned his palms toward Ialdaboth.

  “You made a very big mistake,” he said. His voice echoed in his

  own head, the words seeming to come from everywhere at once. “If

  you had read the Book, instead of destroying it, you would have seen

  this coming.”

  He curled his fingers and turned his palms toward the ceiling, and

  the last smoky black tendrils of Ialdaboth’s soul came to him as if

  summoned, snagged on his fingers, roped up his arms, moved downward

  to join the already incomprehensible force boiling in his chest.

  He harvested, gathered, and spun as Ialdaboth writhed, helpless.

  And the part that was still him thought, This isn’t possible. One creature

  couldn’t hold and control this much energy. But the part that was no

  longer him knew differently, knew that whatever he had become, he

  could do this. It terrified him, but at the same time he exulted in it. The

  power moving inside him brought ecstasy more intense than anything

  he had ever experienced.

&nbs
p; Suddenly Ialdaboth jerked backward as the last wispy thread tore

  loose and snapped across the room to its new owner. He was empty

  and broken, powerless. He caught himself, straightened, and stared at

  his nemesis through blank eyes. For the first time in his twelve thousand

  years, the first-born of the First Demons was only a man.

  “You’re aware this is over now,” Julian said, and this time his

  voice felt more like his own. “You may speak if you like. I’ll give you

  the time.” He pressed his hands to his chest, waiting

  Ialdaboth’s face went lax, and there was fear in his eyes. “You

  want me to beg for forgiveness? Or for my life?”

  “I don’t care what you do,” Julian said. “I just thought it would be

  the right thing to do, to give you time to speak.”

  Ialdaboth spat. “Fuck you.”

  “All right, then,” said Julian, and lifted his hands away from his

  chest, and let the power go.

  It burst out of him, a huge, violent wall of shining, brilliant light.

  Now I’m dead, he thought. A body can’t explode and still live.

  But he could hear his heart beating, and the hand that grabbed the

  chair behind him for support was his own. And it was through his own

  eyes that he watched the monstrous, dazzling mountain of energy he’d

  unleashed slam into Ialdaboth. It crashed into his face and chest, covering

  him in a shimmer of gold-white light. It encased him, head to foot, and

  he convulsed helplessly within it. His skin turned gold, then shattered,

  until his skeleton hung suspended in the aura of light. Finally that

  shuddered, as well, broke into a man-shaped form of glittering dust,

  and the luminous mountain of power contracted, gathering the shimmery

  remains into itself.

  Then it turned. Julian stood rooted as it rushed toward him. He

  heard himself howl when it hit him, and he staggered as it flooded back

  into him. But it felt smaller now, no larger than his own soul, and he

  was able to accept it with a deep, gasping breath and a single convulsion

  of something that was not quite pain. He regained his balance,

  swallowed, breathed.

  He was alive. More than alive. He was himself again.

  Quickly, he dropped to his knees beside Lucien and Aanu. Had he

  left them anything? Anything at all? He only needed half a heartbeat.

  Gently, he touched Lucien’s chest. He had known him longer,