by Nora Roberts
“Sorry. I like to win.”
“Switch.”
The bulk of King filled her vision, and she looked up, up, until she met his eyes. “Me, too,” he told her.
She went with instinct, a movement of her hands, a rapid chant. When he smiled blankly, she touched his arm. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“Sure.”
When he obeyed, she glanced over, saw Cian watching her. And flushed a little. “That was probably against the rules—and it’s unlikely I’d be able to pull it off in the heat of battle, but I think it should count.”
“There are no rules. She’s not the strongest,” he called out. “She’s not the fastest. But she’s the most clever of the lot of you. She uses wile and she uses wit as much as muscle and speed. Get stronger,” he said to Glenna. “Get faster.”
For the first time he smiled. “And get a sword. We’ll start on weapons.”
By the end of the next hour, Glenna was dripping sweat. Her sword arm ached like a bad tooth from shoulder to wrist. The thrill of the work, of actually doing something tangible had long since faded into a bitter exhaustion.
“I thought I was in good shape,” she complained to Moira. “All those hours of pilates, of yoga, of weights—and I might as well be speaking to you in tongues.”
“You’re doing well.” And Moira herself felt weak and clumsy.
“I’m barely standing. I do regular exercise, hard physical training, and this is turning me into a wimp. And you look beat.”
“It’s been a very long, very hard day.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Ladies? If I could trouble you to join us. Or would you rather have a seat and discuss fashion?”
Glenna set down her water bottle. “It’s nearly three in the morning,” she said to Cian. “A dangerous time for sarcasm.”
“And prime time for your enemy.”
“That may be, but not all of us are on that same clock just yet. And Moira and Larkin have traveled a hell of a long way today and dealt with a very nasty welcome. We need to train, you’re absolutely right. But if we don’t rest we’re not going to get strong, and we’re sure as hell not going to get fast. Look at her,” Glenna demanded. “She can barely stay upright.”
“I’m fine,” Moira said quickly.
Cian gave her a long look. “Then we can blame fatigue for your sloppy swordsmanship and poor form.”
“I do well enough with a sword.” When she reached for it, blood in her eye, Larkin stepped up. He slapped a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed.
“Well enough she does, so she proved earlier tonight. But the blade wouldn’t be my cousin’s weapon of choice.”
“Oh?” A wealth of boredom was contained in the single syllable.
“She’s a decent hand with a bow.”
“She can give us a demonstration tomorrow, but for now—”
“I can do it tonight. Open the doors.”
The tone of command had Cian’s brow winging up. “You don’t rule here, little queen.”
“Nor do you.” She strode over, picked up bow and quiver. “Will you open the doors, or will I?”
“You’re not to go out.”
“He’s right, Moira,” Glenna began.
“I won’t have to. Larkin, if you would.”
Larkin moved to the doors and threw them open to the wide terrace beyond. Moira notched an arrow as she moved to the threshold. “The oak, I think.”
Cian moved to her side as the others crowded in. “Not much of a distance.”
“She wouldn’t be meaning the near one,” Larkin said and gestured. “But that one there, just to the right of the stables.”
“Lowest branch.”
“I can barely see it,” Glenna commented.
“Can you?” Moira demanded of Cian.
“Perfectly.”
She lifted the bow, steadied, sighted. And let the arrow fly.
Glenna heard the whiz, then a faint thunk as the arrow hit home. “Wow. Got ourselves a Robin Hood.”
“Nicely shot,” Cian said in mild tones, then turned to walk away. He sensed the movement even before he heard his brother’s sharp command.
When he turned, Moira had another arrow ready, and aimed at him.
He sensed King prepare to rush forward, and held up a hand to stop him. “Be sure to hit the heart,” he advised Moira. “Otherwise you’ll just annoy me. Let it be,” he snapped to Hoyt. “It’s her choice.”
The bow trembled a moment, then Moira lowered it. Lowered her eyes as well. “I need sleep. I’m sorry, I need sleep.”
“Of course you do.” Glenna took the bow from her, set it aside. “I’ll take you down, get you settled.” Glenna aimed a look at Cian every bit as sharp as the arrow as she led Moira from the room.
“I’m sorry,” Moira said again. “I’m ashamed.”
“Don’t be. You’re overtired, overworked. Over everything. We all are. And it’s barely begun. A few hours’ sleep is what we all need.”
“Do they? Do they sleep?”
Glenna understood what she meant. The vampires. Cian. “Yes, it seems they do.”
“I wish it was morning so I could see the sun. They crawl back into their holes with the sun. I’m too tired to think.”
“Then don’t. Here, let’s get you undressed.”
“I lost my pack in the woods, I think. I don’t have a nightdress.”
“We’ll figure that out tomorrow. You can sleep naked. Do you want me to sit with you awhile?”
“No. Thank you, no.” Tears welled up and were willed back. “I’m being a child.”
“No. Just an exhausted woman. You’ll be better in the morning. Good night.”
Glenna debated going back up, then simply turned toward her own room. She didn’t give a damn if the men thought she was copping out, she wanted sleep.
The dreams chased her, through the tunnels of the vampire’s cave where the screams of the tortured were like slashing knives in her mind, into her heart. Everywhere she turned in the labyrinth, each time she raced into the dark opening, like a mouth waiting to devour her, the screams followed.
And worse than the screams, even worse, was the laughter.
The dreams hunted her along the rocky shore of a boiling sea where red lightning hacked black sky, black sea. There the wind tore at her, there the rocks pierced up out of the ground to stab at her hands, her feet until both were bloody.
Into the dense woods that smelled of blood and death, where the shadows were so thick she could feel them brushing over her skin like cold fingers.
She could hear what craved her coming with the papery snap of wings, the slithery slide of snakes, the sly scrape of claw on earth.
She heard the wolf howl, and the sound was hunger.
They were everywhere she was, and she had nothing but her empty hands and pounding heart. Still she ran blindly, the scream trapped in her burning throat.
She burst out of the trees and onto a cliff above a raging sea. Below her, waves lashed at rocks that rose up, sharp as razors. Somehow in her terror she’d run in a circle, and was back above the cave that held something even death feared.
The wind whipped at her, and power sang in it. His power, the hot, clean power of the sorcerer. She reached for it, strained toward it. But it slipped through her shaking fingers and left her nothing but herself.
When she turned, Lilith stood, regal in red, her beauty luminous against the velvet black. At each side was a black wolf, quivering for the kill. Lilith stroked her hands over their backs, hands that glittered with rings.
And when she smiled, Glenna felt a terrible pull inside her own belly. A deep and terrible yearning.
“The devil or the deep blue.” With a laugh, Lilith snapped her fingers for the wolves to sit. “The gods never give their servants decent choices, do they? I have better.”
“You’re death.”
“No, no, no. I’m life. That’s where they lie. They’re death, flesh and bone
moldering in the dirt. What do they give you these days? Seventy-five, eighty years? How small, how limiting.”
“I’ll take what I’m given.”
“Then you’d be a fool. I think you’re smarter than that, more practical. You know you can’t win. You’re already tired, already weary, already questioning. I’ll offer you a way out, and more. So much more.”
“To be like you? To hunt and kill? To drink blood?”
“Like champagne. Oh, the first taste of it. I envy you that. That first heady taste, that moment when everything falls away but the dark.”
“I like the sun.”
“With that complexion?” Lilith said with a gay laugh. “You’d fry like bacon after an hour on the beach. I’ll show you the coolness. The cool, cool dark. It’s inside you already, just waiting to be wakened. Can you feel it?”
Because she could, Glenna only shook her head.
“Liar. If you come to me, Glenna, you’ll stand by my side. I’ll give you life, eternal life. Eternal youth and beauty. Power so beyond what they’ve given you. You’ll rule your own world. I would give you that, a world of your own.”
“Why would you?”
“Why not? I’ll have so many. And I’d enjoy the company of a woman such as yourself. What are men, really, but tools to us? If you want them, you’ll take them. This is a great gift I offer you.”
“It’s damnation you offer me.”
Her laugh was lilting and seductive. “Gods frighten children with talk of hell and damnation. They use it to keep you bound. Ask Cian if he would trade his existence, his eternity, his handsome youth and lithe body for the chains and traps of mortality. Never, I promise you. Come. Come with me, and I’ll give you pleasure beyond pleasure.”
When she stepped closer, Glenna held up both hands, drew what she could out of her chilled blood and struggled to cast a protective circle.
Lilith simply struck out a hand. The tender blue of her irises began to redden. “Do you think such puny magic will hold me? I’ve drunk the blood of sorcerers, feasted on witches. They’re in me, as you will be. Come willing, and take life. Fight, and take death.”
She moved closer, and the wolves rose to stalk.
Glenna felt the pull, mesmerizing, glorious and dark, a drawing up in the belly that was elemental. It seemed the beat of her blood answered that call. Eternity and power, beauty, youth. All for one moment.
She had only to reach for it.
Triumph lit Lilith’s eyes, burned them to red. Fangs flashed as she smiled.
Tears slid down Glenna’s cheeks as she turned, as she leaped toward the sea and the rocks. As she chose death.
There was a scream ripping through her head when she shot up in bed. But it wasn’t her own, she knew it wasn’t her own. It was Lilith’s, a scream of fury.
With her breath sobbing, Glenna scrambled out of bed, dragging the blanket with her. She ran, trembling from terror and cold, her teeth chattering with them. She fled down the hallway as if the demons were still after her. Instinct took her to the one place, the only place, she felt safe.
Hoyt sprang out of a sound sleep to find his arms full of naked, weeping woman. He could barely see her in the dim, predawn light, but he knew her scent, her shape.
“What? What’s happened?” He started to shove her aside, to reach for the sword beside his bed. But she clung to him like ivy on an oak.
“Don’t. Don’t go. Hold on. Please, please, hold on.”
“You’re like ice.” He dragged up the blanket, trying to find warmth for her, trying to find his wits. “Have you been outside? Bloody hell. Have you done some spell?”
“No, no, no.” She burrowed into him. “She came. She came. Into my head, into my dream. Not a dream. It was real. It had to be real.”
“Stop. Stop this.” He took a firm grip on her shoulders. “Glenna!”
Her head jerked back, her breath came shuddering out. “Please. I’m so cold.”
“Then hush now, hush.” His tone and his touch gentled while he brushed tears from her cheeks. He wrapped her more fully in the blanket, then pulled her close. “It was a dream, a nightmare. Nothing more.”
“It wasn’t. Look at me.” She tilted her head up so he could see her eyes. “It wasn’t just a dream.”
No, he realized. He could see it hadn’t been only a dream. “Then tell me.”
“She was inside my head. Or…she pulled some part of me outside myself. The way it was when you were in the woods, hurt, with wolves outside your circle. Just as real as that. You know that was real.”
“Aye, it was real.”
“I was running,” she began, and told him all of it.
“She tried to lure you. Now think. Why would she do so unless she knew you were strong, unless she knew you could hurt her?”
“I died.”
“You didn’t, no, you didn’t. You’re here. Cold.” He rubbed her arms, her back. Would he ever be able to warm her again? “But alive, and here. Safe.”
“She was beautiful. Alluring. I don’t go for women, if you understand, but I was drawn to her. And part of it was sexual. Even in fear, I wanted her. The idea of her touching me, taking me, was compelling.”
“It’s a kind of trance, nothing more. And you didn’t allow it. You didn’t listen, you didn’t believe.”
“But I did listen, Hoyt. And some part of me did believe. Some part of me wanted what she offered. So much wanted. To live forever, with all that power. I thought, inside me, I thought, yes, oh yes, why shouldn’t I have it? And turning away from it—I nearly didn’t—because turning away from it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Yet you did.”
“This time.”
“Every time.”
“They were your cliffs. I felt you there. I felt you there, but I couldn’t reach you. I was alone, more alone than I’ve ever been. Then I was falling, and I was even more alone.”
“You’re not alone. Here.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You’re not alone, are you?”
“I’m not a coward, but I’m afraid. And the dark…” She shuddered, looked around the room. “I’m afraid of the dark.”
He cast his mind toward the bedside candle, toward the logs in the hearth, set them all burning. “Dawn’s coming. Here, see.” He gathered her into his arms, got out of bed with her to carry her to the window. “There now, look east. The sun’s rising.”
She saw the light of it, a gilding low in the sky. The cold ball inside her began to ease. “Morning,” she murmured. “It’s nearly morning.”
“You won the night, and she lost it. Come, you need more sleep.”
“I don’t want to be alone.”
“You won’t be.”
He took her back to bed, drew her against him. Because she still trembled, because he could, he passed his hand over her head. And sent her gently into slumber.
Chapter 10
She woke with sunlight sliding over her face, and she woke alone.
He’d snuffed the candles out, but left the fire burning low. Kind of him, she thought as she sat up, drawing the blanket over her shoulders. He’d been very kind and very gentle, and had given her exactly the comfort and security she’d needed.
Still, the wave of embarrassment came first. She’d run to him like a hysterical child fleeing from the monster in the closet. Sobbing, shaking and incoherent. She hadn’t been able to handle it, and had looked for someone—for him—to save her. She prided herself on her courage and her wits, and she hadn’t been able to stand up to her first showdown with Lilith.
No spine, she thought in disgust, and no real magic. Fear and temptation had smothered them. No, worse, she thought, fear and temptation had frozen them inside her, deep, where she hadn’t been able to reach. Now, in the light of day, she could see how foolish she’d been, how stupid, how easy. She’d done nothing to protect herself before, during or after. She’d run through the caves, through the woods, on the cliffs because they’d wanted her to run, an
d she’d let terror block out everything but the desperate need to escape.
It wasn’t a mistake she’d make again.
She wasn’t going to sit here wallowing either, not over something that was done.
She got up, wrapped herself in the blanket, then peeked out into the corridor. She saw no one, heard nothing, and was grateful. She didn’t want to talk to anyone until she’d put herself back together.
She showered, dressed, then took a great deal of care with her makeup. She hung amber drops at her ears for strength. And when she made the bed, she put amethyst and rosemary under her pillow. After choosing a candle from her supplies, she set it beside the bed. When she prepared for sleep that night, she would consecrate the candle with oil to repel Lilith and those like her from her dreams.
She would also make a stake, and get a sword from the weapons supply. She wouldn’t be defenseless and open again.
Before she left the room she took a long look at herself in the mirror. She looked alert, she decided, and capable.
She would be strong.
Because she considered it the heart of any home, she went to the kitchen first. Someone had made coffee, and by process of elimination, she figured it had been King. There was evidence someone had eaten. She could smell bacon. But there was no one around, and no dishes in the sink.
It was some small comfort to know whoever had eaten—or at least whoever had cooked—had also tidied up. She didn’t like to live in disorder, but neither would she care to be in charge of all things domestic.
She poured herself a cup from the pot, toyed with making some breakfast. But there was enough of the dream left in her that the sensation of being alone in the house was uncomfortable.
Her next choice was the library, which she thought of as the main artery of the heart. And there, with some relief, she found Moira.
Moira sat on the floor in front of the fire, surrounded by books. Even now she was hunched over one like a student cramming for an exam. She wore a tunic the color of oatmeal with brown pants and her riding boots.
She looked up as Glenna entered, offered a shy smile. “Good morning to you.”