Atonement (Immortal Soulless Book 3)

by Tanith Frost

  “To remove our leader,” I say. “And to throw everything into turmoil. They want us scattered and unfocused. That’s why they attacked your home first. Not to get you, but to draw Miranda and the others out. They failed there, but were ready with plan B after the elders escaped. And now they have the advantage. If the club isn’t secure, we have no stock, and without blood we’re weak.” I swallow hard around the lump in my throat. “And our leadership is compromised.”

  Trent bares his fangs and glances over his shoulder in the direction of the city.

  “Did they lose many?” Hannabelle asks. “The Blood Defenders?”

  “Sounds like it,” Daniel says. “Viktor called it a suicide mission. I imagine they needed a lot of people if they meant to fight their way through the club and reach the elders.” His jaw clenches.

  Daniel said Helena was good at recruiting, that her people were once willing to die for their cause. I guess that hasn’t changed.

  “Good.” Hannabelle’s hands curl into fists. “If there’s anything I can do to help…”

  “Any of us,” Lucille adds, and sets her trucker cap more firmly on her curly hair.

  With my chin resting on Daniel’s shoulder and my cheek pressed against his, I feel it when he smiles. “It may come to that. Viktor may not see it, but we’ve got a lot of power here in this group. For tonight, though, he wants you all in the safe house.”

  “Yes, shut us away again,” Edwin grumbles, but he follows when we start walking. “We’re dead weight, anyway.”

  I grab onto Daniel, digging my nails into his chest hard enough that he draws a sharp breath. “Stop. No, turn around. We have to go.”

  “What?” He shrugs me off, and I slide to the ground, taking my weight on my good leg. “Aviva, what are you talking about?”

  My mind is racing. There was a time when the excitement of the past few nights would have left me muzzy-headed and desperate to feed, but I’m okay tonight. When I close my eyes and picture the void within me, Silas’ fire glows gold against the darkness. This time, I don’t fight it back. I need all the help I can get, no matter how ill it makes me feel.

  Maybe tonight I can even be thankful for it.

  “Daniel, do you trust Viktor?”

  He turns to face me. I wish he looked more confused than he does. I wish I thought I was wrong. “I believe he wants the Blood Defenders hunted and stopped as soon as possible. I don’t think he lied to me.”

  “That’s not the same thing as trust,” Lucille points out.

  Daniel nods. “Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

  I look to the old ones. I’d pull Daniel away so we can speak privately, but whether I’m right or wrong, this should be their decision, too.

  “How many times has he tried to convince you to leave this group?”

  “Three.”

  I grit my teeth. Fucking elder son of a bitch. “Because you’re not dead weight, are you? Maelstrom needs you. He’s made it very clear that he sees no reason to keep anyone around who’s a drain on clan resources. What if he wants to use us as bait? Give the Blood Defenders a reason to stay in the area until he’s got his own hunters together? It’s no loss to him if we fall, but he has to know we’ll at least give them a fight.”

  Daniel opens his mouth as though to object, then sets his jaw firmly. “Two birds with one stone,” he says softly.

  Not one of the old ones reacts. They don’t even seem surprised.

  “Helena knows there’s a vampire here in town,” I tell them. “She knew where to find your home, she found the Inferno. What are the odds she doesn’t know about the safe house and won’t descend on it as soon as it seems occupied? Half a dozen more dead vampires would be quite tempting, I think, even if she’d been planning to retreat after the attack on the Inferno.”

  “Which would leave my crew free to come in behind them and wipe them out instead of having to hunt them down elsewhere.” Daniel pushes his hair back from his face and squeezes his eyes closed.

  “It’s actually a good plan,” Trent says, and Genevieve shoots him a dark glare. “Aside from the undesirable outcome for us, of course. From Viktor's perspective, it’s good.” He crosses his arms. “And you haven’t spoken to Miranda?”

  I can’t help noting the difference in the tones he uses when he speaks the two elders’ names. Neither sounds affectionate or warm, but I know without a doubt which one he would trust to protect us.

  And as much as I hate to admit it, I agree. I despise Miranda for leaving me to rot at the far end of the island for more than a year, for her threats and her mysterious experiment. She’s hard and cold, and she’s ruthless when she fights. But I believe she wants what’s best for every vampire in Maelstrom.

  Viktor, I suspect, only wishes to protect those whose presence is beneficial to him and his plans while he’s in power. He wants Maelstrom to project strength, and in his mind, the elderly are certainly more valuable as martyrs than as soldiers.

  It’s not much of a stretch to think that our demise at the hands of the Blood Defenders is exactly what he wants.

  God, I hope Miranda recovers soon.

  “Hop back on,” Daniel orders me. “We’ll head east and see what we find. Lucille, you and Trent can help us find shelter, all right?” She nods, and Daniel bends to let me climb up onto his back.

  “Just let me know exactly what you need,” Lucille says, and brightens. “I suppose this is why I couldn’t find the safe house before. It is decidedly un-safe with that horrid woman around. I’m not broken after all!”

  Hannabelle pats her friend on the back.

  We change course, moving quickly and silently away from the road.

  “They can track you, can’t they?” Edwin asks. His words sound paranoid, but he looks and sounds as rational as I’ve ever known him to be. “With your phone or something?”

  Daniel reaches into his pocket and pulls the phone out. “They could find me if I made a call. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

  “Any chance there’s a GPS… something?” I ask. Fuck if I know anything about technology, but it seems possible.

  “They certainly wouldn’t tell me if there were.” He frowns at it. “Surely they wouldn’t waste resources coming after us, though. Not now. Viktor isn’t so—”

  The phone buzzes in his hand.

  “Speak of the devil,” Trent mutters. We all stare at it, but the ringing goes on. Six rings. A pause. Then it starts again.

  Edwin grabs the phone and darts into the forest. He smashes it against a tree, snapping it in half, then places the pieces on a boulder and smacks them with a smaller rock until they shatter.

  Daniel’s shoulders tighten under my arms. “We might have liked to keep the option open of calling for help.”

  “There is no help for us,” Lucille tells him, and pats him on the arm.

  Genevieve smiles sadly. “You’re one of us now. Welcome to the outside.”

  I know this doesn’t sit well with Daniel. It jeopardizes the reputation he’s established so carefully for himself. Daniel the reliable. Daniel the competent. Daniel who will do anything for the sake of Maelstrom and its elders, whether it’s hunting rogue vampires or breaking a human enemy’s body and spirit to gain information. That Daniel wouldn’t risk it all for the sake of this group.

  He could still dump us and go.

  Instead he walks onward, heading east. He doesn’t check to make sure the others are following, but he tightens his grip on my legs.

  He’s just cut himself off from the clan and deliberately defied one of his elders, the ones he’s supposed to be loyal to above everyone else. He’s following his gut and his conscience.

  He’s acting like me.

  I hope Miranda will be more forgiving of his sins than she’s been of mine.

  Lucille seems ridiculously pleased about her find.

  “Look at it! It’s perfect. Maybe not warm, maybe a little draughty, but it will keep the sun off. Might even have a basement if we’re lucky
.”

  Trent holds back the smile that twists the corners of his lips, but he can’t hide the grim humour in his voice when he speaks. “Aviva did say to find the last place anyone would look for a bunch of vampires.”

  I wince. My exact words. Lucille got her inspiration, and Trent navigated us here based on what she told him. I still don’t understand their strange partnership, but I get the impression it goes back long before her capture and recovery. Trent seemed almost happy as they led us together, like he’d returned to better times.

  “There may be one small problem, though,” I tell her, and limp closer to lay a hand on her arm. I’ve been walking for the past half hour. It’s not entirely comfortable, but I’ve already healed enough that there’s no need for Daniel to bear my weight. “Just a minor thing, but…”

  We’re standing in a line at the top of a hill, looking down at an abandoned church. It’s a sad sight with its sagging roofline and broken stained glass windows. It’s also an absolute impossibility for beings like us.

  “It’ll be morning soon,” Genevieve says as she sets her suitcase down at her feet. “This was foolish. We should have stayed closer to the road and found a hotel or something.”

  “They’ll be tracking my cards as soon as they realize we’re missing,” Daniel reminds her.

  “Well,” Hannabelle says slowly, “what if we trust Lucille’s gift? She’s never been wrong before. And it is empty.”

  “It’s sacred ground,” Genevieve snaps. “That doesn’t change just because they boarded up the windows. I’m not eager to feel myself being crushed under the weight of the light.” She swallows hard. “Or having death catch up with me. We’d be just as well off waiting for those Blood Defenders to stake us.”

  She’s right, of course. I’ve felt it myself, when I’ve stepped onto the grounds of one of the gorgeous old churches in downtown St. John’s. Just a whisper of pressure like a steel band around my chest, one that comes with a sense of weakness. A warning not to get too close.

  Lucille just smiles at her, completely unperturbed.

  Hannabelle sets her jaw and starts down the hill, marching like a soldier toward the front lines. Lucille falls in beside her, arms swinging by her sides like she hasn’t got a care in the world.

  I follow them. Lucille’s gift is certainly unusual. But so is mine, and it works when I trust it. Either Lucille is a genius, or we’re doomed. I’ll take my chances.

  The picket fence that surrounds the whitewashed wooden building has collapsed in more spots than it’s still standing, and the yard is packed with long grasses and goldenrod, along with some alders that are beginning to reclaim the land now that humans have decided to let it be.

  We reach a washed-out gravel road and follow it toward the gate, which hangs loose on one hinge. Hannabelle’s steps slow.

  Lucille’s do, too. Nice to know self-doubt is universal.

  “Shall we, ladies?” I ask, and offer an arm to each of them.

  Side by side, we step past the gate.

  I wait for a sensation of true breathlessness, pressure, weakness. There’s nothing.

  Yet.

  “Onward, brave spirits,” Hannabelle mutters, and squeezes my arm tight with hers.

  I try to imagine the other vampires I’ve met in Maelstrom doing this. Stepping forward on the strength of faith in a mad woman’s vague ideas, challenging everything we know to be true about hallowed ground and our own nature. It wouldn’t happen. The vampires I’ve met always seem so sure about the way things are.

  The front doors are held shut by thick wooden boards nailed across the middle, but it’s only a few moments’ work for three vampires to remove them. We dig our fingers in under the half-rotted wood, brace our feet on the doors, and pull.

  The door on the left opens silently into the shadows of the church’s interior.

  “Wait here,” I whisper. My chest feels tight as I wonder how quickly true death comes when the light crushes us. “One at a time, okay?”

  I step over the threshold before I can change my mind, then pause.

  Nothing is happening.

  “Aviva?” Lucille calls.

  “Give me a minute.” I move quickly through a dusty foyer where stacks of hymnals that reek of mould rest on shelves over open closets. The smell is entirely unpleasant, a mix of the dust, the mould, rat shit, and rotting wood. Still, Lucille wasn’t wrong. When I step into the sanctuary, it looks solid enough. No holes in the roof to let light in. A few broken windows at the back, but the rest are intact and coloured, showing scenes of Bible stories I remember well.

  A lump forms in my throat as I walk down the centre aisle, drawing closer to the altar. The place looks pretty well cleaned out, but the furniture remains. The heavy wooden pulpit where the pastor would have given sermons. A table at the front with the words Do This In Remembrance Of Me carved into the front, where they would have set the bread and grape juice for communion.

  A big, heavy cross on the back wall. I’m surprised no one took that. It seems disrespectful to have left it here to rot.

  “Long time, no see,” I mutter.

  I open myself, but feel nothing. No light. No life. And definitely no sensation of being crushed to oblivion.

  It seems like I should feel something, even if Lucille was right about our safety. I had plenty of doubts and even more questions in the years before my death, but I had a connection to some greater power in spite of them.

  The human I used to be really is gone, and I don’t even have it in me to mourn her.

  I stalk back up the aisle. “It’s fine,” I call out when I reach the doors.

  “Come on, then!” Lucille calls back over her shoulder, and she and Hannabelle step in.

  Hannabelle wrinkles her nose as the smell hits her, but squeezes her friend’s hand. “You did well, Lucy. The Blood Defenders will never think to search for us here.”

  I look around again. “We should be suffering right now.”

  Lucille pats my arm. “My dear, we should be dust.”

  Trent enters like a fox circling a henhouse he’s sure is booby trapped. “Well. Look at that.”

  The others follow, and Genevieve and Edwin uproot a wooden pew to bar the doors. There’s no time to question any of this. Not with sunrise approaching.

  Hannabelle opens a door at the right of the entryway. “Found the basement.”

  Lucille beams.

  “Oh, don’t look so smug,” Genevieve tells her, but she smiles. “Thank you, Lucille.”

  The basement is small, damp, and cold, and unfortunately devoid of the amenities our last shelter provided. No one complains.

  “Just don’t breathe,” Hannabelle advises. “There’s no need for conversation if we should be resting.” She turns to me. “Unless we should discuss our next move, first?”

  Daniel sits on a rickety folding chair and rests his elbows on his knees. “We can’t wander forever. We’re going to have to feed eventually. So I suppose we head for town. All of us. Viktor will be angry, but at least you’ll all be safe. Then I’ll join the hunt.”

  No one seems to have a better suggestion. They each find a quiet spot in the dark basement to make themselves as comfortable as they can, and Genevieve distributes clothing from her suitcase to offer extra warmth. Daniel and I leave the blankets from the van with them, and without discussion, we both head back upstairs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You’re moving better,” Daniel notes as he follows me up the stairs.

  “I’m really fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “I know. You’re stronger than they give you credit for.”

  Sunrise has broken, and light is filtering in through the stained glass windows of the sanctuary. We hurry past the broken windows at the back and make our way up a few steps to the shadowy space behind the pulpit.

  Daniel hits a few keys on the old piano, and sour notes ring out.

  “First watch or second?” I ask.

  “I’m no
t especially sleepy.”

  “Me neither.”

  He settles down in front of the choir pews and pats the floor beside him. I sit. We’re not touching, but there’s a field of dark energy around each of us, and I can feel where we overlap.

  Or it may be my overactive imagination. Either way, I’m very aware of him.

  “So what do you reckon?” he asks. “Why are we here?”

  “On a cosmic level?” I ask, and wonder whether maybe tonight’s events have actually driven him mad.

  He laughs under his breath. “No, in this building. I don’t care how long it’s been empty, this is odd.”

  I close my eyes and open myself to the space. I shouldn’t waste precious energy on it, but I want to see what I can do. When I’m focused, my power lets me feel vampire presences and sense their intentions. My own particular gift has let me sense shadows left behind by humans murdered by supernatural beings—emotions, movements they saw before their deaths. I’ve never got much from the living.

  An abandoned building has to have its ghosts, too. And while I doubt anyone ever died from a vampire’s bite or under a werewolf’s jaws here…

  I dig deep, relishing the comforting darkness of the power that once terrified me, trying to ignore the golden scar that runs through it.

  I feel nothing from this space. Not so much as a breath of a shadow, and certainly nothing I should fear.

  “There’s nothing here,” I say aloud, still lost in myself. “It’s dead.”

  “I agree,” Daniel says quietly. “And I suspect it died long before they barred the doors.”

  I open my eyes slowly. “You mean the light was gone before the people were?”

  “Maybe.” He looks up at the water-stained ceiling. “I don’t doubt that whoever built this place had the best intentions, or that it was filled with light and presence at some point. But it gets lost sometimes, I think. Not like we lost it, but drained by apathy or caged by people who cling to rules instead of exploring that connection you missed so much after your death. Maybe to the point where the light moves on to places it’s actually welcome, leaving a space like this as nothing more than an empty meeting hall.”