Heart of Ice

by Lisa Edmonds

  Niara’s residence was as beautiful and colorful as Charles’s was elegant and understated. She’d decorated her veranda in bright fabrics and rattan furniture. Beyond stretched an enormous garden. The scent of flowers filled the air.

  Dark shadows moved along the walls of the garden: heavily armed Vampire Court security watching for trouble. I’d almost forgotten Kent Stevens in all the excitement of the auction and Barclay’s attack, but the sight of the guards brought all the tension and uneasiness back in a rush.

  Charles had changed into a light gray summer suit. He rose as we approached, looking me over appreciatively, but his eyes were dark with anger. You are limping, he said in my head. Why do you refuse my offer of healing?

  It’s only cuts and bruises, Charles, not a bullet wound. Nothing a strong healing spell can’t fix.

  Out loud, I said, “It’s beautiful out here, Niara.”

  Tonight, her hair was in long, tiny braids and held back from her face with a colorful scarf. She wore a long purple shift dress and her feet were bare except for a gold anklet and toe rings.

  I no longer had Niara’s blood in me, but the warm copper glow in her eyes made me remember the feeling of her hands on me in the stairwell at Hawthorne’s the night it was bombed. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a spark of attraction there, but even if it weren’t for Sean, vampires of either sex were a no-fly zone for a list of reasons longer than my arm—not that either she or Charles seemed put off in the least by my repeated refusals. I got the impression that one or both of them were simply in no rush to force the issue. And why should they? Vampires had all the time in the world to plot and wait until they thought the time was right.

  Niara smiled. “My refuge from the world,” she said, her voice low-pitched and musical. “No matter the ugliness beyond those walls, I am surrounded by beauty here. Your presence makes it all the more lovely. Please, sit.” She gestured at the two empty chairs.

  Sean and I sat as Charles reseated himself next to Niara. The table held a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, four glasses, and the box containing Esther’s cup.

  As Charles reached for the champagne, I asked, “What are we celebrating?”

  “Many things,” he said, removing the foil and muselet with practiced ease. “My success at the auction, our survival, and Vincent Barclay’s long-overdue true death.”

  The cork slid free of the bottle with a muffled pop. He divided the champagne among the four glasses.

  We raised our glasses in a toast. As we enjoyed the champagne, I spoke up. “Speaking of Barclay’s attack, what exactly is that stone, and what did it do to that vamp?”

  “As you heard at the auction, the stone was one of many that once belonged to Vlad Tepes,” Charles said. “The magic is ancient. Few know its origin. I know only that it predates our earliest records. Tepes’s collection of vampire objects of power was the largest ever known. Pieces from the collection become available on occasion. Their powers vary, but the object I purchased tonight possesses the ability to transfer life energy to the one who wields it.”

  I stared at him. “That’s what I saw you do to that vamp on the side of the road. You took his life energy. Did it kill him?”

  “No. A vampire’s immortality cannot be taken in that way. He is merely very weakened and mortal for a time.”

  “But if you used that weapon on a human or a shifter?” Sean asked.

  “They would most likely die.” Charles sipped his champagne.

  “Do you plan on reselling the object or keeping it?” I asked.

  “I have not decided. I must study the market, determine if it could be sold for a sufficient profit at this time. If not, I will keep it in my collection until such time as I can make an adequate profit, or I choose to keep it.”

  “And the cup?” I gestured at the box on the table. “What’s your plan for that, now that you’ve got it?”

  “I plan to use it,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I almost dropped my glass.

  Niara’s expression was grim. “You risk much.” Her tone indicated they’d already argued about this before Sean and I came outside. “You have not seen it used. You have only the word of the expert brought in by the broker as to what its power is. If they are wrong—if Alice’s client is wrong—you may die under the sun.”

  “I have not stood in the sun for more than two hundred years,” Charles said. “Perhaps I am willing to risk much to feel that warmth once again.”

  Her gaze became distant as she toyed with her champagne glass. “I have felt the sun,” she said, her voice softening. “Not so long ago, I was tempted, as you are now, by magic and the promise of walking in the daylight. It had been so very long since I had felt the caress of the sun that once blessed me as I walked the plains of home. My people called themselves children of the sun. I thought I was parted from it forever, and then I received a great gift: a magical talisman that allowed me to see the sun again, as if I had not become a vampire and a child of the night. It was not long before I knew it was a great folly.”

  “You regret that you walked beneath the sun?” Charles asked in disbelief.

  Niara seemed to be considering what to say. Finally, she said, “Perhaps I cannot explain in a way you would believe. But if you do this, you risk more than you know.” She glanced at the eastern horizon. “Dawn comes within the hour. You have time to consider this decision, but I will leave you to it.” She rose.

  We stood as well. It took some effort on my part since my back and knee had stiffened again. Niara brushed her lips across Charles’s mouth, then disappeared into the house.

  “Well, that was sobering,” I said as we reseated ourselves. “Are you reconsidering?”

  “No,” Charles said firmly.

  “Niara’s right that we don’t know for certain what the cup’s power is. I have only my client’s word, and any expert the seller called in can only give their best guess at what the spell will do. What if they’re half right and the spell only lasts thirty minutes?”

  “I will put on sunscreen.”

  I stared at him, nonplussed. “You don’t seem to be taking Niara’s warning very seriously.”

  He finished the last of his champagne and set the glass on the table. “I take her warning very seriously. Still, I choose to accept the risk for the chance to walk in these gardens in the sunlight.”

  “Sir.”

  We all looked up at the unexpected sound of Bryan’s voice. The enforcer stood in his customary spot to Charles’s right. “I will accompany you with a large umbrella or a covering,” he said. “If the spell fails, I’ll do my best to see that you are returned to the safety of the house and healed, should it be necessary.”

  Charles inclined his head. “Thank you, Mr. Smith. Your offer is greatly appreciated but unnecessary. Alice alone will accompany me.”

  Bryan stiffened, Sean made a low growly noise, and I jerked in surprise. “Me?” My voice had a hint of squeak in it.

  “She wouldn’t be able to protect you from the sun or return you to the house,” Bryan objected.

  “This is true,” Charles acknowledged. “But I wish to take a walk in a garden in the sunlight accompanied by a beautiful woman.”

  Bryan looked at me, clearly unhappy. “Then ask Adri,” I suggested. “She’s gorgeous, and she’d be able to bring you back to the house if—”

  “It is your company I desire,” Charles interrupted. “If you wish, you may consider it a last request.”

  My stomach lurched. “Damn it, Charles,” I ground out. I reached for the box, flipped open the lid, and grabbed the cup.

  It wasn’t really a good idea to pick up a magical object, but I was angry and more than a little uneasy at the thought I might witness Charles cindered by the morning sun. We might have had a difficult relationship and I didn’t doubt that he wouldn’t hesitate to sell me out if he ever figured out who I was, but that didn’t mean I wanted to watch him burn to death in front of me.

  The magic
in the cup seared my senses. My head jerked back and my vision faded as I lowered my shields and plunged headlong into the cup’s magic.

  I knew the spellwork that would allow a vampire to walk in daylight by heart; my grandfather had me learn it not long after my blood magic manifested when I was twelve, because vampires would pay astronomical sums for the chance to experience daylight after decades or centuries—or millennia—of moonlight. I found the spell easily, woven through the blood magic and the peaceful green of the earth magic, and traced its lines and runes, feeling their familiar curves and edges. Finally, I raised my shields slowly, disengaged from the cup’s magic, and returned to awareness.

  I opened my eyes and found myself staring into Sean’s fiery golden gaze. He was crouched in front of my chair, gripping the armrests. “I have been trying to get you to respond for almost five minutes,” he snapped. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  “Trying to find out if this cup is the real deal,” I said, my voice uneven. I looked past Sean at Charles, who sat on the edge of his chair watching me. “As far as I can tell, the cup is exactly as advertised: a spell that keeps you awake past sunrise and permits you to be exposed to the sun without burning.”

  “As far as you can tell?” Bryan asked skeptically.

  “I’m familiar with this kind of spell,” I said. “That’s what it is.”

  “For one hour?” Charles asked.

  “I’m reasonably certain the spell will last for one hour, but it’s not as if there’s a timer in the spellwork. ‘Reasonably certain’ is as good as it’s going to get on the timing. I can’t guarantee anything, Charles.”

  “There are no guarantees, in this life or any other,” he told me. “Your ‘reasonably certain’ is enough for me. I accept the risk.”

  “I’m not sure I do. If I’m wrong—”

  “Then I was sufficiently warned and chose to proceed against the advice of my companions.” He regarded me. “I cannot force you to join me, but I would be…grateful if you would.”

  Sean and Bryan were plainly displeased, although for very different reasons. I didn’t need to be able to read his mind to know Sean was thinking about who might be blamed if the spell didn’t work the way it was supposed to and Charles ended up severely burned or turned to ash.

  Bryan was no doubt thinking that his entire job—his life, in fact—was dedicated to keeping Charles safe from harm, and I’d caused all this by bringing Charles into my search for the missing magical objects. If something did go wrong, I’d have to answer to Bryan before I even got a chance to answer to the Court.

  But I saw something in Charles’s eyes that I’d not seen in the five years I’d known him: a glimmer of life. Even in moments of levity, which were few and far between, Charles’s eyes had never belied any hint of humanity. And yet, when he looked at the cup, I saw an echo of the man he must have once been, before he’d been turned.

  Maybe it was stupid and sentimental of me—in fact, it almost certainly was incredibly stupid, given the possible consequences I might face if the spell failed—but I was having a difficult time talking myself into refusing his request.

  I put the cup on the table. “I accept. There’s only one important question left to answer.”

  Charles ignored the low growl from Sean and Bryan’s frown. He tilted his head. “And that would be…?”

  “What do you want to drink?”

  After browsing Niara’s well-stocked cellar, Charles chose a 1914 merlot and brought the bottle up to the sitting room that overlooked the veranda.

  Ten minutes before the sun was expected to rise, he pulled the cork from the bottle and poured wine into the cup and a wineglass. He handed me the glass and we walked to the doors that looked out over Niara’s garden.

  Charles touched the rim of the cup gently to my glass. “To you,” he said. We drank.

  Magic coiled down Charles’s arm as he swallowed the wine. It faded and his aura changed from its usual cool gray to peaceful earth-magic green.

  I lowered my shields and touched him. “How do you feel?”

  “Warm,” he said.

  We turned to face the eastern horizon. When he took my hand, I didn’t pull away.

  It began as gradual lightening of the sky over the hills and then dawn broke in a spectacular array of oranges, reds, and yellows. Charles flinched as the first rays of sunlight touched us, but the spell held and he was unharmed. We stood motionless as the sun peeked over the top of the hill and the day began.

  Slowly, as if in a dream, Charles reached out and opened the door. I followed him out onto the veranda, my hand in his. We left our glasses on the table and descended to the garden. The grass and flowers sparkled with morning dew.

  I wondered what Charles was thinking about as we strolled down the path, heading away from the house. His face was impassive and I couldn’t read his eyes. Sean and Bryan stood at the edge of the veranda, watching us.

  When we reached a point about three-quarters of the way across the garden, Charles stopped and turned to me. His mask of impassivity vanished and he raised his face to the sky, his eyes full of wonder. “So bright.”

  “It’s a beautiful sunrise,” I said.

  “It is perhaps the most beautiful I have ever seen.” He fell silent.

  We started walking again, wandering between rows of flowers and neatly trimmed hedges. He seemed lost in thought and I stayed quiet, not wanting to intrude on this miraculous daytime excursion.

  He surprised me when he spoke. “Have I ever told you of my life before I was turned?”

  “A little. When we first met, five years ago or so, you told me you fought in the Revolutionary War as a teenager. That’s all I know.” Well, and that he’d been eviscerated before his death, but I didn’t want to bring that up. He might regret revealing that to me. I knew very well the emotional weight of scars.

  “Many years ago, before I was turned, I was married.”

  My steps faltered. He smiled slightly and pulled on my hand, urging me to resume walking. “Her name was Emma. We married when I was seventeen and she was fifteen. Such things were common in those days. Our families had little money, but we were very much in love.”

  We turned away from the house, wandering nearer to the far end of the garden. “We had a small home near her parents’ residence where we lived for fourteen years. She bore me six children, three of whom lived past infancy: two daughters and a son. Our lives were difficult. We were not always happy, but we were always in love. I considered myself quite fortunate to be wealthy in love, if not in worldly goods.”

  Charles paused to run his fingertips over the warm brick of the garden wall. “In the year 1792, I was returning to my home from visiting a friend when I was arrested on suspicion of committing a murder. The victim was the pregnant wife of the local magistrate. A witness described a man seen fleeing from the scene. I had the great misfortune of wearing similar clothing and resembling the man who was described. The magistrate believed me guilty. I was tortured in order to obtain a confession. You have seen the scar.”

  I nodded.

  “I survived the wound, but once I had confessed, though it was under duress, my guilt was decided. I asked to see my wife and was told her parents had taken her and my children away to another town so they would be spared the infamy of having a murderer for a husband and father. My own parents wanted nothing to do with me. I was branded a rapist and a killer. Even the minister of our church refused to visit my bedside. I was forsaken by everyone. My execution was to be held as soon as I was able to climb the steps to the gallows. Had the situation gone on much longer, I am sure the magistrate would have simply dragged me up the steps and put the noose around my neck himself.”

  We walked on in silence. I snuck glimpses at the watch I’d borrowed, watching as the minutes ticked by.

  “One night as I lay in my bed in the jail, delirious with fever, as the wound had become infected, the bars were torn from the window. The smell of my blood had d
rawn a newly risen vampire. I could see little through my delirium, but I felt the pain when he bit my throat. I could not fight back, but neither did I desire to do so. It would be, I decided, a death preferable to hanging in front of my neighbors and those I had once called friends.”

  My stomach twisted. I squeezed his hand, but he did not return the gesture, as if too caught up in his memories to notice it.

  Charles continued, “My attacker drained me to the point of death. Just as I felt myself slipping away, the door burst open and two more vampires rushed in. They pulled him away from me and I lost consciousness. The next night, I rose as a vampire.”

  “One of the other vamps turned you?”

  “Yes. They could not leave me behind, for my wound would have been proof vampires lived nearby. The elder of the two took me to his home. They decided because I had so stubbornly clung to life despite my grievous wound, I would be likely to rise as a vampire. And since I was a condemned man with no friends or family to claim me, I would not be missed by anyone.”

  Though we had made a final turn back toward the house, Charles continued to walk slowly. There was only twenty minutes until the hour was up, but he was in no hurry.

  “What about your wife? Did you ever see her again?”

  “Some months later, when I had control of my bloodlust, I followed her to a village where she had gone to live with her new husband. I observed her caring for our children and keeping the house. She was with child, the child of her new husband. I watched as he returned home from working in the fields and she greeted him with a smile and a kiss. I left then and did not return.”

  We walked in silence back toward the house. When I looked at Charles’s face, I was startled. “Charles, you have a sunburn!”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Do I?”

  I remembered something he’d said before the bombing, when he’d visited my house and found me drunk on my back porch. “The night you showed me your scar, you said part of the reason you kept it was to remind you of a lesson you’d learned. What was the lesson?”