The sunstone. “Find something to cover it,” she told Victor.
He slunk into the room, his dark fur rippling. Seconds ticked by. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she waited for him. If an alarm rang or if he broke something . . .
The light winked out. Alexi stepped somewhat hesitantly into the armory. It looked the same as it had before, though absent Deirdre’s presence. Victor had covered the sunstone with a metal box labeled “Silver Bullets.” She smirked at the irony.
The room contained all the weapons she could want. But what would work? Bullets slowed vampires down but didn’t stop them. Blessed bullets might do the job, but she was almost afraid to touch those. It seemed random, the things that worked against her and the things that didn’t. The memory of the sun scorching her back as she fell out of Dupree’s window was a fresh reminder of that.
“Guns?” Victor suggested.
Alexi saw something glitter in the corner. She made her way around a crate of grenades. Under a long-forgotten tarp, Alexi found an old display case. Inside, a long, silver blade hung from two pegs. The hilt crossed over an ivory pommel. Engravings in Latin ran the course of the tang. The edges looked sharp even under the layer of dust.
Carl.
“In the nightclub . . . I killed one of them with a sword.” She knelt to examine the blade. “The strangest thing happened . . . I can’t even explain it. It was like a hole opened up in the floor, and something reached through and grabbed his . . . his . . . soul and pulled it through.”
Victor’s eyebrows rose. “Damn. I’ve never heard of that. Are you saying you banished him?”
Alexi shook her head. “I don’t know what it was, and they were as shocked as I was.”
She opened the case and took the sword. The pommel felt cold to her touch. The blade swished as she swung it back and forth. Neatly folded at the bottom of the case was a brown leather sheath. She liked the feel of it in her hand. It felt . . . natural.
“Alexi,” Savanna’s voice came over the intercom, “I know where they’re going to do the ritual—you’d better come up.”
Alexi stood. “Vic, find something to put the sunstone in. We’re going to need it.”
Victor nodded with a grunt. She could hear him rummaging around the armory as she made her way upstairs. Savanna sat where they had left her, hunched over a computer, fingers typing furiously.
“How do you know how to use that?” she asked.
“Who doesn’t know how to use a computer?” Savanna said. “Besides, there’s a big search bar right here.”
Alexi looked at the keys, the mouse, and the screen. Unlike the sword—and unlike all the weapons she’d busted out of the back of Connor and Sing’s van—this didn’t feel natural. She didn’t know much about herself, but apparently, computers weren’t her thing.
Savanna tapped the keys, and the image on the screen changed to an island, not much bigger than a football field and surrounded by ocean. Rocky shoals lined the coast.
“It’s the closest ritual spot to the ley lines in the area,” Savanna said, clicking through different images. “The next nearest one is on the other side of the Cascades, but this is the one closest to the ocean.”
The island looked normal enough, except for a large, flat plateau in the middle.
Victor came to stand behind them, a bundle under one arm. “Why is that important?”
“Ley lines flow in a specific direction, like rivers,” Savanna explained. “This one travels east to west. The more land it passes over, the more power it gains. By the time it reaches this spot, it’s traveled across an entire continent. On top of that, this spot is a ritual site for the aboriginal people. Possibly dating back thousands of years. It will add power to what he already has to bring to bear.”
“Do you have directions?” asked Alexi.
A few keystrokes and a nearby printer whirred to life. “I do now.”
TWENTY-THREE
Savanna sat on the bed in the motel room. Her skirt pulled up to her thigh revealed a fresh wound from her dagger. It was one of a half dozen other marks, thin lines of white tissue contrasted by her dark brown skin, all made by her own blade. For some reason, she didn’t like crossing over preexisting scars when she cut, but she was running out of unmarked skin.
She could hear Alexi and Victor speaking in the room next door. They hadn’t had a lot of options for lodging. By the time they had arrived in Bellingham, it had been almost midnight. They had picked the motel closest to the marina. It was nice enough to include a mini-fridge, filled with overpriced alcohol and random snacks.
They were out of money. Alexi had to use her mind control to get the room. They’d spent their final five dollars on bandages and thread to patch up her last cut. The funny thing was, she knew Alexi was already feeling ten kinds of guilty for leaning on that poor motel worker.
Me? I’m just happy to have access to the fridge.
The twenty-dollar bottle of vodka, no larger than her hand, made a good antiseptic. It stung like crazy when she poured it over her wound. She gritted her teeth and desperately tried not to whimper. What she wouldn’t give for a can of benzocaine spray. She held the needle against her skin, took a deep breath, and pushed it through.
The two next door were still talking when she finished. A nice, neat line, two inches long across her thigh. She sighed. She had such pretty legs once. She was forever arguing with her dad about the length of her skirts. She remembered the first time he made her go back upstairs and change. She must have been fourteen. Only four years ago, but it felt like a lifetime. Now she counted fifteen scars across both thighs, over twenty across her stomach, and at least a dozen on her arms and wrists.
You could stop casting. Find a job. Go to school. Live a normal life. She knew the answer before she finished the thought. Magic was addictive. It drew her in, called to her. Not only that, but her visions were her birthright. She never knew when a touch, a song, or a dream would trigger them. She couldn’t ignore them, not now.
The mini-fridge contained more than just hard liquor. Stuffed in the back were several bottles of wine coolers. She felt naughty for drinking it—but if the world was about to end, it didn’t seem like such a terrible thing. She twisted the cap off, sniffing it first to make sure it wasn’t like the vodka. As much as that burned her leg, she couldn’t imagine what it would do to her throat. She lifted the rim to her lips. Eyes closed, she took a small sip. Her tongue tingled at the touch of it, and the smell of alcohol permeated her nose, but the taste . . . it was like sparkling juice. No burn, just a pleasant berry flavor.
The door swung open and banged against the wall. Savanna nearly threw the bottle away in her rush to put it behind her back. Alexi raged into the room. She didn’t stop to ask why the fridge was open when she grabbed two of the tiny bottles of vodka. One went down while she paced. Unsure of what to say, Savanna sat on the edge of the bed. She pulled her feet under her and sipped on her wine.
After a few minutes, Alexi stopped her pacing, pulled a chair over, and sat facing Savanna. Her eyebrow crooked up when she noticed the bottle.
“Are you drinking?”
Savanna felt her cheeks turn bright red.
“I didn’t think they would mind. And the world could end tomorrow,” she stammered out.
Alexi laughed. Relief washed over Savanna, and she started to laugh, too. By the time they stopped, they were both wiping their eyes.
“Oh, wow, I needed that,” Alexi said. She unscrewed the cap on her second bottle of vodka and held it out to Savanna. She was unsure what to do until Alexi made a clinking noise. She smiled, and they tapped their bottles together.
The berry wine tasted better with each sip. Her head was a little light, and the world a little fuzzy, but it was a pleasant fuzzy.
“I don’t care if you drink, Savanna. Just don’t drink much. You’ll need a clear head tomorrow.”
“M’kay.” Savanna took another sip, and warmth spread down to her belly. “What are you and lov
er boy arguing about?”
Alexi gave her a sideways look. Savanna noticed the bottle she held was empty. She grabbed two more and another vodka for Alexi.
“He’s infuriating,” Alexi said, upending the next bottle. Savanna unscrewed her cooler and took a long pull from it. The grape flavor tingled her taste buds. The wine heated her cheeks.
“I hear that’s common with the boys,” she said with a giggle.
“You better make that your last one, girl.”
“Sure. What about him is infuriating?”
Alexi put the empty bottle down, reached over, and took the last full cooler from where it sat on the floor next to Savanna.
“Spoilsport,” Savanna muttered.
“You’ll thank me in the morning.”
Alexi nursed the wine for a few minutes. Savanna tried to savor hers, but it was too good. The bottle was empty before she knew it.
“He wants me to turn you both into thralls,” Alexi said suddenly. Anger rolled out with her words. “I’m not turning you into slaves in the vague hope that it will help us win. Besides, I don’t even know how to do it.”
Savanna nodded and shook her finger. “No slaves for me, no, sir.”
“Savanna, I think you’re drunk.”
She couldn’t disagree. Everything was bright, and the world seemed cheery. The smile on her face wouldn’t go away. “He’s not wrong, you know. Masters can draw strength from their thralls and vice versa.”
Alexi helped Savanna to the bed. She was having trouble staying upright. The world was tilting to the right all on its own.
“Not me, though, I can’t be made one,” she whispered to Alexi. “It’s magic. It would only hold for a day or so then . . . boop, back to normal.”
“Still, I don’t even know how.” Alexi patted Savanna’s pillow before laying her down on it.
Everything seemed important in that moment as Alexi pulled the covers over her. The world was going dark, and she needed to tell her friend how to do it.
“I do,” Savanna declared. “But it’s a secret. I’m not supposed to know. He has to drink your blood,” she said with a finger over her mouth.
“Wouldn’t that . . . make him a vampire?”
“Nah, it’s not that easy. Whoa . . . did you feel that?” Alexi smiled at her. Savanna was sure the world just turned on its axis. She blinked once and then again. Then her eyes refused to open.
“Don’t worry, Savanna,” her friend said in the darkness. “I’ll protect you.”
It should have comforted her. Instead, it made her dream of the end of the world.
***
He would miss this place. Perhaps once he ruled the world, this could be his throne.
“Morgan, is everything in place?” Dupree didn’t need to turn around to know who stood behind him.
“Yes . . . milord.” Morgan spoke the honorific clumsily, as though the word had sharp edges inside his mouth.
He will learn to do it well. Bella never seemed to have a problem with it.
The thick paper that covered Dupree’s broken window buffeted in the wind. The sound of traffic rose to meet his ears. Soon. He glanced at the maps spread out on his table. Just an hour and a half north. They could cover that distance in no time at all.
“Have the help move out.”
“Will that be necessary, sir? They’re not exactly an army.” Morgan’s unsure voice grated on his nerves.
“You question me?” It came out as more of a hiss than words.
Morgan blanched. The wounds Bella had inflicted on him were partly healed. Thin white lines crisscrossed his face, and he favored one arm. “No . . . no, milord. Not at all. I only worry that—we only have two dozen full vampires in the area, and maybe twenty thralls far gone enough to be used in a fight. None of them trust one another or have any training. Should we bring them at all?”
Obedience is easily taught, but intelligence less so. Perhaps it was a good point that Morgan was using his brain.
“A valid point, to be sure,” Dupree said, speaking with more patience. “Think of this, however—they are simply targets. Cannon fodder needs no training. All they need to do is get in the way of our enemies long enough for me to complete the ritual.”
Morgan nodded, color returning to his face.
They had only one attempt at this ritual. If it failed, he would have to wait years before they had another chance. The fall equinox would come again next year, but it had taken a great deal of time to make all of the necessary arrangements. A long life had given him a great deal of patience in most areas but in this . . . no. He could not be stuck in this wretched place even a single day longer.
He glanced at the clock. It was a half hour past sunset. “Time to go,” Dupree said with a smile. He loved this part. It was painful, but the reward was well worth it. He closed his eyes, and his body shivered, muscles groaning.
Wings burst forth from his back. His clothes shredded and fell away as his whole form grew in size. He turned to Morgan. The younger vampire was frozen in awe.
“See the true form of an elder. Now go!” His roar shook dust loose. Glass shattered and vases fell. Dupree ripped the remaining window off the wall and leaped into the night, his wings spreading out behind him.
This world will be mine!
***
It wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough. There had to be a way to convince her this was the answer.
Victor sat on the edge of the bed. His large form made the springs groan every time he shifted. He’d tried reason. He’d tried passion—nothing worked. She wouldn’t accept the fact that this could help her. What could he say against her argument? She doesn’t want to be a monster. She doesn’t want to have slaves. How could he argue with that? He’d been a “monster” most of his life, even before that fateful night when the wolf had found him. How could he convince her that she wouldn’t be a monster—not with him by her side?
The door swung open. Alexi strode in, and all the arguments on his lips died. She scowled at him as she walked to the mini-fridge. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Since they day they had met, he had felt drawn to her—from the first spark to the last two months where his feelings had grown and evolved into something else.
Love.
“I won’t do it, Victor,” she said after downing another tiny bottle of vodka. “I won’t.”
He inhaled her scent as deep as he could. With his nose, even as a human, he could smell a person perfectly. He wanted to remember this scent forever and ever.
“I respect you, Alexi, and I think I understand why you won’t.”
She turned to him, her mouth open to speak. He held up his hand to interrupt her. “Let me finish, and I promise if the answer is still no, I will say nothing more.”
Alexi thought for a moment and then nodded. She slid a chair from the small desk over, flipped it around, and sunk down on it. “Okay, lay it on me, big guy.” Her tone was less angry, and for that he was grateful.
Victor took a deep breath, praying that he would find the right words this time and that they would find the right place in her. “I killed a man when I was sixteen. I didn’t mean to of course. We were in a bar, and there was a fight—” He stopped, swallowing. How long had he tried to bury his memory of that night? He hadn’t thought about it in a long time, but if unearthing it would somehow persuade her, he had to try. He chanced a glance up at her, wondering what he would find on her face.
Only compassion. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly.
He nodded. “It was pretty bad, but the authorities knew it was an accident. The judge told me I could serve my time or join the army. That was the worst possible idea. The military encourages you to embrace the beast inside you. It’s the only way to kill without it eating you up. But for me—I went from being horrified by what I’d done to being proud of it. That part of me—the part that the wolf likes—that’s the part that is a monster. It’s what drew him to me that night. It got worse after I turned. I was deploy
ed at the time, and . . . I didn’t just kill enemy combatants.” He didn’t dare look at her now. “I killed anyone who got in my way. Anyone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Civilians. I lost myself in the wolf.”
There. It was out, and he couldn’t recall the words—but he would rather lose her love than have her lose her life. If this could help convince her then it would be worth it.
“Why have you never said any of this before?” she asked, her tone indecipherable.
“It was a long time ago. And I try to convince myself that it was in the past, that . . . that it wasn’t really me. But it was, at least partly.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “See, wolves—we’re not supposed to be alone. We need our pack. The one who turned me was half out of his mind because he’d been on his own so long, and some of that madness . . . infected me. He was killed a few days after I turned, and the cycle continued. It wasn’t until Ariana—my first alpha—found me that I started to heal. To regain some of my humanity.”
“Your first alpha was a woman?” Alexi’s eyebrows rose.
“Does that surprise you?”
Alexi cocked her head. “Yeah, I guess. I always thought—I don’t know. Alpha male, right? Is it a thing? You don’t hear about alpha females.”
“We’re supernatural, Alexi. Our power comes more from magic than what our bodies, as they are, can physically do. If all things are equal, and the right person is smart, strong, and capable—why shouldn’t they lead? Man or woman?”
Alexi nodded. “I can see that.” She peered at him thoughtfully. “You loved her.”
“Not in that way,” Victor said, shaking his head. “I cared about her as a mother, a role model, a friend. She taught me to conquer the wolf, to make him bow to my will. To not be the monster. Part of how she did that was through our pack bond. Packs are far more than a gathering. There is magic in them. The bond allowed her to be in my head, to influence me, to help me heal from the inside, and to keep my wolf within boundaries.”
He reached out and took her hands in his, admiring the contrast of her pale skin against his dark brown. “Let me be with you, Alexi—here,” he caressed her temple, “in your head. Let me help you keep the monster at bay. You don’t have to do it alone.”
With the Dawn (Faith of the Fallen) Page 20