by Kristi Cook
“Just let me stop in the bathroom first. Tell everyone I’ll be down in two minutes, okay?”
Matthew nodded and hurried down the spiral staircase as I stepped inside the hall bath and locked the door behind me. It took me several tries to pull my hair back into a neat ponytail and secure it with the hair band I’d been wearing around my wrist.
Once I’d finally accomplished it, I took a moment to catch my breath, staring at myself in the mirror, shocked by the image looking back at me. There were dark circles under my bright green eyes, eyes that were too big in a much-too-pale face. I looked like a terrified kid, I realized, not like a kick-ass vampire slayer out to save the world.
I dropped my gaze, unable to bear looking at my cowardly self another second. I just needed to splash some cold water on my face, I decided. That would help. But I was shaking so badly that I fumbled with the faucet, my hand slipping and knocking the bottle of expensive, scented hand soap into the porcelain basin.
Giving up, I gripped the sink tightly, trying desperately to pull myself together.
“Violet?” Aidan called up. “It’s time—the car’s here.”
This is it. You can do this.
One more deep breath and then I unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall. “I’m coming.”
A half hour later, the stretch limo dropped us off at a Metro station in the second arrondissement, where we took a train three stops before getting off and slipping through a door that eventually led to a long, stone-lined tunnel lit sporadically by fixtures that gave off a dull, yellowish light.
I had no idea how Aidan knew where to go, but we followed him without question down the tunnel and up a set of stairs, which took us to a large basement of some sort. We crossed the basement and went through a door, then down another set of stairs that led into yet another tunnel, this one narrower than the one we were in before, but more brightly lit.
About a hundred yards in, Aidan paused, facing the wall. “It’s right about here,” he said, running a hand along the stones that made up the wall.
I didn’t see anything. “What’s here?”
“The door.” He continued to run a hand along the stones, at last stopping and turning to face us. “Here it is,” he said. “Just give me a second.”
I looked at Matthew quizzically, but he shook his head. “I don’t see a door there,” he said.
“Yeah, you sure ’bout that?” Tyler looked equally unconvinced.
“You can’t see it because your senses aren’t nearly as sharp as mine,” Aidan said. “I just have to press on this stone—this one right here.”
I held my breath as he leaned against the wall. Eventually, there was a scraping groan and it began to give. “No mortal could open this, trust me,” he said with a grunt.
The seemingly invisible door swung open, and in a single-file line, we followed Aidan through and into a huge, cavernous space that appeared to be a theater of some sort. To our left was a stage, about six feet off the ground and maybe fifteen or twenty feet deep. Enormous fringed gold velvet curtains were held back on either side of the stage. The area where the audience would sit was sort of cone shaped, narrower toward the front, but growing wider as you moved back toward the far wall.
There were two rows of long, wooden benches set out on either side of the stage, right up front, but all the other benches were stacked up against the walls, which were lit with enormous torches set high up—all glowing brightly now, casting flickering orange light across the dark stone floor.
“What is this place?” I whispered, a shiver racing down my spine. It felt ancient and a little bit evil.
“Ah, you made it,” Mrs. Girard called out, startling me so badly that I stumbled back against Matthew. He steadied me, both hands on my shoulders as we turned to watch Mrs. Girard walk across the stage toward us with Luc at her side, her heels clicking loudly against the wooden floor. “And I see you’ve assembled your troops. You’re just in time—they’re already on the move. Guards!”
The shadows behind her began to move, taking shape. Several dozen male vampires made their way across the stage and down the steps on either side. They were all enormous, each and every one of them, and menacing looking, too. I was glad they were on our side.
Mrs. Girard and Luc followed them down, coming to stand beside us. “Let me speak first,” she directed at Aidan. “And take this.”
Luc held out something that looked like a long, sheathed sword.
“I brought my own,” Aidan said, reaching for the strap thrown across his shoulders.
Mrs. Girard shook her head. “Forget that puny weapon. This sword is fit for a king.”
She pulled it from its sheath, and I had to admit it was impressive with its jeweled hilt and engraved blade. “It is said to have belonged to Louis Antoine, Duke of Angoulême, last Dauphin of France,” she said reverently. “And now it is yours, mon chou.”
Aidan took it, admiring it. While he did so, Luc removed the weapon Aidan had brought with him, the one he’d so painstakingly polished, and handed it to Tyler. “You take this,” he told him. “I’ve been told you’re pretty good with a sword.”
Tyler took it with a grin. “Indeed I am.”
“Okay, guys,” Matthew said, gathering us into a tight circle. “You know the plan. Marissa, you try to control the mood. Keep us calm and focused, if possible. Stay back behind the guards—a safe distance from the fight. Joshua, you’ll help create a diversion when we need one. We can fight only one pair at a time—try to keep us covered. And, Tyler, just help out any way you can. See what happens when you shift their molecules around. If nothing else, use the sword.”
“We’ve got this,” Tyler said with his usual swagger.
Mrs. Girard’s head snapped up at once. “They’re here,” she said. “Stay behind me for now, Aidan. When I present you, look them in the eye. Do not let them cow you.”
I bristled at her implication. Aidan wouldn’t cower, and neither would the rest of us. We were warriors—the Winterhaven Warriors.
Aidan turned to face me. Whatever happens, Vi, I love you. Heart and soul, never forget it.
Never, I answered. I have faith in you. In all of us.
And then they began to file in silently from the back of the space, filling in the shadows with their ranks.
Who are they? I asked Aidan.
Propagators, mostly. Females with their consorts. There’s the leader of the Wampiri from Russia, and behind her, leaders of the ancient tribes, mostly from Eastern Europe and the Far East. And the rest . . . just opportunists, I suppose.
There were so many of them. My wrist was burning now—a sharp, throbbing pain—my bracelet’s bloodstones glowing eerily alongside the moonstones. Without even thinking about it, my mind reached out for Matthew.
Megvéd.
And then he was there, inside my head. His mind was deadly calm, sharply focused. Binding my thoughts to his, I was able to find my center. A quiet determination settled over my consciousness.
Yeah, we had this.
Mrs. Girard stepped forward. “Bonsoir,” she called out loudly, her voice reverberating against walls. “I’m glad you’ve come. Tonight, the High Tribunal will be restored.”
A female vampire stepped forward, clearly their leader. She was striking, tall and inhumanly pale, her blond hair falling in loose waves down her back. “You haven’t the Eldest, Nicole Girard,” she said, her voice sharp. “But we do. You have no authority here.”
“On this night, we begin a new era of rule,” Mrs. Girard argued. “I’ve something far more powerful than the Eldest, you see. I have the one with royal blood, the one who cannot be destroyed by our kind, the one who controls every breed of slayer, who will lead us into a peaceful era of coexistence with our mortal counterparts.” She paused a beat for emphasis, smiling broadly now. “I have the Dauphin.”
She turned and gestured toward Aidan, who strode forward without a backward glance, taking his place by Mrs. Girard’s side.
“You underestimate him, Galina. I suggest you tread carefully,” Mrs. Girard warned.
On my unspoken command, Matthew and I moved forward in perfect unison, taking our places beside Aidan.
“And you’ve brought some mortals, I see,” the woman called Galina said, her voice laced with amusement. “Are they a part of this new era, as well?”
Even before she’d finished speaking, the two male vampires who’d been standing behind her moved forward menacingly. I saw that one carried a sword, the other a brightly lit torch. One to behead, the other to burn—a vampire assassin squad. I had only to breach the mind of the one with the sword for a split second to know their intent—they were going for Aidan, not for me and Matthew. After all, what were two mortals to them but a minor nuisance, like a pair of harmless flies?
Instantaneously, I transmitted the knowledge I’d gleaned from the vampire’s mind to Matthew, as well as my own plan of attack. A mere fraction of a second had passed—just the time it took to blink an eye—and we launched into action.
As the vampire on the left lifted his sword to strike, Aidan’s flashed out, blade meeting blade in an ear-splitting clank. At that moment, Matthew’s baselard flew through the air, into the eye of the vampire carrying the torch. When the vampire wielding the sword turned to see what had caused his companion to cry out, Matthew’s second baselard hit its mark at the precise moment that I drove my stake through the first vampire’s heart. I paused only a second before pulling my stake from the gaping wound.
And then, like a well-timed pas de deux, Matthew and I wheeled around each other so that I could stake the second vampire while he retrieved his baselard from our first victim’s corpse.
A split second later, Aidan joined in our dance, slicing the vampires’ heads off in two neat strokes while Matthew, who’d somehow managed to catch the torch before it hit the ground, laid fire to the bodies.
I watched with satisfaction as both corpses burst into all-consuming flames that somehow extinguished themselves in a matter of seconds, leaving nothing behind but a rotten stench and a pile of ashes.
There was a brief moment of stunned silence, and then chaos erupted, the din rising like the buzz of angry insects.
A second and third pair advanced on us as Mrs. Girard’s guards pressed into action, encircling us and managing to hold back the rest of our would-be attackers while we efficiently dispatched two females and then two more males. Matthew and I moved as one, in perfect synchronicity, his blades flying, my stakes hitting their mark again and again while inhuman shrieks pierced the air.
In the center of the fray stood Tyler, his sword meeting several different blades, often at once. Like the gifted fencer he was, he managed to deflect or avoid each blow, ducking and twisting, wielding the heavy weapon as if it weighed nothing at all. He somehow managed to disable several pairs of would-be attackers as they headed toward Matthew, Aidan, and me. I could only assume he was messing with their molecules the same way he had with Aidan’s that day in the chapel. I have no idea how he was able to do it while wielding his sword, though—talk about multitasking. I wondered if Marissa was somehow lending him a hand in the calm and focused department.
And then another pair broke through the line. A dense fog—created by Joshua, no doubt—cut them off from the rest of our enemies. Hidden from view, Matthew and I took them down, one right after the other. This scenario played out over and over again. The fog, the blade, the stake, Aidan’s sword—it repeated itself like a loop as the beheaded bodies collected on the floor, just waiting to be burned into oblivion.
And then at last the howling mob retreated. They backed away, surveying the carnage from a safe distance as Aidan, Matthew, and I regrouped, our weapons held at the ready as Tyler and Joshua joined the guards to form a protective semicircle around us.
And then my heart leapt into my throat as Aidan stepped forward, past the guards, his bloodied sword held aloft in victory. “I am Aidan Gray,” he said, his voice loud and clear and sure. “I am your Dauphin, son of Edward VII, King of England. I alone control the Sâbbat and her Megvéd. The prophecy says I cannot be destroyed, not by my kind, and you’ve seen proof of that here today.”
He strode back and forth as he spoke, his spine straight, his head held high. “I’m offering you a choice—we can continue this stand, destroying you one by one, sending you straight to hell where you belong. Or you can crawl back to wherever you’ve come from and tell your people what you’ve seen.
“Tell them this: Eldest rule is no longer,” he said, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. “Nicole Girard, creator of your Dauphin, retains the title of chairwoman of the High Tribunal. Each tribe, each coven that has existed in accordance with the code of laws, will choose their representative to govern beside her.
“Mark my words—indifference to the law will no longer be tolerated. Executions will be swift and efficient. If anyone here doubts me, I suggest you challenge me now, on this ground.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over what was left of them.
No one said a word.
“The rules are simple,” he continued. “We coexist secretly and in peace with mortals. We avoid the kill when we feed. We eschew innocents. We create our own kind sparingly and with great care. If you cannot abide by this code, speak now and suffer my judgment.”
From somewhere ahead and to my left, I heard a shriek of fury. A black-haired female appeared to fly forward, a blur that stopped short on the end of Aidan’s sword. In an instant, Matthew’s baselard flew through the air, into her eye, and I sprang forward with my stake, dealing the deathblow with practiced precision.
“Who’s next?” Aidan taunted, removing the weapons from the corpse. He handed them to Matthew, who wiped them on the leg of his already-bloodstained pants before returning me my trusty length of hawthorn.
My body tense and rigid, I waited for the next attack, but none came. One by the one, the dissenters began to drop to one knee.
“My Dauphin,” came a whispered voice, and then another. And another. Another still. On and on it went until they were all kneeling—every last one of them. Even the one called Galina, her blond head bowed reverently.
Mystified, I looked to Aidan, unsure of his next move. I watched in wonder as he lifted his chin proudly in the air, looking every bit the young king they believed him to be and nodded.
“This is done,” he said, his tone commanding. “Go now.”
31 ~ Like Breathing Air
It was only when we’d stumbled back to Aidan’s apartment near dawn that I noticed what a ragtag bunch we were. My hair had obviously caught fire at some point, a big chunk burnt off almost up to my chin on one side, and Matthew’s eyelashes had been singed clean off. Both of us were sporting numerous bruises from head to toe, along with cuts and gashes that were just beginning to crust over.
Tyler, too, was covered in bruises and cuts caked with blood, and Joshua sported a deep gash along one cheek.
Aidan remained unblemished, though like Matthew and me, his blood-soaked clothes were ruined and his skin was coated with a thin film of putrid ash. So was his hair, which now looked a dingy sort of dishwater gray rather than its usual golden blond.
Only Marissa appeared unscathed. Thank God. I couldn’t help but remember how Marissa had suffered in our fight with Julius, her throat ripped open, her skin deathly pale. I was relieved that the guards had kept her safe, that she’d come through this fight without a scratch. She deserved that. She’d earned it.
As soon as we walked through the door, Sophie and Cece came running toward us. “Thank God you’re okay!” Cece cried. “I watched the whole thing—you guys were awesome!”
Sophie looked peeved. “Yeah, and I was stuck with the shell of her body and two scary-looking vampires. I had no idea what was happening till the very end, whe
n Cece decided to come back here.”
“Hey, I was busy causing distractions,” Cece shot back. “Could you tell?”
“I noticed,” Aidan said with a smile.
He had? He hadn’t mentioned it, but then, he had been pretty occupied.
“Anyone need me to check anything out?” Sophie offered. “Any injuries?”
“You should look at that cut on Joshua’s face,” Matthew said, his brow knit. “He might need stitches.”
Sophie nodded. “What about you, Tyler? You’re a mess.”
“Hey, you can check me out anytime you like,” he quipped with a wink.
Sophie’s cheeks pinkened. “Very funny. Okay, how about you all go get cleaned up, and I’ll set up triage in the kitchen. Aidan, do you have any first aid supplies?”
He nodded. “I have no idea why I do, but yes. I’ll go get them for you.”
“Guys, I’ve got to get in the shower,” I said, my knees suddenly weak. “Like, now.”
“Go on up.” Aidan gestured toward the stairs. “The master bath is all yours.”
I made straight for it, stripping off my clothes and dumping them in a trash bin while the enormous claw-foot tub filled with water. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a real shower—just one of those old-fashioned, hand-held thingies hanging on a hook, but it would have to do. A few minutes later, I sank gratefully into the steaming water, thinking that I’d never been as sore, as exhausted, in all my life.
Finding a bar of violet-scented soap—how had Aidan managed that?—I hastily ripped off the wrapper and began to scrub myself raw. I wanted to rid myself of every trace of the night’s work, to scour the memories from my brain. It was always the same—I was perfectly fine while in Sâbbat mode, finding satisfaction, almost a thrill, as my stake hit its mark. But afterward, it hit me hard.
How many vampires had I destroyed tonight? Eight, ten, twelve? I’d lost count. I had to remind myself that I hadn’t taken their lives, not exactly. Their mortal lives had already been ended in ways that had nothing to do with me. Besides, if I hadn’t destroyed them, they would have killed me. Killed Matthew, Tyler, Joshua, Marissa. All of us.