Giver of Light

by Nicola Claire

  I struggled to get up and managed a half hearted movement, only to collapse back down on the ground. Jonathan walked over slowly and loomed above my prone body, his fangs glinting in the light from a street lamp nearby. I looked up at him and thought, what the fuck? This is not how it is meant to end. Where's the Dark I'm meant to be battling? Jonathan had as much Light in him as Dark, he was evenly balanced, he shouldn't even be getting this aggressive. What the fuck?

  What the fuck? I did a double take of Jonathan's aura, used my Sanguis Vitam Cupitor powers to assess what Dark there was. He crouched down next to me and reached out a hand. I cringed automatically, but when he ran his fingers over my cheek, it was so soft, so gentle, so caring – so different from the feral fangs and supernatural tossing of before.

  “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

  I just stared at him, at his Light, at his Dark. At the balance that now lived within. He was neither good nor bad, Dark nor Light, he just was. Any choice to act one way or the other was an intelligent one, not a decision based on the amount of evil or virtue within.

  “You're not all Dark,” I said, rather lamely.

  He shook his head at me, clearly not understanding what the hell I was going on about. I was having a hard time figuring it out too. Somehow Jonathan had changed and the only thing I could put it down to, was my Light. The Light I had sent out with the intent of banishing the Dark. I hadn't been able to keep skin contact, but I had fashioned it and cast it as though I had, so it had been different from every other time I had tried to use my Lux Lucis Tribuo powers in the past. It had been more.

  I let a short breath out in astonishment. I didn't need to touch each Dark vampire that crossed my path, I didn't need to bring each one into my line. I just needed to act as though I was, to believe in what I was doing, no going back, commit to the moment, as though I had my palm upon their flesh. And in return, they got balance and a choice.

  Choose to use the Light. Or choose to use the Dark.

  It seemed too good to be true, too easy. Wouldn't the Dark come back in? If their master was all Dark, wouldn't they just keep getting more and more from them?

  Jonathan reached for my hand and began to help me to sit up.

  “We need to get you out of here, she will return before too long.”

  He didn't mention the drug, he seemed more interested in getting me away from the danger, but I couldn't help feeling that the drug would make another appearance.

  I let him pull me upright, but I had no intention of going anywhere with him. I was just racking my brain for what my next miraculous move would be, when from out of nowhere, a flash of shiny silver caught my eye. I didn't even have enough time to shout a warning, I really don't know if I would have, the words weren't exactly on my lips, but it didn't matter, it was too quick. Master of the City quick.

  The sword sliced through his neck and came cleanly out the other side.

  “Shit,” I said, swallowing back a little bile, but unable to turn away from the sight of Jonathan's head separating from his body and the inevitable dust cloud that exploded when his Sanguis Vitam seeped out into the air.

  “I am so sick of that bastard touching my kindred!” Michel exclaimed loudly and with much venom.

  "Where did you come from?" I gasped, looking at the bloody hole in his shirt left by Jonathan's sword. "How did you remove that sword?"

  "Jett," he replied, eyes fixed on me.

  For a moment he just stood there and looked at me. I'm not sure what he saw on my face. Shock, probably. Regret, possibly. Sadness, maybe. Relief, definitely. And then I felt it. The connection that I'd had to Jonathan, springing back to me. All the Light I had given him, washing back inside and the Dark, that I hadn't even known I had been holding, spread out in the air and simply disappearing. I couldn't sense it anymore. It simply had left this world.

  I think I grunted, or gasped, because Michel was kneeling down next to me smoothing back my hair and stroking my arms and saying something over and over again in French, which I didn't understand.

  “English,” I whispered, when the world stopped threatening to spin away.

  He said a few more words in French and then abruptly changed language. “What was that?”

  “I don't know,” was all I could answer, still reeling from the feeling of all that Dark seeping out of me into the night.

  “It was Dark. It was in you.”

  “Yeah. I know,” I shot back with force, feeling a little dirty and a hell of a lot unsure.

  He started to rub my arms again, having stopped all movement when he spoke of the Dark that had been inside me. I could tell he was covering up how he was feeling. He was so tightly shielded, I don't even think he would have been able to break through. I think he was shielding from himself as well as me.

  Great. I'm a fucking freak of nature. I'm meant to be all Light, but that was a hell of a lot of Dark that seeped out of me. Maybe I was broken, a defect. Shit.

  For want of something to say to fill the awkward silence between us, I muttered, “Jonathan was balanced, he had as much Light as Dark, after I blasted him like I did Samson. But I couldn't keep my hand on him, so we weren't connected like Samson and I were, so it was the same, but the outcome was different. I guess.”

  Michel didn't say anything for a while and quite frankly I thought that was OK, because I really didn't want him to confirm what I was feeling. Lucinda, I'm afraid you are a freak. Nah. That was something I really, really didn't want to hear at all.

  But I should have had faith in him. I guess my faith has been tested on so many different levels lately, that it was fracturing at every turn.

  “You gave him Light, with your Lux Lucis Tribuo powers, but rather than banish it and bind him to you, like you did Samson, you instead held onto his Dark. When he died, the Dark disappeared.” He looked contemplative, that thoughtful look he gets when he's puzzling something through.

  “I also felt connected to him, not like Samson, but as though there was still a line between him and me.”

  “That would make sense,” he said absently. I just thought; it would?

  “Yes.” He answered my thought. “The Prophesy.”

  OK. So, I admit I have had trouble understanding my role in the Prophesy from the get-go and I still have not made progress on that one.

  “What about the Prophesy?”

  “The Light will capture the Dark and will hold it dear.” He looked directly at me. “You didn't banish his Dark, because you simply replaced it and held what Dark he had yourself. You held it dear. Then when he was brought the final death, the Dark you held dear, was simply released and became no more.”

  Whoa. I knew I was frowning, my brain functioning at top speed. I felt Michel run a finger across my forehead, trying to smooth out the lines that had appeared and then his thumb traced my mouth, which was no doubt in a thin line. I couldn't even begin to process this new turn of events. How many times have I thought I had it all sussed, only for the bloody Prophesy to mean or do something else.

  I was just about voice my complete and utter annoyance at the friggin' Prophesy when she returned. Aotea Square went pitch black, no lights, no vision, just a blank nothingness, a complete blackness, that wrapped around us all.

  I could feel Michel's hand on my arm as he pulled me against him. She hadn't released any pain yet, she wasn't trying to crush our chests, she was toying with us, letting us know that any second now we would be dead.

  Michel's whisper against my ear felt so distant, so far away, but he must have projected his thoughts at the same time as he spoke them, because they reverberated through my head.

  Do what you did to Jonathan to her.

  I didn't waste any time thinking about it, second guessing Michel's suggestion. If I did, it would be too late, or I would doubt. She is so strong, so powerful. But instead I just gathered my Light, held it as long as I dared and then envisaged touching her skin, placing my hand on her bare arm and set out to banish her Dark.

/>   It was harder than with Jonathan, much harder than with Samson. It took longer and the Dark I chased fought back stronger, but the more I concentrated, the more I felt my Light. And the more I heard Nut singing in my mind.

  A sweet musical note of happiness, a long tone that hit just right key. It reverberated through my mind, my body and my soul, like a hundred song birds on a hot summer's night, like the perfect chimes of a thousand church bells ringing through the city, or the sound of a million children laughing, floating on a breeze.

  By the time the last note vanished, the square was again awash with light and the Queen of Darkness stood before me.

  My breath was caught in my throat. I knew her all right. I had thought she looked like Nut, she did, a little, but not enough to be kin, just a few similarities; long black hair, young perfect china doll skin, big eyes, but not almond shaped pools of gold, just round and blue, bright azure blue. She was beautiful and petite and now completely balanced with Light and Dark.

  The first time I had met the Pandora was in Paris at the Iunctio's Palais. She had been all Dark, unlike her mate, the Ambrosia, who was awash with Light. I had been surprised at the depth of her Darkness, but the Champion had thought it perfectly normal. I knew differently. Where there is Light there is always Dark and where there is Dark there is always Light. The Pandora was neither of those.

  We stared at each other for a moment, I felt that connection settle between us, but couldn't feel the Dark I had supposedly taken from her to hold dear. If I had, it wasn't affecting me, as though my Light kept it somehow separate. But through that connection I could tell my Light would stay in touch with her, maybe even making sure the Dark didn't seep back in. It was all a bit mind boggling, but a sense of rightness seemed to back up those thoughts. Nut, no doubt. I could only hope, oh and have a little faith.

  The Pandora slowly raised her hand and I thought maybe she was about to offer to shake, let's be friends, sorry for trying to kill you, water under the bridge, but within a foot of my body a flash of metal appeared. I felt Michel stiffen, prepared to jump between us, but I have been a vampire hunter for over two years now, and this... being, in front of me, was nothing more than that. A vampire. Not a goddess. A vampire, nothing more.

  My stake was in my hand and thrust deep against her chest before her dagger found its mark.

  As she burst into dust before me, her Darkness I held dear seeping back into the air around us forever lost, my hand still firmly holding the stake where it had come to rest, it all made sense.

  I may give them balance, evening out the Light and the Dark within, but they would always have a choice.

  To choose good.

  Or to choose evil.

  The Queen of Darkness, just chose the wrong path.

  Epilogue

  It took a few days to figure it all out and the clean up was a bit of a mess. The last of Pandora's and Jonathan's vampires were dispatched, not all of them given the final death, but after a blast of my Lux Lucis Tribuo powers, it was pretty obvious straight away which choice they would make. Those that seemed contrite were sent home, those that tried to kill me, were staked. I make it a fairly firm rule to only stake those vampires who pose a threat to me or mine. Mine includes my vampires, Samson and those of Michel's line, my friends and any of the innocents within my city. If they mean me no harm, then I forgive and forget, and send them on their way.

  The thought that I didn't have to make each one a part of my line was more of a relief than I realised it would be. Samson was of course the guinea pig and although a model child I really wasn't up to adding to the brood just yet. No doubt, there'd come a time when skin on skin contact during a Lux Lucis Tribuo incident couldn't be avoided, but for now, I was just inordinately pleased to blast from afar.

  With the Pandora gone, the Light and Dark seemed more aligned throughout the world. There was still a hell of a lot of Dark vampires out there, I could sense them and seek them through my Sanguis Vitam Cupitor powers, but Nosferatins were on the climb. And those who didn't respond to my Prohibitum Bibere powers, could be handled by the local vampire hunter in their city. There would always be Dark vampires, just as there would always be vampire hunters. Of course, many of the Dark ones would still come my way and when they did, I felt confident I could handle them.

  I finally felt like I fitted my oversized Prophesy shoes.

  Amisi's response to it all was unexpected. She was angry at herself for not having correctly interpreted the Prophesy from the start. But hell, even Nero, the Herald of the Prophesy had got it wrong.

  The Light will capture the Dark and will hold it dear.

  We had all assumed the Light would just banish the Dark. How were we to know that me being the representative of the Light would actually physically hold the Dark dear? Prophesies are not meant to be literal. I spent a good deal of my time reminding Amisi of that.

  Finally, after a couple of weeks of winding down from all the trauma, all of us still remaining on high alert, unable to believe that the battle was over and the good times now reigned, Amisi decided to move out. My God, I didn't know it would be that hard to say goodbye. She was only moving to Wellington, to take on her role as Gregor's Nosferatin, but it wrenched at my heart and left me feeling so very, very sad.

  Amisi promised to visit and Michel gave me carte blanche to use his jet when the need arose for a day trip, but still, my Nosferatin sister would be over an hour away by plane and just a voice on the other end of the line.

  The times they were a changing.

  Summer was in full swing and although Sensations was quickly refurbished and remodelled and reopened, Michel was taking a slight back seat. Still keeping abreast of all his businesses, only a small portion at the start of each evening was dedicated to that, the rest of the day to day running was left to Jett.

  Poor Jett. He needed to be busy and I think as much as Michel was enjoying monopolising my time, he was also acutely aware of Jett's need to be useful and occupied. I didn't think for a minute that Michel wasn't aware of absolutely everything that went on in his line, but he was grooming Jett, taking him under his wing and at the same time, letting him fly.

  Jett was not alone in his loss. We mourned Erika too. Just as I mourned Nero and Bruno and Rick. So many friends lost in the battle, so many souls no longer here. I still didn't know where exactly we would end up after our time on this Earth. The vampires had Elysium and Nut waited in the child filled playground in the sky. Nero was with her and I was sure my Dad was too. I hoped my mum, being a human, a Norm, was nearby and could visit, but I really wasn't too certain about the Nosferatu.

  Not that I planned on dying any time soon, hell the thought of what would happen to all that Dark that I held so dear once I vanished from this plane, was a little of a concern. But more so for me, was whether Michel would be there waiting when I arrived, or whether in the afterlife, we could no longer be kindred. It worried me. Stupid, really, I should just work with what I've got, but it was a puzzle that rattled around in my head and just wouldn't go away.

  I was sitting on our balcony, watching the lights of the ships sailing out of the harbour towards the Hauraki Gulf, when Michel found me. He'd been catching up on his early evening correspondence with Jett and the others in his line. A routine we had established at the start of each night. I'd been reading my father's letter, something I found myself doing more and more.

  The folds of the paper were wearing so thin, that I had been forced to reinforce it with tape, before it fell completely apart in my hands. One part in particular had caught my wandering mind's attention this evening. He had written it, as though it was a given, but I couldn't tell if it had in fact been a mistake.

  We will be waiting for you in Elysium and we will be proud of whatever you have become.

  I had been reading and rereading that sentence in my head when Michel silently sat down next to me on the two seater swing. His strong, warm arm wrapping around my shoulders, his lips brushing over his new mark with a
light kiss.

  “Why are you thinking of the afterlife, ma douce?” he asked quietly, whilst setting the swing slowing going, his feet still firmly on the balcony, mine a few inches short and dangling in the breeze. “The battle has been won.”

  I snuggled in a little closer to his body, not that it was cold, but because I can and handed him the letter. He read it silently beside me and then folded it carefully and handed it back.

  “Perhaps your father is right,” he offered, kissing the top of my head. “Perhaps we end up again as one.”

  He sensed my disbelief, maybe I shook my head slightly at what he had said. I know I wasn't thinking anything coherent, so he couldn't have heard my thoughts, but my emotions were a jumble, it wouldn't have been hard to guess the confusion I was feeling from them.

  “Why not?” he asked gently. “We were once of the same ilk. I have never thought too closely on it before. We vampyre have long ago given up all thought of our god.” He stopped then, but I knew he had more to say, so I just sat quietly enjoying the swing of the seat, the warmth of his body and the smell of fresh sea breezes and clean cut grass. “Perhaps Elysium is where we once again become one. Your father believed it. You have had many unbelievable things happen in your life, why can you not have faith in this?”

  It was true, I had come a long way from when I first moved to the city. Hell, vampires were from story books, horror movies screened late at night, the things that go bump in dark, but when I came here, my world changed. I have accepted the undead, I have accepted ghouls and Taniwhas, magic and spells, I have accepted me.

  There is Light and there is Dark and there always will be. And I have faith that the Light will prevail and that the Dark will be held dear.

  And so, why not have faith in this?

  I tucked the letter inside my skirt pocket and took in a deep breath of the clean, night air.

  Michel must have known I wasn't going to answer, to voice my acceptance or my faith. I have a stubborn streak, but I don't think that was it, he just knows not to push me, I'll come to my own decisions all in my own time. It probably frustrates him, it's proof positive he can't completely control me. I may be his, but I'll make him work for it.