by C. D. Gorri
“A few.” She slowed as they reached the top of the stairs, wanting to proceed quickly, but more caution. Glancing behind her, she saw Gavin catch up, beads of sweat on his temples. Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Do not worry. I will let you handle the younger ones.”
He smirked appreciatively in the way that enemies did when coerced to appreciate and rely on one another. “Perhaps you should take the fledglings. After all, you haven’t yet fed.”
She snorted and wondered fleetingly if Hell was something like this, an eternity of disjointed moments and shifting alliances.
“Weapons at the ready,” she whispered. “Be quick about dispatching the ones in the corridor. What we seek is in the second room on the left!”
“What of your weapons?”
Mila pulled up her skirt to reveal the wooden stake tucked into the holster around her thigh, its wicked, pointed tip resting incongruously on her innocuous, frilly stocking top.
“Why?” For a man who carried no less than six of them on his own person, his voice was filled with an odd sort of disgust.
She shook her head. There was no time for any more chatter. With a curt nod, she launched herself on a silent, deadly trajectory down the hall, barely noting his near-silent footsteps behind her.
She took the first vampire by surprise. Staking from the back was considered bad form, but a wolf did not care for niceties when chasing down its prey. The man had been one of Fanti’s coven, but she no longer cared. The next vampire turned out to be two vampires. She threw herself against Stutz from her own coven, the momentum not only driving the stake cleanly through his chest, but also knocking him back into Randich, who took the protruding half of the stake into his own heart.
She lay on the ground a moment to overcome the dizzying sensation of weakness that washed over her. Better to lay on the ground and pretend to be fallen than stupidly stagger about, marking oneself as easy prey. The enormity of what she had done threatened to overwhelm her. By killing her own coven members, she had committed one of the worst crimes of their kind. But it was entirely possible that Lady Abberley and Madame Bellefontaine had been twisted into attacking Sophia as part of Fanti’s ploy. If so, who knew which other coven members had been corrupted or coerced? It was monstrous to condemn them so unilaterally, but it was too dangerous to do otherwise.
Two more bodies fell with heavy, graceless thuds on the floor, and she saw that Gavin had cleared the hall. The remaining fight continued behind the half-closed doors of the bed chamber, and she scrambled to her feet to follow him inside. Between the two of them, three more vampires fell, two from her coven and one from Fanti’s. She looked around frantically, panicking when she realized that Fanti was not among those present.
An enraged cry from Gavin snapped her from her thoughts, and she barely had time to grab him and keep him from lunging at Dorian.
“You’ve killed her, you bastard!” Gavin roared, his powerful thrashing almost too much for Mila’s over-taxed strength.
“She is no concern of yours,” Dorian sneered, pointing the bloody end of his sword at the other man. “I am trying to save her.”
“Monsters like you cannot save! You can only destroy and kill.” Grief bolstered his rage, giving him the ability to throw off Mila and charge Dorian.
Mila fell back to the ground, dizzy and sick, unable to do anything but watch the two men clash, their blades meeting in deadly feints and wicked clangs.
She crawled to the bed, dragging herself on top of it to check on the girl, closing off all sense of smell to avoid the temptation of fresh, mortal blood. Sophia’s body was still warm, but it was clear that the life within had fled. If Dorian had been trying to save her, he would have had to turn her. But now, she was dead, and it was too late.
“Get away from her, you traitorous bitch!” Dorian snarled, knocking Gavin back, and grabbing Mila by the neck and hoisting her into the air. “This is all your fault!” He threw her across the room with such force, the stucco wall cracked clean down the middle from her impact.
For the first time in her vampiric existence, Mila felt true, physical pain. The ringing in her ears pulsed in time with the sharp, hollow throbbing in her head. Darkness danced at the edges of her vision, and everything felt so far away. She saw Gavin fall, and Dorian take Sophia in his arms and flee. She knew rather than felt that it was all very strange and sad.
Barely conscious, Gavin lay on the ground, his breathing labored and wet. She knew that sound. It wouldn’t be long. The sight of his blood pooling on the ground tempted her to crawl over and lick it up like a cat with a bowl of cream. She tried to ignore the brutal force of the Thirst as it clouded her already hazy thoughts, but instinct would out, and she breathed in before she realized what she was doing.
The smell of salt, iron, and salvation was too much to resist.
He was dying.
She hated him. She hated them all. Dorian, Fanti, Gavin, Sophia. They had sinned against her and driven her to sin against them, catching them all up in a never-ending, torturous circle of vengeance and consequence.
They were all guilty.
They were all innocent.
And, damn her, but she still wanted to save them.
She had never granted the Favor before, but she had watched Dorian do it many times. It was simple, really. She lowered her lips to Gavin’s throat and sunk her fangs deep into his flesh, piercing his weakly-pulsing arteries. He groaned and twitched in a pathetic facsimile of fighting her off. Pain and fatigue helped her stop before draining him to the death, even though the rejuvenating effects of his blood were starting to race through her system.
A bite to her own wrist had his blood, recirculated and poisoned by hers, dripping into his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he tried to turn away, but she grabbed his jaw and kept him in place, forcing him to drink from her. Soon enough, he was the one holding onto her wrist, insisting on taking more.
She tore herself away when her vision dimmed. Before the darkness settled its heavy blanket upon her, she thought sadly that nothing good would come of all this death, even though it was all she could give…
Chapter Twenty-Five
A chill drifted over Sophia and she shivered. Opening her eyes slightly, she brought her hand to her face to block the brightness. She pressed her palm to the ground and pushed herself upward then lowered her hand. As she opened her eyes and looked around, she saw nothing but white fog, endless fog. She made quick to stand to her feet, stumbling slightly. She turned in a complete circle as she tried to find something in this white cloud, anything. The oddest sensation though, she did not panic, nor did she feel fear. A ceased her movement and stood perfectly still; peace fell over her. She brought her hand up to brush strands of hair behind her ear, then gasped.
She held what should be her hand in front of her, but it was only a vague image of a non-somatic form. “Where am I?” she lowered her hand. “Hello?” she called out and began to pace but the chances of anyone being here became slim.
“You should not be here,” came a soft female voice.
“What?” Sophia turned toward the where the voice had produced but no one stood there.
She stepped forward and called out, “Please, come out. Who are you? Where am I?”
“Sophia,” came the same voice, “you should not be here. He needs you.”
“Where are you?” Sophia asked. “Show yourself, please!” She waited for a response. Unaware of time, or how much had passed since she last saw Dorian… Oh Dorian, she thought. Movement caught her peripheral and she turned toward it. The fog shifted in a pattern to suggest someone had walked past, or maybe moved. She stepped forward one step, then another. She blinked. A figure moved. She gasped and called out. “I see you, I think? Please, come talk with me. I need help and maybe you have answers.”
The figure in the fog moved toward her. She did feel fear, or a sense to run. She stood in place as the figure continued on. She saw movement to her left and as she glanced, an
other figure appeared. Like the former, this new figure moved toward Sophia. She looked to her right, and another figure moved.
“Thank you for seeing me. Please, I do have questions,” Sophia offered.
Between the three figures, in the distance behind each one, more figures began to appear, and the fog began to lift. She stood on nothing but empty space. She looked up and found the same above her, an empty void. Bringing her attention back to her audience, she found the formation of people moving toward her in a V shape. She thought of birds in flight, or possibly a leader being flanked by their guardsmen. .
Sophia stood taller, poising herself to begin. “Please, I need your help. See, my friend was …”
“Draining you?” one of them offered. Sophia looked up to the person from whom the voice came, but she could not make out her face. She knew it was a woman as it was a female’s voice, but a shadow fell over her person.
Sophia nodded. “Yes. He offered me eternity. He wanted to save me.”
“Save you?” the same voice quipped. “You honestly think he was saving you?”
Furrowing her brows, “Yes, yes I do. Now please, he had not finished the transformation and the room became filled with his enemies. Well, they were not his enemies, for we thought, but alas, well none of that matters now. Please, will you help me?”
The others in the formation her remained quiet. She looked from dark face to dark face, not hearing or receiving anything. She sighed and tried again. “Please, I need to go back. I need to help him. He needs me.”
“But does he need you?” came a voice behind her. Sophia turned to a lone figure, who like her counterparts, hidden by a cloak of darkness, asked, “Does Dorian truly need you to survive?”
Sophia thought on this before answering. Does he need her to survive? No, not necessarily. He survived before he met her, and he would survive her death if that would be what was to come. But would she put him through that torment again? Would she sacrifice the greatest love she has ever known?
She stood taller and lifted her chin. “Survival is only great if the reason to live is by your side. If you lose that fight, what is left to fight for?” She thought of Gavin and her parents. “My family needed one another to live. When one of them faded into the darkness, they fought to survive. They struggled and I am not ready for the darkness, and neither is Dorian. So please, help me in getting back to him.”
The cloaked woman before her stepped forward and she lifted the hood, and revealed her face. She smiled and took Sophia’s hands.
Sophia, in turn, gasped. She blinked, mouth agape. “Mother?”
The woman smiled. “Not quite, I am the form of your mother as it is someone you are familiar with. You, Sophia, are surrounded by the ancestors of your past. We come to you today to send you back, but not for the reasons you have requested.”
Sophia lifted her brows and tilted her head, inquisitive. “Then what would be the reason?”
“We need a bigger presence on the ground. You will our vessel. All of us here will invoke your spirit with power, knowledge, everything you will ever need to know, and everything we have ever learned. You will be superior to those on the planet; humans and vampire alike.”
“I will do whatever it takes, please, just send me back!”
“Sophia, you must understand. With this power comes tremendous responsibility. You will have everlasting life. Every spell will be known only by you. You will never age, and will be immortal.”
Her eyes widened to his, and still, fear did not plague her. She was not sure if she should thank this woman for this opportunity, or turn her down and find her own way back to Dorian. As this was a lot to take in, she considered it for a moment. She could help protect Dorian from the likes of people like the Doge’s clerk, from those determined to end his family, and she would have the ability to save her fellow man. She would be persecuted, but she would not perish as her ancestors did. She would flee for solace and in time, venture out once more. She could do this and by her side, she would do this with Dorian.
“Sophia,” a new voice interrupted her thoughts. The woman in the form of her mother smiled and motioned to the newcomer.
Sophia turned and when she looked, she gasped. “You…”
The woman grinned a little wider. “Yes, I am you, well actually, you are me, reincarnated.”
Her eyes widened a little wider and Sophia felt herself suffocating. She shook her head. “No, it is not possible!”
The woman stepped closer and nodded, then reached for her hands. “Yes, it is, and I am here to help you.”
“You were Dorian’s first?”
The woman nodded. “Yes. I was taken far too young in age and he never quite recovered. He looked for me, for centuries, in hopes I would be reborn. In a way, I was. I, became, you.”
Sophia stared at her and thought of her visions; the fire, the blood on Dorian, his sword. “If I can be honest for a moment, this actually makes some sense.”
“You had visions of me?”
Sophia nodded.
The woman smiled once more and cupped the side of Sophia’s face. “You died. We are all here to change that and send you back, fully armed, so to speak.”
“It is like, silver spider webbing.” The familiar voice of Dorian echoed in the vast openness.
Sophia’s eyes widened. “Dorian? Was that...was that him?”
The woman nodded. “Yes. The process has already started. Please, know we will always be with you. In times of need, reach deep inside yourself and we will be there. All you need do is simply call on us. You will be an unstoppable force!”
Sophia wanted to be with Dorian, and Gavin, and her friends upon the island of Venice. But like this? She would no longer be the prey, but the predator; not that she would actually hunt like the vampires would. She would never fall ill, grow old, or die. Dorian would live forever, so long he would not be staked. She would, in the end, receive what he promised her.
She nodded. “Then let it be.”
“So shall it be,” the others called.
All at once, a rush of energy slammed into her. Her head threw back and her mouth opened wide but no scream emitted. Sophia fell to her knees, palms, then to the ground. Power rushed through her veins, filling in the emptiness of the blood loss. She felt her heart beat hard against her chest in a new type of rhythm.
“Silver spider webbing.” Dorian’s voice rang once more in her ears.
Rise my child, rise and feel our power.
Sophia opened her eyes slowly and raised her head. Her eyes blinked and a silver light illuminated around her. Her heart pulsed loud in her ears.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Her body then began to convulse in seizures. Her eyes rolled back and she lost control of her body, completely.
“Sophia!” Dorian rushed to her side and pressed his hands upon her shoulders, her body thrashed against his. “Sophia! Please, my love!” His arms wrapped around her.
We are here. She focused on the voices that whispered in her mind. Her body thrashed harder and Dorian’s weight became heavier. A sudden impulse of power rushed her body and she gasped. Her eyes opened, pure white as her body pulsed with magic. With an unexpected jolt of energy, power ignited inside her, so much so, Dorian was thrust across the room, slamming into the back wall.
Hearing the whispers in her head, next to the pulse in her ears, her spirit shattered. Silver light exploded throughout the room and her body lifted into the air. She gasped for air and her body drifted toward the ground. She lost her legging and fell to her knees, catching herself on her palms. She panted, gasping for air to fill her lungs. As she breathed, she realized, with a tilt of her head, she did not need the oxygen.
She pushed up from her palms and thought she would have a sweat on her brow, but no, there was nothing. Her body should be sore, but she felt...alive!
She stood and looked about the room. Carnage everywhere, blood splatters and men dead on the floor. The smell of iron and dea
th filled the air. What happened? Did I do this? Are they all dead? What about others in the Palazzo Fanti? And Dorian?
She gasped. “Dorian!” She quickly made her way across the room and dropped her to knees next to him. “Dorian! Are you alright?” She cupped his face and Dorian opened his eyes.
“Sophia?” He lifted his gaze to hers, and he suddenly backed away from her. “No!” He scooted across the floor, fear radiating from his face.
She furrowed her brows in confusion. She should not look different, should she? “What is it? Why do you fear me?”
He pointed to her and shook his head. “Your eyes! They are the palest of color, almost white.”
She reached for him and grasped his arm, not moving. Waiting for him, allowing Dorian to calm himself, she began to move toward him across the floor. As she stared into his eyes, something changed in his features. A calmness settled over him and he relaxed.
“Your eyes, they...I don’t know how, but they are their rich color once more.” She released her grip and settled onto the floor, tucking her legs under her. “You are alright then?”
“Yes!” She cleared her throat and started again. “Yes, I am...amazing!” She shook her head. She explained about the ancestors, the voices, and how they saved her. She considered telling him of his first love, but decided against it. Instead, she told him of her immortality and the newfound power she now possesses. “They sent me back to you, Dorian.”
His eyes widened and he stood, almost jumping in excitement. He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. “You are not vampire then?”
She shook her head no. “I am not. I am with powers, and immortal. I am like you, in a way, but I do not require sustenance of blood.” As if remembering where they were, she took a step closer to Dorian and looked at the carnage. “All the fighting…the clerk did this.”
“Something happened when you first opened your eyes.” He took Sophia by the hand and led her back toward the bed. She noticed he kept her turned away from most of the carnage, which she appreciated.
“When you first awoke, Sophia, something in you magnified the air. The men, our enemies, exploded. I am not sure how it happened, but you saved us, saved me.”