Vampire vampire, p.7
Vampire, Vampire, page 7
Then he cast the illusion spell, creating a double of her that would last several hours – long enough for him to make his escape with the real thing.
He used the last of his Empyrean ability to open a portal to another world, took the unconscious princess with him, and waited. He took her from land to land, reusing the Elixir of Reverie a drop at a time to continuously wipe her memory, never allowing one place to remain in her mind for long.
For two centuries, he did this, until a decade and a half ago, when he’d brought her to Wolfen Down. The Elixir had run out. He was on his own with her now.
But as luck would have it, Wolfen Down was a world filled with weak people in turmoil and desperate for someone or something to step in and take over. Rafe knew that Darianna’s Empyrean abilities would stand out here; she wouldn’t be able to blend in for long. But he also recognized a way to make this work in his favor. He could build Darianna up to be something different, and as he did, he would make certain to play the role of her closest friend and confidant – effectively filling Thorn’s shoes.
It was the perfect cover. And it worked. The princess fit right in. She saw a realm in need of a champion, and as was her nature, she stepped up to the job. Rafe stood back and watched, confident in a job well done, in a vengeance now surely complete. After all, it had been two hundred years.
He was careful, of course. The witch had warned him to be wary of anything that might spark her memories. Certain things could trigger especially strong ones. A mark, a place, a name – a scar. So Rafe grew his beard out to hide the scar Darianna had skillfully given him that night, knowing that should she see it, she would most likely remember everything. After all, that was when it had all begun.
And now, twenty decades later, as he watched Broken Darkness being brought to its knees, Rafe knew that this was when it was going to end.
One way or another.
Chapter Eight
Shelby Callen wiggled his chin gingerly and gently fingered the cut that split the skin beneath his right eye. He coughed and wiped his mouth to find a mixture of spittle and blood on the back of his hand. “Well, what do you say, Monroe?” he croaked through a cracked throat. “You think this might be it?”
Jacob Monroe glanced up from where he sat against the damp wall and ground in the Knights Shade Keep’s dungeon cell. There was enough light coming through the bars twenty feet up the wall for him to make out Shelby’s form across the small hay-strewn space. He didn’t look good. “I told ye not to make them mad, ye daft fool.”
“They have Grace, don’t they?” Shelby’s head fell back against the wall in a hopeless gesture.
It was a while before Jacob responded, but when he did, it was with a heavy sigh and almost tangible frustration. “Aye. I’d wager they do.” He closed his eyes and let his own head rest against the wall. “Or she’d ‘ve waged a bloody war by now, wouldn’t she?”
It wasn’t really a question; just a general acknowledgement of the kind of leader Darianna Grace had always proven herself to be. She never would have willingly stood by while her men were taken prisoner in this manner.
There was a clamor as keys jingled against the other side of the metal door. It opened with a loud creak. A shaft of light blinded both inhabitants, and Jacob heard the sound of boots on the hard brick floor.
“Gentlemen,” came a deep voice from the halo of lamplight framed in the doorway. Jacob unshielded his eyes and blinked into the light. It was the colonel of the Knights Shade. He smiled down at them with nothing short of hatred. “Comfortable?” he asked.
“Eat shit, colonel,” Jacob told him.
Colonel Dax ignored the comment and paced slowly into the damp, smelly room. “I thought you might be interested to know that your beloved Lady Grace is not in fact in our custody. I’m afraid she’s abandoned Broken Darkness.”
At that, Shelby tried to stand across from Jacob, clearly ready to fight again despite his already beaten body.
“Sit back down, ye daft lad,” Jacob told him. “He’s full of it.”
“Am I?” Dax asked calmly. He tossed something down at Jacob’s booted feet. It was white.
Jacob stared at it long and hard before he finally leaned over and lifted the small scrap of suede from the ground. It was Darianna’s mask.
“You’re scheduled to be executed at noon tomorrow,” Dax told them, still utterly calm. “If Grace is as concerned about your welfare as you think she is, surely she won’t let that happen.”
He turned and left the cell and Jacob listened in a doomed kind of silence as the door was locked once more behind him.
“Monroe?” Shelby asked after a few seconds of uneasy quiet.
Jacob did not respond. He could think of nothing to say.
*****
Darianna rolled over in the bed and peered across the room at the man who slept in the oversized chair beside the fireplace. He’d let her have the bed to herself.
He doesn’t kill them, she thought. She’d been thinking about it all night. General Christopher Thorn was the only militia leader in Wolfen Down who didn’t kill his prisoners.
She wasn’t sure why this fact hadn’t registered as important before. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that she was fighting the political agenda behind the militia in the first place. In every city across Wolfen Down, the king employed a militia to keep what was a tentative peace, at best. Dissenters died by the dozens in gallows and by the sword.
But not here. In Lanthos, they were tried and either imprisoned or banished.
Why? She’d been so busy over the last few months trying to rescue those who had been caught, she hadn’t given enough thought to the fact that they were still alive. In any other town in Wolfen Down, they’d have been executed without hesitation.
From where she lay beneath Thorn’s covers, Darianna watched the enigmatic general sleep. Her eyes pored over the chiseled lines of his handsome face that at once seemed so frightening and so familiar. She took in his tall, broad form with leisure; he was asleep. He wouldn’t catch her. And she felt drawn to him; she could no longer deny that.
Everything he had told her swam through her mind like darting, disoriented fish. It was so much to take in. But she had no reason to suspect he was lying. What did he have to gain by telling her these things? She’d gone over it in her head every single way possible, and she simply couldn’t find a beneficial angle for him. In fact, if what he said were true, then this must be more difficult for him than she could imagine.
At least she had the luxury of not remembering. There was bliss in ignorance.
His broad chest rose and fell slowly in sleep. The sleeves of his undershirt had been pushed up on his arms, exposing well-muscled fore-arms. One of his long legs was bent at the knee, the other stretched out in sleep. Anna’s eyes skirted over the clear outline of the muscles beneath the thin sueded leather; it was hard not to notice. He was perfect.
When Anna finally looked back up at his face, it was to find his eyes open. He was awake now – and he’d been watching her.
She stifled her gasp and went still beneath his covers. His dark eyes glittered in the waning firelight. The expression on his face was unreadable. Stark.
Anna watched with mounting uncertainty and trepidation as Thorn gracefully rose from the chair to come to his full, towering height. He waited a moment, his gaze never leaving hers, and then started across the room toward her.
It was like watching a lion come closer, stalking.
Anna sat up in the bed, ignoring the quilt that slid down over her shoulder. She was still dressed in everything but her boots.
So why do I feel naked?
Thorn stopped beside the bed and stared down at her; he had yet to look away. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe as, without a word, he reached down and took the edge of the cover in his hand. Slowly, he slid the blanket down her body.
She was dressed no differently than she had been all night, and yet she felt exposed… as if he could see her as she truly was. And maybe he could.
Thorn tossed the cover aside and straightened.
Anna remained frozen, unmoving, and waited.
Thorn lowered himself to the bed beside her. “Say my name, Anna.” He peered into her soul and whispered, “Call me Christopher.”
For some reason, there was no hesitation on her part this time. None at all. “Christopher,” she breathed, the sound of his name on her lips, in this way, flooding her blood with fire.
His expression registered something between pain and desperation. “Again,” he demanded, and she caught sight of the tips of the savagely sharp fangs behind his lips. “Say it again.”
She swallowed hard and managed to untie her tongue a second time. “Christopher,” she said, just as softly.
At that, he momentarily closed his eyes before opening them again to reveal their depths filled with torment. “You’re trembling, Anna. Your mind may not remember me,” he said as his gaze slid from her lips to her chest and the nipples that stood erect behind her thin tunic. “But your body does.”
She couldn’t respond. She wouldn’t know what to say anyway. There was no denying it. She wanted him. She had wanted him since that fateful night when he’d caught her and ripped away her mask. It was almost symbolic: He’d revealed her for who she really was.
Christopher leaned in and cupped her face in his hands. Anna closed her eyes; her heart stopped beating, time stopped ticking, all sound and sensation other than the strange static buzz of his nearness disappeared. The first brush of his lips on hers was like the graze of a moth’s wings against a window pane. Barely there….
Something inside of Darianna Grace snapped. Maybe it was the not knowing. Maybe it was the uncertainty or the loneliness. Perhaps it was the pain – the constant battles and the effort it took to hide her own fear and discomfort. Whatever it was, it became too heavy to bear in that moment, as if someone had placed a finger on the weight and pressed down. Just a little. Just enough.
Her willpower cracked. It gave way with a harsh cry of defeat and longing and Anna rose up onto her knees, shoved her fingers through Christopher’s hair, and kissed him back. She kissed him with every ounce of emotion she was feeling, opening for him and trusting him and knowing that she was safe with him, and not caring one whit if she wasn’t.
There was a growl against her lips that reverberated through her entire body as Christopher reared up on the bed, all darkness and shadow above her. His skilled hands curled into the collar of her tunic.
She gasped against his lips when he stretched it taut. A seam gave –
And the door to the cottage slammed open with such force that the fire in the hearth crackled dangerously. The candles on the table extinguished.
Christopher’s head snapped around, and his body was instantly in motion. He turned, shielding Anna, even as he pulled the long sword from its sheath where it hung from the bed post.
On the opposite side of the cabin, several members of the Knights Shade filtered into the room, crossbows and swords drawn, aimed and at the ready. Their faces were impassive, their eyes cold.
Anna’s blood turned to ice.
Alexander Dax was the last to enter. Anna recognized him from various raids.
“General,” Dax gave a low bow directed at Christopher, and Anna felt very confused. Christopher did not respond, but Anna could feel a new kind of heat radiating from him in front of her. She realized in that moment that Dax wasn’t supposed to be there. This was a new development – and it was not a good one.
“You wouldn’t believe what I’ve learned about the world over the past few hours,” Dax said as he straightened and slowly began to pace across the wooden planks. His boots were loud in the rigid silence. “Did you know, for instance, that there are other realms out there, general? Realms bordering Wolfen Down in fact?” His eyebrows were raised in a parody of surprise. “Many realms.” He gave a fake laugh of bewilderment and shook his head. “One such realm is apparently inhabited by witches.”
In front of her, Christopher’s hand flexed where it was wrapped securely around the hilt of his sword. Anna took a moment to look around the room, trying to locate weapons. But the sword was it. She would have to fight with her bare hands if it came to it.
“The Orions, they’re called. I’m sure you’re familiar with them,” Dax went on. “Seeing as how your kind – Empyreans, if I’m not mistaken – are forbidden from doing business with them.” He paused, touched his lips thoughtfully, and then went on. “We were lucky. The Orion witches accepted one of our Knights in exchange for some very valuable information.” He smiled a nasty smile. “They love fresh human males, apparently. The Orions told us where to find you, general.” Here, Dax’s gaze slid from Christopher to Anna. His expression hardened, his lips curling ever so slightly. “And her.”
Chapter Nine
Anna didn’t bother trying to adjust the way her wrists lay in the manacles. These were no ropes or leather straps that could be loosened or snapped with the right movement. These were cold, hard metal and as unforgiving as the Knights who had placed them on her.
Instead, she closed her eyes, tried to regulate her breathing, and replayed the events of the evening in her mind.
The fight had been short-lived. The Knights had used upon their own general the same sleeping poisons they often employed when arresting political insurgents. Impressively, Thorn had managed to take down five of his own highly trained men before his movements slowed, the potent poison finally taking effect. Then Colonel Dax was upon him, slamming him in the back of the head with the butt of his long sword.
Christopher Thorn went down hard and Darianna didn’t fair much better. She had been without a weapon, and the Knights had crossbows. She’d never gone unarmed into a fight with Wolfen Down militia before. She’d never been unprepared. This was an ambush.
The soldiers wasted no time in binding them both, despite Thorn’s unconsciousness, and then tossed them into the back of a detention wagon. Since then, she and Thorn had been separated. She’d been moved to no fewer than four different rooms, and she’d had a lot of time to think.
As of yet, no one had harmed her. She had but a few bruises from the ordeal, and her wrists were raw from the manacles, but that was the extent of her injuries. It was clear that she was wanted alive and well and she assumed this was because, as leader of Broken Darkness, she was going to be presented to the king in some sort of punitive example-setting display. But when she questioned colonel Dax about it, he simply told her that she needn’t be impatient. She would find out soon enough.
The truth was, it hardly mattered to her. She felt numb as far as her own welfare was concerned. She’d gone through too many emotional quick-changes over the last twenty-four hours. First, she was prepared to die to save someone, and then it wasn’t clear that she would die to save that person, and then she was being told she was a princess and the general of the Knights Shade was her long lost prince, and then – whoops – she was going to die again.
As far as her own wellbeing went, she was too exhausted to care.
What really mattered to her, as surreal and ironic as it might have been, was what they were going to do with Christopher. She was worried about him. It was this hard, cold kind of worry that had blossomed in her core when he’d fallen in the cottage. She felt sick with it. And she knew in her heart that she would not be feeling this way if what he said hadn’t been true.
He really was her prince, or rather her king. And she really had been missing for two hundred years.
The sound of keys rattled in the door behind her. She couldn’t turn to see who opened it and stepped through; she was manacled to a beam in the ceiling and could only glance over her shoulder. But she guessed by the sound of the boots on the stone that it was the colonel. Again. He’d yet to leave her side for more than a few cursed minutes, as if he were her personal guard.
He was afraid of losing his prize prisoner, no doubt. And then what would he give to his precious king?
“I’m going to release you from your restraints,” Alexander Dax told her calmly. “However, I do so on the assumption that you will not misbehave.”
What was she, a child? Her only response was to laugh softly and shake her head.
Alexander no doubt noted this, but said nothing. Instead, he came around the room until he was standing in front of her. She tried not to glare at him. It wouldn’t help her get an answer to the question she desperately wanted answered.
“What have you done with Thorn?” she asked.
Alexander frowned in a reprimanding way. “Now, now, miss Grace. That’s truly none of your concern. You should be far more worried about what we’re going to do with you.”
She thought about telling him that she couldn’t care less what he was going to do with her, but reconsidered. If he believed her, then he would only resort to other measures of intimidation and questioning. Like torturing small children. That was a favorite amongst many of Wolfen Down’s militias. So far, the Knights Shade of Lanthos had never taken part in anything so horrid, but things might change rather quickly now that Christopher was no longer in charge.
So, Anna kept quiet.
The colonel smiled and leaned in to take Anna’s wrist in his hand. She could feel his breath beside her ear and smell the leather of his armor. He didn’t have to get this close; he was doing this on purpose. He wanted her to react. He wanted her to give him a reason to beat her to a pulp.
She felt the key unlatch the manacle, freeing her wrist. She could have stepped back then and put some space between herself and the colonel, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was bothering her.
In response, the colonel’s smile broadened. He unlocked her other wrist, making certain to come so close this time, his chest brushed against her breasts. Anna stopped breathing. Anything to prevent that sensitive part of her from touching him again.
“There’s someone here who would like to have a word with you Grace,” he told her softly, intimately. Then his eyes left hers to look at someone who was obviously standing behind her.
