Darkness of day, p.19
Darkness of Day, page 19
“You are my child, Saaya. You are a part of me, as I am a part of you.” He smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “If you were not my child, however, one way I may know is by those little eyes of yours.”
Saaya looked down at her feet, confused. “My eyes?”
Her father slipped a finger under her chin and lifted her head. “Yes, your eyes. The eyes tell the irrefutable truth, Saaya. It is what reveals our true nature.”
“But don’t you hide things with your eyes, Baba?”
The smile deepened. “Humans have eyes to look, but rarely do they use them to see.”
Again, Saaya was confused.
“You will understand in time,” he said. “And since the thirst is upon you, perhaps you will share a drink with me.” He handed the crystal glass to Saaya.
She gingerly took the glass from her father, looking from the crimson contents to him, and back. It was only recently, that she had begun to experience this new hunger. When her hearing had become more acute, she had overheard her mother and father discussing what her father repeatedly referred to as the thirst. On her sixth birthday, she discovered it for herself.
“You are the same as your mother and I, and yet different,” Baba continued. “Because you are my child, you will occasionally thirst for blood to sustain yourself. As the child of a Count, you will thirst less than others of our kind. As the child of a human, you will thirst even less.”
Saaya sipped the contents at first, then drained the glass in one gulp. She wiped a little crimson stream from the corner of her mouth. The result was immediate. Her body felt better, lighter, stronger. Baba nodded.
“For a short time, the thirst will be heavier for you, as your body is changing. As you mature, so too will your body’s need for blood change.”
“Can we go to the city today, Baba?”
Her father reclined back in his chair. “Not today, Ua. But I recognize your need to be around others. It is the human side of your nature.”
Behind her, Kafeel materialized out of the darkness. “Your brother,” Baba continued, “will accompany you.”
Saaya looked up over her shoulder at her older brother, towering over her like an ominous cloaked sentry. “Hello, brother,” she said. As expected, there was no response. Baba rarely spoke unless it was to educate Saaya about her life, and if her father spoke little, Kafeel spoke even less.
“Listen to your brother, for he is and always will be your guardian, your friend, and family. Listen to your sister, Kafeel, for she is your charge, your friend, and family.”
“As you say, so shall it be,” Kafeel replied. He looked down at Saaya, and though his face was—so much like their father’s—stony and hard, his dark brown eyes were kind. “Come, little one.”
Saaya smiled wide. “What are we going to see?”
Kafeel turned toward the door, and Saaya hurried to catch up.
“What are we going to see?” she repeated.
Kafeel glanced down at her as she stepped past him through the door. “The world, little shadow.”
29
Saaya opened her eyes. It was finally over. She had to admit that the woman had stamina. They had been at it for the better part of two hours before they’d stopped, then started up again.
When Saaya had felt the first signs of passion it had been as unexpected as the first time, but unlike before, she was prepared. Sitting in the lotus position on the floor of her dark apartment, Saaya had lost track of time till the first rays of light came streaming through the blinds of her room. She hadn’t bothered to close and seal the curtains against it, for she knew that Jelani wouldn’t be returning today.
She smiled a narrow-eyed smile. She had been speaking with Kafeel when her hips had twitched of their own accord. Then she’d felt a quickening in her body. Kafeel had looked right at her and shook his head, disgusted. “Find me when you are able,” he’d said, turning away.
Saaya took a deep breath and slowly unfolded her legs and stretched them. It was more ritualistic than necessity, for she could snap out of her position in an instant if need be. She found the slow movements peaceful, however.
She leaned back on her hands and continued stretching her legs, wiggling her toes. For three or four hours she had sat in meditation, firmly resisting wave after wave of passion that had come washing through her as the result of her blood connection with Jelani. She thought about that day, seemingly a lifetime ago, when she’d sneaked a tiny sample of his blood by piercing a bruise on his shoulder with her fangs. It had been sweet and perfect, and what had so long sung to her body, had then sung within her body.
From that moment forward, a connection between them had been formed and Saaya could feel the things Jelani felt. It had been an unintentional result of her deviousness, and at the time it had seemed like an unintended bit of good fortune. Now she knew that it had come with a cost that multiplied when Jelani had been bitten by Remy and she had intervened to save him a life of servitude to the Hunter.
Now she and Jelani were irrevocably connected. She wondered when he would truly come to understand that the connection worked two ways, and what that meant. Perhaps once he’d grown more into his new existence.
She opened her window and looked out at the sunny morning. Sunny for now. Dark rain clouds were drifting in, and soon a gray and rainy canopy would settle over the city.
After deciding on a flowing, ankle length skirt and a top that stopped above her navel, Saaya slipped on a pair of sandals and left.
She stood outside her building and closed her eyes. Kafeel was east of her position, likely on the roof of the Shangri-La again. It had been his favorite place to visit since the building was finished.
She turned east and made her way toward the tallest building in Vancouver, drifting through the pedestrians like a rose passing through a field of grain. Many eyes lingered on her as she went, reactions ranging from incredulity at her choice of clothes in such cold weather, to admiration and lust from men, and criticism from women.
She turned up Barclay Street, preferring a quieter path, when she became aware of a presence behind her. She smirked and began turning on the various streets, finding quieter and quieter paths, until she came to the busier part of downtown. Here, there were plenty of alleys and parking lots behind the buildings—usually occupied by the homeless—and Saaya kept going until she found one that was empty.
She walked down the alley and into a parking structure, taking the winding path down until she came to the bottom. She turned and smiled at the approaching figure a dozen feet away.
“No need to be shy,” she said. “Come. Be close to me.”
The figure, a man looking to be in his mid to late forties, came closer into view. He had a patch of stubble on the middle of his chin, and wore a pair of cop style shades that hid a vertical scar over his left eye. He approached quietly and confidently, stopping only a few feet in front of her.
Saaya gave him a once over. “I’ll give you credit for assertiveness, but you’re not really my type.”
“Shut up, skiek, and I may not kill you. Or I may just kill you quickly.”
“That’s rude.”
The vampire hissed and lunged at her. And stopped. Just a few inches away, the male vampire was practically frozen mid-step, a look of confusion and outrage on his face.
Saaya made a casual circuit around him, assessing her catch. “Hmm. Almost muscular build, short leather jacket, jeans that are just a little too tight in the crotch yet still not much on display.” She clicked her tongue behind her teeth and shook her head. “You keep dressing like that and stalking and lunging at girls,” she rose to her tiptoes and patted him on the head, “you’re not gonna get laid very often. But then,” she leaned around him and gave his crotch another inspection, “never mind.”
A guttural sound rumbled in the male vampire’s throat, but it was choked off.
“Now, now, let’s not start threatening. You followed me down here. Still, I’ll not be impolite and refuse to hear what you have to say.” She released her mental clamp on his throat and he gasped.
“Who the hell are you?”
“So rude!” Saaya said, placing her hand over her chest in feigned shock. “I might ask the same question of you.” He went quiet.
“I think I can guess. You’re little throat is dry and your blood is on fire. You see a half-breed and figure you’ve found an easy meal.” She rose up to her toes and grinned at him. “Am I close?”
The vampire clamped his eyes shut, making a visible effort to break free of her mental hold on him. She laughed, patting him on the cheek. “You better stop that. You’re going to burst a blood vessel.”
“Dirty-blooded skiek,” he growled.
Saaya wrinkled her chin. “So says the weakling shaquora who came hunting but didn’t understand his prey. How long have you walked the night? Twenty years? Thirty? Are you still in contact with the one who turned you? Will he or she care if I delivered you to death right now?”
“How can you do this?” he grunted as Saaya pressed her will against him. “Half-breeds are not this strong.”
“That is only partially true,” she replied. “It’s too bad the one who created you did not better educate you. But then, not many know of the existence of my kind anyway, let alone the Ancestors.”
“Ancestors?”
“Such a shame,” Saaya said. The mock sympathy in her voice infuriated the man. “Do not be angry, my pursuer. Maybe I should educate you on the traits of a dampeal.” She stepped away and held up a finger. “Lesson number one.” A crunching sound echoed through the parking garage, and blood splashed out of his mouth. He fell to the ground and began to rapidly decay. “We are powerful.”
Jorge stepped out of the shadows and looked down at the pile of clothes the dead vampire had worn until just a few minutes ago. This was getting interesting. When first Remy had approached him about tracking the half-breed and his newly turned fledgling, Jorge had been less than excited. At one point, he’d thought to simply dispatch both of them and be done with this business.
Looking down at the remains and considering what he had just witnessed, he was glad he’d decided against it. Jorge knew he was not the best warrior of the Hunter class, but he was smart. And he also knew two things that Remy did not.
This woman, Saaya, was well beyond anything he or Remy could challenge. Not directly, anyway. Half human she may be, but she had a powerful vampire parent who would have to be capable of things he’d seen no Elder do.
Second: for whatever reason, Jelani was not subject to Remy’s influence. He had told Jorge to track him down and that he was likely out of the city and thus out of Remy’s range of influence. Wrong. Jorge had stalked Jelani for days now—at a wary distance, considering that towering devil in the trench coat watching over him—and he’d never left Vancouver. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that the Remy’s shaquora was unaffected by his attempts to bring him in. That was interesting.
Jorge pursed his lips. He wondered if Remy knew how capable his fledgling was. Knowing Remy as well as he did, Jorge had to wonder if he would still be so adamant about the death of those two if he’d seen Jelani so decisively overwhelm another vampire after having arisen only one night prior.
He smirked. Or, would Remy pack up and blaze a cravenly trail straight back to Romania. Jorge was sure there was someone powerful in Peles Castle that had an interest in Remy’s success. There was no other explanation for how anyone with such unremarkable skill could be a ranking Hunter in any coven.
He shrugged. It may be annoying to have to take orders from the fool, but judging by the trouble he seemed to be accumulating, Jorge wouldn’t have to tolerate it much longer. And on that thought, the Hunter turned away. It was time to meet up with Remy and decide how much about all this he intended to share.
30
The hallways of Peles Castle were quiet in the day. Not that it was a noisy place in the night when its denizens were active, but it was a different kind of quiet. A sleeping quiet.
Mariska knew she was taking a risk. The same risk she’d been taking for weeks, now. When first Yako had ordered her to remain in Sinaia to gather information, Mariska had silently doubted the wisdom of her task. For all it seemed, Massius and Remy were simply trying to eliminate Yako and his personal history. This would extract the potential thorn from Massius’s side about his own history with the coven, and aid Remy’s rise in the ranks of the Hunters.
There had still been pieces of the puzzle missing. Why would Massius would actively go after Yako? The Eldest Hunter had no knowledge of the connection between his family history and the Elder. Better to let things remain as they were, and if Yako went digging into the past—which was unlikely—take action then.
Now Mariska knew differently, and she was trying to figure out how to proceed. Massius was responsible for the murder of Yako’s family, his lineage was not tied to the Sinaia coven, and he was not even an actual Elder. All of these things were true, but it was only part of the story.
Devious and ambitious, Massius had eyes for a larger place in the order than simply occupying a seat at the High Council of Elders. He wanted to wield its power as his own and the major obstacle to that was not Yako, or his family history, but Vicken.
Massius knew that Vicken would not be easily unseated, so he’d waited and worked quietly, finding allies where he might, and securing trusts with his lycan contacts. Over the last week as things started to come together, Mariska wished Yako would return. This was much bigger than simply killing Remy. If what Meilana said was true, things were moving quickly toward insurrection. Massius was devious and ambitious, but also patient.
She rounded another corner and passed through an indoor courtyard filled with plants and small trees. Massius had spies everywhere, but even they had to sleep in the day. Years of training by Yako had given Mariska the ability to remain functional during the day, so long as she avoided the sun’s deadly gaze.
Mariska navigated the various gravel paths until she came to a small bridge. At the other end was a woman, no taller than five feet. The only thing that distinguished her from her identical twin sister was the lack of two small scythes strapped to her sides.
“Hello Second,” Meilana said.
Mariska bowed her head in greeting. “You’ve found something new.”
The Hunter smirked. “If not for your obvious differences in heritage, I would be certain you and Eldest Hunter were siblings, so alike, you are.” With a visible effort, she straightened. “It still amazes me that the daylight hours seem not to affect you.”
Mariska nodded, waiting.
Meilana closed her eyes and shook her head. “Straight to business as always. Very well. Everything we’ve suspected appears to be true.”
Mariska held up a hand. “We are alone?”
“As alone as can be. Not many of us walk the day hours, and those that can, function with little approaching coherency. Do you mind if I sit?” Mariska nodded, and Meilana led her to a wooden bench with black, wrought-iron legs.
Although they were alone, the women still spoke in quiet voices. “Massius has taken years to secure a solid relationship with the wolves and carefully nurturing allies in the coven. It looks like he will make a move soon.”
“What lycan in their right mind would oppose the High Council, and with Vicken at its head?” Mariska frowned, staring at the space in front of her. “Relations have been tentatively peaceful, but peaceful nonetheless. Why damage that?”
“It’s not just the lycans, Meilana said. “You would be surprised how many grow bored of things as they are. I haven’t needed my sister to tell me.” She spread a hand to encompass the area. Whispers are everywhere about complacency, and how it wouldn’t take more than an attack by the wolves to throw things into chaos.”
“That’s nonsense,” Mariska replied. “It was Vicken who led the Hunters who eventually ended the conflict. It has been Vicken who has kept things in place since then.”
“And it is Massius who plants seeds of doubt among the younger members of the coven.”
Mariska looked at her. “Younger?” Meilana’s face was answer enough, and Mariska’s eyes glowed in anger. “Filthy shaquora,” she hissed. “They were not born of the coven, of this history. They were merely inducted. They know not, nor care about our history.”
“For some, that is true, but not all. There are many who were turned to our world that respect who they are and what they have become.” Meilana looked disappointed. “The dissenters aren’t alone, however.”
“Purebloods?” Mariska couldn’t believe it.
“Not many, but enough to be a threat.”
Mariska blinked, digesting the information. “If some of Massius’s allies are purebloods, and Massius is the one who created the Hunters, then some of his allies …”
“Are Hunters,” Meilana finished for her.
“And if he can find a way to kill Eldest Hunter, it would make things much easier for him to enlist more Hunters to his cause.”
“Now you begin to see.”
“Traitors,” Mariska spat.
“Our job is to serve, not to question, Second. It’s possible that any Hunters who have joined Massius’s cause have not been told the whole truth. More likely, they believe they are being addressed by a member of the High Council and are being told that the coven is in some sort of danger from within.”
“But Yako would refute his claims,” Mariska reasoned, “Which is why Massius is bent on his un-creation.”
Meilana looked at her squarely. “Not just his un-creation.”
Mariska’s eyes narrowed. “Of course not.”
31
Jelani opened his eyes and looked around the dark room. He’d tried to remain awake to spend as much time as possible with Alisha, but it couldn’t happen. It was like his entire body had fought against him in favor of a deep sleep. He’d lasted about an hour into daylight before he finally succumbed.
