by J. A. Saare
He kept his word when he vowed he'd never do it again.
"Time's up," Bane said, drawing my attention. Our eyes met as he stood and informed me, "Our alliance is sealed. Consider it official. Things will move quickly at this point, so if you have a minute and can spare the rest of us puppets your time, think about what's coming and brace yourself." He turned, about to walk away, when he stopped. He gave me another once-over, like the advice he'd delivered could be interpreted the wrong way. Yes, he was a douche, but I'd learned he was an extremely wise one. "You're going to have to make some big decisions. When you do, you shouldn't allow people to see what's happening before you're ready. Letting people figure out your shit for you is an awful habit. It makes you look suss. Believe it or not, you're capable of more than that."
"Thanks," I replied with open sarcasm, giving him a middle finger salute. "So fucking much."
Dick.
"My pleasure. Your wish is always my command." He wasn't bothered by my reaction. Instead, he reacted in ways that reminded me how smart he was, how stupid I could be, and would provoke me just for kicks. "You have the brain. You just have to put it to use. You're not just a necromancer or bartender anymore, princess. The promotion you accepted comes with big responsibilities. You'll have to stop avoiding information that scares and upsets you. Gabriel lets you get away with it, but I won't."
I was well aware. "I know."
"Good, because it's not as simple as mixing drinks for tittie freaks and controlling equal-minded vampires. You've entered the big leagues. As in the hardcore areas you act like you already know." He paused and warned, "I'm not like your vampire. I won't hold your hand and do all the heavy lifting."
"I never asked you to."
As he heard me, his lips curved. "Didn't you?"
Fucking asshole.
"I thought you had to go." As much as he pushed me, I pushed back. That's why we got along. "So leave already. Go bother someone who gives a flying fuck."
He gave me the most annoying look. "If you say so."
"I do." I felt too awful to deal with him. "Piss off."
"Sure thing. You do you, and I'll do me."
Seemed about right. "Sounds perfect."
He tsk-tsked me and clucked his tongue. "Keep this up, and I'll drop you like a smelly brick." He swiped his right hand down and snapped his fingers. "Down the shitter and gone in a flush."
"Sign me up." I snorted and met his gaze. "Sounds like a vacation."
Any concern in his face lifted. He knew I got his meaning. He expected more from me, just like everyone else. His gaze shifted away. He marched from the room and called out, "Rest up while you can. Get those precious winks. I'll see what I can do in the meantime."
Since he'd promised to watch over me, I didn't understand his sudden announcement and ready departure. Then I realized Disco had returned. He'd be in front of me in a matter of seconds. Bane must have wanted to give us privacy. As much as the asshole inferred I was an idiot, he knew my lover didn't suffer the same malady. I felt Disco before I saw him, aware he was about to come around the far right corner of the decrepit room.
When he entered the area, Bane was long gone.
My attention was already on him. He wasn't as neat and tidy as he preferred to be, but his disheveled appearance didn't distract from his natural good looks. His blond hair had been mussed, and his coat, shirt, and slacks were covered in rips, tears, and dried streaks of blood.
He'd come to get me like hell on fire, and he'd killed along the way.
His golden-blue stare locked with mine, and I saw his jaw clench.
He knew I'd had another attack. He'd felt it until the point I'd blacked out.
Through his mark, I was aware he hated himself for not preventing it.
His primary duty was to protect me. By sending me inside the skating center, he'd taken a moronic risk. However, what was done was done. There was nothing he could do about it now. In the future, he'd do things differently. The important thing was we'd completed our mission and, in doing so, had made allies that would allow him to completely take over the city after months of bloody hard work.
What set him back was seeing the outcome of my journey to Hell.
He hadn't anticipated the vibrant change of color in my left eye.
"May I?" He sat on the couch and stroked my head.
I understood what he meant. "Yes."
When he entered my head with willingness, the sensation was pure bliss. That's what I experienced as he went through my memories. I experienced the ultimate rush, like heroin had been injected into a vein and spread through every part of my body. He studied each evocation closely, making sure he didn't miss a thing, but he took absolute care. He sensed my revulsion at Lucifer's touch and Marigold's reactions, so he stemmed the flow of those sensations with our own remembrances. He gave me pictures of time we spent together in the same intimate fashion but in a way I welcomed and accepted. Since images flooded my mind as he did so, I realized when he came to the conversation I'd had with Bane.
The pulsing in my system stopped, and I was back in my head.
He waited, making sure not to overstep his bounds.
I hesitated, fully cognizant that revelations could go wrong.
Still...
When I accepted he'd find out sooner or later, I acknowledged what had to pass.
We swore there would be no more lies.
I relaxed, awaiting the inevitable.
When I didn't try to stop him, he cautiously continued, going over my conversation with our new comrade, inspecting it closely. Then he discovered what I was afraid to tell him. Marigold had already started possessing my body. In a few months, she'd take up permanent residence. The uproar that swept through me when he learned the truth froze me in place.
Disbelief. Denial. Concern. Fear.
Outrage.
My heart rate increased, a natural response when someone encountered a predator. I wanted to jump off the couch and run. I wasn't a vampire. I wasn't even a competent servant or necromancer. Although I'd been learning, I was new to the experiences and the world I now lived in. I was, however, used to protecting myself—even at the expense of others. It was a defense mechanism ingrained in the heart of me. As such, I experienced very real and human reactions when dealing with stress and danger. My history ensured the response. I couldn't prevent it.
He sensed my anxiety and pulled back.
While he didn't sever our connection, he shielded his turbulent thoughts and emotions from me. I supposed it was for the best. In many ways, my reaction to his feelings wounded him. But he understood my trepidation. I knew what it felt like when he lost control, and I didn't want a repeat. Despite that, he would never hurt me. Since he'd been in my head, he knew I'd recognized it as well.
He was simply full of so much animosity he didn't know how to stem the flood of his volatile and explosive reactions. In order to keep them from me, he had to block them. He wasn't sure what to say to me. I could sense his anger and unease. He was upset by the information he'd gleaned from me.
Since I was a motor mouth, I had no such problem. "How did it go?"
"Norad is dead. Bane got his answers before I put him down." He kept stroking my head, and I realized doing so calmed him. I leaned into his touch, basking in it. "His maker viewed us through his eyes. He got the warning."
His feather-light touch felt so amazing, I was tempted to purr. "But he didn't show?"
"No. He most certainly did not." He angled his head, studying my eyes.
A part of me wanted to close them. "That's good."
And it was good. The half-demon's fear was a sign of progress.
There were numerous vampires in New York, but there were only so many created by demon spawn. Disco had taken out a majority of the half-demons that could travel between realms. By doing so, he'd slowly assumed control of the vampires who no longer answered to makers that could easily destroy them. He'd steered clear of his former family, although he'd kept m
ost of his reasoning for doing so from me, and I wasn't sure why. Perhaps he was doing just as Bane indicated earlier, holding my hand and doing the heavy lifting. Since he'd been in my head, the man I loved was aware I tended to avoid things that unsettled me after the death of my loved ones. If I didn't, I'd wallow in guilt and shame.
Regardless of the reason, Gabriel's maker, Marius, knew what was taking place. Every vampire family heard what was going down, as did their makers. Including Revenald—the half-demon we wanted to kill most. When I'd freed Disco, he'd taken control of my body. He'd held the attention of every single one of his kindred. I could still hear his warning as he'd used my voice as a vessel to address them.
My name is Gabriel Trevellian. As the Master of New York, I'm ordering you to take your servants and go. Failure to do so will result in your demise. Make your choice.
They'd fled, taking him at his word.
But their half-demon makers hadn't heeded the warning.
Demon spawn had gathered and decided to find, torture, and make an example of the vampire that dared to defy them. They'd forced their children to scour the city, which had been their first mistake. Gabriel had ruled New York a long time. He knew all the families, their members, and their connections. With his power, he had easily gained access to their minds. Once that was done, and he learned when and where they'd met their half-demon rulers to make plans, we'd travel to the location. With the plan set, he handed the amulet over to me, no longer caring who knew where he'd traveled, allowing my necromancy to control every vampire in the room. We'd used our combined abilities to kill the half-demons meeting their offspring.
Each encounter had been disturbing, dark, and something I didn't want to think about. But Disco wasn't completely brutal. He gave every vampire a choice: join him or die. Some made the smart decision. Others had been obliterated for their failure to submit. Norad's maker hadn't appeared to defend his progeny. That meant he was afraid to do so.
The fucker didn't want to die.
"Bane is arranging the first official meeting with his people. It's coming together like I said it would. It will happen in two or three days." He stopped petting me, becoming serious. "You have to be there." He was cautious when he turned my right hand and cupped it between both of his, but I felt the strength of his grip. Sometimes I forgot how much larger his fingers were than mine, how deadly his hold could be if he wanted to maim or harm. He could crush my bones like toilet paper. "Before that, we have to take our family back. We have to assume full control."
Awareness of what was taking place with me had him thinking ahead.
I'd already anticipated that.
I happily traveled back in time.
Our early days were some of the best in my life.
He stayed with me until I fell asleep most nights, making sure I was trapped in the land of dreams before he tucked me in for the evening. He knew about my nightmares and kept them at bay. If I woke for some reason after he'd lulled me off and he wasn't there, he'd be in the family room playing chess against himself.
I didn't understand the game fully but knew enough.
I remembered the first time I'd risen, found him gone, and went to find him. He'd been settled in front of the fireplace, facing the center table as he sat on a loveseat and faced a pristine board with pieces carved in black and white marble. My tattered copy of Jane Eye rested beside it. The book was something personal to me, worn from years of use. I'd learned it was his way of keeping me with him even when I wasn't. It had been so dark inside the space I'd almost walked by it—back then, I avoided the use of our mark—but then I got a glimpse of his light blond hair reflecting the light from the fire.
I'd peeked past the door to take him in, finding the dancing flames enhanced his sublime face and light complexion in a spectacular way. He'd been so caught up in gazing at the board, he hadn't noticed I had appeared. That had never happened before. At that time, I thought he looked like a loon and might be under an enchantment. My brain often emitted words from my mouth without a proper filter. I'd announced myself by telling him he looked like a crazy person planning a prison break.
He'd chuckled, not at all offended, and waved me over. He asked about my knowledge of chess as I'd taken up the space beside him. I'd confessed it was rudimentary at best. Then he admitted when life moved slowly, he needed something to do. In those instances, he turned to what he called the ultimate game. If he wasn't at home with access to a board and pieces, he played in his head. He could keep track of everything with ease. If I thought him playing matches against himself in the family room was silly, the notion of him doing so without visual references as he engaged in battle with himself was completely insane.
But he hadn't been enchanted or mentally impaired.
Not at all.
He'd managed to explain it in a way I understood. I was driven by emotion and words. He observed and reacted through repetition, strategy, and images. As he attempted to explain, I slowly became aware of something extremely important. He saw things in a manner I never would, such as designs and shapes in common things that others wouldn't see. Someone had the gift or they didn't. Where I saw different colored squares when I looked at the board, he saw maneuvers, manipulation, and angles.
That's why I knew when he'd decided to take over the city in reality instead of in name, declaring his intent and daring anyone to object, his obsession with the game had become an entirely different beast.
That's when he took on two identities: Disco and Gabriel.
Similar yet not.
Different but the same.
Disco would love me and try to keep me happy. He'd do so without hesitation, to hell with the consequences. Gabriel would think several moves ahead to achieve the same goal, using time and scheme to his advantage, always in pursuit of checkmate.
I thought that maybe he'd looked at preparations in the same way he would a match. He'd label each person as a piece, developing ones that could well work together. He'd choose moves that could capture or promote his position and make sacrifices when he had to create exchanges and dangerous pins. He was extremely intelligent, but, as per the usual, my dumbass hadn't taken a minute to observe and appreciate him in his full glory at the time.
That was how my brain was wired.
I often flipped between the two names in the present, uncertain of where one started and the other ended. I often realized things late in life's tournaments, which meant I'd never be a worthy opponent to engage either one of them. I could duck, dodge, and protect, but those shields would come down eventually. I had no way of taking him on when it came to timing and action in the final round. He'd have already worked his way around my defenses, seeing so many moves ahead. In his mind, he had already strategized who would be what piece on his board, where he'd play them, and when it would happen.
It dawned on me he was ready to begin the most important match of our lives, one that pitted us against Marius and Revenald. The pair had trapped and pinned what remained of the New York City vampires using their own rooks, bishops, and knights. Revenald was no longer as formidable in demon circles, but he retained his reputation with vampire families. They considered him the most dangerous half-demon they'd ever encountered. The destruction of his kindred created a way of uncertainty through the vampire community. Even with Revenald's orders, they couldn't take us out on their own. Not since Gabriel had destroyed so many of their makers.
They weren't powerful enough.
To be honest, without admittance to Bane's extremely private table, neither were we. The asshole of assholes had been drawn to me for a reason. I'd figured that out after our first meeting. Now, with knowledge of his nature, things made complete sense. He'd sold guns to me the first time because something in him had known it would change things. He had his own way to see ahead.
He'd known Gabriel would come to him through me.
The two would strike a deal, Bane would bring him into his exclusive group, and half-demons wouldn't be able to maint
ain power. The balance would shift permanently in the area, and bastions from Hell would be forced to back off. Half-demons would no longer view their children as soldiers that would defend them. They'd know their creations had become weapons that could kill them. Gabriel would see to it, as he'd assume control of all vampires in his region. Not only would he be the Master of New York, he planned to reach out as far as possible, gaining more territory over time. Shaking that truth aside because it felt like too much to think about at the moment, I looked at the man turned vampire beside me.
He was young in vampire years. It was so much to take on.
But he wanted it more than anything.
He'd told me some of his plans."You're giving me Goose back?"
He didn't move a muscle, appearing statue-like. If not for the flicker of light in his irises, I might have mistaken him for a work of art. Since I didn't have immediate access to his feelings, I wasn't certain why. The reaction might not mean anything. Maybe he only wished to remain still.
"Not giving. Sharing. I told you we share everything."
There was one necromancer that had the wisdom and foresight to help me pay my debt to Marigold, and it was time he took part in our fight. Ethan McDaniel—who I'd nicknamed Goose due to his love of Grey Goose vodka—would come willingly. He'd been taken in by Gabriel a long time ago. Each of us carried his mark, which ensured our loyalty. The vampire family also wouldn't be much of an issue. I didn't know Peter well but thought he'd stay. Nala and Adrian would join us for sure, as would Landon and Corey. Each of them trusted Gabriel to make decisions, and they'd follow his lead. It didn't hurt that all of them adored him and had been crushed by Paine's death.
They were bound by precious time and blood.
The only member who posed an issue was Jonny.
He had survived his fight with Marigold, but only barely. She'd used a doorknob to subdue him, planting it firmly in his chest when he'd come at her. She'd told me he would live or he would die. She hadn't aimed for his heart, but she hadn't tried to miss it. Jonny's lover, Sirah, hadn't been as fortunate. Marigold had removed her head courtesy of a thick door and its sturdy frame. I still remembered the sound of her bones crunching, breaking, and giving way as her neck had been ripped from her shoulders. There'd been so much blood it had splattered on my clothes and stained the floor.
