by Laura Legend
En masse, like a single viral body, they came for her.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Cass started backing up. Almost immediately she bumped into Zach. He and Kumiko and Dogen were right there with her. They’d seen everything that she’d just seen.
There was no way to outrun the horde. They formed a tight circle, protecting each other’s backs.
Kumiko took the point. Zach squeezed Cass’s hand. Dogen rolled his head, cracking the vertebrae in his neck, and pounded his fists together.
Kumiko squeezed her eyes shut and tapped into a power that was even older and deeper than she was. She whispered a mantra to herself and a field of shimmering green light materialized around them. Zach and Dogen both followed suit, bracing the field with their hands, quietly repeating the mantra to themselves.
Cass readied herself, sword raised and glowing. The horde was almost on top of them.
But when the mass of them reached the protective shield, they simply flowed around it and past them. Gathering their collective momentum, they rammed and shattered the bay wall of windows. Glass showered down around Cass and company, bouncing off the dome. The wind and rain poured in through the breach as the whole horde poured out into the raging darkness.
And then, just like that, they were gone. Miranda and the hooded figure were nowhere to be seen. And the four of them were alone in the library.
Cass didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. She couldn’t call what had just happened a victory. She would go to her grave with that image of Miranda, bloody and Lost, burned into her brain.
Cass slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor under the weight of it. Zach joined her, slipping his arm around her, pulling her close.
“I’m sorry, Cass,” he said. “So sorry.”
Cass buried her head in his shoulder. She didn’t try to hide her tears.
Cass wasn’t sure how long they sat like that. Kumiko and Dogen came and went. The monastery bells stopped sounding the alarm. The rain tapered off and the wind died down. But the longer they sat there together and the more willingly Cass let her grief wring her out, the more obvious it became to her that the spark of hope that had just ignited in her had not gone out. In some ways, in light of her grief, it burnt all the more fiercely, defiantly. Cass didn’t know what was going to happen next, but she knew that none of this was over. She knew that this was just the beginning.
Eventually, Cass wiped away her tears and kissed Zach on the cheek.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” Zach asked.
“For hope.”
Dogen came to collect them. The monastery was secure. Kumiko was waiting to see them.
Dogen lead them back to the main building, to Kumiko’s own rooms on the highest floor. Cass and Zach were ushered into a Japanese style sitting room with paper walls and a low table. Kumiko was making tea.
While the water heated, Kumiko sat with them at the table. She gathered the silence around them for a few minutes and then began, her voice focused and formal.
“I have been alive now for more than four hundred years. The Shield was founded many thousands of years before that. Since its inception, it has been practicing magic, slowing things down, fighting to maintain balance and order, and preventing the world from destroying itself. This continues to be our mission, even today. We have taken sacred vows—unbreakable vows—to uphold it.”
Zach and Dogen bowed their heads in reverent agreement. Cass could feel the weight that these vows had for them.
“But everything changed two thousand years ago with the first ‘mutation.’ Something happened to Judas. Something happened . . . in him when betrayed the one he had willingly followed. Judas became cursed. He became lost. He became the first of the undead. And through him the curse began to spread across the face of the world and people began to be Lost.”
Kumiko stood and retrieved their tea. As she skillfully poured it, it was obvious that the tea was scalding hot.
“I fear a rising tide,” she continued. “I fear that we’ve reached a tipping point and that, if we do not proceed with immense caution, the whole world will be irreversibly flooded with this curse.”
Cass picked up her fragile teacup, blew gently across the surface of the tea, and then held its warmth in her hands. Zach sat stone still. Dogen looked at his tea longingly, unable to wait. He downed it one gulp, burning his tongue.
“Most of all I fear that their new leader will roll the dice with the future of humanity and entrust it to the Lost. I’m afraid that the Heretic will upset the fragile balance we’ve fought so hard to preserve, hoping against hope that being Lost may actually be a blessing rather than a curse.”
Kumiko struck the table with her fist for emphasis, spilling her tea. “I cannot let this happen.”
She paused, trying to calm herself.
“We cannot let this happen. As the Seer, Cassandra, you have been endowed with a rare gift. You wield rare powers. But these powers are also dangerous in their own way. After your mother died, I asked Miranda to watch over you. And then, several years ago, when Miranda’s loyalty to the Shield began to fray, I asked Zach to keep an eye on you both.”
Cass looked from Kumiko to Zach. Zach sat still as a statue, his eyes fixed on his cup and saucer.
“You were not ready, Cassandra. But now you are. And because of Zach, you are safe and you are with us. Please, forgive him. Please forgive both us. And please, above all, agree to join us in pulling this world back from the brink of annihilation.”
Cass felt rooted and centered. She felt, for the first time in many years, as if she could, with time and patience, unchain the rest of what had been locked away inside of her all those years ago.
She reached for Zach’s hand and squeezed it. He looked up from the table and met her eyes. Cass’s weak eye wandered, but Zach was untroubled by it.
There was more to the story—perhaps much more—than Kumiko had just revealed. But she had to trust someone. And if she couldn’t trust Zach, then who? At least for now, this was where she belonged.
“I’m in,” Cass said, still looking at Zach rather than Kumiko. “I will be a sword for the Shield.”
“Excellent,” Kumiko replied, pleased. “In that case, I have an urgent mission for you.”
Chapter Forty
The view from Richard’s penthouse office in the York Tower was spectacular. The lights of London, hugging the curves of the Thames, twinkled seductively.
Richard leaned on his cane, his face nearly pressed to the glass. He was anxious for that day—soon his doctors said—when he could dispense with the cane and walk upright like a man. Given the scale of his injuries in the castle, his recovery had been miraculously quick. Being more than human certainly helped on that score. But, still, Richard found himself impatient. With all that was happening, this was no time to be on the sidelines.
“You have lived in London for hundreds of years,” Maya said, pouring herself a shot of whiskey from Richard’s bar. “There is nothing new to see out there.”
Maya downed the shot in one go and poured herself another.
“On the contrary,” Richard countered, his gaze still fixed on the city, “everything is new. Nothing is the same. The world has changed dramatically beneath our feet and the dust is far from settling.”
Maya held up a second glass, offering Richard a drink.
Richard didn’t turn around but admired her reflection in the window. They had worked together for a long time—from the beginning, really, for Maya. She was as striking as ever in her sleeveless dress, her hair loose to her waist. But he didn’t feel the pull of desire for her. Whatever had once been between them had long since settled into the dependability of trust and friendship.
Richard shook his head slightly, declining the drink.
“Things could be worse,” Maya continued. “We recovered the real chains of St. Paul and Paul’s lost gospel. These relics will be valuable to us. More importantly, we
kept these relics and their power out of the hands of the Lost, crippling their new leader’s attempt to consolidate and control their numbers. We will have to think hard, now, about how to use that increasing instability to our advantage.”
“Yes,” Richard allowed, “this will have to be carefully considered.”
Maya downed another shot, refilled both glasses, and wandered over to Richard, leaning against him. Richard put his arm around her and she nestled closer. She offered him another drink, but again he declined. Maya shrugged and took sips from both. She already knew what question was coming next.
“And Cassandra?” Richard asked.
Maya sighed.
“Of course. Cassandra Jones. She still understands very little. About herself. And about this new world she has wandered into.”
Maya clinked the ice in her glass.
“She is working with the Shield now. Despite the debacle with Miranda, Kumiko successfully recruited her—in no small part due to the ‘work’ done by Zachary Riviera.”
“Hmmm,” Richard mused, frowning, “yes.”
It was clear to Maya that they had moved on, now, from discussing geopolitics to something else. And she didn’t care for it. She didn’t like the fact that something other than logic and calculation were at stake. She didn’t like how the worry lines radiating from the corners of Richard’s eyes felt personal.
Maya pulled away from Richard, finished both their drinks, and set the glasses down on Richard’s desk.
“She worries me, Richard,” Maya said, forcing eye contact. “She worries me about you.”
Richard nodded thoughtfully, sidestepping the argument.
“It’s a delicate balance,” he offered. “Cassandra is the Seer. Her powers are immense. We need her on our side.”
“Right,” Maya echoed skeptically, turning to go. “It is certainly true, at least, that you need her on your side.”
THE END
Thank you for reading Hopeless, book 2 of A Vision of Vampires! If you enjoyed this book, would you please leave a review on Amazon? I would be so grateful!
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Other books by Laura Legend
Faithless: A Vision of Vampires 1
Here’s an excerpt from Blameless, book 3 of A Vision of Vampires. Enjoy!
Blameless
Book 3 of A Vision of Vampires
By
Laura Legend
Chapter 1
The casino’s neon lights contrasted sharply with the darkness of the cloudy and moonless night. The floor of the casino was packed with senior citizens. It was late enough that the energy in the room was high, but early enough that the excitement hadn’t soured. Everyone was having a good time.
Everyone except Miranda Byrne.
Miranda was lost.
“Dammit,” she swore, turning in a tight circle, trying to get her bearings. Her heels clicked on the cement floor. She ran her fingers through her dark hair. Even after months of practice, she couldn’t navigate the casino’s service hallways. They always made her feel like a rat in a maze. When a waitress walked by with a tray of drinks, Miranda gladly gave up trying to sort it out herself and just trailed her back onto the casino floor.
Now she knew where she was. Mostly.
The slot machines were ringing and the card tables were busy. Miranda wove her way through the tables, looking for Amare, but she lost the thread of what she was doing when she neared the casino’s expensive buffet and her stomach rumbled angrily.
She was hungry.
In the abstract, the idea of food excited her, but once she got close enough to the restaurant to smell it, her stomach rebelled. She just couldn’t eat this stuff anymore. Despite what her head remembered, buffet food wasn’t what her body wanted. She lingered at an uncleared table and took a sniff from a half-full glass of red wine—she loved red wine—but, again, she couldn’t bear the smell of it anymore.
She crinkled her nose, put the cup down, and took a deep breath, trying to calm her stomach and clear her head. But her head didn’t clear. Instead, her keen nose caught the musky scent of an attractive man in his early fifties at the next table. He was fit with a thick head of gray hair and waiting for his date to return from powdering her nose. Miranda cocked an eyebrow. Her appetite roared back to life. Surprised by the strength of her own response, she immediately felt that, though she couldn’t eat food anymore, she might happily sample this fellow.
She straightened her jacket with its gold “Manager” lapel pin and narrowed her eyes seductively. As she leaned in to ask if he needed another drink, she could feel the sharp tips of her eye teeth pressing against her bottom lip. She caught the man off guard. He jumped a little in his seat and then apologized. In response to her question, he leaned over the wine list, exposing his neck. Miranda’s mouth filled with saliva and, despite herself, she licked her lips.
But before it could develop any further, their “moment” was interrupted.
“We’ve already ordered our drinks,” a woman said curtly as she slid back into her seat at the table. She wore a tight dress and was half the man’s age. Her eyes shot daggers at Miranda.
Miranda bit her tongue. She didn’t care for the woman’s attitude, but Miranda was relieved at the interruption. She would surely have taken a small bite out of the man—just to see how he tasted—if his date hadn’t returned.
Embarrassed, Miranda nodded and withdrew. Walking quickly in the other direction, she swallowed hard. That was a close one. She was still adapting to the changes in her body, to her new height and additional strength, to her new appetites and sharpened senses. Her body felt younger and stronger than it had in years. All the little aches and pains that used to plague her were gone. She felt profoundly alive. But not all of the changes were good. Although her body felt stronger, her mind felt weaker. She felt less rational and less in control.
She was no longer who she’d been. She wasn’t quite herself anymore.
At the thought of all she’d lost—of the fragile grip she barely retained on her own humanity—her fists balled and anger flared inside of her. Her mind flashed to Kumiko and to the time she’d spent imprisoned and interrogated at the Shield Monastery. The anger swelled. Miranda would never forgive Kumiko for forcing her down this path. At any number of points in the past thirty years, Kumiko could have helped them carve out a third way. They could have chosen a different path. They could have made a new world. And, more, they could have done it together. Instead, at each turn, Kumiko had wilted at the uncertainty and potential cost of the better future Miranda imagined. Hiding behind layers of tradition, Kumiko had insisted on redrawing all the old battle lines between the Shield and the Lost.
A single hot tear had sprung from the corner of her eye, and Miranda wiped it away with the back of her hand. Her mascara smeared. Her emotions were just so raw and so close to the surface these days. She didn’t regret her choice to abandon the Shield—she would make the same decision again—but she did resent that Kumiko had forced her to make it.
Miranda was shocked out of her reverie by the sound of pans crashing and people yelling in the restaurant kitchen. It sounded like trouble. She ducked into the service hallway and followed the noise through swinging double doors. Inside, she was greeted by the sight of Amare with an enormous butcher’s knife in his hand—that’s right, she’d been looking for Amare—trying to corner something big and ugly. The kitchen staff were ducking for cover as dishes smashed to the floor and unattended pans on the range caught fire, flaring.
