“Oh,” he said, turning just before he entered the tent, “and I don’t fuck Lila, for your information. She has remained a virgin, as the goddess decreed the king’s betrothed would do, and will until I bond with her. So I guess you don’t know everything, do you, asshole?”
Something that looked like pain, or perhaps surprise, flashed across his brother’s face as it glowed in the light of the fire. And then, just a quickly, it was gone.
Sathan entered the tent and bundled Miranda up in her sleeping bag. He then sheathed the Blade and locked it in the weaponry case they had transported with them. Lowering himself beside her, he closed his eyes for some much-needed sleep.
Chapter 13
Kenden tasked Larkin with continuing to deliver the banked blood to Astaria. The Slayer soldier was one of his best and he trusted him immensely. After transporting the barrels for the past several nights, and meeting the king’s brother, he felt that Larkin could take over for him so that he could begin a new mission.
He had wanted to follow up on the old soothsayer gossip for some time, but life had gotten in the way and his responsibilities at Uteria were vast. Now that Miranda had taken action, it was imperative that he follow the lead.
In his room at the castle he packed a bag, knowing he would be gone for several days. Hopping in one of the Hummers parked in the barracks behind the main house, he revved the engine and began to drive.
He followed the River Thayne, past the satellite Slayer compound of Restia, which sat some twenty miles south of Uteria. Once past, he drove another thirty miles southeast until he came to the blurry wall of ether.
Parking the Hummer, he exited, locking it so that it would be there upon his return. Clutching his bag to his chest, he checked to make sure his gun and knife were secured to his belt. Closing his eyes, he began to wade through.
As he navigated the thick and stifling ether, he imagined in his mind where he wanted to exit on the other side. Immortals could enter any destination and time period of the human world if they focused intensely enough.
Fresh air hit his face and he opened his eyes, pleased that he was in the spot he had imagined. Lush green knolls of the beautiful Italian countryside welcomed him. The blazing sun was setting in the distance, creating a magnificent display of red and yellow dotted clouds. Inhaling deeply, he began the trek to the old man’s house.
The thatched-roof cabin sat high atop a hill, a lone light shining in the window of the now dusky sky. Kenden approached and knocked on the door. A man, his face wrinkled and withered, with kind blue eyes opened the wooden door.
“Ciao,” the man said. “Posso aiutarla?”
“Do you speak English?” Kenden asked, more familiar with that language than any other human tongue.
“Yes,” the man said with a nod.
“I’ve come to ask you about Evangeline.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Come in, please.”
They sat upon cushy chairs as Kenden asked his questions. The man spoke with mischief twinkling in his eyes.
“There was always something about her. She never seemed to age. She was my favorite lover and I’ve had many,” he said, waggling his powder-white eyebrows. “There was a sadness to her, and a mean streak a kilo wide, but I loved her for the few years we shared together.”
“You were together over sixty years ago,” Kenden said. “Have you heard from her recently? Do you know where she might be?”
The man gave an absent smile. “She loved France. The magnificence of Paris always beckoned her and her love of Bordeaux was broader than her love of Chianti. If I thought to look for her, I would look there.”
“Thank you, Francesco,” Kenden said, standing to shake the man’s hand. The old man walked him to the door, opening it for him. Before he could exit, the man placed a hand on Kenden’s forearm.
“Tread lightly. I always knew she was not of our world. As I prepare to enter heaven, I wonder if God knows that others exist here. It would sometimes give me chills as I lay beside her. Her nightmares were evil and murderous. Although I was fond of her, I was sometimes so scared of her that my blood curdled.”
“I understand,” Kenden said with a nod. Stepping into the night, he began to walk down the hill. He needed to find a train station and get to Paris.
* * * *
Miranda awoke with a gasp and lifted her head to assess her surroundings. With a groan, she closed her eyes and brought her hand to the back of her head, pounding with the force of a thousand jackhammers. Holy hell. Where was she? She tried to remember…the cave…unsheathing the Blade…and then…she’d tried to murder the Vampyre king. Uh oh. Heart pounding, she sat up and looked around the tent.
She was shocked to find Sathan sleeping beside her. His large back was facing her, broad shoulders filling out every angle of his black T-shirt. Where was the Blade? Sathan must have carried her out—did he grab the Blade as well?
“The Blade is locked in the case, Miranda,” his baritone said below her. “Now lie down and go back to sleep. It’s the middle of the day.”
Gritting her teeth, she wondered why he felt he could boss her around all the damn time. “Slayers sleep at night, for your information. I want to see the Blade.” Attempting to stand up, she lifted herself and then fell back down. She rubbed the lump on the back of her head. “You hit me with your knife.”
Sighing, Sathan rolled over and placed his head on his palm, his elbow resting on his pillow. His eyes were drowsy with sleep and the thick black hair on his head was tousled. If she didn’t hate him so much he would look almost…charming. Barf.
“Yes, I hit you with my knife. I think it was because you were contemplating killing me with the Blade of Pestilence. Let me try to remember…” He squinted up at the top of the tent as he rubbed his chin with his free hand. “Yeah, you tried to plunge it right into my chest.”
“Oh fine,” she spat, looking down at him from her crossed-legged sitting position. “I wasn’t even really trying, anyway.” Scowling, she continued to rub her head. “If I was serious about killing you, you’d be dead. Believe me.”
One side of his mouth turned up in a grin. “Mmmm hmmm…”
His lips were quite thick. Would they overtake hers if he leaned up and tried to kiss her? Shaking her head, she attributed that thought to the fact that she had a traumatic brain injury.
“How did my wound heal so quickly?” Moving her hand down, she rubbed her left wrist, eyeing him warily.
“I licked it closed.”
Delete mental image. She was so not going there. No fucking way.
“Now that we have the Blade, I’m anxious to get home. I want to brief Kenden, report to my father that I’ve accomplished my goal and plan our attack against Crimeous. And I’m sure you’re anxious to have your sister returned safely.”
“That I am. We’ll leave at sunset, I promise. Until then, I have the key to the container for the Blade in a safe place where you won’t want to look for it.”
“And where is that?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow and giving him a disbelieving look.
“In my pants pocket. Of course, if you can’t stop yourself from sticking your hands into my pants I would be happy to let you—”
“Excuse me while I vomit,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “I’d rather touch a shriveled old Deamon than touch you anywhere near your pants.” His answering smile only infuriated her more.
“Whatever you say. Wake me twenty minutes before sunset.” With that, he rolled back over to sleep.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered. Rolling her head on her neck, she gritted her teeth in pain.
“I laid out some Advil for you by the door of the tent.” She looked over and, sure enough, two Advil and a thermos of water were sitting there waiting for her. How dare he go and do something nice for her after he almost bludgeoned her to death? Jerk. Crawling over, she devoured the pills and chugged the water. Not knowing what else to do, she lay back down and tried not to focus on the constant thr
obbing of her head. In minutes, she was asleep.
* * * *
A few hours later, Sathan stirred and turned over to check on his patient. Miranda slept soundly on her back, soft snores echoing through the tent on every exhale. He was enthralled by how peaceful she looked, never getting to see her with her defenses down when she was awake. She must’ve gone through her immortal change sometime in her mid-twenties. The skin on her face was wrinkle-free and flawless. There was no rhyme or reason to when immortals went through their change. Usually, one could predict when their change would happen based on their bloodline. If one’s ancestors went through their change later in life, their children were more apt to do so, but not always. The year of your change was the time that your body was locked into immortality. Sathan was pleased that Miranda’s had been when she was young, if only that her beauty could be captured timelessly.
Her mother had been known as the greatest beauty that Etherya had ever created so he wasn’t surprised that he was attracted to her daughter. After all, he was only a man and men, being visual creatures, were usually attracted to pretty ladies they came into contact with. But his attraction to her personality worried him. She was a force of nature. Strong-willed, infuriatingly sure of herself and fearless. It was a cocktail of appeal that he needed to be wary of, lest he become addicted.
He needed her as an ally, and to accomplish that he knew he must remain completely free of any romantic entanglement. Being that she hated his guts, he figured it should remain a pretty simple task.
She murmured something in her sleep and then smacked her lips together loudly several times. Stilling, her mouth remained open as she breathed. For just a moment he imagined making love to her, seeing that tiny mouth open to receive him as he slid in and out between her pink lips. By the goddess, it would feel so good to have her mouth around him like that, the wetness of her tongue bathing him…
And now he was hard. Scolding himself not to be the creepy stalker she’d once accused him of, he rose and exited the tent to stretch. Enough with these ridiculous fantasies. He had a kingdom to save and was determined to have a serious talk with Miranda about his intentions. Looking at his watch and noting that the sun had set, he went to awaken his brother.
* * * *
“Sadie, I just can’t tell you what a great time I’m having with you, girlfriend. Let’s take a selfie together.” Arderin gave the Slayer her biggest smile.
“No selfies for me, thanks,” the Slayer replied, and Arderin forced herself not to clench her teeth in frustration.
“No worries. Let’s see, what else can I teach you about the ways of social media?”
Sadie gave a quiet laugh and shook her head. “I think you’ve been more than kind. Especially for someone whom I’m holding hostage.” Her expression relayed her sympathy for Arderin. “Do you want some more Slayer blood? You haven’t drunk in a while.”
“Yes, please,” Arderin said, knowing that now was the time. Pushing down the guilt that rose in her gut at hurting the Slayer, she extended her bound hands. Sadie leaned down toward her, handing her a cup, and Arderin grabbed the woman’s shirt collar with a hard tug, pulling her to the floor. Lifting her bound legs, she placed them over Sadie’s neck, holding her hostage. The woman sputtered and struggled and Arderin’s heart pounded with remorse.
“Sadie, I need you to untie the binds on my hands. I don’t want to hurt you but I am much larger than you and Frick and Frack are gone on their nightly shift change. I don’t know why they always take so long, or why they do it outside of the cabin, but they always go at the same time every night and if you don’t untie me I will kill you before they come back.”
The Slayer stopped struggling and froze. Arderin realized with that she was terrified and made a silent promise to herself to find this kind woman one day and make this up to her. “I don’t want to hurt you, Sadie, but I will. Untie the binds at my wrists. Now!”
With jerking movements, the Slayer rotated slightly and untied the binds at Arderin’s wrists. Quickly, she pulled Sadie’s hands behind her back and retied the ropes around her much-smaller wrists. She repeated the same moves at Sadie’s ankles.
Arderin stood, massaging one sore wrist, and contemplated the Slayer, who now sat bound and defeated on the floor of the cabin. “I’m sorry, Sadie. I mean it. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Sadie’s throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed, most likely tamping down tears. “It’s okay. I should’ve known you were only pretending to befriend me to escape. Miranda’s going to kill me—”
“First of all,” Arderin said, lowering to her eye level, “if that Slayer bitch so much as even touches one hair on your head I’ll kill her myself. And secondly, and I want you to hear this, Sadie.” She cupped the Slayer’s chin and turned her so was staring right into the doctor’s watery hazel irises. “I was lucky to befriend you. You are a kind and beautiful person. Someone along the way made you believe differently but one day I’m going to come looking for you and we’re going to change that narrative. Now I have to go before the wonder twins come back but know that I mean it when I say that you have been a true friend to me. Thank you.”
With that, Arderin stood and fled the cabin. Once outside she thanked the goddess that it was nighttime and began to try to navigate toward Astaria using the moon and the Star of Muthoni, the brightest star in the night sky. The moon was waxing tonight so if she walked northeast she might just be able to work a miracle and get the hell home.
Chapter 14
Sathan was contemplative as they began their trek away from the Cave of the Sacred Prophecy back to the Hummer. They completed twenty-two miles before daylight declared it time to set up camp for the day. Of course, Miranda assembled her tent in record time and came sniffing around for the vodka.
Sathan rose from his squat where he was assembling the tent and looked down at her. “I have something important I want to discuss with you today. I think we should go lightly on the vodka.”
“Uh oh, that sounds scary. In that case, I’m only talking to you if we have vodka first.”
“Important, Miranda,” he repeated firmly.
With a harrumph she sat on the ground by the fire, resting her chin in her hand as her elbow sat on top of her chest-drawn knee. The gesture reminded him so much of Arderin. What exasperatingly annoying imps they both were.
He finally came over and sat beside her. “Where’s your Neanderthal brother?” she asked.
“If you’re trying to anger me, it won’t work. I’m pretty pissed at Latimus myself.”
“Ohhhh, do tell,” she said, her tone picking up in excitement.
Sathan couldn’t help but chuckle. “A story for another time. He’s mulling over war plans in the tent. Fun stuff.” Placing the bottle of vodka between them, he cautioned her, “We’ll drink in a minute. But first, I want to ask you a question.”
“Shoot,” she said, eyeing the bottle.
“Why are you so convinced that your father wouldn’t share my letters with you? If I wrote them, that is.”
She chewed on her bottom lip and he reminded himself not to notice how it glistened in the fire since he had sworn off any romantic entanglement with her. “Because he’s my father,” she said finally, “and he respects traditionalism. Any letters that he would’ve received from you would’ve had to have been automatically shared with the descendent of Valktor. He just wouldn’t see any other way.”
Sathan nodded, knowing he needed to tread lightly. Although he felt that she had diverged from her father on many things, she still loved him. Love could create blind spots, even to those who were determined to take a different path. “What is his plan to see you ascend to the throne? Surely, he can’t rule forever. As the heir of Valktor you will take over for him one day, right?”
Anger entered her expression and he willed himself to remain calm no matter how agitated she became. “Listen, I have no wish to discuss this with you. You’re my greatest enemy, for god’s sake, and I’m sure a
s hell not going to sit here and tell you my future plans for my realm.”
Staring into the fire, Sathan trudged on. “I believe that your father is intent on never letting you ascend to the throne. That he has become accustomed to ruling and justifies in his mind that he is doing a service to you and your people by continuing to rule in perpetuity.”
“Absolutely not,” she replied firmly. “One day, when we both are ready, I will take the throne and rule our people. This has always been our plan.”
“When, Miranda?” he asked quietly. “What is he waiting for? What big event will help this happen?”
“When I kill Crimeous,” she said, her voice soft as she looked at the fire. “Surely then he won’t be able to justify keeping the throne any longer.” There was a quiet questioning in her tone, as if she barely believed this herself.
“Are you sure this will be the tipping point? When he didn’t even support your mission in the first place?”
She gave a humorless laugh and shook her head, looking at the ground in front of her. “Nice fishing attempt. You must think I’m really stupid. Try again.”
Becoming frustrated, he willed himself to stay the course. “In fact, I think you’re extremely intelligent. I’ve realized over the past few days that I’ve been attempting to negotiate with the wrong royal. I should’ve reached out to you directly centuries ago.”
“I would’ve just directed you to my father. We work as a team.”
“Perhaps in the past. But I feel that you’ve moved in a different direction. Choosing to defy him and unsheathe the Blade was very courageous. Whether you realize it or not, you are coming into your own, Miranda.”
She gave a pfft and waved her hand. “I don’t need flattery from you, Vampyre. But thanks anyway.”
Reaching for the vodka, he unscrewed the top and poured some into two thermoses. Handing her one, he continued, “The days to come are going to be difficult. I believe that your father will reject your unsheathing of the Blade as nothing more than a folly on your part. I think he will demand you lock it up and forbid you from attacking Crimeous. He will pull the support of the army from you and see you as a threat to his throne.”
The End of Hatred Page 12
