Lovers Awakening

by R. A. Steffan

  “No…” she moaned, her voice trailing away.

  Trynn was distantly aware of the way her body listed to one side, her shoulder bumping against the wall by the door. Her head spun. Numbness spread down her body, into her fingers and toes.

  Darkness was descending over her vision, no matter how hard she fought it. Within seconds, she could no longer resist the overwhelming exhaustion pressing down on her mind. She slumped forward, caught by wiry arms that supported her weight without effort as she fell into a deep sleep.

  *

  Eris came back into awareness slowly, feeling like his thoughts were trudging through the much-reviled swamp mud that surrounded the old plantation house he and the others had stayed in outside New Orleans. Oh, how he’d hated that damned swamp.

  The first sound he became aware of was that of quick, excited breathing.

  Right. Yes. Damascus. Suitcase nukes. Bael. Focus, Eris.

  He realized in a rush that he was flat on his back, bound to whatever hard surface he was lying on by thick ropes and straps of leather. He tested the restraints, jerking against the bindings, only to feel blinding pain erupt in his shoulder. That was also roughly the same point at which he realized he was naked.

  A soft chuckle echoed through the room.

  “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” a voice said.

  Eris tried to open his eyes but found that they were gummed together against his lids with something that felt like glue.

  “Thanks for the advice,” he croaked. His throat was parched and raw, as if he had been screaming. He swallowed, trying to moisten it before he continued. “Bit much for a first date, though. Don’t you think?”

  He made a vague waggling motion with the hand of his uninjured arm, indicating the bondage, and the being naked, and… well… all of it, actually. He had a feeling that Snag was going to be really, really cross with him at some point in the very near future.

  There was no answer from his captor, but Eris heard the unmistakable sound of metal being dragged across metal. The noise made the hair on the back of his neck stand up; it sounded like two sword blades being pulled slowly across one another.

  With a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, Eris thought, Damn, if Snag doesn’t kill me, Tré will. This is really not shaping up to be my finest hour.

  For some reason, mental focus seemed much harder to achieve than it normally was. He had a vague recollection of crashing through a car windshield and then being suffocated… which, yes, okay, probably had something to do with it. Feeling dizzy, he tried to breathe deeply, but found that this only made the spinning worse. Also, his ribs hurt rather a lot whenever he inhaled.

  “You are probably feeling quite weak right now, but don’t be alarmed. I did that on purpose.”

  “Wait… did what?” Eris slurred, trying again to concentrate. “What did you do to me?”

  “When you flew so unwittingly into my clutches, I decided to drain your blood to weaken your life force.”

  “Drained… me?” Eris ground out, trying to get his brain to sync up with his mouth.

  “Yes, that’s right,” the man said with a low chuckle. “I prefer more…compliant victims, shall we say?”

  Lovely.

  Eris struggled again, but his efforts only seemed to sap him of more energy.

  His captor clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Now, now, lie still and be a good boy.”

  Slumping back against the hard surface of the table, Eris blew a derisive breath through his lips. “Sod off. I was never good even when I was a boy. And you need to work on your people skills. I’ve got a friend—the two of you could start a self-help group.”

  “Perhaps it’s past time someone taught you a lesson.”

  The relish in the man’s voice was obvious, but Eris allowed no trace of alarm pass across his face.

  “Oh, good,” he said, mock cheerful even though his voice was still gravelly. “A sadist. This is going to be fun, I can tell already.”

  His nonchalance seemed to aggravate the man, who began pacing in circles around the table to which he was bound. Eris sort of wished he could pry his eyelids open… but, then again, there was something to be said for not getting an eyeful of the torture instruments before they were put to use, he supposed.

  “You will learn some manners before this day is done,” his captor snarled.

  “Many have tried—” Eris began, only to be cut off when the man swooped down on him silently and gripped his hair in an unforgiving fist.

  Jerking Eris’ head back painfully, he brought his face close to Eris’ exposed throat. He was mere inches away, and Eris could smell the man’s putrid breath on his face. It was all he could do not to gag.

  So, he thought as the sadist ran a ragged fingernail down the thin skin over his jugular, I guess this is how the other half lives. At least I have the good manners to hypnotize them first.

  Suddenly, the earth underneath them shook, and the grip on Eris’ hair disappeared.

  “Yes, my master,” the man breathed. “What is your bidding?”

  Eris strained to open his eyes, even just a sliver. Finally, he managed to rip one of them apart a slit, feeling as if several of his eyelashes had parted company with his skin during the process. He was able to see a small portion of the room through the tiny gap, though it was blurrier than he thought it probably should have been.

  “What was that about?” he asked mildly. “Got new marching orders, have you?”

  The sadist didn’t answer, but Eris could sense him moving away.

  “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Eris called after him. “And I thought we were getting along so well!”

  Something about goading his captor seemed to be pouring life back into him. Perhaps it was merely the small act of resistance that fueled his surge of energy. He knew it would not sustain him forever, though. After that, the mental image of Trynn would be his talisman against the tempting darkness swirling at the edges of his mind, whispering of sweet oblivion.

  Out of the crack in his eyelids, Eris saw movement and tried to flinch away, but his reactions were far too slow. A streak of stinging pain opened along the length of his cheek. He hissed, feeling hot blood trickle down his face. Blood that he probably couldn’t afford to lose.

  “My master grows weary of your impertinence. If you do not hold your tongue, I will slice you to shreds with this knife,” the man threatened.

  Well, that certainly escalated quickly.

  Eris breathed heavily through his nose, forcing his reaction to the fresh pain under control.

  Stay focused. Think. Concentrate.

  Reaching out with his consciousness, Eris discovered that he and his captor were alone in the large bunker-like room in which he had awoken. There were other presences nearby, but not so close that he could shout out for help and expect to get it. And even if they had been, the presences felt… off. More than likely, he was surrounded by Bael’s mindless puppets, which certainly didn’t make things look any brighter.

  “Now that I have your attention,” his captor said in a softer voice, “I want you to know how this is going to work.”

  Even without decent eyesight, Eris could tell that the man was pacing around him again. They’d barely gotten started, and he was already finding the habit intensely irritating.

  “I’m going to ask you a question—”

  The man’s voice was interrupted again by the sound of metal sliding across metal.

  “—and you are going to answer the question, completely and truthfully. Do you understand me?”

  “Not really.”

  “What do I need to clarify?” his captor replied in a dangerous voice.

  “Oh, nothing. I just don’t really get why you think that’s going to happen. It seems pretty unlikely.”

  The sadist laughed. “Ha! I hardly think so. I will break you under my ministrations. Slowly. Deliberately.”

  The evil that poured out of the man while he spoke made Er
is feel as if black oil were coursing over his body and face.

  “People skills,” he reiterated. “Just saying.”

  Without warning, a fist slammed into his face, breaking his nose and making blood spray everywhere. Despite his attempts to remain stoic, Eris let out a grunt when he was struck and felt his eyes immediately begin to swell.

  Well, fuck. So much for being able to see.

  “Do you know who Bael is?” the sadist asked, looming over him.

  Eris spit blood out of his mouth, only to have it dribble down his chin. “A loser.”

  “Want to rethink your answer?”

  “Not so you’d notice.” The words made it sound like his sinuses were clogged, which felt somewhat less than dignified.

  This time the unexpected blow was to his diaphragm, knocking the air out of him. He couldn’t seem to drag it back in, his mouth gaping open like a fish. Being a vampire, he could almost certainly go without for a bit if he had to, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant.

  “I will ask you again, do you know who Bael is?” the sadist demanded, this time pacing back and forth on his left.

  “A demon,” Eris choked out, when he was finally able to breathe again.

  “Very good. That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

  The man leaned over the table, his clammy hand pressed against Eris’ exposed leg. Eris shuddered and tried to pull away, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight.

  “I don’t think you give my master enough credit,” the man said conversationally.

  As he spoke, Eris felt the tip of a knife press into his leg. He held his breath as the man slowly pressed harder and harder, until the blade pierced his skin.

  Eris gritted his teeth together, struggling not to cry out as the knife was forced downward, towards the table, slicing through his skin.

  “And you are a vampire, correct?”

  “Correct,” Eris gasped, squeezing his swollen eyelids together as pain streaked through him in sharp bursts. “As you’re well aware.”

  “One of the thirteen?”

  Eris hesitated. Even if he had been in his right mind rather than strapped to a table being tortured, it was too complicated a question to answer.

  There was so much that they still needed to learn regarding the prophecy. So much they didn’t understand.

  “I’ve no idea,” he said truthfully.

  The man withdrew and could be heard rummaging some distance away.

  “You will find,” he said, his voice echoing around the chamber, “that I was fully prepared for you to refuse to cooperate. Tell me, which part of your body do you value most?”

  “My brain, I suppose,” he said.

  “We’ll need that for a bit longer yet, I’m afraid,” the sadist said, coming closer as he spoke. “Such as it is.”

  Without warning, Eris’ skin erupted into fiery agony. It was unbearable, unendurable, and Eris arched his back, struggling wildly against his bonds despite his shattered arm.

  He let out a deafening scream as the sun’s rays blistered his exposed skin. Behind his swollen eyes, glowing red seemed to grow out of the darkness, as though he were being consumed by the undying inferno at the heart of a star.

  Eris lost track of himself, of his surroundings, of what was being done to his body under the pain and agony of direct sunlight. He could no longer hear himself screaming at the top of his lungs or feel the cool metal table underneath him. He was trapped in the scorching flames, unable to escape.

  Quite as suddenly as the torture had begun, the flames were extinguished. The sun’s rays were blocked, plunging him back into blessed, cool shadow. He lay limp in his bonds, his strength spent after mere moments under the unforgiving glare.

  I will not. I will not. I will not.

  He was still in pain from his blistered skin, yet it was so much better than being in direct sunlight that he thought he could withstand it eternally, if it meant never undergoing that unbearable agony again.

  He started to shiver, his body slipping into shock after the abuse it had sustained over the last few hours.

  “Are you one of the thirteen?” The man repeated.

  Eris’ teeth were chattering so much that his answer was barely understandable. “I d-don’t kn-know. W-we s-s-still have m-much to learn about-t the p-prophecy.”

  “Hmm… yes,” his captor said thoughtfully. “It is a bit of an enigma, is it not?”

  Eris did not reply. It was taking all of his strength and determination to remain conscious; he was not going to give the man what he was seeking.

  “How many are there in your coven?”

  And so the true test began. Eris tried to turn his face away in refusal. He would not betray his friends. He would not make them a target for this madman. He would die before giving away their secrets.

  “So be it,” his captor said in a resigned voice. He stood again and moved off towards Eris’ feet.

  Eris could hear a drawer sliding in and out and then the man returned to his side.

  “It didn’t have to be this way, you know,” he said in a condescending tone.

  Eris felt a metal rod being pressed against the worst of his burns. For a moment he was confused. Then, the cold hit him.

  Iron. Second only to living wood when it came to damaging vampire flesh.

  Against his blistered skin, the iron rod felt like a block of ice. Rather than the cold penetrating only the top few layers of his skin, though, it seemed to seep through his muscles and right into his bones, further draining his life force.

  With a groan of pain, he tried for what seemed like the hundredth time to yank his flesh away, to protect himself. Yet to no avail. He was trapped in the clutches of this minion of Bael with a taste for cruelty and torture. His skin started to crystallize under the rod, only to have Bael’s servant move it to more and more sensitive areas on his body.

  Eris abandoned all pretense and screamed as loudly as he could, desperate to draw attention to himself, for someone, anyone, to come to his aid.

  “You can scream all you want. The ones outside obey only my command,” the man said maliciously.

  Removing the rod, he left Eris lying on the table, panting and soaked in icy sweat. He was completely spent, his body desperately weakened. He convulsed; his muscles jerked and spasmed, completely outside of his control.

  “I want you to tell me all you know about the Council of Thirteen,” the undead man demanded, coming close to Eris’ face again.

  Eris, who was bordering on delirium, giggled feebly. Breathing in heavy gasps, he tilted his face blindly toward his captor and mumbled, “Can you guys smell each other? ‘Cause, I’m sorry, but… you really smell bad. Even with… that cheap cologne thing… you’ve got going on.”

  Despite his numbed brain, Eris could hear how slurred the words sounded. Despite all the pain he’d experienced, he was still resolutely set against giving this man any information about Trynn, the council, or his friends, though. He would protect them at all costs.

  He began to understand that this struggle, this battle, could and probably would claim his existence. He had no idea how long he could hold out without being pitched into insanity. His best bet would quite likely be to goad his captor into destroying him before he accidentally revealed anything important.

  But how long would this man tolerate his defiance? Would Bael himself come down to finish the job he’d started millennia ago?

  I will never get to see Trynn again, he realized, his chest aching from more than the screams. Grief welled up, and he struggled for a moment with the impulse to drop into the darkness pressing all around him. He was so very tired—his reserves spent from who knew how many hours of torment.

  “Tell me who you are,” Eris demanded.

  He wondered idly if the sadist would answer, or just start torturing him again.

  “My name is Bastian Kovac,” the man growled, “and I am my master’s greatest creation. His success. I am the embodiment of his victory.”
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  “Sounds very gratifying for you,” Eris rasped.

  Bastian gripped Eris’ face with alarmingly strong fingers. Sharp fingernails pressed into Eris’ skin.

  “You are the failure! Vampires are the perversion of my master’s power, useless and weak! Your frailty makes me sick. You, who cannot tolerate a weak ray of sun on your skin—”

  He paused for a moment and Eris imagined he was shaking his head. “You can be destroyed by a stake through your heart.”

  To emphasize his words, it seemed, Bastian pressed the rod against Eris’ bare chest, directly above his heart.

  Eris arched and bucked as Bastian laughed, the sound cruel.

  After several moments, Eris was released from the icy agony. With no warning, his mental connection with Snag exploded into life within his mind, and he groaned. Apparently, the threat of iron so close to his vulnerable heart had broken through the mental shields he’d erected to keep Bael from sensing his thoughts.

  The connection surged, strong and vibrant. Eris could feel Snag’s fury at him for landing himself in danger, just as he felt Bastian’s consciousness probe at his vulnerable mind.

  In response to the oily touch of Bael’s servant, Eris felt Snag wrap a mental shield around him, forcing Bastian out and away. A low growl sounded in Eris’ mind, and he knew that Snag’s rage was about to spill out of control. The usually silent, sedate, and impassive vampire’s power was building. He was drawing, it seemed, from the very earth itself.

  Bastian let out a snarl of anger at being forced away. His self-control appeared to snap, and blows rained down on Eris’ body, seemingly at random. Eris felt a couple of ribs shatter, and sank back into his mind, allowing Snag’s strength to cradle his fading consciousness. The pain grew duller and he lay completely lifeless, unable to fight any more.

  Meanwhile, Snag’s anger mounted, and the air around Eris seemed to crackle like an immense weapon charging, ready to rain down destruction.