Acquainted With the Night (9781101546000)

by Maitland, Piper

  “I’ve been bitten before,” Caro said. “And I’m not a whore.”

  The monk gave her a freezing stare, then faced Jude. “Your unborn baby is a miracle. He is the last bit of you that is human. You can have more children, of course, but they will carry your immortal genes. The child must be protected. Therefore, the whore must be protected from your carnal desires.”

  “I’d rip out my heart before I hurt her or the baby,” Jude said.

  Father Konstantine shook his head. “You cannot be with her. You must fulfill the blood oath.”

  “What ruddy oath?” Jude cried.

  Two portly monks entered the room and seized Jude, pinning his arms behind his back.

  Father Konstantine’s hand clamped on Caro’s elbow, and he steered her through the blue door, into the corridor. “Let me go, you stupid monk! My place is with Jude.”

  “You have no place in this world.” Father Konstantine’s voice pierced the empty hallway. “Jude is ours. And you are little more than seven pints of blood.”

  “And you’re a bloody cue ball!” She squirmed away, clawing his wrist. He grasped her shoulders, and shook hard. Her teeth clattered, and she bit her tongue.

  “You set this in motion, woman. You gave permission for the cabal to turn him.”

  “Cabal? What are you talking about?” Raphael, where are you? Damn you.

  “You need to know only one fact.” Father Konstantine’s lips curled over his teeth.

  Like the wild dogs in my dream. Blood pooled in Caro’s mouth, and she swallowed.

  The monk’s eyes narrowed. “Jude resisted the change because he did not want to be immortal. Now, he’s become the one thing he despises. And you gave the order.”

  “To save him.” She struggled to control her voice, but little streaks of terror broke loose.

  “Yes, you saved his life, but the cost was his soul.” The monk’s bitter laugh held in the air. “Now he will live a thousand years. And a thousand more. In the dark.”

  She kicked him in the groin. An explosive gasp hissed through his teeth, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

  Raphael, please hurry.

  Konstantine slapped her, hard. She fell against the wall, stunned, as if a pot of cold, black coffee had spilled behind her eyes. He pulled her out of the corridor, across the courtyard, toward the main entrance of the basilica.

  “Where the hell are you taking me?” Her words struck the cold night air like a series of claps.

  As he still gripped her, his free hand flung open the church’s carved wooden doors. He pushed her inside, and she sprawled in the aisle. His robe waffled as he scurried back into the hall. He slammed the doors and a scraping noise reverberated, as if a bolt were dropping down. Oh, God. No. He was locking her inside the church.

  She scrambled to her feet and slapped her hands against the doors. Damn him. “You can’t hold me captive!”

  “You will be released when Brother Jude has left Egypt,” the monk called from his side of the door. “Until then, I will pray for the soul of your bastard child.”

  CHAPTER 66

  CHURCH OF THE TRANSFIGURATION

  ST. CATHERINE’S MONASTERY

  White altar candles fluttered as Caro ran through the basilica, searching for an exit. All doors were fastened, and the windows were ten feet above her head. She shivered, and her breath rose in an ivory thread. She pulled the red robe around her and started down the center aisle, past flaming candelabras in tiered brass holders.

  Shadows flitted over the gilded iconostasis as she slipped into a pew and put her face into her hands. Great, gulping sobs escaped her throat. She cried so hard it hurt to breathe. Each intake of air sent a sharp crackle through her ribs as if the bones were made of glass. How long did Father Konstantine plan to keep her locked up? Until the baby was born? How many other monks were on his side?

  She wiped her face on her robe and tilted her head. Above her, ostrich eggs hung from the ceiling by slender chains. The egg, an ancient symbol of rebirth. Her chest tightened, stirring sharp, insatiable pangs. Jude’s whole biology had been altered, along with his concept of time, and it was her fault. Now, he was on intimate terms with darkness. As long as human blood flowed through her heart, their time together was finite. Years after she and their child had turned to dust, Jude would be here. Time would flow around him like the fine bits of sand that passed through the monastery’s outer walls.

  Raphael’s voice floated into her mind just as clearly as if he’d been sitting beside her. Hold tight, mia cara, I am coming.

  A shuddering noise echoed outside the church. The doors creaked open, and a draft stirred the candles. Raphael shut the doors, then walked down the aisle gripping a metal briefcase and a burlap sack.

  He genuflected in the center aisle, then squeezed into her pew next to her and set the briefcase and sack on the floor.

  “It’s about time you showed up,” she said. “What’s in the sack? It better not be ticking.”

  “No bomb, mia cara.” Raphael’s jaw tightened, and tears beaded in his lashes. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have brought you and Jude to Egypt.”

  She grabbed his sleeve. “I want answers.”

  “Jude’s being moved to a treatment facility near Istanbul.”

  She sprang to her feet “Is he still injured?”

  “Sit, mia cara. His wounds have healed, but his body chemistry is still evolving. He’ll need transfusions and a complete orientation to vampirism.”

  She eased back into the pew and cast a sidelong glance at Raphael. “How long will it take?”

  “Six months. Maybe less.”

  “Then I can be with Jude?”

  Raphael shook his head.

  She narrowed her eyes. “When?”

  “Never.”

  “What?” A sick feeling uncurled in her belly, and she grasped the pew in front of her.

  “Jude will eventually be put to work in a laboratory,” Raphael said.

  “A lab?” She let go of the pew and crossed her arms. “He won’t go.”

  “It’s mandatory.”

  “Says who? You and Konstantine?”

  “I have no part of this.”

  “Who does?” Her breath came in short gasps.

  “The monks who resurrected Jude are members of the Salucard Foundation.”

  “The what?” she asked.

  “It’s a nonprofit organization. Trustees and directors are composed of influential vampires from around the globe.”

  “And that includes bald monks with reptilian eyes?”

  “They’re dedicated to the protection and preservation of immortals. The cabal at Saint Catherine’s safeguards our history, culture, and artifacts. They are maniacal about the prophecy. They believe the child you carry is the baby in the fresco on Mount Sinai.”

  “How would they know I’m pregnant? I’ll tell you how. You told them!”

  “No, I swear it. One of them must have read our thoughts. I learned their intentions only fifteen minutes ago. Father Nickolas told me. He is on your side, mia cara.”

  “Why should I trust him?” Or you.

  “He knew Philippe.” Raphael inched closer. “Let me explain what’s going on. Jude is now a member of the cabal. These brethren saved him. He is in their debt. That’s why his head was shaved. It’s the first step of initiation. The cabal will take Jude away, but they plan to detain you at Saint Catherine’s.”

  “Why?”

  “Haven’t you figured it out? You will be used as an incubator for the child. After he—or she—is born, the brethren will raise the baby.”

  “Incubator? No one is taking my child. And they can’t separate me and Jude.” She started to rise, and he caught her arm.

  “You don’t understand what is at stake. After the baby is born, you will be eliminated. Jude’s life will be spared because he will be useful to the foundation as a biochemist. But he will be held captive as long as you breathe. Then he will be free.”

 
; She shook violently. Her palms skidded down the front of her robe, leaving a damp smear on the red wool. She had to escape, had to warn Jude. If she had to rip down these walls, she’d find him.

  “But you have an infinity tattoo.” Her voice was low, but a scream perched in the back of her throat. “I’ve seen it.”

  “I’m a member of the foundation. As was your father. But I am not in the hierarchy.” Raphael pushed back his sleeve, and his tattoo gleamed in the candlelight. “I am too radical for their tastes, mia cara. I am not privy to their secrets. If I had been, I would never have brought you and Jude here. I would have hidden both of you from the world.”

  “Why should I believe you? Why are you telling me these things?”

  “Because I want to help you and Jude escape. Haji and Father Nickolas are making arrangements as we speak.” Raphael swallowed, and his throat clicked. “It’s only a small chance, and you’ll have to leave now. Members of the cabal are being transfused. They should be finished in thirty minutes. Then the brethren plans to sedate Jude—if they haven’t already. A helicopter will arrive and take him away. If you don’t find him, you must leave. A Bedouin man is waiting with camels just beyond the south wall. He is trustworthy and will lead you to the caves in the desert, near Libya.”

  “What if the monks are listening to our thoughts?”

  “It’s a risk. But they are less telepathic while they are feeding.”

  “But even if I find Jude, he’ll need blood.”

  “The Bedouin will provide what Jude needs. Do everything the man says, mia cara. Sleep by day and travel at night. I will catch up with you in the Gilf Kebir. And I swear on my father’s grave, I will take you and Jude to safety.”

  “Why would you and Father Nickolas betray your own cabal?”

  “I cannot speak for Nickolas. As for me, I am an outsider. And I loved your mother. She was my heart. I still love her. Above all else, she would want you to be with Jude.”

  He opened the burlap bag and pulled out beaded slippers and two black hooded capes.

  “Your birthday is tomorrow, so here is an early present.”

  “I’d forgotten about that.”

  He smiled. “There’s a full moon tonight. You’ll need camouflage.”

  She tossed aside her red robe, making the candlelight wobble, then put on the slippers and cape. “As much as I want to leave, I’m worried about you and the others. What will the cabal do when they find out what you’ve done?”

  “Do not worry about us.”

  She wiped her eyes, then leaned closer to kiss his cheek. “Good-bye, Raphael. And thank you.”

  As she gathered Jude’s cape, she felt pressure on her arm and glanced up. Raphael squeezed her. “Two things, mia cara. First, do not make the mistake of thinking you can trust Jude during the act of love. He’s physically weak, which is to your advantage. But when he is stronger, sex will alter his consciousness, and his drive will be an unstoppable force.”

  “We’ll be careful.” She could feel him reach into her mind, prodding and searching, and she willed her thoughts to go blank.

  “What’s in the briefcase?” she asked.

  “That is number two.” He flashed a quick smile. “The antiquities police brought Wilkerson’s ten million euros and your vellum pages. I stole them. I also added the triptych and the rest of the book—more birthday presents for you. So you now have the only complete copy of Historia Immortalis.”

  She recoiled. “It’s not a present. It’s a curse. I don’t want it.”

  “I raided the monks’ library and can’t very well return the stolen property, can I? Besides, these pages are your legacy, mia cara. Guard them well. They are not ill-omened. We make our own destiny. But this is no time to hypothesize.

  “Is there anything else?” she asked.

  “Number three.” He gripped her arm. “Haji has connections through the embassy. He learned that your uncle is in Prague. Nigel is adjusting to the night. And he will find you, mia cara.”

  The candlelight swirled. Her breath rose above her head and soared. Oh, thank God. She’d see Uncle Nigel again. He could fill in the missing pieces. “But how did he get to Prague?”

  “A fellow named Hughes brought him. But we will talk later,” Raphael said. “When I meet you in the Gilf Kebir.”

  As she ran out of the basilica, his thoughts chased after her: Mia cara, do not be afraid.

  Caro raced breathlessly through the empty corridor, her slippers rasping over the dry stones, and then she stopped in the T-shaped hall. The blue door was closed, as were the other doors. No monks stood guard, thank goodness, but when she turned the knob, it wouldn’t budge. The bastards had locked Jude inside. Were they with him?

  It didn’t matter. Despite all risks, no man—or vampire—could keep her away. Her cape billowed as she ran into the next room, pushed open the window, and climbed onto the tiled roof. Tattered clouds glided over a December moon. In the distance, lights moved up Mt. Sinai. As she inched along the ledge, the wind blew her cape, showing a flash of her white galabiyyah. If she was caught, she and Jude would be separated and escape would be impossible.

  She paused outside Jude’s window. He sat on the bed, his back to the window. Pains shot through her chest. Never again would he feel sunlight on his face. Oh, how he’d loved it. He’d miss the pink sky at dawn. Nor would he see himself age. He would never have gray hair or laugh lines. He was a perfect male specimen, caught in his prime.

  And she was drawn to him. Without even meaning to, she’d started to crawl through the open window. At the last moment, she craned her neck, glancing around the room, making sure he was alone.

  “Jude?” she whispered.

  He vaulted from the bed and whirled. “Jesus, Caro. They’ll be back any second.”

  She pushed the briefcase into the room, then climbed in after it and tossed him the black cape. “Put it on, and hurry. We’re breaking out of this bloody jail.”

  He gave her a long, level gaze, then pulled on the garment.

  “I don’t have time to explain,” she said. “Raphael has put his life in danger to help us. He’s arranged for us to escape. If we don’t, the monks will separate us permanently—very permanently. They’ll murder me, turn you into a lab rat, and take our baby.”

  “Bloody bastards. Let’s go, lass.”

  He held the briefcase while Caro climbed out the window, and then they picked their way over the red tiles, to the edge of the roof. It was just a low drop to the staircase, but when Caro started to climb down, she heard voices. Had the monks already transfused themselves? If so, she and Jude wouldn’t make it out of the monastery.

  “They’re on the far side of the courtyard,” Jude said, then sniffed the air. “They’re mortals. And they’re arguing about a fine point in Exodus.”

  They jumped to the landing, then hurried down the steps. They started to bolt into the orchard when the voices got closer.

  “Down,” Jude said, pulling her against a wall, his cloak waffling.

  Caro reached out to grab it. Nausea and terror rose to a peak and hovered in the back of her throat as two monks passed by, their voices low and tangled. Then they turned the corner and their sounds faded.

  “Now,” Jude said. They ran through the straight rows of the orchard and cut toward the wooden door in the south wall. It stood ajar, and the lock looked as if it had been recently smashed—bits of metal glinted on the sand.

  Caro’s terror lessened when she grasped Jude’s arm, and they dashed into the shadows, tripping over loose stones. Each time she stumbled, he held her aloft. She wouldn’t allow herself to think what might—or might not—be lurking ahead. All around them the terrain dropped off into a murky haze, with faint halos rising from the monastery.

  The Bedouin guide waited in a clutch of palm trees, just as Raphael had said. The man helped Jude and Caro onto the camels and handed them heavy woolen shawls.

  “Wrap yourselves,” he said. “It hides. And the night air is co
ld. The blowing sand cuts like shattered goblets.”

  He secured the briefcase in a canvas satchel and strapped it to Caro’s saddle. She settled onto the tasseled blanket, arranging her cape beneath the shawl. Her camel lurched upward, and she gripped the wooden pommel. For one moment she felt weightless. She looked around for Jude. He huddled beneath the shawl, blending into the gloom. A shadow within a shadow.

  “Yella!” the guide called, and the camels trotted out of the palms. Caro looked over her shoulder and saw the blurry lights of the monastery; farther away, a curved glow hung above St. Catherine’s City. She abruptly turned. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, the plains spread out beneath the moon, ringed with mountains. Here, in this deeply symbolic land, the Israelites had waited for Moses to climb down Sinai.

  She crossed herself and said a prayer. The dark world around them had boundaries, but it was filled with hope. She and Jude had been touched with Raphael’s grace. He’d promised to lead them out of Egypt, but at what cost to himself?

  “Wadi ed-Dier,” the Bedouin said, waving his arm. “The Valley of the Monastery.”

  They hadn’t gone five hundred yards when Caro saw a flash of light. She turned in her saddle, gripping the pommel. The beam from a helicopter spangled through the night sky over St. Catherine’s City and veered toward the monastery.

  “Can’t we ride faster?” she asked the Bedouin. “The monks are bound to know we’ve escaped. They’ll come after us.”

  “No, madam,” he said. “They will not.”

  His camel spat, and a moment later, a boom shook the ground. Caro muffled a scream and whirled. Below the mountain, just outside the monastery, an orange fireball exploded.

  “Ruddy hell, what was that?” Jude cried. “Did the helicopter crash?”

  The Bedouin man’s mustache twitched as he watched smoke blot out the moon. “Signore Raphael planned a small diversion. But do not fear. He is safe.”

  The Bedouin moved ahead before she could ask more questions. The wind snapped Jude’s cape as he steered his camel next to Caro’s. She leaned against him the way night touches day, and daylight slants into dusk, their boundaries inseparable. The wind stirred her blanket, and her cloak escaped and fluttered out, melting into Jude’s. Both garments hovered above them, beating like hundreds of wings.