The Stone Warriors: Nicodemus
Page 46
“Baby,” he said in disbelief. “Of course, you couldn’t do it. It’s not who you are, don’t you know that yet? You give life, you don’t destroy it. You gather up lives on the edge of death, and bring them back. I know this, because you did it to me. Don’t you know that? All I’d done with my life was kill, until I met you. You took my blackened soul, and brought it back to life. I love you, Antonia. I love everything about you. Don’t ever think I want you to be anything but what you are.”
She began to cry even harder, and for a moment, he thought he failed her again. That his clumsy words hadn’t been the right ones to show how much she mattered, not only to him, but to a world that had too much death in it.
“I love you, Nico. I love you so much. I was so afraid, so afraid I’d lose you.”
“Never, my love. Never again.”
WHAT LITTLE RESISTANCE was left faded the instant Sotiris died. Quite literally in some cases, as magic-users and mercenaries alike tried to disappear into the surrounding foliage. No one bothered to chase them. Without Sotiris to make promises of magical or monetary reward, they were no threat to Nick or Raphael or those they loved and protected.
Vampires were sent to drive the vehicles around, since they were the only ones fast enough to do it, while others gathered their wounded, and in one case dead, to be treated by human or vampire healers once they returned to the Malibu estate. Once there, Raphael himself would step in to heal the most seriously injured with his powerful blood.
The rest piled into the vehicles regardless of who was driving, or which vehicle they’d arrived in, eager to leave before the neighbors noticed there were too many vehicles parked on the road, and called the police.
Which was pretty funny, when you thought about it.
Chapter Twelve
Three months later, Yosemite Valley, California
“CAN I LOOK YET?” Antonia asked, gripping Nick’s arm with iron fingers as he maneuvered them over the uneven surface on top of the famous Half Dome, despite the rapidly dimming light, as the sunset drew near. It wasn’t safe to be up there. It wasn’t even legal. But Nick had wanted somewhere spectacular for the surprise he had planned, and nothing was more spectacular than Yosemite’s Firefall. He would have waited as long as it took, but luck and the weather was with him, and the phenomenon known as Firefall, which only happened once a year, and then only if conditions were perfect, was happening tonight.
That was why he’d bundled Antonia into his plane on the pretext of visiting their many California friends, and then, promising something special, had flown them via helicopter from LAX to Fresno, then taken a limo to Yosemite Valley. After which, it had required magic to reach the top of Half Dome.
But it was going to be so worth it.
“Now?” she asked pitifully.
“Now,” he said, whisking the blindfold away with a wisp of magic.
Antonia blinked, first to let her eyes adapt to the light, then looking around while trying to figure out where they were. “Nick? Where are we?”
“Yosemite Park in California.”
“Oh. It’s beautiful, but wouldn’t it be prettier during the day?” she asked carefully.
He laughed. “Wait a few minutes more. It’s almost time.”
“Okay,” she said agreeably, then leaned into his side and gave a contented sigh when he put his arm around her . . . sigh that made him feel like a legendary hero every time he heard it.
Down below, the gathered people began to stir, as park rangers let them know the time was only seconds away. The observers waited in silence, not wanting to disturb the almost mystical air surrounding the moment.
High above, Nick and Antonia did the same, staring at the fall of water across the valley, heavy with runoff this year from a snowy winter. Nick closed his eyes, afraid to look. What if . . .
“Oh Goddess!” Antonia’s cry of wonderment told him he’d been right. Not about the timing, which owed nothing to him, but about how much it would mean to her. “Nico,” she sobbed. “It’s so beautiful. It’s nature’s magic in all her glory.”
“Marry me, Antonia,” he whispered, as the beauty of sunset and the perfect sky joined to create fire from water.
She didn’t say anything, didn’t even acknowledge she’d heard, until the incredible flow of liquid fire—which lasted for only a few minutes on a very few nights once a year—began to dim for the final time this year. Then, she turned to gaze up at him, eyes shining with tears, and said, “What?”
He laughed and repeated what he’d meant to be a dramatic question. “Marry me, love. Right now, right here, with that still shining in your eyes.” He pointed to the rapidly dimming Firefall.
Her mouth opened wide in surprise, as fresh tears drowned her beautiful, dark eyes. “Yes. Is that what I’m supposed to say? Yes?”
“It will do.”
“But how?”
“You and I come from a different world than this one. A world where two people don’t need a judge, or a priest, or anyone else to decide they could be married. This is between us, for us, and our children, when they come. No one else. So, Antonia, my love, I pledge you my troth from this day until forever.”
“Nicodemus Katsaros,” she said, fighting to get the name out despite her tears. “I pledge . . .” She had to stop and draw a breath, then started over. “Nicodemus Katsaros, I pledge you my troth, from this day until forever, because I love you so much.” And then the tears came in hiccoughing sobs as she buried her face against his chest.
He held her, happier than he’d ever been, until she looked up at him and said, “You remembered.”
“Of course, I remembered. Memories of making love to you inside that waterfall were all that stopped me from ending my life all those centuries you were gone.”
“Oh, Nico. Don’t say that. What would I have done without you?”
“We’ll never have to know now, will we?”
She smiled. “This is going to be the best engagement story ever for our grandchildren.”
Chapter Thirteen
One Month Later, West Tennessee
IT WAS A SMALL wedding on a cool spring night. Dragan’s happiness was matched by the pride lighting his eyes as he stood next to Maeve, her delicate beauty only enhanced by the growing swell of her belly. The ceremony had been a simple one—an exchange of vows that hadn’t left a dry eye in the house. They’d looked so damned besotted with each other, so much in love, that even Nick’s emotions had been pushing to get out.
“You should be proud of all your warriors,” Antonia said, coming to stand next to him, hooking her hand over his arm.
“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Nick said softly, shaking his head. “They were already great warriors by the time they came to me, willing to fight for what they believed in.” He frowned ruefully. “All I did was give them wars to fight, and a nightmare to survive.”
“Oh, be quiet,” she scolded. “You brought them together, gave them a brotherhood to believe in, to live for.”
“You think? I’m not sure.”
“Why are you so sad, Nico? It’s a wedding, and a new life on the way. This is a celebration.”
He smiled and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I just . . . I don’t want to lose them. With Sotiris dead—”
“Aren’t you the one who said that we’re all family? You don’t lose family, my love. Not when it’s this strong and good. Look around, everyone here is family.”
Nick’s gaze fell on Raphael and Cyn. She was laughing with Maeve’s mother, while the vampire stood silently by her side, seeming to listen. He was probably pretending, but Nick could hardly hold that against him. He’d probably have done the same thing. “Well,” he muttered, “maybe not everyone.”
“Honestly, you’re both so stubborn ab
out this. The two of you worked together to take down Sotiris. You even admitted that the magic shield he created to isolate the house was a remarkable feat.”
Nick grunted, his gaze fixed on the fucking vampire and Cyn, who now appeared to be heading their way.
“Be nice,” Antonia ordered.
“I’m always—”
“Oh, pooh. You’re not, and you know it.”
“Why the scowl, Nick?” Cyn asked, laughing. “It’s a wedding. The blessed couple are gorgeous and happy. What more do you want?”
“Exactly what I was just telling him,” Antonia agreed, and the two women shared a laugh.
When the hell did they get so chummy? he wondered.
“Nick.”
He looked at Raphael in surprise. He couldn’t remember a single time they’d spoken outside of the strategy sessions and briefings for the attack on Sotiris. “Raphael,” he replied cautiously.
A small smile flirted around the vampire’s lips, as if he found the situation amusing. “I understand congratulations are in order.”
Nick barely managed to conceal his surprise. Antonia must have told Cyn about their Firefall mating. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. We did it the old way.”
“As it should be. Cyn and I wish you both a long and happy life,” Raphael said, and held out his hand.
Nick took the hand, and they shook. “What about you and Cyn?” he asked, feeling lame even as he said it.
Raphael’s smile was as small as before, but his eyes, when he glanced over at Cyn, glinted silver with power . . . and possession. “We, too, chose an old way. We’re mated in the way of vampires, which is enough for both of us.” His gaze shifted to Nick. “But more than that, she is . . . my mate, though it took centuries to find her. You understand this, I think.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
A raised voice drew their attention, as someone from the bride’s side called for a toast. A member of the venue’s staff came around with a bottle of champagne and filled their glasses, before moving on.
“To true love,” the toaster called, raising his glass. “Wherever it finds us.”
And the two men, vampire and sorcerer—each the most powerful of their kind—raised their glasses with everyone else, and silently thanking the fickle whims of fate, drank a toast to love.
Epilogue
THE FEMALE SERVER retreated to the shadows beneath the trees, still holding the champagne bottle and tempted beyond reason to take a quick gulp to calm her nerves. Nerves! She was never nervous. She’d taken down powerful vampires and sorcerers, as well as the odd creature or two, all over the world without so much as a raised pulse. But those two . . . Christ, she’d felt like a paper doll facing down a tornado, when she’d stood in front of them.
The true wonder was that she’d managed to pour the damn champagne without sloshing it all over their six thousand dollar suits. Their power had been that overwhelming. How was it that she was the only one who seemed to feel it? Maybe the others were just so accustomed to being around them that they’d grown numb to the power those two possessed.
She should have been prepared. After all, she’d studied them both before taking on this assignment. Though, in retrospect, she understood that no amount of preparation would have made it possible for her to take down her target. She’d witnessed the battle from the shadows, had seen and felt the tremendous forces necessary to penetrate Sotiris’s residence, and to kill him.
She wouldn’t have had a chance—a fact which had her questioning the wisdom and, more importantly, the honesty of whoever had decided that she should be the one to assassinate Sotiris. There was no question the bastard had deserved to die. He’d cheated and killed his way across Europe, before fleeing to North America. But why send her? She had no magic.
She shook away the pointless speculation. There were far more important details to worry about now. She’d need to debrief, which could be handled with a phone call, and then arrange flights to Portugal, where her next assignment already waited.
Antônio Silveira, Vampire Lord of Portugal. Deadly and dangerous, but then all the powerful vampires were. No, what made Lord Antônio worthy of her attention were the black rages that consumed him in battle, or for that matter, any confrontation that threatened his life, or the life of his people. One such confrontation had taken the life of the wrong man. Or at least the son of the wrong father. She knew both men. Knew the son wasn’t worthy of his father’s adoration, much less retribution. The idiot had made a game of challenging every supernatural creature he encountered, as if needing to prove something to himself, or to his daddy.
Whatever he’d planned to prove the day he’d died, however, and whatever skills he’d thought he’d possessed . . . he simply wasn’t in the same league as a full-blown vampire lord. Hell, he hadn’t been in the same universe, much less the same league. He’d tempted death, and it had found him woefully inadequate.
Although Lord Antônio had left plenty of dead humans in his wake over the centuries, he didn’t deserve to die for killing that particular asshole . . . who, after all, had been trying to kill him. But that decision was well above her pay grade. She had her assignment, and she’d carry it out. Because she was good at it. And because if she didn’t, the Society would send someone after her next.
Sighing, she dropped the champagne bottle to the ground, then slipped away in the night. Time to fly.
To be continued . . .
Acknowledgements
Well, Brenda Chin, we did it again. We’re such a good team, maybe we should work on books together. Oh wait, we already do . . . and it’s great. Thank you for all the hard work and creativity you bring to the books. They’re so much better for having you on our side.
I also want to thank Debra Dixon, who somehow maintained the business of publishing, while dealing with the terrible personal losses of this past year. And to all the others at BelleBooks/ImaJinn who put so much effort into making all of this work.
Love and thanks to fellow writer Angela Addams for being a voice in the darkness telling me it will all work out. And to Julie Fine, who took time from her already busy life to give Nicodemus’s story a read and catch all those words that my flying fingers skipped over. Love also to Eva Kildmaa for the ledge. She’s laughing now, because she knows what that means.
And as always, love to my family who keep me strong and moving forward.
xoxo
—DBR
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About the Author
D. B. REYNOLDS arrived in sunny Southern California at an early age, having made the trek across the country from the Midwest in a station wagon with her parents, her many siblings and the family dog. And while she has many (okay, some) fond memories of Midwestern farm life, she quickly discovered that L.A. was her kind of town and grew up happily sunning on the beaches of the South Bay.
D. B. holds graduate degrees in international relations and history from UCLA (go Bruins!) and was headed for a career in academia, but in a moment of clarity she left behind the politics of the hallowed halls for the better paying politics of Hollywood, where she worked as a sound editor for several years, receiving two Emmy nominations, an MPSE Golden Reel and multiple MPSE nominations for her work in television sound.
Book One of her Vampires in America series, RAPHAEL, launched her career as a writer in 2009, while JABRIL, Vampires in America Book Two, was awarded the RT Reviewers Choice Award for Best Paranormal Romance (Small Press) in 2010. ADEN, Vampires in America Book Seven, was her first release under the new ImaJinn imprint at Belle Books, Inc.
D. B. currently lives in a flammable canyon near the Malibu coast. When she’s not writing her own books, she can usually be found reading someone else’s. You can visit D. B. at her website www.dbreynolds.com for information on her latest books, contests and giveaways.