“It certainly seemed so to me,” Jaden confirmed. “We have to find him. Ashra wants someone at the table who can negotiate a peace. We need this immortali. He is the key to peace with the daevas.”
Something dangerous glinted in Ashra’s golden eyes. “You’ll find him, won’t you, Tera?”
Tera nodded, but she did not meet Ashra’s gaze.
“And to be perfectly clear, we need him alive.”
Siri stifled a laugh. Ashra knew Tera well, but apparently not well enough if Tera’s infatuation with an artist had somehow gone unnoticed. “Did you not tell Erich what to do if he survived the transformation?”
“I did, but I don’t know if he heard me. He was already transforming.”
Siri shook her head. The transformation unleashed hell on unprepared human senses. Erich had been hurled, unprepared, into the transformation, and had not known how to find his way back to Aeternae Noctis. Yet, somehow, he had survived and gained a position of influence, perhaps even power, with the daevas.
Tera turned her back on Siri and Ashra. “I’ll find him. Talon, you’re with me.”
“Wait.” Siri held up her hands. “What part of ‘this city is traveling north to Siberia’ did you not understand?”
“The threat is here,” Tera said.
“The opportunity is there,” Siri pointed out.
Rafael spoke quietly. “What about the settlement in the caverns?”
Ashra arched an eyebrow.
Siri drew a deep breath before turning away, ostensibly to look out over Aeternae Noctis. Speaking was easier when she did not have to look at Rafael and bear witness to the silent heartbreak in his eyes. “Rafael raised the possibility of a settlement in the caverns, but that was before we made the decision to travel to Svalbard.”
Rafael shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if we have access to all the herbs and cures in the world if we can’t test their effects. The poison was born in the caverns. It’s infected the daevas. That’s where we’ll find the cure.”
“You’re going to capture daevas and try to cure them of aconite poisoning?” Talon’s eyes widened. “And I thought I was crazy.”
“There is no other way to safely test the potions and salves before giving them to Siri.”
Willpower kept Siri’s voice from shaking. “But the risk—”
“Someone has to take it, and I’m the only obvious candidate. I need time to examine and grow herbs down there. I know how to brew, mix, and test them, and I’m the only one you can spare. I’m not a warrior. I can’t help you defend Aeternae Noctis.”
Ashra’s gaze was flinty. “You’re certain of your decision?”
He nodded.
Siri squeezed her eyes shut, in denial, in protest, but he had made his choice, and Ashra had affirmed it.
The icrathari queen nodded. “Then we will do what we can to ensure your safety in the caves before we travel north to Siberia and Svalbard.” She smoothed out the piece of plastic—the first hint of life beyond Aeternae Noctis. “The immortali, and likely the daevas, have been there, too. The threat is everywhere; perhaps they will find Aeternae Noctis a far more interesting target than a lone vampire. For that reason alone, you may be safe.” Her voice edged with a warning. “And Rafael, you are there to conduct research, not start a fight with the immortali. You will leave him to Tera.”
Jaden nodded. “The immortali is dangerous. I don’t think anyone—not an elder vampire, not even an icrathari—should confront him alone.”
Siri drew in a deep breath. “Jaden’s right. Erich Dale is dangerous, not because he’s insane, but because there’s an excellent chance he’s not.”
Chapter 14
After Ashra dismissed the council, Rafael returned to the suite of rooms in the tower that Siri had set aside for his use. The main room had been retrofitted as a greenhouse. His herbs, including several pots of aconitum, flourished beneath columns of white light. The two adjacent rooms housed a twenty-second-century laboratory and a bedroom with an attached bathroom. Rafael had never slept in the tower, but at that moment, he appreciated access to a bathroom. He washed off the blood and the stink of battle before changing into the clothes Siri had placed in the closet.
The jagged edges of the wounds on his neck, jaw, and cheek left flesh exposed, but they no longer bled. He wrapped a cloth around his neck to conceal the injury; an application of salve, he hoped, would later close the wound. In the meantime, he had work to do before departing for the caverns.
The bright lights in the laboratory cast an unforgiving glow over the metal slab and Megun’s cold, stiff body. In death, with her wings spread and her limbs contorted with the agony of her final moments, she looked like the demon of legend compared to the angelic beauty of the icrathari, except that they were genetically the same species, and she had been a mother.
Rafael had yet to see the daeva-icrathari child named after her mother, but the child was not his focus at that moment. The cryogenic process had eliminated the dead daeva’s natural scents, but with little difficulty, Rafael extracted a vial of blood and tested it for aconite. It came up positive, as did Megun’s fingernail clippings.
His breath caught as he looked up. His gaze focused on the far wall of the laboratory, but his eyes glazed over the charts.
The poison infused the daevas.
What did it mean?
Megun was likely not the only daeva with aconite in her blood—Rafael had smelled it on the other injured daeva as well—but how widespread was the condition? Did aconite retard the daevas’ self-healing capabilities as well, or had the daevas overcome aconite and, more importantly, incorporated it as a weapon?
He needed test subjects—live daevas, perhaps young Megun, too. He had to find the source of aconite in the caves.
A low voice distracted him from his thoughts. “So it is true.”
Rafael glanced over his shoulder. “Lucas.”
The vampire walked into the laboratory. “I didn’t believe the gossip that Siri had successfully transformed a human into an elder vampire. Jaden made it, of course, but there were extenuating circumstances, not the least of which he possessed the reincarnated soul of an icrathari.” He stared at Rafael, his gaze challenging. “How did you do it?”
“I don’t know.”
Lucas stalked in a circle around Rafael, his eyes lingering upon the swath of cloth around Rafael’s neck. “Your wounds are not closing.”
“I inherited aconite blood poisoning from Siri’s blood.”
“So you don’t heal.”
“I don’t think so; not on my own.”
“But your salves—”
“They should close the wounds, and there are herbs that could help with the healing, but I don’t have the self-healing capability of a vampire.”
“But you don’t die either.”
Rafael managed a thin smile. “Apparently not. Inconvenient, isn’t it? The only thing worse than living forever is being injured and never healing, forever.”
“I’d offer you an infusion of Tera’s blood, but it won’t work.”
“What do you mean?”
“The only time vampires or icrathari need blood is to heal. The stronger the blood, the faster the healing. Tera is the only icrathari whose blood isn’t tainted with aconite right now, but her blood won’t heal your wounds. I tried it with Siri months ago; it didn’t work.”
“I never thought about it,” Rafael confessed. “The people in the city used to believe that the vampires took the children for their blood. In fact, they still do.”
Lucas shrugged. “Human blood is not particularly tasty or satisfying, but it was easier to allow the people to believe what they wanted. Besides, who would have believed the truth about the Night Terrors?”
No one. Rafael managed a tired smile. “I have to get back to the caves. The cavern is the source of the poison, and possibly the cure. I have to find it.”
“Why?”
Because fool that I am, I’m still trying to he
lp Siri. “Because aconite wasn’t just something the daevas applied on their nails before attacking Siri.” Rafael held up the vial of Megun’s golden blood. “The aconite is in their blood.”
Lucas, already pale, blanched. “But that would mean—”
“Battles with the daevas are inevitable. It’s a matter of time before every icrathari and every vampire is poisoned.” Rafael inhaled deeply. “I have to find a cure.”
Lucas nodded. “Good luck,” he said without sarcasm or irony, then turned to leave.
“Lucas,” Rafael called out.
“Yes?”
“That night, in the forest, why did you attack me?”
Lucas’s shoulders stiffened for a moment before sagging on a silent sigh. “I feared for her.”
“Siri?”
“I was the first one, the only one, who knew of her injury. Five hundred years of medical practice, but I couldn’t help her. You did, though, with your herbal remedies.” Lucas laughed, but the sound rang without humor. “When Siri went to you for the salve, I saw history repeating itself. For a moment, I stopped thinking, and I attacked you.”
“What do you mean ‘history repeating itself?’”
“Five hundred years ago, I was the city’s physician. I was in love with Clara Miller. My rival for her affections was Nicholas Varens.”
“Varens?”
“Your family was in the herbalist trade, even back then. Clara pledged herself to me, but in the end, she married Varens. I demanded an explanation, but she dismissed me with a joke about a love potion. Later, I discovered that Clara had been ill, and Varens supplied her with the potions that saved her life.” Lucas closed his eyes briefly, but not before Rafael saw pain flicker through them. Lucas went on, his voice unsteady. “I don’t know if she married him out of gratitude or love, but the reasons don’t matter. She bore him sons, continued his line.”
“And?” Rafael asked quietly.
“I never married, never had children. The icrathari took me and transformed me into a vampire. My line died with me.”
“Mine is dead too,” Rafael said. “Stefan is in the ark; he will never wake. And now, I will never have another child. If you wanted vengeance, you have it, Lucas.”
“I never meant—” Lucas shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell Siri I was the vampire who attacked you?”
“Because you did it for her, to protect her. I didn’t see any reason to get in the way of that.” Wry acknowledgement infused Rafael’s faint smile. “In the grand scheme of things, the life of one human would be a small price to pay to save an icrathari. It’s survival, not spite. We both know the icrathari have destroyed at least as many lives as they have saved. Death and life handed out in equal measures.”
Lucas nodded. “Few see them and understand them as you do—demon and angel inhabiting the same body.”
Demon and angel? Rafael shook his head. Siri was just…Siri. Unique. Irreplaceable. Unforgettable. He looked at Lucas. “You love her too, don’t you?”
Lucas sighed and lowered his gaze. “She makes love easy. She doesn’t have Ashra’s icy aloofness or Tera’s dangerous edge. Sometimes, she even seems to care.”
Rafael fought to keep his stance relaxed. He, too, had been fooled by Siri’s attention.
“It doesn’t make her any less of an icrathari though,” Lucas continued. “It’s a wonder you’re not obsessed with her.”
“What do you mean?”
“After I attacked you, she kissed you to access your memories. You know what they say about an icrathari’s kiss. It twists emotions and compels love where none should exist.”
“She kissed me?” Everything I felt…everything I still feel for her…lies, all lies? Rafael stared at the vial in his hand. Willpower alone kept him from crushing it. He turned his back on Lucas. “Please go. I have work to do.”
He waited until the door closed behind Lucas before giving in to the pain. A scream tore out of him. I’ve been a fool. She promised nothing, but I gave her everything.
She had kissed him, but he had recognized his unnatural attraction to her. He could have fought it, but he had given in. He had handed her the victory.
Hours passed before the hurt and the fury settled into a dull throb. In the end, rationality won. Whatever Siri had done, it was in the past and no longer mattered. The game was played out. Back in the caverns, she had made her disdain for him abundantly clear—all she wanted from him was the cure for aconite poisoning.
And all he wanted was—Rafael drew in a deep breath. For a few brief moments, when he had been able to look past everything the icrathari had taken from him, all he had wanted was her.
Perhaps his love was built on a lie, but the shaky foundation did not make his love any less real or strong. He loved her simply because of who she was, not what she had done.
Nevertheless, love did not change the fact that he had no place in her life. He would not beg, which left him no choice but to leave, the sooner, the better.
Rafael arranged for Megun’s body to be delivered back to its cryogenic chamber in the ark, and then left the tower with the vial of Megun’s blood tucked in his knapsack, nestled next to jars of mushrooms and moss.
He returned to his home to find much changed. The fragrance of flowers and herbs rose to greet him, but this time, his enhanced senses teased apart the medley of the whole into its components. He stopped to caress an orchid and was amazed by the profoundly different texture of its velvety petals. He could even make out its individual fibers.
It hit him hardest when he entered the cottage. Stefan’s scent, more than four months old, undetectable by human senses, was starkly evident to an elder vampire.
The sense of loss crashed down on him once more. Grief renewed, heartache refreshed.
He squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears. The grief would pass one day; that day could not come soon enough. His gaze drifted to the small urn of Ariel’s ashes on the mantle place. He would take that urn with him to his new home in the caverns. He would have to transplant his herbs into pots, and the kitchen utensils, including his mortar and pestle would need to be packed for the move. His recipe book too and—
“Rafael.” Siri’s familiar voice soothed his quick, nervous movements around his cottage.
He schooled his voice into professional courtesy before responding. “What is it?”
She stopped at the threshold of his cottage. “Did you put the salve on your neck wound to close it?”
A muscle twitched in his smooth cheek. “I’m working myself up to it.”
She met his eyes. “I’m here for you.”
Are you? Lucas’s words came back to him. Sometimes, she even seems to care.
“Rafael!” a woman’s voice called out. Footsteps pounded up the cobblestone pathway to his cottage but stopped short. No doubt his visitor had seen Siri standing by the doorway.
Rafael went to the door. Nancy Baker, the midwife’s assistant, seemed grateful to have someone else, other than an icrathari, to look at. “Leona’s contractions have started and it looks like it’ll be a difficult one. Meghan needs you there—” Her face paled and she retreated several steps until her back hit the fence post. “You…you’re a vampire.”
“I’ll—”
Nancy shook her head. “Don’t come. They won’t want it.” She turned and scurried away.
Rafael cursed under his breath.
Siri stared at him, her eyes wide in her face. “Are you going?”
“I can’t. I’ll only make the situation worse.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Instead of expanding his world, love—and immortality—had shrunk it. He swallowed the ironic chuckle. Too late. The decision was made, and now the price had to be paid. Focus on the here and now; it was all he could do. With the jar of salve in his hand, he sat down on the bed. Siri sat behind him, the curve of her breasts pressed against his back, her arms wrapped around his narrow waist. He twisted off the cap and inhaled the earthy scent of the salve. His hand trembled as he di
pped his fingers into the cool ointment.
Coward, he mocked himself.
Rafael tilted his head to expose the bloody gash. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and before he could change his mind, swiped the salve across the open wounds.
Pain shattered his world into shards. A million fragments of sensation, each one too minute to grasp, pummeled him, wrenching a scream from him.
Siri’s arms tightened around his waist. “I have you,” she whispered. “I’m holding you. I always will.”
Darkness shrouded him; its gentle warmth contained the broken pieces of his psyche until his shuddering body and mind pulled back together. When he opened his eyes, he found Siri’s wings wrapped around him, a blanket of safety and security.
“Are you all right?” she asked quietly.
“Still alive,” he said, and then wondered if alive was technically correct given his new status as an elder vampire. The term favored by the humans of Aeternae Noctis was undead, but there was nothing dead about a body that had endured the intensity of pain assaulting him moments earlier. Perhaps undying was the better word—a life stretching out into forever, barring accidents.
Siri’s wings unfurled, tiny rivulets of golden blood almost invisible against the black of her leathery wings.
Rafael’s eyes widened. In the madness of his pain, his fingernails—his claws—had torn into her wings. “I hurt you.”
“It’s nothing. Just scratches. I’m fine.”
He frowned. “Elder vampires are not capable of just scratches.”
Siri laughed, the sound like the chime of silver bells. “You actually sound insulted.” She pushed to her feet, her wings stretching out to their full ten-foot wingspan before folding against her back. She smoothed the faint grimace that passed across her face, but not quickly enough to escape his notice. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off by holding his chin and turning his face to the side so that she could examine his neck. “You won’t win any beauty contests with that scar—”
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