by Sharon Page
Using her power always left her weakened and tired. After the night she had saved Aunt Eugenia, when she had been twelve, she’d slept for two days. Her father had been in a panic, believing her ill. And Eugenia had forbidden her to tell the truth—for her own good.
She realized Lukos was still sprawled on the seat opposite. He’d allowed Zayan to stay at her side, but he was glaring like a chaperone. He was talking of the attack by James Ryder, the vampire slayer. She realized, after he’d saved her, and had made love to her with his wicked tongue, she’d almost forgotten what he was—a vampire.
“When she touched you,” Lukos was remarking conversationally to Zayan, “she was trying to return your soul.”
The anger she’d seen before was hidden now. He appeared nonchalant, like a jaded gentleman using his practiced ennui as a shield.
“I saw what she did in the inn’s yard.” Zayan stared at her. “Alas, love, that’s not possible. I didn’t lose my soul—I gave it away. It can’t be retrieved.”
Why would you want to save me? She heard his thoughts as he rubbed his strong, graceful hand over his jaw.
“The power to resurrect life? I didn’t know that power existed.”
So that is why she felt so strong—
She heard the snippet of Zayan’s thought. Then Lukos’s thoughts entered her head. I want her. Simple and direct. But because of her power? Or for carnal pleasure? She felt the intensity of both men.
“This was to be a competition,” Zayan said, watching Lukos. “But the prize is much sweeter than just an innocent lass.” He reached out and lightly traced the neckline of her pelisse, gently brushing her heated skin. “The prize is unique magic and a pure, powerful soul.”
Horror raced through her—a cold, frightening contrast to the pleasure she’d felt just a few hours before. “You can’t fight over me,” she cried. “I’m not the spoils of war. And I promise I won’t simply go with the man who wins. I might be nothing more than a prize, but I’ll fight to my last breath.”
She saw pain in Lukos’s eyes, in the harsh lines around his mouth. “Miranda, I don’t mean to hurt you. I never would. For a woman as powerful as you—I would give my love.”
Zayan snorted. He leaned back elegantly against the seat. “Don’t believe the lying demon. It was his plan to take a mate and breed a race of demons that would rule mankind.”
Slowly, she took in Zayan’s words. She had not believed Lukos was pledging love to her. It had to be a lie, and it irritated her he thought she would be so easily tricked. What he wanted, she realized, was to use her power for some reason.
But it meant they were not going to kill her. With her power, she was more valuable alive.
Lukos’s face took on a dark rage. He looked like a demon then, and she retreated instinctively against her seat.
“I told you he has taken the lives of many innocents—women and children,” he snarled. “Zayan took my sister’s soul. He gave her to Lucifer so the devil could control me.”
“Damnation, Saxon, that’s a lie. I’ve vowed to you it was a lie. Stop being such a damned stubborn fool and listen to the truth when it’s told to you.” But after growling at Lukos, Zayan turned gently to her. The carriage began a slow ascent suddenly, creaking on its springs.
“I asked for direction to Blackthorne’s castle at the inn,” Zayan said.
She swallowed hard. “You mean, we are heading there now?”
“Why did you lie about it?” Zayan asked. “Don’t you think your fiancé will save you?”
“I—I was trying to save him.” Not just from the vampires. From her.
This was to be her fate—to either survive this night with the two vampires or end up dead. But she couldn’t force Blackthorne, an innocent man, to take on her battles. And she could not lie to him about her power. In his letters, he’d told her he loved her.
She’d come racing to him because she had nowhere else to go. But now she had seen what she was—not a proper English lady at all, but some sort of wanton being. It was because of her power. She could not go to a decent man and pretend to be a decent woman.
Zayan stroked her cheek and she stiffened. “This is where you belong. With us.”
“You weren’t made to live in the mortal world, by confining moral rules,” Lukos murmured.
“I was,” she protested, but she now believed it wasn’t true.
None of the things you’ve done with us has ruined you, angel, Lukos argued in her thoughts. You’ve celebrated your sensual nature. Love, I understand why you do not want to go to Blackthorne. You fear now that you don’t belong with him. And that’s the truth. You do belong with us, with demons, yes, but also men who understand you and accept you. Who would never hurt you.
Miranda froze. She didn’t belong anywhere. Mr. Ryder wanted her dead, and he claimed the Royal Society did too. Aunt Eugenia had warned her to hide her gift, even if she had to let someone die rather than help them. But she had never been able to do that. She would save someone even if it exposed her.
And even if she could go to Blackthorne, he would never accept her. He wouldn’t have married her. He might have had her locked away, believing she was mad.
Lukos crossed over to sit beside her. He lifted her skirts, his fingers lazily teasing her calves through her thick stockings. She let him. She wasn’t normal. Perhaps she wasn’t even human.
Both men bent to her nipples, suckling them through the bodice of her dress. And she couldn’t help but savor the sensation as they pulled at her nipples. Jolt after jolt of pure pleasure rocketed through her, like Vauxhall fireworks.
This was not magic controlling her. This was what she wanted.
But Zayan jerked back and his nose flared. He cocked his head toward the window. “By the Gods, do you smell smoke?”
Lukos lifted from her breasts, pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, then lifted the shade from the glass. “Torches. It appears we’ve encountered a torch-bearing mob. And that blasted vampire slayer is their leader.”
Earlier
A rap sounded from the closed bedchamber door. From beyond came a maid’s voice, “My lady? Lady Draycott has arrived.”
Serena had only just awoken with nightfall. She swiftly sat up in bed, clasping her tight, rounded stomach, which she had to move about with her hands so she could get out of bed. “I must go and speak with her,” she said to Jonathon and Drake. But she already believed that going to London was their only hope.
The thought of traveling so close to her time filled Serena with fear. But if her babies’ lives were at stake, if this was the only choice, she would do it.
She pulled on a negligee of fine ivory silk, then drew on a thick robe of velvet and tied it at her waist. Drake groaned and rubbed his eyes, while Jonathon slid out of bed and snatched up his trousers.
Serena smiled, though she knew the smile did not reach her eyes. She knew her fear still showed. “I will go ahead.” Slipping her feet into her slippers, she hurried out into the corridor.
The hallways were lit with torches, and tapestries of rich embroidery hung on the stone walls. This fortress was ancient and had been held by the Royal Society for five hundred years. It had once been one of the houses of the Countess of Moravia, who had worked for Lucifer and who was, in fact, a demoness. She had brought him apprentices for the Scholomance. Serena had unearthed the countess’s journals. She described her encounter in 875 A.D. with a new disciple—who was to be called Lukos.
It was said that the tunnels and dungeons below led to the Chambers of the Scholomance. And through there, one could enter the Underworld and find Lucifer himself. But for five centuries the Royal Society had tried to find the secret to enter the chambers. They had never succeeded.
Serena heard footsteps behind her and knew that her men followed. They did not catch her, though they easily could, perhaps understanding she needed to walk alone for a few moments, needed time to reflect on her own. She walked with her hand on her tummy, and beneath her palm
she felt the twins struggling for room or perhaps wrestling.
Even though brilliant minds had struggled with the secret of the entrance to the Underworld for so long and failed, she and Althea had tried. It had kept Althea’s mind—and her own—from the constant fear for their children. The worry sapped their strengths and made them wooly-headed so they could barely think rationally. They needed something—anything—to take their minds away from fear.
“Now we might have hope,” she breathed aloud. “I know Althea will be afraid to travel with her baby. She hated having to make the journey here. But we have to try this.”
A maid passed, who must think her mad for talking to herself.
The scent of coffee came from the drawing room. This chamber had been changed from a spartan room of cold stone into a luxurious retreat. Two fireplaces blazed and the warmth wrapped around Serena as she hurried inside.
Her mother rose to her feet. Eve, the dowager Lady Draycott, the oldest and first vampiress, had Althea’s daugther Serry in her arms.
Serena moved forward and embraced her mother. She felt the reserve in her hug and was certain her mother had. Eve had refused to provide more help when Althea’s daughter began to lose strength.
Drake and Jonathon stepped into the drawing room behind Serena and stayed at her side until she settled on a large comfortable chair. Jonathon provided a pillow for her to rest against, Drake a footrest. She saw Yannick and Bastien, Althea’s men, were already there. Bastien wore an open shirt, leather breeches, and tall boots. His hair was loose. Yannick was formally dressed—after all, he was the Earl of Brookshire.
Jonathon asked Eve permission to speak first—showing deference to a vampire queen. He quickly told them all about Denby’s letter and about Lady Miranda Bond, who might be able to save their children. Or change them all back to mortals. Serena bit her lip at that. All, perhaps, except for her. Born of a vampire and a fallen angel, she had never been exactly human.
Eve nodded. She returned the sleeping baby to Althea. “It is true. The queens have told me about this woman. Her power came in slowly, beginning when she reached puberty, early at the age of twelve. She has no idea how to control it. Nor do the queens know exactly what her power is or what it means. We do not know what the power to bring a mortal back to life will do to the…correctness of the world.”
“Correctness of the world?” Bastien de Wynter was the one to speak. “We’re supposed to be dead.”
Eve shrugged. “But you have not easily cheated death, have you? You pay a price. Do you ever wish to walk into sunlight?”
The question hung in the air. Serena loved the night, she loved to wake and throw open the windows of her room and breathe in the cool, sweet air of the night. Sunlight enriched the body, but the night, she believed, made the heart stronger. But there had been many times, more and more often, she dreamed of playing on a sun-drenched meadow with her children.
“Do the queens intend to destroy Miranda Bond?” Jonathon asked.
Eve shook her head. “The queens want to understand her.”
Serena saw Yannick and Bastien exchange glances. She knew that none of the men trusted the vampire queens. The women—all ancient vampiresses—plotted to preserve their power and maintain their superiority over the demons and other magical beings that aspired to take their place. But they also worked to protect mortals from demons that would otherwise destroy humanity. In their own way, they kept a balance between the world of the undead and demons and the mortals.
If Miranda Bond had the power to destroy the society that the queens had created and ruled over, Serena did not doubt the queens would want her dead.
“There is something else I must tell you.” Eve poured herself a demitasse cup of the strongly scented black coffee. She lounged back and sipped it.
Serena approached her mother. Eve reached out for her hand. “Now, you must not worry about this, child—”
“What,” Serena demanded. But she then saw a flash of fear in Eve’s eyes. What had her mother frightened?
“Lukos has escaped his prison. He has returned to the mortal world. To England, in fact. Both he and the vampire Zayan escaped.”
“Lukos has returned!” Serena cried. Jonathon and Drake were standing beside her chair and she saw their faces. They had known of this. They’d known but had not told her. But how had they discovered it? Then she guessed. Drake had been sired, as a vampire, by Lukos. He must have sensed Lukos’s escape.
Eve hugged Serena. “Denby insists that you must return to England to hunt them.”
Jonathon growled, “Impossible. Althea has a new baby, and Serena is going to deliver at any time. They can’t hunt rogue vampires. And we have to protect them.”
Serena straightened. “We must go. We must find Miranda Bond.”
Yannick spoke, his voice deep, firm, and authoritative, “There is too great a risk.”
Eve stood, her beautiful silk gown swirling around her. “And if you do not hunt Lukos and Zayan, Althea and Serena could be at great risk. They could be destroyed. The queens will use magic, combined with yours, to send you at once. Gentlemen, do you not understand that you have no choice?”
7
The Castle
She was beyond caring about safety.
Miranda pulled back the shade and leaned beside Lukos to take in the sight. Flames fluttered around upraised torches. Plumes of smoke rose in the black sky. The light fell upon Mr. James Ryder, casting lines of reddish gold along his beaver hat, his mocking grin, and his hands at the reins of a large black horse.
How had he ridden ahead of them? Then Miranda remembered—she had sent them in the wrong direction at first, while the vampires had been fighting. They had only turned around while she’d slept, which had given Ryder an hour or so to ride ahead. She hadn’t thought he would be so determined to pursue her.
But he’d told her he had to destroy her.
The horses shied in the face of fire, and whether the vampires controlled the coachman or not, he pulled on the reins and brought the horses to a rapid stop.
She was flung forward, but Lukos caught her.
“They’ll burn us all alive in here,” Miranda gasped. The sweet smell of smoke grew stronger; the mob was approaching their carriage. Panic begin to claw inside her.
“We won’t stay inside, sweeting,” Zayan pointed out.
How could both he and Lukos look so calm? Though if he really had been a Roman general, Zayan had survived for two thousand years.
“Where can we run to? They’ll capture us and kill us if we run outside.” She could not understand why she felt this sense of belonging with Lukos and Zayan, along with the need to plan escape together.
“You forget that we aren’t ordinary vampires,” Lukos said, grinning.
As though vampires could ever be ordinary. But she understood what they meant as they conjured a deep blue glow within the carriage, a darker one than the lights that had preceded their sensual play. Cooling and fresh, like the breeze over a deep lake, the light filled the carriage, then radiated out.
At once the fires were quenched.
Zayan flashed her a reassuring smile. “There, angel. A simpleton of a vampire slayer is no match for us.”
Miranda stared at Lukos. He could have used his magic to destroy Mr. Ryder at the inn. Why hadn’t he? Why had he spared a vampire slayer’s life?
Outside the carriage, the shouts of frightened men rose around them. Mr. Ryder had lured a group of men out here to destroy vampires, and now they’d seen magic.
“What in the bloody hell happened? Did you see a blue light?”
“Yer imagination. The wind put out our torches.”
“After they were doused in oil? Bloody impossible!”
“Go for the carriage! Tear it to pieces!”
A roar was taken up. Peering through the window, Miranda saw the torches wave, along with pitchforks, clubs, and shovels. The mob swarmed toward the carriage. A flash of light blinded her, and a roar flood
ed her ears. She was jerked back from the window, but the pistol ball slammed into the wooden side of the carriage.
“I’m going to bloody destroy them,” Lukos snarled.
Miranda jerked toward him. “No, you can’t!” She grabbed for his wrists. Her fingers closed around his long, elegant fingers. She knew he could have flung her off if he wanted.
He didn’t.
But she couldn’t stop Zayan with her hands clinging to Lukos’s wrists. She watched helplessly as Zayan gave a casual wave of his hand. One careless gesture of his long fingers and a red mist surrounded them. It seeped into the carriage.
She heard coughing and sputtering outside. She released Lukos and leaned to the window, letting her eyes look just over the sill. The men surrounding them were clutching their throats, gasping for breath.
“What are you doing to them?”
“They will collapse and sleep—they will awaken unharmed.”
What about the slayer? Lukos’s voice sang in her head. I’ll kill him for you, Miranda.
“No, I can’t ask you to kill someone for me.”
He intends you harm. He intends to kill you.
“Even then, even then, I won’t do it!” she cried. Her sin was that she gave life back—as ironic and stupid as that was. She would be a proper martyr and die for that before she would ever command that a man’s life be taken.
Around the carriage, the men gathered by Mr. Ryder were falling to their knees. Some had collapsed with their faces in the dirt. Was Zayan lying? She saw the flanks of the black horse. The beast turned. Mr. Ryder was slumped on its back, fighting for breath just like the other men. Swirling around them, like clutching fingers, was the thick crimson fog.
Ryder’s eyes locked on hers. At least she thought they had. And he reached out, as though driven by his hatred of her to find strength to get to her.
The crimson fog began to retreat, and Miranda could see Ryder, hanging off the side of the horse, clinging with weak hands to the reins. His body tilted—
He fell to the ground.
Blackthorne’s castle perched atop a rocky outcrop that soared above dense forest. A gray stone tower thrust out of white mist like a clenched fist. From its top, two tall stone turrets reached toward the stars that twinkled in the black sky. Dark trees massed at its base, and a road was carved out between the shadowy branches.
