by Lund, S. E.
“No. There’s lots he doesn’t know, if that’s what you mean,” I say, remembering what Soren said. “He did show me how he and the Twelve started, but it doesn’t really answer any questions that I have.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” he says and sips his tea. “That’s more than he’s done for the rest of us.”
“Michel, he showed me something, but I have no way of knowing if he was telling me the truth. So, really, it comes down to a question of faith versus evidence. You know where I stand on that issue.”
“Only too well,” he says with a sad smile. “Amazing that one of his creations would be such a skeptic.”
I laugh. “I bet it really pisses him off that I’m not ready to fall down at his knees and worship him the way he thinks I should.”
Michel shakes his head. “I think he enjoys your skepticism as long as it doesn’t interfere too much with his plans.”
I examine Michel, wondering how much he’ll say – what he can say. “What do you think he is? I mean, really.”
Michel puts down his cup and clasps his hands. He says nothing for a while, pursing his lips in thought. “I’ve always assumed he was a fallen angel. The Bible and other religions talk about the guardians who were sent to watch over us. They sinned, had sex with humans, created monsters – the Nephilim – and were cast into a pit on earth. All of that language is very poetic and mythical, and told as a story. What I’ve always believed is that they did in fact come here to watch over us. Guide us. They fell. They were punished by God. Condemned to an earthly existence instead of in heaven. That made them resentful and capricious. They use us. They manipulate us. They tempt us.”
“So, to you, Soren and the Twelve are fallen angels.”
He takes another sip of his tea like this conversation disturbs him. “The Twelve are probably Nephilim. The products of angels and humans. It explains the vampirism. The Nephilim and their offspring need to drink human blood to survive. Soren is something else.”
“What?”
He shrugs as if helpless. “A fallen angel. Which one, I have no idea. Maybe Lucifer himself.”
I say nothing, remembering that Soren said vampirism was an experiment gone wrong. Did they, the original two hundred, try to mate with humans and accidentally created vampirism?
We sit in silence for a moment and then I decide that I’ve had enough drama and revelations for one night.
I stand. “I’m going to sleep.”
Michel stands. “Go ahead. I’m going to do some reading before I go to bed.”
I leave him behind and go to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Then I crawl under the covers in my bed and close my eyes, sleep taking me before I can even think of what Soren revealed to me – whether it is a story or the truth.
* * *
I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of a commotion outside the door to our rooms. I sit up in bed to see Michel standing at the door, peering out. Then, Julien walks in and I see that he’s covered in blood, his camo clothing ripped, cut and generally looking like he’s been in a battle. Blood spatters his face and I see a bloody cut along his cheek that has already healed.
“Julien!” I run to the door, aware of my tiny nightgown with nothing underneath, but I’m relieved that he’s here and alive. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down to me. We kiss, his arms around my waist, pulling me against him.
“Careful,” he says and pulls away. “I’m a blood-covered warrior and you’ll get dirty.”
“Like I care.” I pull him against me once more and we kiss again. Then, he ends the kiss and steps away. I see him eye Michel out of the corner of his eye. I know he feels uncomfortable showing affection in front of Michel and I do as well, but I was afraid I’d never see Julien again.
I take his hand and pull him over to the bathroom. “Let’s wash you up. You look like you’ve been in a battle.”
“I was,” Julien says with a grin. “Blackstone and his crew didn’t take too kindly to us releasing the antidote to the plague for some reason.”
“Were you successful? Did you capture Blackstone?”
“Do you doubt it?”
I shake my head and start to wipe off his face with a wet cloth, but stop. “You really need a bath,” I say and scrunch my nose up when I smell him. Mud, blood and sweat. Not a good mixture. “I’ll get the servant to prepare one for you.”
He grins. “Want to join me?” he asks, his voice conspiratorial. He grabs my hips and pulls me against him. “Battle – and you – always make me hard.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, seeing Michel is still in the main room and the bathroom door is open. “Not when Michel’s around. Besides, I know he’ll want to hear what happened as much as I do.”
“Okay,” Julien says, frowning playfully. “But I expect to spend some quality time with you when we’re finally alone.”
I nod and leave him in the room, yawning when I close the door. I get my robe and go to the door to speak with the servant, who leaves to get hot water from the boiler room. I’m awake now, so I join Michel by the fire. I sit beside him.
“I’m glad he’s all right,” I say. “I was worried that he might not make it back.”
“Me as well,” Michel says, and smiles. “I understand he captured Blackstone and his son.”
I nod, glad Julien is alive. I believe that Michel’s glad as well. I know he loves Julien, despite their rivalry over me.
Soren was right. Michel does love me and if I did push things, I know he’d break his vows. He showed me that the other night – even before Soren sent me on my little errand to try to seduce Michel to make a point.
But I don’t want to force the issue. I want Michel to be happy, and if that means he is a priest again and celibate, that’s the way it has to be. I was happy for a short while – a very short while – when we thought Soren and the Twelve were in stasis and the brothers took turns being with me in the cottage by the ocean. How I wish I could go back to those days…
You can and you will… Cooperate with me and it will be so.
I don’t respond to Soren’s intrusion. Instead I wait for Julien to finish his shower so we can hear his story.
The servants lug in several large buckets of hot water for Julien’s bath. When Julien’s finished, he comes out into the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist and one around his head. He seems unconcerned that he’s practically naked but of course, both Michel and I have seen him naked so I suppose it would be false modesty to be concerned now.
He stands beside my chair and towel dries his hair, throwing the towel onto a table and running his fingers through his hair to smooth it.
“Well,” he said and put his hands on his hips. “That’s all she wrote for Blackstone’s compound. We didn’t think things would happen as fast as they did, but I’m glad it’s over.”
“He’s captured?”
“In the brig as we speak, and spitting mad,” Julien says. “It was a beautiful thing. Procel could have killed him, since he’s older than every other vampire. In the end, he almost did. He went up to a wounded Blackstone, grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up off the ground. I thought he was going to break the man’s neck and rip his head off right before our eyes,” Julien says, a grin on his face.
I shake my head, but can’t help but smile in response. He’s so comfortable with the violence in war.
“He knew better,” I say. “If anyone’s going to kill Blackstone, it’s Soren.”
“Blackstone has many generals who will take up the cause if Soren kills him,” Michel says thoughtfully. “They’ll continue the fight for Dominion.”
“What will stop them?” I ask.
Michel shrugs. “The cure. That’s what will stop them. Dominion won’t be necessary when humans are no longer a source of sustenance.”
I nod, but I feel uncomfortable about the prospect of so many immortals running around, even if they don’t need to drink blood.
“Won’t the cure leave us in the same situation? I mean, there won’t be any vampires, but there’ll be thousands of immortals with centuries of experience and knowledge. They’ll be hard to fight, if they decide they want to be our rulers,” I say, uneasy with this truth. “What’s the difference?”
“They won’t have to enslave humans for blood. That will change the whole dynamic.” Michel says.
“Will they all be cured?” I ask but just then, there is a light tap on the door. Dylan walks into the room and closes the door behind him. He’s carrying a duffle bag and a large object that’s wrapped in black cloth.
“Sorry to interrupt your debate,” he says after laying the package down carefully by the door. Then he comes over to us. “I just this moment got in and haven’t had a chance to go to my rooms yet.” He turns to Julien, extending a hand. “Congratulations on your successful mission. I understand Blackstone’s in Soren’s offices right now, undergoing some well-deserved harsh interrogation techniques.”
Julien shakes his hand and Dylan looks really pleased. “As to what you asked?” Dylan says and turns to me. “No, the cure won’t kill all vampires. No, Soren won’t be choosing who lives. Everyone will survive, but no longer be vampire. They’ll be immortal. We’ll all be immortal. There’s no changing that.”
“So immortals will become the new rulers. Hundreds of thousands of them,” I say, dismayed at the prospect.
“I imagine there’ll be some kind of war over who rules,” Julien says, “but eventually, yes. No doubt that immortals will be the new rulers. It’s inevitable, given their power and knowledge.”
“Get rid of one despot only to have a new one takes its place?” I say, sadness filling me. “Is that our only choice?”
“Unless we get rid of immortality itself, or make every human immortal, but that’s far too much of a change,” Dylan says. “I don’t think humans are ready for it.”
I exhale, and shake my head. “I think immortality is our destiny.”
“Maybe,” Dylan says. “Regardless, right now, Blackstone’s in custody. Soon, he’ll be dead. Probably most of his followers will be soon, too. At least, I hope so. The lot of them are committed to some kind of Dominion. I doubt they’ll want to give it up.”
Michel glances at the grandfather clock and stands. “I have to do a late mass, so I’ll be gone for the rest of the evening.” He turns to Julien and they hug briefly. “I’m glad you’re back in one piece.” He smiles at Julien and a nice moment passes between the two brothers. It makes my heart warm to see them be so loving, given everything that’s happened.
We watch as Michel leaves and then Dylan yawns. “I guess I should leave as well. You look like you’re ready for bed.” He turns to me. “I’d like to speak with you alone, if you don’t mind.”
Julien points to the bathroom. “I’m going to go and get ready for bed. Brush my teeth, pajamas…”
He winks at me, because I know for damn sure he doesn’t wear pajamas of any sort. He sleeps naked and the thought makes me warm. I hope that Dylan doesn’t take too long so I can finally spend some time with Julien. I missed him while he was gone. I can’t wait for us to finally be alone so I can touch him and reassure myself that he’s all right.
I turn to Dylan once Julien leaves the room. “So tell me about it. What happened?”
Dylan holds his fingers up to his lips and goes to the door, where he picks up the black wrapped object. “This,” he says and comes to my side, unwrapping the object which turns out to be a beautiful sword. He runs his fingers over the blade once he removes it. “This is key. Here,” he says and hands it to me. “Hold it. Feel it. Tell me what you feel.”
“What do you mean?” I say, although I have a sense of what he means. “You want me to feel its history?”
“Yes,” he says. “Use that skill you were born with.”
“Created with,” I say. I take the blade and examine it. The metal is amazing – so smooth it looks unreal. It’s sharp on both edges. There are some kind of hieroglyphs on the hilt that look very old. Sumerian. Akkadian. Some old and extinct language.
I get nothing from it, despite waiting. I glance up at Dylan. “I don’t sense anything.”
“That’s strange,” Dylan says and takes it back. “I thought you’d be able to feel the violence in this blade.”
“What is it?” Then I glance up. “No,” I say and shake my head quickly. “Don’t tell me.” I make a slicing sound across my throat, because I realize that Soren can pop in at any time and listen in. If Dylan knows something important, I don’t want him giving it away to Soren by accident. “I don’t want to know. In fact, it’s better if I don’t know.”
“Why?” he says and frowns, taking the blade back and slipping it into the scabbard. “It’s an amazing metal that comes from—.”
I push my fingers against his mouth to stop him from speaking. “Shhh,” I say, and shake my head vigorously. I point to my ears and then point in the direction of Soren’s quarters, hoping that Dylan gets the message but he doesn’t.
“I wanted to show you this because it’s key. We thought the prophecy was about twins, you and me, and that we were key to destroying Soren, but it’s really about this—.”
I hold out my hand, palm out to stop him. “Don’t,” I say forcefully. “Just don’t, okay? Trust me.”
He shrugs. “I went all the way to Scotland for this. You can ask Julien about it. He was up on all that Knights Templar history. He was probably one of them.”
I make a face, scrunching my eyes closed, plugging my ears. Won’t he stop talking? Doesn’t he understand? I run my fingers over my mouth in a “zip your lip” gesture and he finally goes ahh, and points down the hallway towards Soren’s chambers.
“Sorry,” he says finally, and nods knowingly. “I was a bit exuberant. Need to know and all that, right?”
I nod, glad that he finally understands.
“Well, I better go,” he says and stands, bending down to kiss my cheek. “I’ll come back tomorrow. I’m going to spend some time with Sarah. She’ll be eager to see me again.”
“How is she?” I ask, curious about how she’s doing now that she’s been resurrected and cured.
“She’s wonderful,” he says with a huge smile. “We’ll get together once this is all over. Everything’s right on schedule. Antidote is released. Cure is ready to go. Other things,” he says and pats his sword, which he wraps up once more in the black cloth, “are all in place. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”
I nod. I know he’s talking about the endgame. I don’t know what it will be, but he knows, as does Michel and my mother. The three of them are the only ones who can plot against Soren without his direct knowledge. He was hoping to use me to find out what their plans are. I have to make sure he doesn’t succeed.
Whatever the case, I know it has something to do with the sword Dylan showed me, and something about Scotland and the Knights Templar. I’ll have to shut that out of my mind and let them plot and plan without my knowledge. It irks me, but at least now I understand why.
Chapter 129
As Dylan leaves the room, I remember the documents I read when I was going through my mother’s files about the Sword of Megiddo and the prophecy of St. Therese of the Reeds. She foretold of the Sword of Megiddo being used to kill the dragon. At that moment, I want to slip back to Michel’s home in Cambridge and find the box of my mother’s research so I can find the document and read it over again. At the time I read it, I thought it was a bunch of drivel, the ramblings of some medieval zealot who was high or had lost touch with reality.
Now, I want to look more closely at it. Then, I realize that whatever it is, I shouldn’t think too closely about it. That might be giving Soren too many clues about what the rebels are planning. I don’t want to be the one to ruin their plans.
So I put it entirely out of my mind and smile when Julien walks into the room, dressed in a silk robe that’s obviously not his usual attire. In fact, Julien usua
lly walks out of the bathroom naked without any hint of modesty. He has a beautiful warrior’s body, strong, well-built and honed, his muscles clearly defined.
He’s beautiful and desirable. And all man.
“You like?” he says and turns in a circle.
“I’d like it better if it was hanging up in the wardrobe,” I say and remove my robe as I go to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms slip around my waist to pull me against his body. He glances around the room.
“I’m glad our uninvited guest is gone, as much as I enjoy his company. I was wondering if he’d go or blab on all evening. I want you.”
I smile at him and stand on my tiptoes for a kiss. “He’s gone.”
“What did he want to talk about?” Julien asks, his voice light.
“Nothing.”
“Come on,” Julien says. “He must have said something. He’s busy working on the cure, I take it.”
“Yes,” I say, determined not to say anything about the dagger or Scotland or the Knights Templar. Or my thoughts about St. Therese’s prophecy. Instead, I pull him down for another kiss and press myself against him. “Enough talk,” I say, my voice smoky with desire. “More action. We don’t have much time.”
“You mean before my brother finishes saying mass?” Julien says, pulling my robe off, then taking my hips and pulling them against his body. “He’ll be gone for at least an hour so we have time.”
“We do.”
He pulls me over to the bed and lies on top of me.
“I need you,” he says. “It’s been too long since we’ve indulged. I want to taste you.”
My heart does a serious flip at that, because he’s right. It’s been too long since we were alone and had time to do things right. His mouth moves over my body, as if he’s trying to decide where to bite me. I know that wherever he chooses, it will be both painful and erotic at the same time. Even now, it arouses me – the thought he’ll feed on me and we’ll connect so deeply that we feel everything the other feels, our emotions and senses joining.
