The Arrival (Children of the Morning Star Book 1)

by Kastie Pavlik

Nicole wrapped her hands around Jonathan’s forearm, tightened her grip to force his muscles to relax, and slid free from his grasp. “Don’t be so fooled. I am not completely powerless in this body.”

  She glanced up at the sky and tapped her cheekbone a few times. “Hmm, you know what?” She pointed at Jonathan and smiled again. “It may interest you to know that you were the one who alerted me to her presence in the first place. Oh yes, your desire to kill has always made you easy to track. The scent of freshly spilled blood trails you. You make me so proud, I swear,” she said, batting her eyelashes and marking an “x” over her heart with her finger.

  Jonathan’s jaw clamped down tighter and tighter. She continued on, inspecting her nails as she spoke.

  “As a restless creation, you have never stayed in one place, yet for the last century and a half, you have lingered here with the lovely stench of innocent death hovering around you. Something had gotten your attention.”

  She dropped her hand and met his eyes, dramatically feigning dissatisfaction. “Really, Jonathan, I am terribly disappointed in you. Your lust for him makes you just like them.” She shook her head and waved her finger at him. “Tsk, tsk.”

  Her finger stopped in midair and began drumming against it instead. She licked her lips and nodded in thought, saying, “But then again, imagine my surprise when I saw Him at work in the background and sure enough, she showed up. It seems that I’m not the only one who has been watching you, so I’ve been careful, waiting for the right moment. Who would have guessed that Lucien would be the one to hand it to me?”

  Anger suddenly lit her eyes ablaze with an unholy flame as she sneered, “The thought of you joining the flock sickens me even more than watching them revel in His undeserved love.” Her palm smacked against her chest. “We were the creations of love incarnate, living in a perfect utopia free from pain or want, but He just had to share His love—and with such imperfect things, too.”

  She made a frustrated sound in her throat and shook her head slowly. “I’d much rather watch you suffer your own damnation on Earth with the rest of us than to fall into His good grace. You deserve that even less than them.”

  A wicked smile spread across her face as Jonathan continued to simmer silently. “You were always my favorite, you know, even though Lucien’s cold heart made him the perfect creature. I hate to say it, but I should have left well enough alone and created the others exactly like him. Oh well. C’est la vie. Enjoy your eternal unrest, Jonathan, especially knowing that you personally brought it onto your entire race.”

  Jonathan growled and grabbed her throat once more. Nicole seductively lowered her lashes and smiled. “Without her energy to supply her blood, that urn is useless. I’m sure it’ll make a sweet snack for you though. ’Til we meet again. Rest assured that I’ll reserve a nice, toasty place in Hell for you. Bye, bye, Jonathan. Have a nice life.” Nicole gasped and the fire in her eyes faded.

  With Lucifer gone from her body, Jonathan took immediate control of Nicole. Her eyes, normally filled with self-confidence and arrogance, now quivered slightly.

  “You sold your soul to the Devil and sealed your fate to burn for all eternity in the Lake of Fire,” Jonathan growled at her. “Perhaps he promised that you could stand at his side. Foolish human! He will not rule over Hell. He will burn. Just like the rest of us.”

  As he held her, a dozen cloaked figures emerged from the forest and attacked her manservant standing terror struck farther back. Nicole swallowed hard as she heard the man’s screams and blood choked gurgles, but Jonathan did not allow her to avert her eyes from his.

  His hand moved up and grasped her along the jaw line. With a gaze soaked with blood, he eyed her throat and curled his lips back over his teeth. Nicole’s face wore a look of utter terror as her eyes danced back and forth between Jonathan’s eyes and his teeth.

  “Lucifer thinks he has won, but he missed a crucial detail. His blood—” He twisted her jaw, forcing her to look upon Eric’s corpse without allowing her to view the commotion behind her. “Flows in my veins, too.”

  Bringing her face back to his, he tilted her head to the side, revealing her neck, and observed her pulse. “You are beyond hope of rejoining the flock. I should throw you to my pack to be devoured. But no, you don’t deserve such an honor. You threw away your life. Your death will be just as meaningless.”

  Sliding his hand to her throat, he squeezed without mercy and turned away to kneel beside Eric. Caught in his grasp, she tumbled down behind him and convulsed on the ground, digging her nails into his fingers, desperately trying to break free. He held her against the ground and ignored her.

  With his free hand, he pulled the dagger from Eric’s chest and wiped the blade on his slacks before tossing it aside. A despondent sigh fled his lips. Although anger and sorrow had filled his last moments, in death, Eric’s face looked serene and peaceful. Jonathan had never known grief or guilt but both crashed over him with force, strengthened by the knowledge that he could have saved his brother.

  He affectionately stroked Eric’s cheek until the woman beside him stopped kicking her legs and clawing the flesh off his arm. Only when her heart stopped completely did he loosen his grip. It was unfathomable to think of a human so easily slaying Eric. He had vastly underestimated Lucifer’s ability to control the human body’s response time.

  “Eric...” The feeble voice of a young woman sailed past Jonathan, riding a lone current of air. His eyes shifted to movement on Eric’s chest—the wound there was beginning heal. Jonathan waited anxiously, but nothing else happened.

  “Eric...” The voice circled back around him, drawing his attention to the girl bound to the tree. He peered at her with narrowed eyes and stood. It was her voice.

  He threw Nicole’s body away like a rag and flicked his hand over it, a signal to the others to remove her. In a low voice, he said, “She is still warm, do what you will.”

  With a face veiled in darkness, the commander of his pack approached to retrieve her body. He nodded a silent acknowledgment.

  Gazing at Paresh, Jonathan ordered, “Gather the human bodies. The survivors are not of the flock—do not suffer them to live or allow them to join our ranks. David killed Simon earlier this evening. His body is in a ravine west of here. Retrieve it, as well, and return to the cottage to await my directive. Do not come back until then.”

  “Yes, sir.” The vampire’s reply came in a soft, masculine voice as others moved forward to remove the corpses of David and the two men Eric had killed.

  When they left, Jonathan knelt at Eric’s side and swept his hand over his eyes. Several quiet minutes passed while he mourned his brother. Then the whisper floated past him once more and he stood, knowing what he needed to do.

  As he approached Paresh, he looked at the remaining urn. Blood continued to drip from her arm into the crimson pool. Droplets from her other arm fell to the tipped pot and dribbled down its side. Although she hung there with no breath to feed her life and no soul to fill her body, she had existed outside of nature’s normal boundaries. Eric’s blood within him would revive her.

  Chapter Sixteen: Serendipity

  I

  A voice screamed in his head that he was a heretic and traitor—words he knew in the deepest part of his core to be true. All his life, he had blindly followed Lucien without really knowing why, and, until now, he had always obeyed his orders without question. The elders had feared she posed a threat to them, but they were wrong. She was their one and only path to salvation.

  He removed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, well aware that what he was about to do would jeopardize his future. But, even if it meant facing Lucien’s wrath, Jonathan would risk his life to restore hers, and would then spend the rest of his days defending her to any extent necessary. He silenced the internal accusations, pulled the daggers from her chest and wrist, and tossed them to the ground.

  Unlike Eric, who seemed peaceful and asleep, Paresh bore an appropriately haggard expression for a
woman broken both mentally and physically by unlikely allies: the humans created by Him to exist in the Realm of Man and the creatures designed by Lucifer to eradicate them. Her ragged appearance was a testament to the agony she had suffered before her death. And it was his fault.

  Light from the fires glinted off the diamonds embedded in the cross around her neck. The compulsion to shy away from the holy apotrope did not course directly into the center of his being as it usually did. Captivated, he inched his hand toward her collarbone and traced the necklace with his finger until he reached the tip of the holy trinket. After a moment of hesitation, he cautiously slid his hand beneath the cross.

  His breath caught in his throat. The cross was flat against his hand. He was holding it. Him. The Second Born, palming a cross without having his skin seared off or marked, without any pain or discomfort... he couldn't believe it.

  He glanced from the cross to the sky and took a deep breath. Perhaps he was just an unwitting participant in a drama orchestrated by Destiny. There had been purpose to his and Eric’s savage battle after all. Lucifer had failed. She had already saved him.

  He bit a chunk of flesh from his wrist. He held the wound above her head and tipped her chin with his free hand. The scarlet fluid streamed into her mouth, pooling and overflowing, and staining her skin as it trickled down her body. To help it slide down her throat, he adjusted his hold and flattened his index finger against her tongue.

  Realizing that it would drain into her lungs as well, he pulled his arm away from her mouth and watched for any signs of life, hoping the small amount he had given her would be enough. His eyes widened as the blood that had spilt over her lips collated and formed into an unnatural flow that ran the length of her body, snaking and branching off on its own accord to fill her open wounds. Each tender area of skin soaked up his blood like a sponge and slowly began to heal. Even the wound in her chest began to regenerate, just as Eric’s had.

  Jonathan glanced over at Eric’s body. Paresh's blood had stained the dagger Nicole had used to pierce his chest. Tentative hope began to swell beneath Jonathan’s ribs.

  He released her chin and grabbed her right hand, turning her wrist up so that his blood could stream into the abscess there. As the fibers and cells absorbed the sustenance and began reconnecting, he repeated the action with her other hand and then watched her face closely for any changes.

  Seconds passed. Then minutes. He shook his head. Maybe he had been foolish to think he could bring her back. He didn’t have enough of Eric’s blood in his body to revitalize her. He wondered what he had done by allowing her to die. He doubted there was hope for any of the—

  Thump... thump. It was so faint that he almost missed it.

  He lowered his head so that his ear was over her heart and held his breath. Thump... thump. It happened again—this time a bit louder—and continued to happen again and again, gaining strength and speed with each passing second.

  He straightened and listened to life’s slow progression of reanimation. Her body still hung limp and unresponsive, but bit by bit, he could hear the blood moving farther and farther away from her heart, swishing through her fingers and down through the tips of her toes. Before long, her pulse was throbbing visibly in her neck and a subtle glow began to illuminate her skin. Gurgling rumbled deep in her throat and her heart started pumping erratically. She was choking on the blood in her lungs.

  Jonathan ripped through the restraint belts with his bare hands and lowered Paresh to the ground. He set her on her side and rolled her slightly forward. Rubbing her back in a firm, circular motion, he knelt behind her as blood spattered the grass after every gasp she choked out.

  “Come on, Pare. Breathe,” he whispered.

  The coughing fits eventually dissipated. She wheezed with every breath, but that, too, began to even out, and soon, she lay quietly in the grass. He rubbed her back and stared at her, his mind vacant.

  She suddenly pushed herself into a sitting position. Her restorative ability was incredible, easily surpassing both his and Lucien’s—after all, this was the second time she had defeated death, not a feat either of them could claim even once.

  He helped her up. She was a bit wobbly on her feet and used his arms and chest to gain her balance. Before he could think of anything to say, her hands fell to her sides and she stood before him completely on her own, poised with sudden strength and confidence.

  Her eyes glimmered with a brilliant blue light. She wore a soft, peaceful expression as she reached a delicate hand toward his face and cupped his jaw with her palm, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

  Total serenity enveloped him the instant her hand made contact with his skin. Her eyes were mesmerizing. He felt detached from his body, as though she had freed his soul to float in the air, held in place by her touch alone.

  “Gabriel has a message for you, Jonathan,” she told him in a voice that was both melodic and commanding, and wholly unnatural. “A human who looked like a vampire—and the Second Born no less, the ‘Gift from God’—entered the world over a century and a half ago. Where this man is concerned, there are no coincidences. He was meant to garner someone’s attention—specifically, yours.

  “Eric’s path was predetermined before his conception. However, after you altered him, you mistook your interest for attraction and your lust clouded your judgment. You interfered with his destiny and the pool of innocent blood surrounding you drew Gabriel’s attention. He has been watching you for a long time. You are guilty of more than Eric knows and you must repent. Reveal your sins to Lucien and seek his guidance to save your soul.”

  She softly continued in her own voice, “I don’t know what you’ve done, but for what it’s worth, you’ve always been good to me and I forgive you for your involvement here. As far as the High Council is concerned, you followed your orders.”

  The flame in her eyes faded and she offered a slight smile. “That’s why he’s here.”

  Jonathan turned his head in the direction she was pointing. The vampire who had led her chase through the woods emerged from the tree line, resembling the Grim Reaper in a full-length ebony cloak. He removed his remaining glove and lowered his hood with long fingers to reveal silver hair, luminous blue skin, and metallic flecked eyes.

  “Lucien?” Jonathan whispered, astonished at seeing his master outside the Arc of True Blood for the first time since the High Council’s inception.

  Though the elder’s impassive face resembled that of a young elven man, his eyes conveyed the wisdom of thousands of years. He stood straight and tall, unmoving from the edge of the clearing. Shifting his gaze from Paresh to Jonathan, Lucien nodded slightly, a beckoning gesture to join him.

  “He is your master,” Paresh whispered.

  Jonathan looked back at her and then went to him, bowing his head and kneeling as tradition and respect dictated. Lucien narrowed his eyes and lifted Jonathan’s chin to peer at his face.

  “Her blood is in you.” Lucien’s eyes darkened with unease.

  Jonathan’s newfound guilt nipped at him. He felt a sudden desire to avert his eyes in shame. Knowing that Lucien’s apprehension stemmed from uncertainty as to how her blood had gotten into his body, he said, “Earlier this evening, I attempted to apprehend Eric... and I drank from him.”

  The darkness faded from Lucien’s eyes. “You’ve changed.”

  Unsure of how to interpret the nondescript comment, Jonathan did not respond. Lucien held his gaze for agonizingly long seconds—time had never felt so apparent as he waited for his master to speak again.

  Lucien slid his hand from beneath Jonathan’s chin and brushed his cheek in an affectionate manner. “Tell me—do you love me?”

  If not for the surge of warmth at Lucien’s uncharacteristic gesture, Jonathan might not have known how to answer. He closed his eyes and leaned into Lucien’s caress. Even without a comparable reference for the emotion, the fact that he felt something new was enough for him. He opened his eyes and straightened. “Yes.”

/>   “Do you love her, as well?”

  Jonathan hesitated only because the warmth enveloping his body intensified. Being with Paresh made him feel a type of joy he had never before known. “Yes, I do.”

  Lucien’s thumb stopped in mid-stroke. “I know what I must do, then.” He looked at Paresh, who was kneeling over Eric’s body with her head on his lifeless shoulder. Lucien stepped forward. Jonathan grabbed hold of his cloak. Lucien stopped.

  “Does your love mean that you no longer trust me?” Lucien asked in an empty voice. “Does your desire for her now overshadow the greater good? Would you sacrifice yourself to save her, even if it meant you must defeat me in order to do so?”

  “She is not meant for me and I do not desire her, Lucien,” Jonathan said deliberately. “I—”

  “Do you desire him, then?” Lucien interrupted.

  “I did, but—”

  Lucien took another step forward. Jonathan stubbornly tightened his grasp on the heavy material. Again, the elder stopped. “Why are you obstructing me?”

  “I do care about the greater good.” Jonathan stood to face Lucien eye to eye in a bold declaration of intent.

  A trace of amusement glimmered across Lucien’s face. Jonathan couldn’t discern his slight smile as something sinister or humored. Lucien’s voice remained emotionless. “So you no longer trust me, then? Three thousand years and a woman comes between us? Lucifer has gotten into your head.”

  Jonathan was silent as he brazenly stepped in front of Lucien and blocked his path. Lucien’s eyes darkened again. “Perhaps you know something that I do not, Jonathan? Do not be disillusioned. Time does not stop for us. Decide right now if you trust me or not, and do not allow your emotions to influence your decision. Remember what you are. I do not love you and you cannot defeat me now that he is dead.”

  “She is the Servator.”

  “If you truly want what is best for our race, move aside.” Lucien stepped closer and looked down into his subordinate’s eyes.