He found the files hidden in her bag the first night. She didn’t give him light, but he didn’t need it to see the words clearly. Her having the files only proved that she knew the contents within--every damning word. Endless faces haunted him, vampires tortured before being done to death, experimented on like lab rats. Tyr knew she never intended for him to have the files. She had been hiding them with Rick. Only chance, and a momentary jealousy, caused him to grab the bag and bring it with him. Where did she think to hide them from him? And did she really think drugging herself would mask her location from his senses? The bloodstalker had sorely underestimated her foe.
But, Tyr thought bitterly, I sorely underestimated her.
Obviously Jaden’s inherent talents as a dhampir were greater than any had ever expected. She masked her emotions, putting out just the right amount of pain and hatred at just the right time, and forcing vulnerability and lust and desire to seep at the most poignant moments. She was good, he’d give her that. But he wouldn’t be fooled by her again.
Tyr grunted, slamming his fist on the door in disquiet, wishing he could strike her instead of metal. He felt the deceitful dhampir everywhere.
The woman he thought to have found inside her was a figment of her doing and his hopeful imagination. But now her true nature was known. She was a manipulative, hateful, deceitful, lying bitch and she would pay for her crimes. The council sent him to gather information and that’s exactly what he had done. It might have been a sloppy investigation, one highly unworthy of a Dark Knight of his age and skill. But it was done and now so was Jaden. He wouldn’t let this embarrassment haunt his perfect record. He wouldn’t let her haunt anymore of his nights.
Tyr?
Tyr froze in his frantic thoughts. He scratched his hair back from his face, noticing he had been scratching at the iron door, as if he could gouge her eyes from the unforgiving metal. He eyed the claw marks and then his hands, not remembering having done it. But the metal shards beneath his nail beds said otherwise. His fingertips bled, not healing as quickly in his weakened state. Putting his ear to the door, his eyes shot wildly around in the darkness. His lips parted. He listened.
"Tyr, are you listening? Are you hungry?"
That time the words were clear. Was she taunting him? Angrily, he grabbed a photograph from the floor, sliding it under the door’s edge. That would be his answer. Let her be reminded of her deeds. Let her know that he would come for her soon. The demon inside him would grow. Soon his body would rip through the iron door.
Sydney, 103, 1984.
What? What was that? Tyr leaned to the door again, sniffing the air like a feral dog. He caught her aromatic scent, her warm blood. His mouth parted, baring fangs in an insatiable effort to bite her with his mind. He couldn’t control it. His hands flexed and fidgeted. The bloodlust took over him. His heart pounded and his hands shook in anticipation. He licked his dry lips. He could feel her moving, standing, coming. He tensed, waiting to strike.
Forgive me.
The whisper was lost on Tyr. He’d been reduced to a beast, stripped naked, trapped, starved. The latch moved, the agonizing slowness of it suspended by his need to pounce, to seek life, to drink.
Tyr knew the instant the door was released. He charged forward, hitting the metal with his arm. His flesh scraped on the jagged edge, ripping open a bloody wound. Tyr ignored it, beyond pain. Seeing flesh, warm and waiting before him, he instinctively seized upon it.
Jaden screamed in terror as the naked vampire leapt out of the darkness onto her thin frame. Tyr’s skeletal gray flesh appeared to be covered with a thin, white powder-like decay. She lifted her hands in a naturally feeble effort to stop him from pouncing, but nothing could’ve stopped him. Her body slammed into the ground. Instinct made her squirm but his strength overpowered her weaker protest. His teeth were bared. His eyes were filled with the reddish cast of hell. His nose wrinkled on his once handsome face, gruesome and cruel.
Tyr crouched above her, pawing her shoulders with his claws, digging restlessly into her shoulders. Leaning over, he sniffed her neck, her breasts. His mouth opened, ready to bite. Then he saw her jade eyes, frightened, terrified of him. A last thread of sanity stopped him. He looked over to the living room, his body tensing to take off for the blood supply.
"It’s gone," Jaden whispered, unable to take the suspense and waiting. Tyr’s head snapped back to hers. Groaning, she whispered, "All of it--gone. I smashed your stock pile and it has long dried on the stone. Mine is the only blood for miles. Kill me, Tyr. You have no choice."
She was right. His animal self knew it and took over. Viciously, he growled, slashing at her throat with his bared teeth, tearing the flesh like a wolf on his prey. Pain shot though her like a white fire blazing a sticky trail through her neck and shoulder. Jaden’s eyes became wide, the agony worse than she imagined. His bite was not the gentle kiss of the lover she remembered. There was no longing or passion in his touch--only pain and need and torment.
Jaden gasped. Her throat constricted. Tyr sucked hungrily against her. A gurgle escaped her opened mouth. Blood trailed from her lips, leaving a crimson trail over her fast paling skin. Weak, she hit Tyr’s shoulders in a last, natural defense. Her fist bounced off of him, only to land with open palm. Her fingers slid over his muscular arm in a strangely forgiving caress. Her finger pulled lightly at his elbow, soaking in one last feel of him.
Tears rolled silently out of Jaden’s listless eyes. Her body jerked. Her hands fell in insipid masses to the ground. Her fingers twitched. Her mouth gaped open, wheezed. Her heartbeat slowed with nothing to pump. This was it. She was dying. Then, unexpectedly, the pain was gone and there was nothing but the oddest sensation of warmth.
Tyr pulled back with a howl, pleasure rippling throughout him as potent as an orgasm. Sanity was once more his. His eyes cleared back to white, ringed with blood. His flesh filled in, growing young and handsome, hiding the outlines of his bones. Blood dripped over his chin, down his naked chest. The sweetness of Jaden flowed through him, saving him.
Sweetness? Jaden!
Realization hit. Tyr looked down at what he had done. Jaden’s chest didn’t move. Her eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling, the green orbs faded and dull. Below her slack, blue lips he saw the horror of his attack. Her throat stuck out of her flesh, ripped free, the skin peeled back to expose the inside strings of veins and arteries. Her body lay cold and lifeless beneath his heated one. Panic rose inside of him, outweighed by the outrage of what she had forced him to do. She’d forced his hand, taken the choice away from him, and he had killed her.
"You are not going to win!" he growled, willing her to cling to the last bit of life swirling her body.
Biting his wrist, he gashed it open. Jaden’s essence flowed out of him. Grabbing her roughly by the hair, he tilted her head back. Blood gushed from him to her tattered throat, dripping onto her chin and cheeks. He viciously forced her lips to his wound.
"Drink, damn you!" he yelled at her, following his words by a string of black curses, damning her, coercing her, daring her to be reborn. His heart nearly stopped beating as he waited, suspended in time and agony. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not yet. Not yet.
At first there was no change, but slowly the skin on her neck began to heal itself, closing little by little. Then her lips faded from blue to a cherry, the color seeping in from the sides in aimless swirling paths across her face. Gradually, her mouth moved against him, swallowing what he forced down her, moaning ever so lightly into his bleeding skin. Tyr relaxed, growing weak as he gave her back what he so viciously took.
Jaden coughed, spitting blood out of her mouth. It ran over her skin, streaking the new paleness with crimson rivers, matting her hair. Tyr tightened his grip on her tender scalp, pressing her more firmly so she couldn’t refuse to drink. She had started this madness. He would make sure she finished it.
Suddenly, her eyes burst wide open, the jade and white completely done in with tell-tale scarlet. Her g
aze darted in protest, warring through their ecstasy for him--begging him to stop, to never stop. She tried to fight it, but his will was too strong. She continued to swallow, drinking greedily to his flesh. Her body tingled with life, aching and straining delicately.
When he was satisfied she had taken enough, Tyr let go of her and backed away. The pleasure stopped. Jaden wheezed violently. Her eyes shot around in blinding confusion. Her mouth worked angrily as her organs continued to die only to be reborn. She could feel her body’s death. Her muscles tightened with newfound strength. The hair on her head grew about her face, falling into her eyes. She felt her nails growing, a strange sensation as her fingers strained against it.
Looking frantically at Tyr’s blood-tainted face blurred by her unclear vision, Jaden gasped and gurgled and rasped. A resounding cry left her in a hoarse whisper, "No!"
She felt all of her little scars from past battles tingling, smoothing and stretching themselves out as they disappeared beneath the surface. As her gaze began to clear, so did the smug countenance of Tyr as he watched her with unfeeling eyes.
Jaden sat up with a groan. Again she cried out in despair, "No! Ty--"
Her words ended on a gulp as the contents of her stomach came rushing forward. Tyr reacted with the speed of a striking snake, sticking the water bucket under her head. Jaden puked into the pail. When she finished, she fell back to the floor. Her panting breath had left her. She lay as still as a corpse, except for the glaring accusation of her expression as she gaped disbelieving at Tyr.
"I was finished," she mumbled weakly, her lips barely moving as the dark rebirth took complete control. She knew what she had become. She knew what he’d done and she hated him for it. Fangs grew out from her gums to match his, two longer on top, two smaller on bottom. They felt strange brushing up against her mouth, poking the sensitive skin of her inner lip, as she said, "Damn you."
"You begged for death so desperately," he chuckled, the menacing sound matching the hatred in her words. The relief he felt at seeing her back was bittersweet. "Well, now you have your wish. Welcome to death, m’lady. How do you like it?"
"You bastard," she swore, trying to sit up and failing. She relaxed against the carpet, unable to force her limbs to move. "I never asked for this!"
"Tsk, tsk," he sneered, "such a temper. Is that anyway to treat your master?"
"You’ll never be my master, Tyr," she hissed, glad to have enough strength to put venom in her words. His face was so cruel, so unmoving. Her body still ached for what it couldn’t have--it burned for him. If he would but look at her with caring, touch her face with reassurance then she could forgive him instantly. But he neither comforted nor touched her.
"You are mistaken," he whispered. Crawling forward, he came above her. He looked down on her sullen, hate-ridden face. Jaden could find no pleasure in the sight of his naked body. She saw his face clearer with her vampire eyes. She saw the texture of his skin, the firmness of his hard mouth, the stiff resolve of his expression. Her skin tingled with the nearness of his flesh, drawn to it as never before. Her eyes even detected each line of resentment in his shallow gaze. Coming down so his face was next to hers, he whispered into her ear, "I gave you the dark gift. You are mine until I let you go."
"Then you are letting me go right now," she ordered, her voice growing by degrees with each word. She focused all her energy to push at him. Her arms lifted to strike his chest. It was a weak effort and he caught up her fingers easily. Knowing it to be a lie, she demanded, "Give me a stake. I’ll end this myself."
"So bloodthirsty," he hissed. "Haven’t you had enough of death for one evening?"
"End it!"
"Never." He forced her palm to feel his heart. He was warm from her blood. "I’ll never let you go."
"There is nothing you can teach me of your kind," she said. "That is what a master does. He teaches the student."
"Our kind," he interjected softly when she finished her raspy declaration. His eyes softened for an instant only to harden with her decree. "Your fate has been decided dhampir. You are no longer human."
"I’ll never be one of you!"
"You are like me! You were like me even before I gave you my blood. You hunt, you punish the guilty. You thrive on the blood and ash of others." Tyr rose above her, gloating bitterly. Her hand flopped down on her chest, sliding to the floor. Sneering, he added, "Only that isn’t all you did, was it little Jaden? You’ve been a very naughty mortal."
"I am nothing like you," she denied vehemently, knowing his words to be true. "I’ll run and you’ll never find me. I’ll keep running."
"Where will you go, little vampire?" he queried sharply. His lips turned up in cruel mocking. "Back to your uncle? Do you think he will take back his little vampiric niece with open arms or ready stake?"
Jaden paled. He was right. She had no one, nothing but him, and Tyr was cold comfort at the moment. She had died once and wasn’t so eager to face the pain of it again. She was tired. She saw an eternity of hate and torture stretch out before her. She felt a never-ending wave of heartache and hell.
In a whisper she heard as loud as a scream, he added, "Do you think he would spare you? When he stabbed his own vampiric sister?"
Jaden’s throat tightened in horror. What game was this? Her mother had never been turned. Mack told her she had never been turned. Mack told her a lot of things. Were they all lies? And didn’t Tyr say Rhona was never turned or had he just let her assume she wasn’t? Hadn’t he said he saw the vampire’s report? Had he lied to her too? She was so confused. She couldn’t think, couldn’t reason.
Tyr watched her with unbearable superiority. His mouth opened again to speak and she couldn’t stop him, couldn’t block him out.
"Or will he use you like he did the others?" Tyr whispered. Jaden blinked in confusion, but he didn’t notice as he strode away from her. When he returned, he dumped the heavy file on her chest with a thud. Jaden moaned, pushing the weight to the side. The folder slid to rest beside her on the floor. "Will he do to you what was done to them?"
"No," she moaned. "Please, Tyr, end it now. Finish me or let me go."
"Who better to keep you than the vampire you love?" His eyes still did not lessen in their icy rage. "Does not your heart sing that we should spend eternity together?"
Jaden flinched to hear her words thrown back at her so hatefully.
"The council--" she began. Tyr ignored her as he raged on.
"And I am going to punish you, naughty vampire, for your mortal sins." Tyr put his hands on his hips. She really was his now.
"The council will find me guilty," she broke in. Her laughter that followed was hard and humorless and a bit wild. "You’ll never have me for an eternity."
Forebodingly, he answered, "Yes, it is possible that you will know the death you’ve dealt so much of."
Suddenly, feeling another presence, Tyr whipped his neck around to the bedroom entryway. His old friend Shiva stood quietly in the entrance watching. His eyes roamed briefly over Tyr’s lack of attire before glinting with great amusement. Then, Shiva’s gaze went to the newly turned woman on the ground. Coming to Tyr’s side, he looked down his nose at Jaden. Jaden stared fearfully back.
"Is this the dhampir, then?" Shiva asked quietly, cocking his head to the side. He studied the woman carefully before turning away with a dismissive shrug.
"Yes," Tyr whispered. He too left her, turning his back on her helpless state. Her eyes roamed his naked backside, unable to see aught else.
"Get dressed," Shiva said with a small chuckle, though he was hardly affected by the sight of his naked friend. "I’ll get food. You must be hungry after such a rough turning."
Tyr watched the knight leave his bedroom. He quickly donned his clothes, ignoring the solemn eyes that followed every moment from the bedroom floor. His stomach tightened. His heart lurched. He realized he was late in delivering the dhampir and that the council had sent Shiva to check up on him. He grimaced with annoyance over it. If the dec
eitful wench had only left well enough alone!
"Yes," Shiva said from the door, holding two bags. He tossed one to Tyr. His slender body held still as Tyr set the blood packet aside. It would seem his blood supply was well intact. Just one more detail Jaden had lied about. The Rakshasa knight continued, "They did send me after you. What has happened here? Why is the guilty one turned?"
Tyr frowned, taking more care with his thoughts. He didn’t like Shiva referring to Jaden in such a way, but he didn’t correct him. How could he? It was true. She was guilty.
Tyr changed his language, speaking in Shiva’s native tongue. All the knights taught each other their culture and language so they could speak without being detected. Shiva glanced quizzically at the change but easily slipped into the old words. Tyr gave a condensed version of what transpired, leaving out their passion. Bitterly, he finished with, "She tricked me into the prison and locked me in. That is why we’re late. You’ll have to watch this one. She is cunning beyond measure and she is deceitful beyond imagination."
"Ah," Shiva said in understanding. His body moved across the room with the graceful steps of a dancer. "She forced you to attack. Then you did right in changing her. Otherwise, you would have failed in your mission to bring her to the council and you cannot glean information from the mind of a dead human."
Tyr knew that Shiva’s acceptance of his story would hold weight with the elders. The word of two Dark Knights would be beyond question.
Shiva glanced to the folder at Jaden’s side. Picking it up, he thumbed through it. Tyr’s first impulse was to stop him. He didn’t. He held back. Laying the folder on the table, Shiva read a page as he sucked thoughtfully on a bag of human blood.
Finishing the drink, he threw it into the puke bucket. Motioning to the page, he questioned, slipping back into English, "Her?"
The Jaded Hunter Page 22
