Selene

by Lilith Saintcrow

  He dropped her, but her new reflexes kicked in and she landed on her feet. Wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. You killed my brother. But to make you pay, I’ve got to get away from you. You and Nikolai can kill each other for all I care. “Where do I call him from?”

  “Come with me. What possessed you to take your daylight rest in a church?”

  “It seemed as good a place as any.” And deserted, after the War. They pretty much all are. Once people forget the Republic they won’t be. A numbness settled on her, one she recognized. It was the feeling of waiting while a client decided to start the game.

  He’s a beast-master. He rules werecain. Her entire body went cold. The medallion pulsed, strangely subdued. That was what she’d been unable to remember—the beastmasters. Werecain were peculiarly vulnerable to psychic pressure anyway, but some of the Nichtvren could control werecain without it, become a dominant member of a pack. And Grigori, immensely ancient and powerful, was one of them.

  Don’t do it, Selene, Danny’s voice whispered. It’s suicide. Don’t do it—yet.

  The six werecain lumbered up the stairs, hair swaying off their frames. Dust pattered down. Selene followed, moving automatically, her heart thudding in her ears.

  They reached the top of the stairs and ducked out, one at a time. They had torn the boards away, the gaping hole was open to let in the night.

  I’ll never see the sun again, she though , pointlessly.

  “Give my regards to Nikolai,” Grigori said softly, chuckling. The air changed, grew still and cold and dark.

  Selene bolted. Four lines of fire whipped across her back, but she exploded up the stairs and out the door into the chill wet darkness. Made it! She leapt, whirling as one of the werecain grabbed for her, he piled into the door behind her. He just ran into Grigori. The bastard tried to hit me from behind!

  Do not worry about that, Nikolai’s voice whispered, exhausted. Why did he sound so tired if he was only a voice inside her head? Run. Run for your life. My dear one, beloved, my only hope, run.

  Snarls behind her, pounding footsteps, Grigori’s roar. It sounded like an enraged freight train. Something whizzed past her head—shooting at me again goddammit, she thought, and leapt, grabbing the top of the leaning, trash-stacked fence. One of the sharp edges sliced across her palm, she soared over.

  How fast am I? The baying began behind her. It was a footrace over the shattered terrain around Trivisidero now. Her back was on fire, blood soaking her jeans. If he had snagged a claw in her ribs he could have caught her. I can probably outrun the werecain, but him. . .he’s old. How fast can Master Nichtvren move? Christos. Run, Selene, run.

  The terror was dark wine at the back of her throat. New power slammed through her—Grigori’s blood. Shouldn’t have let me drink even if you did expect to get it right back. A giddy exhilaration began in her middle, her entire body tingling. Beast-master. He’s a Beast-master. He controls werecain. He looked familiar because I saw him through Danny’s wards.

  She reached the edge of the bombed-out section and plunged onto an actual street, flashing through pools of streetlamp light, as thunder began in the distance. The air was damp, heavy, storm electricity tingling under the heavy low sky. Nikolai, she thought, and the resulting flare of desire between her legs almost made her stumble. Let you two kill each other, and then I’ll be free.

  But first, she had to escape.

  Selene put her head down and kept running.

  Thirteen

  The iron gate was slightly ajar. Selene squeezed through, her canvas bag knocking against it and producing a hollow muffled clang. Lightning lit the sky overhead, forked diamonds thrown across the dark-orange glow of a cloudy city sky. The air was pregnant with storm.

  She limped, her left calf spiking with pain. Good thing I found that car. She winced when she thought of the way she’d wrecked it. I hope they had insurance, I haven’t driven in years and those hybrids are stupid. They wallow like politicians.

  She shuddered. I’m a thief as well as a murderer now, just to top off a life spent being a paranormal tramp. Christos. Really racking up the score here, Selene.

  The nest loomed up at the top of the hill, defenses shimmering in the rain-laden air. Selene’s nostrils flared. She smelled like petroleo, and her camel coat was scorched almost beyond recognition. She ran her hands back through her hair, trying to smooth it down, flinching when she felt crispy, charred bits. I always did want a short haircut. Her breath jagged in. Maybe I’ll cut it all off. When would she learn not to breathe?

  Give me a little while. I’ve only been Nichtvren for two nights. She limped up the graveled drive. Two wonderful nights. My entire life’s gone into the Twilight Zone—well, more than usual.

  The nest was huge, a sort of neo-Victorian spread out in two wings and a main complex, with the windowless garage off to the side. There were no lights, no signs of life, just dark empty windows and the exhalation of some cold Power living here. The manicured grounds lay uneasily under that chilly cloak, Power flicking in Selene’s peripheral vision.

  I’ll be lucky if his defenses don’t fry me.

  By the time she reached the front door, dime-sized drops of rain were beginning to plop down onto the paved drive. Rosebushes bowed under the sudden wash of cold wind—there were obedient ranks of them folding away on either side, low laurel hedges, an ornamental fountain standing dry and cold off to her left. The fountain sent up one metal spike like a warning finger. Selene shivered. Her coat steamed.

  She climbed the seven granite steps between the two stone lions, walked across the flagstones that led up to the door. Carved gargoyles watched her from heavy iron-bound wood, their mouths open in silent screams. The man just has no taste. She shivered, raised her hands and was about to pound on the door when she noticed the button for the bell tucked to one side on a copper plate.

  The shivers had her again. I can’t believe I got away. Maybe I’m luckier than I thought. The hair on her nape rose up. Her knees buckled, and she almost fell against the door, catching herself just in time. Her palms sang with pain, she pulled back as if the door had burned her.

  “Nikolai,” she whispered, and rang the bell.

  Nothing happened.

  She waited, her heart pounding in her ears. Pushed the button again.

  Still, nothing.

  The rain began to come down in quarter-sized instead of dime-sized drops. Her face throbbed with pain. Had she been burned? She couldn’t remember. Shock was closing in, cotton wool wrapping her ears and nose.

  She rang the bell a third time, a short sob escaping her. “God,” she whispered, “don’t tell me you’re not home. If I have to break into your house after all this. . .Jesu, Nikolai, open up.”

  Nothing again. The house rose up over her, a wave of stone and glass about to break.

  Selene stepped up to the door, found the handle, and pressed it down. It swung open easily, on eerily quiet hinges. Revealed an expanse of white and black marble, checkerboard squares, a narrow strip of red carpeting running up two flights of stairs, one on either side of the foyer. Fred Astaire could have danced down those steps.

  She stepped inside. The cessation of the rain’s pounding made her head ring. The door swung closed behind her, latched shut.

  Relief made her knees weak and her hands cold. Now she was here, in Nikolai’s house. At least here, she could sleep for a little bit. Wait for him to come home. . .maybe.

  And then he and Grigori could kill each other all they wanted, and she’d be able to go on her way. Only where would she go, now?

  And would Nikolai let her vanish? That was the million-credit question, wasn’t it.

  Selene’s legs gave out for the last time. She slid down the inside of the door and sat on the floor. The marble was cold, and her ass went numb almost immediately. There was a grandfather clock set off to one side, an awful, heavily-carved thing ticking and tocking like a demented rocking chair.

  “Nikolai,” she whispered.
“Please be home.” I didn’t shoot you enough to kill you. Go figure, I’m suddenly okay with the idea.

  Light seared through her eyes and she blinked, resting her head against the door. There was a chandelier overhead, tinkling crystal drops that were now glowing from several incandescent bulbs. It hurt to look at, but she was too tired to glance away.

  “Jesu Christos,” Price Netley said. “Selene? My God. Call the Master. Tell him she’s here. Selene, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Running footsteps.

  Her eyes fell closed, shutting out the glare. “I ran into some trouble,” she husked. Her throat seemed far too dry. “Netley—I’ve seen Grigori. He killed Danny. You’ve got to tell. . .got to tell Nikolai.” So they can fucking do each other to death and leave me alone.

  And yet she came running back to Nikolai’s house, hoping he was home so he could take care of this, bail her out like he’d done so many times before, all the time she’d known him. Or maybe because it was the only halfway-safe place left to her. Between what Grigori wanted and what Nikolai wanted, she’d probably pick Nikolai every time. Since Nikolai seemed to want her alive so he could fuck with her.

  Selene, you are a piece of work, aren’t you. She was too tired to feel the bite of self-loathing under the thought. She had a whole lifetime’s worth of things to loathe about herself. One or two more wasn’t going to make a damn bit of difference at this point.

  “You need blood. Come on, Selene, stay awake.” Netley patted her cheek. The feel of warm damp human flesh against her skin made her fangs slide free, and Selene made a small pleading sound. “Here.” He pressed his wrist against her mouth. Her eyes slid open. She saw the lawyer’s blond face, his hair mussed, his cheeks paper-white. “Come on, feed. Nikolai will come back as soon as he gets word. Whatever you did knocked him for a loop, he’s searching high and low for you.”

  Selene clamped her lips together. Netley’s legs stuck out of the bottom of his flannel shirt and blue boxers, hairy and knob-kneed. He wore a pair of fuzzy blue slippers too, and smelled like pipe tobacco. The smell took her back to the war profiteers in the camps, they’d smelled the same way.

  Selene’s throat closed up.

  Bite him,Nikolai’s voice whispered in her ear. You need blood, and he is my thrall. Take what you must, what is mine is yours.

  Selene shook her head again, but Netley jammed his wrist against her mouth again. “Don’t make me cut myself, Selene, please. Drink. You must, or Nikolai will be very angry with me.” Running footsteps behind him. Someone was talking—it sounded like one half of a phone conversation.

  “—right here,” Jorge said. “She’s talking about Grigori. Master—” The sound of a cell-phone flipped shut was sharp in the quiet. Fabric moving, people running. “Damn. He’s on his way. Bring a bloodpack. Selene, you need to feed, you’re going into shock.”

  Tears trickled out between Selene’s eyelids. Of course I need to feed, but Netley. . .I know him, goddammit, I know him, I can’t bite him.

  DRINK! Nikolai’s voice, a gong ringing in the very center of her head, rattling her skull. Selene found herself opening her mouth, her fangs driving into Netley’s wrist. Blood filled her throat, hot and tasting of human, and she choked. Then her body took over, drinking, swallowing, it tasted good. She made a small mewling sound while she drank, like a kitten.

  The entire world faded out, replaced by the sound of Netley’s pulse. That’s enough, Selene. Nikolai’s voice, again, filling the world, impossible to disobey. Selene retracted her fangs. Her tongue lapped across the marks—the coagulant her tongue secreted would help take care of the wounds.

  She let go of his wrist. Choked on the last mouthful of blood, gagged, swallowed it. The world returned, a fresh rush of color and sensation. New heat blurred through her veins, tingled in her fingertips. The blood she’d taken from Grigori had done something funny to her, sealed some part of her away. He hadn’t expected her to keep it, the blood so much more powerful than hers.

  What would it do to her, so much precious fluid from an ancient Master? It had given her the strength and speed to run without her heart bursting, but maybe there were deeper effects.

  If it made me fast enough to outrun him I’m all for it. I’ll figure out the rest of it later. If Nikolai doesn’t kill me for shooting him.

  Great. What a lovely thought.

  Jorge was dragging her over to the stairs. She was denser now, he grunted as she gained her feet and tried to help. “Lock down the defenses,” he said. “Bradley, help Netley. We’ve got a transfusion pack in the medroom. Clark, get me some alcohol swabs. Jesu, Selene, what did you do to yourself this time?”

  The doors boomed as something hit them from the outside. They shuddered theatrically and swung open. Nikolai strode in from the rain, water running off his black hair and long coat. He didn’t bother to close the doors—they simply slammed shut without any help.

  The air ran with hot prickles of tension. Nikolai’s footsteps echoed against the marble.

  Selene dropped down on the steps. She could sit up now, and she pushed her hair back, tucking charred strands behind her ears. The bag miraculously rested against her side, slumping against her, a faithful little dog.

  Jorge stepped back. She didn’t blame him.

  “Leave us,” Nikolai said. Footsteps resounded, running away, someone dragging Netley. Jorge stayed long enough to look at Selene as if he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head and retreated up the stairs.

  Nikolai halted six feet from the steps. Water streamed off him. He slicked his hair back with one hand, looking down at her, his eyes black from lid to lid, sparks of blue-green glittering on the surface of the blackness.

  Selene swallowed dryly. “I saw Grigori,” she said, pointlessly. “He wanted. . . he said one phone call, to lure you into a trap. He’s a beast-master, isn’t he? I forgot about those, we didn’t cover them much in school.” She dug in the bag at her side, came up with the lump of fabric and its terrible secret weight. “Then he tried to kill me. I have this.” She unwrapped the fabric with shaking hands.

  The Seal glowed under the warm electric light from the chandelier. Its emeralds flashed. She tossed it at him, and his white hand flashed out and caught it. “Danny had it hidden in his apartment. It’s why he died, maybe. I don’t know. But Grigori. . .he killed Danny, Nikolai. He tried to kill me, I. . .” I heard your voice inside my head. Did you help me?

  And if you did, do I owe you for that? What the fuck do I have to pay you now, Nikolai? You’re a monster, I’m a monster, even God is a monster. We’re all in this together.

  “Why did you not betray me?” His voice slid through the air, made Selene’s entire body go cold. He sounded bored. Goosebumps rose on Selene’s skin. She shivered, unable to look away from him until he blinked, deliberately, his lids closing over his eyes and releasing her.

  She looked down at her hands. Her palms were black with soot and there were little beads of dried blood marching across her hand. Would I have tried to, if he hadn’t tried to kill me? Who knows? Her face ached. “He said he wanted you back. T-t-to serve.” How could she explain it, to him of all people? “I know what it’s like to be trapped. I don’t want to do that. To anyone. Ever. Not even someone I. . .hate.” Her palm was slashed too, from the fence at the church. That wound was rapidly closing, flesh knitting itself back together. Then she tipped her head back up, looked directly at him. “If anyone kills you,” she whispered, “it’s going to be me.”

  Unless you and Grigori take care of each other. I can’t be that lucky.

  His gaze met hers. Heat slammed into her belly and she bit her lower lip, forgetting her teeth were sharper now. Something warm trickled down her chin.

  He approached cautiously, his boots making wet squeaking sounds against the marble tiles. Then he crouched down right in front of the bottom step. He reached up, touching her chin with his free hand, smoothing the blood away. His fingers were warm and hard. “Why do you fight me so
hard, Selene? All I wish for. . .” Here, maddeningly, he stopped. “You saw Grigori? How do you know it was him?”

  “I know, I saw him through Danny’s wards. He wanted me to feed from him.”

  “Did you?”

  “I. . .” She stole a glance at him under her lashes. How could she tell him she had heard his voice during the whole thing?

  He was watching her face. “I see.” He nodded.

  Then he took her scraped and slashed hand and held it up, placed the Seal in her palm. “There. Hold it until we can give it back.”

  “I don’t want to. You had Danny steal it.”

  “I wanted Danny to locate it for the Sitirrismi,” he corrected. “You are so willing to believe the worst of me.”

  Did he sound hurt? Wonders never ceased. “You’re a bastard.” The rain was a distant drumming against the roof, muffled by the bulk of the house. “You deliberately Turned me. I’ll never be human again.”

  “I sought to save your life, since a Nichtvren’s blood can cure many ills. And now you are immortal, and what you call your curse does not rule you. I should think you would thank me, but you are ungrateful as well as spiteful—”

  “Thank you,” Selene said immediately, interrupting him.

  He smiled, the black shrinking until his eyes were normal again—or as normal as Nikolai’s eyes ever got, the catshine across his pupil and iris contrasting with the perfect whites. The smile was gentle, tender, and ironic, the most human expression she’d ever seen on him.

  It was terrifying in a whole new way.

  Her heart thudded in her throat, a red tide of fear slamming up her spinal cord. “I hate that you Turned me.”

  He nodded. “Hate me if you like. As long as you are alive to hate me, I can bear it.”

  “You keep saying that.” Her head dropped forward. A few strands of singed hair fell in her face. Her heart pounded harshly. Why? She wasn’t running anymore. Or was it thunder from outside echoing in her bones?

  “You need more blood. How did you escape Grigori?”