by Alicia Ryan
Ariana followed the woman upstairs and down and then into the kitchen she had visited briefly several days ago. Nancy crossed the expansive tiled floor and selected a brown bottle, some ointment and a roll of gauze from inside a low cabinet. Ariana took a seat on one of the stools on the other side of the butcher block island that fronted the stove.
When she approached, Ariana held out her hand and winced as the peroxide flowed over her open cuts. Tears came to her eyes, and she stared at a spot on the wall over Nancy’s shoulder and tried to think of anything else.
Keys. An entire rack of them just inside the door caught her attention because each one had a distinctive key chain attached. She could make out the Statue of Liberty from where she sat, and the Eiffel Tower, and—she squinted and let out a breath as the pain in her hand eased—was that one a palm tree?
“There,” Nancy said as she taped down the end of the gauze. “You’ll need to have that checked when you get home, but it should be okay if you take care.”
Ariana smiled through watery eyes. “Thanks, Nancy. I don’t know...” Her voice trailed off because she didn’t know what Nancy knew or how to thank someone appropriately for freeing her from a dungeon.
Nancy turned and began replacing the first aid components back in their cabinet. “You should go change and pack a few things,” she said turning back to Ariana. “Nothing heavy with that hand. I can send the rest of your belongings later. I’ll go call the car. It should be here within the hour.”
Back in her room, Ariana took a quick, one-handed shower and threw on a loose top and a long skirt.
She had just dropped her cell phone into her bag when it began to ring.
“Ariana Chambers,” she said, not sure why she’d bothered to answer it. She wasn’t feeling up to talking about work right now.
“Miss Chambers, hi. It’s Detective Simmons. How are you?”
Ariana thought for a minute. There was no honest answer to give, so she settled for “I’m doing well, Detective. And you?”
“Fine, thanks. Listen, I probably shouldn’t even have called, but you did ask to be informed about anything relating to your husband’s case.”
“That’s right,” Ariana said. “What’s happened?” She was hit by a sudden bought of dread. “Did you find... him?” Was he going to tell her they’d found a body?
“No, miss, we haven’t found him.”
Ariana breathed a sigh of relief.
“But, we did have a kid come in yesterday and file a complaint. He says he saw your husband a couple of weeks ago in mid-town and that James attacked him.”
“What?” Ariana exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous. James wouldn’t attack anyone.”
“I told you it was against my better judgment to call you,” he explained. “At first I thought it might be a real lead. The kid was real specific about how he recognized James from the news coverage of his disappearance.”
Ariana waited. “But something changed your mind?”
The detective hesitated. “Yeah, when we got into the details, the kid started saying James had put him in some sort of trance and, well,” there was a heavy pause, “basically that he was a vampire.”
Ariana sagged against the bed as she felt the room start to spin out from under her.
“But it’s nothing for you to worry about,” Detective Simmons hurried on. “We found the body of the kid’s friend a week before. He’d been murdered and we think this kid must have killed him and is now trying to cover his tracks, or set up an insanity defense.”
He tried to reassure her. “I don’t think there’s really any connection here to your husband at all, except that this kid happened to remember seeing his face on television.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Detective.” Ariana’s mind was numb. “Thank you for the call.”
“No problem. I’m sorry I don’t have a real lead for you, but I didn’t want you to see this in the tabloids. You have a nice night.”
“Thank you.”
Ariana powered the phone off, grabbed her bag, and made her way back to the kitchen.
CHAPTER 36
In the back seat of the fast-moving sedan, Ariana looked at the painted metal key chain in her palm and forced herself to relax. She had circled back to the kitchen and stolen the Statue of Liberty, but she would be halfway to New York before Ash knew either of them was gone.
Hopefully, some time and space would cool his anger and give her a chance to discover what he knew about James. After that, if Ash still wanted her dead, there wasn’t much she could do about it, but at least she would know what had happened to her husband.
The motion of the car rocked her tired body, and she closed her eyes, wondering at all that had happened in so short a time. Her body floated, but her mind still raced. She brought her undamaged hand up to touch the side of her neck. The two holes were still there, but they had shrunk to mere pinpricks. What to make of all this?
She wanted to hate Ash, but how could she? Assuming he was telling the truth about not taking enough blood to make her a vampire, she had put him through far worse than he had done to her. For heaven’s sake, she had made a bargain with a demon to get revenge on him. A bargain she had never fulfilled because the Philistine soldiers had come too early.
She had filled both their glasses that night with spiced wine and the blood Lilith’s handmaiden had delivered. Samson came up behind her and reached around her to grab one of the brimming cups.
“A toast, my love,” he announced, his dark eyes glittering at her over the ornate goblet.
Delilah reluctantly took the other cup from the tray and turned to face him. “What are we celebrating?” she asked.
He grinned and licked his lips. “The unbelievably erotic things I’m going to do to you tonight?”
Delilah picked up his wicked tone. “I think we’re a little late,” she said. “You can’t possibly have anything new with which to dazzle me at this point.” They had already done things she’d never even imagined. Though she’d had other lovers, none of them possessed Samson’s gifts. He took loving women to an art.
He drained his glass in one long gulp, not seeming to notice its slightly metallic scent. Then he grabbed hers from her hand before she had a chance to drink and swept her off her feet to set about proving her wrong.
Once she’d caught her breath, she left Samson sleeping and went down to the kitchen. If this night held true to form, he’d awake in a few minutes, ravenous in more ways than one.
The earthen kitchen was still warm from the heat of the oven. She was slicing a loaf of fresh bread to accompany their wine when she heard the din of the approaching soldiers.
Her heart began to race and her head pounded. They had come too early. And she was too late. Too late! The rhythm of booted feet hammered the message into her brain. Too late to stop them. Too late to keep her promise to Lilith. Too late.
She heard the struggle start upstairs and carry over into the street. Delilah returned to her room and looked out the window at her handiwork. Samson lay in the dirt, surrounded by a cadre of soldiers. His arm was bent awkwardly beneath his body, and blood was staining the ground in a wide radius all around him.
Their success assured, yet unexpected, the soldiers appeared to be momentarily at a loss. Delilah felt much the same way. She’d planned this for years and dreamed of it for even longer, yet the sight of it did not quiet the turmoil in her soul.
She turned to look at the wine glasses she had prepared. To her surprise, one of the goblets was empty. Samson must have gotten up and drunk his while she slept. Knowing him, he had polished it off in one gulp and never noticed its slightly metallic scent.
She walked over to the little table and picked up her own glass. The untimely arrival of the soldiers meant there would be no god-child from this night. She drained the contents of the cup anyway and closed her eyes. Lilith would likely kill her, but she could do no more. Perhaps it’s just as well, she thought. She had done enough already.
&
nbsp; CHAPTER 37
Deciding she had skulked around the front door long enough, Toria gave in to her impatience and followed one of Council House’s carpeted halls down to a library on the ground floor. There, she scooted inside and picked up a phone from a small, intricately carved wooden table just inside the door and dialed the number on the back of Luc’s business card.
Really. Who ever heard of a vampire with a business card? Well, except for Ash, but he was different.
Luc answered on the fourth ring. He must have been down at the cages.
“Luc Benson here,” he said.
“Luc, it’s Toria. Where is James? You said he was coming early.”
“What do you mean?” Luc asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “He’s not there?”
“No,” Toria said. “He never showed.”
“Well, he’s not here, and he’s not at the apartment either. I just came from there. I assumed he had already gone to Council House.”
If Toria knew one thing, it was that James wasn’t the type to run off. “Luc, was anything out of place at your apartment?” she asked. “Was there any indication that something might have happened to him?”
Luc grunted. “Of course not. I’d have called you if I’d known anything was wrong.”
“Okay,” Toria said, rubbing her temple with her hand, “but I’m going to go have a look around anyway.”
“Be my guest,” Luc agreed. “The key is under the mat. Just don’t steal anything.”
The line clicked dead before Toria could retort that he hardly had anything worth stealing.
“He’s no good, that one.”
Toria turned, surprised that Keller had managed to get behind her. As usual, he was wearing the horrid brown robe of his former order. Her mouth twisted in contempt. “Been praying for your soul?” she asked.
Keller smiled serenely at her, his green eyes glittering from beneath impossibly long lashes. “And yours,” he said.
“How nice,” Toria replied with a sneer. “Now get out of my way. I don’t have time for any more of your riddles.”
Keller shook his head. “‘Tis no riddle. It’s simply a fact. Lucas is part human, not a pure child of Lilith. The mixing of the lines of Lilith and Adam will bring the children of Lilith out of the shadows and the end of days will be upon us.”
Toria had no patience for this. She reached out with lightning speed and grabbed Keller around the throat, forcing him back against the far wall. Her fangs protruded in a hiss. “Luc can’t walk in daylight any more than you or I. If you ever utter any more of this drivel in my presence I’ll put an end to your days, do you hear me?”
Keller’s serene visage remained. He smiled at her and said nothing. Toria dropped him and shoved him to one side. He stood, and Toria saw him reach for a book as she left the room.
Halfway to the front door, she turned around and headed for the elevator. On the third floor, she followed the hall around to the other side of the grand house, to the room Keller had occupied since his sudden arrival here almost a year ago.
She looked both ways to make sure her entrance was not observed. Privacy was closely guarded at Council House, and they did not rely on locks to ensure it. Anyone caught trespassing was subject to expulsion or worse. As an Elder, she had some leeway, but her visit here was not on Council orders. She didn’t even have any real suspicions, just a bad feeling.
She opened the heavy wooden door. The smell of incense hit her as she stepped over the threshold. At first glance, the room was small and Spartan, with just a bed, a desk with a chair, two lamps and stacks of books and papers. A strip of leather on the bed caught her eye, and she knew immediately what it was. The monks of Keller’s order had put it between their teeth when they whipped themselves into bloody messes trying to achieve some sort of higher state. She’d seen them do it hundreds of years before.
For an instant, pity welled within her. How Keller must loathe himself now. It was hard to make a vampire body suffer. She imagined him in here, kneeling on the floor, lashing his own flesh, biting through the leather strip.
When she’d turned him, he’d gone straight back to his order and told them the truth. The other monks of course tried to kill him then and there, and they had continued to try to kill him periodically over the years. Yet he kept in touch with them—ever trying to do enough penance to get back into their good graces.
She crossed over to the desk, trying to get the image of Keller’s bleeding torso out of her mind. She’d feel guilty if he hadn’t been just as crazy before she turned him. She’d wanted to break him, break his faith, but she’d failed, and now she had a lunatic living under her roof for all eternity.
Toria shook her head and looked down at the books of medieval and ancient demon lore covering his desktop. She would never understand why he wasted his time with this stuff. Ash was the first, and he didn’t know how he’d been made. She didn’t have the patience to hunt for clues to a mystery she already knew couldn’t be solved.
That, however, was exactly what Keller appeared to be doing. Toria picked up a newspaper clipping. It was from ten years ago when Ash had made a big donation to some charity. He rarely allowed himself to be photographed, but there he was in black and white, smiling and shaking hands, making all the other tuxedo-clad party goers look small and weak and lifeless.
She put the picture back and lifted two of the books off the desk. Underneath were more news clippings and what looked like a portion of someone’s family tree.
Toria replaced everything carefully. There was nothing here she didn’t already know, and it was no crime to read the paper. Still, she should probably tell Ash.
***
Keller watched Toria’s sleek figure as she pulled shut the door to his room. He was not worried. When she’d gone, he opened the door and took a quick look around. He smiled, noting how nothing looked out of place. She was good at her job.
But now he had a job to do. Toria had made him into an unholy monster, and he had to be cleansed. He dropped to his knees and unhooked the stays at the collar of his robe. It fell to the floor around him, leaving his chest bare.
Reaching under the bed, he wrapped his hand around the hilt of a whip. He slid it out and looked at its vicious ends. Once they had been just knotted horsehair, but horsehair could no longer do him harm.
After his transformation, he’d had special blades fashioned with a hole at one pointed end that flared out into two slightly curved sharp edges so each blade resembled a tiny scythe. Three were knotted into the end of each tassel of the whip.
He forced his arm up and back, felt the blades slice and hook into his flesh, and then he pulled up, ripping them free. The pain was intense, but guilt still ate at him because he knew it wouldn’t last. He could carve himself into ribbons, but his traitorous flesh would still be whole by the next evening. He could not be a proper servant in this body. None of them could.
CHAPTER 38
Delilah tried not to scream as another contraction ripped through her. Her hand gripped maniacally at the bedclothes as Samson’s child made its way into the world. Barely seven months had passed since Samson’s capture, and so much had happened so quickly, it hadn’t even occurred to her that she could be pregnant until a few months ago.
She’d known, of course, that Samson was beloved, even in Sorek, but she hadn’t counted on being run out of town. Demos had protected her for a time, but when his business began to suffer and the animosity toward her showed no sign of blowing over, even he turned on her. In the end, he’d helped her get established in Gaza, but he had made it clear that there would be no future contact. He couldn’t afford it. There was no explicit mention of how she would support herself.
No matter. She had enough money to delay the inevitable for quite some time—at least long enough to bring her child into the world and see to its future.
Delilah didn’t know what effect her drink of demon blood would have on the child. Hopefully none. Whatever Lilith’s plan had been, th
is child had been conceived before the night of Samson’s capture, before he had drunk of her blood. That should be enough to ensure her child would have its own soul.
An astonishing pain roared forth from between her legs and drenched her whole body in sweat. She almost lost consciousness, hanging on only because she heard a faint cry. Her baby daughter.
She hated that she would never get to know her, but the servants of Lilith would inevitably seek her out and kill her once they discovered they’d been betrayed. Neither she nor the child would be safe in any Philistine city, and the child would be much safer separated from her.
Her maid, Morah, washed and wrapped the babe while Delilah regained her breath. When Morah laid the babe on her chest, Delilah stared in surprise at a tiny pair of blue eyes, more vivid than she had ever seen. Perhaps this was Lilith’s contribution, she thought.
The maid pulled the child away, as she had been instructed. She and her young husband would take the girl to a new city and raise her as their own. Delilah had sold most of her jewels to get them enough money to get established anywhere they chose. They just weren’t to tell her their destination. She could never know what had become of them or the child, nor could anyone else. Their lives depended on it.
***
When the plane hit the runway at John F. Kennedy Airport, Ariana jerked awake. She held her breath as the flaps went up to slow the winged beast, and her mind reeled from the latest dream.
Delilah… she… had borne Samson’s child. Not the demon host Lilith had intended, but his real child. And she’d given their daughter away to keep her safe. She wondered what had become of her. And she wondered how she had suddenly come to have so many secrets.
CHAPTER 39
Outside the terminal in New York, the sky was almost dark. She gave the dispatcher at the cab stand the address for Ash’s townhouse and slid into the backseat of the next waiting taxi.
