Nightborn: Lords of the Darkyn

by Lynn Viehl

  She dropped her gun and reeled back into the wall, almost falling before Gabriel caught her in his arms. She clapped a hand over the bloody hole in her jacket. “You son of a bitch.”

  Gabriel eased her to the floor. When he straightened his eyes began to glow with an eerie coldness. To Pájaro, he said, “Now you die.”

  The priest fired again as Gabriel came at him, grazing his head. It took two more rounds, one in each leg, to bring him to his knees.

  “Enough.” Korvel stepped in front of Gabriel to shield him, and flung the notepad at the priest’s feet. “Take it and go.”

  Instead of grabbing the translation, he lifted Simone. “Where is he? I left a trail even an idiot like you could follow.”

  “He’s not coming for you,” she said, her head recoiling as he backhanded her. “He’s never coming. He’s dead.”

  “Lying bitch.” He raised his fist.

  “She speaks the truth,” Korvel told him. “Her father has been dead for ten years.”

  Simone reached into the collar of her shirt and pulled out the cross. “Do you recognize this?”

  Pájaro jerked the chain from her neck. “The old man’s cross. He never took it off.” He tightened his fist around it and laughed with delight. “I don’t even have to fight him.” He shoved Simone down on her knees. “Pick up the translation.”

  When Simone had Korvel’s notes in her hands, Pájaro dragged her back to her feet and hauled her around the two wounded Kyn to the door. He took the notepad out of her hands before he raised the pistol over the back of her head and clubbed her.

  Korvel picked up Nicola’s gun and shot the priest four times in the chest.

  Pájaro staggered back, then looked down at the holes in his cassock. Flattened slugs began dropping to the deck as he patted a bulky vest under his garment. “You can’t kill me, vampire. I am Helada now, and the scroll will make me Helada forever.” He stepped out into the corridor, slamming the door and barricading it from the outside.

  Korvel knelt down to check Simone, who was unconscious. Once he carried her back to the pallet, he charged the door, ramming against it with his full weight. Steel buckled, and a large dent appeared in the surface, but the door held.

  “Captain.” Nicola hobbled over to Gabriel, who was trying and failing to get to his feet. “Give me that stiletto, will you?”

  He picked up the blade and brought it to her. “What are you doing here, Nick?”

  “Oh, rescuing your ass. Aren’t we doing a bang-up job?” She glanced at Gabriel’s face. “No. You are not going after him.”

  His dents acérées glittered as he snarled, “He shot you.”

  “He shot you more. We’ve got Korvel; we’ve got the scroll; we’re done.” She pushed him onto his back. “Fucking priests, I swear to God, I should just shoot them on sight.”

  “He’s not a priest.” Korvel tore the bullet holes in Gabriel’s trousers wider before he looked at the Kyn lord. “This will be painful.”

  “I spent several years being tortured daily, Captain. I believe I can endure a few minutes of discomfort.” Gabriel closed his eyes.

  Korvel gently inserted the tip of the stiletto into the bullet wound, pressing in until he felt the slug. With a quick twist he forced it up and out of the wound.

  Nicola bit her wrist and held the wound so that her blood dripped onto the bullet hole. “So how have you been, Captain? Get a chance to see the sights while you were here, or have you been too busy doing the nasty with Little Miss I Might Not Actually Be a Nun?”

  “Simone isn’t a nun. She is tresori. A sentinel. We have been working together.” Korvel went to work on the other leg. “Did Richard send you after me?”

  “Uh-huh. Vampire king really wants that scroll. You, maybe not so much.” As Gabriel grimaced, Nicola took his hand in hers. “Hang on, baby. He’s almost got it out.” She touched the graze the first bullet had left on the side of his head. “What were you thinking? That asshole could have put one in your heart.”

  “I was not thinking at all,” Gabriel admitted.

  A low moan made Nicola turn her head toward the pallet. “Not much of a tresora, is she? What’s the sentinel thing? Is that like one that still has training wheels?”

  “Simone serves the tresoran council.” Korvel gave Gabriel’s sygkenis a direct look. “She was trying to protect us.”

  “She asked Gabriel to shoot her,” she reminded him. “How, exactly, was her dead body going to protect us?”

  Korvel’s jaw tightened. “She did not wish to be used as a hostage.”

  “I believe I know what she intended,” Gabriel said, his voice weary now. “At that range, the bullet I fired would have passed through her flesh and into the priest’s body.” When Nicola made a scoffing sound, he said, “I saw it in her eyes, ma belle amie. She did not care what the priest did to her.” He regarded Korvel. “She was afraid he would kill you, Captain.”

  Once he had the other slug out, Korvel used his blood to seal Gabriel’s second wound. “Let me see your arm, Nicola.”

  “It’s a through-and-through. I’m fine.” She stood and helped Gabriel to his feet, putting her good arm around his waist. The sound of metal scraping over the deck from outside the compartment made her scowl. “He’s coming back. Give me one of those guns.”

  Korvel glanced past her. “Why would he return?”

  “I don’t know. He forgot to let me kill him?” she suggested.

  Warped as it was, the hatch opened only partway, and Benetta frowned as he edged inside. “My lords. My lady.” The smell of strong cologne filled the air in the compartment as he set down the heavy metal case he was carrying. “Are you in need of assistance?”

  “Duh,” Nicola said.

  “Forgive me, my lady. It is a matter of form to ask.” He inspected the room until he spotted the scroll. “You have found it.”

  “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Nicola said as the tresora went over to pick it up. “There are three nearly dead guys out in the corridor who probably wish they hadn’t.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you for the warning.” Benetta retrieved his case, opening it and placing it on the desk. “My lord Korvel, if you would be so kind.”

  Korvel grabbed the scroll and tossed it into the case before he moved over to the pallet. “How did you know we were here, Benetta?”

  “Last night the sentinel informed the council that she was meeting with Lechance, my lord. When she did not report back, my men and I were sent to interrogate the guild master.” The tresora closed the case and after a brief hesitation offered it to Korvel. “Are you in need of transportation?”

  “No,” Nicola said before Korvel could answer. “I think we’re good.”

  “You are in no condition to drive, my lady,” Benetta said. “My men and I were sent to Marseilles to provide—”

  “That reminds me,” she said, cutting him off. “Where exactly are your men, tresora? Don’t say out on the dock, because if they were, I’d sense it.”

  Benetta’s smile slipped. “You are mistaken, my lady. Perhaps the loss of blood has weakened you.”

  “Wearing all that cologne so we couldn’t smell you lying wasn’t bad, but your research?” She made a chiding sound. “Sloppy, sloppy.”

  “Who sent you?” Korvel demanded. “Ramas?”

  “Ramas is an old fool. Eternity is my master,” he said in old, flawless Latin. “Soon you and your kind will be dust beneath his feet.” He lifted a hand, clenching it into a fist that he touched to the center of his chest. “So have we sworn.”

  “Your master has sent you to your death,” Korvel told him. “Give me his name, and I will spare you.”

  “I will tell you who he is.” The animation left Benetta’s features and his eyes went flat as he reached into his jacket. Under the placket a weapon bulged. “When I see you in hell.”

  “No.” Nicola lunged over Gabriel, trying to shield him with her body.

  Korvel put himself between Sim
one and Benetta as gunfire shattered the air. The Italian collapsed, his legs twitching several times before they stilled. His face went slack as blood slowly seeped out from under his body.

  Korvel bent down to check for a pulse and then rolled the dead man over onto his side. The gun Benetta had turned on himself had blown a fist-size exit wound through his back; the remains of his heart lay spattered across the wall behind him.

  “Jesus Christ,” Nicola said, staring at the corpse. “What kind of oath of loyalty do you make these guys take, anyway?”

  “He did not serve the Kyn,” Gabriel said.

  Korvel searched through the dead man’s pockets, but all he produced was a money clip stuffed with euros and an extra clip for the weapon. “He came knowing he might die. He may have been an infiltrator.”

  Gabriel braced himself against the desk. “Why would the council send one of their assassins after us?”

  “Not us,” Nicola said. “The scroll. He even brought a carrying case for it.”

  “He does not serve the council, or Ramas.” Simone pushed herself off the pallet and staggered toward Korvel, bracing herself against him as he caught her.

  Nicola’s expression turned skeptical. “And you know this how?”

  “His nose. Inside. Look.” She rested her head against Korvel’s chest.

  He smelled blood, and found a wet patch of it on the back of her head. “You’re bleeding.” He swung her up into his arms.

  “I have to go after him. The translation.” She gripped the front of his shirt. “You don’t understand. He will lead them to the cross.”

  “Lead who?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “I translated the scroll, Simone. Cristophe inscribed it only with some psalms from the Bible, nothing more. What is this cross, and how can a few prayers be used to find it?”

  “Benetta won’t be the only one. When Pájaro leaves the country, they’ll follow him to it.” She struggled to focus on his face. “Korvel, please. It’s why they ordered me to kill you. So Tremayne wouldn’t find it.”

  Nicola sat up. “What did she just say?”

  “She’s delirious.” He carried her back to the pallet, placing her with her back to him so he could examine her head wound. The gash on her scalp was wide enough to be bleeding freely, and he reopened the wound on his wrist.

  She flinched as she felt his blood against her skin. “Couldn’t hurt you,” she murmured, her voice indistinct. “Never kill…”

  “I know, love.” He pulled the blanket over her and waited until she drifted off before he went back to Benetta’s body. He tipped back the dead man’s head and peered into his nostrils. “He has metal plugs embedded in each nasal passage.”

  “I thought tresori didn’t have to worry about being zonked by l’attrait,” Nicola said.

  “Most of them don’t.” Korvel pulled back Benetta’s sleeve to reveal a black cameo tattoo. Unlike the council pin he wore on his lapel, the center of the inked cameo did not contain a rose. Only recessed scar tissue filled its center, as if the image of the rose had been hacked out of his flesh. “Lord Seran, have you ever seen a tresora mutilated like this?”

  “No.” Gabriel gave him a troubled look. “Never.”

  Chapter 16

  D

  reams came to Simone, thin ghost worlds of what had been, but she hid from them until they passed. On some level she felt the waking world around her, her body being carried, cradled, cared for by strong hands with the gentlest touch.

  Korvel.

  She wanted to wake, to tell him how sorry she was, but her failure chained her to the darkness, hiding her from him.

  Something pressed in, a presence unfamiliar to her. It moved easily, parting the curtains of her misery and peering in at her. Simone caught a glimpse of white curls, and realized it was someone from the ship, the one with the sharp tongue. She wore leather as if it were silk, and stood with her hands tucked in her back pockets as she inspected the nothingness.

  “I know this place. I used to waste months here.” She regarded Simone. “Nice fetal position. You doing okay there, sis?”

  She curled up tighter. “I’m not your sister.”

  “We’ll tell everyone that you were adopted.” She sat down beside her and held out a hand. “During all that shooting we didn’t get a chance for introductions. I’m Nick, or Nick’s subconscious, or whatever.”

  Simone buried her face in her arms. “Please leave me alone.”

  “Haven’t you had enough of that?” Nick scooted around in front of her. “Tell you what. Give me five minutes, and then I’ll get out of your hair and you can sulk for the rest of eternity.”

  Anger jerked her upright. “I’m not sulking.”

  “That’s better.” Bright eyes studied her. “I know you. This is something the awake me won’t process right away, mainly because my guy is hurt and I blame you for that, and for saying you were supposed to kill Korvel, et cetera. I’ve also got my own shit to deal with shortly. But on this level I know who you are. Here we’re cool.”

  Nick snapped her fingers, and a television screen with a fuzzy picture appeared behind her. On it Simone watched herself dueling with an older boy.

  “No.” When Nick didn’t listen, Simone jammed her fists against her eyes. “Turn it off.”

  “Want to see mine?” She snapped her fingers again, and a second television screen appeared. “We’ll keep it on mute. You’ll thank me later.”

  On this one Simone saw a naked blond woman with a terrible wound across her face tearing into Nick’s throat with her teeth.

  “Wait for it.” Nick glanced over her shoulder, and the screen changed to show her hands clawing away at the dirt as she dug her way out of the ground. “Bingo.”

  Simone cringed, but she couldn’t stop watching the image of Nick sobbing as she dragged herself out of the shallow grave to stumble toward a farmhouse.

  “By that point I was screaming,” Nick told her. “I locked myself in my bedroom and I crawled under the bed and I kept screaming. All. Night.”

  “How did you survive that?” Simone whispered.

  “I decided to get me some well-earned revenge. I went to find the evil bitch who did that to me and rip her fucking heart out.” Nick cocked her head. “You, on the other hand, became a nun. How’s that working for you?”

  “I’m not a nun.” She hunched her shoulders. “I don’t want revenge.”

  “Sweetie, we’re women. We love revenge. It’s the Y we didn’t get in the chromosomes.” She gave her a nudge with her elbow. “Come on, be honest. All those years of training and practicing and fighting for your life every goddamn day? You knew that the worst thing you could do to Daddy Dearest was walk up that hill and play housemaid for those nice old blind ladies.”

  Simone stared blankly at her hands. “I was supposed to kill the boys he made me fight. I could never do it. I don’t know why. When I was little I wanted to—I knew I had to—but when the moment came?” She shook her head. “It all ends with me now. I made sure of it.”

  Nick reached out and took hold of her hand. “What happened to your brothers?”

  “When they failed and I would not kill them, my father had them taken away. I never saw any of them again.” She took a deep breath. “I think he murdered them. Pájaro was the only one who escaped.”

  Nick stood up, bringing Simone to her feet. “You’re not a killer, but you’re not a quitter. Like you said, it all ends with you. You have to finish this.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yeah, but you will anyway. For him.” Nick gave her a rough hug. “See you in the real world, sister.”

  Nick winked out of existence, leaving Simone alone again in the dark. The shame that had trapped her had gone as well, and while she could still feel it, lurking somewhere close, it had lost the power to keep her here.

  Simone reached out with her thoughts and her hand and touched cool, hard muscle. “Korvel.”

  “I’m here, love.”

  Simone ope
ned her eyes to see the sun setting over the city. She sat on Korvel’s lap on the window bench, a soft coverlet swaddled around her.

  His blue-purple eyes searched her face. “How does your head feel?”

  “It doesn’t hurt.” She touched the back of it before she looked around the flat, expecting to see Nick scowling at her. “Where are the others?”

  “They will return in a few hours.” When she shifted away he kept his arms around her. “I know the scroll is a hoax. I translated the code into six psalms, all of which can be read from virtually any copy of the Bible in the world. What I don’t understand is why. Why create the myth about the elixir?”

  Simone had hoped that Korvel knew more than how to translate the code, but it seemed Cristophe had kept his word. “My father said the scroll was a test of loyalty.” More like a cruel joke.

  “Yet you have repeatedly risked your life to protect it. You even asked Gabriel to kill you. And while we were on the ship, you told me that it led to a cross. Just before you said you’d been ordered to kill me.”

  “You should hate mortals. We’ve hurt you so much.” She touched the strange green mark on his throat. “My father believed that scars are the reminders of our failures, but you never try to hide yours.”

  “It has marked me for centuries,” he admitted. “But I am not ashamed of it. I hung from those gallows for weeks, first fearing that I would die again, and then terrified that I would not. The scar reminds me that whatever is done to me, I can survive it.” He folded her hand in his. “Simone, isn’t it time you told me everything?”

  Her heart died a little. “You have the scroll. Your mission is completed.”

  “Yours isn’t. Even now, I can feel the tension in you. As if the moment I let go of you, you’ll run out of here.” Before she could reply, he touched his fingertips to her lips. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me the rest.”

  No, she wouldn’t. “Are you leaving tonight for Ireland?”

  “That depends on you.” He ran his hand up the length of her arm before he caressed her cheek. “I want you to come back with me. Come and be my kyara. My mortal wife.”