The Font

by Tracy St. John

  Half an hour after leaving Heriolf’s mansion behind, Elisha sighted the abandoned derelict church he was looking for. He might have called it home had he done more than spend the dead daylight hours in his coffin there. As he drifted down to it, the tang of pine from the nearby trees wafted to him. They couldn’t cover the sweet scent of the woman he held. He was eager to question her, to discover the secret of her blood. Perhaps to find out why he’d gone against his nature and assaulted her with his lust. To learn how she could escape his glamour so easily.

  The moment he landed she stirred, proving she had yet again shaken off the effects of the trance he’d put her under. Elisha tightened his hold on her, his booted feet soundless over the twigs and leaves that littered the ground. Naya craned her neck to look at their surroundings.

  “This is a church,” she said, her eyes wide as he carried her to the old wooden structure. Its once-pristine white paint had grayed with time and weather, peeling in leprous patches in many places to expose the even grayer wood.

  “Excellent observation,” Elisha said in his most discouraging tone. He listened to the night, checking for sounds of pursuit. All he discerned were the chorus of crickets, the sigh of the breeze through the pines, and the minute movements of small animals in the nearby woods. Satisfied no one followed, he kicked open the door and carried her into the musty gloom.

  Moonlight peered in through the cracks and holes in the ceiling, slightly illuminating the debris-strewn pews, altar, pulpit, and rotting carpet. Elisha’s eyes saw it all perfectly well, but Naya seemed to be blind.

  Only a slight tremor betrayed her fear. “I thought Heriolf was the only vampire powerful enough to tread on holy ground.”

  “It has nothing to do with power. I’m an atheist. I don’t believe in the Christian god, therefore it cannot harm me.”

  He set Naya down on a clear bit of the frayed and water stained carpet. She peered around, her eyes apparently adjusting to the dimness and allowing her to discern a little.

  Elisha frowned. It had been over two centuries since he left his original life behind, but he was sure human eyes shouldn’t be able to see in this near blackness. Yet Naya was walking down the center aisle, picking her way carefully around splintered boards and other tripping hazards.

  What was she?

  Elisha followed her closely though she showed no signs of making a run for it. She asked, “It makes sense a vampire’s faith determines whether he can tread on holy ground. Heriolf worshipped pagan gods when he was alive, though he says he no longer believes in them.”

  “He hasn’t bought into the fiction concerning our kind. But the fearful faith of most who serve him will keep them from coming in, no matter his threats. If he enters, it will be alone.”

  “He will destroy you on his own. He needs no one to help him.” Naya’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if disclosing a great and undeniable truth.

  “He’ll have to catch me first.”

  As if his words were a signal, Naya suddenly swerved around him, running for the door. Elisha caught her up around the waist, lifting her off her feet and pinning her against his body. She struggled mightily, but it was as if a rabbit fought a bear. She was no match for his strength, her tiny fists drumming his shoulders with no more force than a torrent of rain.

  While her writhing did nothing to tax him physically, feeling her warmth and smelling her scent intoxicated his senses. The motions of her body against his sought to overcome Elisha’s morals again. Passion blinded him to everything but the softness of the woman in his arms. Desire beckoned with brutality, entreating him to feed and fuck until she moved no more. He felt his civilized mind slip away, losing itself in the darkness of the night and his vampire soul.

  * * * *

  Four guards dragged a black-haired male vampire before Heriolf. He was missing a shoe. They ignored his swinging fists, one of which was clad in a white glove such as what a Victorian era man might have worn. That he was weak in his attempts to fight was obvious in the guards’ disinterest. They’d already had their share of fun with him by the look of his torn and disheveled clothing, also Victorian in style.

  They tossed him unceremoniously at Heriolf’s feet. “We found this one trying to get out through a window,” one told him.

  They hadn’t bothered to bind the would-be escapee. First of all, they outnumbered the gangly man. Second of all, Heriolf’s strength was legendary. He required no real defense; the bodyguards were more an affectation, a show of superiority. The sight of his nine huge, apish guards – now cut to five after the night’s events – promoted fear and kept the rabble in check more often than not.

  That would all change if Heriolf didn’t get Naya back. His strength would ebb, as would his ability to read the minds of his enemies. They would be quick to test all his defenses the moment they thought he was at a disadvantage.

  The thought of being so vulnerable gave him a thrill of terror. And that splash of fear infuriated him. He grabbed the snarling vampire by the hair and jerked him up. As some of the scalp came free, leaving patches of raw meat in their place, the vampire’s scream was a delight to his ears. But despite the other’s pain and fear, Heriolf read bitter hatred in his mind and delight the plot to take the Font had succeeded. Then there was a stream of nonsense as he belatedly attempted to block Savannah’s lord from his thoughts.

  “Where has she been taken?” Heriolf hissed, shaking the conspirator.

  “Fuck you,” came the answer through gritted teeth.

  Heriolf almost casually pulled off one of the traitor’s ears, and then dug out his right eye, leaving two new gaping holes in the bastard’s head. The vampire screamed long and piercingly, swinging as impotently against the huge Norseman as he had the guards.

  Heriolf waited for his victim to quiet enough to hear him. When the vampire’s shrieks fell to gulping sobs, the king growled, “I will take you apart bit by bloody bit until you lie screaming surrounded by pieces of yourself. Where is Naya?”

  He caught a fleeting thought of a large building similar to a garage and filled with great metal objects. The thought was gone as quickly as it came, not allowing Heriolf to identify the exact nature of the structure. The image was replaced with thoughts of a long-ago farm where the vampire had been a boy.

  “What is this building filled with machines?” Heriolf demanded, frustrated at his inability to see the knowledge contained in the vampire’s head.

  Instead of answering, the traitor brought his white gloved hand to his mouth. His purpose was suddenly clear, but it was too late for Heriolf to do anything about it. The vampire lord howled with fury as the conspirator swallowed the thin silver chain he had been holding in his protected palm.

  His shrieks of pain as the silver ate into his insides were like jagged shards of glass. Heriolf thrust the dying vampire from him, superstition making him put distance between them. All the vampires stood back as the traitor jerked on the floor as if possessed by a grand mal seizure, his body beginning to smoke.

  Heriolf shrieked at his guards. “Imbeciles! You didn’t check him for silver!”

  It was the guard who’d informed him of Naya’s abduction who spoke. “My lord, we looked for weapons, not jewelry. We would never imagine a vampire doing that to himself.” He didn’t look at the Norseman. Instead, his shocked gaze remained riveted on the jittering body of the slowly, horribly dying vampire.

  Heriolf was beside himself. “I want Naya found now!” he bellowed. “We fly after her this moment!”

  Another guard went to one knee, showing respect even as he naysayed his leader. “But sunrise comes soon, my lord.”

  Heriolf’s mind was a riot of desperation. He would fade to the typical vampire’s strength in a matter of days without Naya’s blood. His enemies would fall upon him, tearing him apart with no trouble whatsoever. Of course they would. That had been their plan all along.

  Naya must be found!

  Spittle flew as Heriolf screamed at them. “Search for as lon
g as you can and then bury yourselves, you puling bits of refuse! For every hour she remains lost, I will kill one of you! Your pleas for mercy will ring within these walls for a century!”

  The petrified guards fled immediately. The rest of the gathered vampires, so recently there to celebrate the addition of supplicants, cringed as his hectic stare ran over them.

  Unmindful of their presence, he screamed until the glass in the room shivered at the sound.

  * * * *

  Naya felt the scrape of the vampire’s fangs against her throat. She was still weak from his earlier feeding, and she knew the results of another attack might be fatal.

  She hated the fear in her voice. “Please don’t kill me.”

  Her abductor paused. Naya heard him swallow hard. He slowly moved his mouth from her skin, leaning his head back to look at her. It was hard to see him clearly in the dark church, but she could detect the tense set of his features.

  “I have no intention of killing you. I only want Heriolf weakened so he may suffer the final death.”

  She stated the obvious, knowing it must have crossed his and his cohorts’ minds at the very least. “But my death would ensure that. Or are you planning to take his place by feeding on me?”

  He pushed her away from his body though he kept hold of her upper arms, ensuring she wouldn’t try to run again. “Of course not. I want us ruled by the council once more, by the Sacred Seven appointed for their wisdom and integrity. We should not be under the sway of a tyrant who only craves power for himself.”

  “I was told the council was weak.”

  “By whom? Heriolf? Of course he would tell you that, to bolster his claims of lordship. He destroyed all who were bold and ethical enough to oppose him.”

  The rage in his voice told Naya more than his words. “He killed someone close to you.”

  Her abductor’s grip tightened painfully for an instant. “That’s not important. Heriolf would return us to indiscriminate killing, threatening our secret and exposing us to the world. He allows people in populated areas to be taken right off the streets, including innocents like mothers and children. Beyond being wrong to take such victims, it invites humans to discover our existence. We must stay hidden to survive.”

  Naya blinked at the rush of explanation. Whatever else this man might be, he was certainly passionate about his beliefs that Heriolf was a negative influence for the vampires. Still, her personal danger remained uppermost in her mind. She did not concern herself with vampire business. “I want to live. But I do not understand why you haven’t killed me if you don’t plan to use me.”

  He seemed to understand she wanted the bald truth of her fate, not platitudes. “There are those among us who do want you dead. You’re too much a temptation, and if Heriolf gets hold of you again, there will be no stopping him.”

  “So?”

  She saw his scowl. “I don’t murder innocents. I learned enough from Randalf to know you are as much a victim as the rest of us.”

  He didn’t want to kill her. She felt the truth of that, and it took away some of the tension humming in her body. “What is your name?”

  “Elisha.” He sighed heavily. “I wish to apologize for forcing myself on you in your room. I was overcome by the blood.”

  She thought of how he’d felt on top of her. Inside of her. Naya’s breath caught as her belly warmed. “That seems typical of vampires. Feeding and sex.” She thought of the scene in Heriolf's hall, of the vampires biting and raping their helpless victims.

  Elisha didn’t kill me. And he tried to stop himself from intimacy until I gave permission for him to continue.

  He wasn’t like the rest.

  Elisha’s voice was soft. “Heriolf has not touched you. I was sure he was your lover.”

  “He has been my guardian since I was a child. I do not look upon him as someone I would share intimacies with.”

  “He has every intention of doing so in the future. Randalf said he planned to marry you in a huge ceremony at the winter solstice.”

  Naya swallowed. She’d known Heriolf planned to make her his eternal bride. He’d explained it to her. She would taste of his blood as he did hers, giving her immortality for as long as she continued to drink from him. We will be together forever, in all ways. His words.

  Blood exchange should make her a vampire as well, but Heriolf had assured her she was different. How she was different, he refused to explain. “Trust me, Naya. You are special and you will not be turned. You will stay as you are now, except you will live forever.”

  She accepted his words. Heriolf had never lied to her.

  There was no use denying she hadn’t known he would marry her and that she was expected to go along with it without question. And that she would have to give her body to him. But he’d not told her he planned to do it so soon. The solstice was only a month away.

  “What is it about your blood that gives Heriolf such power, Naya?”

  She feared answering Elisha, sure he would hear not ignorance but defiance. “I don’t know. I swear to you, I have no idea.”

  If he thought she was holding out on him, he let it go. “You are different. Your blood is sweeter. It sustains more than the typical human’s.” He pulled her close again. “I hear everyone’s thoughts now, except for yours. My strength is greater. The same effects Heriolf has enjoyed. You are not human, Naya. Tell me about your parents.”

  “They died when I was a small child. I know next to nothing about them.” She was terribly aware of his body against hers. As if in response, she felt the swelling of his maleness. His hands released her arms to wander over her shoulders, down her back, cupping her buttocks. His lips nuzzled hers, drifted lower to her chin, and kissed their way down to where her pulse beat quickly. The velvet of his tongue slid over that spot.

  Naya had to fight to not move against him. Her body wanted him, wanted to be close. Wanted to give him her blood and heat. The feeling of his fangs scraping against her skin again was as arousing as his hands on her hindquarters.

  “You must stop, Elisha,” she whispered. “You might lose control and kill me.”

  He froze. Neither of them moved for a few seconds, and Naya didn’t dare to even breathe. She sensed the internal battle he fought, and the slightest thing might set him in the wrong direction.

  Elisha shuddered and pulled away at last. His stare bored into her eyes, as if he would assess her very soul. “You are incredibly dangerous. I don’t want to hurt you, but I do fear what will happen if Heriolf or one of his ilk gets their hands on you. What are we to do with you, Naya?”

  She didn’t know what scared her more: the cold assessment of her threat to his cause or the molten passion that burned in his eyes.

  After the moment in which she didn’t dare to even draw a breath, Elisha released her from that fearful gaze. He raised his nose high, scenting the air like a dog. “The sun is coming. This way.” He tugged Naya beyond the altar and pulpit of the church to a door. It led to the sacristy, and in the dim light, Naya saw it was empty but for a casket. This was Elisha’s day resting place, she realized.

  He turned to her and suddenly she was caught up in his eyes again. Naya cursed herself in her head. How was it that she kept falling into the trap of his gaze? Even Heriolf was unable to do this to her.

  Meanwhile, she was drowning in those soft brown orbs, the color of rich earth from which verdant growth sprang to carpet the world in green life. She could almost smell the forest and meadow, feel the breeze in her hair. Here was safety and freedom and joy, of bright days in the sunshine and joyous nights under the moon.

  The deep voice that spoke was as soothing as a fall walk in the woods. “You will lie with me, Naya. There is no reason to fear.”

  The words seemed to brand on her mind, sapping all will from her. She tried to pull away from their influence, but his speech was sticky, sappy, clinging to her brain.

  “Surrender. You feel only peace. Warmth. Contentment.”

  Her mind swam i
n the current of his command. Floated in it, like a cool stream wandering the woods in the summer. She wanted to flow with it, ride along. She couldn’t. She was in danger. “Please,” she managed to whisper.

  “You don’t want to fight. You are safe.” His words were a balm, taking away the last mote of fear. She gave herself to the gentle insistence of them, knowing they were true. She had nothing to fear. “Safe,” she said, convinced of the fact.

  “Very good.” His approval made her soul sing. She wanted nothing more than to please him.

  Naya felt him lift her in his arms, and she felt protected by his strength. She sank down to the ground with him … no, not the ground. A soft, silken bed. He laid down in it, covering himself with her slight body. His scent, like that of dry autumn leaves, was pleasant. She sighed to feel him beneath her, his body firm where she was soft. They fit together nicely, she thought.

  “Sleep now, Naya. Sleep deeply until night falls again.”

  She slipped down the slope of his words into a dark tunnel, as close and comforting as a mother’s womb, and knew no more.

  Chapter 4

  Naya opened her eyes to pitch blackness. She knew right away she wasn’t in her room at Heriolf’s stronghold. Where in the world was she?

  She tried to raise her head but almost immediately bumped it painfully against something. She was enclosed in something like a car trunk or – a coffin?

  Her hands scrabbled to get an idea of her surroundings, and she realized she was lying on top of a man. Her memory finally returned, and she knew her companion in the dark was the traitor Elisha, who had kidnapped her to weaken and destroy Heriolf.

  She pushed against the lid of the casket, but it wouldn’t budge. Then she felt carefully around, thinking there had to be some catch that would free her from its confines. Nothing but the softest satin greeted her fingertips. She bumped about searching every minute inch that she could reach and still found no way to spring the lid.

  Her heart drummed. Elisha would wake hungry, and she had no doubt he would feed on her. A normal vampire’s strength was twice that of a human’s, and Elisha had already fed from her once. He still would not be as strong as Heriolf, but to render her helpless he didn’t need to be.