by Willow Cross
Michael waited as she regained composure.
Liz took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and pushed against the instinctual rise. With a half hearted smile, she shrugged. “Let's get this over with.”
The buzzing continued as they went inside, then slowly the consistent hum defined until she could distinguish words and phrases in the din of voices--
Her eyes snapped open. Liz heard faint approving murmurs as the council members left her mind. The dull ache in her head was replaced with a rhythmic pounding. Before her, the small cloaked figure held out her hand. “You will come with me.” Turning, she walked away.
Liz had no choice. Her body moved like a puppet, and the woman ahead of her controlled the strings. They didn’t go far. Had she known that she was so close to where the others were staying, she would have remained quiet in her cell. They passed five doors and turned into the sixth.
It looked nothing like her cell. Candles glimmered and flickered all over the room. Sheets of maroon and gold silk hung from the ceiling and covered the walls, giving it the appearance of a prosperous sultan’s tent. Large decorative urns, that must have been hundreds of years old, sat all around the room. Several glass encased cabinets filled with collections of silver goblets and candelabras lined the walls. Plush couches and chairs were strategically placed here and there, and a giant bed lavishly covered in maroon satin filled the back corner. An ornate fire pit rested in the center of the room. Round and open with a vent going up into the ceiling, it gave the room a homey feel. It was a warm comfortable room. Something Liz hadn’t expected to see in a vampire fortress.
“You didn’t really think we slept in coffins, did you?” asked the woman.
A hint of a smile inundated her words. Not the malice or coldness that Liz expected. As the woman removed her cloak, Liz’s jaw dropped. She was even smaller than Liz originally thought. Barely five foot tall. Fragile and elegant, she looked like a miniature Greek goddess. The natural vampyric pallor was underlying in her skin, giving the woman an unnatural sun-kissed glow reminiscent of polished bronze. However, Liz could tell by her features that her skin tone in life would have been much darker. Ebony hair cascaded down her back to her waist in perfectly formed ringlets. Eyes, black as coal, barely blinked as they gazed upon her, yet they seemed loving and kind. Her lips, in contrast to the creamy caramel of her skin appeared the darkest of burgundies. No human woman could ever be that beautiful, she thought.
“But I am not human,” the woman smiled as she spoke. Her voice was warm and friendly, still having the undertones of a wise mother talking to her child.
“My name is Athena. A bath has been prepared for you and there are clean clothes on the table. You must be nearly famished; by the fire on that stand is something to drink. It is fresh from my personal stock. It should still be quite warm if you wish to partake of it now.”
“Athena, like the goddess?”
“Yes, exactly like that.”
Liz's mind raced as she tried to decipher the comment. The real Athena? From mythology? Is that even possible? In this new world with real demons and monsters, she supposed just about anything could be possible.
“I don’t understand what's going on. Is this my last supper? When are you going to kill me?”
Athena smiled and said, “Dear child, we have no intention of killing a rare specimen such as yourself. We have been waiting for one such as you for thousands of years. There have been many stories passed down from the dawn of our time about humans who have the potential to turn almost spontaneously, and none of us have ever encountered one before.”
“I don’t understand. Why the trial? Where is Michael? Why was I locked away for so long?” Relief flooded her, but she was once again full of questions and still totally lost.
“It was a test of sorts. We had to be certain you would follow the law. More importantly, we had to discover if Michael would continue to obey, even under the influence of the connection. We are not monsters anymore, Elizabeth. We are honor-bound to protect all of those we rule, and ensure that all recognize they must abide by the law.”
She turned and was instantly beside Liz, patting her arm.
“No more questions now, all will be answered in time. Regain your sustenance and clean up. You are quite a mess.” Athena moved across the room, pulled back a rectangular piece of burgundy satin hanging on the wall, and fastened it to a wrought iron fitting encased in the stone. Behind it, candles lit a small room. “The water is hot and ready. I've taken the liberty of acquiring fresh clothes for you. I'm afraid they are not quite your normal attire, but they'll do in a pinch. Hurry now, we will join you shortly.”
In a blink she was gone and the door was shut.
Liz walked to the door and checked the handle. It wasn’t locked. The door opened just as smoothly and quietly as her cell door had. Peeking out, she noticed no guards at the door. Not a soul in sight as far as she could see down the passage. Maybe she wasn’t a prisoner anymore. Looking around the room, she caught her reflection in a mirror draped in fine dark silk. She was a mess. Dirt streaked jeans, and tattered, blood-stained shirt combined with the rat’s nest that used to be flowing red hair, left her looking like an escapee from an insane asylum.
The smell of the carafe by the fire pulled her in that direction. The burn in her throat had returned. Liz walked over and gulped down the warm nectar. It was good! Intoxicating and sweet, it soothed the fire and awakened her senses. After draining every last drop, she set about taking a hot bath.
Chapter Four
The Unnamed
Clean, refreshed, and dressed in a long emerald green gown, she sat on the couch by the fire and waited. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the arm of the couch while her legs swayed side to side. Their idea of shortly and hers did not coincide at all. Just when she thought she was about to go out of her mind, she felt a mental nudge. He was close. Her body filled with a new warmth the fire could not provide.
“I told you I would always be with you. Did you doubt me?” Chuckle.
Relief filled her for the second time that day. Liz brought her hands to her face, covering her eyes, and tried to contain the tidal wave of emotion flooding through her.
And then he was there, right in front of her. She had never even heard the door open. Without thinking, she raced into his open arms. Wrapped in that safe haven, she was grateful to be near him again. “I couldn't...they didn't--”
He held her and stroked her hair, “It’s all right. Everything will be fine now. They will not separate us again, at least not for long periods of time. It’s not completely over, but the worst of it is.”
If a vampire could cry, tears would have rolled down her face. She wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him close, and didn’t ever want to let go.
He pushed her back and looked into her eyes. They assured him she had not been injured, but he needed to make certain that no hurt had come to this woman who had so quickly become everything to him. He wasn’t quite ready to let go of her either. He tensed as he released her. “They're coming.”
Dread enveloped her as she prepared to face the Council once again.
The room filled with cloaked figures. Not just the six from before, but a total of fourteen by the time they everyone had entered. They crossed the threshold with purpose; it was obvious to Liz they considered this meeting vital. Only one of the attendees seemed at ease. Hood pulled back and smiling, Athena sauntered into the room as if this were nothing more than a friendly visit. Winking at Liz, she sat on the couch across from her, and daintily crossed her legs.
“Be seated,” said a voice from the doorway.
Liz looked up at the imposing figure. His face was fatherly, kind, yet stern. There was an air about him that said he was not someone to be trifled with. His tall, wide frame brushed against the sides of the doorway as he stepped inside.
Michael pulled her down on the couch beside him, gave her a wink, and set his face wit
h a mask of serenity.
The commanding figure strolled to the seat closest to the fire and sat. He glanced at Liz and Michael and proceeded to speak. “We show ourselves to a select few who are not Council members. Athena,” his eyes shifted to the smiling beauty, “professes undying faith in your ability to withhold her secret. I am Gregorio, Michael’s maker, thus my risk is minimal. Listen well, Elizabeth, and heed what is said. You are now under vampire rule and law, and any laws that are broken will be dealt with swiftly and without prejudice. Is this understood?”
“Yes sir,” she answered.
It was difficult for Liz to remain still. She tried not to fidget and squirm, but nervousness overrode her will. Michael wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. At first it relaxed her and helped to ease her anxiety, however, the electric current between them made it nearly impossible to concentrate on what was being said. She felt the muscles under his shirt flex as his arm tightened around her. His sweet, musky scent enveloped her senses, igniting desire. She barely kept her wits about her. Leaning forward to put some distance between them, she prepared to listen.
“This is a very unusual circumstance,” continued the mountainous man. “Your questions will be answered in time, but for now you will listen. As you know, Michael is the hand of the Council. For you to come to being without Council permission was of great significance to us. Michael is the one called upon to deal with law breakers, and enforce our justice upon them. Should you break any law, it would be his duty to bring justice to you.”
He cleared his throat and looked directly into Michael’s eyes as he continued. “This is a burdensome request, especially considering the connection. Even I experienced some difficulty rendering an unbiased decision concerning Michael. He is my son, so to speak.”
Someone in the room muttered.
Liz could not tell if it had been vocal or in her mind, but it was obvious, to some extent, not everyone agreed with the decision to allow them to live. Tension rose within her as her eyes darted around the room.
Michael slid his hand across his lap and entwined her fingers within his own, giving her reassuring squeeze. A vision of it wandering up her thigh flashed into another of his lips pressed against hers. She sucked in air, shot him a furtive glance, and tried to listen to Gregorio.
“You were spared not by me, but by the Council and the Eldest. The Eldest’s word is law and infallible. He is the strongest and wisest among us; we will eternally abide by his decision.”
Soft murmurs disturbed the pervading quiet.
He flashed a challenging look that quieted the dissenters. “We believe you are a changeling. Stories, fables if you will, have been passed down for centuries. Humans, with little and sometimes no provocation at all who seem to spontaneously evolve into vampires. We cannot pass up this chance to study you.”
Another vision of his hand running down the small of her bare back flashed. Her eyes closed with the sensation of it. Taking another deep breath, she squeezed his hand with all her might. Two silent barely perceivable heaves of his chest told her he’d stifled a laugh.
“Due to this, it is imperative we discover any genetic traits which could have allowed this to happen. We cannot have humans turning into vampires over night. The secret--”
When a vision of them lying naked, entwined in each other’s arms flickered to life, she glanced at Michael. “Would you stop?”
“Shhh. Listen.” He scolded. However, his eyes smoldered with such heat as their gazes locked that Liz was afraid everyone in the room was seeing the same vision. “It’s just us in here. I’m sorry. I’ll quit.”
She sat back with an audible sigh and concentrated on the man before her.
His eyes softened as his voice took on a concerned tone. “There is another very important reason for you to stay with us, Elizabeth. Should you go back into the outside world, you would be at risk from those seeking revenge against Michael. He has made many enemies, as have we all. This is why we do not show ourselves to others. Although it is against vampire law to kill one of our own, many would do so gladly, even knowing their life is forfeit, to repay Michael or the rest of us for loved ones that were put to death.”
Clearing his throat again, he looked uncomfortable.
Liz shifted in her seat.
“The connection is an amazing thing. It is most similar to the human emotion of love. It is different for each individual. For example, I made Michael. He is not, nor has he ever been, my lover. I have never wanted for such things, but I did desire a son and heir. Michael filled that void. Some change in need of children, or lovers, or best friends. The connection satisfies the emptiness the individual maker requires to be filled. There are some covens that are an entire family: grandparents, parents, children, spouses. Those are rare. Most of us choose to live in small groups. Sometimes just pairs, though generally there are at least three. We call this a nest. Until now, Michael’s disassociation with other vampires made him the perfect hand of the Council.
“Human stories paint a bleak picture of the vampire nature. At one point, the cold, heartless, bloodthirsty beasts your culture embraces were the epitome of vampires. This has not been the case for many decades now. We do drink human blood, though some of us prefer animal over human. We do not kill humans unless in self-defense, or in need of keeping the primary law. This is the culture the vampire nation has embraced. There are a radical few who do not accept our law. They long for the old ways. It is Michael’s job to seek them out and destroy them. Therefore, his connection with you makes him vulnerable.” He searched Michael’s face as if reading what he saw there, and then asked, “Could you, Michael, continue to do your job without prejudice if an outlaw coven captured Elizabeth?”
Michael returned his stare. Raw emotion flooded his voice as he answered, “No. I would destroy every last member of their coven to get her back.”
Gregorio sighed sympathetically and turned his gaze to Liz. “Just your existence has seriously complicated his ability to live not only by the law, but to in fact be the hand of the Council. Therefore it is the Council’s decree that you reside here in the fortress so that we might not only keep you safe, but continue to utilize Michael’s special abilities.”
***
The room was empty now except for Michael and Liz. She’d received information, but not anything she felt she needed to know. And the question time she’d been promised disappeared with the council members. Still nestled in the crook of his arm, and mind reeling, she tried to think.
Michael sat quietly beside her, waiting for her to speak. As if of their own volition, his fingers toyed with a strand of her hair while his thoughts drifted into a previously unknown realm.
It was so strange, this knowing a person inside and out. Caring for someone or something other than war or battle was foreign to him. It was all new and wonderful, yet the weight of the responsibility these new emotions carried seemed terrible at the same time. Michael had never dreamed it could be like this. He’d always been a loner. That’s why his father picked him in the first place. He was intelligent and diligent. An amazing swordsman for such a young man, Michael at twenty-three had all the makings of a dedicated assassin.
Gregorio had been one of the emperor’s closest advisors and a brilliant strategist in his own right. He’d singled Michael out early in the young man’s career, and helped guide him through the maze of red tape involved in climbing the ranks of the Roman army. And of course, provided the training needed to make him a truly great assassin. Over the centuries, Michael had perfected his deadly skills. An expert with every weapon, he preferred hand-to-hand combat. Michael never concerned himself with love or with nesting; he was born to kill. To uphold the vampire law had been his prime directive even before the Council had united.
He was nearing thirty when Gregorio turned him. It was his choice, a choice to be the ultimate killing machine. Not that he killed for malice; to kill because one could was to be a monster. For him,
there was righteousness in it. The cleansing of wrongs and making things right, to further a higher purpose was his calling. Turning the tides of wars and bettering the lives of others his ultimate goal and he was definitely well suited to it. So any thoughts of love… Love? Yes, it was definitely more than just the connection now. He loved her. With all his heart, soul, and being, he loved her. Even the necessity of living in the fortress and the complete loss of his freedom, seemed a worthy price for her safety.
“Love is a four letter word,” she said with a smile.
Michael looked down into her face, wondering exactly when she had started paying attention to his thoughts.
She winked. “About the part where you were a killing machine. Very scary stuff.” Her gaze shifted toward her hands folded in her lap. “It’s hard to imagine you that way now.”
“I am what I am,” he said. Taking her face in his hands, he tenderly kissed her forehead, eyes, and then moved down to her soft lips. Softly at first, then as his passion grew it became much more intense. She responded with such fervor that he almost could not contain himself. Then with a sigh, he pulled back. “Someone is coming. I hope this isn’t going to set precedence for us,” he laughed.
A quick knock on the door, and Athena was in front of them. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but there has been an incident, Michael. You are needed.”
“Well, no rest for the wicked,” he joked. Leaning over, he kissed Liz one last time and was gone.
“Everyone moves so quickly around here, it's like being on another planet,” she said as her eyes remained focused on the closed door.
“You’ll get used to it and many other things as well. I have things to attend to, so I must leave you to your own devices. Someone will come shortly to show you around the fortress and take you to your apartment.”
“Apartment?”
“Michael’s apartment dear, he chose not to live with us, but we have always kept his rooms. His father would not permit them to be used by others. Trouble is brewing, so I must fly!”
