by E. M. Knight
A vile, pulsing strip opens up before me. I hurtle through it… and find myself standing upright, on the marble floor of a vast, golden chamber.
Immediately, the feeling of the place is familiar to me. I am in The Crypts.
Half a second later, Riyu appears at my side. Then come Dagan and Eleira.
I look back. There’s no portal they came through. They simply appeared out of thin air.
Riyu looks around him, wide-eyed. Eleira is trying to hide it, but she has a smug sort of smirk on her face.
Dagan, on the other hand, looks angry.
He seizes Eleira’s arm. But before he has a chance to do anything else, I throw myself at him. I don’t know when, or how, it happened, but my injury is no longer holding me back. In fact, I don’t even feel the wound.
Dagan and I crash to the ground. My wrists are bound, but I use the chain between them as a weapon. I press it against Dagan’s neck, pinning him in place. My strength, astonishingly, is coming back to me. No longer am I weakened by the wound. No longer is my body fighting against the corruption.
It’s like… it’s almost like… I’ve been cleansed.
Dagan throws a punch, but it merely glazes off the side of my body. I press the chain harder into his neck, cutting off his air supply, pressing down, down, hard enough to crush his windpipe and break his neck. He coughs and sputters, struggling against me. He tries reaching for the knife, but my knees, pinned to either side of his body, prevent him from pulling it out.
He realizes he won’t get it. So instead, he grabs my arms and tries to pry me off. But I am consumed by rage, by rage and anger and by an all-encompassing fury. Yes, fight me, I think. Yes, let me satiate in my strength. Yes, let me feel the power I have over you! Yes, yes, yes!
“ENOUGH!” an angry, brooding, male voice booms through the room.
A force sweeps into me from the side, knocking me right off Dagan. The blow throws me against a huge pillar. I grunt and fall.
A second later, I’m on my feet—but I see that the whole situation has changed.
Dagan is slowly picking himself up, blinking in a half-daze and rubbing his throat. The silver burned him there. I can see the mark on his skin.
That sight fills me with no small amount of pride.
Across from him stands Eleira, chin up and defiant. Beside her, kneeling with one fist on the floor, is Riyu.
I feel the presence of two great vampires behind me.
I turn around… and see my Father for the first time.
I know it’s him right away. There’s no doubt about it. He has the Soren features.
He is not quite as tall as James, but he has a presence about him. He’s wearing a dark, hooded cloak. Gold thread makes up the stitching, and there are small jewels encrusted along all the edges. His complexion is darker than any vampire I’ve seen—other than Victoria. An assortment of rings decorate his fingers, and gleaming chains hang from his neck.
All in all, his dress would be a gaudy showing for any vampire. But that is not what draws my attention.
His strength is.
Never in my life have I encountered a vampire so strong. His strength flows from him in waves, in great huge currents. He is many times stronger than Eleira—and that, in and of itself, absolutely astounds me.
He has the menacing power of a great white swimming in a pool of fishes.
Father’s companion is no less fascinating.
He is not quite so strong as the King, but he is not far off. He is dressed simply compared to my Father’s gaudy robes. Yet I immediately feel in awe of him, in an altogether different way than I’ve ever felt in awe of another vampire before.
His manner seems subdued. He has no need to flaunt any of his power. He is firm in who and what he is. There is a feeling of great wisdom that radiates from around him.
It’s in his eyes, I realize after a moment. His presence is contained entirely in his gaze.
“Impressed?” A voice sounds in my head. I take a step back in surprise.
I’ve heard that voice before—it is the voice of The Ancient!
“Kneel before your King, boy!”
And, suddenly, an invisible force pushes me down by the shoulders. I’m forced to my knees.
It’s the same force that threw me off Dagan.
The Ancient is using the Mind Gift against me!
The room has gone eerily quiet. The Ancient keeps me locked in place. I’m unable to move any part of my body.
Father approaches. My eyes are locked on him. He keeps his eyes narrowed as he watches me.
He stops right in front of me. The Ancient forces me to crane my neck up. A quiet moment passes. I search for any feelings inside, but I feel absolutely nothing for this man.
That frightens me. I feel no anger or rage. I know he is the one to cause the ruin of The Haven. And, even so, I cannot muster up even the smallest bit of resentment toward him.
Why not?
Father finally speaks. “I saw you attack Dagan.” A long pause. “…Well done.”
I blink. “What?”
The Ancient releases his grip, and The King offers me his hand.
Cautiously, I take it.
“I like my sons to show a bit of courage,” he says. “I like them to have a little bit of spunk. To fight for what’s theirs, to go for what they want. To protect—” he pulls me closer, “—the ones they love.”
His gaze darts behind me. I turn around—and find Eleira standing on her tip-toes, Dagan’s poisonous blade held at her throat.
A white-hot pillar of rage erupts inside me. The bastard distracted me, drew my attention away so Dagan could get to Eleira!
“What will you do now, son?” Father asks. He does not release my hand. “If I gave you a choice—your life, or the life of the woman you love—which would you spare?”
“I’d save Eleira.” I say immediately. “Without hesitation. Every single time.”
“Good,” Father says. “Passion for your woman is an admirable thing. Unfortunately, this time… I am not giving you a choice.”
He nods. The moment he does, Dagan’s knife slashes across Eleira’s throat.
“No!” I gasp. I rip out of Father’s grip and run for her.
Dagan lets her go. She falls—but I’m there before she can hit the ground.
“No, Eleira, no, no, no!”
Her head hangs forward as the life bleeds out of her. Her eyes are glazed over.
“No, Eleira, no!”
She tries to reach for my cheek. Her hand falls halfway through. Her body goes limp against mine.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?” I scream at the King. “WHAT DID YOU DO?” I hold Eleira to me, I feel her blood, hot and sticky and wet, running over my fingers and soaking into my clothes.
“Her strength was stolen,” Father says as he strolls toward us. “Now, we demand it back.”
He stops between Dagan and me. With one hand, he motions The Ancient forward.
Eleira’s blood continues to pool on the floor. Her life force is draining out of her. Just a few more moments and she’ll be dead…
“As her blood stains the palace floors, a guiding star will rise,” Father quotes. “And the Worthy One shall lead all our kind to salvation.”
I look at him. He sounds like a madman. My head is spinning. I can’t comprehend what’s going on. I can’t think. I don’t know what to do. A terrible anguish comes over me, one from which there is no escape. Darkness surrounds me. Eleira’s heart beat comes slower and slower and slower. The blood pouring out of her neck slows to a trickle.
Father kneels down. He dips his fingers into the pool of blood. He brings them in front of his face, holding the red-stained fingertips between the two of us.
“Such a precious thing, her blood is,” he murmurs. “Who would have thought it would be I to grant it such power?” He leans across to me. “Do you want her to live?”
“Yes!” I exclaim.
“Good,” Father says. “Then stand aside, and l
et her go.”
I stare at him in disbelief.
“Quickly, now,” he murmurs. “Time is running out.”
With a grunt, I do as I’m told. I lower Eleira to the floor, and glare at my Father, chock-full of hatred.
The Ancient sweeps in from behind and cradles Eleira in his arms. He looks down at her, and, for a moment, I think I see genuine compassion cross his features.
I blink and shake my head and the vision is gone. It must have been my imagination.
“And now,” Father says, “there will be a permanence to what we give.”
Shock ripples through me as The Ancient bites two small holes in his wrist and presses it to Eleira’s lips.
A direct transfusion.
Somewhere in the background, Dagan or Riyu makes a coughed sound of surprise.
I pay them no attention. Time slows to a halt as The Ancient holds his bleeding wrist to Eleira’s mouth. Her lips remain sealed. The seconds span into eternity as we wait for her to drink.
My eyes dart to the King. His confidence is not quite so solid as before. The corners of his eyes tighten. His hands shape into fists.
The Ancient is the only one unaffected. He sweeps Eleira’s hair back, gentle as a doting father. He brings his lips close to her ear and whispers, “Drink, child.”
On his words, Eleira’s mouth opens. A drop of The Ancient’s blood drips inside.
Then Eleira’s eyes pop open, and she clutches the wrist held to her mouth. Extraordinary relief, such as I’ve never felt before, overwhelms me.
Eleira drinks and drinks, taking huge, savage swallows of The Ancient’s blood. The wound on her neck closes. The grisly scene still looks like something from out a horror movie, but at least, at least, Eleira is alive.
Finally, she stops drinking. Her eyes move in wonder to The Ancient. Then she looks at me.
“I feel no hunger,” she breathes. “At all.”
Beyond us, Father starts to laugh.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ELEIRA
THE CRYPTS
I look around the lavishly decorated room. Rich Persian carpets dot the floor. Exquisite silks of every color are draped over the furniture pieces. There are cutouts in the wall, shaped like windows, curtained with fabrics of a deep, delicious red.
Bulbs on the other side give the impression of sunlight. It’s fake, of course, but it makes being so far underground feel a lot less oppressive.
I look down at my gown. It’s a light, baby blue. There are lace trimmings on the ends of the sleeves and the hem of the dress. It is a bit antique, a tad old fashioned, but nonetheless beautiful.
Is this how a prisoner would dress?
But, of course, I’m no prisoner. Not in the traditional sense. No, after waking to find The Ancient’s wrist pressed to my lips, his life-giving blood flowing down my throat… I knew that something very dramatic had taken place.
His blood had reenergized my body like a torrent of red-hot fire. The pervasive hunger that had defined my vampiric existence was simply gone. That astonished me. I had thought the feeling would forever be there.
But, no. The Ancient helped me to my feet, and I was led out of the chamber in a satiated daze.
In the hall outside, I was introduced to one of the most beguiling women I have ever encountered.
She said her name was Beatrice and that she was there to assure my comfort. She made herself sound like a servant, but I knew she was anything but.
No servant would make eye contact the way she did with the King.
She told me I was a distinguished guest. And as such, I would be given all the luxuries that were afforded to a vampire of my strength.
“Raul will be taken care of, don’t you worry,” Beatrice said as she took my arm. “You will see him soon.”
It was a measure of how out of it I was that I hadn’t given him any thought.
Then she led me to this room, presented me the dress, told me to change, then informed me that I would be received by the King once more, “formally,” soon.
I did all that and have been waiting ever since.
I float over to the grand piano and sit on the bench. I run my fingers over the keys. I’ve never played, but I always admired those who could.
My pinky presses down. A high, vibrant note sounds. I close my eyes and do it again, listening to the pure perfection of the crystal sound.
I feel… different. For the first time since my transformation, I feel at ease. There’s no storm of boiling emotions or trouble in the background. My mind feels cleansed and my body purified.
Is this what all vampires feel like?
That internal struggle to contain the beast inside me is gone. I don’t even feel the duality anymore. I am who I am, as a single cohesive whole. I’m not Eleira-the-vampire. I am just Eleira.
I am simply myself.
The freedom that grants is absolutely astounding.
My hand moves over the keys, and I press down on another note. Its crisp sound fills the air. I breathe in deeply and let it wash over my body and my soul.
Then comes silence. The room is still. My mind is still. I feel a peace like I have never known before.
My entire life I was always striving for something more. Chasing the next secret door, looking for the next hidden passage. For all of high school, I thought Stanford would be it.
But now, with a tiny bit of perspective, I can look back and say that it wasn’t. Sure, I was only there a few months—and sure, The Haven vampires ripped me straight out of my life—but back then I could only think about the next day, the next week, maybe the next month.
Now that I am an immortal? The four years I would have spent at school will pass in a flash. If I were in school, I’d have graduated, and then what?
I’d still be chasing.
And now, finally, with The Ancient’s blood, there is tranquility. I am who I am, and there is no changing that. My body is mine, my spirit is mine, my mind—of course—is fully mine.
Whatever comes could not possibly be more exciting.
A distant door comes open. I turn around.
Raul is standing there in a crisp, white dress shirt. His hair is combed back, his green eyes shine, and there’s a vibrancy to his complexion that had been missing for so very long.
I allow myself a tiny smile. His leg is better.
I made sure of that.
The portal I created leeched the corruption out of the wound. Dagan couldn’t have known, Raul certainly wasn’t expecting it, but the way to do it came to me during the initial journey into the Paths. The magic in that realm was boundless, limitless, and tweaking the spell Riyu showed me was oh-so-simple at the time. It was as if the knowledge of it was buried deep inside me the whole time. Visiting the Paths simply let that knowledge rise to the surface.
“You look…” Raul steps into the room and closes the door. “…simply stunning.”
My cheeks heat up in a flush. I try to force it down. I’m still angry with him for acting like such an ass the whole time we were in The Haven, but the relief that comes from knowing that he’s better overshadows all that.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I murmur, before I can stop myself. Dammit! I’m supposed to be mad.
He gives a short, slightly awkward chuckle. “I didn’t think this would be the treatment we’d receive.” He bends his bad leg. “The wound is better. They kept their word.”
I give a secret smile.
“What about you, though?” he asks. “How do you feel?”
“Amazing,” I say. “As if all the impurities have been washed away.”
Raul nods. “That’s great,” he says. He starts toward me, then stops and hesitates. Conflict is written clear on his face.
“Eleira,” he begins. “I have to apologize. For the way I’ve been acting toward you. It wasn’t—” he grunts. “It wasn’t me. Something took over, some darkness, a sickness, a disease of the mind. I lost sight of who I was, and who you are. I lost sight
of…” he runs a hand through his hair. “… how important you are to me.”
I don’t want it to be so easy for me to forgive him. But I cannot muster up any sort of ill-will. Just knowing that he’s alive, that we don’t have to worry about that ghastly injury any more… it makes anger totally impossible.
“I know,” I say.
He gives a small smile. His eyes go beyond me to the piano. “Can you play?” he asks.
I shake my head. “You?”
“A long time ago… I may have tried to learn.” He takes a few cautious steps toward me. He’s acting as if I’m a mouse that he might frighten off at any second. “I don’t know how much of it I still remember…” another step to me, “…or even if I was ever any good.” He’s coming closer and closer now, closing the space between us in a delicate dance, “But I could show you, I think, if you’d like.”
I look at him. He sounds so genuine, and yet so very much… conflicted.
He reminds me more of a fifteen-year-old boy asking out his first crush than a powerful, six-hundred-year-old vampire.
I don’t want this hesitance between us. We’re both alive, aren’t we? We’re both here, together, bound in one room for the first time without any outside pressure…
Well. That’s not exactly true. Despite the lavish surroundings, I cannot forget that we are deep in enemy territory. For whatever reason, they want to give us the illusion of comfort.
But an illusion, for the moment, is the best thing we’ve got. It’s been nothing but turmoil and upheaval ever since the attacks on The Haven.
How ironic is it that the first reprieve we get happens to come courtesy of the vampires responsible for the attack?
“I’d love that,” I say softly.
Raul smiles. He closes the final bit of space and lowers himself beside me. I take a breath and catch his scent. He smells clean and pure. That smell of corruption that had been clinging to him ever since he took the wound is gone. Only his essence remains now.
Raul runs his fingers over the keys in a gentle, caressing motion. I’m reminded of the way one might touch a favored lover. He takes pride in what he does, he always has. I’ve sensed it in him.
