by Shéa MacLeod
“What? You mean like you were supposed to the other night?” I circled to the right, keeping my sword up and myself just out of his reach. “Bet Kaldan was mad about that.”
“Kaldan can kiss my ass,” he snarled back.
“Do I sense dissension among the ranks?”
“You can sense whatever you want, Hunter. It won’t do you any good after I’ve killed you.”
I laughed. “Right, ‘cause that’s gonna happen.”
He rushed me then, and even though I was ready, I barely missed getting taken down. I did manage to flick my sword fast enough to slice him open at the waist. He screamed. More in rage than in pain, I thought.
“Stupid bitch!”
“Oh, come now. That’s not very creative. You can do better than that, surely,” I mocked him. Taunting an enraged vampire was a dangerous business, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. If I could get him mad enough, he’d make mistakes.
He rushed me again, but this time I was more than ready. I danced out of the way, flicking the blade at him again, taking the cut a little deeper. He was bleeding. Badly. Unfortunately it wasn’t nearly enough to take him down. I had to take him down and fast, before I tired any more. So, this time, I rushed him.
I ran straight at him, my eyes never wavering from the red glow of his. I saw the triumph in those glowing eyes as he grabbed me by the throat and reared back to sink his teeth in. Then I watched the triumph turn to shock as I plunged the needle sharp neck of my brand new toy straight into his stomach, right through the cut I’d given him earlier. “I’ll give Kaldan your regards,” I told him and squeezed the bulb, flooding salt water straight into his body.
I jerked the aspirator out, and danced back out of his reach as his body froze in shock. The flesh around the wound began to bubble, then melt, and the bubbling and melting spread from the wound out over his entire body as he stood there and screamed and screamed and screamed. I finally had to cover my ears.
The stench was unbearable. Good thing most people can’t smell the undead the way I do. This would have drawn a lot of attention.
With one last scream, it was like something let go and his body dissolved into a pile of steaming gunk which slowly melted away into the grass just like demon spawn with holy water. I held the aspirator in the palm of my hand and gave it a little smile. “Way to go,” I told it. Tessalah would be so proud.
Chapter Nine
I was still revved from hunting on the drive home. Sure, I knew taking out the blond vamp would only delay things. After all, Kaldan was still out there, and if Darroch really was paying him to have his flunkies follow me, they’d just send someone else. Still, I finally felt like I was getting somewhere, or at the very least, taking control of things.
If Darroch thought I would be easy to manipulate, he had another think coming. I was not so easy to distract and even less easy to kill. The vamp attack that had changed my life three years ago had proven that. They say what doesn’t kill you made you stronger. Seriously, they had no idea how true that was.
That thought led me right to another thought I was trying to avoid. What exactly had happened out there at the Waterfront? I vaguely remembered the feel of the night all around gathering close to me, feeding me. I shuddered. Weirdness. Serious weirdness. The most worrying part of all had been that while the first time was an accident, the second time I’d done it on purpose. What the hell was going on with me?
My cell rang. I knew it was Cordelia before I picked it up. She was starting to show a knack for knowing when weirdness was happening in my life.
I waited to answer until I’d pulled off the road. “Hi, Cordelia.”
“Morgan, be straight with me. Are you all right?”
I sighed. I wasn’t all right. Not really. But I wasn’t ready to talk about it just yet. “I’ll be fine for now, Cordelia. I just want to get home, get some sleep. Can I come by your house tomorrow?”
“Of course you can. Are you sure you’re OK to wait until then?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks.” Apparently she was bound and determined to become my Mother Confessor. I wasn’t even Catholic.
I could picture her smile quirking at the corners of her mouth. “Any time, Morgan. Bastet says hello.” And with that, she hung up.
“Weirder and weirder,” I muttered to myself before I pulled back out into the street and headed for home.
***
I could feel the tension drain from my body as I locked my front door behind me. Like the girl said, there’s no place like home. Sometimes I wished home still meant London, but this was good, too. The closets were certainly bigger. Plus, I was born in Portland, and had spent most of my life here. It got in your blood, this city. And let’s face it, Portland, while rainy, had nothing on London.
I propped myself against the wall and yanked off my boots, letting them drop right there in the middle of the hall. The socks followed before I let out a sigh of blissful relief. I may have been a boots kind of girl, but there was nothing in this world quite as delicious as bare feet.
I padded quietly down the hall toward the kitchen, not bothering with the lights. Like I said, the dark was a friend of mine. I shoved that thought aside. The dark was getting just a little too friendly lately.
I headed straight for the sink and a glass of icy water. Moonlight filtered softly through the window, filling the kitchen with oddly shifting shadows. Halfway through the glass it finally registered: I wasn’t alone. I slid my stiletto quietly out of my cleavage, keeping my hand hidden from view of whoever was behind me while cussing myself out mentally. I must have been more tired than I thought. How could I have been so bloody stupid?
I whirled, stiletto at the ready, only to be confronted by a familiar figure lounging at my kitchen table. “Dammit, Inigo,” I sputtered. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
I couldn’t see his expression in the darkness, but I sensed his amusement, nonetheless. “I take it your hunt was successful?”
I snorted. “Of course it was.” I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted to discuss my current weirdness with Inigo, either.
He didn’t say anything. He just waited.
I let out a groan and collapsed into the kitchen chair opposite him. “I just don’t know. Something weird is going on with me.”
“Weird? Weird how?”
I shrugged. I liked Inigo. More importantly, I trusted him. That was saying something for me. When it came to men, I didn’t trust easily. I’d worked with him for a long time, though. He was my best friend’s cousin, for crying out loud. Still, I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell him I was losing my grip on reality. I wasn’t sure I was ready to admit it to myself because if I wasn’t going crazy, then something much scarier was happening.
He got up slowly from the table, unfolding his long, lithe body from where he’d been lounging. I watched him walk over to me, desperately trying to hide the fact that my pulse was pounding hard enough I was half-afraid I’d crack a rib. Not good. Not good. So very not good.
I couldn’t really see in the dark, but I was pretty sure I saw his lips quirk into something very like a smirk. Bastard.
He stepped behind me and I tensed up before I realized what he was planning. Then I felt his hands on my shoulders, sending a little electric thrill straight to my nether regions. Dear gods, this was not good. “Uh, Inigo … “
“Shh. Just relax. You need to relax. You’re too tense.” His hands began kneading the muscles of my shoulders which, until that moment, I’d had no idea were so beyond tense they closely resembled a rock.
I was pretty sure I let out a moan, but things were starting to go a little fuzzy around the edges. I could feel that odd tingling again, that pulling of the dark. It was rushing around me, swirling and pulling and surging into me, through me. In the dark there were sparkles, like tiny stars, dancing and dancing on the edge of my vision. The night began to wrap itself around me, its energy driving deeper. I was seriously beginning to lose my grip on rea
lity.
“Morgan?” His voice was rough, full of desire and need. He pulled me out of the chair and turned me to face him.
His eyes had gone all funny. The icy blue was gone and instead they were glowing and kind of dark yellow. No. Gold. His eyes had gone gold and red. Not red like that vampire’s eyes, but more an orange red, like the flames of a fire. His pupils were narrow slits of greenish black and the gold and orange flames danced around them.
I tried to say something, to ask him why his eyes had changed, but I couldn’t get any words out. I just stared into his eyes while my brain went hazy and the darkness swirled and surged in my blood. I wanted him. I wanted him with a fever that was almost unbearable. I grabbed the front of his shirt and tried to pull him down to me.
He groaned again and I could tell he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I might not have been fighting it, but he was. “Morgan, no. Morgan, stop.”
His hands were still on my shoulders, heavy and warm. I didn’t know what it was he wanted me to stop and I didn’t care. I wasn’t in the stopping mood. All I could feel was the rush of pure need, pure desire, surging through my veins like molten lava. I was hot and wet and so ready for him.
I finally found my voice, but it came out all funny. Sort of husky and breathy and not like me at all. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t me, that I wasn’t doing anything, but instead I said in that strange, breathy, not-me voice, “Don’t fight it, Inigo. Don’t fight it.”
He did for half a second before his mouth came crashing down on mine, his hard body pressed up against my softer one as he molded himself around me. Fire surged through me, chasing the darkness. Electricity tingled through my body, desire so strong I thought I’d die from it. Darkness, fire, the little sparkles grew brighter. There was only me and Inigo and our breaths, our mouths, our bodies.
I wrapped myself around him, burying my fingers in his silky hair. His skin nearly burned me with the heat of him. I gave myself over to his kiss, to the feel of him, losing all sense of time as I fell into the sensation of him. And then there was darkness.
***
In a cave under a plateau in a desert land, I sat, feverishly clutching a golden amulet. The blue stone in the middle glowed weakly, barely lighting the dank earthen walls around me. I’d spent nearly all my remaining energy painting the story of our dying race on the walls of this cave. One day a city would be built on this plateau, a city that would be the center of a thousand conflicts. I, however, would not live to see it.
I swiped at my forehead, my hand came away slick with sweat. The sickness ravaging my body was finally winning, taking over a little at a time. Soon, there would be nothing of me left at all.
The Key was closing. I could feel the protection of its power slipping from me little by little. Soon it would be beyond my reach and the sickness would take over. The last High Priest of Atlantis would be no more. Instead there would be a ravening beast, hungry for blood and for violence.
I’d already witnessed so much violence. Shocking to a man who’d spent his entire life devoted to peace. I clutched the amulet tighter to my chest and felt myself slipping in and out of time. “I am now become Death.” I smiled weakly. I would not be the only one in history to utter such words. I could see this as I had seen so many other things in my lifetime.
And I had become death. I had done my duty as High Priest all too well and now Atlantis and all her people, the last of the full-blooded Atlanteans, lay buried beneath an ocean of rock and lava. I had stopped the disease in its tracks, but at such a cost. Now Varan and his Warriors had only to find and destroy the few humans still carrying the disease, the Nightwalkers. This world would be safe only when every last one lay dead.
I closed my eyes, breathing in the rich scent of earth and sent a prayer winging to gods who refused to answer. It wouldn’t be long now. Surely Varan would come soon with the news that the last of the Royal Bloodline was safe. Only then would my work be done and I could turn the Key over to its new Guardian, my only son, and end this existence with some shred of myself intact.
Please let it have worked. My fingers twitched against the dark blue of my robes, twisting and scrunching the rich fabric. It would take a miracle, but perhaps Varan could deliver that miracle. The most important thing of all was the Bloodline. The Royal Bloodline must be saved. To save the future, to save all that was truly Atlantis, the Bloodline must survive.
There was a scratching sound at the entrance and Varan entered, eyes wild, blood streaking his muscular body. “Quickly, my lord, we must leave. They’ve tracked us!” I hastened toward him, but it was too late. A rumble from outside told the story. A landslide. We were buried inside the cave. The half-blood Warriors and their human allies had done their job far too well.
Varan swore. Anxiously, I gripped the younger man’s arm, “Tell me Varan is it done? Did you succeed?”
“Yes, my Lord Danu. The Bloodline is safely hidden, and the humans and my people hunt the last of the Nightwalkers. There is only the Key.”
A faint blue light pulsed in the absolute black of the cave. I clutched the amulet, fevered eyes drinking in the dying light. “I am sorry, Varan. So very sorry.” He and his descendents should have been the Guardians of the Key until the time was right for it to be reunited with the Bloodline. The last part of the plan had failed.
The only hope now lay with future generations. Perhaps there would be a distant son of Atlantis who would one day discover our tomb and become the Key’s Guardian. That was how I had designed it, after all. But still, sorrow clutched at my soul, a soul already far too faded.
I felt Varan smile, if a bit sadly and grip my hand in his. Softly he whispered, “It is all right father. I forgive you.” I wasn’t sure I could forgive myself.
The faint blue light finally went out. The rich, metal tang of blood filled my mouth as the sickness at last took over my body. There was no one to hear Varan’s screams.
***
I sat bolt upright in bed, a scream ripping at my throat. Barely holding it back, I sat for a moment, gasping for breath and trying to collect myself. A dream. Just another stupid dream. I had been the priest this time. I could still smell dirt and the taste of blood lingered in my mouth.
I tried to recall some of the other details from the dream. I had a bad feeling the cave the priest and Varan had been trapped in was a little too familiar.
I closed my eyes and brought the details into focus: smooth floor, rough dirt walls, and an earthenware jar leaning against a low flat stone. A beautiful mural painted along the back wall. Yes, it was the same cave, the cave where the knight from my other dream had found the ancient bodies, where he’d been attacked by a corpse that should have been dead for thousands of years.
The attack, the ocean colored eyes, the dusty tabard, the familiar face, it was all clear. I knew for sure now who I’d been dreaming about, or at least who the knight was. I was also fairly certain that it was no dream.
I scrambled to the edge of my bed and yanked open the drawer of my nightstand. I dug around until I found the card I was looking for and pulled it out. Jack Keel. It made all too much sense. Jack had been a Templar Knight, a Templar who’d been transformed into something that was more than human, yet not quite vampire. Jack was the knight in my dream. He had to be. But who was the priest and how did he fit in?
I needed to talk to Jack. I needed to find out for sure if what I was dreaming was real and what it had to do with me. I yanked down the covers and that’s when I saw I was still wearing my black T-shirt. The one I’d been wearing last night. The one I’d had on when Inigo kissed me.
I gaped at my bare legs. No jeans. I double checked. Panties firmly in place, thank the gods. I was alone in my bed, no sign anyone else had been in it with me. Granted, it was hard to tell. I flopped about in my sleep like a fish. My bed pretty much consistently looked like it’d been hit by a hurricane.
I hesitantly reached out and felt the extra pillow. No heat, but that didn’t exactly mean anything.
I leaned over and took a deep whiff. Just the scent of my shampoo, nothing else.
What the hell had happened? I racked my brain, but came up totally blank. He’d been giving me a massage. I’d gotten all hot and bothered. I felt my cheeks heat. Yeah, definitely hot and bothered, and I wasn’t the only one. He’d picked me up, held me against him. We’d both been very aroused, no doubt about that. We kissed and then … nothing. I couldn’t remember a damn thing after that.
OK, yeah, I’d been hotter than a furnace and ready to go. That I most definitely remembered. In fact, I was getting a little overheated just remembering it, partly from embarrassment and partly from my overactive libido. But that was all I remembered. I couldn’t remember anything after that kiss. In fact, the kiss itself and everything leading up to it was a little fuzzy. The more I tried to remember the details, the fuzzier they got.
There was something about his eyes. What was it? I tried to call up the memory, but it refused to come, retreating deeper into my mind.
I shook my head. No use prolonging the truth of the matter. Something really weird had happened. I just wasn’t sure exactly what kind of something. I wasn’t even sure how far we’d gone, though I distinctly remembered being ready to go just about as far as two people can go. I just wasn’t sure if we’d gone there. In fact, I couldn’t even remember taking my clothes off.
Shit. Kabita was going to kill me. And when she got done killing me, I was going to kill Inigo. After I made him tell me exactly what happened between us. I wasn’t stupid. Satisfy your curiosity first then commit murder and mayhem.
But first I had an appointment with Cordelia. After that, I had a date with a Sunwalker. He just didn’t know it yet.
I couldn’t help but smirk just a little. This was going to be interesting.
Chapter Ten
