by Kristie Cook
He lifted the cup in a one-sided toast, brought it to his lips, closed his eyes tightly and drank.
The hot liquid burned down his throat and into his stomach. He choked it all down and the bubbling potion immediately cooled and froze his insides. An icy river surged through his veins and shivers became convulsions. He collapsed, his whole body numbed and his vision blacked out.
His consciousness remained, but he was no longer in his home with Eris and Deimos, but somehow in the Ancients’ cavern. His viewpoint was different than usual, however, and he realized he looked out at the room from one of the thrones. He felt Zardok’s delight as if it were his own, filling his frozen chest with pride and excitement. Wonderful, the vampyre’s voice came in his mind. Fleeting images of Zardok’s memories flashed before Jordan’s eyes then faded to nothing.
He didn’t know how long he left his mind for Zardok’s, but when he came back to himself, he no longer felt frozen and numb. Rather, he now felt air stirring against his skin and wondered why Eris and Deimos would have carried him outside. He opened his eyes. He still lay on the floor in their house, staring at the ceiling. The air he’d felt moving was only from Eris and Deimos’s breathing. His senses had heightened even more. Eris’s face came into view, hovering over him, and he almost screamed with fright. What happened to her? She looked even older and uglier than before.
Her mouth pulled into a sad smile, her skin wrinkling more. “It drained me. But I think it worked, Jordan.”
He slowly sat up, knowing from previous experiments with the potions that the heightened senses could be overwhelming if he moved too quickly. This time felt different, though. Natural. He thought she was right. It had worked.
“Dagger,” he said. Deimos handed him his favorite blade and he pulled the edge across his arm. He growled, a feral, hair-raising sound, even to himself. Although he felt everything else, he felt no pain. But the knife still cut his skin. He threw the dagger across the room and the point stuck into the stone wall, the metal blade twanging with vibration. “I can still be injured. It didn’t work!”
The roar made both Deimos and Eris jump several paces backwards.
“Give it time,” Eris said. “It takes a new vampyre three days to fully transform. It takes a Were until the full moon. Be patient, Jordan. I know it will work. It has to.”
Jordan stared at the place where he’d just cut himself. His skin looked perfect, not even a pink line revealing what he’d just done. He had to admit this was progress. And he knew Eris was right. New vampyres could rise the same night of being turned, but they didn’t completely change over for three days and it took years for them to master their powers. He’d waited this long. He could wait a little longer. At least he didn’t have the uncontrollable urge to drink blood. Another good sign.
“What about you?” he demanded. “You look like a were-boar.”
Her eyes flashed with anger, a spark in their cloudiness. “My father can draw energy from the world. He can replace mine … that I sacrificed for you.”
“He better,” Jordan muttered.
Everything took longer than desired. Days turned into weeks, weeks became months and he saw gradual improvements in both him and Eris. He forced himself to have patience, knowing if he gained true immortality, time no longer meant anything. He could even deal with Eris for her short time left in this world. Besides, he still needed her. He wasn’t through using her yet. He had more plans.
* * *
“Someone is coming,” Eris said.
She sat in the grass, watching Jordan teach Deimos how to fight as he prepared their son to become his second-in-command. Jordan followed her gaze into the valley behind their home and paid for the distraction: his son’s sword came down on his bare shoulder. He sucked in a breath, but when he looked at where the blade should have sliced through, he saw nothing. No blood. Not so much as a scratch. He grinned at Deimos. Finally.
And the next thing he knew, an icy hand clamped around his throat. “You’re a monster! Just as you’ve made me!”
Jordan grabbed the assailant’s wrist and twisted his arm, making him release his grasp and cry out in pain. He grinned again. He’d just overpowered a vampyre.
“I didn’t make you a monster,” he said, holding the vampyre at arm’s length. “Zardok did.”
“You may as well have.” He spit in Jordan’s face. “You found me. You ordered it. And now I can’t go back to my wife and daughter because all I can think about is the taste of their blood!”
Jordan shoved him to the ground and wiped the vampyre saliva from his cheek. “Pity you haven’t killed them yet.”
He didn’t mean it. He had plans for this vampyre’s family. The bloodsucker came at him again in a blur, but Jordan’s keen eyesight could track him and he stopped the attack with a flick of his hand.
“You don’t want to do that,” Jordan said. “You don’t want to kill me. I’m the only family you have left. Except for the others like you.”
“Family?” the man barked.
“We are brothers-in-law, no?”
Niko hissed the way only a vampyre could. Jordan chuckled.
“I have no family, thanks to you. Not those monsters and definitely not you. I’ll have nothing to do with any of you!” And with that, Niko disappeared.
Jordan shook his head. As commander of the Daemoni, he should probably track down the vampyre, but he didn’t worry about him. How much harm could he cause by himself, especially when he still had a conscience? One of the downfalls of forcing the turns was that the newly changed held onto their humanity, sometimes for years, unlike those given the choice to exchange their souls for immortality. But when on the battlefields, they didn’t have time or patience—or desire—to offer that choice. Such as with Niko, who had to be turned for the greater good of everyone. And, of course, for the greater good of Jordan. He would give Niko more time to accept what he’d become before bringing him into his army.
“So,” Jordan said, looking at Eris and then at Deimos and back at the witch. “The potion worked. Now we move onto the next step.”
“Next step?” Eris asked with bewilderment. He hadn’t shared this part of his plan with her yet.
“We still have potion left, yes?”
“In a pot sealed with my strongest preservation spell. You said to make enough to share. Who are we sharing it with? It won’t affect Daemoni blood.”
Jordan looked at his son and grinned. “We start with Deimos.”
Deimos’ eyes widened. “Why me?”
“Why not?” Jordan asked. “Don’t you want this?”
His son scoffed. “I don’t need it. I have Mother’s blood and yours. I’m already more powerful than you ever were.”
In an instant, Jordan had Deimos by the neck, lifted in the air, his legs dangling several feet above the ground.
“Don’t be a fool,” Jordan growled. “You will take this gift. We haven’t worked all this time for you to throw the opportunity away.”
Deimos responded only with a blink. Jordan tossed him away. The boy flew back several paces and landed on his back with a hard thud that knocked the wind out of him. He remained motionless, staring at the blue sky.
Jordan turned with disgust and called over his shoulder, “Still think you’re more powerful than me?”
Within the hour, Jordan, Eris and Deimos gathered around a cup of brew. A single cup, held in Deimos’ shaking hands. Running out of patience, Jordan glanced at the bruises encircling his son’s throat and back at his eyes, which filled with more fear. Jordan twitched his hand, about to grab the cup and force Deimos to drink the potion, but then his son lifted the cup to his lips. Jordan pulled in a breath and held it. He watched Deimos force down the entire contents and then collapse in convulsions, just as he had done. He didn’t let out his breath for several minutes, not until Deimos finally passed out.
The potion had an immediate effect. Rather than several months, as it had taken Jordan, Deimos changed in weeks. His body gre
w tall and his muscles developed, transforming him into a full-grown man. Jordan and Eris began to fear their son would never stop aging, that the potion would have the opposite effect of the desired immortality and he would die of old age though he was only a boy. But then the signs of growing older ceased as quickly as they’d started. He appeared to have matured ten years in two weeks, stopping at the prime time of life with a perfect warrior’s build. Jordan didn’t stop worrying, though, until he felt sure Deimos would never age another day again.
Jordan spent his time overseeing the training of his new army. The battles across Thessaly, Athena and Corinth had ended, leaving them few fallen soldiers to turn. He didn’t worry, though. Humans harbored a love affair with war and there would always be another one. In the meantime, they had already doubled their numbers and these new Daemoni needed training. Jordan saw another way to build the army, as well: reproduce more like him and Deimos. But first they needed females for mating.
“It’s time to take the potion to Andronika,” he announced to Eris one evening.
“Your niece?” she asked with surprise.
“I’d rather my sister, but she’s aged too much. Andronika’s blood is as close to mine as we can get.”
“When do you want to leave?”
“When can you have more potion ready?”
“Give me a moon cycle. But we’re running out of Zardok’s blood. I only have enough for this one batch. He’s been generous, but I doubt he’ll give us any more.”
Jordan stroked his chin with thought. “It’s enough. She’s a young girl. She’ll only need part of it. If this goes as planned and Zardok sees the potential for our army, he’ll gladly give all we want.”
* * *
Eris swept her hands over her body. “Do I look like the caring type?”
Jordan eyed her. He would have preferred pretty and youthful Inga to do this task, but they hadn’t heard from the witch in years. Not since he’d dismissed her from their home so they could concentrate on the potions. He couldn’t deliver the potion himself—Cassandra would never trust him again—so he had no choice but to rely on Eris.
“You still look old,” he grumbled.
“Like a grandmotherly type? That’s the point. But do I look like a trustworthy grandmother? The kind who holds a sick child or teaches her how to cook?”
Jordan shrugged. He had no idea what a caring grandmother looked like, never having had one of his own. “I suppose.”
Eris pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. “Then it is time.”
She left Jordan in the forest that opened to the cliff where Cassandra and her daughter still resided. They’d been watching the woman and the girl for several days. Cassandra rarely emerged from their cave and when she did, her face was always drawn tight and her eyes filled with pain and sadness. Her hair was usually loose and tangled, streaked with nearly as much gray as Eris’s, and she no longer held her head high. She still grieved for her husband, not knowing he wasn’t exactly dead … but not quite alive, either.
The change in his sister stirred something unfamiliar in Jordan. She used to be so strong, so brave and so determined. He secretly admired her for her courage and unwavering beliefs, even if she believed wrongly. Now she looked lost and defeated. He didn’t understand how the loss of a man could break her. He knew he had been responsible for this change in her … and he could make it better, too. Perhaps he should have Eris slip her the potion after all. It could give her a better life. What was that? Was that foreign feeling guilt?
Disgusted with himself, he shook it off, crept to the edge of the tree line and watched as Eris approached Andronika and struck up a conversation. Relief washed over Jordan when the girl smiled. She already trusted Eris, who led her farther away from the shelter where Cassandra remained, pointing out a clump of the plants the girl sought. After a while, they sat for a rest and Eris pulled out the water skins. She offered one to Andronika and Jordan listened with his inhumanly keen hearing.
“I have my own. You save yours,” the girl said politely, opening her satchel.
“But does yours heal sadness?” Eris asked, her voice softer and kinder than Jordan had ever heard it.
Andronika’s brows furrowed. “No. It’s just water. How do you know I’m sad?”
“I can feel it around you. I can see it in your eyes. Here.” Eris held the water skin out. “Just try it.”
Andronika took the water skin, but didn’t immediately drink from it. She held it under her nose and sniffed. Jordan silently congratulated himself for insisting Eris add something to improve the smell and flavor.
“What’s in it?” his niece asked.
Eris listed a few herbs that Andronika would know were harmless.
“And it will make the sadness leave?”
“Yes, dear. You will see the world differently. Better.”
Andronika hesitated. Jordan’s heart pounded against his ribs and his body tensed with the anticipation. If she reacted as Deimos did, soon Andronika would change permanently and be his forever. He would defeat his sister and prove how right he’d always been. He grinned with this thought, glad to be rid of that sickening feeling of guilt. After what felt like fifty moon cycles, Andronika finally drank the potion. Jordan stopped breathing as he and Eris both watched the girl. And waited.
But nothing happened.
Andronika smiled appreciatively at Eris and handed the water skin back to the witch. Then she stood and returned to her gathering. She should be writhing in pain and collapsing with the effects! It took every bit of control Jordan possessed to stay behind the trees, out of his niece’s sight. Rage built within him, turning his vision red. What went wrong? He debated whether to attack the girl first or the witch who had apparently made a mistake. A big mistake. Or had she tried to fool him? His chest heaved. A growl rumbled in his throat. He couldn’t stand it a second longer. He wanted to kill the stupid witch.
But just as he thought to make the move, Andronika collapsed.
He and Eris rushed to her side. She lay on the ground, her eyes rolled back in her head. Eris placed her hand over the girl’s lids and closed them.
“Is she dead?” Jordan demanded. That would be worse than the potion not working. At least if she were alive, they could try again. He placed his finger against the girl’s neck and felt a faint beating. He blew out the breath he’d been holding and rocked back on his heels. “Is it working?”
Eris stared at the girl, not answering at first. She held her hands over the girl’s heart and moved them along her body without actually touching her. Then she looked up at Jordan, her dark eyes filled with bewilderment.
“I don’t know. I can feel the magick running through her veins, but I can’t feel any effects from it.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “She’s more human than you or Deimos. It might take longer.”
“Does she need more potion?”
“More would kill her. Her signs are already faint.”
Jordan nodded. They both sat back and waited and watched Andronika sleep. And waited. And watched. As the sun slid across the sky and behind the trees, Jordan grew concerned. If Andronika didn’t return home soon, Cassandra might come looking for her. She couldn’t find him here, but they couldn’t abandon the unconscious girl, either. Cassandra could mix a concoction to try to revive her daughter and possibly ruin the potion’s effects. He opened his mouth to tell Eris they needed to move her, but then the girl’s body stirred. Jordan flashed, appearing a hundred paces away, and watched.
Andronika’s eyes fluttered open. She looked at Eris at first with confusion and then with recognition. Eris helped her sit up.
“How do you feel?” Eris asked.
The girl seemed to consider the question. “Well, I guess. Not much different, though. Wait … I suppose the sadness has lifted. I don’t feel so heavy.”
“Is that all?”
Andronika rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck. “I feel like I slept for days. How long did I?”
Andronika looked around. Eris and Jordan both studied her carefully, watching for any indication the girl gave of improved hearing or sight.
“The sky is darkening. I better return to Mother,” she said, rising to her feet. “Thank you for sharing your drink. I think it’s working.”
The girl skipped off and Jordan and Eris just watched, their mouths open. By the time Jordan thought to react, she was already disappearing inside the shelter. An angry roar started building in his core, pushing its way upward. He let it out when Eris appeared by his side. She jumped back several feet.
“Calm down,” she snapped.
“Calm down?” Jordan echoed, his voice like ice. He flashed right in front of her and grabbed her by the throat. “Calm down? What did you do, woman? You ruined the potion!”
Pain pulsed through Jordan’s hand and Eris’s spell forced him to release her. She held a hand up, threatening him.
“Yes, calm down. I could still feel the magick within her. Just give it time.”
Jordan snarled at her. “What did you do to the potion? How did you change it?”
“Nothing, except add the lavender and vanilla for flavor. That wouldn’t change the effects.”
Jordan crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You think it will work?”
“If it doesn’t, it’s not because of the potion. It’s because of the girl. She might be too human.”
Jordan rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger for a long, silent moment. “Then we wait and we watch. When she starts showing signs, we must get to her before her mother does.”
* * *
Jordan couldn’t wait long. His army needed attention. The new recruits lacked control over their bloodlust and would betray them all if he didn’t act. The Daemoni wouldn’t have the numbers to overtake humanity for a few human generations, and if they exposed themselves too early, the humans would fight back. He would lose all the progress he’d made. So he left Eris to keep an eye on the girl.
