Lovers Sacrifice

by R. A. Steffan

  “Eniel,” Oksana said in a low voice, trying to catch his eye. “Hey. Eniel, look at me.”

  Eniel closed his eyes firmly and continued to fight, thrashing his head back and forth.

  “Eniel,” Oksana said, more softly. The boy did not respond, but continued to struggle. With a sigh, Oksana reached out very gently with her mental power and touched his mind. She caught a small glimpse of the boy’s pain and rage, the out-of-control emotions coursing through his body like acid.

  Oksana could sense that he was completely disengaged from their surroundings. Attempting to reason with him would be useless. He was lost in the memories conjured by the gunfire still erupting sporadically from a couple of streets over.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, Oksana layered a soft mental blanket of peace over Eniel’s awareness. She did not force it upon him—simply offered it to him. For a moment, nothing seemed to change. Eniel continued to exert all his energy on escape, while the nurses restrained his flailing limbs.

  Eventually, though, his movements grew less frantic, and eventually stilled. Oksana breathed in and out, allowing her life force to flow around the two of them. She could sense Xander and Duchess’ life forces swirling and combining with hers, bolstering her, adding to the tranquility hanging gently in the air.

  “There, now,” she said. “That’s better. That noise certainly was a bit unexpected, wasn’t it?”

  Eniel breathed in time with her, his thin chest rising and falling like a bellows. He nodded slowly, as if dazed. She could feel that he was clinging to her projection of calm as his anger and anxiety drained away. She made brief eye contact with the nurses, who released his arms and stepped back a bit, giving him space. The boy didn’t move, but stood there breathing heavily and staring around, his eyes glittering.

  “Are you ready to keep going?” Oksana asked.

  “Yes,” Eniel answered.

  “Okay, good. The shooters are some distance away, but there may be more gunfire as we’re walking. We’re going to keep moving towards safety unless it gets closer to us, though. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.” The word was soft, but steady.

  Oksana nodded that they were ready. The group continued on, but this time Eniel stayed close to Oksana. He did not speak and flinched anytime the pop-pop-pop of automatic gunfire sounded nearby.

  Mason appeared beside Oksana and murmured, “Thank you.”

  “It was nothing,” she replied, trying hard not to let her gaze linger on him.

  “Bollocks. That was frankly amazing to watch,” Mason said conversationally. “Have you worked with kids for long?”

  He’s trying to start a conversation, Oksana. Don’t shut him down, Xander sent, obviously eavesdropping even though he was several meters behind them.

  Could you maybe mind your own business? Oksana grumbled silently. This is bad enough with only me in my head.

  Xander sent the mental equivalent of a shrug. Hey, if you’re so worried about privacy, you should be shielding better.

  She gritted her teeth. We’re trying to herd more than two-dozen adults and children through streets riddled with gunfire and rattled by aftershocks! I appear to be just a tiny bit distracted, for some strange reason.

  So… get un-distracted? She could picture his raised eyebrow as clearly as if she’d seen it.

  Oksana groaned aloud in irritation and slammed her mental shields down on him.

  “Er… did I say something wrong?” Mason asked.

  She swallowed a sigh. “No, of course not. Sorry. I was just thinking. To answer your question, I don’t work with kids, but I do enjoy interacting with them.”

  “Oh?” Mason responded, looking surprised. “What do you do, then?”

  Oksana paused, caught out. Wait—hadn’t her plan been to avoid him until she could figure out what to do?

  “Um, it’s a little complicated to explain.”

  If anything, that seemed to make him more curious. “Try me,” he said.

  Brilliant. How could she possibly explain anything to him when she was still reeling from discovering he existed? This entire situation was a nightmare. What a fool she’d been, to assume this wouldn’t happen to her—that she’d have time. Time to come to terms with the reality of what finding her lost love Augustin would mean.

  She was rescued from her predicament when they turned a corner, getting a view of a large plaza a block or so away.

  “Doctor,” the nurse named Joni called. “That’s it, right?”

  Mason smiled in relief. “So it is. Looks like we made it, everyone.”

  The open area was near the city center, and they were far enough from the ocean now to be safe from any waves that might come their way after the moderately powerful quake. There were several tents set up, where people in civilian clothing were talking to aides with the American Red Cross symbol emblazoned on their shirts.

  As Oksana watched, workers scurried about, intent upon their business. Large floodlights illuminated the area, casting dark shadows around bushes and tents.

  “Well,” Xander said, looking around. “They certainly mobilize quickly. The earthquake was only a couple of hours ago.”

  “Oh—they were already here,” Mason explained. “They’ve been trying to help with relief efforts following the violence and civil war. We just negotiated an informal agreement where they’re temporarily going to house us as well, now.”

  “Dr. Walker?” a voice called through the crowd.

  Oksana looked up and saw an older white man moving towards them, a weary look on his face.

  “Yes?” Mason replied.

  The man held out a hand, and Mason shook it. “I’m Jeff Sentry, I spoke on the phone to one of your people earlier.”

  “Of course,” Mason said. “How are you?”

  Jeff rubbed tired eyes. “Making it. Are these all of the children?”

  Xander moved closer to Oksana, still holding Cristofer in his arms.

  Mason nodded and gestured to the group. “Yes, this is everyone.”

  Jeff nodded and motioned for the cluster of people to follow him. He led them through the crowd, which was finally beginning to thin, heading towards a cluster of tents that were positioned off to the side of the operation, as if they had been erected as an afterthought.

  “When were you able to get these set up?” Oksana asked.

  “About thirty minutes ago. We didn’t manage to get the bedding sorted out, but there are stacks of cots, pillows, and blankets inside. It’s the best we could do on such short notice. We’re running low on supplies at the moment, but we should still be able to feed everyone, at least for a few days.”

  Oksana used the cover of the children being directed towards tents to move away from Mason. She could tell that he was still watching her as if fascinated, but she tried her best to keep all her focus onto the task at hand.

  “Eniel, which tent would you like to sleep in tonight?” she asked him.

  The young boy had trailed behind her for the entire walk through the city. He glanced back and forth, and then looked at her with a lost expression.

  “Hey,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. His gaze flickered first to her hand, and then back to her face, as if he was surprised she’d touched him. “Listen,” she continued, “I know this is really hard, okay? It’s perfectly understandable for you to be a little freaked out, but I think these are good people that are going to take care of you, now.”

  Eniel’s lips tightened, and he looked slightly angry. “I’m not a child.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Eniel—child or adult, everyone needs help sometimes. Let these people do their job, all right?”

  He sighed at her words and looked around again. His eyes settled on Mason for a moment, as if considering his options. “Yeah. All right.”

  “Very good,” Oksana answered. She helped Eniel and several of the other less injured boys get their cots set up. They spoke very little, but instead yawned widely. After getting everyone into bed, Oksan
a ducked out of the tent and found several of the clinic staff huddled in a group a short distance away.

  “Everyone settled in?” one of the nurses asked as Oksana approached.

  She nodded. “Yes, finally. They were all so tired they could barely pull the blankets over themselves.”

  A conversation from a short distance away floated to her ears.

  “… and I know this operation has been going on for quite a while now, but I think we need more help,” Mason said.

  Oksana peered around the nurse and saw that Duchess and Xander were deep in conversation with the Aussie doctor. She hesitated for a moment before moving in their direction. Still caught between an unmistakable draw and the desire to be far, far away, Oksana shuffled her steps until she was standing close to Duchess.

  “Why is that? Too many children?” Duchess was asking.

  Mason’s face grew dark and drawn. “No, not exactly.”

  “So what’s the problem, then?” Xander asked.

  Mason rubbed a hand against his forehead and looked over at Oksana. Their eyes met for a moment before she blinked and looked down.

  “I…” Mason began, but then his voice trailed away for a moment. “Look… I know this will sound crazy, but I’ve been hearing strange reports from some of the outlying villages. Anytime I try to bring it up with people in my agency, though, I get brushed off.”

  “Go on,” Xander pressed.

  Mason took a deep breath and let it out. “There are mutterings from the front lines of the fighting. Villagers have seen what they call the lifeless. Child soldiers who blindly obey orders, seem to have no emotion, and are incredibly destructive. Some people are saying that the vodou are preying on the people of Haiti, and have started claiming the island’s children, turning them into something like… zombies, I guess, as ridiculous as that sounds.”

  Duchess made a soft, strangled noise in her throat, matching the feeling of stifling dread that settled in Oksana’s chest at the words. She looked over at her friend in time to see all the color draining from Duchess’ face. Duchess turned wild eyes on Oksana and Xander.

  No. Her mental voice was harsh with denial. Mère de Dieu—no. Does this evil know no bounds?

  “It’s a frightening prospect—I agree,” Mason said, clearly misinterpreting her emotion. “I’m sure there’s an explanation, though. My guess is that it’s a drug cocktail we’ve never seen before. A lot of these kids come to us high on cocaine—Eniel, for one. But this? I don’t know… I can’t imagine what it could be, to produce such effects.”

  The three vampires’ eyes met and locked, a single word resonating through the mental link joining them.

  Bael.

  FIVE

  A FIERCE, RED FLAME of rage encompassed Duchess’ aura. In the other’s minds, she grew bright, and the light she bathed them in was hot, like fire. This will not stand, she swore. By my life, this demon will pay for his crimes!

  Oksana needed to be away from this place, now—the urge to flee growing more difficult to ignore with each passing moment. Not here, Duchess, she sent, some of that desperation leaking through. Not now.

  “Fuck, I need a drink,” Xander muttered, almost too low to hear. In a more normal tone, he said. “All right, Oz. Here’s the deal. It’s almost dawn, and we have some business today that can’t really be rescheduled. But—” He lifted a finger when Mason drew breath to speak, cutting him off. “—we want to talk with you more about this. Will you still be here tonight, say half an hour after dusk?”

  Mason appeared surprised that they were taking him seriously. He nodded. “Yes, I’ll be around. I’ll try to meet you where we are now, but if I’m not here, just ask for me—I’ll be inside one of the tents.”

  Xander clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s a good chap. We’ll see you then. Not to worry—we’ll figure out a way to get to the bottom of your strange reports.”

  Still taken aback, the doctor nodded. “That’s… thank you. That’s just about the first good news I’ve had all day. I’ll see the three of you tonight.”

  “Until then,” Xander said, and Oksana thanked him silently for taking the lead. Duchess was still fuming, her anger no less incandescent than it had been earlier, and she herself was moments away from losing her shit completely and making a thoroughly undignified run for it.

  She didn’t actually run as Xander gave a final wave and headed for the shadows behind the row of tents, but it was a close thing. It was a huge relief to transform into mist with the other two and swirl away into the night air—a far safer option than traveling as owls in a city wracked by random gunfire.

  If only she could leave the crushing weight of her past behind as easily as the weight of her corporeal form.

  *

  Thankfully, the Royal Oasis hotel in the nearby Pétionville suburb did not appear to have sustained any serious damage. Power was out in the area, but the building’s generator was running, and lights glowed from the windows of the occupied rooms.

  Oksana was no less of a hot mess now than she had been earlier, and it was a relief when Xander waved them into his suite and closed the door, pointing imperiously at the white leather sofa.

  “Sit,” he said.

  Oksana flopped down on the comfortable cushions and pinched the bridge of her nose; Duchess ignored his command and paced.

  Xander turned to rummage in his luggage for a moment and came up with a flask. Duchess waved him off in irritation. He shot her a side-eyed look, but conceded that particular battle in favor of standing before Oksana and thrusting the shiny metal container under her nose, instead.

  “You,” he said, with uncharacteristic firmness. “Drink. Now.”

  Oksana swiped the flask out of his grip and tipped it up, nearly choking on the liquid it contained. The stuff was lightly aged B-negative—her favorite type, usually—but it had a blood alcohol content so high it was a wonder the donor hadn’t succumbed to ethanol poisoning and expired on the spot. How the hell did Xander manage to get things like this through customs?

  “By hypnotizing the customs officials, obviously,” he said, as if she’d spoken aloud. “Don’t be a lightweight, Oksana. Bottoms up.”

  She glared at him as she drained the spiked blood, which had approximately the same delicate bouquet as paint stripper. When she was done, she capped the flask and tossed it in his general direction. He snatched it neatly out of the air.

  Within moments, warmth spread from her stomach outward—not an entirely pleasant sensation given that it was paired with an uncomfortable twist of queasiness. Nonetheless, some of the tension bled out of her shoulders, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

  She heard Xander put the flask back into his luggage and settle against the corner of the heavy dresser on the other side of the room. Duchess fetched up near the east-facing window, where the first gray light of dawn would just be starting to peek in through gaps in the heavy curtains.

  A small aftershock rattled the building, but everything in the room that was in danger of falling over had already done so before they got here, so Oksana ignored it.

  “Right, then,” Xander said, matter-of-factly. “It appears we have two competing crises. Somebody pick one to start with.”

  Oksana made an ugly grating noise in her throat and pressed the heels of her hands more tightly against her eye sockets.

  “Dr. Oz it is,” he said, and she flipped him a rude hand gesture, not bothering to lift her head. He ignored it. “So. Talk, Oksana. I’d’ve thought this was an occasion for congratulations, not a reason for me to have to give away my entire stash of liquid courage in one go.”

  She raised her head to stare at him through narrowed eyes. A glance in Duchess’ direction showed that her friend was also watching her with interest, some of her earlier anger having finally drained away.

  Oksana didn’t much like being the center of attention like this. “And if it had been one of your soulmates we’d stumbled on, y
ou’d have skipped merrily into the sunrise humming It’s a Small World After All?” she asked pointedly.

  “No,” Xander said without hesitation. “But that’s because I’m a dirty rat bastard who deserves a second chance about as much as Bobby Brown deserved Whitney Houston, and Duchess is a dangerous man-eater. Whereas you’re a nice person who just happens to have fangs and a bad case of photosensitivity. It’s a completely different situation.”

  Spirits above. She stared down at her hands as if they belonged to someone else. They were shaking. When they didn’t stop, she clenched them into fists and stuffed them between her knees.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “If he doesn’t, ma petite, it’s only because you never talk about what happened to you when Bael turned you,” Duchess said.

  “None of us ever talks about what happened when Bael turned us,” she muttered.

  “No,” Duchess said. “We don’t. Because it was horrific, and each one of us killed the very people we should have died to protect—or else we wouldn’t be here. But that didn’t stop Tré from finding Della. It didn’t stop Eris from finding Trynn. And now you have found the one you lost.”

  “The one I murdered, you mean,” she whispered.

  “The one who willingly sacrificed himself to save you,” Duchess corrected, “and whose death lies squarely at Bael’s feet—no one else’s. So, why is it that you look as though you’d rather lose another limb than even trade a handful of words with this man? A man who seems kind and brave, and who risks himself to save lost children?”

  The feeling of being trapped—of being hemmed in on all sides with no light, no air, and no hope of escape—returned.

  “I don’t want to talk about this,” she said.

  “Oh, well,” said Xander, laying the sarcasm on with a trowel. “Problem solved, then. Because I’m certain that if you ignore this situation, it will simply go away.”

  And why not? she thought, a bit desperately. If she could just steer clear of Mason until they left Haiti…