Lovers Sacrifice

by R. A. Steffan

  “That sounds all right,” Mason said. “Did you work, or—?”

  “Xander’s the entrepreneur among us,” she replied. “Though the rest of us do have money, of course. Honestly, it’s hard not to amass wealth when you live for hundreds of years. Invest a few dollars here and a few dollars there, and it just sort of happens while you’re not paying attention.”

  Mason snorted. “I’ll admit, I can’t really relate to that sentiment. I know doctors are supposed to be loaded, but in my experience it’s all scrounging for grants and wondering where the money for the next truckload of medical supplies will come from.”

  He regarded her, tilting his head. “Though I must say, I have a difficult time picturing any of you clocking in at a nine-to-five gig.”

  Her laugh this time was a bit more genuine. “Yeah, I suppose I’m more of a night shift girl, myself.” She shook her head at herself before sobering. “We don’t age. And after a few years of not changing appearance, people start to talk. We tend to move around a lot.”

  “But always as a group?” Mason asked, clearly fascinated.

  “Not always,” she said. “Lately, though, it’s safer if none of us are alone. We’ve learned that the hard way.”

  “Because of this war you’ve been trying to tell me about.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Because of Bael.”

  A furrow formed between Mason’s eyebrows. “All right. I’ll bite. Who or what is Bael?”

  Oksana took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore the thundering of her pulse as the conversation veered in precisely the direction she didn’t want to go.

  “Bael is the name of the demon who turned me. Who turned all six of us—the six original vampires, I mean. He is the Darkness. The force that seeks the destruction and desecration of the world and those who live in it.”

  To his credit, Mason did not immediately denigrate her words, but sat mulling them for a long moment.

  “I’m not sure what to say to that,” he replied eventually. “I’ve always found that humanity was perfectly capable of manufacturing its own evil, without the need for gods and devils pulling strings in the background.”

  Right. He wasn’t quite there yet. And that wasn’t surprising, she supposed.

  “I sincerely hope that you don’t end up with first-hand proof of Bael’s existence,” she told him, knowing deep down what a futile hope that was. “Humanity is a microcosm of universal forces, it’s true. Humans choose every day whether to act for good or ill. But the true horror of Bael is his ability to take away that choice and steal a person’s free will. Do you think that child tonight chose to act in the way she did?”

  “No,” Mason said, very quietly, “but I also work with brainwashed children every single day. Their agency wasn’t taken away by a demon. It was taken away by ruthless men with access to illegal drugs and a basic knowledge of psychology. I don’t know exactly what happened to the girl tonight, Oksana. But I do know we need to stop it. For now, we’re agreed on that, and it will have to be enough.”

  She studied him, noting the pall of exhaustion that still seemed to hang over him. A pang of guilt at yet again keeping him from his rest accosted her. It was followed by a traitorous sense of curiosity about what it would feel like to sneak into bed with him while he was sleeping. Would he sense her nearness and roll over, still half asleep, to curl around her? Would his strong arms feel the same as Augustin’s had, so many long years ago?

  She shut down the unwanted train of thought, appalled at herself.

  “You should… get some rest,” she said tightly. “You look dead on your feet, and it’s going to be a long couple of days.”

  He nodded and yawned, not protesting the change of subject. “Yeah, I could definitely use some more sleep.”

  “Go on, then,” she said. “One of us will come and wake you up whenever Mama Lovelie decides to talk to us again.”

  Mason nodded, stifling another yawn. “Okay. Goodnight, Oksana.”

  “Goodnight,” Oksana answered. She turned to go to the back room where the others were resting. Still, she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder as Mason headed for the sleeping porch, an unaccountable feeling of longing pulling at her divided soul.

  TEN

  OKSANA DIDN’T FALL asleep until just after dawn, thoughts and worries chasing themselves around and around inside her head like a dog chasing its own tail. It seemed only moments later when a familiar voice intruded on her thoughts.

  Are you awake, ma petite? Duchess asked, the words flowing along the mental connection that wove a gossamer web across the three vampires’ awareness.

  Oksana startled into awareness, rousing from a restless doze. She glanced at her watch and found that it was just after eleven-thirty in the morning. Sunlight streamed from underneath the worn curtains drawn firmly across the window.

  “I am now,” she replied dryly, glancing up at the figure hovering in the doorway.

  “My apologies,” Duchess said with the barest hint of contrition. “But it’s growing late, and Xander left a few minutes ago to see if Mama Lovelie was ready to speak with us. I thought I’d take the opportunity to talk to you, while he talks to her. We’re worried about you, mon chou.”

  Oksana frowned at her friend. “I’m all right.”

  “Are you, now? I’m pleased to hear it,” Duchess said tartly. She flopped down on the end of Oksana’s bed and crossed her arms. “So. You’ve found your mate. Now what?”

  Oksana groaned and pulled the dusty pillow over her head. It smelled vaguely of mildew. “Can we not do this thirty seconds after I’ve woken up?” she asked, the words muffled.

  “Why not? It seems like a perfectly good time to me,” Duchess retorted. “We need to have a plan, n’est-ce pas?”

  Oksana pulled the pillow away in disgust. “Yes, fine. We need a plan. But I think our plan should focus on disrupting Bael’s hold on Haiti, stopping the flow of undead children to Bastian Kovac, and helping the government re-establish peaceful talks with the rebels. Not on my…” She paused before finishing, “… predicament.”

  Duchess raised a graceful eyebrow. “I disagree. You said yourself that we needed the mambo’s help for those other problems. Your predicament, as you so charmingly put it, is the only thing we can deal with at the moment. So. Talk to me, Oksana.”

  Oksana swallowed a growl and threw the disgusting pillow against the wall. “I can’t, though!” she insisted, struggling to keep her voice low enough not to be heard by everyone inside the thin-walled house. “That’s not what’s most important right now.”

  Duchess’s sky-blue gaze was almost pitying. “You’re what’s important to me right now, petite soeur.”

  Her friend’s soft words took Oksana by surprise. Duchess might be inclined toward pet names and fleeting caresses, but she was not frequently given to flights of genuine tenderness.

  Oksana opened her mouth to say… something, but no words came.

  “You can stop putting everyone else’s needs before your own just this one time,” Duchess continued. “It’s all right to think about yourself in this situation, because this situation is undeniably overwhelming. It’s also terrible timing.”

  Oksana laughed bleakly, covering her face with her hand. “Yeah, it’s definitely terrible timing. Though I’m not sure what would constitute good timing.”

  “You know what will happen, non?” Duchess’s tone was uncompromising. “It’s obvious that you fascinate him. A blind woman could see it. He wants you. After all, you’re the other half of his soul.”

  “That’s the part I can’t afford to think about,” Oksana murmured, still hiding her face in her hand.

  “Why ever not?”

  Oksana sighed, and felt the ridiculous burn of tears behind her eyes. She was glad that her face was covered, but that, too, was ridiculous. The pain in her heart was beyond shielding; Duchess would have been able to feel it from a mile away—much less an arm’s length.

  “
I can’t let myself get my hopes up,” Oksana admitted. “Think about it, Duchess. Both Eris and Tré are far older and more powerful than I am, but it was all they could do to keep Della and Trynn from falling into Bael’s clutches. What if I’m not strong enough to keep Mason safe?”

  “It’s not just you, though, is it?” Duchess said. “Don’t you know that Xander and I would give our lives to protect you and yours?”

  Oksana swallowed hard, the ache in her chest growing sharper. “I don’t want you to give your lives protecting me and mine,” she said, very quietly. “I don’t want you to give your lives for anything, period. Please, don’t make me talk about this any more.”

  She felt the mattress shift as Duchess leaned forward to squeeze her knee in sympathy. “Very well, then. We’ll leave it for now. I just wanted to make certain you were all right.”

  The laugh Oksana let out was not a pleasant noise. “Yeah… no. I lied earlier. I’m not remotely all right. But thanks, all the same.”

  “Well, then. In that case, you’d better get your derriere off that mattress, you layabout. We’ve got things we need to do,” Duchess said briskly, reaching down next to the bed and tossing Oksana her prosthetic leg.

  “Supportive friend to drill sergeant in the space of two seconds,” Oksana muttered. “Why am I not surprised in the least?”

  With a sigh, she tried in vain to smooth her hair into something presentable. Maybe she would get it done in braids again one of these days, to make it easier to deal with. She’d been sleeping in nothing but a camisole and her underwear, so she pulled on a fresh shirt and her cutoffs from the previous night. When she was dressed, she stuck her left leg, which ended in an ugly stump below the knee, into the padded plastic sleeve of the Cheetah foot and stood up.

  Oksana brushed past Duchess to get to the ewer and basin in the corner.

  When did I get so dependent on hot showers? Oksana wondered, as she splashed lukewarm water on her face and neck.

  About five minutes after they were invented, if you’re anything like me, Duchess replied wryly. Now, hurry up.

  Oksana snorted and busied herself buttoning the white shirt over her camisole top as she and Duchess exited the room. They found Xander waiting in the hallway.

  “Is Mama Lovelie ready to talk to us?” Oksana asked.

  “In a few minutes. Do you want to wake Mason?” Xander asked.

  Oksana stood irresolute for a moment. She wanted nothing more than to slip silently into Mason’s room and find him sleeping quietly. It would be a perfect opportunity to sneak into the bed next to him, curl up, and rest for a few minutes listening to his strong heartbeat and the gentle sound of his breathing. She could wake him up by running her hands over his soft, warm skin and—

  A soft whistle like a birdcall dragged her attention once more to Xander, who was waving a hand back and forth in front of her unfocused eyes. “Oksana?” he prompted. “You still with us?”

  She blinked “Oh. Yes. Sorry, I was… uh… just worrying about what the bokor is doing to those poor kids.”

  The lie wouldn’t have convinced a total stranger, much less someone who’d known her for more than a century. She was thankful, though, that her dark complexion hid the hint of a blush rising up her neck.

  “Right,” Xander said, drawing out the word. “Well, if you think you can keep your hands off your pet Aussie for longer than five seconds, you should probably go get him up. I mean… wake him up.”

  She threw him a dirty look over her shoulder as she wheeled and walked to the door leading onto the sleeping porch.

  Oksana raised her hand, hesitating, and glanced back again. She could practically feel her companions’ interested gazes burning holes in her back.

  “A little privacy, maybe?” she suggested, a hint of a growl behind the words.

  Neither of them replied, but she could sense Xander’s wash of amusement as he allowed Duchess to herd him further into the house.

  With a sigh of relief, Oksana knocked on the door and waited. No sound came from the porch beyond. Oksana stretched out her awareness, hesitantly probing the space on the other side of the door for a moment or two before she sensed Mason’s presence. He was still sleeping.

  She knocked again, louder this time, and felt him jerk into wakefulness. Drawing her senses back inside herself, Oksana took a step back as soft footfalls approached the door.

  Mason opened it just a crack, and one sleepy eye appeared. Oksana could see that his hair was tousled and messy from sleep. A small, traitorous part of her wondered how it would feel to run her fingers through it, straightening the tangled strands. It looked so soft…

  An unexpected revelation hit her.

  Good god. She could… actually have that, she realized, as if the thought were truly penetrating for the first time. If she reached out—right here, right now—he wouldn’t stop her. She could have him. Have someone again, for the first time in over two hundred years.

  Only… she didn’t dare. Once she took that step, she’d be lost. And if she were lost, he would be, too. Lost to Bael, if she was too distracted—or too weak—to protect him when the moment came. And it would come. Of that, she had no doubt.

  She had to stay strong. She couldn’t let herself fall into the past. Not the good parts. Not the bad parts. She had to stay grounded in the here and now.

  “Hey,” she said, pleased when her voice reflected none of these troubling thoughts, all of which had tumbled through her mind in the space of a second or two. “It, uh, sounds like we’re about to be granted another audience with our hostess. I assume you’ll want to be there?”

  Mason opened the door wider, blinking at her owlishly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff with sleep. He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to rouse himself further. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be right out.”

  “Take your time.”

  Relieved that nothing further was required of her, Oksana escaped back into the depths of the house.

  *

  Mason wandered into the sitting room a few minutes later, yawning and stretching the kinks out of his back. Xander pinned him with a look, lifting an eyebrow at his less than put-together appearance.

  “Thought you humans were supposed to sleep at night and stay awake during the day,” the vampire observed.

  “And I thought vampires were supposed to be nocturnal,” Mason shot back. “You seem pretty chipper for midday.”

  “He’s always like this,” Duchess said. “At least, he’s like this when he’s not hung-over.”

  “Yes, it’s true,” Xander agreed readily. “The level of sobriety I’ve been suffering lately has become truly vexing.”

  Let it roll off, Mason reminded himself. Rather than risk being drawn further into the exchange, he moved to stand next to Oksana, who tensed at his approach. He was really, really starting to dislike seeing that reaction from her.

  “Good morning, again,” he said quietly, taking in her rather brittle and red-eyed appearance. “How did you sleep?”

  “Oh, you know…” she said vaguely. “Not bad. You?”

  Mason would lay money on that being a bald-faced lie. He let it pass, however, and replied, “Better than I expected, actually. Of course, that’s probably down to me having been up for almost thirty-nine hours straight before we arrived here.”

  “Hmm. I guess that’d do it,” she said, relaxing a bit.

  “Suppose so. I had some crazy dreams, though,” he mused. “Wish I could either skip those completely, or at least remember them properly when I wake up. I don’t usually dream like that.”

  Oksana stiffened again at his words, but the exchange was interrupted by Mama Lovelie’s arrival. She was dressed in a loose white caftan and looked much better than when they’d returned here last night after the interrupted ceremony. The mambo gestured them to sit on the mismatched chairs scattered around the room before pulling up her own seat and facing them.

  “So,” she began, “you four intend to confront
this bokor, despite the strength of his magical abilities.”

  “Yes,” Duchess said. “We won’t allow this destruction of young lives to continue. Not when we have any chance at all of stopping it.”

  Their hostess leaned back and tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Then I must commend you for both your commitment and your energy in pursuing it.” She quirked a dark eyebrow. “Ah, to be young again.”

  Duchess let out a derisive snort. “I’m far older than you, Madame. As I suspect you are well aware.”

  “Yet you still fight the battles of the young,” the mambo retorted.

  The two women locked eyes, sizing each other up. There was a beat before Xander replied, “When necessary, you bet we do. The question is, can you help us?”

  “The bokor is very dangerous, as I told you last night,” said Mama Lovelie. “He is far more powerful than I am.”

  “How did he become so powerful?” Oksana asked.

  The mambo sighed and shook her head. “It’s a sad tale. That any man should feel such greed and lust for power is a sickness within humanity, a cancer that cannot be cured.”

  Silence reigned for a long moment; nothing could be heard but the sighing of the wind through the open window. The curtains were drawn against the sun to protect the vampires from its direct rays, but the summery smells of light and life still wafted through the sitting area.

  “He was born a man, just like any other,” Mama Lovelie continued, “and raised in a village west of here. As he grew up, he learned the ways of our people, the traditions that drive us, and the deep spirituality we share. He was sensitive to the loas’ presence, and often feasted at their table. Over time, he became immensely powerful by anyone’s standards, and acquired considerable wealth through bartering and trading.

  “Exactly what happened next is a mystery, but the people around here say that one night, he went into the forest, drawn there by the darkness. He engaged with the most sinister of the loa, some of who were jealous of his successes. They enticed him, promising him greater influence and a position of vast power in exchange for pieces of his soul. He accepted. The more of it he bartered away over the years, the more blackness has been woven into his blighted spirit.”