The Kala Trilogy: An Urban Fantasy Box Set

by Teagan Kearney

  "Indefinitely?" Corwin asked.

  Vanse's mouth lifted in an almost smile at the policeman's wry comment. "Sheriff Corwin, you, Colonel Bryson, and your teams may leave. Angelus is not preventing anyone's departure."

  "Thanks for the offer, Vanse." Corwin almost smiled. "It's appreciated, but this situation is long past a simple territorial squabble between vampires. Bellamy here, along with my team and several volunteers from our department, are staying till this thing is finished."

  Vanse continued. "We have access to the city's sewer system, but if we deactivate our protective wards, Angelus will realize it, and take advantage to enter. We leave them in position and deactivate at the last minute if the need arises for a sudden departure."

  “Good to know leaving is an option you’ve considered. Thanks, folks. Stay in touch. We'll keep you posted." The Sheriff shoved his chair back and stood—his way of telling everyone the meeting had ended. Before heading out, he took Tatya aside. "I'm so sorry about your aunt, Tatya. If there's anything, the smallest thing I can do, you let me know. Okay?"

  Corwin's face was more careworn and haggard than usual, with dark shades of red fringing the rim of his aura. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. The jacket looked like he'd slept in it for a week.

  He was trying to save a town, yet he still had time for her. She gnawed her lower lip as hate, the desire for revenge, and loss reared, and threatened to break her resistance. He was prepared to risk his life for her, so Aunt Lil's death wouldn't have been in vain. If anyone could soften her resistance and break through her defenses, it was Corwin. "Sure, thanks, Bill."

  Vanse stood to the side, waiting for her, his manner outwardly mild, but the effort he was making to keep his fury on a tight rein vibrated through the dormant link. "Can I speak with you?"

  Changing Sky gave her a cautionary glance.

  She kept her expression neutral, her power locked tight. "I'll be fine," she told him.

  The shaman gave Vanse a hard look. The security outside had cleared well out of his way by the time he reached the door.

  "Tatya." Vanse's voice was neutral, but the underlying sympathy leaking through the link almost overwhelmed her.

  "Don't," she said. "This works for me. I shut down, operate on automatic, don't feel for a while, and by the time I do, I'm strong enough to handle the emotional fallout. But I'll explode if you do any sentimental shit."

  "Okay. But I regret your aunt's death."

  Regret? Yeah, she thought, that sums it up, doesn't it? "Is Sean conscious?"

  Vanse hesitated.

  "Well, is he or isn't he?"

  "I haven't worked out how, Tatya, but Angelus is behind this."

  "Is Sean conscious? It's a yes or no question." Raw power pushed, tingling in her bones, and her fingers twitched. She restrained herself, forcing her rising anger back into its cave, and shoved a boulder-sized block into the entrance. "Then you know I have a right to see him." The right of the aggrieved to face the perpetrator.

  "Okay. But not alone."

  She relaxed, her tension unwound a fraction. She was squeezing her fists so tight, her nails cut into her palms. In an instant, Vanse gripped her wrists and turned her hands upward. He bent and licked the wet drops of blood, and she shuddered with sudden unexpected pleasure. He released her and the sensation faded. She inspected her palms. The skin was smooth and whole.

  "Bleeding is a bad idea in a vampire lair," he said, his eyes sparked with gold flecks, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half smile. "Some of the less powerful vampires might not keep themselves in check. That would cause problems."

  "I can take care of myself." She snarled at him. Did he think pleasuring her would solve anything?

  He snorted. "Of that, I have no doubt. It's what drinking your blood would do to the vampire that concerns me. Come." Vanse led the way with his vamp security unit forming the usual procession behind them. He led the way through another hidden warded door, and they descended at least two levels below the ballroom. At the bottom of the stairs, he waved a hand and concealed lights came to life, revealing a cheerless corridor with metal doors spaced at regular intervals.

  As they proceeded, with their footsteps muffled and swallowed by the silence, Tatya noticed the faint sheen of silver on the doors. She shivered. The air smelled old and musty. This place didn't see much use, even by the undead. "What goes on down here?" She addressed Vanse's back.

  He pointed at the intricate designs worked into the doors, gleaming in the dull light. "A prison." At the end of the corridor, he stopped in front of the last door. "He will not be permitted to approach you. Nor should you try to touch him. Understood?"

  "Yes. I understand."

  "Tatya."

  She gritted her teeth. "I'm not a child. Stop treating me like one."

  Vanse gestured to the guards. They opened the door and entered first, and Vanse indicated she should go next. The cell was a fourteen by six-foot space, dimly lit by a tiny bulb set high in the ceiling.

  Sean lay huddled in the darkness of the far left-hand corner with his back toward her, and his head hidden as he lay curled in a fetal position on the stone floor.

  "Sean?"

  Hearing her voice, he began to shake.

  Vanse nodded, and the bodyguards yanked him to his feet and turned him to face her. Sean sagged between his guards—he would have fallen if they hadn't held him up; his body quivered, and he didn't seem aware of where he was or what was happening. He was a frail, broken figure.

  "Hey! Don't treat him that way." Despite what he'd done, Tatya's instinct was to go to him, comfort him, but Vanse's grip on her arm held her by his side.

  "Sean, obey!" Vanse's command, heavy with compulsion, had Sean straining to raise his head. He stared, terrified, at his master.

  Sean worshiped the ground Vanse walked on, and Tatya didn't want to think what his maker had done to frighten him so completely. "Sean, it's Tatya." She laced her words with a quiet stillness. "I just want to know why."

  Sean continued casting anxious looks at his master.

  "He won't talk with you crowding on top of him. Move back a bit. Can't you see how scared he is?"

  Vanse signaled the vamps, who shifted back and left Sean barely upright. His gaze flicked from Vanse to Tatya.

  Tatya removed Vanse's fingers. "Enough, already."

  Vanse didn't put his hand back but remained so close the heat from him warmed her back. Demon heat, she thought, too aware of the slow in and out of his breath. "Sean, can you remember what happened?"

  Her direct question triggered recognition, and Sean focused on her. "I'll talk to you, but not with them here."

  Tatya extended her senses, scrying for anything unusual, but her heart told her he was speaking the truth. This was her Sean, and there was no demon inside him now. Turning to Vanse, she opened herself to him, so he could sense the same truth.

  He gave the barest nod, and the two vamp guards walked outside but remained ready to move fast if it became necessary. "The door stays open."

  "Sure, whatever you say," Tatya muttered under her breath.

  "And so does the connection," he said, and the soft threat thrummed under her skin, "otherwise you will regret it."

  Tatya glared at him, wanting to mouth off, but she had more important things than bickering with him on her mind. Plus, she hated to admit it but his orders made sense. She left the connection open as Vanse moved back, blocking the doorway.

  As Tatya walked toward Sean, his expression changed, and he cried. "I'm so, so sorry." The tears, blood-red, rolled down his face. "I tried to stop myself, but someone was in control of my body. It was like I was a puppet. I didn't want to do it, Tatya, I loved her."

  Tatya reached out, stroking Sean's arm. Her touch soothed him, and his trembling lessened, but Vanse's distrust pulsed through the link. His patience wasn't going to last long.

  "Help me, Tatya." Sean came closer.

  She opened her arms to embrace him. Of course, she'
d help. They, Sean included, needed to understand why he'd done this awful thing.

  But instead of a hug, his hands were around her neck, a vice that squeezed relentessly.

  She couldn't breathe, her lungs were burning, and her eyes bulged. She made a strangling, rasping noise as she tried to pry his fingers loose. Then she collapsed, a gasping heap on the floor, as Vanse ripped Sean off her. She lay, clutching her throat, her breathing a ragged wheeze, watching the two guards and Vanse wrestle Sean into submission.

  Whoever, or whatever, possessed Sean fought with formidable strength.

  Tatya shrank back as he fixed on her, surging forward, carrying Vanse and the guards with him.

  In a motion too blurred to catch, a long dagger appeared in Vanse's hand. The blade flashed, the engraved silver markings winking in the dim light as he raised and plunged the weapon straight into Sean's heart.

  At once, Sean's body sagged to the floor with Vanse straddling his chest, and his arms and legs pinned by the vamp guards. The force that controlled him fled, and he was himself once more. He turned his head, and his eyes sought Tatya. He pleaded, "Vanse turned me because I begged him to, Tatya. I wasn't ready to leave my best friend."

  Tatya crawled on her hands and knees over to where Sean lay on his back, the dagger deep in his heart as dark red blood leaked from the wound.

  "It's all right, Sean. I knew you couldn't have done it." She stroked his hair back from his forehead, fingers tender.

  Sean's eyes sought Vanse. "Thank you, Master. It has been my honor to serve you," his voice cracked. "End this before I hurt anyone else. Please. Do it."

  Vanse bowed his head in acknowledgment. With slow deliberation, he tenderly kissed Sean's forehead before wrenching out the knife. Sean's head lolled to one side.

  Chapter Twenty: Hiatus

  The muted lights cast patterns from the fretwork moldings onto the ceiling, and Tatya lay in bed, entranced by the pretty lights. She stretched and relished the sensuous luxury of silk sheets against her skin. Something scratched at her memory, but a cloud of forgetfulness slipped down and removed the nagging itch. There were no windows, so she didn’t know if it was day or night—but that didn't matter. She rolled over and went back to sleep.

  As memories of her past selves woke, and Tatya watched her earlier incarnations live their lives, she couldn't tell if she was asleep or awake. Simultaneously viewing and being the one watched disoriented her. Their lives flashed by, and the resilience and resourcefulness she showed amazed her, for despite loss and death, in each life she was born anew with the desire to help and heal others. Those women smiled at her; their hopes becoming her hopes, and their tragedies her tragedies. She understood her life was not a series of accidental happenings, but that she had a purpose. As time passed, each body became uninhabitable dwelling places for her soul, although her will to execute her destiny increased when she was reborn. She welcomed this gift of understanding, allowed the memories to subside and merge with the person she was in this life and become part of who she was today.

  As the visions faded and the weight of past bereavements ebbed, Tatya woke and the present pain of Aunt Lil's death tore at her emotions. Tears fell for the woman who'd been mother, father, friend, and guide. Aunt Lil hadn't replaced her parents by solely performing their duties of care, she'd loved Tatya unconditionally. With Sean's death, she was on her own in the world.

  Since assimilating Angelus and Vanse's blood, her powers had increased, but the emotional upheavals of the past days had blinded her to the fact she should explore the potential of her new-found abilities; learning how to control and use them might distract her from her loss.

  Stirring herself, she made it into the shower. Relaxing under the hot jets, fragments of last's night's events resurfaced. After Vanse killed Sean, she'd broken down in hysterics, wild power blasting from her fingertips. The vamp guards had cowered, terrified, until Vanse grabbed hold of her, sending waves of power down the link till she quietened. She'd sobbed on his chest as he carried her in his arms to Changing Sky, then sat and waited, holding her close and rocking her while the shaman brewed a medicinal tea. After that, she'd slept.

  The realization that yesterday's events weren't the first or even the worst, tragedies she'd suffered and survived plucked a nerve deep in her psyche. Angelus was not going to win—she would not allow him to win.

  She emerged from the bathroom, swamped in the huge bathrobe she'd found hanging on the back of the door, rubbing her wet hair with another towel of gigantic proportions, to find Vanse lounging on the bed.

  "How are you?" His voice was low, no glamour. He knew better than to use any of his parlor tricks on her.

  "Are you asking am I in control of myself again? If so, the answer's yes. Have you found out who was controlling Sean?"

  "When I staked him, he stank of Angelus." Vanse's lips curled in distaste. "We found Nurse Shelby's body in a stairwell, so I assume he gained control of her, though we'll never know how and where. But we do know that gaining control of Sean was a matter of waiting for the right opportunity. Neither of them, even though Sean was linked to me, were a match for Angelus."

  Another casualty added to the growing pile laid at her feet. The young nurse hadn't deserved to die; she'd wanted to spend her life caring for the sick. "Why would Angelus try to have me killed, and why didn't you sense him?"

  " Even if you're unaware of his presence, I'm sure he's been waiting to see if his plan worked. The second you died, he'd have activated his link to you, brought you back and finished turning you before I could stop him."

  "He could do that?"

  "Yes. His and my connection to you changes everything. I could not sense his presence in either the nurse or Sean because even if my powers have grown over the centuries, his demon half is still far stronger, more cunning and devious."

  Tatya sat silent, her mind in turmoil.

  "Are you aware that when you're angry your eyes have sparks of gold in them?"

  Tatya was taken aback. Was that the result of the link, of having his blood coursing through her veins?

  "Yes."

  She narrowed her eyes at him, lips tightening.

  He lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm out of your head. But we are always aware of each other. I cannot ever separate from you."

  She hadn't realized. "Is it the same for me?"

  "Yes, giving someone blood creates a reciprocal relationship. Are you not aware of me?"

  He lowered his guard, and she brushed his mind, flinching away from the surge of emotion coming from him. Seeing her reaction, he raised his guard.

  "Only when you don't protect yourself. Otherwise, it's almost as if you're not there," she said.

  "I'm sorry," he said, "Sean's death hurts me, too." He moved next to her; heat radiating off him, and even though he was guarded, a mixture of simmering anger and underlying grief washed over her shields. He traced the line of her chin and leaned toward her.

  His touch stirred her blood; the love she'd had for him in her former lives echoing in the present. Once, she had even thought him a god. But this was the present, and if a relationship were to develop between them, it would have to wait.

  "When you are born again, you forget what happened in your previous lifetimes, while my longing for you increases as I wait for you to reappear. Before you take birth again, I live with the guilt of taking your life."

  Vamps with consciences, she thought. Maybe they had meetings in church crypts, Vamps Anonymous, where they confessed their remorse?

  He smiled, but his eyes wore that soulful, mournful look.

  "I need to get dressed. Do you mind leaving?"

  "Shall I send you some breakfast? We can catch up later."

  She stared at him in bewilderment. "No breakfast, just coffee. And catch up with what later?" she asked, but the door had closed behind him.

  When Vanse returned, Changing Sky and Tatya sat on the floor opposite each other with an array of dried plants spread
out on a cloth between them. Tatya had asked the shaman to show her and explain the properties of the herbs he'd used in the tea she drank yesterday. Vanse offered a slight bow to the shaman.

  "Seigneur Vanse," acknowledged Changing Sky. To Tatya's surprise, the two of them appeared to have reached a detente.

  "Good," said Vanse, surveying Tatya up and down with approval. "You found the clothes."

  "Um, er, yes. Thanks," she mumbled, embarrassed at his scrutiny. Previous boyfriends had been as uncaring about fashion as she was, and Sean had cared even less.

  "Come. Both of you, I want you to see this." No glamour, a simple command.

  Tatya checked with the shaman.

  Changing Sky inclined his head a fraction. "We can continue this afterward," he said and packed away his medicines.

  The three of them took the elevator to the top floor of the hospital and went up a further flight of stairs. Vanse deactivated the wards and led the way onto the roof and over to the far wall.

  Tatya didn't remember the exact number of days since she'd been outdoors. Was it two days or three? At first, she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the pale autumn sunlight, but her mood lifted as she breathed in the cool, crisp air. Leaning her elbows on the ledge she studied the town of Orleton spread out below them.

  The hospital possessed extensive grounds, and her eyes followed the fallen leaves as the brisk wind teased them into the air.

  Detached suburban homes where people lived peaceful, prosperous lives of the kind most would pick, if given a choice, and the nearby Kimimela Woods filled the rest of the immediate area. The main shopping section lay beyond the suburban belt, and the poorer districts, with their rundown apartment blocks and yellowish-brown aura of desperation spread lay toward the eastern edges of town.

  In the distance, she could just make out the highway that led south to the reservation. The outlet mall, and a few warehouses lay to the west. To the north, lay the ruin of her home. She clenched her jaw. One more thing to put aside for the present.

  Dark blue storm clouds were building over the south west. Dirty gray sheets of rain covered the landscape and moved toward them.