by J. D. Brown
The girl peeked at me, her chocolate eyes dilated. She wrinkled her nose and raised her lip, flashing a set of tiny pointed teeth.
My voice came forth in a whisper. “What is she?”
The woman lifted her chin and pushed the girl back a step. “She is my daughter.”
“She’s not human.”
Her gaze narrowed as she wiped a few stray hairs behind her ear. “Of course not. Even if she were, vat you were about to do is an act of crime.”
The urges in my blood dimmed with our swift conversation, but they were still present, the craving an achy thirst deep within my gut. I blinked several times and then tore my attention away from the little girl.
“I’m sorry.”
Kirstin’s shoulders relaxed in a sigh, but she still held her daughter firmly behind her. “That is all right. Is there anything I can help you vith?”
“Yes.” I blinked again, remembering why I came to the lobby. “I was just wondering how long it would take until my clothes and shoes came.”
She grinned. “You could have phoned to ask.”
“I needed the walk.”
“Our night-shift receptionist, Heidi, offered to bring them. She starts in an hour.”
“Perfect, thank you, and I’m very sorry if I scared your daughter.”
Kirstin glanced at the little girl. “It’s all right. I shouldn’t have brought her to work. Her father vas supposed to vatch her, but you know how husbands can be.”
That sounded so normal, like a regular soccer mom. “I should go.”
I bounded back for the elevator, which opened before I could press the button. I doubted Jesu was done with his shower, but I decided I could stand to wait in the suite for him. We had so much to talk about.
The suite smelled heavily of spring rain with a hint of mint shampoo. I gently closed the door behind me and then faced our little mansion. Jesu paced across the living room area with a cellphone pressed to his ear. His damp jet-black tresses hung limp over his shirtless torso. Tiny pearls of water dripped from the velvet tips and glided slowly down his firm backside, catching the glow of the tea lights and reflecting rainbows of color like they were drops of melted crystal.
Oh, for God’s sake!
As if he could hear my thoughts, his head turned a fraction in my direction and then did a double take. His gaze traced the neckline of my camisole and traveled slowly down the short skirt length to my bare legs. I groaned in annoyance. He sighed and flipped his phone shut.
“Who was that?”
“No one. Where did you go?”
“For a walk.” I shrugged. “I met Kirstin’s daughter. Where did you get the cellphone?”
Jesu blinked, his expression thoughtful. “I did not know she had a daughter.”
I frowned at his deliberate decision to avoid my question about the phone. “She looks like she’s only ten years old, but she smells like a human and a vampyre.”
“She probably just hit puberty and is changing,” he mumbled to himself.
My gaze narrowed as I realized the distant look in his eyes. I joined him near the couch, my concern getting the better of me. “Jesu, are you okay?”
He leaned against the armrest and sighed. “I might as well tell you.”
My brow furrowed in foreboding. “Tell me what?”
“I received a voice mail message from Fredrick av Draken, the Swedish Arm—”
“What’s a Swedish Arm?”
Jesu shook his head as though he just now remembered I wasn’t familiar with the whole vampyre world. “The Arms help oversee countries that lie within a clan’s territory on the ruler’s behalf. They are sort of like… how are they called… governors? Fredrick’s district is Sweden.”
“I thought the Neo-Draugrian clan only covered Finland.”
His gaze locked with mine for a moment, then flickered to the side. “Our clan is made up of Sweden and Norway too.”
I shrugged. “Okay, so what did this Fredrick guy want?”
“Apparently Naamah called a mandatory Council meeting to take place in four days.”
A small bout of panic constricted my chest. “So you have to go back to Finland?”
Jesu smirked. “Ema, I have never been to a single Council meeting. I am not a vampyre, remember? I have no voice there. Fredrick tried to contact me because they cannot get a hold of Jalmari, and Naamah refuses to give them any more information.”
I sighed in relief, but it was short-lived as realization struck. “You think Apollyon is behind this meeting?”
“I know he is. I did not think he would act so soon. He is not wasting any time.”
“Then we shouldn’t waste time either. Jesu, they have a professional trainer here. I met her on my way up from the poolroom. I think—”
“You met Bridget?”
“Huh? Wait, you know her?”
His complexion paled and he looked away. “I can see how you would think that would be a good idea, but it isn’t.”
“Of course it’s a good idea. It’s the best idea either of us has had since we got here.”
He glared at me, his irises glimmering like emerald fire under a stern-set brow. “Ema, I cannot allow you to train with Bridget.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m sorry, did you just say wouldn’t allow me? Since when do I need your permission?”
“There is more taking place than you realize.”
My jaw gnashed together and I spoke through my fangs. “Enlighten me.”
He took a deep breath and kept his voice even. “The Council still does not know about Apollyon. They think something has happened to Jalmari. I would tell them the truth myself, but I worry for your safety and will not contact them. If my brother was to tell them… I’ve been trying to contact him, but he is not answering.”
I tossed my arms into the air and scoffed. “Please. Wherever Jalmari went, he’s either mourning Leena’s death, or he’s totally drunk on freedom. Either way, we can’t wait for him. Besides, that doesn’t explain why you don’t want me to train. What about your premonition?”
His gaze narrowed. “What about your promise to wait?”
“You asked me to wait and learn, but you’re not letting me learn, Jesu.”
He glanced to the side in hesitation. “You can train, just not with Bridget. The less people who know what you are, the better, remember?”
“I’m not stupid, Jesu. If she asks, I’ll just say I’m Neo-Draugrian. I have all the same powers Jalmari does.”
“In addition to a few extra,” he emphasized. He stood and closed the gap between us. I had the urge to back away, but I stood my ground.
“Besides,” his left cheek dimpled in a grin, “you are terrible at lying. Even a stranger knows when you lie.”
My gaze narrowed. “You know I can phase. That means you can’t stop me from going.”
All signs of teasing vanished, replaced by a stern scowl as Jesu put his hands on his hips and pressed his lips together in a hard line. “You wouldn’t.”
My brow arched at the challenge. I made a one-eighty-degree turn on the ball of my foot and marched straight past the suite door, into the hallway, without opening it.
Maria
My weight sank an inch into the cotton comforter as I lounged across the bed. Naamah’s back faced me from across the room. He sat hunched over the small writing desk along the far wall of our bedchamber, his eyes glued to the laptop screen.
The arm Apollyon broke lay across my chest and I caressed it over the silk fabric of my blouse. The bone had already healed. Only the slightest discoloration remained. Still, I kept my sleeve pulled down to my palm and refrained from fussing over the dull ache.
Curiosity picked at my thoughts. I mentally gauged the repercussions of voicing said thoughts. My eyes closed and I listened carefully, casting my senses out of the room, past the third wing, through the castle. The Master was a silent man when left to his own devices, but his pulse could be traced just like any other. I felt
him deep in the fourth wing. My eyes opened. What is he doing in Jesu’s part of the castle? At least the distance would give us a moment of privacy.
“Why do you suppose he wants to go to Sumeria?” I whispered.
“I do not know,” answered my husband without deterring from his work.
“He never went back before… not once. Don’t you think it’s odd?”
“We don’t know for certain that he never went back.”
Naamah tapped fiercely across the keyboard. If I was honest with myself, I would admit I was jealous of my husband’s ability to evolve with technology. He was better at keeping up with human advancements than I was.
When I looked at his broad shoulders stuffed into a very modern button-down shirt, I couldn’t help thinking of the man who used to run through the wild terrain nude, hunting with only his hands and teeth, his agile body a machine driven by muscle and instinct. He used to crouch over his kill the same way he hunched over that laptop. He was a different man then; a simple man, with a family and a tribe that respected him. He still had that respect from his colleagues, but the hunter was gone. The carefree simplicity was gone.
With the Master around, things were worse. His thoughts weren’t where they should be. It had taken Naamah a long time to come to terms with what Apollyon had done to our family. Eventually he was able to move on, but his spirit was forever broken.
“I hate Victor,” I said, almost to myself. “You know what will happen as soon as the Rebels see their ‘god’ in the flesh.”
“Be glad Apollyon has no interest in them.”
I sat upright and glared at my husband. “Don’t be imprudent, love. You know the Master never goes anywhere without an army. He may not show an interest in them now, but he will. It is almost as if that bastard Victor knew the Master would be back.”
“Victor could not have known.” Naamah stopped what he was doing just long enough to glance at me. “I have seen quite a few of those Rebels and they are far too young to have had a taste of warfare like the kind Apollyon renders. They will realize they are in over their heads and then run back to their mother’s skirts.”
“If they get a chance,” I muttered.
Naamah pretended not to hear me and went back to clicking away on the computer.
I sighed and lowered onto my back. “Do you think Jesu and Ema are well?”
My darling husband chuckled. “I’m sure they’re fine, being watched by both the R.E.D. and the Alpans.”
I absently trailed my fingers over my post-injured arm. “They’re not being watched that closely. I worry about Bridget. She could… complicate things.”
Naamah shook his head. “Bridget is a professional.”
He typed a moment longer and then closed his laptop.
“Does that mean it’s done?”
“I am afraid so.” He nodded. “I’ve arranged for a small commercial plane. It will have enough power to get us there in one trip, non-stop.”
I rolled onto my side so that I faced him and smiled. “Well then, won’t you join your mate for a moment?”
Naamah scoffed, but then met my smile with one of his own. “I am supposed to alert the Master when I am done.”
“Your company will calm my nerves.”
He rose from his seat and came to kneel at the edge of the bed. I wrapped my arms around his neck and our lips met. His scent of earthly sandalwood and almond enveloped my body, bringing soothing memories of our first home together off the Aegean Sea. I knew it had been a small hut, resolute with only the essentials. I knew we loved it, loved our life together, if not for any other reason than the fact that we knew of no other way. But when I tried to recall the specifics—building the walls, what our marital bed looked like, the faces of the other tribe members, our friends, what their names might have been—my thoughts halted with haunting memories of warfare, and the things that came after. So I’d stopped trying to remember and, instead, enjoyed the simple bliss of my husband’s comforting scent.
The atmosphere shifted and a stench like sour milk pulled me away from my husband.
“Victor’s back,” I breathed with disdain.
“So he is.” Naamah sighed.
“We should tell the Master his flight is in order.”
Naamah fixed a hard glare at me. “No, I should go tell the Master his flight is in order. You should stay here.”
“Nonsense! The man flew to Sweden and back in one evening, I’m sure he’s thirsty.”
“Maria,” my husband scolded.
“Darling,” I mocked.
He rolled his eyes and pushed off the bed. We phased together, flying into the hall just outside the Master’s study, and solidified. Naamah knocked and then waited for the Master’s cue before entering. Victor already sat before the grand desk, opposite Apollyon. Between them sat a large leather chest covered in a thick layer of dirt and pebbles. I winced at the scratches it caused to the polished wood and almost hoped Jalmari would never return to see it.
“My Lord.” Naamah bowed. “All the preparations have been made as you commanded.”
“Would you care for a drink, sir?” I added, looking for any excuse to go to the cellar and fix something special for His Majesty. He’d never drink it though. Not unless my husband drank it first.
Apollyon waved a hand, dismissing my offer. His attention locked on the chest. He stood and unlatched the stays, then gently lifted the massive lid. Debris littered the floor as the lid came to hang like a hood behind the body of the chest.
I rose onto my tiptoes, but I could not see what lay inside from my position near the door. Everyone in the room held their breath as Apollyon reached in and pulled out an ancient canopic jar. With a gentleness I didn’t know the Master possessed, he removed the ceramic lid from the jar and glanced inside. His eyes widened in shock and a growl rumbled past his teeth. I glanced at Naamah, upping my brow in question. He shrugged in response.
The Master pulled out a second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth jar. He removed the lids one at a time, and each time his disappointment deepened. After the sixth jar, Apollyon swept his arm across the desk, flinging all six ceramic containers across the room. They shattered on contact with the floor, red dust exploding from their centers.
Dried blood, I realized. The jars were urns.
“You!” Apollyon roared as he pointed a sharp fingernail at my husband.
Naamah’s back stiffened. “Yes, sir?”
“We must make a stop in Egypt before we arrive in Sumeria. It appears I am in need of a few alternative ingredients.”
Naamah bowed. “Are these ingredients anything I can buy in the city, or order through the Internet instead?”
Apollyon narrowed his gaze and slowly lowered to into the leather office chair. He clicked his fingernails together two at a time.
“I do not know,” he finally said. “Can you buy six Egyptian cobras with their fangs and venom glands still intact?”
My breath caught. I squeezed my lips together, hoping no one noticed my little outburst of revelation, but I was too late. Apollyon looked at me with a specific gleam in his demon-red eyes.
Naamah blanched. “I… I will… find out, My Lord.”
Apollyon nodded and Naamah turned to make his exit. This time I followed him. I waited until we were inside our bedchamber again, and then closed the door and reminded myself to keep my voice low.
“He’s going to raise the dead!”
“I know,” my husband said as he sat at his laptop.
“The question now is who?” I narrowed my gaze in thought.
“He’s looking for allies.”
“In Iraq?” I shook my head. “No, he spent his whole life running from his home clan. He wouldn’t go back there now just for allies.”
Naamah’s fingers paused over the keyboard and he pursed his lips. “Yes he would. He refused the help of the Rebels because they know this world. They know full well what peace is like, and they’ve never had to fight for it. Apollyon doe
sn’t trust them, and he’s definitely not impressed with them. He wants men who know nothing but war, whose hatred for humans is real and not just a political squabble. He wants to raise first-generation vampyres that are too separated from the modern world to care what happens to it.”
The color drained from my face as I considered my husband’s words. “Let’s hope Ema progresses before this gets out of hand.”
Chapter 4
The elevator descended a few floors lower than I expected. I glanced at the button panel. The labels only showed one floor beneath the lobby, where the gym was located. My hands wrung over each other and I sucked in a deep breath. Walking away from Jesu was probably stupid, but he was so stubborn.
The chamber stilled and the doors slid open, depositing me directly into a large warehouse-like structure. I gulped as I stepped past the threshold into the vast gymnasium. A green traction mat cushioned my strides. Agility equipment spread over the middle of the room encompassed by a running track. Beyond that, synthetic climbing rocks textured the far wall, up to the ceiling, where lumber planks hung from metal chains. Rope weaved along the wood pieces creating an airborne obstacle course.
A heavy grunt, followed by the rapid smack of padded canvas, turned my attention to the boxing ring on the left. The teenage vampire trainer bobbed back and forth in front of an abused punching bag. She thrust her fist at the hard plastic, sending it reeling through the air. I realized with a start that she wasn’t wearing any boxing gloves.
The chain from which the bag hung groaned as if it had the wind knocked out of it. I winced in pity for the poor inanimate object. Gravity swung the punching bag in her direction. She twisted around and lowered her torso while lifting her leg and thrusting her heel in a fierce kick. The sole of her boot made contact and the plastic bag burst open, revealing its padded innards. My breath hitched. When the chain brought the poor thing back for more, she caught and stilled it.
