He probed further and found the cause for such passions. Then he wanted to turn his ire upon his daughter. How many times had he warned her to never take a man’s blood? How many times had he scolded her as a child for trying? Michael had been careful to tell his own male blood servants to never let her drink, even if she begged and pleaded. The passions that were instilled through the touch of her mouth upon an open wound was too great for many men to resist. Whether she wanted him in that way or not, he would take her virtue. It was a common mistake almost all female vampires made. Even his wife had done this before they were mated.
Yet Tor did not take her. The werewolf, somehow, had enough power to resist her. This was why Jane was so despondent and Tor so morose. Michael understood them now. Tor felt regret for how far he had let himself be driven in the first place, while Jane was embarrassed for her show of impropriety. So she should be.
Michael wouldn’t tell either of them what he now knew. Their self-imposed torture was sufficient enough. As much as he detested what his daughter allowed to happen – and he did place sole blame upon her shoulders – he wished, as a father, he could have saved her the heartache. She was still young, as vampires were concerned, but he had never seen her fawn over a man like she did toward Tor. Her emotions were too conflicted to understand, but Michael wondered if she did love the werewolf. In his heart of hearts, he wanted Jane to find love, but it was clear that it was not with Tor.
Michael watched the two of them from his place in the caravan line. Giovanni led the way across the endless sand, Yaverik behind him, Francesca, Angelo, and then Tor with Jane riding by his side. Marco brought up the rear as the sun beat down ever harsher.
It was only their second day across the desert and for the first time, Michael wondered if it was a mistake to travel this far without proper protection. He understood that it was necessary to leave the carriage behind, but their thick and heavy clothing wasn’t enough to keep away the fatigue.
Yaverik, as always, feigned his resilience, though Michael could sense his growing weariness. They had already fed once that day and the nutrition it provided was not enough to sustain them. Even Michael, as old and experienced as he was, could barely sit up straight in the saddle. He gripped the reins, the texture of the rope biting into his palms, but it would not keep him awake.
There was no telling when they would reach Arnathia. They could stumble upon it later that day, or perhaps it lay on the far north side of the sea. They didn’t know how far the coast stretched. This was still an uncharted land and the only trade routes snaked much farther east than where they were. Perhaps it was folly of him to think that they could find such a place, or perhaps the hateful sun was putting doubts into his mind.
Michael closed his eyes as his muscles began to ache. His chin dropped to his chest, feeling the heat seep into his skin and suffocate his spirit. The cloth absorbed the sweat that poured from his body, making the fabric cling to him and chaff as he rocked upon the camel from side to side.
He could feel his defenses drop and the emotions of everyone in the party came crashing in, adding to the burden of the sun. Their doubts, their fears, their worries, their anger, everything smashed against his skull and squeezed his heart until it hurt. It wasn’t just Tor and Jane’s dilemma, but the blood servants, and even Giovanni’s conflicted interests pounded at Michael’s soul.
He gritted his teeth, wishing he could block it out somehow, but he was too weak, too tired.
“Jane!” Tor shouted.
Michael looked up and peered through the muslin that covered his eyes. His daughter had fallen from her camel, calling the entire procession to a dead stop. Tor chased after her as she rolled down the sandy bank of the hill they had been traveling.
Her turban unraveled from her head and blonde hair gleamed in the sunlight. Francesca gasped and the blood servants instantly dismounted to give what aid they could. Michael could only watch, too drained of energy and motivation to move, though he felt much more than any man or father could possibly bear. He could never stomach to see his child suffering so.
Tor scooped her up and held her close to his bare chest as he hunched over her to shield her face from the sun. The damage had been done. Jane’s fair skin was charred and burnt, nearly as black as Tor’s eyes. Her eyes were closed and Michael knew she was unconscious by the way her stream of emotion had so suddenly been cut off from the rest.
On his way to them, Marco scooped up her turban. Frantic fingers bound her head and neck once more just as the skin was beginning to heal. Tor’s grief and worry was proclaimed loud and clear to Michael, though his face would not betray him to the humans in the party.
Tor was used to this kind of climate, much more than any of them. His tunic had been shed and stuffed in a pack long ago and it was as if the sun itself gave him the strength to carry on while the others dragged. He could travel like this for days without rest, but even Giovanni, who had trekked across Europe, could not go on like this.
With Jane nestled in his arms, Tor returned to the caravan. The werewolf looked to Michael, a hint of an apology in his eyes as if this entire journey were his fault. Never would Michael blame Tor for their troubles. If anyone could be blamed for the hunters, for Jane’s injuries, or for the fate that awaited them, it was Michael. It was his idea to bring them out here, not Tor’s. The priest only did what they asked of him.
“We cannot continue,” Michael declared.
Marco and Angelo shot him perturbed looks. “We’ve come all this way and now you say we can’t continue?” his blood servant questioned.
Michael shook his head. “I mean that we need to camp. We cannot travel this way.” He motioned feebly to his daughter, who lay sleeping in Tor’s embrace. “Soon, we will all be like her. The sun is our enemy and we can no longer fight it.”
Tor approached Michael. “Setting up camp, even for a few hours, will slow down our progress.”
Giovanni steered his camel around to join them. “Perhaps we could let the vampires sleep while we continue? We have been traveling in one direction this whole time without giving thought that the civilization might be a little farther west or east.”
Tor nodded in agreement. “Yes. We can split up into pairs and cover more ground to the east and west while one of us stays with the camp.”
They both looked to Michael for approval. He could see nothing wrong with their plan and nodded. As far as he was concerned, Michael was finished making decisions. He needed rest and whatever would give him that, he was in complete concurrence. It wasn’t what was best for the others, but it was better than what they had been doing. The sooner they could find the civilization, the sooner they could return home.
Then again, what would have been best for all was for them to have never left Italy. Michael knew how insane this expedition was. He was chasing a fairytale, a myth, nothing more than superstition. He had to know it was real; he had to know that the relations between the supernatural world were once not so out of balance as they are now.
Just watching the way Tor and Jane interacted, he knew that hate for each other’s races was not innate. They could coexist, and if Tor and Jane could get along, so could everyone else. Michael just needed to find the key to peace. Hopefully, it was in Arnathia.
The coast of the Caspian Sea stretched farther north than any of them had expected. Nearly a week had passed of trekking across endless desert and rocky terrain. It took even longer, now that Jane and the others were forced to sleep during the day to conserve their energy. At night, they traveled by the stars with Tor leading the way. Even though the vampires had impeccable vision in the night, Tor’s eyes were keener and his senses sharper than any of them.
Jane lagged behind on her camel, bringing up the rear with her father and Marco as the others preceded them. Supplies were running low and the blood servants were growing weaker as their rations were cut. Even Tor, whose diet was made up of the dried meat that he carried with him, was feeling the pressures of starvation.
Yaverik, more than either Michael or herself, was growing restless over the lack of sustaining and nutritious blood available. Even Jane could taste the difference in Francesca’s blood as the young woman became thinner and sickly with each passing day. If they didn’t find more water soon, or reach the other side of the desert, Yaverik had muttered a vow that he would drain one of the blood servants dry to preserve his own life. Though Michael would stop at nothing to prevent such a thing, Jane feared for the safety of her friends.
Out of all the roiling emotions of the expedition party, Giovanni was the most nervous. Jane watched him constantly look over his shoulder and whisper to himself about how tragic it would be to be eaten alive by the beasts with whom he traveled. Though, she could sense his anxiety ran even deeper than that. Something else was troubling him and she had a feeling that her father knew more than he let on.
It was early one morning, nearly at dawn, when Jane wrapped herself in her protective garb and stepped out from the thick-walled tent where her father and Yaverik rested. Giovanni and the other humans were taking a short nap in their tents before they would split up and search for Arnathia to the east and west, as they did during the day.
Tor, however, was not with the others. With quiet and precise movements, he was collecting the canteens and water sacks from each of the tethered camels. Treading upon the unsteady sand, she made her way toward him.
The sun was just beginning to peek over the rocky horizon, chasing away the dark night and its fading stars. Jane had seen many sunsets and sunrises, and even through the thin fabric that veiled her eyes, she admired its colorful and glorious beauty. When she was younger, before she came of age as a vampire, she would rise early just as her parents were retiring for bed, and go out to the balcony to watch the sun rise over the vineyards. Even in this harsh, merciless land, such beauty could always be found if one chose to look for it.
Tor shouldered the water containers and turned to meet her, his staff clutched in hand. This was the first time they had been truly alone together since she unwittingly seduced him outside of Amol. How she regretted her carelessness and loathed how foolish she had been to think that he actually wanted her when he pinned her to the ground, his body so close to hers.
Thinking of it now brought both pain and pleasure that she was ashamed to feel. They could probably never have a future together, but she still wanted him so badly. Over the long days and nights since her mistake, she tried to put it all behind her, to move on and think of something else besides his intense stare and taut muscles. It was all in vain.
“You should be sleeping with the others,” he said. “The sun will be up soon.”
Jane hardened herself. “I want to go with you. I feel so helpless just laying around or riding a camel while everyone else contributes.”
Tor gritted his teeth and then looked towards the east and the steadily rising sun. “There’s a reason you shouldn’t help.”
“Because I’m a woman?” Jane countered, propping her hands on her hips.
He turned back to her. “No. Because of your…” His gaze darted over her body, as if inspecting her to make sure every bit of skin was concealed before the sun’s rays could burn her.
Michael told her about how she had fallen off the camel and Tor came to save her. If she were the silly girl that she had been when they first started this journey from Italy, Jane might have thought he did it out of love. Now she understood that Tor cared for all of them equally. He would have done the same for Francesca, for Angelo, perhaps even for Yaverik.
By the way he seemed to be a natural leader, a natural alpha, Jane knew that his compassion had little to do with her and more to do with him as a man. Tor didn’t act in love when he scooped her out of the sand or came to rescue her from the hunters. He did it because it was in his nature to defend and protect. Nothing more. Jane wished she had realized it earlier.
“Because I’m a vampire,” she sighed. He nodded and moved around her to begin his journey toward the sun. “Will you not wait for the others?”
“I am going to find water. I do not need assistance.”
Ignoring his refusal, Jane hurried after him. “Let me come.”
“You will only get in my way.”
“I can help carry the canteens.”
Tor shot her a look. “As soon as the sun rises, you will be too weak to carry yourself, much less a bladder of water. Then I’ll have to carry you and the water together.”
Jane hustled over a dune, matching his foot holds as the loose sand poured down the slope. “Please, Tor. Let me try.”
Her foot slipped and she slid down the dune on her belly. Sand found its way through the seams of her garments and she could feel them scratch against her skin with the friction. She let out a squeak of distress, but Tor only turned to watch her slip all the way to the bottom.
Once there, she sat down and stared up at him, feeling completely pathetic. Tor cracked a smile and shifted his feet only minimally to dislodge his stance just enough to slide down without falling, as if he were skiing on the sand, using his staff as a rudder to keep him descending in a straight line. He was used to this land and the way it was formed. Sand, mountains, parched earth, this was home to him, just as the lush vineyards and rolling hills were home for her.
Tor stood before her as the sand continued to trickle down after him, pooling at his bare and dusty feet. Since they started to make their way across the desert, Tor stripped down to just his trousers that hugged his thighs a little too tightly for her to ignore.
He offered out his hand, a spark of humor still glittering in his eyes like the stars that shone above. She placed her hand in his and let herself be lifted to her feet.
“If you feel weak, please let me know and we will stop to rest.”
Feeling bold and daring in the face of adventure, she replied, “I’ll do nothing of the sort.”
He might not have been able to see the smile behind her veil, but perhaps he could hear it in her words and Tor smiled wider before they made their way back up the slope.
Tor breathed in the hot, dry air, following the faint and fleeting scent of water. It had been hours since they headed east and the sun was already climbing into the sky at an alarming rate. If he didn’t return to camp with good news and fresh water, there would be more at risk than just the expedition.
Jane dragged her feet behind him, sloshing sand with each step and heaving from exhaustion. Just as he predicted, she would not last long. Ahead he spotted a tall plateau that seemed to stretch for miles onward, its rocky slopes gleaming almost white in the sunlight and steep inclines mocking their fatigue. If Jane had to traverse such an obstacle, she would surely trip or stumble. He didn’t know if vampires could die from a broken neck, but it certainly wouldn’t be pleasant.
He instantly regretted allowing her to come along. Not because he didn’t enjoy her company and their light conversation, but because she wasn’t safe here. None of them were and he wanted to curse the day that Giovanni shattered his complacency with the proposition of seeing the world outside his temple. This was not the world he would have wished for them to experience. This was not what his dreams had promised. They could not match his endurance and they would all pay for it dearly, unless they found some sign of civilization soon.
He stopped and glared at the foreboding cliff as he waited for Jane to catch up. If she were not with him, Tor might have used his speed to cross the desert and find the water that seemed to elude his grasp. Waiting for her slowed him down significantly, but he had to admire her resilience and spirit. Despite everything she had been through, she still had a kind heart, a caring heart. His wolf saw this and adored her for it. Perhaps that was why, against everything that made sense, he let her come along.
Jane fell to her knees beside him and lifted her head to regard the cliff and plateau. Tor heard a vicious hiss from behind the heavy scarfs and veils that protected her face. She didn’t revel in the idea of scaling the heights any mo
re than he did.
In a move that he might come to regret, he shifted the canteens from one shoulder to the other so the straps ran across his chest, and crouched down in front of her. “Get on my back. I’ll carry you.”
There was a note of hesitance in the way she said, “But, what about you?”
“Don’t worry. I will be fine.”
With no further prodding, Jane carefully climbed on. With her arms and legs wrapped around him, Tor stood and bore the load. She was surprisingly light, he thought, as he took the first steps toward the mountains.
Slowly, he picked up his pace, being careful not to jostle her. Yet, the further he went, the more Tor realized they would make no progress this way. The land was too rough, Jane was slowly becoming a greater burden, and even his two legs were not going to climb this mountain easily while he was slightly weakened by hunger.
The promise of water called to him, along with something that transcended deeper in his soul the closer he came to the white slopes. Even if there was no water on that plateau, he had to reach it. Both him and his wolf agreed that there was something waiting beyond the point where he could just see over the plateau’s edge.
He set her down and looked at the short distance they had crossed. It wasn’t far enough and though he had told himself he wouldn’t change in front of another soul, Tor knew he had to make an exception. The transformation was a private rite amongst his priesthood. He had never even seen his father shift before ceremonies. Yet, with the help of his wolf, they could conquer the cliff and reach the plateau to discover whatever lay on the other side, so he had to do the profane and change without the aid of concealment.
So, with Jane watching, Tor set down the canteens, his staff, and stripped off his pants to stand naked under the glorious and hot sun. He shifted, not so smoothly as in the past since his belly ached with hunger and his mouth felt dusty and dry from thirst.
The Guide Page 10
