Redeemer of Shadows

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Chapter Fifteen

  A strange and monotonous beat echoed all around the chilled cavern. It was the only sound beyond the frantic drumming of Hathor’s heart. Or was it in fact only her chest, thudding low in constant rhythm? As she tried to open her eyes, she couldn’t discern the difference. She threw open her mouth, merely to draw in a ragged gasp of air. Her lungs felt as if they had shut off, not needing to draw breath.

  Unfamiliar sensations drifted throughout her limbs, a power and strength she could never possess on her own. She didn’t move, not trusting her senses as they all spun out of control. Her skin prickled wickedly, feeling very alive to the world around her. Even the hard stone seemed a seductive press into her backside.

  Then, in amazement, she realized that her eyes were opened wide as she glanced around her. The thudding faded back into tapping until she made out the impression of water dripping steadily on stone. The dank smell of stale, musty air filled her nostrils, burning them with the lack of ventilation.

  Still, her body didn’t move, her neck didn’t turn. Staring up, she noticed her breathing echoed back to her ominously. She lay on the ground, sprawled as if she had been placed carefully onto a jagged, dusty floor. Her arms fell to her sides, away from her body, and her legs were limp.

  Gradually, her fingers twitched. Without making a sound, she turned her palm to the ground and drew it over to her side. She was on stone—unevenly notched and unforgiving. Her hand traced the patterns of cracks to where they disappeared beneath her shoulders and back.

  Her fingers flexed only to recoil in pain. Then, hearing a distant squeak of a rat, she flew forward in the darkness, lifting without effort until she was sitting. Her legs drew into her chest, her body oddly sore but not in any great deal of pain. Remembering her attackers, she felt her neck for the vicious bite she could clearly recall. The skin was smooth and unharmed. Could she have imagined such a thing? Could she have imagined the painful, unenchanted tearing of Vincent’s slashing teeth?

  No, she thought. It was too terrifying not to be real.

  Her heart beat louder and became more frenzied until she realized it wasn’t only hers that pounded. There was someone with her—within her yet separate. She wasn’t alone in the darkness.

  “Who are you?” she whispered in nervousness, though her words came out bravely. The sound echoed back at her in hollow resonations. With the rumbling of her voice, the beatings lowered and finally faded. She shivered as she heard the footfalls of rodents running about. She hugged her knees tighter. “There is no point in denying your presence. I can feel you in here. Where have you taken me? What do you want?”

  The hairs on her neck stood up from the feel of a cold, caressing hand. This time she knew she wasn’t crazy. She felt him all around her. She could smell his earthy scent. The air stirred slightly by her face. Her lids fell slowly over her eyes. She leaned forward. Nothing was there.

  Hathor waited. She detected the air stirring by her arm. Concentrating on everything around her, she froze. Then, with the quickness of a striking snake, she grabbed at the darkness. Her eyes shot open in surprise when she felt cloth. The cloth didn’t move, not even to lift from breathing, but covered a masculine chest. She had found the beating heart.

  Gazing steadily at her hand in the unyielding darkness, somehow unafraid, she said, “Turn on the lights, Servaes.”

  The owner of the chest beneath her palm chuckled. She felt the beat of his heart steadily under his warm shirt, giving her comfort. She could smell the familiar scent of him like a wave of remembrance. Her body knew him well, though her mind did not. The realization sent chills over her. She couldn’t explain it. Yet, stranger still was that she felt his every subtle movement within her as if she were moving along with him.

  “The rats are far away from here, chéri. Don’t be frightened by them.” Servaes’ voice was like a gentle caress.

  Hearing his words, she tumbled forward into his arms. She dug herself into his chest, her arms wrapping around the protective strength of his neck. She clung to him like a child, scared and lost.

  Servaes jolted in surprise, but quickly enfolded her in the safety of his embrace. His low, accented words wrapped her in a cocoon, as he whispered, “It is all right, chéri. You are safe. The others don’t know you’re here. I won’t let them harm you.”

  “Where am I? I can hear rats. It feels like they’re all around me, about to crawl on my skin.” She stirred against him, refusing to let go. He was her anchor in this troublesome world. She hugged him closer, needing to feel the realness of his form. The strong lines of his chest pressed into her softer skin. She turned her face up and her lips brushed accidentally by the side of his jaw. Servaes stiffened. She didn’t turn away. Her skin was alive with the feel of him, sensitive and shaking.

  Hathor’s blood lit with the hot fire of longing as her knees fell open, urging her to draw him to the floor with her. Her fingers itched to tear at his clothes and her flesh begged to be free of all constraints. Parting her lips, she suppressed a moan with a pained gasp. She wanted to cry, but no tears fell from her eyes. “What’s happening to me? I feel different yet extraordinary.”

  “Shh,” Servaes soothed, stroking her hair from her face. Her fingertips trailed tenderly over his lips, urging him to press down between her thighs to test her response. Murmuring into her hair, he said, “Everything will be fine. You are safe.”

  Slowly, as his hand drifted over her eyes, she remembered. Whimpering against his palm, she brushed her lips over his flesh. “You saved me. I thought of you, and you came to me.”

  She pulled away to search for his eyes and lifted her fingers to touch the handsome curves of his face, finding first the line of his masculine nose. Desperately, she said, “They wanted me dead. They said they couldn’t read me, that I knew too much, and then I realized you didn’t lie to me. You are what you say you are. I’m sorry for not believing you—”

  “Shh,” he whispered again.

  Servaes’ hands roamed over her hair to touch her neck before coming to rest over the top curve of her breast over her heart. When she arched slightly toward him, urging him to continue his exploration, he let his hand slide lower. With a moan, she thrust her breast against his fingers so the peaked nipple rubbed against his palm through the linen of her shirt.

  Her head rolled back, exposing the long line of her neck to his kiss. Huskily, he inquired, “What were you doing in the alley? You shouldn’t have gone there. I tried to block the way from you.”

  “I was looking for you.” Hathor felt the danger in him, the constrained beast. She didn’t care. Her hands trailed over his chest, digging into the neckline of his shirt to touch his skin. Suddenly, she became serious and turned to earnestly look for him in the darkness. She stopped exploring, resting her hands over his shirt. His hand stilled on her breast, cupping her. “I wanted to say I was sorry. It seems stupid now, but I was going to tell you if you wanted to pretend to be a vampire and only visit me at night, then I would let you. I missed you. I know that sounds foolish, but I did. However, now I know what you are, I don’t know what to think. There is so much I don’t understand. So many questions I want to ask, but can’t remember them all. What did they mean when they said they couldn’t read me? They acted as if it was a great thing.”

  “They meant they couldn’t read your thoughts,” he whispered. “Or control them.”

  “Why am I alive? I felt myself dying.” Then, when something terrifying occurred to her, she drew away from him, crawling back. “You gave me your blood. You made me one of you, didn’t you? I mean, that is how it works. You drain us and replace our blood with yours and… That’s why I’m here in the darkness. I’m trapped here with you, in this world of blood and killing. You made me one of you, didn’t you?”

  His voice became hard, as he commanded, “Stop listening to the rats. Block them from your mind and concentrate on using your eyes. That’s why you only see darkness. The power I gave you enhances your senses, but
at the cost of another.”

  Hathor did as he commanded. Almost instantly, the sound faded as a light began to clear in her vision. Servaes’ face appeared before her, outlined by soft candlelight. He sat back on his haunches, his hands touching only at the fingers, his elbows resting on top of his knees. His head tilted to the side as he gave her a rueful smile, as if to say, “See, I told you.”

  Hathor looked around. They appeared to be in a cave, only it was of human construction. The floor was littered with age and dust. The walls were old and chipped, but carried the tiled mosaic of a woman. Her eyes stared blindly, and a piece of the cheek was missing.

  “Am I a vampire?” she asked at length.

  “No,” he answered, unemotional. “You are not.”

  “But what am I? I feel your blood inside me coursing through my veins, pumping in my heart. I feel every subtle movement of your body as if you were pressed against me. I know you gave me part of yourself. I hear and feel and see clearer than before.”

  Servaes watched her pale face. He detected his blood drifting through her eyes in swirls of red, clouding the stormy blue. What she said was true. His blood was inside of her where his body wanted to be. His body hadn’t cooled in its desire for her. It stung and bit him with its lust. He wanted to pull her back into his arms, feel the seductive outline of her against him.

  Servaes parted his lips, needing to taste her skin, wanting to feel her pulse beating beneath his probing tongue. He smelled the excitement building between her thighs. It was the sensations his blood caused that made her so passionate. He didn’t want her doing anything she’d later regret. But as his blood stirred excitement within her, his body responded.

  A wondrous sensation had jolted through him when she confessed she’d been coming to see him—willingly. He would’ve made love to her in that moment, but the sunrise would have interrupted them. For her, he would require a whole night and more to fulfill his need.

  “I’m trapped here with you, in this world of blood and killing.” Her word echoed through him. “Trapped.”

  Servaes held back, knowing her to be in a delicate state. She didn’t want to be with him at the cost it would demand of her. The loathing had been clear in her voice. She damned what he was and didn’t want it. He couldn’t blame her.

  “If I didn’t give you my blood, you would’ve died. I saved you.” He knew she sought answers, but this was no time to discuss it. She was too fragile. “We must go. Dawn approaches. We cannot be caught out in the light.”

  Hathor followed him under a narrow archway. It led to an underground railway. Behind them, the candle flickered out. Her eyes adjusted in the darkness, her hearing unable to detect noise in the distance. “I thought you said I wasn’t like you. I should be fine come dawn.”

  “Is what I am so terrible?” His words were low. She didn’t answer. He didn’t need her to.

  They walked over the old abandoned railroad system, running parallel to miles of sewers, hundreds of feet beneath the surface of London streets, unable to hear the busy world waking above them. They passed by an old station platform. The door to an abandoned elevator hid in the corner. A curling poster, unreadable for the dust, didn’t sway as it barely clung to a wall. The station had been shut up and forsaken long ago, its narrow archways telling of another life.

  When she didn’t speak, he stopped and turned to her. Her pale countenance shone in confusion. Her bright eyes watched him carefully. He felt her trying to read his mind and frowned, understanding she had taken more of him than he’d first realized. Easily blocking her probing, he said, “In saving your life, I gave you part of myself. You are human. Don’t worry. But just as you now possess some of my powers, you also possess my weaknesses.”

  “The dawn,” she echoed his earlier words. “Sunlight.”

  “Oui, sunlight. If you were to go outside in the daylight you would burst into flames.” Servaes turned from her and continued to walk, his steps once more quickened. “To make you like me, I would’ve had to be the one to drain you of your blood. Then I would give it back to you mixed with mine. That is the way to make a vampire, mademoiselle.”

  “So I can never see the sun again?”

  “You will,” he answered. “Slowly you will fade back to as you were. You will be a good deal healthier, but very human.”

  “How long will this last?”

  “It’s hard to tell,” Servaes admitted. “I’ve never bothered to save a human with my blood before.”

  “Oh.” Hathor followed his steps. Servaes sped up and she moved to keep up with him. “Did you kill that man who kidnapped his granddaughter?”

  “Yes,” he answered, unabashed. “I told you as much.”

  “And you took the child back to her mother?” she persisted.

  Servaes sighed heavily, uncomfortable with revealing so much about what he’d done. “Oui. If you must know the details of it, he was going to have relations with the child that very night. I stopped him.”

  “Oh.” Hathor shivered in disgust. Seeing the tight pull of his jaw, she decided it best not to press him further. She bit her lip thoughtfully. “Are you taking me home?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” Hathor asked in surprise. “I’ll stay inside all day and tomorrow night you can answer all my questions. I promise not to go by any windows.”

  “You will stay with me. The dawn is too close, your house too far. I don’t have the strength to take you there.” His words were abrupt. Suddenly, he turned, lifting her into his arms. Hathor gasped at the suddenness of his embrace. The world flashed over them like a blur. She buried her head into his chest and he knew it was likely the spinning made her nauseous. Just as quickly as it began, the blurring stopped and Servaes set her down. Again he began to walk.

  “We’ve moved. I can’t see the platform we just passed. How far did we go? Where are we anyway?” Hathor again hurried to keep up with him. She jogged next to his longer stride.

  “Under the city streets in passages and tunnels long forgotten and buried. It’s where we live. Just now I took you through the sewers by the rats you hate so much.” Servaes gave her a small smile. His eyes remained passionless.

  “I didn’t see a sewer,” she began, only to grab his arm and huddle close. “You mean the others are down here?”

  “Are you frightened?” His gaze trailed to her parted lips. When she didn’t answer, he said, “They cannot sense you with my blood in your veins. You will be safe for a time, so long as you don’t stray from where I tell you.”

  “So I’m your prisoner?”

  “If you like,” he smirked, amused.

  “Will I have to drink blood?” She wrinkled her nose. “I refuse to kill anyone.”

  “Only mine,” he answered, sounding bored.

  “Why yours?”

  “Because it is my life in you. If I take it from you, then you will die a painfully agonizing death. If I wean you from me, then you will go back to how you were. You need me to live.” His words were cold, but a flash of softness passed through him when he glanced at her.

  “Why did you save me?” Her eyes turned downward.

  Servaes sighed in exasperation at her endless questions and didn’t respond. He didn’t know how. How could he make her understand the centuries he’d lived? How could he tell her how rare she was, that no one could read her mind. He stopped moving, glancing up the sidewall. He gave her a teasing grin.

  “This is it. My home,” he said at last, not taking his eyes from her. His hand rested gently on her cheek. His words held a silent challenge, as he whispered intimately, “You’re going to have to sleep with me.”

  His words sent a chill through her. She closed her eyes, letting her face press completely into his palm.

  “Come, chéri.” He pulled her into his arms again, lifting her above the ground as they shot up into the air. Finding an entrance hidden high in the ceiling, he placed her inside. A soft glow formed at the end of a long tunnel. Commanding her from beh
ind, he said, “Crawl forward. There you will find my bed.”

  Hathor shivered in response. She’d wondered what it was that made her so special to attract the attention of the London underworld, and his answer was hardly satisfactory. Mind reading? It’s not as if she knew how she was keeping them out of her head. It just happened. She could only assume they were mistaken about her.

  “Go,” he insisted.

  She obeyed him, moving through the narrow tunnel on her hands and knees. She couldn’t hear him behind her, but she sensed him. Suddenly, the tunnel widened and she was able to stand. Looking around, she saw that it was a circular chamber covered with dust and stone. In the middle there was a large black coffin trimmed with brushed silver swing bars. It was wider than most she remembered seeing. Spinning on her heels, she gaped at Servaes.

  “I can’t sleep in that,” she declared. “It’s a—”

  “Coffin,” he supplied with a wry smile. The tips of his fangs glistened playfully. She wanted to kiss him, but refused to try again. His deep-set eyes delved into her with their piercing elegance. His body moved with the silent grace of shadows, haunting her with the reminder of his cold touch. But his fingers weren’t always cold. Sometimes they were warm and gentle.

  “Yes, coffin.” She waved her hand behind her.

  “You have no choice. Again you must listen to me or die. There is no time for other arrangements to be made. Unless you would rather spend the day in another’s coffin? I am sure I can find Ginger. She is more than eager to take you to her bed.”

  “That is not funny!” Hathor hissed.

  “Then I will do?” he inquired, a bit of mocking in his hard voice.

  Licking her lips, she nodded, and his eyes narrowed as they followed the movement. His body brushed along hers as he leaned over and lifted the coffin’s lid. It came up in one complete piece to stand tall over to the side. Within was white silk lining, cushioned and soft. He nodded his head for her to crawl in. His eyes lit with challenge, as if daring her to refuse. The coffin was large enough to hold both of them, but sleeping together would be tight. There was no way she could escape.