The Assassins of Light

by Britney Jackson

  She checked her messages, but the only new messages she had were from Audrey. She opened her contacts, but then, she remembered that she didn’t have Kara’s phone number. She felt the instincts rising inside of her: the urge to fight, the urge to protect. Her pulse skyrocketed as she tried to figure out what to do.

  “Come on. Think, Rose,” she whispered in the stillness of the plane.

  Her gaze darted toward Erik. If anyone had Kara’s number, it’d be him.

  Careful not to wake Kallias, she stood and made her way over to Erik.

  Rose knelt quietly in front of Erik. She watched, hesitantly, as he slept, his head turned to the side, his wavy, blonde hair hanging over his closed eyes. She reached out and tapped his arm, bracing herself for however he might react.

  She’d learned from experience, after all, that vampires can be quite testy when you wake them up. Then again, she knew of some humans who were like that, too. She used to have to dodge pillows when she’d wake Audrey up for class.

  Erik stirred, slowly coming out of his deep, sun-induced sleep. He shifted in his seat, and then, slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes, pinning her with his sleepy, green gaze. He groaned. “Rose, there’s only one good reason to wake a vampire during the day, and it involves less clothing than you’re wearing now.”

  “Wonderful,” Rose muttered sarcastically. “Even Sleepy-Erik’s a pig.”

  He opened his eyes—all the way, this time—and stared at her. His lips twisted into a pained grimace. “Holy hell. What is wrong with your emotions?”

  “It’s not me. It’s Kara,” Rose said worriedly. “That’s why I woke you.”

  “What could I do?” he muttered. “She’s on the other side of the world.”

  Rose felt a small stab of pain in her chest when he said that. She sighed, “I need to call her and see if she’s okay. Did she give you her phone number?”

  Erik lifted his eyebrows. “She would’ve given it to you, if you’d asked.”

  It was always so hard to predict Erik’s reactions to things, Rose thought, because, no matter the situation, he always acted on his emotions, and emotions were as unpredictable and ever-changing as the ocean. “You know I couldn’t.”

  Erik scoffed, “Of course you could…if you weren’t such a scaredy-cat.”

  Rose blinked. “I don’t think anyone has called me a scaredy-cat since I was a child,” she muttered under her breath, “and then, it was by other…children.”

  His lips twitched a little at her retort, but he seemed too tired to actually react. He shifted to the side so that he could slide his hand into his pocket. Then, he pulled out his cell phone and held it out to her. “Most recent text message.”

  “Thanks,” Rose mumbled as she took the proffered phone. He’d left it unlocked, so she found the messages easily and opened the first one. She didn’t mean to, but her curiosity got the best of her. She glanced at the last few messages.

  One of you is going to have to stop being such a pussy and just admit your feelings for each other.

  Are you trying to insult me by calling me a pussy?

  I happen to be a big fan of pussy.

  Damn English language.

  Watch out for her.

  Come and do it yourself, if you care so much.

  If you don’t watch out for her, I’ll kick your ass.

  I’ve…had a sudden change of heart.

  Ha. Talk to you later, evnukk.

  “Erik?” Rose asked, looking up at him. “What does evnukk mean?”

  He looked as if he had fallen asleep already—his eyes closed and his head tilted to the side. But when she asked that question, a sleepy giggle escaped his lips—a giggle that sounded totally out-of-place, coming from him—like the kind of giggle a child might make if another child accidentally said a curse word. And for all Rose knew, she might have done just that. “It’s pronounced evnukk,” he said, using his ancient, Old Norse dialect, “and it’s Norse for ‘a man with no balls.’”

  Rose raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Kara called you a eunuch?”

  He snorted, “I mean…if you want to get technical about it.”

  She nodded slowly. “Has your friendship always involved name-calling?”

  He grinned. “It’s how us Viking warriors show love to each other.”

  Rose tilted her head to the side and lifted her eyebrows. “Love. Right,” she said sarcastically. “Yeah, that’s what I call it when people insult me, too.”

  Erik chuckled at her sarcasm. “Go call your lover, and let me sleep.”

  Rose stood, typing the number into her phone. “She’s not my lover.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Go tell someone who can’t feel your emotions.”

  —

  “Hello?” Kara murmured. Her soft, lilting voice sounded low and raspy as it poured warmly into the phone. Rose’s chest fluttered at the familiar sound.

  “Kara,” Rose whispered into the phone. She’d intended to speak much louder than that, but with her heart pounding so intensely and her blood reacting to the sound of Kara’s voice, she could barely remember how to form sentences.

  Kara was silent for a moment. “Rose,” she breathed. The way Kara said her name—with breathless reverence and deep, warm pleasure—caused a tingling warmth to unfurl throughout Rose’s body. Rose heard the rustle of sheets as Kara shifted in the bed, settling in more comfortably. “Is everything all right, my love?”

  “Yes,” Rose said quietly, leaning back against the cold, metal wall. She hoped that the coldness would shock some sense into her entranced mind. “What about you? Are you all right? I felt something. I was afraid you were in danger.”

  “Ah,” Kara said, drawing the sound out sleepily. Rose heard another soft rustling sound, and she got the distinct impression that Kara was running a hand through her hair. “When we’re dreaming, the body sometimes confuses dreams for reality. That’s what you felt. I’m in no danger, ást. Sorry for the false alarm.”

  “You had a nightmare, then,” Rose realized. It gave her a small sense of relief to know that Kara was safe, but her chest still tightened with sympathy at the realization that Kara had felt so distressed in her dream. “I had one, too.”

  “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours,” Kara murmured drowsily.

  Rose chewed on her lip, not sure if she should tell Kara that she dreamed about Alana. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “My dream was pretty…strange.”

  “Well,” Kara said, her voice dropping mischievously, “we could just have phone sex, instead, if you prefer.” Rose could hear that flirty smirk in her voice.

  Rose stared blankly at the wall, since she couldn’t direct that stare at Kara. “You know I’m not the kind of person who does that sort of thing,” she muttered.

  Kara chuckled. “And what kind of person does do that sort of thing?”

  “I don’t know,” Rose said, “but I’d assume they’re less awkward than I am.” She moved away from the wall so that she could peer into the main section of the plane, where Kallias still slept. Sometime during the time that she’d been in this small room, on the phone, he’d slumped over sideways, his long body taking up his own seat and now hers as well. A lump of guilt and sadness formed in her throat, suffocating her. “And they’re probably not with someone else.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Kara said. She fell silent for a moment, and Rose frowned as she realized that she could feel Kara’s sadness. “I mostly just want to keep you on the phone…so that I can hear your voice,” Kara admitted, finally.

  Rose blinked in shock, stunned that Kara would say something like that. She knew that the sun could weaken their mind, as well as their bodies, and that often caused vampires to be more transparent and unreserved during the day. Often in a dangerous way. But still…those words had sounded so vulnerable, so emotional, so unlike Kara. “Alana was there,” Rose blurted out, “in my dream.”

  Kara didn’t respond for a moment, and Rose realized that she cou
ld feel her own eyes burning with tears, tears that weren’t her own. When Kara did finally respond, her voice sounded hoarse and broken. “I dreamt of her, too,” she said.

  Rose covered her chest with her free hand as it ached with sympathy and grief—not her own grief…but Kara’s. “I’m so sorry, Kara,” she whispered sadly.

  The sheet rustled quietly as Kara shrugged. “I’m fine,” she lied. “At least it wasn’t really Alana in this one. Just her memory. It wasn’t even a good memory. If anything, it just reminded me of how much better off the world is without her.”

  Rose could feel Kara’s dishonesty. She could feel the pain that bled into every word, the longing and emptiness that burned like a gaping hole in her chest.

  “I bet you look sexy right now,” Kara said suddenly, changing the subject so abruptly that it nearly gave Rose whiplash. “With your messy, slept-on hair.”

  Rose ran her fingers through her hair subconsciously, and she blushed a little as she realized that it was pretty messy, at the moment. “Um,” she mumbled, trying to navigate the conversation back into safer waters. “It’s odd, isn’t it? That we both dreamed about Alana?” Rose covered her face with her hand, inwardly scolding herself for bringing up Alana again. Alana was anything but safer waters.

  “Some ancient cultures believed that linked souls could share dreams,” Kara said. “They believed that the dream world was beyond the physical world, and souls could seek each other out in dreams, even if their bodies were separate.”

  Rose listened curiously to the myth. “Linked souls? What? You mean like soulmates? I’ve never believed in soulmates. It’s always sounded so…unrealistic.”

  “I don’t believe in them either,” Kara agreed. The soft rustle of sheets filled the line again as Kara shifted on the bed. “I wish you were here. In bed with me.” Her voice sounded so low and seductive now. “I can just imagine what…”

  “Kara!” Rose squeaked, interrupting her. “This is…not why I called.”

  Kara chuckled, “I’m only saying…there’s plenty of room in my bed, and I’m sure you would find it much more comfortable than wherever you are now.”

  Rose couldn’t help but notice that every distinct detail of Kara’s voice sounded more pronounced when she was sleepy—her soft, lilting accent, the low pitch, the breathy tone… It sounded even more sultry than usual, and that wasn’t doing anything to squash the distracting buzz of desire tingling throughout her body. “What makes you think that?” she managed to mutter, finally. “The fact that I’m hiding in the back section of the plane while I talk to you on the phone?”

  “Hiding?” Kara repeated. “Why would you hide? Is Kallias being an ass?”

  “No,” Rose mumbled, sinking back against the wall. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not hiding. I just came back here so that I wouldn’t wake anyone up.”

  “My…contact…sent me an update an hour ago,” Kara said. Rose heard a soft tapping noise in the background—the keys of a phone, perhaps. Then, the rustling of sheets again. Kara continued, “Your friend is safe. Paranoid. But safe.”

  “Oh,” Rose said. She breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s such good news.”

  “I thought you’d want to know,” Kara said softly. “You worry so much.”

  Rose blinked, surprised by how well Kara knew her quirks. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, love,” Kara said drowsily. “It’s my duty.”

  Rose frowned at that. “Your duty?” she repeated. “How is it your duty?”

  “As your warrior,” Kara murmured. “I swore an oath of fealty to you.”

  “The oath,” Rose said. “I’m halfway across the world, and you’re still worried about your oath? You know I’m not holding you to it. You only did it to make Kallias trust you—and he still didn’t. But…you don’t need that anymore.”

  Kara was silent for a moment. “You think I did it for him?” she asked.

  Rose blinked. “Well, it seemed like…” she sputtered. “I just thought…”

  “You thought wrong,” Kara interrupted. She didn’t sound angry. She just sounded…confused. And surprised. “I did it for you, Rose. Always…for you.”

  Rose stared at the white walls of the jet, her heart hammering inside her chest, as she tried to make sense of that. Her mind raced with questions that she was too afraid to ask. So, instead, she forced out, “Well…I’m going to thank you, anyway.” She exhaled slowly. “Because…it really does mean a lot to me.”

  “It means a lot to me,” Kara said, slowly and hesitantly, “that you called.”

  “It does?” Rose breathed. She sank to the floor, covering her face with her hand, as she tried to quell the flood of emotions rushing through her. She felt as if she’d navigated out of the unsafe waters earlier, just to fall down a waterfall into deadly rapids. Seduction was easy compared to this—whatever this was. “I should, uh,” she paused, swallowing uneasily, “let you go back to sleep.”

  “I won’t sleep after that dream,” Kara told her, “and neither will you.”

  Rose couldn’t argue because it was true. She never slept after nightmares.

  “Why don’t you tell me the real reason you want to hang up?” Kara said.

  “Because I feel guilty,” Rose whispered sadly. “Because…I love Kallias.”

  A long, painful silence followed that. Then, Kara sighed, “Bye, Rose.”

  Rose clutched the phone tightly as a sudden pain opened up in her chest, so sharp and intense that it took her breath. She straightened. “Kara, wait, I…”

  But Kara ended the call before she could finish her sentence.

  Rose dropped the phone on the floor and tilted her head back against the cold, metal wall. She pressed her hand to her chest, hoping the pressure would alleviate the deep ache that had taken up residence there, wishing that it could fill the void in her chest—a void as wide as the chasm of distance between them.

  —

  Rose tossed her duffel bag over her shoulder as she prepared to step out into the warm, autumn night. The one positive of this night. There might be crazy extremists after her and her friends, but at least it wasn’t miserably cold in Florida.

  Kallias caught her arm as she suddenly swayed. “Rose? Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” she said, clutching the strap of her bag, “I’m just a little…dizzy.”

  He frowned. “The change in time zones can mess with our instincts.”

  “Yeah,” Rose said, avoiding his gaze, “that’s probably what happened.”

  “Or,” Erik said, leaning against his seat, “it’s because you didn’t sleep.”

  Kallias’s intense, light brown gaze shifted toward Erik and then back to Rose. “Why didn’t you sleep today?” he asked. “Are you still having nightmares?”

  Rose shrugged tiredly. “Every day,” she said with an unconvincing smile.

  Kallias stared at her, his brows creased with worry. “It didn’t wake me.”

  “You should be happy about that,” Rose said, lifting her eyebrows. “You got to sleep. Yay.” But her yay sounded less enthusiastic and more exhausted.

  Erik handed the bags he’d already unloaded to Rose so she could take them to the car. He waited until she’d picked up the bags and stepped outside to give Kallias a knowing look. “She doesn’t know what it means,” he reminded him.

  Kallias looked at Erik, his brown eyes flashing with anxiety. “But I do.”

  —

  Rose slid into the passenger seat of Erik’s car and breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. It soothed her mind, just a little, to have a moment alone…to think. She watched through the windshield as Kallias talked with the pilot. She reached into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out a soft, black cloth—the handkerchief that Kara had given her on the very first night they met. She ran her fingers over the handkerchief, feeling its silky texture beneath her fingertips. For reasons she couldn’t even begin to understand, it comforted her—the way it felt so cool an
d soft against her fingers, the way it still held the scent of Kara’s skin…

  The driver’s side door opened, and someone slid in beside her. The scent of cologne, pizza sauce, and power filled her senses. She didn’t even have to look up. The pizza sauce alone told her who it was. “Erik,” Rose said, sliding the side of her thumb over the silky handkerchief, “you have pizza sauce on your shirt.”

  Erik glanced down at his black, button-down shirt and ran his finger over the collar. “Oh, look at that. I do,” he laughed. His bright green gaze shifted back toward her and then down to the handkerchief in her hands. “Is that Kara’s?”

  Rose glanced at him, her eyes widening. “How did you know that?”

  He leaned back in the seat, a cocky smirk pulling at the edges of his lips. “Kara has always carried some kind of cloth with her…to clean the blood from her lips after she fed.” He grinned and added, “Because she’s always had this bad habit of feeding from people in public places.” He snorted. “And it was always a black cloth because humans can’t see the bloodstains as easily on a black cloth.”

  “Oh,” Rose said. “Well, she…uh…gave me this one the night I met her.”

  An amused smile pulled at one corner of Erik’s lips. “And you kept it?”

  “W-well,” she stammered, “it looked brand-new. It’d be wasteful to…”

  “Rose,” he interrupted, laughing, “you don’t have to lie about it. I get it.”

  She stared at him, her bright blue eyes wide and wary. “You get…what?”

  “It smells like her,” Erik stated. “You kept it because it smells like her.”

  She glanced down at her hands, avoiding his gaze. Her face looked about three shades paler than usual. “Why would I care about that?” she mumbled.

  “Because that’s how our instincts work,” he said, shrugging. “You had a blood bond with her. That means, forever more—even centuries after you have broken the bond—you will still be connected to her. Her scent will comfort you.”

  “Oh,” she said, blinking in surprise. “Right. Yeah. The blood bond.”