“That can’t be right.” She battened down the panic that threatened to swamp her. “It’s a substitute for blood because we can’t process it raw.” She glanced at Meg for backup, but the vampire was glaring at Octavia as if she’d like to rip out her throat. “Meg?”
Meg turned to her, and Rowan realized she was absolutely furious. And her fury wasn’t directed at Octavia.
Disjointed memories tumbled through her mind. How many times in the past had Meg urged her to try some fresh blood? As if, deep down, she’d never believed Rowan was unable to take it?
“I was never convinced dhampirs were physically unable to drink blood,” Meg said. “I thought it was another of the High Council’s ridiculous discriminatory edicts. But I never thought it was the medication itself that was the cause of your… allergy.”
“It’s more than an allergy,” Nico said, coming to stand beside Octavia. “The samples we took from Rowan yesterday showed this substance is entwined with her DNA. It’s as much a part of her as the fact her blood type is the rarest on Earth.”
“It’s corrupted my DNA?” She kept her gaze fixed on Nico, when all she really wanted to do was fall into Azrael’s arms and hide from the horrible truth. She’d finally accepted the fact she was a dhampir. Did she now have to face she was a mutant as well?
“In utero,” Octavia said. “I’d say your mother was medicated with this from the moment of conception. Your genetic material was manipulated to Sakarbaal’s specific modifications.”
Her stomach churned and she clenched her fist in a futile effort to stem the pain from flooding through her body. She wasn’t just the daughter of Sakarbaal. She was his genetically modified freak.
“And you knew about this?” Azrael turned to Nico and barely leashed fury sizzled beneath every word.
Nico bared his fangs in a mockery of a smile. What the hell was the matter with them? Couldn’t they leave their bloody macho egos buried for even a moment?
“I knew he was selectively breeding dhampirs.”
She tried not to let his bald comment affect her, but it was hard. After all, Nico only spoke the truth. Sakarbaal had bred dhampirs for his own use.
It was just science. Don’t react.
But they’re talking about me.
“Go on.” Azrael’s voice could have split diamonds.
Nico spared her a fleeting glance. She wondered if she imagined that glint of compassion in his golden eyes.
“This time, unlike nine hundred years ago in Romania, he wanted only those who carried his own DNA.” Nico sounded reluctant to admit it. “We long ago discovered his dhampirs all possessed the same rare blood type and the maternal lines were chosen with care. His victims were never random.”
“That’s all you meant when you said they were genetically engineered?”
When had Nico said that about her? Didn’t they care they were ripping apart every shred of her identity?
She’d always been an outsider. But now, when she’d finally come to terms with her hybrid blood, Fate had one more twisted hand to play. Because she wasn’t even the person she’d spent her whole life trying not to be.
“It wasn’t I who used those words.” Nico shrugged, as if he didn’t care that Azrael had quite obviously read more into that bizarre conversation. “I will admit I thought Sakarbaal had developed a way of enhancing specific pheromones, but Octavia assures me that’s not the case.”
Azrael took her hand and gripped her fingers tight, as though he half expected her to flee. “So as far as you can determine, the drugs have no bearing on preventing dhampirs from devolving into their natural state?”
Her heart pounded, echoing against her skull, as unformed fear swarmed through her mind. It was only when she finally dragged her reluctant gaze from Azrael’s face that the silence hit her.
But it was more than a natural pause in conversation. The silence throbbed with words unsaid, and raw malignance tainted the air.
“Tell me, archangel,” Octavia said, and there was an undercurrent of hostility in her voice. “What natural state would that be?”
She shoved her self-pity aside and stepped forward. “You know what he’s talking about. As soon as I stopped taking that stuff I—” The words locked in her throat, but she forced them out. Everyone in this room knew the truth. “Turned into a mindless creature consumed with bloodlust.”
Azrael squeezed her fingers in silent support and once again stood by her side. It was crazy to draw comfort from such a small gesture. Yet it wasn’t a small gesture at all.
“Yes, you did,” Nico said, but he didn’t sound happy about it. “Because your body can’t function without the drugs. You’re not simply addicted to it, Rowan. Your body will collapse without it. But understand this. That mindless creature is not your natural state.”
A bitter laugh scraped along her throat. “That’s easy for you to say.” He’d shared his memories of that night in Romania with her. He knew, as well as she, that dhampirs hadn’t evolved at all in the last nine hundred years. “But you know it isn’t true.”
Octavia pushed herself from the bench and came to stand in front of her. She scrutinized her as if she was a sample under one of her microscopes and Rowan fought the urge to squirm.
“I’ve accessed your file,” she said. “On paper your intelligence is unquestioned. In the flesh I’m having a hard time believing it.”
“Watch your mouth,” Azrael snarled. Octavia merely smiled at him, before returning her attention to Rowan.
“I’ve been working on the Sakarbaal project for more than forty years,” she said. Forty years? She only just stopped herself from gaping. Octavia barely looked thirty. But she wasn’t a vampire. What other species of immortal could she be? “We’ve known for a long time that brainwashing was part of the educational package his dhampirs received. So look beyond that, Rowan. Look at the facts logically and objectively. You suffered from acute withdrawal symptoms. Your body turned on itself and yes—you nearly died.”
If we could just get past the withdrawal Brad had said. God, he’d been right. So right. But even he hadn’t guessed the full truth. That they never could get beyond the withdrawal symptoms—because their bodies couldn’t survive without the drugs.
“I craved blood.” Her voice was hoarse. “In the end that’s all I could think about. It was like I was trapped in a tiny corner of my mind, watching the rest of me… disintegrate.”
“Sakarbaal’s methods to keep you under his jurisdiction were simple,” Nico said. “And very effective. If any of you did escape, you’d be dead within a week. And you’re a dhampir. Of course you crave blood. Once the suppressants in the substance wore off your natural instincts came to the fore. You’d never experienced them before, so how could you expect to handle it? But that has nothing to do with your withdrawal symptoms.”
He paused, and she sensed the internal battle that raged as to whether he should continue or not. “The dhampirs Sakarbaal gathered in Romania nine hundred years ago were treated like cattle. They lived like animals and that’s… the reason they responded like animals.”
“But I don’t—dhampirs don’t have fangs.” She shot Azrael a glance, but his face was impassive. Although it was hard knowing she’d been sucked into a vortex of lies her entire life, some things just didn’t add up. Surely there had been some glimmer of truth, no matter how tiny, in everything she’d been brought up to believe? “The amber acid was a substitute for the real thing so we wouldn’t prowl the streets and rip open an innocent’s throat in a bloodlust frenzy.”
“A specific manipulation.” Octavia’s voice was clipped, but a flash of something that looked like anger glinted in her eyes. “His geneticists took away the means to feed and then they spun a web of lies around the offspring so they could pump you full of a synthetic blood substitute.” She took another step closer and her lips parted. Rowan caught sight of the tips of her fangs and reeled back. Octavia was a dhampir?
No wonder she’d experienced that
sense of familiarity when they had met. She couldn’t sense the presence of a dhampir the way she could a vamp, but the primal awareness of one of her kind had alerted her senses all the same.
She just hadn’t recognized it.
She looked at Nico, but like Azrael his face was an unreadable mask. She spread her fingers over her thigh and hoped no one could see her legs shaking.
All her life she’d been so sure the Strigoi loathed dhampirs to the point where they’d not hesitate to kill them on sight. But they didn’t hate half-bloods. She doubted dhampirs of the Strigoi were experimented on while still in the womb, and they certainly didn’t die as a matter of course in their twenties. They weren’t reliant on drugs to allegedly curb their primitive urges and lack of self-control.
They were educated. Respected. Held positions of power within the vampire hierarchy.
And they had fangs.
She’d been wrong when she thought Nico wanted the secrets of amber acid so he could help dhampirs surviving in the shadows. There was no need.
It was only the dhampirs of the Enclave of the Phoenix who needed help.
Chapter 36
Rowan
“The other night you asked me about the phoenix connection.”
Nico’s words jerked Rowan back to the present and she shot Azrael a probing look. He’d told her that nine hundred years ago Sakarbaal had captured a phoenix and had somehow manipulated its essence to distort the astral planes. Before Nico had discovered the death of his child, he’d been as close to Sakarbaal as a son. It made sense he’d know of the captive phoenix. But why bring that up now?
“Yes.” Azrael’s voice gave nothing away. “You refused to answer.”
“I had no intention of telling you anything except for that one piece of information I conveyed,” Nico said, and realization dawned. He was the one who had told Azrael the truth about her. He glanced at Octavia and a silent message appeared to pass between them. “Circumstances have now changed.”
“There was something else in the substance,” Octavia said. “Something Nico and I had hoped to discover, but even so its purity was still a shock.”
She stared at her in disbelief. Was Octavia suggesting—
“Phoenix essence.” Azrael’s voice was grim. “He’s hooked his dhampirs on phoenix essence.”
Her muscles tensed at the disgust in his voice, at the way he’d said his dhampirs, but pain still lanced through her heart. Not that she blamed him. It was disgusting. And it seemed there was nothing she could do about it.
He pulled his hand from hers and slung his arm around her shoulders, pinning her to his side. Until that moment she hadn’t even realized she’d physically flinched at his words.
But he had noticed. And his actions, the way he held her as if he was prepared to take on the entire Echelon to defend her if necessary, spoke far louder than any words he might have said.
“Whether the dhampirs of the Enclave are hooked on phoenix essence or not is irrelevant.” Octavia’s glance lingered longer than necessary on the possessive way Azrael held her. “It’s an integral element of your DNA.”
“But why?” The words choked her, but she had to know. Wasn’t it enough that she was a hybrid human/vampire? Was she now also part mythical bird?
“There’s no scientific reasoning for its inclusion.” Octavia folded her arms and for the first time looked faintly embarrassed, as if realizing Rowan wasn’t just an interesting anomaly but a real person. But am I a real person when the essence of phoenix corrupts my DNA? “I’ve studied phoenix essence for decades, but only possessed ancient trace elements until now. It doesn’t bind the other components of amber acid together and as far as we can tell it hasn’t altered your genetic code. But here’s the thing. It only fully integrates if the blood type is AB Negative. What I’m saying is—it’s simply a part of you.”
Azrael’s grip on her tightened. “It’s binding with the soul.”
She pulled back, incredulous, and stared at him. “What? Why would you think that? How could that even be possible?”
“That was Sakarbaal’s obsession a thousand years ago,” Nico said. “He confided in me, back then. Things he shared with no one else. He told me that when he’d been turned, in those moments as his body regenerated into an immortal, he soared through the celestial heavens.”
“The astral planes,” Azrael said.
“He spoke of a hidden power. Said he’d witnessed the soul of a phoenix resurrect. He was consumed by the desire to enter that highest realm again and harness the unimaginable forces there. But despite trying for almost a thousand years, he’d never managed to ascend higher than any trained mortal spiritualist.”
“What?” Azrael’s voice was harsh. “How could he ascend into the astral planes without a soul?”
Nico offered him a mirthless smile. “Vampires aren’t the soulless creatures of your nightmares, archangel.”
Azrael sucked in a sharp breath. “He captured a phoenix in the belief it would help him reach that highest realm. What function do the dhampirs serve?”
“The dhampirs are central to his plans. He spent decades harvesting the purity of the phoenix essence and force feeding it to his pitiful slaves. He was convinced that in due course, with enough dhampir souls entwined with the phoenix essence, they’d serve as a gateway.”
“And be able to drag him into the highest realm.”
“Yes. In Romania he could never understand why less than one percent of the dhampirs who died gave him only an elusive glimpse of the realm he craved to conquer.” He glanced at Rowan. “As technology advanced so did his knowledge. Using phoenix essence, he can manipulate only those who possess the rarest blood type on Earth.”
Nico paused, allowing her a moment to digest everything he’d just thrown at her. A moment? She’d need the rest of her life. “He’s also revised his strategy of invasion. My guess is he plans to release all the souls he’s harvested over the years at once. That way he’ll flood the astral planes, not just with the essential phoenix essence, but also his bloodline. There’ll be no stopping him from gaining his objective then.”
How could Sakarbaal have captured the souls of all the dhampirs who had died over the years? What did he possess, some kind of homing device for dhampir souls?
It was a horrible thought.
“You appear to know a great deal about Sakarbaal’s plans.” Meg sounded completely pissed off. It was obvious Nico’s prior research and insider information rattled her.
Nico gave her a mirthless smile. “Sakarbaal isn’t the only one with spies.”
The silence after his words was suffocating. She’d always known of the Enclave’s international spy network, even if she didn’t know all the individuals involved. Logically she’d also known that spying went both ways. But it was still a shock to hear Nico confirm it so casually.
Was anyone she knew, someone she’d considered a friend, a spy for the Strigoi?
Considering what she’d discovered over the last few days she couldn’t condemn them for their treachery. Because just who exactly was the enemy here?
Nico indicated with a sweep of his arm towards the door that their time in his lab was over. As Azrael turned, she pulled back. “I just want a minute.”
He gave her a probing look. “I’ll be right outside.”
She waited until Meg flounced after him before turning to Octavia. There was no way of telling how old she might be. But she was the first dhampir she’d ever knowingly met who wasn’t hooked on amber acid.
“I’ve never known another dhampir who lived beyond twenty-seven.” It was a confession but sounded like an accusation, yet Octavia didn’t bristle with offense. Rowan resisted the urge to cross her arms. She didn’t want the other woman to know how defensive she felt, even if it was brutally obvious by her words. “Is that the life expectancy imposed on us by the amber acid?”
Octavia regarded her for a moment in silence. “Nothing I or my team discovered would indicate there’s an expi
ry date written into the drugs. And as I explained before, the phoenix essence simply is. If, as both Nico and your archangel believe, its sole purpose is to become one with your soul then, theoretically, it shouldn’t impact on your life expectancy at all.”
“But what if the phoenix essence was removed? Would we still be able to fully function?” Because when she found and destroyed Sakarbaal, there was no way in hell she’d let a phoenix continue to suffer such unspeakable torture.
For the first time Octavia looked uncertain. “I don’t know.” It clearly hurt her pride to admit that. “We can’t detect any addictive qualities but that aside there’s no way of telling how it might impact your physiology.”
It wasn’t reassuring but she’d guessed as much. She glanced to the door and saw Azrael lounging against the architrave, watching her. He looked relaxed but she wasn’t fooled for a second. If Octavia made the slightest wrong move, her archangel would be by her side before she could blink.
Some of her tension seeped away. She might be a biological nightmare, but he hadn’t turned his back on her. And she knew she stood a better chance of ending Sakarbaal’s reign with Azrael’s help than she would on her own.
She offered him a small smile. He didn’t smile back but an odd feeling of warmth encased her heart, obscurely reminding her of the time he’d wrapped his coat around her shoulders to keep out the chill of the night.
Once again she turned back to Octavia. There was something else she wanted to ask. Something she’d never imagined asking before because the suspicion had never arisen.
“Have you ever heard of an Enclave dhampir called Belinda Carson?” Her friend Belinda, who had allegedly been murdered by the enemy while deep undercover in the Strigoi Echelon.
Nemesis: Paranormal Angel Romance (Realm of Flame and Shadow Book 2) Page 24
