Blood Eternal

by Marie Treanor

  “Will he be able to break in again?” István asked.

  “In theory, yes. In practice, he’d be stupid to, because Saloman would kill him.”

  “Not if Luk pulled his paralyzing mind trick again,” István argued. “And if he brings support next time, the others could kill Saloman while he’s vulnerable.”

  Although the idea wasn’t new to Elizabeth, it still made her blood run cold. “That’s what Dmitriu and Maximilian are for. He has added protection now. Besides, he says the trick won’t work next time, that he can avoid it.”

  “Then why didn’t he?” Konrad demanded.

  “I think because he didn’t expect it,” Elizabeth said, shifting uncomfortably. “It was regarded as illegal among the Ancients, and it wasn’t something Luk would ever do. Not even when he grew to be insane. Saloman thinks his use of it now shows his fear as well as his determination.”

  “Maximilian?” said Mihaela unexpectedly, latching onto a previous point. “Saloman’s Maximilian? He’s in Budapest? Since when?”

  “Since last night.”

  Mihaela frowned. “He came to protect Saloman? Whom he previously killed? Are you sure that’s why he came?”

  “Saloman and Dmitriu seem to trust him. It’s hard to tell. He doesn’t say much.”

  The librarian, rustling past their table to the bookshelves at the very back, cast them a quelling frown. Elizabeth lowered her voice. “There’s more. While Luk was distracted, he let his guard down over Dante, and Saloman managed to glimpse something in the senator’s mind. Not where he is, unfortunately,” she added quickly, as hope sprang into the hunters’ eyes. “But something.”

  Elizabeth nodded to the disapproving librarian as she passed back that way with her arms full of papers and books. “What ever happened to the lady who used to sleep on duty? I liked her.”

  “What?” Konrad demanded impatiently, dragging her back to the point. “What did Saloman learn from Dante’s mind?”

  “That they’re not waiting to defeat Saloman before they make their bid for the vampire leadership. They’re planning something soon, some big attack that will bring the vampires flocking to their side. They’re certain it’ll leave Saloman deserted and the way clear for Luk. After which, Dante can return to America and, with the vampires behind him, make his move for ultimate power, as he always wanted.”

  Konrad’s lips pursed. “Where? Where is that attack to be?”

  “There was no time to ferret for details. Saloman’s convinced it’ll be somewhere in Budapest, but that’s all he knows as yet.”

  Konrad shoved his pile of books into the middle of the table, knocking off two at the far end, which István caught in one hand. “Then he’s given us nothing,” Konrad said discontentedly. “He’s stringing us along on his pretense of cooperation when God knows what he’s really up to. Hasn’t it struck anyone else that he could be in league with Luk? Why didn’t he—the great, all-powerful Saloman!—kill the newly awakened Luk in Turkey? Surely that wasn’t beyond his capabilities! All he achieved was preventing us from doing it.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true,” Elizabeth said stiffly. Wasn’t it?

  “You’re blinded by him,” Konrad said dismissively. “The sooner you join the hunters formally and learn to understand what being a vampire truly means, the better and the safer you’ll be.”

  Mihaela and István exchanged uneasy glances.

  Elizabeth bit down on her angry retort. Into the silence, she said carefully, “You’re wrong. But you have picked up on one important point. It is hard for Saloman to kill his cousin again. Before Luk’s insanity, they were very close, and Saloman told me he let him live much longer than he should because of that affection. I think that came back to him in Turkey. There was a moment when he almost believed he could retrieve the old Luk from whatever it is he’s become now.”

  She raised her gaze to Konrad, glanced around at the others, and came back to him. “That shows compassion, but not collusion. In any case, it doesn’t matter now. What happened last night rid him of any lingering doubts. Luk must die again, and Saloman will do it. He wants, he really wants, your cooperation in this. But he will do it anyway.”

  Mihaela began to tap her finger restlessly on the open book in front of her. “Are you sure, Elizabeth?” she said abruptly. “Are you sure that’s what he wants? Isn’t it you who wants a way of living in good conscience with your relationship?”

  Elizabeth closed her mouth, staring at her friend. “Yes,” she said defiantly. “I do. And he does. And so should you.”

  Unexpectedly, Mihaela reached out and grabbed her hand. “Join us,” she pleaded. “Please. Become a hunter.”

  Elizabeth’s lips quirked. “So that you can live in good conscience with our relationship?”

  “Yes! Something binds you to us, and us to you. Whatever our disagreements or misunderstandings, you’re one of us in spirit. Make it reality. Come on, Elizabeth, you must have thought about it.”

  “I have. Part of me wants it, but I’m still not sure it would be the right thing.” She rubbed her forehead with quick, impatient fingers. “Damn, I never used to be this indecisive.”

  “What about the university job? Have you formally accepted?”

  “I’m going up there later this afternoon,” Elizabeth said, and that at least won a few smiles of approval.

  István pushed his chair back from the table and stretched out his long legs. “This telepathic connection with Dante. Can he take it any further?”

  “Hopefully. Whenever Luk’s guard is down.”

  “Won’t Dante know? Or Luk?”

  “Not necessarily. Saloman can be very subtle.”

  “Bloody subtle,” Konrad muttered, rubbing his neck at the spot where once Saloman had bitten it.

  After a quick coffee, the hunters left to pursue their leads, and Elizabeth returned to Saloman’s house to change before visiting the university. As she ran upstairs, she heard odd bumping and clashing noises, loud enough to make her pause on the landing, wondering if there was another attack. It was unlikely in broad daylight, but still . . .

  The sounds seemed to be coming from farther along the passage, where the rooms were largely empty—or had been the last time Elizabeth looked. Silently, she crept into the drawing room.

  Saloman. Are you there?

  End of the first-floor hall, the phlegmatic response came back. Elizabeth relaxed, but curiosity sped her steps back out of the drawing room and along the hall to the double doors facing her at the very end.

  As she reached for the handle, she recognized the familiar clashing of steel on steel and knew before she opened the door that fencing was taking place.

  Vampire fencing.

  Elizabeth slid inside the room, closed the doors, and leaned against them, spellbound by the sight of Saloman and his two “sons” stripped to the waist, muscles rippling across backs and chests, shoulders and arms as they leapt around the huge room, their blurred swords thrusting and parrying faster than Elizabeth’s eyes could easily see.

  There was blood. She could see drops of it on the floor and on Dmitriu’s light-colored trousers, but when you healed with vampire speed there was little point in practicing with blunted swords. In any case, they couldn’t kill one another this way; they needed wooden stakes for that. Unless the head was cut off and kept separated from the body. This was their idea of training, perhaps, or lighthearted swordplay. Fast, violent, graceful, and strangely alluring.

  It wasn’t just the beauty of all three fit, seminaked male bodies whirling, spinning, stretching, almost flying through the air, that mesmerized her. Despite their exertions, not the faintest sheen of sweat clung to their pale skin. There was no panting, no yelling, no pauses to gather breath, which added to her sense of unreality, like a sanitized picture. Elizabeth couldn’t look away.

  Maximilian halted in front of her, the muscles across his broad shoulders rippling as he moved from side to side to see which of his opponents would attack
first. It was Dmitriu, lean as whipcord and just as fast. There was a brief, hectic duel, and then suddenly both hurtled across the room in different directions, and Saloman stood there, his sword raised in front of his face.

  In spite of herself Elizabeth’s heart thundered. It didn’t seem to matter how often she saw him. The lust only increased. She defied anyone not to desire this magnificent, seminaked body, his thick, dark hair flowing over his powerful shoulders, half obscuring his handsome, predatory face.

  “That,” Saloman said to the other two, “is how quick he will be. You can’t afford to waste time on duels. No showing off. If you can’t kill an opponent immediately, disengage. Always face Luk.”

  “There isn’t always an option,” Dmitriu protested. “Disengage, face Luk, and some fledgling could stick a stake in my back.”

  “A vampire of your caliber is more than capable of dealing with peripheral inconveniences. You bear my blood. Honor it and use it.”

  Saloman turned, lowering his sword, and bestowed a smile of welcome on Elizabeth. Taking her hand, he kissed it in a courtly fashion that made her blush. “How are the hunters?”

  “Pursuing leads. So far without success.” She lifted her eyes from his chest to his knowing dark eyes and wondered whether they could fit in a quick lovemaking before she changed.

  As if he read her thought, Saloman’s eyes darkened, and he smiled. “There is a time for everything. Today is a time for survival. Learn from them and from me.”

  “What?” she asked, confused. Her mind still lingered on the many delicious things she could do to his gorgeous body, and what he would do to hers in return. Dampness that was not due to the heat spread between her legs.

  Saloman strode to the far wall and pulled down one of the last two swords that hung there. He threw it to her and she caught it by the hilt from pure instinct.

  “Practice with us,” Saloman commanded. “You need it.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t deny it. Since this had all begun a year ago, she had fenced regularly, kept up with judo, trained with the hunters when opportunity offered. But even with the hunters, lately, she hadn’t felt her abilities or potential had been stretched. No human, however strengthened by vampire kills, could move with the speed of an Ancient.

  Slowly, Elizabeth stretched out the sword, flexed her arm, tried a few passes through the air.

  “All right,” she said. “But remember I bleed. And I die.”

  Under Saloman’s harsh gaze, the vampires were too careful with her at first. It wasn’t until she actually sliced into Dmitriu’s shoulder and Saloman laughed that they began to take her seriously.

  “Come on,” Saloman mocked. “She doesn’t bleed that easily! She’s the Awakener, not the bimbette next door.”

  Dmitriu regarded his wound with disfavor. “Consider it revenge,” Elizabeth said. “For the thorn.”

  The thorn he’d planted in her palm a year ago, so that it would later bleed over Saloman and awaken him. Dmitriu grinned, unabashed, and bowed with a flourish. “En garde.”

  After that, it was more fun. In fact, it grew increasingly exhilarating as they all took more chances. They adjusted quickly to her speed and skill and tested her accordingly. After a while, Saloman joined in too, and they fought in rotating teams. The best was when she finally came up against Saloman himself, one-on-one. In him she had implicit trust, and held nothing back as she tried her damnedest to get through his guard while maintaining her own. She could almost feel her movements grow faster and faster, her reflexes sharpen and hone. This was the joy of the fight without any of the bad stuff, and it felt marvelous.

  She barely noticed the other two dueling close by. There was only Saloman’s sword and her own. Until without warning, a sharp pain sliced across her fingers, causing her to drop her weapon.

  Abruptly, Saloman jerked up his sword. “What is it?” he demanded, seizing the hand she held dizzily under her face.

  “Nothing. I thought . . .” I thought you’d cut me. She stared at her uninjured hand. There wasn’t so much as a scratch on it.

  Saloman dropped her hand and looked across at Dmitriu and Maximilian, who’d stopped fighting to see what the problem was. Maximilian’s hand was bleeding sluggishly from a healing gash across his knuckles.

  Elizabeth frowned, uncomprehending.

  “Pain transfer,” Saloman said, as though pleased. “Your telepathy is growing very strong. Again,” he added, raising his sword.

  Tired but willing, Elizabeth raised her own. As the duel resumed, she was vaguely aware of Dmitriu and Maximilian drifting away.

  “You’re weary,” Saloman observed when he broke too easily through her guard.

  “I can go on a little longer,” she argued, unwilling to give up.

  Saloman locked their swords, drawing her inexorably toward him. “No. That’s enough for today. More tomorrow.”

  His naked chest came to rest against her damp T-shirt. The hilt of one sword pressed into her chest. She smiled. “All right.”

  Saloman, still holding both swords between them, bent around them and kissed her mouth. “You learn quickly.”

  “I wasn’t always like that.”

  “Then you had the wrong teachers. You should eat.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Amber flames leapt in his darkening eyes. “Lots of things. But first, food.”

  Since her stomach rumbled at that moment, she gave in, and, after another hot, delicious kiss, she left him to change and went down to the kitchen to rummage for food. By the time Saloman joined her there some ten minutes later, she was dishing pasta and cheese onto a plate with some salad.

  “This could be a good kitchen,” she observed with enthusiasm.

  He shrugged, leaning his hip against the table as she sat down to eat. “Do what you like with it.”

  She nodded her head in the vague direction of the room next door. “What do you use these front rooms for?” she asked curiously. One was decorated in a bland sort of way as a dining room, the other as a not very comfortable sitting room.

  “Entertaining,” said Saloman grandly.

  Elizabeth grinned around her pasta. “The neighbors?”

  “On one occasion. Other people come to do inexplicable things, like reading meters and asking me to sign petitions or buy things I don’t want.” His eyes gleamed. “If I’m in the right mood, I invite them in for a drink.”

  Elizabeth choked and reached for a glass of water, which Saloman obligingly put into her hand. “The really worrying thing about all this,” she said when she could speak, “is not that I believe you, but that I’m not even angry anymore. You’ve bitten your neighbors, salesmen, the man who reads the electricity meter . . . ?”

  “And the postman.”

  She regarded him with fascination. “Aren’t you at all worried that word will get around?”

  “They don’t remember. I don’t hurt them, and they leave very happy. The woman two doors down even came back for more a week later.”

  “I’m sure you obliged!”

  “Why look a gift horse in the mouth?”

  She frowned, uncertain and not quite comfortable, however blasé she’d grown about his feeding proclivities. “It doesn’t seem right not to ask,” she said at last.

  “In theory you’re right, of course. And one day I hope there will be only willing providers. But the world has to be educated for that to happen.”

  “You really think that’s possible?”

  “Don’t you?”

  She smiled deprecatingly. “More than I once did. The hunters think I’m mesmerized, enslaved, blinded, brainwashed, whatever.”

  “Not you,” he said with surprising warmth, and when she gazed up at him, he reached down and touched her cheek. “Come with me tonight. Meet my world, my people. Come to the Angel.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Angel was not the easiest place for Elizabeth to return to. The last time she’d been there, she’d set out as bait to trap Saloman
by seduction and had ended up being kidnapped and seduced herself. Memories of her behavior and his still made her body flush from head to toe. On top of which, arriving with Saloman and an escort of two other powerful vampires, she had no hope of not being recognized as the Awakener. The vampire world must already know of Saloman’s bizarre choice of companion.

  And so she paused at the door to gather her strength, gazing up at the blurred, undefined carved angel until it became the work of beauty it was in reality.

  “That’s what I like about you, Max,” Saloman murmured. “You just throw these things out and then disguise them so that hardly anyone appreciates their true beauty.”

  Maximilian, some distance behind them, didn’t say anything.

  Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at him. “You enchanted the angel?”

  “I showed Angyalka how,” Maximilian said briefly.

  “He is also the sculptor,” Saloman said dryly. “If he had chosen to, he could have been more famous than Donatello and Michelangelo.”

  Elizabeth blinked at this revelation. She wondered if anything would truly surprise her now, but at least it gave her something to think about while she followed Saloman up the bleak, dingy stairs to the club. The vampire bouncers on the landing welcomed Saloman with familiar deference, and herself with a curious but unthreatening stare. The glare they accorded Maximilian looked rather more aggressive, but if he noticed, he ignored it. By that time, the door had been opened for them and the wall of noise blasted out to meet them.

  Maximilian swore under his breath. Over her shoulder Elizabeth saw Dmitriu laugh and push him inside when he hung back. Straightening, Elizabeth held her head high, as she’d done on her previous visit, and, side by side with Saloman, prepared to meet whatever hit her.

  It was very nearly Angyalka herself. The club’s owner, a beautiful, dark-haired, elfin vampiress in a sexy black dress and boots, glanced up from the bar, and on encountering Saloman, her eyes lit up. A smile, half-mocking, half-seductive, curved her lips, and jealousy curled in Elizabeth’s stomach like a claw. Here was one of Saloman’s lovers—past or present? Elizabeth didn’t know even that much.