Grief For Heart: The Vincent Du Maurier Series, Book 4

by K. P. Ambroziak

  Gerenios watched his fellow men go, feeling the burden of leadership and the weight of the difference his son’s line had forced on them. When he turned to Freyit, his old friend gave him a smile he couldn’t deny. “Shall we hunt?” Freyit asked.

  “Let’s hunt.”

  The two Gen H clasped hands, racing to catch up to Finn, who’d already scaled the rock face to the shelf above.

  He showed them up in their climb at first, taking the lead at every turn. He gripped the rocks with the skill of a climber, a human with simian expertise. But when he reached the ledge that proved to be slanted more outward than the straight verticals he’d been used to, he stopped. He rested his hands on his knees, breathing in the thinning air.

  His two guides proved equipped for the task. They’d climbing gear, and more stamina than a descendant of man.

  “A little help,” Freyit said, pulling Finn up by the collar. He lifted him off the ground with one hand, holding him perched in the air, as Gerenios readied himself on the incline. The two worked together to carry him over the lip, showing him as much care as they would a child of their own. Finn was quiet as they worked, growing more somber by the moment. He’d lost faith in his original fervor, his ambition bigger than his physical prowess. He wasn’t ashamed at his lack of energy, but felt bad for the two who had to carry his weight.

  “Don’t fret,” Freyit said. “If there’s a top to reach, we’ll reach it.”

  Finn wasn’t worried for them, but he sensed his breath waning, his lungs tightening as they drew upward. Perhaps this had been a risk too great to take, he thought.

  “Don’t look down,” Gerenios said, gesturing to Finn. “The drop will put the fear of death in you.”

  Finn obeyed him, but not without a quick glance over the ledge. They’d taken a moment to collect themselves, resting on the precipice of the steepest lip they’d climbed yet.

  “Saba,” Finn mumbled, looking up.

  “At least we’ll know if she’s there.”

  Finn shrugged in his uncertainty. He couldn’t know what they said, and yet he trusted them with his life. Saba’s as well.

  Despite the thin air, Freyit insisted they were on the trail still. “It’s not her I smell anymore, but him.” He meant the vampire, the dense aroma of sulfur rousing his senses. As much as the Hematopes gave off color to a vampire’s eye, so too did my kin have a tell. To the Gen H, the vampire reeked of volcanic sediment.

  “I smell him too,” Gerenios said.

  “Saba,” Finn said. “Han har target seet blued.”

  Freyit looked to Gerenios. “He’s taken her blood,” he said. “The vampire has made her his already.”

  “We can’t give up.”

  The group roused their energy and took to the next section of the rock face. Finn’s fingertips were blue, and his lips had turned purple, despite his effort in the climb. His heart was slowing, and he was quickly losing his senses though he didn’t know how to say it. Freyit was beneath him, Gerenios above him, but the figure that rose up on his left seemed a figment of his imagination. Until then, visibility had been sketchy, the three of them sporting goggles Freyit had produced from his hunter’s satchel. The pair he gave Finn were too big for his head, but he’d tied the band in the back to keep them from slipping. When Finn saw the nightmare at his side, he thought his sight had failed him. He used a free hand to tear the goggles from his head, hoping his naked eye would reveal the truth.

  He lost his balance as he hung one-handed. Freyit looked up at him, and saw his body waver, as though blown by the wind. But the next moment, before he could reach the young hunter, he disappeared into a cloud of snow. Freyit looked down, dropping his ear to the side, listening for the thud, or at least a cry, neither of which came.

  At the next ledge, when he pulled himself over and onto the platform, he told Gerenios what he saw.

  “It’s him, then,” my father said. “His smell is everywhere.”

  “You don’t think he fell?”

  “The only way to know for sure is to go down the way we came.”

  “But if she’s up there, we must find her.”

  “We go over then?” Gerenios’s voice boomed across the empty air, swept up in the wind.

  “We go over.”

  Freyit held up his fist, and knocked it against his companion’s, a Hematope’s pledge.

  The two wasted no time scaling the last of the rock face to the peak. The summit was barely showing above the clouds when they stood, looking out onto the land they called home. The scent was gone, the vampire and his quarry long since evaporated as if into thin air.

  “Should we search for the young hunter’s body?” Gerenios said it matter-of-factly, though Freyit felt a sting in his heart at the thought. He’d grown used to the descendant of man, and rather liked the thought of calling him a son.

  * * *

  Finn wrapped himself about Saba, unconscious in front of the fire.

  “She’ll warm you,” the vampire said. “Take her in your arms, and make her yours.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Can’t you guess,” he said. “Do you think I could forget you?” He lunged at Finn, then hung in the air, suspended above his two quarries.

  Finn looked at Saba, her face a perfect vision, both serenity and softness descending by the moment.

  “You’ve killed her,” Finn said, anguish choking his voice.

  “No, no,” he said. “I can’t kill those possessed by gods. I can only drain them of warmth.”

  “She is no god.” Finn used the back of his hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He didn’t care he’d lost face with his captor, this time letting his anger out any way he could.

  “Of course she is. Can’t you see that?”

  “She’s a girl, a descendant of man like me.”

  “Oh no, little one, don’t be so naïve. Neither you nor she are merely descendants of man.”

  “What do you mean?” He sniffled now, the cold stuffed inside him beginning to defrost. The heat of the flames felt good and he wanted to strip off his clothes.

  “Yes,” the vampire said. “Let desire take you. I am happy to watch, to coach you in your feat. She’s never seen the likes of you, has she?”

  “Stop it.” Finn couldn’t control his anger now, his rage coming out as a sob. He felt humiliated, the vampire knowing his deepest thoughts, telling him to act on the desire swelling inside of him. “Please wake up, Saba,” he said in his foreign tongue, hoping her unconscious might translate for her. “Wake now.”

  “She’ll sleep for some time. I’ve made sure of that. So go ahead, take what’s yours little warrior. Shall I show you how it’s done?” He moved closer, dropping himself down and out of the state he’d used to hover. He stood on two feet now, as tall as a tree, rooted beside the young hunter and his goddess.

  “What do you want from us?” Finn’s throat choked on his emotion, his voice barely a whisper.

  “I want to see your union. Then I want to be a part of it.”

  Finn could barely wrap his head around the fiend’s request. The union between he and Saba would be sacred, and private. He’d never let the vampire become a part of them. These were the things he told himself, despite his body’s swell at the vampire’s request. That familiar burning came back, making him want to vomit where he sat.

  “Don’t be afraid of it,” he said. “Desire is not gender biased. You want me because I am appealing. Don’t deny yourself. Give in to your manhood.”

  Finn was glad Saba was asleep. When he’d first seen his captor on the side of the mountain, the wind parting the snow so he could greet the vampire with clear eyes, his want was reignited at the sight of him. His face was such a vision of perfection, desire drummed through him like the pounding of thunder. He fell into his arms, letting go of the rock face, permitting his captor to seize him anew. He was ashamed of it now, trying to repurpose his object of lust at the sight of Saba. He was sure he loved her still, and all the deit
y she seemed to possess. But this other, this man-beast of magnificent physique, had him by the throat and choked the inclination out of him.

  “Give in,” he said. “Let me see you take the goddess, ravage her as you’ve always done. She is your sister, is she not?”

  Finn couldn’t know the vampire who stood before him wasn’t speaking of his own mind, but channeling another. The man-beast was surrogate for the god within, the one who wanted to see Diomedea punished for her sins.

  “No,” Finn said, bitumen in his voice. “I will never give in. Take me and throw me over the mountainside, but I will never harm her. Never. Do you hear me?”

  “Are you sure?” The vampire’s face glowed with a warmth Finn had never seen on any aspect, and he desired his captor more than ever.

  “Take me instead. I dare you. Strip me of this skin, suck down my blood, pull my bones apart. All of it is yours if you leave her be.”

  The vampire cocked his head to the side, his new angelic cut not quite as vengeful as the one he’d donned with his tattooed skin and shorn head. His looks were softer now, but he was a jaguar still, wild and unruly, his allure magnified with the god in him.

  “You know,” he said. “I shall take you first, but I shall take her second. Then I shall take the two of you third.”

  Finn stood up, his body weighing nothing with the air crushing his lungs. He felt like he could slip away, so he leaned in and reached for the vampire.

  The beastly man caught the young hunter up, seizing his body with all the might of the god who possessed him. “You are mine now,” he said. “Give in.”

  He yanked Finn’s head back, his whole hand cupping his crown. He raised his face to the sky, showing him the truth of the next few moments of his life. “There’s no return from this,” he said. “You shall be branded mine and I will own you, cross time and space, worlds and mythologies. Do you see?”

  Finn could barely move his head, but he muttered, “yes,” the permission his captor longed to receive. “Yes,” he said again. “Take me, not her.”

  “I shall have you both.”

  The lights went out for Finn, his eyes blinded by the burning that rushed up through him. His belly raged, his legs turned to jelly, his core stiff with need. He gave his body over, and his mind, too, but saved his soul for Saba, who locked it away in her mental freeze, her oasis of dreams, for safe keeping, while he suffered the violation that would save her from the greatest sorrow.

  The vampire’s body moved with Finn’s, the two one unit, linked in the most intimate way. The pain Finn suffered in the beginning ceded to an enormous pleasure, one that shook his whole being and made him cry out for more. The god in the vampire was barely sated when the young hunter finally pleaded to be left alone, his body ripped in places he could never imagine whole again. The seed of the beast inside him taking root, filling his gut with dread and divinity in equal parts. He would live to tell his tale, but he would also need to thrive to overcome it.

  As Finn lay broken next to the hearth, he saw Saba’s tender form on the other side of the flames, and reached for her.

  “Shall I take her next,” the vampire said. “Do you think you can do without me for the moment, can you share me with your goddess?”

  “No,” Finn mumbled, though he’d meant to say, she is no goddess.

  The vampire flew to Saba’s side, plucking her up into his arms, tearing at the vest she wore, peeling away her covering, touching her tender flesh with his aching hands. “Diomedea,” he uttered. “Queen of the Damned, you shall not run from me this time.”

  He worked his hands lower, using his claws to tear at her belt, as Saba remained limp in his arms.

  Finn watched in horror, too broken to stand. He closed his eyes, mustering a call to his father. “Come for me,” he groaned. “You said you’d always come for me.” Tears warmed his cheeks, as his father’s aspect rose up before him. Stand like a man, he heard him say. Stand up like the god that you are and defend your goddess.

  It may have been the words, or it could have been an ulterior force altogether, but Finn clawed his way up to his feet, using the wall of the cavern to lift his body. The fire was miles from him now but he felt as though he could fly above it and land on the man-beast to knock him off Saba. He hadn’t gotten too far with her yet, his used parts not ready to tear into her.

  “Not like this,” the vampire groaned, speaking to the god in him. “Don’t make me do this. She is a creature of light, and I love her.”

  “She is a wretch,” the god in him said. “I have her now and I will not let her go.”

  The vampire wavered, caught between his world and that of the god who ruled him. Finn watched the man-beast scold himself again and again, his voice changed with each being in him.

  In those moments of hesitation, that state of weakness, when the vampire was still himself, Finn rose up and scaled the fire in one hurdle, knocking Saba from the vampire’s arms. That was all it took to shake the god loose, at least for the moment.

  The vampire looked at the young hunter, a ferocity in his eyes only he could admire, the boy seething, his hands bent into fists, his mouth twisted out of shape. He roared with a laugh that could paint the sky, then he backed away, charging headlong to the edge, tossing himself over the ridge.

  Finn couldn’t believe what he’d witnessed, his heart suddenly in his throat, his mind racing with a million things at once. He stepped to the ledge and peered over, his eyes searching the darkness for a sign his captor had survived the fall. The fire in his belly sizzled when he failed to see any evidence. He believed one couldn’t survive the drop, and let out a sigh of relief that bent into a wail, confusion swelling in him anew. He’d loved the vampire, at least in his moment of ecstasy.

  “I want to go home.” Her voice was like a beacon, calling him to shore.

  He turned to Saba, sitting now, her head in her hand, her face flush and heavy with sorrow.

  “Goy hem,” he said, forcing his lips into the smile that seemed faded from his heart forever.

  * * *

  Evelina waited at the base of Mount Askja, letting Peter know her patience was wearing thin. He’d finished his mortification ritual, but had gone into a fasting mode, refusing to feed until he could bear it no longer. He’d gone deep into his own mind and gotten lost searching for Saba. A wall of ice rose up before her every time he tried to see her face. At first, he believed it was his god, putting up the barrier for his protection, but when he stood against the sheet of ice in his mind, and Evelina rose up behind it, busting through to his side, he returned to consciousness.

  Both of his goddesses were heavy on his mind, as he raced down the rock face to reach the one who awaited him.

  “I came as quickly—”

  Her hand went up. “Saba’s been taken.”

  Peter’s face crumbled, his knees giving way.

  “Get up,” she said. “There’s no time for prayer.”

  She couldn’t know it wasn’t prayer that brought him to kneeling. In the darkness, in the ice castle of his mind, he’d seen Diomedea, far off, a vision of beauty, but sorrow, too, and each time he pushed her away. She’d called to him, begging him to set her free. He thought the gods had come to wreak havoc on his mind, Diomedea there as punishment for his dalliance with Saba. But it was her, his cherished one, the last human girl he’d ever love, who came to him in the darkness, using her deity to reach him in his spiritual cave.

  “Where has he taken her?”

  “She hasn’t left the island,” she said. “He wants me.”

  “You know who it is, then.”

  “I do.”

  “He has recovered, hasn’t he?”

  Evelina scowled at him. “You read me,” she growled.

  “No, I read him.”

  “Speak.”

  Peter told her his story, the parting that transpired between him and the other, long after the ship’s secret was revealed. He’d traveled with them for a time, but had to return once he rea
lized his fate was sealed.

  “I will not recover like this,” he’d told Peter. “The blood of the one is not enough. I need the many.”

  “There are none,” Peter said. “They’re all gone.”

  “The source is still there.”

  “What source?” Peter was certain they’d left the ship in ruins, the rabid vampires who couldn’t give up the tainted dreck spilling Captain Jem’s blood last.

  “My beginning.” The vampire spoke to Peter in riddles, or so he thought at the time. He insisted he’d return to find them if he was successful.

  “Only Muriel’s blood will cleanse you of this,” Peter told him.

  He waved it off, insisting there wasn’t enough of it to go around. He would need too much blood to recover. Peter was the only other who’d been affected by the donors in the den, but his habit of fasting had saved him. Because he’d foregone the pleasure regularly, having fed off his own stash for long enough, he was barely contaminated. Once he realized the truth, he took the proper measure for himself. Captain Jem served as a satisfying meal for a time.

  “I am greater than this,” the vampire said. “This skin I wear is nothing but a shell.”

  Peter asked him what he meant, and he assured the priest he’d see one day.

  “He is a god, too,” Peter told Evelina, as they stood at the base of Mount Askja, deciding how best to find Saba.

  “He’s mighty,” she said. “But he’s an intermediary only, not a god.”

  “How can you know?”

  “That’s one of the many things I learned in the ring. Like a Fangool, he walks the earth as a messenger for his gods.”

  “He told you that?” Peter had grown glum standing there, wanting to race up to the sky to better locate Saba.

  “No.”

  “Ah, I suppose this is one of those things I don’t need to know.”

  “Not now.”

  She kissed Peter on the lips, then pressed her forehead up against his. “We will find her,” she said. “Two minds with a single purpose.”