Love Is Mortal
By Caroline Hanson
Copyright 2012 by Carolina Hanson
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
All rights reserved.
Prologue
London, 1530
THE AIR stank. The smell of unwashed flesh and burning candles. The smell of perfume and worn clothing. Marion loved a good party, but usually she just came for the food. She ran her finger down the Fey queen’s arm and watched as goose bumps rose on the woman’s flesh.
Pretty.
Marion loved women, but was anything more delicious than a woman dressed for a party? Maybe it was the dancing—that it made them blush and pushed all that warm blood close to the surface of their skin. Maybe it was the sweat—the slight sheen and taste of salt, the way her lips felt as they slid over flesh damp from a night of dancing.
Or maybe it was just because they were usually so happy that it made them beautiful to drink from. They were human presents she got to unwrap. She licked her lips and saw her lover track the movement. Annika’s breath hitched, breasts straining against her low-necked dress. Marion was sure she could see a hint of nipple. The fashion did seem to include showing a rather large amount of breast, but the Fey queen was particularly daring.
Heaven forbid she leave something to the imagination. Perhaps it was because she was a fertility goddess at heart. She smiled. It could be downright difficult to get that woman to keep her clothes on. Marion felt very lucky that her goal of retrieving the Sard, a mythical object of Fey power, allowed her to mix work with pleasure.
“Annika,” Marion murmured and stepped closer, wanting to take a bite out of her right there. She was about to do it, but then she saw him.
Lucas. His arctic blue eyes fastened on her. His arms were crossed, and he looked irritated. As always. He was watching her, waiting for Marion to do what she was supposed to do. I hate doing what I’m supposed to do. Marion sighed. “Business. It’s always business.”
Annika blinked up at her, her long, light brown lashes reminding Marion of a doe. “Did you get the book? And I very much hope the answer is yes,” Marion said.
Annika swallowed nervously, and Marion tried not to frown. Damn the woman.
“No, Cerdewellyn is watching me. He is suspicious.”
This was not good news. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. He does not know a thing,” she said sincerely.
Lucas was leaning against the wall, the fingers of one hand drumming against his lips, a sign of his impatience. She hated the drumming. The man needed sex or an empath. He’d been dry for a while now. 10 years? Maybe 20? It made him an unpleasant bastard.
Annika touched her arm, hand slightly damp from nerves. Or fear. Both were a turn-on. “I would need a promise, Marion.”
“My heart,” Marion said, knowing she was the picture of desire and concern. “I will promise you anything in the world. You know that.”
Annika frowned. “No, from Lucas. I need a promise from him that he will let me live, and stay with you if I steal the book from Cer.”
Marion shrugged. “You are at a vampire ball, and you are safe. And of course that will last as long as we are together.” The Fey were such sticklers when it came to promises.
“Cerdewelleyn…he knows the vampires seek the book. He does not trust me and I…Oh Marion,” she swallowed hard, clearly overcome with emotion. She was whining.
Marion could not stop herself from pouting. She did stop herself from screaming. “The book, my heart. Lucas will not save you without the book.” Her voice was rising, and she took a calming breath, planted a smile on her narrow lips. “How difficult can it be? The Book of Life and Death must be close to him, yes? Lucas is not—” Marion floundered for the right description of Lucas that wasn’t a lie, finally settling on, “totally unreasonable. We can travel, see the world. You will be safe for all time… After you get the book.”
Annika began to shake her head back and forth, almost a little frantically. “What does it matter? The Sard is gone! It has been missing for centuries.”
The woman was an idiot. Of course the Sard was not missing. Why would she want the book if it was missing? It was a wonder the Fey were not all imbeciles if this was the woman they were bred from. Or had bred from. It had been a while since a Fey entered the world. Hadn’t it? Marion wondered if she should take an interest in her lover’s life. Annika might like that. Marion vowed that the next time she saw Annika, she would ask her about her day.
She put her hand on the queen’s waist. “The book can do other things. Spells and things…it is not solely for the Sard.” But Annika was right of course. The Sard was a jewel of pure, untapped power and could only be used in combination with the book. Marion had the jewel, but it had taken centuries to get this close to Annika, the one person close enough to Cerdewellyn to have access to the book he kept so well-hidden in the land of Fey. Marion knew a battle was coming. The Fey were weak, almost gone; their only chance of survival was to find the Sard and unleash its power, restoring Cerdewellyn to greatness.
Annika laughed unhappily, her voice high. Tears filled her eyes. “Spells! You want the book for spells? How can you perform a spell if you cannot find a witch? Do you know how we live now? How bad things are? Lucas will not come to a truce with Cer. He will not stop until we are all dead! Cer wants to—” she stopped herself.
From across the room Marion saw Lucas incline his head. Was he listening? Was his hearing that good? She wished he would go away. If Annika saw him, she would get all upset. There would be a lot less sex and a lot more crying.
“Cer wants to do what?” Marion asked quietly.
Annika shook her head, lips clamped shut.
Oh, please. As if the woman could keep a secret. “It is too late now, my heart. Cer is the walking dead. He simply needs to lie down,” Marion cooed, “Your loyalty must be with me if you want to survive. Get the book, and you will be protected. Lucas will guarantee it.”
Annika said quietly, “But Lucas wants to kill us all.”
Marion was beyond exasperated. “So? I want puppies for breakfast, but that does not mean it is going to happen! Do you know how hard it is to get puppies in winter? Anyway, he will leave you alone if you play your part. Go back to Cerdewellyn. Reconcile with him. Use those sweet wiles of yours, and get him to trust you again. Then get the book and come back to me.”
After a painful moment where Annika seemed to think about her options, she nodded.
Marion hoped the night was salvageable. She would not sit around listening to the woman complain about how everyone she knew and had ever loved was dead. If Annika was not going to play, then she needed to go home and get started on finding the book. They had all lost people. Everyone in the world would change their grief if they could. They could not.
But I will. If Marion could get the book, she would be able to end her own grief. She would have enough power to get back what she had lost…
Marion looked back towards Lucas, but he was not paying any attention to her. He was turned, candlelight flickering off his black silk jacket. His hands were behind his back, and he looked very casual—if one ignored the fact that his fists were clenched, and his expression was too blank. As if he were working very hard to give nothing away. He set his feet, as though he wanted to back up but was determined not to.
She felt the change in the air, as if it were charged before a storm, Fey power slithering through the room.
Cerdewellyn.
Marion knew there was no child at her side, no little girl with beautiful big eyes looking up at her with adoration. But dear God she wanted it.
Then Marion heard a giggle behind her. So familiar, devastating, and beloved that Marion cried out, her hand flying to her mouth as she turned, desperately searching. It did not matter if it were real or a trick, so long as she could see her again.
There! Marion dashed forward, following a small flash of red. Little Margaret in her red dress. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered that day. The red dress Margaret had been buried in. Costly silk and a beautiful bow at the back, little pearls dangling from the bow’s ends.
“Margaret!” she yelled and did not know which way to turn, how to find the only person that had ever mattered to her. Couples danced all around her, blocking her view like a giant storm toying with a tiny ship. Margaret bobbed into view again, past a brunette in a pink dress. Margaret peeked at Marion over her shoulder and vanished behind two women drinking champagne.
Marion stumbled after her, lost to everything and everyone around her as she pursued Margaret around the giant ballroom. She was always one step behind, could never get close enough to see her. Cerdewellyn could kill her right now, come up to her and cut off her head, and she would not even notice, so consumed and obsessed with her little girl, lost to the past and her own grief. The past brought back to life. If only she could hold her one more time.
Annika touched Marion on the forehead, and the glamour dissipated, a dream shredded before her eyes. “It is not real, my beauty. None of it. It is all Cerdewellyn. Come back to me. Pay attention, Marion.”
Marion blinked at Annika, feeling confused and alone. “Margaret,” she said in a whisper, throat scratchy as if she had screamed for hours.
“It is only glamour,” Annika smiled sweetly, as if she were the mother and Marion a child who had woken from a nightmare.
Her heart still pounded, tears threatened. “No. It is more. It must be. I felt her…I heard her. She is here. She—” Her words cut off as she looked behind Annika and around the room. Every vampire and human alike were frozen and still, eyes wide open and staring at nothing. “No,” she whispered, and fear choked her. “All of them? Cerdewellyn couldn’t have captured all of them.”
It was impossible. To control a room of hundreds. Others and humans alike, leaving them vulnerable to destruction. “How? Cerdewellyn has never been so powerful.” She looked over the heads of the still people and saw Cerdewellyn, his tall, dark form and black hair moving through the crowd of statues. He touched the vampires as he passed, and with that touch, they turned pale, skin fading chalk-white, patches of ash appearing on their skin as if they had not fed in months. She could see their vitality being leeched from them. As if with each touch, he drank their essence, consumed their strength.
Annika smiled at Marion condescendingly. “Everything came from the Fey, Marion. Vampires, witches, the wolves, even the cursed empath. It is all born from Fey magic. We have no choice now. This is the Fey’s last gamble. Cerdewellyn will take his power back, from one and all, reabsorbing everything to bring us back to what we were.”
“No.” She could not take her eyes off Cerdewellyn, saw him moving closer and closer to Lucas, who was still, unmoving and unblinking, caught in Cerdewellyn’s trap. Lucas blinked slowly. Then his chin jerked as though he did not like what he saw.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a puff of gray ash as one of the vampires crumbled, all the energy sucked from him until he was utterly destroyed. “He has never had that much power,” Marion said. She felt dumb, rooted to the spot in confusion.
Annika looked at her sadly. “No, Marion. He did. It has just been a very long time, and it comes at great cost.”
Cerdewellyn closed the distance between himself and Lucas.
“He thinks he can walk up to my king and kill him with a touch?” She took a step forward, propelled into action in order to save Lucas, but Annika restrained her, fingers biting deep. For a moment, she was surprised. Annika was so gentle; let herself be pushed around so much that Marion had forgotten the woman was strong, a fierce Other in her own right.
“Stay by my side or I cannot protect you,” Annika warned.
“I have to—”
She shook her head sadly. “Our home is gone, Marion. He destroyed it, pulled it up at the roots and consumed it for this. An attempt to make himself as strong as he once was.”
The bitter truth was suddenly revealed, and Marion wanted to claw out Annika’s eyes in retribution. “You brought him here! You betrayed me. Do you think he will take you back? Faithless. Wanton. The world knows Cerdewellyn would rid himself of you if he could.”
Annika’s pale cheeks turned red with fury, her lips mashed together, as though biting back words. “Just sit down. Do not help your king. Stay out of the way, and then we will be together. Yes, I care for myself. But, I care for you too. I am a survivor first. If you want to survive the night, you will not help your king.”
The faithless creature. She was a coward. A traitor to one and all. Marion didn't know what to do. “It seems more likely that Lucas will slay Cerdewellyn.” Annika rolled her eyes. “These men. Let them slaughter each other.”
More vampires disintegrated, Cerdewellyn leaving a trail of ash in his wake, as he closed the distance between himself and Lucas. Fifteen feet, then 10 and Lucas didn't do so much as flinch let alone defend himself. Cerdewellyn stopped before Lucas, extending one hand slowly, settling it on his shoulder. Smoke rose from him, his skin turned pale, and suddenly Lucas stumbled backward, breaking free from Cer’s hold.
There was a glint of silver, the flash of a knife, and an unholy snarl of rage as Lucas threw himself forward, attacking Cerdewellyn in an uncoordinated way. As though he were wading through something sticky and heavy as he tried to get to Cer.
Cer stayed out of reach, appearing calm and composed, as though Lucas in a rage was nothing to worry about. His tone was soft, at odds to the murderous tension between the two of them. “I always wondered what nightmare gripped you. I’m surprised, Lucas.”
“Are we going to talk now, Cerdewellyn? You don’t wish to have this be our final fight? You’ve come this far, surely you won’t leave now.”
“I’ve come for Annika.”
Lucas was breathing harshly, body trembling as though he were weak. “Woman trouble. I sympathize. Why don’t you stay and let us finish this as gentlemen? There will come a time, Cerdewellyn, where you will be on your knees before me, and everything that was ever yours shall be slaughtered around you.” He smiled at Cerdewellyn, the smile cold and emotionless.
Pitiless.
Lucas clasped his hands behind his back, inclining his head as if they were giving a friendly greeting to each other, exchanging pleasantries. He smiled as he said, “And you will remember this moment as your greatest failure. You do not commit. You will not risk your people. You are so busy trying to protect what you have left, trying to retreat from my advances and save everyone around you that you do not attack.”
“You seek the end of the world, Lucaius.”
Lucas laughed. “No, I seek to win. I am willing to gamble everything to achieve my goals. My people know this and live in fear of me. Your people do not fear you. Even your queen has no fear of you. You are not ruthless, Cerdewellyn and that is why I will win. Because I will find the moment, and I will take it, be damned to the innocents aro
und me.”
Marion shivered at the promise in his words.
Cerdewellyn and Annika vanished, chaos erupting around them as the humans and vampires awoke, coming back to themselves. Marion stumbled through the crowd to Lucas, not heeding the fury in his gaze. “It is done. Give up on the book, Marion. I want Cerdewellyn dead, and an end to this. I will wait no longer.”
Terror pierced her through the heart at his words, and she grabbed his hand, vanishing with him, leaving the chaos of the ballroom behind, and reappearing in an English graveyard. Taking him with her had cost her, and she was panting.
“I saw her! She was there, and it was real, Lucas.” Her voice broke. “You promised me you would not kill Cer before I have the book! I swear on her grave if you break this promise to me, I will—”
Lucas laughed, running his hand through his long, blond hair. “You know better than to believe a promise from me.” He looked around them, kicking a nearby headstone absently. The anger seemed to leave him; shoulders relaxed, and he tugged on the cuffs of his shirt and adjusted his jacket. She could see him composing himself, letting the anger fall away from him, replacing it with icy boredom. On a sigh, he said, “I hate England. Never put your hand upon me again, Marion. A dead little girl cannot buy you forever.”
Chapter 1
VALERIE KNEW the water was consuming her. Cerdewellyn had pushed her from the cliff, and as she’d hit the water, every bone in her body broke. Every muscle tore open. Valerie had heard that people didn’t die from falls. They didn’t die from landing, or even from every bone shattering. No, what killed them was the bounce. The tiny bounce off the ground and back down again that pushed all the broken shards of bone out of place and deep into one’s internal organs.
What a shitty way to die.
The water was cold and dark; it sucked at her and she sank deeper, the ocean floor rising up to meet her. This is your fault, Valerie. You were the one who couldn’t say no to Lucas. Hadn’t he told her what he was? Over and over again. A moth to a flame, and she’d always known that she was the moth, and he was the fire that would consume her.
Love Is Mortal Page 1
