by Stone, Ciana
In the end it took her far longer than she imagined. For days on end she and Pandora debated, argued and discussed. Each day Pandora’s influence grew stronger and Bram’s receded. It scared Resa. She was losing part of herself.
And for what? she asked herself. A Vampyre?
“He is not what you imagine,” Pandora said softly from behind her, eliciting a scoff from Resa.
She turned from her place on the balcony to look at Pandora. “Oh yes he is. He’s as bad as the rest of them, feeding off the weak, taking what he wants whether it’s offered freely or not. He’s a monster.”
“Which would make you at least half a monster yourself,” Pandora pointed out.
“I don’t need to be reminded of that! I know my father was one of those damned things. I’d change that if I could, but since I can’t, I do like Bram trained me to do. I find them and get rid of them.”
“You take life, just as those you condemn as being killers, Resa. Call it what you want and justify it in any way that allows you to live with your conscience, but you are what you claim to despise. A murderer, a taker of life.”
“Then why the fuck do you want me to be part of your bloody quest to save humanity, if I’m so fucking bad?” It was an old argument, one Resa resorted to when she could not come up with a better point of contention.
Pandora smiled. “Because I know that you have the power to do great good. If only you can let go of your hatred. It binds you as surely as the strongest chains, imprisoning you in a dungeon of hate and pain that if you do not escape, will destroy you.”
Resa blinked back tears that threatened at Pandora’s words. What was wrong with her? She didn’t cry. Not ever. But something about Pandora got to her. The things she’d seen and that damned certainty that had taken root inside her that Pandora spoke true and wise.
“I’ve sworn to find him,” she said. “I can’t go back on my word.”
“And find him you must,” Pandora agreed. “But not to kill.”
“How can you say that? Don’t you know what he’s done?”
Pandora looked out to sea with a slight sigh. For a few moments she was silent, and then she softly spoke. “You must find Constantine Belenus and safeguard him from the storm that is approaching.”
“Why? Give me one good reason I’d want to protect that bastard.”
“To prevent a war.”
“What war?”
“One that will be waged between those of his kind and those of your Alliance unless Constantine can find a way to bring peace so that all may live in harmony. One that will find humanity caught in the crossfire and will exact a high price in the loss of innocent life.”
“Then I might as well just take a fucking vacation because there’s no way in the seven levels of hell that we’re ever going to be at peace with those…life suckers.”
“Correct. It cannot happen if Constantine is defeated.”
“Defeated by who?”
“I can say only that Constantine and his kind are not what they are purported to be. There is far more to the story than you can imagine. And as a member of both the human race and what you call the Vampyre, you owe it to yourself to discover the truth of your heritage.”
Resa had to admit that Pandora made sense, but the idea of protecting a Vampyre when she’d spent her entire life tracking and eliminating them, seemed disloyal to Bram.
“All is not as it seems in that quarter, my dear,” Pandora said. “You would be well served to seek out the truth of whom and what supports the Alliance you’ve sworn allegiance to.”
“You’re saying I should betray Bram and all he’s done for me?”
“I am suggesting that for the first time in your life, you stop letting others make decisions for you. That you seek out the truth behind both factions and then, when you have the knowledge, decide which, if either side, deserves your allegiance.”
“But in the meantime, find and protect Constantine.”
Pandora gave her a mysterious smile. “Call it research. If there are answers to be had, he is the one who holds them. Use your skills as a hunter and find him. When you have the truth about him, then the choice is yours to make. Destroy him or safeguard him.”
“And you won’t interfere?”
“This task is for you alone. But hear me well, Resa Vânător, there is a price to be paid for the taking of life. You yet have time to find redemption for your transgressions. But another kill will damn you as surely as you breathe.”
Resa wouldn’t have admitted it in a million years, but a cold chill skittered down her spine at Pandora’s words. She’d suffered the insomnia brought on by guilt, agonized over every kill and prayed that Bram was right and she was doing the work of the Holy in destroying the Vampyres.
But alone in the dark with the memory of their screams in her mind and the smell of their death in her nose, she wondered if there could be anything holy about killing.
Still, it was all she knew. She’d been a Hunter since she was ten years old. She didn’t know how to be anything else. Her trust had always rested in Bram. He’d cared for her, provided for her, seen to her education and training. He’d loved her. At least she thought he had.
Now Pandora had shown her things that raised questions she didn’t want to ask. Questions she’d already tried to ask and felt filled with remorse for even considering. But now it was different. Something new had been introduced to the mix, new knowledge had come to light though Pandora.
Now the questions she’d wanted to ask that night when he came to her pressed at her, crying to be asked. Memories of that night tore at her. How she’d wanted him. How she’d tried to hide it and how she’d failed. How his kiss had branded her in a way she’d never imagined possible, destroying any hope that she could find solace in the arms or touch of another.
No, now it was all different. She had to know the truth. If Bram was not true to his word and her work was that of evil, then she had been betrayed in the worst possible way. But if he spoke true and hers was the hand that wielded the weapon of the Holy, then she had work yet to do.
The question was, how was she to discover the truth?
“Constantine,” Pandora said softly.
Another warm flush washed over Resa at the sound of his name. Fighting with a crossbow, sword or knife was far easier than battling the attraction she felt for him, the power he had to make her yearn for him. She’d not forgotten their encounters, his taunts and temptations, the erotic images he projected into her mind. It was part of her, something that tormented her every day.
Whether she ended up killing him or protecting him, Pandora was right about one thing. The answers she sought lay with Constantine Belenus.
“Fine,” she said, her mind made up. “Then count me in. I’ll be your hunter. I’ll find Belenus. But I’m not promising to save him from anything. Not even myself.”
“So be it,” Pandora agreed. “Be safe, my young hunter. And peace be with you.”
Resa opened her mouth to respond and in the same instant found herself back in the fog beside the old cathedral, with Constantine’s whisper in her ear.
“The truth awaits,” he whispered with a slight chuckle.
Resa whirled, knives flashing. But he was already gone. She checked the time on the belfry clock of the cathedral. It was close to dawn. How was that possible? She’d spent days on end with Pandora to be returned here only moments later?
It was all a bit much, and Resa felt the weight of what lay ahead like a tangible force on her soul. But she had to pursue the truth, no matter the cost. That, as Pandora had convinced her, was something she owed herself.
However, the night was drawing to an end and she was tired. So the quest for truth could wait a bit. Right now she wanted food, a shower and sleep, in that order. She’d tackle the mystery of Constantine Belenus and what answers he might hold for her when the sun rose.
Chapter Two
Journal Entry
As foretold, the beginning of the end c
ame swift as a heartbeat, striking from a position and at a target no one thought to guard or protect.
It was the fifth rotation of the thirty-seventh orbit after the fall of the Goddess. From the deep it came, streaking through endless space, soaring majestically through the heavens. How many of my people stood and watched the wondrous sight in the star-filled night sky? How many expressions of delight and amazement turned to horror and grief at what followed?
The faint scratching of the old-fashioned pen on the fine linen paper of the journal ceased. Constantine blew gently on the page to dry the ink then closed the journal. There were those who found his predilection for the outdated quill and ink to be humorous or eccentric. He gave no care to their opinions. The act of putting pen to paper, letting his thoughts flow from mind to page was salubrious, providing a pristine bailiwick where there was no need to couch his words in Delphic phrases. This was his one measure of true privacy. There was no fear in his words being discovered and used as weapons against him. When he closed the book the pages would become, to all appearances, void and empty. Only the touch of his hand would activate the special ink, a unique formula that responded only to his specific genetic code.
As was more often than not the case, when his thoughts turned to the history of his people, his mood darkened. So many centuries had passed since the great Darkness befell V’Kar. So many battles and still no victor to the quest for V’Kar.
How many centuries had he walked this foreign world, an expatriate, separated from all he loved and held dear? How many more centuries would he suffer exile here?
A growl of frustration rumbled in his throat. He pushed the questions and thoughts away like a bitter wine, seeking sweetness to ease the acerbity. An image of Resa appeared in his mind, bringing with it a wash of hunger stronger than any he’d known in his long life.
His lust for her was not merely unwise, it was dangerous. To him and all his kind. She was sworn to one of their oldest Terran enemies. The Alliance. A group of humans who’d discovered the true nature of his people centuries ago and had lusted after the powers of his kind. When they finally realized that the powers could not be taken or harnessed, that not even forced breeding with humans could recreate what Constantine’s people were, the war changed to one of annihilation. If the Alliance could not harness and use the powers of the V’Kar for their own means then they intended to destroy them.
Were it not for that lust, that craving for power and dominion, beings such as Resa Vânător would not exist, a hybrid brought about by the seduction of a male of his kind by a human female. Dhampir, the humans called them. Children bred for one purpose. To seek out and destroy the V’Kar or Vampyres as the Alliance had labeled them.
Constantine had overcome, destroyed and vanquished many Dhampir during his time, and had no doubt that he would do so again. But Resa Vânător struck a chord within him that he could not deny, a passion that burned so hot that it deterred him from a course of wise action and led him down a dangerous path.
Would she destroy him if given the chance? Perhaps it was his vanity but he thought not. He knew her longing for him, her lust for not just what pleasures of the flesh he could provide, but her hunger for truth. Answers only he could provide, truths only he could reveal.
It was a delicious, if at times, vexing game, and one he was loath to let come to an end. Wise or not, he would continue on his course. And in the end, she would bend to his will. Once that was accomplished, the matter of whether she lived or died would be decided. He could not procrastinate, however. The time to make a move had come. Forces were amassing against him and soon his focus would have to turn to the battle for V’Kar.
And in that battle, she could prove beneficial. But only if she fought by his side. With her at his side, he held an advantage over his opponents and the Alliance. For locked within her mind were the secrets of that damnable group. He had only to breech the barrier that prevented her from accessing those memories and he would have the key to their demise in his grasp.
With that thought in mind, he rose and hurried from the room. Twilight was upon the world, and soon she would go out to hunt. Tonight, he would make sure that she found him. And before dawn, fate would be decided.
* * * * *
Resa woke with a start, hearing his voice whisper in her mind. Come to me, Dhampir. I await you.
She threw the covers off and climbed out of bed, “Oh, I’ll come to you, you miserable life-sucker,” she groused as she headed for the shower. “And when I find you, you will give me answers.”
Getting answers was what fueled her now. She’d gone to see Bram and had posed the questions to him. He’d responded with a dressing down that’d left her feeling emotionally abraded, racked with guilt at doubting the motives of the Alliance.
By the time she was back home, however, guilt had turned to ire. Once again Bram had played her, used her devotion and gratitude to him as a weapon to bend her to his will.
And that eroded her confidence in him and the Alliance in a way nothing else could. It was clear that she’d not get answers from Bram. His agenda was in strict adherence to the dictates of the Alliance. Like a zealot to his god, he would not deter from the path they prescribed, and he expected her to demonstrate the same unswerving and unquestioning loyalty.
She’d spent her life trying to do just that. But something had always gnawed at the edges of her mind, questions rising in the silence when she was alone. And now Pandora’s appearance in her life had added fuel to the fire that burned for truth.
Pandora had said that Constantine held the answers. Resa frowned as she remembered what else Pandora had said. That Constantine had to be protected. She groaned in frustration and confusion as she stepped under the spray of the shower. What was she to do? Forego all she’d been taught to believe, cut herself off from those who’d schooled and cared for her to follow the words of a woman who might be nothing more than a manifestation of a Vampyre, trying to trick her mind?
Resa didn’t know what to do. Except find Constantine and force the answers from him.
That thought brought a thrill of fear and excitement. Constantine was reputed to be the oldest and strongest of his kind. Were her skills and weapons strong enough to defeat someone of his strength and knowledge? More importantly, could she shield herself from the hunger he inspired, the fire his voice ignited in her belly? Was she strong enough to resist the temptation he offered?
She was about to find out. Hurriedly she finished her shower and dressed, choosing her customary tight, black leather pants and vest and a matching overcoat that hid the sword sheathed at her side and the dagger strapped to her thigh.
The crossbow was impossible to hide, but she had enough of the ability inherited from her mother, a witch, to cast a charm of concealment. Humans would not notice the weapon. It didn’t matter if Vampyres saw her weapon. She wanted them to know she was armed and ready for battle.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator on her way, she stepped out into the fading light. Time to hunt.
Chapter Three
Constantine sensed her long before he smelled or saw her, felt her unique vibration in the air. He did not move or turn from his position, standing at the iron railing of the decorative fence that bordered the ornamental lake in the center of the city, bent forward casually with his forearms propped on the railing, hands hanging loose and relaxed.
He smiled at the knowledge of the image he projected, completely relaxed and at ease, not in the least concerned or intimidated by the approach of a Dhampir. That always unsettled them, that he was so unafraid. And an unsettled mind was far easier to manipulate. He needed her to be unsettled.
Her footsteps were light and sure, her stride long and confident as she approached from behind.
“You’re either the cockiest fucker on the planet or the most stupid. I could have easily killed you.” She stepped up beside him, her eyes on the water instead of him.
Her voice was pitched low, its natural husky to
ne full of false confidence. He turned his head to regard her. “You flatter yourself, Dhampir. I sensed you a block away.”
She shrugged and pivoted to lean back against the railing, regarding him with an unmistakable mixture of fear and fascination. He smiled up at her, a slow, sexy smile that had her pupils expanding even more than the fading light required, giving him visual proof of his effect on her.
“Odd meeting place,” she commented.
He shrugged, knowing the gesture, however common, would appear elegant. “It suits my needs.”
“Hmm, yes, I can see why.”
He’d chosen the location because of its close proximity to a number of trendy night spots for what popular culture had labeled the Goth crowd. People who pretended to be that which they were not, creatures of the night who shunned the light of day. Their pasty skin, overly darkened hair and black clothing were comical to him, but did provide excellent camouflage. A stylish man in dark clothing could go unnoticed in such surroundings if he so chose. But his interest was not on their surroundings.
“Word has it that the Alliance is displeased with you, Vânător.”
“Word is wrong,” she lied with remarkable ease, giving no hint at all to her deception.
Constantine chuckled. “You’re good. I’ll give you that. But lying is unnecessary. We both know that Bram was highly displeased with you and gave you implicit orders to eliminate me posthaste.”
“It’s hardly news that my job is to destroy you.”
Another chuckle brought a hard glint to her eyes, a slight creasing of the skin between her elegant brows. “You spar well, Vânător, but will not find it so easy to deflect my attention. Let us speak of the questions that have placed you in such disfavor with the unholy Alliance you are sworn to.”
“Unholy?” Her question was a scoff. “How completely unbelievable that the likes of you could label anything unholy.”
