In Her Shadows

by Michelle M. Pillow

  She looked at Vincent in realization as she touched the scar on her arm.

  The ancient vampire glanced down at the old wound. “You will show me,” he commanded. He cut her arm next to the old scar and licked her blood. His mouth against the new cut stung like lemon juice to a paper cut.

  The hallucination of falling ash was nothing compared to being completely jerked into her past. She stood in the streets of London, feeling small and restless. The bodies were piled in the street before her, lifeless and quiet. There was one blur in the clear vision of pre-dawn—the creature carting bodies to the pile. Someone had smudged that part of the memory, like a wet finger to a photograph.

  A strong hand clamped down on her shoulder, gripping her tight. She glanced up from the height of a child to see the ancient vampire had asserted himself to her past. At his touch, the image of Vladamir cleared. When she looked up a second time, a small smile lined his lips.

  “It’s true,” the vampire stated. “He’s awake.”

  Olivia was jerked out of the past and back to the couch in the middle of the abandoned dance studio.

  “Who did she see, Pietro?” Vincent asked. “I want the name of the person who did this to me.”

  Pietro of the Llugut. Elder. She was looking at an elder who was not Vladamir.

  “No,” Pietro said evenly. He didn’t move, showed no enjoyment in having his answer. “You will not have your revenge, and if you try to take it you will die. But, you can have this one. She forced me to come and has seen me. You must kill her, so none can discover I was here. Then come to Greece and find me when you are done playing with your food like a baby.”

  Vincent grinned. Pietro disappeared as if he was never there.

  Oh, shit. I’m in trouble.

  Chapter Eight

  “Why did you hit the guard?” Hathor’s soft voice was followed by a gentle touch to Jaxon’s forehead. “I liked this one. He was always less vampire-y than the rest.”

  “Vampire-y?” Jaden asked.

  “Not you, I mean the others,” Hathor corrected.

  “I had my reasons,” Tyr stated.

  “Is he the reason…?” The frown was evidenced in Hathor’s words. “Did he help her escape to the bus?”

  “Did he take Olivia?” the French accent of Servaes insisted.

  Jaxon moaned as he tried to roll over onto his side. The hard ground was littered with twigs and leaves, and they cut into his back. That was nothing compared to the good ole fashioned throb of a black eye. Tyr packed one hell of a punch.

  “Tyr struck him because he seduced our ward,” Jaden stated.

  “He defiled our daughter,” Tyr corrected.

  “He loves her,” Jaden countered. “Don’t you, Jaxon?”

  Jaxon took a deep breath, trying to focus his scrambled thoughts. It wasn’t often he was the weakest creature in the room…or, rather, on the sidewalk.

  “They’re not married,” Tyr argued. “He needs to ask our permission and provide a dowry, and there are other steps.”

  “Are you serious, Mrs. Manners? Do you even remember how we met? You kidnapped me, locked me in a cave, and we defiled the hell out of—”

  “I found some Old English texts on parenting a daughter,” Tyr interrupted. “After I let her rave, and the alcohol bottles, and the movies that made her sleep with the light on, and the bedtime battle stories that I thought were enhanced by the visuals, and everything you said I was not doing right because I was an out-of-touch vampire, well I—”

  “Read the antiquated guide to parenting? Please tell me you didn’t have a chastity belt made.” Jaden laughed. “Is that where you’ve been sneaking off to do when you claim the council elders call you away?”

  Jaxon managed to push up to his hands and knees.

  “I agree with Tyr,” Servaes said. “He should not have made overtures to her.”

  “Are you serious?” Hathor broke in. “You seduced me in my Aunt Georgia’s garden.”

  “It’s a completely different situation. We were fated to be,” Servaes countered.

  A terrible pain rose up inside Jaxon, much worse than any physical harm Tyr could enact upon him. The kernel of fear planted itself between his eyes, unfurling to reveal images of the corpse of an older woman in a ridiculously inappropriate red dress and flashes of blood and fangs. Suddenly, cold eyes were staring at him as if seeing him looking out of Olivia’s eyes.

  “…Kansas City? Why the hell is she going there?” Jaden was saying. “What’s in Kansas City?”

  Jaxon crawled instinctively toward the source of his vision.

  “Where is he going?” Hathor asked.

  “Olivia,” Jaxon said. “She’s—”

  “On a bus that should be almost to Missouri by now,” Jaden stated. “Lucky for us those buses take a long time to get where they’re going. It’s only been a few nights, so Tyr and I will go to Kansas City and bring her home when she disembarks. Jaxon, you are ordered to stay here until we get back and can sort this out.”

  “I’ll chain him inside his coffin,” Servaes said. “He won’t go anywhere.”

  “No. She’s in Spokane,” Jaxon insisted. “I feel her.”

  “I saw the footage of her getting on the bus,” Hathor said.

  “Then someone brought her back to town.” Jaxon pushed to his feet.

  “How do you know?” Servaes demanded.

  “Indicia,” Jaden answered.

  “You marked Olivia?” Servaes frowned.

  Jaxon held up his hands. “Can we not go through this again? I swear, the older or more powerful the vampire, the less sense of urgency you have with time. Mortals don’t have time like we do. Yes, I marked Olivia. She’s my indicia. I did not defile her—”

  “You dare deny?” Tyr stiffened.

  “I did not defile her. I love her. And I resent having to tell that to all of you before I can tell it to her,” Jaxon stated. “If you want to hunt me down later for it, fine. But right now, I’m going to find Olivia. She’s scared, and she’s not alone. I need to find her before it’s too late.”

  Chapter Nine

  She’d never had a chance. Olivia understood that now. All those years spent learning and drawing and hiding had all been leading to one inevitable conclusion. Death.

  What other end could there be for a mortal? What other end for her?

  As Vincent drank against her neck, pulling the life from her with each swallow, stealing her mortality, she understood this was the end. Vincent would not turn her, for to do so would be to defy an elder and the only way for her to be made a vampire would be for him to give her blood back to her from his body. Plus, vampires like Vincent would see his immortality as a gift, and he didn’t like her well enough to give her presents.

  “Last chance,” he whispered, pausing in his gluttony. His green glowing eyes bore into her as if to pluck the memory from her weakened body. She couldn’t move her limbs. Her eyes stayed open only because her lids lacked the ability to close. Her lungs lifted with a shallow breath. At least the liquid fire of his bite no longer hurt. Nothing hurt except her weakened heart.

  Vincent’s dimming face would be the last thing she ever saw. Fitting in a way. They’d been like this before, hunter and prey. It was quiet now. She was a child. Her mother’s cries had ended. She wasn’t sure what the afterlife would hold but liked to think her parents would be there waiting with open arms.

  What happened to a vampire after death? Many said they had no souls. Olivia didn’t believe that. But if they lost their souls, maybe Jaxon’s would be there too. If they kept their souls, maybe his would eventually find her in the afterlife. She needed to believe she’d see him again. The alternative was too painful. He was her one regret.

  Funny how clarity comes too late. She should have let herself love him. She should have invited him to her room more. She should have snuck out to see him. She hadn’t kissed him enough, touched him enough, or heard his voice enough. She should have…have…

  Vinc
ent latched onto her neck once more and drew her into nothingness.

  Chapter Ten

  Jaxon stopped on the downtown crosswalk and grabbed his chest. Streetlights shone over the public sidewalks, and he stumbled to lean against a parking meter. Pain ripped through him as he felt the connection to Olivia sever. “No.”

  “What is it?” Tyr demanded, gripping his arm. They were alone on the street. Jaden and Servaes had gone to Kansas City, and Hathor stayed at home in case Olivia came back. Tyr wasn’t about to let Jaxon out of his sight. “Move.”

  “We’re too late.” Jaxon cupped his neck. “It’s over. We’re too late. He killed her. He…”

  The knowledge that he’d failed her filled Jaxon.

  A passerby came out of the corner restaurant and held up her cell phone. “Hey, is everything all right with your friend? Do you need an ambulance?”

  Tyr made a low noise of irritation and lifted his hand. The woman dropped her phone on the concrete and walked away in a dazed state.

  Jaxon found his bearings and pushed up from the meter. He glanced around the street. “I felt her down here.” He rushed down the sidewalk, unable to give up. If there were a chance, a moment more he could have with her, he’d take each second.

  Jaxon had seen a ballet bar and mirror through her eyes and crossed the street toward a boarded up dance studio. “Here.”

  “I smell a trace of her,” Tyr agreed.

  They ran down the narrow alley next to the building. It didn’t take much to slip in the side door. As they entered a dusty backroom, the smell of blood and death was unmistakable. Jaxon detected Olivia’s scent resonating above the others.

  “Olivia,” he whispered, rushing through the building until he came to a large dance floor. He found her prone on the ground like a beautiful piece of art—hands sprawled to the side, a leg bent as if she was frozen mid-pirouette. Vincent stood over her like a hulking beast, eyes swirling with the thrill of bloodlust. Olivia’s blood trailed messily down his chin. He had drunk her like a monster if the gaping wound in her neck was any indication.

  Rage boiled inside of Jaxon. He charged Vincent, slamming into the vampire and sliding him across the floor into the mirrors. Shards crashed around them. Vincent pushed back, empowered by his recent meal. Jaxon’s body flew up into the air to hit near the ceiling.

  He saw Tyr holding Olivia’s head in his hands. She didn’t move. The knight sliced open his hand to heal the wound on her neck with his blood. Though powerful, healing was all his blood could do for her.

  Jaxon dove, fingernails and fangs extended. His hands met flesh. Fangs bit into his arm, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered. This monster had killed the only thing in the world Jaxon cared about.

  He screamed in anger, hitting Vincent repeatedly in a vengeful rage until blood wet his hands, and then he hit him again. When the vampire stopped fighting back, Jaxon let go of him and rushed to Olivia’s side.

  “Olivia?” he demanded, not sure why he hoped she’d answer. He couldn’t hear her heartbeat. “Olivia, open your eyes, baby.”

  Jaxon touched her face. Vincent’s blood was on his hands, and her body recognized itself in the red fluid. Her skin tried to absorb its life back. He jerked away from her.

  “Do it,” Tyr said, taking hold of his wrist. “It’s the only way.”

  Jaxon slid his bloody hand from Tyr’s hold and shook his head in denial. “She doesn’t want this. I can’t condemn her to a fate she said she didn’t want. I love her too much for that. I…” He lifted his hands wanting to grab her close. He could defy her. He could spend an eternity trying to beg her forgiveness. But he was turned without being asked. Olivia had explicitly said she didn’t want immortality. He’d marked her against her will. Could he do this to her?

  His hand shook as he thought of touching her. If he could but hold her…

  Blood dripped onto her pale face. At first, Jaxon thought it was from him, but then another drop hit and then another. A glass shard crashed onto the floor, and he looked up. Vladamir held a bleeding Vincent with one hand, letting his blood drip down from a neck wound. Vincent’s eyes were open, aware, but unable to fight the elder’s influence.

  “She doesn’t want this,” Jaxon stated.

  “Don’t move,” Vladamir commanded. Jaxon’s entire body froze, obeying even when his mind would not. He stared at Vincent, seeing the life leave him as it dripped over Olivia’s face. Tyr stood and took a step back, not needing to be controlled to obey the elder. “Even now it might be too late.”

  Jaxon wanted Vladamir’s actions to work. He didn’t want to lose Olivia. Vladamir let his hold on him slip and Jaxon turned back to look at her. Her lips moved slowly, drinking Vincent’s blood.

  Bittersweet relief flooded Jaxon. “Olivia?”

  As her blood returned to her, empowered by Vincent’s, her eyes opened wide. Crimson filled them, hiding the brown. She pushed up, throwing Jaxon aside in her hunger. She latched onto Vincent’s neck. Vladamir let go. Olivia dropped back to the ground, taking her meal with her.

  “Enough, little one,” Vladamir commanded. Olivia kept drinking. “Jaxon, remove her before she drinks too much. When she is finished, take her to a coffin.”

  Jaxon pushed up and reached to pry her from Vincent’s drained body. She fought him, making wild animal noises, but he held tight.

  “Tyr, I trust you will tell no one I was here?” Vladamir stated.

  “As you wish,” Tyr said with a nod. “But may I ask why you are here?”

  “I have my answer. This is the only way it could have ended.” He gave Olivia a sad look as she moved restlessly to be free of Jaxon’s hold. She reached for Vincent’s body. “I have watched her, and now I will mourn her.” Vladamir motioned toward Vincent. “Take care of that, knight.”

  Tyr nodded. “The sun will see to it.”

  Jaxon pushed Olivia’s hair from her face and forced her to look at him. She jerked violently and screamed in pain. He held her tight as she flailed against him, her legs kicking. The red faded from her eyes, replaced by a solid white. He screamed again, a desperate sound as she clawed at his arms.

  “The last of her mortality is dying,” Tyr said between screams. “Place her on the floor.”

  Jaxon obeyed, helplessly watching as her muscles contracted and released. Her eyes found him, but he didn’t know if she could really see him. His own changing had been so long ago, but he remembered the pain of it.

  “It won’t last long,” Jaxon soothed. She convulsed and didn’t answer. To Tyr, he asked, “What can I do? There has to be something.”

  Tyr cut his hand and let a few drops of his blood fall into her mouth. “That should ease her pain. You can give her a little of yours as well. It might not help, but it won’t hurt.”

  Jaxon didn’t hesitate. He gave her his blood. When he looked up, Tyr was gone, having taken Vincent with him.

  He felt Olivia turning, heard it in the way her heart beat, in the way she smelled. The subtle perfume of her body now carried with it the hint of death. He stroked her cheek, hating himself for feeling relief that she was not dead. This is not what she wanted. She’d made that clear many times.

  A flash of white surrounded him as sound stopped. He saw tiny flashes of his life, moving around him like the landscape of a speeding car—a dusty field of youth, shooting guns at fence posts, the last days of the First Annual Fair of Montana. The mental ride slowed. A bad storm had hit the fair, causing the attendance to be low. He should have stayed home, but he hadn’t wanted to miss a moment of the exhibits. That’s when his killer found him, hunched over in the cold wind, his guard down. The wild laughter is what he remembered most. His attacker had been insane, an escaped mental patient he later supposed. Jaxon had been fed upon, turned, and then left to die in the sunlight. Vampire instinct had caused him to crawl into a shallow grave. The memories kept going until it brought him to this moment, with her.

  Then a new landscape started, that of her life, shorter by far, bu
t filled with such emotions that he felt himself grabbing hold of her to shield her from it. She’d been young and rebellious, desperate for an adventure to happen to her. Then something did happen, and it changed everything. Vladamir had planted a deep seed of fear inside her, and he tended that seed like a gardener over the years, entering her nightmares until she was more afraid of him than the monster who attacked her. Olivia blamed herself for the death of her parents. She thought she deserved bad things to happen to her. She hated being treated like a child, and yet it took everything inside of her to finally get the courage to leave her guardians. Even now she blamed herself for her circumstance. She had yet again disobeyed those with authority over her, and she ended up at the mercy of Vincent.

  Jaxon closed is eyes, but it didn’t stop the visions. Vincent had been cruel and taunting during both attacks. He’d flung her around like a ragdoll, called her names, toyed with her emotions. As he had drunk from her neck, he let the memory of her parents’ deaths play inside her head. He felt her heart squeeze in her chest, and her lungs suffocating her. Her new vampiric body grew stronger with the change as her human organs grew weaker.

  If the sadistic vampire weren’t already dead, Jaxon would have killed him.

  There was another memory behind her fear, one he had to pry open. It’s where she kept her feelings for him. She loved him, without thinking she deserved to love. She wanted him, fearing that need inside herself. When the memories stopped, he knew he’d seen everything—every second of her life. And she had seen his. There were no secrets. She had to know how he felt now without him telling her. His soul had been laid bare, and he did not want to hide his heart anymore.

  “Let me take you home,” Jaxon whispered, lifting her into his arms. She was in no condition to protest, and he needed to get her into a coffin before the dawn. Her body continued to die and be reborn, a horrible process to witness for he could do nothing but wait for it to end. “You have no reason to believe me, but I promise I will not fail you again. I will protect you.”