Warrior Rising

by Linda Winstead Jones

  He was close now, very close. Marie looked at the dagger in his hand — unalarmed and unafraid — and said to the soldier who held Kate, “Kill her.”

  Sorin moved quickly. He changed directions, jumped up and flew toward the man who held Jimmy’s friend. He slit the soldier’s throat before the man could even twitch. Kate fell to the steps, stumbled forward, tried to stand and stumbled again, then rose up clumsily to run to Jimmy.

  The sun burned, it ate at and through him, but for once Sorin didn’t mind. He embraced the pain.

  The man who’d killed Chloe’s mother foolishly rushed Sorin, his own blade waving wildly in the air. He was as easy a kill as the first one had been.

  Which left Marie and Sorin face to face on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in the noonday sun.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It all happened too fast. The child, the girl, the two humans who had aligned themselves with Marie — for whatever reason — and then the fight.

  Indikaiya wanted to help Sorin, to rush in and help, but how? He and Marie fought, hand to hand and dagger to dagger. They rose in the air and then dropped down; they were a blur and then they were almost still again. The stillness never lasted long. It was as if she was offered occasional pictures, as if the fight paused for a second, just long enough to allow her to see. There was blood, so much blood, and she couldn’t tell if it was his or hers. Sorin didn’t have the kind of protective clothing Marie had worn, and each time she saw him he looked worse. Burned, in a way, as if the sun had chosen one small segment of skin after another to crisp.

  Kate sat near the front of the chamber and cradled the little boy, Phillip. For a moment Jimmy allowed himself to touch Kate’s hair, to sigh in relief, then the three of them — Jimmy, Rurik, and Indikaiya — rushed down the steps and toward the battle.

  As Sorin had warned them, others were close by, waiting to attack. When the soldiers saw the trio emerging from the shadows, they ran forward, swords and guns drawn. Like the others, these were men who fought for Marie, not vampires. These glamoured humans had no problem with the sun, but they were not seasoned fighters.

  None of them was a match for the two Warriors they faced. They were not a match for Jimmy, either, who had become a fine warrior himself. The enemy fell. The fight between Marie and Sorin continued. They moved unnaturally fast, clashing in the sunlight they both despised. They swept up and down the steps, leaving a trail of blood as they moved in a quick and violent dance.

  As the last of the men fell, Marie and Sorin slowed. They were no longer a blur. They were now solid and all too clear. Indikaiya gasped at the sight. The opponents were bloodied and weak. Both were being affected by the sun in a way they had not been even moments before. Sorin swung his dagger forward, attempting to finish the job and take Marie’s head. She saw the move coming, twisted to the side so that while his knife sliced her throat deeply, she remained whole and in this world.

  The self-proclaimed queen fell down, then flew up, fingers curled and extended as if they were claws. With a burst of power and a primal scream, her hand thrust into Sorin’s chest.

  It came out with his heart.

  In the split second while the heart she had taken from him still beat, Sorin turned his head to look at Indikaiya. She screamed, unable to get to him fast enough, unable to do anything to help. And then he went to dust in the sun.

  * * *

  Nevada held the newborn close. Cradling the baby in her arms was an unexpected pleasure that wouldn’t last. Chloe wouldn’t let the kid out of her own arms for more than a few minutes. Like any new mother, Nevada supposed. Chloe’s baby, who was just a couple of hours old, was swaddled in a pink baby blanket someone had swiped from somewhere. Bottles and formula and diapers had also been scavenged.

  “Just when I think the world can’t get any weirder, it does,” Nevada cooed. The baby gurgled like any other might. Not that Nevada had ever held a two-hour old of any species.

  The baby’s eyes were freaky — like her father’s — but it wasn’t like she shot death rays. Those eyes weren’t scary, just odd. Odd and beautiful. The kid cried, she cooed, she drank formula. She was pretty, too, like a picture of an infant on a jar of baby food. Thank goodness she hadn’t tried to bite anyone yet, not that she had any teeth. All perfectly normal, so far.

  But when Nevada concentrated on the baby, when she tried to see inside the child in any way, normal was not what she got. She still got queen vibes, big time. When Nevada reached deep, when she called on the witchy part of herself that had been sleeping for so long, she saw power and blood. Thank goodness, she also saw kindness and humanity.

  One day this baby would drink blood like her parents, but for now, for a while, she was just a kid. Given the way Chloe’s pregnancy had progressed, Nevada hadn’t seen that coming. Maybe the fast progression of the pregnancy was due to Chloe’s makeup, not the baby’s. Whatever.

  She should be scared, holding a human vampire hybrid of unknown powers and abilities, but she wasn’t, not at all.

  Instead she held the baby close and wondered if it was possible for a human to get pregnant by a Warrior. She and Rurik hadn’t even discussed birth control. Maybe that was reckless, but seriously, they had other things on their minds. With everything that had happened, she couldn’t say she was ready to bring a child into the world, but at the same time, Rurik’s baby would be awesome. How could it not be? It? No, not it. He. Maybe she. Holding a baby, smelling baby smell and wallowing in baby softness, brought out every maternal instinct that had been lurking in Nevada’s body. Those instincts were surprisingly strong, and insistent.

  “Down, girl,” she whispered.

  She worried about Rurik, every hour of every day. That was a complication she didn’t need, but there was no going back. She cared. She loved him. He was, in a way she had never expected, a part of her. No one was more capable in a fight, but she knew who he’d be facing today, and she wouldn’t rest easy until she saw him with her own eyes, whole and well and here, still in this world. She wanted them all to come back, she did, but more than anything else she wanted to see Rurik walk through her door.

  Love is weird. That was her deep thought for the day.

  * * *

  She’d seen many men die, but Indikaiya had never been so instantly and deeply affected. Sorin was gone. There was no body to bury, no final touch of goodbye, no anxious fingers placed against the neck where a pulse should be in order to be sure that death had truly come. No, he was just gone.

  She felt him still, on her lips and on her throat. What could she have done differently? How could she have saved him? She should’ve given him more blood, should’ve insisted that he be stronger when he faced Marie. No, she should’ve fought Marie herself. She should never have listened to his commands that she stand back.

  The child Sorin had given his life to save tugged on Indikaiya’s shift. “Where is my friend Sorin?” Phillip asked.

  Indikaiya tried to answer, but she choked on the words. Tears filled her eyes. She had not cried since the night she’d put her daughters on a boat and sent them away, knowing it was unlikely she would ever see them again. Jimmy held Kate tight. Rurik watched over them. Bodies littered the steps of this memorial.

  Marie was gone. Not gone as Sorin was, not truly gone. She had escaped.

  A breeze kicked up, and what was left of Sorin — dust, nothing more than dust — lifted into the air and flew away. Indikaiya watched that dust as it scattered and disappeared over the reflecting pond. He had always liked to fly.

  “My friend Sorin…” Phillip began again.

  Indikaiya took the boy’s hand. “He has gone to a better place,” she said, biting back the urge to declare bitterly that Sorin simply was no more.

  “To live with Jesus, like my daddy?”

  “I… I don’t know,” Indikaiya whispered. “Maybe. Maybe… yes. Yes, I’m sure of it. Your friend Sorin was a good man, and he will be rewarded with a fine afterlife.” A kind lie, for a child who c
ould understand nothing more honest or complicated.

  The sun beat down on steps where Sorin had fought to save this child. Indikaiya ignored the bodies there, bodies of unworthy humans. She spared not a moment to mourn them. They had made their choices, and this was their just reward. She stared at a bloodstain on the steps, there where Sorin and Marie had fought. Not all that blood was his. He had wounded the vampire queen, had wounded her badly.

  The sadness within her shifted, hardened, became something more. Something she could use. Anger. A need for vengeance.

  Marie had to die, and at that moment, Indikaiya swore she would be the one to finish what Sorin had started.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “My mother?” Chloe came out of her chair, the baby in arms. As if the infant sensed her distress, she started to cry. Not a normal “I’m hungry” or an “I need a new diaper” cry, but a screech that shook the walls. Chloe stopped where she stood, and noted that the entire library, which was always bustling, had gone silent. That cry had not been for her ears alone. Even Indie’s yapping dog was silent.

  Luca took the as-yet-unnamed baby from her and the screech ended. So much for convincing herself that her child was a normal human.

  Chloe sat down, she listened as Luca explained what had happened. He tried to soothe her, to comfort her with words of logic. She knew he was right. She could not have been there. Not only could she not withstand the sun, she’d been in labor. Had her child come into the world as her mother had died? Perhaps Luca could have gone in her stead, but he’d been needed here. At least, she’d selfishly believed that she needed him. Still…

  No, he would not have left her even if she’d ordered him to. He’d been here to protect her, and to protect their child. They were his priority, and nothing and no one would sway him. Not even her.

  “My father?”

  “He wasn’t there. I don’t know…”

  But she did. Marie had only needed one hostage. Her father was dead, too.

  “You should have been there,” she said, accusation in her voice. “You could’ve saved her.” If he had…

  “Sorin did all that he could, I have been assured of that. He managed to save the other two, Jimmy’s girlfriend and young Phillip, another conduit.”

  Why them and not her mother? Why couldn’t he have saved all three? Anger welled up inside her again. She wasn’t angry with Luca, she wasn’t angry with Sorin. She was angry with herself for not reaching out to her parents, for not calling to let them know she was fine, even though she was not. Not in their eyes, anyway. Where was her cell phone, anyway? Sitting on a shelf somewhere with a dead battery, she imagined.

  How had Marie found them? Chloe caught a sob in her throat. Why hadn’t she even considered that her parents would be in danger simply because they were hers?

  Her child would have no grandparents. Her mother would never know…

  “I want to see Sorin,” Chloe snapped, standing once more. “I want him to explain to me why he couldn’t save her.”

  “Sorin is dead. Marie took his heart.”

  Chloe went silent and still, for a long moment. Her knees — newly strong knees — shook in shock and surprise. She had no great love for Sorin, she really didn’t even like him. But she had never considered that he wouldn’t be a part of this war until the end. Whatever and whenever that end might be.

  She would grieve for her parents for a very long time, she knew. For eternity, for whatever life she had been given, she would grieve. Eventually she might stop blaming herself, but that would take a while. A long while. Chloe stood and walked to Luca with an outward ease and calmness she did not feel deep inside. She took the baby from him, held her child close and shifted a small section of a blanket aside so she could see her daughter’s entire face. It was perfection.

  “Her name is Amelia.”

  * * *

  After two days of wallowing in grief and anger, Indikaiya kept telling herself that she should not mourn a vampire. Should not, would not…

  But Sorin was — had been — different. He’d fought for the humans. He’d gone into battle with Marie under the noon sun, knowing he would likely die, sacrificing himself for a small boy and a defenseless girl. No, not just for them, for the chance to take out Marie. For a chance to save far more than two humans.

  He’d kissed her, before he died. She had denied him that small pleasure, insisting that mouth to mouth was for love, not for the simple sex they shared. Simple. Not so simple. She should have kissed him more often.

  Two things had made the past days tolerable. Cupcake, who seemed to sense Indikaiya’s distress and did her best to offer comfort by licking and cuddling and sometimes whining, and music. Angry, passionate music, sung by strong women of this world and delivered via earphones attached to a small device Jimmy had given her. He called it an iPod.

  Chloe was mourning, too. Her baby was two days old. As far as Indikaiya could determine, the child had come into the world during Sorin’s epic battle. There was nothing Chloe could have done to save her mother. Nothing. And yet she continued to blame herself.

  Indikaiya walked into the interior room where the threesome — Chloe, Luca, and the child — huddled together in silence. Whatever words they’d had to say had been said. She envied them their little family.

  A vampire family. Had the world been turned entirely upside down?

  Indikaiya studied the baby carefully. But for the unusual eyes, she appeared to be normal. Human. How was that possible? On the afternoon of Sorin’s death, the child’s cry had brought every being in this building to a standstill. Little Amelia might appear to be human, but she was not.

  Through experimentation they had discovered that the child needed infant formula, not blood. After forty-eight hours the baby appeared not to be growing any faster than any other newborn. Chloe watched her daughter like a hawk, waiting for that unusual growth spurt, watching for signs of abnormality. Looking for ways in which her child was different from all others.

  They had not attempted to move the child into the sun to see how she might react. She was too small, and potentially too fragile. Everything about baby Amelia was unknown.

  These two unusual females were Indikaiya’s blood descendants. Vampire or not, human or unknown species, they were her blood.

  Chloe glanced up and caught Indikaiya’s eye. Indikaiya nodded, then said, with no emotion in her voice, “The bitch is ours now. We will end her.”

  With that, she turned and walked away. No one would see her cry, not if she could help it.

  * * *

  Eyes closed, sun wonderfully warm on his face, he took a deep breath. Ah, that scent. No, scents. Fresh water, grass, a sweet shrub that bloomed in the spring and… his mother’s stew.

  Sorin opened his eyes and was almost blinded by the sun. His instinct was to cover his face, to search for the nearest shade or shelter, but he quickly realized that was unnecessary. He felt well, not at all weakened by the sunlight. He lifted one hand and watched the play of sunlight on his skin. He moved his fingers, slowly. The light wasn’t at all painful. There was none of the nausea that sometimes accompanied his uncomfortable excursions into the daylight.

  Memory came rushing back. He sat up, clapping a hand to his heart. Well, to the place where his heart would’ve been if Marie hadn’t ripped it from his chest.

  His heart beat, strong and steady and a bit faster than it had for a very long time. There was no blood, not anywhere on his body. His flesh had been burned by the sun as he’d fought Marie, but there was no sign of that damage.

  He was naked in the sun, lying upon a grassy field that reminded him of home. Not D.C. or any other place he’d called home during his years as a vampire, but…home. Where he had worked and played as a boy. Where he had fallen in love and married and had children.

  Where he had been a man, not a monster.

  On alert, Sorin looked around. He was dead, he knew that. Marie had killed him. He’d realized his death was likely — perha
ps even fated — when he’d met her in battle, but he had not expected this. He shot up, stood tall as he studied the landscape that was both familiar and foreign. What had happened to Phillip? To Indikaiya? To Jimmy and Rurik and…

  “They are well, for now.”

  Sorin spun around to see a man in what appeared to be Roman dress walking toward him. “Who are you? Where the hell am I?”

  “Not hell. Far from it, in fact. As for who I am, I believe you asked me to introduce myself when we met. I am the fucking lily-livered cowardly asshole you have been waiting to meet.”

  “Phillip’s Warrior,” Sorin said.

  “Yes. He never did find my name, so here I remain while others fight against that which you once were.”

  Once were.

  “My name is Halirrhothius.”

  “Seriously? No wonder the kid couldn’t find your name. I don’t suppose Hal would’ve done the trick.”

  The Warrior who had welcomed him into this world did not seemed pleased by that observation. “Not for the purpose of being called from this world into another, no.”

  Down to business. Sorin asked, “Why am I here?”

  “You are here because you are a Warrior.”

  Instinctively, he shook his head. “Impossible. I’m no hero.”

  “With more than a touch of Warrior blood coursing through your veins, you died fighting for the human race. You sacrificed yourself for Phillip and Kate. If that is not a hero, I don’t know what is.” Hal shrugged his shoulders. “Of course, you can refuse to remain here, if you wish. There are other worlds beyond this one. The land of the dead is a vast and wondrous realm, for those who are worthy.”

  Worthy. Was he?

  Sorin considered the offered option, for a split second. Apparently there was an afterlife for his kind — for the kind he had been. There was this world as well as others. How many others? If he left here would he be sent to a place of peace or of punishment?