Of Blood and Passion

by Pamela Palmer

  Slowly the connection with Arturo strengthened until, finally, she felt that door open in her mind, felt her connection to Arturo click into place.

  Quinn stopped in her tracks, trusting the vamps and wolves to protect her, and closed her eyes. She imagined pushing her power through him, imagined throwing up a brick wall to keep Cristoff’s blast from reaching Arturo, but almost at once she felt the wall shatter. Cristoff was too strong!

  She tried to help Arturo battle back the ungodly force of Cristoff’s counter blast, and while she felt Arturo’s own power strengthened, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. She needed help.

  Turning her thoughts to Octavia, she felt that connection once more stir, felt a powerful wave of energy flow into her through it, and without hesitation, flung every bit of it at Cristoff.

  But even that wasn’t enough.

  Arturo was going to lose.

  In some part of his mind, a mind now awash in flame, Arturo knew he’d never stood a chance. Though he’d attacked his master with every ounce of strength he possessed, sending his mind blast at him hard and fast, Cristoff had counterattacked with a strength at least three times stronger. Arturo knew his head should have exploded by now. Yet somehow he managed to continue to fight.

  Because of Quinn. Her power infused his own. Her strength was slowing Cristoff’s ability to pulverize his brain. Slowing, but not stopping. His head was on fire. His brain was turning to mud. Yet still he felt Quinn’s steely, protective energy pouring through him, trying to help. But there was no defeating Cristoff. His strength was just too great.

  “You are my traitor?” Cristoff roared, his face contorting until he was barely recognizable to his own son.

  Arturo felt the pressure building in his skull, in his eyes. His eyesight was beginning to fail again.

  “After all these years, you still don’t know who I am.” Arturo had nothing left to lose by telling the truth. “I was…your first born. My mother, Valentina, named me…Little Cristoff.”

  He felt rather than saw Cristoff’s jaw drop. The counterblast fell away. For a second, Arturo was too surprised to take advantage. Then he slammed his shields into place, praying that Quinn could help him keep them up this time, and he hit Cristoff with his own mind blast, using every ounce of power he still possessed.

  Cristoff stumbled back, falling to one knee. For one bright, terrible moment, Arturo thought he might actually have a chance of destroying his father. But through the darkness stalking his sight, he saw Cristoff rise, fury on his face as he reached for him with his hand.

  Arturo pulled his sword and drove his master back, knowing that if Cristoff touched him, it was over. If Cristoff’s counterattack was this powerful, his frontal attack would kill him instantly.

  Cristoff pulled Escalla and Arturo fought him with sword and mind power, Quinn’s energy weaving through his, helping him. He fought bitterly even as his brain felt as if it were being squeezed in an iron fist. Blood began to run from his ears and nose. His sight faded. And though Quinn attempted to help, her power was no longer strong enough.

  He was going to die. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.

  The world had gone to Hell.

  As Quinn fought to help Arturo, fought to push away the brutal force of Cristoff’s mind blast, death and horror swirled all around her. Though she tried to keep her eyes closed in order to concentrate, it was impossible when she suddenly heard vehicles tearing in from the other world, crashing into one another, into vampires and wolves. And when those who protected her kept being struck down, kept dying. She was covered in blood, covered in vampire splatter, but it was her heart that bled.

  She needed to stop this! But her power was gone. And the energy she managed to borrow from Octavia wasn’t enough.

  Her gaze swung to where she’d last seen Zack and Lily. Octavia and her group were still far to the back, out of the fray, though they appeared to be staring at something on the ground close by. Zack and Lily were no longer with them.

  As combatants parted, Quinn got a glimpse of the ground in that area and realized that it was Zack on the ground, Lily kneeling at his side.

  The need to race to her brother barreled through her, but she tamped it down. Arturo and his battle were her only concern. She turned back and found her vampire with her gaze, watching his sword flash with superhuman strength and speed. He was a glorious warrior forever in the prime of life. Except that blood trickled from his ear, more from his nose, and she feared she was watching him die.

  The thought hit her with the force of a sledgehammer, nearly driving her to her knees.

  Vampire, you can’t die!

  Squeezing her eyes closed, she concentrated hard, pushing every ounce of power she possessed through him and against Cristoff. It felt as if the two vampires were aiming fire hoses at one another, the force of one stopping the force of the other. But Cristoff held the bigger of the two hoses, by far, and Arturo’s power was slowly losing ground. And when it failed altogether, his head would go the way of Geert’s and Sakamoto’s. And her heart along with it.

  The ground beneath her began to rumble again, as violently as before. Her eyes flew open and she watched a subway train explode out of the ground and race across the open field, passengers staring out the windows with terrified faces. But the rumbling beneath the ground didn’t cease and Quinn knew the sunbeams were about to burst through again. She was much too far from Octavia and the others to join hands and help them form the shield a second time.

  Despair rushed up, threatening to strangle her. She was helping no one! She was going to lose them all.

  Do not fret, little sister. Octavia’s soft voice in her mind startled her for only a moment. I can connect to you even from this distance. I can form the shield without your help. Worry not.

  With a nod, Quinn turned her full attention back to Arturo, back to his fight. She could feel his emotions breaking through. Agony. Devastation. A despair to match her own. He knew he was losing. He knew he was going to die.

  As she watched him fight, his face a mask of determination, she wished she’d told him how she felt. She wished he could hear her as she could him.

  You can’t die, Vampire! I can’t lose you. I won’t.

  Pressure built inside her chest and head, a terrible grief, a furious love, swirling, thick and painful. And it was growing, building, until she was shaking, until she felt as if she would explode from the force of it.

  Release your power through him, little sister. Do not hold back.

  I’m trying! It’s not enough.

  You have all the power you need inside of you, but you’re holding back.

  Quinn blinked with the realization that Octavia had heard her. I’m giving him everything.

  You are not. Do you not feel it ready to burst free of you? He needs that energy, little sister! Do not be afraid.

  Quinn scrambled to make sense of this conversation. I’m not afraid. I mean…are you telling me I need to calm down?

  No! It is not fear of the physical danger that hampers you now. I suspect it has never been.

  What are you saying, then?

  You love him.

  There was no denying it. Yes.

  And that scares you.

  No. I mean… God, yes, it terrified her, the thought of opening herself up like that. How many times had Turo told her she had to open herself to others, to friendship, to love? And she had, or she was trying. But…

  The block is your fear, Quinn. It is the dragon you must slay before you can slay any other.

  I don’t know how! She was willing to do anything to help Arturo, to save him. But how was she supposed to suddenly turn into someone she was not?

  Love is power, Quinn. It is the single most powerful element in the universe. And that power is building inside of you, but you hold onto it and refuse to set it free. It’s backing up on you and will soon weaken you.

  Quinn wanted to scream because she didn’t know how to do what Octavia was
demanding. Yet she could feel the energy building inside of her, pounding against the walls of her chest and skull.

  Let it go, little sister.

  Such simple, unhelpful words.

  Release it. Or the man you love is going to die.

  No. In her mind’s eye, she saw Arturo’s beloved face, his dark gaze burrowing into her very soul. The tenderness, the fierceness of the emotion within her rose on a tidal wave until she knew it would split her open if she didn’t let it out. If she didn’t let it go.

  Mukdalla’s words echoed in her head. Love means taking risks. It’s what life is all about.

  Let it go, Octavia said.

  As tears ran down Quinn’s cheeks, she quit holding back and let the emotion swamp her, the fear, the love. The dam broke. The energy burst free to rush through that connection between them.

  Deep within her mind she felt Arturo’s surprise, his wonder, his joy, bittersweet, but shining, crystal clear. And deeper still, she felt something more.

  A small flicker of hope.

  Chapter 50

  Arturo’s sight was nearly gone, his physical strength waning, his mind on fire from the pain of Cristoff’s blast. He was losing, dying. Yet it was joy that kept him fighting. Joy that strengthened him, keeping him upright when Cristoff toyed with him, dragging out his death.

  Quinn’s emotion…never had he felt its like. Love, for him, more powerful than anything he’d believed existed. Except, perhaps, his love for her.

  Without warning, energy shot through him, merging with his mind blast, strengthening him until the two blasts were, once more, equally matched. But he was barely hanging on. With his sight almost gone, he traced the arc of Cristoff’s deadly blade by the barest glint of the steel as they hacked at one another.

  Bella, he told Quinn telepathically. You are my life. My love.

  “You’re my son. In truth?” Cristoff asked. Though his twin attacks—sword and mind—did not ease off at all, his voice was once more that of the father Arturo had loved. A voice filled with confusion.

  “Yes,” Arturo replied, parrying every deadly thrust and swing of his father’s sword even as a glimmer of hope flared that the good man might finally conquer the monster. “Your loyal son. Always.”

  Cristoff didn’t question that statement. Instead, his voice changed, a thread of wonder weaving through the words. “You knew who I was.”

  “Always, my liege. You were my father. I was warned to keep the truth of my parentage to myself, and I did. But my love and loyalty were always yours.”

  The deadly thrusts intensified, as if Cristoff the Monster sought to end the discussion even if he couldn’t regain control of the voice he now shared with the male he used to be, an identity he had no more use for.

  “I’ve lost my soul.” The words felt torn from a heart that no longer bled.

  And still the battle intensified. Arturo could feel his brain being crushed. But the chance to speak, once more, with the man he’d revered was a rare and precious joy.

  “Blackstone’s magic poisoned most within Vamp City,” he told his sire. “You most of all. He wanted the vampires to die from the inside out, from the souls out. And he almost succeeded. But most have now been healed.”

  “By the light,” Cristoff said with wonder. “A sun that does not burn.”

  Arturo’s brows rose in surprise even as he fought for his life. Quinn’s healing energy must be burrowing down, slowly freeing Cristoff’s soul.

  “The Healer’s magic heals us all. I had feared you lost.”

  “I am lost, my son.”

  “No. You’re healing.” But even as he said the words, the pain in his head became almost unbearable.

  “For so many years, I imagined I saw Little Cristoff in you,” his father said. “I think that’s why you have always been my favorite. I’ve never forgotten him, and often I hoped that he’d grown to be as fine a man as you.”

  Arturo heard the words, felt them soak into his heart, filling him with a rare and precious gladness even as he knew his own end was near. He was battling through instinct alone, unable even to see the glint of sword, now. The moment the monster reclaimed Cristoff, Arturo would be dead, he knew that. His strength was giving out. Even the power Quinn continued to blast through him, the power of her love, was not enough.

  He felt her desperation, her anguish, and though his strength was nearly gone, though the pressure squeezing his brain threatened to crush his mind any second now, he struggled to continue the fight.

  Without warning, the pressure on his brain ceased. With surprise, his vision returned just enough that he could see Cristoff stepping back, his face a mask of struggle.

  His father was giving him a chance to slay the monster!

  But before Arturo could swing at the neck of his sire, Cristoff turned Escalla on himself, driving it deep into his own heart.

  Arturo froze. “My liege!”

  Cristoff looked up, meeting his gaze with the eyes of the father he’d loved, eyes now filled with both pain and triumph. “I end this now. And the one does know.”

  As Arturo stared in stunned horror, Cristoff exploded, and with him, Escalla. In the same instant, all signs of the real world disappeared as if they had never been, all evidence of Cristoff’s pain world. Across the battlefield, the vampires and wolves roared with relief, finally able to renew their attacks on Cristoff’s mercenaries, free of pain.

  But the sky above was beginning to bleed, the ground rending, opening great fissures in the earth. Cristoff’s world had hastened the destruction of Vamp City, or perhaps only masked it. But it was all too apparent that Vamp City was in its death throes.

  Most of those on the battlefield, those who’d fought so valiantly to defeat evil, were still going to die.

  Chapter 51

  Quinn watched, stunned, as Cristoff turned his sword on himself and exploded, taking Escalla with him.

  She’d certainly never seen that coming.

  And suddenly, something swept through her, a release, as if all her life she’d lived with a band tight around her chest, a constriction she hadn’t even known was there. And now it was gone. And she could breathe.

  Elation swept through her, a relief of the soul, and with it a burst of energy, of power. With wonder, she understood. She’d just come into her Levenach magic. In dying, in destroying Escalla, Cristoff had broken the curse.

  Exclamations of surprise and delight burst quietly beneath the sounds of raging battle and she knew the other Levenach heirs must be feeling their own power for the very first time. Zack. Lily.

  She looked for her brother where she’d last seen him and he was gone. Searching, she quickly found that mass of curly red hair. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw him battling two of Cristoff’s guards. With a sword! Good grief, when had he learned to use a sword?

  Dear God, Zack. Must you be the hero? Now?

  Her muscles tensed with the need to race to his side, a need born of an instinct and love that had driven her for twenty-two years. But as she watched him wield the sword with skill, slicing off one of Cristoff’s guards’ heads, she checked that instinct once more. Zack had become a man. A warrior.

  Goosebumps lifted on her skin, a rush of pride.

  Turning her attention back to Arturo, she took off running. As if reading her mind, the wolves and vampires who’d been her protectors cleared a path for her, then created a barrier between her and the quickly falling remnants of Cristoff’s army as she ran straight at the man who’d, relentlessly and completely, claimed her heart.

  He turned toward her as she approached, his eyes shining, but his face as pale as she’d ever seen it. Before she could reach him, he sank to his knees and she knew he’d given all he had in that fight. Reaching him, she knelt before him sliding her hand around the back of his neck as she thrust her wrist against his mouth.

  “Drink.”

  “Amore.” Dark eyes stared at her with such wonder, blazed with such love, that she felt as if her heart wo
uld swell to bursting all over again. But he shook his head. “You are needed elsewhere. The world fails.”

  Damn, but he was right. She gripped his face in both hands and kissed him hard and fast. Pulling back, she met his gaze. “I love you.”

  “And I you. More than you know. Now, save them.”

  She nodded and jumped up, yelling, “Arturo needs blood!”

  The ground began to shake suddenly and so violently that she almost lost her footing. With a keening wail, the earth split apart, right through the middle of the battlefield, leaving a deep, black fissure in the ground.

  Quinn stared at it. “Someone get me to the Focus!”

  She didn’t see the vampire who swept her up, then two seconds later, deposited her on the ground just outside the dome of magic from which Phineas Blackstone had once created his vampire utopia, his vampire death trap. But the magic within had been badly corrupted by Cristoff’s. She’d hoped the dome would have returned to its more placid state once Cristoff left it, but instead, the violent green, gold, and black lightning bolts continued to fly every which way. And they were tearing the dome apart. It was beginning to shrivel!

  “Are you really going to walk into that?” Micah asked, apparently the one who’d carried her there.

  She glanced back at him. “I’m glad you made it,” she said with heartfelt relief. “Kass?”

  “He’s fine.” He glanced worriedly at that dome. “For the moment.”

  “I wonder if it will let me in now that I’ve come into my Levenach magic. I guess there’s one way to find out.”

  “Be careful, Quinn.”

  She threw him a rueful smile. “Since when have I ever been careful? Make sure Turo’s getting blood, please?” With that, she strode forward, her steps slowing as the dome’s energy reached out to her, stinging her flesh, which was nothing new. The Focus had never liked her. She was certain that once more it wouldn’t let her renew the magic without a fight. She just hoped it recognized her as a Blackstone heir, or at least a sorceress, and let her in at all.