Lightbringer (Silverlight Book 4)

by Laken Cane

  His glance was expectant, as though I should understand what remained unspoken. And I did.

  “He’ll want to feed from me,” I said, shuddering.

  “Perhaps,” he murmured.

  “He needs to leave Willow-Wisp,” I said. “Shouldn’t he return to the other members of the council, wherever they are, and help them whip unruly vampires into submission?”

  He frowned, angry at my flippancy. “Do not interfere with an elder, or presume that you might,” he rebuked. “Your status will allow you much, but not even I could stop an elder if he decided to punish you.” There was something stern and dark in his black stare, but there was also a spark of concern. “You must understand this.”

  He reached out and before I could move, he touched my forehead. Immediately, something that had been unfinished inside me rushed to completeness.

  I shivered and my entire body tightened with terror and immediate realization. My men hadn’t really grasped the danger, or they would never have asked me to expel the ancient vampire.

  Amias had known, though.

  Now, I did, as well.

  Whatever had failed to flourish inside my vampire body was now alive and aware. There was fear, respect, and even a certain freedom in the knowledge.

  The elders were my gods. My rulers. I belonged to them, and I would obey them. In all ways and for eternity.

  Just as all the vampires would.

  And the elders would take care of me.

  They had returned, and the world was changed.

  At least, that was how I should have felt—and I did, until the rebellious rifter, enemy of the vampire, rose up to dispute the issue.

  Still, I was not a stupid woman.

  “Yes,” I murmured. “I understand.”

  Once again, he urged me away from the elder’s clearing. “The elder has relinquished his post as way station guardian. The path walkers are once again yours, my dear.”

  I nodded, then changed the subject. “The executioners are coming. The dragon won’t run.”

  He said nothing, just walked on, his spine straight. He didn’t want to discuss the executioners or the dragon, apparently. Not with me, anyway.

  He looked well. Healthy. His hair was flowing and bright, as bright as his little raisin eyes, and his stride rivaled mine.

  I didn’t understand.

  “Sir,” I said, as we left the graveyard, “the last time I saw you, you were…”

  He smiled. “Poorly?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was dying and filled with useless reluctance to feed and heal myself. But it is not yet time for me to sink into the softness of my eternal bed.”

  I didn’t ask how he’d healed himself. How one minute he was near collapse and now he appeared stronger than ever. “Where’s Nadine?” I asked, instead.

  I glanced at him when he didn’t reply, then gasped and clutched his arm. “Sir?”

  He’d shriveled, in the instant of my question, into a dark, grief-filled, faded old man. He didn’t answer my question, and I wasn’t going to ask again.

  I had a bad feeling that I knew where Nadine was.

  I didn’t know the half of it.

  “I consumed her,” he murmured, finally. “And though it was expected—indeed, demanded—by my dear Nadine, I was weak and deprived myself until it was very nearly too late.”

  I felt myself go pale. “You…ate her?”

  “Yes. She was a vessel of power and life, and her only true purpose was to take care of me. When I neared my end, she gave herself so that I might live on.”

  There was no guilt in the admission, just grief.

  I could only gape.

  “It was why she existed, Trinity,” he said, gently. “When she gave herself over to me, she understood that one day, she would die so my power would survive.”

  I would never look at the King of Everything the same way again.

  “I didn’t say goodbye,” I murmured. “She scared me, she irritated me, and I didn’t care for her. But…”

  “She’s part of me now.” He stopped walking and turned to face me. “She will hear your goodbye.”

  “So you’ll never have to…” I gestured. “Do that again with someone else?”

  His stare sharpened. “I will. I must acquire another assistant soon. I was waiting for you.”

  I took a step back. “No.”

  So this was the decision the elder had been talking about. On the plus side, he’d said decision like I had a choice. And if I had a choice…

  “No,” I said again, and more firmly, just in case he hadn’t understood me the first time.

  He was a few inches shorter than me, but his presence was so overwhelming he might have been a giant. He stared down his nose. “It is a great honor. You shall be the female to my male, the coal to my fire. You will be gifted with huge amounts of power, as Nadine was, and you will assist the King of Everything with all his needs.”

  I swallowed hard. My throat was so tight I could barely speak, but finally, with the weight of his arrogance crushing the life from me, I began to rebel. To get angry.

  And I could thank the rifter for that.

  “I'm not willing to be eaten by a man so he can keep his power.”

  His own anger began to rise, rolling from him in waves, but beneath it was stark disappointment. “It is an unmatched honor. You will be part of me and will rule forever.”

  I put my hands on my hips. The longer I stared into his black eyes, the angrier I got, and the easier it was to stand up to him. “Yeah? Let me eat you then. I'd rather rule that way.”

  He clenched his fists. “The master has left you no honor.”

  “The master has left me no fear.” And I turned on my heel and marched away from him, leaving him to stare after me with his lonely desperation.

  He would find someone else.

  He’d have to. Or he could die.

  Chapter Fifteen

  DONORS

  I walked into the kitchen and paused in the doorway, my sad stare on the empty table. No men were gathered around it, laughing and boasting and eating. The large, once warm kitchen was just quiet and stale.

  Then Angus walked in behind me and the entire room brightened.

  “You okay?” he asked, watching me. He understood my melancholia. “The future will be good. We all just have to fall into our roles.”

  “We have to deal with the executioners,” I said. “Once they’re no longer a problem, we’ll be okay.” I looked at him. “Won’t we?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Of course we will, Trin.”

  Jin crept into the kitchen and went to his stove. “I will cook for those who can eat.”

  “Thanks, Jin,” Angus said.

  “Jin and Trin,” the Jikininki said, and giggled.

  Angus lifted an eyebrow.

  But I was abruptly overwhelmed by the quiet and the absence of people. I did not like the cold, silent kitchen. It depressed the hell out of me. “We need more people, Angus.” I clutched his hand. “Bring the children.”

  “Okay,” he agreed, but when he reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone, it rang. “It’s Leo.”

  He listened for a few seconds. “We’ll be there.” He hung up and looked at me. “Leo says Amias is in the city, and humans are gathering. He wants us there. Now that you’re ready—”

  “I can help court the humans.”

  “Yeah. We’ve been inching our way toward them, but Leo says Amias wants to bite one of them tonight.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “That’s risky.” But I shivered. “Maybe I can bite one, as well.”

  He peered at me. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or being serious.”

  I laughed. “Maybe a bit of both. Jin, my sword.”

  But biting a human wasn’t really a joking matter. If I bit one, I could turn him—immediately. At least that was what Amias and I believed. I could test the theory eventually, and I would. If my bite created more rifters, I could drink from
only humans I wanted to kill. Unless I wanted to build my own little army.

  I stared into space, my eyes narrowed, thinking.

  “Trin?”

  I jerked my attention away from the possibilities and took Angus’s hand. “I’m ready.”

  I was happy enough to have something to take my mind off my sudden dejection. A girl needed a purpose—just not one that entailed being munched on by Himself.

  When Jin returned with Silverlight, he held a sheath, as well. It was old and ugly, but it would do until I could find a proper one. I slung it over my shoulder, then went with Angus to court the humans of Red Valley.

  In the end I ran all the way to the city, unable to make myself get into the confining hunk of metal that Angus drove. Soon, maybe.

  We stood, vampires and supernaturals, in the city square, and humans stood around us, unsure, but I could almost smell their excitement.

  “We’ll always protect the city,” Amias said. “We will always protect you.”

  The human crowd watched us, some of them more suspicious and angry than others, their faces pale, bodies stiff. Hope peeked through, nonetheless. They wanted to believe. They knew they needed us.

  Could they trust us to take care of them?

  Yeah, they could. Even if they weren’t sure of that fact, they needed to believe it. And they were primed and ready for us to make them believe it.

  “We’ll be your bodyguards,” Jade Noel told them. She’d been standing beside Amias when I’d arrived. She stood with her arms crossed, confident and bold, and there wasn’t a single human there who didn’t believe Jade could kick his ass.

  We’d traded nods when I arrived—nods that were almost friendly. “Where’s your sidekick?” I’d asked. It wasn’t often Jade Noel was seen without Amanda Hammer by her side.

  Worry softened her hard gaze. “She’s in the Deluge.”

  I frowned. “Amanda’s been hurt?”

  The Deluge was a swamp at the far edge of Bay Town, a place of healing for the supernaturals. The reclusive healer Sarah Marston and her two sisters lived deep inside the swamp, and though I’d never been there, I’d heard the stories.

  Not all of them were good, but there was one thing the supernats agreed on. Sarah Marston could help you—supernatural or not.

  The problem was convincing her she should.

  “She’s fallen ill,” Jade answered, and that was all she was willing to tell me.

  Excitement hung in the air and mixed with the scent of hot dogs, popcorn, and perfume. Beneath that was a subtler scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. People shivered and pulled their coats a little tighter around them. They stood in little groups as uniformed policemen threaded their way through the crowds, ready for trouble.

  “It’s like a county fair,” I muttered.

  “Maybe one in an alternate universe,” Alejandro said, grinning.

  He’d arrived with Rhys, but Jamie Stone was conspicuously absent. I didn’t ask after the warden’s son. Al would take care of him.

  My men spread out behind me, silent and watchful. “We understand the importance of keeping the humans safe,” Leo said, his voice rumbling out into the chilly night air. “If you allow it, we will protect you with our lives.”

  “You matter to us,” I told them. “This is our city, too. You are our people, and we won’t let anyone harm you.”

  They looked at each other, uneasy, but needing to feel secure. It had been months since the rifters had torn the city apart, but the humans were still shell-shocked, full of grief, and looking for some comfort.

  And with the executioners coming, we needed the humans on our side more than we ever had.

  Amias stepped forward, and as one, they recoiled, tiny sparks of fear flaring in their eyes.

  “Vampires,” a man called. “You want us to trust the vampires.”

  “Yes,” I said, leaving the line to stand beside the master. “You’ve already begun to accept them. Now you need to trust them. Trust us.”

  “I and my vampires will protect you from future attacks,” Amias told them. “We will keep the city safe at night. The supernaturals will keep it safe during the day. You will be protected. We will not hurt you.”

  “They have already protected us,” a woman said. “They killed the rifters. Trinity Sinclair is one of us, and she now stands with them. We need our own supernatural protectors. Other cities have them.”

  Heaven help me if they found out I was a rifter.

  “Vampires eat people,” another woman said, but she shrank back even as she said it, as though Amias might fly into a rage and attack her. “You have to eat people.”

  “No,” he said gently. “We need to sip your precious blood, but only a little. We do not eat you.”

  “Think of it as being a blood donor,” Jade said.

  “Do we get paid for it?” a human asked. She was an older, grandmotherly type, and she did not shrink away when Amias looked at her. “I think we should get paid if we donate our blood.”

  “You will get paid for it,” Jade answered, and there was only a whisper of anger in her words. I doubted the humans even noticed. “You’ll get paid for it in protection. In order to protect you, the vampires need to eat.” She hesitated. “I mean, to sip.”

  “So you expect us to let the vampires just grab us out of the shadows and bite us?”

  The captain held up a hand.

  No, not captain.

  Mayor.

  I needed to remember that.

  He’d gotten what he wanted, but so had we, really. Crawford would help create a city of peace. He’d work toward a city where the humans and supernats lived together in harmony, and he wouldn’t allow the supernats to be abused.

  I hoped.

  I really hoped.

  I was one of them now, and I would not stand by and watch as they were hurt. When I’d been human, I hadn’t had a lot of choices. But now I was a vampire, and I could rip off heads with the best of them.

  “The vampire council has returned,” Crawford said. “The very council that gave up their freedom and their lives to protect us from the rifters. The vampires will be policed by this council. Believe me, their punishments if they step out of line or cause harm to you is worse than any punishment you can imagine. The vampires are not going to take your blood without your permission.”

  “Who the hell,” a boisterous man yelled, “is going to give the bloodsuckers permission?”

  The crowd began muttering and nodding, their fear masquerading as anger. They didn’t want to feel as though they had no control. I understood that.

  “Things have changed,” Crawford told them. “You no longer have to live in fear of the vampires. If they’re taken care of, they will take care of us. Plans are already underway for a club on Montgomery Street, one in Bay Town, and one inside the Sunset Mill Hotel. Some of you spend a lot of your weekends in the club on Park Street. Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying yourselves.”

  “Clubs,” a man said doubtfully. “I haven’t gone into any vampire clubs.”

  “You should try it out,” I told him, “before it gets expensive.”

  “What do they do there?” another older woman asked, clutching her purse. “I haven’t been there. I heard it’s dangerous.”

  “It’s not so dangerous,” I said. “It’s a place where you can go for a few drinks, some dancing, and an opportunity to share your blood with those who need it.”

  “A place where you can get to know the vampires as individuals,” Rhys said.

  “Vampire clubs,” Jade said. “Feeding clubs. And believe me, once you’re bitten, you’ll want to go back for more.”

  “Allow me to demonstrate,” Amias said. “May I have a volunteer?”

  The crowd gasped. “Fuck, no!” someone shouted.

  But a woman, maybe thirty years old, stepped from the crowd of humans. “I’ll volunteer,” she said.

  Amias held out a hand. “Thank you.”

  She smiled, a little nervous,
but mainly excited. She was attracted to Amias—with my newly heightened senses, I could smell her desire. And despite the fact that those were the types of humans we needed, I had to force down a sudden wave of jealousy. Possessiveness.

  He was mine.

  Amias looked at me, ever aware of my emotions. His smile was tiny. And pleased. Then he put his dark stare back on the volunteer. She gave him her hand and he pulled her to him, then brushed her hair away from her neck.

  “Will it hurt?” she asked, breathless.

  “Oh, no,” he said, his voice smooth and creamy. “No, it will not hurt.”

  My heart slammed against my rib cage, and my stomach tightened with the knowledge of what was about to happen. What he was about to do to her.

  For her.

  I trembled with the force of my emotions but stood still and silent as he drew her into his arms.

  “What is your name?” he asked, his eyes only for her.

  She swallowed hard as she stared up at him, then clenched her hands together, likely to keep them from shaking. “Alicia.”

  “Alicia,” he murmured. And her name on his lips was everything good, everything dark, everything sex.

  She began to shiver.

  I looked away—I had to look away because I didn’t yet have the control I would eventually grow into, and I couldn’t trust that I might not rip her out of his arms and bash her head off the ground—and found Crawford watching me.

  Stuck for a second in the mystery of his gaze, my automatic instinct was to catch him. To mesmerize him.

  His eyes widened and he jerked his stare away. I groaned silently, humiliated, angry, frustrated.

  I hated that I was a baby vampire.

  The only baby I wanted to be was Shane’s baby hunter.

  But Shane was gone.

  When he’d realized his situation, that he was no longer Shane Copas, vampire hunter but Shane Copas, vampire, he’d gone a little crazy.

  Almost the very moment Amias released us from “the womb,” the dark burrow in the ground where he’d fed us like baby birds and coddled us like infants, transforming us from dead human to living vampire, Shane had fled.

  Our growth had been accelerated, and it was a good thing, because up top, as I’d begun to think of the world, we were needed.