The sound grew deeper, louder, paired with a devilish hiss that lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. Chains from the swing-set whined horribly with a rush of wind that blew hair in her face.
The man froze. His entire body stopped quivering. He’d dropped his keys at his feet, focus shifting slowly past Charlotte’s head and up near the top of the kid’s jungle-gym. His face, yellowish before, turned bone-white. His eyes filled with a new wave of panic as more desperate choking sounds slipped past his bloodied mouth.
Grubby fingers yanked a crucifix out from the front pocket of his grubby jeans. It dangled on the end of a long chain as he shoved it out in front of him, over Charlotte’s shoulder.
Then, she, too, peered over her shoulder, up at what captured the man’s attention.
A very tall shadow stood pin-straight—rigid and impassive—two human-looking feet balanced perfectly over the top rail of a metal jungle-gym painted cherry red. The figure eclipsed the streetlight, so all Charlotte could see was the silhouette of his hair sweeping past broad shoulders, hands at his sides with nails that made them look more like the talons of a predatory bird. The demonic light of his eyes— a reflective sort of silvery blue— shone through the gloom. His other angular features slid in and out of sight as overhanging branches from the pear tree broke the moonlight.
The rumbling, minatory hiss subsided. Again, there was nothing but wind, Charlotte’s pulse in her ears, and the man’s persistent, frantic garbles as he drowned in his own life.
Valek Ruzik leapt off the top of the monkey bars, landing on both feet like a cat. Though he was substantial, he barely made a sound. He straightened his knees, towering a whole head and shoulders taller than the two mortals, with wide shoulders but willowy limbs.
Charlotte’s heart fluttered. Her mouth went dry. His presence stole the air from her lungs. Graceful fingers and too many sharp teeth.
The man trembled so violently now she struggled to hold him, working to keep him pinned though her boots slipped backward in the pool of blood.
“What is he thinking?” she whispered at Valek behind her, out of breath. She stared pointedly at the crucifix as it dangled pathetically from the man’s extended arm.
“He is…afraid…for you,” Valek offered very quietly, the sound of his voice the same octave as the wind. “He wants… to warn you… behind you… stands the devil.”
Charlotte turned her eyes on the mortal man again, blinking away more tears.
“I know,” she said flatly to the man. “I called him here.”
A new hiss ripped through the air and Valek lunged too fast for Charlotte to see. She fell out of the way, collapsing back over sparse grass. A new gust of wind washed more hair into her eyes. Her gloves and the sleeves of her jacket were stained red. A single tear spilled down her cheek, rolling to the point of her chin as she watched Valek rip the blade out of the man’s neck catching the rest of his blood with his mouth.
Fear made her forget how cold the ground was beneath her. Her pulse was frenetic as she watched Valek drink up all the life from this person, claws winding in the man’s coat, their razor tips tearing through the material. He released a guttural, feral sound as he drank.
Growing up, it had been her duty to hunt other humans for him—to keep him satiated. He’d tasked her with the responsibility once she was old enough to fend for herself. Night after night, Charlotte, the Vampire’s ward, lured countless people just like herself to their fate so that Valek could feed…and not be tempted to feed on her while she lived under his care.
The single rule about it was, Charlotte must never witness Valek killing another person. Never. He forbade her from it—murdering in private—disposing of bodies where she’d never see them again. It was all he could do to protect her from the horrible truth. Even now, she knew he hated that she was close enough to watch him do it.
Valek finished the man, recoiling as gore clung to the lower half of his face. Drained, the body fell in a broken clump at Valek’s shoes. Wiping away the stains from his mouth with a gray sweater sleeve—more modern than his usual attire—Valek turned angry black eyes down at her, his enlarged pupil enveloping the rest of his eye entirely.
“Have you gone mad?” he accused in a quiet rasp, though offering a claw to help her up. “What do you think you’re doing out here?” He pulled her to her feet.
She grimaced. “I’m tired of being locked away in that house. I’m tired of listening to Lusian gripe and complain and eye me like a snack,” she sniffed bitterly down at her boots. “I needed some air.”
Valek held the kitchen knife in front of her face, shaking it. “This is going out for air, Charlotte? This is terrible!”
She could see he was furious with her, but he kept his tone low, glancing up at the darkened apartment windows.
She clenched her jaw. “I know. I-I’m sorry. It’s just…” She hugged herself, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame. It didn’t go quite as she imagined in her head. Her glare slid over to the empty man—the gaping wound in his neck now healing curiously from Valek’s venomous spit. She watched the flesh sew together impossibly. In moments, his neck appeared unscathed. “I missed it,” she forced out the words, the bridge of her nose stinging.
“Miss what? Killing people? We are free now. You do not have to do this. I told you.”
“You are not free. Not yet—”
Both his eyebrows knit together as he appraised her stained jacket and hands. “Lottie, I never wanted you to—”
“I just wanted to feel something again, Valek. Useful, I guess. Adrenaline. I don’t know. Something,” she said more exasperatedly and threw her arms out. She pushed out a long breath through her nose and sat on the shallow step before the door, not caring about the tracks of blood. Balancing her chin over the heel of her hand, she waited for him to scold her more.
Valek sighed and sat down next to her. He folded his claws together between his knees.
“You did not tell me you were going out.” His tone was still agitated, but solemn, suggesting his surrender.
“If I told you what I planned on doing, you would’ve forbidden it,” Charlotte grumbled. “Now that you can hunt for yourself, you don’t need me anymore.” She pushed a small pebble through the dirt with the front of her boot.
The corners of Valek’s full lips quirked up with some amusement. He ran a claw through her hair. “I cannot forbid you from doing anything. Not anymore. You’ve become quite the impossible woman.” The tiniest amount of humor clung to the edge of his words. “And… I will always need you.”
Charlotte smiled and finally met his eyes. They were their pale, undead shade of blue again. “Aren’t you angry?”
Valek looked down at the knife still in his hand and threw it deep into the park. It landed somewhere with a clang. “Yes. But I suppose I empathize.” He stared thoughtfully at the ground. Frost glittered between the cracks in the asphalt. “I was worried, Charlotte. It still isn’t safe beyond the borders. Our work isn’t done.”
“The Regime is preoccupied with rebuilding. No one’s looking for us.”
“You cannot be sure. Best to stay wary. Careful. You know how I feel about being too confident.” Valek pulled to his feet, offering his hand once more. “Take my advice. Stay vigilant. Do not get cocky.”
Charlotte glowered at him. This time, she stood up by herself.
“Next time you decide to steal out into the night as a ruthless assassin, would you do me the courtesy of warning me first at least?”
Charlotte’s heart sank into her stomach then and she frowned at him. “Sure,” she breathed. “Or…” A new thought unleashed a swarm of butterflies through her center. She smiled a little broader, nervous. “We could go back to our previous arrangement?”
Valek’s mouth tightened into a thin line and his whole body seemed to tense. “No.” He shook his head. “We’ve already had this conversation.”
“I miss you,” she admitted.
He chuckled half-heart
edly. “I am standing right in front of you. After everything, isn’t that enough?”
“You…know what I mean.” Charlotte’s cheeks blistered. She looked past him to the street beyond the buildings and shoved her hands in her pockets, embarrassed.
He pressed his cool palm to her cheek. “You’re blushing.” His smile grew larger, but his eyes remained thoughtful. “How lovely.”
She knocked his hand away, but couldn’t swallow her own awkward giggle. She bit her lower lip. “I miss you being…close to me. You know?”
His free hand held the other side of her face, fingers sliding into her hair, thumb stroking along the edge of her jaw.
“But I am close to you, Charlotte. Always.”
Chills rolled up her arms, but it wasn’t from the cold.
“Valek,” she muttered in an undertone.
It was difficult to reconcile how their had relationship changed. Now that they weren’t narrowly escaping death each night and life fell back to the calm and routine, certain things…regressed. Valek hadn’t been romantic with her since the night he’d opened his eyes after arriving home from Prague—
After the battle at the Regime palace, Valek had slept. For the first time in nearly a hundred years, he’d slept for days. But upon waking up, he seemed…more reserved…more distant. Charlotte didn’t complain. She was just happy they were both alive and together.
Valek watched her, deliberating.
Get out of my head, she warned.
“Lottie, please. Please? Let this go. I almost lost you. Several times. I never—I could never—” He craned his head back to blink up at the starless sky and sucked in a deep breath. He closed his eyes and exhaled before casting his piercing gaze down at her again. “It is better if we…if I…keep my distance. For now. Alright? Let’s go home. We can take the long way if you want. Just the two of us. But, please promise me you will not do this again.”
He wheeled back toward the drained sack of skin and bones, hauling it up in his arms. It was easy work for him. The way Valek moved made it seem like the body weighed nothing.
“What are you doing with him?” Charlotte winced as he carried the man over to the set of benches.
Valek laid him down over one bench, propping his right arm across his chest. He placed the bottle of liquor near the man’s other dangling hand. He reached into the man’s front pocket, pulling out a wallet and keys, stuffing the things instead into his own back pocket before grabbing hold of Charlotte’s hand and towing her out of there quickly.
“Just setting the scene,” Valek explained with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If his personal effects are missing, maybe local law enforcement will brand it as a simple mugging and not look so closely at his exsanguinated body.”
Charlotte considered that as they walked together, hand in claw. Valek looked handsome and considerably normal if not for the otherworldly color of his eyes and the sharp sets of incisors past his lips. At first glance, he would just look to anyone like the most beautiful man in the world; high cheekbones, a full mouth with corners that turned down in an eternal pout, intense eyes. But if someone looked closer, it would become obvious what he really was.
“I like that scarf,” Charlotte offered regarding the deep red material wrapped twice around his neck.
But his smile was fleeting. Dark brown hair fell into his face and he pushed it away behind one white ear.
The suburban street led down a hill where damp pavement forked off into a narrower path of cobblestone. Valek kept her close as they moved between much older buildings, closed bakeries, floral shops with snow-filled window boxes. Mortal townships weren’t so much different than her city of impossible things, Charlotte decided.
This village had a church. Oddly enough, one of its arched, wooden doors had been left yawning. Valek slowed a bit, leering at it curiously.
Charlotte frowned at him.
“Would you mind if—” Valek started his question but didn’t wait for her answer before he let go of her hand and disappeared into the modest cathedral.
“Hey,” she called, but he’d already slipped out of sight.
Charlotte stayed out in the quietness of early morning, arms wrapped around herself, waiting. She wondered what he was doing.
“Valek,” she whispered when he didn’t return after a few minutes. He didn’t answer. “Valek?” she hissed a little louder, glancing around herself.
When he still didn’t answer, she sighed exhaustedly and trudged up to the cathedral entry to see where he’d gone to.
Though it was dim inside, she could see the cheery canary-yellow of the walls. Vaulted ceilings towered high over polished pews and gilded shrines where elaborate, baroque depictions of Jesus Christ and the Virgin were fixed before the pulpit and around the cathedral’s long perimeter. She crept a little deeper inside, a red runner stretching all the way up the aisle.
Charlotte couldn’t tell if she liked churches or not. It was beautiful, but being there felt strange. Valek was very, very old, and so it made sense that despite his damned existence, he clung to a few of his catholic ideals. He’d taught her some about theologies during their lessons, especially on Sundays. Not just Christianity—everything—all sorts of religions. Even occult ones. But for some reason, Valek never discussed his own personal faith in things.
Charlotte recalled a conversation they’d had some weeks ago about his late, mortal wife, guardian angels, God, and other such things.
After being captured by Aiden and the Regime, for the first time in Charlotte’s life, she prayed.
It was a weird feeling; half of her felt like she was talking to no one, the other half maybe talking to someone very far away—like they were listening, but could barely hear her.
“Valek?” she whispered again, her heart hammering a little harder when she saw no one.
Then came a faint murmuring near the first row of pews. She strained to see through the darkness, but there in the second row, she saw Valek’s head bowed over folded claws.
“Valek,” she whispered nervously, looking around again. “We should go. Someone might be here.”
It was an odd sight, she thought, to see a demon asking something of God. She assumed he was speaking to God.
As she approached where he sat, he finished, blessing himself. For some reason, the sight made her feel awkward. He stood, smiling brighter than before at her.
“Alright. Ready to go?” He sidled out into the aisle, his long, cold fingers lacing between hers again.
“What were you doing?” she asked.
He looked up at a large depiction of Jesus over his shoulder. “What did it look like I was doing?”
Charlotte was taken aback. This was a human church. In a human village. Praying was something humans did. Valek looked so…out of place, like he should have been beyond all of that, but he wasn’t.
“Well…I mean…why? I’m sorry. That’s an invasive question. I’ve just never seen you…do that…before. I guess.”
“I talk to God all the time, Charlotte,” he said, his smile strained and incredulous again.
She inhaled, her mind spinning. “I…didn’t know.”
“I think there must still be a lot you don’t know about me,” he admitted, his expression serious but his eyes warm.
“Must be,” she returned awkwardly.
He considered her for a moment. “I needed to ask His forgiveness… for you.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“You killed for me tonight, Charlotte,” he said sternly, wincing. “And this time, I did not ask you to do it. You murdered a man and the decision was of your own free will. The man was innocent. But I take responsibility. I could have hunted for myself tonight. You were just doing what you thought I needed. I will do anything to protect you, body and soul. Anything. Do you understand?”
Charlotte’s chest constricted. Her heart suddenly felt heavy. She didn’t know what to say.
“My soul is beyond saving,” he continu
ed. “But if I can help it, yours will stay graceful. If I request something awful of you, I will assume the accountability. Alright?”
Charlotte nodded slowly.
“Please, do not ever do this again unless I ask it of you—unless it is an emergency.”
“Sure. I’m—I shouldn’t have done it.” She looked again to the blood still drying on her gloved hands. “I’m sorry.”
He pinched her cheek lightly between the knuckles of his index and middle finger—something he used to do when she was small. “It’s alright. Come, let’s go home.”
She followed him back out onto the narrow street. Overhead, some of the smoggy clouds cleared, allowing a few stars to peek through.
“Actually…where are we? Silesia? I do not know this town,” she heard him say as he walked slightly ahead of her.
She rushed to catch up. “Yeah, we’re pretty far. The witches placed an entry over near the old barricade walls. Before the main road.”
Witches, whoever remained in their Bohemian Occult City after the uprising, worked together to ensure that creatures of the Dark would remain safe inside the city borders. They’d pulled their powers and their resources, standing together to hex invisible barricades all along the verge of town. No one or nothing seeking to do harm could enter past the enchanted barriers. Charms would redirect them, confuse them, hurt them…badly, or worse. Anyone left from the Regime could not enter—not under any circumstance. It was Sarah’s idea. The only way in or out was through hidden entries placed all around the country, and even a few in Slovakia and Poland in the event they’d need to flee.
“Clever, clever,” Valek chided.
“It opens right up to the alley before the spell shop and the Witch’s boarding house.”
Valek nodded, his eyes going distant, some light within them fading. For once, she knew what he was thinking. The spell shop. Evangeline.
Aiden wasn’t the only enemy left alive. The Witch had once been a friend, though she quickly became a traitor when faced with a tough decision: Her life or her loyalty?
Of Blood and Magic Page 2
