by Anne Schlea
With nothing else to do, he picks up his cell phone and dials Britta. She picks up with the efficiency of most valkyrie. “Yes?”
“She’s awake.” He finds he doesn’t have the energy for niceties, either. His own body feels as beaten and bruised as Runa’s in the next room; it’s a fight not to slide into a chair and crumble.
“Good. That’s good.” Britta sounds like she’s walking; he can hear wind in the background. She’s outside. “I’m heading your way. Torhild will want a sentry nearby. If I can get there first, I’ll be able to force her to let me take the post. Don’t tell anyone else until I get there.”
“Torhild can force you?” Kristoff frowns, his focus shifting to politics. Valkyrie have no leaders, how can Torhild force anyone to do anything? “I thought your race didn’t have any kind of leadership structure.”
“None that you know of.” She hesitates, making Kristoff wonder if for once he’ll get a straight answer about something. Maybe an explanation for their terrifying tie on Runa’s personal life. “I don’t know how much of our world Runa let you see but be wary of Torhild. She’s vicious and violent. She’ll see what happened to Runa as a mark of Runa’s weakness. Our kind don’t let the weak survive; one frail member weakens the whole race. Be careful if she gets there first.”
“My god.” He understands the message Britta is sending. Torhild will probably try to kill Runa. He’s going to need more vampire guards if he has any hope of protecting her from her own sisters.
“Not yours.” He can hear the grim smile on the other end of the phone. “Or mine. Freyja is the ruler of death and war, but also love. I think Torhild forgets the love part, instead focusing on the death part. We’re not all heartless creatures who only fight to rule, Kristoff. I’m heading your way.”
The phone goes dead.
Kristoff walks to the window to glance outside. The trees outside are as still as statues. Wherever Britta is coming from, it isn’t nearby. He steps out onto the balcony. He can hear the cars running down Peachtree Street on the other side of the building, mortal beings going about their daily routine unknowing that his whole world is crashing around him. The sun is glinting off the windows of other buildings; it doesn’t reach his door this time of day.
Idly, he wonders what time it is. Morning? No, the sun has moved too far to the west. It must be early afternoon. He should eat something. Real food not bottled blood. If he allows himself to get out of the habit of eating, his strength will start to waver, something Runa can’t afford right now.
It seems he needs to be able to protect her not only from the nosferatu, but also from her own sisters.
He thinks about ordering from the kitchen downstairs, but the thought of staying in this suite is too much. He needs to get outside. He needs to get away from Dinah and Runa, he’s too close to storming back into that room. Having her out of his sight is almost more than he can stand.
Kristoff sends a text to Dinah, letting her know where he’s going in case there’s an emergency. He won’t go far. One of the restaurants on the street near the hotel will be fine. Close enough to return quickly. Far enough away to keep him from bothering Dinah while she cares for Runa.
Next, he notifies his guard to take up positions near the suite. He’s not running the risk that someone might come for Runa while he’s gone. Extras are called in to take positions on the balcony and inside the suite. It’s a small army, hopefully enough to deter Torhild if she decides to show up.
The valkyrie have never warred with the vampires; he’s never had to think about how to stop one before. Today, he’s hoping enough men with traditional ammunition will do it. The valkyrie may not be slowed down by electricity, but surely a lead bullet to the head will do it.
The street in front of his hotel is a busy one. One of Atlanta’s main streets, Peachtree meanders from the northern most districts all the way south of the city, mostly running parallel to the interstate. The city itself isn’t laid out in a logical manner. No mass transit successfully connects the various districts, so the city ended up with several neighborhoods – each with its own flavor.
Kristoff had been watching the Atlanta market for some time, anticipating the vampire seat of power to move to Georgia as Antonia and Zartan solidify their families and their strength. Change is coming, he’d mused, and he could see the powerful mated pair of vampires being the center of that change.
Like Italy and Madrid had been in the past, Atlanta will now become in the present.
When the hotel came up for sale, he took full advantage of the seller’s hurry to move on and purchased the building – business and all. To the average human consumer, no one would have noticed the change of ownership. To the supernatural world, there’s a new vampire in town.
He likes this location. Close to the interstate, the hotel is easy to get to and get away from. One of the more spectacular theaters is nearby and a selection of small, acceptable restaurants are within walking distance of his building. There are no parks anywhere nearby, but that’s what the close access to the interstate and his motorcycle are for. The gateway to a vast wilderness is only an hour to the north.
Kristoff has lived most of his life in his Russian fortress, surrounded by wilderness. Trips to metropolitan areas are short and infrequent. Life in this city is different, something he will need to grow accustom to.
Stepping onto the street, Kristoff wonders momentarily what day of the week it is. Time had ceased to mean anything after Runa’s disappearance. He’d taken a business call this morning, so it must be a weekday. The traffic on the street shows it. No tourists, no afternoon matinee at the theater. The lights show an evening performance. He looks at it with a start. He remembers when the advertisements went up for the show. He’d asked Runa if she’d like to attend and she said no, she’d be gone from Atlanta by then.
How many weeks ago had that been?
He steps across the threshold of a draft house and accepts a seat near the window. From here, he can keep his eyes on the front of the hotel. Paranoid? Sure. He’ll own paranoid.
The waitress sets a brew in front of him with a promise his food will be up soon. He barely registers her face in his mind, he’s too deep in thought.
When did things change?
Runa had been missing for a week before Stephanie and Arthur left for Russia. During that time, Kristoff had been aware of her absence, but hadn’t thought too much about it at first. Disappearing is part of Runa’s norm, although leaving without a final goodbye is not. He’d assumed she was on her own and would turn up eventually.
Midway through preparations to move Stephanie and Arthur through his territory to the land of the maji, his discomfort and Runa’s absence turned to panic. He admits at that time he became distracted and unable to act as part of the team. The maji took over the transportation, leaving Kristoff to search.
For days, he patrolled the streets of Atlanta alone, searching for Runa’s energy signature. He truly tried to find her and had even been in the neighborhood she’d been held in. But she was too weak, and he’d gone too long without her blood to properly track her. Had he drunk a reasonable amount from her the night before the raid, he would have been able to find her. Maybe. But they were being careful.
Would he let that happen again?
Not if he can help it. Something in their relationship is going to have to change. He doesn’t know how, or how Runa will take it, but he can’t do this again. The not knowing. The fear. That machine is out there, make no illusions, it was built once so it can be built again.
Had he taken her blood during their last night together as would have been normal if they were in a conventional relationship, he’d have found her before so much damage had been done. Maybe he couldn’t have saved her from all of it, but he could have saved her from some.
Maybe he could have gotten to her before the men she was with understood how helpless she’d become. Before they understood the way they could take advantage of a helpless valkyrie.
Four weeks.
Two weeks longer than the time he usually spends with Runa. Their visits are fast, passionate, and over too quickly. Something else he needs to change. He wants more, more from life, more from her. Too many centuries like this have made him hurt, made him softer. Four weeks of his fears coming before his empire.
Four hundred years ago, he’d be dead by now with this level of distraction.
The real question is, how will he convince Runa to change with him?
Chapter 5
“We need to talk about the Council.” Zartan’s voice draws everyone’s attention.
They’ve gathered again at Kristoff’s suite, mostly because no one wants to leave Runa alone and Kristoff isn’t going to leave anyway. Britta’s arrival confirmed what they had already deduced. The machine had drained Runa’s powers, drained her to the point of humanity. Meaning, Runa is essentially a human until she can rebuild her internal power supply.
On very shaky legs, and refusing to let Kristoff carry her, she’d moved from the bed to the living room today. Now she sits on the sofa, her legs drawn up under her, a warm blanket wrapped around her body and a mug of hot tea cupped in her hands.
Kristoff wants to go to her, to sit on the arm of the sofa behind her, but he knows she won’t respond well to that. He sits instead on the closest chair to her, leaning toward her. It isn’t perfect, but it’s an improvement from the distraction he’d suffered from the last few weeks. At least he can see her and keep her within arm’s reach for now.
The rest of their meeting had taken up empty seats around the room. Zartan, Antonia, Dinah, and Joseph – one of the other males in Dinah’s family. He’d flown in from Charleston only last night, as a stand in for Dinah’s second in command, Damian, who declined to come. Damian has recently married his human wife in a mortal ceremony and isn’t anxious to bring her into a war zone.
Also hanging out, her long legs draped over the side of the sofa next to Runa, is Britta.
“I agree.” Kristoff looks over at Britta and wonders if Zartan is comfortable talking with her in the room or how they’ll ditch her if he isn’t.
The valkyrie had arrived a few hours after his phone call. She’d taken up a kind of residence inside his suite, and although she shares a dozen irritating habits with her sisters, she had managed to keep rest of the valkyrie at bay. Britta would disappear for a few hours at a time; Kristoff surmised those times were to return to her own nest to rest or to give reports to the rest of her sisters that he’s sure are hovering nearby.
“I’m out.” She grabs her cell phone off the table and makes her way toward the door. “I wouldn’t talk valkyrie business in a room full of vamps. You don’t have to find a polite way to tell me to shove off, I get it.”
Britta stops at the door and pins Runa with a hard look. “Call me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”
Runa bobs her head one time and watches the door close behind her sister. She starts to shift under her blanket, her body relaxing. It seems Britta’s presence is making her nervous. “Do you want me to leave, too?”
“No.” Kristoff’s response is stronger than he intends.
Zartan looks at him with a raised eyebrow and then glances at Runa.
She shrugs and settles back down on the sofa. She doesn’t seem to be in the mood to argue about anything. Glancing at Zartan over the top of her mug, she sips her tea and keeps quiet.
“What are your thoughts?” Kristoff forces himself to relax back into his chair, away from Runa. He shifts the chair closer to the sofa; she doesn’t protest so he shifts it a little more.
Zartan pushes up from his own chair and paces across the room. He works through his own thoughts, taking his time before he speaks. Now, in times of war, isn’t the time to speak quickly or without completely thinking each thought through.
Kristoff doesn’t press. The words they speak in the next few minutes could change the course of their race forever.
“We should start with a summit.” He looks up and meets Kristoff’s eyes. A nod of his head firms the thought. “Yes, a summit, a meeting with all vampire nations.”
“In Italy? Spain?” While Italy is the traditional stronghold of several vampire clans, clans that are now bound together through matings and blood, Spain is the unofficial home of the Vampire Council. Or was, at least, until it dissolved after World War Two.
Torn apart by the persecution of the Nazis, vampires had been held, tortured, and killed in concentration camps. Terrible medical experiments tried to replicate body parts and create life from the lifeless using vampires as helpless prototypes. What the Nazi’s didn’t understand was the necessity for biological contamination – the passing of the vampire virus – to complete the transition. Instead, they simply ended up with a lot of dead subject humans.
Medical experimentation is not a new development in the war among immortals.
Joseph is one of the few humans turned vampire from those terrible days in Germany. Taken to a camp as a mortal victim, he emerged at the end of the war as a vampire under Damian’s protection. He was embraced by Dinah’s clan and has remained as Damian’s advisor and close friend ever since.
“Here. Georgia.” Zartan gestures around the room. “Antonia and I both seat our clans here. You’ve bought property and brought some of your people here. Dinah visits as much, and Charleston isn’t that far away. Marcus is in Nevada. It makes sense to have it here on this continent.”
“Are you sure the others are going to willingly come into your territory?” Kristoff raises an eyebrow. It’s not a surprising position for Zartan to take, it isn’t even unexpected. However, he can’t imagine some of their brethren being willing to come unarmed this deep into another clan’s territory. If he didn’t trust explicitly Zartan, he never would have willingly put himself under Zartan’s watch.
Spain had always been a neutral territory, making Madrid a perfect location. Safe, uncontested, unallied land.
“I’ll pick somewhere far enough from the city to make it neutral.” Zartan looks at Kristoff like he knows what he’s thinking. Maybe he does. “Some might think it’s a power play for control of the Council. There’s a war and it started here. This is where we need to meet, otherwise we leave our boundaries open to the nosferatu. We can’t abandon our lands with the nosferatu on the attack.”
“Very true.” Kristoff watches Zartan pace to the balcony door and look out.
“What are your sisters’ feelings on this war?” He turns and looks at Runa on the sofa. “Are they planning on picking a side, or are they just hanging out until they can haul you out of here?”
Kristoff casts Runa a sidelong glance. Questions he’d like to know the answers to himself.
She shrugs her shoulders and pulls at the black yoga pants around her feet. “I don’t know. Wish I did.”
“You have no idea if they’ll join in?” Zartan doesn’t seem to believe her and Kristoff can’t blame him. After what had happened to Runa, it seems illogical that the rest of her sisters won’t pick up the fight against the nosferatu. Unfortunately, he’s seen their disinterest in Runa up close and personal.
“We’re solitary fighters.” She releases the leg of her pants to tug the blanket closer around her, a signal to Kristoff that she’s hiding fear. “We get into trouble on our own and get out of it on our own. To join a fight like this is almost unheard of. I honestly don’t know what the rest of them will do. They’re like Switzerland that way. Only they hate everyone instead of trying to be friends with everyone.”
“I have a hard time believing your race is as solitary as you’d have us believe.” He studie
s her carefully, his brow drawn together, looking at her like she’s a complicated puzzle he needs to solve. “I’ve heard stories, about the Demon Wars, when a legion of valkyrie came to fight. Was that just talk? A legend made up over time?”
Runa’s face shifts, somehow losing focus for a brief moment. If Kristoff didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was lost in memory, her eyes looking at the carpet but not. She shakes it off, her shoulders settling back against the back of the sofa. Somehow, she looks more alive, stronger. “I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there.”
“Because you weren’t born yet?” Zartan walks toward her. He’s digging for something, a piece of information from the wars. Kristoff can’t guess what he’s getting at or what it has to do with the here and now.
“I didn’t say that.” She looks up at him, her eyes narrowing. Kristoff feels a spike in her energy. “When did this become an interrogation, Dragon? I thought you were here to discuss the problems in your race, not mine.”
“It isn’t an interrogation.” His eyes glance to Kristoff. “I’d like to know who’s our ally and who might stab us in the back, that’s all.”
“Runa has stood with us since the beginning, Zartan.” Kristoff moves to stand between them. He keeps his voice low, calm, but his intent is clear to everyone in the room. He’s going to toss anyone out on their ear who challenges her. “Her loyalty to us is not in question, and Britta has done nothing but help us since she got here.”
“I find you entertaining. I wouldn’t call that loyal.” Runa’s voice calls out behind him, making Kristoff cringe. Now isn’t the time for her sarcasm to find its way back. Doesn’t she know that’s only going to antagonize Zartan?
Kristoff looks up at Zartan, prepared to fight on Runa’s behalf, and finds the other man grinning. He looks around Kristoff’s body and winks at her. “That’s a girl. Start getting that fight back. You’re going to need it, we all know Torhild’s coming back to town eventually. I might trust you, but I don’t trust her.”
