Drawn to the Vampire (Blood and Absinthe, Book 4) (18 page)

If that happened, there would be no one left to protect Kit.

The goddess was furious. “How
dare
you,” she spat out. “I’ll send you to the torture chambers, and you will know such pain as no demon has ever suffered. I’ll visit you there myself, Luke, and inflict such agony upon you—”

“Save your breath,” Luke said calmly, before raising his voice to call out, “True rulers of the underworld, I ask your presence here! Your handmaiden has played false, and undermined the justice of your realm. I call you here to give a price for Peter Bantry’s life, according to the laws of hell!”

“The laws of hell, Luke? That seems unduly harsh.”

It was the voice of Hades. Hecate was gone, and the king and queen of the dead, robed as she had been, sat in their proper places.

“A direct translation, Sire,” Luke said tightly. “In most dictionaries, Hades is another word for hell.”

“Even so…I feel you are not well-disposed towards my kingdom, Luke.”

Luke glanced down at Kit, reaching out with his senses to confirm that her heartbeat and breathing were normal.

“Your servant has threatened my…this lady. She came here on a noble quest and deserved better at your hands. By your laws every honest supplicant is entitled to a fair hearing. Why was she treated so?”

Hades put back his hood, revealing a dark-skinned and dark-bearded face. “Hecate stayed within the letter of our laws.” He smiled slightly. “Although I agree her methods were less than honorable. I underestimated her hatred of you, Luke. And you underestimated your effect on her the last time you were here. If you thought she would forgive and forget, you were wrong.”

“Hecate is far more powerful than I am. She was never in any danger from me.”

“Not in danger of losing her life, no. But what of her heart?”

“Hecate has no heart.”

“Every woman has a heart, Luke. How many have you broken in your long career?”

Luke tightened his jaw. “Sire, Catherine Bantry is unable to speak for herself at the moment. You know of her quest. What is your price for redeeming her brother?”

Hades looked at his wife, who put back her hood to reveal dark hair, an oval face, and sad gray eyes. “You have my Gem?” she asked.

Luke pulled the stone from his pocket and stepped forward, bowing his head as he held it out to the queen.

“Forgive me the theft, Your Highness. I return this to you at the behest of Catherine Bantry.”

Persephone closed her hand around the stone. “I am satisfied, my husband. Hecate’s price was too high. Set yours as you will.”

When Hades spoke again, his voice was deeper and more resonant, like a judge delivering sentence.

“There is something from your world that my lady has long desired. If you wish to redeem Peter Bantry, you must bring this object to us in nine days time.”

Relief flooded through him. Whatever it was, he’d move heaven and earth to get it. “And what is this object, Sire?”

“The harp of Taliesin.”

Luke frowned. “But that’s nothing more than a myth—a child’s bedtime story. If such a harp existed, I would know of it. I’ve lived in Wales for four hundred years and I’ve never heard so much as a rumor of it.”

Hades’ face remained impassive. “Nonetheless, it does exist. It is in the keeping of the Order of Arthur.”

A shock went through him. He knew those blokes. He’d known their fathers and grandfathers, too. It didn’t seem possible that the Order had kept a secret like that for—Christ, it must be upwards of fifteen centuries.

But it was even more impossible that Hades could be lying to him.

He looked down at Kit. She lay like a sleeping child, small and young and unbearably fragile.

If the fifteen hundred year old harp of the most famous bard in Welsh history was the price for her brother’s freedom, then he would find a way to get it for her.

Hades spoke again. “You will return now to the human world. In nine days time we will call you to us—with or without the harp.”

Luke opened his mouth to ask a question, but there was no one to hear him. A dark wind blew. When it died, he and Kit were at the entrance to a long, dark passage.

For a moment Luke just stood there, prey to a bone-deep weariness he had never experienced before. Then he bent down and gathered Kit into his arms.

She didn’t weigh anything.

Chapter Eleven

Someone had a headache.

It’s me,
Kit thought.
I’ve got the headache.

She opened her eyes and saw that she was lying in a bed—a big four poster, with blankets tucked up to her chin.

Where am I?
she wondered, blinking up at the beamed ceiling.

And then, out loud: “Where am I?”

There was a sound of footsteps, and then Luke’s face came into her field of vision. His eyes were worried as he laid a cool hand on her forehead.

“You’re awake,” he said, sounding relieved. “How do you feel?”

“I feel…” Kit struggled to a sitting position, with Luke’s help as soon as he realized what she was trying to do. “This is your room,” she said, confused. Her mind was a jumble of images and memories, horrible memories…but if they were here in Snowdon it must all have been a…

“I had the most terrible dream,” she said, putting her head in her hands. “I dreamed we went to Paris and the land of the dead—”

Luke took her hands gently away from her face and held them in his. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Kit stared at him. “Not a dream,” she said. “Then—”

In a sickening rush it all came back. The city of the dead…the throne room…Hecate. Her brother, a prisoner in the underworld. She had been only seconds away from freeing him.

“What happened? Why am I here? She said I could give my life for Peter’s—did she change her mind? Send us back?”

Luke hesitated, and Kit pulled her hands away from his. “Damn it, Luke, tell me what happened! Did Hecate send us back here?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then why didn’t she accept my sacrifice?”

“She would have.” A look of pain flashed into his eyes. “She would have, but I stopped you.”

Kit shook her head slowly. “I don’t understand. How did you stop me? I don’t remember any—”

“I knocked you unconscious.”

“You knocked me—” The realization of what he was saying washed over her, and she was so torn between grief and rage that she started to shake.

“I had to, Kit. It was the only way to stop you. Hecate worked on your weakness until you were ready to throw your life away, and then she told you the only way to redeem Peter was to take his place.”

Kit’s head was spinning. “My…my weakness?”

“Self-sacrifice. Your weakness is an urge to self-sacrifice.” Luke shook his head sharply. “No, I don’t mean that. A willingness to die so that others may live isn’t a weakness, but it was Hecate’s way into your heart. That, and other things she did and said…things to make you value your own life less, so you would be more willing to throw it away.”

Kit was trembling. “I wouldn’t have been throwing anything away.”

Looking at Luke now, she felt exactly the way she had in the throne room, with Hecate’s words burning into her. She remembered the pattern of scars on the other woman’s body. She remembered the way she’d responded when Luke kissed her in the borderlands.

And then, suddenly, she understood why she’d always hated and feared the idea of vampires. They represented lust in its most primal form, a hunger so elemental it drove everything else into the background.

Even as a girl, that had terrified her. She’d never wanted her mind to be taken over by her body. She’d never wanted her love of reason and logic and order to be upended by a hunger as irrational as it was primitive. She was a scientist, not a savage.

But from the very first moment she’d met Luke, a part of her nature had responded to him. A part of herself she hadn’t even realized was there.

A part of herself she feared and hated as much as she feared and hated Luke.

Her life was nothing worth saving. Right now, her very soul felt putrid.

She raised her voice. “Peter’s the one who deserves to be alive. Not me. And even if you don’t agree with me, you had no right…no right to…damn you, Luke, why didn’t you let me do it? It would be over now…and Peter would be free…why the hell didn’t you let me do it?”

For the first time there was anger in Luke’s voice. “Because there’s another way, Kit! You can fight for your brother instead of dying for him.”

“Fight for him? Fight for him how?”

“After I knocked you out, Hades and Persephone came into the throne room and set a different price for Peter’s life. If we bring them the harp of Taliesin in nine days, they’ll free him.”

“The harp of Taliesin? I don’t even know what that is, or where it could—”

“I do,” he interrupted. “It’s here in Wales, guarded by the Order of Arthur.”

Kit felt bewildered. “Then—do you mean—is it really that easy? All we have to do is get the harp from those guys, whoever they are?”

He hesitated. “Well…yes. But it’s not going to be easy.”

Foreboding tingled along her nerve endings. “What do you mean?”

“I’m familiar with the Order of Arthur. They’re a warrior clan.”

“Fae?”

“No. Human. They claim to be the descendants of King Arthur’s knights.”

“But King Arthur was good, wasn’t he? Why wouldn’t these people want to help us, if we tell them why we need the harp?”

“They are willing to help us.”

“You’ve already spoken with them?”

“Yes.”

She searched his face. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

He hesitated again. “The Order has a legend about the harp—one that’s been passed down from generation to generation. They told me about it when I spoke with them. According to the legend, they’ll give the harp to a Faery woman who will use it to redeem her brother from the land of the dead.”

“But…that’s me!” Exhilaration swept through her. “
I’m
the Faery woman—an eighth-blood, anyway. Did you tell them about Peter?”

“Yes.”

“So they know I’m the right one. What’s the problem?”

“The other part of the legend. Apparently the Faery woman will be a great warrior, and earn the harp through combat.”

“Combat?”

“Yes. You’ll be tested against their best fighters. Once you’ve proven your courage and strength in battle, the Order will give you the harp.”

 Dismay replaced the joy she had felt so briefly. “But I’m not a warrior.”

“Not yet.”

Kit stared at him. “Not
yet
? What are you suggesting? That you can turn me into a warrior in nine days? I’m a computer scientist, for God’s sake! How am I supposed to face these guys? I’ve never even held a sword!”

He looked at her in contempt. “So you’d rather not even try? I didn’t figure you for a quitter, Kit. At least this way you have a fighting chance.”

“Damn it, Luke, I don’t know
how
to fight!”

In a second he was kneeling at her bedside, gripping her shoulders hard enough to hurt. His eyes were burning into hers. “I can teach you. We have nine days. You’re not an ordinary woman, Kit. The power is already within you. The instincts are already there. All we have to do is unleash them.”

“But I—”

“What happened to the girl who came storming in here a few days ago, demanding my help to rescue her brother? That girl had fire in her eyes and courage in her heart. That girl kicked me halfway across a hotel room in Paris. Don’t you remember? How could you let Hecate bring you so low? Are you really so eager to die?”

“Yes!” she cried out, knowing it was true. She wrenched herself out of the vampire’s grip. “Why do you care, anyway? Unless it’s our bargain. If I’d died back there in the underworld, you would never have gotten your payment. Is that it? Are you protecting my blood so you can take your share?”

Luke rose to his feet, his face cold and hard. “That deal’s off, sweetheart. I wouldn’t touch your blood. I made that bargain with you because Fae blood is supposed to be special, full of life and strength and power. But you’re a weakling who’d rather die than fight for your life.”

Something altered in his expression, and it was as if the temperature in the room fell fifty degrees.

“Come to think of it,” Luke said softly, “that’s something I can help you with. Dying, I mean. I can kill you so fast you won’t even know you’re gone. I can do other things too. Drink from you, rape you, take anything I want from you.”

The change came so quickly that Kit screamed. His eyes turned, his fangs descended, and she didn’t have time to do anything but jerk her hands up, pushing against him futilely as he brought his fangs to her throat with an animal snarl.

The belief that he wouldn’t really do it, wouldn’t really hurt her, died when she felt him tear at her flesh, felt the stabbing pain of the vampire’s bite.

She screamed again, thinking dazedly,
so this is it, this is death…
and then a sudden fury boiled up in her, a fierce desire for the life he was taking from her by force.

He had the advantage of weight and position and strength, added to the savagery of his sudden attack. Knowing she had only a split second to act before it was too late, Kit did the only thing she could think of. She slid her hand between their bodies, found his groin, and squeezed with all her strength.

Luke reared back in pain and surprise, and that was all the opening she needed. Blazing strength flooded her limbs, the same strength she’d felt so briefly in the hotel room in Paris, and she smashed a fist into the side of Luke’s face. She gasped in pain as she bruised her knuckles, but followed up her advantage as he rolled off the bed and crashed to the floor.

She was on him in a second, straddling him, her knees on either side of his torso as she rained blows on his face and head and throat.

But Luke wasn’t fighting back. When she realized it she stopped, panting and shuddering in the aftermath of violence. As her vision cleared and her heart rate slowed, she saw that Luke’s human face had returned.

Kit stumbled to her feet, feeling sick. She wasn’t sure what had just happened.