Authors: Michele Hauf
N
ikolaus waited on the sidewalk, his boot toes hanging over the curb. The moon was high and round, fitting for this Solstice eve. And when he should have been prepared, fired up and ready to step back into his position as leader, now he could but stand in the sky and close his eyes to the soft breeze that dusted his eyelids.
What had he done?
What had
she
done?
“Do I love her?”
Vampires did not love witches.
Never had he been one to discriminate against those who did not look or think as he did. Yet now, when the rules said he should not do something, he obeyed.
Since when had he been one to follow the rules?
And that he was questioning his alliances made him realize it wasn’t all black and white.
Nor should it be for Truvin, eh?
Right. Because if the very man who sought to again lead Kila could not follow a rule ingrained in the vampiric being, then why should he expect Truvin to repress his nature?
“It’s all because of the witch. She brought this on.”
He had thought the spell dissolved after he’d leapt from the rooftop to look over the broken witch. End of story. He would go back to his life, she to hers.
But as he held her in the alley, his hand firm about her neck, and her body lifted so her feet had not touched ground, he had leaned into her. The scent of her had lured him. Reminding. No, her blood would never sing to him as the luscious, life-giving mortal blood did.
But her soul, ah, he had sensed the woman’s soul. Her own, not out on loan to the devil Himself. And he had touched it.
As she had his. Because she could. Because he had not bargained with his soul for Gabriel’s life, but rather with a soul he believed might never exist.
Clutching his chest, Nikolaus looked up to the moon. “What have I done? What if she’s…?”
Pregnant. With his child. And he had sacrificed that child for the life of a man he had no right trying to preserve.
Nikolaus would sooner give his own life than see any child—especially his own—handed over to the very devil Himself.
Could he do that? Make an exchange? This whole bargaining-with-the-devil thing had never occurred to him until he’d met Ravin. And now he had used the bargain to destroy not one, but two innocent souls.
“Let it be a mistake,” he murmured. “She thinks she is, but it’s something else.” For he could not forgive himself otherwise.
“Ravin,” he whispered. To speak her name made it all so real, returned him to her arms, her hair, her body, her kisses. “Sweetness.”
He had to see her again. Wrap his arms about her and pull her in to nuzzle his nose into her coconut-scented hair. And that gorgeous perfume that summoned his desire every time he smelled it—cherries, musk, honey, and some other dark essences. The unique scent of his lover.
Yes, his lover.
Somehow, he had managed to fall in love, beyond the spell’s coercion. The brain learns what it likes, and will seek it ever after, as if an addiction.
Could he walk before the tribe and present himself as their leader when his heart belonged to the vampires’ greatest enemy? To guess at his intimations, Truvin had instilled in the tribe the heady ambition to hunt witches. Something he should not fault them for; it was a natural desire for their kind.
You need the control to feel alive. God-like.
He
was
alive. He didn’t need the control because he had something better. Love.
He’d intended to walk the eight or nine blocks to the warehouse. Nikolaus looked down the street, not seeing beyond the huge flour factory that was currently being refabricated into luxury half-million-dollar lofts.
To back down now would show his men fear. That he wasn’t up for the challenge. They needed guidance.
Do they really need to live the way you want them to?
Perhaps Truvin was right in allowing them to simply function as the creatures they were.
Nikolaus grimaced, regretting his thoughts. He thought of them as creatures? That made him a creature. One who lived on the blood taken from others. A monster in the eyes of the world.
But not in hers.
She had changed. She had learned to love that which she most hated.
So why did Nikolaus still vacillate against his own changed truths?
You’re not vacillating, you’re trying to put a logical spin to it all. Stop that. Just accept.
A black limousine pulled up to the curb. The back door opened and Nikolaus knew immediately who it was before he even saw the smirking grin peek out from inside.
“Need a lift, Drake?”
Very conscious of the closed interior and that he could smell Truvin’s spicy cologne, Nikolaus decided to let go of his anxiety. If the man recognized the witch’s scent on him, then so be it.
Just accept.
“Eager?” Truvin asked. He slid a leg up to rest the ankle across his knee. His right hand, beringed with diamonds and platinum, tapped his crocodile shoe.
“Ready,” Nikolaus provided. “We’re going the wrong way.”
“We’ll get there.”
“You promised we would have a vote over my return.”
“With proof of your alliance to Kila,” Truvin said. He strolled his gaze over Nikolaus, his nostrils flaring.
He’s picked up something
, Nikolaus knew.
“How’s Gabriel?”
His fingers curling into tight fists, Nikolaus cut off an angry growl. If Truvin could set up his ire so instantaneously then he wasn’t ready to go back. He must control his need to lash out.
You did not kill the witch. You can do this.
“Gabriel is dead.”
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not. And it wasn’t over some damned woman, that was just a convenient excuse. Why couldn’t you have kept this between the two of us? Gabriel was the least harmful thing in your life.”
“You’re right. As usual.” Truvin stretched an arm along the back of the car and leaned into his corner, turning his body to Nikolaus. The accusing tilt of his head spoke volumes. “How could
you
do it? Is she still alive?”
“You know that she is.” Nikolaus turned on the seat and looked him full on.
“I do. You’ve seen her recently. I can smell her on you.”
“Not a sweeter scent this side of the Mississippi.”
“She is the enemy!”
Nikolaus nodded, knowing he had to contain Truvin’s rage and make him understand. Knowledge, that was the way to survival—for the entire tribe.
And yet, a looser rein might also be necessary.
“Not all witches walk around equipped to slay,” Nikolaus said. “In fact, I’d wager less than one percent of them actually do so. She’s an anomaly. We’ve nothing to fear from her.”
“All witches must die. We cannot afford them life when they carry our death in their veins. You know this, Drake. How is it you can be so cavalier after all you have suffered because of a witch?”
“It was a spell. A love spell that forced me to love her.”
Truvin chuckled and swiped his fingers across his mouth. “Now, that is rich. You lie.”
“I wish I did. I knew I should hate her, even as I was screwing her.”
“The witch put a spell on you? Why?”
“It wasn’t her intention. It was…” Who had the spell been for? Nikolaus had never given it thought. “It was an accident. She tried to push me away, but the spell was too strong. It’s broken now.”
“And now you’ll come groveling back to the tribe, asking forgiveness after screwing the one person who we must hide away from for fear of death?”
“I don’t grovel.”
Truvin countered, “Nor do I hide away in fear. So, you ready to hunt the witch?”
No. But until he had a good solid plan—and figured Truvin’s intentions—Nikolaus needed to play along. “Name the time, Stone.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“And I don’t believe you’ll hand over the reins, so we’re even.”
Truvin tugged out his cell phone, checked the screen and punched in a few keys. “Driver, turn around. Head for the warehouse.”
The limo changed course and the glow of the cityscape’s lights grew brighter with midnight neons and flashing bar signs.
Nikolaus exhaled. The silence cut across his ribs. He did not want to feel threatened by Truvin; the man had always been his friend. What was he not seeing?
“So tell me, Nikolaus, what sacrifice will you make to have the world as you believe it should be?”
The question could not have been worded more precisely. To have the world as he believed it should be? Was that what he was doing? Striving to take back control, to manipulate the lives of others so they coincided with his ideal for a perfect world?
How miserable your manipulations of Gabriel’s life proved.
Indeed. These truths, they cut deeply, and yet he felt he should wear the scars from them ever after as a reminder. It was time to take a step back and loosen up on the control. It just might…feel right.
“You know I tried the no-killing thing, Nikolaus. Really, I gave it my best. But I believe you will never understand what it is that makes me what I am. I have been Truvin Stone for centuries. I was completely fine with my world before you walked into it.”
“You were hungry for family.”
“Yes, yes, I needed connection, a solid reality that would not die or leave or slip away with the world. Kila gave me that. And for that, I am grateful. But your ignorance of our very nature startles me—why, you have to take a victim once or twice a week. I can go for months without blood.”
“Because you drain mortals to their deaths.”
“That is what I am.”
“A vampire can choose to be, or not to be, a monster, Stone. I choose not to be.”
“Understood. But don’t force your choice on the rest of us.”
“It has never been forced!” Checking his anger, Nikolaus pressed his shoulders to the leather seat and looked out the window.
“Can we come together in some sort of agreeable communion?”
Despite his nature, Truvin Stone was not evil, nor did Nikolaus despise him—even after Gabriel’s death. So many hands were involved in bringing about his macabre end.
“I mean…” Truvin shifted on the seat, leaning forward to explain. “We work together. You’ve the presence, the command, the clear and true ability to lead. While I have a focus that you seem to lack.”
“Sounds dangerous. The two of us working together?”
“Perhaps you’re right. You could never share authority. I could never live under a dictator—”
“A—what?”
“We’re here.”
Indeed, they had parked outside the warehouse. The street was dark because the tribe ensured the lamps were always broken. They’d also painted a graffiti of gang signs across the building facade, which kept back most curious mortals.
Nikolaus inhaled deeply and opened the car door. He was not a dictator, and he could share authority. It would be a challenge, but he was up for it.
“It all falls on the choices a man makes,” Truvin said. “Can you sacrifice for the greater good?”
To control and rule the tribe gave him a sense of accomplishment. He could no longer get that by drilling a two-inch hole in some guy’s skull and cutting out a tumor. Here was his family. A weird, screwed-up, seeking family. But weren’t they all?
This was the one place on the earth where he truly belonged.
And yet, a lack of control would free him of responsibility. Could he do that? The only time in his life when he’d not felt completely in control was when he’d been in love. And hadn’t that been a way to fly?
Was it possible to have both at the same time—control and freedom?
He stepped out into the night sky. A tremor of recognition touched him. And Nikolaus’s heart dropped.
She was inside. He could smell her fear.
Unnatural
. And she was not safe.
They’d tied her arms high above her head, secured to the overhead beams with knots worthy of a hangman’s noose. Her ankles were also secured, the ropes drawn through hooks anchored into the wood floor, so she hung suspended. The strain on her shoulders and hips would break her sooner than any torture would.
Unless the faggots beneath her were lit. A low circle of tinder and logs were placed in a six-foot diameter at Ravin’s feet.
The only way to kill a witch? Fire. A slow and painful death.
“Prove your alliance to Kila.”
A flash of silver swept before Truvin’s face. He handed the plain silver lighter to Nikolaus—and he took it.
S
napping out the lighter, Nikolaus made a show of it before his men. The warehouse, stacked to the rooftops with treasure and files and safes, smelled ripe with the heady will to cause chaos, to harm—to kill. It wasn’t a pleasant scent. And it toyed with his struggle to conjure a plan. Did he need one? Hadn’t concealing the truth done enough to foul his life already?
You are ready for change. Face it.
Besides he and Truvin, there were seven in attendance. Nikolaus recognized five faces. Two must be new, and looking more punkish and ready to fight than David, the Frenchman with a Mohawk who worked a nightshift at La Belle Vie because he loved to cook, or Nathanial, who was young, handsome and always ready with a salacious joke.
Clad in ankle-length dusters, skinny black jeans and high-laced combat boots, the two new recruits didn’t suit Truvin’s style. They wore goggles perched upon their heads, and one sported a vest that appeared to be Kevlar. Of course, a vampire required protection to capture the enemy.
Ready to hunt with us?
Had he crushed Truvin at the time, this whole awful disaster might not be happening now. But violence wasn’t his style.
Just over his shoulder, Ravin’s breaths came heavily. Nikolaus’s heart ached. The moment he’d walked into the warehouse and had seen her there, the foolishness of his quest had become real. He’d been questioning his ideals for days. Did he want to rule over men? Or did he simply wish to make a good life for himself? One that included the woman he loved, and very possibly, their child.
You love her. You never stopped.
He wanted to turn around and cut Ravin down, clutch her close and dash away with her. But he had to play this right. He was not about to back down, cower with his tail between his legs and watch while Truvin ordered Ravin’s demise.
Nodding and pulling a staunch grimace onto his face, Nikolaus stalked across the warehouse floor toward Ravin.
“Are you ready to die, witch?” Truvin called as he stepped forward from the ranks.
Nikolaus felt the power inside him pushing against his flesh, eager to get out. Misdirected anger, for it was all for Truvin. And Gabriel.
He turned his back to the crew of vampires and looked at the witch, lighter still in hand.
She spat upon him. Delicious defiance, even when she could only guess her chances at survival were nil. But he couldn’t risk her sensing his fear. Fear that all may not go as planned—hell, he hadn’t a plan. Could he get the witch out alive? He could use her…as a weapon.
“Make it long,” someone from the tribe called out. “Painful.”
Nikolaus winced. In but two months his men had drastically changed. While he could grant that even when he had led them, none had held any respect for witches, this lust for death sickened him.
And what of your own lustful revenge scheme to kill the witch? You are no better than any of them. Step down, Drake. You are not a god.
“Yes, do it, vampire,” Ravin murmured. “I deserve it.” And then she said so softly, that none but Nikolaus heard, “For enslaving you. The spell…I had no right. It was my fault. I planned it.”
Rearing back at that statement, Nikolaus checked his sudden switch to empathy. So many eyes were upon him. Shoulders stiffening, he stalked the floor before the witch.
He knew better; Himself had asked for the spell. She could have had no idea an angry vampire would knock down her door that night and upset the direction of the love spell.
Nathanial, head bowed but eyes upon him, delivered the most scathing of all looks. He had only been a vampire for two years. He was young, naive, and needed leadership if he were to walk the earth ever after and not get himself into irreversible trouble. To his side stood Gear. He had been the wildest, most difficult to keep under control, and yet the man had genuinely sought guidance and flourished under it. They were, not a single one of them, animals.
Nor was Truvin. The man pursued an innate need. He wanted to be safe. Nikolaus could fault no man for protecting himself and doing all that he must to ensure that. Kill first or be killed? An easy answer.
And then Nikolaus knew what he had to do. But he could not sacrifice a single friend to do it.
Nikolaus stepped up and put his nose right in Ravin’s face. He heard her intake of breath. Those lips, so close to his.
Take
my breath from me. It is yours
. Though she smelled of sweat and fear, the unique perfume of her teased at him.
Obviously, she had tried to defend herself. A flick of his tongue licked the blood from the corner of her mouth.
“Nasty stuff,” he hissed so all could hear him.
Aware the tribe members took a step back, Nikolaus smiled. Not stupid, then.
“How can you…?” David started.
“He touched her blood,” one of the punked-out vampires muttered. “And he’s not sizzling.”
Nikolaus cast a sharp grin over his shoulder. “Witch’s blood? Dangerous stuff.”
He swung around and splayed his hand out before him. On his fingertips glistened Ravin’s blood, crimson and bold. The sight of it forced the tribe back a few steps.
“One drop will sizzle through your flesh and eat into your insides as if it were a demon on a quest for a man’s soul. It does not relent. And it hurts like nothing you will ever want to experience.”
A flick of his fingers sent a few droplets into the air.
“Watch it, man!”
He shook his head at their fear, but inside cursed himself for threatening his brethren. It had to be done this way. They would know his strength.
Nikolaus walked around behind Ravin. Her head fell back and he pushed it hard.
“Stay alert, witch. Can you feel it? Your life slowly seeping away. I’ve tasted it. A world of goodness and evil rushes through your thoughts. Did I do everything right? Why should I care? Will I be punished? Why couldn’t I get away?”
Drawing out the knife he kept at the back of his waist, Nikolaus swung around in front of Ravin and slashed the blade down her wrist, drawing a six-inch line toward her elbow. The blood sprayed and he closed his eyes to receive her baptism of wicked poison upon his face.
Forgive me the pain, Ravin. It has to be done this way.
“It is ironic to stand in the bath of your life now. What once killed me now makes me stronger!” he announced.
He turned and now none stood close. And most obvious, Truvin stood back by the door.
Ravin spat upon him.
Nikolaus smirked, but did not wipe the spittle from his brow. “What makes you strong, witch?”
Now she pierced him with those witchy eyes. A smile fortified him with respect for her bravery. Her outrageous defiance.
“What makes me strong? Do you really want to know, Nikolaus?”
“Yes, speak your death speech, pretty little witch. It’s a gift I give to you.”
“I don’t need your gifts. I have all that I need knowing I have held love in my heart. True love. Perfect love. I love you, Nikolaus—”
Nikolaus raised up his hand and angled the knife to slash. He lunged down, aiming for her neck, but at the last moment, he turned and marched across the floor, bloody blade held high.
“I’ve returned!” he commanded. “And I’ve not only the strength of a phoenix but the blood magic given to me by this witch. Know that I shall not suffer any of you to harm her, for she has made me whole and given me the strength to endure anything you and your false leader put to me.”
“He is a witch lover!” Truvin shouted.
The tension tightened across the line of vampires, who stood tall, assessing, snarling, and the one on the end wearing the Kevlar stepped forward, fingers fisted.
Nikolaus stalked over to Truvin, brandishing the blade before him. Truvin’s eyes never left the weapon, shining with crimson.
“You don’t like my girlfriend, Stone?” Nikolaus challenged. “You don’t like a lot of things I do. Like kindness and peace and keeping the relations with the wolves.”
“We are not moral beings,” Truvin shouted. “You cannot demand we live as bloodless creatures who refuse to answer our very nature. We need the kill!”
“We need only blood, Truvin.” Nikolaus bent into the man, until their heads were but a foot apart. He snapped out the blade to cut him beneath the chin, but stopped an inch from making contact. Ravin’s blood swirled upon the blade. “Care for a taste?”
Truvin smirked and forced a chuckle, but Nikolaus could feel his need to dash. “You would not. You who preaches kindness?”
“I’m no preacher. I do believe in life, though. And the only life you’ve power over is your own. You cannot take from others to serve your wicked, twisted wants.”
“You should mark your own words, friend.” Truvin inhaled and he met Nikolaus’s stance, no longer wary of the bloodied blade. “You’ve power over your own life. Let them choose.” He gestured to the vampires who had curved around behind Nikolaus. “Kila does not require a babysitter to keep watch over our actions. We merely require—”
“Wolves!”
All turned to the vampire at the door. He’d been posted outside as guard.
“A dozen of them,” the guard said, frantic. “They’ve circled the building. Severo stands out front, and demands to speak to Kila’s leader.”
Truvin turned his gaze upon Nikolaus.
He would not ask for permission. With but a glance over his shoulder to ensure the witch was alive, and alone, Nikolaus then turned and stomped outside, bringing his tribe along with him.
They’d all walked out, leaving her alone. Bless the wolves for their timing.
Ravin ceased struggling against the rope bonds. Her shoulder sockets burned. No twisting or squirming was going to loosen the secure knots.
But a little air magic might do the trick.
“Gather,” she began to chant. A rush of wind pushed back the air from her face, cool and tickling softly against her tormented joints. “Infuse the ropes and expand.”
She felt the rope chaff around her ankles and wrists. Air crept into the tightly woven hemp, expanding the fibers. Feeling her fingers begin to tingle with the needles of aborted circulation, she closed her eyes and concentrated.
The pack leader stood at the bottom step before the warehouse as Nikolaus descended, his tribe flanking out defensively to his left and right.
Truvin skipped down the steps before him, eager to be the first to talk to Severo. Nikolaus noted there were twelve pack members to their nine vampires. Three flaming torches were held by a few; an odd step toward medieval villainy.
Severo stood proudly, shoulders thrust back, an angry snarl exposing a canine. Thick black hair sat on his head like a true wolf’s mane, bristling in the wind. While he was shorter than Nikolaus and Truvin, Nikolaus knew the werewolf’s physicality to be remarkable. And should he morph to complete animal form, the vamps would have quite the challenge on their hands.
But no one was changing shapes, not in this neighborhood. A scan of the nearby buildings—all warehouses—didn’t spy light. But three blocks to the south sat a major freeway; a car could cruise down the street anytime.
“Severo,” Nikolaus offered, steeling his need to rush back inside the warehouse and grab Ravin. She was safe, so long as none of the tribe members went back in. And they would not with a pack of angry wolves ready to bloody their teeth on them this night. “You and the boys in town for a party, or should I be worried for the safety of stray mortals this evening?”
The wolf just behind Severo’s right shoulder cracked a snarl and lifted his goatee-striped chin.
“I have no enmity toward you, Nikolaus.” The black-eyed pack leader tilted his angry snarl toward Truvin. The muscles threading his neck were thick and bulging. He was close to a shape-change, Nikolaus sensed. Severo was too smart, though. He relied on intelligence to hold off the wolf’s ferocity. “It is the leader of Kila who has been treading on the pack grounds I want.”
“This can all be discussed—” Truvin started.
Severo let out a snarl.
And Nikolaus, checking the ranks to see the pack had closed in, could not allow the aggression to rise.
“What the hell have you done?” he asked Truvin, but then to Severo he offered, “I will make it right. We can exist closely, with respect—”
Severo spat at the ground before Truvin’s feet. A toss of his head bristled back his thick hair. Moonlight flashed in his eyes, reflecting a sickly yellow mirror.
“Too late, Drake. Too little,” Severo said. “You go. I know you’ve been away from Kila for some time. Had you been able, you might have prevented this. But as it is…”
“For Christ’s sake.” Truvin took a step forward. Nikolaus caught him across the chest. “You’re going to let a wolf scuttle onto vampire territory and speak to us like that?”
“He is justified,” Nikolaus said, “if you’ve been treading on theirs. And I know that all of Kila has crossed the line onto wolf territory.”
“It was just a few nights!”
Severo lunged for Truvin and caught him about the neck.