Secret Worlds (206 page)

“Not him, her. You see, that’s the craziest part. He came back as a woman. A nun to be precise.”

Meg’s eyes widened. “A woman?”

“Yes.”

“And not just a woman. A nun?”

Amaia nodded.

Meg’s hand flew to her mouth as she barely contained a giggle. Amaia couldn’t bring herself to smile. “Oh, come now, Amaia. You don’t find that a little bit funny?”

Amaia shook her head. “You won’t either when you hear that she thought she recognized me.”

“What do you mean?” Meg sobered.

“I mean she kept asking me if we had met. It was unsettling. I only talked to her once. I wasn’t foolish enough to approach her again.”

Meg nodded. When Amaia stayed silent, Meg urged her. “What happened today?”

Amaia began to walk, not going anywhere in particular, just needing to move, to process what had happened. Meg fell in step beside her. “I’ve been watching him. I decided that today was the day to approach him, to try to befriend him.”

“Yes, it worked out so well last time.” Meg raised her eyebrows and glared.

“Lawrence is the only person who knew me before. I wanted the chance to learn about the man I’d loved. When I approached him today, he called me by my mortal name. I haven’t heard it in almost a century. In some ways, it’s hard to believe that girl ever existed.”

“I know what you mean.” Meg nodded.

“It terrified me, Meg, more than anything ever has. Even more than when I saw him the first time. How does he know me?”

“How much does he know?”

“He doesn’t know what I am, if that’s what you’re asking. He seems confused about how he reincarnates. He did notice that I look exactly the same while he looks different each time.”

“He remembers his other lives?”

“Yes. He said they’re like dreams, only he knows they’re really memories. He seems to remember me quite clearly. By his actions, I’d judge that he thinks he’s still in love with me.”

“And what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you in love with him?”

Amaia looked at Meg, wondering if she had lost her mind. “Of course not. How could I be?”

“How could any of this be happening?”

Meg had a fair point. “I don’t know.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

“What do you want?”

“I want for none of this to be happening. I want for my life to go back to the way it was before I saw him in that tavern.”

“Amaia, you can’t undo the past.”

“I know that.”

“What are you going to do about it now? Are you going to see him again?”

“I must. I promised.”

“Since when does a promise to a mortal mean anything?”

Meg was right. It shouldn’t mean anything, but it did. It was a promise to Michael.

“You have to end it.”

“I’m not sure I can.” It took a certain amount of strength to admit it.

“What do you see happening, Amaia? Really. How are you going to be able to spend any length of time with him given his newfound knowledge and not reveal your secret? If he finds out that you’re a vampire, it’s incredibly dangerous for both of you.”

“I don’t have to let him know the truth. He knows he’s not a vampire. He’s going to assume that whatever is happening to him is happening to me. Besides, I’d like to know what he remembers. I have the memories of my life, and I wouldn’t mind knowing how he sees them. I thought I was in love with him once. I’d like to know how he made me think that. Maybe talking about our history openly will prevent this from happening again.”

Meg slowly shook her head with an expression that was part pity, part disbelief. “You’re going to go back to him and keep it purely about your mortal life?”

“Yes. Why not?”

“If it’s about your mortal life, then he’ll want to pick up where you two left off. He’s not going to accept simple friendship from you.”

“Well, he’s going to have to. It’s all he’s getting.”

“I worry about you.” Meg interlocked their fingers, using her other hand to rub Amaia’s arm as they walked.

“Don’t. I’m going to be fine.”

“The fact that you think so is what worries me. How can you be so naïve?”

“I’m not naïve.”

“Yes, you are. First, by thinking he’s going to be content with friendship. Second, by thinking for a moment that this isn’t a grave situation for both you and Michael. If Zenas finds out, he’ll do anything to put a stop to it, including killing you and him. He will not let you live.”

“He’s let Lawrence live, and he’s broken the rules plenty of times.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“One, Lawrence is his son. Two, Lawrence has never done anything that is such an abomination to our way of life. Zenas won’t tolerate it from you. He wouldn’t tolerate it from Lawrence either. Ask Lawrence if you have any doubt about that.”

“Why are you assuming he’s going to find out? Are you going to tell him?”

“Of course not. But if you lose control, the truth may come out. If Lawrence becomes suspicious, it wouldn’t take much for him to discover what’s happening. He’d be furious.”

Meg was right, as she often was. “I could transform him.”

“Without permission from Lawrence or Zenas? It would be better than your current situation, but not by much. Besides, he must be willing, otherwise he won’t drink the venom-blood. If you lay out our existence to him and he declines, you’ll have to kill him. Can you do that?”

No. It wasn’t even a question. Amaia could never again try to end Michael. He likely wouldn’t be receptive to transforming. He had too much faith in God. If he knew what she really was, he wouldn’t even want to be near her. There was no easy solution. Too many unknown variables.

Amaia shook her head. “You’re right, Meg. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. I can’t see him again. Please forget I ever thought otherwise.”

“Of course. You’re practically my sister, Amaia.”

Arm in arm, they walked home. Just before they parted ways, Meg spoke.

“Out of curiosity, what was your mortal name?”

“Jocelyn. I was his Jocelyn.”

Cluj, January 1723, 4 years, 5 months later

Warm blood painted the snow, melting divots into the perfect smoothness of the landscape. Amaia wasn’t usually so messy, but she had drunk her fill hours ago and didn’t mind a little waste. The way the sun shone down on the snow made the blood sparkle. It was lovely.

She had done it. She had stayed away, killing to distract herself from Michael’s energy. The three bodies sprawled in front of her were a group of friends, young men daring each other to stay in the haunted wood as long as possible. They should have listened to the townsfolk’s stories. Normally it didn’t take so many, especially so close together, but today was different. Her heart still felt the pull, but she couldn’t think about Michael, tending his goats, searching the horizon for her form. Those thoughts would move her feet south. She needed blood, the thrill of the kill to drown out anything else.

Michael’s eyes appeared, their gray depths full of sorrow, calling her to come to him, to fulfill her promise. Ever since he had recognized her, she saw herself reflected back in his eyes. She shook her head. It still wasn’t enough. Her ears focused on the sound of another human in the forest.

The crunch of snow was indicative of only one man this time. Perhaps a hunter. It only took a few minutes to reach him. He didn’t have any time to react, to even see the blood remaining on her fangs. She flew to his neck, ripping out a chunk of flesh as she bit into an artery. The blood gushed into her mouth, drowning out any thoughts of Michael. Her urgency was too great to savor the kill. She took the man’s life, relishing her power. This was how vampires were meant to live. This was what she was: a monster. Tales already circulated of the monsters dwelling in the woods. Amaia simply brought the tales to life.

The man was empty, his body no more than a limp sack of flesh and bone. Amaia waited for Michael’s eyes to appear. She wondered how many more humans she would have to kill today. By Amaia’s calculations, it was about time for it to end.

Michael’s energy spiked violently. His eyes twisted with anguish when they appeared. She had been correct. Only a few more seconds. There wasn’t time to drown out the feeling with another kill. Amaia closed her eyes and simply endured. The eyes that stared at her didn’t know her, didn’t know the truth. The man lying dead at her feet knew her better than Michael did.

It was done. Amaia opened her eyes. Without Michael’s energy taunting her, her body succumbed to the high of her overabundance of blood. She dropped to the ground, letting the snow envelope her, its coldness embracing her like a familiar friend. This was how she was meant to be. Her heart accelerated just enough to keep the blood from congealing and stiffening her limbs. She stared at the sky, not really seeing it. For the first time since Michael had recognized her, her mind was blessedly blank.

Hours passed as she rested on the forest floor, simply being. Michael was gone, but she remained, as she always would, unchanging. The sun rose to its zenith and began to retreat. She needed to clean up her mess and return home. The body next to her was already blue. She deftly lifted him and carried him to the river, weighing his body down with rocks before unceremoniously dumping him into the current. She repeated this three more times until all of her kills were disposed of.

Amaia washed herself in the water and then retrieved a large satchel she had placed in a nearby tree. It contained a change of clothes. The dress she had been wearing was discarded the same way the bodies were. Once in her new attire, there was no indication of her day’s activities. She’d become adept at hiding her habit, but she wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. The reckless killing ended today with the death of the distraction that drove her addiction. She only hoped she’d retain her grip on sobriety when he returned.

No sense ruining the present by worrying about the future. She headed home with plenty of time to ready for the night’s dinner party.

***

Cluj bored Amaia, especially when compared to everywhere else she had lived. They were originally sent to see if the residents of Transylvania were once again going to rise against the rule of the Habsburgs. Zenas had heard rumors, but there was nothing more than the standard grumbling against authority that could be heard almost anywhere. They had stayed because of the abundance of intense energies. Lawrence was ecstatic.

Amaia sat in the parlor dressed in a simple yellow silk gown, waiting for Lawrence. They had decided to live as a respectable father and daughter for their stay in Cluj. The city held no power, so there was no one really worth bedding, and it wasn’t as if she needed the money. It was more advantageous for her and Lawrence to become part of society in a more innocent manner. They had developed quite the reputation as matchmakers.

“How long have you been waiting, my dear?” Lawrence entered the room looking smart in a dark brown coat. She never could get used to him in a wig and hoped the fashion would pass. She much preferred his bald head with the gray fringe around the sides.

“Not long.”

“Good. Let’s be on our way.” Lawrence covered her with a gray wool cloak and then escorted her into their waiting carriage.

“And what were you up to today?”

“Scaring humans in the woods.”
They were in the habit of mind-speaking to avoid eavesdropping servants.

“Was it satisfying?”

“They make it much too easy.”

“Really? You look quite flushed and sated. I take it you fed.”

“Of course. Nice rosy cheeks for this evening.”

Lawrence didn’t believe her. She could tell by the way his blue eyes bored into her, but she willed herself not to look away. He had been questioning her more than usual lately. He knew she was up to something. He might even know the full extent of her activities.

At dinner, their goal was to facilitate a match between two of the other guests. Andrei and Clara both had very distinct auras, strong in their own ways. Lawrence found them particularly interesting because Amaia recognized both of them. Ever since her study of reincarnation, she’d been alert to the possibility of finding familiar energies. It helped in her quest to make sense of Michael and justified her studies to Lawrence. Andrei’s aura was bold, extending further than most mortals, while Clara’s was warm and rich, amplified. Both distinct and familiar. Their offspring would make an interesting study.

Amaia had one job during dinner. It wasn’t to be clever or appealing. She didn’t even need to pay attention to the conversation, which was a relief since she usually found it dull and trite. Her sole focus was on the auras of Andrei and Clara. The abnormally strong energies in the area had given her much to play with, and she was learning to do more than just warm herself with them. If she concentrated hard enough, she found she could slightly alter a human’s energy.

Clara was a charming young woman. Her rich brown eyes were always bright, and her chestnut hair silky. She was modest and timid, the way men liked women they were to marry. Her looks ensured that Andrei stole glances at her across the table. Every time he did so, Amaia reached out to his energy, massaging it into mimicking the energy of a human in love. Over the last couple of years, she had become quicker at it, but it still took time.

It appeared to be working. Andrei kept looking at Clara. Amaia renewed the feeling. After all, the girl wasn’t that beautiful. His eyes took on the warm look of a man besotted. Clara caught Andrei gazing at her. Amaia jumped to her energy, working it in the same way as she had the man’s. It was easier. Clara was a more naturally loving person. Amaia wished she could work on both auras at once. That would be the next skill to learn. She hoped that eventually she’d be able to alter a mortal’s energy almost instantaneously.

After dinner, the men and women separated. The rest of the evening passed in an unbearably boring blur. Amaia had no interest in the conversation. She only paid attention so she could manipulate Clara’s energy any time Andrei was mentioned.