Warrior Rising (22 page)

As Indikaiya had left.

He told himself again and again that she would be easily replaced. As a partner in this war, as a lover, as a provider of nourishment. Others could and would provide what she no longer provided. He’d known many women and he would know many more.

But he admitted, to himself at least, that there was none other like her.

It was almost dark when Sorin left his apartment. He did not need to report to the library for instruction like a good and obedient soldier. He knew what to do. It wasn’t as though skirmishes were difficult to find. They were everywhere, in this city and in others. He no longer bothered to carry his cell phone. Why should he? So Luca could call and issue orders? So Nevada could call to ask if he was still alive and kicking? Why did she care, anyway? Yes, he had saved her life, but she should hate him for everything that had happened before that.

He’d always liked New York. The lights, the people, the energy. No matter what the time of day, the city was alive. Did New Yorkers deserve protection less than those who lived in this city? They did not. It was doubtful that the war had reached Manhattan in full force, but he wasn’t the only creature of the night who had a fondness for a city that never slept.

But he wasn’t headed that way tonight. Tonight, he would fight here. Here, where he was needed. Here, where he might catch a glimpse of Indikaiya. New York wasn’t going anywhere. Perhaps tomorrow…

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Marie wasn’t especially fond of having Ahron underfoot, but it made sense to keep him close. As an advisor and as a maddeningly unspecific psychic who occasionally came through with a bit of useful information. At the moment, he was necessary. She wasn’t afraid of him, but at the same time she was wary. He seemed to be on her side, he
said
he was on her side. But was he? There were moments when she was certain this war was nothing more than much-needed entertainment for the ancient.

He was gleefully taken with the stock Marie kept in small basement rooms. For someone who was capable of going long stretches without feeding, he did enjoy snacking on the food supply. He was particularly fond of Chloe’s mother. The Fallon woman had been edging toward madness before she’d become a favorite of the ancient Ahron. Now? Now she was a rambling basket case.

Marie was capable of fighting alongside the others, but she did not. She was surrounded by kindred who would die for her. Male and female, ancient and new, they believed in her and what she promised.

Which is why it was so annoying when Ahron told her she was going about this war all wrong.

The ancient paced in Marie’s own private chamber where none but he dared to confront her, hands waving about as he spoke. He had given up his loose robes for more modern clothing; a suit which still smelled of the human from whom Ahron had taken it before — or perhaps after — he’d fed.

“You struck too soon,” Ahron said. “You should have waited. A year or two, ten perhaps. In our long lives, that amount of time is nothing.”

“I had no choice,” Marie argued. The Warriors had come in force, Sorin had turned on her, Luca had sided against her… what choice had she had?

“There is always choice.” Ahron stopped in front of her. He was not much taller than she was. Perhaps he’d been a man of normal height in his day, but in this era he’d be considered short. No suit could disguise the fact that he was not of this time. His skin was so pale it was almost green. Unlined, unmarked, that face was oddly handsome enough, with even features and a touch of masculinity. But the eyes were ancient, and his long, thin hair was white. He sometimes moved like an old man. Other times he did not, she noticed.

“There is another coming,” he whispered.

“Another what?” she snapped.

“Another queen. Better than you, smarter than you, and one day she will be much, much prettier.”

Marie moved to strike so quickly, no one would be able to counter her. No one but Ahron, who caught her wrist and held it to the side with surprising strength. He tsked, and smiled, and in that moment she was afraid. She had sorely underestimated him.

He could no longer be considered oddly handsome, not when he looked at her this way.

“Do not be angry, pretty girl. You have done what needed to be done. If you win, if you lose… it matters not. Our kind has been exposed. We are in the known world now, and cannot be denied.”

His words struck a nerve.
If you win, if you lose
… “Will I win?” she asked, annoyed at the uncertainty in her voice, but wanting, needing, to know what Ahron saw.

“We will see,” he said with more than a hint of sick humor.

A rush of anger, hot and powerful, burst through her. Somehow she was going to have to kill him.

She did not express her thought aloud, but with Ahron words were unnecessary. “Many have tried. None of them continue to walk this earth.”

Marie took a deep breath, not because she needed air, but because she needed a moment to compose herself. “I apologize for my rash thoughts. You angered me.”

“Of course I did.” He released her hand and she let it fall.

Best to change the subject as quickly as possible. “Tell me about this so-called queen you see.”

“Oh, I think not.” He smiled. That was never pleasant.

For a moment, Marie was afraid. Nothing scared her, certainly not this freakish old man! But yes, she admitted to herself, she was afraid of Ahron.

How might one go about killing a powerful psychic?

“You cannot kill me,” Ahron whispered. “I will always see you coming.”

New York would still be there tomorrow, and the next day, and next week. The majority of the fighting was here, where it had begun. Yes, there were skirmishes taking place elsewhere, and the fighting — especially up and down the east coast, judging by the little bit of news he heard — increased daily.

But Sorin did not leave. He stayed. He fought. It had been days since Indikaiya had left, and here he remained.

He found himself fighting alongside humans and Warriors. Some he had already come to know well. Others were new comrades. Each night he went into battle with no real expectation of survival. He watched his own kind fall and go to dust. He’d be a fool to think he was not just immortal, but invincible.

In the past few nights he’d fought with strangers. Humans who had found a strength and bravery buried deep, who banded together to fight a superior force. To face death in order to maintain their freedom. D.C. was a large city, and the fighting was widespread. It was no accident that since Indikaiya had left he’d purposely sought out battles on the edge of the war zone, rather than at its center. He did not want or need the distraction which would be inevitable if he ran into those he had once called partners. Not only would he feel obligated to keep one eye on them, when the battle was done he might find himself inundated with questions he did not want to answer.

Tonight he saw a number of familiar faces, on this battlefield far from the headquarters they now called home. He knew she was here, long before he saw her. The damn dog’s yap was unmistakable.

Jimmy. Kevin. Indikaiya. No one acknowledged him — if they even saw him. They were too busy fighting, as he was. Indikaiya cut down the enemy as efficiently and valiantly as any soldier among them. She was a vision, with that sword in her hand and that long blond braid dancing as she moved with a violent and powerful grace. She was once again dressed in the shift she’d worn when she’d come into this world, though she had kept her new boots. Modern clothing was wasted on her. No one would ever mistake her for human. She was like no other. It was in the way she moved, the way she swung that sword. It was in the intensity in her eyes.

Shit. He had missed her.

Sorin worked his way toward Indikaiya, his sword slicing through vampires and even the occasional human who had chosen — whether through glamouring or through a misplaced confidence in the vampires ability to win — to fight alongside them. They died differently, but they did die.

In the past two days they’d heard rumblings about the tall, blond vampire who’d been cutting down his own kind in new battlefields. In a way, Indikaiya was surprised. When she’d left Sorin she’d had no idea if he’d stay with the fight or walk away. She no longer believed it was possible he’d rejoin Marie. Even as she’d walked out of his door, she’d known full well he would not follow her. No, Sorin followed no one.

It was no mistake that he worked his way toward her, no simple coincidence. In the midst of battle, he was seeking her out, moving purposely toward her. Leaving him had been for the best, she told herself as she prepared to meet him face to face. Of that she had no doubt. He was a distraction of the greatest magnitude. He was a vampire! When she should be thinking of battle, of saving the human race, she instead thought of him.

Unacceptable. That was not her purpose, not in this life or any other.

She had tried very hard to distance herself from thoughts of Sorin, but she couldn’t deny the wave of emotion that washed through her as she watched him fight. He was as fierce as any Warrior from any time; as dedicated as every soldier who had joined this battle. He’d not only discarded his leather coat, he’d apparently given off wearing shirts, as well. He fought wearing blue jeans and heavy boots, nothing else. His choice was practical, she supposed. Each fight left a soldier bloody, dusty, and torn.

Sorin was impressive in many ways, not that she would ever say so aloud, not to anyone. Worse than noting his impressiveness, she cared for him. Distance had not diminished that caring, as she had hoped it would. She was no longer a foolish girl who believed in love; she was a woman, a Warrior. And yet she cared for a vampire. Loved? Perhaps. Wanted? Definitely. That was a hard admission to make, even to herself. It had been such a long time since she’d felt anything beyond honor and duty.

These thoughts rushed through her mind as she fought a burly vampire with a shaved head and a short, thickly-bladed sword.

Sorin called on his unnatural speed to rush toward her. He flew up, arcing into the air with his sword raised and his hair flowing behind him. Indikaiya dispatched the bald vampire and then looked up, meeting Sorin’s eye. Was she his target? Was he that angry with her? The thought was a fleeting one. He came down behind her with a swipe of his sword, taking the head of the vampire that had been moving in on Indikaiya as she’d been admiring a man she should never admire. Or trust. Love? Impossible.

“Pay attention!” he snapped, his voice harsh and his eyes flashing blue, and then he turned his back on her to continue the battle.

She wondered how often in his long life he’d trusted anyone who held a sword enough to present his fine back.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The battle waned; the few remaining rebels departed. A few flew. Others ran. A handful made it out alive. Others did not. Sorin noted, not for the first time, that Jimmy and Kevin were fine fighters, surprisingly efficient and effective for a couple of young humans. The last two vampires to die on this night went not by sword, but by shotgun and by crossbow.

The sun would rise in less than an hour. He needed to feed. He needed to sleep. There would be another battle tomorrow night, and another the night after that. He could see no end to this war, not until Marie was dead.

And yet instead of tracking her down as he had planned, he was busy fighting one battle at a time, watching over humans and Warriors alike.

He wondered how long the men he’d just admired would survive. He could not be the only one to note their worth in battle. The vampire rebels would be gunning for them specifically, and if they were targeted they’d be lucky to last two nights. Not that it was his responsibility to watch over them as if they were children. Both had gone into this war knowing how it would likely end for them.

Sorin dismissed all thoughts of the humans and turned his eyes and his mind in a more pleasant direction. He expected Indikaiya to walk away without speaking to him, but instead she stood there on the battlefield, feet apart, posture that of a soldier, sword down but still gripped tightly in her hand, and stared at him. Cupcake stood proudly at her side.

He stared right back. Dammit, he missed her. He would never admit to it.

If he told her he wanted to feed from her and fuck her, would she run? Of course she would. But would she run toward him or away?

He didn’t get the chance to find out. This night’s fight was over, so he was taken by surprise when one of the kindred — an Italian he knew well — appeared before him. Sergio had such a gift for speed, he could, and often did, seem to pop out of thin air even to a vampire’s eye.

Sorin raised his sword and so did Indikaiya, who was still several feet away. When Sergio lifted his empty hands, Sorin relaxed. A little. Was it possible the Italian had come to join their side of the fight? A handful had. Only a handful.

“I have a message from our queen,” Sergio said.

Nope, not joining the right army after all. Sorin’s grip on his sword changed, as he readied himself to continue fighting, if it was necessary. He lifted a hand to silently instruct Indikaiya to remain where she was. She didn’t care for the order, but she did stay in place.

Like him, she was ready to fight if necessary. Sergio looked at her, and at the men behind her, men who grew closer with each trudging, tired step. They were curious about the newcomer, but not alarmed. Not yet.

“You have not been answering your cell phone.”

His cell phone, which he’d abandoned as unnecessary.

“I can’t imagine that Marie has anything to say that I care to hear,” Sorin said. “But you can give her a message from me.” He leaned in, slightly. Sergio was fast, but he was also a small man, easily intimidated. “She can’t win.”

Sergio was not alarmed. He even seemed a bit smug. Sorin considered taking the vampire’s head, now that he knew what side Sergio was on, but the Italian stopped him with a simple message.

Three names.

A time and place.

Three more names and a brief but dire warning.

Before Sorin had a chance to respond, Sergio was gone.