Warrior Rising (4 page)

“He is on our side now,” Rurik said. How could he stay so calm?

Our side
was the only thing that gave Nevada real hope. This mansion which had once been quiet as a tomb was now teeming with, well, people, for lack of a better word. People of all sorts. Humans who knew what was going on and wanted to stop it as well as vampires who liked the status quo and didn’t want to see that sick bitch Regina take over the world. Marie, her true name was, not Regina. She looked like a pretty teenage girl, but she was an ancient sociopath with fangs, and somehow she’d decided she was supposed to take over the world. D.C., at least. D.C. to start.

And then there were the Warriors.
Immortal
Warriors, like Rurik. They looked human, but then so did the vampires, most of the time. Their existence had been as much of a shock to Nevada as the truth about vamps. When a room was full of these Warriors, it was like a history book exploded and the pages came to life. From every age, from every country, they’d been called to battle. The way Nevada understood it they had once been human, but they’d all been soldiers, fighters, protectors. After death, they waited in another world, an alternate universe of some kind. They waited to be called by blood descendants. Conduits, those descendants were called. The Warriors waited for a fight like this one. They’d been here before for smaller battles. Some of them, anyway. Rurik seemed to know a lot about this world. Indie — which is what most of the humans called Indikaiya — seemed much more
not
of this world. She was older than Sorin, probably. Hard to tell, since she didn’t talk much.

In so many ways, the Warriors were more of a mystery than the vamps.

“You look very tired,” Rurik said. “Have you been traveling?”

“Traveling?” It took a moment, but Nevada soon realized what he was asking. “Oh, no. Remote viewing takes too much energy, and I need every ounce I’ve got to get this spell fixed.” She’d used the newly found gift to check on her family when they’d been held in the large, dungeon-like basement of this mansion. Rurik had first seen her that way. Humans and vamps couldn’t see her when she traveled, but Warriors were another matter. Something about traveling between worlds.

She did not want to talk about herself. It was easy enough to change the subject.

“I’ve heard about people who don’t understand how they survived a particularly hairy situation. Like, maybe they were invisible to their enemies, or they thought they were going to be hit by a bus or a bullet and then they weren’t. Was that you?”

Rurik raised a hand to his chest. “Me?”

“Well, Warriors. Do you… pop in often?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” There was that smile again. It was so heartbreakingly
real
. “I would gladly return to this world to end your enemies.”

Nevada shook her head. Was this his way of flirting with her? “Why? Why are you being nice to me? I’m such a colossal screwup!”

“No. You are a fighter, as we all are. You are a brave and noble woman.”

Brave? Noble? Something inside Nevada snapped, and she could see clearly once again. “I’m a wimp. The vampires threatened my family, they held me hostage, they forced me to cancel the sanctuary spell. And I did it. I should’ve let them kill me and my family. I should’ve sacrificed us all to save the world.” The words spilled out. “I didn’t. Sacrifice sounds noble, in theory. You know what? It’s damn hard. Besides, maybe I have the right to sacrifice my own life, but my parents? My brother and my sister? I don’t see nobility there, not at all.”

“You did what you could. You were willing to die…”

“I still am,” she whispered.

Rurik’s expression was suddenly both angry and sad. Even he knew there might be no other choice. “They will have to come through me,” he said, his words a solemn promise.

The spell she’d cast to end the sanctuary spell was connected to her heartbeat. She’d been so certain she would die as soon as it was done! With her family away from this prison, and the original spell once more in place, they would be safe. Everyone would be safe.

But they hadn’t killed her, even though Regina, self-proclaimed queen, had ordered Sorin to do it. Nevada had made Sorin remember his past, his time as a human, and he’d let her live.

She should’ve left well enough alone, but it was too late for should’ves and might’ves.

“Do you need anything of me?” Rurik asked.

She shook her head, then turned to business. “I’m making progress on the new spell.” She wanted someone to know. Anyone. “I’m still days away from finishing it but… but…” Her voice broke, a little. “I have to fix this! I unleashed hell on the world, and even if I can reinstate the original spell or come up with an entirely new one, nothing will be the same again. Nothing. Too many people know now. Too many people have seen.”

Rurik seemed unconcerned. “They will forget.”

“How?” Her hands fisted. She wished she could forget!

“Dark days come and they go. Life continues on, and people believe what they wish to believe.”

“You make it sound so simple. Everything has changed. Everything! You will eventually go back to wherever it is you came from, but for humans, for people like me, death and destruction is knocking on the door.” That was not entirely true. Thanks to her, death no longer needed to knock.

Rurik knew that as well as anyone.

“As I said, if you need anything I will be near.” He gave her a kind of formal and old fashioned bow, a gesture so out of place, so unnecessary, that she laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh, but was more of a short-lived hysterical cackle.

Rurik left the room, closing the door behind him. In a weird way his visit had revived her. She felt a rush of energy, and was no longer seeing double. Anger and desperation were as good as caffeine, maybe.

Nevada turned her mind to her work. Nothing else mattered, not even a hunky man from another world, a protector with a Russian accent and a killer smile. A man who winked at her in the midst of chaos.

She could do this. She figured vamps didn’t have a newsletter or a phone tree, so the news that they could now enter any home uninvited couldn’t have spread far and wide. Not yet. It would. Soon. In her head she could see a map of the country, of the
world
, where reports of violent deaths grew and grew and spread outward like something out of a movie about a world-ending epidemic. The movies had it wrong. The world wouldn’t end thanks to a virus or a nuclear bomb. Humanity didn’t need to worry about an alien invasion. Life as humans knew it would end when the vampires took over, the way some of them had wanted to do for a very long time. If they were to win, they’d probably keep some people alive, enough to produce blood for feeding, and be servants and produce the luxuries that they enjoyed. But most would die.

Nevada wondered how many people would ever know that this all happened because a naive college girl who didn’t realize she was a witch by blood was willing to sacrifice the world in order to save her family. A family now no more safe than anyone else, so it had been a stupid thing to do. She wondered where her family was, if they were safe. Sorin said he’d find them, but even though he’d spared her she still didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust anyone, not entirely.

Nevada almost lovingly touched the two books on her worktable, readying to dive back in, ready to try to make sense of words that all too often meant nothing to her. She whispered to herself, “If I were like Indie, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. If I was strong and determined and knew how to carry a sword like it was a part of me, Sorin never would’ve taken me in the first place, and the world would still be safe.” But would it be, really? Vampires had been around for a very long time, and they hadn’t been getting by on tomato juice and beer. No, humans had been their food source for hundreds —
thousands —
of years.

Nevada knew she needed to be as strong as Indie, in her own way. She had to find a way to reinstate the spell that gave humans a refuge. That alone wouldn’t stop the sick bitch from trying to take over the world, but it would be a start.

She would allow herself a few more days to get it done. If she couldn’t recast the spell, if she couldn’t make things right, then she would have to die.

CHAPTER TWO

By day the vampires slept, or else huddled in the dark below stairs. Luca could withstand daylight better than most but Chloe could not, and the blood born never strayed far from his woman. There were only five vampires in their army, at least so far. That included Chloe, who was so new as to be worthless when it came to war.Warriors and humans spent the day above stairs, preparing for the battles that would soon come. Swords were sharpened; ammunition was stockpiled. Guns and rifles were cleaned and loaded. Indikaiya herself preferred the sword. It was the weapon she had fought with in her human life, the one that felt most natural in her hands. She was also quite talented with a bow and arrow, but she preferred steel. She could and would kill a lot of vampires with that sword when the time came. The time was near.

The Warriors didn’t need as much sleep as the humans, though they did rest when their bodies demanded it. Indikaiya had grabbed a few hours of sleep in the late night and early morning hours. She preferred nighttime for that rest. Not because her body was set to sleep while it was dark, as the humans’ were, but because that was when the vampires among them were most active. During the day, humans and Warriors had to be on guard, on the lookout for the more powerful vamps that were able to travel at any hour, those who could withstand some degree of sunlight as Luca could. Sorin? She could not be sure. So far he had not exposed himself to daylight, but that didn’t mean he was incapable. But at least at night she could trust Luca and the rest to guard.

During the day, the humans among them took some delight in playing popular music on small devices. That music was unlike any Indikaiya had ever heard. Some of it was jarringly unpleasant, but on occasion someone would play a song that appealed to her. She found she was particularly fond of songs the youngest among them called “oldies.” She’d asked Jimmy about a couple of the songs that most appealed to her. He had laughed at her and said it made sense that she liked Joan Jett and Aretha Franklin. They were powerful women. She wondered if she’d be in this world long enough to get herself one of those devices, then dismissed the silly idea. She was here to fight, not to enjoy herself.

She’d cleaned her leather shift and had gladly disposed of the shirt that smelled like the vampire Sorin. The boots, she kept. They were a little large, but they were also sturdy and more suited for battle than bare feet or the insubstantial sandals she’d been wearing when she’d been called in.

Indikaiya kept her distance from the vampires, as much as was possible. She did not wish to see her blood relative, Chloe, adjusting to her new body, her new vampiric demands. Sorin was simply irritating. Luca was disturbing in many ways. It was a particular annoyance that the humans kept forgetting him. Only the elder vampires and the Warriors — and Chloe, of course — remembered Luca when they turned away from him. She supposed that talent, if it could be called such, came in handy during ordinary times, when it might be convenient for a bloodsucker to be forgotten as soon as he was out of sight, but when one was planning a war it was damned inconvenient.

Exploring the second floor, Indikaiya found Rurik standing guard outside the witch’s door. Warriors did not fight one another; it simply was not done. But she suspected Rurik would take on his own to protect the girl, if he had to. Rurik would be a fearsome adversary. He was as tall as the vampire Sorin, all muscle and sinew, a strong man who, like she and many others among them, preferred a blade to more modern weaponry. Rurik was not as handsome as Sorin, his smile was not so annoyingly charming.

Not that she should be comparing one man to another. Sorin did not even deserve a sliver of her attention, though he was a man — no, a vampire — who could definitely capture and hold a woman’s attention in this or any age. Why was she thinking about him at all? Had he put a vampiric spell of one kind or another on her? As a Warrior who was not of this world, she should be immune to his trickery, as she was immune to Luca’s.

“I need to see the witch,” she said.

Rurik’s eyes narrowed. “I will allow no one to do her harm.”

“I give you my word, I will not harm her on this day.” She would give no promises beyond this day, and he would not expect it of her.

He nodded, then knocked on the door and opened it slowly. “Her name is Nevada,” he said in a lowered voice. “Nevada Sheldon. Not
the witch
.”

Indikaiya had never had much time or any sympathy for witches, but she felt sympathy for this one as she stepped into the large bedchamber. The girl stood before a long table which was worn with age, and on that table massively thick, ancient books lay scattered about. Some were open, revealing brittle yellowed pages; others were closed, perhaps already discarded, perhaps yet to be explored. There were small piles of stones in a variety of sizes and colors, as well as vials of powders. Some dull, others disturbingly sparkling. Nevada’s face was pale, her clothes misshapen, her red hair mussed.

Indikaiya had never cared much for pampering herself. Her clothing was chosen for comfort and freedom of movement. She wore her long pale hair in a braid because it was easiest. Nevada could do with a neat braid at this moment.

As if such matters were of any consequence.

“I need your assistance.”

Nevada turned tired — no, desperate and exhausted — eyes on Indikaiya, and it was easy to see that the young girl was on the verge of surrender. The fear there was an indication that she wondered if the Warrior in her chamber had come to kill her.

“I’m trying, truly I am…”

Indikaiya stepped toward the table and the girl. “You need to turn your attentions elsewhere, for a time.”

Nevada slammed a massive tome shut. Her expression was fearsome, for one so small, or would have been if the dust that rose up from the old book didn’t make her sneeze. Twice.