He was back to the dark and menacing persona.
Jesus, Avani was going to get emotional whiplash just standing in the same room as him.
“We’re here about the queen,” Chloe explained. “She tried to have Greer killed a couple of weeks back, using a huntsman she’d killed. His body attacked her, specifically. I mean, it fought us, but even when it was cut into pieces, it wanted to get to Greer.”
The first vampire turned back to Greer, extending his hand to her. She didn’t flinch, not even when his hand settled on the nape of her neck. “I’m entering you. Show me, child.”
“I’m no child,” she retorted.
But she closed her eyes, and so did he. Half a second later, he dropped his hand.
“Mh. An undead. You were resourceful enough, I suppose.” He said so reluctantly, like he might have been pleased if she’d messed up. Turning back to his descendant, he said, “I knew only a few capable of such magic, and all have returned to ashes.”
“That’s just the thing, though. Being dead doesn’t mean staying dead, not in this world,” Greer said. “For years, I’ve had visions in my mind, from another world, another time, and I have voices from my ancestors telling me what I can and cannot do, shaping my life. If we had an idea of who might be capable of all the queen has accomplished, it might help narrow down our very empty list of suspects.”
The vampire took a moment to consider her words. “A necromancer, then.”
Greer nodded. “And someone who can command demons, plus mess with our wards. Someone who’d want Chloe dead. Maybe someone in possession of something werewolves might want.” She winced, clearly believing that he’d come up empty.
It was one hell of a list, after all.
“Well, for one, there was your matriarch. She’s very dead, and her remains have been scattered in the sea, however.”
Greer frowned. “If the remains haven’t been consecrated by a witch of her coven, then there is no hope of a post-mortem presence. Are you sure?”
Eirikr smirked. “Why, yes. I killed her myself.”
Greer’s eyes widened. “Wait, weren’t you guys, like…together?” She grimaced as she said it.
Eirikr sighed. “It is a very long tale that I do not care to share with strangers.”
“I’ll ask you tomorrow, and then, if it’s relevant, I’ll share with the class anyway,” Chloe told him.
She’d found a bottle of wine somewhere—at least, mostly wine. Avani wouldn’t have been surprised if there was some blood in it too—and she was pouring some in six glasses.
Eirikr laughed. He extended his hand. Chloe was at his side in a blink, handing him a glass before serving the rest of the guests.
Greer looked at the glass like it might bite. “There’s no blood,” Chloe promised. “Eirikr isn’t into mixing it.”
Thus reassured, Avani sipped her glass. “So, what’s with the matriarch, then?”
“Tatiana, like her namesake, the queen of fae, was beautiful, cunning, and manipulative. As a youth, I could never have seen it. In time, I did. She used me for my strength when we were human. She used me to warm her bed, as even then, my form was considered quite pleasing.”
Avani didn’t doubt it.
“And above all, she used me because of my father’s position. He was, at one time, thought to become emperor. If that had occurred, she would have been in the perfect position to take her place beside me and share our fortune. But she had other lovers. A mortal couldn’t tell. As a vampire, capable of seeing all her expressions and smelling her skin, it was a different scenario. When I went to her after being turned, she was sharing the bed of a man twice her age. She rejected me, casting me out. Not before I smelled him on her skin.”
He paused, somewhat hesitant now. “I smelled something else. Something that deep down, I recognized, despite having never sensed it before. She was pregnant. I knew it, just as I knew that that child of hers was mine—born of my human self.
“I wanted the child like I wanted my next breath. The remnants of my humanity. A reminder that I’d been something else, something worthy, once. But she chose to marry that old fool and call my child his.
“So I remained in the shadows for a time, when I wasn’t hunting Ariadne to seek my revenge, getting to know my little girl. A sweet thing, at first. Between her father’s beatings and her mother’s berating, she soon changed. I whispered to her in secret, begging her to let me bring her to a safer place, somewhere she’d be loved. I’d build an entire world for her if I had to. Always, she was a dutiful child, and chose to remain. When she was sixteen, I was told she died by those I tasked to safeguard her during my travels. I asked how. And still, to this day, I wish I couldn’t believe the answer.”
No one dared ask. No one dared say a word.
At long last, Eirikr continued, “She was drained. A darker witch power used only by the vilest sort. Her youth and beauty were absorbed. By her mother.”
Jesus.
“What…what—” Avani didn’t manage another word.
“I hunted her for a time, though the process considerably increased Tatiana’s power. Again and again, she bore daughters that she’d drain so she could live forever. It was long before I found her. I killed her, at last. And when her last daughter heard a twisted version of it, she was manipulated into sealing me to this prison.”
“What about the sons?” Alexius asked, with some acuity.
“We only give birth to daughters.” Greer’s words were barely a whisper. “I thought it was a freaky thing of nature. Now? She probably set it up that way, so she could have an endless supply of Vespian blood to kill.” Her eyes flashed. “I’m glad she’s dead. She deserved it.”
“Damn straight,” Avani agreed.
“That doesn’t help our case,” Levi stated.
They finished their wine and visited with the ancient vampire for a while, making conversation and pretending it was normal.
It wasn’t. But still, Avani was surprised to find that she fit into this world far more than she’d fit in the pack.
This was where she was meant to be.
Miscommunication
Alexius had to use every bit of self-restraint he possessed to remain calm, pleasant, and avoid turning into a caveman. Throwing Avani over his shoulder and dragging her, kicking and screaming, to his lair, sounded like a marvelous idea right about now.
The werewolves of Oldcrest had set a trap Avani fully intended to walk right into in four weeks. And he couldn’t tell her not to because, well, he had no right to do so. The one thing that allowed him to maintain a semblance of sanity was that he’d be there right next to her in case things went awry.
Last time, he’d let her attacker live. He wasn’t one to kill if he could help it—not anymore. Now, if anyone tried to hurt her, he’d tear them apart bit by bit, and he wouldn’t even lose a minute of sleep over it. If they so much as touched her, they were dead—the end. He knew her now. He cared about her a great deal. In an amount of time so short it was ludicrous, she’d become one of the names he wouldn’t forget, one of the people who mattered to him. Through his long life, there had been a dozen at most.
The last time he’d opened up to a woman he desired, it had been Viola Wild, an Eirikrson slayer. While she left on missions regularly, she’d been based in Oldcrest, returning here every other week. Then, after the Eirikrson massacre, she’d wanted nothing to do with him, assuming he’d been one of those who’d killed her sires. It had hurt at first; of course it had. Spending a hundred years with someone, only to realize that she thought so little of him? It had been a blow. For a time, he’d wanted her back, simply because connections were hard, and he had one with her. She came back here every year to visit Skyhall up the hill; he would have liked to resume their shallow, easy relationship when she visited.
Then Avani had turned up. The way he wanted her was primal, all-consuming, so very different from anything he knew. Women were a distraction to him, nothing more. While he’d liked Viola enough to desire regular intercourse from her, he didn’t know much about her, inside; her aspirations, her dreams, her nightmares. And what was worse, he didn’t actually care much.
Avani? He wanted to know every single thing about her. He wanted to be there when she was in danger, when she smiled, when she cried. He wanted to hold her in his arms just because. And none of those things were a means to distract himself from his monotony. With her, he wanted to pause, smell the roses. Live.
It was still dangerous, and ultimately terrible for him, as she’d die sooner or later. But damn if he couldn’t help himself.
The threat of the challenge hanging over her might end up driving him insane before the next full moon.
They walked back to Night Hill slowly, to accommodate Greer and Blair’s human speed. Alexius hadn’t let go of Avani since the cave; his arm was now around her shoulder. It felt so very natural to be touching her, and Avani didn’t seem to mind. A wolf might not even question it.
“Should we have dinner at my place?” Chloe offered cheerfully as they reached the Helsing manor.
Avani and Alexius exchanged a glance.
“As you wish,” he told her.
“I’m pretty tired, actually.” She turned back to Chloe. “Next time?”
Eirikrson agreed. “Tomorrow night. We can talk strategy for your challenge. I’ll recall Sylvan from his assignment.”
Alexius bobbed his head, and they waved to everyone before finally heading inside.
“Sylvan?” Avani asked, trotting to the kitchen. She’d finally detached herself from his arm.
Alexius didn’t like it. “He’s one of Levi’s oldest slayers—the knights in shining armor, in the service of their king. I suppose, if you compare his position to that of wolves in a pack, he’d be an enforcer.”
“Like Mikar?” Avani guessed.
Observant as usual. “And Ruby,” he added. “Most ancient vampires have some.”