away?
She was helpless to avoid the echoes of his voice, but somehow
she knew he was bluffing, or at least half-bluffing. He couldn’t reach
her, not quite, not with Lucien close by and Jarod’s blood in her veins.
Remember what you were. Remember what I made you.
She didn’t want to remember, but she did, anyway, in a sudden
flash, a condensed version of her hundred years of initiation, the murders,
killings of humans and vampires, senseless and retributive.
If they knew. If they only knew exactly what you are
The voice, perhaps, was Ialdaboth’s. But it might also have been
her own.
In spite of his nap on the plane, Jarod drifted off before noon. It
was a spotty sleep, though, leaving him aware of Lucien’s movement
around the room. Lucien didn’t sleep, apparently, but he spent a ridiculous
amount of time walking in circles.
Just past noon, Jarod bolted awake. His mouth tasted like metal,
and some vague dream-shadow twinged at the back of his memory.
Whatever it was, it had been nasty. He rarely remembered his dreams,
and in this case he was glad.
When he rolled off the couch, Lucien was nowhere in the room,
so he headed into the kitchen to look for more pastrami. He was abominably
hungry. He wondered if the food and the sleep had been enough
to replenish his blood in case Lilith needed it this evening. He needed
more meat, some green leafies. Iron, folic acid, B12. Drugs for anemia.
Anything. Otherwise she might just kill him, which would not be a
good thing.
Footsteps on the stairs announced Lucien’s return. Drinking directly
from the jug of milk, Jarod met him at the kitchen door.
“Something’s up with Lilith,” Lucien volunteered, “but I don’t know
what.”
Alarmed, Jarod lowered the milk jug. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. She’s dreaming.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Unusual but not unheard of. I was afraid someone might be tracking
her, but the links don’t seem that strong.”
Not for the first time, Jarod wondered how Lucien could come to
such conclusions—exactly what abilities he had that made it possible
for him to evaluate a sleeping vampire’s dreams. Or read a human
hematologist’s mind, for that matter.
Lucien was looking through him again, his attention apparently
focused on the opposite wall. “We’re going tonight,” he said. His focus
returned to Jarod. “I wanted to give it a couple of nights, to scope
things out, but this is just too dangerous. I don’t want them tracking
Lilith, and I don’t want Lilith bleeding you to death. We need you. So
we go tonight.”
Jarod nodded and finished off the gallon of milk. “Can I get out of
here for a while before sundown? I need more food.”
Late in the afternoon, fortified by a large meal acquired in the
village, he slipped silently into the safe house. Lucien was downstairs
on the couch, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t seem to
be aware of Jarod’s presence. Somehow, though, Jarod knew that if
he’d been one of Ialdaboth’s crew, or anyone else who posed a danger
to the occupants of the small house, Lucien would have been up in a
flash, killing people.
Unsure whether noise could disturb Lucien’s meditation or trance
or whatever it was, Jarod tiptoed past him and slipped up the stairs to
Lilith’s bedroom.
She lay stretched out on her back, exactly as he’d left her at
sunrise. He touched her face. The texture and temperature of her skin
felt normal. Something trembled in the room, though— one of those
odd sensations he occasionally picked up in the presence of vampires.
It reminded him strangely of the dreams he’d had earlier in the day.
He sat in a chair next to her bed, absently rubbing his wrist. It had
ached dully off and on throughout the day. The thought of her teeth
piercing him there again left him with an odd mixture of arousal and
revulsion. The wound hurt enough that he didn’t want to think about its
being opened again, but his body anticipated the intimacy of the process.
Whatever you do, don’t let them bleed you, his great-grandfa-
ther had told him a few years before he’d died, passing the mantle of
vampire doctor to his great-grandson. You never want to get that
close to them.
Too late. Even before Lilith’s arrival, Jared admitted, he’d found
he was becoming more attached to the new inhabitants of the Underground
than he’d ever been before Julian had arrived. He and the
Senior had gotten along well enough, but the Senior had been merely a
vampire, plodding along, holding his small enclave together and trying
in various ways to live a mostly moral life. The whole system had been
imperfect, and to Jarod it had seemed stagnant, as if it were a clock
wound centuries before, now slowly running down.
But Julian had wound the clock spring tight, bringing fresh possibilities
and hope to the New York enclave. To every vampire on earth,
in fact, if they were willing to accept what Julian had to offer. The
possibility of returning to mortality or of entering a different, non-de-
structive form of immortality. Even of bringing others that same gift. It
was all there, Jarod thought, or at least the seeds of it, in his laboratory.
There was no guessing what the next few years of experimentation
might uncover.
Great-grandpa Greene could never have imagined what his great-
grandson would fall into by carrying on the family legacy. Jarod’s mouth
twisted in a wry smile. He’d certainly had no inkling when he took
over. He still wasn’t sure he had a clear picture of what the next several
months were likely to bring.
On the bed, Lilith stirred. Jarod straightened in the chair, watching
her face. If she woke needing him, he wanted to be ready. He only
hoped Lucien was paying enough attention, in case she needed too
much blood and he needed Lucien’s help controlling her.
She moved restlessly for a few minutes, her eyes moving under
her lids as if she were in dream sleep. In the back of her throat, her
voice made small sounds of distress. Then, abruptly, she opened her
eyes and stared at him.
Her expression remained blank for several minutes. Disconcerted,
Jarod nevertheless stayed still within her blinkless stare. Finally she
moved her head, barely, and closed her eyes. When she opened them
again she was obviously awake and aware.
“What are you doing here?” she said, sitting up.
He held out a bottle of plasma drink. “Breakfast?”
She smiled wanly and took the bottle. “I hate this stuff.”
“Everybody says that.”
“You could at least make it blood-flavored.” She screwed off the
lid and sipped at it, making a delicate face.
“I tried that. It seemed to trigger hunger in the vampires who tried
it, so instead of satisfying them, it sent them out onto the streets in a
rampage.”
She took a deeper drink. “That could be a problem.”
“Yes.”
Silence fell as she finished the bottle, drinking slowly at first, then
chugging the last half. When it was empty, she set it on the nightstand
and reached toward him, wiggling her fingers. “More.”
He handed her another bottle, which she chugged, then a third.
When that one was gone she wiped her mouth with the back of her
hand. “It tastes better after the first one.”
Nodding, he took the empty bottle from her and set it next to the
others. “How do you feel?”
“All right.”
“You don’t feel . . . him?”
“Not so much at the moment.” She pushed a hand through her
hair, straightening the long, platinum tresses. “I had bad dreams, though.”
“I know.”
She gave him a puzzled frown, then nodded. “Lucien.”
“Yes, but I think I might have overheard some of them, too. While
I was asleep.”
“That’s bizarre.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Do you think the blood bonded us?”
He shrugged. “Probably.” He rose from the chair and sat next to
her on the bed, touching her face, turning it so he could look into her
eyes. Her pupils looked a little too wide, but maybe that was his imagination.
“Lucien wants to go to the cave tonight. Do you feel up to it?”
“I don’t know. The closer we get—” She broke off and looked
away. A shadow of pain passed over her face.
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“We’ll figure out something.” He stood, holding a hand out to her.
“Come on. Let’s go see what Lucien’s up to.”
She smiled and took his hand, sliding off the bed. “He’s probably
in some kind of a telepathic trance, arranging transportation.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
Lucien was arranging transportation, but apparently the telepathic
trance option was out for the evening, because he was talking on a cell
phone.
“A helicopter would be best. Yes, not too far from Bacâu. As
soon as possible.” He caught sight of Jarod and Lilith and waved them
forward.
Jarod heard footsteps on the stairs behind him—William and Sasha
had joined them.
“Perfect,” said Lucien. “We’ll be there in an hour.”
Five
The helicopter touched down on a mostly level spot on a mountainside
in the Carpathians, not far from the city of Bacâu. By the time it
settled its landing skids against the rock, Lilith’s head felt as if it were
going to explode. Fighting the pain, she let Jarod help her out of the
helicopter, then concentrated on her surroundings, trying to orient herself.
“We’re in the right vicinity, correct?” Lucien asked her. He tossed
a couple of blankets over his shoulder. They’d brought them on the
assumption Aanu would be infirm or need help.
She nodded. “It should be down the mountain and just a bit to the
south.”
“That’s about what I was guessing.” He gestured to Sasha, who
spoke to the helicopter pilot in Romanian. The man nodded. Lucien
pulled a handful of bills out of his pocket and gave them to the pilot.
“That should keep him here until daybreak,” he muttered to the others.
“Let’s go.”
They proceeded single file down the mountain, Lucien and Lilith
trading the lead position. He seemed to know where they were going
as well as she did, making her wonder why she’d had to come at all.
But, after about forty-five minutes, Lucien stopped.
“I’ve lost it. You take over.”
Lilith drew a long breath. “Let’s rest a minute.” She put her hands
on her knees and lowered her head, drawing in the cold air. It made her
whole body hurt.
“Are you all right?” Jarod, of course. He bent next to her, trying
to see her face.
“Not really.”
“What is it?”
“Headache.”
He seemed on the verge of speaking, but stopped. Smiling wryly,
she said, “Yeah, blood would probably help, but I’m not quite that desperate
yet.”
“We’re awfully close to them here,” Lucien put in. “I don’t think
we should wait until you’re that desperate.”
Lilith looked up, into Jarod’s eyes as he crouched next to her. Past
the glint of his glasses’ lenses, she saw calm. He held up an arm—not
the one she’d bitten yesterday. “Take it if you need it.”
How could he be so accepting? It angered her. He didn’t understand
what she had been—what she still was. She didn’t deserve his
trust, or his blood.
But if she wanted to avoid causing all their deaths, she would
have to accept the blood. While the others waited, she took his wrist
and drank.
She had more control over it this time, and was able to stop after
less than a minute. Withdrawing her teeth, she licked the wounds gently
to seal them. She couldn’t look at Jarod as she did it, or at anyone
else, for that matter. The touch of her tongue against his skin made her
prickle with desire, and suddenly she felt as though she were having
sex with him in front of an audience. She gave him one last, utilitarian
lick and let him go without looking at him.
The wash of his blood into her system had cooled her headache
almost immediately. She wished she knew how close Ialdaboth and the
others actually were. Certainly there would be guards by the cave.
She exchanged a look with Lucien. The big demon just nodded.
Wondering how much of her thought process he’d overheard, she took
the lead, winding her way along the path, down the mountain, toward
the cave she knew lay below.
Two hours later, they lay together, all four of them, on the ledge
above the cave. A lone vampire stood guard, a young-looking man with
dark hair, a high forehead and broody eyebrows. He didn’t look very
focused on his task. Undoubtedly, Ialdaboth’s convocation didn’t expect
to see intruders.
“This is it,” said Lucien.
“Yes,” said Lilith, then realized he wasn’t asking her. There was a
strange light in his eyes, joyous but fierce.
“It all started here—where I was born.”
“You remember that?” she asked.
“Hell, I can’t remember yesterday.” He shifted, leaning farther
out over the ledge. “But I remember these mountains. And I have a
mental picture of what I think must have been the birthing caves. We’re
going to have to go in the front way. I can shift through the walls once
I’m inside, but I don’t want to risk it from up here. There’s too much
rock under us.”
Lilith nodded. She’d seen Ialdaboth shift directly into the cave
from about this point on the hill, but he’d known exactly where he was
going. “Good choice,” she said.
“I’m glad you approve.” She winced at the sarcasm in his tone,
but he smiled to soften it. “Lilith, you and William head back up to the
; chopper. Sasha, you distract the guard while Jarod and I go in.”
Lilith gaped. “What? You’re kicking me out?”
Her hiss came out a bit too loud, and below them the guard suddenly
stilled. All four observers froze—until he relaxed again.
When Lucien spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “I can’t
risk your getting any closer. We can take it from here. You go back. No
more chances.”
She looked at William, who shrugged apologetically.
“Fine,” she finally said.
William turned, retracing their path up the mountain. Lilith reluctantly
followed.
“You ready?” Lucien said.
Jarod drew a deep, steadying breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
At Lucien’s signal, Sasha crept down the incline to their left until
she disappeared into the darkness. A few minutes later she reappeared,
slipping up behind the guard.
Jarod couldn’t hear what she said, but he doubted it mattered.
She had pulled down the neckline of her already barely-there top, exposing
her shoulders and the tops of her ample breasts. The guard,
being male, found this quite intriguing.
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Lucien muttered.
Jarod stifled a laugh. From his vantage point above them, he could
see even more of Sasha than he suspected the guard could, standing in
front of her.
She draped an arm over the guard’s shoulders, practically putting
her breast into his face. She gave him a sultry smile, then cracked him
over the head with a rock.
“Absolutely not what I had in mind,” said Lucien. “Let’s go.”
He put an arm around Jarod, and a moment later they were both
standing in front of the cave opening.
Jarod knelt next to the guard’s prone body. “He’s alive.”
“Of course he is.” Sasha seemed offended. “I had no intention of
killing him. Look how pretty he is.”
“He’s a bad guy,” Lucien said. “We don’t care if he’s pretty.”
“I do. Can we take him home?”
“I’ll think about it. C’mon, Dr. Greene.” Lucien headed into the
mountain.
Jarod flipped on his flashlight and followed. He barely kept pace
as Lucien picked up speed through the main corridor. Obviously Lucien
had picked up a scent or, maybe, tapped into one of his elusive
memories. They followed the corridor down twists and turns and a