the smell of vampires was fainter. And, finally, she found an exit and let
herself out into the dark New York City night.
She allowed herself one look back, one pang of regret, but no
tears.
* * *
Jarod was looking forward to seeing Lilith the next evening. Exhausted
from lack of sleep and blood loss, he’d spent the day mostly
unconscious, and had awakened with thoughts of her crowding everything
else out of his mind. He was looking forward to talking to her,
touching her, even if only in a diagnostic manner. Or maybe she would
let him kiss her again. It seemed a fair bet.
But she was gone.
He stared blankly at the empty bed for stunned moments, unable
to comprehend what he was seeing. Where could she have possibly
gone?
“She left.”
Julian’s voice startled him. He turned abruptly.
“Where did she go?”
“Topside.” Julian settled a shoulder against the doorframe. “She’s
trying to protect us all from the danger that is Lilith.”
A stab of pain went through Jarod’s wrist, and he grimaced. What
was it about vampire bites, that they kept hurting, as if he were being
bitten again?
“I want you to go fetch her.”
Jarod blinked. “Me? Why me?”
“You might be more convincing.” He smiled a little, then sobered.
“She’s wrong about her bond with Ialdaboth. We need her.”
“Do you know where she is?”
He nodded. “I’ll take you there.”
She had set up temporary housing in an abandoned apartment
building, in the windowless basement. The rooms above had all been
boarded shut, but she didn’t trust them to be sun-tight.
She didn’t trust anything at this point. Skulking the streets of Newark,
New Jersey, she’d had the distinct feeling someone was following
her.
She’d seen a shadow out of the corner of her eye that had sent
her senses tingling. Her first thought had been that Julian had noticed
her missing and sent someone after her. But no vampire from the Underground
would need to behave so furtively only for her sake. No,
whatever the thing was she’d sensed, it had a dark feeling to it.
Could Ialdaboth have agents here?
The minute the question occurred to her, she realized how stupid
it was. Of course, he did. That’s why she’d left Manhattan, wasn’t it?
If they could trace her through her blood, they could follow her right to
the depths of the Underground, regardless of any safeguard Julian had
engineered. And they could track her; they’d proven that in Romania.
Yet they hadn’t been able to do it while she’d been full of Jarod’s
blood
The shadow she’d seen could have been anything—a mugger, a
stray dog, her own imagination. It didn’t matter, though. Even if her
worst fears were true, she’d had to leave the Underground. Her presence
there endangered the entire community.
She didn’t doubt for a second that if she stayed in this dismal hellhole,
they would hunt her down and kill her. Jarod’s blood would only
keep her safe for so long. But maybe, if all they wanted was her, her
death would protect the rest of them.
A shudder ran through her as she took in her surroundings. The
place, like her thoughts, was miserable. She ached from the day spent
in Sleep on the concrete floor. It was cold, and she heard rats from
time to time. Not necessarily a bad thing, the rats. At least she could
eat them.
She might have to. Hunger twisted her gut, and she really didn’t
want to hunt. Not now. The thought of human blood repelled her, but it
also called to her. Yet if she went outside, into the place where the
shadows stalked, she might not survive long enough to feed.
Stay—go. Feed—starve. She couldn’t think clearly enough to work
through any of the conundrums facing her. She didn’t want to kill, but
“Lilith.”
She spun, staring. Jarod stood at the doorway to her new lair. He
lifted a bag of rich, garnet blood.
“I brought breakfast,” he said.
are you here?”
“Julian sent me.”
“Why?”
“He wants you to come back.”
The flutter of hope that had leapt in her heart died. “He wants me
to come back. He wants me to.”
“Lilith . . .”
“Go away. If Julian wants me, he can come and get me himself.”
She turned her back to him and knelt on the floor, straightening the nest
of blankets she’d slept in.
She heard Jarod take a step closer but refused to turn around.
“Lilith . . .”
The pleading in his voice made her angry. She surged to her feet,
spinning to face him. He blinked, but didn’t retreat. “Would you have
come after me if Julian hadn’t told you to?” Her voice was bitter and
mocking.
“No, because I wouldn’t have known where the hell to look for
you.” He held up the bag of blood. “At least eat something. Maybe you
won’t be so bitchy.”
She jerked the blood from his hand, let her fangs slide free and
sank them right through the plastic. If she had thought to shock or
disgust him with the display, she failed. He only stood watching, impassive.
She drained the bag and threw it to the floor, irritated at his lack of
reaction. Then again, he was a vampire doctor. She should have known
a little blood-drinking wouldn’t faze him.
“Feel any better?” he asked.
“A little. You should have brought more.”
“It was all I had left of mine.”
Of course. “So you came to medicate me.”
“No. I came to ask you to come back.”
“Why? Because Julian needs me?”
“No. Because if you don’t, we may not be able to stop Ialdaboth
from slaughtering us all.” Her lip curled into the beginnings of a sneer
before he added, “But most of all, because I need you.”
Her gaze met his. She could neither deny nor resist what she saw
there—pain, need, desire. Love. She swallowed, surprised at the intensity
of it, more surprised at the intensity of her own reaction. Blinking,
she gathered herself.
“All right,” she said finally. “That’s more like it.”
“Good.” He took her arm. “Then let’s go.”
They left the building together, and Lilith immediately sensed the
shadows. They were closer, darker, more of them than there had been
before, and she knew for certain now that they were neither stray dogs
nor muggers. She clasped Jarod’s arm.
“Do you see them?” she whispered.
“See who?” He matched her barely-audible tone.
“The shadows.” Could it possibly be her imagination? Surely not—
it was too real for that. They flitted at the corners of her eyes.
Jarod glanced from side to side without moving his head. “I don’t
see anything.” His eyes narrowed a little, though, and Lilith was certain
he was looking directly at one of the shrouded lurkers. “Vamps?”
he said.
“Yes.”
“I don’t see them. Are they ours?”
“No.” She made herself as still as she could, as still as only a
vampire was capable of being. Jarod’s necessary breathing sounded
like a gale-force wind next to her, his heartbeat deafening. The vamps
would be looking for her, though, so the tumult of his humanness shouldn’t
matter.
In her shroud of silence, she watched. She could see only the
vague, dark shadows. They were too distant for her to make out details,
and seemed to be protected by some sort of magic. But they were
Ialdaboth’s. She was certain of it. They would sense her, at any moment,
and they would come to her and take her, murder her, murder
Jarod, then go on to the Underground, to destroy the others
They moved. Shifted toward each other until they stood in a small
clump. There were three or four of them—the magic distorted them
enough that it was hard to tell. Lilith held herself utterly still.
And they disappeared.
“They’re gone,” Jarod murmured, his perception surprising her.
“Yes.”
“Why did they leave?”
“I don’t know. I think they were following me. Maybe your blood
killed the trail.”
“That would make sense.” He grasped her arm as she relaxed
again. “We need to tell Julian.”
“It’s not unexpected.” Julian’s calm response to the news that
she’d been followed surprised Lilith.
“What if they find us?” she asked, wondering if he was truly as
calm as he appeared to be, trying to match her demeanor to his. Inside,
her stomach was trembling and twisted. She guessed Jarod, standing
behind her, sensed her turmoil when she felt his comforting hand on her
shoulder.
Julian, sitting at the desk, steepled his fingers and frowned. “I
don’t think they will. I’ve put up a few more safeguard layers. The
margins of this place are so muddled by now they’re practically impossible
to sense unless you’re one of us.”
“How did that go?” Jarod asked, and Lilith heard carefully muted
concern in his voice.
Julian looked at him briefly. “As well as can be expected.”
She had no idea what they were talking about, but it didn’t matter.
Only one thing did—protecting the Underground—and she didn’t trust
any so-called safeguards.
“I can’t stay here,” she blurted out. “It’s not safe. It’s why I left.
You have to understand that.”
Jarod’s hand tightened on her shoulder, as if to hold her there, to
stop her from leaving again.
“You’re wrong,” Julian said firmly. “You have to stay here. I need
you. I can use the link you have to keep track of Ialdaboth, to judge
when he’s likely to come after us again.”
“But he can use it, too!” she said. “It will lead him here!”
“Not if we keep you . . . inoculated, so to speak.” Smiling, he
glanced again at Jarod. Then, his expression softening, he said to her,
“I need you, Lilith. You’re our secret weapon. As long as I have you, I
have control over when and where I face Ialdaboth, when the time
comes.”
She hesitated, needing to be certain she wasn’t surrendering for
only selfish reasons. She felt her Jarod’s fingers squeeze her shoulder
yet again, gently this time. “You’re sure about that?” she said.
Julian nodded. “As sure as I can be.”
“But will it be safe for Jarod?”
Close behind her, Jarod put in, “As safe as we can make it.”
“I’ll let you two work out the details on that one,” said Julian. He
fluttered his fingers toward the door. “You can go.”
She followed Jarod to her hospital room and sat on the bed.
“Still hungry?” he asked her, moving to stand between her knees.
“Not so much.”
“Good.” He traced his fingers down her cheek. “You’re not in
this alone, you know.” His hand slid down from her face, across her
collar bone, until he cupped her breast.
“Dr. Greene, I don’t think that’s very professional behavior.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Then shut up.” He bent to kiss her, his mouth soft and searching.
She kissed him back, threads of heat singing through her body.
“When you have problems,” he whispered against her lips, “you’ll
need me to help you.”
“I’ll need your blood.”
“Uh-huh. So it might be a good idea to keep me close at hand.”
“A very good idea.” Her hands slid down his body, feeling his
warmth, his heartbeat. His blood inside her seemed to call to its source,
inside him.
“They say,” he said softly, “that when a vampire takes your blood,
she can make it like sex. Is that true?”
She smiled. “I can do more than that. I can make it be sex.”
“Do you think you might need another dose? I mean right now?”
“It certainly couldn’t hurt.”
Jarod gathered Lilith close against him and kissed her, deep and
long. He wondered, just for a moment, what the hell he was doing. His
great-grandfather had always told him not to get too close. Yet here he
was, peeling off her shirt and ravenously mouthing her breasts, about
to get as close as it was possible to get. And he had no intention of
letting somebody else’s prejudices stop him.
What had Great-grandpa Greene been afraid of? Maybe of admitting
the possibility of what Jarod now knew was true—that protovampire
blood ran in his veins. He’d have thought the old man would
have figured it out by the time his hundred and twentieth birthday rolled
around.
Jarod laughed at the thought, and Lilith peered at him curiously.
“What?” she said as he kissed his way down her stomach.
“Nothing.” He paused just below her navel to look up the length
of her body at her face, framed by her breasts. “You’re beautiful.”
She watched his face disappear between her thighs and fought
tears. He was a good man. Certainly, he deserved better than her
ancient and damaged self. But Fate seemed to disagree. And she wasn’t
about to argue.
Especially not when he was working such magic on her. She’d
wanted his mouth there ever since their encounter on the plane, and he
was certainly living up to her expectations. She wondered how long it
had been since he’d been with a woman, then decided she didn’t care.
Then she couldn’t think much about anything as the hot, spiraling
pleasure flooded through her. She felt his smile against her skin as his
tongue nudged her just a little further, a little more
Jarod watched her hit her peak, tumble over. He kept her going
for a few minutes, tapping with his tongue and feeling her shudder, until
suddenly she twisted under him, and he felt her teeth. Not in his throat
this time, but in the hollow of his shoulder. She could sip blood there but
not gorge on it. He tried to remember what major veins passed close to
the spot where she’d penetrated him and how far they were from the
prick of her teeth, but she shifted again, and suddenly he was penetrating
her.
Instinct took over then, and he slid home, claiming her. Then he
held still, feeling the tight sheath of her sex around him, the pulsing of
his own blood, the beating of it as it went into her mouth. For a split
second, he was certain he was going to die. It would have been a very,
very happy death.
She freed her fangs and moaned under him, licking the wound as
an afterthought. Eyes locked to his, she smiled. He returned her smile
and slid out, then in again, deeper. Her soft gasps guiding his rhythm, he
stroked until her body clenched and pulsed around him, and he followed
her over the crest to completion.
For a time afterward, he just breathed. Then he settled next to her
on the bed, and cradled her against him. She closed her eyes, her head
on his shoulder—the unbitten one—and pushed her white-blonde hair
out of her face.
“Remind me to check my hemoglobin levels before we make love
again,” he said, soft laughter in his voice.
She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I think I love you,” she
said.
The admission surprised him. He shifted to look at her, but she
wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“That’s good,” he said. “That’s very good, in fact.” He put a fin
ger under her chin, tilting her head up, making her look at him. “Because
I think the feeling is mutual.”
She managed a watery smile. “I don’t think you know what you’re
taking on.”
“Probably not.” He kissed her on the nose. “I rarely do. It hardly
matters.”
“Just don’t get too far away.”
He nestled her closer. “Never. You can count on that.”
Julian’s Journal
The one who was dead will feed on life without creating death,
and the life that was death will bring power. That’s Lucien’s piece,
which is all I have at the moment.
But what the hell does it mean? And how much more do I need?
There must be more pieces. Perhaps each of the four First Demons,
the half-brothers born all within the same span of twenty-four
hours in a cave in Romania twelve thousand years ago, carries a piece
of the puzzle. I have Lucien’s. I need Aanu’s and Ruha’s and Ialdaboth’s.
Lilith thinks Rafael may have knowledge of Ialdaboth’s part in