Chapter IV. Pale Shadows #2
“My voice faded, choking, the thought of her loss falling over me like a shroud. Looking into the darkness, I fancied I could see shapes among the trees now, the scent of silverbell hung on the air with the music of a little girl’s laughter.
Two figures waited beyond the fire’s edge, pale as corpses, wreathed in all night’s splendor.
The first, a dark angel, a beauty spot painted on a heartbreak-shaped face.
The second, a tiny miracle, her mama’s hair and her papa’s eyes, watching me across the wall of death.
But between the pair of them—those pale shadows of my two lost loves—now I fancied I could a see a third.
“Oh, Martyrs forgive me …
“‘He’s nae yer brother anymore, Gabe. He’s a vampire.’
“I blinked hard, banishing those ghosts and fixing my old ’prentice in my stare. ‘He’s only a few months turned. Aaron may not be the man he was, but he’s not had time to become a monster.’
“‘I heard Maergenn folk talkin’ about him afore I left. Whispering horror stories about the Blackheart’s boudoir, and what those two got up to in there.’
“‘He was thralled, Lachie. Just like you were. But when I found you in Báih Sìde—paleblooded son of dread Tolyev himself—I chose to believe you could be more than what you’d been made. After all we’ve been through, I owe Aaron the same measure of faith.’
“‘Yer my brother, Gabe. My capitaine. I owe ye my life, and if ye’re set to put trust in a leech, so be it. But forgive me if I don’t share it. I just pray he proves worthy of it.’
“I nodded, running a thumb over the ink on my hands.
“‘So do I.’
“My eyes drifted to the deadwood Aaron had stalked into.
Pale shadows rising amid the scent of silverbell.
For a moment, the memory of my Astrid was so sharp, it almost opened me to the bone; soft breath and softer hands, fangs grazing prickling skin, the beast in me rising, endless and serpentine.
I pushed it back down into my boots, stuffing my pipe with shaking hands and leaning toward the fire, drawing in a deep red lungful.
The sacrament flooded through my veins—nothing close to the real thing, but enough to see the hunger retreat into the shadows.
“Waiting.
“Smiling.
“‘They’ve been gone a while,’ Lachlan murmured.
“I blinked at that, lashes heavy, eyes dimmed by a crimson haze. I took another hit, holding my breath, alone in the bloodwarm red behind my eyes until Lachlan spoke again.
“‘Mebbe we should…’
“‘I’ll go,’ I sighed, red and roiling. ‘You stay and watch the horses. Try not to shit in anyone’s boots while I’m gone.’
“He chuckled at that, glancing at Aaron’s gear. ‘Nae promises.’
“I stood slowly, light-headed with bloodbliss, knowing this sensation must soon fade, but too thick with it to care yet. Trudging toward the deadwood, I stopped at the light’s cusp, turning toward that lone figure keeping vigil by the flames.
“‘I’m glad you’re here, Lachlan. Quarrels aside, there’s none in this world I’d want beside me on this road more than you.’
“‘Yer back.’ He winked. ‘My blade.’
“‘I’ll not be long.’
“‘Remember yer training when ye talk. He’s a son of Ilon. Law the Second, aye?’
“‘… Dead tongues heeded are Dead tongues tasted.’
“I stalked into darkness, paleblood eyes seeing true in that endless gloom. The sacrament had every sense tingling: sight, sound, scent, all sharp as a sword’s edge.
The dead trees were hung with garlands of frozen fungus, shadespine and moldweave and beggarbelly, but I could see small droplets on the icicles now, heralding the coming thaw.
“I followed footsteps in grey frost, struck by how deathly still it all was. When I was a boy, the night wilds had been raucous places; full of the calls of hunting birds, the squeak of careless prey, wind whispering among the leaves. But now, the leaves were all fallen, hunters and prey all dead, daysdeath settled over these lands like a shroud. All I could hear in that lonely black was the shift of melting frost, the thrum of my own heartbeat, and distant, almost at hearing’s edge, the sound of voices.
“Raised in anger.
“Baptiste and Aaron, both shouting; the familiar tune of the lovers’ quarrel. I was of two minds whether or not to intrude until I heard a crash, Aaron roaring in fury, lifting my nose to the wind and catching an all-too-familiar scent.
“Red. Red. Red.
“I ran, heart thundering in my chest as I plunged through the wood, praying no ill had befallen Baptiste. But piercing a tangle of fallen trees, I saw two figures in a clearing ahead, wreathed in the scent of fresh blood and heartbreak.
“‘Take it!’ Baptiste cried.
“He stood with hand outstretched, breath boiling on his lips. Even in the bitterbleak dark, I saw the source of that wondrous scent—a slice in his palm, bleeding fresh. Across the clearing, Aaron stood like a crooked portrait, golden hair framing his horrified face.
“‘Drink!’ Baptiste demanded, stepping forward.
“‘No,’ Aaron hissed, shrinking back.
“‘You need it!’
“‘I do not want it!’
“‘Aaron, don’t be foolish, you’ll starve w—’
“‘Do not call me a FOOL!’
“Roaring, Aaron lashed out at the dead elm beside him, unholy fury in his veins. The tree split at the root, tipping like a drunkard with a deafening CRACK. Ice and snow crashed earthward, but Aaron had already moved, looming now but an inch from Baptiste’s face.
“‘Were I a fool, I would give the beast inside me its head! Were I a fool, I would kiss you as fire does tinder, no heed for the ashes I’d leave behind!’
“‘You wouldn’t hurt me. You love me, as I love y—’
“‘Of course I do! And it is for the sake of that love I tell you NO!’
“Aaron turned away, withering to his haunches in the snow, hands pressed to his temples as a broken sob caught in the back of his throat. His teeth had grown long, hideously sharp, and even in the dark, I could see bloody tears shining in his eyes.
“‘You don’t know,’ he whispered. ‘What he did. What he bid me do.’
“‘Then tell me,’ Baptiste pleaded.
“‘I would.’ Aaron hung his head. ‘God help me, I’d spit that poison just to be rid of its taste, but for the terror that you’d never look at me again as you do now.’
“‘Godssakes, I love you, Aaron, nothing will change that!’
“But Aaron only shook his head. ‘You don’t know, Baptiste. You can’t.’
“Baptiste clenched his jaw, anger and sorrow in his voice. ‘You must feed.’
“‘Not from you. Not ever.’
“‘You’ll starve yourself, then? Wracked with thirst ’til you can bear no more? Lachlan is already itching to hack your head off; what do you think he’ll do if you lose control?’
“‘I can feed on wretched. Gabe near said as m—’
“‘So you’ll glut yourself on rottens, but refuse to touch me?’ Baptiste gritted his teeth, tears in his eyes. ‘Are you so eager to leave me behind, husband mine? Could it be you’re bored of me already?’
“‘Stop talking nonsense,’ Aaron snarled.
“‘You think I’m a simpleton? You think I don’t know what’s coming? With me getting older every day and you remaining young and beautiful forever?’
“‘Baptiste, I will always love you.’
“‘Then prove it.’ Baptiste held out his bloody hand. ‘Take it.’
“Aaron looked up into his husband’s eyes then, red tears spilling from his own.
“‘You want me to,’ he realized, horrified. ‘You want me to … to bite you.’
“‘Is that so wrong?’ Baptiste cried, face twisted with anguish. ‘You weren’t the only one to taste the pleasures of the Dyvok, Aaron! Kiara drank from me a dozen times, and I can’t forget that …
that … God…’ He bit his lip, searching the skies above for words that might describe the impossible.
‘Sweet Mothermaid, the way it made me feel—’
“‘Oh, no,’ Aaron whispered. ‘Baptiste, no, no, she was a bloody monster.’
“‘I know it!’ Baptiste took another step forward, dripping hand outstretched once more. ‘But if a devil like her could give me such a glimpse of heaven, what might I feel with you? Don’t you see, love, it’s perfect! You need it! And I want it!’
“‘You’ve no idea what you ask of me! If I start and cannot stop—’
“‘You wouldn’t hurt me. I love you, Aaron. And I am not afraid.’
“Aaron met his beloved’s eyes then, whispering in a voice that shivered the dark.
“‘You are afraid.’
“‘Aaron, I—’
“‘Your legs buckle,’ Aaron growled, rising now to his feet. ‘Your belly fills with ice, and your bowels run to water. You’re terrified, Baptiste. Of me.’
“‘Aaron, n-no, I—’
“‘Run back to the fire. Huddle in its light and pray God for protection and flinch at the sound of my return.’ Aaron drew himself up tall, eyes glinting like shattered glass, a black radiance gathered about him like a cloak as he spoke again. ‘Fear it, love.’
“Baptiste gasped, his face bloodless, staggering and almost falling. With a cry, he turned, stumbling over root and twig as he fled that clearing, that whisper in his wake.
“‘Fear me.’
“Aaron stood now in the cold alone, head bowed, hair tumbling about his bloodstained cheeks in golden waves. Bleak winds clawed his greatcoat, but he was motionless as marble for long and silent moments. Until he finally drew breath to speak.
“‘You can come out now, Gabriel.’
“I hung still a long moment, watching in the dark. My grip on Ashdrinker’s haft was white-knuckle tight, and though I kept her sheathed, my hand never left her hilt as I stepped from among the dead boughs.
“‘Is that for me?’ Aaron asked, eyes falling upon my blade.
“I watched him in the darkness, sorrow etched so deep in the blue of his eyes they seemed almost black. But if I looked hard, I could still see the shadow of the boy I’d once known, the brother I yet loved, trapped in a hell I could scarce imagine.
“‘No,’ I said, my hand slipping from Ash’s hilt.
“‘Perhaps it should be. Monsters are meant to be slain, after all.’
“‘You’re no monster, Aaron.’
“He laughed at that; hollow, bitter, fangs like daggers in his gums.
“‘If you were,’ I insisted, ‘you’d be glutting yourself at Baptiste’s throat right now, instead of using the gifts of your blood to frighten him away.’
“‘Not my blood. My father’s.’
“Aaron looked to his chest, spreading his shirt to show me the roses and serpent there. The sigil of his father’s line. Once they’d been inked in silver, shining with the light of his faith. But now, they were black. Like the rest of his aegis. Like the stains on his soul.
“‘I am a paleblooded son of Ilon, oui. I can bend mortal wills with a whisper. But my blood is Dyvok, Gabriel. The blood of the Untamed. The blood of savages.’
“‘You’re not like them, Aaron. You’re more. You’re better.’
“‘You’ve no idea what I am. What I’m capable of. Nor did I.’ He looked down at his hand, black heart and thorns burned into his skin. ‘Until he showed me.’
“‘You’re not what he did to you, Aaron.’ I stepped to his side, taking his arm. ‘Nikita slaved your will, as surely as your flesh. And bound in chains of blood by one of the most powerful vampires on earth, still you found strength to defy him.’
“‘Only once.’
“His whisper was almost too faint to hear, fragile as porcelain.
“‘All those p-people…’
“‘It’s not your fault. It was battle, Aaron. The ’saints were trying to kill you, you fought for your life. I’m glad you won through.’
“‘Not those people.’ He looked at me then, haunted, hollow, such anguish in his gaze I felt tears in my eyes. ‘The others. In … in his b-bed. Women. Men. Ravaged and ripped. Buckled and bloodied and broken, oh G-God, Gabriel—’
“‘It’s not your fault! He made you do it!’
“‘Perhaps. But I … A part of me…’
“He hung his head, bloody tears pattering in the snow.
“‘I enjoyed it, Gabriel. I reveled in it.’
“I flinched, belly dropping so hard toward my boots, I had to swallow the vomit. My chest felt cleaved open, and I cast my eyes to the skies above, to the God watching, the God laughing, a curse roiling behind my fangs that he’d fashion such a hell for my friend.
Even after all he’d suffered, Aaron stayed true to heaven’s king.
And this was his reward? Hunger undying, and hell awaiting?
“‘I don’t believe that, Aaron. You’re one of the finest men I know. The bravest. The most faithful.’
“‘Faithful?’ he scoffed. ‘I’ve no faith in me anymore, brother. What would be the point? No grace in heaven for the damned.’
“‘Then seek it in something else! If prayer offers no more comfort, then mine your salvation from a different lode! Love! Loyalty! Honor!’
“He hung his head, his voice a soulless whisper.
“‘It matters not what you hold faith in. But you must hold faith in something.’
“‘Oui!’ I hissed, squeezing his arm. ‘So you told me in the darkest of my hours, and never were truer words spoken! Believe in Baptiste, if nothing else! In the love not even Nikita’s blood could drown! You’re worth a thousand of him, Aaron. Don’t let him ruin you!’
“‘And who are you to preach of belief, brother?’
“His eyes drifted to the silver on my skin, cold and lightless.
“‘You who believe in nothing?’
“‘Aaron…’
“‘I am fallen, Gabriel. All hope of heaven abandoned. Only hell awaiting. And if I must cleave to purpose, it is to ensure I do not drag my beloved into that abyss with me. But preach not to me of salvation, brother. Because when this unlife is taken from me, when I descend into the pit I so truly deserve, we both of us know…’
“He met my eyes, bloody tears in his own.
“‘I will see you there.’
“He spoke no more, turning and stalking into the shadows. I saw no point calling after him. He’d shot true, and we both knew it.
Damned, the pair of us. One grim desire each now left to guide us—Aaron, to safeguard his beloved through this trek into hell, and I, to put another in it before I tumbled down after him.
“I looked to the sky. Hissing my hatred.
“My purpose.
“My prayer.
“‘Fabién.’”