13. Immortal
IMMORTAL
D oes your blood run pure, Grayson?
Ryder’s hands curled tighter around the balcony’s stone railing.
How will I know unless I taste it?
The echo of Lawson’s voice from the vision that Daemon had given him rocketed around in Ryder’s head. Well, the first statement was from the vision, but the second was his own imagination. But it was what Lawson would say.
Would your feelings for Grayson not be enough to keep Lawson under control?
Ryder’s tongue clove to the top of his mouth as all the saliva drained out of it, leaving it mummified at Daemon’s remembered question.
Would he not do this for you?
Fledglings did things for their Masters, not the other way around.
Surely, he wouldn’t harm who you care for no matter how new that caring!
Ryder drew in a deep breath and his eyelids flew open. The west interior courtyard of the Weryn lodgings swam into view. Tall trees with silver bark and leaves that were so dark green they were almost black stirred in a sweet wind. The sound they made reminded him of running his hands over silk.
You would have me hate him.
Would I? Or does part of you hate him already?
Ryder drew in another deep breath. He turned on his heel and headed into his room. Though he left the sky behind, the room’s high ceilings kept him from feeling claustrophobic. He strode to the single piece of furniture in the room. A table that could seat twenty, but held only one at the moment. But it was the only person--other than Grayson--that he had a mind to see.
“You need more blood.” Demos pushed the decanter and glass towards him. The dark red liquid sloshed and left a red haze in its wake. “It would be better fresh.”
“I have no time for amusements,” Ryder said as he poured himself another glass.
The thought of taking a warm body into his arms at that moment, of putting his lips against skin, of feeling a heartbeat swell under his tongue, of hearing moans of pleasure travel up his fangs were not what he could bear at the moment.
Does your blood run pure, Grayson?
Ryder swallowed down another glass of tepid blood the consistency of molasses. He grimaced.
How will I know unless I taste it?
“Oh, but you had time to walk Grayson to his rooms?” Demos’ left eyebrow rose. “And to take your sweet time in getting him there? You even went inside with all those students that we’re supposed to be ignoring. But there you were. A part of the party. Like we’re all some happy family.”
“He’s a link to the Sect of Dawn,” Ryder said as he stared down into the glass. It was stained red. The coppery scent of blood filled his nostrils, but he felt no hunger, no desire, nothing at all.
How will I know unless I taste it?
He swallowed hard.
“And the fact that he’s all edges with soft, wounded eyes has nothing to do with you taking your time? And making people wonder if Weryn is in it?” Demos took a sip of his own blood and grimaced as well. But both of them were wounded.
We’re all wounded.
“Grayson wasn’t meant to have such edges,” Ryder found himself saying, and realizing he had walked straight into Demos’ trap, shook his own glass at his Blood Brother. “He’s interesting. A human with powers like that…”
Demos nodded. “Yes, he is interesting, which is why that pup Christian set you off with a flea in your ear for hanging around him! Not even a year old and he bosses you around.”
Ryder snorted even though being sent away had been unpleasant. Though Christian had done it in such a way that had not been arrogant, but instead full of righteousness. He was Balthazar’s fledgling after all and Ryder-- all the Weryn--were not falling into plan with his Master’s little school idea. But he hadn’t even been rude just cold. Cutting. A searing indictment with a flick of silver eyes. He had to admit that Balthazar had chosen his own fledgling quite well. Maybe he could pick the fledglings of others with equal good taste, but Ryder had no intention of finding out.
“Christian would boss you around, too,” Ryder suddenly pointed out with a dry chuckle. “There’s something about him. More than being Eyros’ fledgling or the Prince’s best friend. He’s different.”
“He is too friendly with Kaly. He can talk to the dead and know what’s beyond,” Demos stated the gossip about Christian Thorne. “He’s a strange one, to be sure. But he only thought to send you on your way because Grayson is interesting to the King . Forget Balthazar and Caemorn. The King himself came to see that broken boy.”
“He’s not broken. He’s just…” Ryder grimaced again when Demos laughed at him.
“Gods forbid, he is not broken! How can you fix him if he’s complete? He does not need Ryder to lure out the wild creature he is and set his wing or brace his wounded paw then!” Demos teased.
Ryder let his head fall back. His chest still ached when he did this. The skin on his chest was too new to be stretched or strained. Fresh blood would have been better to heal himself quicker, but he’d needed to see Grayson again. Needed to make sure the boy was all right, and was being treated well. If he told Demos that--assuming his Blood Brother didn’t already know--he’d never hear the end of it.
“Grayson is right that if we can discover who the Sect of Dawn is then Daemon will be indebted to us,” Ryder pointed out. “And we need that debt. One of the reasons that Christian felt no compunction against dismissing me is because the Weryn are not in Daemon’s good graces. Lawson… Lawson was like a bull in a china shop with him. He did not represent us well. Instead of getting our points across, he likely just angered the king.”
Demos studied him long and hard. Ryder strove not to squirm beneath that incisive gaze. Despite Demos being the younger of them, he had the ability to see into men’s hearts even without the ability of Eyros.
“You have never spoken against Lawson before,” Demos said carefully as he traced an infinity symbol on the table with a droplet of blood. Was he consciously drawing Daemon’s symbol or not? “And not wishing to tell him about Grayson is… not like you either.”
“Lawson will be leaving tomorrow. I don’t want him staying–”
“You don’t want him to stay?” Demos lifted an eyebrow.
“If I am… if I am to represent the Weryn at the school, having him here… won’t work well,” Ryder explained haltingly.
“Only if you let him stand in your way.”
“I have no intention of fighting Lawson for control of the Weryn--”
“No, you just want him out of the way so that you can control things without dealing with him,” Demos stated flatly.
“He’s our Master.” That sounded lame to his own ears. It was lame.
“He’s the one who turned us, Ryder, but both of us know--whether you want to admit it or not--that he’s never been either of our Masters,” Demos shook his head. The feathers in his hair fluttered.
Ryder looked down. “I respect him for what he’s given us.”
“We’ve brought more in than he’s given us,” Demos challenged.
Does your blood run pure, Grayson?
Ryder closed his eyes and swallowed. “I know.”
Silence fell. When he opened his eyes again, Demos was gazing at him with nothing less than shock.
“Whenever we’ve had conversations like this in the past, you’ve never conceded any of my points,” Demos said. “What’s changed?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, bullshit, my ass that nothing has changed! What’s changed ?” Demos demanded.
“Daemon…”
“What? What did he say to you?” Demos went very still. “You can tell me, Ryder.”
“I know. I just…”
“What did Daemon say?”
Does your blood run pure, Grayson?
“Maybe what I already knew,” Ryder whispered. “Do you think it’s the wrong move? To--to team up with Grayson? To keep it from Lawson?”
Ryder practically held his breath. Demos’ judgment was always good, but he did not want to tell Lawson about Grayson no matter what. Yet he didn’t trust his judgment about the young man. He was attracted to him. Grayson was just his type but amplified a thousand fold.
“No, it’s not wrong at all! It’s right! I like that you are stepping out from his shadow,” Demos said with an emphatic thump of his hand on the table. “He thinks he speaks for all of the Weryn, but he doesn’t. I think Daemon’s return has left us all uncertain of what the right path forward is. Lawson has aimed us in a direction. But is it the right one? Is it the one we should be taking? You already know what I believe. But what do you think?”
“He may not be right about many things. He may not be the right leader either. But… he’s not altogether wrong either. We have tradition in how we choose our fledglings for a reason. We know what happens when Immortals are in charge of this.” Ryder’s expression grew grave. “The War showed their true colors. Fledglings were not made to add to the group harmony, but simply as cannon fodder.”
“I am not saying that I am keen on Eyros, Kaly and Seeyr choosing the pool of candidates either for us to pick from.” Demos held up his hands. “But now that the humans know about us there needs to be rules. The school seems fair.”
“Humans want rules for us , but for themselves? Every rule they make, they break if it suits them.” Ryder crossed his arms over his chest. “We need to choose the best to be among us. We can’t allow their fear--or our fear--to cause us to make mistakes again.”
Demos nodded. “That’s true. But how do we know that Eyros and the others haven’t chosen the best with this year’s class?”
“Gregory was a member of the Sect of Dawn,” Ryder reminded him dryly. “He can hardly be the best .”
“But Gregory led us to Grayson.” Demos pointed out.
“That was luck. Bad luck for Grayson perhaps,” Ryder said, flashing back though on the unwilling sketch of Grayson’s hard past. He was glad that Grayson wasn’t decaying in a dead end job with no friends and no prospects.
“Was it though? Was it luck at all? You said yourself that Seeyr played a role in picking who was chosen,” Demos pointed out.
Seeyr was another Immortal like Balthazar and Caemorn, but she had not died and been reborn. She had been imprisoned in her own tower, the Spire, in the Ever Dark since the time of the War. Her eyes had been plucked out and not allowed to regrow due to near starvation levels of feeding. But that had not stopped her from seeing--and making happen--the one future where Daemon returned to rule both Vampires and humans.
“She picked Gregory--”
“But maybe because it was the only way to lead the Sect to reveal itself and bring a most unusual human into the game. Grayson seems to have no love for Vampires,” Demos said. “He would never have come here absent Gregory.”
“But that feels like luck! Like a coincidence!” Ryder paced.
“She plays the long game. Things that seem unimportant end up deciding everything. Yet here we are. In the future she foresaw and wanted,” Demos reminded him this time.
Ryder scrubbed his fingers through his beard. Grayson was unusual. Was worthy. Was interesting. Getting him here willingly when he otherwise would never have come on his own was brilliant, if true.
“He’d never have accepted coming here if we had trapped him,” Ryder remarked softly as he realized that this might have been the only way Grayson would have ever accepted being in the Ever Dark.
“Grayson? Oh, hell, no. That boy would have broken himself completely on the bars of any cage,” Demos agreed.
“I was thinking that perhaps we could reach out to your friend Dani for him,” Ryder said as he continued to pace.
Demos’ eyebrows lifted. “Why would you want to talk to Dani about Grayson?”
Unlike most Weryn, Demos befriended Vampires of all Bloodlines and Dani was an Ashyr Vampire. They had gifts similar to Grayson’s in that they were telekinetic.
“I was thinking if we are going after the Sect that Grayson should hone his gift. What better person to help him than an Ashyr Vampire?” Ryder suggested.
Demos pursed his lips. “I see where you are going there.”
“But you don’t approve?” Ryder stopped pacing directly opposite where Demos sat sprawled at the dining table.
Demos lifted his silver eyes to Ryder. “Have you thought how Grayson might be perceived, especially by an Ashyr Vampire?”
Ryder opened and shut his mouth. “I…”
“I know that you are not so enamored with the idea of the Immortals returning. You don’t care if Weryn ever shows up… or if he’s here already.” A stare from Demos had him shifting uncomfortably. “But others do care. Very much. They see how much favor the Bloodlines whose Immortals have returned are getting. Not just the pretty palaces that are open to them, but the affection of our king.”
“You don’t think that Grayson is--is Ashyr reborn?” Ryder let out a sharp laugh that somehow hurt.
Demos spread his arms. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because he… simply because he is telekinetic doesn’t mean he’s Ashyr reincarnated! When Balthazar was human he couldn’t read minds! When Caemorn was human he couldn’t raise the dead!” Ryder insisted.
Demos’ stare should have shot right through him at this rate. “Balthazar was the second son of some lord or another. He was a drunk and a gambler. Yet… yet he always won. He should have lost against the cretins he played against in games of chance, become indebted to the low lives of society, but he never did.”
“Meaning he was reading their minds?” Ryder felt his throat growing tight as he said this.
Another shrug of those big black shoulders. “I think he either had the luck of the Devil or he knew what cards were in everyone’s hands and knew when the dice were loaded. As to Caemorn… Well, there are stories about him dissecting dead animals as a child and perhaps even bringing a crow back to life. But less is known there. I could go onto Wyvern, as well, but--”
“Enough.” Ryder ripped a hand through his hair. “I see your point. But none of them is as powerful as Grayson with their gift when they were mortal.”
“And you think that means it’s less likely he’s Ashyr?” Demos eyebrows were practically one with his hairline. “Why are you so against him being an Immortal really?”
“Because…” Ryder stopped.
He wasn’t sure how to express this, how to put what he felt into words. This sensation of being chained with the knowledge that you had a life before this one where you had created monsters instead of children to fight for you. That your best intentions became the worst of acts. The War between the Immortals after Daemon had gone to sleep to await Julian was born was so brutal. He hadn’t been alive during it, but he knew what it had done to all of them. He just knew …
“Grayson is already saddled with a dark past. Being Ashyr wouldn’t relieve that. It would only add to his burden,” Ryder finally said.
Demos regarded him with an almost sadness in his eyes. “The Order lied about what happened during the War, Ryder. Only those who were actually there know which Immortals started it and what was actually done versus the grim fairytale the Order told us to keep us in line.”
“We know how bad it was because of the safeguards that were put in place because of it.” Ryder grimaced. “Our traditions are not just because we have a greater tie to nature than the other Bloodlines as we turn into other living beings. But because we so abused that during the War that it was determined never again would we allow ourselves to behave that way.”
He was practically shaking. Talking about the War, about Weryn, about all of it caused his skin to want to split open so that he could crawl away from himself.
“All this talk about me being Weryn and Grayson being Ashyr is not good news, Demos. The Immortals’ hands are covered in the blood of their own children. The Vampires that are… off all come from that era.”
“Lawson wasn’t alive then,” Demos said quietly as if that proved something.
“He was turned by Legion,” Ryder reminded him unnecessarily.
They both went silent then. Legion had been Weryn’s top general in the War, though he had not been the oldest of Weryn’s Children. But he had been the most ruthless and the most dangerous. Lawson, of all his fledglings, was the only one not to have been brought down afterwards by Vampire hunters like himself and Demos. The only one that was not tainted by madness.
Does your blood run pure, Grayson?
Ryder shook his head violently as if to shake that vision out of it. But the echo of the words remained.
“Weryn made Legion. Approved his barbarity. We shouldn’t want Weryn back, Demos,” Ryder insisted.
“I thought we were talking about Ashyr here,” Demos replied softly.
“We shouldn’t want any of them back! And those that are need to prove they have the right to rule us again! But Daemon’s just given them all the power yet again!” Ryder gritted his teeth.
“Daemon isn’t like the other Immortals,” Demos said, stroking his chin. “We’ve been around enough of the crazies to know he isn’t like that. He trusts Balthazar and Caemorn. Shouldn’t we?”
“I know. I know.” Ryder threw up his arms. “But I think he’s blinded by his love for the Immortals from the past. He doesn’t know what they became without his leadership and guidance. He still sees them as the beings he knew. But they changed while he slept. Or maybe, not being weaker than them, he didn’t know what they were really like at all.”
Silence fell between them except for the popping of the tree-branch sized logs in the fireplace that spanned the length of one wall. The heat from it embraced the whole room. Ryder had piled furs and pillows in front of it. Other than the table, that was the only real touch of habitation he had brought to this space.
As he stared at the furs, his mind offered him the image of Grayson lying there, nude and asleep, head turned to the side so that he was snuggled into the soft blankets. The firelight would flow over his long, lean form. Ryder could imagine running one hand down his naked flank and watching as Grayson stirred from his touch. Those soft, wounded eyes would open, dark lashes fluttering, as Grayson focused upon him. A slow smile would lift the edges of that plush mouth. Ryder could almost taste their kiss.
“We should get ready for the parade,” Demos said, draining his glass. “The show must go on.”
Ryder nodded, still staring at the blankets that held no warm, pliant body.
Seeing where he was looking, a smile alighted on Demos’ lips, but it was a little sad too as he said, “You know, I thought you wouldn’t want Grayson to be Ashyr reborn because… well, because he couldn’t be yours.”
Ryder’s head snapped towards him. His heart was in his throat. He wanted to protest this. He wanted to yell that this couldn’t be true. Even as he knew that Grayson was out of the running to be his fledgling for so many other reasons, even if he had wanted Grayson to be his Childe. Yet he didn’t want Demos to add yet another one.
“The Ashyr Bloodline would never let their Immortal be turned by another Bloodline,” Demos said and with a narrow-eyed gaze, “especially if that other Vampire weren’t an Immortal themselves.”