7. CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nikola
T he silence of the cab was chilling. Nikola wasn’t sure if Katsuki had been right about Liam and Asher settling scores. Nikola’s doubt in the ancient vampire was an uncomfortable rarity. Though he wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t gratifying watching Asher beating on the Blood—until it had started veering toward what had looked like attempted murder.
Liam’s face had already mostly healed, though faint pink scars lingered. Katsuki was no longer chiming in with Moon advice or relevant stories, perhaps deciding it to be foolish to cram those sorts of lessons during an incredibly tense road trip.
Moss, no longer able to bear the stillness of the undead, flicked on the radio to a classic rock station. What classified as “classic” music was lost on Nikola, the cut-off changing every couple of decades or so. He could still recall days of old when opera and theater were all the rage.
His mind wandered to the times he’d been able to dine and fraternize with royals and whom humans had once deemed as “higher society,” using his charm and Moon pull as his main weapons. Of course, with Marianna in his shadow, he could never hang around the same families for too long.. .
He was considering quietly telling Asher such tales, if only to distract his beloved from the gloomy present, when Moss cursed under their breath. “Dawn is in a couple of hours, so I know we’ll need to stop and seek shelter, but I’m pretty sure we’ve been tailed for the last few miles.”
Nikola and Asher quirked around to peer out the back windshield. Sure enough, there was an unmarked black SUV hanging back, lights off. Nikola gave credit to Moss for having spotted the stealthy vehicle with their human vision, unless such a thing was better than Nikola could remember.
“Tch. Maybe they just headed in the same direction,” Asher mumbled despite the fact they were off the main roads, surrounded for miles by barren corn and green bean fields. Nikola’s jaw clenched against the uptick of anxiety.
“We are a gaggle of vampires which have been exposed to media in a stolen van—not sure if we should be so relaxed right now,” Moss deadpanned.
“Alright, good point,” Asher begrudgingly conceded. “So, what do we do? Pull off somewhere early and see if they stop?”
“That’s just asking for a fight,” Moss argued. Asher probably wanted exactly that, but they had a vulnerable mortal amongst them.
“We should lose them,” Kat advised.
There was a pause. Then Liam went, “Gun it?” Trish made a sound of protest.
“Gun it,” Nikola said over her .
Asher glanced over at him. Nikola was surprised at himself, too, but he was all too eager to get away from the possible threat. The minivan’s engine growled as viciously as it could as Liam floored the gas. Trish groaned, covering her face, and sinking into her seat.
The patterned flash of red and blue accompanied the onset of police sirens. “If we keep this shit up, they’ll call for back up, if they haven’t already,” Asher said.
“I am not pulling over,” Liam said, clutching the wheel so tightly it was on the verge of snapping. “They could have just tagged us as a stolen vehicle, not that we’re vampires.”
“They’ve been tailing us since your pissing contest,” Moss cut in. “Was I the only one who noticed that farmer’s residence within earshot? Shit, or it might’ve been when we stopped for gas.”
A bullet shattered through the back windshield, spiderwebbing the glass of the front. Asher ducked, grabbing Nikola down with him by the nape of his neck. “I don’t think this is about the fucking van!” Trish screamed. Nikola was inclined to believe her.
He went to peek over the seat to assess just how close the assaulting SUV was, ignoring Asher’s hiss of warning. He felt a second bullet whizzing past his ear, flicking strands of hair, before it landed home in the radio. The music was replaced by the chorus of vampires screaming.
“Ohio has a kill-on-sight ordinance, by the way!” Moss screeched.
“Couldn’t you have mentioned that earlier?” Asher boomed. Before the back-and-forth could ensue, another shot rang out.
“Fuck!” screamed the driver, letting go of the steering wheel to clutch his bleeding shoulder. The van swerved into the other lane. Trish lunged over the center console in an attempt to straighten their course but yanked too hard, overcorrecting in the opposite direction.
Every organ in Nikola’s body leaped into his chest as the world cartwheeled toward oblivion. Warping metal and shattering glass echoed between the cries. The sensation of freefalling ended abruptly as Nikola’s head slammed against the window. The fissures of his skull cracked, his ears roaring—though perhaps that was his own howls .
If he were human, Nikola Kingston would be dead.
But human he was not.
The carnage of the rolling car came to a halt. The dust settled. Nikola inhaled, if only to test the extent of the damage. No, not dead, but most certainly broken. His lungs filled, pressing against cracked ribs. His right arm crackled angrily, utterly immobile. His elbow, too, was shattered, then. And the gash in his skull nearly made him forget his own name and age, the universe a spinning, indistinguishable vortex of sound and color.
Around him, someone was crying—Trish?—and someone else was repeating a single syllable, as if chanting... chanting a name. Liam, crying out for Moss. Where is Asher?
As if answering his panic, Nikola registered hands on him, unclipping his buckle. “Conked your head hard, huh? Here.” Nikola felt the press of skin against his lips, a slit weeping blood. He wanted to grasp through the tunnel of confusion and find Asher but couldn’t pinpoint his own limbs. He did the only thing he could do and drank the elixir of life, having enough of his wits to know it’d speed up his supernatural healing.
Pain lacerated his body as it rapidly forced tissue to regrow, calcium to solidify. A white flare and a high-pitched ringing noise became his reality.
As bones mended, his senses came back to him, and he found himself unbuckled and—oh, the car had landed upside down. Asher had already crawled out, having caught Nikola before he could crumple, and dragged him through broken glass and rubble.
“Stay down,” Asher growled.
Gunfire. A Blood’s feral scream. The stench of blood, too much blood, mostly that of humans. Trish was cry-sobbing, “I can’t hold him, I can’t— Kat, help!”
Nikola blinked against the spinning world until it finally began to settle. Asher had him propped against the mangled car, kneeling in front of him protectively as he peeked over at the war zone Nikola couldn’t see. There was a gash across Asher’s brow, dribbling blood. Nikola went to reach to wipe the silver eye clean.
Asher caught his fingers and squeezed without averting his attention. The burning in Nikola’s ribs subsided enough to allow him to croak out, “What’s happening?”
Instead of answering, Asher’s eyes widened. Trish’s scream rang out, “Stop! That’s enough! He’s out, Lee!” A seismic wave of psychic energy rolled out in all directions. It slammed into Nikola hard , knocking the air from his battered lungs, despite the wall of the car.
Asher cursed and jumped up, barking at Nikola, “Stay down.” With his strength returning to him, Nikola would not be doing that. As Asher sprinted out into the road, Nikola dragged himself up, using the car’s carcass as leverage.
Nikola beheld the aftermath of a Blood Follower gone feral. Four bodies of human men dressed in black gear—body armor, as if they’d been on their way to stop a riot—were strewn about the asphalt, limbs scattered randomly and blood drenching the scene.
Three of the men were clearly dead, but one retained a heartbeat, albeit a faint one. Otherwise, he was unconscious.
Trish and Katsuki had both arms held out, palms pressed forward. Asher wrangled a thrashing, howling Liam away from the breathing human. Nikola went to push himself away from the van to assist Asher, but the source of Liam’s meltdown caught his eye.
Moss laid prone next to the folded passenger door, their left leg and neck bent at unnatural angles. Their face, green eyes opened and unseeing, was bruised and swollen beyond recognition .
Liam’s screams took on a clearer note, that of loss and tragedy. Nikola understood his turmoil all too well, the empathy flushing out the resentment he reserved for the young man.
His feet shuffled him forward, his body swaying with a limp. When he knelt, his body weight won out, and he painfully crashed to his knees next to the human.
Nikola pressed his shaking fingers to Moss’s cheek, finding the warmth he sought out. As long as there was still heat, there was a chance. There was an ancient proverb that the soul lingered close to its warm body, as if warming beside a bonfire before its journey across the cold land of the dead.
“Don’t touch them!” Liam’s voice pierced the night. Nikola briefly looked back and spotted Asher holding the Blood Follower down, his knee pressed against the back of his neck and his arm twisted against his spine. A decade of handling feral newborns was coming in handy.
“Let him help,” Asher snarled, pushing his knee down harder, his silver eye glowing. Liam screamed into the concrete but ceased struggling.
Thank the heavens Nikola hadn’t lost too much blood during the car crash. He drew in a breath and grabbed Moss’s head, forcing it back into proper position. He clenched his teeth at the grotesque cracking and Liam’s resulting high-pitched screams. Next, the leg. Gruesome, yes, but necessary to make the Change as painless as possible.
It occurred in the back of his mind that he was making it a habit of bringing the dead back to life. But at least this time it was somewhat traditional , even if the circumstances were not.
If he did this, he would be responsible for Moss.
Nikola stalled, perhaps costing Moss everything by doing so. Hadn’t Asher mentioned the infertility of hybrids?
The Goddess’s voice drifted over him, a whisper in the winter breeze laced with the smell of blood. “My brother and I guide your hand, Dear Nikola.”
“The vampire who carries the spirit of both Moon and Blood cannot recreate someone of their own choosing,” the God rumbled, reminding Nikola of his standing against the divine. “But we choose this one tonight.”
“The world is ready,” they said in unison.
He couldn’t hesitate any longer. He at least had to try.
He split open veins and pried apart Moss’s paling lips, angling their head gently as to let gravity do the work. Nikola bled into the human, his first. He’d never intended on Changing someone, to curse them with eternal nighttime and unforgiving immortality. But if he let Moss die, they would lose Liam to the Blood’s insanity, and it was unlikely Trish would follow them to Grander if that were the case. And then what?
It felt as if the fate of all vampires rested on Moss opening their eyes.
Not that Nikola’s motives were so selfish. Moss simply didn’t deserve to die. None of this was the human’s fault. If not for the actions of the undead, Moss would still be home with their loved ones, worrying over their missing partner but alive all the same. Vampires led Moss to their demise, and it would be a vampire that brought them back.
Eventually, Nikola was left with nothing more to give, his blood vessels hollow. He registered the chill settling into his skin, the aging process soon to follow. Moss’s skin flushed rose, the color chasing away the bruises and the swelling visibly subsiding.
Liam’s screeches and howls tapered off into shuddering whimpers as Moss’s heart began to beat. Nikola swallowed hard, not anticipating the rush of pride and accomplishment as Moss stirred in his arms. When he’d revived Asher, he hadn’t felt like he’d become Asher’s creator. This was different.
Nikola Kingston was Moss’s sire.
Moss gasped their first immortal breath, eyelids fluttering lazily. Nikola cursed, prompting the others to gather around. “What is it?” Liam cried, shoving off Asher and dropping next to the newborn. “Moss, are you okay? Moss?”
Red and silver eyes found Liam. Nikola and Asher looked at each other heavily, Asher’s jaw clenched. “Well, my love,” Asher said. “You certainly have a knack for creating hybrids, eh?”