Chapter 14
Ophelia pressed herself to Gideon’s chest, close enough to hear the steady thud of his heart while her own broke. He didn’t understand what he was saying. He couldn’t.
… He will…
She flinched, raking a hand over her ear, and Gideon held her tighter, the dark voice in her head chuckling. Shut up! I won’t. Not him, never him!
The voice didn’t reply, its crouching anticipation at the edge of her consciousness somehow worse.
Her teeth chattered, fangs scoring the inside of her lip.
Mineral copper teased her tongue, and she suckled at it, whimpering.
Retreating into herself as the virus began to target her nerves, lines of agony searing through her limbs, inducing a haze of mania.
She fought to stay in the now, cruel visions flitting across her mind’s eye. No. No. She didn’t want to see. Please, please, no! The voice laughed again, and she went rigid as images rolled over her. The massacre at the Citadel. The chamber behind the iron door in the bowels of the Inchisoare.
And Kremlyn standing amidst it all.
The voice’s laugh cut off, one door in her mind closing and another opening.
A room resolved, details fuzzy, as if she was seeing it from a great distance.
The impression of cold marble walls lined with tapestries and thick furs upon the floor.
Books, broken glass, and torn fabric strewn across it.
A painting lay shredded. Heavy, dark furniture the color of old blood overturned, their edges bleeding into the shadows, dust and eiderdown settling like snow.
“Do you feel better now?” Kremlyn asked.
The vampire prince sat at a table oddly untouched by the destruction, his grizzled head cocked, honing a blade.
A ropey scar bisected his right eye, the flesh at either side milky and dead.
He scratched his closely shorn beard, grit-caked boots propped upon the table’s edge and a curling map weighed down with a curved knife at one side.
Numbered markers scattered across its indistinct surface, hedging around a central point.
“No,” Vesper spat. She paced before the hearth across from him, fists clenched at her sides.
Her corseted breast heaved, and a scowl contorted her thin, scarlet-stained lips.
She paused to glower at him and straightened the diamond encrusted diadem at her brow, pinning back her long, silvered locks.
“And I won’t until I drive a stake through that bitch’s heart myself! ”
Kremlyn blew lightly upon his blade’s razored edge.
“The means of her death are not for you to decide,” he tutted, his voice coming to Ophelia as if through water, its laziness belying the feral gleam in his remaining eye.
“And I told you that recruiting the gargoyle in her stead was a mistake. Tempting fate is never wise. Better he had never heard of Havers or its accursed node.”
Vesper huffed out a long-suffering breath.
“What’s done is done. What to do is the question now, and I’ve little doubt your father will take great joy in muddying the waters further.
” She spun in a rage, sweeping oddities from the mantle and sending them crashing to the floor.
“Thaddeus Brock,” she spat. “Oh! I hate him!”
“I’m aware,” Kremlyn murmured, busy with his whetstone.
“I’ll give you that the lawsuit was clever, but at this point it’s dicey at best. Gideon isn’t stupid.
Perhaps he didn’t have reason to ask questions before, but my sweet bride being there changes things.
I’m sure Father gleefully sought him out to tell him of our involvement. You know he has eyes in the Citadel.”
“And whose fault is that?” Vesper snapped. “Eyes aside, you should’ve ended that insufferable bitch after her pathetic coup attempt. Your father is enough of a wildcard.”
“His nostalgia will be his undoing,” Kremlyn tongued a gleaming fang. “And don’t worry, Mother. I have plans for my darling little bird, and killing her isn’t one of them. She’s far too fun to play with.”
“Perhaps, but gargoyles are not,” a tall man said, stepping from the shadows. He flicked a lock of raven hair from his emerald green eyes. “And I’ll wager he’s becoming quite perturbed.”
“Do we know for certain that they’ve reconciled?” Vesper asked. “Thackett seemed to think Gideon was still amiable to our cause.”
“Thackett is an idiot easily swayed by competence.” The man pursed his lips.
“The stench of stone upon her was too thick for it to be otherwise. Whether he’s sworn to the node is a different matter.
” He plucked a bottle of something from behind an overturned cabinet and uncorked it, sniffing.
“If that’s the case, your job has just become eminently harder. ”
“Regardless, he is one, and the Crimson Guard is legion,” Kremlyn said, testing his blade’s edge. “Open the way. It’s time I collected what is mine, and by moonrise tomorrow, I shall have it.” He leaned forward and drove it into the center of the map.
The vehemence of his strike reverberated through the room, and Ophelia gasped, thrust back into the now. She scrabbled against the arms holding her, the virus overriding her reflexes, limbs spasming, and her body screaming for blood.
Foam spattered from her lips. “Coming! H-he’s coming!”
“Damn it,” Gideon swore, fumbling at her as she thrashed. He took a knee, struggling to hold her. “Go! Quickly, leave us!” he shouted.
Ophelia hissed, her eyes rolling back in their sockets and everything abruptly too loud.
His heart a bass drum, and two others nearby.
Their beats increased, and a vehicle’s door slammed.
An engine roared to life and tires spun, ice crunching close and then distant.
One of the arms banding her let go. Her back arched, limbs flailing to get free.
Blood perfumed the air and her awareness shrank. She went still. Warm flecks fell against her cheek and rent flesh pressed against her lips.
Ophelia bit down reflexively, quick as an asp, a strangled grunt vaguely registering as she fed.
Unctuous, coppery brine filled her mouth and slid down her gullet.
Her body tingled. Warmth blossomed within her chest, her gut cramping as it hit, then mellowing with every suck and pull as she glutted herself.
The tingle slowly morphed into a thrumming energy, purple light dancing behind her lids. Voices, pleading and cajoling, called to her, and a strange power flooded her being, beating back the darkness.
And with it came light.
Gideon’s grip on Ophelia weakened, her hands fastened around his wrist as she fed.
Around them, the node’s power thrummed, encasing them in a bubble of purple mist. He breathed deeply, drawing it into his lungs and watching the delicate marks around her eyes darken and smear to resemble Thaddeus’s.
Gideon’s brow furrowed. What had the vampire said?
The node’s power mutated the virus, changing how it presented itself.
Had pledging himself to the magical repository altered his blood the same way Havers’s residents’ blood had been changed?
Time passed. His thoughts muddled, light-headed with how much Ophelia was taking from him, but unable to deny her hunger.
Ghostly fingers plucked at him, and his skin hardened in response.
Her fangs were forced from his flesh, and she mewled, lapping at his stony wrist and then falling into a deep slumber.
Gideon’s throat bobbed, and he shook his head, dizzy.
The bubble of power they’d been in faded, and a chill wind whipped across the base of the tor, hitting them like a fist. Ophelia whimpered in her sleep, burrowing closer.
He slumped over her, the seriousness of their predicament slowly registering.
He needed to get her somewhere warm. If they stayed out here, she would freeze, and there was no way he could revive her a second time.
Frustration raged through him, burning away some of the dross clouding his mind.
Fly. He could fly them back to town. Gideon gave a sad laugh.
Yes, and if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
In his weakened state, he couldn’t even remain upright.
A distant crunching of ice beneath tires reached his ears, and he turned to the sound. Was that a vehicle approaching? Damn the man, Chase had no business leaving his wife’s side to come back here given her present condition.
Lights bumped up the rise toward them. Not a truck, but a gray Jeep. Gideon frowned, not recognizing the vehicle. His scowl deepened as it came closer, Liam Montgomery at the wheel, and a stocky, bald man in the passenger seat. The Jeep stopped several yards away, idling, and a window rolled down.
“We good to approach?” the bald man yelled across the distance.
“Yes,” Gideon rasped, his relief warring with anger at his own ineffectuality.
The Jeep pulled up beside them, and the man and Liam got out. “Damn, you look even grayer than usual.”
“Blood loss will do that,” the bald man murmured, digging through a medic’s kit. The number of bad tattoos covering him was appalling. “You know your type?”
“No.” Gideon fought not to snarl. “And you are?”
“Tom. I’m an EMT. When Chase showed up at the compound, it sounded like you might need medical assistance, so I tagged along.
” He eyed Ophelia’s gore-coated chin and throat, his own bobbing.
Gideon had the worst urge to punch the judgmental scab.
“She looks better than expected. You on the other hand… I’m guessing we need to get a couple pints into you, back someplace warm. ”
“I can assure you I’m fine,” Gideon growled, his breath shallow.
“Tell me that when you’re standing.” Tom reached for Gideon’s wrist despite his protest and checked his pulse above the rapidly knitting gash his fangs had made. “Yeah. Your pulse is for shit. Let Liam take her, and I’ll help you up.”