Drawn to the Vampire (Blood and Absinthe, Book 4) (26 page)

At her mate.

“I think this calls for a celebration. Eggs and bacon on the house,” Stephen announced, and the five of them went upstairs. The pub wouldn’t open for business for another few hours, so they had the place to themselves.

“You know, you’re younger than I expected,” she said to Bran a few minutes later, after they poured themselves coffee and settled down at one of the scarred oak tables.

“I am?”

“They said you’re the Head of the Order. I guess I thought you’d be—”

“They said
I’m
the Head?”

Bran sounded so incredulous that Kit had to conclude that he wasn’t. “Well…I just assumed…they said I’d be meeting the Head of the Order today for my final test.”

Stephen spoke up then. “You are meeting him today. Bran was your final opponent in physical combat, but the Head—”

“The Head will be testing a different skill.”

They all turned at the sound of a new voice, and there in the doorway of the pub stood the Vice-Chancellor of Snowdon University.

Kit shot a glance at Luke and saw that he was as stunned as she was.

“Merton,” he said after a moment, rising to his feet. “I guess this goes to show that you never really know someone…even when you think you’re friends.”

There was a steely note in Luke’s voice, and Kit knew that whatever test she faced today, if it didn’t go in her favor, Merton’s friendship with Luke would be in jeopardy.

She squeezed Luke’s hand as she stood up. She loved him, but she hoped he knew he couldn’t interfere with whatever happened next. She needed to meet whatever challenge Merton Ambrose threw at her.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Ambrose—again. May I ask what skill you’ll be testing in me?”

He smiled at her. “It’s obvious that you’re a natural warrior. But to be worthy of the harp of Taliesin, strength and courage are not enough. Those are qualities of the body and the will, but you also need qualities of mind.”

Kit frowned. “Mind?”

“Yes. I realize that may be a foreign concept to a Fae warrior, but to win the harp, you must prove wisdom and intelligence along with fighting ability.”

Kit blinked. “I see,” she said cautiously. “And how, exactly, will I prove that to you?”

“If you can defeat me in a game of chess, Catherine Bantry, I will give you the harp of Taliesin.”

* * *

If looks could kill, Luke’s old friend would have been writhing on the floor. How had Merton kept his connection to the Order of Arthur secret all these years? Much less the fact that he was the Head of the Order.

Not that that mattered right now.

“You’re setting her up to fail,” Luke said angrily. When Kit raised an eyebrow at him, he told her, “Merton was the British chess champion in 1992. He was awarded the title of Grandmaster in 1997. You can’t hope to beat him.”

With the emotional connection the claim had given them, Luke expected to feel anxiety, fear, or even despair from Kit. What he sensed instead was barely contained triumph.

“I accept the challenge,” she said to Merton.

“Excellent. There’s a board set up in the other room. We can begin the game whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now.”

Luke pulled her aside as the others led the way into the back room, where an ancient set of ivory chessmen had been laid on one of the tables.

“This is my fault,” he said. “Merton is angry with me, so he’s setting you an impossible challenge. If I talk to him maybe I can convince him to—”

Kit rose up on her toes, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said when she pulled away.

Luke’s lips were tingling, and he ordered his body to calm down. This was no time to be distracted by lust.

“I’ve played Merton at chess before. I’m telling you, he—”

“I’ll bet you twenty bucks—sorry, pounds—that I can checkmate him in less than three hours.”

Luke stared at her. “You’re mad,” he stated flatly.

“No, I’m not mad. What I am is the president of the MIT chess club.”

He blinked. “You are?”

She nodded. “Two years running. Merton Ambrose is toast.”

He shook his head slowly. “You are one astonishing revelation after another. You know that?”

She tossed him a grin over her shoulder as she walked into the other room, sitting across from Merton. Bemused, Luke joined Stephen, Liam, and Bran at the table next to them.

Two hours and thirty-six minutes later, Merton Ambrose tipped his king onto its side and sat back in his chair.

“I seem to have underestimated you,” he said, regarding Kit owlishly. “It’s an error I seldom make.”

“I’ve always enjoyed a good game of chess,” Kit said cheerfully.

“So it would seem. I must say, you’re quite an unexpected woman. It’s unusual—and gratifying—to find a warrior who has brains as well as brawn.”

“I’ve always had brains,” Kit said. “It’s the brawn that’s new. I thought I had to choose between the two sides of myself, and so I chose the life of the mind. It was Luke who showed me I can also be a warrior.”

Merton smiled. “A wise man once said that the nation that makes a great distinction between its scholars and its warriors risks having its thinking done by cowards and its fighting done by fools. It’s a rare honor to meet a hero who is neither a coward nor a fool.”

“I’m not a hero,” Kit said firmly. “I’m just a girl who loves her brother. And that’s why I need the harp of Taliesin.”

Merton bowed his head. “You shall have it.” He looked at Luke. “I understand better now the choice that you made, and I hope you never have cause to regret it. But you must follow your own path, my friend. If I may still call you so?”

Luke nodded. “You may.”

“I’m glad of that. In the months to come, there will be need of you. Both of you.”

Kit frowned. “Need of us? For what?”

“For now I will only say that the closing of the Dark Fae portal has had some unintended consequences, of which the Earth Fae may not be aware. I think the time may have come when the supernatural races will need to work together. Fortunately, I have heard that your new queen is not as intolerant as Talia was, or as some of the other royal houses still are. So many Fae retain their ancient prejudices. But there will be time enough to speak of this when you have fulfilled your quest. I look forward to meeting your brother, Kit.”

* * *

They decided to stay in Aberystwyth to wait for Hades’ call. “What should we do for the rest of the day?” Kit asked innocently as she and Luke went back upstairs to their room.

“I’m sure we can think of something,” he murmured.

The next several hours passed in a haze of pleasure.

Even after Luke had fallen asleep by her side, Kit didn’t want to close her eyes. Every minute with him seemed precious.

Night had fallen, and moonlight spilled in through the windows. She sat up in bed, careful not to wake her lover, and looked down at him while he slept.

A wave of tenderness, of overwhelming love, washed over her, and was followed by a rush of fear. She remembered how easily Hecate had snared her in the land of the dead, how ready she had been to give up her life to the dark goddess.

That snare could no longer be used on her. But death was her enemy now even more than before, because now she had something to lose.

She thought about the prophecy Merton and Liam had mentioned. Was it possible that Luke’s love for her would lead to his death? She feared down deep in her soul that once they were back in Hades, Hecate would find a way to take Luke from her.

Kit slipped out of bed and went to the window.

It was a cold night, and she was naked. She pulled on a tee shirt and jeans but she still shivered.

She looked back at the bed, where Luke lay resplendent in moonlight. A part of her wished she could stay here forever, without risking another journey to the underworld, but she had a duty to others besides Luke. She had a duty to Peter, the big brother who had always looked out for her, who always put others ahead of himself.

Today she would redeem him.

“It’s time,” she whispered to the moon outside the window.

“How fortunate that you think so,” a cold voice said behind her.

She spun and saw a dark-robed figure standing a few feet away. “Catherine Bantry, you are being called. Are you ready to return to the underworld?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Luke moving swiftly to dress himself and bring the harp of Taliesin to her.

“We’re ready,” she said.

Luke stood at her side, his fingertips barely brushing hers.

“Then come,” the robed figure said, and they were gone.

* * *

They were in the throne room again.

“Welcome back, my friends,” Hades said. Persephone was nowhere in sight but the throne beside the king wasn’t empty.

Hecate was there.

Kit kept her eyes on Hades and tried not to look at the goddess.

“Sire, we have brought you the harp of Taliesin.” She held up the beautiful golden thing, coming close enough to the king of the dead to hand it to him. “Will you let my brother go?”

“Yes, Catherine Bantry. You have won your brother’s freedom.”

There was an inhuman howl of rage, and Kit turned her eyes to Hecate in time to see her disappear.

She felt almost weak-kneed with relief.

A voice cried out, “Kit!”

She jerked her head around and saw him. “Peter! Oh, Peter—” and then she was sobbing hysterically, caught in her brother’s bear hug and pounding him with her fists.

He endured the onslaught for several seconds before he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Why did you come here? Didn’t you know you were risking your life? How could you—”

“Shut up,” she said, smiling through her tears. “You’re my brother, and I love you. Oh, Peter, I was scared I’d never see you again…”

* * *

As Luke watched brother and sister hugging, talking at the same time, brushing tears from each other’s cheeks, he felt all his old demons surface in his heart.

He was jealous. Damn him, he was jealous. He hadn’t acknowledged it before, but a part of him didn’t want Kit to love anyone else—not even her own family.

A wave of self-hatred rose at this realization. He wasn’t fit to touch this woman, this woman for whom generosity came as naturally as breathing.

She was all beauty, all grace, all courage, while he had pools of darkness within him that even he didn’t want to look into. He was selfish, savage, poisoned with possessiveness and jealousy. He would never be free of the demon.

With a heavy heart, Luke went before the dais to speak to the king of the dead. “We have fulfilled your conditions, and now ask for safe passage from the underworld,” he said formally.

“You shall have it,” Hades said. “Catherine and Peter Bantry, I call you forth.”

They came forward, and Kit stood beside Luke and slipped her hand into his. “I love you,” she whispered, and his dead heart seemed to clench in his chest.

“You are free to leave my underworld, with but one condition. You cannot look back. As you pass between the worlds, you must look ahead to the world you are entering, not behind to the world you are leaving. Do you understand?”

Luke was barely listening, but he heard Peter and Kit murmur yes. Then there was a strong wind, the wind of hell, and they were standing at the end of a long, dark passage.

Luke pulled himself together and squeezed Kit’s hand. “This way out,” he said, and led the other two along the narrow stone tunnel. It was unlit, but there was brightness at the other end.

“Sunlight,” Kit breathed, and he could feel her shiver of joy where their hands touched. Then suddenly she exclaimed, “Sunlight!” and looked at Luke in concern.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve come through this portal in daylight before. There’s a place I can wait for sundown.”

“All right,” she said, relieved. She turned to the man who held her other hand. “Can you see it, Peter? Daylight. We’re going back home. Back to life. I can’t begin to imagine how awful it’s been for you.”

Peter’s voice, when it came, sounded oddly strained, as if he were engaged in some kind of internal struggle. “Being away from the people I loved—yes, that was terrible. Thinking I might never see my family again. But the underworld wasn’t anything like I had imagined. Sometimes it seemed almost...” his voice trailed off.

“But the darkness, the cold, the monsters…”

Peter hesitated. “Of course,” he said finally. “Of course, it must have been horrible…” but his voice was confused, uncertain.

In a cold wash of fear Luke started to hurry, pulling the other two along with him until they were almost running.

He recognized the tone in Peter’s voice. He’d heard it before.

Peter Bantry had fallen in love with death.

Hecate, that seductive goddess—her eyes full of the promise of release, of ending, of darkness. Even Kit hadn’t been proof against it, and Hecate had had weeks to work on Peter, to draw him into her web.

“Please, God,” he prayed, and then they were there, at the place between the worlds.

He stepped through, enduring the sunlight for an instant before he made it to the shadow of a standing stone. He turned and saw Kit passing through the portal, saw the barely perceptible shimmer as she left the dark place and the bliss on her face as the sunlight kissed her skin.

She dropped her brother’s hand without thinking, smiling at Luke as she went to stand beside him. Only then did she turn to look at the portal.

Peter was still on the far side, deep in shadow. Luke’s fear increased and for the first time Kit seemed to sense that something was wrong.

“Come on, Peter!” she called. “You’re almost there. Just one more step! The sun is so beautiful…”

And then the three of them heard Hecate’s voice. For Luke and Kit it was only a soft echo, like a childhood memory sweetly recalled. God knew what it was like for Peter, still on the other side.

“Come back to me, my love…”

And even as Kit cried out and hurled herself at the entrance, Peter turned his head, and was gone.

Chapter Eighteen