Blood Deep (24 page)

“My father acted as advisor to Alfred. My father was determined to protect our world—our religion, our king, our way of life. He believed that our salvation was not with God, but with Satan. With harnessing the occult magic of the devil. He believed that a man with the intent to do good had the right to dabble in the power of evil.” His father had had no bloody idea.

He had never known his father’s intent on sending him to be an apprentice. Control of the ultimate magic? It didn’t matter now.

To Miranda, he gave the reason his father had given to him. “I was sent to apprentice so I could save our people.”

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She put her hand to her mouth. “How could he do that to his son?”

“Better his than any other man’s. He believed he could control me.”

“But you did not return.” She frowned. “Lucifer did not let you go back to help your people.”

“My father did not realize that the devil does not necessarily do what people want.”

“No.” She spoke very seriously. “I suppose he does not. He is supposed to torture souls.”

“He tortured mine. I went willingly, love, to save my king and my people. I was raised to be a warrior, to fight on the battlefield.” He had first crossed swords with the Vikings at fourteen, when he had thrown himself into the bloody, terrifying fray.

He had been almost paralyzed in terror, mortally afraid of pain and death. It had been instinct that had sent his sword swinging to cleave heads. And his survival on the battlefield convinced his father that he was more than just an ordinary warrior. “Entering Lucifer’s Underworld was just another battlefield.”

But it hadn’t been. It was not known as hell for nothing. He had been ready to kill himself many times, and he’d even tried, but because Lucifer had brought him back to life, he couldn’t die. He had been ashamed of the pain and fear and despair that had made him take a blade to his own wrists. After that failed attempt, he vowed that he
could
pay the price to be an apprentice. But he could not accept that Ara had to pay the price too.

“Ara?” Miranda asked softly. “Who was Ara?”

She had seen into his thoughts once again, even though he had not sent them to her. “My sister.” Lukos kept his voice level and calm as he said her name, though his heart clenched in pain.

“Lucifer had her stolen from the mortal world, and he held her prisoner to ensure I did his bidding. If I rebelled or betrayed him, she would die.”

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“What did you do to make him imprison you?”

He gave a sad smile. “I tried to destroy him to free Ara.” He leaned back against the straw. “She was like silver, my sister.

Like a source of light. She gleamed like an exquisitely crafted sword—tall, slender, with pale blond hair, and fragile white skin.

She was the one thing in my world that made me believe God and heaven could actually exist, because she was too perfect to be mortal. I loved her dearly. And from the moment my father sent me to the Scholomance, I held her life in my hands.”

“W-what happened to her?”

“I don’t know. I was imprisoned and I never saw her again.”

Anger crackled in his voice. He could not block out the emotion. “She was taken from her home to the Underworld by a demon. I believe that demon was Zayan.”

Miranda took a sharp breath.

“I expect, as I did, he had to serve his master, Lucifer.” But Hades, he hated Zayan for what he had done to Ara so very, very long ago . . .

Hands caressed his shoulders. Suddenly he became aware that Miranda was stroking him. Then surreptitiously her left hand began to slide down toward his heart.

No, he could not let her see his past. What if she could glimpse too deeply into his heart and see that he wanted her power so he could fight Lucifer?

Grinning wickedly, Lukos drew back—and bent down to her delicate, bare feet.

Miranda couldn’t help but gasp. Lukos’s soft cock, which had been curled up adorably against his thigh, began to straighten again. Before her awed gaze, it thickened and became stiff, slowly rising up as though by magic.

While she stared, impressed, he closed his mouth around her toe. Warmth and wetness and a tickling sensation streaked up from her big toe. “Oh!”

Lukos, the warrior, the vampire who could shift into the BLOOD DEEP / 197

form of a wolf, who had endured torture and hell she couldn’t begin to imagine, was delicately kissing her toes. He suckled each one in turn, the gesture sweet and carnal at the same time.

Laughter bubbled up. She could not believe she was feeling pleasure while death was waiting for her outside.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

That was a very terrifying question. It could only mean he wanted to take her to the limit of that trust. “How many times have you saved my life?” she whispered. “How could I not?”

“That’s not an answer, angel.” A swift flick of his tongue along the sole of her foot made her squeal. “I won’t let you touch my heart, Miranda. I’m afraid that what you see could hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid. . . .” she began.

But Lukos got to his feet, towering over her, so she couldn’t touch him. “No.”

Miranda stared up at him. His hair, which tumbled to the small of his back in long, untamed waves, was no longer black with its white streak. It was golden blond.

Like the second man who had come to her in her dream in the carriage. But when she blinked, his hair was the rich darkness of the midnight sky once more. Had she just imagined it?

“I only wish to help you. To understand—”

“You can’t save me, love. You cannot save the world. I learned that.”

“Not the world—but one person—”

“Would you walk through the slums and lay your hand on the heart of every child who dies and bring it back? What would you bring it back to? Squalor, poverty, and hopelessness.”

“I don’t know. But life is supposed to be a precious gift.”

Where there was life, there was hope. But now she wasn’t sure.

Miranda hugged herself protectively. “You prey on innocent people,” she shot back. “How dare you judge my power?” She felt a sense of helplessness—everyone condemned her for saving 198 /
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lives. Then she shook off the self-pity. She did a good thing—no one was going to convince her to believe that was not true.

“And if you could resurrect every soul that dies, angel? What would happen then? What would happen to a world where everyone cheats death?”

If no one died, what would happen? Would people live forever, like vampires? Would there be millions of people—poor, starving people, far too many for the world to bear?

She sensed him step behind her. She did not turn to look to him; she was too troubled to do so. What she needed was to think.

His hands settled on her shoulders. He bent to her neck, his breath dancing against the rim of her ear. “It frightens you, doesn’t it? It is terrifying to not know if you are evil or good.

And hell to know you are controlled by a magic power—you never control it.”

She nodded. It was true. And he, Lucifer’s apprentice, must understand. Everyone else was afraid of her. But she could talk honestly to Lukos.

“There is something you do need to understand about me, Miranda. I’ve killed, but I’ve never killed for pleasure. I’ve never enjoyed taking a life, and each time I do, I pay for it. I have to feed and I have a curse—one given to me by Lucifer when I became his apprentice. Part of the price. I suffer the pain of my prey.

Lucifer never bestows a gift. He creates servants controlled by curses.”

“We are alike, you and I, both cursed with power we don’t want,” he murmured, and his voice cast a spell around her that did not come from his magic but from her heart. “We belong together.” He embraced her as he spoke and let his chin rest in the crook of her neck. She stiffened for a moment, but he made no move to bite. Lovingly, his lower lip grazed her skin.

For once, she did feel she belonged somewhere. Here—

“Christ Jesus,” he roared behind her, and Miranda found BLOOD DEEP / 199

herself thrown to the pile of hay. The dry, prickly grass jabbed her hands and cheek, and she whirled to face Lukos.

Red ropes of mist were winding around his powerful, naked body. He struggled, wrenching his arms and twisting his torso, but the fog was crushing his chest.

On pure instinct, she ran forward. She grabbed at the lines of fog, hoping to pull them away from him.

She touched them and white light exploded from the contact. Sparks shot up to the air. Several landed on the hay and it began to smolder.

An unearthly shriek filled the barn and the fog dropped free of Lukos. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees on the earth floor. The red mist sucked back through the door and vanished. Miranda had to leave Lukos, but she watched him as she stomped, barefoot, on the smoking hay, gritting her teeth against the sting of the heat.

He groaned, grimaced, but straightened. As soon as the fire was out, she went to Lukos’s side. Where the fog had touched him, dark red bands were left. But they were disappearing before her eyes. Healing. She blinked, realizing tears had gathered on her lashes.

Lukos lifted his head, and as his brows rose, she knew he had seen those tears. He lifted her as he stood. “You aren’t hurt?”

she whispered.

But he cocked his head. And to her amazement, he laughed.

Wryly. Darkly. “You frightened it away, angel. But I sense vampire slayers have arrived.”

12

Slayers

It was madness to go out there.

Miranda pulled on her pelisse with shaky hands. “You don’t know if this will work, do you?” She stepped in front of Lukos so he had to face her—while she’d dressed and questioned him about his plan, he’d avoided meeting her eyes. “I can sense your apprehension.”

Lukos had drawn in the shield of blue light he had created until it had surrounded just the two of them. It now glowed a vivid blue-violet. Miranda sensed it was stronger. But strong enough to keep them safe?

He gave her a devil-may-care grin. “Love, call it what it is.

Fear. I’m bloody afraid we’ll be destroyed if we walk out this door.”

“By the vampire slayers?”

He shook his head. Already the fog was seeping in through holes in the roof, and between cracks in the stacked and mortared stone. And the fog was scarlet again. “By this mist.”

“The mist that you believe Zayan controls.”

She saw him snap his fingers and summon a white light that 202 /
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whirled around him and became a linen shirt and trousers. His silence meant there was something he did not want to reveal.

“Does Zayan control it?” she repeated.

“I don’t know. I thought Zayan had summoned it, I don’t know if he controls it now. But it is drawn to you, Miranda. It wants you.”

A shiver rippled down her spine. “Perhaps because I saved the children . . . No, that makes no sense. It led me to the children. It helped me save them.”

He raked back his hair. “I think it wants your power.”

“But what is it?” Then a thought struck her. “You were taught by Lucifer to control the weather. You could bring a fog to engulf a village, couldn’t you?”

“I could. But I didn’t, angel.” Lukos scrubbed a hand over his square jaw. Around them, the blue light rippled, shimmering like a giant bubble. “I wonder if this has nothing to do with Zayan—if it is Lucifer’s work.”

It was like being dropped in cold water. “How would Lucifer know about me?”

“He knows about any being with power, love. He will have sensed you.”

He spoke calmly, while her heart thumped against her ribs as though trying to get out. Lukos grasped her hand, threaded his fingers between hers. “We have to escape this place. Stay at my side, and you should be safe inside the shield.”

Hours ago she would never have dreamed she would have gripped Lukos’s hand and trusted him. Making love to him had made her believe she could. The pure delicious intimacy of sex had made her feel they had a bond—a deep bond. We belong together, he’d said. But was she letting her heart rule her head?

She had to keep that head level and thinking clearly. He told her Lucifer would know about her power. And he had admitted he’d served at the devil’s side. He could be intending to capture her for Lucifer—

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Thunk.
The doors of the barn swung open—controlled by a snap of Lukos’s fingers. Miranda could see nothing but swirling mist. It seemed to rush toward her; then it struck the blue shield. Something shrieked, and that scream vibrated through her entire body.

Lukos stopped and she stayed at his side, holding his hand.

The fog rushed back and forth in front of them like a living being. Shadows took shape—into the round hollows of eye sockets, the holes where a nose should be, the wide “o” of a screaming mouth. In the fog, she saw a screaming face, a woman’s face.

And as she screamed inside the shield, the face disappeared.

“Come, love,” Lukos urged.

“But to where? How can we escape this?”

He halted. “Slayers nearby.” Another wry grin touched his beautiful mouth. “I can even hear the stretch of the crossbow strings.”

Crossbow? “It must be Mr. Ryder—”

“No, this slayer is also a vampire. And one I sired.”

One he
sired
? She couldn’t have heard him properly. Just as she was asking, “How can a slayer also be a vampire?” a female voice cried, “Dear heaven, it’s Lukos!”

The fog suddenly retreated with a
whoosh
of air that tore at their blue shield. It exploded and flew away on the wind. Helplessly, Miranda reached out to it, as though she could catch it and bring it back. With the fog gone, she saw they stood in a field, with the stone barn at their backs, and a few yards ahead was a copse of trees.

In front of those trees stood two men and a woman. Each held a crossbow, with arrows loaded, and the silver points were trained on Lukos’s chest.

Vampire slayers.

This morning, when she’d been horrified to find the servants behaving like drones and she had saved the life of the child with 204 /
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