Drawn to the Vampire (Blood and Absinthe, Book 4) (14 page)

“What do you mean, why a river?” Luke spoke softly, and Kit lowered her voice too.

“The river Styx…the river Jordan…it always seems to be a river you have to cross.”

“Well, water is a very powerful force, and a powerful boundary marker. Many kinds of magic can be destroyed by water, or by crossing water.” Luke’s voice was calm, his tone conversational, and Kit wondered if he knew how much the sound of it comforted her. “The supernatural beings who dwell in water don’t follow the rules that bind the denizens of the earth or the underworld. That’s why some magic can be negated, or neutralized, by water.”

“I’ve always been drawn to the ocean,” Kit said.

She remembered the seal off the Welsh coast, the white shell in the palm of her hand, the crashing waves and the tang of brine. The memory helped drive away the crowding darkness on either side of her.

“Power is drawn to power. Just remember that while the sea is powerful it’s also wild, cold, and treacherous…and once in a while, unimaginably generous.”

Kit thought again of the white shell in her hand. Then she forgot it as she and Luke emerged from the tunnel and stood at the riverside.

The rushing waters were almost silent, a silence as eerie as the greenish light that rose like a mist from the river’s surface. The Styx stretched from horizon to horizon as far as the eye could see.

Several moments went by before Kit noticed the small boat drawn up on their side of the river, and the small wizened figure who stood beside it. She squeezed Luke’s hand.

“Is that—?”

“Charon? Yes, that’s the ferryman. Are you ready to cross? Once we’re on the other side, you’ll have to go through with your mission, succeed or fail.”

Kit looked up at him in surprise. “You know I wouldn’t do anything less.”

Her eyes must have been adjusting to the dim light, because she could see Luke smiling down at her. “I know. I just needed to ask. On our way, then.”

A dozen steps took them to the ferryman, who stood quietly beside his boat, his head tilted to one side as he looked at them.

“What is your business in the land of the dead, you who are undead and you who are yet living?”

Charon’s voice was deep and strong and unexpectedly young, and Kit, who had prepared herself for something between a croak and a death rattle, relaxed a little.

“I’ve come to ransom my brother, who was cast here by a demon.” Her voice came out a little louder than she’d meant it to, but there was no echo.

Charon studied her in silence before nodding once and turning to Luke. A smile seemed to play at the corners of his mouth.

“And you, Luke Cadris? The last time you were here you had a mission of your own. This time, I think, you do not.”

Kit glanced up at Luke, who was shaking his head.

“I came only to guide this mortal woman, who could not pass through the portal without me.”

“True enough, but she must pay her own passage.”

Kit, unwilling to drop Luke’s hand, used the other to reach awkwardly for her coin, which she handed to Charon.

He slipped it into the pouch he wore at his waist and bowed slightly.

“You may enter the boat, my lady. And you, too, Luke. No payment is required for you, of course, since you accompany the lady as her guide. You understand that while you are here you must confine yourself to her service?”

“I do.”

“And pursue no interest or mission of your own?”

“I understand.”

Charon hesitated, and Kit paused as she was about to step forward into the boat. “I don’t sense…is there a claim between you and the woman?”

Kit looked back at Luke, startled. His face was impassive. “There is not.”

“Are you her avowed protector?”

“I am not.”

“Well, then, you may choose to leave her at any time, but only to depart the underworld. And you, my lady, may send the vampire from your side at any time. You needed him with you to pass through the portal, but you don’t need him any longer. It is entirely a matter of choice whether you stay together or not.”

Luke looked down at Kit, and she did her best to keep her voice steady. “Do you…would you rather leave?”

“Do you want me to?”

Kit cleared her throat. “Stay,” she said, half an order and half a request. “I don’t exactly know my way around down here.”

Luke grinned at her suddenly, and a wave of relief left her feeling weak. “Come on, Kit. You didn’t really think I was going to desert you in the underworld, did you?”

Kit dropped his hand and stepped into the low, narrow boat. “Not really,” she admitted as Luke sat down beside her. In the chilly darkness, she could almost swear the vampire had body heat, even though she knew it was only her imagination. Imagination or not, she found herself sliding closer to him on the wooden seat.

They glided smoothly over the water to the opposite shore, unaffected by the furious, if silent, current of the river, as if the boat traveled an inch or two above the surface.

Charon held the boat steady as Kit and Luke stepped out onto the rocky, barren shore. Kit started to thank the ferryman, but he interrupted her.

“A word of advice,” the old man said, and Kit fell silent, startled.

“Your brother is in the city of the dead. This road will take you there. Do not leave the road for any reason. It is bordered the entire way with stones like these.”

He gestured, and Kit looked down to see glowing rocks, phosphorescent like the river. Looking ahead she could see the rocks lighting a path, like glowworms, towards a distant horizon.

“I wish you well, Catherine Bantry,” he said as he pushed away from the shore.

“I never told him my name,” Kit said as she and Luke started to walk along the road. The light was dim, but she could see well enough—the road itself, and Luke’s face when she glanced at him.

“Charon doesn’t need to be told things. It’s said that the lives and deaths of every creature—human and demon—are written on the palm of his hand.”

“Why did he tell us not to leave the road?” she asked curiously. It was impossible to see anything but shadows beyond the green stones. She had an impression of size, but not of the outdoors, as though they were in an enormous cavern. The way her voice sounded bore that out: in a more enclosed space, there would have been an echo.

“There are things out here in the borderlands. Not the dead, who dwell within the city walls, but monsters who live between the city and the river. When I was here before they did their best to trick me into leaving the road.”

 “How did they try to—”

“I won’t tell you that,” Luke said curtly. “Let’s just say that the darkest desires of a vampire aren’t going to be a temptation for you. I don’t think anything down here will be.”

Kit did her best to take comfort from that.

* * *

It wasn’t long before Luke realized how wrong he was, and how the denizens of the underworld were planning to snare Kit.

He should have seen it coming. Of course a trick like that would never have been tried on him—he was too selfish for it to work. But it was just the right way to get to her.

“Help me…please…”

One cry, and Kit stopped walking. She wasn’t trying to leave the path yet, but she was gazing into the shadows, looking for whomever had called out.

“Oh, Luke, someone’s in trouble. It sounds like a child. We’ve got to—”

“It’s a trick,” Luke said, cutting across her words. He gripped her hand harder to keep her from charging off to her destruction.

That was the key, of course. Kit had no secret desire for death, so the underworld itself held no glamour for her, no morbid fascination. But even though she wouldn’t court death for its own sake, she
would
disregard danger to herself if someone else were in trouble.

Kit looked back at him. “What do you mean, a trick?”

“That’s no child. If you took one step off this path you’d find that out. They’re trying to get you to leave the road, Kit. I should have known this was the way they’d do it.”

Kit started to answer, but the voice called out to her again.

“Don’t leave me here in the dark! If you just take my hand I’ll be able to escape with you…see the sun again…my family. Please…you have to help me…”

Kit pulled against him again, stronger this time. “Listen to her, Luke! She’s in trouble. I don’t care what you say. Let me just go to her and—”

“Pay attention, damn it!
This is a trap.
What you’re hearing isn’t human. It’s some kind of horror that lives here, in the borderlands. It wants your beating heart, Kit. It wants to devour you. And there is no way in hell I’m going to let that happen.”

For a moment he thought she might listen. In the faint light cast by the border stones, he could read her face. He saw the struggle playing out. Her nascent trust in him—because she was starting to trust him, he was sure of it—was at war with her need to respond to that pleading voice.

Then something happened to tip the scales.

“Kit! Oh God, is that really you? I didn’t think anyone would ever find me. I’m here with other prisoners, some of them only children. Whatever they’ve told you, Kit, it isn’t true. All you have to do to save us is to touch me, or any of us, with your hand. If you do that we’ll all be free…out in the open air again…alive!”

If Luke hadn’t been ready, she would have gotten away from him. As it was it took all his strength to hold her, because she was so frantic to get to what she thought was her brother that her warrior blood emerged, and she was almost as strong as he was.

The voices came again, several of them crying out together.
“Please, Kit, help us! They’re hurting us, Kit…”

He grabbed her around the waist as she fought desperately to free herself, every muscle in her body straining as she tried to fling herself headlong into the arms of whatever monster was out there.

Luke was wondering how long he could hold onto her and what the hell he was going to do next when Kit managed to twist out of his grasp. She was at the very edge of the road when he caught her by one hand.

This was it. He was going to lose her in three seconds if he couldn’t find some way to drown out those damn voices.

He put all his strength into one sharp tug on her wrist, and she came stumbling back towards him.

In his mind there was only one desperate thought: to drive out illusion with reality. He had to fill her senses with something real, something physical, so the voices would lose their power over her. Even if it was only for a moment, that might be enough to make her see through the deception.

But it was more than a moment.

* * *

Kit cried out as Luke jerked her back towards him, pulling her with so much force she slammed into his chest. Before she could react his arms were around her, and she was trapped in a prison that might as well have been made of steel.

Her face was pressed against his chest. She breathed in the scent of wood smoke and incense, the flavor making her senses tingle. Even here, in death’s stronghold, Luke could make her feel alive.

The voices faded and were forgotten.

He released her, but only so he could put his hands on either side of her head, forcing her to look up at him. The expression in his eyes made her tremble.

 “Kit,” he whispered. His fingers tightened in her hair.

And then his mouth was on hers.

A flash of lightning. The answering thunder was her own heart, her own blood, rushing in her ears. Where their lips pressed together there was fire.

Luke’s hands slid down to her upper arms, and his grip was savage. Pain mixed with pleasure until Kit no longer cared which was which. Let him bruise every inch of her. She just needed him closer, harder, more…

She moaned, and Luke slid his tongue into her mouth.

Her body arched as if she’d suffered an electric shock. Their tongues met and tangled until the world spun out of control, leaving her knees so weak she had to grab his shirt to keep from falling.

Something was happening to her bones. They were shifting, blurring, as if the boundaries between her and Luke were burning away. Everything was burning away, leaving her in a maelstrom with nothing but hunger, a hunger that clawed at her insides like—

Luke broke the kiss suddenly, and Kit cried out in protest. Then he put his hands below her ribcage and lifted her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her eyes opening as she settled against him, her arms coming to rest on his shoulders.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The way he was looking at her…like she was sunlight…

He put a hand behind her head and guided her to him. His mouth brushed gently over hers, a kiss like velvet against her bruised and battered flesh. Again, and again, until Kit couldn’t bear it any longer and she pressed closer, her lips parting as she opened to him. She heard him growl his approval as he slid inside, his tongue stroking her with rough sensuality, claiming her as he had done before but with a different quality, something that felt like reverence.

Then suddenly he crushed her to him, lips and teeth branding her in one blinding, breathless moment, and as quickly released her so she slid down his body and onto her own feet again.

He took her by the shoulders and looked directly into her eyes.

“Are you with me?” he asked, and there was an undercurrent of urgency in his voice.

Her heart was hammering. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.

He shook her roughly. “Are you with me?” he asked again.

“Yes,” she finally managed to say. “Why…why did you kiss me?” She raised a hand to her mouth and pressed it to her swollen lips.

“I wanted you to pay attention to me. Now that you are, I need you to understand that those voices are not real. They’re not human beings who need your help, and they’re definitely not your brother. Peter is being held in the black city at the end of this road. That’s what the ferryman said, and the ferryman doesn’t lie. So even if you don’t believe me, believe him. Even if you—”

“My God.”

Kit looked over her shoulder at the impenetrable shadows beyond the road, out of which still came the sound of people crying out for help, for
her
help, including a voice she couldn’t believe she had taken for Peter’s. There was a whining, cloying tone there that Peter had never used in his life.