Dust to Dust (26 page)

Celia looked at them and shook her head. “You two…” she said to Melanie and Rainier. “He will destroy you. You should be his already, but you've fought him. And you—” she broke off to stare at Scott “—you're already as good as dead, and you just don't know it.”

“Believe what you want. I know that I will fight him tooth and nail—and win,” Scott told her.

Melanie let out a long sigh. “Should we give her more time? Or just get it over with now?”

Again, the girl started to sob.

 

Lucien had chosen to fly, in order to save his energy. But because he was traveling at the last minute, he hadn't been able to get a direct flight. Now he was flying against time, and the day was waning.

Perhaps flying had been a mistake.

Because he hadn't been able to close his eyes without seeing not his own dream, but the Oracle's. He had closed his eyes, and somewhere in her heart, Sister Maria Elizabeta had cried out to him, knowing that the demon was in her mind, in her dream. And the demon was growing stronger, making it hard for him to reach her in time.

He had barely made it, and now he was exhausted.

He glanced at his watch. Two more hours. Two more hours and he would be there.

 

Scott opened his eyes. Somewhere along the way he'd fallen into a doze.

Celia had been crying. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she sat inside her prison of crosses, holy water and belief.

“Scott, you must get away quickly. She's going to kill you. Don't you see? She's a vampire, an old vampire. She's been using you. Don't you know? Haven't you seen? She's playing with you. Defend yourself!”

He turned swiftly. Beside his chair, Melanie was on her knees. Beautiful, sleek, as graceful and sinuous as a cat. She was reaching for him, her lips parting, and he could see her fangs as they glistened in the stray beam of moonlight that fought its way through the shadows.

Fear shot through him like a bolt of electricity. He started to jump up; there was a sharpened cross by his side, and his fingers curled around it.

But…

Distantly, so distantly, he heard the demon's laughter.

He turned away from the image of Melanie, wondering if he'd killed her in his dream, would she have died in reality.

“Bull,” he told Celia flatly. Except that she wasn't real, either, he realized. She was just something that Bael had somehow made him see in his mind.

She faded away. In her place he saw red glowing eyes that seemed to hover in front of him, staring, before fading away. Bael. Scott smelled something disgusting, like burning flesh, and then…

T
he plane landed. Lucien couldn't afford the time to go through customs or to deal with his baggage, so he didn't.

He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining himself as wind and air, moving swiftly through time and space.

Shape shifting. Not all vampires could do it. But he was old. He had learned a lot through the years, and he knew that he was strong.

He hoped he was strong enough.

He opened his eyes and saw the church hidden in the woods along the Apia Antica. He heard the chants of the nuns as they let their prayers rise toward the heavens.

He saw Sister Maria Elizabeta lying on the pew, barely breathing—and barely blinking. She did not want to fall asleep again.

He burst through the doorway of the church, and everything was as he had seen it in his dreams, as he had known it before, so many years ago. Sister Ana leapt up as he entered, like a true soldier, though she knew she might face certain death.

“He's come!” Sister Maria Elizabeta gasped out. “Don't be afraid. The Oracle has come.”

Lucien hurried to her side and took her hand. “My dear Sister, I know you feel you must be here, but it's time for you to get to a hospital. You have done your duty, and now you must let yourself rest and heal.”

She smiled at him. It was the beautiful smile of the young girl he had seen in the dream, the sister herself, but so many years ago. “This is the beginning. If the earth signs don't stop the demon, there is no hope. The Oracle must be there when it is time for water, fire and air to go into battle.”

“Sister,” he said gently. “You cannot stay here as you are. You are old, and very ill. You won't be able to fight again if you don't get some rest, not to mention medical care. And you must get better. We need you—the world needs you.”

She closed her eyes, and her smile deepened, some of the wrinkles that betrayed her great age beginning to fade.

“I know,” she whispered. “I knew…all those years ago, when I first saw you. You thought you were damned, and you played the part well. But I knew—as you knew, in your heart—that you were not meant to kill and destroy, but to go on. You thought your role now was just to show the others the way, but…our connection is strong. You entered the dreams I sent to Scott, and you saw what was happening. Already, you were the one. You have acted as the Oracle.”

He looked up a little helplessly at Sister Ana.

She shook her head. A dull thud of fear struck him. He was not ready for this responsibility. Sister Elizabeta could not die.

Her eyes opened, and she looked at him. “Lucien, don't you see? You are the Oracle now.”

“No. I haven't your faith, your strength.”

“I am old, and so weak that he is slipping into my mind. My heart is pure, but my body is weak.
You
are strong. And you will find the resources you need within your soul.”

Lucien wasn't even sure that he had a soul.

“My son,” she said softly.

Her grip was suddenly strong. He felt something, as if he had been struck by lightning. He almost cried out, almost wrenched away. But even as the power of the Oracle burned through her touch into him, he suddenly understood.

And he was very afraid.

“Sister,” he whispered.

“Bless you, child.”

“Sister, please, no.”

“Let me die, let me die in the light in which I have lived, for it is time, and I will not risk my soul to such as he you must now fight.”

She touched his cheek. He felt her love, and the strength that would never leave her, not even in death.

Then she closed her eyes again. This time, they would not reopen.

 

“Scott, please, wake up. What's wrong?”

Melanie was terrified. Scott had suddenly begun
tossing about wildly, his muscles straining, his features taut, as if he were in extreme pain.

But worse than that…

The air had an odd smell about it. Like flesh charred by fire.

“Scott!”

At last his eyes opened. He looked around anxiously, saw her, and his eyes filled with relief. He reached out, drawing her to him. His heart was pounding. “My God,” he whispered. “You're all right, you're here with me. Unscathed.” He smiled at her, and she was startled by the wealth of emotion in his eyes, the force in his arms as he held her. His smiled faded suddenly. “Where's Celia?”

“In the sitting room, where we left her. Rainier is standing guard.”

He eased back, and his grin returned slowly as he reached up and touched her hair. “He—Bael—tries hard, but, you know what saves me every time?”

“What?” she asked.

“You.”

“Me?” she asked, both puzzled and afraid.

He nodded gravely, studying her with a passion and warmth in his dark eyes that both thrilled and frightened her.

“Whatever you are, I know there's not an ounce of cruelty in your body,” he said. “I couldn't love you if you were cruel. And I even believe that you feel something for me—dare I suggest you love me in return?”

Love? No, it couldn't be—could it?

It could.

And suddenly she was afraid. Afraid of the force of her own emotions—and his. She was afraid of his complete and utter faith in her.

She eased down, laying her head upon his chest. “You believe that I'm a vampire, don't you?”

“I do, yes,” he told her, stroking her hair.

“Don't you want to know more?” she asked him.

“Whenever you're ready, yes,” he said without hesitation.

She didn't believe that he would judge her harshly. Still, the fear remained.

She was quiet for a long time, and he didn't push her. At last she sighed. “Do you know how old I am?” she whispered.

“No, but it doesn't matter.”

She rose up on an elbow, looking down at him. She wasn't sure what she was going to say, but she knew she didn't want to look at him while she was talking. She eased back down on her back and stared at the ceiling as she began to speak. “It happened during the potato famine,” she said quietly.

“What? What potato famine?” he asked.

She winced. “The Irish potato famine, eighteen-forty-nine. They were truly desperate times. We were raiding an English estate near Dublin. My father, mother…brothers, sisters, all told me it was time to go, but I was determined to get more food. I pretended that I was right behind them, but I wasn't. We knew that Lord Miller's stockroom was full, but for some reason no one wanted to go near it. Miller had acquired a reputation for being not just cruel, but evil. Maids had
gone into his manor to work and never come back out. Still, that night…you can't imagine how hungry I was. How hungry we all were. So many people starving to death.”

“Miller was a vampire?” he asked.

She nodded, still not looking at him. “The worst kind. He loved being a lord, being able to rule his property, to drink—lots of wine and alcohol, as well as blood—and to take whomever he wanted to torture and abuse. No one stopped him. He was a member of the ruling class. No one dared.”

Scott rolled over to look at her. His eyes were deep and gentle, but he was such a strong man, in his own quiet way. He smoothed hair away from her face. “He caught you that night.”

She nodded. “I was always a fighter, I suppose. I had to be. So when he caught me, he had a great time torturing me. He'd let me think I had gotten away, then catch me again. And then I would fight him some more. Actually, I'm pretty sure I did hurt him several times. I was willing to die rather than let him have me. I just didn't realize that I
would
die…only to awaken and find myself still in his home. With him. Then it got worse. He wanted me to feed upon my own people. I do know what Celia is going through now, because I went through it then.”

Scott pulled her against him as she spoke, and she didn't stop him. Instead she looked him straight in the eye. “I killed one of his friends instead. Another English lord.”

She was surprised that he still managed a gentle smile. “You didn't kill your own.”

“But I
did
kill. Don't you understand? Maybe the bastard even deserved it—he'd certainly been cruel enough to his tenants. But…I never wanted the power of life and death over others. And…you have to understand. He was just the first. I made my horrible misfortune into a war of vengeance.” She rose to a sitting position, trying to make certain he was really paying attention. “A serious enough bite…enough blood taken, and you do die, then become one of us. But there's an ancient law—one all of us, good and bad, are afraid to break—that a vampire can only make one of his or her own kind three times in a century. Survival of the fittest, you see. So I didn't just
turn
these people, I killed them. I staked them or beheaded them after I had drained them.”

She wondered if she was trying to force him to turn away. Better now than later, when her heart was even more vulnerable.

But he didn't turn away.

“Who finally helped you? Was it Lucien?”

She shook her head. “It was Rainier, though Rainier eventually introduced me to Lucien. In the days when we had to fight to stay alive, Lucien was what you would call the king of the vampires. He's still the head, though there are rebel factions across the globe, those who want to stick with the old ways and kill indiscriminately for survival. They usually die,” she whispered.

“But not always?” Scott asked.

“No, not always. It appears that Bael has a way of gathering the disgruntled and the cruel around him.
He's managed to exert a mental power to keep them under control—the same power he uses to slip into our minds and our dreams.”

Scott nodded slowly. “I think I understand. It's like a world within our world, and most of us don't even suspect, because so many of you are careful to stay under the radar.”

She nodded.

“How did you wind up in California—and how did Rainier help you?”

“Lord Miller came to despise me. We carried the war into our private domain. He knew that I was killing anyone who helped him stay in power—and practice his cruelty. He managed to trap me in the dungeon of an ancient ruin for weeks with nothing to…eat—and then sent my baby sister in to search for me.” She stopped. All these years later, even with all her immediate family long gone, she could still remember how she had grabbed the little girl who had loved her so much and barely managed to shove her away. “I didn't,” she said, her voice barely finding breath. “I didn't kill her. But she went home and told my parents what she had found. Rainier had come to Dublin—to find an old…acquaintance. My parents ran to the priest and told him what I had become, and when Rainier heard the story he came to find me. He took me away before the entire town could come after me. My parents loved me, and my sister loved me, but they would have destroyed me to save my soul. Rainier got us berths on a ship to America. We settled in…New York first. Rainier taught me how to survive, far below the notice of those who
might find me out.” She drew a deep breath and let it out, still determined to meet his eyes. “We can subsidize our diet with other blood, of course, but when we're sick, injured…or need our strength, it must be human.”

“I see.”

“Over the years, I lost my accent,” she told him. “Actually, over the years, I've learned several languages and can affect many accents. But I love my country. I am very much an American now.”

“So…?” He let the word trail off inquiringly.

“So now you understand what a totally loathsome creature I am,” she said, trying to speak lightly.

“I don't think you're loathsome at all,” he assured her. “I can't help but be curious, though, in all those years…”

“How many vampires have I created?” she asked, wincing. Her voice sounded cold.

And bitter.

But he shook his head. “You said that Rainier helped you all that time. Did you really never—”

She looked at his face; his tense features. She heard the slight twinge of jealousy in his voice—something he was trying hard to hide.

“He's my brother. My friend and my brother. But we haven't been close geographically in years. I moved on. I always move on.”

He took both her hands and kissed them briefly but tenderly. “Please don't move on. Not away from me,” he whispered.

She didn't have a chance to reply, because there was suddenly a long, low cry from the living room.

Scott leaped from the bed and nearly ripped the door off its hinges in his anxiety to discover what had happened.

 

As he raced to the living room, a million thoughts seemed to flash through Scott's mind: Rainier had fallen prey to Bael's mind games. He had fallen prey to the girl. Someone else had come in and fallen prey to the girl.