Giver of Light
Giver of Light
Book Four in the Kindred Series
By Nicola Claire
Copyright © 2012, Nicola Claire
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 978-0-473-21592-7
nicolaclairebooks.blogspot.com
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Cover Art by Nicola Claire & Minette Hanekom
Image credit: 123RF Stock Photo
Image #
12390476
Font credit: Last Soundtrack "EpoXY histoRy"
My special thanks to Minette of
Red Cherry Graphic Design
for her expertise, unfailing support and precious time, making the
Kindred Series
look as sexy as it deserves.
More books by Nicola Claire:
Kindred Series
Kiss Of The Dragon (Late 2013)
Mixed Blessing Mystery Series
Sweet Seduction Series
Sweet Seduction Shadow (Late 2013)
Elemental Awakening Series
The Tempting Touch Of Fire (Late 2013)
For: Tony, Alex & Christian
My Light
Accord
–
A blood binding agreement, often between two parties of equal power; cannot be broken.
Alliance
–
A word of honour agreement; has varying degrees of binding, some alliances cannot be broken.
Blood Bond
–
A binding connection between master and servant, requiring the exchange of blood to seal. It can only be broken by someone more powerful than the master who created it. A blood bond establishes a close relationship between the blood bonded. The master provides safety and protection, the servant offers obedience and loyalty.
Bond
–
The connection between joined kindred Nosferatu and Nosferatin; reflects the emotional and psychological relationship. Enables both parties to find each other over distance; to perform whatever is required to get to that person, overcoming any obstacle; to direct thoughts to each other; to feed off the life force of each other. It is always an equal exchange.
Command
–
A directive given by a Master vampire to one of his line. It requires
Sanguis Vitam
in order to enforce obedience. It cannot be ignored.
Dream Walk
–
A Nosferatin power, enabling the Nosferatin to appear in a different location. The Dream Walker is invisible, cannot be sensed or smelled, and only heard if they talk when in this realm. They can, however, interact and be harmed. The only exception to a Dream Walker's invisibility is another Nosferatin. Two Dream Walks in a 24 hour period results in prolonged unconsciousness once the Dream Walker returns to their body. A very rare power.
Final death
–
The true death of a Nosferatu. There can be no survival from the final death.
Glaze
–
The ability to influence another. It requires direct eye contact and
Sanguis Vitam
to insert the influence. Usually a Nosferatu skill, allowing a vampire to influence a human.
Herald
–
The Nosferatin who recognises the Prophesy. It is the Herald's responsibility to acknowledge the
Sanguis Vitam Cupitor
and thereby initiate the Prophesy.
Hapū
– (Maori) Tribe; sub-tribe – e.g. the Westside Hapū of Taniwha is the local Auckland sub-tribe of New Zealand Taniwha.
Iunctio
–
(Latin). The Nosferatu connection and governing power. All vampires are connected to one another via this supernatural information exchange highway; enabling sharing of rules, locations of safe havens and hot spots to avoid. It is powered by both Nosferatu and Nosferatin
Sanguis Vitam
, but is operated by the Nosferatu in Paris. There are twelve members of the
Iunctio
council, headed by the Champion. The
Iunctio
is tasked with policing all supernaturals throughout the world.
Joining
–
The marriage of a kindred Nosferatu with a kindred Nosferatin. Upon joining the Nosferatu will double their
Sanguis Vitam
and the Nosferatin will come into their powers, but for the Nosferatin, their powers will only manifest after reaching maturity; the age of 25. The joining will also make the Nosferatin immortal. A symbiotic relationship, should one member of the joining die, the other will too. Without a joining, the Nosferatin would die one month past their 25
th
birthday. The joining also increases the power of the
Iunctio
and Nosferatu as a whole.
Kaitiaki
–
(Maori) New Zealand Shape Shifter (Taniwha) name for Nosferatin. Meaning protective guardian of people and places.
Kindred
–
A Nosferatu or Nosferatin sacred match, a suitable partner for a joining. To be a kindred there must exist a connection between the Nosferatu and Nosferatin; only those suitably compatible will be kindred to the other.
Line
–
The family of a Master Vampire, all members of which have been turned by the Master, or accepted via blood bond into the fold.
Lux Lucis Tribuo
–
(Latin) The Giver of Light. The third part of the Prophesy. The
Lux Lucis Tribuo
is charged with balancing out the Dark in Dark vampires, with their Light.
Master
–
A Nosferatu with the highest level of
Sanguis Vitam.
There are five levels of Master, from level five – the lowest on the
Sanguis Vitam
scale, to level one – the highest on the
Sanguis Vitam
scale. Only level one Masters can head a line of their own. Some Nosferatu may never become Masters.
Master of the City
–
A level one Master in control of a territory; a city.
Norm
–
A human unaware of the supernaturals who walk the Earth. They also do not have any supernatural abilities themselves.
Nosferatin
–
(
Nosferat–een)
-
A vampire hunter by birth. Nosferatin were once of the same ilk as Nosferatu, descendants from the same ancestors, or God. The Nosferatin broke off and turned towards the Light. Their sole purpose is to bring the Nosferatu back from the Dark, this can include dispatching them, bringing them the final death, when they cannot be saved. They are now a mix of human and Nosferatin genetics.
Nosferatu
–
A vampire. The Nosferatu turned towards the Dark, when their kin, the Nosferatin turned towards the Light. They require blood to survive and can be harmed by UV exposure and silver. They do not need to breathe or have a heartbeat. They are considered the undead.
Prohibitum Bibere
–
(Latin) The Forbidden Drink. The second part of the Prophesy. The
Prohibitum Bibere
is a siren to the Dark vampires throughout the world, calling their Darkness towards the Light.
Pull
–
The Nosferatin sense of evil. Guides a hunter to a Dark vampire; sometimes, but not always a rogue, who is about to feed off an innocent.
Rākaunui
– (Maori) Full Moon.
Rogue –
A vampire no longer controlled by a master, full of evil and Darkness, feeding indiscriminately and uncontrolled
.
Sanguis Vitam
–
(Latin) The Blood Life or life force of a Nosferatu. It represents the power they possess. There are varying degrees of
Sanguis Vitam
.
Sanguis Vitam Cupitor
–
(Latin) The Blood Life Seeker. The first part of the Prophesy. The
Sanguis Vitam Cupitor
can sense and find all Dark vampires throughout the world.
Sigillum
–
(Latin) A permanent mark of possession.
Taniwha
–
(Maori) New Zealand Shape Shifter. Dangerous, predatory beings. The Taniwha have an alliance with the Nosferatins.
Turned
–
The action of changing a human into a vampire.
Vampyre
–
Old term for vampire; used rarely in modern language.
The Light will capture the Dark
and hold it dear.
The Prophesy
It's All In the Blood
It was the drop of liquid on my eyelid that woke me. The warm wet pearl slowly working its way across my closed lid and out past the corner of my eye, then down my cheek, leaving a wet trail in its wake. I brushed it away without opening my eyes, I was tired, so tired and nowhere near ready to face the day.
The first drop was followed by a second. Same spot, same routine. Across my eyelid, out past the corner of my eye and then slowly, following the track of the previous drop, down my cheek. This time making it as far as my neck before I reached for it. As soon as it was wiped away another followed.
If this was Chinese water torture, it was doing a damn fine job. I gritted my teeth, but still didn't open my eyes. Choosing instead to pound my pillow into submission and roll over on to my side.
The next drop landed in my ear.
Bloody hell, can't a girl get some sleep around here? I swiped at the drop and then felt another and another and another, until I realised it must be raining in my bedroom. I opened my eyes in a rush, expecting to see the window open and a storm in full swing outside, but what met my gaze was far worse and deeply coloured.
Red.
Red everywhere.
I was drowning in red. Red drops so thick and sluggish I could watch them fall from the ceiling in slow motion. If I'd had the inclination, I could have rolled out of the way, missed their trajectory altogether, but I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. I knew what this red liquid was. I could smell the metallic scent of it. It was as familiar to me as my own skin. My life was perpetually surrounded in, coated in, red liquid.
And now I felt the mattress shift, floating like a boat. I turned my head to the side and looked over my shoulder. Floating. Floating in a sea of red. I scrambled to the centre of the mattress, but it wouldn't help. I knew this as though I had been here before. First the red would start to seep into the mattress from the edges, closer and closer, reaching for me across the white expanse like spidery fingers, colouring everything in its path red.
And it did. Slow at first, I watched it inch its way closer and then all of a sudden, as though it had reached a critical mass, it accelerated and rushed towards me, wetting my knees and hands, making the mattress heavy, making it dip beneath the waves of red liquid as it washed against the side of my raft, the only thing between me and drowning in a sea of red.
I looked down at my nightdress, which once was white and now was a deep bright red, and watched as the red liquid lapped up my thighs, across my waist and then higher and higher. Quickly now, the mattress long gone beneath me to the deepest depths of the red, now just my legs kicking, trying to keep myself afloat, but feeling a pull downward that I knew I could not fight.
It was hard to move through the thick sludge that surrounded me, threatened to engulf me. I knew what this red was, but I didn't wanted to voice it. To say it, was to acknowledge this was real and to do that was to let it cover me completely, drown me forever, wash away all thought of clean and safe, replace it with death and destruction and the finality of
the end.
As soon as I thought that it came to me unbidden. What this red liquid, splashing in my mouth, running down my throat, covering my head, filling my eyes, reeking in my nose and consuming my body, was.
Blood.
Nero's blood. There had been so much blood, so much. There was nothing I could do to stop the flow of blood. Just like now, it was going to win, to drown me. It took Nero, now it would take me too. There was no fighting the blood. My life was full of blood. Nero's death. Vampires' lives. It all needed blood to happen, blood to make the world go around. I lived in blood and it was now coming to finish me too.
I hated blood, but I could not escape it. I could not escape this.
I panicked and I thrashed. If I had just relaxed and let my body float it might have been OK. I think I could have floated in this thick sludgy blood. I think I could have been light enough, but I couldn't relax. I couldn't think straight. I wanted out of this nightmare, out of the blood. I wanted to be clean and fresh and covered in sea salt breezes.
As I struggled and flailed and thrashed around in the liquid, I smelt that sea salt breeze, so fresh and clean. I concentrated on it as hard as I could manage. If only I could reach the beach, pull myself up on the sand, let the fresh breeze wash away the metallic scent, all would be OK.
I reached out to the beautiful fresh sea breeze and the red world around me shattered. I took a crushingly deep breath in, realised my throat was raw and opened my eyes.
“
Ma douce, ma douce
. It is all right. I am here. It is merely a dream.”
Michel's voice so strained, so tight, his warm strong arms wrapped around me, rocking me. A hand in my hair stroking me, his lips against my cheek, his breath hot, his body warm.
Thank God. It was just a nightmare. This was real. This was my life.
I let a shuddering breath out and collapsed back against his body.
Just a nightmare. But, I knew Nero was dead. Vampires would always need blood. And I was neck deep in the red stuff, in or out of my dreamscapes.
I sighed. “Sorry, I woke you.”
“It is nothing.” He paused. “How are you?”
Tired. Exhausted. Fed up with blood.
“You didn't drown this time. That is good,
non
?”
The fact that French had seeped into Michel's vocabulary said more than the words actually did. He was exhausted too. Worried even, I bet. This was about the sixteenth or seventeenth nightmare like this in the past three weeks. Each time he had woken me, reached me somehow through all that red, saved me. But I knew he felt as helpless as I did. These nightmares weren't going away and he had no way of controlling them. Just like me. And as he can read my mind when he wishes, a recent development which I am hoping will not be permanent, he often experiences the nightmares right along with me.
We were both tired.
He pulled me back down on the bed. I stiffened as my back came in contact with the mattress, expecting to find it wet, but it was just warm and dry and solid. I wasn't floating anymore. I was wrapped up in my kindred vampire's arms. I was OK.
Yeah, right.
“Have I told you about my time in Wallachia?”
I shook my head, unsure if my voice and throat had fully recovered yet. No doubt I had been screaming. Michel never said, but I always felt like my throat was raw after one of these dreams, like I'd been yelling at a rock concert, or screaming in terror.
He settled back against the pillows, making himself comfortable. This had become a routine for us. First the nightmare, then Michel distracting me with memories of his past. I couldn't complain. One, it worked, my heart rate returning to normal after only a few minutes of listening to his soft, steady voice re-tell stories of a life lived so long ago. And two, I always wanted to know more about Michel. I was fascinated by him. How could I not be?
“I decided it was time to educate myself in my new found life. It was not too long after I had been turned by Amicus and had accomplished my revenge on those who had killed my family and tried to kill me. There was a strong seat of the
Iunctio
in Wallachia. Not so much today, too many stories of Romanian vampyre princes have made that part of Europe undesirable to my kind. But, at the time, it was an outpost for Paris, where the
Iunctio
, as you know, has been based for millennia.
“Wallachia was then ruled by an extremely powerful and somewhat surprisingly well educated vampyre called Neagoe Basarab, part of the powerful Craiovesti family. He was a peaceful ruler, which in itself was unusual for the time and his race. Vampyres were not known for there cultural influences at the time, but Neagoe was different. Perhaps that is why I was attracted to his principality. Word had reached Paris that there was much to be enjoyed at the Craiovesti court.
“Neagoe was a lover of the Renaissance aspect of art and culture and had spent the first few decades of his reign enlightening those around him. I spent sixty years as a member of his court. It was perhaps the most influential of all the experiences of my life for the next few centuries. He was a mastermind politician, enabling his countrymen to expand their arts and crafts in order to pay their exorbitant tribute to the Ottoman Empire and also giving them employment and a sense of pride.
“He was also a consummate diplomat. He not only kept close ties with Wallachia's neighbour, the then powerful Hungary, but re-established connections with the Republic of Venice and the Papacy. He revolutionised religion in the area and made generous donations to various Orthodox Monasteries. He built fine buildings, emboldened his people and wrote works of art on philosophy, ethics, morals and diplomacy.”
Michel kissed my forehead as he took a break from his memories. Then murmured against my skin. “I was fortunate to have called him a friend. He has influenced my life and I will always remember him, will always honour that friendship. Much of what I do today is as a result of his teachings. He was a fine vampyre. A fine man.”
His hand brushed down my cheek, where only moments before I had felt the warm wet track of blood.
“He died the final death not five weeks after I moved on from his court. I have asked myself if things would have been different if I had remained behind, if I had been there when the Ottomans invaded. Perhaps. I can not say. But, I have learned to not dwell on what would have or could have been. He is dead, he would have died then or at another time, but I will not let his death detract from what he gave me.”
He pulled me closer, lifting my body up on top of his. It was but a mere movement for him, as though I was a weightless piece of fabric and he simply picked me up and draped me over his body like a blanket. His hands reached up and cupped my face. His eyes, that beautiful rich blue with the odd indigo and violet swirls deep within, held my gaze.
“Do not forget what Nero has given you, honour his memory, cherish his lessons, but” - he kissed my forehead, my eyelids, each cheek - “do not let his death invade your soul. We each have our time on this earth and no one can alter that for us. Now, you must live yours, by honouring his memory, not his death.”
He continued to stare at me for a moment, then slowly brushed his lips against mine. So soft and warm and beautiful. I craved his kisses, I longed for them. Sometimes he would tease me. He knew how much I adored his touch. Sometimes he would hover over my mouth, wait for me to bridge the gap, deny me that final perfect touch of his warm, soft lips, only to make me beg. It was a game for him. A way of taking back some of the control he had lost to either me or the claiming that we were still battling. His vampire inside of him had decided it needed to stake a claim on me, to let everybody and their dog know I was his. Michel found the claiming a force he could not control. His body responded to situations without the cool, methodical and thoughtful approach he normally has. It was because of that loss of control that he teased.
But not now. No teasing. He simply pulled me close, brushed his lips one more time across my face, my neck and then repositioned me in the crook of his arm. Cradling me, like you would a baby. Lovingly, carefully, innocently. It never failed to surprise me how lucky I was to have found this man. Granted, he had found me, but I still thanked my lucky stars he had. Right now, so full of memories of Nero's death, so full of my disgust for blood, I would not welcome an intimate coupling. I loved him and part of me always wanted him, but what I needed now, more than sex, more than making love, was to be held. To be cherished and not to be pushed.
Despite the claiming, despite the fact that he had established morning routines that involved saying
hello
to his marks when we woke, which never led to more. He was able to restrain himself, for me. He gave me comfort and love with the thought of nothing in return. He defied the claiming and his natural vampire instincts and gave me what I needed.
I smiled to myself, an amazing feat in itself considering the nightmare that had just woken us. But I couldn't help it. I had been so numb lately and I knew I was nowhere near out of those woods yet, but I took what little joys I could find to help me through. Michel helped me through. I honestly didn't know how I could face the hurdle of accepting Nero's death without Michel.
Even the routines we had established, him waking me, talking to me, distracting me. Even the way he was drawn to my marks each morning. They all held me firmly to this Earth, prevented me from floating away. It dawned on me that we had quite a few routines now. That we knew each other so well, that we had spent so much time together, that we had formed regular patterns in our life. He could still surprise me, but that familiarity was a blessing. When so much of my world was out of control, was one unexpected shock and then another and then another, that sense of belonging I had with Michel was a god send.
My life had changed when I moved from my parents' sleepy farm to Auckland two years ago, but it wasn't until just before I turned 25, about three months ago that it really took on the bizarre. I found out I was descended from a race similar, if not originally the same, as the Nosferatu. That I was a born vampire hunter, a Nosferatin and that in order to live, I would have to tie myself to a vampire and entrench myself in their world. Now, not only is my life in peril daily, I kill, I have had friends killed and I am surrounded by blood. Sometimes, I live it, breathe it, am consumed by it.