Immanuel's Veins (27 page)

I lowered my head into my hands and I sobbed in great heaves that refused to release me. I could not breathe; I could not stand. I could only shake and groan.

The man who could not be broken by any army was crushed. I would have preferred to meet my death on the battlefield, because this kind of death was at the expense of Lucine, and that drove me to the brink of madness.

Then I succumbed to that innate core of myself that I had never shown any man. Unable to contain myself, I threw my head back and hurled my guttural cry at the stone above me, a trapped wolf howling at the moon, a wounded lion bound in cords.

And when my cry exhausted my breath, I drew a deep groan that echoed in that chamber, and I thundered my rage and remorse again. My hands were clenched to hammers, my neck was strung to vines, but I was only a worm.

How had I gone from stoic hero to ruined fool in a week? What kind of disease had taken my mind and my heart? What fate had delivered me to Moldavia to find this scourge that would make the black plague seem like a blessing?

I cursed myself. I cursed Alek. I cursed Natasha. I cursed God. I cursed the devil. I cursed that beast. I cursed all the powers that had conspired to render me such a terrible lover.

But I would never curse Lucine. The rest of us could die if only she lived.

And when my body could not sustain this display of madness any longer, I sank to my side, held myself tight, and let the rest of my tears drain from my eyes.

My face was still planted on the soggy earth when I heard the creak of a door and the distant rattle of keys.
They've come to rack me
, I thought.
They will take a hot skewer and sear my bowels. They will gouge my eyes and pluck apart my body until I tell them what they need to justify my execution
.

I will scream that I am a witch, that I have been touched by the devil. Then they will crucify me
.

And I welcomed it.

But no . . . no, I couldn't. I had to pull myself together as long as there was the slightest hope that I could escape these monsters, find another priest who was not mad, and rush back up that mountain to confront Valerik on his terms, however unlikely any victory might seem.

So I pushed myself to my knees, stood up, and steadied myself by one hand on the wall as the sound of boots approached on stone.

One man, not two. Even in shackles, I might be able to take one man. I might take him from his feet, twist the chain around his neck, and choke him to the death.

Orange light crept into the pit. The boots stopped outside my cell. I refused to turn.
Let them enter
.

“Toma.”

The voice was low. Gravelly. I blinked.

“Toma Nicolescu. Is that you?”

I had heard this voice before. I slowly turned my head toward the bars. A priest dressed in a brown hooded robe stood holding a torch in his left hand. His face was hidden in shadow.

He faced me for a while, then reached up and pulled back his hood. I recognized him immediately. This was none other than the old man who'd warned Alek and me at the Brasca Pass! His scraggly hair hung around a wrinkled face and cloudy eyes that now stared blind through those slits.

“Who are you?” I asked, stunned by the sight of him.

He inclined his ear toward the passage, then stepped closer to the bars. “We don't have much time.”

“Who are you?” I demanded again.

“I've chosen the name Thomas for your sake, though names don't matter. But you are called Toma, which means ‘twin.' So call me Thomas, which also means ‘twin.' Saint Thomas, if you want.” He cackled. “It has a nice ring to it. And it was he who sent me to you.”

“Thomas?”

“But that doesn't matter. Names mean nothing now.”

I wasn't sure I could trust the man, but I wasn't in a position to argue, so I held my tongue.

The old man wrapped the shriveled fingers of his right hand around one of the bars and spoke quickly, in a hushed voice.

“We don't have time, you have to focus.”

“Who are you?”

“Like I said—”

“Not your name.”

This so-called Saint Thomas took a deep breath. “One who knows far more than you. Think of me as an angel sent to you from another realm to free you from your prison—it's happened before—albeit this time without an earthquake. I'm sure that sounds absurd. Just know that, like Vlad van Valerik, I'm someone you'll never fully understand.”

I approached the bars cautiously. “You know Valerik?”

“He's a half-breed. The blood of the Nephilim flows through him. A creature of the night.”

“He's the devil, then.”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking. Nephilim. As in that book Genesis. The offspring of fallen angels and humans. They'll be known by other names one day, but it all comes down to the same thing, my young friend. You find yourself at a pivotal point in history, long before all the most famous stories based on such creatures are written.”

“What stories? How can you possibly know all of this?”

“Because I'm from that other realm. Evil isn't the only force that can manifest itself in physical form.”

I grabbed the bars, knowing now that no matter how old and blind and frail, this man must be my salvation. “Then let me out! Tell me what I must do. I am lost in here while that beast has her!”

The old man stared at me, then pulled out an ancient leather book from under his cloak. “You'll have to discover that on your own, but I can help. This is known as a Blood Book. A journal.”

“It'll take more than a book to defeat them. If you're a man of God, go with me.”

“No, Toma. I am an old, blind man and must go back.” He placed his cracked hand over mine. “There are times when spiritual realities show themselves in flesh and blood, yes? When roles are played to mirror something far greater. ‘Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood.' Some say symbolism, but now here it is true.”

It made no sense to me. Lucine had already tasted the blood, as I had, and it was working evil in her.

“I should serve her communion? It's that simple?”

“The affairs between God and man aren't about simple rites performed at an altar. You love her, I think?”

Tears flooded my eyes.

“You'll have to woo her first, if you can. This is a passion play, a contest for her heart, not her service. Win her heart and you might be able to save her. Enter her world. Be her Immanuel.”

The tears spilled down my cheeks and I made my confession to that old man. “I didn't tell her. She doesn't know!”

“And it might be too late—she might have turned cold already. The seduction of those dark beings is astounding.”

He withdrew a key. Placing the journal under his arm, he unlocked the cell. I rushed out and whirled both ways to be sure we were alone. We were.

“Take this book. It will help you. After you read it, and only then, can you dare go up that mountain.” He pressed the book into my hands and I took it carefully.

He started to turn. “I have to get back.”

But I stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Why? How did this happen?”

The old man shrugged. “It happened. They became flesh. Evil walks among you now. That's all you need to know. There's a horse by the back gate. Run quickly, Toma.”

Then he left me standing with the book in my hands and hurried down that dungeon passage. He was already at the top of the steps when I began to run. Down the tunnel, up the stairs, out the doors, and into the failing light. A monk with a bucket of potatoes saw me and stared as if he were looking upon a ghost. I nodded my respect and ran past him, straight to the back gate, which was open.

The horse was my own stallion, and I gratefully leaped onto his back.

Voices shouted behind. A bell clanged. Yet now I was free and my horse was fast, and I galloped away from the bishop's dungeons of hell.

I headed into the night, toward the north and the west where the Carpathian Mountains rose like tombs against the sky. Toward another hell that would surely burn my flesh and leave me dead.

TWENTY-EIGHT

I
t's yours, my love. All of it.” Vlad turned around, spreading one arm out to the vast library with its towering bookcases and gold-appointed candlesticks. The crystal chandelier shone like the stars. Or were they diamonds? She would put nothing beyond him now, no amount of wealth or power. Vlad could hardly surprise her any longer; he was limitless.

And her soft smile must have told him of her wonder, because he brushed her hair off her face and touched his lips to hers again.

The pain of her turning had eased as the night came. After the show of honor and dancing in the great hall with the entire coven, the council had retired to Vlad's wing and feasted at the familiar long table, only tonight the scents and the tastes had changed completely. It was boar, she was told, and each bite tasted like the first delectable morsel after a week of starvation. Her hunger could hardly be satisfied—she'd never eaten so much meat and gravy, so many beets or so much sweet corn in one sitting or ten sittings.

When she made a comment, they all laughed with delight. She was turned, they said. She had found a new life. Nothing would ever taste so bland or smell so mundane again.

Their laughter sounded like music, and it was then that Lucine began to smile.

“Now you know why I could not stay away, Lucine,” Natasha cried.

“Yes,” Lucine said. “I can see that.”

Even so, she knew that something was wrong. A glance at Sofia told her the same. The woman laughed with the rest, ate like the rest, joined in revelry with the rest, but when their eyes met, Lucine was sure she saw a haunting remorse.

For a brief few moments, concern of death would ride her, but then the beauty of her turning swallowed her, and she would forget why she'd been concerned at all. She saw those demons screaming only one other time, at that very table. One moment they were aristocrats lounging at a magnificent spread; the next they were six creatures dining in hell.

She gasped, silencing the table.

“What is it, dear?” Vlad asked.

The vision vanished.

“I . . .” She touched her throat and took a sip of wine. “I just had a strange sensation. Better now.”

He took her hand. “The sensations of the gods often feel strange at first. You will gasp a hundred times over the next week, I will make sure of it.” He lowered his ruby lips to her white knuckles.

He's a true gentleman
, she thought.
I love this man. And he has made me his queen!

“I hope so,” she said.

He lifted his eyes and seemed to take up residence in her own. “So do I,” he said after a pause. Then to the others, his dark stare still feasting on her, “Please leave us, all of you.”

They were gone when she looked over a moment or two later. His command over them was entrancing.

Left alone, Vlad stood and walked behind her. He slid her chair out, took her elbow, and eased her to her feet, remaining behind all the while. Drawing her hair aside, he leaned over her back and breathed on her neck.

“I understand why some feed on the neck,” he murmured. “The scent of blood can be overwhelming.”

He eased her around, drew her close, and kissed her lower lip, biting deep into the softness of her mouth without any hesitation.

Lucine gasped, expecting the same pain she'd felt the last time he bit her. But now a pleasant and numbing warmth flooded her chin, her throat, down over her breasts. She shuddered as his blood spread through her body.

She wanted to drink that blood. She longed for the taste in her mouth, its heat in her throat. But she knew she couldn't until he offered it to her himself. No one had told her this; his blood seemed to carry the knowledge with it.

Her world swam and Vlad moaned. Then, after they'd settled, he insisted he show her more of the castle. The ballroom, the sweeping stairs, the balcony, a dozen rooms winding up through the higher floors, used for lounging or storage of his collections. The collections consisted of books and paintings and relics from more countries and eras than she imagined one man could possibly amass.

But Vlad wasn't simply one man, or any man. He was more than and less than at once, the most powerful being that walked this earth. And she was his queen.

They explored the lower floor's main halls, overflowing with more paintings and chests that were filled with golden coins, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and more black onyx than she knew could be pulled from the earth. The relics could not be numbered—candlesticks, swords, knives, and instruments of science with sharp edges made to slice easily through human flesh.

There was a round room at the back of the castle that she found most interesting. Above, open to a starry sky. Around the walls, limestone carvings of lions' heads and goats' heads from which water once spouted. At the center, a large round table with a huge limestone cross on it, dirtied with dried moss and fungus. And around the base of the table, an empty pool perhaps twice the width of the table.