4 - We Are Gathered (8 page)

Rori struggled to sit upright and faced them, solemnly regarding the old guy with the same expression he wore. The silk spread out over her knees, hiding any tremble. She ran a finger along thread-work that resembled a flower and stem. The craftsperson had been an artist. She’d never worn a caftan before, because in her opinion only shapeless old ladies did, but if she had to start now, at least it was a beautiful example of one.

“We waited until the sun set, just to be certain. You do understand, don’t you?”

“You talking to me?”

“Bravado gets you points, Miss Rori. That it does. But not here. And not now. Do you know who we are?”

“Hunters.”

“Exactly. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Core General, Lord Beethan, Esquire.”

“You’re the leader of this thing, then? Because I expected somebody a bit younger. You know…more virile. ”

“In part. There are other Lord Generals.”

“Like Van Helsing?”

“A fictional character, Miss Rori, but had he existed, he’d have been long gone and buried by now. We’re human. We die.”

“Some sooner than others,” she remarked.

There were a few chuckles from the groups behind him. He smiled, too, and that put a myriad of lines into play that swallowed everything except his eyes. They had help from the huge white bushy eyebrows, though.

“But before we do, we turn the reins over to our replacements.”

“You mean like Thor over there?”

Garrick lowered his chin and glowered at her. Or something of that nature. The guy didn’t have one bone in his body devoted to levity. And it showed.

“Garrick is a lieutenant, not a leader. But I have a grandson. He’s getting trained. He’ll be ready when it’s time if he finishes his VidWar challenge.”

“He’s playing a video game? That’s what you call training?”

“In addition to his other sessions, yes. We just added it.”

“Video games aren’t real. They do nothing more than waste time. I know. I’ve had a few boyfriends with the addiction.”

“We used to think that, too, Miss Rori, but we got reeducated. Last season. In Colorado. But that’s old history.”

“And you would know,” Rori quipped.

He sat up a bit straighter. She could almost hear the creaking as he moved, but that was just fantastic thinking. All she needed was a bit of freedom and a little room. And her powers back. And Tristan. Rori gulped. She’d pretty much banished Tristan until she called for him, and that wasn’t happening. But perhaps, since it was evening again, she’d have a bit of power back. Or whatever gifts his tainted blood had given her. She’d just have to play it by ear and see what happened.

“I’m in a very good state of preservation, my dear. Especially for my age.”

“Don’t make any recommendations on your plastic surgeon to me, then.”

There were a few more chuckles from the others. Lord Beethan’s smile widened. “I like you. I’m rather glad we were in time.”

“In time for what?”

“To keep you human. Know how I can tell?”

“Since we’re talking in euphemisms and abstractions, sure. Go on. Tell me.”

“If you’d turned too far, that net you’re wearing would be searing portions of your flesh everywhere it touched.”

“Wow. Pleasant stuff. I thought I recognized just about every religious icon available in here. You padding the impact of this weapon? Or can’t decide on which is the true religion?”

“You study Theology?”

“I’m studying how religion has screwed up the world.”

“Religion didn’t alter anything, Miss Rori. Men using religion to their own ends did that.”

“So, did you decide?”

“On what?”

“Which religion is the true one?”

“They all are. We put all the icons on for a reason. They have differing effects on different creatures and in varying degrees. It’s not the only weapon we have. Do you want to know the others?”

“Not especially.”

“Holy Water is akin to acid. Eats their dead flesh. Drains them so we can finish them off. I believe it’s tortuous. Not that I’d know, of course, but I’ve seen it work, and their shrieks are pretty telling. Want to know what else we use?”

“Why ask? You already got my answer and just completely ignored it.”

“Sun lamps. We modify them. Perfect for sending out arcs of UV rays exactly where we need them. We got a bargain on most of them, too, since they’re out of fashion. They’re extremely painful, too…if a dead thing even feels pain. They’ll bring the rot right out on any vampire. Make his outer shell match the evil within. They’re eternally ugly, despite their appearance. You probably don’t believe me, since they come so handsomely packaged. They do, don’t they?”

Rori didn’t answer. She just looked at him through the netting, worrying over the immediate image of Tristan – filled with holes and screaming in agony.

“But all of this is just techniques to corner and capture. We do get serious. We’ve got guns, and even swords. They’ll stall any vampire, but only if they contain enough silver to them. It still takes hammering a stake right through their dead hearts to kill them. That’s incredibly difficult to achieve. I don’t suppose you want to join this conversation?”

“No.”

“Vampires have immense strength. You probably noticed. It’s hard to pin them down and hammer stakes through their hearts. So…we got crafty. We use arrows. If they’re made of consecrated wood and tipped with a silver arrow, it’s the next best thing. Heart shots are the best; fairly lethal and always incapacitating. We still use crossbows to fire. They’re more accurate. You don’t need arm strength to fire a crossbow, either. Just a good aim. We’re going to test you for that.”

“Me?”

“Being half-turned makes you a perfect candidate for our program, Miss Rori. Perfect.”

“You want me to join you?”

“It’s a long shot, but I’m hopeful.”

“Oh please. I don’t even look good in camo.”

“But you’ve been to their lair. You’ve attracted the attention of the Crusader, himself. He’s rarely out in the open. We didn’t believe our spies, at first. Do you know how close you are to the very heart of their organization? And consequently how much you’re worth to us? Why else do you think we let you live?”

“Friudil?”

Tristan’s voice teased her ear, leaving a hint of air that shifted hair. Rori immediately shifted her eyes to her hands to hide the reaction, while her mind replied in a silent litany or words. She clasped her hands and chanted.
Oh, Tristan. I was wrong. I love you. Tristan, I need you. Tristan, I want you. Tristan, I worship you. I love you. Help me, Tristan. Hel
p…

“It’s no use, Miss Rori. You might as well give it up.”

Rori raised her head and blinked. It took a few minutes to focus on Lord Beethan and his henchmen. She’d been so directed in her efforts at communicating that it was probably right on her face to see…unless the icon-strewn netting hid some of it. Rori moved her vision to one Buddha, looking like it had been crafted in the early Byzantium period, if she wasn’t mistaken. But she probably was. There was the most distinct hum filling her veins, like an electric charging system had just gotten connected and was radiating strength. Tristan was close. That’s what mattered. She swallowed and worked at controlling her voice so none of them would have the slightest inkling of what was about to be dealt.

“Give what up?”

“We know all about your supposed powers. You’ve fancied yourself a witch since childhood. It’s a great way to amuse your roommates. We understand you’re very good at perpetuating the fraud of it. Sleight of hand is your specialty. It was probably a good way to avoid the reality of foster home after foster home. No doubt it was one of the reasons you had foster home after foster home. What mother wants to raise a child who taunts her with the dark arts?”

Anger punched through the humming sensation, the emotion significantly altering the current’s strength. Rori worked to mute it, sending more thoughts winging back to Tristan. Only Tristan. He’s the only thing that mattered anymore. Ever.
I’m in a castle. Stone walls. Long tables.
She just had to get out of this netting. Tristan couldn’t get through it to her. He’d be burned. Injured. Pained.

Wait a minute
…

Her eyes narrowed. This net wasn’t an obstacle for her. She wasn’t a vampire yet. They’d just said so. There wasn’t anything on this netting except religious symbols. She just had to keep the old guy talking.

“Wow. You did some background checking on me?”

“The moment we were alerted to the Crusader’s interest. There’s a lot of data to sift through. You’ve got a large and varied record in social services.”

“And all of it is supposed to be court sealed.”

“We’re above every law, Miss Rori, or hadn’t you figured that out yet?”

“That’s detestable. And this is supposed to make we want to join you?”

“
Keep speaking to me,
Friudil
. I’ll find you.”
Tristan’s voice cut through to her, cooling any residual anger. It was clearer, too. More distinct.

“Detestable is what a vampire is, Miss Rori. The man you met is known as The Crusader. He’s part of a much larger organization; a cult devoted to not only draining blood for their needs but getting paid for the kills, as well. It’s our mission to destroy them.”

“By cheating the system and reading private information?”

“We’re vampire hunters, Miss Rori. We keep humanity safe. There isn’t any edge we won’t use in our mission. It’s a time-honored responsibility, and a hefty one to shoulder. Trust me. I shoulder it.”

“So you think my powers are fake, do you?”

The blond fellow leaned over and whispered something to Lord General Beethan that made him sober. The entire retinue seemed to perk up. He didn’t take his eyes off Rori.

“Well? What does your lieutenant have to say about it? Does he think I’m a fraud, too?”

“He says he has to leave now, but he wants me to thank you.”

“For what?”

“Doing exactly what we expected. Calling for your mate. Bringing him. I just told you we use every angle, and any edge. Didn’t you listen? South entrance. Now! Go! Take the Holy Water!”

And that’s exactly when she knew. Tristan had arrived. The stone beneath her turned into a whirlpool, projecting heat, radiating energy, and transmitting so much power right to her core that Rori shook with the work of holding it in. A toss of her arms outward sent the netting flying upward, ratcheting off fluorescent tube after fluorescent tube, and showering sparks with every outage. She was on her feet next, and then above the floor continually pumping blows with every flick of her hand. The netting floated down, resembling a film of gauze, while Lord Beethan’s mouth fell open. He had very good dentistry, she thought just before she sent a blow right to his chest.

The chair toppled backward, taking their leader out of her immediate range, although she sent blow after blow at the chair bottom, each one slamming it against the other chairs, rather like a ball in a pinball machine. The Garrick fellow was right with his leader. He’d immediately dropped and shielded him with his own body, and then some fool sent one of their arrows at her.

Rori hugged herself and spun, making a whorl of protection about herself that deflected and turned the missiles sent at her into projectiles back to their source. She heard thuds and breakage; cries and shouts. She’d never felt more powerful, or more in control of it. They should have done their little background check a little more thoroughly. That’s what they should’ve done.

She opened her arms, ratcheted up the speed of her spin and started sending wave after wave of crushing air. Light infused every wave, turning into an explosion of bright yellow and red when they landed on anything, or pummeled anything, or bent it into complete and total submission.

“Rori?”

“In here!”

She didn’t bother projecting it with her mind. She shouted it.

“We must leave.”

Leave?
She wasn’t leaving until she pounded every last one of them into the stone walls and floors of the hideout. The light surrounding her got brighter, making some of them shield their eyes. That made them even easier to locate and hit, slamming them back against the stone with invisible blows they couldn’t countermand. Lord Beethan didn’t need to test her. She had a great aim.

“Now,
Friudil!
”

Tristan’s body slammed into hers, the impact sending a shower of sparks outward to encompass the entire room, turning it into a lightshow of blues and reds and yellows. Rori didn’t see it, though. She was in his arms, sealing to him with legs and arms wrapped all about him, clinging and capturing, and then she was weeping, as if a plug had been pulled from her frame, draining her. The room went black, filled only with groans and an occasional shatter of something breaking.

“Hold to me, darling.”

The man had to be joking. She was glued to him, her nose against his throat and her lips against skin; warm skin, radiating life and joy and love. She’d been such a fool, and she wasn’t repeating it.

“You should let me finish with them, Tristan.”

“Didn’t dare.”

“I had them handled. And they all deserve to die for what they tried to do.”

“They failed, love.” And then he bent his head and kissed her.

If she’d thought electrons were flying in that stone room, she’d been mistaken. They were probably lighting the sky as they moved with such speed, a blink would miss them. And then they were back at her apartment. At the front step, and he opened his arms and released her.

“What…are you doing?”

She was back against him, clinging while he didn’t move one portion of his frame. He just stood there, statue-still and implacable.

“What you want. Setting you free.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Akron believes so. He has advised me to simply take you and protect you and keep you. Exactly as I tried to do before. But I have learned.”

“You don’t want me?” Her stomach rolled. She almost clasped a hand to stop it.

“I didn’t say that.”

“So, you do want me?”

“More than I can say, and definitely more than I can show. But I don’t want a woman who is forced to be with me. Even if she is my mate, and even if I’m doomed to emptiness without her. You are my mate, Rori, and I love you. I want you. But I want you to want me. And I don’t know what to do to make that happen. So…this is good bye.”