Avador Book 2, Night Shadows (2 page)

She hoped they would, and why, she had no idea. "Goodnight, sir."

"Gaderian," he corrected. "And I didn't get your name."

"Fianna." No point in telling him her last name, and she immediately regretting telling him her first. No word must reach her father or Angus that she had escaped to Moytura.

"Goodnight, Fianna."

As he disappeared from view, the question persisted. Would she see him again? She touched her lips where he had kissed her, and another wave of warmth stole over her body, settling in the lower regions. Strange, no one had ever kissed her like that before, an experience she would never forget.

* * *

Outside the cave, Gaderian walked a few yards down a rocky cliff thick with weeds and overgrown shrubbery to a copse of elms where his horse, Bryce, was tethered, the black stallion munching on the grass. With a skill honed throughout many centuries, he had created a spell around the horse, so that no one could approach it closer than three feet. An invisible shield protected his horse from theft.  After loosening the reins, he placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted the stallion, then trotted down the hill, easing his horse to a canter after he reached the Royal North Road. The light of a full moon brightened the trees and the isolated houses along the route, a million stars illuminating the way. Overhead, a cloud drifted in front of the moon, then passed on, leaving the night sky clear. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees and ruffled his hair.

Of course, he could make himself invisible and transport himself to the capital, but his horse needed exercise. Besides, the ride into Moytura gave him time to think and plan.

He smiled, recalling the lady he'd so recently left, and wondered if he would, indeed, meet her again but considered it unlikely in a city the size of Moytura. And why did he want to see her again? There could never be anything between a mortal woman and a creature such as he. Not that he regretted his world of the undead, far from it. He'd chosen this path centuries ago, and not once had he regretted his decision. To think of the power, not to mention immortality, why would anyone choose otherwise, if given a choice? Night after night, he gave silent thanks to Moreen, the woman who had transformed him so long ago, at a time of deep despondency, when he had seriously contemplated suicide. Once or twice every year, he and Moreen met again, renewing their friendship, sealing their relationship with a frolic in bed, a romp that left them both satisfied, but nothing more, for each remained free to seek pleasure elsewhere. And he found enjoyment in many places, Gaderian mused with a chuckle. 

Passing the cluster of trees and bushes along both sides of the road, the cottages that rested on small plots of land, he slowed to a canter again. The spires of Moytura came into view, the houses becoming finer as he neared the city, these mansions of brick or gray stone and boasting three stories. No small plots of land here, for most of these stately houses were set on several acres. His house, recently purchased, stood farther back from the road.

Tempted to stop and see what progress the workers had made in renovating the place, he decided to continue on, for he had lost precious time in his encounter with the young woman.

Shortly after his transformation centuries ago, he'd bought up plots of land in Avador, with the little money he'd saved as an apothecary in his mortal life, this at a time when land was cheap. Over the years and centuries, the value of the land had increased, enabling him to sell the land at a profit and buy up more acreage. By now, he had amassed a fortune, his gold transferred to a safe in his new house. Yet he would soon have to move again, as he had so many times over the centuries. He couldn't stay in one place for any length of time, while the mortals grew old and he remained eternally young.

Minutes later, Gaderian reached Moytura and approached the main city stable on the southern edge of the city, the pungent smell of the stable tickling his nostrils from a block away. He left his horse at the stone stable and tossed a copper coin to the sleepy stable boy, after giving instructions for the care and feeding of the stallion. Past the many shops, a walk of several blocks led him to the Snow Leopard. Like most taverns and inns in the city, the tavern stayed open until the late night hours. He pulled at the iron handle on the heavy oaken door and stepped inside, greeted by the yeasty aroma of ale and the smoke of countless pipes. Stained glass windows lined one wall, the colors indistinguishable in the semi-darkness. Oil lamps attached to iron chains hung from the ceiling, casting faint light and shadows on the room. A buzz of conversation and laughter filled the air in the main dining room with more than twenty round tables. Here and there, a patron sat by himself, eating a very late meal, but most customers indulged in talking and drinking, or playing dice. 

He stood at the entrance for several moments, his gaze roaming the dark room, cloudy with pipe smoke, until he found the friend he had come to meet. Weaving his way among the tables, he reached the man at the far side of the room. He eased out a chair and sat down.

"Why so late?" Egan asked. Shorter than Gaderian, with blonde hair and blue eyes, he looked young and innocent, his baby face belying his recent occupation as a professional soldier before his transformation. "If you stay here too long, the sunlight will find you. That's a chance I never take."

"Nor I." Gaderian shrugged. "I intend to leave soon. A distraction detained me." He decided not to relate his encounter with the young lady, for there was scant chance they would ever meet again, a prospect that depressed his spirits, for reasons he feared to examine.

Egan raised his mug to his mouth and drank. "We're both taking a chance by coming to this tavern. If anyone should suspect what we are . . ." He raised his eyebrows but said no more, his meaning clear.

"And it's only because of the dull light in here that no one suspects what we are.  If we stayed out in the bright sunlight–Otherworld forbid!–people would know we belong to the undead. And the sunlight would burn us to ashes." Gaderian gestured to a waitress to indicate that he wanted ale also. "Sorry I have no money with me," he said to his companion. "How about lending me the money this time, and I'll pay next time." After Egan placed the coins on the table, Gaderian continued, "As for your comment—I intend to so something about that danger, no matter how long it takes or the obstacles I must overcome. Other creatures are killing the mortals and making it look as if the vampires are committing the murders. And we know what creatures.  Damned bandregas! I'd like to kill them all." His mouth tightened, a muscle jerking in his jaw.

"A process I don't understand, how the bandregas can make it look as if the vampires are killing."

"Easy enough to understand. The bite of a bandrega itself is poison to a mortal. Kills them instantly, like snake venom. Can even sicken the undead, at least for a few days. Then the bandregas drain all the blood from the humans, so that the mortals think we are doing the murders. All these years we've built up trust among the mortals–now gone–" He snapped his fingers–"just like that! Before these murders, we were at least tolerated among the humans. And we never killed any mortals for sustenance, just took only what we needed. At least, I never killed any humans.  I hope that is true of the other undead, also." Anger heated his blood. The bandregas were powerful creatures, cunning, too, who could assume human features and human ways, although they were actually demons with sharp features and claws. Where did they get their power? How were they able to practice black magic? Just as important, how did they make themselves look human? He'd give anything to know.

"Deceitful creatures, the bandregas. Over the years, they've led the mortals to believe they gradually disappeared, going to other countries." He shook his head. "But they are still among us, like a poisonous weed. Like poison."

Egan blew out a long breath ... "And what about the price on our heads, rewards for turning us in?" Even in the dim light, his face showed red with fury.

Gaderian clenched his hands on the table. "Those who are captured are killed with a stake through their heart."

Egan paused.  "But are we absolutely sure it's not the vampires who are killing the humans?"

Before replying, Gaderian waited while the waitress set a mug of ale on the table. She scooped up the coins and dropped them in her apron pocket.  He lifted the mug to his mouth, revelling in the cool liquid that soothed his dry throat. "This was before your time as a vampire, but several centuries ago, the Guild of the Undead ruled that we would prey only on criminals and take no more blood than we needed. At the same time, we pledged to the mortals that we would protect them against the bandregas."

Absently, he traced an indentation on the wooden table, initials carved by a long ago patron. "You have no idea the distress those bandregas caused the humans–stealing their young and ravishing the women. So for the longest time, we have protected the humans against these evil creatures by killing them, chasing the bandregas away." He lifted his hands. "Now look what's happened. The bandregas far outnumber us. Now they are killing the humans, and the humans blame the murders on us. Worse still, the humans think the bandregas disappeared long ago. The mortals don't know that these creatures still exist, here among us. And don't forget, these creatures can apply the glamour, making them look like mortals, instead of the beasts that they are."  He had to defeat the bandregas, had to! He had failed in his endeavors too many times in the past, and always the feeling had dwelt within him that he must do something worthwhile in his life.

Egan drained his mug. "What do you intend to do about this situation, or do you intend to do nothing?"

Gaderian leaned closer and spoke with resolution. "Oh, I intend to do something, believe me. I aim to gain control of the Guild of the Undead. Our present leader is feckless, can't do a Goddess-damned thing to rid us of this menace. Don't think I haven't heard complaints from other of our kind. And I intend to defeat the bandregas," he said, slashing his hand through the air. "Get rid of them once and for all."

* * *

As daylight changed from gray to blue and touched the hills and valleys with a golden glow, Gaderian rushed back to his cave. The young woman lay where he'd left her, fast asleep, turned on her side, her hand under her right cheek. Fianna, such a pretty name. Silently, he stared at her for a long time as wishes and desires taunted him, yearnings for a mortal woman he thought he'd discarded centuries ago. The low cut of her shift revealed full breasts, the nipples pressing against the fabric. He studied the curve of her hips, her long legs drawn up close to her body, her slim ankles and feet. Passion stirred inside him, a yearning to take her in his arms and make love to her 'til they both lay panting and breathless. Countless desires pulsed through him, like a thousand beating hearts. After several moments, he sighed and walked on, telling himself once more that there could never be anything between them.

He gingerly eased his way back into the cool cavern, pressing his hand against the limestone as water dripped from overhead. His keen nighttime vision enabled him to detect the sharp dips and drops in the cave's interior. Minutes later, he reached the place he claimed as his own and settled down on the hard, rocky ground. He changed his position again and again as sharp stones gouged into his back. He closed his eyes, but sleep eluded him, for too many thoughts nudged his mind. Shifting his position one more time, he looked forward to the night he could reclaim his own residence and sleep in the cellar, where no sunlight would find him. He surrendered to his insomnia and let his mind drift back to a time, centuries ago, when his life had changed forever, when life as he knew it had transmuted to the life he enjoyed now, an immortality with no fear of death. His thoughts wandered, his reflections centered on the woman he had once loved.  He could remember it all so clearly, as if it had happened only yesterday. . . .

Allowed a few moments alone with Maeve, Gaderian stood with her in the shadow of a massive oak tree. Here in her family's spacious garden, he tried to take her hand, but she drew back, turning her head away from him. Oaks, elms, and willows surrounded them, the scent of night-blooming jasmine drifting on a light breeze. A few yards away, her family's mansion dominated the land, a splendid home with tall pillars and wide windows, set on a well-manicured lawn, graced with flowering bushes.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed up at him. "Best we not even touch each other. There can never be anything between us, so the sooner we accept that fact, the better."

"But why?" His heart was breaking.

"We knew from the beginning there could be no future for us. These stolen moments between us–that my father only recently discovered since one of the villagers told on us–that's all they can be, Gaderian. Stolen moments. My father wants me to marry someone else."

Fury raged inside him. He clenched his hands at his side, his fingernails gouging his skin. "Culann McCabe!"

She nodded. "Just so."

"For his money!" Goddess, he wanted to kill McCabe!

She twisted her hands together. "If only it were different. If only . . ." She stared at the ground.

He waved his hand. "You don't need to say it. If only I were wealthy, instead of an apothecary." He wanted to shake her. "Don't you have a mind of your own? Listen, Maeve! We can run away together, to Galdina or Elegia, any place far from our village, where no one knows us. We can marry, start a new life together. Tonight! I will meet you tonight outside your window, after your family has fallen asleep–"