Authors: Marie Treanor

Tags: #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Paranormal

Blood Eternal (20 page)

BOOK: Blood Eternal

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At which inconvenient moment, a brief rap sounded on the bedroom door, swiftly followed by Mihaela, walking in with all the ease of friendship.

“Elizabeth, are you awake? We want to—Oh.”

It could have been worse. She could have been naked in his arms, lost in the throes of simultaneous orgasm. At least she was fully dressed, and although Saloman loomed over her with intent, he wasn’t actually groping her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help her agitated shove on Saloman’s restraining arm.

He released her without comment or obvious embarrassment.

Mihaela said, “I see you are. Awake.”

Elizabeth mumbled something as she scrambled off the bed.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t expect you to have company. Stupidly enough.” Mihaela’s gaze flickered to Saloman and away. Her golden skin began to flush as he swung his naked legs off the bed and reached down for his pants, which had been flung carelessly on the floor, but she kept looking determinedly at Elizabeth.

“What’s happening?” Elizabeth said, as calmly as she could. She understood this was difficult for Mihaela. It was one thing accepting that her friend had a vampire lover; it was quite another to have the reality flung in her face, especially when that reality was a large, naked Saloman, all smooth skin and rippling muscle. It wasn’t just his male, alien beauty that was overwhelming; it was his very presence.

“We’ve spoken to Mustafa and we think we should stay here for a few days.” Again Mihaela’s eyes flickered in quick alarm as Saloman rose from the bed and walked across the room to find his shirt. She dragged her gaze back to Elizabeth. “Mustafa and his people will come here as secret backup. We hope you and Konrad—and Saloman, if he hangs around—will prove bait enough to bring Luk and Dante this time.”

Saloman picked up his discarded shirt and looked thoughtfully at Mihaela, who struggled, but managed to meet his gaze as he crossed the room, donning his shirt as he came. “I suspect I am the only bait that will count for Luk. And he won’t come for me until he’s ready. I need to be in Istanbul, but I can make my, er, signature? . . . linger a little longer. It might fool Dante, at least.”

Elizabeth said, “Without you, are we strong enough to kill Luk?”

Saloman looked at her. “
You
are.”

Her breath caught. “Because I’m the Awakener?”

“Most probably.”

“Then I
could
have—” She broke off.
I could have killed you in St. Andrews.
Physically. Emotionally, she’d been completely incapable, because already her unacknowledged and unwanted love had been too strong. She couldn’t do it; she could never do it.

“Yes,” he said, understanding at once. “You could.”

For an instant, she wondered what her life would have been like if she’d done it: if she’d actually plunged the stake all the way down into his flesh and pierced his ancient, incomprehensible heart. Just as she’d planned then, her internal conflict would have been over. She’d have avoided all the subsequent soul-searching and divided loyalties. And always, through whatever excesses of grief and guilt she suffered, she’d have wondered. . . .

She blinked away the fantasy. It was unthinkable now. She stood by her choice and regretted nothing.

Mihaela said to Saloman, “When are you going?”

“Today.”

Elizabeth’s gaze flew to his impassive face. There was a short, curiously pregnant pause. She had the odd impression that it was not she, but Saloman, who waited for the suggestion neither would make. And then his lips quirked and he moved toward the window. “The market has good carpets. I shall buy one for Dmitriu.”

Chapter Ten

O
ne day, Saloman thought, hacking his way through rebel vampires like a vandal in a moonlit wheatfield, he would bring Elizabeth to this amazing city. He’d show her where the market had been before the Christian army sacked the city during the fourth crusade. He’d show her where he’d lived when the Ottomans had finally taken Constantinople and Byzantium fell. It was a cosmopolitan city of many cultures, and Saloman still loved it. He’d enjoy showing it to Elizabeth one night when the streets weren’t strewn with the blood of friends as well as enemies. Not that Saloman minded the blood. It was the clouds of undead dust floating in the air that sickened him.

Without looking, he knew that Volkan, the rebels’ chief leader, still watched proceedings from his vantage point on the Galata Tower balcony, surrounded by his bodyguards. As if he imagined he were safe up there, while his foolish followers did the work of dying. It was a pointless fight, used by both sides as a mere demonstration of strength. And yet, now that Luk’s presence in the city was inspiring the rebels, it had to be done.

Saloman laid about him with his sword, carving a path through the street toward the great fourteenth-century stone tower that overshadowed it. From habit, the vampires fought in grim silence, but there was little hope of keeping a major street fight from the humans who lived in the many apartments lining the vampires’ battlefield. Twitching curtains, agitated voices, darting shadows at windows and balconies all told Saloman the police would soon be on the way.

One brave man stood in a doorway near him, as if protecting his family from the mob. Or perhaps he was just insatiably curious. Either way, he paid the price as a rebel snatched him up in passing and bit into his throat. A piercing scream rent the air, as someone, perhaps the victim’s wife, witnessed the attack. Matters were about to escalate. Humans would intervene, even before the police got here.

Saloman had had enough. Sweeping his sword around in a wide arc that cut the flesh of several vampires at once, he leapt, jumping over the heads of friends and foes alike to reach the human-killer, who, with a snarl at Saloman, let his victim drop to the ground.

Too stupid to live. And too greedy to tolerate. As quick as thought, Saloman used the stake he’d been saving for Volkan and leapt through the fool’s remaining dust to land facing the rebels’ back line defending the tower. It was an unexpected move that placed his enemies between himself and his allies, and he could feel Volkan’s alarm filtering down from above. The rebel leader even stepped backward on his balcony, out of Saloman’s vision.

Unworthy,
Saloman mocked, and knew he heard.

The rebels began to surround Saloman, deserting their individual fights to close in for the big kill. And Volkan moved forward again, urging his followers on with excited telepathic commands. He imagined he was safe, because now, so close to the tower, Saloman’s angle was wrong for a massive jump. Nor could Saloman move back because of the rebels closing on him. Or so Volkan must have thought.

Saloman jumped anyway. He reached the smooth stone wall only a few feet above the vampires’ heads, and heard more than one laugh of ridicule. Those didn’t last either. Even as an enterprising rebel jumped after him, no doubt with the intention of knocking him off his precarious hold, Saloman swarmed up the tower. It was a mixture of running and jumping, with barely any hand-or footholds, like some huge insect, fast enough to stun both sets of fighters below him.

Above, from the observation balcony, Volkan’s bodyguards reached down with their stakes and swords, hacking so wildly that the sound of steel clashing on stone echoed around the street. Saloman simply shoved through them, jumping over the railing at last and hurling the first bodyguard he encountered over the side.

The others rushed him in panic. Even Volkan went into action, but there was no time to drag this out. Vampire deaths were already high enough, and if the hunters and the police arrived, then the human death toll would climb.

Saloman brushed aside the thrusting stakes with his sword, and with one of his lightning movements, faster than any modern vampire could clearly see, he simply grabbed Volkan by his collar and swung him around so that he acted as a shield against the remaining bodyguards.

Below, he knew the fight had tailed off as everyone gazed up at the tower to see what would happen next.

Saloman gazed at the spitting rebel vampire leader with more despair than anger.
Unworthy,
he observed.
In every way. Why on earth did they choose you?

Volkan knew he was going to die. Fear as well as resignation stood out in his defiant eyes. “Because I’m not you,” he said aloud. “You can’t rule us. You’ll never rule us.”

“I can,” Saloman said so that everyone could hear, telepathically and physically. “And I will. It’s over.”

From the watchers, as Saloman drew the pointlessly resisting body to him for ritual execution, came a wave of terror or exaltation, depending on the allegiance of the individual. Only Volkan continued to spit out his rage. He’d nothing left to lose.

“It’s not over! Don’t you understand? We don’t need you, Saloman.
They
don’t even need
me
. They always have another leader, strong enough to protect them, wise enough to let them do what they choose.”

It gave him pause, but only for an instant. “Wise? My insane cousin, Luk? He can’t even protect himself. There is no feasible choice but me. Make it.” His words were aimed at the whole rebel community and they knew it. But he had little time to analyze their effect. Police sirens were drawing closer. The hum of agitated human speech was increasing. He could sense hunters.

Saloman bit into Volkan’s throat and cut ruthlessly through the dying vampire’s mental babble of fury, fear, and resistance.
Where is Luk? Where did you meet him?

Here in Istanbul. You’ve done all this for nothing. It will only begin again.

Saloman finished the conversation by ending Volkan’s existence. And when he lifted his head, glaring through the scattered dust at his unruly people below, they began to disperse with swift, silent efficiency. A few scattered sticks lay on the ground. One of Saloman’s allies dispatched an injured rebel currently incapable of moving. When the police arrived, they would find nothing.

The door into the tower opened and Saloman’s ally Mettener came through. For an instant, he stood in silence beside Saloman, watching as three humans strode down the street.

“Hunters,” Mettener observed. “They’ll give out it was a human riot that dispersed at the sound of police sirens.”

“Many people live here,” Saloman said, glancing up the length of the street, then turning to walk around the balcony that circled the whole tower. The stunning views of the city and the sea, which hadn’t changed so very much in nearly seven hundred years, were incomparable. The Genoese had known what they were about when they’d built this tower to protect their colony.

“The truth can’t be completely suppressed,” Saloman said.
Every cloud has a silver lining. . . .

“Had he seen Luk?” Mettener asked.

“Oh, yes. He’s here.” An unseen and unfindable focus for discontent. Volkan was right: It
would
all begin again. That was bad enough, but what truly concerned Saloman was that it could spread across the whole world. That everything he’d built so far would come crashing down and all his great plans would amount to nothing.

“Amyntas,” Mihaela said, when she and Elizabeth had recovered their breath after climbing what felt like hundreds of steps. “I wonder who he was?”

“Rich dude from the fourth-century B.C.,” Elizabeth answered vaguely, gazing at the fascinating tomb in front of her. Like several others, it had been carved into the hillside above the town of Fethiye. From a distance they looked like temples; close up, they were more like little houses.

Mihaela glanced into the empty tomb chamber. “Always worth taking a historian with you when you visit historic sites,” she said sarcastically.

Elizabeth laughed. “Seriously, I don’t think anyone knows much more than that! I wonder if he’d be surprised we were still talking about him two and a half thousand years after his death?”

“I think he’d be gratified. You wouldn’t have a tomb like this if you were happy to sink into historical obscurity. It’s like living forever.”

“Hmm,” Elizabeth said doubtfully, taking her water bottle out of her backpack and unscrewing the lid. “ ‘Who wants to live forever?’ ” she quoted.

BOOK: Blood Eternal

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