Blood Life (12 page)

With reassuring whispers, Christopher climbed back onto his fidgeting horse and made his way back over to Peter, sweating and unsure how to tell him about Robin.

“Where’d he go?” Peter asked, speaking quietly to his gelding, caressing his neck slowly after remounting.

The massive gelding danced beneath him. The caresses did not soothe his nerves; he sensed danger much too close. Peter pulled the gelding’s head practically into his lap to keep him from bolting, forcing the horse to have a gorgeous, but uncomfortable arch in his neck.

Before Christopher could fight his own gelding with a firm grasp on the reins, it took the liberty of leaving the scene at top speed. Christopher instinctually grabbed a handful of chestnut mane to secure himself better and ducked out of the way of branches as they fled.

Peter loosened his grip on the reins slightly, testing the horse’s nerves. To thank him for the pain inflicted on his mouth from the bit, and forcing his neck to bend so unnaturally, the gelding didn’t hesitate to throw Peter from his back and gallop off after Christopher’s horse.

“Damn horse,” he panted, standing up and brushing off his tattered clothes.

Peter mumbled and cursed to himself as he started to reach down to pick up a pouch he spotted on the ground.

Robin, he thought, worriedly.

Peter remembered reluctantly agreeing for Robin to come along with Christopher and himself. Robin was always afraid of everything, but his wife begged Peter to take him, to show him what it is like to be a man.

Peter smiled to himself, as he studied the nice, neat pouch full of smelling salts his wife had packed for him, just in case he fainted somewhere, as Robin often did.

Leaves cracked, but before Peter could look up to find the source, his sight was lifted up by his throat, hanging him by the iron clasp of a pale white arm. Strong fingers with horned talons wrapped around his neck, pinning him against a tree.

“Let me go!” Peter insisted to the stranger that now stood in front of him, easily restraining him.

Following the defined ridges along the chiseled arm, Peter locked eyes with the force that had seized him. The youth of the man’s face, cold and translucent, appeared serene in comparison to the mass of shiny black mane that outlined his face. His glossy, reflective hair hung perfectly settled in the commotion.

The man’s eyes, his beautiful, magical eyes, held a soothing mastery that lured his victim into a realm of vulnerability. The definition of the shadows that hid in the pale silk of his skin removed the fear of death from Peter. The carefully painted complexion displayed a face of such innocence that the peasant stopped his struggle, weakly turning his eyes into the small clearing, forgetting where he was or what Fate held for him.

“Pay attention,” Roman said in a deeply seductive voice. “You don’t want to miss this.”

Peter struggled to pull his focus back to the moment. He looked directly into the man’s eyes, getting a little lost in the haunting abyss of their grayish pools.

“Are you going to kill me?” He gulped loudly.

Roman produced a low chuckle, tightening his grip around Peter’s throat slightly. Peter coughed, lifting his hands to claw at his throat. He tried desperately to loosen the vice grip, but was not strong enough to challenge it.

In his peripheral vision, Peter caught the glimpse of a silver horse coming out of the forest. Each step was taken more gracefully as the man blinked in confusion.

Devendra trotted across the clearing, stopping to lower her head to the grass. The air around her form shifted, warping with heat ripples as she bucked. Peter widened his eyes, trying to focus.

With a swift explosion of strength, Devendra reared high, striking her forelegs out in front of her one at a time. She held herself there, bringing her frame into an erect, gracious stand.

Roman held his position, remaining fixed on Devendra’s vulgar display of power.

With no warning, the weight of her body tumbled down over itself, rolling into an indistinguishable orb of twisting silver and black. The taunt muscles and limbs tore from one another, all condensing into a twirling membrane.

Peter remained pressed against a massive tree, urinating on himself, trying to squirm out of Roman’s hold. As the membrane shifted inside itself, sculpting its contents into a wretched newborn form, the horrid transformation left Peter utterly slack and defenseless.

A second claw sealed Peter’s head against the tree, forcing him to watch the hideous formation in the clearing. Devendra had altered into a human embryo that was aging rapidly. The fetus splintered through the clear sack of the membrane, now standing as a stripped child for only a moment before continuing to grow.

Within a few seconds, a youthful and strong Devendra approached them. Roman forcefully yanked Peter’s thin hair back to reveal his throat, as she bore her fangs and plunged them into his Adam’s apple, violently tearing it from his body. Shreds hung from Devendra’s lips as she savored the flavor, allowing the warm, fresh blood to slide down her throat. She brought the dangling cartilage into her mouth and chewed on it hungrily, then used her tongue to funnel the swimming blood from the gaping hole at the victim’s throat.

Roman hunched down and pierced at the man’s left nipple, patiently waiting for the flow to stop swimming in his mouth before releasing the lifeless frame to the ground.

They ravaged Peter’s life and stole his last breath before abandoning the wretched carcass. This was the way they lived, and sometimes, bad people were not available when they needed to feed. Sometimes, the innocent were sacrificed to fulfill those needs, and it was done without regret.

“There is a divine moment in our lives

when we all become one.

It’s called procreation,

and it is reborn,

continually and forever.”

–Dirk Benedict

Eighteen

Roman stood at the edge of an enormous cliff, staring at the lush, open land below him. Devendra walked up and drew close behind him. He never broke his contact with the beauty of the land, how clear and crisp it had become with his new sight.

Devendra sensed his pleasure and slipped her arms around his waist. To her surprise, he violently turned around and reached out to grab her, holding her at arm’s length. His fingernails dug into her flesh.

She frowned. “Roman, it will solve nothing to look at me with such revulsion. I have given birth to you; I should be seen as your mother, your lover, and your teacher. Without me you would never survive. And without Alexandria you wouldn’t want to,” she explained, swallowing the hurt his reaction caused.

“I never asked for your help! Why did you choose me? What’s in it for you?”

Shocked by his innuendo, she held his stare without faltering. She was able to read his thoughts in fragments, but not in their entirety. He, on the other hand, could not read her mind at all, which saved her in situations such as the one they were experiencing.

She thought of Lillith and Her words, He will lead you to the only one who can save the Combined. Without him, we will not survive.

The words rang over in her head countless times before, but never touching her as deeply as that moment. She must win him over; she must get him to let go of his hatred and love her, trust her completely.

The sound of his voice broke her reflections. “I never even cared for mortal life; Alexandria changed that for me. Now she is gone and I am damned to live eternally without her touch! How could that possibly be the best for me?”

He let go of her arms, turning back toward the cliff’s edge. “I am doomed to live eternally without my only reason for ever wanting to live in the first place. I waited for her to come along since I was a boy. Do you understand that? I waited for her all my life!”

Devendra looked down at his feet, unsure what to say to nurture their relationship. Her heart bled at the harshness of his energy toward her. It was something she never expected from him. He had always been so gentle, but the Blood changed people. It exposed the things hidden away in the hearts of mortals; things they’d rather not know or accept about themselves. Things like hatred and regret.

He continued the verbal slaying. “You have condemned me to life on Earth to walk among the impressions and fascinations of mortals; constant reminders of who I used to be but can never again grasp and wouldn’t want to. I must deal with the seductions of men and women who will try to take Alexandria’s place in my heart! That sickens me! I will kill for that alone.”

He wiped a hand over his face, stopping to rub at his eyes. “I must choose carefully who to kill and who not to. All of this torment forever! How could you do this to me?” he exclaimed, thrusting his forefinger into his chest.

“How could I do this to you?” she asked, defensively, clenching her fists and holding them tensely by her sides. “For one thing, you called out to me. If you hadn’t, well—”

“Well what? If I hadn’t maybe Alexandria would still be alive?”

“No, Alexandria could not have been saved. It was her Fate to enter mortal death.” She paused. “You are not paying attention to the importance of your creation.”

“What importance? Nothing is more important to me than my—”

“Roman,” she shouted, “shut up and listen to me, Goddess damn it!”

She waited for him to give her the sign that he would listen. She stood still, panting, anger oozing from her pores.

After a brief hesitation, Roman slowly nodded.

“Let me reason with you, Roman. Let me tell you why this had to happen.”

He nodded again, crossing his arms over his chest and turning to face her squarely. A soft breeze blew past them, picking her hair up and toying with it.

She walked away from him, closer to the edge of the cliff, and let the wind cool her flushed face.

“I have always been with you, Roman,” she started, her voice just above a whisper. “The day you lost your parents, I watched you mourn, and I mourned your grief. I felt the pain in your heart!”

Her voice grew louder as she recalled the memories. She turned to face him. “You cared so much for them. You wanted to bring them back, but you believed it impossible,” she stopped and took in a deep, refreshing breath, trying to collect her thoughts.

“I followed you that night to your aunt’s house in Bleu, crouching behind buildings and crates. You never noticed me. I followed you closely and tried to listen to your soul through your mind. I received nothing, Roman.”

He looked at her puzzled. “But I thought you were a great witch/vampire—one of the infamous Combined, the strongest race of them all,” he said, drawing the word “strongest” out sarcastically.

Ignoring his rude intrusion, she continued her story. “You had successfully cloaked your mind from intruders. I was actually challenged by your ability. No mortal has ever left me with no sense of feeling other than their mourning. But you did.”

“That was years ago,” he mumbled.

“Yes, it was, but I have been with you since then, and I will remain close to you until it is time for me to leave.”

She moved up to him, taking hold of his arms, looking up into his face.

“Roman, I want to help you reunite with your lost love. The power you possess now will make that possible. I was your steed for years and you never knew it. I will remain by your side now, for however long it takes, to assist you in fulfilling your destiny and at that time, she, too, will be given the blood-kiss. And Roman, she will accept. Believe me, she will.”

“But how could you possibly say that?” He wiggled from her grasp. “How could you know she will live again, and if she does, how will she come to know me again? Who is to say that—”

“Hush, now, darling. You must trust me. With the powers of Lillith rendered in my soul, I have faith in the reunion and the outcome. It is our Goddess who has chosen you for reasons I cannot explain now. I was merely her apostle. Please, just let me guide you, let me love you, and when it is time for my absence, so mote it be.”