Darkness Descending (35 page)

Amonate took a seat opposite hers before picking up and ringing a bell on the coffee table. A young woman with a short pixie cut hurried in, carrying a large silver tea service for two. She was thin and pale, and her neck and arms were marked with the scars inflicted from multiple feedings.

“Thank you, Marina,” Amonate said graciously.

Without making any eye contact, Marina poured tea into the china cups. She handed one to Jesse.

Not really sure what to do, Jesse accepted the cup. She fought to hang on to her composure when the girl turned to deliver a cup to her mistress. She saw the small symbol etched in black at the base of the girl’s neck. It was similar to the one the teenager in the tomb had.

She grimaced, remembering the feel of the trigger under her finger when she’d killed the girl. She hadn’t wanted to, but with her and Sam’s survival at stake, she’d had no choice.

Forcing her mind away from the gruesome event, she turned her eyes to her drink. A fragrant amber brew sloshed inside the delicate china cup. It was all so perfectly civil, so . . . normal. One didn’t expect the evil undead to have manners.
Maybe it’s the zombies who don’t have any
, came the irreverent thought.

“Thanks,” she muttered, sipping. Given that she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in hours, the hot tea was welcome. She was famished. Right now there wasn’t enough food in the world to fill the hole in her stomach.

“As you have not yet crossed, I understand you are still very much tied to human frailties,” Amonate said through the steam rising from her own cup. “Of course, that must end soon.” She looked so regal, so cool, so in control. She used the power well.

Jesse knew she had the power to take its reins, too. Somewhere deep inside her, that ability, that inherent stamina, was slumbering. She knew what it would take to awaken it, but she was afraid to take the final step.

She lowered her cup. Her captor certainly didn’t beat around the bush. “If you brought me here to try to persuade me to take blood,” she said, “it’s not going to happen. I’m not about to give in now.”

Amonate laughed without humor. “Of course you are,” her hostess chided good-naturedly.

Jesse grimaced in distaste. The vampire queen’s words hung between them like damp cobwebs, heavy and ominous. “I think you underestimate what I’m capable of,” she said quietly. It was a bluff, but it was all she had.

Amonate laughed. “I know exactly what you are capable of.” Cup and saucer balanced in one delicate hand, she leaned back in her chair. “Now listen to me. The time of retribution is upon us. Our Dark Master has selected the woman who will carry his seed, to birth the child that will shape the coming years. Since the Telave are incapable of bearing offspring, a living female is needed.”

Jesse’s throat abruptly felt closed, blocked by the intense pounding of her heart. The hand holding her cup began to tremble. “Wait a minute,” she said slowly. “Are you telling me I’ve been picked to be the bride of Xaphan?”

Her hostess offered a beatific smile. “Actually, it is our belief that the Enlightened One has selected you for a higher calling,” she explained. “It was prophesied that she would send a warrior to lead the Palindromes against us. But whom would she send, and when?” She shrugged. “Of course, we could not know.”

Jesse gulped, fighting back the rise of panic. “S-surely you don’t think it’s me?”

The perfectly manicured nails of Amonate’s thumb and middle fingers clicked together. “And then you came along, the only human known to survive our deadly gift.” The steady click of her nails continued to punctuate each word as she spoke. “I never lose count of those we choose. True, the Palindromes get some of the fledglings, and even a Consanguine now and again. But for one to slip through my fingers is rare. I knew the Enlightened One must be on your side. However, she brought you back to New Orleans too soon. You are unprepared, untrained, and unknowing, too weak, and not ready to fight. She should have given you more time.”

Jesse bristled. “I don’t recall that anyone made the decision to come back for me. That was my own doing.”

Amonate flagged a casual hand. “Oh, we knew you would come. Although we did not foresee it in the beginning, she who has cursed us for our defiance has practically handed us victory. Instead of allowing you to gain your full potential, our Dark Prince has an alternate calling for you.”

“I won’t serve Xaphan’s purpose in any way.”

Amonate’s smile grew wider. “That is what you believe. But you do not have to be a willing participant to be impregnated.” A chuckle followed her last statement, punctuating the threat.

Jesse stared at Amonate as comprehension dawned. She felt her inner temperature plunge from merely chilly to arctic. The implications of what she’d said began to sink in. “I don’t think I like where this conversation is headed.”

Eyes glittering, Amonate leaned forward. “Never mind what you think, girl. For centuries uncounted, Xaphan has been searching for the perfect female to bear his child. Despite his attempts, no human woman has been found strong enough to bear a demigod. But a Paladin, that single, rare female who carries the unique strengths granted by the Enlightened One, would be the logical choice to carry a demon’s offspring.” She chuckled. “Even a deity is fallible.”

Although the vampire queen’s words sounded like the ravings of an unhinged mind, a sneaking suspicion led Jesse to believe otherwise. At this point it was easy to believe in the improbable and the impossible. Once, she would have scoffed at the notion she’d been selected to fulfill some celestial mission. Now, no other explanation made sense.

She closed her eyes in anguish.
If it’s true
, she asked herself,
why wasn’t I graced with the same immunity as a Palindrome?
Why should she be made to suffer?

“To destroy them, you must become,” a faraway female voice whispered in her ear. “Heed my words and give yourself to sacrifice.”

Pulse spiking, Jesse tightened her grip around the cup in her hand. Had something truly spoken to her, or was the answer conjured by her own distressed psyche? The questions spun through her mind until she could barely see straight. She was in danger of losing control of her fragile composure, utterly and completely. “No,” she mumbled, not sure whom she was addressing. “I don’t want this.”

A thought popped into her head. Maddox would know. There had to be a reason she’d stumbled into his path. Faith—she’d never had it. Now she wanted it—desperately. She sent a silent plea his way:
Please find me.

Amonate’s next words smashed through her silence. “You have no other choice.”

Jolted by the finality driving the vampire queen’s statement, Jesse let the empty cup slip from her numb fingers. It shattered at her feet. The sound of her heart thumping against her chest seemed incredibly loud, and her breath came in raspy fits.

Shaking overwhelmed her fragile composure. Somehow she’d become a pawn in the battle between good and evil. The Enlightened One and Xaphan, the Dark Lord, had each chosen her for a different purpose.

She glanced toward Amanda, who was still a silent, waiting specter. She wished she’d been lucky enough to die, too. That would have been merciful compared to the damnation survival had sentenced her to. “Never,” she murmured, her voice little more than a croak. “I’ll never do it.” There was no way, in hell or anywhere else, that she’d have sex with Xaphan, much less birth any child of his.

Amonate bared a fanged smile. Air shifted around her like a frigid, moist caress. “Oh, but you will.” She chuckled. “You haven’t met Razor yet.”

 

Maddox shook his head. “We can’t do it,” he said, lowering his binoculars. “She has a seven-foot stone fence around the property, Dobermans loose on the grounds, and twenty-four-hour security, thanks to the Kindred. Even if we got in, we’d never get out alive.”

Founded in 1740, the Blackadder Plantation had passed through the hands of several owners in its time. These owners were all revealed to be Amonate in one form or another, thanks to a little digging into public records. The place had literally been her base of operations since time immemorial.

For a vampire Monarch, she had impeccable taste. The manor on the property was an excellent example of Greek Revival architecture in which the main structure was surrounded by grand columns, each with an uninterrupted span from ground level to the roofline. Among the unique features of the huge house were twin garçonnières, very rare among plantation homes. Federal arched dormers stood above the large Doric galleries. The gardens had been developed as a lush thousand-acre panorama of indigenous Louisiana plant life and stunning exotics designed to beckon visitors to extend their stay.

It was, of course, private property; no trespassers allowed.

Reyen grunted and focused his own binoculars a little more closely on the guards located in the gate-house. “Some house,” he muttered, releasing a low whistle under his breath. “She’s got herself quite a setup here.”

Having learned the identity of Jesse’s captor, they’d decided to size up the situation before attempting to rescue her. So far their little reconnaissance mission was a complete and total failure. Getting inside that place wouldn’t just be futile. It would be suicide. The guards were armed and looked as if they’d been trained to use heavy force to keep intruders at bay.

Maddox shook his head. Rather than hiding in the shadows, Amonate had turned herself into an international sensation. The more reclusive Celeste, her alter ego, remained, the more people ate up the mystique and bought her clothes. She was said to be one of the few women in the world worth a billion dollars. And why shouldn’t she be rich? She’d had since the beginning of time to amass her fortune.

Fury boiled up inside him, but he wrestled it aside. He had to stay focused. Losing his cool or having an emotional outburst would be detrimental to their goal.
We have to find a way to get Jesse out of there.

To calm his nerves, he fished out a cigarette and lit it. Its tip glowed bright red before dying in gray ashes. “They’re going to control everything,” he said, flicking the ashes away.

Reyen lowered his specs. “Looks that way,” he commented. “Too damn bad Sam’s out. We could use an extra set of hands.”

Maddox shot his friend a look. Right now Sam was laid up in bed, in a self-induced state of catatonia. It would take a few days before he’d be strong enough to be back on his feet.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” he deadpanned. “We could use a fucking army. And a few grenade launchers.”

Since they’d begun watching the place, several vehicles had arrived, waiting to be buzzed through by the guards. A few of them were private cars, the windows darkly tinted to keep the sunlight at bay. Others, though, were delivery vans bringing flowers, booze, even food. A massive celebration seemed to be in the making.

Maddox’s heart bumped up a notch. Could that be a sign that Jesse was indeed a prisoner inside? It didn’t take much brainpower to know she was something outside the norm, something special. He’d felt it the first night he’d met her. It was even stronger when they’d made love. The electricity humming beneath her skin was a powerful force just waiting for a chance to be unleashed.

A feeling gnawing at his gut warned him that whatever Jesse had inside her was about to be let loose, whether she wanted it to be or not.

Reyen thought a moment. “The security’s tight, but it’s not impossible to get through.”

Maddox glanced toward the sky. The sun was presently at the midpoint of the day. In another hour it would begin its slow arc toward the west, pulling away the light as it went. Once darkness set in, he felt they might as well give it up and go home.

He fingered the filter of the cigarette he’d let burn down during the conversation. “What the hell are we going to do?” he asked, flicking the butt away. “It’s just the two of us.”

Reyen tucked his binoculars back into their case. “I have something in mind,” he said, refusing to elaborate further. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

An hour later, Maddox found himself at Pont-chartrain Landing, the newest and largest waterfront RV park in New Orleans. He’d never asked about Reyen’s living arrangements, nor had he ever been invited to the place the Indian called home.

Easing Sam’s Pontiac into the parking space beside Reyen’s Harley, he eyed the fifth wheel, which had three slide-outs to extend its size. The awning was stretched out over a small concrete patio with white wicker furniture and a barbecue grill. Fenced in with a yard and a pleasant little garden, it hardly looked like something a guy like Reyen would live in.

“Nice.”

Reyen grunted. “Nashota does the work,” he said, referring to his current live-in girlfriend. Though they’d been together more than five years, Reyen was in no hurry to put a ring on her finger. There would come a time when he had to move on and leave her behind. As far as Maddox knew, Nashota had no idea who or what Reyen really was. All she knew was that he worked in construction and kept a lot of late nights.

Maddox arched a brow. “So are you finally going to invite me in for a beer?”

Reyen shook his head. “We ain’t here to be social,” he said, making a gesture with one hand. “Got something else in mind.”

“What?”

“Come on.” He led the way behind the RV.

A small backyard with a wooden shed greeted his eyes. A lock was on the door, along with a sign that read KEEP OUT.

Reyen paused long enough to fish a key off its chain. “What’s in there?”

“You’ll see,” he said, and unlocked the door.

They stepped inside a building housing the usual accoutrements needed for keeping a yard: lawn mower, clippers, water hose, assorted tools.

Maddox stuck his tongue in his cheek. “So, what are we going to do? Offer to clip her hedges?”