Daysider (Nightsiders) (20 page)

Her words stunned Damon, not because they were out of character, but because they were so much more than he had ever expected. Their relationship had always stood on shaky ground, and they had never questioned their divided loyalties.

Those loyalties, and the hatred their peoples had for one another, would ordinarily have made any thought beyond the present impossible. Until he had seen how Opiri and humans interacted in Eleutheria, he wouldn’t have believed there was any path around those seemingly immutable obstacles. Yet now Alexia spoke as if there might be a future, fragile as it was, and her eyes were asking him if he felt the same.

How could he accept what she offered? She was throwing aside her past, all her connections to her city, all the human parts of her life she had never shared with him. She was willing to accept the necessity that she might always need his blood to survive, and that he would continue to drink hers. And she knew she would be taking a Darketan who could become a savage every bit as subject to his emotions as a serf was to his Bloodlord.

But she wasn’t deceiving herself. Her gaze was clear and direct and unafraid. It was
he
who was afraid: that he’d hurt her during one of his rages, that he’d fail to protect her—not only from every outside danger, but from her own stubborn, fierce will.

He didn’t insult her by asking her again if she was sure. He took her offered hand and raised it to his lips. A moment later he remembered where they were, and so did Alexia. Her cheeks flushed. She ducked her head and sat down.

Damon took up his position behind her again. Theron looked him in the eye, his brows arched and a slight smile touching the corners of his lips.

“I will not ask if
you
recognize the consequences to yourself if the Council ends up in control of the colony,” he said. “It may be worse than the other alternatives. But if you have made up your mind...”

Damon nodded. Sergius made a sound that eloquently combined impatience with mild disgust. “May we continue?” he said acidly.

Ignoring him, Theron turned to Alexia. “Since you wish to help, I think you and Damon should accompany our human citizens to the caves. You both have the skills necessary to defend them, and I know Emma trusts you, Alexia.”

“No,” Alexia said. “You can’t keep me safe by sending me to hide. And I may still be able to speak to someone from the strike force before this gets bad.”

“It will be no less dangerous guiding the others and protecting them,” Theron said, “especially since we have no idea where the Aegis forces or their enemies may appear. Perhaps Hera—” he glanced at the short-haired Opir woman “—will accompany you, and Alexia can return when the others are safe.”

Damon thought of Sergius’s sudden change of plans from wanting to remain at the colony to accompanying the humans to the caves. And he’d been the one to suggest the caves in the first place. Damon trusted him even less than before. He had to be watched.

“We’ll go,” he said.

Alexia shot him a troubled look, but she must have known as much as he did that the old Bloodmaster was deliberately trying to get him and Alexia out of the way. He must truly believe the colony would fall to one force or another, and for some reason he wanted to be sure Damon and Alexia survived.

The hard fact was, no matter where Damon went, any violence aimed at Alexia—and likely any other innocent from the colony— could provoke one of his spells. His shadow-self could be a potent weapon turned against an enemy, but there was always the risk that it would endanger friends, as well.

That was why he would see that Alexia and the humans were safe, make sure that Sergius was no threat to them, and then go looking for the strike force himself. Maybe he could stop or delay them as no one else could.

“I agree,” Alexia murmured, reaching behind her for Damon’s hand. He took it, enfolding her fingers in his. Immediately Theron turned to Sergius.

“I have an even more difficult job for you,” he said. “I want you to go into the mountains and look for movement from Erebus. If you discover any sign of Opir troops in this area, return to report immediately.”

“You can send someone else for that, Theron,” Sergius protested. “Since you refuse to leave, I should stay here to protect you.”

Damon watched Sergius out of the corner of his eye. Yet another about-face on the Opir’s part. There was something very wrong here.

“I would not ask this of you if it were not necessary, my friend,” Theron said.

The flicker of a scowl crossed Sergius’s face and then quickly disappeared. “As you wish, Theron.”

“Then it only remains to discuss what we who remain in Eleutheria will do to prepare.” Theron cleared his throat. “Agent Fox, Sergius, Damon and Hera, when you leave, go by the postern gate. My thanks to you all.”

Hera and Sergius stood, covering their heads and faces with the cowl and goggles of their light daysuits. Alexia rose as well, and all four of them headed for the door. Sergius and Damon reached it at the same time. Sergius shouldered past Damon without a glance and strode across the commons.

Damon considered telling Alexia—or Theron—of his unease about Sergius, but sharing his vague suspicions might result in Sergius becoming aware that such suspicions existed. Damon wanted the Opir off his guard, confident that his scheme—if, indeed, he had one—would succeed.

And Alexia would only be in worse danger if she got in Sergius’s way.

* * *

One very tense and busy hour later, Damon’s pack, along with his weapons and those of Alexia’s he had been able to fit in it, lay beside Alexia’s cot in the dormitory. Damon still had his uniform, but he chose to continue to wear the simple clothing he and Alexia had been given earlier. Both of them had laid out and carefully inspected their combat knives, pistols and rifles. Alexia pushed the strange communicator into her belt; she had told Damon that even though she couldn’t find a way to send an outgoing message, there was still the chance Aegis or the strike force might try to contact Michael again, unaware of his fate.

When she and Damon had completed their preparations and had nothing more to do but wait until twilight, a charged silence fell between them. Damon studied her face, memorizing its familiar, beloved lines: the fringe of red hair across her forehead, her tilted cat’s eyes, her full lips curved in a brave smile.

“Well,” she said. “It seems we’re to have another adventure together.”

All Damon wanted then was to take her into his arms and kiss her, absorb her into himself and never let her go. He saw the same yearning in her eyes. But he had to make her understand what had to be done, and nothing else could get in the way.

“When we go,” he said, “I’ll bring up the rear. It would be better for me to stay away from the others so that I can move freely in response to any attack.”

Alexia didn’t misunderstand his meaning. “If you think I’m going to leave you alone, think again.”

“It is necessary, Alexia,” he said. He put his hands on her arms. “If you are attacked, I might lose any ability to control my actions.”

“That’s why I’m not running away from you.” She laced her fingers behind his neck and brought his head down to hers. “We never had a chance to talk about what to do about your spells. We think we know what causes them, but there must be a way to control them. I have a theory—”

“This is not the time for theories, Alexia,” he said, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “If I become a beast, I would rather turn it against my enemies.”

“Listen to me, Damon. If certain kinds of strong emotion make this happen to you, maybe others can save you.” She swallowed, her eyes flickering away. “Like love.”

The words came haltingly, and Damon knew how difficult it had been for her to speak them aloud. He knew she didn’t expect him to reciprocate. He couldn’t, though he understood the miracle they represented.

He had once told her that love was a word Darketans had no use for. She had acknowledged that there was a Zone of difference between caring and love.

Both statements were true. But he no longer knew where to draw the line.

“I think I can help you,” Alexia continued through his silence. “I think that by staying with you when it happens, I can find a way to help you use it instead of letting it use you.”

Damon shook his head. “Alexia—”

She pressed her finger against his lips. He knew defeat when he met it. He grabbed her wrist and kissed her, pulling her body hard against his. She melted into him as if she, too, were trying to merge with him so completely that they could never be parted again.

But they both knew this was a moment out of time, whatever Alexia had implied about a future together. The one thing she refused to give up was hope, and he would never deny her that comfort.

Closing his eyes, Damon smelled the scents of approaching twilight. “They will be waiting for us,” he said, letting her go.

She wiped her tears away with the heel of her palm and nodded.

Together they found their way to the eastern wall, butted up against the hills. Sharpened spikes rose from the tops of the battlements to discourage potential enemies from approaching from that direction, and there was a very small postern gate set where the wall turned away from the hill.

Two dozen humans, alerted by their representatives on Theron’s council, had gathered there, a few with rifles and others with packs, moving restlessly as Hera spoke to Emma and Cullen. Sergius was there as well, still wearing a cowl and gloves but dressed in clothing more practical for travel in the bush. He avoided Damon’s gaze and passed through the gate first.

Damon hesitated, torn between the desire to follow the Opir and his implied promise to remain with Alexia and the humans. If he left, he’d have to tell Alexia of his concerns, and that would help nothing. All he could do was wait. And watch.

Hera, dressed much like Sergius, nodded to Damon and Alexia and followed him, taking point. Half the humans followed her, Alexia went next, and the second half trooped behind her with Damon taking up the rear.

The caves in question were less than a kilometer away, but no one in the group let his or her guard down for an instant. Damon walked in a zigzag pattern to cover the most ground as he kept watch. Once Hera called a halt to listen to the rustle of something large moving in the bushes, but it turned out to be a brown bear, which reared up on its hind legs to watch them pass. The sun sank below the horizon, and a jay scolded in the pine branches as they walked beneath.

“Nothing,” Alexia whispered, falling back to join Damon. “Either the strike force hasn’t arrived yet, or they’re watching before they make their move.”

And even if they were not yet in the vicinity, Damon thought grimly, Expansionist or perhaps even Council agents might be. If his instincts about Sergius proved wrong, the Opir would eventually return with a report on any movement to the east toward Erebus.

“You go ahead now,” Damon told Alexia. “Keep the others safe.”

“You come with
me,
” she said. “I know I can—”

“Damon!” Hera cried from somewhere ahead of them.

All the humans fell flat as they had been instructed, except for Emma and Cullen, who had their own rifles and immediately took up defensive positions. Damon and Alexia joined them, standing back-to-back with their rifles ready.

They knew in a very short time that they were surrounded.

Chapter 19

H
era was first to appear, hands raised, with an Opir in daygear driving her at gunpoint ahead of him. The fact that he wore the suit told Damon that he had anticipated being out in daylight, though dawn was very far away. And by the number of weapons he carried, he expected to fight.

“It seems we were a little too late,” Alexia whispered as a half dozen other suited Opiri approached from every direction.

She felt behind her for Damon’s hand, and he squeezed her fingers. They both realized what was likely to happen to them, no matter how hard they fought, but Damon knew that Alexia was thinking of the humans. At best, they would be taken back to Erebus to resume their former lives as serfs. Damon guessed that some, like Emma, would rather be dead.

They still might be.

When Sergius strolled out to meet them, his helmet tucked in the crook of his arm, Damon knew how thoroughly he’d failed. He should have acted the moment he had felt those “vague” suspicions about Theron’s former disciple. He should have fully recognized the rebellion in Sergius’s eyes. Resentment, not only against Theron, but against his place in the world.

He should have killed Sergius at the very beginning.

“Damon,” the Opir said. “Agent Fox.”

“Sergius,” Damon said, his voice eerily calm. “How long have you had this planned?”

“Not long.” Sergius smiled, though without the mockery Damon would have expected. “It just happens that the opportunity has come to act, and delaying would be foolish and unnecessary.” He signaled to his agents, who closed their circle around the humans. Hera’s captor shoved her close to Damon and Alexia.

“Put down your weapons and no one need be hurt,” Sergius said. He dropped his helmet into the grass at his feet and casually brought his rifle to bear on Alexia. “Do as I tell you, Damon, or I will kill your little friend.”

“I’m getting a little tired of being called ‘little’ by upstart Freebloods,” Alexia said as she tossed her rifle down and removed her other weapons. “Am I too far off in guessing you knew Lysander?”

“Not at all, Agent Fox. We were working together, but unfortunately he never made our last rendezvous.” He met Damon’s gaze. “He knew his work was dangerous. Damon, I will not ask you again. Throw down your weapons.”

He removed his rifle, pistol and knife and tossed them out of reach. Sergius was in a talkative mood in spite of the precarious situation, and Damon intended to take advantage of his bad judgment.

“We know Lysander was working for the Expansionist Faction,” he said. “Are you?”

“Not originally. I was recruited to become the party’s agent in the colony after I discovered what Theron’s once-noble philosophy had become.”

“A double agent, you mean,” Alexia spat.

“Lysander was my contact. We both, however, determined the Expansionists’ goals were not necessarily our own.”

“And these others?” she asked.

“Fellow Freebloods who agree that our kind should no longer rely on any faction in Erebus to grant us what we have earned.” He shrugged. “A pity Lysander didn’t survive. He said he had an opportunity to obtain something that would be highly valuable to us in furthering our plans.”

His eyes narrowing, Sergius stared pointedly at Alexia. “I was under the impression that this thing Lysander sought had something to do with you, Agent Fox. I know the Expansionists had assigned him to kill you and Damon. Perhaps you know what he was after?”

Damon felt Alexia stiffen. “I have no idea,” she said.

“Why am I under the impression you are lying?” He clucked his tongue reprovingly. “No matter. We will have plenty of time to talk it over.”

“Where?” Alexia asked. “In the middle of the firefight that’s probably about to happen any moment?”

“Oh, we intend to stay out of the way,” Sergius said. “We have no stake in Eleutheria or what Aegis and the Council do to each other because of it. Our only goal now is to wait them out and then move our resources—” he nodded to the humans “—to our new home.”

“Your own colony,” Damon said, noting the positions of each of Sergius’s followers without turning his head.

“I must credit Theron with giving me the idea,” Sergius said. “When we smuggled the serfs out of Erebus, he led me to believe that his colony would be one where Freebloods seeking to found their own households would be able to claim a certain number of humans in exchange for helping establish the settlement.” He laughed derisively. “But, you see, once Theron had begun, he became obsessed with a new way. Freedom. Equality.”

He glanced again at the humans, whose expressions ranged from defiant to dull acceptance, with Emma and Cullen among those who looked ready to fling themselves at the Opiri and die happily. “Theron’s dream has no hope of surviving, but we intend to learn from his mistakes. When we found our own settlement, it will be truly Opir.”

“A society based on brutality and involuntary servitude,” Damon said, the rage beginning to smolder in his chest.

“Outrage, Damon? From you, when you so perfectly illustrate both these qualities?”

Damon felt Alexia push her body close to his, trying to get his attention. He glanced at her, but already he was having difficulty interpreting what he saw in her eyes. Just as he couldn’t make sense of Sergius’s comment.

“No matter,” Sergius said. “We have what we wanted from Eleutheria. Theron may be sure we will put these serfs to good use.” He signaled to one of his men, who slung his rifle over his shoulder, set down his pack and removed a coil of heavy rope.

Sergius addressed the humans. “I will kill two of you for every one who fights or struggles,” he said. “Emma, that means you.”

The young woman glared at him with hatred hot enough to set the air between them on fire. “Do you think the Council will let you get away with this?” she asked. “If the colony falls and the Enclave doesn’t take us, they’ll want us back in Erebus, not in the hands of rebellious Freebloods.”

“That is a chance we are willing to take,” Sergius said. “And from now on, Emma, you will learn to treat your betters with respect.”

Emma spat. Sergius casually trained his rifle on Cullen and shot him. Emma screamed, dropped to her knees and took the dying man in her arms.

Damon lunged toward Sergius. Alexia grabbed his arm and held him back through sheer force of will.

“I won’t let you kill yourself,” she hissed. “We’ll find a way, Damon.”

He heard her, though his mind was beginning to fill with crimson haze and adrenaline raced through his body like a fast-acting poison. As he balanced on the thin wall between sanity and mindless violence, Sergius’s henchman began to tie the hands of the nearest humans, leaving a length of rope between each captive.

“You aren’t moving fast enough, Sergius,” Alexia taunted, slowly working her way into a position between Damon and the Opir. “The strike force could be here any moment. If they catch you, I don’t think they’re going to let you walk off scot-free, humans or no humans.”

“But I have a hostage, do I not?” Sergius said. “Your people will surely hesitate to attack when one of their dhampir agents may be killed.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Alexia said. “Like Theron said, they aren’t likely to be happy that I’ve countermanded my orders and haven’t only approached the colony but am fighting for them.”

“But you aren’t with the colony now, are you?” He beckoned one of his other men, who approached one of the female humans, pushed her down and tore off a wide strip of her long tunic. He brought the scrap to Sergius.

“Come to me, Agent Fox,” Sergius said. “And quickly, if you value the lives of these serfs.”

Alexia glanced at Damon, a plea in her eyes, and started toward Sergius. From deep within the morass of dark emotion that was slowly swallowing his reason, Damon felt pride and humility at her courage. He had failed again and again to protect her, but she had never wanted him to steal her choices from her. And, knowing he might lose her, he had chosen not to take them.

Sergius was oblivious to what was happening inside Damon. He took Alexia’s arm in a cruel grip. “Stand still,” he commanded, and wedged the scrap of cloth into her mouth. Damon swallowed a howl as Sergius tied the gag.

“I see what you would like to do to me, Damon,” the Opir said, glancing casually in his direction. “Your affection for this dhampir is clearly out of all reason. But then you were never quite right in the head, as the humans say.”

“I will kill you,” Damon rasped.

“I don’t think so. Not as long as Agent Fox is in my custody.” He looked away, dismissing Damon as if he were an annoying insect he intended to crush when he had a moment free. “You,” he said to one of the humans sitting next to a weeping Emma, “help bind the others. You, as well.”

The two of them, aware they would only bring on more death if they disobeyed, helped the Freeblood tie up their fellow humans and then stood quietly while the Opir finished with them.

“To the caves,” Sergius ordered, gesturing with his rifle. “Move ahead of me, Agent Fox. We must be sure that none of our new acquisitions lose their way in the dark.”

Alexia looked at Damon again. She knew he was on the edge, that any moment his fragile control would snap and he would strike at Sergius, no matter what the consequences. She hesitated, and Sergius struck the back of her head.

Damon sprang toward him, his muscles bunching and releasing as if they were made of steel cables, carrying him instantly across the distance between them as if it were no wider than a centimeter. Several bullets caught him full in the chest, and he dropped to his knees. Several more slammed into his shoulder and his left leg.

Somewhere, someone screamed. The voice was almost familiar, but Damon’s ears were filled with a high-pitched buzz, and his nose was clogged with the smell of his own blood. He fell to his side, consumed by pain.

And something else far more powerful.

He spread his hands on the ground, splaying his fingers to support his weight, and pushed up. His injured leg gave out beneath him, but he shifted to his other leg and heaved himself to his feet, his pulse blotting out every other sound.

He never heard the bark of the gun, only felt the bullet as it drove into his skull. He collapsed again, and darkness swallowed him.

When he woke, it took him some time to remember who and where he was. It was still well before midnight, and he lay in a pool of his own blood. As the recent past came back to him, he realized how close he had come to dying. The bullet had cracked his skull, but it had not struck his brain.

The shooter thought he’d killed Damon, or he would never have left his enemy here untended. But Sergius and his followers had done damage enough by keeping Damon from the others, and as he began to rise Damon had to fight for his balance and to hold the blackness at bay.

By the time he was certain he could move without falling, Sergius, Alexia and the others were long gone, and Damon knew he had a disadvantage in the dark. He began to track the others, loping awkwardly, his injured body fueled by ruthless need.

The Opir in the rear of the loose column heard him coming, but he never had time to raise his rifle. Damon hit him at a run and sank his teeth into the Opir’s neck. He jerked his head sideways, ripping through the Opir’s throat in a spray of blood, and left the man lying there as he raced for the next.

The second Freeblood pumped off nearly an entire round, but Damon dodged easily and wrenched the rifle from his enemy’s hands. He reversed it, swung the stock at the Opir’s head, and then shot the man as soon as he was down.

By then the commotion had been noticed, and for Damon the next sequence of events, passing in a matter of seconds, seemed to move as slowly as an Opir left to die in the sun.

Hera was the first to act, breaking the ropes that bound her hands and turning on the Opir who guarded her. She was not quite fast enough; the Opir jabbed the muzzle of his rifle into her chest and shot her point-blank. But her sacrifice created just enough distraction for Alexia to move on Sergius. As she slammed into him from the side, Damon broke into a dead run straight for his enemy.

He saw nothing of what happened then, for he was on Sergius the next moment, tearing the Opir’s rifle from his hands and throwing him to the ground. Gunfire rattled and boomed, someone screamed, struggling bodies rushed by in a blur of motion as Damon went straight for Sergius’s throat.

But Sergius was still Opir. He flung his arm in front of his neck and rolled to the side, sinking his own teeth into Damon’s shoulder. Damon hardly felt it, as he scarcely felt the injuries that had barely begun to heal. He slammed his knee into Sergius’s groin, flung him aside and forced him down again.

He might have made an end to it then if he hadn’t smelled a scent he had never quite forgotten, heard a voice he had once cherished call his name. He froze, and Sergius surged upward, throwing Damon off balance and regaining the upper hand. Damon’s vision pulsed red and black as Sergius bit the base of his neck, puncturing deep and filling Damon’s throat with blood.

But he refused to die. He found the strength to fight again, his muscles swelling with fresh strength, his brain firing off signals his body obeyed before he was aware of them.

When once again he came back to himself, Sergius was limp under his hands, panting and bloody, mauled within an inch of his life. Damon looked up from the Opir’s slack face. Alexia, gag gone, was standing with Emma and a human male, rifles trained on four Opiri sprawled in a heap at their feet. The humans crowded around them, looking very much as if they would appreciate being given the chance to tear the Opiri limb from limb.

Alexia,
Damon thought.
Alexia is safe.

He met her gaze, and she smiled. But as he rose, she looked past him at someone approaching from the south. Damon stiffened and turned.

An Opir, one of those Damon had taken down earlier, was stumbling toward him, hands raised, prodded along from behind by a rifle in the hands of a slim, light-haired Darketan woman, her skin pale in the darkness.

Damon knew her, just as he had known her scent, and her voice.